#AGAIN i know sadie is also in her 20s | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

horseshoegirl · 1 year ago

Text

Damn Those Dog Tags: Part 21 - My Fair Lady

📜 Merry Christmas, you filthy animals! 😏😂

❗️+18, strong language, godmother reader/original female character, mentions of an original child character, reunions, sexual themes (I mean smut, so get out of here if you ain't +18, I mean it!!!), they finally do it! (first times, nakedness, sex, all that jazz --> So yes, that is a spoiler!).

#10k words (this one is long, and I'm not apologizing for it, LOL)

Part 20 | Masterlist | Part 22

With Sadie away at camp, you finally got the time and the opportunity to surprise her and redo your guest room into her room.

The house was a mess. Boxes of new furniture waiting to be built: a desk, a bookcase, a new bedframe. Her mattress slanted against the hallway. Old white sheets covered every inch of the floor and things that could not be moved.

You'd taken the shade off one of the bedside table lamps and stuck it in the corner of the room, its soft, warm light guiding you as you stood on a ladder, carefully stroking a painter's brush covered in green paint just below the edge of the ceiling, balancing the paint bucket on the top step.

The problem you had with projects like these was that you didn't really know when to stop. Staring when it was still light out, nothing but music playing softly through the speakers from your vinyl player, it was well past 2 AM before you knew it.

At least this passion project was one of the few things keeping you from obsessively worrying about Jake. And Bradley.

The static noise popping through your speakers was a welcome relief for your neck. With one last paint stroke, you climbed down the ladder, picturing your records and what one you could put on next. You bit your lip, reaching up to grab the bucket and the lid from the top step, covering it and hitting it closed with a thump.

You knelt next to the crate, searching for the record you had in mind when a persistent knock at your front door startled you. You weren't expecting anyone, let alone in the witching hours of the early morning.

Everything that happened with Tyler left you weary. Every white car you passed on the street made your skin crawl, and when Penny finally re-opened the Hard Deck and you returned to work, each time the door swung open in a dramatic fashion, you half expected to see Tyler standing there, a predatory glare in his eyes.

People also had a habit of knocking on your door late at night to deliver bad news. But something told you you needed to answer it anyway.

You slowly tip-toed down your hallway, plastering yourself to the wall, hoping to stay out of sight of whoever knocked on your door before peering through the peephole. Shocked to see the person pacing back and forth along your front porch, you whipped the door open.

"Alyssa?"

She stopped pacing, twisting her body towards the sound of your voice.

As long as you knew her, Lyssa had never once cried in front of you or came close to being visibly upset. She was direct, used humour in the most inappropriate moments, and always played things close to the chest. To see her face, beat red and tears streaming down her face, you couldn't help your unease.

Something had to be seriously wrong.

"Is Will okay?" you asked her. "What's' wrong?"

She shook her head, stepping in front of you. "Um, no, he's okay. We need to get down to Top Gun. Now."

"Top Gun? It's almost three in the morning."

She shook her head again. "Will's father got word an aircraft carrier got caught in a hurricane somewhere overseas. It sunk. They're bringing in the survivors now."

Heart dropping into your stomach, your legs wobbled. You fell against your door frame, hands gripping the wood tight enough to hurt. Your throat was screaming at you, and you couldn't swallow.

There was only one other time you could compare to how you were feeling now.

Friday nights were the worst fucking days of your life.

"Please don't tell me..." you croaked. "Please don't tell me it was theirs."

You gripped Jake's dog tags tight as you caught her harsh gulp, her face remaining stark. She didn't say anything. Not that she needed to. The very fact she was on your doorstep told you everything you needed to know.

She wouldn't have come to get you otherwise.

"Come on, we need to go," she managed to say through a harsh swallow.

You don't know how you managed to loosen your grip on your door frame or how you laced your shoes without screwing up the knots. Or how you got your key in the lock with your shakey hand.

You don't know how you got into the passenger seat of Alyssa's car, either. Or how you managed to put your seat belt on or not throw up as she sped out of your driveway and down to the highway.

A small part of you whithers when you realize you wouldn't have known, wouldn't have been here, hadn't Alyssa's Ex caught wind of it. Nat, Bob, and the rest of the daggers would have, too, eventually, but they probably wouldn't have been informed until it was too late.

You don't even know what's waiting for you at Top Gun, whether both Jake and Bradley were or weren't there. Or only one of them. Or if they would even let you in.

The gates were open to the facility when the two of you arrived. Lyssa followed several cars that were already pulling into the winding entrance, the line starting to build as more and more started to appear from the opposite direction. You leaned forward in your seat as she pulled into the parking lot, your heart in your throat as you tried to see behind the building to the runway. All you saw were blinking red and white lights against the night sky.

Alyssa hadn't even moved the parking brake when you threw yourself out of her car, not bothering to wait for her. The cool night wind bit at your face as you searched the building, looking for any indication they were letting people in. You spied a group of people charging across the parking lot to an open side door, someone in dress kaki's manning it. You followed them, skidding across the pavement as you reached the door, trying not to run anyone over and barrel through the crowd.

Cyclone saw you before you saw him, shouting out your full name amongst the chaos to urge you to the front to let you in with the next group. The words spill out of your mouth before you realize you're saying them. "Do you know if...?"

He shook his head. "If they did, they'll be on the next plane that came in."

A million thoughts skitter through your mind, like spiders across a floor, yet you push them aside.

"I have a friend, Lyssa. Let her in next."

He nodded without complaint, knocking hard on the door to let the group in.

Whether it was the threat of being yelled at for running or that they were inside the famous Navy facility, nobody moved quicker than a brisque walk.

You'd take on any military officer who would dare yell at you for the way you tried to weave in and out of the throngs of people.

The hallway you were guided down led to a hanger. The space had been turned into a temporary relief centre, with tables, cots, and supplies filling every inch. Medics were already helping a few of the officers who looked worse for wear, and dread filled you each time you spun, another injured officer upon another.

You weren't sure you were relieved or scared with each face you saw. Whatever they had to go through to get here, one thing was for certain. They had to do so in a rush.

You halted when you spotted the large military-like plane Cyclone spoke about sitting on the runway in the distance, viewable from the wide open door. Whether it had been there before or it had just arrived, you didn't know. Nor did you question it any further. The only thing that mattered was if Jake and Bradley were on that plane.

But with each group of people that passed, there was no sign of them.

Alyssa finally caught up to you, grabbing your arms from behind and tugging you backwards. "Liz," she started to say, but you tore out of her grasp.

"We didn't have time. We didn't have time," you said repeatedly, threading your fingers through your hair next to your temples. Alyssa reached out again, this time turning you by your raised elbows as you continued to force yourself to breathe. She pushed, and you slowly lost your hold on your roots, lowering your arms until she was grasping at your hands.

"I didn't want to tell him I loved him over a letter. I didn't want our last words to each other to be over a piece of paper," you cried out, trying to tug away. She didn't let go, her grip tight. It made you sob harder.

"I can't go through this again! Not with them, not with him. Not after everything Sadie and I have ever suffered through. It's too much, Alyssa!" you were on the verge of screaming. "We've been through enough!"

Lyssa opened her mouth, words just barely sounding out before her eyes locked on to something behind you. She gasped, and you twisted sharply, watery eyes searching a new crowd of officers making their way off the tarmac and into the hanger. You squinted your eyes, the night sky and the bright white lights from inside making it harder to make out faces.

A cluster of Navy officers broke off from the crowd, parting the way.

Then you saw them.

Both of them.

Jake was favouring a leg as he leaned against Bradley for support, hobbling along as they finally reached the entrance to the hanger, searching for a temporary cot. Even at a distance, you could make out a cut framing his eye, and one side of his face was bruised.

But he was here. He was whole.

He was alive.

You couldn't help it. You charged forward, no feeling in your legs as you zoomed past other families and officers, probably a few high-ranking officials in your paint-smattered shirt and overalls. Time slowed down for you as you ran, even if you were running as if your life depended on it.

"JAKE!"

Jake lifted his head at the sound of your voice, urging Bradley to stop. Bradley looked at him funny, watching his eyes glaze over and wondering if Jake hit his head harder than the medics originally thought. But then he followed his gaze, only to see you charging forward without a care in the world to reach him, and he knew.

Bradley unhooked his arm from around Jake's shoulders, steadying him for a second and then letting go, stepping to the side so you could have your moment.

You slid along the floor as you came to a halt in front of Jake, worried he was more damaged than you could see, arms reaching for him. Jake bracketed his arms tightly around your back the second you touched him, and you buried your face into his shoulder. He grunted as he pulled you tight, shoving his nose into your collarbone.

Jake smelt of the sea, of gasoline and sweat. His flight suit felt ripped under your hands as you tried to find a grip. Or maybe you were trying to assure yourself he was really there. Your mind flashed through all the possible things he might have gone through with each caress, your cries getting louder with each one.

Yet in your panic, you pulled back from his hug, only to take his face into your hands and kiss him hard.

"I love you," you gasped out between kisses. "I'm not getting you go. I'm here. I love you, I love you, I love you."

Jake's response was instant, fingers quickly gripping the back of your neck, the roots of your hair, to drive your head at all the angles he wanted, all the ways that made it easier for him to devour you.

You felt like you couldn't breathe, pulling away from his lips with a tightness in your chest. Your eyes fell on his lips, red and slightly swollen, and you were positive yours were the same. Until you looked up at those green eyes and the rest of the hanger, everyone else, faded away.

Jake smiled at you.

"Hi, Darlin.'"

You huffed a sad laugh through your tears, letting yourself fall into his body, hiding your face in his chest, sobbing.

Jake didn't let the grip on your neck go, curving his hand against the skin, holding you to him. His other arm, at some point, had dropped down to your waist. Whether it was to keep himself upright or keep you from falling over, he wasn't sure. Nor did he really care. Because Jake was pressing his mouth into your hair and closing his eyes to relish the feel of you in his arms.

He was home.

You turned your head against his chest to look over at Bradley, slightly surprised to see him hugging Alyssa. Her forehead was leaning against her hands, currently shaped into a triangle against his chest. She was shaking with silent sobs as Bradley hugged her back, pressing a kiss to the top of her head.

The panic you felt before settles in your chest, warmth wrapping around your rib cage. As if he felt your eyes on him, Bradley opened his eyes, resting his cheek atop her head. You reached out, Bradley instantly extending his arm to grasp your hand. You smiled sadly at him with a fresh wave of tears in your eyes, squeezing his hand before burying your head back into Jake's chest, not once letting go.

Feeling you move against him, Jake lifted his head, catching your hand holding Bradley's. He found Bradley looking at the two of you with a smile, in a similar position, with Alyssa wrapped around him.

"Is there something you want to tell us, Rooster?" he said, eyes gesturing to Alyssa. You shook with silent laughter against his chest.

Bradley smiled at you, at Jake, before closing his eyes and letting his lips graze Alyssa's forehead. "Is that any way to speak to your saviour?"

There was no malice in Jake's words when he dropped his head back down to press a kiss into your hair, flippantly shooting back, "Don't push it, Bradshaw. I'm still ahead by one."

---

The ride home had been quiet.

After some harsh convincing by you and Alyssa, Jake and Bradley were allowed to leave. You had gotten the run down by one of the medical officers about Jake. He had no concussion and no broken bones but had ended up with quite a large amount of water in his lungs and a significant amount of bruising the days before.

You caught snippets of Rooster's conversation with the medics, enough to know what happened. You didn't want to know the deeper details unless Jake wanted to talk to you about it. Knowing he almost drowned and Bradley had saved him was enough.

He wasn't at risk of a secondary drowning, but more so pneumonia or an Edema. You'd be calling an ambulance at the first sign of a cough.

Bradley was helping Jake up the steps of your front porch as you went ahead and unlocked your door. Lyssa spotted Jake from below, hands out and ready. Despite her tiny frame, she was there, ready to catch him should he need help.

You were quietly surprised to see Bradley being the one to help Jake. You knew it wouldn't have been easy for either of them: Jake, who didn't want to need to accept the help at all, and Bradley, for whom he was helping.

But once Jake cleared the last step and straightened himself, he patted Bradley on the shoulder, murmuring a 'Thanks, Rooster' before limping over to you.

You looked up at him with a smile, cocking the side of your head in Bradley's direction before saying, "I'll meet you inside?"

Jake nodded, then nodded once to Rooster before continuing inside. Lyssa had walked off back to her car around the same time, leaving only you and Bradley standing alone on your porch. You pulled him into a hug.

"Thank you, Bradley. For saving his life."

Rooster stiffened at your touch but slowly relaxed, arms coming up to wrap around your back. "I know it's not worth much, but I'm truly sorry Lizzie," he murmured. "For all of it."

You shook your head against his shoulder, murmuring a low "Don't," but Bradley pressed on.

"I've been an ass since the start. I've been the one doing all the things I said Jake would do," he said next to your ear, refusing to let you go. "I think I was more worried about being replaced.. and everything else... I just didn't want to see you and the bug getting hurt. The rule was to put Sadie first. Instead, I was the one doing all that. He really does care about the two of you despite some of his faults."

You pulled back from the hug but still left your hand on his shoulder, wiping at your eyes. "Can I ask what made you change your mind?"

Bradley gave a fond look, and you could only stare at him for a second before a smile shot across your face. "Sadie?"

You had wondered what she had scribbled in that letter. She was shifty about it, too, refusing to let you see anything anytime you walked by.

Something told you you'd never know.

Rooster grinned. "Yeah," he said, scratching the back of his head. "Her and the fact, this one saved me yet again. Then gave me a heart attack."

You smiled, looking back at your open door. "I'd like to think he was giving you the chance to make it up to us."

Bradley dropped his chin to his chest, still smiling, before he looked over to Alyssa, leaning against the driver's side of her car.

"Call me if you need help?" he offered, stepping forward to place a hand on your forearm before turning to proceed down your front steps.

"I think we'll be okay," you replied softly, not really caring if he heard you, still staring at your front door.

---

The tension inside the house hit you like a wave the second you closed the door. It was just Jake and you now, and despite everything that transpired the past few hours, you felt nervous.

Looking down, you spied Jake's boots neatly lined up next to some of yours, making you wonder how he managed to get them off. It made you undo your laces slowly, tactically, as if to stall time.

Something about standing here made everything more real.

There was also the bit about you sending him that partial nude. And that letter - which you weren't as concerned about. But that damn photo, all inspired by a moment of brevity, had you yelling to yourself, what the hell did I just do? when you dropped it off at Penny's.

You couldn't worry about the shame currently building in the pit of your stomach. You had to press on.

Jake was hurt. He needed you.

“Jake?” you called out softly, not expecting to find him hunched over, leaning against the wall of your hallway, facing you. You held out your hands, ready to grab him and support him. That was until he sharply lifted his head, eyes the only thing you could truly make out in the dim lighting, the dawn just peeking through your windows. You froze, lowering them, your voice stuck in your throat. Those eyes were challenging you to move, daring you to escape, to make a sound in the dead silence that wasn’t what he wanted to hear. With the predatory glint in his eyes, you knew right away what he wanted to talk about.

Yet, Jake is the one to break the silence first.

"Where's Sadie?"

"Camp."

You feel like you've just given him the green light for something with those words. He seemed to know it, too.

"What can I do to help you?" the question comes out more quietly than you were anticipating.

Jake straightens himself with a groan but doesn't remove his eyes from you. On the contrary, they are still sharp and as intense as when he first saw you.

"Liz," he spoke lowly.

He takes a step forward. You take one back.

"I think you know the answer to that."

"Do I?" you breathe out, taking another step, and he stalks forward as much as he is able.

He nods once. "I got your letter. And your photo."

Your back hits the wall - you can go no further.

It's not as if you couldn't escape him or tell him to stop. Jake is pinning you with his eyes as he approaches you and cages you against the wall. You know if you told him to stop, that all this was too much, he'd back away.

You don't want him to, though.

"Darlin," he roughs out, a hand reaching for your hip, his mouth next to your ear. "I've thought of nothing else."

Your trembling, heaving though no sound is coming out. You knew Jake was tall, muscled, and built like a freaking horse. It's stupid how the thought crosses your mind once again. You feel small against him, pressed up against the wall.

"I take it you liked it?"

You have no idea where this courage is coming from.

"Liked it?" he pressed a kiss on your neck below your ear. "I got hard just looking at it."

You title your head back against the wall; eyes closed, an arm coming up to wrap around his neck as Jake continues to press small kisses into your skin, slowly starting to add his teeth. An arm shoots around your waist, tugging you into him, and you gasp, racking up the wall with the movement.

"Jake," you gasped to the ceiling, digging your fingers into his hair. He winced against your neck with a groan, pausing. You wondered if you had accidentally injured him more. Because as much as Jake was desperately trying to merge himself into your skin, as much as he was trying to show you just how much he loved you, how much he wanted you, he was utterly exhausted.

And he was hurt.

