#do you guys have a name for that woman? in my head she's Jolene and I kinda hate her

[princenotsocharming]

1968

[forasecondtherewedwon]

Kentucky Calling

Pairing: Beth Harmon/Benny Watts Rating: T Word Count: 1426

Summary: Beth calls Benny up, hoping to talk a few things through after Russia, and finds him just as eager to hear her voice as she is to hear his.

“What?”

Beth’s eyebrows rise at Benny’s fed-up tone.

“Well, this isn’t the greeting I was expecting.” She smiles against the receiver.

“Beth?”

“That’s right,” she says with a laugh in her voice. “Who am I supposed to be?”

He groans and her smile widens, sure his irritation is not for her.

“The fucking State Department.”

“Why are you angry at the State Department?”

“They wouldn’t give me any details about you, when you were expected back. I managed to keep one son of a bitch on the line half an hour, but he just squirmed the whole time, refusing to share your itinerary. Where are— You’re back,” he says with sudden realization.

She hears him calm and uses the change to judge how worried he was a moment ago. Fairly worried, Beth decides. Oh, Benny.

“Yep. In Lexington as we speak. Calling from my own kitchen.”

He sighs.

“You might’ve let me know.”

“You know, I asked on the plane, but the pilot just wouldn’t radio the control tower to call you up for me,” she jokes. She laughs.

“So, did you give them the slip?”

“More or less. The State Department’s itinerary didn’t align very well with mine at the end there. I stayed a couple extra days to actually experience a little of the city and then flew home by myself.”

“Huh.”

“Benny?”

“Yeah?”

Beth grips the phone.

“Are you going to forgive me for worrying you? Now that I’ve confirmed they didn’t lose me over the Atlantic?”

“You yes. Them? No. Those bastards deserve a little hassling after they didn’t fund your trip. They pay a guy to watch you every waking goddamn minute, plus his flight, his room—how much does that cost?”

“I can’t believe you’ve been sitting around harassing the government on my behalf,” Beth says wonderingly, partly to head off Benny’s building rant. The man loves to talk.

“Well, the others got sick of me, as you can imagine.”

“Harry? Matt? The others? They’re still with you?”

“Can’t get rid of ‘em. They’ve been celebrating since you won and sleeping that off until midafternoon. When they drag themselves out to have lunch somewhere, I… well, I sit around with the phone to my ear, on hold, looking for you.”

“I beat him,” she whispers, because she can finally break the news to him herself.

“You did.” She can feel Benny smiling in the long pause. She’s doing the same. “I saw the writeup of your moves; looked like the most expensive phone call I’ve ever made was worth something.”

“It meant a lot. If you hadn’t had a clue about what I should try next against Borgov, it would’ve meant the same.”

“Look. I’m… I shouldn’t have spoken to you the way I did before you left. I felt terrible about it right away.”

“Good. And I…” Beth takes a deep breath that she’s sure he can hear. She twists the phone cord around her finger and tilts her head back against the wall. “…I shouldn’t have pushed you away in the first place. I hurt you, I could hear it in your voice, and—”

“I don’t need excuses. It was shortsighted of me to get defensive. What you were trying to accomplish was bigger than me.”

She agrees with a hum and adds, “Yes. Beating communists in the name of Jesus is for the good of us all.”

She thrills at his burst of laughter.

“How the hell did you pay for Moscow without them?”

“Jolene. You’ll meet her sometime, I hope.”

“If that means I can see you again, I’d be glad to.”

Now, there’s a distinct lack of breath because they both seem to be holding it.

“You will,” she says. After grazing her gaze thoughtfully around the kitchen, Beth frowns and remembers something. “Did the papers say anything about how Borgov looked at the end of the match?”

“They said he took the defeat with dignity. That he hugged you—is that true?”

She rolls her eyes at Benny’s poorly disguised annoyance.

“Yes, but I mean his face. He seemed at peace. Like I had helped him, somehow. Other people I’ve played, and I’m sure people you’ve played too, have this franticness, this terrifying, transparently obvious floundering quality. They don’t know what they’re going to do with the next five minutes of their life after losing, never mind months or years. But Borgov knew. His wife and son were always with him. I think, at the end, he was ready to be with his family.” She waits a second or two, mentally checking and confirming her next move before she speaks. “That’s what I want too.”

“I— What is this, Beth? A proposal?”

She laughs and clutches the phone as she shakes her head.

“Of course not. I just want you to know that you’re important to me.” Her voice grows solemn and fond. “Thank you for calling. I’ll never forget it.”

“I guess I had enough to get to Moscow with you after all,” Benny says, speech softening similarly until he sounds impossibly intimate. Like he only really has that time he said he missed her. The fact that he’s more vulnerable like this than he is face-to-face is something Beth enjoys about them being far enough apart to need to call. He clears his throat. “So it’s good that you weren’t trying to propose, because we know my, uh, allocation of funds could use some improvement and you don’t need to saddle yourself with that.”

“I certainly don’t. I have three thousand dollars to pay back to Jolene and then… I don’t know. Keep paying for the house.”

Beth twirls her hand in the air to indicate it, though he’s not there to see. If she tries, she can picture his leather jacket folded over the back of a chair, his hat tossed carelessly onto the counter. It’s not a bad picture. Definitely not the worst domestic vignette this place has ever staged.

“Grand plans.”

“Don’t make fun of me.”

“Make fun of the woman who just annihilated the World Champion? I wouldn’t dare. You’d drive straight out here and do to me what you did to Borgov. I can only be humbled like that so often.”

“Once every fifteen years?” she prompts.

“Hmm, ideally, but I won’t be able to resist playing you that long.”

“Well, I won’t go easy.”

“Going easy would only insult me,” Benny assures her.

“Got it. You prefer being beaten so thoroughly that I have to sweep the ashes of your ego off the board afterwards. Like dust.”

“I’m not rushing to play you again after that comment.”

“We could do something else. When I see you,” Beth elaborates, feeling herself perk up, her back straightening. “We don’t have to play chess.”

“The two of us, not playing chess.” He sounds like he’s genuinely contemplating it. “That’s original, but I don’t think it’d last very long. How much of the time we’ve shared has been spent not playing chess? I’ll tell you: very little.”

“But it’s possible. Whether or not you’ll stop talking about chess, on the other hand…”

“I—ha—I do remember a particular instance of you being ticked off at me about that.”

Whether or not Beth has consciously led them there, they’ve arrived. At least he can recall that going over strategy immediately after they had sex didn’t impress her, though he was befuddled by her brusqueness at the time.

“You wanna show me that you’ve learned from that?” she challenges.

She hears the groan he must be muffling behind his hand.

“If I told you in full how badly I want to show you that, we’d be running up another big telephone bill.”

Beth smiles coyly to herself and taps her fingernail against the back of the receiver.

“How big, Benny?”

“Beth, I— Hey, you’re back!” His voice is louder and she understands it’s for other people, the friends who have reentered his apartment. “No, idiot, she doesn’t want to talk to you. She doesn’t have to tell me, I already know.”

“Tell them all I hope to see them soon,” she pipes up to reclaim Benny’s attention. They can’t carry on now.

She hears him deliver her message before his voice sinks low again for her, his audience of one.

“Can you come to New York?” he asks. It has the ring of a riddle with all the times he’s posed the question to her before.

“Fuck that,” Beth says, grinning. “I’ll see you in Kentucky the day after tomorrow.”

[green-socks]

Hungry Eyes chapter 1

Pairing: Benny Miller x OFC (Dirty Dancing AU)

Summary: Dirty Dancing but here Benny is in the role of Baby and the dance instructor is a female OC. Benny goes to the resort with Will’s family (because who wouldn’t want cool uncle Benny to join their summer vacation?), and ends up falling for a dance instructor working on the resort. This first part is Benny and the dance instructor’s first meeting, basically the “I carried a watermelon” scene if you will.

Words: 1,818

Warnings: Alcohol/drinking, some curse words. Something else? Let me know!

Notes: This is one of those “I want to see it so I have to write it” situations. I have never ever written fiction before and this is scary as fuck, but I have this story in my head and now I’m trying to put it into words. I’m posting this part of the story now because I can, but I’m also working on a prologue of sorts.

This idea came to me in a dream (which was probably inspired by this headcanon ) and I told @the-purity-pen about it and she told me to write it. Without your encouragement I never would have even tried this fun thing and I’ll love you forever for it <3

And of course I’ll be eternally grateful to @astroboots for the beta and giving me that final push! Thank you for letting me ramble to you about this and being so lovely <3

Prologue

-----------------------------------------------------

The night was warm, only the sounds of crickets and the slight rustle of wind keeping Benny company on his walk. Most people on the resort, like his brother and his family, had already retired to their cabins and rooms for the night. It was quiet, calm.

Despite what many people thought, Benny enjoyed the quiet. Needed it, in fact. He was always energetic around people, giving them all of himself. And he didn’t have to fake that energy, but sometimes even he needed to wind down and enjoy some peace and quiet. These walks, this whole vacation, was his time to relax and just be.

Benny was walking along a path near where the hiking trails begin when he heard the quiet thumping of bass through the night air. The further he walked along the path the louder the music got.

Through the bushes and trees Benny could see a house a little further up the hill. There seemed to be a party going on there, judging by the noise and music coming through its open windows. Benny wondered who were partying there and if the house even belonged to the resort or if it was a private property.

He continued walking, thinking he’d just walk past the house and continue further into the woods, when he saw a woman on the bottom of the stairs leading to the house. She was carrying a big box in her arms, clearly struggling under the weight of it.

“Hey! Do you need help with that?” Benny hollered to the woman.

She let out a breath. “Sure, thanks,” she answered, while handing Benny the box and starting to climb up the stairs. “Hope it isn’t too heavy!”

“Nah, doesn’t weigh a thing. We goin’ to the party house over there?” Benny asked, nodding his head in the direction of it.

“You’re technically not supposed to be here, you know. It’s off limits to resort guests.”

“I can keep a secret”, Benny grinned. 

“What’s your name?” she asked him. “Benny.” “Nice to meet you Benny. My name’s Lily,” she added, pointing to the name tag still on her work shirt.

“Anyway, some of us who work on the resort live in this house for the summer, and sometimes we throw parties. But they’re strictly for a limited group of people, and we could get into a lot of trouble if our employees or other resort guests found out, so you better keep your mouth shut,” she warned sternly.

“I promise I won’t tell a soul.”

They continued up the stairs and Benny heard the telltale clinking of bottles from the box even through the loudening music.

“Wait, you’re all of age, right? Cause this is a lot of booze”, Benny asked, suddenly slightly worried about assisting these partiers.

“Oh yeah, don’t worry, we have a strict no minors policy!” Lily answered.

With that they reached the top of the stairs and Lily held open the door for him into the house.

Benny wasn’t fully prepared to the sight that greeted him.

Sure, he had seen his share of parties, especially with his boys, but these people were wild.

There were no more than twenty people in the room, but they were all dancing like no tomorrow. Benny doubted they even needed all the booze he was carrying to let loose like that.

He watched in awe the mass of bodies moving to the beat, everyone shaking, grinding, jumping, twisting, and twirling around without a care in the world.

“Who are these people?” He asked incredulously, eyes wide.

Lily laughed at his shock. “We’re the entertainment team! Most of us are dancers or come from a theater background. Now come on!” she said and led him deeper into the house.

Benny suddenly felt like some silly delivery boy, even though he was probably older than most of them, when he maneuvered around the dancing people, trying to watch his step. Some of them spared him curious glances before getting lost in the music again.

“I imagine you don’t dance like this during the day when you’re doing dance classes on the resort?” Benny joked, still trying to get his bearings.

“Oh hell no, this is just for our own entertainment here,” Lily laughed again.

Suddenly two more people burst through the door, arm in arm, and everyone cheered happily in greeting. 

A man and a woman, who Benny recognized as the lead dance instructors on the resort, joined the party, immediately grabbing drinks and making their way through the dancefloor.

Benny noticed how they seemed to greet everyone individually by dancing with them; how they took eye contact and often physical contact with everyone and danced with them for a while before moving on, each one with a slightly different way. It was like they were speaking to one another, all these bodies communicating through movement alone.

He was mesmerized looking at them both, the attractive couple that were clearly the life of the party. But he couldn’t take his eyes off the woman who seemed to move so easily, so freely, the joy and love she was feeling visible in her every movement.

Benny couldn’t believe this was the same woman who had taught a dance class to his nieces earlier that same day. Sure, he had noticed her even then, how could he not; she was very pretty.

But the woman he was seeing now was sexy, confident, nothing like Benny had seen before.

“Those are my friends Patrick and Jolene, they helped me get this job!” Lily shouted in his ear over the music.

“They seem to have great chemistry,” Benny remarked, his gaze still focusing mostly on Jolene.

“Yeah, it’s because they know each other so well. People always think they’re together --“ Benny certainly thought their very physical and intimate way of dancing would mean that “-- but they’re just best friends from a long time”, Lily chatted casually, oblivious to Benny’s thoughts.

Benny found his heart beating a little faster with this information, not that he really knew what to do with it.

His mouth was getting dry and he was breathing a little quicker. For fuck’s sake, he was getting a little turned on from watching her. Get it together man, he thought to himself.

Benny tried not to stare too hungrily; he didn’t want to be that creepy guy at the party that no one even knew.

The longer he watched these people dancing their hearts out the more he found himself slightly bopping along the beat, wishing he had a beer in hand, or maybe that he knew how to dance like they did.

______________

Jolene was enjoying herself, finally letting off steam after a hard day’s work. Few things on this earth made her happier than dancing, especially dancing with her best friend Patrick on these summer nights they got to spend together.

As she spun around in Patrick’s strong arms, she noticed the tall stranger standing near the back of the room next to Lily. Who the heck was this guy and where did he come from?

Jo tapped Patrick on the shoulder to let him know she was going to get something to drink and made her way through the crowd towards Lily and the stranger.

“Hey, Lil. Who’s your friend here?”

“Oh, this is Benny. He came with me.” Lily answered happily.

“Yeah, I, uh, helped her carry the box up here”, the guy, Benny, supplied shyly in a deep voice, pointing at the box in question.

Jo gave Lily a stern look. She really should’ve known better than to bring customers up here. These parties were kept a secret for a good reason, since they could all lose their jobs if the resort managers found out, but especially her and Patrick, because they were responsible for their team. And they were already on thin ice as it were, because, in Jo’s humble opinion, the managers were a bunch of jerks.

Lily just shrugged and Jo sighed deeply before turning to look at the man next to her, who, for some reason, was avoiding her gaze.

“Well, Benny, would you like to dance?” Jo thought she could size the guy up a little better if she could get him alone with her. She had to look after her team after all. Besides, he looked a little lonely, bopping along the music shyly. Maybe she could teach him a few things.

Benny looked a little startled, as he answered “Oh, I don’t know how to dance”.

“Don’t worry, I’ll teach you,” Jo said, pulling him on the dancefloor.

“C’mon, just follow my lead. Do this. And try to feel the rhythm.” Jo started showing him how to move to the beat, swaying from side to side.

“Good, now loosen your hips a little more,” Jo instructed, putting her hands on his hips and directing his movements.

Jo had to hand it to the guy; he was learning surprisingly quickly, and it was refreshing to see a man who was willing to try and learn dancing even if it was a bit awkward at first. His movements were a little stunted, but he clearly had a good ear for the rhythm. He was even smiling and laughing a little at his own awkwardness, but Jo could see he was also enjoying himself.

“Okay, now let’s try this. Follow my lead again,” Jo said, putting her hands on his broad shoulders. He was so tall she had to reach pretty far, but they managed it anyway. Jo stepped closer and started grinding against him, showing him how to move by using her own body to guide him.

Slowly Benny was easing into it, even putting his arms on her waist.

“Okay, you’re getting the hang of it now!” Jo smiled at him proudly and he grinned back.

_______________

Benny was actually enjoying himself. He was dancing with a gorgeous woman and he wasn’t making a complete and total fool of himself. He considered that a victory at this point.

He just knew Santi would be laughing his ass off if he could see Benny now. Will probably would tease him too.

Benny grinned at the thought. But hey, they weren’t here and he was having fun so who cares, he thought.

Although he had to admit, he was still a little shocked at the fact that this amazing dancer was dancing with him and even looking like she wasn’t completely hating it.

He was still a little dazed when the song ended and Jolene patted his arm, told him “See you around” and bounced her way to the middle of the crowd again.

“Yeah, uh, see ya,” Benny muttered after her, standing awkwardly on the edge of the dancefloor.

Deciding he had probably already overstayed his welcome Benny readjusted his hat on his head and quietly headed out to the warm night air again.

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Chapter 2

Notes: If you read this far I don’t even know how to react. Thank you?If you like Benny and/or Dirty Dancing we can probably bond over that

[fandom-imagines-stories]

Paint it Black

gif credit: @spnwhenever​

Dean Winchester x Reader

Words: 3103

Summary: Dean must deal with a particularly nasty demon after it possesses his girlfriend. 

Notes: Kicking off the final week of the Winchester Takeover, this imagine is based on the song ‘Paint it Black’ by the Rolling Stones. Both Dean imagines are song based this week, so I hope you guys enjoy!

Special shout out to my amazing beta reader Sarah, @suckmysupernatural​ . I love her so much and honestly, she’s helped me so much in getting these imagines out for you and she has some absolutely killer writing of her own!

Want more Supernatural? Find it HERE

-

I see your red door

I want it painted black

“Deeeeaaan.” Your sing-song voice made him shiver. “It’s cold in here, Dean.”

“I said stop talking.” He spat, pacing back and forth outside the circle. Sam eyed him cautiously, the tension of the room making his chest tight. He had to keep a cool head. 

As much as it pained him, he wasn’t sure Dean would do what had to be done if it came down to it. It would have to be him. 

“Dean,” He sighed, opening up the journal. “We have to do this.”

“Just wait a second, Sam.” His eyes pleaded, his panic evident in his voice. “We can figure this out.” 

“Come on Dean.” You groaned. “I can see in her head and I think we both know I’m a lot more fun.” 

“Son of a bitch!” Dean lunged towards you, but Sam stopped him. A sick smirk spread across your face. 

“I knew this would be fun.” You closed your eyes and opened them again. Dean felt his blood run cold, staring deeply into the empty black.

-

24 Hours Earlier

“This is a bad idea.” Sam covered his face with his hands as you stared down his brother. 

“This is between me and Maverick, Samuel.” You smirked.  Dean just glared back at you. 

“Don’t call me that.” He growled, but even Sam could hear the playful tone in his voice. You had given him the mocking nickname when you discovered his fear of planes. That, and his inability to follow the rules. You knew that he secretly liked it. “Are you ready to put your money where your mouth is, sweetheart?” 

“Just shut up and drink.” With a hand signal from Sam, you started downing shot after shot of tequila. Dean was gaining speed, but you were too stubborn to let him win. You finished the last shot when he still had three to go. Letting out a victory cheer, you gave Sam a high five, wobbling slightly from the impact. 

“I had a couple beers earlier.” Dean mumbled as a begrudged excuse. You sloppily kissed his cheek. 

“Next round’s on you, champ.” 

“I think we should head in for the night.” He gave you a suggestive smile and Sam took that as his cue to leave. Your mouth opened in mock offense. 

“Dean Winchester, did you get me drunk so you could get me in bed?” You snorted when you laughed, but Dean found it incredibly attractive. 

“Something like that.” He leaned his head down to meet your lips with his for a kiss that was far too inappropriate for standing in the middle of a bar. 

“Guys, come on.” Sam groaned from the other side of the room. “We have a motel room… go use it.” The mood was quickly killed when the door to the bar flung open and a bloodied, screaming woman burst in. 

“Somebody, help me!” She stumbled towards you and Dean caught her before she could trip. “Please, it’s my son. Something’s wrong with him.”

“Where is he, ma'am?” Sam asked and she pointed out to the parking lot. 

“He-he killed my husband.” She bawled, clinging to Dean’s jacket. She looked pretty hurt. 

“I’ll stay with her, go find him.” You said, gently prying her away from him. You told the bartender to get you some bandages and something to clean the wounds with. Dean and Sam rushed out the front door and you took the woman to the back room for some privacy. 

Dean followed Sam and ducked down behind a beat up old truck for cover. There, in the middle of the lot, was a man’s body, his face all carved up and clothes drenched in blood. More importantly, the smell of sulfur lingered in the air. 

“Demon.” Dean growled. They cautiously searched the entire premises, but there was no sign of the son. “Well that’s just great.” 

“Let’s get back to Y/N and see what the woman knows.” Sam suggested. 

“That’s going to be hard.” You sighed, wiping your hands off on a rag as you walked towards them. “She’s dead.” You froze, smelling the air. “Sulfur?” The boys nodded. “Wonderful.” 

“We need to head back to the motel and sober you two up before we do anything.” Sam held his hand and Dean threw him the keys to the impala. Dean sighed. There went his plans for the rest of the night. 

“No rest for the wicked, sweetheart.” He draped an arm over your shoulders and you leaned into him, hiding your bloody knife in your boot.

-

No colors anymore

I want them to turn black

Dean took a cold shower to clear his head, still foggy from the alcohol. You seemed fine, considering how much you had had. Sam was watching you with a curious eye. 

“You sure you’re doing okay?” He wondered. You gave him a small smile. 

“There was nothing I could do. She was half dead coming into that bar.” You shrugged. That’s the moment Sam knew something was up. Every death, no matter how hopeless, always ate at you for days. This wasn’t just alcohol calming you down. 

“Right.” He nodded, letting his suspicions seep into his mind. Dean came out of the bathroom wrapped in a towel and placed a kiss on your cheek. 

“So what’s the plan?” The three of you gathered around the table and you tossed the woman’s wallet in front of the brothers. 

“I grabbed this so we could figure out who she was and where her son might have headed. Her name was Jolene Arthurs. That should at least give us a place to start.” They nodded in agreement. You stood. “Okay, it’s my turn for the shower, but when I get out, let’s head over to the Arthur house and see if we can find the son.” 

You vanished into the bathroom and Sam waited for the water to run before leaning to his brother, lowering his voice to a whisper. 

“Is she acting a little weird to you?” Both pairs of eyes looked at the closed door. Dean shrugged. 

“She seemed fine to me. Hell, she’s holding up great considering she had more tequila than I did.” 

“Exactly.” 

Under the hot water, you washed the woman’s blood off of your skin, cleaning off the knife as well. It was a good thing the bar was pretty empty. She was a screamer. 

“Get out of me, you black-eyed bitch.” You tsked at your reflection. 

“Now that’s not very hospitable of you.” It was your voice, but it didn’t sound like you. With a quick blink, your eyes turned black. “You and I are going to have such fun together, Y/N. Who knows, maybe I’ll get to take Dean for a spin. I’ve always wondered what he’s like in bed and from what I can tell from all those dirty thoughts of yours,” A sick smirk spread across your face. “He’s delicious.” 

“If you touch him, I swear to God-”

“We both know the big man doesn’t care about little insignificant problems like us, so why don’t you try a different threat?” 

“I promise you, I’m going to send your ass back to hell faster than you can say Lucifer.” 

You leaned on the sink, looking deeply into the mirror. 

“Baby, if I’m going to hell, you’re coming with me.” 

A knock at the door almost made you jump. With one more quick wink to the mirror, your eyes returned to normal and opened the bathroom door, finding Dean on the other side. You gave him a bright and confident smile. 

“Did Sam figure out where the house is?” 

“Uh, yeah, we’re about to head over.” He stepped into the room and closed the door, eyes filled with worry. “Are you okay? Sam thinks you’ve been acting a little weird and I know that you think you could have saved that woman-”

“She was so scared, Dean.” You whispered, tears welling up in your eyes. Time to try a different method. “I… I tried, but she had lost so much blood. She begged me to save her. She begged to see her family one last time.” Your lip trembled and any suspicion Dean had immediately dispelled. He pulled you into his arms. “E-every death hurts, Dean.”

“I know, baby. I know.” He soothed, running his fingers through your hair. That’s why you were acting strange. You were trying to hold it together in front of Sam. “Tell you what,” he pulled back enough to look down at you with a small smile, “when this case is over, how about you and I go on a little vacation? Just the two of us. We could go camping in the Rockies like you said you’ve been wanting to.” 

“Really?” You sniffed, wiping your eyes. He nodded and leaned in for a kiss. 

“It’s not me, baby. That’s not me!” 

You wrapped your arms around him again and smiled into the mirror.

-

No more will my green sea go turn a deeper blue

The day was spent looking through county records and checking the Arthur house. Nothing gave you any clue as to where Jolene’s son, Mika, might have gone. Sam was frustrated, but he made sure to keep an eye on you. Dean shrugged off your behavior as being upset about Jolene, but Sam wasn’t convinced. Something was just… off. 

You kept up your act perfectly. Dean would occasionally cast you a sympathetic smile and reminded you about the camping trip he’d promised once this was all over with. Dean Winchester was a good boyfriend. Who would have guessed? Man, this was going to be fun. 

“Stay away from him, you Pazuzu wanna-be.” 

You ignored the quip. 

“I got something!” Dean announced, coming into the room with Mrs. Arthur’s wallet. He held up a small piece of paper with an address on it. “Mica’s new apartment. So proud of him!” He read. “Hopefully our demon is holed up there.” 

