#doucheface

[deadheaddaisy]

If you see that face coming at you? Don't roll into a ball. Throw the slowest person behind you and run for your life.

All too often, when I read lists of “species I wouldn’t fuck with in Australia under any circumstances” this living dinosaur that can kill you with one kick does not get enough credit.

[ebongawk]

The party had dialed past a ten on the insanity scale, like, two, maybe two-and-a-half hours ago.

Eddie probably should've dipped out well before then. Shit, he was normally gone with the wind once he sold out, but something about this party had him sticking around a few extra minutes that had, in the blink of an eye, transformed into a few extra hours.

Maybe it was the feeling of the last hurrah. The final graduation party of the season at Andy Doucheface's house before everyone fucked off to campus tours and early move-ins or whatever-the-fuck university freshman did.

Or maybe it was because, as soon as no one was paying attention, Eddie'd started siphoning spare beer and snacks and digging through the belongings of The Parents Doucheface.

(Maybe he'd pocketed a couple of super nice tools to ninja slip into Wayne's toolbox at a later time and also a framed picture day photo of Andy from elementary school that he was gonna toss in the lake in an effort to devastate the people who'd raised such a Doucheface. Who could say?)

He'd already loaded his provisions into the van. Literally only came back to make a final circuit for any spare, unopened handles of liquor – he didn't want jock cooties, ew – when he found it.

The Holy Grail of a party of this caliber.

Spray paint.

Eddie looked around, but he was definitely alone in the garage. And the jockstraps inside were raging, music gradually getting louder and still hard to hear over the shouting of drunk voices. With a gleeful, maybe slightly maniacal giggle, Eddie grabbed the paint - red, his lucky day - and got to work creating a masterpiece on the interior walls of the garage.

Lost in the artistic haze of poorly rendered dick and balls jizzing onto Andy's face, Eddie didn't hear the uptick in commotion outside the garage. He was finishing up the first "s" in "ass" (as in, "Jason Carver loves eating hairy ass") when the garage door suddenly burst open.

Now, listen. Eddie's fight-or-flight is pretty fucking reactive, and he tends to automatically lean toward fight. He has, of course, relied on flight to get out of many a pickle, but generally his fists were out before his feet were moving.

So, when that door hit the wall with a loud bang!, Eddie had his lighter in hand and the spray paint up in a half-second, just about ready to burn the hair off whatever drunk asshole was coming to start shit.

But the drunk asshole squeaked, ducking down beneath where a fireball would've been if Eddie hadn't caught himself.

Because it wasn't, in fact, a drunk asshole.

It was Chrissy Goddamn Cunningham.

And she really did not look drunk at all.

Oh, be still, his cynical, stupid fucking heart. Why the hell did it skip a beat?

He'd heard, through the endlessly riveting rumor mill churned out by the ridiculous Hawkins grapevine, that she'd finally kicked ol' Carver to the curb once they'd walked the stage. But he hadn't actually run into her at one of these stupid ass parties all fucking summer. He'd been hoping for, like, one chance encounter before he took off for Chicago, but alas.

The stars were not shining on Eddie Munson the past couple months.

But maybe now.

"Well, shit," Eddie said as the door she'd come through swung shut. "You stumbled upon my lair, Cunningham. Sorry for, uh, almost flame-throwing you."

Her eyes, which had been wide with fear when she walked through the door - valid, considering the circumstances of her entrance - blinked as she took in Eddie's handiwork.

"Oh," she breathed, reading Eddie's crass statements he'd semi-permanently stamped onto the walls. Her eyes going from Andy's Dick Sundae to Carver's Ass-Eating Preferences as her cheeks split with a smile. "Oh, gosh, Eddie, what--? Gosh, that's so funny."

No fucking way she was building up his ego while he publicly ragged on her ex.

"Yeah?" he asked, looking over his shoulder at his twin masterpieces. Relishing in her grin with a shit-eating one of his own. Taking the opportunity to finish spelling out 'ass' on the drywall "I, uh, take commissions, you know. Something pretty to hang in your dorm room."

"Not something about Jason eating ass?"

"Only if you ask nicely."

God damn it. That made her giggle. Eddie was going insane.

"I wish I had my camera," Chrissy sighed, stormy eyes bright as she reread Eddie's dig at Carver. "Andy's parents are just going to make him paint over this. It won't be memorialized."

"Should I make a pit stop at the 7-11 billboard on my way home? Let the town know what Jockstrap McGee and his Pearl Necklace Sidekick plan on getting up to in college?"

Chrissy blinked at him, tilting her head to one side.

"Pearl necklace?"

Suddenly, back in the house, the sound of glass shattering resounded down the hallway just before someone yelled, "Scatter!" and Chrissy's eyes widened again.

"Oh, shoot! We gotta go!"

"Wha--?"

But she was already grabbing his hand and hitting the door to open the garage. But, instead of waiting for the door to come up, she yanked open the side door and pushed him through. Fingers firmly clasped, Chrissy took off, dragging a very confused Eddie behind her as she sprinted around the side of the house and bypassed the gate to run into the neighbor's yard.

"Cops!" she whisper-yelled at him as they ducked through a grove of trees. Eddie chanced a glance back, barking out a laugh that was maybe a little too loud when he saw the flashing red and blue lights.

"Fuckin' knew that was gonna happen," he whispered back, pulling her to a stop where they were hidden behind some bushes. A metric fuckload of kids were spilling out of the house, many too drunk to run properly. Chance fucking rammed into McKinney, who fell to the ground and immediately started barfing all that alcohol out of his system.

