arrived

jo.26.Actress

[placeholdersea]

“Fair enough, love,” Alastair remarked. He made no attempt to mask the way his eyes caressed her legs (or the space between), her hips, her waist, but he was most taken with her eyes. She wanted danger, stepped right up to it, to him, and claimed he was only something more to look at. His response was a feral grin, one that was only just barely brought to heel. The line of her neck drew his attention and he wanted to sink his teeth into it as he fucked her into her husband’s mattress. But, they had a supposedly haunted building to explore, he and Mrs. Whitley Josephine. “It won’t be killin’ any cats today, that curiosity.”

Her laugh was a lovely sound, with an unexpected purity to it that made him smile in a way that wasn’t ferocious. Whatever purity she had left in her, if any at all, he wanted to devour it as he was a glutton for such things. Josephine was powerful, from the curve of her lips to the sharpness of her eyes and even the way she didn’t mind at all to stand close enough for him to touch. Recklessness had never been a weakness for him, for he saw it as a factor to his strength. She had taken many to bed, destroyed them in a moment of bliss and recreated them out of nothing, and he admired her for it. Her insatiable curiosity was just another piece of her that endeared her to him.

I think I’d be up for just about anything.

A low hum of pleasure made a home in the demon’s throat as he rounded behind her and ghosted his hand just above the small of her back. She was alive under his faintest touch, even through her clothes, and the warmth drew him in close to breathe against the skin of her neck. Underneath her faint perfume, she smelled like sin and he wanted to press his own scent into her with his mouth and the press of his fingers. His dark eyes fluttered shut for a moment as he breathed her in, committed her scent to memory. It was animal, the way he wanted her, but he wouldn’t give into instinct just yet.

“Oh, I am happy to hear that,” he murmured to her. “In that case, I’ll call you anything you want, Josephine. Think you might like that, yeah?”

He breathed his own laugh against her and stepped away from her to drag his fingertips along her waist before he ascended the short steps to the empty Hall. As interesting as the dead were, with her there, staring straight at him, he was suddenly very interested in the living. Alastair leaned back against the door and tapped his knuckles against the wood. A playful smile invited Josephine to come near as he cracked the door open with a low creak.

“Fancy that, no one’s answered,” he said with a roll of his eyes. “I don’t think they’d mind if we made ourselves at home then, d’you?”

[jorouwhit-blog]

Danger had not necessarily been a centerpiece in Josephine’s life. She had made dangerous decisions, to be sure, but it was if every lesson she had taught herself was either amplified or forgotten the moment she stepped into Paradise. Even her time spent as a stripper was nothing compared to how alive she felt every time she felt a demon touch her skin. It made her want to burst, or ignite, and the ashes she could possibly turn into after never crossed her mind. All of it should have terrified her, but it was these moments, the ones that seemed to mirror her life before so easily, that made her feel sane again. The traveling eyes, the ghost touches, the animal instincts--those were the things her mind could comprehend. They made the demons human. They made monsters like Alastair turn into monsters that had already possessed her.

Every touch, every movement, every breath Alastair took made Josephine want to shout, or scream. None of which were horrible things to think, not with him. She had heard her rumors about the demon with a flirtatious southern drawl, and eyes that could pierce ones soul. He was not completely unknown to her, and maybe that was why she was so calm when she felt his fingertips lightly touch her waist, as if he had done it so many times before. Alastair was dangerous.

“With a voice like yours, most names could probably suit me,” Jo said, a smile still on her lips, and eyes watching him as he approached the Town Hall door. She moved towards him, slowly, her legs sure and steady as she hoped that what lay in the building was not worse than what already lay outside of it. “I don’t think they’d quite have a choice,” she responded, as she took control and opened the door herself. Jo had expected the task to be harder than it was, but it opened easily, revealing a sight she had expected to see. It was desolate inside. A graveyard. Life had no business being in a building with so much death written all over it. Each wall seemed to cry out in pain, to reach out and try to grab her.

“What happened here?” Josephine said, her eyes traveling behind her towards her companion. Expecting an answer was presumptuous, but it was easy to tell that Alastair was in a lighter mood than the rumors had reported. 

[jorouwhit-blog]

Join Me

Leave a “Join Me” in my ask, and I’ll write a drabble about my character giving your character an offer [be it a proposal for an alliance, asking them to join them in an activity (you can get dirty if you want), feel free to specify.]

Privacy was a foreign concept in New Utopia. Perhaps there was an illusion of it, an imaginary wall that all of the human occupants hoped existed. The fact of the matter was, the only private thing they had was their own thoughts and emotions. Everything else was fair game. Spying was normal. Interruptions were normal. There was nothing demons enjoyed more than seeing the shocked and terrified expressions of the humans as they popped up in places no one would have assumed they’d end up.

This instance was no different, except for the fact that Josephine had stopped caring. Maybe that was why the others had started to pull faces at her. The woman with little to lose and everything to gain.

