Casey Davis

[monstersplaybook]

Oh wait...there's MORE fan art! Before we transition campaigns we just had to share this stunning artwork from our listener @doggogills. It's truly fit for royalty 👑

[miahdeas]

When I joined EARS, I wanted to make a difference. To help people and protect them from the monsters. But that was a lie that I had been telling myself for years. I was afraid. I was angry. I was hurt because a monster had hurt me and took away someone I loved. I thought that if I put a bullet in each and every monster I came across, I’d feel better. I’d be less afraid.

That’s not what happened.

Every monster that I put down couldn’t fill the hole inside my hurting heart. I realized I was getting closer to BECOMING one of the monsters. It took a “monster” to open my eyes to that and showed me that even a “normal” human can be the monster.

It’s hard. Some days are easier than others, but I can’t let fear and bloodlust be what drives the organization. I joined EARS when I was a hurting young girl, and now, I see that EARS is hurting too. Like hell am I going to just stand by and let the organization turn against itself. EARS can be the organization that helps, but we’ve got to start over.

There is something that drives each of us to want to make a difference. I want to help start making that difference. I want to protect those who cannot protect themselves. I want EARS to be that difference, not an organization that eradicates those that are different. The Drum won’t control this organization any longer. Anyone who thinks differently can meet the end of my shotgun.

[miahdeas]

Onboarding

I had everything laid out the night before. My backpack, briefcase, lunch bag, outfit and even Cosmo, but still I felt like I was forgetting something as I rushed out the front door. Juggling a thermos of coffee with my keys, I dumped everything in the passenger seat of my van.

The pleasant chime of a text notification went off. It was the tenth one that morning. As I bit into my toast, walking around to the driver side door, I opened up my messages app and couldn’t keep the smile off my face.

“Have a wonderful first day, Director!” Theo had texted, several emoticons included.

“Kick ass Ms. Director.” Anna sent.

“Good luck!” Mark simply wrote.

“Excited to hear how your first day goes. You’re going to do great. See you tonight at your celebration dinner!” Read Kira’s message. She had been one of the first to text me, of course.

My team had messaged me with excited and supporting notes of encouragement. The most recent text though was from my brother Jesse, probably hustling into his own car as well.

“Today’s the day. My little sister becomes the boss. How the hell did that happen?! Did you change the timeline again?! You’re going to change this organization Casey. See you at the office.”

I paused a moment, sitting in my van, reading his message and thinking about how I’d gotten here. “Fuck.” My EARS badge was still sitting on my bathroom sink!

I was LATE! Late on my very first day as the MOTHERFUCKING Director!

“Shit, shit, shit!” I hissed, swiping my badge over the security system in the elevator allowing me to go up. “HOW, Casey Davis?” I asked myself out loud, “Could you be late to the MOST important day of your life as the new Director. Not to mention, the organization is ALREADY crumbling and being questioned by outside agencies. And YOU couldn’t get out of bed soon enough to arrive on time to the office?!”

The doors dinged open and there stood no firing squad on the other side. Just a quiet floor of empty cubicles and the hum of lights. My new office was on the far side. Navigating through the room was eerie. This floor always stood empty, except for The Director and if you were sent here as an agent, it was either for something very good or very bad. But I hoped to change that. Starting today. And an hour late.

“Huh. Great first impression.” Accosted the mousy brown haired woman waiting just inside my office.

“Author.”

“Director.”

“Remember it.” I warned her, but did not put a menacing threat behind it. “Glad to see you’ve recovered well.”

“Yeah, well, having the butt of a gun get slammed down on my collar bone and a bullet to the thigh can put you in physical therapy for a bit.” She said, edging on the side of anger.

“True. But, knowing that someone close to me was playing me and going against the organization takes the trust out of the relationship, don’t ya think?” The air was tense a moment and I met her eyes, “I’m truly glad you’re healing and on my side. But if we’re to work together, honestly work together, your grudge needs to stay at the lobby of this building. Do I make myself clear?”

She looked at me, evaluating, as she had always done when I worked under her. Finally she nodded, “You know how to push the buttons to make the changes needed.”

“Let’s hope I also know how to make them listen.” Sipping my coffee and opening my agenda for my first day as The Director of DOORS.

[josephstern]

A little something I put together for my Monster of the Week crew! You could use it as an inktober-type list or an ask meme, if you want.

[miahdeas]

I Wanna Be Your Everything

I’d be more calm if I was facing a pack of werewolves. Or a bloodthirsty vampire. Even challenging my boss is less terrifying than riding this elevator up thirty five flights to tell Tessa that she damn well better call me. 

I rub my palms on my thighs. The numbers climb until it dings pleasantly and opens to a destroyed office and debriefing of Tessa and... Sigma. I instantly bristle at the sight of him and struggle to restrain myself. You’re here for her, I remind myself and refocus on the most confident woman in the room. 

Clipped extremely short, Tessa’s black hair glossy is slightly mussed. An agent is asking her a series of questions and writing down her responses in a notepad while Tessa herself stands with arms crossed, shoulders slightly sagging with tiredness. If I could sweep her away from it all, I’d have done just that hours ago, but, as it turned out, I had been a pawn in another person’s a game of power and manipulation. But... it made her safe. And it’s worth it if it means Tessa would to be protected and only my pride bruised. 

I’m stare at Tessa long enough before her dismantling eyes catch me. Surprise flashes across her face. Swiftly, I close the distance between us, taking her away from the suit and into the unoccupied panic room of the too wealthy office. The heavy door thuds behind us, locking them out and us in. They pound at the door, more in frustration and surprise rather than panic. 

“Casey, what the fuck? What the hell are you doing?” 

“I had to come back. I couldn’t let that be my goodbye.”

“Goodbye? I told you I’d call you.”