A couple of piggies suddenly rushed through the open garage door, looking left and right for the culprits that had used to escape. Eddie could barely see them, tucked away as they were and from a less than stellar vantage point, but suddenly Chrissy's opening it made sense when the two cops took off running in the opposite direction.

"Excellent method of distraction, Cunningham," Eddie murmured, barely discernible over the shouting. "You run from cops a lot?"

Beside him, Chrissy shrugged.

"I watch a lot of horror movies," she responded, shuffling a little so they were crouched closer together. So he could hear her, he assumed, but holy shit she was close enough that he was gonna spontaneously combust. "Whenever the heroine has an opportunity to distract and doesn't, I always get so mad!"

"Are you the heroine in this story?"

"Saved you, didn't I?"

Oh. Oh damn. She had jokes. And that sly look in her eye, tongue tucked between her teeth as she bit back a giggle.

She was gonna kill him, and he'd thank her.

"You know, I held onto this," Eddie said, holding up the can of paint he hadn't thought to pitch. "We could, uh. We could make a trip to the 7-11 billboard together, if you want."

She fucking sparkled in the moonlight when she looked at him. Some airy disbelief written across her features that Eddie could not possibly comprehend. Shouldn't he be the skeptical one here?

"I may or may not have snuck some shit off Andy's property, though." Eddie grinned. "You ain't gonna tattle on me, are you, sweetness?"

"Not if you got the good stuff," Chrissy answered with a shrug just as Hopper and Callahan burst through the front door, various drunk kids in tow. "Where are you parked?"

Eddie nodded around the corner before taking the chance of a goddamn lifetime. Reaching down, he took her hand with his again, holding his breath to see what she'd do.

If she'd drop it.

He should've inhaled, because the moment she laced their fingers together, he forgot he needed air altogether.

"Alright," he said, fucking breathless. Squeezing her fingers, he looked at her for a long moment. A moment where she met his gaze head on, some awed determination set there that he wanted to know fucking everything about. Looking back at the house, he watched the cops as they paraded drunk teenagers onto the porch. "Ready?"

Chrissy, beside him, in the weirdest goddamn event of his life, nodded resolutely.

"Let's run, baby."

[pets-will-play-ask-blog]

Are Dawn’s claws sharp?

Eli: No. Noah's only are because he sharpens them himself.

Noah: They'd be sharper if moneybags doucheface would give me a scratching post. Like I asked :(

Eli: Yeah, that's the exact reason I haven't gotten one.

[moodboardsbysarah]

andrew tate is a plant

this is absolutely hilarious. andrew tate is trolling the media in a paparazzi shot. it's quite obvious that he's a plant of the matrix. this picture alone should expose that to you. the total intention of it. his total awareness that cameras are going to be on him and his knowledge of exactly when they're coming and where they are... when he is walking down the fuckin street just after coming out of jail.

come on people who think he's some sort of revolutionary. he is scripted as fuck.

most celebrities are plants to control what the masses think. this guy is a particularly large plant. he is controlled opposition against the matrix, planted to shut up all the people who are starting to realize we literally live in the matrix. Tate is out here crying about "teh matrix" because the matrix figured out that too many men are onto them... so they decided to recruit mr doucheface to say a few words about masculinity and shut them up. this dude is nothing but the new Donald Trump. he is the new false savior, the new Patriot Appeasement Program to coax all the masculine men who are about to revolt into...

a) sitting on their asses and changing nothing in their lives, except maybe going to the gym for an hour or so a day and calling it a revolution of masculinity. aka he is convincing men to do nothing but what the matrix wants them to do: get placated into their routines and focus on following media-propagated ideals of sexiness, while the matrix continues to roll its AI control grid shit out.

b) value money and possessions above fellow human beings. like WAKE UP, all this guy is doing is reinforcing the pre-existing matrix mentality that your car and your faux image of successful alpha maleness is everything. nothing revolutionary about it. he may as well be a degenerate gangster rapper. he's having the same degenerate impact on young men. again Tate is manipulating young men into doing exactly what the matrix wants them to do: valuing matrix-created money above all else, and slaving away at matrix AI constructs and even building new matrix AI constructs. because anyone who understands current economics knows that furthering the AI automation agenda is the only way you can make real good money, because thats the only shit VCs and banks will fund. so any figure who's telling you that making money is important is really telling you to merge with the machines. unless they are explicitly showing you ways to make money without doing that, but that's not what Tate is doing, is it

c) further destroying the family unit by cheating on women. Tate goes on and on about how infidelity is a natural male instinct and men shouldn't feel ashamed of needing to cheat on their wives. Lmao I rest my case. "restoring traditional masculinity" "saving societal decay" my ass.

and to think there are still millions of idiots who think that Andrew Tate is here to bring us back to a prosperous society and save us from Western degeneracy. lol you people are so pathetically gullible. as if Andrew Tate is the first person to speak against the deterioration of masculinity and femininity and other famous people haven't been talking about this constantly for +10 years. see: JBP lol. analyze Tate's ideas for more than 2 seconds and you will see: he is furthering an ideology no different to that which gangster rappers are furthering. the only difference between him and degenerate rappers how the media represents him like some awesome rich lone wolf type who is semi-intellectual. the actual content of his ideas is no different to the ideas of the same people yall think are degenerates destroying masculinity. "money money money be a pimp cheat on hoes punch a dude in the face money money money" there you go. there's your saved masculinity.

[askaceattorney]

Dear Anonymous,

Wrong! In fact, I wouldn’t have prevented Prosecutor von Doucheface from shooting the man or the man from labeling me as the killer if it was between me or his son.