"There's nothing more I want than to be with you right now," you said calmly, stroking the hair at the back of his neck, sobering the moment. "But you're exhausted. And hurt, Jake. When was the last time you slept? "

Jake sighed into your neck, weight sagging with him, "Only a few minutes on the flight home. Not sure when before that."

It was true. Bradley had managed to resurface with him strung across his back, carrying Jake the rest of the way up that stairwell. His memory was fractured into bits and pieces of moments when he opened his eyes. Him being carried on a stretcher, Rooster sitting next to him in a med tent, voices yelling, and people poking and prodding at him. The flight home was when he really started to get his memory back, but he didn't dare fall back asleep, wondering if it had all been a dream and he really did die back there.

You frowned. "Let me take care of you, okay? I'm not going anywhere."

Pressing a long kiss on his cheek, you carefully untangled yourself from his hold, sliding down the wall. Hooking your arm around his waist, you led him down your hall to your bathroom. Jake's grip on your body was anchored tight. Hand threaded through the opposite pocket of your overalls, a part of him always touching you.

Leaving him to lean against your bathroom counter, you spun to turn on the shower, ensuring the water was okay before coming to stand in front of him once more. Resting your hands on his chest, you toyed with the zipper of his damaged flight suit.

"Do you need help?" you asked him softly.

He knew he could manage without you, even with his back being out of sorts. Yet, he still softly replied, "Go ahead."

You ranked your eyes over the fabric as you pulled down the tab of his zipper. His suit was ripped in some places, and large chunks were torn out, revealing the black tank he was wearing underneath. The zippers of the side pockets were misaligned, and while both of his patches were still intact, the threads were sticking out around the borders, making them unusable.

You made a note in the back of your mind to steal them the second you could.

Once the zipper reached the end, you moved both of your hands down to his chest, taking both sides and pushing the fabric off his shoulders.

Yet you stilled when you felt something hard in one of the pockets, instantly unfolding the fabric and unzipping the pocket, Jake watching you with hooded eyes. You pulled out a water-tight bag, gasping when you saw your letter and the various polaroids through the clear material.

"You.. You saved them?"

Jake let go of your hips to shrug the piece of clothing off, freeing his arms. He placed one hand on your hip, the other taking the bag from you, holding them.

"Why wouldn't I?" Jake's voice was quiet.

You felt a lump in your throat, tracing the bag in his hands. You were curious to know which one is the cockpit photo, but you also know your spontaneous, risky shot is also in with them. It's not that you didn't regret it, nor did Jake's enthusiastic reaction deter you, but you still felt that little bit of shame and embarrassment knowing the physical proof still existed.

"I... I didn't think they would mean that much to you. It was just a thing Sadie and I did so you wouldn't feel left out," you admitted, feeling vulnerable.

"They were all I had of you and Sadie out there."

It guts you, the simplicity of such a statement, yet packed with so much meaning.

Jake placed the bag behind him on the counter, ready to resume his grip on your body. Except his eyes caught sight of the pieces of metal dangling over the front of your chest, and he reached out to take his Dog Tags into the palm of his hand.

"You're wearing them."

You followed the chain to stare at the two pieces of metal. Your reply was soft, "I rarely took them off."

He didn't need to know about your breakdown. Not yet. You had said enough in your letter for him to know you had done what you needed to do, but he didn't need to know about the events that led up to it.

That was a conversation for another day.

Jake sighed, letting them drop back down in between the two of you, hand curving around your hip and pressing his forehead to yours. The two of you stayed like that for a few seconds until you felt him fiddling with the clasp on your hip, never fully releasing it from its hold.

He didn't need to voice it for you to know the question behind the action. It was clear as day as to what he was asking of you.

Will you join me?

Remember all those times over the past year you told yourself to fuck it? This was definitely getting added to all those other times.

Because you found yourself reaching down to your side and finishing the job, releasing the button from his hold. You felt Jake's breath against your mouth, warm and wet, as he slid his hand up to one of the front clasps, popping the buttons out of the hooks as he tugged, repeating the process with the other.

The two straps fell down your back, and you held your arms up in a silent invitation. Jake seemed to hold his breath as he pulled at your battered shirt, up over your head, to reveal your bare breasts.

He tossed your shirt to the side in the general direction of your laundry basket, but you didn't take your eyes off his to find out if it hit its mark. You feel no shame as he dropped his gaze. He's seen them before, kissed them, touched them. But the way his eyes rake over them makes it seem like it's the first time he has.

But when you reach for his black tank, pulling at the hem to work it over his body, you catch the view of his back in your mirror and let out a terrifying gasp.

His back is one big purple bruise, marring his skin. It spread from the curve of his right shoulder blade, sinking its way across his spine and ending near his hip. The only comparison you could draw to it was a painter's palette of cool colours mixed in with black. Whatever he had hit, it was clear the impact had been severe.

"Jake," you cry out, stepping to the side so you can turn him and see the damage for yourself, not in some reflection.

"How bad is it? The medics told me it's there."

"It's not pretty."

It was the most accurate statement you could give him without wanting to double or even triple-check the work of the medics on him. He let you investigate the bruised skin for a few seconds more before moving out of your grasp and facing you.

"Come on," he uttered. "Let's get under the water."

You quickly removed the rest of your clothing, letting the rest of your overalls and underwear fall to the floor, using your toes to work off your socks. Jake managed to get the remainder of his flight suit off with little struggle, boxers included.

You weren't ashamed of your body. But you were a little apprehensive, letting Jake see everything in its entirety. It makes you step into the shower first, almost as if you were trying to run away.

All this is new to you. And the internal battle currently raging on in your head was making you hesitant. Because even standing here, naked in your shower, Jake's eyes ranking over you like you were his last meal from behind the glass door, you still fought with yourself not to look at him.

But let's be real. You were a virgin, new to all of this.

You definitely looked.

And tried to mute the squeal that was trying to crawl its way out of your throat as you turned to let the running water hit your face. You could hear Jake's warm chuckle from behind you as he stepped into the boxed space.

"Like what you see?" he spoke lowly into your ear, dragging your back to rest against his front by your elbows.

"I'm not going to answer that question. 'Cause we both know if I do, it's going to lead to something."

You could feel all his ridges and sharply defined muscles against your back, and it took you everything not to mould yourself into him. Jake pressed a kiss to your shoulder, then another to your neck, before resting his cheek against yours. "And what would that be?"

"Jake..." you warned, your voice slightly shakey.

"Not tonight," he replied, dragging his hands up your arms. "I just wanted to see how far that blush of yours goes."

"Oh, you kinky.." but he didn't let you finish, catching your mouth in an opened-mouth kiss. You moaned, tilting your head back before turning to face him, wrapping your arms around his neck.

You released his lips to glaze up into his eyes, taking the moment to assure yourself yet again he was here with you. You matched his soft smile before he zoned in on your cheek, reaching up to thumb the skin. His face was hardened in concentration, no doubt rubbing at a stroke of paint you'd accidentally marked yourself with, working to get it off. You smiled, pressing a kiss to his wrist.

"What's this from?"

"I'm painting Sadie's room, trying to make it more hers as a Birthday gift."

Jake hummed.

The two of you continued to shower together, you mostly helping Jake. You tried not to get too caught up in staring at him, biting your lip in concretion as you rubbed body wash over him. You felt his eyes on your face the entire time, and you tried to resist the urge to lean up and kiss him.

Jake made you spin around to face the showerhead to return the favour. Feeling his hands caress your skin, letting him work the soap under the swells of your breast, along your arms, even down the panel of your stomach, you had to fight the arousal pooling in between your legs.

Not to mention, you could feel him growing hard and heavy against your lower back.

"This isn't fair. I'm the one who's supposed to be taking care of you," you murmured, leaning your head back against his shoulder.

He pressed a delicate kiss to your collarbone. "This is taking care of me."

You ended up getting out first, picking up each of your discarded clothing, throwing them in the basket, and reaching for the towels you kept on the makeshift shelf on your wall as Jake finished with his hair. You saw the frown on his face when he stepped out, and you rolled your eyes affectionately at him, handing him a towel.

Helping him to your room, you left him to sit on the corner of your bed. You rummaged through your top drawer, pulling out the pair of his boxers you had accidentally missed when you packed up his bag. You found them on the day you were getting things ready to visit Ridley.

He took them without a word while you pulled on your sleep shirt and underwear, ironically the same baggy nightshirt you wore the night of that damn thunderstorm where he kissed you.

Climbing into your bed, you held up your comforter as an invitation. He fell face-first into your chest with an aching groan, grabbing your sides to pull himself half on top of you, his head finding a home in the crook of your neck.

Your suspicions from before are finally confirmed. Because even as he held you, Jake was desperately fighting sleep.

Pressing a delicate kiss to the cut on his cheek, you grazed your lips up until you could press them just below his hairline, your fingers threading themselves soothingly through his hair.

"Go to sleep," you whispered into his forehead. "I'll be here when you wake up."

---

You slowly awoke to the sensation of lips delicately pressing soft kisses into your forehead and fingers stroking along the back of your arm, the occasional touch of warm metal accompanying the touch. You mewled, curling yourself deep into the apex of his shoulder, lulled by sleep.

"I'm sorry I woke you. Go back to sleep."

You pressed a sleepy kiss to his bare chest. "I should be awake. I'd sleep the day away like this if I could."

Jake hummed, resuming his gentle caresses. He had raked down your sleep shirt along your back, fingers now dragging up and down your spine, getting lower and lower each time he did it, causing you to shiver.

"I had a dream like this. While I was away on the carrier," he spoke, pressing another kiss to your temple. "At the ranch in Texas. In my room above the barn."

"Tell me?" you yawned, still half asleep, warm and content.

Jake nosed into your cheek, trailing it over your skin as he spoke, "The two of us. In my bed. Naked."

You shook silently with laughter, turning your head back against his arm. "Of course you did."

You would have seen Jake smiling down at you had you decided to open your eyes.

"I'd dream I woke up with your back to me, sheets resting low on the curve of your back." He slid the back of his fingers across your exposed shoulder, getting lost in the image in his head. "The barn door was open, catching the first rays of sunlight in your hair. There must have been a storm cause the grass was so green, everything was so right."

You leaned away from his chest, resting your head further back on his arm to peer up at his face. Jake's hair is dishevelled, his eyes harbouring the remnants of sleep, worn and puffy. His bruise had already begun to yellow, and his cut didn't appear red or as swollen. Yet, looking up at him from within the safety of his arms, huddled against his massive chest, you find yourself wishing you could control the way air catches in your throat.

"Sounds perfect."

Jake smiled softly, leaning down to kiss you. You moan in protest, turning your head away and barely managing an "I have morning breath" to Jake as his lips land on your cheek.

"I don't care," he rasped into your ear. You turned your head back, and he placed his mouth on yours.

You give as much as he is giving you, letting Jake caress your tongue with his, letting him take and take at his pleasure, until he is releasing your mouth and mouthing across your cheek.

He’s taking his time with you, something so different from the previous times you've found yourself against or under him, at the mercy of his mouth and hands. There's hesitation in his movements, wary of making any sudden, intense movements that might have you bolt.

"You're taking your time," you say aloud, carting your fingers through his hair. Jake laps gently at the corner of your neck, hand stroking down the side of your leg. He pulls back to stare at your face, you meeting his gaze.

"I almost didn't have time."

God, you know how true that statement is. And the fact, the Jake who left you standing at the end of your driveway all those weeks ago wasn't the exact same one who returned to you.

Jake travels down the length of your body, and you let him push up your oversized shirt, revealing your breasts. "Hello, girls," he grinned, pressing a single kiss to each breast. "Oh, how I've missed you."

It makes you laugh, carting your fingers through his hair, messing it up even further. You can feel him smile against your skin. But then he is trailing his nose down your core, down your stomach, lightly grazing your skin with his lips as he goes. You watch him with careful eyes, your breath picking up quickly.

You know his intentions, where this is going, what it would evidently end up being. And you’re okay with that. You trust him, and you love him. There wasn’t anyone else you could imagine having your first time with.

Working himself down to the end of your bed, Jake’s face hovers over your underwear, his eyes searching yours. You nod, reaching down to help him remove them, Jake flinging them behind his head in a dramatic fashion, making you laugh once again.

Until he’s lining up kisses down the inside of your thigh, stopping when he’s just that close to your core. And then he looks up once again. You can hardly see any green in his eyes, just a thin strip on the edge of being overtaken by black.

“Can I put my mouth on you?”

What do you do but stutter an embarrassing reply of, “If you want to.”

Jake wouldn’t ask if he didn’t want to. You knew that. He even chuckles at your answer teasingly.

“You’re going to have to keep these open if I do,” he says, tapping the back of your thigh. “I’m not going to nearly perish a second time, though what a hell of a way to go.”

You huff in amusement, tinting your head back against your pillow only to drop your chin to your chest, looking at him between your legs.

“Just be gentle with me, Jake. I’m not…”

Experienced is the word you leave out, but you know Jake understands you. He always seemed to when it comes to you.

He places both of your legs on his shoulders before reaching up to thread his fingers through yours at your side. He barely has time to punch out the words, “Tell me to stop if it’s too much,” before his nose is parting your folds and he’s swiping his tongue up and down your cunt repeatedly.

You pull against his hold on your hands at the feeling, wailing and then biting your lip to quiet yourself, muffling your sounds.

Jake lets go of one of your hands to thumb your bottom lip, removing it from your teeth. He lifts his head and says in one breath, “Sadie’s not here, Liz. Let me hear you moan for me.”

And then he’s sucking on your clit, and you can’t hold it in any longer. The noise you let out is practically a scream, and the vibrations from Jake’s moan against your cunt push you that much further. Cause the fact he mentioned her name while headfirst deep between your legs is filthy.

And the sounds that follow, echoing around your bedroom, are raunchy. The night Jake kissed you in your hallway, your worries about Sadie hearing both of you come to mind. Because thank God she wasn’t here, or else she’d think Jake was murdering you.

You’d have to work on being quiet if you ever wanted to do this again with Jake once she came back home.

You felt hot with your shirt racked up around the top of your breasts, gripping the hem to rip it over your head, your back leaping off the bed as far as it could go. Jake glances up, still working his mouth against your cunt to watch, the only remaining piece on your body is his tags.

You buck into his mouth, having no control over your body as he just sucks and sucks and sucks, your grip on his hand getting tighter and tighter, and you’re gripping your comforter to the point your hand throbs from the force. Cause everything burns and feels so good and yet so bad, and you cry to whatever part of you decided you needed to wait to experience this.

But in the back of your head, you know nobody could make you feel the way Jake was making you feel now.

Something snaps, hard, your muscles pulling tant and the cry blaring out into the ceiling of your bedroom is anything but salacious. And Jake's voice is muffled when he works you through it, chanting, “Good girl, that’s my good girl,” over and over as you chant your hips to chase the feeling.

You are a shaking mess when Jake finally lets go, and slides back up your body, letting his weight settle against your chest, arms threading themselves under your shoulders.

"Was that okay?"

You don't even have the words to describe how you are feeling. Your eyes are wide, staring up at him, wondering why the hell he'd be asking such a question when he caused you to be in such a state.

Instead, you lurch up and kiss him hard, your hands gripping the middle of his back, sliding down to slip under the fabric of his boxers. Jake jolts when he feels your hands cupping his ass.

"Are you sure, darlin'?" he pants, pulling away from you. "Are you sure you want this? With me?"

This was Jake. He wouldn't have you without your consent.

"I only want you."

It's slightly cheesy. But there was no other way you could put it. You couldn't imagine doing this with anyone else. But he challenges you again, asking, "Are you sure you want it to be me?"

You wanted to smack him for his sheer idiocy right now, bringing up his shitty perception of his self-worth. But you don't want to ruin the mood, and you know where it's coming from deep down. It has nothing to do with you.

"I do," you say instead, rubbing your nose against his. "I just don't know how to make you feel good, though."

"It's not about me right now."

Except it was. It was about both of you.

"Get on top of me."

The both of you rolled, Jake grabbing your hips as you landed on top of him. You sat up, placing your hands on his chest. The action had you rocking yourself back onto his clothed cock, and Jake let out a moan, hands tightening on your waist to push and pull with your movements.

Leaning down to kiss him once, you followed his jawline, reaching his ear. "You want to know something?" you asked, suddenly emboldened.

"What?" he gasped, nails biting into your skin.

"I've been dying to do this since the first time I saw you on the beach."

You felt the pinch of his nails as you kissed down his neck, making sure to catch a patch of skin between your teeth softly. You continued down his chest until you finally got to your desired place.

The divet.

The perfectly sculpted yet slightly crooked valley that split the entire length of his chest in half. You had a brief moment of panic, a stutter in your heartbeat, when you realized just how forward you, the freaking virgin, were being. Hell, you didn't even know if you were doing any of this right.

All you knew, you had waited long enough.