“What if the demon isn’t him anymore?” Sam suggested. You shrugged. 

“Well this is our only lead, Sam. We might as well look into it.” 

Sam gave you a once over and you stared innocently back at him. Maybe he was just being paranoid. The two Winchesters went out to the car and you gritted your teeth. Sam was a problem. You’d have to take care of him if you were going to get to his big brother. Oh well. 

Arriving at the apartment building, Sam and Dean prepared themselves for an exorcism, grabbing supplies to make a devil’s trap just in case. You brought your knife. All you needed was a moment alone with Sammy boy…

Dean knocked loudly on the door and at first, there was nothing. Listening carefully, you all heard the sounds of someone scuffling inside. He was trying to get away. Dean kicked in the door and you filed inside, finding the young man trying to climb out the window. The older Winchester grabbed him the back of his jacket and yanked him back into the room. Mica cried out for help, earning a hard punch to the mouth from Dean. 

“It isn’t in me! It isn’t in me!” He cried. One of his flailing arms hit Dean in the nose and he was able to break away. He grabbed you, wrapping an arm around your throat. He smelled like pathetic fear. Being in his head was like having a conversation with a frightened frat boy. You were much more interesting. 

“Let her go.” Dean growled. Sam gripped the demon blade in his hand, but he didn’t dare make an attack. One quick movement and Mica could snap your neck. 

“I just want to get out of here, man.” Mica sniffed. “I saw what that thing did to my mom. It was in me. I don’t know how, but it was in me.” His body shook as he tried to hold you against him as a shield. 

“You’re not going anywhere.” Dean started to circle around him, slowly as to not startle him. Great. A macho showdown. Boring. 

“Ugh, this isn’t fun anymore.” You whined, whirling around and slicing your knife across Mica’s throat. The young man sputtered and choked, blood pouring down from his neck, before collapsing. 

“What the hell, Y/N?” Sam exclaimed. You smiled, closing your eyes. 

“Guess again Sammy.” Both brothers revolted, staring into the cold black that replaced your eyes. 

“You son of a-” Dean started towards you and you quickly turned your blade on yourself, plunging it deep into your side. Dean screamed. “No!” You winked at him before falling next to the boy you had slaughtered. 

-

I could not foresee this thing happening to you

When you came round again, there was a bandage on your wound, tightly bound to try and stop the blood. You were strapped down to a chair, a devil’s trap painted on the floor beneath you. 

“I didn’t take you for a bondage kind of guy.” You smirked at the scowling hunter. 

“Shut up.” He snapped. Sam searched his bag for his journal. 

“I wouldn’t do that if I were you, Sammy. Y/N here is looking a little rough.” You motioned to the wound. “In fact, her little annoying voice is fading already.” 

“Stop it.” Dean’s fists clenched at his sides. The demon was right. If they exercised it now, Y/N might not make it. 

The window Mica had tried to escape from was still open, sending a cool breeze flowing through the room. 

“Deeeeaaan.” Your sing-song voice made him shiver. “It’s cold in here, Dean.”

“I said stop talking.” He spat, pacing back and forth outside the circle. Sam eyed him cautiously, the tension of the room making his chest tight. He had to keep a cool head. 

As much as it pained him, he wasn’t sure Dean would do what had to be done if it came down to it. It would have to be him. 

“Dean,” He sighed, opening up the journal. “We have to do this.”

“Just wait a second, Sam.” His eyes pleaded, his panic evident in his voice. “We can figure this out.” 

“Come on Dean.” You groaned. “I can see in her head and I think we both know I’m a lot more fun.” 

“Son of a bitch!” Dean lunged towards you, but Sam stopped him. A sick smirk spread across your face. 

“I knew this would be fun.” You closed your eyes and opened them again. Dean felt his blood run cold, staring deeply into the empty black. You leaned forward and captured his lips in a kiss. Dean jerked away and you cackled wickedly. It didn’t sound like your laugh. Your laugh was hearty and warm. This sound was icy and cruel. 

“Do it Sam.” He said, backing out of the circle. 

“I can give her back to you Dean.” You offered slyly. “I can keep her alive and rent her out to you whenever you like. All you have to do is let me stay.” 

“Go to hell.” 

“Don’t you want to see her again? To hear her voice? She’s just dying to get her hands on you, Dean. I can hear her screaming.” 

“Sam, do it!”

“She’ll die, Dean! You’ll kill her.” 

Dean couldn’t look at you. No, it wasn’t you. It was a demon. He knew what you would want. Turning away, he gave Sam a nod. The latin words were almost drowned out by your screaming. Shrieks filled the room until the dark cloud finally shot up into the air, diving back into the fiery pit. 

Everything went silent. Sam stared at the limp body in front of him and Dean kept his back turned away. Sam suddenly put a hand on his arm. 

“Dean,” he started softly. His eyes widened. “Dean, she’s still alive!” 

Sam rushed to you as you stirred, coughing and trying to speak. Dean ran and fell to his knees beside the chair, helping his brother to undo the restraints. You slumped forward into his arms. You tried to speak, but your voice was garbled and inaudible. 

“I’ve got you, baby. It’s alright now. I’ve got you.” He hushed. Your eyes held a terror that he had never seen before as they welled with tears. “Sam and I are gonna take a look at you, okay?” You nodded weakly and they lifted up your shirt to look at the wound. You winced as Sam lifted the bandage. 

“We’ve gotta get her out of here.” He concluded. Dean slowly lifted you up in his arms, moving extra carefully so that you wouldn’t be in any more pain. 

“You’re gonna be just fine, sweetheart.” Dean promised. He looked into your Y/E/C eyes and smiled. “Everything is going to be okay.”

-

I want to see it painted, painted, 

Painted Black

They told the doctors that you were mugged. That the man who did it got away without them getting a good look. It was enough for them to not ask more questions. When they asked for next of kin, they said that they were the only family you had, which was the first true thing they said since they stepped in the hospital. 

Dean was sitting in the lobby, his leg bouncing up and down with nervous anticipation. Sam had made him stop pacing because he was getting odd looks from people. They were both bloodstained and exhausted, so people steered clear of their direction. 

“You can go back now.” The nurse announced. Both Winchester boys jumped out of their seats and nearly sprinted down the hall. 

“Now, Miss Y/L/N, you need to lay down-”

“No, you don’t understand, I have to see them.” You fought against her as she tried to urge you back into the bed. Your eyes locked with your boyfriend’s and you let out a cry of relief. “I’m so sorry, Dean. I should have known. I should have seen it in that woman before I helped her-”

“Shhhh,” Dean took you in his arms, making sure he didn’t bump your bandages. “I thought I lost you, baby.” 

“I’m glad you’re okay.” Sam sighed, giving you a small, guilty smile. 

“You did what you had to, Sam.” You assured him, putting a hand on his shoulder. “Thank you.” 

After they got you checked out, Dean kept his promise and took you camping. It was a break that you needed. Sometimes, you could feel the darkness closing in again, that inky black that the demon had tormented you with. But Dean kept it away, like he always did.

-

General Tag: @rae-gar-targaryen; @takemepedropascal; @childhood-imagination;  @mylovegoesto; @yellowbadgergirl; @itmejado​

Supernatural: @desimarie12; @deandreamernp; @vicmc624; @halesandy; @livshaes; @d-whinchestergirl87; @mrspeacem1nusone

[haberdashing]

My Man And Jolene

The singer’s confrontation of Jolene goes unexpectedly awry.

on AO3

Sandy wasn’t sure where Jolene had come from--though she had to be new in town, because it was a small town, and a woman like her wouldn’t go overlooked for long--but she knew that the two of them needed to have a talk.

This was easier said than done, given that she didn’t know where Jolene’s home was (or if she even had one), but after a few days Sandy stumbled upon her while walking to the grocery store and she knew the time was right.

“Jolene?”

The other woman’s face went red as she faced Sandy, and with that all of Sandy’s suspicions were confirmed, at least in her own mind. “Y-yes?”

“We need to talk.”

“Yes, I suppose we do.” Jolene bit her lip, and Sandy couldn’t help but envy how even her lips looked bright and full and more attractive than her own. “Can we just... get out of the way a little first?”

Sandy nodded; she hadn’t thought of it herself, but having this particular confrontation in the middle of the town’s main street was probably less than ideal for all involved parties. The two of them hastily made their way to a quiet dirt road before speaking again.

“So, Jolene...” Where to start? All the words Sandy had planned so carefully seemed to flow together in her mind now. “...I’m begging of you, please don’t take my man.”

Jolene looked at Sandy for a long, tense moment before responding.

“...I’m sorry?”

“Don’t play coy, missy. I know the two of you are a thing, I’ve heard him talking about you in his sleep enough to know that much.”

Jolene’s face went colorful and bright again. “Look, i-if your man’s got some fantasy, I can’t-”

“It’s not just some fantasy. He’d say your name, and then he’d say ‘she’ll find out, they’re all gonna figure it out’. It ain’t hard to put two and two together from there.”

Jolene looked Sandy over carefully while taking a long, deep breath.

“It’s- it’s not what you seem to think, I’m not- not trying to steal your man, or-”

“You know we’re practically married, right? Mark might technically be my fiancé, but that’s just because my father wouldn’t give his permission and-”

“And he’d rather wait for permission than get married without it, because he’s that sort of sentimental fool. I know, I know.”

Jolene’s glance fell downward to her own hands, and Sandy’s gaze followed suit.

Jolene was wearing Mark’s engagement ring on her left hand.

“Did you- did he give you that ring, or did you steal it?”

Jolene started to laugh, though it was a shaky, uncertain sort of laugh, and her voice sounded equally strange when she finally spoke up. “You still don’t get it, do you?”

“Get what?”

Jolene reached up, grabbing a fistful of those auburn locks that Sandy admired so much... and yanking them off, leaving only a head of short, scruffy brown hair beneath the long, luxurious red wig.

And Sandy knew that scruffy brown hair, even if it took her a moment to connect it to the woman before her...

“...Mark?”

“Yes and no.” Her voice sounded a little different now, a little more like Mark’s voice usually did, though there was still a sort of energy to it that Sandy hadn’t noticed in it before. “I... I do like how Jolene sounds, at least when I’m feeling this way.”

“Feeling what way? Feeling like- like a woman? Is that what this is all about?”

“Sort of.” Jolene started to tap her feet anxiously the way Mark always did when he got nervous. “Sometimes I feel like a guy, and then bein’ called Mark is fine, but sometimes... well, sometimes I’d rather be Jolene.”

Sandy wasn’t sure what to say, so she just nodded and waited for Jolene to say more.

“I thought it’d be obvious, but you- you really didn’t know it was me? You were just concerned about me stealing your fiancé away, not about... about me being him?”

Sandy nodded again, noticing idly that a tear was winding its way down her cheek. Now, when did that get there? “You’re beautiful, Jolene. Prettier than me, certainly. I always did love how green your eyes are...”

“Does this... change anything? I know it’s, it’s a lot to take in...”

Sandy thought her answer through before shaking her head.

“I don’t care whether you’re Mark or Jolene or any other name you want. You’re the one I love, and that’s all that matters to me.”

[stereksecretsanta]

Merry Christmas, moretomhardy!

For @moretomhardy. I hope you enjoy!

Read On AO3

*****

A Life Like That

The notification pings before Derek’s last ride has even reached her door, and he snorts as the app flashes his match. “Head to pick up Mieczyslaw (Stiles) now..”

He’s not surprised when the phone lights up with a call a moment later. He waves goodbye to the woman he’d dropped off as he pulls away, letting the call come through the Bluetooth piece in his ear.

“You know you have to pay for that ride now, right?” he says in lieu of a greeting.

“That’s alright,” Stiles says, and Derek can hear the smirk in his voice. “I just so happen to be sleeping with this guy who is like…obscenely rich. And loves paying for anything I need.”

“Is that so?” Derek snorts in response. “You’ll have to introduce me to him.”

“You’re not stealing my sugar daddy!” Stiles laughs.

He goes into the chorus of Jolene before Derek can stop him, and Derek lets it go on for longer than he really should before butting in.

“Calm down, Dolly,” he says. “Your extravagant lifestyle is safe. You’ll be kept in the finest pizza and hipster beer that Beacon Hills has to offer.”

“I was just getting into it!” Stiles protests, but Derek can tell he’s smiling.

“Where are you going anyway?” Derek asks, keeping his eyes on the moderately busy road in front of him as he heads towards their house.

“Doesn’t your app show you?” Stiles asks, and Derek can hear him huffing as he settles down on the front porch steps to wait.

“Not until I actually pick you up,” Derek says. “How’d you even manage to match with me? I was ten minutes away.”

“I….” Stiles hedges, “I might have cancelled like six other rides until I got you.”

“Stiles.”

“Derek.”

“Honestly,” Stiles says, “I’m surprised it worked.”

Derek just laughs before pausing as something occurs to him.

“Wait,” he asks, “why aren’t you driving yourself? Did the Jeep break down again?”

“The thing is,” Stiles says, and oh boy, Derek knows that tone.

“What did you do?” he says.

“Always with the lack of question-mark tone,” Stiles says, ignoring the question.

His breath hitches on the last word, and Derek’s mood abruptly goes from teasing to worried.

“Are you hurt? Did somebody get through the wards?”

“I’m ok,” Stiles says quickly, trying to reassure the panicking werewolf. “Nobody attacked, nobody got through the wards. I just had an unfortunate encounter with a rickety chair and the kitchen floor.”

“Shit, babe,” Derek says, turning down the road towards their house, going a little faster than he should, but he can’t be bothered to care. “What did you…”

He asks the question as he pulls up to the house, but it’s answered before he even has to finish it. In his ear, the Bluetooth beeps as Stiles ends the call, dropping his phone into his left pocket, fumbling slightly as he does so. His right arm is tucked close to his chest in what looks like a makeshift sling from a sacrificed t-shirt.

Stiles waves with his good hand, grinning wanly despite the pain Derek can now see on his face.

Sighing, Derek clicks the “ride started” button on his app and leans over to open the door of the Camaro for Stiles. Realizing Stiles won’t be able to shut the door, Derek hops out and goes over to the passenger side, where he’s met with Stiles’ big sad eyes as he too realizes his predicament.

“Come on,” he says to Stiles, getting him settled into the car and buckling the seatbelt across his lap, letting the chest piece stay behind Stiles so he doesn’t hurt him further.  

“Why didn’t you just call me normally?” he asks. “I would’ve stopped working and picked you up right away.”

Stiles shrugs one-shouldered. “Mostly wanted to distract you from worrying about me until the last minute. It was dumb.”

“Not dumb,” Derek says, “I thought it was funny, right up until I realized you were hurt.”

Stiles just frowns and doesn’t say anything as Derek closes the door gently.

When they’re settled and back on the road, Stiles gives a deep sigh and looks over at Derek, who is driving as smoothly as possible so as not to jostle the broken bone.

“Well, this sucks,” he says. “I hate the hospital.”

“I know,” Derek says, sympathetically. He stops at a red light and reaches over to clasp Stiles’ broken arm gently, leeching as much of the pain as he can before the light turns green and he needs his hand back to shift gears.

“Ahh,” Stiles sighs, happily this time. “That’s the good stuff right there. I knew there was a reason I kept you around.”

He rests his head back against the seat and closes his eyes, the tightness of his eyes visibly loosening, much to Derek’s relief.

“There’s also all the pizza and beer,” Derek teases.

“Mmmhm,” Stiles agrees, sleepily. “And also your butt. I love your butt.”

“You’ve made that known many times,” Derek laughs. “Hey, did you hit your head at all? I don’t want you falling asleep if you have a concussion.”

“Nuh-uh,” Stiles says, shaking his head slightly. “My arm broke my fall. And then broke…itself.”

“Were you using one of the chairs your dad gave us that creaks even when tiny Lydia sits on it?”

Stiles says nothing, feigning sleep.

“I can hear your heartbeat and your breathing, asshole,” Derek says, reaching over to smack Stiles’ knee without taking his eyes off the road.

“Ugh,” Stiles says. “Fine. Yes, I was using the chair that’s older than Dad. And yes, it decided my very manly muscled body was just too much for it to bear, and yes, one of the legs snapped and yes I fell victim to gravity and my own damn hubris. Happy?”

“Very manly muscled body?” Derek asks, smirking.

“You love my manly muscled body,” Stiles says without opening his eyes. He does, however, stick his tongue out at Derek as if he was 5 years on, not nearly 27.

“I do,” Derek allows, and he turns his head away from the road for just a moment to shoot a grin to Stiles.

“And of course I’m not happy you got hurt,” he says. “Just trying to keep you distracted until we get to the ER.”

“I know,” Stiles says, softly. “I appreciate it.”

Derek hums in response, only to laugh out loud a moment later.

“What?” Stiles asks, opening his eyes at the sudden outburst and looking over at Derek with wide eyes.

“Melissa is going to lose it when she finds out you were bested by a piece of furniture,” Derek responds, still chuckling to himself slightly.

Stiles groans.

“We’re here,” Derek says, pulling in to park and ending the ride on the Uber app, before signing out of it for the day before he can get another request.

Once they’re parked and ready to get out, Derek takes a little bit more of Stiles’ pain, just enough to get him through the sure to be long wait at the emergency room.

Stiles leans into Derek slightly with his good side and sighs in relief again.

“Definitely giving you a 5 star rating.”

A few hours and one hand-to-elbow cast later, they’re finally on their way home, a prescription for painkillers in the glovebox, and the promise of a delivery dinner on the horizon.

“At least I can still do most things left-handed,” Stiles says, in much better spirits now that his broken arm is set and the mild painkillers the hospital gave him have kicked in.

“And it’s a good thing you can walk to work from the house,” Derek adds.

“You mean my dearest darling wolfy wouldn’t drive me to work?” Stiles asks, batting his eyes over at Derek in an exaggerated motion.

Derek just rolls his eyes.

“It’s a 10 minute walk, Stiles,” he says. “You didn’t break your legs.”

“It’s cold in the mornings!” Stiles protests.

“We live in California,” Derek counters, smirking.

“Northern California!” Stiles objects. “You know very well it gets cold here!”

Derek shrugs, just to annoy him. “It’s not cold to me.”

“We don’t all have magical weather accommodating werewolf bodies!” Stiles huffs, wishing he could cross his arms against his chest.

Derek turns into their driveway and parks before grinning and letting his eyes flash red as he turns to Stiles.

“You could,” he says, flashing red again for dramatic effect before letting his eyes go back to normal.

“Don’t tempt me,” Stiles says, groaning again as he looks down at his arm and thinks about how very annoying the next 6 to 8 weeks are going to be.

“Offer is always open,” Derek says, leaning over to unbuckle Stiles’ seatbelt. He tilts to place his mouth on the juncture of Stile’s throat and shoulder, biting down lightly with blunt teeth.

He smirks internally at the way Stiles’ heartbeat rises, and the smell of arousal that practically sizzles from his suddenly heated skin.

“No fair,” Stiles whines. “Getting me all worked up when I can’t be…vigorous.”

Derek laughs and pulls away before they end up having a wobbly version of car sex in the driveway. Again.

“We’ll just have to go slow then,” Derek says.

“Hell, yeah,” Stiles says, raising his good arm up in a triumphant fist pump. “We’ll Boyz II Men the fuck out of tonight!”

“Please don’t sing,” Derek says, but it’s too late.

“I’ll make love to you!” Stiles belts, “Like you want me to!”

Derek doesn’t know much about music, to be fair, but he can tell that Stiles isn’t remotely in the same neighborhood of the right key.

“I don’t know why I love you,” he says, even as he’s helping Stiles out of the car and into the house.

“My superior singing skills,” Stiles says. “Obviously.”

“Obviously,” Derek says dryly, but he can’t help but smile at Stiles.

“Cash money!” Stiles calls out in delight as their white long-haired cat pads into view, sniffing at the air delicately.

“Meow?” she chirps up at Stiles, swishing her tail softly.

“She says her name isn’t Cash Money,” Derek says, sharing a conspiratorial look with Cashmere.

“You don’t speak cat!” Stiles protests.

“I’m versed in all woodland creatures,” Derek replies, completely straight-faced, only breaking out into laughter when the reference hits Stiles and he starts to laugh.

“Ok, Kronk,” he says, leaning down to give Cashmere scritches.

She arches up into it for a brief moment before trotting off to do whatever she does during the 80% of her life where she wants nothing to do with them.

“Pizza?” he asks Derek, who already has his phone out and is tapping away on one of the delivery apps.

“Soon,” Derek promises, holding up his phone to show the order has been accepted.

“Then careful sex!” Stiles declares, before his mouth cracks open in a huge yawn.

“Or maybe sleep,” Derek says, arching a single eyebrow in amusement.

“Mmm,” Stiles says, reaching out to Derek with his good hand. “I love it when you talk dirty to me.”

Derek laughs and pulls Stiles back against his chest, tucking an arm around his left side and hooking a thumb into the loop on Stiles’ jeans.

“After dinner, we’ll put that super sexy cast bag on your arm so we can shower. I’ll even wash your hair.”

“Ugh,” Stiles says, wrinkling his nose at himself. “That shouldn’t turn me on. And yet.”

“And yet,” Derek agrees. “And then we’ll get into bed and I’ll let you make me watch The Witcher for the tenth time.”

“Don’t be jealous of how sexy Geralt is,” Stiles chides, leaning his head back onto Derek’s shoulder so Derek can rub his cheek along his neck.

“I could take him,” Derek huffs.

“Yes, dear,” Stiles says, eyes closed and swaying gently as Derek rocks them in place.

“Can he full-shift into a wolf?” Derek asks. “No,” he says, answering his own question resolutely.

“Not a werewolf,” Stiles feels compelled to point out.

“He’s not even scary!” Derek continues, huffing again. “And his wig is bad.”

“And he should feel bad,” Stiles agrees. “Now let’s go sit down before I pass out. You can tell me all about your issues with Geralt of Rivia from the couch.”

“Gladly,” Derek says. Stiles just laughs.

Later that night, they’re clean and cozy in bed, watching Yennefer scream out her pain to the world.

“She’s gonna cause so much trouble,” Stiles says happily.

Derek considers it for a moment and nods in agreement.

“Good for her,” he says. “With a life like that, she deserves a happy ending.”

Stiles looks over at Derek from where he’s propped up against the headboard, but Derek’s full attention is still on the screen.

“Yeah,” Stiles says, smiling more than a little dopily at the man he loves. “She sure does.”

THE END

[gophergal]

Hooooo Boy! This took longer to write than I though, but with the help of @bucketofcowboys ​ , I did it! (Encouragement from @bisexual-horror-fan was also a major motivator) enjoy this second chapter <3

I’m Not Lonely - Chapter Two

Word count:4 000+| Rating: M |  Michael Myers x OC | M/F

Morning came, with all that entails. In the midst of her freshly awakened delirium, Jean was sure that the previous night's events had just been a strange dream. She'd been known to have dreams like that, especially when she was stressed. The paranoia induced by the news I listened to on the way home must have been the basis, she told herself. She had been exhausted and what she did in that dream was absolutely ridiculous. Never in a million years would she be so stupid as to do what she did. That would be like one of those foolish horror story protagonists that Jolene liked to tell her about. With a light chuckle, Jean changed out of her pajamas into the brown sweater and jeans she liked wear on cool mornings like this. There were plenty of things to do today, but none of them could be done on an empty stomach, so off to the kitchen it was.

As she reached the bottom of the stairs, the living room came into view, and suddenly her train of thought came to a screeching halt. The coveralls, with their dark stains and tears, lay on the floor, mocking her for her stupidity. Their owner, however, was absent, with no sign of his presence. Jean's heart began to beat far too fast in her chest as her mind raced with all the things that could go wrong. She turned suddenly to leave the room and crashed into a solid mass, stunning her for a moment. At once, she was hit with a wave of embarrassment as she was pressed against the chest of her uninvited guest.

“Oh! Excuse me, I didn't see you there,” She exclaimed, taking a step back from the man. Now, in the daylight, she could take the moment to realize how tall he was. He was about a whole foot taller taller than her, built like a football player, and, when she'd been pressed against him, solid muscle. “Um, I, well, I'm going to be making myself some breakfast. Would you like to join me in the kitchen?” He didn't answer, unsurprisingly, but she could feel his presence as she moved toward the other room. Her mind was a storm as she flipped an egg in the skillet. What am I even doing? She wondered, I don't know who the hell this guy is or what he did last night before he broke in.

Jean set a plate of eggs and toast in front of the stranger, then sat across from him with her own steaming plate. The air was heavy with tension as they sat, the man staring at Jean as she struggled to force her mouth to form words. Neither of them reach for their food and Jean feels the need to squirm in her seat. She spots her notebook and pen.

“Ah, I- Um, I never caught you name,” she pushed the paper and writing instrument toward him gently, “Mine's Jeanette. Jeanette Parrish. Well, I just go by Jean, because that's what everyone calls me.” She stuttered out. She would almost feel embarrassed if he weren't watching her in such an intimidating way. Like an owl watching a mouse scurry across the forest floor, waiting for the moment to swoop down with its talons bared.