“Oh yeah? And what about what Sigma said? To not make promises you can’t keep. Who’re you going to listen to, someone you haven’t seen in twelve years or the guy who’s protected you and saved your life too many times in those twelve years?” 

“That’s not fair.”

“But I’m right, aren’t I?” 

“Casey, what are you doing?” 

“Trying to tell you to call me. To not leave me... I’ve never stopped thinking about you. About how we met in the hallway of our high school, how good it felt to feel your hand touching mine again, all of the time we spent at our bench and the unabashed air of confidence that you carry unconsciously.”

Pink hues emerge on her cheeks, which I’m sure are mirrored on my own cheeks. She stares at me as words tumble out of me, “I had to come back here because...”

“Casey,” Tessa interprets me, “We were kids. Ages ago. I’ve been on the run for twelve years and I’m a different person.” I regret coming back. I am angry at Anna for convincing me that I could convince Tessa to fall back in love with me. But Tessa is right... Twelve years changes a person. We had been kids and now we are both battle-scarred adults. 

“I... I know that.” I hear myself continuing, “I’m different too. Everything is different. But it’s not like I’m asking you to marry me-“

“Whoa, Casey!”

“I just mean... I’m asking if...” The words lodge in my throat. “I want to be your girlfriend. Even if it‘s a bad idea and doesn’t work out, at least we tried and there’s no what ifs and wonder...” 

She reacts as I expected, shocked and speechless. Disgusted? I open my mouth to back-pedal on my words, justify myself, but Tessa stops me.

“You want to be my girlfriend?” Her eyes shimmer and search my face for clues. I smile sheepishly.

“I want to be your everything.” 

Her eyebrows go up, “Wow.” 

I swallow hard. Is there anything else I could say to make this better? Make this less awkward? Looking at her, the curves of her shoulders, hips and face, I’m helpless. I know how long it will take them to unlock the door. The clock was ticking. 

“If I’m making a fool of myself, or if you truly think I’m a nightmare and you’re out of my league, I’ll shut up and leave.” 

A smile breaks her face. The same mischievous smirk she got when we were teens and she had a horrible, class skipping idea that flipped my stomach then and now. She takes several steps toward me, our eyes at the same level and our lips inches from one another... 

“You want to be my girlfriend.”

“Yeah...”

Snaking her hands behind my neck, Tessa locks me in place as she knots her fingers together. “You’re right about one thing, Nightmares, I am out of your league.” she says, closing her mouth on mine and my hands grip her hips, pulling her hard against me. 

All restraint from the past day or two snaps.

[miahdeas]

“Hey There Nightmare”

12 years ago you left me. 

With a scribbled note. 

Forget about me, a challenge I wouldn’t back down. But you knew that. You knew I would look for you forever. 

And yet you came to me because… Now you need my help.

You’ve come back at the wrong time. Or maybe the perfect time. It’s a complicated time for me.

But you stand there with an upturn smirk on your lips and a fiery amusement in your sharp eyes. It reawakes the hope, passion and desire that has been paralyzed since you left. 

God, you’re just as fucking beautifully intimidating as when we were young. 

“How do I know you really are Tessa?” My suspicion choking and betraying my strength. Like usual, when I’m around you. 

“You tell me.” You whisper as your lips touch mine and steal my breath away. I’m fighting back submitting and losing myself to you. Reluctant to not share the same intense longing, missing and heat. 

You’re back. But my only question. The only question that matters. 

Are you going to leave again?

[miahdeas]

[miahdeas]

TO THE GIRL WHO SAW GOOD.

I think you saw it first. The darkness settling in behind the blue eyes. Protons and electrons charging around me. You noticed the line that formed along my jaw. I’m not sure when I was never the same again, when I was never coming back, but you saw it first.

Did you see what prowled underneath when you said you liked my boots? I had no idea I was so desperate for a friend until you shook me out of my constant state of drifting. You had pulled me out. And although everyone said you were bad, I didn’t see the same evil that was in me in you.

You were harmless. But you were stunning. You made me feel that feeling you feel when you don’t even know what the fuck you’re feeling anymore. Every time you offered me a cigarette or a shity beer, my stomach would flip, my chest would pound and my mind would clear. Because I was there with you. When no one else showed up for me, I counted on you for a sick joke, or radical suggestion or smooth pick up line. Nothing in my life meant as much to me, as you do.

But now you’re gone. I’d never been so scared of losing something in my entire life. Forever and permanently.

I missed your laugh and how it was always chased by the wickedest smirk. I missed the sound of your boots as you jumped from bleacher to bleacher without a care of how loud you were. I missed the way you cared for me and pushed me to the edge of uncomfortableness when you showed me any remote sign of tenderness.

I missed the opportunity to keep you safe. I forgot to keep the promise I swore to you. I failed to kill the bastard who took you from us.

I’ve changed. No matter how many times you call me Nightmare. Or Darkside. It’s in my eyes as I avoid looking at you. It’s in the touch you try to find when I pull away from your hand. And it’s in the tone of my voice when I promise you again that I won’t let that murdering bastard breathe another breath.

I want you to know, but I don’t want to tell you. I don’t want to bring the monster within out into the light. It’s safer that it stays hidden. Safer that you don’t know and we don’t acknowledge it.

No one made me this way. I made me this way. Turned the pain into power. I told myself to endure and survive. And I have. Somehow I always do.

[miahdeas]

To My Monster Friend,

@wolfsbane9557

I’m sorry… I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to cause you so much pain. I chased you off. Pushed you away. Ruined your happiness. I’m so sorry… Things were so out of control. I was in pain. I was angry. I was blind. I was hurting and so scared, so out of control... I hurt people. I hurt them because I was hurting. I no longer recognize myself. I’m a nightmare. But, you stood beside me when I was silently screaming.

