CROMWELLIAN.

           aol: cromwellian. 

NICKNAMES: jamie, jam, cromwell,  AGE: 20 DOB: november 20, 1979 GENDER: male PRONOUNS: he/him JOB: jamie sorta picks up shifts all over town. he’s a server some nights, a cashier on others; he does repairs, builds houses during the summer, and he’s even been known to paint cute little murals on nursery walls for expectant parents. the cherry witches also pay him for a multitude of tasks throughout the week - he always refuses their money, but it ends up in his wallet anyway. 

Rory hadn’t planned on going to see Kamilla when she left the house. But her runs rarely followed the route she’d intended these days; at least she hadn’t ended up at town square. But seeing the office had drawn her in fast, like a lighthouse in a storm. A beacon of hope after the weekend she’d had. Kamilla knew about the strange- she’d held a seance for the phantom, went hunting with them, believed in things like time warps and monsters. Maybe the town historian would have answers to what the fuck had happened to her at the lakehouse, maybe she would have- a line? 

It hadn’t even occurred to her that someone else would be waiting for Kamilla, let alone that it’d be Jamie. Not that she’d considered much of anything other than getting there as fast as she could, desperate to talk to someone about what happened. The closed door nearly brought tears to her eyes, be it out of frustration or exhaustion. The slash across her chest hurt even more after running, a brutal combination of exertion pulling at the unhealed wound, and sweat stinging as it seeped into the bandage. 

“Right,” Rory swallowed hard, her voice sounding hollow even to her own ears. Processing small talk of any kind sort of made her feel like the wheels in her brain were spinning with no traction, unable to find friendly words that usually came to her so easily. “I don’t think she’s much of a hide-from-an-argument person. Or a lose-an-argument person, actually.” She forced a smile that felt like it was being pulled by puppeteer strings as she slid into his vacated seat. “You here to rub in your victory?” 

☾⭒✶

Jamie had always kind of been used to that, like, far off look that people got when they talked to him, but today, with Rory, it felt... different? Or maybe out of place. It’s not like he could blame her - any of them, really, that had been through the whole... Other Cherry thing, back at the start of the summer. Things weren’t normal anymore. Things didn’t really make sense. Maybe that’s why he glossed over it so quickly even though the buzzing in his brain said, ‘poke and prod, poke and prod, poke and prod.’

“You here to call me out?” Jamie laughed a little as Rory slid into the seat - and he slid down the wall to settle himself on the waiting room’s carpet. Maybe she hadn’t done it intentionally, but damn, was she right - Kamilla wasn’t really a lose-an-argument kind woman, was she? “No, I was, uh...” Jamie shrugged his shoulders a little; his smile turned sheepish. He could say, ‘It feels safer to be near someone who has some grasp on what’s going on!’ (If you could call Kamilla’s limited knowledge of the Other Cherry a ‘grasp’ on it.) But instead, his eyes narrowed around a change of subject.

“Guess I’m just getting a jumpstart on the schoolyear.”

It’s not like Jamie had very many belongings to move in from his Van, but somehow trudging them up toward his dorm room - paid for fully with students loans that would surely come back to bite him in the ass -  still felt like sort of a big deal. His first place that was all his own! (Even if it technically was split down the middle with Ted Lewis... and CCU property, but whatever!) It was good enough for Jamie as he shoved his backpack full of clothes into a drawer, and set his guitar in the corner - it was good enough for Jamie as he sat on his bed and bounced just a little. Huh. When was the last time he had slept on an actual mattress and not just the mat that was laid out in his van? 

When was it all going to fall apart, like it always did? 

The thought was a whirlwind. It was a trigger, and it’s fire left him spinning out toward the buzz of the quad and the flurry of people. He needed to find a familiar face - he needed to find a moment of peace. He just needed something. 

“You ever think about how lucky we are to live at the same time as CCU cheerleaders?” Jamie said out loud to no one in particular as he waved a group of girls - out of Uniform, but wholly recognizable! Who wouldn’t know a Fighting Cherry by sight in this little town? - past. “I’d never lay down and invite God to let me suffer, but for one of them...?” 

He smirked. “I’d suffer.” 