I do have one mind-blowing fact: blaming the victim as the reason for his circumstances is called victim blaming. Mind-blowing, isn’t it?

- Yanni Yogi

[kmp78]

Still waiting for any evidence that he's changed from being a doucheface 2 decades ago 📆 Just how long do you dwell on the past? Who the f¥€k cares what happened in the past? It is gone. JL lives his life learning from his successes, mistakes and the knowledge of others who are successful. He has a plan for every new day, does whatever and dates whoever he wants and lives life; moves forward. You harp on the past of people you don’t actually know, ruminate on old emotional wounds and personal breaches of your expected behavior and make a bigger and bigger dent in your couch each day. You want so much for readers here to hate JL but your logic doesn’t even question, why should anyone here dislike him when he is living a full and productive life when all you do is moan and groan about others and melt into irrelevance every single day? Which would you choose to be your role model to admire?

"Who the fuck cares what happened in the past"

Spoken like a true imbecile who never cracked open a history book. 🥱

And STILL indeed waiting on JUST ONE SHRED OF EVIDENCE that JL has changed from being a douchebag.

Him fucking around WITH TWEENIE-LOOKING MODELITAS sure speaks a whole different kinda story. 🥱

Hey maybe if he buries his whole head in that scarf we can all pretend like none of that ever happened?! 🤷🏼‍♀️

[erijonarexhepis-blog]

AUTHOR’S NOTE

SEASON FIVE

"No, we're not family. We're related. There's a difference"

"I'm alone"

"We're all alone!"

"It's so annoying when people assume you're straight just because you've dated or been married to someone of the opposite sex"

"You'd know that"

"Also, there's more than just gay and straight. Nanda could be bi. Or pan"

"I wasn't a man at that moment. I was a— I was a bomb fixed to— to explode, and I did, and I still don't know why I did, but I did, and it doesn't matter if it was him"

"We deserve to get out"

"Yeah, well, so did Nate Senior. Now he's dead"

"He can't in prison. This will scare her"

"The only people you're scaring is us with your sociopathic brain"

"Psychopathic brain— just to be clear"

"I don't want to hear from any of you. Genius one spoke, and now I want to hear from genius two"

"Food was good, though"

"She was, wasn't she?"

"Excuse me?"

"So they slaughtered him. They shot a defenseless man in the head, and here we are— another black man's body being paraded in the court and me having to beg for justice"

Main cast

— Sarah Drew as April Coleman / SCHOOL PRESIDENT / "I have a good plan. Be happy"

— Aja Naomi King as Michaela Pratt / PROM QUEEN / "The only people you're scaring is us with your sociopathic brain"

— Jack Falahee as Connor Walsh / HAIR GEL / "I didn't think that I could ever feel these things before I met you, but, Oliver, I want a long, boring, normal life because it's with you. You're everything to me"

— Viola Davis as Annalise Keating / THE PROFESSOR / "The FBI has labeled him as a black identity extremist. As if it's so extreme to think that black lives matter."

— Karla Souza as Laurel Castillo / WALLFLOWER / "Okay, that is between me and April"

— Liza Weil as Bonnie Winterbottom / BON BON / "Annalise was right. Ron was playing me. I just didn't want to see it"

— Charlie Weber as Frank Delfino / HITMAN / "He's gone. They're both gone"

— Matt McGorry as Asher Millstone / DOUCHEFACE / "No one's as hot as you"

— Conrad Ricamora as Oliver Hampton / THAT IT GUY / "Connor, as I stand here with you now, I realize that my dream wasn't the... wedding or the tux or Bryan Adams. My dream was you"

Side cast

Rome Flynn as Gabriel Maddox

Billy Brown as Nate Lahey

Paul Dano as Trevor Peterson

John Hensley as Ronald Miller

Timothy Hutton as Emmett Crawford

Amirah Vann as Tegan Price

Jessica Marie Garcia as Rhonda Navarro

Warning

— Spoilers

— Mention/description of blood/injury/death

— Mature content

— Shitty writing

— Spelling/grammar errors

Enjoy!

[harleyincrisis]

Part 3: Scars

“𝐈𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐭 𝐨𝐟 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐦𝐨𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐟𝐞𝐚𝐫 𝐡𝐚𝐬 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐟𝐫𝐨𝐳𝐞𝐧,𝐘𝐨𝐮’𝐫𝐞 𝐜𝐫𝐚𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐛𝐮𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠, 𝐰𝐡𝐞𝐧 𝐥𝐢𝐟𝐞’𝐬 𝐚𝐭 𝐢𝐭’𝐬 𝐜𝐨𝐥𝐝𝐞𝐬𝐭. 𝐃𝐨𝐧’𝐭 𝐟𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐭𝐨𝐨 𝐟𝐚𝐫 𝐟𝐫𝐨𝐦 𝐰𝐡𝐨 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐚𝐫𝐞.”