Stop that, she thought to herself, you're working yourself up over nothing. The little voice of common sense returned, Or not. He very well could be dangerous. After all, how many good men just break into a person's home covered in blood, refusing to speak? Feeling a bit overwhelmed by the thoughts racing in her head, Jean pushed herself up from the seat a bit too forcefully, nearly knocking her half eaten breakfast off the table. She needed air. Somewhere without his eyes on her, forcing her mind to spin wild thoughts. She went outside to the utility shed, a basket of dirty laundry (she'd grabbed the filthy jumpsuit without thinking on her way out) pressed to her hip as she exited. The washing machine was set up to cycle and she leaned against it as it filled with water.

She let out a shaky breath, tapping her fingers against the cold metal as she calmed. The machine hummed and shook as it worked, the rhythm of it lulling her into a sort of relaxing trance, broken by the buzz signaling the cycle's completion. On autopilot, she removed the garments from the washer's drum and took them to the line, performing the repetitive motion of hanging them up to dry. When done, she went back inside, seeing no sign of the man when she did. He wasn't in the kitchen, where she had left him, the only sign of him being on the table, where his empty plate sat beside the notebook. Jean was amazed to see a name written down on the paper in a childish, unpracticed scrawl. “Michael,” she read softly to herself. Well, that answers one thing, she thought, but leaves a lot more for me to wonder about.

Michael watched from threshold undetected as the woman, Jean, flit around the kitchen tidying things up and washing the plates and silverware. She moved with purpose and care, reminding him much of the few nurses who cared for him in the sanitarium. One question kept coming to him, however: how stupid was this woman? When she first saw him, she did not scream or beg, or even run away. No, this one stood her ground against him, a thing of pure evil, silent and horrific. Admittedly, it intrigued him, her strangeness. He realized that she lived alone, yet appeared no older than his escaped prey, Laurie. Young women didn't tend to live alone, only old women and men did. She would have been an easy kill, had he chosen to do so.

Why hadn't he? Well he hadn't wanted to, of course. Why hadn't he, though? Enough. He wouldn't waste time on this line of thought for longer than he needed to. Only because you have no answer, The Shape spoke. He supposed that was true. He felt the same urges he had when seeing those girls Laurie surrounded herself with. The same urge he felt when he was young, seeing the life leave Judith. Jean was beautiful, and  there was only one thing a devil could ever do to beautiful things: destroy them.

Jean felt eyes on her back as she put the clean, dry plates in the cabinet. She twirled around to see Michael in the threshold, head cocked ever so slightly to the side. She started to move again, not even noticing the pause she made in her movements. She walked past Michael into the living room, deciding to straighten the book shelves and sweep the floor. The usual intense focus she would fall into refused to come, the presence of another body too distracting for her to push from her mind. Why won't he leave, she wondered quietly.

Eventually, she gave up on the endeavor, choosing to flop onto the couch, frustrated. She picked up the book on the end table. Well, I could always start that book Jo recommended to me, she considered as she opened the book. She'd only gotten a few lines in when she felt breath on her shoulder, causing her to hesitantly look to the source. Michael stood, head tilted like a confused pup. She swallowed and pointed to the book, “Have you read this one? My coworker said it was good, but I'm not very fond of scary stories,” she said, “but, if you wanted, I could read it aloud and we could experience it together? You might want to sit down if that's the case.”

Truthfully, she just wanted him to stop hovering uncomfortably behind her like a cat ready to pounce. To her surprise, he did, though a bit closer than she was comfortable with, a closeness which was increased by gravity pulling her to the low spot made by his superior weight. She cleared her throat, “Well, I suppose I should start then,” a pause as she readied herself to read, “Chapter one: Job Interview. Jack Torrance thought: Officious little prick...”

She read until she could read no more, Michael sitting as still as a cold marble slab next to her on the old couch. When she looked up, throat scratching from the use, she noticed that it was quite dark outside and, upon looking at the clock, realized that she had missed dinnertime and her stomach was quick to confirm. Dog-earring the page she was reading, Jean set the book back on the table, rushing to the kitchen to get something to eat. She eats a plate of leftover meatloaf that had been in the refrigerator, and left a plate for Michael, should he decide to have some. With a yawn, she turned off the light in the kitchen, slinking up the stairs and looking over to the couch where Michael still sat.

The bedroom door was shut firmly behind her and she turned the lock to give her peace of mind while she slept. Are you so sure that will keep you safe, her common sense questions, when he's so close by? She pushed it from her mind, it's all she could do if she wanted to sleep. Besides, becoming paranoid wouldn't serve her well either. The bed wasn't comfortable enough to counter her stress and confusion over the situation she'd gotten herself into.

Jean awoke abruptly, horribly aware on this morning that the previous day and night were not, in fact, dreams. She was also horribly aware that she would have to leave her room at some point that day. Oh shit, she thought, I have to work tonight. Snuggling further into the soft comforter on the bed, she grumbled internally. She didn't hate her job, but she sure as hell didn't like it. Annoying, entitled customers weren't the only thing she disliked about it, but they were a big part of it. The next man to call her “sugar tits”, “babydoll”, or anything overly familiar was going to have to get her fist surgically removed from his face. She was a waitress, goddamnit, not a whore! And even whores deserved more respect than that. Both she and they were just working women, after all. How could that ever be undeserving of basic human dignity?

Rolling out of bed, she hissed at the cold hardwood under her bare feet. The weather is cooling rather quickly, she noted as she put on slippers, unlocked the door, and braced herself as she tiptoed down the stairs. There was no sign of Michael, which seemed to be the norm with him. She half expected to run into him again as she had the previous morning. He wasn't in the kitchen either. Or the bathroom. Or the closet. Not hiding behind her like the shadowy creature in an old monster movie. Finally, she checked the backyard, only to see that the man's coveralls were missing and in there place the clothes he'd borrowed had been lazily draped over the line.

It was- surreal in a way. He was gone just as abruptly as he'd appeared. It was almost sad to have him gone, in a strange way. The house felt emptier, like it was missing something. She shook her head. No, this was the way it was meant to be. She could only hope that he didn't decide to return. That settles that, she thought to herself, now I can just live my life in peace. All that left for her to do was get some breakfast and enjoy some time to herself. Same thing as every day. Eggs and toast. Get dressed. Tidy the house. Sit and read. She felt odd picking up The Shining again. It's rude to read ahead when you're trying to share a book after all. She put it down without a second thought. Picking up an old favorite, she began to read it all over again. It must have been the- what? Tenth time? Something like that. It was a comforting book to read, after all.

Soon enough, it came time to ready herself for the long shift ahead. Her clean, wrinkle-free pink blouse and black skirt reflected back at her in the mirror as she pulled  her hair into a half ponytail in the back. She dragged herself to the car, an old gray clunker that had to be from the last decade or so. Jean didn't really know. It was granddad's from when he was a younger man, but she remembered how her brain would shut down every time he tried to talk cars at her. At least she knew how to change tires and oil, the mechanic could worry about everything else.

The door to the diner section of the truck stop swung open as Jean walked in. There was only one patron sitting at a table, a plate of meat and potatoes set before him. He looked up at Jean and gave her a friendly nod, which she returned with a smile. At least he wouldn't be a nuisance tonight. She walked back into the kitchen where Jolene leaned against a counter top as she chatted with Gus, the cook. He was a big man who's heart was as big as his biceps. He was an amazing cook too and, oftentimes, it made Jean wonder why he hadn't become a chef at some big fancy restaurant. He noticed her and grinned.

“Hey Jean, did you have a good day off?” he asked, deep voice carrying over to her. Jolene seemed to light up, turning to look at Jean.

“Yeah, it's never as fun around here without you!” she said. Jean smiled.

“Oh, y'know, same old, same old. I started reading that book you recommended to me though!”

“Really? What do you think? I know you're not one for scary stories, but I thought you might like this one.”

“Pretty good so far, actually. I didn't think I'd like it, but I've enjoyed it quite a bit. I like the atmosphere the author's set.” Jolene smiled at that.

“That makes me really happy, Jean. Now if only you'd just-”

The redhead was cut off by the jingle of the door as a customer stepped into the establishment. Jean flashed her a small smile as she made her way over to where the man sat down. She knew exactly what Jo was about to say next and felt as though she'd dodged a bullet when she got away. Now she'd just have to be sure she wasn't hit by the ricochet when they took their break. “Now sir, what can I get you?”

Finally, a quiet moment came where no customers sat in the dining area. Jean took the moment to join Jo as she left out the back door. Jolene stood in the light of the small bulb that flickered above the back door. She puffed away at a cigarette that she clenched between her peach toned lips. A grin quirked up to her lips when she noticed Jean, who sighed as she prepared for the usual lecture Jo liked to give her.

“Oh Jean, you wouldn't believe the guy that came in here yesterday,” Jo began, taking a pull off the dwindling white stick, “guy waltzes in like he thinks he's hot shit. Couldn't be any older than, what? Sixteen, I'd guess. Just some dumb fucking kid. And he says to me Ay, dollface, how's 'bout you get me a beer?”

She throws her hair around, “As if he thinks we won't card him, ha! I tell him about as much and say I'll bring him a soda, so Mr Tough Guy gets pissy, but agrees. When I leave to go get it though, the little bastard grabs my ass! What a pig, am I right?

Well, I know he's lucky that you weren't here because you would've been on him like that!” she snaps for effect, “well, Gus just threw him out and made sure I was ok, but still, what a little creep!” She finishes, throwing her hands up in the air as she did.

“Wow,” Jean began, a bit confused as she always was when Jo would go off on a rant like that, “the nerve of some people! You're right, I would've taught him some manners right then and there. Little bastard.” She swore.

“It's no big deal, I guess. It's not like I'm hurt or anything.”

“That's not the point! You know I can't stand when people like that act like they can just do whatever the hell they want.”

“I know, but there's no need to worry about it. Gus took care of it.”

“Not as harshly as he should have.”

“Well, you know that's just not how he rolls.”

“I do.”

“Now-”

“Oh no.”

“Don't you Oh no me! You didn't call my buddy Robert back!” She threw her hands to her hips, her brows furrowed.

“Jo, please-”

“You promised me that you'd give him a chance, Jean.”

“I did. We just didn't hit it off, I guess.”

“Ugh, that doesn't mean you get to be rude to the guy. The best thing to do is tell him up front.”

“I'm sorry,” and she was. Jo was just trying to help her, in her own way. This was the third guy she'd set Jean up with. It was sweet of her, but the help was unneeded and very much unwanted.

“I'm just- Well, I'm just worried about you. I don't want you to end up a lonely old woman, bitter because you never found anyone.”

“According to you, I'm there already,” Jean said, chuckling.

“Laugh it up, but when that happens you'll think: Oh, how I wish I listened to Jolene! She's always been so smart, why did I disregard her advice!” she danced about dramatically as she said this, throwing an arm over her head with the last word, making Jean snort-laugh.

“Alright, alright, you have a point.”

“Yes, I do! Now do you promise to keep an open mind?”

“Of course.”

“Pinkie promise?”

“Yes,” she said, holding out the finger, which Jo hooked with her own. The door opened gently and Gus stopped it with his foot.

“Something I missed?” he asked softly.

“No, no,” Jo laughed, “nothing at all!” Gus rolled his eyes.

“A'right then, well your break's up, ladies,” he said, holding the door open more so that they could enter.

Jean felt light as she drove home from work. Her shoulders were relaxed as the blackness surrounding her passed by. Talking to Jo and Gus was like therapy for her. She could almost push Michael and his intrusion from her mind. Almost. She was still a little worried that he'd show back up in the night. Thankfully, there was no figure on her couch when she unlocked and opened the door (making very sure to lock it back after her). There was no man sat at her table, no towering mass in her corner with intense black eye holes that made her feel weak and small. And that was how it stayed for days. That's how it stayed when she woke up to eat eggs and toast. That's how it was when she went to work and when she got home. For about two weeks.

She got home after a late shift, more tired than she had been in a long while. It had been the stress, she guessed, of Jo reminding her that she had no plans for the holidays that were rapidly approaching. No loving husband and in laws to fill her home with joyful voices and good memories. Being alone had its downsides, it seemed. She flopped straight into bed with a muffled groan of annoyance, then fell asleep with ease. It was also with ease, however, that she was awoken. First slowly by the creaking of her window and the cool breeze that came through it, but then abruptly by the sudden presence at the end of her bed.

The foreboding black shadow just stood there, the moonlight obscuring the figure in silhouette. She at once felt panic rush through her veins as she kicked her legs out. They connected with the figure's abdomen, forcing a deep strangled grunt from it. She flipped out of the bed, staggering to her feet as they tried to carry her to the exit. Her arm was grabbed, causing her to slip and nearly fall, had she not been pulled roughly to the figure's solid chest. She struck out with her free hand wildly, which was caught in a vice-like grip and, using the leverage gained from having her hands in its grasp, the figure pushed her roughly against the wall, pinning her and knocking the air from her lungs. The figure breathed heavily.

Jean squirmed helplessly against the wall, her torso bared vulnerably to her attacker. She squeezed her eyes shut, turning her head away and holding her breath as she waited for the inevitable. When nothing happened she opened her eyes and looked back, catching the sight of a telltale white mask and blue coveralls. “What the hell, Michael?” She breathed through a clenched jaw. He responded with a head tilt, as though he saw no issue with the situation at hand.

“You can't just do that!” She yelled, which amused him because he could, and he did.

“Can I at least have my arms back?” She asked, as he pretended not to hear her, keeping her arms in his cruel grip.

“I'm sorry I kicked you, but you have to understand that I was afraid I would really be killed- Or worse!” Were he any other man, Michael would have chuckled. Not yet, Jean, the Shape supplied for him. That would have to wait. Regardless, he released her wrists, which she rubbed gratefully. She left the room, pausing to look over her shoulder expectantly, almost like she was waiting for him to follow her. And so he did, down the stairs and into the living room where she plopped herself down on the couch. He sat beside her, feeling as she leaned against him at first, then readjusted herself on the couch.

“It's been a while, huh?” She said softly, peering at him nervously. “Well, I'll admit, I can't get back to sleep with all this excitement. I'd like to read our book. Would you like that?” He tilted his head, first to one side, then to the other, which she took as a yes of sorts. She cleared her throat, then picked up the book, “Alright-y, where were we? Aha! There!” And she began to read.

Michael didn't pay much attention to what she was reading to him. On occasion, he would tune back in to her words to catch bits of the plot. Not that it interested him, but her voice, on the other hand- It was mesmerizing. He'd heard women's voices before. Obviously. Usually they held the tone of disinterested disgust, much like the nurses at the sanitarium. Sometimes it was in the midst of a pleasured moan, much like his sister, Judith mere moments before her life ended. Best of all was their fear, their pain, their death. The sound of it intoxicating, filling him with a sense of control and satisfaction. Something about Jean's voice, however, was very different.

When he heard her voice, regardless of what he would think on first seeing her (that being the desire to snuff her out like a candle), he would begin to feel a sense of calm wash over him. He felt like a child again, hearing his mother speak to him in soft tones. Mother. She wasn't quite like his mother, this woman, but it was a closer comparison than to either of his sisters. She was caring. Not like the nurses, with their fake chipper tones and needles filled with numbing drugs. No, she was real. For a moment, when she bandaged his wounds, he remembered Sunday school and the stories of angels he was told. Is this an angel? He asked the Shape. No, it responded angrily, this is flesh and blood. This is for you to rip and shred. To break into a million pieces. But not now, not yet. Now you wait. Now you remain patient.

And so he did.

[geekgemsspooksandtoons]

Bioshock Rebirth Part 1 told in a humorous way

Showed this to @feckinatlas like some of the others. I had this in my draft oh wait. Yeah this is part of my Bioshock Rebirth AU, my reimagining/reboot of the Bioshock franchise. While I don’t wanna write a full on novel because I’m lazy like that. Yet I wanted to make a funny recap. Originally this would of been part 1 and 2. But I decided to keep as 1 right now.

Basically was inspired by stuff like the ByteSize recaps of The Last Of Us. So if you want to know the full story but keep it short. Despite some parts seem long and deep. Yet this is told in a humorous way. Hopefully you enjoy it. Including the night before I am uploading this. I decided to add Booker’s parts because I imagine him as a boss.

Part 1.

Archie: My aircraft was shot down and now it crashed into the ocean near this lighthouse! What the Hell is all this!? Andrew Ryan? An underwater city called Rapture? Weird looking people trying to kill me? Weird diving suit monsters with drills? Little girls holding giant needles? What the Hell is going on down here?

Atlas: Oy lad! My name is Atlas. I’m the leader of the rebellion going against Ryan. He’s an asshole and I made the distress call. We need to take Ryan down and we need your help.

Archie: Okay man who I trust and grow to admire as a father figure who reminds me of myself. Hi two ladies.

Daisy: Hey there I’m Daisy. I’m Atlas’s 2nd in command and....I guess I’m gay with Diane.

Diane: We had a weird history.

Archie: Ah no judgement there. :)

Atlas: Now we need your help rescuing this young girl Ryan has imprisoned. We don’t know why she’s imprisoned but we need to save her.

Later.

Elizabeth: I’m Elizabeth and I want to go Paris! But I’m stuck in this tower. :( But you’re real and that’s so awesome! :D

Archie: Hi Elizabeth! I’m here to rescue you! 

Bluto: Who in the fuck wants her out!?

Archie: AH SHIT HE’S A BIG DIVING SUIT MONSTER! 

*When they get out.*

Elizabeth: Oh my God it’s so great out here!

Archie: Oh crap I’m starting to like her.

*As they explore Rapture more.*

Atlas: Ah crap they’re working like a team! She’s using these small tears to help him out while he shoots stuff!

Elizabeth: I feel like I’m gonna lose my mind and go crazy seeing all this death and unpleasant stuff. :( Especially after meeting that Steinman guy.

Archie: You’re going to be alright. Nothing is gonna hurt you. Don’t become apathetic. We’ll get through this together. :)

Elizabeth: I feel comfortable with you. :)

Atlas: Now since that Big Daddy is dead. Put that Little Sister out of her misery!

Archie: Oh Hell no man! There has to be another way!

Brigid: Do not hurt my little ones. Hello young man and young girl. Use this thing to free them from their torment.

Archie: Ah thanks lady. :)

Atlas: Don’t trust her Arch! She’s responsible for them!

Archie: But she’s trying to help them! :(

Booker: Argh! I work for Ryan’s personal guard! You’re Atlas’s Dog. I’ll send my troopers to get that girl back. Including I’ll wonder if I should capture or kill you!

*After going around unpopulated and some populated parts in Rapture for nearly a week.*

Archie: Ah man Tenenbaum’s safehouse is pretty nice. And these Little Sisters are kids and are great. :) Yet Brigid seems weird around. Especially she looked like I looked familiar. Even Atlas did so too. And sometimes he says these three words sometimes and my head hurts.

Later.

Julie: These are my franken trees.

Archie and Elizabeth: Woah!

Later.

Cohen: I’m Sander Cohen and I’m a weird and disgusting artist guy! 

Archie: Ugh I don’t like him.

Elizabeth: Me neither.

Jasmine: Hi I’m Jasmine and I’m a stripper. :)

Archie: This Jasmine lady is very nice. Glad we were able to rescue her.

Later.

Bluto: Argh! Give me back Elizabeth! I’m trying to protect her! 

Archie: We need to stop the Proto-Daddy! We have to kill him.

Elizabeth: No I can’t kill the closest thing I had to a protective brother.

Archie: I understand that Elizabeth but we have to stop him or he’s gonna cause more death and destruction. I would love if there was another way. Including there’s no turning back if you have to stop him.

Elizabeth: I understand but let me be the one who has to put him down. I’m not going to enjoy this.

*Puts him through a tear that sends him into space as he falls from orbit.*

Bluto: Nooooo! You were my best friend Elizabeth!

Elizabeth: :(

Archie: I’m sorry for your loss. I’m sure he was a great friend. *Hugs her to comfort her.* You’re still a good person.

Booker: Argh! That’s it boy scout let’s fight! Why the Hell aren’t you mutating? Why are you so badass? How are you able to kill so many of my troopers with some what ease! Fight me boy scout! I’ll show you how a real soldier fights!

Archie: Okay gruff old man!

Booker: No you beat me! I just want my daughter back! She’s the only important thing in my life! She deserves better than this. :(

Elizabeth: You’re my father. 

Archie: I’m not gonna kill you because while you’re an asshole. You don’t wanna hurt children and you still love your daughter. Now let’s go Elizabeth. 

Later.

Atlas: Alright Arch we’re close to getting to Ryan. How about you go to Ryan and take him down. Whether you kill him or not. I’ll take care of Tenenbaum and Elizabeth since they trust me a lot. Even though with Tenenbaum she still doesn’t trust me fully.

Archie: Thanks Atlas. You’re a great friend. :) Now excuse me while me and some others go to Ryan. You can take care of the two closest people I’ve known in my life. I’m sure they will be in good hands.

Later.

Archie: It’s over Ryan! 

Ryan: A man chooses. A slave obeys. A broken slave has no purpose. You’re a broken machine who’s entire life was a lie. 

Archie: Bullshit. >:(

Ryan: Would you kindly? Familiar phrase.

Archie: Ah my head hurts AND OH MY GOD ATLAS KEPT USING THAT PHRASE AND I’VE BEEN SEEING WEIRD SHIT LIKE ME WANTING TO KILL YOU!

Ryan: Yes he has and you saw that Fontaine was involved in your process. Now beat me to death with this golf club so you can prove you’re just a slave.

Archie: Hell no old man! >:( *Takes the genetic key and goes back to Atlas.*

Later.

Archie: Atlas how did you know of the WYK plans?

Atlas: I don’t know what you’re talking about boyo? But hey did you know Elizabeth’s lips taste like strawberries? She tried to kiss me you know.

*Atlas gets knocked out by a wrench and Archie finds the two ladies tied up.*

Elizabeth: Oh my God you came back! I found out I was born full of ADAM!

Brigid: Yes he did thank goodness you came back. Atlas terrorized us! 

Archie: I’m here to save you two from Atlas because he’s been lying to me about a lot of stuff. *His radio gets called.* Hello?

Atlas: Code Yellow. >:)

Archie: AHHHHH! I’m slowly dying and it’s more raw now! My life is flashing right before my eyes! 

Elizabeth: Oh no Archie! :(

Brigid: We need help and have to find the stuff to stop him from dying! We owe it to him!

Archie: I’m slowly losing my mind! I’m dying! I’m remembering everything! Andrew Ryan! Frank Fontaine! Yi Suchong! Brigid Tenenbaum! Jasmine Jolene! the Lutece twins! Johnny Topside! What the Hell happened to me!? What is my life!? I’m remembering everyone I met in Rapture! I’m not 23 and actually 5 years old!? My name is Jack Ryan!? What the Hell happened to my life!?

After that he wakes up.

Archie: Brigid knew who I was! I’m angry! >:( She had a hand in ruining my life!

Elizabeth: Archie no! I forgave Brigid! Please don’t hurt her!

Brigid: Ah yes you’re pointing a gun on me that I made sure has no ammo. I think you finally remember everything. :(

Archie: My real name is Jack Ryan. I’m actually 5 years old. I literally was ordered to snap a puppy’s neck by Suchong. Frank was gonna use me to save Elizabeth and kill Ryan! You were one of the people responsible for ruining my life!? And you didn’t tell me when you found out it was me!? I’m not a actual human because of what you, Fontaine, and Suchong did to me! I was supposed to be a slave! What the Hell did Johnny Topside do to me!? >:O

Brigid: Yes I had a hand. But I feel great shame. You were meant to be a sleeper agent. But Johnny discovered you. He couldn’t handle the idea of someone like you going through that. So he kidnapped you, punched Suchong in the face, and he had help reprogramming you. I felt empathy as well. This happened when I realized what I did to the Little Sisters. Me and him changed your life. We gave you the name Archie. While the Lutece twins made sure you were in a place where Fontaine could never find you.

Archie: Johnny did that?

Brigid: Yet due to the experiments done on you. Along with you going through military training. You became stronger than you ever were. Yet it was your own choice to become a soldier.

Archie: Woah.

Brigid: Fontaine used Johnny’s death as propaganda. As if Johnny was the first to rebel against Ryan. In a way he did. But the truth was that all Johnny wanted for you was a normal life. In a way he was practically the real Atlas in a way. Since Atlas was inspired by him. Including some of Johnny’s traits and memories went to you in a different way. He became a slave to give you freedom. And I feel terrible that I couldn’t save him. :( You don’t have to forgive me. 

Archie: I forgive you. ;_; *Breaks down crying as Brigid, Elizabeth, and the Little Sisters hug him. Because before this. He showcased he was more human than he ever was.*

Later.

Archie: We gonna stop Frank! 

Atlas: Oy you fucking mistake! You were the closest thing I had to a son! You were meant to be my Ace In The Hole! Yet you didn’t kill Ryan! You got too close to Mother Goose, the Little Magician, those brats, and anyone else! Johnny Topside ruined everything! Tenenbaum betrayed! So you know what, I’m gonna take the woman you’ve grown to love! She and all the ADAM in this city are gonna make me a lot money! You are gonna die alone because you have everything I didn’t have!

Archie: Johnny Topside was more of a father than you ore Ryan could ever be! >:(

Atlas: That’s it time for the disappointment wrench! >:(

*Hits him with the disappointment wrench.*

Elizabeth: No! ;_;

Atlas: My secret is out! I gonna get the Hell out of this city! Everything’s gone busto!