Maddie was naturally a little nosey, it wasn’t that she wanted to dig up the dirt on others or even mildly stir the soil for that matter, she just liked to feel as if she were a part of things. Since that was the case, it was rather fitting that Maddie was in charge of the ledger that contained everybody’s dorm assignments for the semester. She could see where everybody would be living, who they would be sharing their quarters with, with whom they would have neighboring walls and it was all very exciting to her.

As a recent transfer student, she didn’t know everybody on the ledger and it was a perfect opportunity for her to put faces to names and feel like she was contributing something to the CCU community in the process. More comforting than that, however, was to see the gang around the place, despite all that had happened as of late.

“Hey,” Maddie greeted, “Got your assignment yet? I won’t tell if you want to do a little swapsies, there’s still time,” more than half of the names in the ledger remained unmarked, which meant, in Maddie’s exclusive opinion that as the on-duty dorm assignment director, she also had the power to move things around for the right person…or the right price.

☾⭒✶

“Did Hargrove knight you with that power himself, or are you just getting a kick out of playing god with all of the lost freshman?” Orientation day! Jamie would be lying if he said he had been looking forward to the school year - homework, and thinking about the future, and socialization, oh my! - but after spending the last few months breaking into houses, and sleeping in any parking lot he could find? It was safe to say that he’d much rather be torturing himself as a full time student than fending for himself out in the streets. Kind of. 

The real thing that had done him in was his grandmother begging for help on watching after Lux’s little Gang of misfits. He’d already do anything for Nanny - but the prospect of learning a little more about the weirdos? Sign Jamie up. 

“Pretty sure I’m bunking with Ted Lewis this year - but hey, if you could find me a single somewhere on that list?” Jamie waggled his eyebrows. It’s not like he had anything to offer, so he wouldn’t - and giving up the chance to get up close and personal with Lux’s cousin? Come on. But he’d never give up the chance to commit to the bit. 

“You waiting around for Yang too? Join the club.” So, maybe it was a party of one, but Jamie was certainly happy to finally have company after the hour he spent in Kamilla Yang’s waiting room ( a single chair in a carpeted shoebox?? Some waiting room!) all by himself.  How many times was he supposed to replay the CD on his Discman before he completely lost it, really?

It’s not like he had very pressing news to discuss with the Town’s historian, but he had dedicated his recent days to badgering the woman whenever he had a chance to. If there was a whole world mirroring their own, then Jamie wanted to know everything he could about it... If there was a chance his grandmother’s magic was real? Whoa, with a capital ‘W.’ 

“Sign on the door says, ‘out for lunch,’ but I’m pretty sure she’s just avoiding me. We got into a pretty heated debate over the origins of the Hallows yesterday - and not to brag! - but I wouldn’t exactly want to face me either after that, so...” Jamie scrunched his nose up in amusement - and braced himself for Kamilla to, like, come popping out of one of the walls to correct him on his mistruth: she had definitely won the argument. “I’m just saying, it might be a while.” 

It was a dark night in Cherry Township, and the stars above were twinkling in a way that made Jamie Cromwell feel sort of glad that he lived there for once. It was always a fleeting feeling, appreciating the hometown he was practically bound to by name and obligation... But when shit felt this normal, how could he help himself? His mouth was filled with the sweet, earthy smoke puffing from his joint, and his lungs burned in the best way throughout the inhale. The silence between him and Sabrina Logan - what a strange confidant to have perched beside him - was nice. Why couldn’t things always be like this, right? 

“Yo, your sister get back from that trip yet?” Jamie wasn’t sure he should bring it up; Logan politics always seemed to be both safe and unsafe territory - Schrodinger’s Hot Topics... but things were calm for right now. When else should he ask? “Like... You talked yet?” 

WHO: open WHAT: sully is trying to get to know all the cherry residents, so he’s out and about!  WHERE: the boardwalk 

“Am I the only one who thinks these ride tickets are overpriced?” Sully currently had one hand occupied by a ball of cotton candy that rivalled the size of his head and the other by a handful of ride coupons that he was squinting at, looking back and forth between them and the booth he’d just bought them from. Despite having been in Cherry a week, he’d selected today to do the ‘tourist-y’ thing, strutting down the boardwalk with a big stupid grin on his face, waving at babies, starting up conversation with anyone he vaguely recognised (or didn’t). It was all part of the persona he was trying to wear like a slightly ill-fitting suit, a face to put on that was more easily trusted than the usual Sully Lewis who’d been drifting through life for the last year or so. Shooting them another humbled grin, he tucked the tickets in his pocket. “I sound like a dumb asshole, don’t I?” The self-depreciating bit worked wonders too, he figured. 