Spread out beneath you, Jake's body is spread out for you like a personalized meal. You pressed a kiss into his skin first before letting your tongue press deep into that valley and swirl all sorts of patterns across his skin. His eyes nearly bugled out of his head before Jake groaned, chest puffing out and hand fisting into your hair.

You work your way up, getting ready to take one of his nipples into your mouth, when Jake suddenly shouts and lets out a fevered, "Stop."

You reel back in shock, scared you overstepped. But Jake only tugged you up by your hips, using you as a counterweight to pull himself to sit against your headboard with a painful groan. He settled you directly against his pelvis, where you can feel just how hard he is through his boxers.

He grips the back of your neck hard and slams his lips into yours. You whimper into the kiss, worried he's using it as a tactic to let you down gently. When he finally releases your lips, you burst out, "I'm sorry, I overstepped. I shouldn't have.."

Jake grips your throat, thumb resting just barely on your Adam's apple, enough to know it's there. You can feel it with each hard sallow you take, his hand big enough to encompass the entire length and width of your neck.

"Don't ever apologize for that," he states firmly. "I'm yours to do with what you will. And trust me when I say there is a lot more you can do to me than just a simple kiss on the chest."

And there's the blush.

"I told you I'd corrupt your innocent little soul," he smirks, pulling you to his mouth once again.

The next few moments are filled with long, passionate kisses and heavy touches until Jake is reaching for the hem of his boxers, and you find yourself helping him pull them down, him kicking them off in some unknown direction.

Unlike this morning, there's no hesitation when you take him in, his cock hard and standing to attention. You regret your reaction to the comment you made about his helmet last year. Cause there was truth behind that one missing letter.

Jake reaches for you, helping to position you over him before he suddenly freezes. "Shit," he gasped, pushing you to sit on his thighs. "We don't have anything."

You ducked your head shyly. "We don't need one if you're okay without one. I... I'm on the pill."

"You're on the pill?"

You know what he means behind the question instantly.

"Two months before Penny asked me back. Other reasons, though. Not that I was expecting to get laid at any point in time," you answer him quietly, lifting your head. "You know me, Jake. I don't do one-night stands. I never have."

Jake relaxed under your hold, a small part of him sighing in relief.

"Worried I moved on?" you ask him softly, stroking your finger across his brow.

"You had every right to," he's almost ashamed to admit. You shook your head. "When are you going to get it through that stubborn head of yours that you are worth it, Jake? I love you. I'm not going anywhere."

Jake sighed again, dropping his forehead to your collarbone.

"Besides, you painted a pretty picture in the flatbed of your truck," you tease, quickly reciting the words he had rasped into your ear when his fingers were almost knuckle deep in your cunt. You drop your head forward and whisper into his ear, "The day I can have you gripping my cock?"

Jake growled at your words, reaching for your thigh to properly position you over him. Straddling his waist, you rest on your knees. Jake grabbed his cock, angling it just so as to rub the tip against your cunt slowly. You weren't sure whether he was teasing you or getting you used to a feeling.

Maybe it was a bit of both.

Then his tip caught at your entrance, and you let out a whimper.

He stops, not doing anything else except letting go of himself to latch onto your other hip. Tilting his head, he places a kiss on the underside of your jaw, breathing in deep.

You understand why Jake had you move on top of him for this. He was letting you control the pace and do what only felt comfortable to you. It warms your heart, even if it is on the verge of jumping out of your chest.

"Take your time, darlin," he encouraged you softly, mouthing at the skin under your collarbone. "I'm here whenever you are ready. And we can stop at any point."

You took a deep breath, finally finding the courage to press yourself down onto him.

Something between a whine and a gasp escaped your lips as you felt the tip of his cock enter you. You had no previous experience to compare this to, but you were sure you weren't supposed to feel this stretched out. Or this full.

You got about halfway down before you cried out, sightly in pain. Jake's grip tightened on your leg and hip, muscles flexing as he halted you. You're slick, but it's a tight fit. And his breath was just as ragged as yours.

Sliding the hand that was griping your hip up your back, Jake encompasses the nape of your neck in his hand, tiling your head down so he could take your mouth into an open kiss.

"Jake," you whimpered into his mouth, your nails digging hard into his shoulder. Jake kept a tight rein on his control, but it was a battle he was struggling with. You just felt too good around him.

"Such a good girl for me," he cooed. "Taking my cock."

"I don't know if I can go any further," you whimper. But Jake is quick to reply, "We don't have to, not if you don't want to. But you're almost there, just a little bit more."

"Fuck," you whined, tearing yourself away from his mouth to bury your face into his shoulder. His hand tightened against the nape of your neck, fingers tangling themselves into the roots of your hair. The grip is reassuring and grounding, and you take several deep breaths before you press down once again.

Then, just when you think you can't take anymore, he bottoms out, his hips pressed tightly into yours.

That's it. You were a virgin no longer.

And suddenly, with that thought, you felt nervous. Because, of all things, that damn fucking sign in the girl's bathroom of the Hard Deck flashes in your mind.

Jake is experienced. You're not. It was one thing for him to say he didn't mind you were a virgin, but it was something else for him to be the one to change that status. Because every story you've ever read about how men would compare their previous partners to their current one eats away at you.

There was no way you would stack up to the long list of women Jake had bedded, for lack of a better word. But Jake only nuzzled the valley between your breasts, tongue delicately tracing the underside of one while rubbing soothingly down the curve of your spine.

"Perfect," he murmured softly. You can't help yourself when your next words come out more anxiously than teasingly. "Live up to your imagination?"

If Jake caught on, he didn't let you know.

"Better," he groaned. "I don't care if we do anything else. I'm perfectly content to be like this the rest of the day."

He twitches inside you, and you gasp, dropping your mouth to rest against the top of his head. You know what he is doing. He's letting you adjust, letting the pain subside, assuring your anxious thoughts.

"Like this? Me, wrapped around your cock, barely moving," You manage to pant, and he hums against your chest. "What if we have company? Rooster tends to show up unannounced."

"He better not," his growl vibrates off your skin, hand flexing on your thigh in an effort not to thrust. "He should know better than to show up at your door when he knows damn well what we're getting up to."

Jake titles his head to set his teeth into your collarbone in a warning, making you clench involuntarily and whimper. He snarls into your neck, "Don't mention him when I'm inside you. This is not going to end badly, not for your first time."

The heat laced in his voice did nothing to stop the small chuckle that racked your chest. Your muscles pull tight across your stomach, and you choke, "Are you trying to make me combust?"

"Is it working?"

Jake doesn't move. Not at first. Not until you decide to test the waters and flex your hips once, rocking yourself on his cock ever so slightly.

Your mouth is resting open against his forehead, and your nails are biting into his shoulders as you moan, letting the first thumps of pain, turn into pleasure. He's tense under you, Jake, using every ounce of willpower not to thrust himself hard up into you to match your rocks. He wants to take this slow. He wants you to enjoy this, no matter how badly he wants to feel you clench around him.

Instead, he rasps into your breast, “Feel good?”

Why is he so obsessed with asking you questions?

You’re unsure if your noise is intelligible, but you try to force out an affirmative hum. Then he hits the back of your cervix, making you howl and curl into him.

It must have been the sound you let out because Jake growls. Gripping the flesh of your butt tightly, he flipped the both of you. You weren't expecting him to, not with how beaten up he was. The movement of your back hitting the bed caused him to hit something deep inside you, causing you to cry out and grip the planes of his shoulders, nails biting hard and uncaring if you happened to touch his bruise.

The slow movement of you rocking on him was nothing compared to the way he started to thrust in earnest.

"You have no idea how much I've wanted you," he panted, increasing his pace. "The day I saw you at the Hard Deck when you were dancing in your kitchen. The clean fucking slate."

You whimper at the growl he spun on the word fucking, adding to the heat already spreading across your body. Even with the pleasure he’s bestowing across your body, you know this must be somewhat painful for him.

"Jake.." you gasped. "Your back."

"Fuck my back," he grunted, angling his hips in an urgent thrust. It made you tilt your head back into your pillow, your head almost hitting your headboard, your nails biting into his back, letting out a heated cry. Jake went for your neck, teeth, and lips, pressing hard to your pulse point.

"I don't care if I fucking break it," he growled out. "I'm not stopping until you cum for me."

A particular thrust caused you to turn your head, and Jake sunk his teeth into your neck. You lifted your leg, wrapping it around Jake's waist. The angle of this next thrust changed, and you whimpered loudly, tears leaking down the sides of your face as Jake lurched over you with a desperate groan.

It has you wrapping your other leg around his waist, your hips slanted downwards, his cock pounding you at a new angle.

His hand, supporting himself on the bed next to you, shot out to grip your bedframe. Alternating between deep thrusts and shallow teases, Jake watched you underneath him. Your breasts bounce with every thrust, your eyes fighting to stay open, and dog tags - his dog tags - jangling against your stomach.

He almost didn’t have this, the stark realization haunting him. He had literally been a breath away from never seeing you again, never feeling your warmth or hearing your cries of pleasure or even your laughter. He would take any chance, any glance, anything to assure him you were real. And that you were his.

His back spasmed, and he fell on top of you, saving himself from crushing you at the last second. But it doesn’t deter him. No, Jake still flexed his hips, more than determined to get you over that edge, to have you cum. Even if he didn’t, he wanted you to experience at least that.

But those dog tags cause a possessive feeling to rise in his chest - because the only word going through his head right now is mine.

"You’re mine, Elizabeth,” he grunted. "Say it. Please say it.”

There's the possessive kink you know and love.

“I’m yours,” you cry out, consumed by the feeling of him driving his cock into you. “Yours Jake, just please…”

It is then a mantra of "pleases" and "I needs" fall from your lips, of which you aren't sure what for. All you knew was that Jake was working you higher and higher off that edge, fully determined to see you tumble over it.

“Cum for me Liz,” he whines. “Cum for me, just for me. Please my darlin’ girl.”

He drops his hand between the two of you, seeking out your clit and rubbing hard, tight circles that have you screaming. Your soaring, going over that somewhat unfamiliar edge he’s brought you over only twice before.

You swear you black out, just for a few moments, until Jake is at your ear, whispering praise after praise about how good it finally felt to have you cum around him. How only he would ever be the one to experience this, how proud of you he is.

Then he thrusts, once, twice, before your hips jolt up, and he's pressing himself deep, flooding your core. You sob, burying your face into his neck and tightening your legs around him. Because amongst the overstimulation, you can feel another one creeping up from out of nowhere. Pure white heat shoots up to your chest as Jake's haunting moan vibrates your entire being.

Then it's quiet, and you want to bury yourself in this moment.

You don't even care that you're crying. Because, with all the thoughts and feelings flying back and forth through your mind, there's one that stands out the most.

Your so fucking glad you waited.

"Are you alright?"

When you don't say anything, too blissed out to form words, Jake pants out your name against your neck; his voice laced with urgency.

"I need... I need a moment. Just a moment," you manage to pant, forcing breath into your lungs. Jake moves, trying to bring himself onto his elbows as his back screams in protest.

"Did I hurt you?" he asks, stroking your cheek. You manage a small shake of your head, the sides of your mouth turning upwards. "No," you reply softly.

You finally open your eyes to see Jake staring down at you. His brow pulled together in concern. And, of course, you, being you, had to say the first thing that came to mind.

"I guess you did give me a good time after all."

Jake tilts his head for a second before his memory catches up with him, and he shakes his head, though you can see the puff he takes out of pride.

"What am I going to do with you, Elizabeth Beck?"

You grin up at him. "Hopefully, a repeat of that sometime in the near future?"

Jake rolled onto his side with a groan, pulling you with him to lie half on his chest. The action caused him to slip out from you, which you were grateful for. The quick movement only caused a brief amount of pain, and you were sure if he drew it out, it would have been worse.

Jake was pressing kisses to your forehead as the aftershocks finally made them known. You trembled against him, hands trying to find purchase along his chest, and Jake didn't stop until he was sure you were okay.

But, in the blissful silence, once you calmed down, Jake playing with your hair against your back, did he finally ask the question you knew was coming since he walked through your front door.

"Does she hate me?"

You weakly lifted your head from his shoulder, watching the conflicting emotions play across his face.

"The day at the beach. She was devastated..." Jake trailed off, absentmindedly staring at your bedroom wall. You pressed a kiss to his chest. "We've both had a lot of people in our lives that have hurt us."

"I'm used to disappointing people, but her? She has every right."

You frowned. "She missed you so much, Jake."

He shook his head, slamming his eyes shut. You lifted your hand off his chest to cradle his jaw, your thumb stroking across his cheekbone under the newly darkened skin. "She could never hate you. She asked me every day when you'd be coming home."

Jake didn't open his eyes, but he did lean into your touch, his shame and guilt still evident.

You wanted to tell him about the most recent thunderstorm, Sadie waking up and crying out for the both of you in the middle of the night. You had done your best to soothe her, but deep down, you knew she wanted Jake. Nothing could compare to his words of reassurance or the way she felt when he hugged her that night.

In the end, lifting his dog tags off your neck and placing them around hers was the only thing that worked. Huddled in her bed with your arms around her, she fell asleep with them gripped tightly in her hand.

Something told you even if you did tell him, it would only make him more upset.

You stroked your fingers over his forehead, asking him softly, "Come with me when I pick her up from camp next week? I promise she will prove you wrong."

There was a silent pause, and then he opened his eyes. He searched you for any hint of deception, not that he would find any. Sadie was just as important to him as you were. In the end, he nodded once with a sigh.

It was a few more minutes before he carefully untangled himself from your hold. He swung his legs over to the side of your bed with a groan, his muscles spasming as he sat up. Even in your blissed-out state, you reached out and placed a hand on his upper back, where his bruise was the least dark, hoping to soothe some of his pain.

"Where are you going?"

"Getting something to clean you up."

"You don't have to, Jake. I can take care of it."

"It's my job," he countered, turning his head to look at you with a cheeky grin. "Let me do this for you."

He stood, lumping slightly to your bathroom to grab something to clean you up. You watched him go, taking him in in all his naked glory, biting your bottom lip hard.

You still couldn't believe he was yours.

You weren't expecting this: the gentleness as he took the rag between your legs when he returned, the kiss he placed on your thigh when you whimpered from the sensitivity.

After tossing the rag into your laundry hamper to be dealt with later, he maneuvered himself back into the position he assumed last night when you fell asleep, head buried in your neck, arms wrapped under your shoulders.

It was soothing, his weight on your chest almost counteracting the dull throbbing in your core.

"How long do I have you for?" you asked, threading your fingers through his hair.

"I have nowhere to be for the next two weeks," he mumbled into your chest.

"Stay with me?"

"As if I'd leave you now."

😏😘 You hate me now?

Tags:

@blue-aconite @tinytotontheoversizedpony @djs8891 @caitsymichelle13 @startrekfangirl2233

@mayhemmanaged @ereardon @dempy @shanimallina87 @teacupsandtopgun @daggerspare-standingby

@phantomxoxo @formulapierre @eli2447 @fulla02 @blckgrl-sunflower @mizzzpink @ohgodnotagainn

@bubblegumbeautyqueen @sarahsmi13s @desert-fern @lynnestra44 @memoriesat30 @penwieldingdreamer @mxlanciia

@bradleybeachbabe @bobby-r2d2-floyd @lavenderbradshaw @roosters-girl @lovinglyeternal @kmc1989 @gigisimsonmars @dakotakazansky

@keyrani @craftytrashprincess @hisredheadedgoddess28 @abzidabzy @memeorydotcom @vicsnook @taestrwbrry

@its-the-pilot

Part 22 - Jump in progress

Wickett ;)

153 notes · View notes

spoonsand · 3 months ago

Text

CONTAINS SPOILERS

Just finished my second playthrough and I have to say: I hate Dutch more than Micah. Don’t get me wrong Micah is scum, but Dutch knew (mostly) everybody in the gang for over a year. Sometimes over a DECADE- and he still turns his back on them. All the kids he and Hosea raised, didn’t matter, the ‘last’ score mattered. The last robbery mattered. Not the orphans or runaways he raised, taught and loved.

Micah is a superficial type. You know he’s evil. When you first meet him, you know he’s bad. But I liked Dutch in definitely the first 3 chapters, I was still liking him in 4. Guarma was iffy. Beaver Hollow is where it all goes downhill. I noticed the decline since chapter 3, but I feel it really steepened in 4 and 6 (Guarma didn’t happen). But back to Micah- you know he’s evil. The way he talks, the way he acts, his beliefs, you just KNOW that this guy isn’t who you’d want to come to your rescue (RIP SADIE). Micah did what he had to do to survive. He never had loyalty in mind, he has his own being in mind.

The Van Der Linde’s whole gang/family was so BASED on loyalty that people killed and died for the gang. Miss Grimshaw mentions killing another traitor. Molly (mistakenly assumed as a traitor) is killed because that’s how strongly they value loyalty. Loyalty (mostly to Dutch) was how the whole gang was founded.