You deserve happiness. Deserve people who choose you. Friends who deserve you…

I promise you… I’m getting better. I’ll get better. I want to be better. I want to be good. I want to be there. I want to choose you…

I’m with you.

I’m beside you.

I’ll fight for you.

I’ll always choose you.

Sometimes, even monsters, friends, need protecting.

Casey

[miahdeas]

Clock in. Clock out.

Cosmo feels empty, and not because I’m driving to work alone, but because I’ve had to empty it of all my gear. A missing door will do that. My ride is extra windy, though it’s quicker to get in and out of my seat. 

My first day back at work since my door was ripped off by a werewolf, the security guard had laughed. “If your car didn’t stick out already, Agent Davis, it definitely does now.” He still snickers, but I’ve given up and ignore him. I’m too tired. 

Rolling into the parking garage, I throw Cosmo into park, and jump out. Yawning, I scan my badge across the surface of the scanner. An annoying ding and buzz allows me inside. The quickest path to my desk would take me past Jesse’s. So I go a roundabout way to avoid him. I still pass the communal kitchen to drop off my lunch, and pause at the smell of brewing coffee. 

“Davis.” 

Practically jumping out of my skin, I fumble my empty coffee mug. “Yep! Yep. Hi. Morning.”

The Producer, a young girl with bobbed blonde hair, smiles awkwardly at me. She’s always trying to look older than she is. Always trying way too hard to fit into her position while also asserting her authority over me. Her stiff smile cracks as silence stretches, “Breakfast of champions, eh?” Usually she is scowling, annoyed and has little patience for me, but those features have been softer recently. 

“Um, sure…” The smell and sound of fresh coffee burbling. My fingers lightly tap against my mug. I stare at the brewing coffee, begging it to drip faster.

“Just checking that you’re--”

“Huh?”

“You’re behind on your mandated sessions, you know.” She thrusts out her wrist to check her watch as she speaks, “It’s six before you’re officially back in the field…” 

“Uh,” I pour coffee and a ton of creamer and milk in after it, “I remember. Don’t need the reminder, thanks.” Sipping my coffee, I glance at her and nod goodbye before heading toward my desk.

“IN THE EVENT OF A SHOOTING,” Speaking louder than casual conversation, she surprises me and causes me to look back.

“Excuse me?” 

“Especially of a non-combatant…” She continues, “Mandatory weapons training is technically a part of the recommended…” I glance around, feeling self-conscious of the attention she is drawing to us and shift my path back to her, “We HAVE to talk about what happened, Davis. This isn’t a Mehndi thing. I’m the one who’s going to be--” 

“Wait, wait, what? Mandatory weapons training? You’ve got to be fucking kidding me. Seriously?”

Her face shifts, drastically, as if I’m no longer speaking English. “You shot your brother!” 

Stunned, I stare at her, as if she slapped me, “It was an accident!” I glance around the kitchen. A few coworkers passing by glance our way. “Com’ere,” hooking her arm with mine, I pull her into the large snack pantry. “Are you assigning me mandatory weapons training ON TOP OF therapy sessions? Did you read the report on what happened?” I’m distracted for a few seconds and grab a granola bar from over her shoulder. 

She snatches the granola bar from me. “Was it really an accident?”

“Hey!” Glaring, “Do you disagree with my report?”

“No, I don’t know, but we need to talk about what happened!” 

“Right now? You want me, right now, to relive my brother being shot? That’s fucking twisted, even for you.”

“That’s not what I’m--- The things you’ve done-- BEEN through have reached a level that’s--”

“Things I’ve done?” I seize my granola bar. “I’m a fucking field agent. The things I’ve done are to ensure that my team makes it out alive with me. You wouldn’t understand, I’m sure, being behind a desk all day.”

“I have a responsibility to yo-- to this AGENCY.” Her voice rises. An obviously young man wanders into our small, but growing war zone. I glance at him as he fumbles with a bag of granola, dumping some contents into a bowl. “I have to hold you accountable.”

“Hey.” Grabbing the boy’s attention, “Get. The. Fuck. Out.” I growl and glare at him, causing the kid to freeze, glance between the two of us and quickly flee. Granola goes all over the floor. Turning back to the Producer, “I get it. Your job, your position here at the agency, it’s very important to you. You need to make a mark, find your place and put yourself in good standings with upper management. But, you’re not going to jeopardize MY position. Sacrifice MY job in order for you to look good. You’re a kid. I completed several missions when I was your age. How many have you gone on, that wasn’t from your desk to the bathroom?” Leaning slightly toward her, imposing. 

The silence stretches, our eyes locked and air tense. I hear some murmurs from outside and notice curious looks in our direction. 

“Did you hear Davis screaming at her Producer?”

“Did you hear The Producer yelling at Davis?”

“I heard the screams, but not what they said.”

“Must’ve been some kinda shit then. My Producer hasn’t made me so much as grumpy.”

The Producer breaks, “I get it. I’m not your colleague, your friend or even your equal…” She visually composes herself. Inhaling and exhaling, meeting my glare, “But I am your Producer.” She straightens, speaking loud enough that our audience can hear us, “I think you need some rest, Agent Davis.” 

I straighten, clench my teeth, tighten my shoulder blades and stare down at her, “I’m. Fine. … And you’re goddamn right, we’re not friends.” I grab another granola bar, turning to leave. 

“JUST BECAUSE HE’S YOUR BROTHER,”

Petrified, I look back at the little blonde kid. She is trembling slightly, hands balled into fits. A wave of whispers ripple out behind me. The Producer looks up at me, determination masking the true emotions behind her eyes. 

“DOESN’T MEAN YOU DIDN’T ALMOST KILL HIM.” Marching up to me, in full view of everyone, she looks up at me, “YOU’RE SHOOTING AT MY-- At your ALLIES.” I can see a shimmer of tears in her eyes that my coworkers cannot. “Find some respect for the person keeping you alive on the mission.”