☾⭒✶

“Don’t think you sound like a dumb asshole, but I think you might be the only person thinking so hard about it all.” With a grin like the Cheshire Cat, and an air about him that screamed, ‘where did you come from?’ Jamie Cromwell had always been known for making quite the entrance! Now, as he sidled up to the man speaking like they had been walking together the whole time, was no exception.

 Sullivan ‘Sully’ Lewis: newest transplant in the town of Cherry Trees And Beach Views, and the cousin of none other than their Deceased Local Celebrity, Lux Lewis. Color the Cromwell intrigued enough to have done, at least, some of his research. Color the Cromwell intrigued enough to have kept an eye out for him. 

 “I think that most people who spend time in Cherry are pretty firmly on the, ‘Fuck Hargrove’ train Sounds counterintuitive, but knowing you hate ‘em all really makes a lot easier to just, like, throw your money down on the ticket booth, with a big ‘ol, ‘Screw You,’ and throttle the prize booths for all they’re worth.” 

God, it was bad to be stuck at the Hargrove table. There was a brief period where it was bearable, when Jillian brought them some food and hung out for a minute. But as soon as she walked off it was miserable again, with Zev having nothing to do but stand there and no interest in anything being said. Jamie’s arrival was like a rush of cool wind on a hot day (which he would also appreciate literally, not just metaphorically). He dramatically blinked twice at his friend, not even caring anymore what his stepfather saw. What was Hargrove going to do? Grab him by the shirt and yell at him in front of all his constituents? No. Sure, there would be consequences when they got home, but he could cross that bridge when he came to it.

“I’m not really doing anything here,” he responded, loud enough for Hargrove to hear. “I’m sure it wouldn’t be a big deal if I stepped away…” A glance to his stepfather to see if there would be any reaction. When the man didn’t say anything, Zev stepped out from behind the table and nodded to Jamie. “I wanna hear about the club plans, for sure. Like, over there,” he gestured vaguely into the distance, hoping Jamie would understand that he just meant far away from Hargrove, immediately, please! 

☾⭒✶

Jamie couldn’t help himself but laugh at the brief display of rebellion from Zev King. Was it really that easy not to listen to big bad Hargrove? Did it really take less than just an explanation to let his step-son go? Because Jamie knew that if he were the one stuck with the interim ruler, he’d go to the ends of the earth to try and make the man’s life a living hell. Screaming matches? Public embarrassment? Total chaos that might only envy living in actual hell? Check, check, and check. 

“Come on, kid,” Jamie threw an arm around Zev’s shoulder, and a wink back at Hargrove - see ya later, dictator! - “Let’s get the hell away from Hargrove Central before the bloodthirst starts to rub off, yeah?” 

***  “So, how’s Summer been treating you?” Jamie’s van wasn’t exactly, like, the coolest, chillest hangout spot in Cherry, but he figured it would do for the time being. There were pillows on the floor, and a mini fridge full of Old Milwaukee - there was the steady sound of Journey playing in the background. What more could you ask for? 

There was a brief period of time in Rory’s life when someone could materialize at her elbow and she wouldn’t jump. When she first moved to Cherry any sudden movement made her flinch. No matter how many years went by, it was hard to forget the look of horror on her uncle’s face the first time he raised his voice at his ten-year-old niece and she flinched away, expecting to be hit. If you’re raised with an angry man in your house, there will always be an angry man in your house. Rocky spent the next few months proving to her that there was no angry man in the Jackson household, teaching her what safety felt like.  

Now? Old habits were resurfacing, like muscle memory she never truly unlearned. She felt edgy again, the way she had right after being kidnapped by Grace under the boardwalk. So when a vaguely familiar face appeared at her side, greeting her by name, Rory recoiled without meaning to. But her expression twisted into something a little apologetic, an almost sheepish smile. “Hi-” she stopped short, realizing she wasn’t 100% positive what his name was. She gave it her best shot anyways. “Jamie, right?”