Lilith, still bitter that she couldn’t have played with her toy longer, decided to make a trip to Josephine’s home. Boredom played a major role in this impromptu visit, but more than that, her very pride was on the line. Jo knew information that could be potentially used against her. She had to have seen that Eve and Lilith were more than just old friends. Even humans were not idiotic enough to miss that tension in a conversation.

Meanwhile, Jo was taking a bath--one that had already been going on for an hour, and one she never wanted to end. Muscles were finally relaxed. Her shoulders were no longer hunched. Cleanliness truly did seem to be next to godliness, until she heard her door open roughly. At first she assumed it was Patrick, which was her first mistake as Patrick was always one to knock. Her second mistake was to not bother turning her head as Lilith approached, a sneer on her face as she saw Josephine in very vulnerable position.

“Not a bad view,” Lilith stated, her eyes glancing over the places where the bubbles had long since vanished. They mostly, however, lingered on the bruises that were almost completely faded around Josephine’s neck.

Jo froze her movements, the back of her head still pointed towards Lilith, and her eyes wide in surprise. A quick recovery should have been impossible, but Josephine was never one to back down from a challenge.

“You could join me if you wanted...” Jo trailed off as Lilith moved closer towards her until she was practically whispering in Josephine’s ear.

“I didn’t come here to wash your hair,” Lilith’s tone was now harsh with forceful anger. How dare she invite her to take a bath with her when she very well knew who she would have preferred be there. 

“Ah yes, right, I forgot you weren’t into anyone my age. You prefer women around your own age.”

Lilith almost ripped Josephine’s throat out then and there, but instead she moved herself into the tub, fully clothed, straddling Josephine with her hips and hands pinning her down. 

“You’re not as clever as you wish you were--but you sure do look amazing bruised,” Lilith had moved her mouth near Josephine’s jugular and bit down, her nails digging into Jo’s skin. Jo could already feel the blood pooling underneath her skin, and suddenly she could feel the sharpness of Lilith’s fingernails drawing blood. It wasn’t long before she had retracted her hands and instead pulled out a knife and drew it towards the now formed bruise on Jo’s neck.

“The next time you see me, will be the last.”

And with that Lilith was gone, vanished. The only thing she had left as evidence that she was there was a small slit on Josephine’s throat, ever forming bruises, and fingernail marks on her hips.

[jorouwhit-blog]

Quite Me

Leave a “Quiet Me” in my ask, and I’ll write a drabble about my character trying to calm yours down [be it from crying, from lashing out, feel free to specify.]

Indecision was clear as day in Gabriel’s eyes. He had to make a choice, demons, or humanity. There had been an opening in the fence, and it had been Josephine’s job to occupy Gabriel while the others escaped. The angel turned demon was not one to be tricked, and soon after Jo attempted to occupy him, alarm bells rang off in his head.

Now he was standing, watching as freed prisoners ran on the other side of the fence towards their freedom. If he stayed quiet--they would be free. Yet, what would happen to him? All of his choice up until now had been made based off of who was the winning side. Humans, with their foolhardy plans and limitless hope, were they truly the side that would prevail in the end? Gabriel wasn’t convinced.

Jo, on the other hand, was watching him nervously. She had failed her job, her one moment at self sacrifice. Gabriel had found out.

“Don’t do this,” Josephine said, her arm tugging on his as she tried to pull him away from the fence.

“So clever of you, Josephine, using my attachment for you against me. But I think you were mistaken in just how attached I had become.”

Gabriel’s voice sounded far off, distant, but he had made his choice. And Josephine had made hers.

Before he could turn to fly off and tell the others, Jo grabbed the nearest rock and slammed it against his head. A few tears leaked from her eyes as, for the moment at least, they were saved. He would not talk to a single soul, not for a moment at least. Maybe that was the difference between freedom and shackles. Still--Jo was not without regret at her decision, but she knew she would have surprise on her side.

Gabriel’s dazed body lay on the ground as Jo herself slipped through the fence, her body visibly shaking as she prayed to the nonexistent God that she might survive this yet.

[jorouwhit-blog]

tell me

Leave a “Tell Me” in my ask, and I’ll write a drabble about my character confessing something to yours [be it a love confession, a secret, feel free to specify.]

Breathe, Josephine thought, just breathe. 

Somehow, she had found herself in the company of Delilah. Sometimes gaining the attention of others did not work for her own benefit, and now she almost wished she truly did become no one. There was something inside of her that Delilah wanted to bring out. Maybe it was anger, or disgust, or one of the many feelings Josephine had long sense shoved down into the pit of her stomach. Delilah had made it her mission to destroy, and create, and at this moment, Josephine was being destroyed--obliterated, if only to create something better.

“Tell me, tell me what you’re thinking at this very moment. Are you angry with me, Josephine? Do you want to kill me?” Delilah was taunting her now, trying to pull out a reaction.

“No,” Jo responded, her voice weak and wary. She didn’t know why she was resisting. Maybe it was a way to gain her pride back. Pride that had been lost after Lilith had almost strangled her to death.

