#rue's ocs : living in america

[jackiequick]

Jennie Rue Woods — Marvel’s Timeless Gal 📝

MARVELOUS AU — Auntie JJ

Full name: Jennifer Ruth Underwoods

Other Identity: Jeanie Woods

Nicknames: Jen, Jennie, Jeanie, Jean, Ruthy, Rue, JJ, Dollface, Barbie, Quinnie, Fefe

Age: 28–32 (87 years of age)

Birthday: June 30, 1923 (Cancer)

Height: 5’5 (5’7 in heels)

Occupations: Waitress, Coffee Girl, SSR Sectary, Agent, Widow, Mama Bear, Assistant

Alias: Alexa Bowmen, Paige McKenna, Jacquline Stark, London Holloway, Olivia Erhart, Eliza Pearson, Emily King, Barbra James Scott, Ashlee Lance

Family:

- Parents, Alexander & Fran Underwood (dead)

- Older Sister, Dolores Marie Underwood (dead to her)

- Sister, Peggy Carter (the big sister she never had)

- Brother Figures, Jack Thompson & Daniel Sousa (her boys)

- Howard & Maria Stark (her found family)

- Anthony Edwards Stark (her nephew #1)

- Rei Stark ( #1 godchild )

- And list goes on!

Relationship status: Single, but has dated and been engaged once

—————

Personality: Jen is a sarcastic goofball with a heart of gold despite all the crap she been through in life. On occasion she is spirited, stubborn and determined. Not just that, she’s quick-witted with a sharp tongue. However she is very kindhearted, a little slow at times but she’ll get there, she can get distracted very easily at times and motherly to those around her.

Due to being on her own for a good part of her life, she ended up being observant and trying to be resourceful. She has a knack for getting information without raising suspicion and being sneaky for the most part.

Style:

Evie has a vintage and classy style, often seen in 1940s-inspired dresses, with a touch of modern flair. Her wardrobe reflects her independent spirit and love for classic fashion. Even as she progresses over the decades she stays with a simple yet gentle sense of fashion as a way to blend in with the crowd.

Skills:

Proficient with weapons, particularly guns.

Basic combat

Previously worked as a nurse during WWII, honing her medical skills.

Quick thinker, adapts well to challenging situations.

Handle a control panel

Design and disguise

———————————————

—Background:

Jen grew up in a decent sized house with a Russian father and a Italian-American mother, along with her older sister Dottie. When it came to both children, their parents loved them both the exact same.

However, behind the smiles and glittering eyes on both daughters held an small rivalry that over time.

Dottie was always the one-upper of the pair, acting like she knew more and always one step ahead of everything. Hell, Dottie enjoyed having her nose in her young sister’s business, ignoring her most of the day, parenting her like she was a second-mother and treating her sister, Jen, like a pest that she couldn’t stand.

But Jen wasn’t far behind either, as she rather enjoyed sometimes sticking her nose in older sister’s business, taking her sweater without asking and bugging her with whatever new thing she was obsessed with at the moment. The difference was that Jen knew her limits, as she held a fear behind her smile when it came to Dottie, often intimated by her status and rude attuned attitude.

It didn’t help that both ladies couldn’t be more different when it came to their interests.

In result, it often led to plenty of bickering, fighting over every single thing possible and barking off more than they can chew.

However, it all came to a sudden pause when their father Alexander was overseas with Dottie to Russia saying they had business to attend to. Her mother only simply nodded and hugged them both watching them drive away, before entering the house to continue her daily task, asking Jen to follow behind.

The girl was confused on the matter and questioned the trip later that night. Her mother, Fran, simply told her that Dottie was one of the few girls signed off to train and becomes a skilled fighter.

Saying that one day, Jennifer might get her turn to do the same but the young blonde refused the idea. She rather stay home, be a kind young lady, fall in love, paint all the gardens in the fields and learn what she needs to in America. She visited Russia before, as she always found it to be colder and unassuming to her likely.

Whatever Dottie was doing, Jennifer wanted no part of it.

Thankfully, with a small sigh, her mother agreed to her dreams and kissed her cheek.

Years later, Jennifer would learn what her sister was doing and fought to not follow the same path. She had to desire to become a skilled fighter in Mother Russia and train to be become an assistant to The Red Room. But faith had other plans, as her parents promised her to do a trail run, live in Russia and educate herself into getting certificate of achievement.

Just for a few short months. 3 months.

With a deep sigh and small grunt, she did so as promised. In The Red Room, she was made to watch videos on culture, read books, take any notes and practice her knowledge on what she already knows. Not just that, Jennifer was brought in to take up a couple of activities such as dance, carefully handle weaponry, learning basic combat and drive a vehicle, if she ever needs to hot-wire and getaway.

Jennifer wouldn’t admit it but a small part of her enjoyed watching the women in those rooms all move in one single motion like trained dancers, ready to performance for a show on stage, and she was in the front row getting a glimpse of the sight.

She looked over her shoulder as a tall shadow took behind her, she gulped assuming it was one of the teachers ready to shout in her face for sneaking out of her bedroom this late in the afternoon, but instead it was her older sister.

“What?” She grunted out, spinning to face the taller blonde.

The tall blonde held a slinging smirk, “Nothing. Like what you see?”

“You’re new high ponytail or the performance?”

“Both, Fefe.”

“Don’t fall me that. What do you want?”

“Just want to know if my baby sister is enjoying it here?”

“You mean having my wrist cuffed to the bed, being held in a isolated room twice a week with no windows and a locked door? Oh yeah, I love it.” She repiled with a sarcastic tone.

Dottie grinned, “And having me here as a upper classmen.”

“Yeah…that. When are you gonna realize you’re just as insane to enjoy this, Dot? You love it here and actually find it trilling. I don’t.”

“Oh, Fefe, when are you gonna realize that with this opportunity you can be just like me? With grace and perfection.”

“That’s my point. I am not like you and I will never be like you. And when my time is up, I won’t be seeing you ever again.”

And Jennifer was right.

She was out of the building soon enough, in hopes to keep her head down and never have to be stuck in a place like that again. But Dottie did warn her as a hard heavy threat, one day, they will try and offer you a deal, snatched her up and order her to work for them.

Jennifer grunted and hoped with her luck, she wouldn’t. However, as lucky as she was with never being dragged there again, she did have Dottie reappear later on her life once or twice just for add measure…

—————————————

📰~The 1940s~ 💡

Plenty years past since those 3 sleepless months within that building and Jen couldn’t be more pleased with herself to be blessed to see a new path her way.

She was living in New York City, Queens as a waitress and painting on the side. She enjoyed painting the city skyline, the people in the park and her favorite flowers whenever possible. She was what many called her, a cartoonist. And her job wasn’t so bad either, yes the clients can be rude and annoying at times, but she made it work.

And her uniform was her biggest perk of her job. The simple teal-blue dress, her white headband, brown flats and her cute pins over her apron.

It was good, also with the fact she clocked out early to visit the fair, as everyone was there to see all the new attractions, men getting tested to see if they’re qualified for the war, people going dancing and much more. One evening, she found herself reading the newspaper wondering the fair, enjoying the sights, getting a drink and eventually standing in the crowd to see the main attraction.

Howard Stark. The Expo.

Little did she know that the man on that stage would change her life, by becoming apart of it.

She laughed, awed and smiled during the show. Even catching glimpses of his young sibling on stage, who eventually joined him.

She looked over her shoulder noticing a ‘help wanted’ signed stamped over a couple of posters, removing one of the tickets and followed to the small building to see what can could apply for. It seemed with the war going on, they need volunteers to help nurse the men on the field and inside buildings. Jennifer thought for a moment, onto her decision but then realized that it was worth it to help the good wanting to men serve their country.

Two weeks laters, she was working as a volunteered nurse. She got tested, signed off and given new uniform to wear. When a certain doctor asked for her name, it seemed like he missed heard it, as he wrote down a different name under her paperwork.

Instead of Jennie Underwood, he put down ‘Jeanie Wood’.

Jen didn’t know if it was on purpose it or not, but it taken her by a surprise at the name. The last person to give her a similar name like that was her 5th grade English teacher, yet she wasn’t complaining. She liked it, a lot.

And if she had to admit, she enjoyed it more than she expected, making friends with the other nurses, checking on the vitals of men and women, along with cleaning their wounds. It’s also when she met Miss Margaret “Peggy” Carter, who came in to recruit some nurses for an experimental program to help out the war, as she was handpicked to do so.

To say, Peggy Carter wowed Jen was an understatement. The women was kind, fierce, charming, witty, a little sassy, had a stronghold on her role here and cared for others. It surprised her how Peggy took a liking to her during those days spent on the job.

That same week, she met Howard Stark as he was preparing for the super solider experiment that she was apart of. The moment Howard met her, he was dazzled, in awe and flirting with the blonde. That was the first time Jennie ever actually blushed and smiled, turning her face to hide her blush from Howard’s darling compliments and witty comments.

Howard simply smiled at her blushing and went off to finish preparing his equipment for the day, before offering to buy her lunch. His tongue accidentally slipped nicknaming her ‘JJ’ for short. Jennie hesitated as she removed her gloves after preparing the equipment and serum with the other nurses needed for tomorrow. One of the nurses nudged her to say ‘yes’ as Jennie just smiled and nodded, following the brunette out the door.

The following day, she met Steve Rogers, as she was there helping to performance the processor and watching the man transform from a skinny kid to a tall solider. But the cheers and awes were cut short as Dr. Erskine died, causing Jennie to remove a gun off the table aiming at the person who fired the shot, but missed by a close second as the man ran out the door. Before she can get a second to blink, Steve and Peggy raced out the door to follow him. Jennie stayed behind to help, get Dr. Erskine to a more comfort position and calm down the crowd.

After that whole event, things were put back into swings as the war went on, Steve became Captain America serving his country, Peggy was brought to help, along with Howard and Jennie to do their part in serving for the better of their playing field.

Once again, she was given a slight change of clothing instead of white, it was light browns and a dark brown jacket to watch.

Jennie was put to work, not as a volunteered nurse, but a someone who helped with the design and coordinates for any trips. She put her skills to some use, which made her smile. Soon enough, the war ended per say in some victorious cheers and others in sorrows for the ones they lost.

When Steve Rogers went down in the plane, after speaking to Peggy on the radio as their side of the speakers cut to static, Jen was the first to enter the room and pull the English brunette into an tight embrace.

———————

💭 ~Meetings and revisiting the past~📑

Once the war ended, Peggy and Jen stayed friends, keeping Howard in touch of course. As both were brought to working in New York City at The SSR (which would later on become SHIELD), Peggy worked at an assigned sectary despite her endless response to her being able to do more. Daniel Sousa saw more in her, which made the women smile at the thought and respect she got from him.

Meanwhile Jen didn’t mind it being the coffee girl/assistant at the SSR, basically a sectary with a nicer name. It gave her a flexible schedule most days, other days she was spent working later hours at her desk.

Thankfully she had Agent Jack Thompson to keep her company, despite his personality, the man saw Jennie as a little sister whenever she entered the building. As if he wanted to shield her from harm and have her stand back from the tough stuff, even through she reminds him that she seen men come back from the war wounded or worse.