Hosea had the same loyalty, but he actually cared about the people. I think Dutch only cared about the image. Hosea said that he cared for the people that died following Blackwater- that they mattered to him. He wanted closure. Dutch used their deaths as ammunition for his speeches. As a reason for the gang to keep on going. The only thing that set him apart from the O’Driscolls was the fact he cultivated the image that they were a family and that he might have cared. The O’Driscolls didn’t have the same loyalty to their members. When Kieran was captured they didn’t try to get him back. He said he was as good as dead if he wasn’t with the Van Der Linde’s. Dutch took Kieran in to set himself apart. The loyalty. The image.

Hosea kept Dutch in check. After Hosea died, Dutch couldn’t be kept in check. He didn’t have someone he valued highly who truly cared anymore. Micah took over Hosea’s place as the highly valued peer. Micah’s influence was never for the good of the gang- and that wasn’t a secret. Micah’s influence was for his own gain. But what I can’t get over is once Micah had that influence, Dutch didn’t care about anyone anymore. Especially towards the end. He used Eagle Flies, he left Arthur, left John (TWICE), didn’t care about the women, didn’t care about little Jack. Dutch cared about Tahiti. One last score. Reallllly messing with the Pinkertons. Getting the gang to safety wasn’t a priority. As I mentioned earlier- loyalty to Dutch was how the whole gang was founded- Dutch says something about John and Abigail and that women are poison. At the end, John was more concerned with Abigail and Jack rather than Dutch. He didn’t like that. Dutch didn’t like that John was more loyal to his FAMILY than him. He didn’t like that Arthur was more loyal to John than him. Micah, Bill and Javier didn’t have family available to have that stronger loyalty to. They had Dutch and only Dutch. I’m sure that Dutch also had beef with Hosea and Bessie; especially when they left.

But Dutch turned his back on John and Arthur- his sons. He raised them. When Susan was shot, he didn’t bat an eye. He loved her at some point. All these people he’s known for 20 ish years. Or the newer ones, that again, he either raised or feigned affection. And nothing. Turned his back.

FUCK DUTCH YOU BASTARD I HOPE HELL IS AS NICE AS TAHITI

34 notes · View notes

rosypenguins · 2 months ago

Text

Day 30! LGTV Headcanons! (Jomies Edition!)

💛I’m sorry, but I can’t see Jake as anything other than straight. He is after ladies and ladies only. And in all honestly, I feel he’d pretty much know nothing about the LGBT community. (Along with the rest of the Jomies tbh.) Like, he only knows straight, gay and bi. Anything else is completely foreign to him. (I can totally see a conversation between him and Luke regarding Luke’s sexuality. Jake’s like: “So, you’re gay too?” And Luke responds with: “Oh, I’m pan actually.” And Jake just buffers for a moment like: “Pan? Like- like a frying pan? What the hell does that mean? You like pans???” And you can just see Luke’s soul leave his body.) (He’s not trying to be insensitive he genuinely just doesn’t understand this stuff.😭)

🖤Drew’s biromantic. Because no way his feelings for Jake are platonic. I can also see him having crushes on other guys in the past, but he never really registered those as crushes. Just… very close friends. Also, don’t really think he (or any of the Jomies) has a problem with other people being gay. But in Drew’s case, I feel like that’s something he personally doesn’t think he’s allowed to be for whatever reason. Like, he’s so set on the idea that he’s straight he cannot fathom the idea of being anything else. It’s what he has to be, basically. (Internalized homophobia baby! ✨) Oh, and I also like to think Drew’s ace, because… uh, vibes, I guess? I don’t really have an explanation for this, I just think it’s fitting. (And I just want more ace characters in media that still want romantic relationships it makes me feel seen.😭)

❤️Both Liam and Henry are the type of guys to be like: “I’m straight, but- 20 bucks is 20 bucks-” (And even without the incentive of 20 dollars they still do the gayest shit ever so no one really knows what they are. Not even them.) (But I do imagine Liam’s bicurious.)

🩷Zoey’s honestly an enigma to me. Because literally, anything works. Straight? Lesbian? Bi? Aro-ace? All of it makes sense.

💜Lia’s a lesbian. She’s always liked girls but is in complete denial of it. Her almost obsessive crush on Jake was just her trying to convince herself she liked guys. But she doesn’t. It’s always been girls.

🤍Bonus! Daisy’s bi, and Sadie’s a lesbian! (And I also like to think Sadie’s transfem because I saw someone else headcanon it and the idea of that’s been living in my head rent-free since.)

This’ll be the last day of Freakblr month I’ll be doing. I don’t really have any ideas for Day 31 other than “Is Drew a Twink?” so I think I’ll be leaving this off here. This was so much fun to participate in, though! I love rambling about these sillies and seeing other’s thoughts on them too! 10/10 would participate again.

#tmf #the music freaks #freakblr #tmf headcanons #tmf jake #tmf drew #tmf henry #tmf liam #tmf zoey #tmf lia #tmf daisy #tmf sadie

20 notes · View notes

jrat226 · 5 months ago

Text

Imma rank the TDI contestants cause yeah

1. Duncan (I mean he was it, he's awesome)

2. Harold (I love Harold, he's funny, comes in clutch, I did like his crush on leshawna) "give daddy some sugar"

3. Dj (I mean of course he's making top 3??? You surprised you know why he's here?)

4. Noah (look I love snarky asshole characters)

5. Gwen (best girl hands down)

6. Leshawna (she's awesome you know why she's this high)

7. Heather (we love and evil bitch)

8. Tyler (he's funny, I like him, also he was voted off unfairly)

9. Izzy (I like Izzy, that's all)

10. Eva (listen the buff angry girl was kinda fun I'm not gonna lie I wish she stayed longer and her friendship with Izzy and Noah is cool)

11. Cody (I like him but I do wish he was fleshed out more)

12. Owen (imma get my ip leaked, but he's so overrated like yes he's very nice and sweet but besides that it's just *insert fat/fart joke here*

13. Geoff (again cool kind I like him)

14. Bridgette (she's cool)

15. Courtney (another one that'll get me killed, but I mean she was annoying, the only time I liked her on screen was when Duncan was with her on screen)

16. Lindsey (she's cool but she's just a bit too dumb)

17. Justin (damn that boy sexy, but he got the personality of wet toilet paper)

18. Beth (eh she cool)

19. Ezekiel (he's wasted potential if he could've stayed longer and learned things he could've been taken under someone's wing but as he is he can go here)

20. Trent (this one will get me killed but, he's just so basic I'm sorry)

21. Katie (annoying ass)

22. Sadie (she was there longer than Katie so she could annoy me longer)

24 notes · View notes

morganacorp · 7 months ago

Note

Lol

Grace getting her facial and her phone keeps dinging because Sadie's in the middle if her bi-awakening.

Text #1: where u at?

Text #2 & #3: Grace! ?

Text #4: i thought u were coming 2 spin class!

Text #5: i gave lola3 ur latte

Text #6: r u really not coming? i'll save you Aseat just in case

Text #7: nvmnd. this class is huge. tried to fight off an old lady to keep your bike open. Ur welcome

Text #8: omg grace this place smells like wet socks

Text #9: kimberkyn says ur getting a facial. rude

Text #10 & #11: lola says hi BTW. Hi

Text #12: *picture of Sadie and Lola and Kimberlyn* bout to get sweaty!

Text #13: the instructor said we can't have our phones. so peace out! ✌️😋

*missed call*

Text #14: ohmygod grace answer your phone!

Text #15: ok. it's nothing. it's probably nothing. don't worry about it. it's fine. i'll tell you later.

*missed call*

Text #16: ok. so this is probably gonna get long and there will be typosz bc i don't have a lotg of time bcz i had to sneak 2 the bthrm bc i need 2 tell u something but we can't have our phones on the bikes which is so dumb bc I can multitask its not like I'm gonna

Text #17: sorry. lola scared me. o thought it was the instructor. anyway listen there is this girl. no. not just a girl. she is a woman. like a sculpted by the gods woman in this class and she has like. The most insanely perfect ripples i have ever seen and like her eyes are nice too BTW but we were changing un the same room and she just

Text #18: sorry i think the memory made me black out. God. Like. Look. I know it's not okay to objectify someone just because we're in a environment that encourages tight fitting clothing and vigorous rhythmic activity but u don't understand grace. she is gorgeous and omg she laughed when I asked if she knew where the vending machines were and i think my heart kind jumped out of my body because she sounded so sweet. and I want to talk to her again but I also can't fucking breathe because spin class is hard and i already drank all of my water and lola's too and i hate that ur not here. There I said it. I can usually be more put together when ur arounfe but

Text #19: her eyes are green btw

Text #20: not even like gross green. they are like perfect and not even the same color which is somehow even better and they have like stars in them not even lying

Text #21: and she has her hair in a braid and she got kinda sweaty so there's little wisps sticking out around her face and i never like licking sweaty ppl but like if she asked

Text #22: oh shot. i didn't mean that. idk why my mind went to licking her face instead of kissing her like a normal person

Text #23: that would b normal right? i mean iv nver rlly thought abt it b4. not really. but i watched glee. i know it usually hits in high school and obvi it didn't 4 me so this is mayb just bc i only had two donuts this morning instead of 3

Text #24: omg she asked kimberlyn if I have ibs while I was gone. I hate everythibg

Text #25: fyi i took a quiz a minute ago and turns out glee lied

Text #26: i wanted to ask lola if she has like a booklet for ppl questioning their. Preferences but i think mayb it would b easier if u asked for me

Text #27: fuck this is all so weird

Text #28: but also not. it's scary nit weird. like I thought admiring Walker got a little too intense but this is. This is something else

Text #29: ive eaten some beef jerkey and i think it's too soon to think about kissing her. it feels too invasive. so I'm just gonna keep watching her ass in class

Text #30: thnx btw 4 all ur help grace. U r rlly good 2 talk 2

Text #31: ^sarcasm fyi

Text #32: omg her name is lena. isn't that nice? i think that is the most beautiful name in the whole wide world

Text #34: i think she waved at me

Text #35: damn. it was oneof her friends walking outside the door

Text #36: her whole name is lena kieran luthor. and her birthday is October 13.

Text #37: and no she didnt tell me that i looked through her purse while pretending to have ibs and hiding in the bathroom. she uses Christian Dior perfume. i think I have a problem

Text #38: grace can u please call me so I can just leave??

Text #39: i feel like everyone knows. they keep talking about me i can feel it

Text #40: omg she helped the little old lady in front of me asjust her settings on the bike. She's so nice. i bet she saves puppies and orphans in her spare time. angel in disguise right there

Text #41: how long is this fucking spin class?!

Text #42: lola was talking about a gay show called the bold type. will u watch it with me so I can see how a normal heterosexual would react?

Text #43: lena offered me a drink from her water bottle and i didn't even worry about germs. I just went for it

Text #44: how long is ur fucking facial?! Y haven't u texted me back?!

Text #45: only 5 more minutes. I can do this

Text #46: I think lens was flirting with lola and I wish I had laser vision so I could set everything on Fire this is awful

Text #47: my heart is broken

Text #48: nvmnd. she touched my arm and said she likes my shirt.

Text #49: I'm wearing one of kimberlyns work out shirts BTW but that's not the point. She likes it on me. So kimberkyn is never getting this back

Text #50: omg! Grace! Grace!

Text #51: she recommended we get kombucha after class. Idk what that is but I would eat anything for her

Text #52: Lola says kombucha tastes like ass and kimberkyn says we have to get back ;(

Text #53: SEE THIS IS WHY I NEED YOU HERE YOU COULD VOTE TO GO GET KOMBUCHA WITH ME

Text #54: NOOOO ILL NEVER SEE HER AGAIN. GOODBYE BEAUTIFUL GODDESS GOODBYE CRUEL WORLD

Reply: lol

Text #55: ur laughing. i bear my broken soul to u and ur laughing

Text #56: Not Cool Grace

ANON THIS IS HILARIOUS 😂😂😂😂😂😂😂

Thank you so much for this, it has made my night! There's so many gems hidden in here... I'm in tears! 😂😂😂

#lena luthor #the girls on the bus #sadie mccarthy

9 notes · View notes

horizon-verizon · 1 month ago

Text

I've got some things to say abt the latest episode of Tell Me Lies, as well as some fans of the show.

Firstly, I just want to say that Stephen IS Shakespeare's Iago.

1) I really hope Bree finds out Lucy was the girl Evan cheated on her with in the future storyline, bc this group of friends needs to just never be together anymore.

2) Oliver was always an opp, from day one, no matter how hot his actor is (and trust I have been both side eyeing and involuntarily gushing at their scenes for a while). "Boys" are the worst at any age; he's a prime example of that but Bree doesn't know that yet. 45x19 is never the move, esp when the older's married.

The reason why Bree keeps telling people abt Oliver is bc she doesn't want to feel guilty or under a moral pressure abt it when she's in the affair to feel like she is desirable/worthy of attention when her friends barely do anything to really know/care for her & she felt her relationship w/Evan didn't have enough reciprocated emotional investment. Which is ironic bc Oliver is certainly not giving that despite how she feels he sorta "picks" her over Marianne by choosing to spend time w/her, validating her feelings abt Evan/her friends. Despite him saying he won't leave his marriage for her.

He's playing a push-pull game to keep her wanting more: the ring, "why wouldn't we?", etc. HE travels to some NE "village" for Thanksgiving with rich white folks and she lives in the dorms. He is still using her, this is and never will be an "equal" relationship.

3) idgaf abt the possibility that Diana is trying to swerve Steven by lashing at Lucy, it will always be an amoral, unnecessary, unethical move when Steven PUBLICLY & VISIBLY in front of both their friends was & HAS BEEN trying to rile Lucy/Leo up.

4) Diana thus 100% deserved that slap, esp when Lucy was the one who put her onto to the Steven-Macy and *she* didn't believe Lucy at first. Lucy is the one who's enabled Diana--IF she is trying to get away from Steven now--to plan in the 1st place, & she goes & does this?

Nah, let's hold Diana accountable for her actions as you (a lot of people) have been holding Lucy accountable for hers! She was a coward bc even if she is doing this to get away from Steven and she is as smart as people say she is, if she is actually pretty good at social manipulation, it's still amoral to tell the victim he was the real problem and invited abuse (a girl younger than Diana [20-22] herself, who also took Steven back when he cheated on her and put her down for months and is currently still doing so), is not the NECESSARY move when we see the same dude publicly try to harass Leo and Lucy in front of the friends who will not check Steven.

5) This is also the same reason why I am annoyed & disappointed w/Pippa even though he was the only one to at least say something abt & TO Steven in the situation. How are you going to stand there, witness Steven try to get Leo to go wild on him not once but TWICE, hear Lucy tell you abt Steven getting to her, hear him say she "embarrassed" herself at that lunch table (Steven had been trying to break them up for ages!), see Lucy stay away from Steve the best she could until not only he but his sister criticize her for being "psycho" (against Steven, not her behavior towards others, Sadie thought Lucy was being "crazy" on Steven),...see Diana wrongly assign all the fault on Lucy...then say you can't "believe" Lucy slapped her?

Not only do we know & you saw Steven be emotionally abusive to Diana (& I am sure she wouldn't say the same if Diana slapped another girl saying that), you slapped Steven yourself?!!! Under the guise of a game, but everyone understood what you did! Leo fist-pumped you for it?! All bc you have a crush on Diana, you're willing to ignore how Diana is literally victim-blaming while she herself "makes it easy" for Steven to hurt her time and time again.

6) And I'm red in rage over the Lucy getting blamed and this idea of victimhood or victimlessness bc it's all abt the principle of the thing: yes there are many women who will sacrifice their dignity for male validation (like Diana, not just Steven but her dad), & Lucy was one of them when she had been dating Steven...but this is the point of the show! MANY women are like Lucy and Diana and Pippa. MOST women have at one point in their prepubescence to dating lives have sold other women/girls out, blamed other girls, to believed or vilified women trying to defend themselves in a sea of men-protectors, etc. bc out world has made it very clear that, for a time, these actions will at least move negative male predation away from them or get them social "favors" for it, or some sort of validation the same society denies young girls and women. Gain back what is lost.

It's still women's jobs to reflect and stop that behavior in ourselves as we grow. At least Future!pool-Lucy is not throwing another girl under the bus as she tries to get back at Steven for his wedding speech, even as she is choosing to react to more of his bullshit at the age of 25-27! We hold Future!Lucy accountable for not taking the opp to protect her own peace...but not Diana when she's actively making Lucy out to be the bad guy in a situation where she definitely wasn't?! Making her out to be the "crazy" ex and weaponizing her slapping her against her for her own needs?

This goes to show that our society/the internet still will approve male violence in any form--even encourage it, with Leo vs Steven (this instance is kinda valid, but you should know what I'm getting at)--before they ever let a woman REFLEXIVELY lose some bit of restraint and react/defend herself.

