PUNISHER.

The grin was slow to spread on his lips, but when it did there was no concealing the smug expression as the man witnessed what he could only deem to be the actions of a kindred spirit. The residents of Red Ridge, a stand-up bunch. He stared for a moment. Jack’s green eyes fixated on the woman with the red lipstick and cigarette she favored in lieu of any meaningless chat. “Haven’t we all, darlin’.” The response lagged, but so did the one that proceeded that. Jack remained where he stood, his long frame slouched against the wall with one leg stretched out in the walkway of others just hoping someone would trip. A real honorable individual. “So…” Jack gave a slow nod to where she had tucked away the bills taken from the unsuspecting. “You know that makes me an accomplice. Call me old fashion but partners in crime usually go fifty-fifty.” 

Thud! Face first on the ground with a groan, that was that state of the blond male who had taken the bait and tripped over Jack’s outstretched leg. Funny enough to momentarily pull his attention elsewhere. “Eh!, watch it,” he shouted and just as the blond scurried to his feet with a beady-eyed glare at Jack. “Some people.” Jack shook his head in disapproval, but the mischievous glint in his eyes had been highlighted when that smug grin had returned, crinkling the corners of his eyes. 

Why was it that misery brought her joy? Probably because she was deeply miserable herself, riddled with beastly intentions. It’s something to save face, to unleash the inner workings that threaten to destroy her and reveal what truly lives underneath. That alone seemed disgustingly cliche to Jenny. It reminds her of when her mother would open up, pouring out her heart only to deny her daughters they same opportunity. Everything was always one sided. But, for once, Jenny experiences a mutual trade. A cheeky smirk, a miserable human. 

A smile of her own tugs at the corner of her reddened mouth, head canting to the side as the man beside her speaks. “Not true,” Jenny remarks, eyebrows quirking updates, “Finder’s keepers. Haven’t you learned anything from this cruel world? That’s common knowledge.” She teases, taking another slow drag of her cigarette. The scenario continues, paired with a person falling flat onto their face. Jenny’s mouth puckers as if she’s just sucked on a lemon, doing what she can to stifle the laughter that threatens to burst from inside her throat. A shake of her head comes next, earning short curls to move along with her. “Maybe it’s karma. Maybe they’ve just come back from telling an old, sick lady to go fuck themselves and now they’ve just face planted into the damn concrete. You might have just contributed to fate. That’s really something..” A shrug, obviously still going along with the steady wit that brews between them. 

“You hungry? I’m starving,” The brunette says, tossing her cigarette to the ground, stepping on it carefully with the toe of her boot. Afterwards, she digs her hand back into her pocket, plucking out the money she’s just stolen, “My treat.”

Wine makes her warm, earning a subtle reddened flush to decorate her bony cheeks. It was the most anyone will ever get out of someone like Jenny Mann. You’d believe someone like her would rather jump into shark infested waters instead of displaying sincerity. It’s the truth, really. She’s learned to accept the thin veil that blankets her being. Her mother used to say she was like a ghost. Mainly because she was quite light on her feet and often snuck up on people, shouting a loud BOO! into their faces. Though, deep down, Jenny’s formed some metaphorical attachment to the prospect of being dubbed a ghost by her own mother. 

Lanky fingers bring a lit cigarette to her lips, taking a long drag. Smoke fills her mouth and then he lungs before it’s moving back through the air, through the thin slot between her darkened lips, clad in red lipstick. Someone walks back, sifting through their belongings, money falls out of somewhere and Jenny’s brows quirk. She leans down and plucks the money from the pavement, shoving it into her back pocket. That’s until she notices an onlooker within the corner of her eye. The brunette only shrugs, “I’ve accepted that I’m a shitty person.” 

where. blue hill diner.

when. 23:45.

with. anyone. ( @redridgestart​​ )