“No? Does that mean little Linda doesn’t feel anything anymore? Tell me. Tell me what you’re feeling.”

She kept silent, her mouth forming a straight line as she tried to keep her composure.

“You definitely aren’t the silent type, so come on. The next time you refuse to answer me I’ll start chopping off that pretty hair of yours.”

The horror on Josephine’s face was very much apparent as she begun to picture herself with butchered up hair.

“I’m scared,” She admitted at last, shoulders slumping in defeat. There it was, out in the open for all to hear. Josephine was terrified. Every moment of every day was just another moment she spent scared of her own shadow, of the shadows within herself. Becoming a demon could be useful, but what would she become? Would she become like Delilah? Salome? Lilith?

“I’m fucking scared.”

[jorouwhit-blog]

Offer Me or Zip Me!

Leave an “Zip Me” in my ask, and I’ll write a drabble about your character dressing mine, or the other way around [this can also be used for shutting them up as well, but feel free to specify.]

For a man--a demon, Alastair was all harsh lines and even harsher hands. There was not a soft spot on his body, or in his mind. He was sharp, course, nothing that Josephine should have found endearing in any respect. Right now, however, she took a moment to find a soft spot. A piece of him that maybe she could keep as her own. Something that proved that maybe she was more than just a vessel of pleasure. That she mattered.

They had met in the Town Hall again, this time, however, there was no pretense of adventure, merely an agreement of sorts. She would keep her mouth shut, and he would try to make her scream. It wasn’t the type of screaming Alastair enjoyed most, but there was still power to be had when someone else was begging for you desperately. And that was exactly what happened. Jo had been slammed against the nearest wall, her dress thrown to the side, her body covered in goosebumps as she was bare in the building without heat. Being cold was the least of her worries once Alastair was upon her. He was fire. He was burning. Every touch was scorching, painful.

But that wasn’t what had Josephine so entranced. Sex was predictable. But the way in which Alastair was zipping up her dress at the moment, with a few pauses to touch bare skin--it was driving her insane. His hands no longer felt sharp, now they felt like comfort, like falling into bed after a long hard night. It was dangerous, that feeling, but with every agonizing moment he spent zipping up the back of her dress, Josephine wondered if she might explode just from the simple action, instead of his explosive personality.

“So smooth,” Alastair said, his words flowing against Josephine’s swan-like neck. “Like a canvas.”

Josephine turned her head slightly, shivering at his words. She knew he was dangerous, what he did in the time he was not giving her bruises on her inner thighs. Alastair was not a good person, not a good demon. He was the epitome of every serial killer, every nightmare that parents put into their children’s heads.

“Don’t stop,” Josephine whispered back over her shoulder. She knew the request would not be heeded. Once Alastair was finished, he was finished. Besides, Jo was sure demons didn’t exactly cuddle.

[jorouwhit-blog]

Drink Me

Leave a “Drink Me” in my ask, and I will write a drabble about my character taking shots with yours.

Silence overtook the two women as they sat facing one another, empty shot glasses strewn everywhere. There was something to be said for their relaxed shoulders, and the way in which their hair was falling over their shoulders, as if suddenly they didn’t have a single care in the world. Adelaide was, at least in this moment, not thinking about Lydia, or her past, or the way demons looked at her, as if she was already one of them. Josephine was, at least in this moment, not thinking of the silent sneers that were sent her way, or her husband at home who had no idea the amount of adultery she committed, or the ever tempting idea of shedding her current identity for one that consisted of black wings and power.

“One more?” Jo asked, as she didn’t bother waiting for a response from Adelaide as she finished off the bottle of vodka by filling two shots to the brim.

She handed one off to the blonde, who looked more at peace than she ever had before.

Adelaide looked up. “I don’t hate you, y’know.” Her voice sounded almost warm as it reached Josephine’s ears. Jo knew Adelaide didn’t hate her, that their friendship was reluctant at best, hostile at the worst. Yet hearing it, even from a drunk mouth, it made her warmer than any of the vodka she had just consumed ever could.

“You owe me twenty bucks,” Jo said in response, a lazy smile on her face. Even in her drunken state, telling Adelaide how much she respected her felt too private, and too personal to ever spill. Maybe in a different life, where they weren’t both on the precipice of being damned for eternity, where they weren’t built on a foundation of lies and hidden secrets--in that life, they would be true friends.

Jo would buy Adelaide handbags that were disgustingly expensive, and Adelaide would show up at Josephine’s house with two large bottles of booze. They would eat, drink, and laugh. They would enjoy the company, they would sit in this very same silence and not feel the crushing weight of their existence baring down on them.

“You owe me a bottle of vodka,” Adelaide had the last word before silence overtook them once more. A silence between two strangers turned acquaintances, turned hesitant friends, turned silent confidants. 

They owed each other far more than a bottle of liquor or a piece of green paper could ever repay.

[jorouwhit-blog]

call me

Leave a “Call Me” in my ask, and I will write a drabble about my character asking for yours [be it at the brink of death/in a battlefield/knocking on the front door wounded, feel free to specify.]