Jack would sometimes buy her burger if they knew everyone was gonna be working a late night. He would often bicker with her and Peggy as the English women rolled her eyes, but Jen would respond by saying that it seems like Thompson has a crush on Carter. Which results in Peggy chuckling at the blonde women.

Things were going fine until Howard Stark was wanted for crimes against the country, recruiting for Peggy to help find the truth and prove him innocent. She even entrusted his butler Edwin Jarvis to asset her with the investigation.

In which Jennie met while she was getting herself coffee one morning at the diner where she used to work as a waitress, ordering Mr. Jarvis a coffee.

Mr. Jarvis smiled and thanked for, offering to pay for her donut as an exchange. They soon became friends after that. Little did Jarvis know that Jennifer would become good friends with his lovely wife, Ana, too.

Jennifer didn’t want any to be thrown too far into the mix of things, as she eventually joined to the two Brits on their investigation.

Especially after the plot thicken, she started to be thrown in for a loop as The SSR all visited Russia and reunited with The Howling Commandos, finding themselves in a building that once held many men and women who were spies.

The beds with handcuffs, weird therapists, scientists and much more on that visit to Russia. At one point, Jen froze as she stayed rubbing her wrist at the sight, as it took A Howling Commando to drag her out of the rooms. Hell, some of their own agents froze at the sights, meanwhile others stayed strong during the fight.

On the plane ride home, Jen started to let Peggy in on why she froze, but not everything, as Peggy held the blonde close. Jen was given flashbacks to those 3 months in Mother Russia, the trips she went on and how during the war she remembered the men she had to nurse coming home lost to confused.

But the biggest punch to the grunt was when she saw her older sister on the streets of NYC, under some false name living at The Griffith Hotel for Women, pretending to be some new lady here and wanting to go sightseeing. It made her sick, especially since Dottie got closer to Peggy and watched her baby sister from afar, with sneaky eyes to see her next move.

That’s when everything made sense to Jen.

Dottie was here undercover working for someone who was framing Howard Stark and having everyone turn against the man. Peggy didn’t fully believe Jennie at first when she came in with her claims, Jack Thompson nor Daniel Sousa did either, but soon enough the truth came into full force.

As one could imagine things took a turn for people at The SRR, as they close in on Howard Stark, the true enemies are revealed and much more to everyone involved. As they planned to draw out the real threat, The Leviathan.

But it goes awry when Dottie Underwood distract the agents while Stark is kidnapped, as her boss uses hypnosis to make Howard drop as gasp he invented called “Midnight Oil” to onto Time Square.

Thankfully with Jarvis’s help, they all found them just in time. Jack Thompson and Daniel Sousa handled The Leviathan, who’s name was Johann Fennhoff. Meanwhile Jennie, Jarvis and Peggy handled Dottie, while also trying to convince Howard to not drop the gas over Time Square.

To say Dottie was excited to see her sister again in full swing and having a thrilling fight with Peggy was an understatement.

However this time, Jennie wasn’t too frightened to fight her sister again, as she found strategy and strength in herself to be more confident. It was a bigger perk, that this time around, she had Peggy who was more than intrigued to battle Dottie after their last encounter.

In the end, things were brought to light, they defeated Dottie (who escaped), the right people were imprisoned with scheming with Zola and everyone was given a chance to breath once again.

But like always, life for Jen didn’t stop there as she moved to Los Angeles for her next adventure…

————————

🦅~The 50s—60s~ 🕰️

In 1956, things were looking swell for Jennie as she was working for SHIELD in Los Angeles as an agent. She had her own office, meetings scheduled, kept designing models, going out to dinners and the occasional trip for sizable missions.

She discovered she had a little love for the unknown, collecting items, designing, doing presentations and going on trips to report new things back to SHIELD headquarters.

She was the one to design the SHIELD logo and style of the front over the years after all. Her and Howard liked with idea of an eagle with spread wings.

-> Eagles with its keen eyes symbolized courage, healing, hope, vision, resilience and most importantly strength.

However one late spring night, everything flipped on it’s head for Jennie. It was one of their agent’s bridal shower and she was invited to join in the celebration, free drinks and food, of course she was coming.

Yet, she was soon about to regret that trip.

She was driving home in one of SHIELD’s invented cars, that was had a working mentor that connected to the battery phone. She was on the phone was Jarvis’ wife, Ana, talking about how wonderful her weekend was, crossing a simple long bridge, when a light shower of rain started to fall from above. It wasn’t anything unusual, the weather did call for a light shower that weekend, but what took her by surprise is the springing dose of snowflakes.

“Uh, Ana, I’ll have to call you back…” She said, hanging up the phone and hanging it back where it belong.

It was simply magical to such a sight, however it went from beauty to a beast wanting the snowflakes became a slamming balls of hail hitting the car as she started to carefully hurry along the bridge. However the road soon became dangerous, causing her to swirl off the path and hitting the railing as her car went flying and smash into the water.

The faint sounds of the phone could be heard, ringing with a voice on the other end as the car drowned into the large body of water. In the car, Jennifer was silent with bruises and cuts all over her body, her forehead held a large cut that was covered by blood.

Her breathing stopped as her heartbeat slowed down in seconds, her core body temperature dropped greatly. At that very moment her heart stopped beating.

At 8:55pm, a blot of lighten struck the car. The volts of electricity impact was more than strong enough to reset the heart into a clear rhythm. Jeanie Woods—Jennie Underwoods body slowly lifted from the lower end of the car to regain its awareness. Her head rushed to the surface, jolting out of her anoxic state, causing her to draw her first breath in 4 minutes.

Cough and breathing heavy, Jennie regain memory of recent events, using all her skilled strength within her to carefully climb out of the car, knocking the side door open capturing the cool air that surrounding her.

She breathed heavily, spreading outside of the side door and swimming forwards to the surface, finding a pot of greenery in the cold depths of the night. Once she climbing onto the grass, rolling over as she let her back hit the grass such a reliving impact. She squeezed her eyes shut and opened it once again to watch the snowy sky fall onto her cool skin.

Well, she was screwed.

Thankfully she crawled onto her feet and found the nearest gas station, entering a phone booth to call Jarvis to pick her up. And being the good friend he was, the man arrived with a blanket as well, bringing to his house to stay the night. She explained to Jarvis the accident, planning on trying to recall everything she could remember to have it on record of that night and how the car was totaled in the process, but the man didn’t care as long as she was safe and sound.

As the years went, she credited her appearance to a healthy diet, often exercising, skin care, good genes and just plain luck. However actions was required only months laters when she was pulled over for a minor traffic infraction.

“Ma’am, it says here that you were born in 1923.” Said the officer.

“That’s right, officer.” She repiled with a kind smile.

“That would make you 40?”

“Yes. I look young for my age.”

“Ma’am I might have to hold onto this.”

The two talked by the man didn’t look so convinced, asking to come by the station tomorrow if possible and to bring her birth certificate.

That’s when she knew she needed to start packing, calling up family and making a few adjustments to her life. That’s when she moved back to New York City for a while, keeping her job within SHIELD, but taking up studies for medicine to research her condition, talks with other scientists.

But they all slowly came to the conclusion that it seems like there was no results for her condition, despite the records, recalling of events and etc.

It happened again where officers would stop the women and question her appearance, age and name. Even tried to take her into the station, as she would always do what she must to get out of it, even call up a friend for witness.

Packing up once again, making a couple of whole calls and planes to drive off somewhere off the grid of neither New York or LA, she found herself in San Diego instead. Making sure that Peggy, Howard, Jarvis and their friends know what to do, if anyone contract them, remove any records and to do something about the officers who taken her originally.

In result, Jennie Woods went on to change her name, keep her files close to her chest, residence and appearance the best she could every decade. And to never speak a true word of her fate to answer living soul (unless they were family of course).

To her relief, as the years went on things calmed down and she was less frequently questioned, however she would get wondering eyes at work.

——————

——————————————————————

🐤~Auntie JJ~ 🪿

-> May 29th, 1970 her nephew Anthony Edward Stark was born.

The day she held that tiny will soul in her arms, she knew she would love him til her dying days. She would take care of him, spoil the boy, and make sure he knew he was loved, even if she wasn’t there everyday to see him.

And that she did.

In the 70s, Maria and Howard knew they would need a pair of helping hands, aside from Jarvis, as they offered for the women to live with them. And of course, she said yes.

Jennie was there every step of the way and she loved it. Watching Tony grow up, taking his first step, first words, teaching him to read and write. Hell, when he was old enough, Tony would draw her so many drawings that she hang up in her office showcasing her godson’s work.

There were plenty of days and nights where neither of his parents were around as work and events took up their time, so in result if she was free, Jennie would do it.

“..’So after Lisa sewed on the missing button, she gave Corduory a big hug.’ The End. Now it’s time for my little bear to go to sleep.” She said closing the book with a smile.

Usually the 7 year old would give her a sleepy remark but after the long day he had, he decided against it. He rolled onto his side getting comfy.

“Auntie JJ?” He yawned in his small voice.

“Yes baby?” She asked standing up and putting the book back on his bookshelf.

“Would you always love me like Lisa love Corduroy?”

Jennie paused what she was doing as a small smile appeared on her lip at the question, she turned out and kneeled over the bed, placing a hand above Tony’s small cheek. Her warm touch smooth his worries.

“Of course I will, bubba” She replied and pressed a kiss to his forehead.

He smiled in returned, “Can we have pancakes tomorrow?”

“We will have to see. But first night night.”

“Night night.”

She gave him one more smile watching as his eyes closed, pulling his blanket closer. When she knew it was clear to leave, she gently closed the door behind her and escaped to the living room to watch a rerun of The Mary Tyler Moore Show.

Midway through the episode, she paused the taping and through back onto what Tony asked her earlier. She looked down at her lap, playing with the throw pillow in hand and sighed deeply. She knew why he asked that question, with his parents getting busier as the day goes by, especially at such a young age, it makes sense Tony would wonder if the adults in his life still love him.

And she meant what she said earlier, this unconditional love she has for her nephew is true. She adores that tiny little troublemaker, even if she sometimes drives him nuts, it’s one of the reasons she cares for him. He’ll keep on learning , as time slips through her fingers watching him grow up.

She knew she will be always try to be there for him, even if she’s in a different city, she’s only one call away.

And she was right.

Tony’s auntie JJ is there for him every time she can be. The smallest moments and his biggest. His graduations, his first true inventions, taking him out for ice cream, reading him bedtime stories, making him bacon on his birthday, the two of them sneaking off to watch movies late at time and the list goes on.

Hell, if she’s in the same room and near by, JJ is there to poke and pinch Tony when he says something he isn’t supposed to. Which results in him yelling a small, “Ow!” As she’ll give a smile in return or a certain look to tell him to quit it.

There are moments that his aunt JJ would have a date pick him and Tony would try to question his intentions with his aunt. Little did she know her godchild Rei would be the same way in the future. Every single one of her dates biggest haters.

———————

—Likes:

Mysteries, romance and detective novels

Waking up late

Coffee (of course!)

Classic movies from the golden era & sitcoms

Vintage fashion and style

Baking

Jewelry

Design

Painting & Drawing

Donuts

The sun setting

—Dislikes:

Narrow-mindedness

Cold coffee

Being underestimated or misjudged

Chaos in the house

Being underdressed or overdressed for an event

Sitting still for too long

Big Crowds

Closed spaces

Horror movies (however she enjoyed CW’s Supernatural)

Hiking

Fast rides

—Languages:

- Fluent in Spanish and English.