BLUE HILL DINER : a sort of safe haven for the brunette. The dilapidated little eatery consistently served as the one place Alaia sought solace in time and time again. The one place where she felt fully able to escape the hubbub of daily living and all the stresses attached to life. Always a creature of habit, the soldier was rather fond of the establishment. Occupying a corner table, a steaming cup of coffee and a half-eaten croissant perched next to her, red-polished fingertips tapped against the glass screen of her iPhone ; hurriedly responding to a text message. If she’d been further engrossed, she might have failed to take notice of the figure approaching. Casting a brief glimpse, umber hues momentarily considering the person before her, an expression of indifference claimed Alaia’s expression. “ Listen, ” she began, continuing with her one-handed typing. “ I don’t have a lot of time to waste. So I suggest you either take a seat or move along. ” Her tone was laced with mild irritation, words evident with subtle annoyance.

After a long shift, Jenny was starving. You’d think the life of a bus and taxi driver would be a little more glamorous than this. When she picked up this job, she thought she might see some familiar faces in the back, and perhaps she’d drive them to lavish-looking parties inside large penthouses. But, no, it was all drunk people and the occasional housewife cheating on her husband. Jenny could always tell because there was a shadow where their ring used to be and it’s always slipped back on when Jenny drops them home. At least she had that entertainment. 

So, after another long day of intoxicated strangers and people drenched in infidelity, she was craving some pancakes. Preferably chocolate chip. Jenny’s disheartened to see someone in her favorite booth, earning a frown to spread across her lips. There’s a groan settled inside her throat, looking to the other side of the diner where an old man sits at a far away booth. He winks at her and Jenny almost gags. If she wasn’t so tired, she might go and steal his wallet from his pocket. But, inside, she heads towards her favorite booth where another woman sits. What she doesn’t expect is such harshness to ooze from her.

“Why don’t I take a giant dump on the booth and make you eat it instead? I heard shit is extremely nutritious.” The woman retorts, setting her bag down and sliding into the booth. She couldn’t be bothered. “You can’t be that busy. Unless you work for rich people who need you to feed them or something.” Jenny reaches for a menu and looks over the pancake specials, she doesn’t look up at she speaks, “This is my favorite booth. I’m staying. I like the view of the gym across the street. Sweaty people humble me.”

a long day couldn’t even begin to describe what bash had just been through. he always dreaded board meetings— not because he didn’t enjoy seeing the other members of the board, but because they were usually long and often, to put it bluntly, boring. when everything had been thoroughly discussed and agreed upon, sebastian was out of his seat and out the door as soon as the final ‘goodbye’ was said. he pushed his hair back as he walked through the casino, his powerful, well-dressed frame demanding attention as he went. as soon as he entered the speakeasy, he approached the bar, motioning to the bartender to have a drink sent to him immediately. “you haven’t been waiting here all night for me, have you?” he said, spotting the person beside him turn to look in his peripheral.

@redridgestart​

Gambling had begun a bit of a problem. Jenny would never fully admit that to herself, as she’s as stubborn as any human can be. But she desired the thrill, the money she made perfect for wasting. Or perhaps she was wasting herself, decaying under bright neon lights and the sound of dice rattling all around. The drinks didn’t help either. No, not at all. It was all liquid impulse, pushing her to indulge in every little desire inside her. Most of which were destructive. But what did she have to lose?

As she approaches the bar once more, resting her bucket of coins down onto the counter, someone speaks to her. Brown eyes are quick to avert to the source, her eyebrows furrowing together at the man’s words. “That wasn’t a pickup line, was it?” Jenny asks, ordering herself a glass of red wine. “If so, I think you could do way better than that. And that’s coming from the woman who once fucked a guy who used to do puppet shows about his life. Then he married his second cousin or something. Good guy. Good but really annoying.” When her wine comes, Jenny takes a generous sip, feeling content once the liquid moves down and through her throat. 

where: lewis’, 10 pm. to: open @redridgestart​

her thoughts have been slipping past her grip, lately. they trail out of her, like snakes crawling along the streets of a town that’s looking less like a town and more like a wasteland everyday. they escape her, latch themselves onto corners of the city where the asphalt smells like blood now, or something rotten, the pestilent fumes of decay. sometimes she forces herself to occupy her mind with something mundane, a small little detail to keep her tethered to a here and a now — a list of nothings to turn into white noise. a new detergent for her washing machine; that blouse she saw in the windows the other day; some flowers for the living room, red; red would look good on the white table cloth; red on white looks a lot like blood. 

