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Jolyne turns the shower off with a sigh, feeling the still-hot water dripping down her shoulders and legs. She pulls aside the shower curtain and steps out with one leg. Then, bracing herself on the wall nearby, shakes off her other leg still in the shower tub. She steps back into the tub, and repeats this, shaking off her other leg. It’s efficient. Not something she used to be, but something she’s learned to be since her stint in prison all those years ago.
As she steps out onto the bath mat, she grabs her towel(the lilac one. Everyone in the house has colour-coded towels), and begins drying herself off, starting with her chest and shoulders, and working her way down her body. The towel is cheap, the threadbare fibres are rough on her skin. It feels more like drying off with a piece of sandpaper than a towel. But it’s all she and her housemates can afford. Job prospects are pretty slim when you’re all felons relatively fresh out of prison, even in a state like Oregon.
She dries off her calves and feet, stepping up daintly off the bath mat as she dries them. There were few things in life Jolyne hated more than wet socks, and she refused to go barefoot in a house with messy housemates like Weather and Ermes. Both of them were walking minelayers, leaving bits of chips and tracking dirt and rocks through the house. Weather in particular was really bad about it. None of her housemates took their shoes off in the house, but Weather worked construction, and he sometimes even tracked in tails and bits of wood from the job site…
She sighs, going to the bath counter and picking up the hair dryer, her towel slung over her shoulders to catch any moisture coming off of her hair. The hair dryer is a cheap one, an ancient Sunbeam model that Ermes picked up at Goodwill after they’d all collectively decided that they didn’t want to put up with wet hair in a place that was cold and wet. The hair dryer was probably older than Jolyne at this point, but her and her housemates didn’t have the budget for a fancy brand new hair dryer. Money was tight with them, and they couldn’t be spending their money on things that they could get secondhand. Sure, the Speedwagon Foundation had gotten them all out at least parole before helping secure final freedom, but they weren’t willing to provide them with any extra assistance besides that. Apparently Jotaro’s lengthy hospital stay and all the legal fees for Jolyne and her friends had put a serious dent in the budget they might otherwise use to support the Joestars and their allies. Not even Ermes’ boob money could save them now.
Whatever, at least Jolyne was free, living her life with some of her best friends and allies in a state miles away from all the horrible memories of Green Dolphin and their battles with that priest. Away from all the horrible shit that happened in Florida, the things that she’d like to never think about again. Joylne turns on the hair dryer and starts working on her hair, lifting it up layer by layer to make sure it dries evenly. She has thick hair, with silky, fine strands that take forever to dry. It’s like her hair sucks up water like a sponge. The others in the house didn’t have this problem, and Jolyne’s endlessly jealous of them. Hell, they didn’t even need to use hairspray to get volume in their hair. Anasui always looked like they were fresh off of the cover of Vogue even when they just fell out of bed in the morning and Ermes looked flawless every day. What did Jolyne get? Looking like a damp possum.
The hair dryer clicks off suddenly, and Jolyne sighs, fiddling with the switch on the side, pushing it up and down to no avail. This happened sometimes, the hair dryer had a broken cord that Anasui had repaired with their Stand, but it never functioned properly. Not that Anasui would admit that they probably messed up and didn’t fix the hair dryer properly. They were too proud to say that they made mistakes, especially when they were around Jolyne. They were still trying to get on Jolyne’s good side even though Jolyne had made it pretty clear that she wasn’t interested. Oh well, typical Anasui.
Frustrated, Jolyne puts the hair dryer down and stares blankly at her face in the mirror. Her hair is still more or less soaking wet, deflated layers of lilac and black hair clinging to her face and neck. For a moment, she thinks that she kind of looks like a wet chihuahua. All deflated and shrimpy looking. She supposes she could put her buns in, but… No, that would just make her hair get all gross and crimped and possibly even moldy. She shudders that one time when she’d been locked out of the showers in prison for a week, and her braid had started growing some stuff on it… Horrible. She supposes that’s what happens when you have super-dense hair.
She half-heartedly tries to towel off her hair and get it a little more dry, but all it results in is her hair getting tangled and looking even worse than before. Realizing that was dumb, Jolyne runs her fingers through her hair, trying to untangle it. She does pretty well in getting her hair into a presentable state. But it does absolutely nothing to solve the core issue of her hair being so wet that it’s still dripping cold water down her neck.