Words rang in Josephine’s ears as she stumbled into town. “Hey, I’m still looking out for you” at the time, the words meant little in terms of the larger picture. They meant perhaps an uneasy friendship, maybe small bits of information, and maybe a moment of peace where they didn’t discuss the war, or death, or any of it. Stella’s words now, however, meant far more than they had before.

Josephine’s face had a large gash down it. Her luck had run out, but she was lucky the demons here were not looking to exterminate. Instead, they liked to play with their toys. Jo was being played with. In reality, she should have known that to begin with. She was worth nothing to the creatures whose souls no longer belonged to themselves. But that hadn’t stopped her from playing with fire. From burning.

Had she been more rational, she might have found it prudent to find Wesley. He was a Doctor after all, and after him, perhaps Lydia would have been the better choice. Instead, Jo only remembered Stella, and the earnest look on her face as she reminded Jo that she was not alone, as hard as she tried to be. Stella was with her, and now, Stella was the first person who came to mind as she felt the blood start to trickle down her neck. Red had always been her color.

The blood loss was starting to make Jo lose consciousness as she first spotted the house in which Stella stayed. Lights were off, but the door was unlocked. What was the point in locking a door when a demon could do whatever the hell they pleased? Jo stumbled through the doorway, and out of the moonlight. Had the blood not made her partially blind already, the pitch black room she fell into would have done the trick.

“Stella!” Jo croaked, as she started to hyperventilate, the shock of the trauma setting in, and the desperation taking over.

“Stella, Stella please! Please!”

Her voice has not as loud as she thought, but it had been loud enough. Sleep was always hard to come by on quiet nights where everyone felt safe. Those were the times when the unexpected happened. Stella herself knew that restlessness as she thought of all the suffering she had seen while in Paradise. It was luck then that allowed her to hear the quivering voice coming from downstairs.

Stella threw off her blankets and ran down the stairs. There were many things she thought she might find waiting for her, but Josephine was not one of those.

“Jo?” Stella asked, fumbling for the light.

Once she found it, she almost wished she hadn’t. While it was still easy to tell it was Josephine, the blood that had smeared across her face was shocking. Gruesome. Her stomach turned, and rolled, as if a storm had started.

Stella’s face looking down at her in half horror half fear was the last thing Jo saw before she passed out.

[jorouwhit-blog]

Yahoo Me!

Leave an “Yahoo Me” in my ask, and I’ll write a drabble about our characters celebrating something [feel free to specify.]

“No, really, you don’t have to do this for me. There’s so much going on already, and we really don’t need to celebrate my birthday.”

Holly’s voice continued on like this as she tried to talk Josephine out of throwing her a birthday party. Holly, however, was unaware of just how attached Jo had gotten towards the younger woman who borrowed her clothes, who had felt Josephine’s hands weave her hair into braids, and who expertly contoured her cheeks. Holly was the little sister Josephine never wanted, and yet she was everything she hoped a sibling might be. Maybe that was why Jo was giving Holly a Prada bag, and maybe that was why she was actually attempting to bake a cake, something that was usually a bigger hazard than being in Paradise itself.

“Holly,” Josephine warned, her perfectly shaped eyebrow arched. “You’re celebrating your birthday, even if it kills me.”

It was then that Josephine decided to bring out a sash she had made out of extra fabric that was laying around. The sash read Birthday Girl. It was pink, and silky, and even the lettering looking like something Holly might have decided to wear every single day. Playfulness, youth, all of it was woven inside of the sash that seemed to represent more than just a birthday. Instead it celebrated life. Holly’s life. Her influence on the people around her. Her influence on Josephine herself.

“It’s--” Holly looked towards Josephine, a large smile on her face. “Thank you.” 

The two words were almost whispered as she hoped that Josephine knew just how much it meant to her that, even for just a moment, she felt more than just a simple prisoner. She felt like a normal girl.

[jorouwhit-blog]

Drink Me

Leave a “Drink Me” in my ask, and I will write a drabble about my character taking shots with yours.

“Izzy,” Jo said, her words slightly slurred as she threw back her 6th shot of tequila. Tomorrow morning was not going to be a pretty one, but for this moment in time, she was at peace.

“Yea’?” Isabella said in return, her eyes slightly unfocused as she had forgotten what it was like to let loose, to stop thinking, stop calculating–to be human.

“You–” Jo began, “You are prettier than all of the grass in the sky.”

The laugh that escaped Isabella’s mouth was unlike anything she herself had ever remembered. It was so carefree, so easy. Isabella could remember a time when laughter had been a part of her life, when drinking was easy, and living didn’t feel like such a challenge all the time. Why was it that Josephine was the one that always brought that out?

“And you are better looking than Lilith ‘n Rowan combined.” Her words were heartfelt, but both of them knew it was just a way to deal with their mutual disregard for both women. For Josephine, she knew she was similar to Lilith, but Rowan was more mysterious. Harder to predict.