𝔽𝕝𝕒𝕤𝕙𝕓𝕒𝕔𝕜:

[[My body slammed into a roll over the concrete floor of the steel mill. Joker’s steps echoed as he moved closer. “ℍ𝕒𝕣𝕝𝕖𝕪, 𝕪𝕠𝕦 𝕨𝕖𝕣𝕖 𝕤𝕦𝕡𝕡𝕠𝕤𝕖𝕕 𝕥𝕠 𝕜𝕖𝕖𝕡 𝔹𝕒𝕥𝕤 𝕓𝕦𝕤𝕪.” I felt his grip as he jerked me up by my hair. My boot scraped the floor with a squeak as he brought me up to stand. Blood trickled down my nose and trailed over my lips. The last hard slap was one that sent me across the room. “𝕐𝕠𝕦 𝕔𝕠𝕟𝕥𝕚𝕟𝕦𝕖 𝕥𝕠 𝕗𝕒𝕚𝕝 𝕞𝕖. 𝕆𝕧𝕖𝕣 𝕒𝕟𝕕 𝕆𝕧𝕖𝕣.”ＣＲＡＣＫ a collision of his knuckles hit against my face. The tears rolled down my cheeks as I crumpled to my knees. He reached for my chin to lift it.“𝕆𝕙 𝕕𝕠𝕟’𝕥 𝕨𝕠𝕣𝕣𝕪 𝕀 𝕙𝕒𝕧𝕖 𝕥𝕙𝕖 𝕡𝕖𝕣𝕗𝕖𝕔𝕥 𝕡𝕦𝕟𝕚𝕤𝕙𝕞𝕖𝕟𝕥𝕤 𝕗𝕠𝕣 𝕪𝕠𝕦𝕣 𝕗𝕒𝕚𝕝𝕦𝕣𝕖𝕤." The wall exploded just as Joker reached for his buckle. Bats and the Justice punks crowded into the room.“𝐋𝐞𝐭 𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐠𝐨, 𝐉𝐨𝐤𝐞𝐫!” Batman tried to sound big and bad. His tone spoke lies to my ears. He didn’t want to save me. He just wanted to catch his prey. I felt the hard jerk as I was tossed aside like a rag doll. Every muscle of my body screamed in pain. A failed battle with Bats just to come back for the sling around treatment with Joker. I was tired of men treating me like I was worthless, weightless, and nothing to them. My hands shifted beneath me to help prop me up to see the commotion. Bats had Joker, threw him across the room making him drop his gun. I reached out for what I thought was the real steel. It seemed the room wasn’t paying any attention to me. 𝘞𝘩𝘺 𝘸𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘺? 𝘐 𝘸𝘢𝘴 𝘯𝘰𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘯𝘰 𝘰𝘯𝘦 𝘵𝘰 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘮. 𝘐 𝘸𝘢𝘴 𝘸𝘦𝘢𝘬. 𝘐 𝘸𝘢𝘴 𝘴𝘵𝘶𝘱𝘪𝘥. 𝘑𝘶𝘴𝘵 𝘴𝘵𝘶𝘱𝘪𝘥 𝘏𝘢𝘳𝘭𝘦𝘺, 𝘑𝘰𝘬𝘦𝘳𝘴 𝘱𝘭𝘢𝘺𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨. 𝘑𝘰𝘬𝘦𝘳'𝘴 𝘵𝘳𝘢𝘴𝘩. I managed to grip the gun in hand and raised it, aiming for Joker. With shaky hands I managed to stabilize as I prepared myself for the squeeze of the trigger. Joker somehow managed to pick the gun he lost from his grip. He raised it to match my stance. I squeezed the trigger, the toy flag with the word 𝐁𝐀𝐍𝐆 printed in bold, popped free of the gun. Before I could fully feel the disappointment. A loud 𝐁𝐀𝐍𝐆 sounded. I gasped at the sharp pain that shot through my shoulder. My eyes looked down at the hole it left behind. Blood surfacing and pouring from the wound. I let out a shrill scream and lunged for the gun. Girl Bat and Doucheface Robin tackled me to the floor, preventing me from completing my mission of ridding the world of that piece of shit clown. My eyes glared ahead as Batman and Joker resumed their fight. I groaned as metal slapped and trapped my wrists behind my back.I was jerked to my feet AGAIN. My boots scraped the concrete as  I screamed in pure anger. The pain in my shoulder disappeared, replaced with the rage I felt. The last image I had seen was the gun being tossed and Batman continuing his fight with Joker. I felt my body lift again. A wave of  lightheadedness moved over me. I pulled to lean against Batgirl as the junior bat brats carried me out of the room. My vision darkened as my head bounded against Batgirl’s shoulder. That was the last time I had seen him.]]

𝐏𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐃𝐚𝐲: 𝐒𝐚𝐧𝐜𝐭𝐮𝐚𝐫𝐲 𝐑𝐨𝐨𝐦 𝟐𝟑𝟏: 𝐇. 𝐐𝐮𝐢𝐧𝐧.

[[The warm spray of water streamed through the showerhead as the soap filled loofah moved over my skin. My palms pressed against the shower walls as I let Batgirl scrub me up and down. I moaned at the gentle sweeps she took as she brushed the bubbles over my scarred skin. I looked up to let the warm stream wash over my face. I felt Batgirl’s soft lips along my shoulder. Whispers of me being safe caused soft moans to escape. Lost in the ecstasy of her gentle touch. Suddenly her soft touch began rough, her grip tightened and jerked me back. I felt a hard muscle body and something rod shaped against my ass. “𝕐𝕠𝕦’𝕝𝕝 𝕟𝕖𝕧𝕖𝕣 𝕖𝕤𝕔𝕒𝕡𝕖 𝕞𝕖.” I jumped back and opened my eyes as I reached to turn off the water that had run cold. I was alone, naked and shaking. I reached outside of the glass for a towel and  wrapped it tightly around me. I combed my fingers through my hair to brush it away from my face. Another night of no sleep was imminent, 𝘸𝘩𝘺 𝘥𝘰 𝘐 𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘯 𝘵𝘳𝘺? I pulled clothes free from the small dresser I was provided. I dressed quickly before slipping from my room to try and tire my body in the simulation chamber. I set the controls to what I needed today. My reflection was caught in the mirror, the scar against my shoulder from years ago radiated a phantom pain. My fingers moved over the keys as I set the room to replay the last memory I had of Joker. The only change being that I had the gun he shot me with. Joker would be the gunshot victim this time not me. He wanted to be in my mind, fuck with my thoughts and daydreams? He was in for a show. The different way I would destroy him as he had destroyed me.]]