Shuddering, Jolyne gives up and puts her day clothes on, before stealing Ermes’ bee-patterned towel and using it to keep the water off her clothes. Good thing it’s Saturday. She would have literally died if she had to go into work with soaked hair like this. She always thought her head looked so weirdly tiny without her buns or any sort of updo… Feeling self-conscious, Jolyne decides that she’ll hang around the house until her hair dries out, then maybe she can make something of her day off from work…
Leaving a small trail of water behind her, Jolyne wanders into the living room and sits down on the couch. It’s another secondhand find, this time by Ermes, who found it at a yard sale. For $50 in this economy, it was a pretty amazing couch. Jolyne just wished that they could just get the smell of cigarettes off of it. At least she’d been able to use her newfound sewing abilities to patch up some of the holes in it. Briefly, she entertains the notion of doing upholstery work on the side of her call center job… Maybe that’d bring in a little extra cash that the house could spend on things they need. Like a new hair dryer.
She grabs the remote and starts idly flipping through channels, eventually settling on the Weather Channel and local news because nothing good is on at 5AM on a Saturday. To her mild disappointment, it looks like there’s a wildfire starting up right over the border in Idaho, so her city is probably going to be enveloped in a giant smoke cloud in a few days. Well, there goes her plans for jogging on her lunch breaks this week. Hell, possibly even going in to work. Sometimes the smoke here in Portland got so bad that you couldn’t see ten feet in front of you. She’s not sure what she prefers – hurricanes or smoke clouds. She settles on the smoke -- At least smoke clouds didn’t level your house like hurricanes did.
She flips to local news, seeing that a 7/11 gas station near the house got robbed the other day. Oh well, at least no one died, she supposes. Perhaps if her and her housemates weren’t so broke, she’d maybe be worried about a break in. But what were they going to steal from them? Weather’s favorite Snoopy mug? Maybe she might be concerned that they were hostile Stand users, trying to intrude on her and her housemates’ territory, but… They were all seasoned Stand users at this point, most of the low-level riffraff roaming Portland’s streets couldn’t stand up to even one of them. Plus, they didn’t even have a fraction of the coordination Jolyne and her crew had. Stand users as powerful as her and her allies were rare, she was starting to learn.
“Oh! I think I actually got into a fight with that guy! On the security camera!”
Jolyne nearly jumps out of her skin. Foo Fighters had such an uncanny ability to sneak up on people. They were completely silent, even quieter than Weather who literally tiptoed everywhere. Kind of ironic, considering that they were easily the loudest person(or plankton person) in the house.
“…You did? Why?” Jolyne says, looking over at her plankton housemate, still finding herself admiring Foo’s form.
Stand creatures weren’t exactly rare, especially in Portland, but the less-humanoid looking ones tended to get treated pretty badly. Lots of slurs and being kicked out of places. Especially when you tended to look less human and more like an animal or monster. So Foo Fighters took on as human of a form as they could manage. It looked pretty similar to the old body they borrowed in Green Dolphin, just with yellow, fish-like eyes and pointy teeth. Same green hair and plump body and cute pouty lips. Just fish eyes, and maybe some stray scales here and there. Most people who saw Foo’s big yellow eyes got a little freaked out at first, but Jolyne honestly thought they were pretty cute. Just like the eyes on those squish-faced British cats.
“Oh uh… I was filling up my cup, and he was yelling at the clerk about some cigarettes,” Foo says, sipping water from their 7/11 cup. “So I went over and tried to get him to stop, and…”
“We kinda ended up fighting when he saw my face. But I won!” Foo snickers darkly. “No one picks a fight with Foo Fighters and wins!”
Jolyne smirks, and gives her plankton housemate a playful shove to the shoulder. “Nice job, Foo.”
“That’s what us Stand users do, beat the asses of anyone that starts shit with us.”
Jolyne notices Foo staring at her, golden eyes fixated on her soaking wet hair. Suddenly, Jolyne feels self-conscious, being in such a state in front of one of her housemates. Sheepishly, she pulls the towel over her hair, and tries to ignore the sensation of Foo staring at her.
“Uh… Yeah the hair dryer broke. We’re going to have to buy a new one,” she says, watching the news anchor on TV warn drivers in the northern suburbs about a flock of roving peacocks in the area.
“Do you not like it? Your hair being all wet?” Foo says, tilting their head to one side and blinking curiously.
“Yeah, but it’s okay,” Jolyne says, trying to focus on the TV and not how Foo is probably judging her right now.