I stare at her. Speechless.

She replaces her emotional gaze with a very familiar scowling glare, “I need you to talk to Dr. Mehndi. Until he deems you suitable to return to full active agent duties, your work will be monitored closely. Am I being clear enough for you, Agent Davis?” 

I open my mouth, then shut it. 

“Good. Get to work.” Blowing past me, trying to shoulder me out of the way, she mutters, “Let me know when Jesse’s-- Never mind.” Shaking her head, The Producer leaves me standing dumbfounded in the kitchen. Whispers and glances whirling around me. I’m stunned and stand there a moment too long before looking around, finding several pairs of curious eyes watching me. Clearing my throat, now cold coffee cup in hand, I walk through the sea of cubicles, head down, to my desk and spend the rest of the day hiding and doing as little work as possible. All the while, trying not to remember the look on Jesse’s face when I shot him.

[miahdeas]

Ache. All Over.

I ache. ALL. OVER. I smell. Sweat, blood and the horrible stench of fried fast food permeate my clothes. A fast food bag stuffed with garbage sits on the floor of my van. 

“I’ll get it tomorrow.” I mumble as I shuffle out of Cosmo. 

~!BUZZ!~!BUZZ!~!BUZZ!~

I can’t help the heavy sigh expelling from my mouth as I feel my phone vibrate. I fumble for it in my pocket, while simultaneously juggling my backpack and overnight bag, and searching for the key to the lock on my door. My too-bright phone screen tells me I have several text messages and missed calls, but I almost drop everything when the door swings open on its own, startling me. 

A deep glower is carved into my girlfriend’s soft lips. Framed in my doorway, wearing one of my long plaid shirts, it hangs loosely from her petite frame and shows off her bare legs and tousled hair, my girlfriend, Megan. It’s 3rd shift hour, no one is awake but me to see her intimate appearance. I shake my head to push away emerging ideas.

“There you are.” 

“There YOU are. Hi.” 

“Do NOT ‘hi’ me, Casey Davis. Do you know how late it is?” I can see the genuine concern on her face and it adds to the load I’m already carrying. 

“I’m aware of the time. I was NOT aware that you would be here.” I say, exhausted, and I step around her into my home. 

“I have a key to your house.” 

“I know.” I dump my bags just inside, wandering into my kitchen, Megan follows. 

“Then why do you seem surprised to see me?” 

I pull a glass from the cupboard, and fill it with water as I note a sink of dishes that I did not leave. *twitch* Turning, I lean my back against the counter and face her, “I didn’t know you would be here”

“I texted you.”

“I didn’t see it.” 

She rolls her eyes and folds her arms on her chest.

“What? I’ve been busy. And I see you’ve been too.” I glance at the dirty dishes.

“Really? You’re going to be mad over a few dirty dishes? I haven’t seen you in how many days, and I barely get a ‘Hello, how are you? I missed you.’?’”

Sighing, “I’m tired.”

“Of course you’re tired. You’ve been working stupid, crazy hours. I haven’t seen you since you’ve started this new shift.” 

“You couldn’t wait to see me during my next day off?”

“I’m your girlfriend! I wanted to check in on you. And I missed you.”

“I missed you too, but, I told you, I had an assignment that will take me away for a few days and I’d be out late.”

“And you couldn’t find ANY time to message me? To at least say ‘hi’ or let me know you’re alive?” 

“No. I couldn’t.” I glance at the clock: 4:38am. “It’s almost 5 am, and, like I said, I’ve been busy with the new assignment. I was going to contact you—“

“Contact me? You were going to contact me? What, like I’m one of your coworkers? I’m your GIRLFRIEND. You don’t just contact me.”

“That’s not what I meant.” 

“What DID you mean Casey? When you finally found time for me, you were going to see what my availability was to have a brief meeting?!” 

Setting my glass on the counter, I approach her, and as I do, I feel the tense anger hovering around her. I sigh and place my hands on her arms, “I’m sorry. I don't want to fight. It’s late. Can we go to bed and discuss this in the morning if you’re still upset?” 

“If I’m still upset?!” She steps out of my hands, appalled.

Shit. I’m never getting to bed.

“Of course I’m still going to be upset!” 

“Megan…”

“No Casey! It’s 5 am and you didn’t text me that you were on your way home OR done with work. You’ve left me in the dark. You’ve ALWAYS left me in the dark.”

“If you need me to tell you when I’m coming home, I can—“ 

“No, that’s not what I mean.” 

“Then what? We’ve been through this, I can’t disclose the details of my job.”

She cries out in frustration and turns away from me, throwing her hands up in the air. “Cloaks and daggers, Casey. Can’t you be honest with me? Why can’t you let me in?”

“I can’t take that risk. You’re just going to have to trust me.”

“Trust you?” She stares at me in disbelief. “I’m supposed to trust you? How am I supposed to trust you? How am I supposed to trust you’re telling me the truth? How am I supposed to trust that I’m the most important person in your life when you keep things from me? You keep me at arms distance. The locked offices and keypads all around the house. What are they for?”

“Safety. Protection.”

“From what?”

“I can’t—“

“Let me guess, trust me.” 

“No. That’s not it.“

“Yes it is Casey. You don’t trust me enough to tell me the truth.”

“That’s not true.”

“Yes it is. You don’t trust me. And I don’t trust you. Not anymore.”

“Anymore?”

“Yeah. And despite all of the bullshit, I’ve kept your secret.”

“What secret?”

“Don’t play dumb. You’re scared of who knows about our relationship. Who you really are.”

“No, I’m not.”

“Seriously Casey? Keep telling yourself that lie. One day, they’ll find out. You can’t keep something like that, your true self, locked away. It will eat you alive… And you’ll find yourself alone… Do you really want that for yourself?” 

“Do I really want what for myself?” 

“To be alone. Were you ever going to tell your family about me?”