- Russian and Italian

- And some French

——————-

—Additional information:

- Jennie has a couple of scars, some small and some are a little big

- She tends to wear reading glasses or sunglasses at a lot

- You can sometimes find her on the couch wearing her earbuds listening to her favorite songs or binge watching a series on her IPAD

- As said before she likes jewlery, so in result you can find her wearing rings, earrings and sometimes necklaces. Such as her charm bracelet she got as a gift back in the 80s from a old friend

- She has traveled a lot over the years, sometimes she been a place more than once or even lived there. As well, as she met a couple of likely faces too

- Due to trying to keep up her energy and stamina levels, when it came to changing her appearance Jennie always tried to have a little fun. Such as dying her hair different a color, giving herself a new haircut, buying statement pieces that seemed timeless and testing out makeup to make her blend in with the crowd

- When it comes to makeup, she tries to keep it rather simple (she used to wear a lot of over the years but it resulted in some acne)

- When she’s under stress or filled in anxiety while in public spaces, she tends to play with her nails, add pressure to her inner palm, rubbing her wrist, wipes her sweaty palms on her jeans and etc

~~~~

~~~~~~

—That’s all folks! I wanted to add more detail about her but then it would’ve been wayyyy too long of a ride 😅

Anyways pls let me know what you think! Remember to like, comment and share

Tags: @gaminggirlsstuff @gcthvile @missstrawbs2001 @cherrysft @xgoddessoffandomsx @rickb-chaos @starkleila @infinetlyforgotten @meiramel @sherloquestea @parisparker269 @djs8891 @buckysteveloki-me @yetanotherwells @nakiaswg @carellmcu @ximehs

[nyxedpages]

Zhang Hua, known as Lia Zhang. 22. She/Her. Reserved for Luna. Bisexual. Rebellio-born. Neutral Supporter. Born in Beijing, China. Raised in multiple countries. Currently living in Los Angeles for university. Nepo baby, but chooses to be private about her life and only lets people know limited information about her. Professional photographer, university graduate.

Lia Zhang is a calm girl who doesn't usually lose her temper. It takes a lot to hurt her, but she'll never hold a grudge - unless it's seriously bad. Lia's father, Kija, and her stepmother, Ivona, were major celebrities until their group disbanded and left the public eye. Lia has two sisters, an older stepsister called Yasmin, and a younger half-sister called Muna, that she loves more than anything, though she doesn't see them a lot due to them all choosing different countries for university. Her best friend is Evelyn Lindeay, or Evie Lindeay (or Evie Chen when in China). She's been friends with Evie since childhood, though she left for university whilst Evie stayed in Romania.

[victorluvsalice]

Merry Christmas SlyCooperAndCarlosFox!

@slycooperandcarlosfox (or @weirdkev27) As requested, here is the continuation to your birthday fic starring the Lovecraft Jazz AU investigating a potential eldritch threat for your OC Phillianne Tropy...and finding a familiar face at the center of it all. Enjoy!

It’s ALWAYS Him

“I have – mixed feelings about how all this worked out.”

Victor glanced at Alice, puzzled. “Why?”

“Well – on the one hand, it is nice that, in this particular case, we were dealing with a hoax and not an actual eldritch, mind-bending horror,” Alice said, raising her right hand as if weighing something. She nodded at the police car in front of them. “On the other hand, our villain was – that.”

“I am not a ‘that!’” said “that” shouted, having apparently overheard despite being locked in the back of the car. “I’m Flintheart Glomgold, and you’re not to forget it!”

“Oh, trust me, we won’t be forgetting you in a hurry,” Lizzie assured Glomgold through the car window, rolling her eyes. “Tell me, what was the end plan of this whole scheme of yours again?”

“Why, to get Owlson back working for me, obviously!” Glomgold spat, nearly upsetting his tam o’shanter. “She should have been honored to be in the employ of someone as rich and famous and Scottish as myself! Not run off to be some ruddy politician!”

“Right. . .and your method for luring her back to your company was – dress up like a strange creature from the outer worlds, bent on her utter destruction.”

“No no no – it was supposed to be like Nessie!” Glomgold explained, shaking his head. “Just, you know, on land! Do you know how many people I had working on that costume?”

“Not enough,” Alice remarked, looking over at the discarded pile of fabric.

“Hush, you! Anyway, it was supposed to make her realize that being Mayor was too terrifying and that she had it better under me! Not make her decide to hire you lot from across the pond in England!”

“Oh, no, we’ve been living in America for quite some time now,” Alice corrected him. “No international trips necessary. And technically, she wasn’t the one who hired us.”

“What? Who was it then? It was Scrooge, wasn’t it?” Glomgold cried, shoving his face (and truly epic beard) up against the window. “He somehow figured out it was me and decided to ruin my fun! Where is that old bastard?”

“It was me, you idiot.”

Phillianne Tropy appeared on the scene, rolling her eyes so hard they looked about ready to come out of her head. “This is what happens when I give you the benefit of the doubt for five seconds,” she grumbled. “I should know by now it’s always you.”

“And it always will be!” Glomgold laugh, then sighed. “Though if you’re the one who hired them, that’s even worse!”

“How so?” Victor asked, curious.

“Because she’s massively overpaying you, I know it! Do you know, she doesn’t even have a giant vault full of gold coins to dive into whenever she wants?”

Alice raised an eyebrow. “That – sounds like a good way to get a concussion.”

“Which would explain a lot about him.” Phillianne sighed. “I’m so sorry you had to get caught up in one of his stupid convoluted schemes – though thank you for getting to the bottom of problem so quickly.”

“Oh, our pleasure,” Lizzie assured her. “It’s nice to have one that – well, doesn’t threaten our sanity in the usual ways,” she corrected herself, glancing back at Glomgold.

“I’m putting you all on my enemies list!” Glomgold declared.

“Is there room?” Alice had to ask.

“I always leave some space at the bottom! You lot are going to rue the day you crossed me, Flintheart Glomgold!”

“You say that to everyone,” Phillianne told him, shaking her head.

“And you always do rue it, don’t you?”

“If only because the only thing you love more than a complicated scheme is a complicated scheme specifically for revenge.” Phillianne ran her fingers through her hair. “Look, how about we find the others and go have a nice dinner while we discuss your final payment?”

“Sounds good to me,” Victor nodded. “I could use a good meal after chasing this fellow halfway up a building.”

“How was I supposed to know you could climb that well?!” Glomgold protested. “You should investigate him for eldritch nonsense!”

“Oh, we don’t have to,” Alice said, grinning. “We’ve already met his wife.”

“His what? What are you talking about?”

“Live in ignorance,” Lizzie said primly, turning her back on him. “You were saying about dinner, Miss Tropy?”

[selkiedoodles]

A selection of some vampire OCs I’ve made and loved over the years ❤️

Sebastian ?? - He/Him - Creation: ~12 years old

A sarcastic dead pan snarker, best friend to the protagonist. 16 years old. Was turned against his will and is absolutely disgusted by the taste of blood. Tries so hard to just be a Normal Dude.

Ikol - She/They - Creation: 16 years old

An entity of chaos who was never human to begin with. Not technically a vampire so much as the inspiration for the legends. She can change her appearance, but usually just changes her hair, always to a style that looks busy. Humans are like little bugs in jars that she likes to shake.

Alexander “Alex” Lyell - They/Them - Creation: 24

A late 1600s baby originally from one of the Thirteen Colonies. Changed in their mid twenties after dying at sea as a pirate. They are perpetually dissatisfied and the biggest nuisance on the planet. Will literally just sit there and complain like an old curmudgeon, only half the time they’re complaining about something that stopped existing a century ago. Has hated every place they have ever lived and despite having been around for centuries can only speak English. They moved to France and learned French once but they hated it so much that they swore to never learn another language. If they still know any of the language they refuse to engage with it. Has spent most of their life in North America and hates it. Has somehow managed to refrain from engaging with every single notable historic event.

Aruelius / Rue - He/They - Creation: this week

Looks like a teenager, actually a couple of thousand years old. No, he doesn’t know how old. Time changed! You keep adding and taking away months and he never learned to count past 20. He wasn’t important enough for a last name and there weren’t any other Arueliuses in the village. And now there are none and it sounds stupid so he just goes by Rue. He’s an easily bored Drama Queen who has long since grown bored of the moral quandary of existence and is now just here for the funsies. Took a break at the bottom of the ocean for 70 years then came back up and promptly saved a guy’s life because he wanted to know who the little creature on his keychain was. Now he refuses to leave his house and identifies as Mimikyu kin. Luckily the guy’s twitch audience think his new roommate’s “bit” is funny.

[strangerobin]

Rue: Chapter 7 (Jasper Hale x OC Imagine)

He felt her long before she heard her.

The same old tugging in his heart, followed by this sense of knowing that she was nearby, coming right for him.

And in anticipation of her arrival, he staked his guard just outside the clearing of the house. He was soon joined by members of his family, Edward on his left and Alice on his right. Carlisle and Esme were not too far behind, on the veranda. No one dared move.

Then there was the rustling of the leaves, but in all reality they had heard her from miles away, deliberately making the largest of noises. Adeline emerged in all her glory, single handedly holding the carcass of a giant mountain lion which she clearly had drained already. With a flourish, she threw the carcass right at the foot of Jasper.

She always did have a flare for the dramatics.

“You wanted me right, Jasper Whitlock?” Adeline growled, her eyes were wild and her countenance hostile. Alice eyed her warily, unable to predict the other’s move and Edward flared his nostrils in warning, ready to lunge forward anytime.

Jasper held out his hand, gesturing for the two to step down. With his eyes still trained on Adeline, he took a step forward to come face to face with the girl.

"Adeline."

Adeline’s face broke into a wide feral grin, though her eyes were shinning like cold hard coals. “Well here I am.” Her hands flew rapidly in the air, gesturing to herself. “So quit your stalkerish behaviour and let’s talk like real grown adults who’ve been living for way too long.”

He kept his face impassive, trying to show her just how hysterical she was acting. “You’re being irrational now. No one here means you any harm.”

“Irrational? Me irrational?!” She echoed in disbelief. Before pointing a finger in his face, absolutely livid. “I don’t need this talk from you! I’m not the one who’s been following an innocent girl half the country, disrupting her peace! Driving her insane!”

“Really, all I wanted was just some answers, which last I checked were quite long overdue.” Jasper shrugged nonchalantly, while Adeline looked as if she were ready to explode the next second.

“You don’t come to my house and harass me and my siblings and then demand to be answered to just like that!” She spat.

“Then what should’ve I done then?” Jasper asked cooly, his frustration was slowly building as well.

“You might have asked nicely-”

“Asked nicely?” He couldn’t help the scorn in his laugh, but neither could he conceal the hurt he had been feeling. “Would you have cared to answer then? Instead of running away as if you’ve seen a ghost? When you were the one who’d ran away like the ghost yourself?”

That seemed to slap her in the face and Adeline spluttered for a moment before finally threw her arms in the air, in a tantrum.

“I don’t care what you want! Just leave me the fuck alone!”