Past!Lucy was not even horrible to Diana nor Steven before epi 6; she was trying to stay away & live her life w/Leo & the others. Yeah, she's emotionally immature before and after Steven, but:

a) she is actually "worse" AFTER Steven and if he didn't exist or had approached her with all his damn negging, she likely could have done better for herself as she grew in this college environment when, once more, bc Steven was so horrible to her she developed a hyperawareness towards possible psychological threats from intimate partners or other kinds...esp with how her mother tried to make her to be the wrong party, talking abt "your dad would be so upset with you" when she slept with his best friend as he died and way before that! Lucy was kinds set up for more ish bc her mother created the expectations for that.

b) Past! & Future!Steven goes/went out of his way, unprovoked, to make her feel she was always the one doing wrong when he creates most of all his own issues: Macy, inviting the freshmen girls he hunted for in the first place, cheating on Diana, telling his gfs their hormones & periods make them insufferable, manipulating Wrigley AND his brother Iago-style , etc.

Steven is out here literally trying to ruin people's day bc he has never had one himself. How is Lucy mean to be so perfectly composed 100% of the time?!!! No, things will always give, plus she is 19/was 18.

7) Which is why I don't fuck w/Max even though Leo also cites how Lucy uses people's worst things against them (which, again, is her doing reactive mistreatment bc she, form Steven, now reflexively anticipates people using/lying/manipulating her).

Leo at least HAS to stay away from toxicity bc of his own anger issues & abusive past form his dad & his reliance on the only thing that made him relatively safe...ironically, very similar to Lucy. I wish he had clocked both this AND how Lucy is more reacting in the face of having not much support form the peanut gallery, but I get it, it simply isn't their time. I loved them together, and despite him not telling Lucy about his ex cheating w/Steven when he knows she is so triggered and afraid of any scenario like manipulation, saying that its "unimportant" I also think there is a chance that they could have tackled it with how good they were communicating otherwise. How good he was at that aside form this thing.

Max, however, has no background to be telling Lucy to "forget" Steven kiking up with him in the 4th or 5th episode, I forget. Esp when she herself asked him why he is doing said kiking knowing what she told him abt Steven...talking abt "people changed". Also we have seen no real consideration of what I have described all along: that Steven is the issue, and that maybe instead of "forgiving" him and giving him a pass, just suggest she stay away from him and not engage with Steven yourself for her to be able to actually "forget" him, as YOU say!

No, we don't dismiss our partner's upset bc we're upset they haven't "forgiven & forgot"; that in itself is not very "mature".

And no, I don't think that her FUTURE/present!pool-move licenses Past!Steven, present/future!Max, whoever, to give her past-self flack.

Yes, at the older age you must realize that sometimes you've got to be the one to make an end of things or have built up some thicker skin to generate some peace as you're not even in the same spaces anymore like you were in college when the guy truly was making life hell enough for you to drop a class.

Yes, the pool scene shows she has little progress than she should. That in no way negates how Steven hasn't either, he's just now even better at hiding his crazy...I mean that damn speech?

Yes, we the audience know that Steven is slighting both Lucy & Diana with his whole "find the right one to do the work for"; but people like Max don't.

Steven also says he was the idiot (notice how he makes it abt him), there is enough for some inattentive, inexperienced, distracted, or ignorant people to take it as if he's being self-effacing...but no, he *ended* his speech w/that dig. This and the sales comment abt her "as long as you're happy" (when we already heard him say to Diana that he basically thinks working in sales is "beneath" him). HE hasn't changed, not one bit. He will always try to get his lick in, as present/future!Pippa says he will and has not ever "changed".

Again, I can't exactly "hate" Lucy for the pool scene even as I am exasperated with her for it. I hate discrepancies like these where one ends up "hating" the wrong person the most, makes me misanthropic (not just misandirist).

Last Notes...

So, real life-wise, yeah, Future!Lucy, stop, just remove yourself from those group of so-called "friends" AND Max and get some therapy. Otherwise, you're just choosing to be toxic. Yes, the letter about Drew was much, but that is more misguided defending a dead girl who shouldn't have died. The way she went about it was concerning, but not unfoundly malicious. Yeah, her telling Steven abt Lydia's personal shit was terrible of her and maybe it's bc she had many experiences from Lydia actually doing as she did with that stupid poop comment to embarrass her. That was shitty, but I am also not going to remove the described possibility abt Lydia when we know Lydia is perhaps the biggest pick-me to ever pick me in this entire cast and is def jealous of Lucy. I think it's important to note that Lucy one time punched Lydia's ex when he basically cheated on her publicly or something along those lines. And, as Lucy says, she was trying to take care of Steven the way she thought she was (as some people will say Diana might be trying to while getting back at Lucy).

Perhaps Lucy and Steven are a pair who drag everyone around them, with Lucy sending that letter (Wrigley's accident, Drew's mental dive) and also having slept w/Evan & that also having lead to Bree getting w/Oliver but Bree wasn't forced to sleep w/Oliver even as she searches for validation form him she's missing from Evan and her friends. And Wrigley having allowed his mates to harass Pippa, having joined other boys/men in inviting only freshmen girls who he later says are a "curse", when he's the one who suggested this stupid ass game for this group of people (we don't nearly give enough flack for tis when this basically set up the entire evening along w/Steven's bullshit, but apparently we will give Lucy flack for the pool scene above all else)...Evan not only cheating but making Bree feel she's crazy for questioning his overcompensation, then getting mad when she wouldn't give him the time of day when she's really just distracted, then him stringing along the girl I don't remember the name of. All of these people are quite capable of creating their own drama without Lucy, esp with how they refuse to let Steven go or pay attention and hold him accountable, go ALL the way with him.

I think that a present popular audience feeling that Lucy is somehow "close" to Steven's level and type of toxicity are themselves serving to protect mal predation and bad acting. Something these "friends" are doing, ironically.

So I will always have the most smoke for Stephen & the other men THE MOST. As I also ream Lydia Pippa, Bree, Diana....not just Lucy, as it appears people have and continue to do. Stephen is the un"fix"able provoker.

I love this damn show so much. i wouldn't be friends or even acquaintances with any of them, yes inclu Lucy & Wrigley.

#not asoiaf #tell me lies #stephen demarco #lucy albright #lucy tell me lies #stephen tell me lies

6 notes · View notes

georgiapeach30513 · 8 months ago

Note

Hiya Widow Cole Anon again! 👋

Sorry , the first sentence of my second anon was directed at the anon that said he should have stayed as producer not you. Chris looked his age with his character so I was a little defensive.

Oh yeah I loved Stella got her groove her Back! Got to watch that again sometime soon. I see your point with there being younger people that fit the criteria for Ghosted I think I’m just tired of this genre specifically looking at only younger cast and setting aside women 35+ as undesireables. So I was hoping with the casting and premise they’d be poking fun at that with a little wink wink nudge nudge. The constant fresh young ‘newness’/first love that’s promoted tires me out.

Yes Cole does fit my Big Dumbo Himbo fantasies to a T. After that “IM NOT A SuPEr SpY!” clip I was sold red flags be DAMNED. Like girl Sadie, RUN, you could do better. I, however, will not. That is mine. That clip has me giggling and kicking my feet in embarrassment. I’m still down bad

Also little tidbit, to the Brian Peck thing. Based on the people that wrote letters for him, he basically just said he was jailbaited so nobody really looked into it. Like he admitted to have slept with a minor but played it as him being tricked to the people who trusted him. Eye roll but fits the bill with someone like that

Welcome back Widowed Cole Anon!!

Okay, just wanted to make sure. I actually think Chris looks his age. So I was hoping it wasn't directed at me, anyways. I get a bit defensive with the age talk, too. Aging is a privilege and not everyone gets to do it. Remember that.

I think with Ghosted the script was better suited for a younger cast. With that being said, I do wish that there were movies in the romcom genre with ALL ages in mind. I want to see it all. The 20 something movies are a dime a dozen. But let's put out some different age movies as well. I think with an older cast you can get a much more nuanced script. It's more than just he cheated, or she has an ex boyfriend. Bring in some real life problems that other ages can identify with. And for heaven's sake some different skin color. Different types of relationships. They don't always have to be het relationships.

Haha!! I love you anon! I'm glad that you found you a Big Dumb Himbo fantasy in Cole! He's super whiney, so you got you a little subby boy. It's silly, but I enjoyed Chris' whiney moments. "I'm a farmer!" gets me every time.

I love that he's blaming minors like they can consent to anything. But I digress there's a lot of disgusting people in Hollywood, and Brian is just one. But everyone that wrote a letter in his defense tells me all I need to know.

3 notes · View notes

bombshelllblonde · 8 months ago

Note

heyyyyyy im backkk!!!!!!!

invading ur ask box again lol, sorry!!!!!!

this might start being a thing

ANYWYAS

i totally forgot to mention last time hiw muvh i love lenny, mary-beth and hosea and tilly and MOLLY O SHEA omg

the drinking mission w lenny is one of my favorites, and I LOVE PLAYING DOMINOES W TILLY MY GIRL SHE IS THE BEST

AND SADIE I LOVE HER SM

Like yea gurl!!!!! kill the o driscolls!! kill them all!! avenge ur pookie!!! rahhh!!!

Mary-beth and kieran are my blorbs. my pookies. my babbygirls. my schmookums

molly o'shea that woman that she is i love her so so so much

i feel so bad for her tho w her fights w dutch :(

speaking of dutch, idk i have like a neutral (slightly negative) view of him???

i dislike how he treats molly, and w how he treats mary-beth?? (inst dutch also like 40-50 and mary-beth like 20-smth? idk im probably rlly biased in this lol)

ALSO another reason dutch be chosing Micah the rat over what is his basically adopted son??

im definitely biased in this but wtv lmao

but he hasnt really done much so i dont hate him, but i dont like him either

moving on, do yk if theres any way to explore blackwater + south of it while playing as arthur? i wanna get all the dinosaur bones and legendary animals !!

i replayed the 'americans at rest' mission, yk w bill (i think) javier and charles at the bar (towards the beginning of the game)

its so fucking funny i cannot

arthur walks in, uses his amazing charmer skills (LOUD INCORRECT BUZZER) and then bill runs in, punches a guy therefore starting a bar fight, HERE COME CHARLES WITH THE STEEL CHAIR, arthur gets his ass kicked and then kicks ass and nearly beats the guy half to death

yk when jack grows up and tells epople abt his dear ol uncle arthur that uncle lore drop boutta be CRAZYYYY

did i mention charles throwing a chair? its my favorite part could you tell

i have a pretty neutral view of john marston ig, i kinda hope he steps up and gets the stick outta his ass, starts being a father to jack or smth but im trying not to get my hopes up lmao

thats it for now!!!! hope u have a nice day!!!!

(thanks for responding to these btw! lmk if im bothering u tho, ty for letting me ramble abt my hyperfixation lmao)

okay lsitennnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnn rdr2 has been mt hyper fixation since July of 2022 when my brother in law gave me his old ps4 and the game and i don’t think ive shut up about it since i started playing. My entire personality is rdr2. And my current outlet/therapy is writing my rdr2 fanfiction

it’s gotten to the point where my family has literally started buying me cowboy/outlaw stuff. when I was a teenager i loved owls so everyone got me owl things. now im obsessed with cowboys at 26 years old and every gift I receive has something to do with outlaws

My sister got me a cameo of Roger Clark talking to me as Arthur for my 25th bday and literally nothing has ever topped that. It was the most amazing gift ever and now I have a video of Arthur Morgan saying my name and talking to me about my horses!!!! It’s so amazing I watch it all the time

unfortunately there isn’t any way to explore blackwater as Arthur unless you get like mods or something. the AI immediately roll up and the bounty hunters shoot him dead if you try to get into west Elizabeth

do you know how to play dominoes??? Literally ive only ever played 5 finger fillet in that game because i cant fucking play dominoes or poker bc i don’t know how

also Tilly is amazing just wait until later in the game. there’s a mission that really solidified the love i have for Arthur being the protective older brother

Dutch is sooooo complex and i think that’s why i love him so much. i won’t get too deep into my feels for him just yet bc i want you to keep going without me saying anything but once you get farther into the game we can talk about him!!!

Hosea and Dutch are literally my gay fathers. I love them so much. Their love for each other literally makes my tummy flip I love it so so so much

Also I’d let Charles hit me with a chair too, tbh. Love of my life

I never disliked Molly but I didn’t like her either, I think she’s just too much of a loud mouth. Felt like to me she could have not been in the game and it wouldn’t have changed much. Idk

And John’s complexity we can talk about after you progress a lil further. I honestly don’t want to spoil anything or give it away unless you don’t care about spoilers. But I’m just gonna stay quiet until you let me know 😂😂😂😂

#arthur morgan #rdr2 #red dead redemption 2 #rdr 2 #dutch van der linde

6 notes · View notes

ladytemeraire · 2 years ago

Text

Last week my local Kroger had a BOGO on whole chickens (actual BOGO, not “buy one get 20% off” or some nonsense), so I restocked my chest freezer and made the buttermilk chicken from Salt Fat Acid Heat with the spices from my favorite Cornish Hen recipe, and HNGH. I kind of want to eat nothing else for the rest of my life.

My stock bag is now very well-stocked; between this and and the beef bones I’ve let Sadie have once a week, I need to make both chicken and beef stock and clean bulky scrap things out of my freezer drawer. I think this time I’ll make it with celery and carrot but without garlic and onion; I usually add those in recipes anyway, and that way I know it’s dog safe if I want to add it to her kibble or if I need to make plain rice more appealing if she gets sick again. (Garlic and onions are toxic to dogs, and most stock or broth has them unless you buy the super expensive dog-safe stuff from the pet store.)

I also FINALLY managed to bake deliciously crisp asparagus which feels like a bit of an achievement, go me! Now to try and achieve something similar with brussel sprouts. My ultimate moonshot would be making brussel sprouts as good as the local fusion place, but I would settle for nicely crisped sprouts that I can jazz up with truffle oil or fancy crunchy salt.

#life with ladytemeraire #kitchen adventures

9 notes · View notes

horseshoegirl · 1 year ago

Text

Damn Those Dog Tags: Part 19 - An Evening I Will Not Forget

📜So... remember when I said things were getting better with the sad parts? I lied... Oh boy, did I ever lie... 😬

Fair warning: this one is grief-heavy... but it's been a long time coming for Liz.

(I also want to say, next to Sapling, this is the other song I hope you listen to. These last two parts have been at the centre of why this story means so much to me. I hope you do 💛)

❗+18, strong language, godmother reader/original female character, original child character, Emotional & Protective Sadie (She needs her own warning), Liz finally caves, conversations about grief, Sadie caves too, and strikes again, Crying, Angst, Thunderstorms, Smutty themes (with a Camera 👀), and Just in Case letters.

#6.6k words

Part 18 | Masterlist | Part 20

They say grief comes in five stages.

Denial. Anger. Bargaining. Depression. Acceptance.

Ridley always talked to you about it. All the vicarious trauma sessions she had to attend as a nurse. 'It's just something you have to deal with when you are a nurse. Or even in life," she'd say.

The thing about these stages is that everyone assumed they were something you would experience in order, each stage just as intense as the last. Or that you would feel all of them. It was just a matter of time.

You always thought it was a bald-faced lie.

You didn't know what was worse, the fact you spent the better half of an almost year shoving that grief down into the deepest parts of your soul or that it only took one week after Jake left and a freaking thunderstorm, to finally make you surrender.

It was the first rumble of thunder you heard, standing alone in your kitchen, that started eating away at your stomach. It planted a seed, which grew like vines wrapping around your heart. And whatever the feeling was suddenly flooding your entire body like water, you could only describe it as a sudden white pain.

You tried to bury it again, grabbing another plate leftover from dinner and letting water run over it as you shuttered out another breath. But the next rumble of thunder was accompanied by pelting rain on your windows, and you let the plate slip from your fingers under the water, only to grip the edges of your sink hard.

The white pain you felt only a few seconds earlier had intensified. A sharp inhale, and your chest tightened.

Not now. Why now.

You didn't realize tears had started to stream down your face. As if your body had a mind of its own and proclaimed the most recent danger had passed, so enough was enough - time to deal with what you've been putting off; it's as good of a time as any.

The flash of lightning should have been your warning for what was to follow. Because the second the bolt of lightning disappeared outside your window, the power flickered, and the entire house plunged into darkness.

It was the permission your body needed for your knees to give out. For you to crumple to the floor hard. You wanted to cry at the impact, yet only an aching sob escaped your lips; you curling your fingers into the groves along the tile of your kitchen floor, pulling yourself closer and closer to the handle of your fridge. You grabbed it, using what strength you had to pull yourself up to sit against the cool metal.

You had sung as a blue healer for feelings of deep blue when Sadie was in the hospital, Jake assuring you there was no deadline, no time frame of when you could finally accept she was gone. But the problem was, you didn't want to accept she was. Because wishing, thinking she was still there, was holding on to some semblance of her memory.