[waynes-multiverse]

I thought I start this while I still can keep up! 😁🤍

First of all, I absolutely love the premise of this. Being one of the glampers at the excursion (aka in the middle of the murderous action) and Mary's friend. So clever! 👏 (Also sad, 'cause we know that girl's not gonna make it to the end. Are there Beau consolation hugs in our future? I sure hope so!) 😏

It gave you exactly five more days to enjoy the fresh air of no responsibilities, before you returned to reality.

Ha! Poor reader, if she's not super into Agatha Christie-style murder mysteries, something tells me she won't enjoy this little vacation. (I, on the other hand, would love this – aside from the real murders and the threat of being a victim... 😆)

You pegged his accent as English, the “casual posh” kind. On a scale from Dame Maggie Smith to Dick Van Dyke’s attempt at cockney, you’d put Avery on a Benedict Cumberbatch level.

That one killed me! Omfg what glorious comparisons 🤣🤣🤣

“She’s a college professor,” Mary tacked on. “AKA: a giant nerd.”

AKA super-hot! 🔥 Ssshh Mary, you don't know what you're talking about...

“Relationships, lies, that sort of thing,” she replied.

Ah, I see her parents divorcing did not affect her at all...

A few more lines into this and Mary is sooo on my nerves. Just shut up, girl... The only points she's getting is for that chipmunk comment. Now that was hilarious! 😂

You rubbed your left hand, where you still had the tan line of the ring you used to wear.

I smell a broken heart 🥺💔 But unknown doucheface didn't deserve her. Once she meets the sheriff, she'll be like "Doucheface who??"

And after the hike, their son, Cormack, had tried to help you onto the nice chestnut mare the handler had brought out of the stable for you. But your entire body had locked up in fear at the prospect of being vaulted onto the horse. In fairness, she was huge. And you were both afraid of heights, and animals that could buck you off its back and trample you.

Never related so hard to a character before 😂 I'm definitely not a horse girl and the only experience I have with a horse went horrible 🐴

But you know, for Cormac, I would've tried... 🫠

Sheriff Beau Arlen may have still been relatively new in town, but he considered himself a consummate professional.

Oh, do you know, babe? 😆 Already, I love how you're writing him and his inner monologue is spot on lol

You sensed you were interrupting a tete-a-tete.

I don't know why but it gave me the mental image of two stags going at each other, which I guess isn't that far away from the truth 😂

“Well, here’s a tip for ya,” he said. He planted his feet, held his hands up into lightly clenched fists. “The trick is in the legs. Grip tight, but not too tight. He’ll think you’re rarin’ to go.” You blinked a bit wider. Was that just honest advice…or was he sort of flirting with you?

I might have blacked out and died here... Can we-... can we ride him? 👀🫠

“Were you just checking out Glamper Girl? In front of your daughter, no less,” Cassie remarked.

Hahaha Cassie calling him out 😂 But babe, don't pretend like you weren't flirting your ass off with Cormac 😝

You’d just Googled some therapeutic techniques instead of, you know, going to therapy.

That tracks lmfao

Also, interesting about her past. Her dad being a firefighter and her being engaged to one. Wonder what happened there. Did he die in a fire? 🥺

“You don’t have to do this,“ she said. "You don’t have to move out here and leave everything behind. You should just come home with me. Your parents, our friends—everyone wants to be there for you, like we have all year.”

Again, seriously wondering what happened there if she's been like this for a year. And I do understand if she wants a fresh start, but I'd feel differently if she's running away from something and that's the reason for her move 🤨

Ooof, so much to figure out! Loved this first chapter, babe! Can't wait to see where you taking this series 😍👏🫶

Take Me Home - Part 1

Pairing: Beau Arlen x F. Reader 

Summary: You are another lost soul at Sunny Day Excursions. You’re aiming to settle in Helena, Montana, where Beau Arlen is the new sheriff in town. But you’ve both got a past you’re running from. 

AN: Welcome to my first ever Big Sky series! I’ve been wanting to get to this for a while now. I’m so glad I finally get to start sharing this with you! I truly hope you enjoy the ride. (Note: This is set towards the beginning of season 3.)

Song Inspo: “Fly Away” by John Denver. And remember, you can listen to the full Take Me Home Playlist ⬅️ here.

Word Count: 4,400

Tags/Warnings: A bit of angst, a bit of setup, “Glamper Girl,” and a side helping of cops enjoying baked goods…

❤️ Series Masterlist

Part 1: All of Her Days

“This really feels like cheating,” you mused.

Yet again, you surveyed the sheer size and luxury of this tent you were supposed to be “camping” in.

Between the giant king-sized bed with crème and burgundy comforters, a two-seater dining table, a dresser (with a vanity), and even a small bookshelf, it looked like the Taj Mahal of glamping.

“Can’t you just enjoy it?” your best friend replied, poking a teasing finger into your side. She smirked when you flinched and gave her some playful side-eye. “My parents are the ones footing the bill, anyway.”

“Of which, I intend to pay them back for my half,” you said. Mary just rolled her eyes and waved you off. Her parents’ money was something she’d never had a problem spending.

“Come on, they’re getting ready to go on the hike without us,” she said, tossing her little purse over her shoulder. You were a bit more practical with your backpack, filled with a bottle of water, a couple snacks, bug spray, and your sketch pad.