“You know I can’t do that." Not now when I’ve finally found you after so long.

In the end it was this declaration that proved to be the last straw for Adeline. With a feral growl and lightning reflexes, she was lunging for his jugular. But she had not known that Jasper was just as prepared for the attack; he had years of experience in war and in the handling of newborns. With equally, if not even quicker speed he blocked the attack and launched a counter attack, thought not meant to be lethal, only to subdue his opponent. Adeline dodged it with poise and precision, and retaliated with another punch aiming for the solar plexus.

It became apparent in a matter of seconds that the girl was fighting to win, aiming for all the vulnerable spots of her opponent, she fought with grace and an instinct, as if she knew where and when the next blow would be. Jasper on the other hand was quicker and stronger, craftier. Despite the girl’s anticipation, she was no match to Jasper superior skills, and it soon dawned on her that she was fighting a losing battle. Jasper watched her eyes shift, calculating, no doubt trying to hatch a hasty retreat.

Not this time.

With a swift block to her kick from the left, he’d lunge at her, tipping her off balance, pinning her to the ground with his hand clasped around her delicate neck, face inches from hers, close enough to bite.

But her warm hand was on his chest, where his dead heart was.

They were locked in an impasse, neither willing to let the other go first, to admit defeat. Though if anything it was clear from the way the fight had gone down, Jasper had the upper hand right from the beginning and was going easy on Adeline. She was no match to his superior ability or skills and would’ve lost eventually.

The defeat left her livid. He could feel her piercing glare and the venomous loathing seeping under his skin. But he’d rather her hate him then be apart from her for another minute, and he was worried that the minute he loosened his grip, he would lose her once again.

“Jasper, let’s invite our guest into the house, shall we?”

Carlisle’s soothing voice broke the two out of their chokehold on each other. Adeline glared at Jasper again, finally moving her hand away only to slap away his clasp on her neck. She stood up in fury and without a backward glance, stalked into the house.

*

Yes. Yes. Yes.

She could see him in broad daylight now. They had fought and she had lost. He was no longer the same Jasper she had known all those years ago, not the simple farm boy who had courted her nor the charming Major she had watched climb the ranks of the Souther army. Here was the man changed, replaced by a monster, stronger, faster, who had honed and mastered his own weaponries over the last century.

There was no mistaking now, Jasper Whitlock was a vampire.

And it infuriated her all the more because how could he throw away all his human life and pleasures, after everything she had sacrificed for him?!

“Well?” Adeline barked impatiently as she turned to face the family crowding around her in the living room, more had joined seemingly from out of nowhere. There was the little one’s family though she herself was absent; and then there was her woman from the bar in Minnesota hoovering close behind Jasper, as well as another two pair of couples.

“I haven’t got all day.” She snapped to no one in particular.

The leader, stepped forward to stand next to Jasper. Blonde hair carefully swept back neatly, in a tailor made suit. Adeline spared a glance at her worn out sweater and jeans and momentarily felt ashamed for her own tardiness. “I don’t suppose we’ve all formally met. My name is Carlisle Cullen, this is my family. From my understanding, Jasper and you have been long acquaintances-”

“Fair enough.” Adeline muttered, eyeing the latter who was quietly observing her severely in return. Oh how she wished she could gouge those golden orbs out.

“Esme here.” Carlisle now gestured at the honey blonde close to him. “She’s my mate. The others are my children, Edward, Bella, Rosalie, Emmett and Alice. Only Alice and Jasper are not my direct or indirect sires, they joined the coven voluntarily.”

That caught her attention and Adeline shot another glance at Jasper. So then, this well-spoken gentleman was not the one who had turned Jasper then. She wondered briefly who the culprit had been.

“And no doubt you’ve already met Renesmee, our youngest. She is Bella and Edward’s child.”

Adeline trailed her eyes onto the couple. Edward was scrutinising her reaction while Bella shifted uncomfortably. “You had the child before she was turned?” She directed her question towards the man. “How very rash.” And stupid. Adeline thought to herself.

She did not miss the small frown on Edward’s face.

“We did not know then, that I was… that we were capable of making a baby between a vampire and human.” Was his guarded reply. “We had never met another hybrid before it. And we paid the price with the Volturi.”

“The Volturi came for your child?” That piqued her interest.

“Yes.” Edward nodded. “We barely avoided conflict and a bloodbath.”

Well, that was interesting information. Her fury at Jasper momentarily set aside, Adeline stopped to process this new piece of information.

“What did you say or do to have them off your back? Because I can’t imagine them being all too accepting with the news. Especially if they’ve never met or seen a hybrid before. They’d be wary of it and keen to destroy before word could spread.”

“There’s a coven of hybrids in South America.” Alice, the girl from the bar butted in with her shrill little voice. “Jasper and I managed to track them down and we were able to learn of the basics of your kind. They had to leave when they couldn’t find another threat.”

Adeline's brows shot up in surprise. “There’s a coven of hybrids in South America? What of them now then?”

“We aren’t sure.” Carlisle finally answered after a moment of silence. “But we have our own speculations.”

“No violation of the sacred laws of the Volturi will ever go unpunished.”

Adeline’s thoughts unconsciously wandered back to her father as she mulled over Carlisle’s words thoughtfully, a hand over her chin. A breech in the laws… Punishments…

“What of you then?” Edward’s question roused her from her thoughts and back to the present.

“What of me?” Adeline echoed in feigned innocence.

“Your maker.” Edward was looking at her squarely in the eye. A hint of hostility lingering at the back of his voice. “Last I remembered, you were quite adamant that my daughter was not to trust her own makers. I can’t imagine why.”

Adeline felt the corner of mouth twitched in annoyance. What a petty, narrow minded man he was. “Well I’m sorry but not everyone lives a sequestered, pampered life like you do, Mr Edward.” She flashed him a wide fake smile. “And no, I'm not interested in divulging in my private life with the likes of strangers.” As if she was going to tell them of Father and her siblings. Although she hated one half of them and felt indifferent towards the other half, there were still a few precious ones in her family she would wish to keep safe. She didn’t quite trust the Cullens enough, and certainly not Jasper, to reveal too much of her private life to them. There was no guarantee that the Volturi would be kind for a second or third time. There was no guarantee the family did not have any ties or agreement with the Volturi.

She was engaged in a heated stare off with Edward when she glimpsed Jasper fighting to keep his face stoic.

“What?” She snapped. “What’re you smiling at?”

“You know, Adeline. I would hold my thoughts closer to myself if I were you when Edward’s around.” Jasper was evidently trying and failing to suppress a smirk as the corner of his lips tugged upwards. “He’s a telepath.”

Adeline snapped her head towards Edward so quick she thought she was giving herself whiplash. She felt herself blanched as she thought of all the things that Edward would now know before resolutely slamming a mental wall over her mind.

Motherf- She had been duped! Again! This was a trap all along! And in coming here she had willingly fallen headfirst into it like a moth to a fire!

With a frustrated growl, Adeline turned and stalked straight out of the house.

She should never have come!

“Adeline. Adeline.”

She kept striding forward, ignoring Jasper’s voice even as it followed her, getting closer and closer until he was close enough to grab her by the arm.

“Adeline!”

“What is it that you want?” Adeline hissed still fuming, as she pulled her hand away from his grasp. “I came because I thought you wanted to talk like real adults. But I guess that was never your intention!”

“Adeline, you know it’s never my intention to harm you.” He sighed in response.

“You didn’t have to stalk me, and certainly not my sister. She was innocent.”

“And you know you wouldn’t have come on your free will if I hadn’t done that.” Jasper murmured, somewhat akin to a wounded puppy. For a split second she thought she had a glimpse of his guilt but she wouldn’t let it cloud her judgement. She was supposed to be angry, and she had every right to be so.

She was not the perpetrator in this.

Or so she convinced herself.

“Look, fine. You got me.” Adeline threw her hands up in resignation and sighed. “I’m a hybrid, my father is a vampire, all my siblings are half vampires. I’ve been alive since 1789; I was a hybrid when I met you, I’m still one now. Does that satisfy your question?”

“Why did you leave?” Jasper eyed her cautiously, wary of her sudden forthcomingness.

“I left because I wanted to.” The lie rolling out of her mouth was surprisingly so much easier than she thought it would be. “There’s no deeper meaning in it than that.”

“Bullshit.” Jasper growled dangerously.

Adeline feigned annoyance and shook her head with a sigh. “Sometimes the truth is just harder to accept, Jasper.”

“I don’t believe you.”

“It’s not up to you to decide.” She looked away then and heaved another sign.

There was a heaviness in the air and it made her squirm uncomfortably. For all the intimacy they had shared together all those years ago, it felt like they were two strangers right now. But they might as well be.

People change all the time. And for all that it may, she wasn’t the same girl Jasper Whitlock had courted a century and a half ago. She had long since buried her naivety and innocence in the passage of time.

She had become a stranger to him, just as he had become a stranger to her now.

There was no sense in any sort of rekindling of any kind.

“I think I’m gonna go now.” Adeline mumbled without even looking up.

“Wait.” She felt his strong hand on her wrist again, stopping her from motion. “Not yet.”

“What?”

She turned back, confused to see the new determination in his eyes.

“Aren’t you curious?”

“Curious about what?”

“Have you ever thought, how did Jasper manage to find me? How did Jasper manage to track me down? Because clearly you have some sort of instinctive self preservative and concealment ability and I’m guessing that it’s usually close to impossible to track you.”

“And?” She couldn’t see where this was going. Really, it was a waste of time.

“Haven’t you ever given thought to just what kind of beings possesses such an ability?”

“You’re wasting time talking in circles.” She declared.

“Come on darling.” She hated that knowing smirk on his face. It was equally becoming and also frustrating to look at. “Tick tock. Think.”

Adeline squinted at the man in front of her suspiciously. Just what in God’s name was he implying? What kind of being would be able to track someone down easily. The obvious answer would be: a tracker. But she knew this was not what Jasper was trying to get at given his specific veiled remark. So then… what?

“Especially when there’s a bond involved?”

That snapped her out of her reverie.

“I don’t believe you!” Adeline spluttered in indignation. “Bullshit! I… I’m not going to fall for that load of crap!” Jasper’s calm demeanour only spurred on her anger. “You’re suggesting a soulmate bond?! Impossible!”

“Calm down darlin-”

“Calm down?” Adeline echoed after Jasper, incredulous. “Are you… are you hearing yourself?”

“Yes I am.” The straight face he was giving her, it was just too much!

“Those things don’t exist Jasper.” She tried to implore, to talk some sense into that thick skull of his, which seemed to have grown in thickness since the last time they had met.

“You wanna bet?” He shot her a cocky smile, and her heart began to thump rapidly. Out of indignation, not excitement. She said to herself.

“You can bet your pretty little head that when I’m done I’m going to serve it on a silver platter!”

“You do remember that I know where your little sister is, don’t you?”

“Are you threatening me?”

“Come now. That’d be low even for me.”

“Fuck you!”

Oh that cocky smirk. Her rage was coming back on full now and Jasper had been doing nothing but fanning the flames of her anger every given chance. Some part of her mind, the part still capable of rational thought, nagged at her.

And why are you so irritated by the accusation?

Because this is incredulous. She thought to herself.

“Come on, darling. Prove me wrong.”