Archie: We gonna save Elizabeth! He has the genetic key! We need to kill Frank Fontaine!

Daisy: We the remaining rebellion can help you!

Archie: That’s great! But I’m worried we may need some Little Sisters help to free Elizabeth! I don’t want to put them in danger.

Brigid: Don’t worry I’ll trust you and we believe in you. We’ll help however we can.

Later.

Archie: It’s okay Elizabeth! I’m coming! Holy shit Frank is that you!?

Atlas: I’m half transformed by this ADAM and using some power from Elizabeth. Now time to go mano a mano against you.

*Both men just scream battle cries at each other as they fight to the death.*

Atlas: I’m so angry at you! I’m gonna beat you to death! Meaning you can’t save this woman you’ve grown to love! 

*Miranda, Sally, and some Little Sisters free Elizabeth so she can use a tear on him.*

Atlas: Ah crap! 0_0;

*Archie screams a battle cry as he stabs Atlas in the chest with a ADAM syringe and hangs him brutally down a glass ceiling. Resulting in the death of Atlas/Frank Fontaine.*

Archie: Hooray we did it! :)

Elizabeth: Yes we did it! :)

Daisy: Fontaine is dead! Ryan is gone! Let’s make Rapture a place where a community can safely live at. :)

Archie: I’m not alone anymore too. I have a family now! 

*Two months of changing stuff as much as they can. Since there is the scary risk if Rapture is found by the surface.*

During that time, relaxation, relationships developing. Also this.

Jasmine: I’m sorry that I sold you for money. I know you must hate me. 

Archie: I forgive you. :) I understand and you’re my birth mom.

Jasmine: Thank you. ;_; *They just hug each other.* I’m so proud of you.

[grownups-are-the-real-monsters]

This is what it looks like when I try.

Summary: (Modern AU - They’re all about 25 in this)  Lucy could only nod her head solemnly because--‘what the hell did a person say to the woman who’d just attempted to steal her boyfriend and had spent the last month undermining her under the façade of friendship??’ {A Jolene AU} 

Fandoms: The Stand 

Ships: Larry Underwood/Lucy Swann

Word Count: 3,298 

Last year Larry Underwood had seen his first real relationship crash and burn.  

January began with him stuck in the ‘Otto’s’ Gas station for an extra hour after his shift. Cleaning after closing sucked. 

The curse of being too jovial led his co-worker to hoping he could cover for him. Normally, he’d say no but Redman was a nice guy and it allowed Larry to sit and wonder if the new year would suck the life out of him too.

For the time being Larry’s only friend in the world was the Otto’s mascot; a large blow-mold like 3-D sign staring down at the only non-24/7 station in town. Otto the Orange Soda Bottle’s floating glove gripped the gas-pump nozzle with a sickly grin. He was just about the only boy in the college town that didn’t go bat-shit for the fizzy fruit that mixed well with plenty of acholic beverages.

Larry was passing time by staring up at Otto through the glass when a gentle tap alarmed him. A familiar dark haired woman stood at the doors. “Are you open, Larry?” She waved her hand in hello. Larry wanted to criticize her for missing all of their obvious ‘closed’ signs but found no energy.

“Closed.” He strolled over with an annoyed frown.

The woman, Nadine Cross, nodded like she knew her luck was shot. She seemed severely committed to her bit. 

“Shit. Don’t know that I can make it to another station.” She pointed a sharp thumb back towards the lone car by pump number four. Larry stood atop his tip-toes to observe the dark vehicle. He glanced back at Nadine, unsure if he wanted to make conversation with a girl who’d broken up with him (‘If you could even call it that’) in September. 

Sure, they’d remained semi-friends since the split but Larry found the whole thing to be strained. For a while there, he was still in love with her and she didn’t seem to care...running around with some new guy. 

But then he’d met Lucy Swann and suddenly he didn’t really give a shit what Nadine was doing. 

“I’ll see what I can do.” He tapped the glass in a half-finished pattern as a goodbye, see-ya later thing but about not until about halfway to the phone did the girl decide to tap back; finishing the jingle for a neighboring carpet joint. It was vaguely odd.

Mr. Felder, Alan Felder, advised Larry to help one last dollar if the kid was truly stranded. It occurred to Larry that Nadine could be faking...he turned back with the phone under his ear. "A little strange but she’s not threatening.”

He smiled at Nadine through the glass.

He got the go ahead to switch on the pumps, let the girl do her business and leave. But that all rested on the fact that Nadine was actually there for gas...

Most likely, she wasn’t. 

But Larry still strolled on over, unlocked the door and let Cross inside with a hesitant smirk on his face. She sauntered over to stand next to the row of air-fresheners and looked nothing short of pleased with Larry’s confusion. “Having a good night?” 

New Car Scent twitched on it’s metal rod as she flicked it absent-mindedly and Larry thought he could smell a hint of the blue tree. “Trust that my night’s been shitty.” He shook his head, passing by her violent presence at the forest of little trees to go back to his counter. “And it seems like it's only gonna get worse.” 

Nadine wasn’t phased. Her brutal personality seemed to be locked in the trunk while the jewel toned one had her hands on the wheel. “Always negative.” Her eyes rolled around like glass marbles. Her attention then moved towards the overflowing aisle of snacks, feet carefully maneuvering against the tile as if walking a tightrope. “Maybe I just wanted to talk, Larry.” 

“Oh yeah, What about?” He asked, unimpressed by her show of grace under the ‘Any size for just $1′ sign. 

“Us.” Clarifying Larry’s worst fear, Nadine’s busy eyes still blinked ‘No Vacancy’. For there was nothing different that he could spot, the woman had no room available for a partner just the same as she didn’t last month when they broke it off. 

“Can’t you be a normal person and just imagine this conversation happening in your head before you go to sleep?” Larry flicked his lighter open and pictured their last true conversation which had taken place on the curb outside of her house. Thank God she’d been getting rid of an ugly yellow couch at the time or else his ass might’ve froze to the concrete. 

“Mmmm.” Acknowledged but with no appreciation, Nadine moved closer. 

And Larry stepped back even further. He could almost see her November breath in the air. “Isn’t this all a little too high school, Nadine?”

She slammed her hand down on the counter. “Oh, trust you to invalidate my feelings.” Her scowl deepened but it didn’t intimidate him any. She slammed her palm to her forehead and grimly sighed. “Can’t I just come to you and say-” 

Larry hopped onto the stool behind him and leaned onto his knees. 

“Maybe I made a mistake, ok?” 

“Honestly, Nadine.” He felt his chest tighten as he sat up again. “You come to me with this now-?” A laugh escaped. “You look right through Lucy-”

Nadine dropped any sense of her previous gloom. “Lucy? Sorry to break up your ‘happy home’, Larry-”

“She’s my girl, Nadine.” The flat, serious tone coming from him seemed to jerk the woman into further rage. “I never seemed to have a real shot with you anyway and I made my peace with that.” 

“So maybe you didn’t then but now-” Nadine looked towards the freezers and swallowed softly. 

“Now, I have Lucy. Best thing to ever happen to me, Nadine-”

“Bullshit!” She burst, surprising herself. “She’s not for you.” Her heart nearly leapt from her chest. “You’re just living out some damn idyllic fantasy but it’s not gonna last, Larry! You’re not that kind of guy!” She broke to breathe. “You’re-...complicated and...” Nadine slowed to a pause, feeling ridiculous but desperate. 

Larry, who’d shared quite a few screaming matches with her previously, didn’t seem phased at all. “For a minute of my life, Nadine-a couple months, I thought I knew who you were. But I didn’t.” He shrugged. “And I am really fucking complicated. you got that right. But that’s about all you do know.” His eyes widened briefly. 

Nadine deflated a bit on her spot. 

“It took me about all my life, so far, to figure out that I could be a damn nice guy if I stopped wasting it being bitter at the world and thinking I was the shit. And you...” He gestured to her with a vague emptiness. “You came along and you were everything I wanted in a girl.” Larry shrugged, taking his hand away. “You were happier back then, Nadine. But our relationship obviously couldn’t sustain that for you.” Larry was sort of proud of that statement.

“How wise of you, Larry.” She was close to growling but her chest was nearly breaking from the pressure of her quick beating heart. She sniffled pathetically, in her eyes at least, and rolled her lips together. “I think you could make me happy now...” 

Larry softened a bit. “I’m sorry, Nadine but you wouldn’t make me happy.”

Nadine just about wanted to die. 

                              ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

‘Don’t cry. Hold it in until you get to the car...take a deep breath-Oh fuck it..’

The soft rattling of the car keys breaking the strained silence of the night was what kept Lucy Swann’s composure. It was almost a metal heartbeat that she could silently count in her head to fuzz her focus away from tears-because Hell, she’d seen people do that shit in movies.

On beat twelve she burst into tears. Curling her aching body over the steering wheel she’d used to accidentally run over four orange cones during her drivers test. 

On beat sixteen she choked on the rush of air which flooded her lungs from a ‘relaxing’ deep breath. 

And on beat twenty...she stopped counting. Letting out horrible sobs that almost seemed to take up space in her tiny jeep. With every damn move she made, her ears rang because it was all...fucked.

Hissing to herself, Lucy sucked down her snot like a congested child and wiped her palms over her cheeks. Her vision blurred but her mind kept focused. It played scenes over and over like a stuck television. She swore she could hear the static but pushed that sickening illusion away while ripping her body up and to the right against the force of her seatbelt. 

Slowly she gave the car a little gas and--

Hard knocks of a fist ricocheted off the driver’s side window and Lucy nearly slammed down on the gas instead of the brake. “FUCK!” Her hands, shaking from anger, reached down to shift back to park. That was all the consideration she paid the damn blue jeep. Lucy grasped the door handle and shot herself clear from the seat and ignored the way the door clipped her skin when she closed it. 

“Jesus, Nadine?” Her eyes burned directly into the center of her chest, unable to meet her line of sight. But Nadine didn’t seem to hold that against her. No...because Nadine Cross was an infuriatingly clever angel. “What are you doing here? Did you want to talk to me about something?” She half-laughed. 

Nadine sloshed her feet in a puddle. “Seems like that, Luce. Sorry for catching you at a weird time. Were you-?” A smiled played at her lips before she thinned them out again. 

Lucy raised a brow at the nickname but continued shaking her hair out of a ponytail while Nadine shifted her feet into first position. She felt a reluctance to answer or to even bring up her boyfriend’s name in present company.  

“I was just on my way to Larry’s.” She gave in. 

“Judging by the tears...” Nadine vaguely gestured to Lucy’s puffed and red cheeks. “I can only assume he told you that I went over to Otto’s last night.” 

Lucy could only nod her head solemnly because--‘what the hell did a person say to the woman who’d just attempted to steal her boyfriend and had spent the last month undermining her under the façade of friendship??’ 

“We fought about it a bit...yeah.” She rubbed behind her ear, regretting being so openly vulnerable just then. “He wants to be your friend Nadine. But that’s all. And I just got a bit upset because...nevermind, it’s not important.” She shook her head. “I want to get along-I do.” Suddenly she couldn’t help but focus on the fact that she could still hear the radio in the Jeep. 

“I want that too.” Nadine moved with a grace that Lucy wished deeply to have. Her smile was big, more lip than teeth and strangely enticing. 

Frustration ignited in Lucy and traveled like fire through her veins. Her own ‘just being nice’ smile cracked, the left side breaking and sliding down her cheek...giving her a hysterical expression. “Do you?” She blurred an image of herself in her bathroom mirror from that afternoon over Nadine’s perfect figure as she stepped closer. “Because It didn’t seem like that last night.”

Nadine blinked, face twitching slightly and Lucy thought something was coming through before she came to believe she’d just guessed correctly now. 

“Why can’t we just...be friends?” She threw her arms out and slapped them down sharply at her thighs. “Sure, this charming civil charade is fun for you but no me, ok?” 

“I-...” Nadine opened her pouty mouth but clamped it down quickly. “I don’t know, Lucy. I wish I could tell you something, ok? But-” She pathetically waved her arm back. 

Lucy took the moment to softly walk over and finally look the woman in the eyes, a shy expression, not quite happy or sad, came over her face. “At odds or not...I’d listen to you if you wanted to talk about something.” 

Like a flickering flame, Nadine’s whole aura changed. “I have nothing to talk about, Lucy.” 

A road was blocked. Maybe permanently. 

Lucy backed off. “Well I do, Nadine.” She couldn’t help but laugh a little now as the anger bubbled up her throat again. “Perfect Nadine Cross.” She hummed, thinking of the brutal beauty which graced her presence now and the delicate voice that she spoke with.  

“Nobody said I was perfect, Lucy.” She said smartly. 

The burst of frustration felt like a migraine behind Lucy’s eyes. Her face scrunched up before easing into a glare. “Nobody has to.” She gaped her mouth in defeat, lifting her arm to vaguely gesture to the girl. “You’re everything I’m not...and you know what? I was crying because maybe I’m still afraid he might leave me for you!” Her footsteps were light against the pebbles as she wobbled back over. “Larry was in love with you.” Another shrug. “And worst of all, you’re the one who ended it all.” 

Her eyes narrowed. “But do you at least have the decency to leave him alone after walking away?” The question & it’s obvious answer hung in the air between them for a few minutes.

Nadine pursed her lips...thinking of the bandit, the heartbreaker & the trusted stranger who’d swept her away from Larry Underwood’s way of living. Randall Flagg was gone...but the tears shed for him were purely argumentative. 

Lucy’s eyes drowned in desperation. “Nadine...I love him.” She tripped over those words but it only enhanced the honesty behind them. “He’s a good man. I have faith--I do--that his love for me is stronger than what he still...” 

A small puff of fresh air sprang through Nadine’s lungs. “He still has-?”

Lucy’s eyes rolled instantly. “Of course. And I won’t hold that against him, Nadine.” She bit into her lip. “But how is he supposed to grow...to move on when you keep coming round with your leash and collar, huh?” 

Nadine’s strange, beautiful eyes flickered with emotion. For a horrible second, she appeared to be amused. Scaring every bit of strength out of Lucy Swann before her mouth thinned out again. 

“I’m tired of being scared that you’ll take him away from me.” She found her last bit of words and decided to run with them. “So please...I’m asking you to please accept us and move on...because I can’t love anybody else.” 

‘Neither can I...’ Nadine was faced with the proof just some time ago. And here now, was life giving her another reason to curse Jesus for being a Cross-maker.

Her fingers twitched, wanting maybe to reach out for Lucy’s...to ask for something she didn’t deserve but wanted. Earnestly and with a deep ache in her belly, Nadine wanted friendship. But what intruded her mind like an uninvited guest...thoughts of Larry. And how easy it might be to-with one hand stab Lucy in the back and the other choke the life outta Flagg who’d said love was only meant for the two of them. “I’m trying.” She choked out, looking off to avoid her-...Lucy’s reaction.  

Which was close to floored. She opened her mouth but Nadine found some sort of stream had burst. 

“This is what that looks like for me now, Lucy. It’s a fucked system.” Her throat burned and kept her words hot. “Don’t you think I’d like to move on-?” She choked herself up a little, pushing her nails into her bottom lip. “I try...I try to be a good person, Lucy but then...” Quickly swiping a tear from her cheek, she snorted down some mucus. “My mind just plays these awful scenes and I feel like they’re inevitable." Pausing, she took in her audience. 

Lucy Swann looked genuinely concerned. 

“I can’t explain it and really this is a tangent I didn’t plan to go on.” Nadine got the same feeling which usually came when she attempted to sleep off a headache. 

“How do you jump ship when it’s already sunk? Is that the kind of feeling?” Lucy came closer once more, holding out a hand as it began to drizzle. 

The tears burst suddenly and despite Nadine’s embarrassment and restrain, she took the hand and was pulled into a comforting hug. She wanted to scream and cry more than she wanted to be alive. Lucy was nearly knocked off her feet but managed to keep them both up, leaning back on her Jeep. 

For a strange moment, Lucy Swann wrapped her arms around Nadine Cross and rubbed circles onto her back. 

                             ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Hey! I’m here-” 

Lucy barely had time to even think about finishing that sentence before Larry burst into his living room with a proud expression. “I made you dinner.” He sauntered over with a smirk. Lucy smelled his cologne and couldn’t help but lean into his chest and allow herself to be lead into his kitchen. 

“Red Bull and Cup of noodles?” She giggled as she shrugged out of her flannel. The priceless look of joy that Larry shined was far too contagious. “Oh, I love you.” 

“I love you too, Luce.” He gently pressed a kiss to her temple but didn’t pull away. Instead, he pressed his nose against her hair and took in a long breath to chase the scent of fresh linen that was just so Lucy. “You know that, Lucy?” 

Anxiety raced through her veins as memories of bowling on Sunday nights and flashing neon signs fled her mind. All she wanted was to be pulled deeper into her boyfriends arms but she stepped out of his strong arms. “I do. But...I know you still love Nadine too.” 

Larry stepped back as if he’d been slapped. “Oh, Lucy.” He started, reproachfully. Behind his eyes came visions of that September afternoon. That damn yellow couch and Nadine Cross dumping him like garbage on the curb. 

His gorgeous lover smiled sadly. “Maybe you gave her your heart and she stomped on it but Lord knows--” She turned her cheek and sighed “You have mine to fill that void.” 

His arms goosefleshed. So he reached out, gently cupped his palms under her elbows and shook her just a bit. “Don’t talk crazy, sweetheart.” His voice was steady and warm in her ears. Slowly, he pushed her arms up to wrap them around his neck and pushed their foreheads together. “Who’s the girl I sing about, huh?” 

Lucy chuckled, lips turning up in a smile despite the sad tone. “Me?” She opened one eye with a cheeky smirk. 

Larry laughed madly and rubbed their noses together. “And who’s the girl I want to fuckin’ marry?” 

When she stepped out of his arms then, the lowering sun was beginning to shower his living room with stunning hues of pink-golds. Her heart was beating so fast that she felt close to fainting. “Larry Underwood...are you serious?” 

His smirk resembled the famed Elvis Presley’s. “I can’t imagine lovin’ anybody else for the rest of my life.” He chuckled, an image of the man he’d been when Lucy first met him flashed in her head. He’d grown a lot since then. 

“How quick can those tears dry, baby-?” He swiped his thumb against her cheek and attempted to hide the slight stutter in his voice. “Cause seeing them is breaking my heart.” 

Lucy rolled her eyes with a gleaming grin. “So charming.” She mocked, passing him by and bumping her hip into his on the way to the kitchen. “Come eat dinner with me, you idiot.” 

Neither of them had ever been happier. 

[tazzytypes]

Apocalypse: Sanctuary - Chapter 2

Read on AO3

Just because your roommates are horrible doesn't mean you all can't have a good time now and again... just don't tell Venable.

Hey guys. this scene is pretty short in comparison with my other chapters thus far. It didn't blend well with the other things I have planned, but I thought it was important to show the good times at Outpost 3 as well as the bad. Consider it a palette cleanser for what is to come. Michael will be here by Chapter 4...

The excitement over the idea of salvation by the cooperative was a short-lived joy. After months of listening to “The Morning After” by McGovern over and over and over was enough to make the residents of Outpost 3 question their sanity as well as their conviction.

Em walked into the salon, her hands wrapped around a collection of pens she had been able to scavenge from her room. She pulled at the obnoxiously high collar of her white shirt. Whenever evening wear wasn’t an obligation, she liked to dress in as few layers as she could — Victorian underwear and a dress that made her look like some governess of orphaned children in a period drama. 

Swinging the door open, she stopped in her tracks. The room was usually devoid of life except for the 6 o’clock “cocktails.” Andre sat there on the couch, his back to her as he stared into the fire.

The brunette debated turning on her heels, but by the time she took a step back, it was too late. Andre’s head turned, hair raising on the back of his neck as he sensed her green eyes boring into his back. He wondered if she would go away if he ignored her long enough, but curiosity got the better of him His head turned ever slightly and Em pretended like she had meant to be seen by the man.

Heels clicked against the wood flooring, only a few steps before pausing at the edge of the large black coffee table between the two large dark sofas.

Two months after Stu’s death and his cheeks were still damp with tears. His red eyes burned her, anger unyielding. She was deserving of his hate... even more so than the others. Just as she couldn’t reassure him of Stu’s safety she could not tell him of her guilt. At least the others showed remorse and disgust at their own actions.

Em tried to speak with Andre on multiple occasions, but her words came out hollow. Anything she said was just to chase off her own guilt. At one point she had mistakenly reminded Andre that he had also eaten from the stew... it didn’t end well. 

Needless to say, these days, the only person he spoke to was Dinah.

There was so much anger and grief twisting inside him. He wanted to scream and throttle Venable damn the consequences. At least then he’d be reunited with the man he loves... loved. One meal and the bonds made in good faith and mutual tragedy were fractured with the crack of a whip. 

Em wished he would just verbally eviscerate her like he did Evie. His silence was suffocating. Instead, they stood in awkward silence. She really wasn’t good at this.

“So…” Em trailed, leaning back on her heels and biting her lips as she thought of what to say. Another apology would sound insincere and they both knew it would end them right back where they began. 

“So,” Andre mocked, scoffing as he turned back to the fire. 

Em rose a hand as if to reach out to him, mouth opened before closing it once more. Her hand reached out to him before drawing back, hand running through her hair then returning to her side. 

 “What’s it like having Dinah Stevens as a mother?”

Another scoff, followed by his gaze flickering up and down her with disdain.

She finally settled on the couch opposite him, “Sore subject… fair.”

“Also literally asked by every person I’ve ever met.”

Mc nodded, “basic.”

“Yup,” Andre said, popping the “p.”

Fiddling with the pens in her hand, Em racked her brain for something to say. It was a curse, anxiety. It made everything seem much worse than it was and was often accompanied by an overwhelming desire to be liked by everyone… well… almost everyone. Involuntary cannibalism would have been considered some of the worst, but it pales in comparison to nuclear winter. 

Her leg bounced up and down and her eyes flickered from the fire to the ceiling to Andre and back again. Usually, in these moments she’d take out her phone, pens could only distract one for so long.

“God, I wish we had alcohol,” She sighed.

“Amen to that.”

The door creaked open. Em jumped to her feet, holding back the urge to run towards Emily as she quietly closed the door behind her. It felt like an eternity before she turned around. A smile lit up Emily’s face and she waved a collection of paper she had been able to find.

“Ready?”

Relief rolled off Em, tension leaving her shoulders as they can to settle around the coffee table. There was plenty of room, but Em still found it more comfortable to sit on the floor, skirt billowing around her like a puddle of purple. She took a pen and piece of paper and leaned over the table.

“You start. Give me a band.”

Emily’s lips twisted and her nose scrunched as she thought, “… The Beatles.”

Em scribbled down the name and tore it from the rest of the paper, placing it in a small wooden box Emily had brought with her. She grabbed a paper and pen of her own and turned to Em. “Now you.”

“Panic at the Disco.”

“Why am I not surprised.”

Em couldn’t help the laugh that left her, “shut up. You said The Beetles.”

“What? It’s a classic.”

Andre’s attention turned from the fire to the pair sitting across from him. He would have left, but after months and months of doing nothing but waking up and waiting to sleep again he was dying for something different.

“Lady Gaga,” Em said.

“Madonna.” Emily countered.

“Justin Bieber.”

“Justin Timberlake.”

“What are you doing?” He finally asked after a few more rounds of them shooting random words back and forth. 

“Pictionary,” Emily answered him with a smile, cheeks flushed from laughing, “Em had the idea.”

“Pictionary?” Andre asked, slowly scooting closer, “Is that a game?”

“Yeah!” Em answered, “My siblings and I used to play it all the time. Right now we’re coming up with random things to go in a hat.”

She motioned to the box slowly gathering more and more strips of paper, “The game is to pick one of these and try to draw it while your teammates guess what it is.”

“So like art charades?”

“Pretty much!”

A small smile flickered to Andre’s lips as he stood up and came to sit beside Emily. 

“Okay. I have one: Dinah Stevens.”

“Oooh,” Em awed, pointing a pen at Emily and Andre, “that’s a good one. Should we do one for each resident?”

Emily shrugged, “I don’t see why not.”

“How angry do you think Coco would be if we put her in there?” Andre asked, grabbing a pen and paper of his own.

Em looked like the Cheshire Cat, smiling ear to ear, “Furious,”

“Let’s do it.”

As the hours passed, more and more residents joined. A few Greys even whispered ideas into Em’s ear as they passed and she would scribble them in and throw them in the box. Em finally took a seat on one of the couches, Timothy and Emily on her right and Coco to her left.

“Okay!Okay!” Em exclaimed as people yelled things at her all at once, “One at a time! Give me stuff. Movies, books, albums, famous people, sayings. Coco! Go!”

“Michel Jackson!”

Em scribbled down the name and tossed it into the pile of paper that threatened to spill from the small box, “Alright! Now… Emily!”

“To Kill a Mocking Bird!”

She nodded as she scribbled it down, “… and since I’m Emily squared I get to go next.”

Gallant groaned, “oh, c’mon!”

“Hey!” Em snipped, smiling as she swung a pen at the man who could only smile and laugh at her antics, “I’m the one with the pen. My pen, my rules!”