she doesn’t realize that her hands have been escaping her control, too. by the time she snaps back to reality, she’s dug out the pen from her purse and has riddled a napkin with scribbles — it might look shapeless, it might look like a curly array of incoherent lines. she stares, blinks, and knows it looks just like a stain of ink. “jesus christ”, camille sighs, rubbing a hand over her face as if that could drain whatever kind of toxic sewage water has been leaking into her brain, where normal thoughts are supposed to be. glancing at the bottles behind the counter, she remembers college, how some girls would spend the night getting wasted just for the sake of it. fuck it, she’s never gotten drunk — maybe she needs to. “will you pour me another one?”, she clicks her fingernail against the empty glass, a tired look at the bartender. “actually, make it double”. 

Death was something Jenny Mann knew well. Decay was natural, natural in the way predators hunt prey or the simple circle of life. Most days, she’s a ghost. A deadly thing roaming the streets that have now turned an uneasy shade of crimson red. Red, blood, the copper smell blanketing the air that reminds Jenny of when she used to aggressively peel and bite the skin of her lips, causing blood to ooze from them. Her mouth was always coppery.

A heathen. That’s what her father used to say. You’re a heathen, Jenny. Those were his last words to her before she took her siblings and fled. It used to bother her. She’d often lie awake and picture his face while staring blankly at the ceiling. Then his voice would ring through her mind louder than the ambulance sirens just outside her little bedroom window. You’re a heathen, Jenny. Now she didn’t care as much.

So fucking what? Is what she wanted to say then. She didn’t. Now she only says it to the mirror, makeshift reenactment to fuel lackluster closure.

Blonde hair comes into view as Jenny steps into the bar. An all too familiar blonde, one Jenny loves to tease. A heathen. The woman plops down onto the stool beside her, a cheeky smile gracing her expression, “Tough day in the field?” She questions, obviously being sarcastic. Though a part of her was truly curious. Jenny leans a little closer, brown eyes peering downwards towards the napkin before Camille. For a moment, Jenny reminisces about the day they met. Or, the day Camille attempted to bust her. Nobody’s had the chops before, Jenny will give her that. Other than that, Jenny Mann was a phantom. “I believe in artistic expression but that looks like shit, Camille.”

Living by the hospital was not ideal. Most evenings, Jenny’s small apartment was illuminated by flashes of red and blue, a fatal combination, signaling an emergency. The sirens go all night, waking her up in the middle of her slumber, the sound blaring. It’s why it was nice to have someone there with her right now, something to distract from the sharp noises that ring through the streets and through the air of her space. 

Something to know about Jenny was that she was not a lover. Never has been. She’s a reluctant woman, really. But something about Amara unlocked untapped emotions within the older woman. Perhaps it’s a sisterly bond she never got to indulge upon with her own sisters. “My sisters are cunts,” Jenny says randomly as Amara puts eyeshadow along Jenny’s closed eyelids. They weren’t cunts and she doesn’t actually mean it, but Jenny was always saying things she doesn’t mean. She was a little like her mother in that way. 

Suddenly, before she can continue, she flinches, feeling like she’s gotten pigment in her eyes, “Ow! God, I’m gonna go blind from these little makeup sessions!” She jokes dramatically, leaning down to look in the mirror and inspect her eye.

It had been an overall slow night at Violet thus far. There was nothing particularly noteworthy happening, nothing grabbing Caspian’s attention, nothing to take his abundance of energy out on. He’d probably been cleaning the same whiskey glass for the last five minutes, and it was getting boring quickly. For a city that didn’t sleep, Red Ridge seemed incredibly sleepy right now. The sound of the door opening grabbed his attention; turning towards it, he gave the newcomer a little smile. “Welcome in,” he greeted as if he were the host at a formal restaurant. “What’s your poison tonight?” Hopefully this person had some way to entertain him.