If thinking she was still here, still a phone call away, it wouldn't make it real. That you wouldn't have to let Sadie down. That Ridley still could be your armour, then.

You wanted her here. You wanted her to talk to you, to hug you and let you know things would be alright. That Jake and Bradley, would come home, despite everything they had to do in order to keep the world safe.

But she wasn't here. And then Jake apologized. Not with flowers but with something corporeal. Something real. And they had remained on your neck since he had placed them there.

They were a saving grace for the first few days, for you could grab them whenever things got too hard to handle. Yet, now, as you went for them hanging around your neck, buried under your shirt, the chain and tags were a suppressing weight, even a vice, tightening around your neck.

Because Damn Those Dog Tags he had left behind - they signified that the man you loved might also become a memory too. Just like your sister in everything she had left behind.

You yanked them from your neck with a harsh cry, flinging them hard. They flew across the room, metal shining against another flash of lightning, hitting the wall with a clatter. The metallic sound echoes the hollowness in your heart, and you bowed your head between your legs, hands hugging your legs tight.

Anger.

It had only shown itself once before. Yet, yelling at George and being crass towards Jake, you knew it wouldn't solve anything, except for the fact something deep inside was waiting for the chance it could pounce on the next best thing. It wasn't what you were truly angry at.

Because you had spent the better part of now and between then repressing what you didn't want to face. Ridley's absence was something you couldn't focus on; Sadie needed the strength to believe everything would be okay.

Ridley had done the same for you. When you had left, when you had run away from home. The days and months you spent shoving every dark thought or memory of her... you should have been calling it for what it was.

Depression and Denial went hand in hand.

And yet, still, the angel of death was ruthless.

It had taken Ridley from you. It tried to take Sadie. Jake and Bradley could be next.

What more could it possibly want to take from you next?

Sadie poked her head out from behind the wall to the hallway, finding you huddled up against the fridge in the kitchen, your head in your hands. She watched from her hiding place how your body shook with each sob, how you tried to make your body smaller than it was.

She had been on her way to you, flashlight in hand and scared of the storm when she heard you scream. It had made her quicken her pace, only to stop when her flashlight caught something shiny in its beam flying across the hallway, hitting the wall in a dull metallic sound.

She widened her eyes. This was the moment she had been waiting for. The one she had been expecting, yet never came.

She knew what she had to do.

Turning on her heel, she made her way into your bedroom, immediately going for your closet. She tore the door open, a flash of lightning illuminating the room from the window behind her. She shuttered, the hairs on the back of her neck standing up.

Everything was screaming at her that something was staring at her from your bedroom window, the trees casting dark shadows onto your wall as they swayed in the wind and rain.

She closed her eyes, allowing a fresh wave of tears to fall down her cheeks.

She knew she had to preserve. Dropping her flashlight to the ground as she kneeled, Sadie flung your sweaters and cardigans over her shoulder before finally finding the box she wanted, shoved into the bottom corner. She picked it up, not bothering to close your closet door shut as she placed the flashlight on top and rushed out into the hallway. She stopped momentarily to find the object you had thrown across the room.

She knew what they were the second she found them, picking them up and cradling the metal pieces close to her chest. She didn't want to admit she regretted her last words to him, even if he needed to hear them. She regretted them herself, knowing she should have taken her own advice.

She approached you quietly, you not lifting your head once. She kneeled in front of you, placing the box behind her so you wouldn't see it immediately. Biting her lip, she wiped at either side of her face before placing her hand upon your knee.

"You caved."

Your eyes shot up, Sadie's face littered with silent tears. She had been crying, too. And outstretched in her hand, Jake's dog tags in the palm of her small hand, ball chain wrapped around her tiny fingers.

You swallowed, finally croaking out, "I should have when I brought you home."

She let them drop by the chain, grabbing it with both hands to place them back around your neck, biting her lip harder in concentration. There was only one place these belonged.

"We made a promise, Aunt Liz. We just forgot to see it through."

You sobbed at her words, hugging yourself tight when she leaned back, your nails biting into your skin through your shirt.

You were the furthest thing from perfect, the words so perfectly said first by Jake standing on your front porch. Yet, you wondered if you were letting her down by allowing yourself to voice the words you'd never wanted her to hear.

"I miss her, Bug," you cried out, wiping your cheek. "I miss her so much."

Every instance of trying to gather your resolve not to break in front of Sadie fails you. Not the pain of your fingernails gripping your forearm or shielding your face with the sides of your hair, knowing it was a miserable, shameful last attempt to hide yourself from her.

Each gasping breath you pull from your chest is accompanied by a sob and another wave of fresh tears. Yet, Sadie tucks those strains of hair behind your ears and wipes your face with her tiny thumbs, titling your head up so she can surge forward and burying herself in your neck, hoping her hug showed how much she loved you. How much she appreciated you letting her know you weren't okay and that you were no longer afraid of hiding it.

That it was okay to be vulnerable, even now, in front of her.

When Sadie finally let you go, leaning back to sit down between your legs, she stretched her hand behind her to grab something. The red tape was a giveaway, and you pressed Jake's tags to your forehead in protest for the things you didn't want to discover in the shoebox.

You knew exactly what was in there. You couldn't stand looking at pictures of her, talking about her, or looking at the things that reminded you of her. Books were meant to be read cover to cover, but you couldn't finish fucking Pride and Prejudice for the life of you, stuck forever reading the last page twice.

And as if Ridley naming you after her favourite character in her favourite book would somehow empower you. Elizabeth Bennett got through all that life had to offer - so would you. You didn't even realize, at some point after you started seeing Jake, you had stopped listening to music, too.

Ridley used music to help you get through the bad parts. When she would cover your ears to hide shouts in an empty home like everything was okay. She'd tell you music soothes the soul, but as you did to Sadie, you soon discovered it was for the moments where your parents thought swear words were better to express the thoughts and feelings ordinary words couldn't.

In the aftermath, she'd tell you late at night, huddled in your bed, to look out the window and fixate on the brightest star. To wish upon it and ask for a time when music wasn't needed to fill what silence should. But each time she asked you to, she'd say people also wish upon that star too, and it was doing what it could, but so many other people needed its help along with you.

The two of you needed to help it where you could.

Bad parts had to be a part of your story, too.

Then she was gone.

It's why you hid the box in your closet for so long, shoved up on the top shelf, never to see the light of day.

You were there for some of it when Ridley came up with the idea. She was a brilliant mom but also the type to prepare for anything and everything. The night Sadie turned five, she found the damn thing and spent hours stretching that stupid red tape across the beaten material, hoping it would be enough to withstand time.

You just never knew what she had added to it over time.

Sadie was asking, forcing you to confront what you couldn't do yourself. Because in that shoebox, labelled across the top...

Everything I never want you to forget

"We need to open it, Aunt Liz," she said softly with a sniffle, looking down at the box between her hands.

You didn't want to.

Sliding her knees out from under her, Sadie sat on the floor, still holding onto the shoebox. She turned her back to face you, wiggling herself in between your open legs to sit up against your front, pinning you against the fridge. She placed the box in her lap, tilting her head back against your shoulder to peer at your face.

"I'm not getting up until we go through this box."

"Sadie.."

"Mum would want me to do this with you."

Which roughly translated to, because you won't do it otherwise. Not unless I make you.

Ridley's last words, contained in an ordinary shoebox, as if that's all her life amounted to because an idiotic man with an ego complex proclaimed to love her when he didn't. One man who couldn't care less than the ego he carried around his back gave you one of the greatest loves of your life.

And the only regret.

Bargaining.

Then again, Sadie ever would have come to live with you. The Daggers might not have been your friends. Jake would have never been invited to a Saturday night. You would never have fallen in love with him.

Those were the what-ifs you had to contend with. Maybe you silently did believe in regrets after all.

Sadie grabbed your wrist, wrapping your arm around her stomach so you'd hold her. She grabbed your other, placing your hand down upon the top of the box. You let your fingers rest on the lid, drawing out a shakey breath.

Once Sadie was sure you weren't going to lift your hand off the box, she let it go, moving to grab the other side of it. She took a deep breath, squeezing your wrist once before tucking her fingers under the lid to open it. You'd be lying if you didn't say you held her a little closer as you caught the lid, as its contents came into view.

You didn't know where to look first; your hand in no rush to move from where you had left it on the floor. There were a lot of polaroids, knick-knacks from adventures, and jean jacket patches you had never seen before. There was even a Bowie CD, and despite your weariness, you couldn’t find the will to stop the corners of your mouth from curling upwards.

Sadie, however, picked up the first item she set her eyes on.

"What's this from?" She asked, holding up a key. You placed your hand behind hers, using your thumb to stroke the metal base.

"Ah," you sniffed. "That was the key to our first apartment. Remember how we told you your mom and I ran away from home?"

Sadie nodded, still looking down at the piece of metal. "You guys weren't safe."

"No," you replied, shaking your head. "We weren't. Your mom had been saving up money, and I was trying to save up for school. And we had some money saved from your grandmother. It was a tiny place, but that was the first time we finally felt like we could breathe. She went to nursing school soon after that."

You failed to mention you put your dreams on hold so your sister could have hers, especially after what she did to get the two of you out of there. You would do it all over again if you could.

Sadie carefully placed the key back into the box, unphased by the crack of thunder over the house, deciding to grab at the handful of Polaroids next, scattering them in her lap.

While she started looking through the pictures, you fixed your eyes on the white envelopes shoved tight in the back of the box, their colour the only thing standing out with the next flash of lightning. You knew they were letters, with different things written across the front. You reached for them, hands fumbling with the thickness as you took in the names and titles written across each one.

Two caught your attention, making you whimper as the realization of their significance came twofold.

They read...

(My darling Lizzie) - To him.

And...

(My Sadie Bug) - To your Uncle

You slid them under your leg, knowing that there might be a day when Jake would sit down in private, with or without you or Sadie, to read the words and introduction your sister wrote him if he so chose.

If he made it back, the thought forbidden in your head.

There was also another pair - one for you and one for Sadie.

Hers had been first when you picked them up, and she reached out with her hand, dropping the photo she had been holding in her lap when she noticed the writing. Her small fingers trailed over the words "My Bug" written across the front. You pressed a kiss to the back of her head, letting her take it from you.

"If you want to read it alone or with me, that's up to you."

Sadie didn't do anything else but nod, pulling the thick piece of paper close to her chest and dropping her chin to hug it tight.

The power had long since returned after the storm had passed, but neither you nor Sadie could pick yourselves up off the kitchen floor. Not until the last photo, item, object, or memory Ridley had left in that shoe box had been touched. Not until Sadie asked all her questions about what each meant or where some of the photographs had been taken... till you explained memories associated with them.

Even then, when Sadie returned the last Polaroid and placed the lid back on top, she remained curled up in your arms, head against your chest, with her fingers caught in the ball chain of Jake's dog tags around your neck.

You had finally opened the box. Went through its contents. And yet...

"I don't know what we should do now," you told her, rubbing at your face, your head throbbing.

Sadie shifted slightly in your hold, hands holding one of Jake's tags.

"Maybe we could watch a movie?" she suggested quietly. The next words out of your mouth surprised you slightly.

"Maybe Pride and Prejudice... if that is okay?"

---

You had no idea where the sudden urge to go on this trip came from. But waking up with Sadie in your arms on the couch the morning after the two of you went through Ridley's box, you couldn't fight it.

Nat was more than ready the second you called her up, asking if she wanted to accompany you and Sadie on a road trip for the long weekend. She originally thought it was a girl's weekend, which you wouldn't have minded had it not been for your destination.

"I'll pack my bag," she said, no questions asked.

Sadie and Nat were still asleep when you left the hotel room, leaving a note on your bed you'd be back soon. It was still dark out, the sun just barely on the cusp of threatening to show itself when you climbed into your car and drove off.

Sadie had made you promise the both of you would visit Ridley. It was the whole purpose of your trip. To bring flowers, say hi, and so Sadie and you could tell her how much you both loved her. You were going too - there was no question.

But you needed to do this for yourself first.

You pulled off the main road onto the familiar dirt one, driving down the path until you reached the makeshift parking lot, all stone and roughed-up dirt. You were completely alone, save for two cars parked on either end.

You still had ways to go to reach your destination.

Before climbing out of your car, you reached into the back seat and pulled out Ridley's Jean Jacket. You put it on, bundling the lapels tight together across your chest in some blind attempt to shield yourself from the morning chill before you start your hike.

She preferred it this way, anyway.

You spent a good twenty minutes walking over muddy patches and rocky terrain, battling rogue tree roots in the lack of sunlight. There was another route you could have taken, perhaps the easier one, but you had trekked this trail with Ridley so many times before. It was only fair you kept up the tradition.

But then the trees began to thin out, the sound of chirping birds grew louder, and you could smell just a hint of wildflowers with each intake of breath.

You emerged from the woods, looking up from the ground to take in the sight before you. The meadow had remained untouched since you were here last. The grass was overgrown, each dew-kissed blade a product of the low-hanging mist just above the ground. There were flowers in full bloom, and even this early in the morning, with the morning sky painting shades of purple twilight, you could still make out dragonflies passing by.

And there, right in the middle of it all, the perfectly sculpted piece of grey marble. The only human-made thing that seemed to grace this meadow.

As you stepped forward, the grass caressed your legs and dampened your jeans. The closer you got, the more the engraving stood out, the letters making your heartache.

In loving Memory

Trailing your fingers across the headstone, you wiped away the dust that had gathered there since you buried her here last year. The dew from the early morning fog stained your fingers brown as you did so, but you couldn't care less. She was alone out here, peacefully at rest in this meadow.

You could handle a little dirt on your fingers.

You cleared away the dried leaves and twigs, smoothing the grass down before settling yourself onto the damp earth, your back meeting the hard stone. You listened to the birds, the crickets and the wind, taking in the utter silence before you finally spoke out loud.

"I'm sorry I didn't come sooner, Rids."

You tilted your head back until it came to rest against the stone, closing your eyes. "I miss you. So much. Every day, every moment, every breath. Because it feels like everything I do reminds me I'm living without you."

Now that you were here, the words were coming easy. Easier than any conversation you have ever had in your life.

"I can't even admit I cannot remember the last thing we spoke about over the phone," You sniffed. "I've gone almost a whole year trying to forget you had died, and I cannot remember the last fucking thing I said to you."

With your eyes still closed, you felt the first breath of warmth touch your cheek, and a soft orange appeared behind your eyelids.

"I guess I should start with the most important thing." You said, finally opening your eyes. "The bug is... Better than me."

It was so true. Sadie had done so much better than you could have ever hoped when you brought her home.

"Everyone says she is so wise for her age," you huffed out a sad laugh. "But we would see it differently, wouldn't we? After everything we endured, after everything she has had to endure... she didn't have a choice but to grow up and handle the things being thrown at her."

You brought your knees up to your chest, hugging them tight.

"Oh, I met someone," you laughed sadly, knowing she'd want to know, just like she always did when you called. "He's an aviator. He walked right up to me at the bar and tried to get me into his bed."

Despite your sadness, you managed a small smile at the memory.

"I Bowied him," you chuckled. "The good old wham, bam, thank you, ma'am, you told me to do. I always thought it was a cheesy thing to do when you came up with it, but it's never once failed me. We always loved listening to Suffragette City."

You picked a strain of grass out of the ground, wrapping it between your fingers as you continued.

"The squad told me so much about him before I met him. He was the one responsible for all of Penny's bartenders quitting. I mean, his call sign is Hangman, for god's sake. And Bradley hounded me, thinking I would fall for his trap."

But you did.

You wondered how the two of them were managing wherever they were.

"Then Sadie saw him. Oh god. He helped her with her math homework, and she invited him over, and he brought flowers as an apology. Yellow fucking tulips."

You could almost hear her shout Score for Jake in the back of your mind.

"I gave him a clean slate. Because you always taught me everyone deserves a chance. Because Sadie reminded me of that. And then things just fell into place."

Reaching beneath your shirt, you grasped for the chain, pulling out the dog tags to look at them as you spoke.

"You'd absolutely hate him," you laughed, playing with the rubber casing around one of them, Jake's name always in sight. "He's.. He's so stubborn. Arrogant. Cocky. You would go so far as to say he is a downright asshole who doesn't deserve me."

Jake was all of those things. But he was more, too.

"But he makes me smile, Rids. And Sadie. Oh god, she adores him to no end. I wouldn't have taken a chance on him hadn't it been for her. Our little matchmaker, as if she didn't think I caught on to what she was doing. I think the feeling is mutual, though. He puts her first in so many ways."

You weren't going to utter that asshole's name over her grave by explaining Jake's heroics. This was her peace, and he didn't need to taint it any more than he already had.

"He's a... a Mr. Darcy," you struggled to say, knowing that's exactly what she would have called him.

Reaching into the chest pocket of her jean jacket, you pulled out the envelope with your name on it, bringing it down to hold it in your lap. Both of your hands frame the words written across the front.