“You’re m’best friend, in the whole fence,” Jo grabbed onto Isabella and wound the woman into a hug that started off awkward and melted into something tragic.

They were both liars. They lied about everything. Names. Past lives. True identities. Yet, in terms of friendship, there was something pure about the way they handled each other, something that should not have existed between two people who were very much selfish, and decidedly narcissistic.

Isabella extracted herself from Josephine’s tight embrace and poured herself another shot. She was about to tip it back when she noticed Josephine, who had fallen asleep, her breathing already even. Even though it was her job to watch people, to understand them, the sleeping form of Josephine was something that she hadn’t expected. There was peace in her face, as the mask she wore slipped off, and something akin to innocence replaced it.

[jorouwhit-blog]

Join Me

Leave a “Join Me” in my ask, and I’ll write a drabble about my character giving your character an offer [be it a proposal for an alliance, asking them to join them in an activity (you can get dirty if you want), feel free to specify.]

After her first encounter with Salome, one thing stuck with Josephine. Salome refused to be owned. She had made it abundantly clear that she was her own person, and no one else made her decisions for her--yet, there she was, keeping Josephine from leaving, following the orders of Lucifer himself. That was the kind of thing that lingered in the back of Jo’s mind as she walked her normal route around Paradise, her legs yelling at her to stop, yet her mind was urging her forward. Movement, at least Jo found, made her think more clearly, especially in terms of plans for the future. So far Jo didn’t have much of a plan, just a whim, a hope, a cast out into the open ocean. 

( Speak of the Devil. )

Salome appeared, and her appearance alone would have been enough to remind everyone that she was not a lowly human. Her feet did not touch the ground without purpose. Black wings did not flutter in the breeze without necessity. Salome was careful, quiet, calculating. Salome was everything Jo wished she was, and yet they were the same in may ways. Even a brief exchanged look and Jo saw herself in the depths of Salome’s empty soul. Kindred spirits may have been too strong of a word, but if Jo didn’t enjoy being caged, Salome could not enjoy it either.

“Salome,” Jo said in an even voice.

“I think you’ve become far too confident, Josephine,” Salome responded, her voice almost sounding bored, far above whatever nonsense she knew Josephine was about to spew at her.

“I think you lied to me.”

Salome paused, trying to understand just what exactly Jo was talking about. Of course she had probably lied to her, but Josephine sounded knowing, and that alone was enough to make Salome change her stance. It was dangerous for humans to know more than they should.

“I lie all the time, especially to pathetic things like you. I used to be like you, you know. Opening my legs at the drop of a hat. Do you hate yourself as much as I used to? Or do you simply pretend like you do with most things? Tell me--does your sweet Patrick know just how many men have found their way into your marital bed?” Salome’s tone changed from boredom to something akin to excitement at the possibility of something more than just normal mundane questions.

“You told me you didn’t follow anyone else’s orders. You lied. You lied to me, and to yourself.” Josephine stepped towards the demon, whose eyes were starting to blaze at the insinuation.

“Tsk, tsk. You’re getting very bold indeed.”

“Help me. Help us. Help yourself. Leave Paradise with us, help us escape. Free yourself.”

Josephine’s words were hurried as she started to look around her urgently. She knew the offer was a weak one, one based off of one interaction and a hope that maybe her and Salome were more alike than they could have possibly known.

“I am free,” Salome said, yet she did not sound convincing. She sounded far off, as if she herself had become an echo, a shadow, of the woman she was before.

“If you decide to stop lying to yourself--” Jo trailed off and walked away. Her heels managing to stay above the grass. All that was left to do was to wait.

[jorouwhit-blog]

Drabble Me

Leave a “Amuse Me” in my ask, and I will write a funny drabble about my character trying to cheer your up.

Leave a “Break Me” in my ask, and I will write an angsty drabble about our characters.

Leave a “Call Me” in my ask, and I will write a drabble about my character asking for yours [be it at the brink of death/in a battlefield/knocking on the front door wounded, feel free to specify.]

Leave a “Drink Me” in my ask, and I will write a drabble about my character taking shots with yours.

Leave a “Enamor Me” in my ask, and I will write a fluffy drabble about my character trying to woo yours [be it out of the blue/Valentines Day,feel free to specify.]

Leave a “Fight Me” in my ask, and I will write a drabble out my character fighting with/or against yours.

Leave a “Get Me” in my ask, and I will write a drabble about my character saving yours.

Leave a “Haunt Me” in my ask, and I’ll write a drabble about my character watching over yours[as a ghost, watching from a distance, or otherwise, feel free to specify.]

Leave a “Invite Me” in my ask, and I’ll write a drabble about my character asking your character to

Leave a “Join Me” in my ask, and I’ll write a drabble about my character giving your character an offer [be it a proposal for an alliance, asking them to join them in an activity (you can get dirty if you want), feel free to specify.]

Leave a “Kill Me” in my ask, and I’ll write a drabble about my character killing yours.