Had Jamie (?) been making fun of anyone else, he probably would’ve struck out, but Mr. Hargrove was one of the few people in Cherry that she unquestionably, vehemently, disliked. Her nose wrinkled as she looked over his shoulder to where the interim mayor was greeting someone else. “What an ass,” she muttered. He wanted to be mayor, serving the entire town, when he so thinly veiled his dislike for half of them? Make it make sense. “Now that is an actual silver lining. I mean, the tarot again, not the dark times. Kinda hoping the dark times are over for a while…”

After getting over the initial anxiety, the small talk with a stranger was oddly refreshing. Everyone had been so wary of the gang the past few months… Rory missed just talking to people. So she gave Jamie her best friendly smile despite her earlier nerves, and volleyed his question back to him, even though she hadn’t really answered it herself. “Are you enjoying all this?”

☾⭒✶

Jamie could only return the sheepish smile that Rory gave him when she actually knew his name. It wasn’t something he had been expecting - as sad as that was - but someone like Jamie was always growing used to being part of the unknown. Used to being part of the fringe on the outskirts of Cherry that the real Proper kids didn’t have to pay attention to. “Yeah,” He nodded his head, curls bouncing along with him, “I’m - I’m Jamie. Cromwell. Jamie Cromwell.” One more nod for good measure.

Jamie couldn’t help but snort at her comment regarding the interim mayor. He could think of a few other choice names for someone like Hargrove: someone who had been staring Jamie down, satisfied at the way he’d flinch since he was just a kid trailing along at his Nan’s side. “You could say that again,” The corner of Jamie’s mouth smirked up a little. “I’d say worse, but? You can say it again.”

He decided not to dwell on the dark times for the… time being. Tarot was cool - it was all he did with his Sundays when he helped make lunch for the Witches, and helped to shuffle the cards for the women whose arthritis was acting up that day… But stacking too much on the back of their first interaction? Probably a bad move.

“I asked first, you know?” Jamie narrowed his eyes - playfully, of course! - but there was a little part of him that hoped, *maybe*, that she’d be the type to see it all for what it was. Performative bullshit! He hadn’t exactly gotten lucky with Proper kids in the past, though. “But fine, yeah - I’ll bite. It’s loud, and in your face, and something tells me there, like, might be better avenues to get everyone entrenched in local politics than Hasim and Hargrove’s pissing contest in the middle of town square?” Jamie waggled his eyebrows. “Can’t beat the food, though, so. Solid 6/10.” 

“Hey,” Maddie greeted warmly, a bright red slush puppie forming condensation and dribbling over the fingers of her right hand she approached the male with a smile on her face.

“I think…” what did she think? She considered it for a moment or so, as if the question wasn’t just the slightest bit ridiculous, “I think there’s no way that anybody could think up any of that shit without popping a couple of Es first,” It hadn’t occurred to Madeline that Michelangelo most definitely did not have a shady dealer who hooked him up with a little bag of pills before he went clubbing back in 1400s or like, whatever- but it didn’t matter, she believed her point was still totally valid. 

As for part B of the question, Maddie thought 2 pm was indeed a little too early to be knocking around with whatever it was that inspired Jamie to be a Californian, van dwellin’ Michaelangelo of his own but she supposed it probably was none of her business. “Red or Blue?” she asked instead, holding up the slush puppies in each of her hands, one for her and one for Jamie, “I took a sip one of of them already but I’ll tell you which one it is after you make your decision,” she explained.

☾⭒✶

Jamie’s eyes widened at the comment - a laugh spilled over his lips, bubbling up like fizz when you twisted open a Coca-Cola - but he didn’t read too far into it. He had only done ecstasy once before, in the middle of the woods with a couple of his friends from the music scene. They had watched the moon for a while - risked their necks climbing up the water tower with a chorus of laughs falling from their lips... Jamie remembers it all sounding like a symphony. He remembers regretting not writing down the notes of it all that night before he went to bed. “I think you’re probably right about that.” 