“Yes…” 

“Really?” 

“I… I don’t know…”

“It’s been a year Casey.”

“I know… but I’m not ready to tell them.”

“If you’re not ready to tell them, then you’re not ready to fully love me.” 

“Can we PLEASE talk in the morning?” I rub at my face, a headache blooming in my skull, “I wasn’t expecting to see you. You can stay, it’s just, I’d been looking forward to having the bed all to myself after sleeping in the poor excuse of a bed that work had set me up in, and I’m running on, like, 5 hours of sleep and fast food burgers.” My words smashing together, tumbling out of my mouth as I try to convince her to stay. 

“Casey. I wanted your family to know me as your girlfriend—“

“You ARE my girlfriend.”

“No, you introduced me as your girl friend. Just, a friend.”

“You’re not just my friend.”

“I know that, but THEY don’t.”

“I just need time… Find the right moment to tell them. Maybe I can tell Jesse.”

“When? You’ve had a year to tell them, hun. I know how important family is to you. If you haven’t told them about me, haven’t told them about YOU, something’s… wrong.” 

We fall silent. The AC kicks on. A neutral and soothing sound. 

“I can’t-” Megan sniffles, causing me to look up and see there are tears streaming down her cheeks. She turns her face from me, “This can’t go on Casey.”

“What?”

“It has been a year, and I told myself that you were new to this, to being gay, and you needed a little time, but, not much has changed.”

“I-” Words dissipate from my mouth and I look defeatedly at the ground.

“I will be back later. Get some sleep…” She kisses my cheek before gingerly picking up her few items and closes my door behind her. A car engine kicks on and purrs away into the night. 

I’m alone. I ache. ALL. OVER. Inside, and out. But, I trudge up my stairs, put myself into bed and curl up with my pillow. Falling asleep with wet, exhausted, tears on my face.

[jurynelson]

@wolfsbane9557 and I made @miahdeas cry

[miahdeas]

I’m not that upset that I cried. I’ll cry a thousand times more if it means bringing back Tessa...

[miahdeas]

Goldilocks

This couch is too firm. This couch is too soft. This couch is too short. This couch is too big.

I flop down on a slippery, clean leather couch, practically falling onto the floor. Huffing, I stand and look around the sea of couches, ottomans and lazy boys.

“This is going to take forever.” I grumble and pull out my phone, no texts from Jesse explaining where he is or why he is so late.

“Can I help you?” A sweet, warm voice attracts my attention. A brunette woman, just a few inches shorter than me, is smiling. Her smile reflected in her eyes, with an added hint of amusement. “You look a bit… Out of sorts.”

“Oh, um, no. I’m waiting for someone.” I fumble around my words and glance back at my phone. Nothing.

She chuckles, “I’m sorry, but I’ve been watching you pace around the showroom floor trying our most uncomfortable couches and you look miserable.”

“Is it that obvious?” I glance around, feeling seen. “I haven’t shopped for furniture before, and was supposed to have help…” Looking past her toward the doors, no Jesse in sight. Shrugging, “But he is a no show. Men. Can't live with them and can definitely live without them.”

She giggles and brightens her smile, “Let me help. Trust me, I’m a couch expert.”

“Oh?” I smirk, making her blush and stumble over her words a moment, making me grin widder.

“Ha, yes.” Giving me a wry smile, “We ARE in a furniture store and I DO work here.”

“Employee of the month?”

“Maybe.” That smirk again. “I think I know exactly which couch you’ll love. My name is Megan.”

I sigh with a smile, “If you insist, Megan. I do hope to be impressed. I’m Casey.”

“Pleased to help you, Casey. I believe that this couch I’m about to show you is much more comfortable than the one you just fell off of.” I blush and she beams, “Follow me this way.” She twirls on her heels and strides to a different cluster of couches. I follow after her as she begins to pepper me with questions about fabrics, firmness, color, style, size and price.

We stop in front of a long, light colored L-shaped Scandinavian couch, “Sit, and tell me how amazingly skilled I am.” I eye the piece of furniture like a sparring partner, she giggles, “It won’t bite, and I promise you won’t fall off this one. Sit.” She gestures and I sit, surprised. And impressed.

“Wow…”

“Right?” She sits down next to me, “Personally, I love a mix of firmness and softness, plus, the light gray color will go with many color choices. Warm tones, cool tones or simply black or white.” She has a glimmer to her eyes. She is in her element. “And, it’s within you and your… boyfriend’s?... price range.”

I laugh and shake my head, “No, I wasn’t waiting for my boyfriend. My BROTHER was supposed to meet me and help pick out a couch for my new house. He had suggested I get a pull-out couch, of all things.”

She raises an eyebrow and frowns disapprovingly, “A pull-out couch? And this brother of yours was supposed to help?”

I laugh, “He was supposed to! But I don’t think I need his help anymore.” I smile at her then look down at the couch, impressed. “This is perfect.”

“I’m glad I could help! Does that mean you’re saying yes to this couch?” She grins at her own bad joke.

“I think I am.”

“Wonderful! Let’s get you taken care of.” She says, patting my thigh lightly before getting up and getting a SOLD tag. I watch her walk away. Impressed. And intrigued, before following after her.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

“I can’t believe you BOUGHT a couch before I even got there. I wasn’t THAT late, Case.”

“You showed up an hour late. Lift higher.” I grunt as we maneuver my new couch through the front door. Both of us sweating and huffing. “I’m SO glad I didn’t listen to your suggestion of a pull-out couch.”

“Agreed!”

Setting down the couch, we both collapse.

“Water?”

“God yes!” Jesse is splayed out on the couch, as if he’d just run a marathon. I get up and pour us some glasses of ice water. “This was a great choice, kiddo. Can’t believe you picked it.”

“I had help.”