“Awww, come on Jolyne, don’t lie to me,” Foo Fighters says, giggling and making grabby motions at Jolyne’s soaking-wet hair. “You look like a wet raccoon right now.”
Jolyne wraps her arms around herself, feeling a little uncomfortable. She knows that Foo could easily dry her hair out in less than a second. But… For some reason, she felt all awkward about it. She realized that recently, she hadn’t liked being touched by Foo Fighters – that her heart would start to race and she’d get all warm. She knew she had a crush on Foo Fighters, she had a crush on a lot of people honestly. Like Ermes or… Hell, even Anasui. But none of them made her feel like she was unraveling like a ball of yarn like Foo Fighters did. Any time Foo looked at Jolyne and her plump lips curled up in those cute little smiles of hers, Jolyne felt like she was just fraying like a cheap piece of nylon. Something about Foo was so… Disarming. Like Jolyne felt all of her tension going away in a second when she looked into those eyes.
Maybe it was just how cute they were, with those big round yellow eyes and those cute giggles of their, and how they always seemed to be so bouncy and full of life… And how they were always so sweet and pure, not scarred by their past like so many of Jolyne’s other friends were. Something about Foo Fighters just made Jolyne always feel so inadequate, like she didn’t even deserve to exist in the same space as them. Jolyne would sometimes find herself daydreaming about holding Foo’s hand, or kissing them on their cute flat nose, and… She’d have to put those thoughts out of her head immediately, because she knew those sorts of thoughts were forbidden. Foo was too sweet and pure for her. Joylne was… Admittedly, kind of a piece of shit.
Foo would be happier, probably, with one of those cute Bigfoot girls they met at that Stand users club at the YMCA. Or with anyone, really. Not someone like Jolyne, who had all this baggage coming with her into the relationship. Foo may be clever and able to charm her way out of any situation with just about anyone, but… Jolyne knows that no one is capable of dealing with all of the weight of her past. Especially someone as admittedly-naïve with relationships as Foo. Foo deserved to be happy, and not with someone that would cry about pointless bullshit and their exes all the time. Hell, Jolyne still hadn’t even patched things up with her family and it had been years since they unofficially made up…
Maybe in some other universe, where she hadn’t lived the life she had now, she’d be able to be happy with Foo Fighters. And they could do all the things that Foo liked, like going swimming in Crater Lake and hiking in the rainforest and looking for tree frogs in the plants out front… But not here, not like this.
Jolyne twirls a lock of her wet hair in her hand, and sighs. Maybe just this once, though, she can let Foo into her life. Give them a chance to get closer, so they know that they’re better off keeping their distance.
“Okay, but… You don’t have to—”
Jolyne is immediately cut off by Foo squealing like a seagull and pouncing on her, putting her in a headlock as the plankton-person’s hands rove all throughout Jolyne’s hair. As Foo’s chubby fingers intertwine with Jolyne’s hair, Jolyne can physically feel the moisture being drawn out of her hair. That’s great, but oh god does it tickle. Jolyne wonders if maybe Foo is getting a little too zealous and draining out some of her skin moisture as well. She can feel a faint pulling sensation on her scalp, so she wouldn’t doubt it.
“Foo! Calm down!” Jolyne says, giggling as she tries to shove the plankton person off of her.
Squealing, Foo plants kisses all over Jolyne’s scalp, sucking up any of the remaining water in Jolyne’s hair strands. At least she’s not nearly strangling Jolyne to death now – Foo sometimes still didn’t realize how much stronger she was than the average human. Even someone as strong as Jolyne would lose 9/10 times when it came to displays of pure strength. As Foo calms down, her manhandling of Jolyne’s hair calms down as well, Foo’s soft hands weaving their way through Jolyne’s hair, lingering touches warm on Jolyne’s cheek as Foo cherishes every touch.
Foo’s fingers sweep up over Jolyne’s hair, draining the water from every drop and detangling the knots in her hair with ease. Jolyne’s mind wanders, and she thinks that Foo would be amazing as a tech at a hair salon. Although maybe she wouldn’t be able to handle all the shampoo and chemicals they put in the water there… Jolyne and her housemates worrying about Foo’s health was why they’d all switched to gentle, organic soaps and shampoos. Honestly, Jolyne even got worried about her bodywash sometimes. Perhaps, that’s why she was so scared of touching Foo – that something on her, either her spirit or her choice in skincare would rub off on that gentle plankton person and hurt them somehow.