Jamie hadn’t exactly painted many murals without being a couple joints down, damn his coodependencies,  but the sight of Slush Puppies - surprisingly - had him forgetting all about the ‘Woe’s of a Sober Artist’ and had him tilting his head excitedly toward the offerings. Red or Blue? “Blue - definitely blue,” Jamie waggled his eyebrows as he reached for the ice pop. “Things always taste better when they’re blue. You notice that?” 

Stalling, Jamie! You’re stalling!  “Did you bring this out for me, or...?” Jamie decided not to listen to the voice in his head as he settled down onto the sand outside the shop. “Hate to think I stole someone’s Slush Puppie.” 

Cristiano didn’t really know Jamie. He spent a couple of hours with him once…when he covertly used a dungeons and dragons club meeting to convince CCU students to register to vote last semester (suck on those apples Hargrove). From what he gathered, Jamie was a pretty standup person. Vocal. Weird. Cool hair. A-okay in Cristiano’s book. He smirked at the compliment. If that’s what it was. “I mean, I just wear what feels good most of the time. So I get it.” He said with a reserved shrug. “And it’s a really nice jacket, by the way.” He suggested, with a slight shoulder bump. 

He fingered through the rack of clothes before him. “I think clothing is just another one of those modes of expression. Something that somebody will eventually use to decipher your story. Give meaning to your being and all that.” He paused by some turtlenecks. Why was Jillian selling turtlenecks in the middle of summer? His head whipped toward Jamie. “Wouldn’t it be dope to buy a matching outfit? Show up to CCU this fall and take control of our stories. Weird kids with great hair and killer fashion sense.” He suggested, carelessly talking with his hands. 

☾⭒✶

Jamie didn’t think anyone had ever really referred to his jacket as ‘nice,’ only ever as ‘ratty,’ or ‘typical,’ or ‘totally worth throwing out, immediately.’ It was a simple compliment - one that should have rolled right along over his shoulders - but instead it seemed to settle somewhere within his chest. He imagined it might be what it felt like if his father had passed down the jacket himself; if his Nanny would look at it with anything other than disdain, but... “Thanks, dude.” Jamie just answered with a laugh. 

He couldn’t help himself but contort his face into a sort of - what was he supposed to call it? A grin? A mess of amusement? “Matching outfits, Van Allen?”  Jamie shook his head - he ran his fingers over the same crop of turtlenecks. Did people actually wear these? “I know I’m, like, stuck to a uniform or whatever? But I’m not sure showing up on the first day, totally twinning, is going to help us take over our stories.” Jamie knew how people in Cherry worked. 

Jamie had always been a guy that would take work wherever he could get it. There had hardly been a place in Cherry that didn’t have him somewhere on the payroll - hardly a person that hadn’t paid him to mow their lawn, or clean out their garage - so when Wilco Wilson, town legend in Jamie Cromwell’s eyes, asked him to paint on a mural on the side of Surf’s Up? How was he supposed to say no?  He had been collecting paints, and sketching outlines for days now, too nervous to actually start painting... but now that there were crowds? People who might pay him to paint instead of clean out their gutters? Come on. He was going to paint. 

He stripped his leather jacket - his sleeves were rolled up as far as he could get them in the California heat - but paintbrush to wall was proving... well? 

“Maddie!” Jamie couldn’t help but put a little lilt on her name as she strolled into his vision. There was relief built in every part of his tone, but he tried not to make it too obvious. She wasn’t a Cherry Native - just a seasonal addition to his life - but he knew a good distraction when he saw one. And Maddie? She was a good distraction.

“Maddie, Maddie, Maddie - answer me this. Do you think Michelangelo painted the Sistine Chapel sober?” Jamie raised an eyebrow toward her - raised a paintbrush toward her. 

closed starter for @jamiecromwell​​

There was a time in Sabrina’s life that she actually enjoyed town events like this one. In fact, she practically used to live for them. Her mother was always too distracted to have eyes glued to her, and Sabrina often pulled her sisters along until they had disappeared into the crowd. It was then that she could let out whatever breath she’d been holding that week, that she could relax even a minuscule amount. Being indistinguishable among a crowd was downright heaven for a girl like Sabrina, who was always so careful about her every move, who was picked apart for every wrong step she made. 