“Oh?” His eyebrows rise as I hand him his glass. “It wasn’t that kid in the overly tailored suit, was it? I think he was trying to overcompensate for something.”

I roll my eyes. “Jesus, Jesse.”

“Hey! You don’t always have the best taste in men.”

Ow. That one stung.

“You’re right. How did I get stuck with such a shithead of a brother?” I snap back, brooding next to his noodle of a body.

“Whoa, low blow, kid.” He sits up.

“Whatever. No. I didn’t get his number. It’s just a couch. He probably wanted the bonus, not the girl buying it.”

“Casey…”

“Shut up.” I tip the water into my mouth, emptying the glass. Standing, “Need more water?”

I walk into my box cluttered kitchen and notice the SOLD tag still attached. Yanking it off, there is a phone number and message scribbled on the back of the tag:

No boyfriend, huh?

-Megan

I smirk

“What’re you smiling about?”

“Nothing.”

“That doesn’t look like a nothing kind of smirk.” Jesse gets up to investigate closer. I back away, pocketing the tag and placing a hand on Jesse’s chest, glaring up at him. “YOU owe me dinner for showing up late.”

“Casey!”

“No buts Jesse. You owe me for your lack of help.”

“I helped you lift the damn couch!”

I laugh, “THAT is the only thing you did, J.”

[miahdeas]

Glass Marbles & Paper Fortunes

The day is beautiful. A cool breeze, a few passing clouds and the happy chatter of kids on the playground. A boy of ten sits alone, playing in the grass with some pebbles and watching the other children play. Marching up to him in a dirt stained pink dress, a girl of similar age, plops down next to him.

“Um, hello?” He says timidly.

“Hi.” Her bottom lip is formed into a big pout. A purple, plastic My Little Pony backpack hangs off her shoulders. “What are you doing?”

“Um, well, I’m playing marbles…”

“But those aren’t marbles.”

“I know-“ He begins but is cut off as the girl suddenly pulls off her backpack, digs in it and takes out a small glass jar of marbles. It rattles satisfyingly and catches the light.

“THESE are marbles.”

“Whoa… That’s a lot of marbles…”

“Yeah. But, most of these were collected by my brother and he gave them to me. They’re ok.”

“Ok? They are beyond ok. Look!” And the boy points at a green and blue swirled marble, “That one looks SO cool. Kinda like a trapped ocean.”

“Huh. I never really thought about it like that…” The little girl lifts the jar, examining the marble.

“Yeah! And that one, it looks like a galaxy!”

Looking closer at the jar, the little girl’s frown has transformed into a look of wonder. “You’re right. I never looked at them like that.” Unscrewing the top, she dumps the marbles into the grass amongst his pebbles. “Look at this one!”

“Ooo, yeah, that one is cool.” He plucks a different marble from the pile, “This one looks like a fire is trapped inside.”

“Yeah! This one looks like it has toothpaste trapped inside it!” The two giggle and ogle at the collection of marbles. “I’m Casey. What’s your name?”

“I’m Mark. Did you say that your brother gave you these marbles? That was really nice of him.” The little boy is smiling as he examines more of the colorful marbles. Casey makes a face and starts to put the marbles back into the jar. “Oh…” Mark watches her a moment before speaking up, “What’s wrong?”

The little girl huffs. “Nothing.”

“Then why are you putting the marbles away? I was looking at them.”

“I don’t want to look at them anymore.”

“Oh. I’m sorry. They’re really neat…”

“No, they’re not.” She screws the lid back on the jar and shoves it back into her backpack, then pulls out a notebook and handful of colored pens. “Do you know what a fortune teller is?”

“Um, no?” He watches, quizzically, as the young blonde pigtailed girl proceeds to rip a piece of paper from her notebook and begins to fold it, color and write on it. “What are you doing?”

“Making a paper fortune teller. Well, Milk Face Melissa calls it a cootie catcher, but that sounds stupid.”

“Why do you call her Milk Face Melissa?”

Casey pauses and looks up at Mark, as if he said her hair was brown and not blonde, “Because, ages ago, during lunch, she was drinking her milk and laughed so hard it came out her nose and went everywhere on her face. So they started calling her Milk Face Melissa.”

“Oh.”

“Ask me a question Mark.” She holds out a strange folded square contraption on her fingers.

“Uh…”

“Come on.”

“Um, will it rain?”

“THAT’S what you want to ask the fortune teller?!”

“I don’t know what to ask it!”

Sighing and rolling her eyes, “How about, will we be friends? Pick a color.”

“Blue.”

“Ok, blue. B-L-U-....”

“E.”

“Yeah, I know…” Casey moves the folded paper box on her fingers at the mention of each letter. “Now, pick a number.”

“Hmmm, 15.”

She counts and moves the paper at each number until finally stopping and pulling open the flap of paper. Reading it aloud, “No doubt!” She looks up at Mark, beaming. He too is staring in wonder and grins.

“Ooo! Ok, let me ask it a question!”

The two children giggle and ask the paper fortune teller question after question amongst the grass and pebbles until the recess bell rings.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

“Mark!” A young girl with ripped jeans and soccer jersey thumps down into the empty cafeteria chair next to a young boy reading a library book, almost spilling his drink.

“Casey! Careful!” He moves his drink away from the overly excited girl.

“I’m sorry, but check out this cool new fortune teller I made!” She shoves a colorful and glittery folded paper in front of him. “Ask a question!”

“Hmmm,” He closes his book, “Will I make millions and millions of dollars?”

“Really Mark?” Casey rolls her eyes, but smirks, “Alright, pick a color.”

“Uh, the sparkly pink color.” Casey moves the folded paper, revealing four numbers of varying ranges. “3.” She moves the contraption again before reading the answer to his question. Clearing her throat dramatically,

“The answer is clouded.”

“Casey.”