@redridgestart​

Everything was purple, fatal indigo, the color swallowing Jenny whole. Being out on the town wasn’t a rare ting in her little world. Most days, she used nightlife to fuel the emptiness in her heart. It also helps to act as a distraction from the fear that Red Ridge brings. Bodies being found across this town was nothing new, but every time it happened there was newfound, widespread nervousness blanketing everyone’s emotions. Though Jenny does what she can to not show it, not to show that sense of weakness. 

So, she arrives at Violet after standing outside for a few minutes, deeply breathing and attempting to collect herself and her thoughts. It’s as if all the contents of her brain had fallen onto the pavement and Jenny was left to pick everything up and place them back into her head. “Wine. Surprise me.” She says, voice hoarse, plopping down onto one of the stools at the bar. “Can I smoke in here or no?” Jenny questions, already removing her carton of cigarettes from her bag. Brown eyes soon survey the air, seeing that it’s a rather slow night in this nighttime establishment, “Slow night, I guess.”

status: open for everyone @redridgestart​ location: subtext bookstore / 5 p.m.

“Not too far, Lyla,” he watched his daughter – a self-proclaimed bookworm – run her way into Subtext, straight upstairs towards the kids section. “Stop running!” he called out, watching her turn momentarily, throwing him a quick scowl and then a grin as she continued. She was rebellious, stubborn, fucking hard-headed, just like her father. It was funny, she looked a lot like her mother, had her nose, her hair, even some of the same expressions reminded him of her – but every bit of her personality was Damien’s.

He made his way towards the cafe area, not really one for books (it involved too much concentration, something he barely even had just to take care of his kid alone), seeing the line grow in front of him, his boot hitting against something small as he made his way forward. A pager. An actual fucking pager. He lowered himself to pick it up, his hands fidgeting with it for a minute, “damn, I haven’t seen one of these in forever.” His eyes caught sight of the person standing in front of him, “is this yours? Just found it on the floor there.”

Reading wasn’t something Jenny did often. Not for pleasure, anyway. Most of her reading came from learning about other people, snooping through their most personal files and documents. As well as social media profiles that serve as better entertainment than she could ever consume from any novel or storybook. 

As she’s looking through shelves of old books, her index finger running along the wood enveloping the books, a child runs past her while in her own little world. A shocked expression graces Jenny’s face at the sight of the young child. In truth, Jenny was never sure how to act around children or anyone younger than the age of fourteen. She was an awkward being, borderline blunt at times. Jenny was like the fucked up aunt that helped her nieces and nephews sneak out at night or pay for their weed. Certainly not the motherly type.

But perhaps she’d be a mother for the absurdly attractive man that settles before her, holding a pager as if they’ve plopped right into the eighties. A laugh sounds from her, deep and warm, “No way, man. Unless I’ve transported into some crappy 80s adventure movie and you’re some mystical creature holding my next conquest on a damn pager..then, yeah, it might be mine.” She shrugs before reaching a hand out, plucking the beeper from his grasp so she could get a better look. That’s when she quirks a brow, nodding towards the young girl who had just zoomed right past her. “That your kid?”

hey, everyone! i’m a little late to the intro party but i’m so happy and excited to be here! i’m bucky (21, she/her, est). i’m bringing you my mess of a woman, jenny. i currently have a stats page for her HERE and a pinterest board that i’m in love with right HERE. 

name: jenny ingrid mann nicknames: jen age: 34 ethnicity: white gender/pronouns: cis female, she/her sexual/romantic orientation: bisexual/biromantic been in red ridge for: seventeen years occupation: bus and taxi driver affiliation: none but is willing to work for anyone sun, moon and rising: scorpio sun, sagittarius moon, and gemini rising positive traits: charming, alluring, profound, humorous, and passionate. negative traits: dependent, fickle, selfish, flighty, and self-deprecating.

OVERVIEW OF JENNY’S BACKSTORY. @redridgeimp​

TRIGGER WARNINGS: child abuse, radical religion, apocalypse mentions, and animal death.

JENNY aesthetics ....