Leave a “Love Me” in my ask, and I’ll write a fluffy drabble about our characters.

Leave a “Mourn Me” in my ask, and I’ll write a drabble about my character mourning your character’s death.

Leave a “Nurse Me” in my ask, and I’ll write a drabble about my character healing yours.

Leave a “Offer Me” in my ask, and I’ll write a drabble about my character giving yours a gift.

Leave a “Paint Me” in my ask, and I’ll write a drabble about my character drawing a picture of yours [like one of your french girls~ be it painting them or drawing them, maybe offering a picture of them as a gift, feel free to specify.]

Leave a “Quite Me” in my ask, and I’ll write a drabble about my character trying to calm yours down [be it from crying, from lashing out, feel free to specify.]

Leave a “Remember Me” in my ask, and I’ll write a drabble about my character trying to get yours to remember them [be it from an accident, meeting them after years apart, feel free to specify.]

Leave a “Shag Me” in my ask, and I’ll write a dirty drabble about our characters.

Leave a “Tell Me” in my ask, and I’ll write a drabble about my character confessing something to yours [be it a love confession, a secret, feel free to specify.]

Leave a “Unbind Me” in my ask, and I’ll write a drabble about your character freeing mine, or the other way around, or something among the lines [be it freeing them from jail, from handcuffs, from a trap, from a curse, feel free to specify.]

Leave a “Value Me” in my ask, and I’ll write a drabble about my character telling yours how they feel about them.

Leave a “Wed Me” in my ask, and I’ll write a drabble about our character under the subject of wedlock [be it my character proposing to yours, or marrying yours, feel free to specify.]

Leave a “X Me” in my ask, and I will write whatever it is that you wish, [specify.]

Leave an “Yahoo Me” in my ask, and I’ll write a drabble about our characters celebrating something [feel free to specify.]

Leave an “Zip Me” in my ask, and I’ll write a drabble about your character dressing mine, or the other way around [this can also be used for shutting them up as well, but feel free to specify.]

[lydiacortes-blog]

open to: humans and demons (or if an angel is on the right side of the fence?) location: a sidewalk or street inside Paradise date: october 3rd, 5:00 AM

There was something in her blood that longed to run. To get out, to get away from this place, this town full of bloodshed and death threats. Was it just yesterday she’d wanted to stand strong? To stand for something, hold her ground, and protect Junia and Stella however she could? She’d been so proud to be a part of things, so pleased that Adelaide was allowing her to come along, it was almost giddiness. Now her legs felt thick and leaden, as if there were a ball and chain attached.

She’d slept barely, awfully, fitfully through the night, the weight of knowledge pressed behind her eyelids. Lydia and Wes had agreed that they’d have to divulge the contents of the list today, but the words were achingly heavy on her tongue. They were a bitter poison, lodged in her throat, forcing her to swallow the pain. Keeping it secret seemed easier somehow; it was the first time in her life she understood why people could lie about things that would change the course of another person’s life. 

They hadn’t determined what the list was for, but one word was enough to imply it was bad: SUBJECTS. She, Holly, Josephine, Leo, Wren, Evangeline, and Dominic. Too many humans from their ragtag bunch had been chosen, and for what? They’d barely gleaned anything, though they were sure it had something to do with medical experimentation. Wes had discussed it with Raphael, but so far, they hadn’t decided on any truth concrete enough to share. Any reason for them to be singled out.

Fear was dogged at her heels, licking at her spine in the form of cold sweat. So she’d stayed awake, pulling on clothes and pushing out the door, the red ‘X’ on it making her flinch. She and Holly were marked for violence, somehow, and not knowing the how of it made it even worse. Lydia pushed forward, away from the house and the omen on the door, past other houses marked similarly. She had to tell them today, but what good would it do? What good could it do? 

SUBJECTS. SUBJECTS. SUBJECTS. SUBJECTS. SUBJECTS – 

It seemed tattooed onto her inner eyelids. Every blink was a step closer to fear that closed her throat and brought tears to her eyes. How cruel it was, to be forewarned about a future you could not avoid. There was nowhere to run in Paradise that the demons would not find her. Nothing to do that would truly stop them. She’d never felt hopeless before, not truly, but she felt it creeping at her heart, insidious and cold.

Lydia wrapped her arms around herself, moving forward, gaining a determined pace as she attempted to walk faster than her gloomy thoughts could follow. Tears blurred her vision for a moment, and that moment was enough to send her body crashing into another’s. She stumbled and fell, hitting her knees on the sidewalk. It hurt, jarring her as her teeth clacked together, but a sudden determination not to appear weak had her brushing the wetness from her eyes, the sleeves of her sweater soaking tears from her cheeks. “Sorry, I didn’t see you.” 