“What? The fortune teller has spoken! Here, let me try.” Holding the folded paper respectfully between them, “Oh Fortune Teller made of Paper!”

“Casey,” Mark looks around the cafeteria, embarrassed as they get some glances, “Can’t you be normal?”

She giggles, “No, you have to ask it your question dramatically and purposefully for it to come true.”

He sighs, “You’re ridiculous.”

Quieting down a little, she continues, “Tell me, should Mark Clayton give me--- What did you bring for lunch today?”

“Uh, a peanut butter and jelly sandwich and some carrots?”

“What kind of jelly?”

“Strawberry?”

“Should Mark Clayton give me half of his sandwich?”

“Hey!”

“Shhhh, the fortune teller is working.” Her fingers move the paper quickly back and forth between positions before opening and revealing the answer. “Ah ha! It would be wise to do so! Pay up, Mark.”

The boy sighs, pulling his lunch bag from his backpack, and Casey does the same. Unfolding neatly prepared sandwiches, Casey and Mark swap halves. “If you don’t like your dad’s tuna salad sandwiches, why don’t you tell him to make you PB&Js? I’d like to have a day where I get my sandwich all to myself.”

“Do you not like my dad’s tuna salad sandwiches?”

“No, they’re fine, but-”

“Then I’m not going to tell him to stop. They’re fine.” Casey takes a bit out of her newly acquired sandwich. Mark watches her a moment, confused, but sighs; he knows better than to start a fight with Casey Davis.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

The sun is setting in the sky after soccer practice. Most of the other girls are gone, but one remains, laying in the grass and staring up at the clouds. Her face is wet from a mixture of water, sweat and….

“Casey?”

She rubs the sleeve of her shirt against her face before sitting up. “Oh, hey Mark.”

“You were supposed to meet me fifteen minutes ago at the McDonalds. What happened?”

“Practice ran late. We just got done. Sorry.”

The teenage boy sits down next to her, “How are you doing?”

“Mark.”

He sighs, frustrated, “I can’t ask you how you are? I’m your friend, aren’t I?” She stays quiet, not looking at him. Mark pulls his backpack off his shoulder and unzips it, taking out a paper fortune teller, “I made a new fortune teller.”

“I’m not really in the mood, Mark.”

“Oh, come on. All those times that you forced me to put up with YOUR fortune tellers? Humor me. One last time…”

Casey sniffles, “Fine.”

A moment passes. “You’ve gotta ask a question to find out your fortune, Case.”

“Will we stay friends?” Neither of the teenagers look at one another, staring down at the fortune teller. It is frozen. “Well?” Casey asks softly, risking a glance up at the boy.

“Well, pick a color…”

“Blue.”

Mark moves the paper folds, spelling out the color with each movement. “Which number?”

“15.” The fwap fwap fwap sound of the paper hangs in the air as the toy moves. Casey pulls her knees to her chest, watching intensely as Mark pulls open the flap. “What does it say?”

He sees the words, Don’t count on it. Looking up at his friend who is eagerly, but nervously waiting for their fortune, he smiles, “It’s your destiny.” Her shoulders relax and she tries to reflect his smile. “Don’t know why you’re so worried. You’re not moving to another state! We can still see each other.”

“Yeah. We can…”

“And I’m sure you’ll make the team and you’ll probably play my school, so I will see you when you play against us.”

“Yeah.” Silence stretches. The two teens look everywhere else but each other. A Gremlin pulls into the parking lot, honking twice. “My dad’s here.” Casey gathers her equipment, duffle bag and backpack. Mark watches her quietly. Before leaving, “Oh! I can’t believe I almost forgot, I have something for you.” Casey reaches into her backpack, pulling out a small glass jar filled with marbles. “I want you to have this.”

“What? Why?”

“Ha, what do you mean why? You loved these marbles more than I did.”

“I can’t take all of these, Casey.” He unscrews the jar, digging into the marbles until he finds the one he was rummaging for, “Here.” He hands her a simple clear glass marble with a few purple and blue swirls, “Keep this one. It was your favorite.” Forcing it into her hand, he screws the lid back on and stuffs it into his backpack.

They both force a smile on their young faces.

“Stay out of trouble Mark Clatyon...”

“Kick some butt Casey Davis...”

[miahdeas]

~~ UPDATED ~~ Ship Names. The Cover Story: Casey Davis

Mixed feelings over love interests for The Cover Storys’ EARS Agent, Casey Davis. Fans speculate on their favorite coupling. But hot handed, gun wielding Davis seems to stall out on relationship progress across the board! Love interests AND friendships.

Ship Names:

Casey Davis and Mark Clayton

Macy Dayton

Casey Davis and Kira Ashwood

💔 Dark Shadows 💔

Casey Davis and Nick Sparks

💥 Sparkside 💥

Casey Davis and MOM

🚬 Suits 🚬

Casey Davis and The Producer

The Produsey

Casey Davis and Tessa Jones

💕 Guns & Roses 💕

Casey Davis and Tiffany Torres

😈 Night Terror 😈

[miahdeas]

Boiling in the green.

Darkness seeps in early. Silence slices into the day. The lake is blood black. Overcast sky a billow of smoke. Puffs of cloud dissolve away. My mood radiating. Noxious. Though the tornado and sand storm was falsely predicted. Spindly quaking branches stir. The wind buffets my jacket, throwing my hair into a whirlwind. I yank my hood up, tucking my hair into the collar. Taking a pull, I watch the smoke spiral into the air. Smirking at the funny silence, I hug my legs to my chest, taking the roll of paper from my lips. Swallowing the cool air, I rest my chin on my knee. Softly, I begin to hum. The reclusive sun drowning the day in the blood.