Coco leaned over Em, “What are you writing?”

“Stevie Nicks!”

Leaning back in his seat, Gallant draped an arm across the back of his chair, perplexed, “Isn’t that the woman that sings Jolene?”

“NO!” At least five people yelled in unison, quickly falling into a collection of giggles.

Em feigned insult, “how can you mistake Dolly Parton with Stevie Nicks.”

Gallant waved a dismissive hand, “We aren’t all from the countryside of Georgia.”

“I was raised near Atlanta, thank you very much,” Em jested, “I’m only a quarter country girl.”

“Do you have those shirts that say: ‘don’t talk to me until I’ve had my sweet tea?’” Coco asked, hands spreading out like she was hanging up a banner. 

Em couldn’t keep her smile down, “That was one time!”

“Uh-huh,” Gallant laughed, “Suuure it was.”

The brunette grabbed an extra pen and chucked it at the man. She couldn’t recall the last time she’d laughed like this. God knows none of them had even been in a room together without mandatory attendance.

Timothy sat at the edge of the group. He shuffled through the cards they had made, sorting them so they’d fit in the box. “I think we’ve filled out the last one.”

Coco looked around at everyone, “So… we get to play now?”

“Not today,” Emily declared, smiling at Timothy as he held out the box for her to place the top on it. Coco, Andre, and Gallant booed them.

“Look,” Em defended Emily, hands wringing at her wrists “I know y’all were just spitting out words, but I had to write them all down. My poor wrist needs a break.”

“Oh boo-hoo,” Coco said.

“Half the fun is not knowing what’s coming,” Timothy reminded, his eyes not leaving Emily. Em could tell he was smitten with her. Poor boy didn’t know how to hide anything.

“Well I don't know about y’all,” Andre spoke, mocking Em’s slight accent as he rose from the couch, “But I’m going to take a nap.”

“I agree, y’all,” Gallant jumped on, dodging another pen Em threw in his direction. 

“Words are an illusion created by humanity,” She jested, earning a dismissive wave from the hairdresser as he walked out the door, “It’s conventional!!”

Coco sighed and laid back on the couch, closing her eyes as she began to whine “I wouldn’t mind the constant hunger if it didn’t come with the constant tiredness.”

Em looked to Timothy and Emily. The latter rolled her eyes.

“I feel like I’m back in college,” Em said, leaning back on Emily, “Eating sleep for dinner.”

She could feel Emily’s shoulders shake as she laughed. Timothy took a seat on the other side of the coffee table, resting on the arm of the chair, “C’mon. It couldn’t have been that bad.”

“I spent finals week eating only spoonfuls of peanut butter. Then the next year I bought a Costco-sized thing of ramen noodles.”

Emily leaned back her head and groaned, “Don’t talk about food. Even ramen noodles make my mouth water.”

Somehow, Em had made her way from leaning on Emily’s shoulder to having her head in the other girl’s lap. Emily’s hands absentmindedly ran through the brunette’s short bob which was growing longer by the day. 

“Oh!” A memory struck Em like a lightning bolt, “my friend took me to an authentic ramen place before the bombs.”

She hummed at the mere thought of the food, “Best. Thing. Ever. They had special ramen eggs and topped it off with a slab of pork that just fell apart—”

Coco jumped from her seat with a huff, “You’re all sadistic!”

The three of them watched as the blonde stormed across the room, door slamming behind her with a loud bang which made their bones shake. Then they looked to each other, biting their lips but ultimately falling into laughter.

“If I knew it was that easy I would have done it months ago,” Emily laughed.

“C’mon,” Timothy tried to be the voice of reason, trying to keep a straight face but ultimately failing, “That’s just mean.”

“So is Coco,” Em scoffed, reaching for a glass of water, “it’s not like we threatened to kill her.”

“You did,” Emily reminded. 

The other girl paused in her movement and pointed up at her, “Mead said ‘murder’, not me. I said I’d come for her… I didn’t specify how.”

Timothy sighed and shook his head while Emily only looked at him with a smile. 

“At least we have each other,” Emily noted.

Em smiled at that, finally sitting up, “The Three Musketeers!”

“All for one and one for all,” Timothy said.

Emily sighed, “God knows Venable won’t do it.” 

[saiilorstars]

Dare To Forget Me

Ch. 5: Ins And Outs

// Previous Chapters //

Pairing:  Rafael Barba x Original female character

Summary: Montserrat begins her first case with SVU and comes into some doubt.

A Monday morning was just as busy as any other day in SVU. It was a miracle they still had Sundays off. Montserrat had come in at the time Olivia told her the day before. She emerged into the bullpen and saw some familiar faces along the way, but it didn't hit her until she was spotted by the detectives.

"Miss Novak?" Amanda Rollins was the first to notice the familiar ginger coming into the room. At her call, she had the other detectives follow her gaze towards Montserrat.

With all eyes on her, Montserrat meekly smiled at the group and waved her free hand at them. "Morning Detectives."

"Look at you, showing up unannounced," Fin leaned back on his chair, scrutinizing Montserrat for a clue of her sudden presence. "Last time we heard you were having a baby in Barba's courtroom."

"While that would have been awesome-" Montserrat sarcastically began, pointing at Fin as if she were truly sorry it wasn't the case, "-I decided to wait until the trial was over."

"Impressive," Fin gave a nod.

Montserrat continued on with the charade by pretending to accept the compliment. "Thank you."

"We tried to visit you," Sonny said, sounding a lot like Rafael in that he was apologetic for not following through. "But, uh, your cousin didn't want to tell us where you were at."

"Yeah, she said your couple had some weird traditions or something," Nick said, still seeming doubtful of it.

"Yeah, sorry about that. But thank you," Montserrat was touched by their efforts when they hadn't even known each other to be considered friends.

"Was the baby alright?" Amanda asked out of curiosity. No one knew what happened except that Montserrat had indeed given birth to a baby.

"Yes, a health boy who had me in agony for twelve hours," Montserrat pretended to shiver, making the detectives laugh.

"Yeah, that's why I'm not having kids," Amanda shook her head.

"Never say never," Montserrat truly meant that. No one ever knew what might happen to those perfect plans one made for life.

"Montse," Olivia emerged from the hallway, holding a paper in one of her hands. "Glad you're here."

"Sorry, I was on my way in and I got sidetracked," Montserrat nodded over to the detectives.

"They do a lot of distraction," Olivia's comment earned herself mock glares from her team. "You didn't bring coffee for everyone though…" her serious comment made Montserrat stop for a second until she remembered she'd playfully joked during their lunch meeting that she would bring coffee for everyone come Monday.

"Oh, right," Montserrat laughed in embarrassment. "Tomorrow."

"So, have you told them?"

"Uh, no I have not," Montserrat shook her head.

Olivia motioned if she wanted to go ahead and do it but Montserrat allowed Olivia to break the news instead.

"Well, guys, Montserrat is joining the team today," Olivia put a hand on Montserrat's shoulder. "Please show her the ropes, not that she needs a lot of training, but you know…"

"Show the new kid around," Nick got the jist, giving a smirk that indicated Montserrat was in for a spree of new kid jokes.

"Carisi, you're finally off the hook now," Fin confirmed Montserrat's thoughts with that and made her laugh when Sonny cheered with his hands in the air.

"Thank you for coming," Sonny oh-so-seriously told Montserrat.

"Thank you," Montserrat loved the type of dynamic the team seemed to have despite the atrocious crimes they dealt with every day. It didn't always happen.

"So, Detective Novak…?" Fin tested the name out with a bob of his head. "It's going to take some getting used to considering the only Novak we knew chewed our asses for not giving her perfect cases."

"But now we have Barba who has the perfect attitude towards our cases," Amanda said in the same sarcastic tone Fin had used.

"...I miss Casey," Fin quietly said a minute later.

"Okay," Olivia said in a tone that indicated she was switching gears to business. She showed Montserrat to her desk, which turned out to be opposite of Sonny's. "We did just get our latest victim to help us with a sketch of our perp…" but as she turned around the paper in her hands, the entire group agreed it was rather generic.

"That sketch is useless," Fin's blunt remark made Olivia sigh.

"Yes, I know but let's give it a shot, alright? We're gathering backup so start preparing - this is going to be an all day search," she started to turn but stopped midway, her index finger pointed at Montserrat. "And someone fill in our newest recruit please."

"Oh geez, definitely feeling like the new kid," Montserrat nodded to herself, missing the few smiles from the other team.

"Alright new kid," Sonny rose from his chair, stopping for a moment to take in what he said. A great big smile spread across his face. "Hey, it does feel good. I get the appeal now."

Montserrat cleared her throat, raising a finger in the air. "Yes, um, I believe there's a rapist out on the streets so if someone could get over the high school new kid thing that'd be great."

"Alright, c'mon Detective Novak," Fin was the one to get up this time. "These children don't know when to play and when to work," he said as he walked past her.

Montserrat followed him across the room and soon had the rest of the squad coming along with Olivia's sketch. At first glance she could see the case was pretty generic in that they didn't have outstanding evidence to nail one perp, but what they did have allowed for a search with some guidance.

"He has three victims so far but that's not going to last," Fin took the sketch from Nick and pinned it to the board. Montserrat made a face behind him - the sketch really was generic. "All victims have been white women over 40, raped in their doorways. Their attacker's young, black, male. Six-foot, wears a hoodie and a baseball cap."

"Starting to see the problems in the case...among other obvious stuff," Montserrat walked up to the board to see the details up close. "Had a gun…'I know you want it'?" she crinkled her nose and looked at the squad.

"That's more or less the basis of almost every case," Amanda warned her. "Be prepared for a lot of frustration."

"Duly noted," Montserrat nodded, glancing back at the board. Homicide was full of frustration too but she never really had to deal with cases where the suspect swore the victim wanted to be murdered.

Only a short moment later did Montserrat understand why the station had been so busy when she'd come in. Olivia had already started the preparations for the back up and search. The bullpen flooded with officers, tip line takers, and people Montserrat assumed were the higher bosses of SVU. She didn't recognize anyone and frankly, while the squad prepared to head out, she never felt so out of place. It would take time to get used to people, to really get to know them, but today was no day to dwell on her loneliness. There was a rapist who needed to be stopped and she would do everything in her power to help catch him.

~ 0 ~

Morning turned to afternoon and by the time it grew dark, everyone was exhausted. Still, they went all into their search. Stop-and-frisk wasn't the fastest things a cop could do but there was only going to be an end until they found the perp.

"How long this gonna take, man?" went one potential suspect as an officer forcibly turned him around for the search.

"What? You late for the opera?" Fin's response was a calm sarcasm Montserrat assumed was just part of the man's responsibility. She could see why Olivia suggested she should ride with Fin for this particular job. He was the next most experienced detective in the squad so he knew all the tricks and snarks from suspects.

"I already got a cop-and-feel from one of you people this afternoon!"

"Then you should quit complaining and just follow the instructions so you can go home quicker," Montserrat doubted the man would go home if given the chance. The street was filled with people intending no doubt to have fun on this Friday night.

"That's if he's going home," Fin corrected her then moved closer towards the man. "Live around here, honey?"

"Close enough, man!"

"Got any I.D.?"

"I don't have to give you that!"

"Sounds a bit defensive for someone who's got nothing to hide," Montserrat sarcastically mused. She got an agreeing nod from Fin.

"Huh, it's a nicely rolled blunt," said Fin a minute later after retrieving said item. "Party tonight?"

They heard a gunshot from a distance before the suspect couls answer. Both Montserrat and Fin forgot about the suspect and dashed towards the noise. They arrived at the scene to see a woman dressed in a sparkling, gold dress aiming a gun at a person who was already on the ground.

"Drop the gun! Put the gun down now!" Fin took the lead and pointed his gun at the woman.

Montserrat rushed to see who the shot victim was and pulled the hood to see a teenage boy. "I've got a pulse but we're going to need a bus now!"

"He was following me!" the shooter frantically cried, still lowering her gun as Fin instructed her. As far as she knew, she'd done nothing wrong. "He was gonna rape me!"

~ 0 ~

At the hospital, Olivia had both Fin and Montserrat relaying the situation to her because if things were wrong - even if it was the smallest of things - all of them would be in deep trouble.

"Suspect's Mehcad Carter, he's 16, he was shot once in the chest by the vic," Fin explained. "He's still in surgery, his parents are on the way."

"Sixteen?" Olivia repeated, already feeling the gravity of the situation turning against them. "Did he have a gun?"

Because that was exactly what the victim/shooter was claiming.

"No," Montserrat shook her head. "We recovered a cell phone from his pocket…?"

"Okay...and the victim? What about her?"

"Ms. Jolene Castille, the celebrity chef. She told us that she shot him in self-defense."

"Is this kid our serial?"

"Similar M.O. and description. We're waiting on an I.D. From the other vics," Fin said, reminding Olivia where Carisi was at the moment.

"The parents…" Olivia stopped when she spotted two frantic looking adults coming into the emergency room. She sighed. "Go talk to Jolene again and get her formal statement."

~ 0 ~

The victim was a blonde woman who did seem anxious about her encounter with the suspect. As she described the happenings to Fin and Montserrat, the ginger took a special interest in what Jolene was saying. The word choice was off, in Montserrat's opinion.

She kept this to herself and probably would have kept it away if no one had caught onto her the next day. She was sitting at the table in front of the pin board where all the squad's evidence for the case was set out. As Olivia once again had the detectives run her through Jolene's statement, Olivia noticed Montserrat constantly scrunching her face.

"Detective Novak, something you want to say?" Olivia's sudden call startled Montserrat.

She looked up from the table with an unsure expression. "Uum…"

Olivia sensed her hesitation but attributed it to the fact Montserrat was brand new to the team. "It's okay, you can say anything you want."

Montserrat looked at the other detectives and saw their agreeing nods. "Well...I don't want to start off on my first case with the impression that I don't believe the victim, but…"

"You don't believe the victim," Amanda finished for her. She was smiling in a knowing manner. "We've all had that in some cases. Why do you think Jolene is lying?"

"I don't - I mean, I don't know if she's lying," Montserrat took a moment to gather her thoughts. "I mean...when she told Fin and I how she just knew that Mechad wanted to rape her…" she trailed off, making a hand gesture to her side, "Who actually knows when someone wants to rape you? Jolene said he didn't physically attack her. And she's claimed there was a gun that hasn't appeared. Maybe I'm not thinking right…"

"Nah, we get what you mean," Amanda nodded and looked at the others who were also digesting Montserrat's perspective.

"We still have the dates that match with Mechad's outings," Sonny reminded just as a pure fact. "Not to mention two of our three victims already ID him."

"I know," Montserrat planted her elbows on the table then dug her hands into her fiery hair. "Listen to me, picking at a victim's statement."

She felt awful, yes she did. Her first case and she was trying to dismantle a statement she had no evidence that contradicted with Jolene's words. The ping of self doubt started and once that happened, there was a threat of spiraling.

~0~

The next day, Montserrat took herself to the only person who could offer some help.

"I didn't expect you for lunch," Casey Novak smiled at her cousin who'd unsurprisingly dropped by her office without a call. Montserrat's smile was sour as she gave a wide wave of hello with one hand. "Uh oh," Casey put down her pepsi bottle on her desk. "What's wrong?"

Montserrat dropped into the chair across Casey's desk. "Me, my integrity, my empathy, my sympathy-"

Casey raised a hand to stop Montserrat in her long list of what Casey considered dramatics. "Please, my workday ends at five. And this lunch is just comfort food."

Montserrat gazed down at the Chinese food sitting on the edge of the desk. "Case not going so well either?"

"Oh, he's an interesting one but…" Casey tilted her head, a ghost of a smirk playing at her lips, "...I don't think you came to the DAs office just to see how one of my cases is going."

Montserrat made a noise a child would when something wasn't going their way. "I think I'm screwing up on this case."

"Already? It's only been two days," Casey went for another bite of noodles. "What could you possibly get wrong in the span of two days?"

"Is that a challenge?"

"Montse, what's wrong?" Casey asked again, this time putting down her food to listen.

With a sigh, Montserrat straightened in her chair and began to divulge the contents of the case. "And I don't want to be known as the SVU detective who doesn't believe a rape victim but...the words this woman chose don't sit well with me."

"So you have doubt, big deal," Casey gave a light shrug. "Working at SVU can do that. Every case is different and, yes, sometimes you do get victims who lie and turn out not to be victims at all."

"She shot a sixteen year old boy, Casey."

"Oh, believe me, I know," Casey said with an exceptional emphasis on her knowledge. "Rafael is already getting the push from the DA to get this case moving. I would not want to be in his shoes." Montserrat's flat face reminded Casey of the problem she was having. The ADA made an apologetic face. "Sorry."

"I mean, she claimed he had a gun but as it turns out it was just a cell phone. And said cellphone had nothing but a typical teenage boy's interests."

"So there's nothing to put him at the scenes of each rape?"

"GPS puts him in the West 80s every night that rapist hit…"

"Anything else?"

"Two out of three victims ID him."

Casey made the same face anyone sane would. "This sounds like it could be a case…"

"But it could also circumstantial," Montserrat quickly said but immediately regretted it. Another noise slipped through lips before she threw her head back in annoyance. "There I go again! There's no stopping me!"

Casey rolled her eyes while her cousin practically had a melt down. She took some seconds for herself to finish her lunch; noodles and chicken and finally a long swig of her pepsi. Montserrat kept rambling on about how she was a terrible SVU detective and should just go home. She didn't even notice when Casey had cleared her desk off and gathered her belongings. It wasn't until Casey tapped her on the shoulder did Montserrat realize her cousin had moved.

Casey stood behind Montserrat's chair, hands clasping her briefcase. "If you're done being dramatic, I have a plea deal to make."

"You know, I was under the impression that family was supposed to help each other out," Montserrat glumly stood up.

"I am," Casey's laughter didn't exactly make Montserrat believe her. "But you're being completely paranoid. It's your first case. You can't know the ins and outs of SVU in one day so you're bound to have doubts about everything. We all have different ways we start." She led Montserrat out of the office, past her assistant, and into the corridors.

"So how did you first start?" Montserrat knew of Casey's extensive history with SVU, including how she was disbarred for the mishandling of evidence, but she never really learned of Casey's first case with SVU. Casey had been young and originally wanted to be an ADA for Homicide.

Casey stopped with a momentary reluctance. "I went in too intensive. I put a victim who was just a kid to ID a suspect when the squad repeatedly warned me she wasn't ready. I actually ended up saving another kid who was stuffed inside a cooler and I...I ended up asking for a transfer that same night. It was too much for me."

Montserrat was surprised to hear the stress got to Casey in so little time. Naturally, Casey took things head on. Nothing shook her. "But obviously you didn't get the transfer then, so...what did you do to...get over it?"

"Well, first, Liv talked to me. She made me understand that someone needed to do the job and it should be someone who cared. I cared," Casey nodded, a ghost of a smile on her face. "My first case was, as I have pointed out, a rocky one. We all have them. Olivia herself had her first rape case get a little too close to her. Hell, you want to know how your current ADA first started here? With a belt. Around his neck."

Montserrat gaped while Casey took off on her own. "What!? Wait a minute - Casey!" she chased after her cousin with the intention of getting the full story about that one.

~0~

"Willie Smith, level three sex offender," Amanda pinned the mugshot of the indicated man onto the pin board. "Just paroled in Michigan."

"How did we miss this guy?" Montserrat was looking into the computer Amanda left on the table. "He's been sleeping at a shelter for the last two weeks and it's within ten blocks of each rape. Not to mention the fact each rape fits his old M.O."

"Sometimes they slip through a crack there shouldn't be," Sonny said the only thing he could. Fact was, they probably shouldn't have missed such a big detail but sometimes it just happened.

"There really shouldn't have been," Rafael agreed in that tone indicating he was more than irritated with the squad and the case in general. Olivia was beside him, wearing a face that said she'd already heard his lecture on the way.

Now it was their turn.

"In our defence, we were focusing on Mechad since he is still in critical condition at the hospital," Nick's sour tone didn't help anyone. "With Jolene's statement we put aside other cases for the moment."

"How'd that work out?" Rafael felt Olivia's hand on his shoulder, meaning for him to take it slow. However, she wasn't the one already getting word from picky, anxious bosses. He gazed over the evidence the squad had set out but momentarily diverted to the ginger smiling just a bit out of the ordinary for the situation. "Detective Novak, you're here…"

Montserrat briefly looked up from the computer, that odd smile still playing at her lips. "Yes, trying to work on this case…" she dove her gaze back on the screen and it seemed like she was struggling not to continue smiling.

"Something the matter, detective?"

Montserrat once again looked up to meet his inquisitive stare, along with the others, and felt an urge to laugh. She quickly shook her head and cleared her throat, hoping to force her laugher down her throat. "You mean besides the fact we're possibly looking at a woman who shot an innocent kid, no nothing."

"Uuh...should we bring back the victims to ID Willie…?" Fin made the question after pulling his gaze from the ginger. Newbies. Always so damn weird.

Rafael also switched back to business. "And if they do, then they'll have I.D.'D two different suspects. That just about defines reasonable doubt."

Fin raised an eyebrow. "So you don't want us to bring them in?"

It was clear at the moment even Rafael wasn't sure of the next right move. "I don't know…." He was taking a moment to think when Olivia reminded him of one important detail.

"There's the one vic who did not I.D. Mehcad. We could bring her in…"

"What? And just throw out the other two cases?" Amanda's finger pointed back to the pictures of the two victims.

"Do we have anything else to tie him to them other than M.O. And cross-race I.D.S?" even as Rafael dug for more details he could see the case wasn't going to get better even if it turned out there were more details they suddenly gathered.

"Willie said that he recycles cooking oil," Fin recalled and figured it was the best way to start again. "We'll get CSU to check their clothing and his for lard, oil residue."

"And if we do get a match...Jolene may have shot an innocent kid," Olivia pulled her glasses off to rub her tired eyes. She didn't even want to think about that roadway... but as usual, Rafael was already one step ahead.

"Question is, did she know that?"

That was the winning question, wasn't it?

~0~

"Kara, what the - what are you doing!?" Montserrat had opened the door to her apartment only to be met with burning smoke. She coughed and waved a hand in front of her face to clear the air.

The roommate question was dumping burnt bits of food from a pan into the trash. "Sorry! Sorry! I wanted to make a cool dessert!"

Montserrat spotted part of dinner neatly placed on the table. "So what happened?" She walked over to the windows in the kitchen to open them up.

"I found something tasty looking on YouTube," Kara pushed her dark brown hair behind her shoulders then proceeded to scrub the pan at the sink.

"Kara, I say this with love, please stay off the internet," Montserrat took a seat at the table and decided to pick at the dinner Kara made.

"The salon was empty and I got bored," Kara switched off the sink after putting the pan on the drier. She grabbed a towel to dry her hands then headed over for the table. "I thought I'd surprise you with something good after whatever you go do in that God awful job."

Montserrat was in the middle of chewing on a grape when Kara said that. "Gee, thanks." A minute later her cell phone pinged. She took a spoon of mashed potatoes, then fished her phone out of her back pocket.

Kara was pouring herself some soda when she noticed Montserrat's sudden pause mid-chew. "What?"

"... Mehcad died," Montserrat put her phone on the table. She brought a hand to her mouth to think about where their case was now headed.

"That's exactly what I mean," Kara shook her head. "I know you said you worked homicide but SVU takes a terrible twist with murders. I didn't even know that was possible."

Montserrat didn't pay much attention to her friend's words. Kara meant well and she knew it was just concern for her recent behavior. Montserrat was still working on being confident and a lot of other things Kara had no idea about, as well as anyone else besides Montserrat's shrink.

"Fin and Olivia are gonna go talk to the woman-"

"-you mean the shooter," Kara took a sip of her orange juice. "Because we both know that's what you think she is.'

"I am trying to see both sides but...now we're really going to see," Montserrat took her fork and went around the plate picking at the chicken. "I have a feeling this case is going to become a really heated one."

"I don't need to be a cop to know that," Kara snorted. "So if this does go to trial, can anyone go?"

Montserrat issued another look, this one signaling Kara's strange question. "Why?" Kara's widened smile was enough to make Montserrat conclude there and then it was a personal agenda that Kara had.

"I am not gonna miss any chance to see that ADA in court, up close," Kara made a hand gesture, matched with a face of 'duh'.

Montserrat silently put her fork down and stared at her roommate for a minute while Kara rambled on about Rafael. She actually described him in great detail, down to what he'd been wearing the night they saw him at the restaurant. "Amazing," Montserrat finally said after Kara took a pause (only to drink more soda). "You literally can never remember anything after getting hammered so why is this an exception?"

Kara swayed her head then dramatically stopped on a tilt, expression flat in seriousness. "I know you're like swimming in a pool of self doubt but that does not include blindness." Montserrat shook her head, but her laughter made Kara smirk. "You know I'm right. I've always got a good eye for good looking men."

"You're out of line, Kara Mackie" Montserrat pointed her fork at Kara. "And for the love of God don't you step near any courthouse. Ever."

Kara smirked widely and continued to eat. "You're lucky, Montse."

"And why is that?" Montserrat reached for her phone on the table again. She was probably going to be getting more updates on the case's situation. At the very least they would be taking a much closer look at Jolene's shot.

