MMC Generator

Generator Used: MMC Generator

My Roll:

🎲 1 – The Protector
🎲 5 — Bold & Impulsive
🎲 5 — Brave & Resilient
🎲 5 — Lost His Way or Purpose
🎲 2 — To Seek Justice or Right a Wrong
🎲 1 — Hides His Feelings Behind a Strong Front

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Before we get into it:
Story Lab isn’t where finished stories come to show off. These are creative kickstarts—rolled, written, and shared before I can polish all the weirdness out of them. The point isn’t perfection. It’s to take what the dice give me and see where the hell it goes.

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Here’s what I came up with:

“Holy shit.” My younger brother Jax breathes out in disbelief.

I tip my red Solo cup. The sour, yeasty beer flavor spills across my tongue as I glance at my brother to see what has him stunned. I raise an eyebrow, silently indicating I’m listening.

“Marla fucking Bennett is here.”

I swallow hard and whip my head in the direction he’s staring, his eyes wide with surprise.

The fuck is she doing here? I wonder. This isn’t her usual scene.

“She hasn’t been around in…” he pauses. “Three years?” he asks.

“So?” I muster up as much casual disinterest as I can manage.

“So, she’s still fucking hot,” Jax replies. “I used to have a thing for her in high school.”

I know he’s full of shit. I had a thing for her. He chased the cheerleaders.

“Wonder what she’s been up to?” Jax muses.

I know the little prick is trying to get to me. He knows how much I wanted Marla back then, and now he’s testing me. Deliberately looking anywhere but at her, I answer, “Working.”

Jax’s eyes swing to my face.

“It’s what adults do, Jax.” I cut in smoothly before he can ask questions I don’t particularly care to answer.

“Makes sense,” Jax concedes, then adds, “Looks like she’s been doing more than working.”

My eyes track to her instantly.

Who the fuck is that guy?

I know I’ve seen him before.

“Get a room,” I mutter for Jax’s benefit while seething inside. Why is he all over her? Why is she letting him climb all over her?

I step forward unconsciously.

Distantly, I hear Jax clear his throat. Visions of ripping Party Boy off my girl circle around my head.

“Dakota?” Jax calls out.

“Daxie!”

A short redhead in a tight black bodycon dress steps in front of me and grabs for me. Sharp red nails circle my wrist.

“It’s Dakota,” automatically slips from my lips.

“Daxie! It’s me, Cheryl.”

I glance past her. Marla’s eyes dart away as she leans in to Party Boy, who seems to be whispering in her ear.

It takes effort to pull my attention to Cheryl. Her fingers are locked around my wrist. Pushing her chest out while flicking her hair behind her shoulder, she reminds me, “You never called.”

Jax steps in. “My bad, Cheryl. I told my brother I was hoping to get your number that night.”

Cheryl pivots toward Jax and lets go of my wrist.

“Really?” She steps closer to him.

As she moves, I see Marla tip her head back and laugh at whatever Party Boy was saying.

Damn, she’s beautiful when she laughs.

I haven’t seen her laugh like that in a long time.

If Party Boy doesn’t get his hands off her…

I glare at the offending appendage against her lower back, guiding her through the tightly packed bodies.

My jaw tightens, teeth grinding.

“Dude, do you gotta take a shit?” Jax’s voice shakes me loose.

“What?” Trying to tamp down the irritation I’m feeling, I turn to face my brother.

“You look like you gotta poop.”

Cheryl is no longer with him. I don’t know how he gets rid of them as swiftly as he reels them in. It’s a gift my manwhore of a little brother was born with.

“Shut the fuck up,” I demand. We are not talking about my bowels in the middle of a packed house party.

“Just worried about you, man.” Jax is as sincere as he can be. “You know it’s bad to hold it in, right?”

Throbbing begins behind my right eye. Sweat trickles down my spine. My hair feels too tight.

“Let’s go,” I order Jax.

“Party’s just getting started,” Jax shouts as a small blonde dances up to him, shaking her ass.

“I’m leaving,” I warn him.

“It’s cool. I’ll catch a ride with…” He eyes the girl, who supplies her name.

“Katie.”

“Katie,” Jax confirms.

The girl nods and steps closer, sliding her hands up his pecs, over his shoulders, and around his neck, her sky-high stilettos giving her the boost in inches she otherwise wouldn’t be able to manage.

Whatever.

I turn and push my way through sweaty bodies gyrating against each other. The smell of sweat, perfume and cologne, alcohol, and weed has my stomach twisting.

I catch myself scanning the crowd of bodies as I make my way to the front door.

She’s not here.

Where the fuck is she?

My lungs feel like they’re being squeezed.

Did she leave with that guy?

Who the fuck is he? I wonder as I finally cross the threshold and force myself to breathe past the tightness in my throat and chest.

I scan the smattering of couples spread across the front yard—some making out, some drinking, smoking, and bullshitting. Marla and Party Boy aren’t among them.

I should make sure she got home safe. Just a quick drive-by.

With a solid plan, I pull my keys out of my pocket and head for my car.

See that she’s there. Don’t stop.

I remind myself.

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Tomorrow we roll for a Supporting Character. Come back and meet them with us.

Your turn. Have fun with it!