These days, that anonymity was terrifying to her. Not only her own, but everyone else’s. It’d happened before, the Candy Girl had managed to cause havoc without anyone seeing her at events just like this one. She might have been gone, but what was stopping a copycat? She shouldn’t have come just to prove a stupid point to Harvey, not when she knew everything would be sending off warning bells in her head.

What she wasn’t expecting to see were the faces of Bertram Montez and Ethan Powers staring at her from among the crowd. It forced her to take a huge step backwards, stumbling towards the nearest building even after their faces morphed back into the townspeople they actually were. Of course they weren’t really there, of course it was a trick of the light, Sabrina’s mind making things up. It didn’t matter, she was already panicking, she was already inside and slamming the door behind her. 

“It’s not real, it’s not real, it’s not real.”

☾⭒✶

One thing of note? Jamie was used to weird things happening in Cherry, like, all the time. Big ordeals? Whatever. Loud noises? Fine. But the sound of door slamming, and then the soft, subtle mantra of, ‘it’s not real?’ It hard alarm bells ringing in that curly, unruly head of his. 

He was hidden behind a shelf in the community center, organizing donations that his Nan had been gathering throughout the day with the rest of the Witches. The sight of Sabrina Logan, though - Sabrina Logan who had been stabbed how many times? Sabrina Logan who had been involved with Bertram Montez, murderer, and prisoner? Sabrina Logan who had stood up for Jamie in his Freshman year when nobody else would? - had his hands going everywhere, and his brain whirring, and his eyes peeking out from behind the shelf like a prairie dog. 

Was he supposed to approach her? Was he supposed to say something? Jamie didn’t know - Jamie felt like he should probably just sink back into the shadows - but instead he cleared his throat, making his presence known in a way that, hopefully, wouldn’t scare her. “Uh -”  There were cans of Spaghettios in both hands, and a look on his face that screamed - I WILL DO NO HARM! I WILL NOT HURT YOU! - but Jamie still worried she might jump out of her skin. “Totally not trying to freak you out, or anything I just thought, like...” God, shut up, Jamie. 

𝐖𝐇𝐎: debra foster & OPEN

𝐖𝐇𝐀𝐓:​​ lil debs doing her dirty work 4 the day

𝐖𝐇𝐄𝐑𝐄: the block party, obvi!

The lines between Proper and the Southside had slowly began to fade. Well, if they could all coexist at a block party, maybe it would be! It also gave Debra the perfect front to actually be at the block party. Had she shown up of her own volition with no Southsiders in sight… she would have had a bit of explaining to do. Luckily, she had been tasked to mingling on the Proper side. There weren’t many girls in the Southside gang, and not many that could throw on innocence like Debra. Thus, she was given a dress code by Hasim, to wear something unsuspecting as if to say hey, Southsiders can look nice too! She tugged at the sun dress she was in, clipboard in hand, as she hunted down voters. She had been bouncing between her job at The Pit and the Southside Gang all day long and just needed a break. Was this what it would be like when she was inevitably split between both worlds? Maybe!

She wanted to sit down, maybe have a lemonade, but Debra had been given a goal. Get youngin’s to either register to vote or convince voters that Hasim was in the best interest of Cherry Township. It was a task that Debra wasn’t surprised fell on her. How could you say no to a face like hers? “Hi, sorry to be a bother,” she smiled softly, tapping the next person she saw on the shoulder. If she could secure them, maybe she’d be allowed a break. “I’m with Hasim Erdogan’s campaign. I was wondering if there was any way I could convince,” or bribe, “you into registering to vote? Or at least hearing about our plans for Cherry? It would only take two minutes, tops!”

☾⭒✶

Now, here was a face that he didn’t immediately recognize - a presence in Cherry Township that he couldn’t immediately place - but he supposed that nobody in Cherry was that far off when you got to the, like, ‘Seven Degrees of Kevin Bacon’ of it all. Someone always knew someone, who knew someone else... Still. It was nice to be able to swipe a grin across his face, and mean it - someone who might not have some predisposed opinion of him? Wow. 