"Because you got to spend afternoons with him - wow!"

Montserrat raised an eyebrow of hers and slowly put her phone down on the table. "Kara, I was deadass nine months pregnant. If there was ever a time to look awful and unattractive in my life it was during that period. I couldn't even sit down on my own! Nor get up!"

"Hey, if anyone wants something to happen, it will."

Montserrat rolled her eyes, about to reject the idea when an image of her first prep session with Rafael popped into her head. She'd almost tripped and would've had a nasty fall if Rafael hadn't caught her so swiftly. It made her face feel warm when she remembered the close up of his eyes. He really did have nice eyes...and his arms - he was strong.

"Montse…?"

"What?" Montserrat flinched when her roommate spoke her name. She felt her face get even more warm realizing she'd actually drifted off thinking about something that was supposed to be no big deal.

Kara watched with a growing smirk on her face. "What were you thinking about?"

"Nothing!" Montserrat made a dash to finish her dinner, practically stuffing her face.

"Oh, sure," Kara bobbed her head, mimicking Montserrat. "Your face is almost as red as your hair. Admit it, you considered him."

"Shut up and eat your dinner, it's actually really good."

Kara laughed loudly.

~0~

Despite the protests on the streets against Jolene's act that made it impossible for a clean entrance into both the SVU station and the DAs office, Montserrat and Sonny pushed their way into the latter. It also didn't deter Sonny from making his best case on why it would be beneficial for him to shadow an ADA. Apparently, he was getting ready to take his bar exam. Interestingly though, Montserrat bore witness to the case being made towards her cousin, Casey.

The Homicide ADA had the two detectives trailing after her - well, Sonny was right behind her and Montserrat purposely lagged behind him. Sonny never realized when Montserrat left for their own ADAs office. He was just glad that Casey wouldn't mind his shadow if it was alright with Olivia.

Montserrat made a light knock against Rafael's office door just as he was finishing up a 'conversation' over the phone. It didn't sound like a regular conversation.

"Yes, sir. I do know what a long, hot summer is," he was also facing the window that probably overlooked the decent sized protest crowd outside. "Understood…"

"That did not sound like a good conversation," Montserrat remarked once he'd ended his call. "In fact that sounds more like somebody's in trouble and it's not Jolene."

"I guess it's an election year," the strained smile on Rafael's face was full of incrementing stress the case was putting on him combined with the DA. "No comment."

"Right," Montserrat knew he had a lot of comments but was holding himself to a professional level. She didn't blame him. Casey often times described just how the DA was on the inside...and Casey would know given her suspension period.

"Weren't there supposed to be two of you?" Rafael's finger pointed to the empty spot beside Montserrat.

"I'm not that new - I could have come alone," Montserrat made a face feigning offence. Of course it didn't help that Sonny came rushing in a couple seconds later. Rafael smirked at Montserrat, not needing to say what he was thinking. "I could have," the woman insisted with a frown on her face.

"Could have what?" Sonny cluelessly looked down at her.

"Nothing!"

"So...Willie Taylor. He's good for all the West Side rapes?" the ADA inquired from the two. It would solidify what needed to come next.

"Palm oil, olive oil, peanut oil, and lard on Willie and the vics. Mehcad was just a kid in a hoodie," Sonny was sorry to say for the dead kid. "Wrong place, wrong time…"

"And he was wearing the wrong skin," Montserrat's input made the two men stop and stare. "What? Everyone is thinking it and they're too afraid to say it out loud. I went with Finn and Olivia to Jolene's restaurant and I saw how she recoiled her hands when Fin reached just to motion them into a different room to talk in."

"Okay, devil's advocate, what was he doing in that neighborhood?" Rafael asked.

"His friends told us that he lost his metrocard. He was walking home," Sonny replied. He shared Montserrat's sentiment but even he knew the situation was too conflicting for one clean perspective.

"Okay, then why did he follow her to the gate?"

"His parents said he liked watching the cooking channel. Maybe he recognized Jolene, wanted an autograph."

"And Jolene, she's still sticking to her story?"

Montserrat made her input known with a scoff. "Try embellishing. Now she's claiming that Mehcad told her, 'you know you want it' as if we didn't know she just pulled that coincidentally a day after it was leaked to the press."

"How'd she react to the M.E. Report?"

"She doubled down. Even though not one neighbor heard her scream."

"Her story's a house of cards. But she's just still hiding behind self-defense," Rafael wished it could be easier but it hardly was in this division.

"Look," Montserrat began again, this time more calm and serious, "I've seen my fair share of hate crimes in Homicide. I'm not being dramatic, I'm not blaming a victim just because...this just feels racially motivated."

Being more professional made Rafael take her more serious. She reverted back to the detective Casey talked eons about. "If it is, she'll have a history. Find it. This isn't going away."

"We'll get on it," Sonny dutifully nodded and motioned Montserrat to follow him out.

"Detective Novak?" Rafael stopped the ginger woman just as she was about to cross the doorway.

She turned back but gave Sonny a nod to wait for her out in the hallway. "Did I say something wrong back there?" was her immediate guess on why she was being held back. "I have a problem, I know-"

An unusual smile came to Rafael's face as he responded with some familiar words. "You have problems alright: your integrity, your empathy, your sympathy…"

Montserrat's eyes widened in horror as she recognized her previous lists of concerns she'd given Casey. "I'm gonna kill Casey Novak."

"This is literally the worst place to say that," Rafael laughed at her.

Montserrat was nowhere near amused. She came back - stalked over - and planted her hands on his desk, leaning forwards. "How did you know that?"

Rafael sobered agonizingly slow - in Montserrat's opinion - but retained a smirk Montserrat figured was just part of his natural self. "Your cousin loves to pop in whenever the DA is breathing down my neck." Seeing her face getting redder from anger, he decided to throw in something that could possibly save Casey from actually being attacked. "She was just worried about you and she stopped by to see how the case was going. She's mentioned you had doubts about your competency here-"

Montserrat suddenly slammed her hands on the desk, effectively cutting him off. "She had no right to do that! If I come to someone to talk - to vent - that's automatically private!" she shrugged when she reached her conclusion and withdrew her hands from the desk. "I'm gonna kill her! The DA is gonna have to find a new Homicide ADA because I'm about to kill the one they have now!"

Rafael had kept quiet throughout her long ramble, unbeknownst to her he was in his examination mode and he'd come up with a good solution. Of course, he knew what he was going to get into when he opened his mouth again but he couldn't listen to Montserrat's ridiculous cries of self doubt. "I did not take you to be a woman with such low confidence in herself."

Montserrat blinked in response. Her head gave a light tilt while she decided whether or not she'd heard right. His straight face was answer enough. "I do not have low confidence in myself," she responded a minute later, much more calm than before.

Rafael made his doubt known with a bob of his head. "The woman I met two months ago was a...what was it?" he pretended to think about it for a second before he nodded and answered himself. "Oh, right, a 'badass in general'. Wonder what happened to her…"

Montserrat released a breath borderlining an offended laugh. "Well excuse me but I literally withheld labor in a courtroom, in a trial. So yeah, I had my moment. That was different. That was two months ago. This is me now, in a completely different setting. This is my first case as a detective in SVU so excuse me for having some doubt in my choices. I want it to go perfect."

"You're in SVU, nothing will ever be perfect," Rafael would've guessed Olivia to be the one to tell this to Montserrat before anything else. Apparently, it was going to be up to him to tell her the truth. "I've only been here a year and it took me only the first case I took on from them to figure out the structure of the division. You shouldn't - why the hell are you smiling?" he couldn't figure out when Montserrat had suddenly garnered a wide smile that seemed to be on the verge of laughing.

He wouldn't figure out that she was thinking about what Casey said in regards to first time cases, specifically his first case with SVU.

Don't you dare laugh, Montserrat. Montserrat pursed her lips together, pressed them hard, to swallow down that threatening laugh in her throat. "You're right," she said in a strained tone. "Everything you said is right - I gotta go."

"What was so funny-"

"-nothing!" Montserrat answered before he could even finish the question. The fact was she was staring at the desk with trembling lips. Don't laugh, she warned herself. "I have to go, Sonny's waiting. But thanks for the real life talk. Oh but I'm still killing Casey." She turned on her heels and walked straight out of the office, withholding her laugh until she was in the hallway.

Meanwhile, Rafael was left with the impression that Montserrat was an even stranger Novak to deal with.

Sonny, on the other hand, had to deal with a partner who had such an endless laughter. "I didn't think anything was funny right now," he admitted in hopes of being let in on the joke.

Montserrat took in a deep breath and hoped to God she was done. It was ridiculous, honestly, to even be doing this and she was sure if Rafael found out he would probably kill her. "Sonny, it's nothing, trust me. Rafael just said a really funny joke."

Sonny snorted. "Now I know you're lying. Barba never jokes."

"Why do you people call each other by your last names? Kinda weird," Montserrat said in a swift move to change topics.

"I don't know, just the way things are I guess," Sonny shrugged.

"I mean, I'll call you by your last name sometimes but I'm not going to do that all the time," Montserrat continued on.

"Alright, but even if I did call you by your name, it's a mouthful!"

Montserrat pretended to gasp in offence. "My name is pretty and it deserves to be said in whole. But if you're that weary of it, Montse is fine too."

Sonny smiled and tested the name out. "Montse? See, easier to say. That's why I use Sonny instead."

"What's your real name?" Montserrat wondered just as they'd come out of the DAs building. "I know you and Fin use nicknames, so...what is it? What's the big, ugly name your mother gave you?"

"My name's Dominick and it's a fine name," went the man in defensive mode. Montserrat laughed at him but agreed it was a good name.

"Alright then, Dominick, you wanna tell me why you asked my cousin if you could shadow her instead of your actual ADA?" Montserrat started down the steps for the sidewalk. "I mean, I figure you ought to know Rafael better than you do Casey."

"I do, but I asked Casey as a backup. I'll ask Barba after the Jolene case is done."

"That still doesn't make much sense," Montserrat stopped by the sidewalk for a moment. "Why would you ask Casey as a back up? Is Rafael that stickler who'd say no?"

"I don't think so…" Sonny shifted on his feet, something about him suddenly nervous.

"Sonny…?"

"...he scares me sometimes," the man promptly answered and started heading for their car.

Montserrat honestly would need a minute to laugh before she could follow to the car.

[justjessame]

Not A Loser Anymore Chapter 8

Morgan was in the kitchen, making some breakfast, when she heard the first knock of the day. She walked to the door, still in her nightshirt, with a glass of orange juice in one hand and a frown on her face. The clock read nine in the morning, which meant that her day guard was late. When she opened the door, her frown went full on glare.

“Clay.” She greeted, less than pleasantly. Morgan stood leaning against the doorframe, drinking her juice waiting for an explanation.

Clay stood awkwardly on her front porch, waiting to be let inside. When he noticed an invitation wasn’t forthcoming, he had to ask for one. “Can I come in?”

“I’m sure you have the ability to cross any threshold you’d want to, but if you’re asking if you may come in, the answer is,” she stopped to take a refreshing sip of her juice and faked thinking about it. “No.” She shook her head then tilted it waiting.

“Damn it, Morgan,” his voice was a cross between a plea and a growl. “I really don’t want to have this conversation in the open.”

Morgan raised an eyebrow. “Why not? It’s not like you’re going to actually share anything I’ve never heard before, or that’s sensitive.” She shrugged. “I’m pretty sure that Mrs. Lange doesn’t give a shit about my visitors, nor what they talk to me about, although she has been eyeing Cougar a bit lately.” She shrugged again. “Then again, most women with a pulse seem to eye him.” She stopped and looked up at him, waiting once more.

He gave a long suffering sigh. Dear God, why did she tie him into fucking knots? And the fact that Jensen had been so tense during his fucking debriefing last night, forcing his hand really to check a few discrete survelience cameras that he’d had installed. For Morgan’s safety. Not to stalk her. Just to make sure that none of Max’s goons came for round two, or if Aisha decided to take a note out of Max’s book. Yeah, he didn’t believe his own bullshit either.

He checked the cameras, watched as one caught a kiss between Jensen and Morgan. And that made him realize that staying away wasn’t going to work. Not if it meant she was ready to truly move on. Not with Jensen. The boy was a good guy, but Morgan was far too much for him. Hell, he sometimes wondered if she was too much for himself.

“Fine,” Clay groaned, scrubbing down his face with one hand. “I wanted to tell you that the intel we’re getting is that Max is in a holding pattern. He hasn’t, as far as my contacts tell me, regrouped enough to make another play, yet.” He cleared his throat, “I- we can relax the guarding, if you want?”

Morgan snorted, undignified, but warranted. “If I want? That’s rich, of course that’s what I want.” She was still leaning against the doorframe, with her head tilted so she could study him. “Pooch should be able to touch base with Jolene. Cougar and Roque should be able to do whatever they want with their time. And Jensen-” She watched Clay flinch at the mention of his name, but kept going. “Jensen should be allowed to go watch his niece play soccer.” She sighed, and glared up at him. “You should be able to do whatever it is you do when you’re not ordering everyone around.” Morgan turned, planning on going back inside and starting to clean her house, in case Jensen planned on returning for movie night round two. “Bye, Clay.”

She hadn’t gone two steps inside when she felt the heat of his body against her back. “What do I do when I’m not ordering the team around?” His whisper blew hot over her hair. “What I should be doing instead is trying to make us right, Morgan.”

The door was shut behind him and she turned to glare up at him. Remind him that he wasn’t invited inside, but the look he was giving her made her stop. His eyes held more pain than she’d ever seen on Clay. And she’d removed bullets and reset his bones before, without anesthesia. She licked her lips and waited. Waited for him to go on, for him to tell her just how he’d planned on fixing the fuck up that was their pseudo relationship.

What she wasn’t expecting was his ungloved hand to touch her cheek with a tenderness she’d never seen from him. She didn’t expect to see that the pain in his eyes was tempered by a look she couldn't decipher. Clay was looking at her with, was that adoration? What the literal hell?

“Clay?” Morgan’s voice stopped him, made him wonder what to say. How to say it?

“It was always you, Morgan. Always.” He leaned in to kiss her, but an undignified snort stopped him.

“Always me?” She couldn’t stop the snort that came out of her, it startled him, but so had his words. “Was it always me when the chick SHOT you when we were walking out of a diner with dinner for the team?” She remembered the scene as though it happened the day before. The angry woman, screeching God knew what, then the gun, the flash, and the blood as Clay leaned against her. “Was it always me when the another psycho put a fucking bomb on the car you were picking me up in?” Again, like yesterday, the fear that Roque wouldn’t be able to disarm it, that her last moments would be because of a crazy bitch that wanted Clay so much she’d kill him before someone else could. “And wasn’t the whole insane reason for this elaborate guard situation because another woman you fucked put me in danger?” She laughed without a trace of humor. “By always me, I am going to assume I’ll always be your patsy.”

“Damn it, Morgan.” He growled, pulling his hand back to rub down his heavily scruffy face. “Those times weren’t-”

“Weren’t what? Weren’t your fault?” Morgan looked at him like he was crazy. “Correct me if I’m wrong, but didn’t those women at least ASSUME that you were interested, if not actually already fucking?” He looked at his shoes. “Yeah, that’s what I thought. Call me crazy, Clay, but if I were the always in your life, then I’d imagine that I’d have known it by now. I mean you’re pretty fucking open with what you want.” Sighing, she moved to the kitchen, figuring he’d get the hint and go, but she expected far too much of him. “Oh, so this is going to be a LONG visit. Great, watch me clean the fucking house.”

“Morgan,” he was pleading with her, but he knew that she had some decent points. Why had he fucked around with those other women? And why didn’t he realize that she was always with him when it went to shit in a flash? Fuck. “Look, I’ve fucked up extensively. I know it, you know it, but let me make it up to you.”

Morgan had been getting her cleaning products out from under the sink, but she heard him. She heard and nearly clipped her own fucking head on the cabinet. “Make it up to me?” She considered the possible ways he had in mind. Sex, no doubt. “I think you’ve had plenty of tries at that, Clay. What could you possibly try this time that would make me believe it?”

He looked at her in worry. How had he tried to fix it before? Sex, she thought he’d just go straight for the bedroom. Which, if he were being honest, was one of the first ways he thought of trying. But no, he’d try something else. “We could try actually dating for once.” He offered, thinking about how amazing it might be to just go out with her. “If you want to, that is?”

She blinked at him. A date? He wanted to go on a date with her. She was working it through her mind, trying to make sense of it. “Aren’t you supposed to be dead?” Morgan had to ask, because last she checked, yep he was officially dead.

He chuckled, dimples in full bloom. “Well, if you want to be technical, yes. However, I think I can manage to find a way to take my girl out on the town.”

“Don’t rush the ‘my girl’ bullshit, Clay.” She rolled her eyes. “Sure, a date. Why not?” Picking up her supplies she headed to the bathroom. “Just not tonight, I have plans.” With that she walked away, and he was left wondering if he’d have to kill Jensen to get him out of the way. But then he’d have to find a new hacker. Fuck the hassles.

[blaze-art]

So I love MySims, so I made a MC character: Jolene Streelman

More info below

Jolene is Blaze's protagonist of MySims, MySims Kingdom, MySims Agents, and MySims Skyheroes. Despite her feminine appearance and interests that one might consider "Dorky", she's not afraid to get into some high energy situations should the need arise. She cares a lot about her fellow sims and always wants the best for them.

Mysims

Name: Jolene Streelman

Nicknames: Jojo, Jo

Age: 17

Gender: Female

Interest Choice: Fun (Loves), Geeky (Likes), Spooky (Dislikes)

Personality:Caring, Kind, Slightly tomboyish, Sensible, Curious, Judgmental, A little impatient, A little overzealous

Known Family: Unknown

Best Friends: Travis, Roxie, Vic, Makoto

Friends: Violet Nightshade, Poppy Nightshade, Candy, Annie, Beebee, Summer, Jimmy Wantanabe, Ginny, Bean

Enemies: Yuki and Morcubus

Rivals: Esma and Brandi

Crush: Buddy

Loves: Seeing people happy, Helping others, Discovering new things, Books, Soda, Adventures, Music, Having fun (when it's a good time to do so, though), Her friends, Buddy.

Hates: Immaturity, Nonsense, Distractions, Bullies, People getting hurt, Abuses of power, Things taking longer than they should, Laziness, Cocky people

Japanese Seiyuu: Hitomi Nabatame (Mana Aida/Cure Heart)

English Voice Actress: Cherami Leigh Kuehn (Komaru Naegi, slightly adjusted)

Townie sim info (If she weren't the protag)

Jolene will come to your town once it's reaches 1 star

Jolene is a Fun townie sim

Profile:

"Jolene is a down-to-earth girl with a heart of gold. Once she heard about the once desecrated town flourishing once again, she couldn't be anymore happier! Seeing everyone so glee and blissful always puts a smile on her face, when they're happy, she is too. Don't let her looks fool you, she's not afraid to get dangerous if it means protecting the ones she holds dear. She likes to have fun as much as the next guy, but only when it's a good time to do so. As when she has a goal, she hates all matter of distractions that keep her away from accomplishing it."

Quotes:

Move In:

"Hey there! I'm Jolene, but you can call me "Jojo" or "Jo" for short. I came here as soon as I heard the news, I say with a bit of teamwork and some elbow grease, we can get this town bustling in no time! "

Accept Move In:

"Thank you so much for letting me stay! I'll make sure I can help you whenever I can  "

Request For More Things:

"I say a couple of things here and there is in order"

Becoming Best Friends:

"You're the best, <player name>! If you ever need me, i'll be there!"

Star Level 4:

"I would like a pet, but I have no idea what to get. A cat? A dog? A turtle? There's so much to choose!"

"When i'm alone, I like to read books. My favorite is this one about this girl who falls down a hole and meets a bunch of strange people, Somehow i'm always forgetting the title of it..."

"I'm thinking about taking some aerobics classes, you never know when you need to do..."parkour"? Is that the word?" "I enjoy a bit of soda every now and again, it's a rush of energy straight to the heart. I'm not much of a coffee person so soda acts as my pick-me-up"  

Star Lavel 5:

"Can you keep a secret? I think the bellhop is pretty cute..."

"You know, I always wanted to be like those girls you see in shows, the ones that can take down a legion of bad guys with nothing but the power of friendship. I guess that's why I love to help people"

"You ever just daydream and think about the future with someone you really like? I do that all the time" "Gee..Most of the spooky villagers in this town are just major jerks! There are exceptions of course! But most of them...It's like you have to be goth to be evil...I feel bad for the good goths...those jerks must've given them a bad name"

MySims Kingdom

Name: Jolene Streelman

Age: 18

Gender: Female

Interest Choice: Fun

Personality: Caring, Kind, Slightly tomboyish, Sensible, Curious, Judgmental, A little impatient, A little overzealous

Known Family: Unknown

Best Friends: Lyndsay, Ginny, Travis, Vic, Rusty

Friends: Renee, Candy, Sapphire, Zack, Violet, Poppy, Roxie Road, Trevor, Barney

Enemies: Morcubus, Vincent Skullfinder

Rivals: Yuki

Crush: Buddy

Loves: Seeing people happy, Helping others, Discovering new things, Books, Soda, Adventures, Music, Having fun (when it's a good time to do so, though), Her friends, Buddy.

Hates: Immaturity, Nonsense, Distractions, Bullies, People getting hurt, Abuses of power, Things taking longer than they should, Laziness, Cocky people

Profile: (Protagonist role Only)

"Jolene was nothing more than a simple pig herder for Elmira. But as fate would have it, she was chosen by King Roland to serve as the new official Wandolier after winning first place in the trials. She is determined to repair the broken kingdom and make the sims happy once more. With her friends by her side, nothing is impossible!"

MySims Agents

Name: Jolene Streelman

Age: 20

Gender: Female

Interest Choice: Charisma, Charisma, Smarts, Smarts, and Athletic

Personality: Caring, Kind, Slightly tomboyish, Sensible, Curious, Judgmental, A little impatient, A little overzealous

Known Family: Unknown

Best Friends: Travis, Roxie, Vic, Makoto, Evelyn

Friends: Violet Nightshade, Poppy Nightshade, Candy, Annie, Beebee, Summer,

Enemies: Derek and Zoe

Rivals: Brandi, Esma, Yuki, Morcubus

Crush: Buddy

Loves: Seeing people happy, Helping others, Discovering new things, Books, Soda, Adventures, Music, Having fun (when it's a good time to do so, though), Her friends, Buddy.

Hates: Immaturity, Nonsense, Distractions, Bullies, People getting hurt, Abuses of power, Things taking longer than they should, Laziness, Cocky people

MySims Skyheroes

As the protagonist, Jolene was a member of the Chaos Pirates. She was given a chance to prove herself to Morcubus but ended up crashing and suffering amnesia. She was then rescued by Derek and Selena and taken to Skyforce headquarters, whom she sided with. She later realized her previous allegiance in a dream sequence and acted as a double agent when she given a chance to "redeem" herself by Morcubus, she was able to turn the tides on the Chaos Pirates and save the skies from their reign.

When not the protagonist, she is unlocked after beating the game.

Name: Jolene Streelman

Age: 30

Gender: Female

Personality: Caring, Kind, Slightly tomboyish, Sensible, Curious, Judgmental, A little impatient, A little overzealous

Known Family: Unknown

Best Friends: Derek, Finn, Jenny, Justice, Martin, Ol' Gabby, Selena, Summer, Violet Nightshade (Currently)

Friends: Morcubus, Svetlana, Dragomir, Rose and Raphael (Formerly) Candy, Evelyn, Vic, Sapphire, Barney, Lyndsay, Jimmy Watanabe

Enemies: Svetlana, Dragomir, Rose and Raphael (Currently) Skip, Chaz McFreely, Yuki, Vincent Skullfinder (Temporarily)

Rivals: Justice (Formerly), Morcubus (Currently)

Crush: None

Loves: Seeing people happy, Helping others, Discovering new things, Books, Soda, Adventures, Music, Having fun (when it's a good time to do so, though), Her friends, Buddy.

Hates: Immaturity, Nonsense, Distractions, Bullies, People getting hurt, Abuses of power, Things taking longer than they should, Laziness, Cocky people

Trivia:

Her last name was originally going to Simmons

One of her quotes in MySims references the Lewis Carroll novel Alice's Adventures in Wonderland

This may be a subtle nod to American Mcgee's Alice, also made by EA

Jolene's age fluctuates throughout the series, she's 17 in MySims, 18 in MySims Kingdoms, 20 in MySims Agents, and 30 in MySims Skyheroes

Her parents are never mentioned

It's implied at the beginning and end of MySims Agents that she and Buddy got married after the events of the game, whether they had any children or not is unknown.

She was originally going to be voiced by Annette Toutonghi, voice of Freddi Fish, but this was changed to Cherami Leigh, the voice of Komaru Naegi from Danganronpa.

Her Japanese voice is Hitomi Nabatame, the voice of Mana Aida aka Cure Heart. It was originally going to be Kiyono Yasuno, voice of Elena Amamiya aka Cure Soleil, but this was changed.