When she made no move to reply, Adeline felt a hand clasping around hers. And cold as it may be, the gentleness of the caress reminded her for the first time in a long while, of a time she thought had already escaped her all those years ago. She looked up at his tawny eyes, for the first time since their reunion, they held nothing but a vulnerability, a deep longing that came from a depth that she was afraid to venture in. She had to turn away for fear of drowning in those liquid topaz.

“Stay… stay for a month.” He continued to coax, soothingly, his voice like silk in her ears and she felt an artificial wave of calm trying to wrap around her. “Prove yourself right and prove me wrong. Prove that I’m an obsessive psychopathic lunatic who’s just been randomly pulling crazy ideas out of thin air.”

Adeline swallowed. This would be a very bad idea, this would be a very very bad idea. “What’s in this for me?”

“If I can’t convince you by the end of the month.” She watched him lick his lips, a nervous tick of his that only ever seems to emerge when the two were alone. “I’ll leave you alone for good.”

“Deal.” She found herself say in reply. Though deep down, there was a sense of wrong, that she had committed yet another mistake, had willingly walked into another trap of his. With her years behind her, if anything they should have taught her to be smarter, to be more level-headed and calculating.

So why was she agreeing to this crazy suggestion?

Adeline held his gaze searchingly for a moment. Finally forcing herself to speak, her voice momentarily caught in her throat.

“You’ve changed, Jasper.”

*

“You’ve changed, Jasper.”

Him, changed? Jasper was surprised by the irritation the statement had stirred in him.

“How so?” He tried to keep his voice even, but there was a tremor in it, one he hoped Adeline would not catch ahold of.

“You…” He watched as she frowned inwardly, searching for the right word to say. “You didn’t used to be so… so manipulative.”

That struck a chord in his heart.

“You’ve set traps for me at every turn.” The accusation was salt on his wound and it stung so badly. But she was not entirely wrong.

“You got to do what you got to do to survive in my world.”

“Your world?”

“Yes, my world.”

He suddenly felt an unsalvageable gulf between the two of them. Adeline was right, he had changed, by the Civil War, by Maria and his bloodlust filled life. Life had forced to him to be ruthless and militaristic, to exploit every little weakness his opponents had, to manipulate every emotion exuberated. Life with Cullens had softened him considerably, but he had not lost this skill he had honed over the century. And in times of need, the Major in him always resurfaced.

“But can you say the same for yourself?”

Adeline had changed too.

He scrutinised her pretty face closer, searching for some semblance of the lover he had lost all those years ago.

She had once compared him to the different intervals of the day. He was the afternoon, warm and welcoming, when the sun was just right, when the sunlight wasn’t too harsh and the warmth from it shrouded one in a blanket of sleep. And he had compared her to midday, when the sun was at its highest, when the light was intense and at its strongest.

Now the light seemed to be gone from her. She was a new moon, when even the light of the moon had spun away, hidden in the dark night. And he realised how little he knew of her just as she knew nothing of his. What had happened to have taken away her sun?

He watched as Adeline frowned before moving away uncomfortably under his intense gaze.

An air of hesitancy shrouded around Adeline, growing stronger by the minute. No doubt their conversation had brought great unease to the girl now; for the first time, the two of them realised just how little they know of the other. Of all the changes the other had gone through since their breakup.

And it seemed that, neither was quite willing to let the other in.

With the loss of innocence, it wasn’t near impossible for them to bare their soul and heart to the other in a heartbeat, without scruples.

For fear of more injuries, for fear of ripping out new wounds amongst old scars. For all the shame they had gone through in the years since passed.

“We’ve all changed.”

But the final verdict seemed wronged, and it aroused in him a sense of dissatisfaction from the depths of his chest. Gnawing at him. It didn’t feel right, he hadn’t intended to push her away even further when he lured her here. He had wanted to reconnect with her, to rebuild whatever was lost between them. To pick up from wherever they had departed.

And it only seemed to distance her even further away.

Jasper frowned in distaste and turned towards the house again.

“Come. I’ll show you to your room.”

[demigodsanswer]

Got any mortal parent headcanons? I imagine Mr. Beauregard is named Sebastian and his chocolate store is Sebastian's Sweets. He has a jolly demeanor (until...). I think Castor & Pollux's mom (I assume/headcanon they have a mom) would form a demigod parent support group. She & her son would invite the mortal parents of Michael Yew, Lee Fletcher, Ethan Nakamura, Silena, & Charlie, among others.

I do! Mostly about my fave minor characters (who, at this point, are really just my OCs who happen to also show up in the narrative). 

Clarisse - mom: Madeline 

I’ve written about my HCs for Clarisse’s mom a bunch, so I won’t repeat many of them. But my biggest one is that she is from Arizona, and she has family in St. Louis and Louisiana. Her family were early French colonizers, so there haven’t been La Rue’s in France for about 400 years. 

However, she got accepted to study ballet in France when she was 15. She moved there, and soon after got a job with the Paris Opera Ballet as a dancer. She became a Principal dancer and danced with the company until she was 37. 

She had Clarisse when she was about 30. 

They moved back to America when Clarisse was 7 and she retired, because Clarisse’s grandmother had gotten sick, and she needed to help her father take care of her. About a decade later, after both of her parents pass away, she moved back to France and worked as a Ballet Master for the POB. 

Chris - mom: Katarina 

She grew up in New York City, but she left to go to college and graduate school. She has a PhD in Comparative Literature and works as a professors at The University of Michigan. Her primary research interest are Latinx and Hispanic travel narrative. 

She found out she was going to have Chris soon after she got her tenure-track job. She knew Hermes was a god, but he didn’t tell her which one. Had she known who Chris’s father was, she would have told him. 

When Chris went insane, Clarisse’s mom called her. While the two of them never become best friends, they do become close through the shared experience of having demigod children. They get the idea to start reaching out to other demigod parents to form a kind of support group. 

Castor and Pollux- mom: Rebecca 

There is nothing wine, theater, or madness about her, really, she is just a beautiful, kind woman Dionysus met once and instantly fell for. 

They had a very long relationship, at least by mortal/god relationship standards. (She talks to Sally once about Poseidon, and sees a lot of similarities between her relationship to Dionysus in the story.) They were both thrilled when they found out she was going to have a child, and even more excited when they found out it was twins. They were born with dark curly hair and dark brown eyes, taking after both parents. 

She lives in Brooklyn and is a Rabbi. Her home is always open to demigods in need, and she always invites Jewish demigods at camp to her home for holy days. Cecil is a regular. 

Because she’s a religious leader, she offers to take over running the support group from Madeline and Katarina, since she is more equipped to help people in times of great distress. 

Losing her son was one of the hardest things she’s ever had to go through. 

Through the support group, she connects with Lee Fletchers mother. They become very close friends, and, about five years after TBotL, they start dating, which is very strange for Pollux because he considers his relationship with Lee one of the great loves of his life. 

Lee - mom: Daphne 

She’s pretty sure 60% of Apollo’s attraction to her was because of her name. She didn’t care though. They had a lot of fun together, but the relationship wasn’t serious. 

She lives in Greenwich Village and owns a movie theater. She hosts a lot of indie and international films, as well as midnight showings of The Rocky Horror Picture Show (complete with shadow cast) and The Room. 

She was devastated when Lee died, and she doesn’t know if she would have even been able to start a recovery process if it weren’t for Rebecca. 

Kayla - dad: Darren 

Her dad is trans. 

[eerythingisshaka]

Will the Bell Ring? Pt. 6

[Erik Killmonger x Black!OC]

Word Count:  6.7K

A/N:  I am now inspired to write again because a tweet said that Disney+ had hella issues on the date it dropped and 10 million people still stuck around to watch it.  I’m taking that same energy with me.

“Mara, I won’t ask you again.”  Erik says sternly.  Kimara looks around casually, glad that they are at least located in a public place...though he still doesn’t seem to care.

“MARA!”  Erik barks.

“Don’t cause a scene!  Damn, you have absolutely no common sense!”  She hisses as an elderly white couple looks away and walks faster down the path.  A breeze starts to pick up in the air, causing the treetops to dance in the distance.

“Really?  All I got is common sense when I hear you tryna pull a fast one on me.  And to bring someone I respect in on this, that’s fuckin low!”

Kimara adjusts her seating on the bench as the metal digs into you thigh meat.  “Respect??  Oh please, you were just knocking him on some petty shit last week!  And I didn’t mean to!  Ok?  I’m sorry!”

“For what?  I need specifics, lay out the entire situation for all the other nosy white folks walkin round the park today.  They wanna see someone act a fool, I’ll give it to them if you keep pussy footin around.”  Erik leans back on the bench, spreading his chest wide with pride as he stares her down.  She can’t stand him.

Kimara lets out a sigh, laying one hand on his inner thigh for extra focus.  “I am sorry...for putting you through so much pain and agony.  I know how much the relationship means to and I shouldn’t have put it in danger by getting myself involved without talking to you first.  And even then, I should’ve known better.  I couldn’t even enjoy it without thinking about you and what you would think.  So...never again.  I promise.”

Erik scratches his chin, bouncing his leg before dipping his head down to look at Kimara over his fake gold rimmed eyeglasses with matronly contempt.  “Long as you learnt never to watch Euphoria without me, we good.”

Kimara squeezes his leg, letting out a huge sigh of relief.  “Thank God.  You really bout to cut me over Fez and Rue huh?”

Erik sits up, clapping his hands together.  “They are the true OTP if I ever seen one.  They ain’t even gotta be intimate or whatever, just the fact that someone been through her journey and is now doing everything to help clean her up while the forces of small white town bullshit enable her is...poetry dawg.”  Erik leans back shaking his head in awe.

“Babe, you are sappier than a maple tree in the summertime.”  Kimara shakes her head, the loveliness of their conversation filling her head like a delicious fog she didn’t want to ever see the end of, but Erik’s lunch break was almost up.

Erik kisses her softly, making Kimara wipe the transfer of her gloss off his lips.  

“Uh uh!  Don’t worry bout all that baby.  If that shit makes your lips as good as I like, I could use some too.”

“You so stupid!”  Kimara cackles as they both get off their bench and walk side by side: his hand on her hip, her arms locked around his waist with one ear to his chest.

“This was nice.”  Erik says distantly, more to himself than to her.

Kimara cranes her face toward his.  “Yeah?”

He nods.  “Yeah, just to not think about any of the bullshit we’ve had to deal with, enjoy God’s creations out here in the gentrified park.  I feel like a damn retiree with stock and bonds and 401K real fat.”

Kimara settles in step with him again.  “But you have all those things…”

“But I ain’t retired!  White America don’t want a nigga to retire.  Swear everything would go belly up if Black folks could live off of the fruits meant for them.  They’d burn the whole damn thing down before that would happen.”

Kimara rubs his back to settle him.  “Peaceful thoughts, remember?”

Erik’s chest expands and caves.  “Aight.  But real life is literally around the corner, so as much as I would like to have you in my office, I got shit to take care of.”  Erik takes her chin and lifts her face up to his.  “My Mara, My Mara…”

“...I’ll never be farther.”  Kimara says with only slight embarrassment beause their little saying is so damn cute.  Erik used to do cute rhymes with her name around the quad whenever she got down on herself or he thought he had her on the ropes to giving in to him.  Rarely worked, but constantly appreciated.   “I gotta go get some extra stuff for our dinner party later this week, so hopefully I won’t be too long at the studio.  We got a new artist laying down a demo that should be pretty fire.”