Mary bumped your shoulder with hers as you two walked out of the tent, and you gave her a smile. You were glad she insisted on this little week-long excursion. It gave you exactly five more days to enjoy the fresh air of no responsibilities, before you returned to reality.

“So where are you guys from?” you asked a couple of walking companions on the early-morning hike.

The woods of Helena, Montana were vast and deep, and you found them a bit intimidating. You were a city girl, through and through, but you were learning to appreciate the mountains and the steep trails flanked by dense trees. You were also grateful that you weren’t alone. 

Emily seemed to be a nice girl around sixteen, while her stepfather Avery was a lightly graying man in his 40s. You pegged his accent as English, the “casual posh” kind. On a scale from Dame Maggie Smith to Dick Van Dyke's attempt at cockney, you’d put Avery on a Benedict Cumberbatch level.

“Well, I met her mother in Houston,” Avery replied, nodding at the girl beside you. “She and Emily joined me here in Helena after we were married this past spring.”

Emily confirmed with a nod. “Yep, starting school here in a few months.”

At that, you could smile. “Me too, actually.”

Emily gave you a confused look while she fiddled with an app on her phone.

“What? You’re still in school?” she asked.

“No,” you laughed. “I’m—”

“She’s a college professor,” Mary tacked on. “AKA: a giant nerd.”

Emily tried not to smile at your expense. You just shook your head at your friend.

“Thanks,” you said wryly, despite your amusement. “We can’t all be personal trainers. One can only take so much Spandex.”

Mary rolled her eyes and prepared to fire back a retort, but your attention shifted back to Emily, who seemed to be debating whether to press a red button on her phone. You thought it looked like a voice recording app.

You followed her line of vision and saw Paige and Luke up ahead—a young “happy couple” here at Sunny Day Excursions. They were whisper-yelling at each other, sniping something about Luke’s birthday. Apparently, he had a problem with getting another year older.

Don’t we all, you thought, with no small amount of sarcasm. The guy had been a sour apple since the start of this trip, and to be honest, he was starting to get on your damn nerves.

“This is like, prime time stuff for my podcast,” Emily whispered.

You looked over at her. “Oh yeah? What’s your podcast about?”

“Relationships, lies, that sort of thing,” she replied.

You almost grimaced. Good luck finding willing subjects for that one.

Mary snickered on your other side. She leaned close to your ear so only you would hear.

“God, Paige’s voice is so effing annoying. Like a chipmunk on helium,” she said. “I feel sorry for him.”

You shot her a dry look. “He’s the one asking for it, if you ask me. But they’ve been going at it the whole time. Makes me feel sorry for both of them.”

You shook your head and kept walking on the trail. Mary sobered as she stared back at you. She was reminded of why you two were really here, and what you’d been through this past year…

What you all had been through.

You and Mary fell behind Avery and Emily on the trail, giving Mary the opportunity to touch your arm and stop you in the middle of the trail.

“Do you really plan to stay here?” she asked. “In dusty-ass Montana? With the snakes and the bears and the old hicks?”

“Well, I got the key to my apartment before we got here,” you said. And she knew that. “My aunt is letting me crash with her until the rest of my things ship over in a couple of weeks, and I start a new job in the fall. So yeah, I’m staying.”

Mary’s lips pursed. She gave you a long look, but you held your ground. You even popped your Airpods in for good measure. You were done with this conversation.

She huffed and kept walking.

You watched your friend go in annoyance. You knew she would try to talk you out of your decision at some point on this trip, but you hadn’t expected it to be so soon.

Heaving a sigh, you looked up at the clear sky above you, filtered through the tall trees. You took a moment to collect yourself in this great big no man’s land, where you could finally let yourself slow down for a minute, and breathe.

You raised the volume in your Airpods when a particular song came through.

“All of her days have gone soft and cloudy. All of her dreams have gone dry,” crooned the soft melody. You nodded to the rhythm of the mellow notes, but all the while, you tried to blink through the sting of tears.

“All of her nights have gone sad and shady. She's getting ready to fly…”

You rubbed your left hand, where you still had the tan line of the ring you used to wear.

“It’s really okay, sweetie,” Mary tried to console you, rubbing her hand between your shoulders.

After the hike, you all had returned to camp and sat down to brunch. It was an amazing spread, with waffles and muffins and Danishes, eggs done three different ways, toast with jam, assorted sandwiches, coffee and orange juice (and sparkling wine for the adults).

But even with a huge plate of appetizing food in front of you, you were sulking a bit. You had your face covered by your hands as you rested your elbows on the table.

“One of my only goals on this trip was to ride a damn horse, and I couldn’t even do that,” you said.

Sunny Barnes and her husband Buck were the heads and hosts of this whole trip. And after the hike, their son, Cormack, had tried to help you onto the nice chestnut mare the handler had brought out of the stable for you. But your entire body had locked up in fear at the prospect of being vaulted onto the horse.

In fairness, she was huge. And you were both afraid of heights, and animals that could buck you off its back and trample you.

You hadn’t been able to speak. You just shook your head vigorously every time Cormack asked you if you were okay.

So he’d graciously patted your back and gave the mare to Emily instead.

“I’ve never been able to ride a horse either,” Avery offered in commiseration. You lowered your hands and gave him a wan smile.

Emily was carving an apple with an impressive (and somewhat scary) looking pocketknife. She shrugged.

“It’s not so hard,” she said. But, perhaps realizing how she sounded, she looked up and gave you an apologetic look. “Sorry. I mean, I’m sure you’ll get it! It’s hard in the beginning, but once you get used to it, it’s like riding a bike.”