“I actually registered to vote the day I turned 18? My Nan basically escorted my ass down to the courthouse... Shoved all the forms in my hands, and said that ‘It’s my duty as a Cromwell to try and keep the rich assholes who live around here from running things for the rest of us.’” Jamie’s smile went a little sideways - bad way to introduce himself? Maybe. “Guess she saw this whole thing coming at some point.” 

Okay, so, Kitty Maddox. Jamie could still remember the days when they ran around the trailer park together, so late into the night that the stars sparkled above them. Neither of their mothers cared much to call them back in - neither of them were worried over when it came to dinner, or bedtime - so instead, Jamie and Kitty worried over each other. 

He remembers their little meals of twinkies, and the bags of chips that he managed to steal from the corner store on his way home. If they were really treating themselves, Jamie would climb onto a chair and make them both macaroni and cheese that they would split into paper bowls before running off to devour them somewhere far from their front doors. 

Jamie remembers sneaking into her trailer, side-by-side, and late enough that Kitty’s mom had fallen asleep on their tiny couch, cigarette still burning bright. He put it out for her; he helped tucked the covers of Kitty’s blanket tight around her shoulders, and waited until she was sleeping to go. 

Jamie remembers protecting Kitty Maddox with every he had, until the day that Kitty Maddox told him to get lost like some sort of White Fang Nightmare come to life. He supposed he couldn’t blame her, though, when it all really came down to it. 

He couldn’t fucking imagine trading her for popularity - couldn’t imagine changing just to follow the fold... But he knew how badly she had always wanted to fit. He knew how badly that Kitty Maddox needed to be accepted, so, one more time, Jamie made a sacrifice and laid down his fucking armor when she began to fight him. Kitty Maddox, his best friend, became a neighbor, became an enemy, became a stranger. Poetic as shit. 

“The new boyfriend seems cool - not your usual type. Do you have some kind of She’s All That,” God, Jamie hoped he was getting that reference right. The key to communicating with the popular kids? Speaking their language. “Deal going with the kid, or what? Show him the wonders of being whoever you want to be so people will fall at his feet?” Jamie did think Mac Walsh was cool - fellow musician, employee at the only fucking record store in town; he just couldn’t get the words ‘long-haired freak’ out of his head. At least he was willing to go to bat for Kitty. “Or could Kitty Maddox be going through yet another evolution? What are we looking at this time? Mystic Cherry groupie, or... grunge girl? Just in time for y2k! Perfect timing. All the flannels will probably fit in pretty well post-apocalypse, or whatever.” 

There’s a lot to process from the moment Jamie opens his mouth. One of the witches?  What would getting up close and personal with the Phantom entail? The Cromwell file? It’s a lot to take on board even if you’re not a hand-on-heart skeptic. Which he very much is. Although it’s enough of an introduction to pique his interest at least. “Well… I was clearly brought in to be the muscle of the office,” Jaspar jokes. It’s very apparent with just a glance at Jaspar’s lanky frame that he’s never been in a fight in his life… with the bin bags when they were overflowing maybe. At a push. Even then it was practically etched on his face that he’d apologise to inanimate objects if given a chance to.

He pauses for a moment, quietly glancing over Jamie’s face as he tries to gauge why the line of questioning has come about. But Jaspar doesn’t truly know what Kamilla saw in him to offer him the internship. It’s not like he’d been hiding the fact that ghosts and the supernatural just aren’t his cup of tea when he’d started at Kamilla’s office for the first time. “I don’t know what to tell you - I just asked nicely!” He finally quips with a little shrug and a smile. “I also brought in a laminated copy of my resume and a handmade loaf of brioche. They won’t say it in The Family Cookbook but the trick really is all in the kind of butter you use.” 

☾⭒✶

Jamie narrowed his eyes toward the other boy, though the grin never really left his lips; it was just sort of hard to believe, after so many years in Cherry. Kamilla letting an out-of-towner work in that little office full of mysteries with her? Laminated resume and brioche aside, something wasn’t adding up - and yeah, Jamie fucking sucked at math, but last time he checked 1+1 didn’t equal an internship in, arguably, the most exclusive office in town. “Must be some damn good butter, then if it helped convince Kamilla to let you poke around in her precious files,” Jamie slowed to a stop. “Like, out of this world good.”