MySims Skyheroes is the only game where Jolene and Buddy don't have an established relationship

Jo in MySims Agents is similar to Kim Possible, being a red-headed hero with a blonde bumbling male sidekick and having a romantic relationship with said sidekick after they've been best friends for a long while. She even hums the theme song to Kim Possible when she's idle. In fact, the comic series that Buddy made based off their adventures is called "Jo Possible".

The only difference between the two is that Kim is a freelance hero while Jolene is part of the MySims Protection Agency, which is an organization.

She's also similar to Sam from Totally Spies, being that they both have similar personality traits, work for a organization dedicated to the protection of civilians (SPA and WHOOP) and even have a blonde partner that wears red (Clover in Sam's case, Buddy in Jolene's case).

It's implied that Jolene might have a singing talent, sometimes when idle, In MySims, she'll hum the MySims theme song. In MySims Agents, she'll hum either the theme tune or Kim Possible's theme song from Kim Possible.

The basis of her personality was that of magical girl protagonists, since she has a strive to protect and help others while carrying a fondness for romance and fun. She even mentions the genre in one of her quotes in MySims about "Those girls you see in shows". She even has the voice actress of Cure Heart from Doki Doki Pretty Cure in the Japanese version.

In one of her quotes, she mentions that most of the spooky Sims are "jerks" She was referring to Morcubus, Yuki, Esma, Vincent, and Brandi. Who are antagonistic and have the Spooky interest. Being that she's friends with Violet (since she likes fun Sims), she's aware that not all of them are mean, just some of them.

Foreign Names:

Dutch: Femke (Meaning "Woman of Peace")

English: Jolene

French: Jolie

Hindi: शांति  (Shaanti) (Meaning "Peace")

Italian: Felicia (From Felice meaning "Happy")

Japanese: ジョーレン Jōren

Polish: Jolene

Spanish: Felicia (From Felice meaning "Happy")

[river-phillips]

River and Charlie attend a fundraiser event at Soapberry Springs University. What starts out as a fun afternoon quickly turns into a whirlwind of jealousy and mixed signals...and a learning experience for the both of them.

@charliesfins

Charlie held River's hand as they led her toward the festival. When they'd heard about the fundraiser event for the university library, Charlie couldn't imagine a better way to spend the day, especially if it meant getting to show off with River a bit in public. They did hope that the overall numbers for the day weren’t too overwhelming to allow the two of them to enjoy themselves. "Any bands in particular you're excited about?" they asked, eyes flashing toward their girlfriend with a grin.

River was actually looking forward to today. It was nice out, and Charlie seemed excited for this fundraiser as they led her deeper into the campus from where they'd parked. This was only her second time at the university and she still wasn't very familiar with her surroundings, but at least she had a guide this time. "Oh, uh, I don't actually know a lot about the local music scene, but that one band of all female werewolves....fuck, what were they called?...Oh! The Femme Fangs! They seem pretty cool." The pair of them started to head over toward where music was playing, seeing the stage, booths, and carnival games set up for the fundraiser not far off now.

Charlie squeezed River's hand. “I hear there's going to be a seafood truck that's actually run by seafolk, so we should have plenty to come by for food.” Being on campus, Charlie was immediately back in their element. Their classes hadn’t started yet, so they were more than pleased to be able to chat with people they hadn't seen all summer. They ended up introducing River a lot, but they also didn't want to throw too many names at her. As they leaned against the counter at a milk crate throw stand, they glanced at her curiously. "Think you can win me a prize?" Charlie winked, knowing that if either of them had any chances, it was definitely River. Charlie may have looked good, but they had no athletic abilities, especially when it came to something like throwing. "I've got something special planned if you do."

"That offer an open one?"

Charlie turned around rather sharply, but they let out a squeak of delight and threw their arms around the neck of the man standing there. "Dre! I didn't think I'd see you here." Figuring it was best to introduce, they turned back to River. "Dre, this is my girlfriend. River, this is Dre. He was my partner for some pretty gnarly projects last year."

There were a lot of people around, but River was at least able to breathe in the outdoor atmosphere, and the whole thing wasn't as overwhelming as it could have been. Having Charlie glued to her side was an added comfort, and she smiled like a dutiful girlfriend as she was introduced to friendly people she honestly probably wouldn't remember, but every time she heard Charlie call her their girlfriend, her heart swelled with pride just a bit. Once they got to the milk bottle toss booth, River smirked cheekily at Charlie's challenge. "Damn right I can. I played softball in high school. I don't care how rigged these games are, those bottles are going down." She rubbed her hands together but when she heard the voice behind them, she turned quickly to find Charlie throwing their arms around the neck of a man. It seemed friendly enough, but River couldn't help the uncomfortable twinge that shot through her spine for a moment. She smiled brightly. "Nice to meet you, Dre," she said, offering him a hand to shake.

Charlie was looking at River and completely missed the hungry look Dre flicked down their body. Leaning against him, they said, "I don't think I would have made it through that one printing class without him."

"Nonsense," Dre said, waving a hand. "I only did so well because I had such a willing partner." He smirked as he shook River's hand. "Describes our Charlie well, don't you think?"

River definitely didn't miss Dre giving Charlie a hungry once over, nor did she miss his hand gripping their hip as they leaned into him. River felt her face getting hot as she squeezed his hand, probably a little harder than she meant to. "Yeah, that's them all right," she said quietly, actively having to focus on not gritting her teeth together. "You still want that prize, babe?" She turned to the counter and slapped a five dollar bill on it, getting 3 balls in return. With an elaborate windmill underhand pitch that felt like muscle memory from when she was a teenager, she knocked down all the bottles on her first try. She turned to smirk at Dre before grabbing Charlie's hand.

Charlie let out a sudden bark of laughter as River effortlessly knocked down the pins. "Knew you could do it!" they said as they let River pull them forward. Charlie pressed in, giving her a quick peck on the cheek. "We'll have to catch up later," Charlie said over their shoulder told Dre. "You're taking Douglas's medieval class, right?" But they didn't actually wait for his answer as they scanned the prize wall with River. "Do we go cliche and grab the puppy or in your direction and grab the baby seal?"

River leaned into the kiss on her cheek, but she didn't take her eyes off Dre over her shoulder as he slowly retreated, muttering a few words of farewell in Charlie's direction before leaving the two of them. River felt satisfied, but oddly conflicted in the pit of her stomach. She’d basically just flexed in front of this guy, and she couldn’t help feeling a little guilty for being so petty. She attempted to shake off the feeling as she turned to the prize wall. "The real cliche would be if they had a giant stuffed bear," she joked, but she ultimately pointed to the puppy, her next words seemingly innocent, but with an edge of something else. "I vote puppy, because I'm the only seal you need to cuddle, right?"

Charlie grinned at River's logic and gladly selected the puppy to carry around with them. "You have one, and now I do too," they teased, slinging it under their arm before leading her toward the main stage to watch for a while. They goofed off and laughed, dancing with the puppy since they knew River grew self-conscious about dancing. As Charlie pretended to grind on the puppy, they realized they'd attracted a few extra eyes, but they only paid attention to River and fell to the ground to sit with her after. Still, it was nice to have the extra appreciation.

River tried to let the encounter with Dre slip out of her mind and have fun with Charlie, and it didn't take long for just that to happen. Laughing and enjoying Charlie was so easy. So natural. They made it easy for her to relax and while her insecurities were always there, it was easier to not care about them. At least not as much. Familiar feelings flared up as Charlie's dancing got a little more raunchy. And while River was enjoying the view, she noticed others were as well. She shot off unintentional glares at a few of the wandering eyes, before she was pulled to the ground to sit with Charlie. "People were staring at you," she stated quite plainly, lifting Charlie's arm over her own shoulder.

Charlie shrugged as they lifted the puppy to pretend it was giving River a kiss. "Let them," they said. "I've got my eyes right here." They leaned against River as they listened to the music. Charlie teased their fingers across River's side, content to just sit there until River was ready to move. "Do you want to stay for the rest of the set or just the next song? I'm down for either."

River was comforted by Charlie's words, and she smooched the stuffed animal playfully before leaning up to give Charlie a quick kiss. She was being stupid, she knew she was, and she just needed to relax. "Actually, I'm pretty hungry," she answered. "Let's check out that food truck you were talking about." They stayed for the rest of the song, and then went on the search for the food truck, literally able to follow the smell of cooking fish to find it. Inside the truck taking orders was a young woman whose eyes lit up at the sight of Charlie, though River couldn't quite tell if it was because she knew them, or for other reasons.

Charlie closed their eyes and breathed in the smell of fish cooking. Landfolk did all right with it, but they could always tell when it was being prepared properly by seafolk. To all appearances, it was the same process, but Charlie knew better. They'd seen and accomplished the subtle differences that went along with it. When Charlie opened their eyes, they looked up at the trunk and grinned. "Jo-Jo!" Charlie said as she moved closer, still holding River's hand. "I haven't seen you in forever! Did you find a new roommate yet?" The woman had crashed on Charlie's couch a few weeks the previous semester when she and her roommate hadn't been speaking. "River, have you ever met Jolene? We're in for a treat today because she's one of the best seafood cooks I've ever met, and I don't say that lightly."

River let herself be dragged a little quicker toward the truck as Charlie excitedly greeted the woman. God, she was like, intimidatingly attractive. From her position up inside the truck, River felt like she was being looked down on like Jolene was the judge and she was the defendant in a courtroom receiving her sentence. "No, I haven't. Uh, nice to meet you," River said, almost unable to look at her. But it didn't matter because Jolene's eyes were glued to Charlie. They seemed to know everybody personally wherever they went. This was a small town, but jesus... "How do you two know each other?" River asked.

"Jo-Jo lived with me for a little while, but we go way back," Charlie said. "I actually knew Jo-Jo back in high school when I was just an awkward otter, and her pod would meet ours every once in a while. You had things way more together than me back then."

Jolene laughed and shook her head. "Oh please, you've always been a looker." She leaned forward, finally acknowledging River. "You've got good taste," she said to River. "Don't let anyone else snap them up."

Charlie rolled their eyes. "Teasing her seems really unnecessary." The words could have been a reprimand, but Charlie didn't put any heat behind them for their old friend. They glanced up at the menu, but it all looked good. "You want to make me whatever you like best? What would you like, babe?"

River steeled herself a little when Jolene finally addressed her. "I won't," she said, trying to sound playful, but her tone came out a little darker than intended. She wrapped an arm around Charlie's shoulder and pulled them closer. She watched as Jolene pursed her lips a bit, but soon adopted that same sweet smile once Charlie started talking about food. "I'll just share with you," River answered. "I'm not that hungry anymore."

Charlie frowned slightly. "But you're always hungry," they protested. Turning back to Jolene, Charlie offered a quick smile. "Why don't you give us two of whatever it is."

"Anything you for," she said as she disappeared from the window to figure out the food.

While she was gone, Charlie slipped an arm around River's waist again. "You okay?"

River shrugged, trying to sound chipper even if her face might have been betraying her a bit as it faltered. "Yeah, I'm fine. Don't worry." She was doing the one thing she'd told herself not to do: swallowing down her emotions. But it felt like the right thing to do. She knew she was being irrational. No point in ruining the day with her stupid emotions.

Charlie didn't quite buy River's story, but they let it go. When Jolene appeared at the window again with two plates of food, Charlie took them happily. "You're the best, Jo-Jo!" Charlie raised an eyebrow up at her with a smirk. "Do I owe you anything?" It was a cheeky comment, but the kind that Charlie was pretty sure they could get away with.

"You?" Jolene asked. "Honey, you know you can have whatever you want."

Charlie winked at her as they said a quick goodbye. They led River to a nearby table, coaxing her to eat some as they listened to one of the side performers fill time in between big events.

River scowled slightly at Jolene's comments, and couldn't help but shoot a side-eye glance at Charlie as she watched them wink back. But Charlie didn't notice, and as they left, River glanced over her shoulder at Jolene, who was giving her the same type of smirk River had given Dre. It made a heat boil in her chest, but she took a few deep breaths as they sat down at the table. River picked at her food, and for the first time in the day they were both pretty quiet. River at least had the excuse of eating to cover up the fact that she wasn't in the mood for conversation. And dammit, the food was amazing, which honestly only made River angrier. But she just focused on calming herself down, repeating to herself how dumb she was being. "What now?" she asked as they finished cleaning up their food.

Charlie swallowed their last bit and looked at their girlfriend. "I could be down for just about anything. We haven't looked at the shopping stalls yet. Want to do that?" Charlie waited until they had River's confirmation and wandered that way. Most of what they passed included things like pottery and jewelry, but Charlie quickly zeroed in on a stall filled with leather work. "This is beautiful," they said, holding up a leather bracelet. Charlie's attention quickly shifted from the bracelet to a selection labeled bikinis that were clearly not intended for the beach.

"What do you think?" they asked River with a smirk as they held up what would have been a bikini top, had it not been simply long fringe trailing down from the collar. "I think I could rock it."

"If you put it on now, you can get anything else cheaper free," offered the woman in her late thirties manning the booth. She smirked at the two of them.

Charlie raised an eyebrow. "When there's nowhere to even change? Come on, I'd think the bikini itself should be free for that kind of show."

River happily agreed to go over to the vendor stalls, feeling a little better once she'd eaten despite who had prepared it. The two sort of drifted away from each other, though not too far, as they checked out different stalls. River had been eyeing some tie-dye shirts when she heard Charlie call something beautiful and strode up to join them. As Charlie held up the leather top to themself, River swallowed hard as she couldn’t help imagining them in only the leather piece, biting her bottom lip slightly. "You definitely could," she confirmed with a nod. But apparently she wasn't the only one that thought so as the vendor's voice cut through her dirty thoughts. She cocked her head to look past Charlie at them, raising her eyebrows. "Do you ask all your customers to strip?" she asked, her tone a little indignant.

Charlie put a hand on River's shoulder. "It's not a big deal, babe. You and I both know I'm comfortable with it." Charlie held it up as though inspecting the quality. Really they were still hoping to end up with an offer of it free if they got the bracelet or something else smaller. It was fun to wiggle their way into a better deal.

"Hell," the woman said. "Change here and now, and I'll give ya two. You and your girlie friend can have a matching set of them." She smirked, as though the idea was funny and looked around. "I'm sure you'd drum us up plenty of revenue."

Charlie laughed, shaking their head. "Oh I'm sure I would, but I'm not about to go strutting around in it." They were standing with large displays on what were the most traffic heavy sides, so Charlie pulled their shirt up and over their head. They'd actually worn a bra that day, but they didn't bother removing it before fastening the glorified necklace around their neck. "And how much is this worth?" they asked, their voice teasing as they posed a bit.

River resisted the instinct to pull away from Charlie's touch. They might be comfortable with it, but she sure as hell wasn't. But she just kept her mouth shut, knowing that wasn't fair. Charlie's body wasn't her's to police. That didn't mean she had to be happy with what was going down in front of her though, grinding her teeth and crossing her arms as Charlie took off their shirt and put on the leather piece. She was standing behind Charlie, and they couldn't see just how upset she was getting as she ran a frustrated hand through her hair, glowering at the vendor who looked overly pleased with herself.

Charlie ended up getting the top at half price, which was plenty off for them. They'd seen landfolk wear just as little at the beach and still didn't really understand what the distinction was between bikini showing off and bra modesty when they covered the same things. "What do you think? Should I just wear this all day?" Charlie asked as they turned back to River. Once they saw her face, Charlie faltered, taking in the heavy frown on her face. "What's wrong? Am I supposed to change or something?" The vendor snorted, and Charlie shot her a look now that they weren't using being cute as a bartering chip.

River tried to cover her expression as Charlie turned back, but they were too quick for her, and the thin lips and furrowed brow gave her away before she could relax them. "You look great," she muttered, her face softening. "You always do." Too good, apparently. She shot the vendor a look too, before shrugging and leading Charlie away from the stall. "You can wear whatever you want. I won't stop you."

Charlie followed behind River, still holding their shirt instead of wearing it. Obviously River was annoyed about the clothing, but Charlie didn't know what to do about it if she didn't want to talk about it. "Do you want to watch the main stage again or do something else?" they asked. Since River was looking the other way, Charlie glanced down, enjoying the way the fringe parted to show off their bra. If she learned to forgive them for buying it, Charlie suspected River would enjoy coming home to find Charlie in it.

River suddenly felt exhausted, stopping in her tracks as Charlie questioned what she wanted to do now. If she was honest, River wanted to go home. She felt uneasy now, like something was crawling underneath her skin and making her itchy and paranoid. She kept glancing all around her, as if watching where the eyes of passerbys were resting. And as she could have guessed, most of them rested on Charlie's new article of clothing. Or lack thereof, really. She took a deep breath and scratched her cheek absentmindedly, trying her best to swallow down her emotions and act normal. Maybe they needed to talk about this, but if they did, they'd do it later. River's anxiety had ruined the last time they'd went out somewhere. She wouldn't let it happen this time. "Main stage is cool," she decided. "You really do look great in that, by the way."

Charlie preened under River's compliment, not necessarily paying attention to the other eyes around around them (but appreciating the attention in an absent way). "Cool." Charlie grabbed her hand, the puppy from earlier still tucked under their arm. Once they got to the main area, Charlie found a nice stop for the two of them to sit, and they leaned back to do a little sunbathing while they listened. They didn't need the tan by any means, but if they couldn't be in the water, this was nice too.

River sat down next to Charlie on the ground and tried to crawl out of her own head and just listen to the music and enjoy the sun as it got lower and lower in the sky. They'd been out all day and while River's paranoid mind was focusing on the negatives, they'd had a lot of fun today too. She just needed to calm down. "This is nice," she said, finally unfolding her legs out from under her and leaning back on her hands. The current band wrapped up their set and River perked up a little as she glanced at her watch. "Oh, the Femme Fangs is up next I think!"

Charlie looked over at River with a smile. They were glad she was having fun. "Did you look up their music at all or just like their aesthetic?" Charlie asked. While they didn't personally have an opinion on the band, Charlie had a feeling they'd enjoy listening to them purely because River did. Actually Charlie planned to spend most of their set watching River's reaction. In the back of their head, they thought it would be nice to make out a little, but they had a feeling River wouldn't go for that in public. Since Charlie didn't want to freak her out, they refrained from suggesting it.

River smiled a little sheepishly. "I might have looked up a thing or two," she admitted. "They're totally cool though, like they've got this weird punk techno sound that just fits together so well and like, the lead singer is the bassist, which I'm always a little weak for." She furrowed her brow at her last comment, acutely aware that if Charlie had been the one to say that to her, she wasn't sure how she'd feel about it. "I might be fangirling a little," she said, pressing her finger to her lips. "Shhhh, don't tell."

Charlie didn't mind River's comment about the bassist. They'd always been a pretty firm believer of look-don't-touch as a relationship philosophy, but maybe that was because they knew more than a few people's girlfriends had flirted with them over the years. Charlie had always had a rule about pursuing that kind of thing. They'd never willingly help anyone cheat, but Charlie figured a little flirty conversation was harmless. "I've always been more about drummers," Charlie said. They reached over to poke at River's rather defined biceps. "They've got good arms."

River smirked, shaking her head. "But have you seen a bassist's forearms? They're like rocks." She curved her arm to flex her forearm. She liked when Charlie admired her muscles, even if it did make her feel like a frat boy a little bit, especially given that they were on a university campus. "Fingering the strings is hard work," she quipped, her voice a little lower now. She blushed, but she knew what she'd said as she quirked an eyebrow at them.

Charlie raised an eyebrow, unable to hold back a smirk. "Is that so? I can think of a few other things a bassist might be good at fingering." Charlie knew logically that the line was garbage since neither of them played, but they couldn't resist when River had set them up so well with the innuendo. Since River seemed to have enjoyed their touch, Charlie continued to run their fingers along her arm and shoulder. Hearing strings plucking from on stage, Charlie looked up to see sound testing. "Looks like they're getting ready to start."

River leaned over a little so their faces were inches apart. "Maybe I should learn how to play?" But when she heard the noise of a sound check up on the stage, she pulled back, almost bouncing a little where she sat. She knew she had probably just teased Charlie a little, but she relished in it. When the band was announced, everyone shot to their feet, including River, and the crowd was alive more than they'd been for any other performer (because most of the others had been pretty chill acoustic sets, admittedly) and River was nodding her head to the beat and jumping around with the rest of them, even if her and Charlie were a little further back as not to be overwhelmed by the crowd.

Charlie was about to go in for a kiss, but the sound check was very poorly timed. They pouted up at her in amusement for a second as River jumped up so quickly, but Charlie followed suit. Wrapping an arm around River, Charlie pulled her closer to dance more together. It was about the music and the band first, but Charlie just enjoyed being together and being able to have fun like this. As they danced and jumped through the various numbers, Charlie was having a great time, almost glad they hadn't put their shirt back on to soak with the sweat forming on their back. "This is great!" they said to River at one point as the band played a particularly catchy anthem.

River was focusing on letting loose, which probably sounded pretty counter-intuitive. But she had to force herself to not worry about how she looked as she jumped and danced around. Charlie always helped with that. The way they looked at her, the way they moved... "I'm glad we did this," she said, finally able to overlook all the weird feelings she'd had throughout the day as she watched the fringes of the leather piece Charlie was still wearing dance around on their chest, and watched their smile brighten up the world around them even though the sun was quickly setting.

"It's amazing," Charlie agreed, leaning in to press a quick kiss against River's face. The two were moving enough that their aim missed, and Charlie ended up leaving a sloppy kiss against her neck. "You're so much fun to dance with, babe." They pretended to survey the band again, although they'd formed an opinion songs ago. "And I suppose I agree. That bassist can really play." Charlie internally groaned as the band announced their last song. "Guess we'd better make it count," Charlie said with a grin. Their was one more group after who were pretty well known in the area, but their music was more jazzy than upbeat. They didn't know if it would honestly be something worth sticking around for when they'd already had such a great time listening to this group. "Do you want to get in the signing line when they're done?" Charlie asked. "I think we can buy and get signed all in one go, it looks like."

River shivered at the kiss against her neck, brazenly pulling Charlie a little closer as they danced. "What can I say? I have good taste," she said, having to yell a little bit over the music. As the set ended, River cheered loudly with the rest of the crowd, feeling newly energized even though she was drenched with sweat and panting. "Yeah! Though I'm a little nervous to like...meet them." But she still started heading in the direction of the merch line, even as she voiced her hesitations.

Charlie pumped their fist a couple times as everyone cheered at the end. Charlie scooped up the puppy as River yanked them away. Their shirt got left behind, but it wasn't an expensive one. They weren't too concerned about leaving it behind. "I'm sure they'll be friendly," Charlie commented as they got into the line. "After a show like that, they've got to be lit up at least a little bit."

River nodded along with Charlie's logic. "I hope so. I also hope I don't just stand there and not talk like an idiot. It's happened before." She shrugged casually, but freezing up like that always made her feel broken somehow.

Charlie squeezed River's waist, providing her with a little chatter to ease her nerves as the two of them moved up the line. Finally they were at the merch table, and Charlie looked between their most recent CD and a poster. "What are you getting?" They asked. Charlie debated also getting something, but they decided the memories would be enough.

River looked over the merch table and decided on a CD and a t-shirt with a pretty cliche picture of four wolves howling at the moon with the band's name on it. She loved it though. "You ever tattoo an autograph onto somebody?" River asked as they moved down to get in the signing line, but then she let out a chuckle. "Just kidding, I'm not fangirling that hard. Still curious though."

Charlie laughed. "No, but it could be interesting. I have to duplicate scripts and fonts when people have something specific in mind, so I suppose an autograph wouldn't be particularly different. I know one of Devon's regulars his mom passed down has a tat of Elvis's signature on her shoulder. She's an amazingly righteous hippie, so it works for her." Charlie wasn't sure if she was actually old enough to have met Elvis, but it was possible. They followed River over as she paid, still thinking about the autograph bit. “I could probably get one of those. It could be cool. I just don't know who I would do."

River was just thinking about all those women in the 80s that got hair bands to sign their chests, then ran across the street to a tattoo shop to get it on them permanently. She wondered if any of them regretted it. River had her impulsive moments, but that was too impulsive even for her. "It's like that 'who would you have lunch with, alive for dead' type question. Too much pressure to choose," she said. They were quickly approaching the table with the band. They all seemed friendly enough, but River felt herself freezing up. "Oh god, what am I supposed to say?" she asked Charlie frantically.

Charlie shook their head. "Well, the problem with that question is that it's too open. It has literally infinite possible answers that change with the day, your mood, and what you want to talk about over lunch. Hell, even what you want for lunch can change that one. It's just a rude question." Charlie realized they'd been babbling their way through the line. Squeezing River's hand, Charlie shrugged. "Whatever you want to say--that you liked their set and think they have an awesome name or whatever. It's the same stuff you were telling me."

River didn't have a lot of time to think on Charlie's advice though, because suddenly it was their turn. She approached the table, squeezing Charlie's hand for dear life, her palms gross and sweaty. "Hi," she said dumbly, her voice sounding weirdly high pitched and far away. "You guys are....cool," she chuckled nervously, handing her CD over. "Can you sign this?"

The band greeted the two of the warmly, and the bassist/frontwoman smiled directly at River. "Of course. What's your name, hun?"

River felt herself blushing. "River. And uh, this is my girlfriend, Charlie." She hadn't asked, but River felt like sharing.