Right. A bike with hooves, you thought, ripping a piece of bread from your egg and cheese sandwich.

Mary bumped your shoulder with a teasing smile. “You just got showed up by a high schooler. Again.”

You pursed your lips in amusement. You tossed the piece of bread. It hit her dead between the eyes. You giggled at the way she jumped with a start.

“Real mature,” she shot back.

“Yeah,” you replied, taking a giant bite of your sandwich for good measure. “I learned from you.”

Even Emily snickered, making Mary roll her eyes in amusement.

Shortly after, Avery and his stepdaughter were finished with brunch and got up to get back to their tents.

You glanced over and noticed that Emily had left her knife on the table, now closed in its sheath.

Sheriff Beau Arlen may have still been relatively new in town, but he considered himself a consummate professional.

He’d agreed to accompany Cassie, the local private investigator (and his friend), up to this mountain pass to look for a missing backpacker. Questioning Buck and Sunny Barnes and their crew was just good old-fashioned, thorough police work.

But if it also gave Beau a chance to check on his daughter up here “glamping” with her half-baked stepfather, then he couldn’t pass up on that opportunity, now could he?

After talking to Buck and Sunny, who hadn’t seen hide or hair of the backpacker, Beau let Cassie take care of questioning Cormack Barnes while Beau found his daughter outside her tent. After giving her a big hug and inspecting her “tent” (Really? he thought. Looks more like a hotel room than a tent.), he asked her how her trip was going so far.

“Good, Dad. But you really didn’t have to come all the way out here just to check up on me,” Emily said. She was amused, but no longer surprised to see him.

“No, no, no. I didn’t, okay?” Beau refuted. Though at the look on her face, he knew he wasn’t fooling her. She was a sharp kid. “All right, maybe not the only reason. We had to talk to Sunny about a missing backpacker. It’s something Cassie’s investigating.”

Emily’s amusement faded into surprise, and then concern.

“Wait, what?” she said.

“Oh, I’m sure it’s nothing. Just, you know…parents probably didn’t get the memo that ‘off-the-grid’ was part of the deal,” he said, giving her a meaningful raise of his brows. Maybe his daughter didn’t have to screen so many of his calls while she was on this trip.

“Overprotective parents, huh?” Emily dryly remarked.

“The worst,” Beau agreed, shaking his head.

But he smiled. Just seeing her made his whole week better…and it alleviated some of the hurt in his heart. Not getting to be with her on a trip like this stung. And knowing Avery was the one who got to be there for her grated on him.

Beau was already missing too much of his daughter’s life, and he still wasn’t too sure on how to deal with that.

Speak of the devil, he thought. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Avery approaching. Beau forced himself to look as close to pleasant as he could get around his ex-wife’s husband.

While Mary went back to the tent to freshen up, you grabbed Emily’s pocketknife and went to look for her so you could return it. It had a wood-carved hilt and had her initials, E. A., engraved on the side. The knife looked special, not the kind of thing you wanted to lose.

You found her outside her tent with her stepfather, and a man you didn’t know. He had broad shoulders and short brown hair that swept above his brow. When he turned to look at you, the first thing you noticed was the cut of his bearded chin, and then the green of his eyes.

You didn’t realize it, but your insides stilled, just for a moment. Then you remembered to smile.

Avery looked a bit tense, as did the newcomer. You sensed you were interrupting a tete-a-tete. 

“Uh, hi. I’m sorry,” you said, and extended the sheathed knife toward Emily. “Just wanted to get this back to you. You left it at the table.”

“Oh! Thanks,” Emily said gratefully.

“Well, hi there,” said the new guy. He was tall, you noted, wearing a beige jacket over a buttoned-down shirt, some jeans, and boots. It was a casual look, but all worked very well for him…in a rugged cowboy sense.

“This is my dad,” Emily supplied.

“Sheriff Beau Arlen, ma’am,” he said, giving you a more friendly smile that you matched in kind when you shook his hand. You also gave him your name to go along with it.

“You here for a little belated vacation, Sheriff?” you added.

“No. Matter of fact, I’m here on police business,” he replied. That concerned you, but he was quick to wave a dismissive hand. “Everything’s okay here. Just checking on a missing backpacker. But it looks like we’ll have to continue our search for him elsewhere.”

You hummed at that in concern. “Well, I hope you find him.”

“I do too,” he agreed with a nod.

Then, Emily took the slight pause in the conversation as her chance to escape.

“Okay, Dad, well, we’re gonna go hike down to the lake,” she said, gesturing at Avery. “But as you can see, I’m fine. We’re fine.”

Beau’s smile became a bit tight, but he nodded in understanding. He gave her a big hug, and you could see he was reluctant to let her go. Avery stood behind them. He held tension in his shoulders. You felt a bit awkward yourself, being in the midst of what was clearly an uneasy family dynamic.

Beau released his daughter. After she took off with Avery following close behind, Beau turned to you next. You tried not to blush at the sight of his handsome face.

“Sorry, again,” you said, raising a placating hand. “I didn’t mean to intrude.”

His lips twitched upward, and he shook his head. “You’re fine. Though you don’t look like a local. You from outta town?”

I could say the same thing about you, cowboy, you thought. There was a slight southern drawl in his voice that sounded like Alabama. Maybe Texas?

“You got me,” you nodded. “I’m from Chicago originally, but…I’ve actually just moved here to Helena.”

“Ahh, a city girl,” he remarked. “Small world. I just got here a few months ago myself. Houston, Texas.”

Your smile brightened. Right on the money.

“Yeah, I figured,” you couldn’t help teasing him a little. His grin kicked up in the corner.