Just in case

Your fingers shook as you flipped it over and broke the seal, breath leaving your lips in short bursts. Something possessed you, making you reach in and tug on the pieces of paper folded up inside. Unlike her box, there were no polaroids inside, just the pages with her fancy cursive writing neatly penned to the page.

Once you hesitantly unfolded the pages and read those first words, you couldn't find the will to stop.

Lizzie, you absolute fucking wreck.

How long did it take you to get the courage to read this goddamn letter?

Stop looking so miserable. I swear if I'm looking down on you and you're doing that thing with your face where you're about to cry but won't let yourself, I'll haunt you forever.

That's a lie. I probably already am if I could. If you see sunlight blinding you in the face, say hi. That's probably me.

I know, with 100 percent certainty, it's been a while since I've been gone. How long? I have no idea, but you better not be old and grey, sitting on my grave, finally abandoning your belief about regrets - mostly because this letter wouldn't make one lick of sense.

Besides your inability to grieve properly, I know how hard it's been for you to work up the courage to read this letter. I'm proud of you for taking that leap. You don't need to hear this because there is nothing for you to apologize for, but I forgive you. I know, deep down, the reason you didn't.

It's the thought and facing the reality that you won't see me again, right? Not in this life, maybe not ever, I don't know. And these are supposed to be my 'last words' to you. I probably would have done the same thing if I were in your shoes. I might have talked a big game about facing your feelings and trying to be calm when trouble comes around, but let's face it: I've been a mother twice over. I think I'm better at hiding the fact that I'm scared, too.

I wish I would have told you that more. I wish I would have let my walls down enough so that you could have helped me too.

But you need to know that as I'm sitting here at my desk, writing this thing, I'm safe in the knowledge that our bug is with the best person I could have ever hoped for as her guardian. And no words could describe just how much that means to me.

Teach her all the good stuff. Not how to mix a cocktail, I swear to god, we don't need Sadie Sass 2.0 in College or University - I doubt you want to live that experience, and I surely didn't. But how you verbally smack every cocky-ass male that tries to take his shot with her, and how you care for everyone, stand up for everyone. Though chances are, we all probably got that particular talent from her, not the other way around. Who knows... You might be reading this, having had one of those cocksure pilots breaking through your brick wall.

... did one of them manage to break through? You better be sitting on my grave telling me all the details. I don't care if I'm dead (I'm morbid... and practical about death, dealt with it).

And even if you haven't, that's okay too. One day, you'll discover someone better than the heroes you read in books, the ones who seem perfect, without a single flaw. They'll be better because this person will have flaws - Love despite, remember?

Also, whoever they are, kick their ass for me a few times for good measure.

I know that right now, you're feeling lost and wondering how you'll ever get through this, how you've managed to get through all this so far.

But you did. You have so far. And you still will.

You have to accept that things do eventually end, despite not wanting them to. And we have to go on without them. A memory is no longer beautiful just because it suddenly has an end.

You need to accept that sometimes you need to cave and break down to break through. You need to heal.

And to understand grief is the price we pay for those we love. I know you're hurting and refusing to acknowledge that you may never hear my voice again or know what I'd have to say or what advice I'd have to give.

The truth is, you do.

You can still hear my words in your head. You always knew what I was going to say before I said it; I doubt death would change any of that. And you still get to see my face. Nobody can take that from you, especially in all the photographs I've left behind.

Please tell me you went through the box. Or Sadie at least made you go through it. Not just grab all the letters. That wasn't the point of me making it.

I want you to remember those memories so you know I am there when you are sad or miss me. And for Sadie, when she feels like she can't remember what I looked like or what was.

Promise me you will add to it. Take photographs with my Polaroid camera and make scrapbooks and memory boxes. Create memories with Sadie so she can look back and say, "I know she would be proud of me too."

And I am. So much so.

You also need to understand you're not alone.

You have a found family in those stupid pilots you call friends (They're not stupid; they're just a group of idiots). They can help you. Please let them. Please let them in, whether it's helping Sadie with her homework or spending time together. Let them remind you it's okay to live for yourself, too.

Yes, take care of our Bug; that trumps everything else. And never forget how much I love you. Always.

But, remember, even above all that, everyone deserves a chance.

Even you.

My darling, beautiful sister.

The sob that broke free as you read her final words was gut-wrenching. It was also cathartic, laced with relief and heartbreak.

In your time reading her letter, you failed to notice the meadow come to life around you. The shift had been gradual. With each word you had read, the sun had peaked just that much more over the horizon, changing the sky from a darkened purple hue to a much lighter one, with light orange-red undertones in a mist that just rested above the grass.

You had seen none of it.

Because your knees had been a poor excuse for support, and you dropped your forehead down to them to curl inward on yourself. You toppled to your side amongst the short grass, the strands barely fitting in your grasp as your tears fell down your face and into the dirt.

By opening that letter and reading what was meant to be her last words to you, you eventually came to the realization there was no way you could have ever protected yourself from all the painful experiences you've been through.

Maybe this feeling was supposed to be forgiving yourself for the blame you've sheltered for so long. To you, it was something different.

Maybe, just maybe, this was something very close to being acceptance.

---

You felt guilty thinking on the drive home. You had felt better than the last time you drove home from Sacramento. The feeling had lasted, even for days after you dropped Nat back home and tried to go on with your life, trying not to worry about what Jake and Bradley were doing.

Or if you'd ever seen them again. You counted down each day as a blessing and a curse. You knew what you were getting yourself into the moment you decided to befriend the entire squad or when you agreed to date Jake.

It still hurt each time they were called up.

But the grief wasn't as much of a burden now as it was a silent companion. You knew it would always be there when you saw her face in the pictures she left or when Sadie would smile. Or when something new would remind you of her.

You had accepted living with it, dealing with it. And knowing it would eventually come back for something else multiple times later on in your life.

It's probably why this morning you felt slightly different. The sense of relief had not waivered, but you couldn't deny something had shifted. Maybe it was the fact you left the window open last night to listen to a far-off storm, the smell of petrichor filling your room as you woke up in the early hours of the morning.

Or maybe it was the way you stretched amongst your covers, relishing in the coolness of your sheets and the softness of your pillow. Or how you sat up, pausing for a second to watch the specks of dust float through the early morning sunbeams slipping through your curtains. You lifted your hand, inspecting how your fingers cut through the warm rays and cast shadows onto your floor.

You smiled in contentment.

Making your way to your bathroom, the hot water was welcoming as you stepped into your shower. You spent a few minutes there, waking up under the pressure on your skin, before stepping out and drying off, reaching for your silk robe from off the back of the door.

But walking back to your room, you caught your reflection in your mirror from the doorway, suddenly entranced. You found yourself gravitating towards it, slowly stepping forward until you stood right in front of it.

Smoothing down the slides of the fabric of your robe, you played with the lacey hem. Till you reached up to tuck a few wet strands of hair behind your ear, and found your fingers hooking underneath the chain around your neck, sliding down until Jake's tags slid out from their hiding place.

You bit your lip, rocking back and forth while contemplating, when Sadie's Polaroid camera stood out in the background of your reflection. She had placed it in your bag for the trip home, and you had yet to return it to her after you unpacked, leaving it atop your dresser.

You turned slowly, eyeing the camera for a few seconds before walking over to your dresser. You picked it up, holding it in your hands for a few seconds before looking over to your bed and then back to your dresser.

Why you suddenly felt possessed to do this, you had no idea.

Inspecting the dial on the top, you weren't in control as you watched your hand reach out to turn it clockwise, one click at a time. You were surprisingly calm as you placed it back down on your dresser, parallel to your bed, and pressed the button on the other side, starting a quiet, ticking countdown from the tiny camera.

Climbing back into your bed, you faced the camera, undoing the small strings on your robe, letting the sides fall just enough to reveal the inside curves of your breasts and the top half of your stomach. And there, right in the middle, Jake's dog tags hanging between.

It felt awkward, forbidden even, to lean back so exposed, so open. With the old-fashioned lens sitting on your dresser, the dial clicking down as you positioned yourself on your mattress, tilting your head back and closing your eyes.

It was Sadie's Camera, for god's sake.

You heard the shutter go off, the mechanical whirling of the piece of photo paper running through the tiny printer, and fluttering as it landed on your bedroom floor.

You opened your eyes, jolting up like you had been splashed with cold water, shocked you had even done such a thing.

Yet, you still slid out from the covers, eyeing the photo from where it landed, slowly walking over. You carefully picked it up, watching as the image faded into view.

Holy. Fucking. Shit.

You pressed the printout to your chest, staring up at your open door, wondering if Sadie had woken up yet. With the printout in hand, you practically ran into your office, shutting the door behind you and throwing yourself into your chair. Reaching for your bottom drawer, you pulled out a thick envelope and lined pieces of paper, scrambling for one of the pens on your desk.

You hadn't written a letter since the last time Jake had been on a deployment. Back then, you had struggled to find the words to say to him. You didn't have a problem this time. As soon as black ink hit the page, you couldn't stop writing down every thought and feeling as fast as you could.

When you were finally finished, you threw yourself back into the chair, sighing once before looking down at the pieces of paper. You grabbed them, folding the pieces in half and shoving them into the envelope, sliding the single polaroid behind them. You hadn't sealed it yet, but you did close it, writing along the back, hoping Jake would appreciate and understand the message.

Sadie's bedroom door opening and closing could be heard through the wall, and a smile stretched across your face as an idea popped into your head.

"Hey, Bug! I'm sending Uncle Jake a letter. Got any polaroids you want to send?!"

Tag List:

@blue-aconite @tinytotontheoversizedpony @djs8891 @caitsymichelle13 @startrekfangirl2233

@mayhemmanaged @ereardon @dempy @shanimallina87 @teacupsandtopgun @daggerspare-standingby

@phantomxoxo @formulapierre @eli2447 @fulla02 @blckgrl-sunflower @mizzzpink @ohgodnotagainn

@bubblegumbeautyqueen @sarahsmi13s @desert-fern @lynnestra44 @memoriesat30 @penwieldingdreamer @mxlanciia

@bradleybeachbabe @bobby-r2d2-floyd @lavenderbradshaw @roosters-girl @lovinglyeternal @kmc1989 @gigisimsonmars @dakotakazansky

@keyrani @craftytrashprincess @hisredheadedgoddess28 @abzidabzy @memeorydotcom @vicsnook @taestrwbrry

-Wickett ;)

Part 20 - Separate Ways (Worlds Apart) Coming Soon

125 notes · View notes

minusgangtime · 3 months ago

Note

The apocalyptic kitty crew batch 13 bios:

“Everything will be fine..I’m sure of it..”

Name: Sadie

Age: 20

Status: healthy

Feeling: unsure

Bio: Sadie has stayed inside the house the entire apocalypse. She’s pretty much the same as she always has been..with one difference..her hope..is wavering..anytime someone asks her if they’re gonna be ok,though she said “yes” that was a lie,she’s deeply unsure that everything will be ok and lies to herself that everything will be ok..there have been days where she considered..suicide..cause she feels no one will miss her..she only holds them back..

“Don’t try to bribe me,I know all your tricks. NOW EAT BULLET HELL!”

Name: janko

Age: 20

Status: healthy

Feeling: neutral

Bio: for months,she observed the infected behaviors,so when the crew were allowed to fight,she was ready. She wields two of picos spare Uzis to take care of infected,at first they hurt her ears,but she learned to deal with it. She uses her knowledge of the infecteds behaviors to not only dodge them. But also not fall for their manipulation. When she’s inside,she behaves like she normally does. Lively and sassy as ever.

“I won’t let you hurt anyone AGAIN!”

Name: taffy

Age: 20

Status: healthy (cured from corruption.)

Feeling: neutral

Bio: in the early-ish days of the apocalypse,taffy’s friendly nature was taken advantage of. A corrupted infected lured her away and corrupted her,though fortunately,she was saved. Since then,she had been testing out her new corruption powers. When the crew were allowed to fight,she jumped in to help. Using her corrupted powers,she takes care of any infected with ease. When not fighting,she is just as friendly as she’s always been.

“Heh..I know..pretty ugly right?..”

Name: jewel

Age: 20

Status: healthy

Feeling: insecure

Bio: in the middle of the apocalypse,jewel was ambushed by zombies,getting bit in the leg and her eye torn out. She had her leg chopped off to prevent herself from getting infected. As a result,now she uses emeralds crutches to move around,since he says he dosent need them anymore. Jewel now is unable to see herself other then freakish or ugly,other then that,she acts mostly the same,though she’s more soft spoken now.

“Hey kids!~ I got you some gifts!~”

Name: Brutus

Age: 20

Status: healthy

Feeling: neutral

Bio: when the crew were allowed to help fight against the infected,brutes decided to do something different. Brutal when he goes out,dosent come back with food,but with toys and plushies for the kids,to keep them entertained and happy,and in high spirits. Seeing his family happy,gives him the fuel to keep him optimistic and gives him the energy to get up everyday.

“Alright,alright,time to get serious.”

Name: crunchie

Age:20

Status: healthy

Feeling: neutral/sturn

Bio: through the apocalypse,crunchie has stayed inside,still remaining as his cheery self. However,when he goes out to get supplies,he gets serious,being as calculated and sneaky as he can to get past infected when getting supplies.

“Hm? Oh,hey..what’s up?..”

Name: Charles

Age: 20

Status: healthy

Feeling: lonely

Bio: through the apocalypse,Charles had stayed inside..however,seeing how everyone was struggling,despite wanting someone to talk to,he didn’t bother anyone..so nowadays,he just stays in his room,just doing stuff on his phone,only occasionally coming out to get food.

“I just..I just wanted to things to go back to the way they were..”

Name: spot

Age: 20

Status: healthy

Feeling: longing

Bio: despite being as old as nearly everyone else,spot has a more childish mind then the others,meaning when the apocalypse hit,he didn’t know how to process it,to this day he still dosent. He constantly longs for the days of old,just wanting to feel the sun,feel safe and secure,and like nothing could go wrong..he stays cooped up in his room from being sad so much that he sometimes forgets to eat or drink.

“Don’t misunderstand,I’m not afraid to get my hands dirty.”

Name: Everest

Age: 20

Status: healthy

Feeling: cold

Bio: when the apocalypse began,as Everest saw how it changed everyone,with him helpless to stop it,his emotional state eventually faded out. When the crew were allowed to fight,he took the opportunity. Rather than the others,he simply fights with his bare fists,seemingly not caring if he gets infected or dies. He’s become so used to the horrors of the apocalypse he isn’t even phased by blood anymore. When not fighting his emotional state is clearly falling apart,while he still behaves like he would normally,at time he would be cold and distant to his own family.

“Listen,your family is just going through a hard time..give them time,just know no matter what,they always will love you.~”

Name:toasty

Age: 20

Status: healthy

Feeling: exhausted

Bio: through the apocalypse,toasty has tried his best to remain in high spirits,however,he realized the kids might need more support at some point,they must’ve been so scared..so he would gang out with them all the time,he let them dress him up,play plushies with him,and when they were upset,he’d comfort them. Though this takes a toll on him,having to constantly tell himself,everything will be ok,as a way to cope and make the kids belive everything was gonna be ok..he’s emotionally exhausted from putting in a happy face,but feels like he can’t stop. After all,if he does..what will happen to the kids?..

-mod shelby

(I'm glad half of them are okay but Sadie considered WHAT- Ó.Ò)

#mod speaks

1 note · View note

corvidaedream · 3 years ago

Text

im working on memorizing my tour for work, but also josiah thinks its good if lucy is very scrappy and kinda pissed off at the start of the meeting, which is how ive been playing her, but w the small change that when i say “my sweetheart, seth...” i just soften for like a second and i love that idea, but now im walking around my apartment in the middle of the night saying “seth ingersoll browne” as lovingly as i can and i feel completely insane

#messages from the ouija board #thank god avi isnt home #sadies day job #josiah was like ‘you probably know people like this but a friend of mine always says his wife’s name like shes the best thing in the world #no matter how casually he mentions her its like hes falling in love again every time. try doing that.’#and im like okay i can be wife guy lucy i can do that #the journey im taking her on is basically a full fuckin coming of age thing like. on this hour long tour #like matching the tone of the events and also kinda just the flow of the tour #but being like meeting house: okay im 20 and we all deserve better and im going to fight the world whose with me #ships: hell yeah this is fun and cathartic and a little silly #back deck: okay we are all a little tired but like hopefully our hard work paid— oh man what if theres consequences that are bad #portrait gallery: finding out just now that we are about to starve and suddenly im in over my head and im not going to stop being in over my #head but i will regain a little courage once the news sinks in bc i gotta rally my tour group to get to the minuteman theater part #and ultimately lucy is more scared than she was at the start but she also is more optimistic about what a positive outcome might look like #and then i dont tell them i am dead by 1784! bc its not relevant and its kinda a downer!#i know mrs story and mrs macintosh have that in their tours and its GUT WRENCHING and its so good #but thats bc mrs story dies just after her husband returns home to her from the war and mrs macintosh dies like. within the year.#so she uses that to make the death toll during the port bill feel more Real and Human which is cool

9 notes · View notes

secretqueerspy · 2 years ago

Text

Blaine's Backstory Headcanon #1: Parents' stories

disclaimer: I have experience with close relatives having ASD and bipolar disorder, which is where those parts come from. also, it's okay if you don't agree with my headcanons, feel free to share your's if you like

trigger warnings: mentions of s*lf harm/ su*cide, talk of Sadie Hawkins/ hospitals.