Erik puts a fist to his mouth excitedly.  “Oh worm?  Finally my lady finna be the new M-M-M-Maybach Music!”

Kimara rolls her eyes.  “I’ll be more than that!  I got about two songs on there I’m getting writing credit for.  I may wind up on the radio and you don’t even know it.  But you’ll know them checks!”

Erik couldn’t smile harder if he had hooks in his mouth.  “Your passion got you going off!  Nothing wrong with it either, you deserve it.   It’s been a long time coming.”

“It has.  So, go on so I can make this deal happen.”

They locked fingers until distance forced them to break their grip.  Erik waves  off Kimara as she saunters up the path to the main road.  His chest swelled with pride over his lady, she’s always been one of a kind.  Her happiness is his happiness, without question.  As he walked away, across the exquisitely decorated post modern/art deco lobby, to the elevator to the 33rd floor to his office, a cloud of dread weighed back on him that only got better with the help of Alaina.  If she wasn’t his partner on this revamp project with Boeing, he’d be shitting himself on a regular.

Erik walks by a conference room, stopping short of turning the corner of the glass walls.  He opens the door and peeks inside to see his friend hunched over a laptop, jumping slightly in her seat as he came across the room towards her.

“Damn, Erik!  Why do your big ass feet step so lightly?  Almost gave me a heart attack!”  She breathed out a ragged sigh of relief.

Erik pulls out a chair to sit down, chuckling at her expense.  “My bad,  I just had to come in when I seen you slaving away in here.  Figured you could use a distraction.”

Alaina smooths her hair back in her bun, her nude colored mouth in a tight, closed smile.

“I WISH you were a distraction for me, but unfortunately this involves the both of us.  While you were on break, Asshole and Son recommend we draft a final proposal for the FAA to approve.”

Erik sat shocked.  “What? Fuck, I mean that’s fucking crazy but kind of exciting too, right?”

She wags her finger.  “Don’t forget we are only the field niggas round here.  It sounds like an honor but in the end I am sure little Leave it to Beaver will be taking all the credit his daddy can send his way in order to keep the big wigs in good graces within the family.”

Erik taps his fingers on the deep wooden table, thinking.  Would they really double cross him that far?  Bringing him in on a project to mentor the bosses son only to pull the rug up under him and make him look like player two?

“That’s so damn white, sounds right.”  Erik sighs in somewhat disbelief.

Alaina shrugs.  “Told you.  And until I hear it from him otherwise, that’s what I’m going to assume.”  Alaina sighs and stretches her shoulders before going back in on the keyboard.  

Erik furrows his brow.  “If that’s it, then why are you still working on it?  Don’t you wanna pack up and move on?  You were brought here special for this, your time is wasted the most.”

Alaina’s eyes cast a ‘nigga please’ gaze on Erik.  “Mr. Future Baby Fava, I think our time has been equally wasted.  But guess what isn’t cut for my time here?  My pay: which is double what I make at my primary while I’m here so…”  She slowly leans over to grab Erik’s wrist.  “...until I hear the fat white man sing, we’re gonna work on this project for as long as we can to milk that cow til it lays a golden goose egg and rolls the tortoise to the finish line!”

Erik scoffs.  Alaina’s antics are half the reason Erik can’t quite distance himself from her.  She has a liveliness that he’s kind of missed lately.  “Man, you a trip and a fifth.  But I like your style. Might as well get it done then.”

“Oh fuck that, I’m done for the day.”   Alaina crisply closes her laptop, packin it under her arm and grabbing her case with the other.

“Whatchu mean?  I thought you said-”

“I worked through my lunch, like a boss ass bitch does.  You gotta work yours off, so Imma leave you to it.  Call me if you bleeding out your ears from stress: no less than that.”

Erik rolls his eyes as he gets up and watches her walk away.  The woman is working his last good nerve on purpose, but he likes it.  The job isn’t as boring or predictable with her around.  Now he just has to show her who the superstar has been all this time.  If he works hard at this, it won’t be for these fat cats, it’s gonna be a bonafide competition and he ain’t scared to fight a girl.

—

At the studio, Kimara finishes up a session with a local up and coming artist named Delilah.  Sweet girl, comes across very introverted until a mic is in front of her.  Kimara appreciated her vibes and talent, baby girl is on trend so long as she stays cute she is bound to be noticed.  Kimara ends their session a little early, wishing her well when it was time to wrap.  

Kimara felt like the studio was her second home most of the time but today she had to get to her real home REAL quick to get dinner prepared.  Tonight is the double dinner date with T’Challa and his boo of the moment.  She kept trying to get ahold of Erik for help with ingredients but he kept leaving her on read.

Rick, the studio owner caught Kimara before she was able to get out the door.

“Hey Rick  I know I cut things early, but I don’t have a lot of time unfortunately.  I have dinner to take care of tonight with some friends that is so damn important, you wouldn’t believe.”

Rick smiles a large proud papa smile.  “Oh I won’t keep you, but this news might.  Remember Peter Gafflin?  Legendary alternative rock/country artist extraordinaire who really love you last time y’all were in the booth together.”

Kimara couldn’t forget that man from their last session.  She hadn’t been exalted for her talent that highly since Petey Pablo came in that one time and promised her name would be on a Freek A Leek remix.

“Yeah, what about him?” She asks.

Rick could not help his smile to save his life.  “He called me up earlier today, saying he is planning to go on the road soon.”

“Yeah, yeah.  That happens often when you drop a new album.”  Kimara says impatiently.

“Right.  So he was thinking that you would hopefully be available to join him for some shows on his North American leg of the tour.”

Kimara stood there like the Men In Black just wiped her memory.  “Are-are you serious?  When?  How?  What would I do??”

“He wants you to SING for him like you did that day, background vocals and he thought a duet portion would be nice too.  You know the song ‘Boys Aren’t Born on Tuesdays?’”

Kimara clutches her chest.  “Oh my God, that song is so rich.  And he wants ME  to sing it with him?”

“Uh huh!’  Rick slaps her arm in congratulations, but Kimara could barely feel anymore.  

“In front of thousands.  Across America...oh my God!”

Rick and Kimara hug excitedly, so much so that Rick has to wipe his eyes a little.  “So is that a yes?”

Kimara stopped cheering to finally think a little.  “I mean, I don’t know.  If this was any other time I would say yes, but...I have some obligation here.  I’m deep into trying to start a family and settle a little.”

Rick makes a face of pity.  “I understand, I know.  And I hope you do get that.  Just…”

“Just…”   Kimara parrots.

“...it’s Peter Gafflin.”

“It is Peter Gafflin.”  Kimara says disheartened.  She had been waiting for years to get something off the ground with a top tier artist, but the universe had a funny way of timing.

“Did I mention how much pay is?”  Rick muses.

--

Kimara fans herself with a newspaper as she watches the rolls baking in the oven.  She is so thankful to have gotten dessert from the bakery, because she was over it with cooking.  She checks her phone for the time:  ten minutes til 7.  Her notifications show nothing from Erik yet, though she texted him twice today reminding his to not forget them hosting T’Challa and his girl.  Twice, Erik texted that he’s got her, but that was five hours ago, now who knows what the hell he is up to.  It would be perfect to bring up her good news with him in front of T’Challa and his date, while he smiles up at her with a hand inconspicuous and possessively on her behind...

But the light and fluffy feelings for the evening were quickly dwindling.  Before she could send a last threatening text to convince him to bring his ass, the doorbell sounds at the last sentence.  Kimara curses out loud, grabbing her oven mitt to take out the rolls that are a perfect golden brown.  She dabs her brow with a spare dinner napkin before clopping her way to the door.

Opening it with a flourish, Kimara opens her arms in excitement.  

“You made it!”  She says with a cheery song.

T’Challa looks at her fondly, his mouth slowly curling into a smile.  Kimara warms up to seeing her friend at her doorway.

“I was going to say it has been too long, but time moves backward for you.  You look beautiful.”

Kimara places a hand on her hip for emphasis, trying to withhold her joy in his compliment in the worst way.  “Oh please, it hasn’t been that long.  You cleaned up good too.”

Kimara always enjoyed the way T’Challa dresses like royalty without even meaning too, choosing pieces that elongate his lean body, squaring his wide shoulders to create a proud presence.

T’Challa places a hand to his date’s lower back.  “Iman has been looking forward to this night all week.”

A smiling Iman holds out a bottle of Proseco.  “T  has told me so much about you and your husband.  You all seem to be a pretty tight family.”

Kimara takes the chilled bottle and leads them inside.  “Oh yes.  We have all known each other for so long, I can’t imagine not having known them.”  

Placing the bottle on the table, Kimara claps her hands anxiously.  “So I have prepared us a nice little salad and a pork...uh...pasta ”  Kimara’s mind goes blank trying to remember what it’s called, she had only Googled the recipe that day.  Tapping her foot, fidgeting, Kimara gives up.  “Hell, some type of pork and spaghetti with peppers and shit.  It’s got cheese too, it’s good.  LEGGO!”

T’Challa and Iman chuckle as they head to the dining room.  “Well whatever it is it smells great!  I know your man must be fat and happy living with you.”  Iman gushes, pulling out her chair to sit at the table.

Kimara shakes her head humbly as the unwraps the foil on the proseco.  “Lucky for me, he is pretty active at the same time so it sticks in the right places.  If only he could actually BE in the right places when we schedule things that way.  Oh shit, lemme find a cork opener.”  

Kimara rushes into the kitchen slamming drawer after drawer looking for the elusive corkscrew.  She slams the bottle down a little too hard in frustration and hears the vibration of her phone on the counter next to her.

“Do you need assistance, Kimara?”  T’Challa’s steady, gentle voice says behind her.  She turns to see his concerned face looking down at her, hands firmly planted behind him respectfully.  

Kimara waves her hand in frustration.  “Aht aht!  It’s fine, don’t leave Iman alone in there!”

“She is fine.  Are you?”  He asks quietly while opening a cabinet above the sink.  

Kimara opens her phone to look at her notification.  “Been better.  Rather not talk while I’m supposed to be entertaining you guys.”

“But-”

Kimara puts her phone down hard.  “RAGU!  It was a pork ragu!  With basil fettuccine, ugh!  DUH!”  Kimara turns to see T’Challa holding the corkscrew in his hand.  

T’Challa continues, ignoring her topic change.  “You should let me know if he isn’t being good to you.”

Kimara takes the corkscrew in one hand, bottle in the other trying to maintain her blood from boiling.  “No I don’t.  I would discuss that with my husband.”  

“And he is where?”  T’Challa asks calmly as Kimara walks past him and back to the table.

“God, what a help your beau is, we can finally have a much needed sip sip, eh?”  Kimara exclaims a little too happily, sitting at the table as she drills the corkscrew in.

T’Challa opens the glass serving dish to examine dinner.  “This smells very good, I will fix a plate for you, Iman.”

“No!  I should serve you, Mr. King!  Move your hand from that spoon.”  Iman gets up, swinging her hips happily from side to side, digging the serving spoon into the delicious mix of sauce, noodles, and meat.  