[jorouwhit-blog]

There was no real reason why Josephine was out so early in the morning. Most of her mornings spent in Paradise consisted of her own bed, and a reluctant pulling on of pants as she knew that eventually she would have to leave and face the facts that another day was bringing. Now everything seemed different. Laying in bed since the mark appeared seemed to be the worst idea of all. Just another reminder that she was just as unimportant as the rest, just another pawn in a game she tried to keep up with. Josephine felt like a child, one who tried to make up their own rules but, in the end, was foiled by the facts they had to face. Her game was not the same game being played by the demons. Knowing the rules would have been impossible to begin with, but the more events began to unfold, the more terrified she became. At first her disposition was indifference, then reluctance, and now she was mortified to stay put for too long. Jo knew other people were starting to understand the difference that was shifting under her skin. As if a knew form was starting to grow.

All of those were merely factors as to the reason why Josephine decided to go for a run early in the morning. She hadn’t quite bothered with exercise since coming here, and while she hadn’t gained much weight, she could feel her muscles losing strength, and while Jo was not a psychic, she did know that the more muscle she had, the better chance in a fight she had.

Lap three around Paradise started the same as the first two. Jo ran past her house, around the fence, a brief stop at the dock, and then it began again. Monotonous, boring, dull, but her muscles were screaming instead of her mouth, and somehow that made all the difference. Until she ran into something. Or--someone as she came to find out. Jo went flying as she hit Lydia, her body slamming onto the ground as she crumpled into a heap. At first she just wanted to burst out sobbing. This would happen. A few moments of relief and suddenly reality crashed hard into her.

The urge to scream came second, until she looked at the form that was crumpled a few feet in front of her.

“I--” Jo began, noticing a gash on her shin, and a few other scratches on her hands. “It’s fine. It’s my fault. I should’ve been paying attention.”

Lydia, along with Holly, were just a few people Josephine couldn’t bring herself to be fully angry at. They were young, and dumb, and even though she wasn’t that much older than they were, she had lived, and their lives were paused far too early.

[celebritiesandmovies]

[c-isnenegro]

[jorouwhit-blog]

Place: The Fence

Time: September 30th

Availability: @vengeaunces

Restlessness has settled over Josephine has she couldn’t find it within herself to sit still for long. She would walk, for hours at a time, her feet screaming at her to stop. To rest. Jo didn’t relent to those screams, instead she would keep walking in circles around Paradise, her mind wandering. Everything had felt so calm these few days, the whippings aside. Normality was even a word she thought about using as, even with all of her walking, she had settled into some kind of routine. It was odd how quickly she was able to adapt, how little she worried even though there was large winged creatures staring at her at every moment of every day. She was a prison, yet, for a few seconds every day she would forget about the fence that was unrelenting.

Now she found herself staring at the fence, and what was beyond it. This must have been the hour when the angels were allowed outside. Willowy figures moved slowly, their backs straight with pride, and yet as days were passing, their dispositions were being tested. How could one remain so pure in this kind of environment when evil was what was celebrated? Jo wasn’t sure herself, as the temptation to just become a demon lingered longer than anything else at present.

Suddenly a woman came into view behind the barbed wire. She looked angelic, that was a given, and yet, there was something inherently harsh about her disposition. Josephine assured herself that it was merely what happened once you saw the world collapse a few hundred times. And maybe purity was in the eye of the beholder.

“Hello?” Josephine called out, looking around for any demons that may have been displeased to see her, once more, making chit chat with an angel.

[dochudson-blog]

She laughed, the sound light and airy, but having heard hundreds of times what genuine laughter sounded like, the doctor couldn’t help but think that it was a bit artificial, too — an actress’s laugh, a formality that he wouldn’t have been the least bit offended if she’d foregone.

He hadn’t heard real laughter since the night before the Fall; it wasn’t as though he expected it.

She had nothing but time. Hell, didn’t they all? A limited amount, perhaps, but that was completely up in the air; while their recent discovery of the list of names was unsettling (for nothing good had ever come of Lucifer’s own requesting their presence), Wesley preferred to believe it didn’t necessarily indicate that those whose names were on the list were running out of it.

Why would they go through the trouble of gathering them all here just to pick them off? There was a plethora of answers, none of which were the least bit comforting: sadism, or perhaps some experiment they wouldn’t dare to attempt on their kind, to name a few.

The doctor leaned toward the latter, but even if it were true, the former couldn’t be ruled out. Even humans had their black sheep, their WICKED, and those on the other side of the fence had made it abundantly clear that they were no exception.

The southern man cleared his throat. “Well, no — not exactly.” Their captors were dedicated to keeping them in the dark; it was a wonder that Lydia had managed to get her hands on anything of value, and even now that she had, they were only vaguely aware that something would happen to a handful of them, but not what that something was. “Lydia found a list of names — a list of ‘subjects,’ it said — in the control room Saturday morning, and those who were on the list are also those whose doors were marked.” He paused, blue eyes searching her face for a reaction; it was difficult to gauge how delicate the subject was, and even harder to determine how she’d take the news. “Your name was on the list.”