Jolyne’s hair is perfectly dry and bouncy now, full and voluminous like she just blow-dried it. Perhaps better than if she’d blow-dried it, even. Gently, Foo’s hands trail down Jolyne’s neck, and onto her shoulders, where they rest, warm on Jolyne’s skin. Absentmindedly, Foo kneads Jolyne’s neck, before leaning in, resting their cheek against Jolyne’s.
“You haven’t let me do that since we were in prison together!” Foo chirps, and Jolyne finds it hilariously adorable how Foo can say something like “Since we were in prison” without a hint of regret.
There’s deep envy in Jolyne’s soul, how Foo Fighters seems to let everything bounce off of them like water off of a duck’s back. How they’re able to always carry on, bouncing back from everything stronger than they were before. Jolyne wraps an arm around Foo’s shoulders, and thinks that perhaps that’s the reason why Jolyne loves Foo Fighters. In a world filled with pain and hatred, here was a little ray of sunshine, bouncing their way through life no matter what. Hell, they’d just beaten a guy unconscious earlier for saying horrible, nasty things about them, and yet… They still smiled every bit as bright as they had before that day.
Jolyne could tell when people lied, when they faked their smiles. And she saw none of that with Foo Fighters. There was a pure honesty to everything they did. If joy could be personified, then perhaps it would look like Foo Fighters. Was what Jolyne had fallen in love with something she herself thinks she could never truly have?
“Yeah…” Jolyne says, wrapping her arms tighter around Foo, fearing that if she lets go of her, then she’ll never get a chance to experience this again.
“Something wrong, Jolyne?” Foo says, pursing their lips and tilting their head to one side.
Jolyne looks away, again, not wanting Foo to see her like this. “It’s nothing, just… Thinking about things, that’s all.”
“Well Jolyne, if you run out space in your head for those thoughts, and you want to put them somewhere else…” Foo says, smiling softly. “Share them with me, maybe?”
“It’s okay to cry, Jolyne,” Foo says, hoisting themselves onto Jolyne’s lap, and getting comfy.
Normally Jolyne would tell Foo that they were too heavy and they were crushing her thighs, but… Jolyne thinks that she’ll be okay with this, for now. Just this once, she’ll let Foo be close to her. Without thinking, she places her hand on the nape of Foo’s neck, and gently strokes the delicate hairs just on the edge of their hairline. It’s softer than Jolyne had thought they’d be. Was Foo always this soft and she’d never noticed it? She wishes this moment could last forever, but… That’d be awkward, cuddling with your housemate that probably doesn’t even like you that much… How could someone as pure as Foo like someone like Jolyne?
“Wanna watch River Monsters?” Foo says, snuggling against Jolyne’s shoulder.
“Yeah, let me just get up and get the DVD, Jolyne says, as Foo disentangles themselves from Jolyne, and sits cross-legged on the couch.
Jolyne grabs the DVD and leaves Foo to mess with the remote while she heads to the kitchen and gets herself an offbrand soda from the fridge. Some Dollar Store knockoff of a grape Fanta. She also grabs a glass of distilled water from the pitcher, for Foo Fighters. When she returns to the living room, she sits down on the couch, right next to Foo as the first episode starts up.
“Hey Jolyne, do you think I could beat a catfish in a wrestling match?” Foo says, bouncing on the sofa as Jolyne hands them their glass of water.
“Yeah probably, a catfish is pretty dumb, right?” Jolyne sips her soda and frowns when she realizes that it’s gone flat in the can. “You could like… Outsmart it. Poke its eyes out or something.”
“Plankton are pretty dumb too, I mean I was before I met you,” Foo says, sipping their water as the TV announcer details a trip into the Amazon to find a giant fish. “But I still almost beat you in a fight.”
“Nah, you were definitely smart before you met me, you set up that whole like… Thing with those four prisoners.” Jolyne shakes her head while gesturing vaguely. “I was confused as hell that whole time.”
“Yeah, but that was just me acting on instinct, I was doing what I had to do to survive,” Foo says.
“I think, what really makes someone smart is being able to enjoy life, instead of just surviving, you know?” Foo looks over at Jolyne, blinking curiously.
Foo returns their attention back to the TV and their water, and Jolyne tries to do the same with her soda, but she finds her mind wandering instead. So the reason they lived was for happiness, and not just to survive. Jolyne wonders if perhaps, that was the reason for their eternal optimism.
Jolyne thinks that maybe to live for happiness is a good philosophy to follow, too.