T’Challa gives a shy smile.  “I appreciate it greatly, thank you.”  

Kimara jerks the corkscrew out of the bottle too hard, knocking the handle against the table, causing T’Challa and Iman to look at her with shock.

“Pop goes the weasel, right?”  Kimara giggles as she pours a third of the bottle into her glass, half an inch from the brim.  She takes ahold of her glass, taking  a few hearty gulps.

“So!  Tell me how are things with you all, still in the honeymoon phase?”

Iman finishes off her plate, settling in to eat.  “Well,  I wouldn’t say that.  Me and T are still kinda getting to know each other still, so I think honeymoon phase is a little too soon to call,”  she says as she nervously scratches the back of her head as T’Challa just keeps on eating.

Kimara starts to feel warm, keeping mental note that the fucking must’ve halted between them.  “Well there’s no need to rush at all.  Relationships are so much damn work, it must be nice to cuddle up to a stranger every so often.”

Iman offers some wine to T’Challa who declines.  “Have things been going well at the studio?  Recording?”

“Oh yeah, more than recording actually.  Sure, I just wish that I had the gumption to pull the trigger on doing some of my own shit.  I got a lot of praise from artist and even the owner of the studio; I’ve known him a long time.  But when it all comes down to it I just wonder what’s the point.  That’s all gonna change soon though, no worries about me!”

Iman pouts with sympathy.  “What do you mean?!  You are a damn good looking lady and to have talent enough that people brag about, you gotta do something with it while you’re young and able!”

“I know I’m young and able.  Well, I’m trying to start a family while I’m still young and able too.”  Kimara mumbles, slumping in her chair.

“Oh!  You are?  Congratulations!  From what little I remember from the night I met T, he seemed like a handsome guy with a good head on him.  If he hadn’t brought us home, we may not be seeing each other now.”  Iman’s hand disappear under the table to presumably T’Challa’s thigh, who looks over at her with kind eyes.  “And that reminds me of your story.  So T here got you and your husband together.  What are the details on that?”

Kimara is two sips from the bottom of her glass.  “Ohhh, that’s not dinner conversation unfortunately.”

Iman makes eyes at her.  “Oooh, that scandalous huh?  We all adults here, but I understand.  Me and T weren’t very biblical our first night meeting so, hey.”

T’Challa wags a finger.  “It’s not that, don’t be crass.”

Iman tuts at him.  “I’m just being friendly, what’s the issue.”

“It’s a personal story.  It should wait until Erik is here at least.”  T’Challa offers.

Kimara puts her glass down, plate still empty or any dinner.  “I don’t wanna bring that nigga up here anymore tonight, aight?”

Iman freezes mid bite as T’Challa sits up in his chair.  “Kimara, please-”

“Uh uh!  I’m in my house, I say what I want, I won’t be talked down to.  Iman?”

Iman is still frozen.

T’Challa speaks up.  “I’m just saying-”

“I’m talking!  Iman?  My husband and I have been trying to have a baby for months now, fucking like rabbits and I have yet to get pregnant.  It’s gotten so I think he;s getting tired of fucking with me and now he is out ‘working late’.  Now, he loves me because we have been through a lot to get to the point of being a married couple and he has had to prove himself loyal to me after...a lot of bullshit.  But I ain’t got it in me to discuss play the Newlywed Game with you cuz hell if I know what my husband is up to anymore.”

T’Challa gets up from his chair abruptly, scraping the chair across the floor, stomping towards the kitchen.

Kimara starts to laugh out loud.  “Oh shit, I think he’s pissed!  Ohh, let me see what this is about…”

Iman sits up anxiously.  “Do you need help?”

“No, no!  I got him, he’s very reserved with his frustrations, so I can deal.”  Kimara stomps into the kitchen.  “Now what is up with you??”

T’Challa takes a towel off of a rack, folding it twice.  “Did you need to unload on her like that?”

Kimara leans on the counter.  “Sure, woman to woman.  She seems to appreciate it.”

T’Challa opens the oven door, a plume of smoke billows out.

“Fuck!  Oh noooo, my rolls!”  Kimara exclaims, running to a window to open and fan out the smoke.  

T’Challa puts the baking sheet to the sink.  “I was trying to tell you I smell smoke.”  He tossed the towel down making the sheet clang.

Kimara fans her face, coughing.  “Oh, shit.  I just forgot.”

“Mhm.  You forgot your head this evening that’s certain.”

“What do you mean by that, T??”  Kimara asks mockingly.

T’Challa glares at her.  “If things weren’t going good, we could’ve rescheduled.”

“It’s funny you think I plan for my life to fall apart, cuz that is how it works right?”

“That’s not what I meant.”

“No, no one means to hurt my feelings or make me feel like shit until it happens.  You want me to be the perfect host.  Erik wants me to be a good wife and mother when I can’t even get a bun in the ov-”  Kimara stops short of the sentence.  T’Challa hangs onto silence waiting for her to finish.

“T’Challa, what if this is all a sign?  I burnt the rolls in the oven...because I can’t keep a bun in the oven?  Like pregnancy?  I can’t bake anything!!”  Kimara wails as she covers her mouth crying.  T’Challa goes over to her but stops short as Iman enters the kitchen.

“Hey, if everything is under control, I might head out.”

T’Challa looks back at Kimara then Iman.  “Well, let me call you a ride.”

“Already did.  Kimara, dinner really was good, I’m sorry to leave so soon.”

Kimara has her back turned, wiping her face before facing her.  “Thank you for coming.  You’re as nice as I heard.”

“I will walk you out then.”  T’Challa offers as they leave Kimara in the kitchen.  Her phone begins to ring, as she picks it up to find Erik’s name glowing on the screen.  All she can do is silence it, she was in no mood to talk, otherwise she might have to make a Lemonade album about it.  

Kimara goes back to her dining room table, sitting down to the bottle of wine.  T’Challa comes back in, closing the front door behind him.

“Eh, eh.  Put that down.  Eat something instead.”

Kimara groans as she swallows one more gulp from the bottle before getting it snatched from her hand.

“I’m not feeling your vibes T’Challa, honest.”  

“Vibes?  Do you hear yourself talking?”  

“Yeah I do.   That’s all I ever hear is my damn self.”

“You are not supposed to be drinking while planning a family, aren’t you?”  T’Challa asks softly, sitting next to her.

Kimara sighs deeply.  “I’ve done everything right.  All I’m supposed to do is carry, I can’t even get there.  God, I would kill for even a miscarriage, just to know that I didn’t completely fuck up my reproductive system!”

“STOP IT!”  T’Challa’s voice booms between them, reverberating off the walls.  Kimara sits upright, looking away from T’Challa’s face.  His energy calms as he leans a little further towards her.

“You do not deserve to beat yourself up like this.  Do you realize how far you’ve come in life from when I first met you to now?  There is no one as smart or witty or brilliant as you that I can also put faith in as a friend.”

Kimara fidgets with her fingers.  “Good thing Iman isn’t here to hear that.”

T’Challa sits back, taking a swallow of wine from the bottle himself.  “I won’t edit my statement, but she is a nice girl.”

“I still like Nakia better.”  Kimara says matter of factly.

T’Challa bristles at the name, looking into the distance.  “Yes, I guess she is my kryptonite, however too flighty.”

They sit in silence for a beat.

“What about that night?  What did it mean?”  Kimara asks.

T’Challa’s brow furrows.  “Which do you…”

“A few weeks ago?  My car?”  Kimara rubs her face roughly.  “Ughh, I hope it’s not the wine talking but I swear there was a moment that felt like...a thing.  Am I wrong?”

T’Challa does something he does not always do:  he begins to stutter.  It’s slow, without the skip, but a stutter nonetheless.

“I...Well...hmm,”  He says before his mouth motions wordlessly.

“...T?”  Kimara asks teasingly.  “It’s ok!”

He looks her in her eyes intensely, like she just cursed him out.  “Huh?”

Kimara shrugs.  “We didn’t do anything so it’s ok.  Don’t sweat.  That’s why I’m glad we are friends cuz I know nothing bad happens when you’re around.  No craziness, drama, you just bring me back down to earth with a good talk.  It was just a moment.  Gotta remember that.”  Kimara pats his knee and gets up.

“Wait, so were you thinking of me in a way that night?”  

Kimara sees a light flash across the curtains of her window.  “Well, look at this.  Daddy’s home.”  Kimara comes back to the table to pick up plates.  “T’Challa go ahead and have a good night.  You don’t wanna be here when I’m throwing dishes into the sink until Erik comes in and has the nerve to ask what the fuck is wrong with me.  When the whole nigga nerve of it all is that he would have the gall to think I’m wrong to begin with!”

T’Challa waves his hands heading for the door.  “I am already gone.”

--

The early morning sun is extra bright as erik drives himself and Kimara to see their regular fertility specialist Dr. Tracy.  

“I’m glad she was able to see us today.”  Erik says.

“Are you?”  Kimara asks while scrolling through her phone.

Erik scratches himself.  “Ion know, I just…”

“What?”

“I mean...if we do this it’s like cool, we finna get a baby off top-”

Kimara tuts at him.  “No!  She said that it still isn’t guaranteed.  We are good candidates but not to expect success right away.”

Erik lets out a groan.  “Right, right.  Can’t no shit come easy for me.”

Kimara looks at his profile as he drives, catching Erik looking out the corner of his eye.  “What you lookin at me like that for?”

Kimara crosses her arms.  “I’m just trying to figure out what to title your sob story in all of this.  ‘I do what I want and when it don’t go like I plan I pout?’  Or ‘Fuck everything and everyone, I’m going through it but don’t ask me what’s wrong?’”

“Damn Mara!  The fuck you gotta go there for?  The minute I try and share something with you, you bite my fucking head off!”

“Watch yourself cursing at me!  I ain’t in the mood for it, and I ain’t letting it fly like that today, ok?  I don’t need this much excitement before an appointment.”

“Then don’t go nuts on me like you some damn comedian, roasting my ass.  I’m here ain’t I?”

“Do you not wanna be?!”  Kimara shrieks.

Erik goes silent, turning on the click of his turn signal.  The tension in the car is sky high and although Erik doesn’t mind a fight, he knew not to act a fool in front of these doctors in this side of town.  

Kimara leads inside to check in with the receptionist.  As they sit in the lobby, Erik is glued to his phone the entire waiting period, fingers texting furiously.

“Why ain’t you holding my hand?”  Kimara asks.  “You always hold it while we wait.”

Erik looks over quickly and leans back offering out his hand.  “My bad.”  While the other continues to work double time on his screen.  

“Who is...Alan?”

Erik jerks his phone back.  “It’s not Alan.”

Kimara drops his hand.  “Than who is it?”

“Work.”  He says curtly, flipping to his Instagram instead.

“Is something wrong with the project you’re working on?  Is Alan the one helping you?”

“Yes and no.”  Erik says.

“Wait.  It is wrong and Alan isn’t helping?”

“It’s not Alan!”  Erik bellows before coughing to cover his outburst.

“Kimara?”  Dr. Tracy says brightly with a smile, waving them back.  Kimara smiles tightly back.

In her office, Dr. Tracy goes over the procedures and preparations for IVF, with all of the medical jargon, followed by some generous simplified explanation.  It all sounded complicated and expensive but Kimara was grateful to hear about everything that could make her miracle possible.