[jorouwhit-blog]

As Josephine braced herself for his response, she was silently grateful that he was bothering giving her any information at all. Many had been keeping her in the dark, and she knew it was her own doing that they felt the need to do any of this. Her hesitance to join in on all of their plans must have been leaving sour tastes in their mouths, and yet she couldn’t stop that part of her. The part that refused to think about others instead of herself. Maybe she was reckless, too reckless, but that mostly stemmed from the lack of having a solid ground to fall back onto. She had Patrick, sure, and she knew that Wesley knew Patrick. But was Patrick enough to keep her feet on the ground? Jo wasn’t so sure he was.

Jo held her breath without realizing it, and before he started, she knew where it was going to end. Brown eyes fell, her hands immediately went up to her forehead, hastily brushing back any hair that had decided to make its way into her eyes. She was biting back tears, and that was more than enough to make her want to run in any direction. The list. She was on it. The red mark was just a indicator of something that others already knew. Doomed. 

“They’re going to kill me--us?--the people on the list?” Jo was breathing heavily, her chest moving up and down in a rapid fashion. Doomed. Doomed. Doomed. How could they choose her? She had done nothing wrong. She wasn’t the one orchestrating the plans. She was innocent. Nothing she had done had warranted termination. Nothing. Yet there she was, hearing news that seemed akin to learning you had cancer. She had become cancerous.

“Why me? Why?” 

[voiceofthedamned]

His steady gaze remained stubbornly locked on the seductive curves she proudly displayed beneath the tight fabric of a dark dress, donned with the obvious purpose of leaving Lucifer’s party on the arm of someone more powerful than she could ever hope to be in the trivial game each and every one of them played.

A slow smirk pulled at his lips as confidence brought her voice from what was once a tremor to the bold tone of coy words said under the art of temptation. “Be careful, darling,” he said, voice low in a matching tone of interest. His eyes moved down her body, a quick sweep barely seen in the quick flick of icy irises, before coming back to meet her still-locked stare. Amusement, never concealed even in the most dire of situations, swirled through the hues and shades of the splattered blue of his eyes. “To have jealousy, you need more than just attention.” His hand shot out to lay heavy on the delicate curves that had been tempting him since their introduction, pulling her close with a promise her husband would hardly approve of.  Of course, she did not seem overly concerned with his permission or thoughts on the matter. “You need investment.” The coarse whisper of words danced between the two as Gabriel let their close proximity linger for only a moment too long before pulling away.

Hand now held firmly at his side as the other occupied a wine glass slowly moving towards his lips, Gabriel moved his gaze away from the toy in front of him to once again survey the crowd. A small laugh echoed beneath the retreating glass as he heard her test his name on her painted lips. While he had spent centuries tasting wines fit for kings, Gabriel would never again find it in himself to care for the attention spent on something as simple as a bottle – something he would forever blame the flashing lights of Los Vegas for.  “Perhaps, however, I am under the belief that it is not the contents of the glass but rather the effects it has on the company I choose to keep.” Everyone was always more fun once they had a bit of alcohol to distort the memories of the night.

“I very well may,” he said, offering her no explanation or condolence for a mystery many in her position still wondered about. “And I’m sure you are enjoying this quaint little town. I dare say it is just as exciting as the city you came from.”

[jorouwhit-blog]

In another life she might have pushed him away for grabbing her so suddenly like he did. Usually she liked to give the illusion that the man was in power, but keep the power for herself. In this instance, she was very much powerless. No matter how hard she could try to seduce any of the demons, the ball was very much in their court any time she spoke with them. She was a plaything, a toy to be passed around--she had no delusions about these things. But there was still hope that perhaps one of them would get more attached than they initially meant to, and maybe that was even more dangerous, or maybe then she’d finally be safe. Either way Jo had to try, it was all she had.

Gabriel’s hand held her tightly as he said words that many before him proclaimed. “And as I said before--that’s your problem to figure out, not mine.” As space between them grew, Josephine wondered how much the demons discussed her, and even the rest of the humans. Did they know every aspect of her life? Every sordid detail? Did they know her actual name was Linda? The questions continued to swirl as the room around her seemed to grow more and more crowded. Every around her was either a stranger or briefly familiar, and she remembered, in a life that seemed so long ago, when that was her entire life. Rooms filled top to bottom with strangers, people that she had to persuade. Most of the time she didn’t belong in any of those rooms, nor parties, but sweet talking the guards had become her greatest past time.

“I’d rather remember every detail and enjoy the taste.” Josephine’s response was not completely truthful. There had been plenty of nights where she knew they were going to end, and so she would drink. Drink to forget. Drink to let herself stop thinking. Drink to make the man she was with seem less horrible, and a little more satiable. None of these things embarrassed her, but she didn’t want Gabriel thinking she was just going to waste her life in Paradise away by drinking away her memories. She had become an expert at erasing her life without outside influences.

Jo’s jaw threatened to drop as for a moment she was uncertain as to whether he was talking about Los Angeles, or Adair. She chose to believe he didn’t know about her farm in Iowa.

“It’s horribly dull here. This is the first party, and I’m sure one of the only parties we’ll have.”