"Do ya? Do ya? Do ya? Now, do you think you love me, Mary Jane?"
Mysterious murders beyond the understanding of science and the human brain are uncovered in the deepest, darkest parts of the deep south-following the rest of the world. Detective duo...
WORD COUNT: 6.2K TW: cursing, heavy religious themes (it's a melting pot), conspiracies. NOTE: sorry for late updates, unc and a close friend just died within the same timeframe so I'm tryna keep it pushing.
(Y/N) - your name (L/N) - last name (H/C) - hair color (E/C) - eye color (S/C) - skin color (HI/T) - height (H/L) - hair length (H/T) - hair type (B/D) - birthday (F/C) - fav color (F/D) - fav drink (F/FL) - fav flavor (F/F) - fav food (F/S) - fav snack (B/T) - body type (E/T) - ethnicity
"THE DEVIL WENT DOWN TO GEORGIA, HE WAS LOOKIN' FOR A SOUL TO STEAL. HE WAS IN A BIND 'CAUSE HE WAS WAY BEHIND."
— THE CHARLIE DANIELS BAND. | THE DEVIL WENT DOWN TO GEORGIA
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"I'm in love with Mary Jane, she's my main thang'."
(S/C) fingers intricately carved waves into the head of platinum hair like a Japanese painting from the edo period. It sat comfortably on a mannequin and almost made the doll come to life, bringing a content smile to (Y/N)'s face. Her speaker played a song in the corner of her bathroom as she checked through the wide, wall-to-wall mirror for any imperfections in the hair. Giving her fingers a rest, she put down the comb next to the mousse and scratched her natural (H/C) mane.
The bathroom was a considerable size and stretched at least two and a half meters in all directions to create an equal square. Behind her stuck a polished, marble clawfoot tub with golden handles curving inwards to create the illusion of a snake. The middle faucet was carved to resemble a cobra with real ruby gemstones for eyes; they glowed in the early mornings when the rising sun seeped through her floor-to-ceiling windows and the open balcony a few feet behind the tub. Her bathroom came with checkered tiles, a lone shower head behind glass doors (yes, it was a golden cobra) in the corner adjacent to her boom box, a marbled toilet, and a wide counter with two sinks and two cobra faucets that had the same details as the bathtub and the shower head (plus, they took up the entirety of its respective wall).
A string of hums left her vocal cords. The cheery ding of a gas stove went off and alerted (Y/N) that her dinner was ready to be served. Crickets sounded outside of her bathroom's open window and acted as a door to several dancing fireflies, who fluttered in sync with Rick James' Mary Jane playing in the corner. Their lights flickered on and off every few seconds to the beat of the music. Light fog circulated on her checkered floor and around the bathroom in search for any piece of metal or glass the humidity could get its hands on to initiate condensation; it probably just rained. Though she was severely stressed out once she got home, (Y/N) popped open her specially-made butter and got to baking a sweet treat. The mix of (F/FL), plants, and humid southern air from the open balcony flooded her nose, as did the overbearing beeping of her alarm to her ears.