The bassist smirked, signing her name and passing the CD around to her bandmates to sign before leaning forward a bit. "A selkie named River. That's adorable." She leaned forward a bit and inhaled deeply through her nose, before leaning back in her chair and smiling. "Both seafolk. You two are a cute couple," she said. "Plenty of fish in the sea but you've already caught yours." The drummer heard that and suddenly had to frantically writing something down, then passed the CD back to River.

Charlie grinned as they listened to River and the bassist interact. They angled their head in curiosity as the drummer added something, but they didn't want to take it until River had the option to look. "You guys sounded great," they said as the drummer handed the CD back. Charlie flashed another smile in the band's direction as they wrapped an arm around River's waist to lead her away. "What does it say?" they asked, unable to keep from asking.

River glanced down at the CD. Everyone else had signed their names but the drummer had added a little note. "It's what the bassist said," she said, squinting at it since the writing was a little messy. " 'Plenty of fish in the sea but you've already caught yours'...and next to it it says 'You're gonna be on the next album'...?" A confused smile set on her face as she cocked her head to look up at Charlie. "I think we just...inspired a song?"

Charlie leaned over River's shoulder, a smile spreading across their face. "That's so cute!" they said and spun her around to kiss her. Charlie pulled back, still smiling as they looked down at the CD again. "Is their whole set from tonight on their or is some of it like a separate EP?" They started walking again, dangling the puppy with one hand and holding River's waist with the other.

River fell into the kiss and with it all her troubles from the day fell away too. That cute little gesture had her riding high now. "They've got two EPs before this, and a couple singles too." She smiled sheepishly. "I might have done a little too much research. We gotta be big fans now though. They're apparently fans of us!" she joked. She held the CD up and waggled it a bit, draping the t-shirt over her shoulder.

"I thought you'd done more than you were letting on." Charlie pressed a kiss against River's forehead before moving away from her long enough to stretch.

"Charlie?"

They turned away, lighting up as they saw a blonde woman walking toward them. "Cordelia! What's up?"

She didn't hesitate to pull Charlie in for a hug as she commented, "I thought I'd recognize that ass anywhere. Love the top."

River turned slowly as she heard Charlie's name, almost as if in a daze. It made her reactions slow when Charlie was basically ripped away from her by Cordelia's hug, and reality came roaring into focus at full speed and volume suddenly as they disconnected, just in time to hear the blonde's comment. River just stood there for a moment, struck dumb by the suddenness that she'd been grounded from her high. It was all so fragile. So fleeting. "You just know everybody around here, don't you?" she finally said, trying to keep her voice casual still.

Charlie smiled as they turned to River, but they paused, realizing that she very much wasn't happy. "I guess I just know a lot of people from this and that," Charlie said. "This is Cordelia. She's a friend I partied a lot with a while back."

Cordelia let out a low whistle and made no pretenses about sizing River up. "I know we said no labels, but 'friend' seems awfully small for what we were doing."

Charlie cleared their throat, but they did chuckle a bit to relieve tension and acknowledge Cordelia's point. "I suppose that's fair. This is River, my girlfriend."

She raised an eyebrow. "You're doing labels now." She turned toward River with a bitchy smile. "Good for you, love."

River felt her heart sink at the realization. It was stupid. People were allowed to have exes. People were allowed to hug their exes. If Rye showed up in town again River would probably hug them. But the way Cordelia had her hand on their shoulder, touching remnants of the hug they'd just shared that Charlie wasn't rebuffing. The way River was unmistakably being sized up and talked down to. River had to resist the urge to roll her eyes. How did Charlie put up with this bimbo? Though looking at her, she was definitely more attractive than River was. Her chest was bigger, her hips curvier. Her lips fuller and her confidence stronger. "Thanks," was all River was able to get herself to say. She forced a smile, tight lipped though it was.

Charlie didn't think anything of the hand on their shoulder, but they could definitely tell that River wasn't happy. Charlie just couldn't pinpoint why. Because Cordelia was their ex? But they'd looked unhappy before then.

"You know I thought it had been a while since you called," Cordelia commented, squeezing Charlie's shoulder. "Is this why?"

Charlie may not have been good at relationships, but they were good at reading a room. "Actually I just thought you and I weren't clicking anymore," they said, trying to make it sound light. "I can only drink so many fuzzy navels in a short time before it becomes too much."

River couldn't help it. The scoff fell out of her mouth before she could stop herself. She was a this now? She couldn't couldn't stop seeing it though. The two of them together, despite Charlie's words. River not needed. Not wanted. Not when someone looking like that was around. Or looking like anyone else around them, really. Looking like anyone but her. Replaced by another blonde head. She could tell Charlie was picking up on River's vibes. She wasn't exactly hiding it anymore, but Charlie wasn't exactly disengaging either. A fact that Cordelia seemed to revel in. "So when'd you last fuck?" River asked bluntly.

Charlie tensed even before River's question, but they stepped back away from both women at that last remark. "It's been a while," they mumbled, shooting River a look. They could understand her being unhappy, but she didn't have to be rude about it in front of someone else.

Cordelia simply raised a brow as she studied River. "Not the secure type, hm? Didn't expect that for Charlie's tastes."

"Knock it off," Charlie snapped. "You don't know everything about me. Far from it actually. I was going to suggest we catch up, but I'm not sure that's a good idea."

She turned her nose up, scowling at River. "I understand. Can't pull too hard on a short leash." She turned to go and called out as she walked away, "Call me if things change."

"What a bitch," Charlie said under their breath. "Not calling her--deleting her number." They turned back to River, pursing their lips as they waited for some kind of explanation.

The moment the words left River’s mouth, she regretted it. But it was too late to take them back, and the chain reaction that was set off in front of her made her want to just throw herself off a cliff. While River couldn't say she was sad Cordelia was gone, she could definitely say that with the look Charlie was giving her now, she'd have put up with that bitch for an eternity instead. "I'm sorry, I shouldn't have said that," she began, squeezing her eyes shut and running a hand over her face. They were still sort of stopped off to the side of a path through the festival, but the crowd was starting to dwindle a bit. "It's just...people have been all fucking over you all day. I couldn't take it!" She sighed a huffy, angry sigh. "Did you even see the way that Dre guy was looking at you? He would have fucked you right there on top of the milk bottles if he could. And you were leaning all over him. Oh and 'Jo-Jo'." She did some air quotes to punctuate. "She was throwing herself at you with her words and you were just eating it up. A-and this!" She pointed to the leather fringe covering their bra, her hands trembling. "You stripped in front of that pervy vendor like it was nothing. Just soaking up the attention. Then Cordelia. That bimbo was just the last straw."

Charlie stood speechless as they listened to River's accusations. "Dre's just a friend," Charlie said. "Jo-Jo too. I'm sorry if it bothers you that I have friends." They knew that River was right about the level of attention today being a little high, but Charlie hadn't done anything to deserve it. And they didn't play along with any of it that they would have been uncomfortable with River doing the same. "And the lady in the tent? Who cares?" Charlie looked down at their chest, still not seeing what the big deal was. It was a rather skimpy piece, yes, but it wasn't any worse than what people wore to the beach all the time. "Before we were dating, you and plenty of other people saw me in much less before or after a swim. I don't see what the big deal is!"

"You don't--" River let out a sharp, gasping chuckle. "You don't see what the big deal is?!" She took a deep breath, letting the breath slip out her nose as she closed her eyes for a moment. "Look, you're right. It's your body and it's not my right to be policing it," she admitted. "But when you do shit like that, it makes me feel like I'm not enough for you." She spotted an empty paper cup on the ground and kicked it away in frustration. "I know it's stupid. You've given me no reason to think you're gonna walk away with the next best thing, but it's hard to watch you smile at someone else the way you smile at me, even if you're just trying to get something half price." She sighed again, running a hand through her hair, pushing it all out of her flustered face. "And I know that's just how you are. You flirt. You make dirty jokes. You smile at strangers and give friendly touches. But my mind won't stop telling me it's because they're all better than me. That you need...more than I can give you."

Charlie froze. "I didn't think about it like that." It sounded like a lame excuse in their own ears, and Charlie assumed that it was for River as well. "I just... I've always been a touchy-smiling person. It's not flirty, it's being friendly. I know-" They paused. "You remember when you were dating Rye? Think about how I treated you and how I treated people today. It's the same. You now? That's not the same." Charlie wasn't sure if River would allow them to touch her, but they decided to risk it. Reaching forward to pull her toward them by the waist, Charlie let their voice drop. "I don't look at you the way I looked at them. If it's the touchiness that bothers you, I can try to remember to tone it down. I'm not about to stop interacting with people, but I'll tone it down." They let out a shaky laugh. "This whole thing with relationship boundaries is new for me. I'm not used to being on this side of the line."

River knew they were right. Charlie had acted that way before they'd gotten together. Friendly smiles and arms draped over shoulders. Hell, she'd seen them basically naked the first time they ever met. "I know..." she answered, her voice tapering off. She didn't protest when Charlie touched her, and she let them pull her closer, and for the first time in the conversation she looked them straight in the eyes. Their piercing gaze bored right into her. "I wouldn't ask you to stop interacting with people. Never. I guess I just ask that you...think of me when you do. Think about how your actions might make me feel." She ran comforting hands up their arms. "I know this is all new for you. I mean, it is for me too, just in a different way. I’ll try to, like, lay off, you know? Not be such a petty bitch.” Charlie’s stare was so intense that River had to look away. “It’s just hard to make my brain shut up."

Charlie swallowed hard. "I don't think petty bitch is the right way to phrase it, but I would appreciate if you trust me, babe. I'm not going anywhere." After River looked away, Charlie pressed a kiss to the top of her head, just tall enough to do it comfortably. "I think maybe we should go over a few more ground rules of what we expect. I'm not... Those expectations would help me a lot. Again, I'm not promising I'll follow personally to what you want, but we can't figure out if it works if you don't tell me, deal?"

Trust. What a loaded subject. "I do trust you," River retorted. No offense in her voice, just an urgency she hadn't realized was there. "That's the problem. I trust you in my heart, but my stupid brain...." She leaned her head against Charlie's chest, wrapping her arms around their middle. As they made the suggestion of ground rules, River nodded against the leather fringes, a few of them sticking to her sweaty cheek for a moment as she pulled away and they fell back in place. "Ground rules. Yeah, okay." She furrowed her brow in thought. "We can talk about it later."

"Later seems like a good idea," Charlie agreed. They were still in public, after all. "Tell your brain I don't appreciate that kind of thinking." Charlie's track record wasn't great, but not in a cheating kind of way, just a confused hit-me-up way. Cordelia might have been being super passive aggressive about all this, but she was right about one thing. Labels weren't Charlie's usual fare. But they could handle it. They liked River enough to at least try. "Do you want to hang out a little longer or go get something else to eat?"

River smiled at Charlie's kinda sorta joke. River didn't appreciate her brain's kind of thinking either. "Actually, I think I just want to go home," she muttered, glancing around. She'd almost forgotten they were still on the campus. "Not home home. Your place like we planned." They both had the next day off and she'd planned to say over. "Is that okay?"

Charlie squeezed River once before stepping back. "Of course it's okay. And we can talk more on the way."

[words-writ-in-starlight]

TAZ FIC ASKS: I have my own interpretation that I'm enormously fond of, but how do you think one Julia Waxmen met one Magnus Burnsides?

Bless you.  I swear that Julia shows up at some point here, this just…got away from me in grand fashion.

Magnus Burnsides wakes up with what is frankly the most hideous hangover of his entire life.  It feels less like he’s been drinking and more like someone’s been rummaging through his brain, and if he had any marks to prove it, he’d think he’d had his clock cleaned to boot.  But he doesn’t have any marks, he just has the worst headache that the gods ever laid on a living being, and he’s in–well, he’s not sure where he is.

Magnus is only twenty-three and not necessarily an expert at waking up in unknown locations, but he flatters himself to be a professional at waking up hungover, so he lies there with his hands over his face for a while longer, and doesn’t try to take stock until it feels less like he’s holding the fragments of his head together.  Only then does he sit up–slowly–and look around.

He’s dressed, and he has his belt pouch with his coins, so he’s going to assume that he hasn’t been robbed.  Except for the headache and nausea–he can’t tell if the headache is causing the upset stomach or not, and doesn’t feel inclined to test it–he seems to be all right.  He’s in a room with the clean, impersonal look of an inn, somewhere that’s never really been someone’s home, and the heavy curtains are closed, which he appreciates as anything brighter than the light filtering through around the edges might actually kill him.

It takes a few more minutes to muster his strength to stand, and all his joints complain, like he’s been sleeping on the ground rather than a passably nice bed.  He’s not sure he can afford this inn, on closer consideration, but then he supposes that depends on how much money he spent on getting exceedingly drunk.

Someone in his immediate vicinity is baking fresh bread.  The nausea must be part of the headache, because he’s dying to have some.

Magnus follows his nose out into the hall–he only remembers to check his pockets after hearing the lock on his room click into place, and turns out drunk Magnus really knew his shit, because there’s a key fastened to his belt so he doesn’t lose it–and down a flight of stairs to a small tavern beneath the rooms.  There’s a Drow woman with her hair piled up in a thousand braids pulling loaves out of an oven in the kitchen, and a half-orc pulling chairs down from tables.

“Hey,” the half-orc says with a grin, “he’s alive.”

“Yeah,” Magnus says ruefully, shading his eyes as he steps far enough inside to take the sunlight right in the face.  “I’m not thrilled about it either.  What time is it?”

“Ten or so?  We expected you to sleep until dinner, with how hammered you were last night.”  The half-orc comes over and steers Magnus by the shoulder into a chair, then disappears for a moment and insinuates something into his hand.  It’s hot and tastes acrid and sharp, but something in Magnus says better finish that, kid and he knocks it back as fast as he can.  His eyes don’t feel like they’re being pried out of his skull anymore, once it’s gone, and he blinks.

“Last night?”

The Drow comes out of the kitchen, sweat beaded on her black skin and the sharp points of her teeth flashing at him.  “You must have been drunker than we thought.  We didn’t even get a name off you.”

“Magnus,” he says, toasting her with the empty cup.  “Magnus Burnsides.”

She nods and laughs and says, “Now that’s a goddamn name.  I’m Opal, and that’s Jolene.  You can call her Jolly.  How much do you remember, Magnus Burnsides?”

Magnus considers that question for a minute.

“Where…the fuck am I?”

Jolly whistles from behind the counter and Opal raises a white eyebrow.  “Bud,” she says, and she sounds almost impressed.  Magnus just sort of shrugs at her, because…well, yeah.  Fair enough.  “You’re at Red Door Inn, in the hostel column.  You feeling okay?”

“I feel kind of like my head’s been stomped on,” he says.  “And I’m actually gonna need a little more than ‘Red Door Inn.’“

Opal’s other eyebrow joins the first.  “Bud.  Do you–is there someone we can find for you?  Like, are people gonna be worried that you just–fuckin’ disappeared on them?”

Magnus frowns and thinks about that one.  “No,” he decides, because the most recent people he can think of is the merchant caravan he was traveling with, and that was a while ago.  “No, I can’t think of anyone.”

Opal sighs, swoops away the empty cup and replaces it with a mug full of what smells like very dark tea and a slice of bread with a small pot of jam, the bread still steaming gently.  “Here,” she says, in a tone of command.  “Eat something.  Careful with the–the all of it, it��s hot.”

“Thanks,” Magnus says, and stuffs the entire slice of bread into his mouth in four bites with absolutely no consideration for the temperature.  Once he’s done with it–it’s good, rich and warm and sweet and it soothes a little more of the headache–he swallows a couple mouthfuls of the black tea and looks up at Opal.  “Where did you say this was again?”

Opal smiles at him, and so does Jolly, from behind the bar.  “Welcome to Ravensroost, Magnus Burnsides.”

***

Opal and Jolly are nice enough to let him stay there at half-price, because drunk Magnus was apparently smart with his money but no version of Magnus is exactly rolling in gold, while he figures himself the hell out.  He takes the first day to recover from his headache, because the idea of facing unfiltered sunlight is just…bad.  It’s bad.  He’s not into it.  He talks to Opal and Jolly and lingers in the tavern while people trickle in and out for the lunch rush, but he can’t seem to get anything back about the night before, and he reluctantly writes the whole situation off as a loss.  Magnus wishes, idly, over dinner, that he had people to drink with, because he thinks that would be better.  At the very least, if he had some people who had stuck with him, they would be able to do things like say “hey, thug, you accidentally went walkabout while you were drunk and here’s where you started from.”  

Oh well.

The downside to Magnus’ largely itinerant lifestyle these days is that traveling costs money, it’s going to start getting cooler soon, and Magnus does not currently own a jacket or any other weather-appropriate gear that would enable him to travel, which costs more money.

So the day after he wakes up in Ravensroost, Magnus wanders downstairs–at a more reasonable hour, because he isn’t dying today–and asks Jolly where a guy could get some work in this town.

“Well,” Jolly says as she wipes down the counter and prepares to open.  Jolly is a methodical kind of person, steady and efficient at her job, and she looks intimidating for someone who apparently hides behind the counter when the elf she has a crush on comes inside.  “What kind of work?  You want to wait tables or some shit?  You look more like a brawler.”

“I don’t know,” Magnus says.  “Probably not waiting tables, though.”

“Yeah, you seem like your customer service could use some work.”  Jolly wrings out her rag thoughtfully.  “Well, there might be a merchant caravan in for the market, they might be looking for laborers there.  Short of that–I don’t know, we’re mostly a crafters town, you know what I’m saying?  Not exactly a lot of places looking for a dude the size of a brick wall.”

“Crafters?”

“Yeah, you know anything?”

Magnus looks down to where he’s absently playing with the knife in his hand–his grandfather’s knife.  His muscles know how to hold it to whittle a curve, to smooth a line.  “You got carpenters here?”

“Hell yeah!” Jolly says, grinning at him.  “You want directions?”

“No,” Magnus says.  “I’m sure I’ll figure it out.”

Magnus does not figure it out.  He’s managed to get handily lost by the time he washes up on the outskirts of a marketplace, and he would swear he was better at this directions thing, but apparently not.  He’s not even sure he can get back to the inn.  He’s lingering at a stand displaying scarves and kerchiefs and other cloth items, fingering something in a bright shade of crimson and trying to decide what to do, when someone behind him clears their throat, amused.

“Hey,” says a voice, rich and throaty, a little raspy and–laughing at him.  “Do you want to buy that scarf or take it out to dinner?”

Magnus turns, startled, and there’s a woman–human, middling skin freckled darker across her broad nose, wild curls pinned back–smirking at him.  She’s tall, less than a head shorter than Magnus and Magnus is very tall indeed, and she has a burn scar across the back of her forearm, and she’s…she’s something.

“What?” Magnus says, in a moment of dazzling charisma.

“I mean,” the woman goes on, “don’t let me stop you, hot shot, but I walked past twenty minutes ago and you were still here, so I’m starting to think maybe you’re lost.”

Magnus feels a little like he’s been slapped in the face, but in a good way?  His brain doesn’t seem to be agreeing with itself about this experience.

The woman’s face softens a little, although she doesn’t stop grinning at him.  “Seriously, though, are you lost?”

“Yeah,” Magnus says.  It surprises him a little that it didn’t even cross his mind to lie.  “I’m new in town and I kind of need…money.  I was trying to find a carpenter’s shop that might need an assistant or something.”

“Are you a carpenter?” the woman asks, curious.

“Not much of one,” Magnus admits.  “I haven’t had a lot of practice.  But I can whittle, and to be honest–uh, recent events sort of make me think I might need a new line of work.  Maybe a line of work with…a house or some shit like that.”

“Recent events?”

“I–sort of ended up here by…accident,” he says.  “I was…real hammered.”

The woman laughs properly at that, and it’s a loud, full sound that comes from the depths of her core and doesn’t seem to give a damn about anyone looking at her, and it drags a grin out of Magnus.  

“It’s destiny,” the woman proclaims, still laughing, and pawns a shockingly heavy bag on Magnus without missing a beat.  He takes a peek and sees metal ingots, of all things, inside–small ones, silver and even a small one made of gold, but still.  “Come on, hammer boy, let’s go.”

The woman is already walking away at a decent clip by the time Magnus catches up with her.

“Where are we going?”

“To my dad’s shop,” she says, grinning up at him.  She loops her arm through his and they fall into step and Magnus wonders, a little bit, if he’s been kidnapped, possibly.  “Waxmen’s Woodworks.  We’re thinking about a new name, now that I kind of work there too–I do metalwork, see?  So we gotta switch that up.  Dad likes Waxmen and Daughter, but I keep telling him that it needs to be catchier.”

“Your dad’s a carpenter?”

“Yeah, obviously.  Didn’t you hear me say some bullshit about destiny?  Keep up, hammer boy.”  She plows on ahead, still smiling warmly, and Magnus doesn’t remember the last time he felt like this–it’s not that she’s pretty, although she certainly is, but there’s a level of unthinking care for him, just because he was lost and she knew how to help him.  Compassion, maybe?  Something like being adopted on the spot, and Magnus doesn’t remember the last time a stranger offered him that.  Even Opal and Jolly, benevolent innkeepers by any measure, are being paid for their generosity.

“I could suck at carpentry, for all you know,” Magnus points out as they climb one of the columns, a spiral path winding around the outside and passing shop fronts every few yards.

“Well, do you?” she asks.  Magnus…isn’t sure, he realizes.  It must have been longer than he thought, since he whittled something.  He shrugs, and the woman seems to take his word for it, and nods decisively.  “I mean, Dad’s always saying that if you know which end of a knife to hold, you can probably figure it out, so if you suck, I guess you can just figure it out.  You’ll stop sucking eventually.  Besides, Dad’s in the market for an assistant, not a master craftsman.  You look like you could carry wood.”  She gives him a cheerful thump in the arm.

“I could be an axe murderer, for all you know.”

“Nah,” she says.  “I’ve got a good feeling about you.”  She jerks him into such a hard right he almost falls over, and she throws open a door to a room that smells of sawdust and smoke and lacquer.  “Dad!  I brought you a present!”

There’s a thump in a back room and a fondly exasperated voice precedes her father into the showroom.  “Baby girl, I swear to god–who’s this?”

“This is your present,” she says, and pushes Magnus forward like she’s displaying a particularly good find at the market.  Magnus supposes that she sort of is.  “Hammer boy, say hello to your new boss.  Daddy, you’re going to hire hammer boy.  You were talking about wanting an assistant, and he’s a kind of shitty carpenter who needs work and a place to live.  It’s fate.”

Her father–Waxmen, apparently–looks past Magnus to his daughter with a tolerantly amused look on his face.  “And do I get to interview hammer boy, or is he just hired now?”

She shrugs.  “I mean, interview him if you want, but just think how guilty you’d feel if you kicked him out on the street.”  Waxmen narrows his eyes at her, and she beams, sailing past Magnus to reclaim her bag full of ingots and kissing her father on the cheek as she passes him by.  “Thanks, Dad.  You have fun, hammer boy!” she calls over her shoulder, and then she’s gone into the back room, and Magnus is alone with, apparently, his new boss.

It’s only then, staring after her in shock, that Magnus realizes that he never got her name.

[froppy-butterflyfan2000]

for The Lunaverse Ocs What’s something that makes them happy, no matter how much they’d loathe to admit it? Niko have you ever eaten a wet dream? lol

Niko: "Eewww no. I am 15 years old. What made me happy and hates to admit it? Ummm.... Not being alone and wear pretty dresses." 🤢😅

Nergella: "Um cleaning the house make me happy. It was so spotless that a villain who kidnapped me got blind. Oh but I do wanted to eat those browines that Duchess have bring for Destiny again. But she is hiding them when she hang out with Destiny." 😋

Hekatrina: "Oh hanging out with a guy named Jeeper Creeper. He felt lonely, and I was wondering why. I spied on him a few times, and he spotted me. He told me to leave him alone. But I didn't. Every time he spotted me, I teleported. Then I saw this lady with green skinned and red hair. Apparently she is his mom due to the resemblance. That woman was sexist and riduculing her son that I stands up for him. Eventually, he does not mind my prescence. Oh I also lowkey love messing with a blondie who called herself Dolly. Bombing her with my glitter-nacho cheese bomb hybrid is one thing, but she do not know what is ahead of her yet. That is what she get for messing with my friend's cousin." 😈

Ophelia: "Making latte arts. I used to make them when I was in my teenage years, but stop doing it afterward due to my works. Sacrifices must be made. No one knew about this except for my mom. If dad found out, he might discipline me and told me that latte arts is meaningless and a waste of my time." 😔

Ivy: ".......I made plush doll version of my friends. I kept them in a trunk under my bed. I do not want my friends to thinks I am crazy, a creepy, and sick in the head. I might lose them. Huh?!" 😟 😲

*Sibrella is sticking needles on the Stella doll*

Ivy: "SIBRELLA!!! WHAT ARE YOU DOING!! THEY ARE NOT VOODOO DOLLS!!!" 😡

Trixie: "I lowkey ate PB & Potato Chips Sandwich for lunch." 😅

*Jolene wrote her answer on a note pad.*

Stealing Blaine's Sharpies and put the blame on Kovu.