Section 1: Parents’ Stories

Blaine’s biological parents are Todd Anderson and Pamela Anderson (Pam had a bad relationship with her parents so she changed her name from Cynthia Rothschild). Pam struggled with bipolar disorder, which actually caused a lot of broken relationships in her life. Before she accepted treatment, she was unstable. She and Todd never married.

At 20 years old, Pam got pregnant with Cooper. The man who impregnated her was a friend with benefits. He was about to be deployed and didn’t want to deal with a kid. He got out of it since he was being sent to war, and Pam only saw him once more. Pam raised Cooper all on her own since she was not close with her family and had cut them off. She dropped out of university (on a scholarship) to get a full-time job at a cosmetics company.

Pam was a great salesman, very talented, and worked her way up. She was able to afford a nice house for her and her son. She spoiled Cooper in any way possible. Pam met Todd through mutual friends. They became friends, and eventually their other friends set them on a blind date when they saw the chemistry.

Their relationship progressed pretty quickly. Soon Pam was moving in with the doctor in an even nicer house. Cooper still mostly stuck with Pam, though he did enjoy the company of Todd. Their love life was on fire, and after 3 years of dating plus living together, Pam got an unexpected pregnancy. Around this same time bipolar disorder was starting to onset within her.

Whenever the signs started to show up, everyone simply thought it was the pregnancy making her act odd. They thought the hormones were making her sporadically depressed or hyper-energized. Her emotions were out of control and no one took her seriously because of the baby.

Todd and Pam had spoken about it and didn’t want any kids, but they begrudgingly decided to keep it (putting the baby in foster care seemed cruel and an abortion was out of the picture because of Todd’s Catholic roots). Blaine didn’t really fit into their family; they all felt like they were too old. Cooper was already 10, Pam was 30, and Todd 48. They’d be in their 40s and almost 60s by the time the baby was 10 and Cooper would be in adulthood.

When Blaine was born, none of them really wanted to adjust their lives. At that time, Todd’s parents were getting older and weaker, so they decided to move to America again with their kids (they lived there to raise their children, then moved back to the Philippines during retirement). It was perfect timing since Cooper was at school and extracurriculars and friend’s houses all the time, while Todd and Pam worked long hours to maintain their upper-middle class lifestyle.

Todd’s parents moved in with him to be taken care of and to take care of Blaine. Pam still never went back to normal after the pregnancy, which made Todd and even Cooper concerned. She started going through periods of time where she could barely make 15 sales calls a day, to nearly 100 or over. Sometimes she wouldn’t be able to sleep at night so she’d go off and do things on her own. She refused to even look at Blaine for the longest time. Pam infuriated Todd’s parents by that and immediately got on their bad side.

Pam had outbursts and spiraled. She cheated on Todd one night and he found out, which ended in their breaking up. They still lived together, though, since Todd was worried about her and wanted Cooper to still have a home.

Pam’s mental state got so bad one day (she was caught cutting herself in the bathroom and kept talking about suicide) Todd took her to the hospital. He didn’t know what was wrong with his ex-girlfriend. The hospital’s doctors wanted her to check into a mental hospital, but she didn’t want to. It wasn’t until she was fired a couple months later and her son (Cooper) came crying and begging to her that she finally did.

By this time, Blaine was three years old. His lolo and lola were raising him. His mother spent months in the mental hospital, and his father picked up even more shifts to support them on his own. Cooper was a moody teenager who was always out. Blaine learned a lot of behaviors from his grandparents and loved them very much. He was put in violin lessons at a very young age since Todd wanted him to grow up smart.

Todd went to a club with his buddies a lot of nights to relieve some loneliness and stress. At this club, Maribel Lopez danced. She was his favorite dancer, and actually got talking to her using his charm around other employees. He asked her out one night, which she accepted (the only time she’d ever go out with a customer). They became close. He had a stable high-paying job, and she wanted a better life for her daughter. At first, Todd seemed like a good arrangement before Maribel actually started to fall in love.

On the other hand, once Pam was well on her way of healing, taking medication, going to individual, group, and family therapy (with Cooper) she returned to the house. Neither Todd or Todd’s parents really wanted her there anymore. Pam started a minimum-wage job to get herself back on her feet. In her free time, she was working to start her own cosmetics company, Mary Kay. She was able to get enough money to buy her own small house as she was a hard worker at her job. Her and Cooper moved out when Blaine was six.

By now, Maribel and Todd were engaged. Santana, Blaine, Maribel, and Todd had all met each other and Todd was helping to financially support Maribel so she could get a job she liked better. Once Pam was all moved out, Maribel and Todd set a date for the wedding and started searching to buy a house together.

With a sixteen-year-old Cooper, Pam worked day and night. At her job during the day, on her business at night. Cooper was independent enough to be on his own more, but Pam always tried to make time for him. Blaine was also present in Pam’s life, taking him in every weekend. She got close to Blaine for the first time and she realized her second child was just as amazing as the first, and special in his own way.

Todd’s parents moved away when Todd sold the house. They moved closer to Todd’s sister in West Virginia, in a retirement community. Santana and Todd had already bonded, while Blaine was guarded around Maribel (and Todd, too). He was yet to bond with any parent in the household he spent the most time in. Pam was the only one he showed himself to. He had difficulties letting people in after the two who took care of him all his life so far moved to a different state. Pam was more of a cool aunt to him, rather than a mother/guardian.

Something was odd about Blaine, which Todd didn’t like. After his experience with Pam’s ‘oddness’ (even though it wasn’t the same), he was wary. Even being the parent Blaine technically had all his life, Todd was the more distant one. Maribel, being the step-mom, was always trying to enter his affection. Blaine didn’t trust either of them.

As he grew older, some of his behaviors didn’t change. He wasn’t developing like Santana or the other children had. His little ‘quirks’ were sticking out to Todd even more, especially as a doctor himself. Todd started to suspect, so he took Blaine to his pediatrician. After the assessments, it turned out Blaine was on the autism spectrum. He had ASD. Todd was baffled. He didn’t know how to live with a kid on the spectrum. He’d dealt with them, sure, but having one? It made things confusing for him.

Pamela was unfazed by the news of Blaine’s neurodivergence. It caused Maribel to try harder. One thing about the Anderson-Lopez family was that Santana and Blaine were parented by two different people. Santana got the strictness, the warm love, the typical parent-child bond. Blaine got the I-don't-know-how-to-deal-with-you-so-do-whatever-as-long-as-it's-not-troublesome, the walls between him and his parents, and the misunderstanding.

Whenever Cooper moved to L.A., Pam's business actually started booming. She was able to quit her day job to focus on it. Every weekend with Blaine became every other. Having just ‘lost’ Cooper, Blaine was not prepared to handle less time with his mother. He felt like she was the only adult who got him. The only adult on his side. But, she was getting caught up in Mary Kay catching on. Soon enough, Todd and Maribel would be the only parents left.

Blaine was 11 when he first came to Todd and Maribel. He had been researching for a couple years, and he (thought he) knew what he was. He informed them he was transgender, a boy, and that he would need puberty blockers ASAP. They were both dumbfounded. At first they brushed it off since Blaine’s neurodivergent, he’s kinda weird like that let’s just let it pass. (Which, didn’t do any wonders for their relationship to him.) But Blaine knew himself and was persistent. He created a slideshow citing articles, telling them how he felt for once.

Maribel recognized how important that was and pushed Todd to let him see a gender therapist. Todd was torn, but Blaine didn’t even feel like his child, so who was he to deny it? He set up the appointments and allowed Blaine to do whatever. He didn’t believe in transgenderism, it was a sin. It wasn’t like he recognized the tween who roamed his house anyway.

Todd and Maribel were reluctant in Blaine’s transition. They took it little by little, opposite of what Blaine wanted. First they let him cut his hair completely short, then renovate his wardrobe, change his name and pronouns. They knew once he socially transitioned, there’d be no coming back from that, so they allowed him months to change his mind. He never swayed. Todd was more and more embarrassed of his child as each new development occurred. His parents were devastated that the little “girl” they raised was corrupted. They were mad at Todd for letting Blaine be corrupted, and promised to try and pray the confusion away.

Maribel hid Blaine from her mother. She barely thought of it before, only hoping Abuela wouldn’t say something too harsh to Blaine, but now she was on full-blown No-More-Blaine mode for Abuela.

At family gatherings, Blaine was left behind. He was a skeleton in their closets. They always had him stay at Brittany’s (his childhood best friend/family friend’s kid) house if his current two best friends couldn’t have him. Blaine was angry even more and came home with injuries a lot. He refused to tell them a thing, though they could guess he was being picked on.

On the fateful day of Sadie Hawkins, they were astounded to get a call from the hospital. They had no idea the bullying was that bad. They had no idea Blaine was going with another boy. Seeing him, tiny as ever, lying on that hospital bed, binder flared open, ribs broken, red, black and blue everywhere. They didn’t know what to do. They didn’t know what to say. Pam caught the earliest plane she could when she heard the news.

When Blaine woke up, Todd made a grave mistake. He tried talking to Blaine. He accidentally alluded to Blaine being somewhat to blame for the attack, by deciding to ‘become a boy’ especially so young and even still liking boys. Blaine yelled at him. He yelled he didn’t decide what he was, he didn’t want to be trans or gay, but he was. Why did he have to get so much crap for living? He screamed for Todd to get out and to not come back again. Todd broke any pebbles of a relationship they had left. He broke it beyond repair. Todd followed Blaine’s orders. He didn’t visit again.

The violin was the one thing Todd could get behind Blaine with. Blaine was named a prodigy at playing it, the one thing that made Todd proud. The only thing he’d ever boast about with his one biological child. Blaine’s fingers were stomped on during the attack. Unhealable injuries. He’d never be able to play again. It was a miracle the piano was still an option for him, after a ton of physical therapy.

Pam stayed in Ohio for a while. She was furious and distraught that anyone would do that. She was there for Blaine as much as she could be. Maribel visited him once a week with flowers and Santana. He was grateful for all of them.

Things were different when Blaine returned to the house. He’d changed. He was jumpy and got nightmares, they all had to be careful not to give him flashbacks. Todd had to give him medication along with testosterone, and tend to his wounds. Blaine kept his mouth knit shut and watched Todd closely as he worked.

Todd and Maribel knew Blaine couldn’t go back to the same school district for high school. So they started the search for a safe school for him, as he completed his 8th grade year at home. Dalton was the school that stuck out the most.

The summer before Blaine was sent away to a boarding school, Todd wanted to have one last chance to bond with his son. Santana and him bonded over traditionally masculine activities, so he figured he and Blaine would be able to. Even more so since Blaine was a ‘boy now’. So, late summer, once Blaine was finally somewhat mobile again he and Blaine built a car together.

Blaine had no interest in cars, or his father. He was also very suspicious of his father pushing him to do something he didn’t like as ‘bonding’. Blaine figured Todd was trying to make him straight, since Todd also had the confusion about being gay and trans.

Once Blaine came to that conclusion, he closed himself off. He didn’t participate in his father’s small talk. He didn’t listen to all the useless car information. He used any opportunity to pick a fight. Todd got agitated as Blaine was more obviously being difficult. The project ended in vain, Blaine thinking his own dad was trying to change who he was, and Todd knowing he never knew his son and never would. And being okay with that, giving up.

To pay for Dalton and still have money left over, Todd and Maribel picked up more shifts. Blaine rarely went home over the weekends. In fact, the next time they saw him was Christmas break (he stayed at Dalton for Thanksgiving since he would have nowhere to go; family reunion, Brittany would be celebrating with her family too, and his old best friends were long gone).

Blaine adjusted to his new school very well. Surprisingly well, since the coursework was much more advanced. He also joined the acapella show choir there. No need to strain his finger any more. Blaine was very chipper when he returned home.

It took them a few days to realize something was off. They thought Dalton had just changed him. He was more energetic than he had been in years, he was constantly running around doing stuff. His mood also changed at the snap of a finger, his disrespect was much more blatant than before.

On Christmas Eve, Maribel asked him to help clean up the house before Christmas day. Blaine simply looked at her and said “no”. She then commanded him to do it, and he refused again, not moving. Maribel was shocked. Before she could start yelling at him, he went straight out of the house and didn’t return until early morning after Christmas was over. None of them had any idea where he went. His only explanation was that family would be over so he would have to hide in his room or something anyway.

A couple days later, Todd heard commotion in the kitchen at 2 AM. He went out to find Blaine cooking some intricate meal. That was the first time he had more than a few moments to look at Blaine, and he saw the dark circles around his bright eyes. A feeling of dread settled into his gut. He knew something was wrong with Blaine. Something he’d dealt with before. It wasn’t ASD, either. He saw Pam in Blaine that night.

Todd stopped Blaine’s cooking and dragged him to the hospital. Blaine was upset and confused. He felt fine, amazing even. Better than he ever felt in his life. Since Todd could only account for about a week, no diagnosis could be made. It added to Blaine’s mistrust of Todd. The doctors would keep it in account, though, and wanted to talk to him about it in six months if Todd really was that worried.

Todd knew what he felt that night. He had a gut feeling, and he knew Blaine was bipolar, too. Even if it would take a while to prove it. Todd started asking for Blaine to come home at least two weekends a month. Todd would make time to assess Blaine any chance he got. It made Blaine livid.

Todd turned out to be right. At the age of fifteen, the summer after his freshman year, Blaine officially had bipolar ii disorder.

For his sixteenth birthday, around the end of tenth grade, the only thing Blaine wanted was top surgery. He’d been on testosterone for years, his gender dysphoria was very well documented, and he’d been through a lot to be a boy. His parents granted him that wish. On June 3rd, 2011, during summer break, Blaine no longer had to wear a binder.

In his sophomore year, Blaine met a boy. Before his junior year started, he begged to transfer schools to be with that boy. He gave Todd and Maribel his puppy-dog eyes and talked about how tough the past few years have been and he wanted to have some happiness. He asked them ‘when have you really been there for me?’ and they still didn’t feel like his real parents. Who were they to deny him? They agreed as long as Santana promised to protect him.

Pam wasn’t happy with their decision to send him back to a public school. She didn’t want to see her son, broken in a hospital bed again. Todd told her she could make those decisions when she wanted to take care of him, or maybe even live within a 50 mile radius. Pam shut up after that.

Soon enough, Blaine was back in the hospital with an injury. Santana called them crying, apologizing over and over for not being able to protect him. They both couldn’t leave work. Pamela found out a couple days later, furious. She was about to book the earliest flight to him, but Todd insisted she didn’t. It wasn’t a big deal, he said, Blaine was being taken care of and needed lots of rest. Pam showing up would disturb him. He didn’t want her to come and judge their parenting anymore. Sure, he was being left all alone each day minus Maribel’s lunch break, but he could take care of himself. He was 16 and life was full of busy people. Neither Todd nor Maribel’s jobs were flexible enough to allow them to take off a couple weeks.

Todd and Maribel left Blaine alone the rest of his high school career. The more time they spent with Blaine, the more they felt like imposters. Without Santana being the reason for them to return home, they barely did in his senior year. They figured Blaine liked it much better by himself. No ‘fake-parents’ to boss him around or anything. They thought sacrificing any interaction with him, letting him go, was the best choice for everyone involved.

Blaine’s parents did a good amount for him, and they weren’t bad. They just never supported him emotionally/directly. Ever since he was young, they allowed others to deal with his brain. Todd’s parents, Pam, psychologists, therapists. They were never able to make that connection with him, which led to feeling like imposters (especially compared to his strong relationship with his mother), which led to neglect. They did the bare minimum since they’re not awful people (transferring his schools after Sadie Hawkins, sending him to therapy, paying for medication), did some more out of the feeling they didn’t do enough to make decisions of his outcome (letting him transition, transfer to Mckinley), and even purely from parents to child (bringing him flowers, trying to bond over the car, top surgery). Other than those actions, Blaine was left on his own to deal with the side effects of those things and the emotional consequences of his taxing life all on his own.

In the future, after Glee ended and everything happened, Blaine was able to connect with Maribel through Santana. He grew an appreciation for his step-mother, and formed his own special bond. He never made any progress with Todd. Their days were long over.

#glee #blaine anderson #blaine headcanon #glee headcanons #blaintana #trans blaine #i put a lot of thought into this lol #im too obsessed with blaine sometimes

10 notes · View notes