“And Erik, you can be an awesome support by making sure to watch your alcohol intake, exercise, eat healthy, and avoid any environmental pollutants.”

“I was bout to watch that Chernobyl show; is that off the table now?”  Erik asks.

“Erik, you ain’t got time for shit else, quit playing.”  Kimara says with a little bark in her voice.

Erik laughs in a menacing tone.  “Ok.”

Dr. Tracy looks between them nervously.  “...we also provide counseling to couples during the process, as it can be difficult.”

“I wouldn’t mind it, but he wouldn’t be able to make it.”  Kimara says.

“Oh you speak for me now?”

Kimara shrugs.  “If you ain’t there, how else can things go forward?”

Erik sputters in disbelief.  “I won’t be getting like this in front of the damn doctor.  Thanks, doc.  I got the prescription and shit, let’s go.”  Erik keeps talking under his breath as he leaves the office.  Kimara gets up to leave

“Is everything ok between you two?”  Dr. Tracy asks.

Kimara hesitates before saying it’s fine, nothing more than a couples spat.  Erik may have been right about needing to change doctors.  At least a new one wouldn’t know when things were wrong.  This would just look like a normal interaction to fresh eyes.

Back at their house, Erik is reading the instructions for her shots.

“Says this supposed to help in producing eggs for you.  Still gonna take a while though.”

Kimara sits silent watching her shows.

“Remember to mark down when you got your period last.  Supposed to start doing these on your next cycle.”

Silence.

Erik folds the instructions up, standing from the dining room table.  He comes up behind the couch, leaning next to Kimara’s ear.

“Nassau is this weekend, you know?”  SIlence.  “You picked us a real good spot to make our own magic down there.  I think we need it.”

“WE need a lot more than a trip to an island.  Erik, you still ain’t said sorry for a damn thing you said to me today.”

Erik scooches to one side of Kimara to face her.  “What should I apologize for?”

“Embarrassing me?  Not telling me about what’s going on with you and also not asking how things are with me?  Being secretive and mean to me?”  Kimara’s eyes begin to well up.  “You ain’t talked to me without walking off mad in so long, I don’t wanna get used to it Erik!  You didn’t used to do that!”  Erik hooks one leg followed by the other over the back of the couch to sit next to Kimara, holding her hands tight.

“It makes me think about before you left for that damn military out the blue.  You snapped on me back then too.  You tryna go somewhere else again?”

“Hell no!  That life is behind me, I got nothing but you and work to get through now.”

“So I’m a damn task?”  Kimara mopes.

“No!  Look:  I don’t mean to say anything to make you think you boring because you’re not.  You’re the most exciting thing in my life, and I love having you with me.  Every time I’m reminded you’re my wife, I’m thinking how we should be on our damn tenth wedding anniversary instead of third.  But I’m done and thankfully you’re not.”

“Then why are you doing me like this?”

“I-I don’t wanna force shit on you more than you can handle.  I got things happening at my job right now that could make you think the worst, but I promise it’s not.  And you don’t need that pressure right now.”

“Neither do you!”  

“I can handle it.  You focus on your dreams at the studio, and getting ready to host the biggest headed baby your womb will ever know.”

Kimara snorts thinking about this, looking down instinctively.  Erik takes one side of her face in his hand.

“I wanna be more open but I don’t wanna cost you anything too.  So until shit blows over, just know I got this.  Be patient with me, and I promise to be more patient too.”

Kimara pulls Erik to her for a longing kiss, rubbing his face for comfort.  She could feel he cares, but there was still so much gnawing in her mind, she just wasn’t ready to discuss.  But there was one thing.

“One more thing though, before I call it forgiven and get to packing for the trip.”

“You still ain’t packed?”

“I’m asking the questions!  Who is Alan?”

Erk sighs, dipping his head down before looking her in the face to answer.  “Alaina.

“He’s a what?”

“Huh?  No, Alaina.  The name was Alaina not Alan.”

Kimara’s face draws up inquisitively.  “And...she is?”

“My partner for the project I’m working on.  They recruited her from another region and-”

“That’s who you spent the night with instead of dinner with T’Challa and me and his girl?”  Kimara asks.

“I came home!  Don’t make it sound like that, it was a late night.  Ole dude I work for keeps piling shit on me and deadlines-”

Kimara waves her hands in front of him.  “It’s fine.”

“Huh?”

“It’s ok!”  Kimara smiles.  “Seriously, I trust you.  You said works been beating your ass, and I know you wouldn’t be looking all sour if you were getting some ass on the side, so I think I can trust you aren’t cheating.”

Erik stared at her speechless before nodding and agreeing.  

“Plus, we tryna have a baby and I know you wouldn’t mix shit up with her when all that seed is mine, like that would be wasteful.”

Erik growls in his chest, leaning over her, nose to nose.  “Say that again.”

Kimara holds back her smile, rubbing his chest.  “Your seeeed is miiiine.  Don’t waste it.”  Kimara bites his lip at the end of ‘it’, catching him of guard, but not enough to lay her out legs spread quicker than she could blink.

“Wait wait, Erik.  I can’t!”  Kimara says, half giggling.

“Whatchu mean??  You playing with a dog and get afraid when you get the bark?  Quit playing and get them draws off.”  Erik pulls at her bottoms.

“No!  Wait!  I mean it, I’m cramping and shit.  I don’t want nothing near my pussy right now.”

Erik moans out loud in frustration, plopping backwards on the couch, erection pushing at his sweatpants.

Kimara lowkey loved making him wait, period or not.  It’s nice to see he still wants her, and no one else has his attention to fix his rather big problem throbbing in his pants.

“Erik?  You never told me what you think about the tour.”

Erik exhales loudly.  “Good idea, that’s finna kill my hard on real quick.”

“Erik!”  

He sits up, pushing down on himself.  “Mara, I want you to get your hustle goin, I know you been singin since way way way back.”

“Hold up, it ain’t been that long, makin me feel old.”

Erik bops her with his shoulder.  “You know you been my Suga Mama.”

“Two months older Erik.  Dassit!”

Erik looks at the floor, rubbing her knee.  “I just don’t understand why you think it’s best to leave now.  What Imma do without you for two months?”

“Whatever you been doin get home late at night.”  Kimara says flatly.

“The project is almost finished, do I don’t know where that attitude came from.”  

Kimara sits silent, not up for a fight, especially in her hormonal state.

Erik stares at her, testing her.  He knows she wants to say more, she always does.  “I got two more weeks on this, and it’s done.  My workload is gonna be lighter, more boring, and I promise my time will be yours, but now you wanna leave, so.”

“But you understand why right?  It doesn’t sound like you do.  I don’t wanna leave you alone or stop trying, but...this is my dream!”

“Having a family is too right?  That’s why all our time and money been revolving around everything related to that for almost a whole damn year.  It’s fucking flaky.”  Erik shoots back.

“Erik, you got to do what you wanted, right?  This ain’t new with you!  When you want something, you go for it, fuck anybody that gives a shit, it’s yours.  I’m tired of being in the shadow of your shit, cleaning things up so you can have your peace.  This is mine.”

“The fuck is you talkin about??  Is your PMS going retrograde or some shit?”  Erik speaks over her in an agitated tone.  Nothing Kimara said made sense anymore to him.

Kimara gets up, waving him off.  “Eat my ass Erik,  I said what I fucking had to say and I mean that shit.”

Masterlist

Ragtag

@chaneajoyyy @sarcastic-sunshines @muse-of-mbaku@dameshaemonique  @fonville-designs@destinio1@bakarisange l@wakanda-inspired @klaine15689 @savageiz @nickidub718 @yoyolovesbucky @alexundefined @forbeautyandlife​ @bakarisangel

[mr-kamiyama]

Fandom for Japanese works should really be the top place Japanese diaspora are welcomed with open arms, but it's the exact *opposite.*

Any reposting Japanese fanworks without explicit permission is considered stealing. English speakers do not care, because they're just Japanese, not *people.* I literally have a copy-paste form letter so I can keep up with alerting artists on the Japanese web so they can fight for removal.

It is not*cute* to "dress up" your "boring human default" English in "bizarre and exotic" Japanese. Aside from the fact that it makes it sound like the characters are not actually supposed to be speaking Japanese, and it being bad writing (Murders in the Rue Morgue and Coming of Age in Samoa, which "garnish" with random French and Samoan, the latter in a racist way, both smug, respectively, are poorly written for it [well, Murders in the Rue Morgue also for plot resolution and whatever insanity is implied by it supposedly being natural for non-X speakers to be unable to differentiate between X and literal ape noises, but I digress]) I LITERALLY GOT BEAT BY TEACHERS AS WELL AS STUDENTS IN NINTH GRADE FOR HAVING MY NATIVE LANGUAGE BE JAPANESE. I GOT BEAT FOR LEGITIMATE BROKEN ENGLISH. PEOPLE CALL NATIVE JAPANESE SPEAKERS LESSER THAN, IDIOTS, 'UNASSIMILATED AND THIS IS A PROBLEM', ALL THE TIME FOR BEING JAPANESE SPEAKERS. AMERICA EVEN TELLS JAPANESE IN FRIGGING JAPAN THAT. YOU ARE NOT CUTE. YOU ARE THROWING YOUR PRIVELEDGE IN OUR FACES.

ALSO THE AGE OF CONSENT IN JAPAN IS 18, 16 WITH CONSENT OF PARENT. MAJORITY AGE TO SMOKE, DRINK AND VOTE IS 20. IT IS NOT 13, YOU BLOODY PAEDOS.

THERE IS NO JAPANESE ARMY BEYOND A NATIONAL GUARD DUE TO THE TREATY OF SAN FRANCISCO TO ENSURE AMERICAN OCCUPATION, WHICH TORMENTS THE RYUKUANS (which Yamato Japanese are also totally OK with tormenting Ryukyuans, at least the right wing LDP ones--there's plenty of Yamato Antifa/leftists, too, though)

Just because Americans could totally name their kid "toaster" or "hashtag," doesn't mean naming your character Lifestyle Morning-Sickness (not making this up) is anything better than something I have every right to laugh at. Seriously, look up a few real names of celebrities, some musicians or whatever. I have a Russian OC in my slated project I named via that+learning how gender of person relates to Russian last names, which is not a thing in Japanese. Baby name sites are dubious because I've seen "Naruto," and a friend at church when expecting her now 1.5 year old (Japanese American Buddhist church) literally saw the word for "refrigerator" as a boy's name, so these morons are suggesting all but total keysmash for real, live people. But there's tonnes of sites like "Diversity Cross-check." And Japanese people who speak good English exist (hi) it's not like we'll never see it because we're not real, although it feels like these people think that way. Which of course, helps fandom feel less welcoming.

Just stop being racist and gross. There's tonnes of great things I can say about being able to write what you want and read for nothing. Even more about how easy it is nowadays with the Web and sites like ao3, where I both post and read, as opposed to the days of typewriters and secretive fanzines.

But that doesn't give you a bloody green light to be racist jerks!

And yes, if you understand and respect all this, you don't do or you stop the disgusting behaviour, and have questions for a name for an OC or about a Japanese law or something, I'm more than willing to help fandom be a better place.