“Where have all the good men gone, and where are all the gods....” Inhale. Exhale. “Where’s the streetwise Hercules to fight the rising odds...” Exhale “Isn’t there a white knight upon a fiery steed...” Inhale. Exhale. “Somewhere after midnight... In my wildest fantasy...” Inhale. Inhale. Slow exhale. “Somewhere... Just beyond...My reach...” Inhale. “There's someone... Reaching...” Inhale. “Back... For me...”

I erupt in a coughing fit. Pain spiders in my chest as the fit gets rougher. An unfamiliar hand shoves a cool aluminum can into my hand. Choking, I tip the liquid back into my mouth, engulfing half of its contents. Gasping, I come up for air, blanching at the horrible tasting beer. Slowly, my coughing fit subsides, drowning my throat in another wave of bad beer. Sucking in several breaths of air to reassure myself the attack is over, I finally look over to my poor taste in beer savior. Frowning, I blink several times, rub my eyes and take a hit of my blunt, “Huh, I don’t remember weed hitting me this hard before. You looking for Mark Clayton?”

“EW! You don't still hang out with him, do you?” A young, but transparent green ghost girl slumps down onto the grass next to me. She is a bit overdressed for the cool weather; winter hat hanging half off her head and barely containing her long hair, a decently in good taste band shirt, Motion City Soundtrack is layered under a ratty hoodie along with faded jeans and similar styled combat boots as me.

“No.” I respond, eyeing her over. “Ok, I’ll bite. Either I’m having a weird fucking trip or, which I would not rule out completely, I’m talking to a ghost, while high, which is double trippy...” I blow out a stream of smoke from my nose. “Either way, I’m not looking for company, kid.”

“.... You don’t remember me, do you?” She looks at me with a mixture of mischief and disappointment. I turn away, staring out across the darkening lake and take a long pull on my blunt. My toe twitches, willing her to go away. But she is sitting beside me, taking a pull from the beer. It splashes on the ground behind her. I stand. Taking a deep pull on my blunt, the embers flaring, before I drop it to the ground and smash it under my shoe. I shove my hands into my jacket and leave the way I came. From behind me I hear, "Aww, c'mon! Friggin buzzkill."

“What the fuck do you want?” I growl, causing her to stop short from following after me.

“To hang out. Isn’t that why you came here?”

“No. Hang out implies you want to be around other people. I don’t fucking want to be around other people. I came out here to get high, be alone and find some fucking sleep.”

"No, yeah, cool, fine. I see we're dealing with "Darkside Davis" this time. Far be it from me to come between you and… yourself."

“What the fuck did you just say?”

"We haven't seen each other in what, like five years? But sure. Hang out with your moods and not me. You just looked like you needed a friend, that's all." She pulls a ghost cigarette out of her jacket pocket and lights it.

“Whatever. I don’t need a bitchy, ghost hassling me and giving me sass. Go bother Mark if you’re that fucking lonely.” I twist on my heels and march back to my car. The fog of my high dissipating. Climbing into Cosmo, I reverse out of the parking space, my headlights passing over the ghost girl. She dissolves into mist as the light hits her, but not until she flips me the bird.

[miahdeas]

I’m fine.I’m alright.I’m ok.

“I’m fine,” I tell my mandated therapist. “I mean, I’m alright.” I can all but feel the burn of my lie in my throat. Shake it off. Stiffen up. “It had been a busy week at work.” The over-cushioned couch pushes me and my flaws forward. I shift, uncomfortable. I want to bare my soul, scream the pain that is warring inside, but I’m quiet. I’m strong.

“Tell me about Kira.”

“Why?”

“She is your friend, no?”

“Yes...”

“Tell me about her, come now, Kira Ashwood is your friend. Why is she your friend?”

I feel my chest tighten and I look inward for the answer. Because she was there for me. We had fought monsters together. She’s powerful... She must be monitored.... She could be dangerous... She trusted me.

“We worked together.”

“Casey. Did you forget our deal?”

Sighing, “No. I had been her friend because she had my back and... she might have understood.”

“Why do you use, had, past-tense? Tell me more. Does she not consider you her friend as you consider her yours?” Dr. Menhdi leans forward in his chair excitedly, excited and eager.

“Uh, I don’t think we are friends anymore... I was protecting her, but I think I hurt her instead. I failed.”

The plump Indian man leans back, studying me, “What caused this rift?”

I laugh bitterly, “I bet you don’t hear this a lot, but, I shot someone to protect her, breaking a promise that I could afford to break.” My chest feels heavy and aches. My therapist grunts, but let’s the silence stretch and choke the room.

“Would you take it back? Change what happened?”

“Yes.” The word jumps from my lips like a magnet. Tears blur my vision. “I would change it if I could, but-”

“But?” His head cocks and eyebrows rise. “Why the but?” He can’t keep the twitch of a smirk off his lips. I roll my eyes, close up, and lean back into the couch and shielding myself with my arms on my chest.

“Explore these emotions Ms. Davis. You say you hurt Ms. Kira, but there is something more. What is it?”

“Me.”

“Hmmm, you? Explain.”

Sighing, exasperated, “I have to protect myself.” I wipe at my face, “I can’t get hurt.”

“Why? Are you not hurt now? You wipe tears from your face.”

“Yes, I hurt, and that’s why I have to keep them away.”

“Your friends...”

Sniffling, “Yes.”

Shifting forward, Dr. Menhdi rests his elbows on his thighs, steepling his fingers and pressing them against his lips thoughtfully, “Casey, why do you think keeping your friends outside your wall will cease your pain?”

I can’t find a response, but I know that the answer is to keep them away. He tilts his head, expecting a comeback or sass, but receives nothing and examines me thoroughly when one doesn’t come.

“When was the first brick placed, Casey? When did it hurt so bad that you had to shield yourself to a place so far away and out of touch? Out of touch with the power of what the love of a friendship can do to help, not harm.” The doctor stares at me incredulously. I look away.

“I see.” He straightens. “A very long time ago indeed.”