“How’re the mountains and fresh air treating you then?” he asked. “Better than that blanket a’ smog in Chicago.”

“We do not have smog…or, well, not that much,” you laughed, “but yes, I’m actually really liking it here so far. I mean, I just got here about a week ago. I’m still learning. Though Emily actually tried to help me ride a horse today.”

“Yeah?” His brows raised. “How’d that go?”

You had to laugh. A kind of self-deprecating laugh that had you half-covering your face to stem off your blush.

“Not well,” you admitted.

Beau ducked his head with a smile. He met your eyes in amusement, but not without kindness.

“Well, here’s a tip for ya,” he said. He planted his feet, held his hands up into lightly clenched fists. “The trick is in the legs. Grip tight, but not too tight. He’ll think you’re rarin’ to go.”

You blinked a bit wider. Was that just honest advice…or was he sort of flirting with you?

It made you blush in earnest.

“Ah. Good to know,” you said with a laugh. He treated you with a tip of his imaginary hat.

“Hey,” someone called out.

Both of your heads turned to a tall black woman with long curly hair. She gave you a polite smile before she nodded up at Beau.

“You ready to go?” she asked.

“Ah, yep,” Beau nodded. He gave you an apologetic look. “Sorry, gotta get back to the station.”

“Oh, of course,” you said. But you held up a finger. “Wait, just a sec.”

You hastened back over to the table of confections from brunch and offered them a chocolate chip muffin each for the road. Cassie politely declined, but Beau gladly took his.

“Although, are you trying to stereotype me or somethin’?” he teased.

Your brows furrowed in confusion, but after a moment, it hit you. You’d just given a cop a baked good.  

“At least it wasn’t a donut,” you quipped, despite your embarrassment. Beau still looked bemused, but he let you off the hook.

“That’s okay. I’ve never been known to turn down free food,” he assured.

“He really doesn’t,” Cassie confirmed. You noticed how she was waiting, arms crossed.

“Well, there you go! Sorry for keeping you,” you said.

“Not at all, darlin’,” said Beau. His smile had a charming gleam. “Nice to meet you.”

You quirked a smile back. “Wow, you are from Texas.”

You didn’t think you’d ever been called darlin’ in your life.

Beau’s good humor shifted into slight embarrassment himself.

“Sorry. I’ve been told to stop doing that,” he said. When he chuckled, you did along with him. You weren’t offended by it, just surprised by the old-fashioned endearment.

“It’s okay,” you said. “Nice to meet you too, Sheriff.”

You raised a hand in goodbye, and Beau returned it, watching you go. Meanwhile, Cassie watched him with a small smirk. He stepped down from the short platform in front of Emily’s tent to meet her.

“Were you just checking out Glamper Girl? In front of your daughter, no less,” Cassie remarked.

Beau shot her a look of denial. “I did no such thing. I’m a professional. And a gentleman, mind you.”

Cassie rose a brow at him. It stirred up a bit of his defensiveness. 

“But, I’ll have you know that Em had already moved on when I had a friendly conversation with the glamper,” he said.

Cassie rolled her eyes. Right.

That afternoon, you decided to bring your sketchpad and your modest collection of paints to the lake. You sat on the bank and tried to paint, while Mary joined the others in swimming.

“That looks nice,” Emily’s voice startled you from behind.

You twisted to look at her, and she gave you an apologetic look. She was dressed to go for a swim in a one-piece bathing suit and some shorts. She seemed more of a conservative dresser than typical high school girls her age. Maybe that had something to do with a policeman being her father, or maybe that was just her personality.

“Sorry,” she said, raising her hands.

“It’s okay.” You waved it off and gestured for her to sit beside you if she wanted. She did so, admiring your work over your shoulder. You felt a little embarrassed by it, but you didn’t mind her watching you try to paint ripples of light on the water.

“Are you an artist?” she asked.

You shot her a smile. “You’re very sweet, but no. I just started this year.”

You’d just Googled some therapeutic techniques instead of, you know, going to therapy. You just knew that if you did, your aunt would probably tell your parents, who would never let you hear the end of it. Specifically, why it was a waste of time. Your father especially would have something to say.

But one of the sources you found suggested trying out some creative outlets to calm the mind and think productively, but not create more stress for yourself. You’d tried a few different things, but landed on painting. It was working for you so far, even if you didn’t think you were that good.

“How do you like Montana so far?” you asked your companion. “Your dad told me you guys just moved here too, a few months ago.”

“Yeah, when my mom got remarried, my dad moved to stay close to me,” Emily explained.

Your brows raised. Your painting hand paused with the brush near the page.

“Well, that’s a good father,” you said. You smiled at the thought of Beau Arlen. The way he hugged his daughter before, like she was his entire world, and the fact that he’d moved entire states just to stay with her, told you a great deal about the town’s new sheriff.

Emily nodded, but her lips were pressed. “He’s a bit overprotective.”

“Well, he is a cop,” You said, smiling. “I assume that’s just part of the package.”

“I get that,” she said. “It’s just…a bit much sometimes.”

You gave her a sympathetic look. “I understand. My dad can be like that too. He’s got his soft moments, but he can be a real tough nut too… He’s a retired fireman.”

“Wow, that’s cool,” Emily said. She looked impressed. “Did you ever want to be a firefighter?”

You chuckled. “No, and he never wanted me to. It just wasn’t my beat, anyway.”

In the many years before your father had risen in the ranks to firehouse chief, your mother had often worried about him when he was on shift. Being a firefighter in inner-city Chicago had brought some hard and dangerous calls.

But you had always been more bookish, and both your parents were grateful for that.

You sighed. Your paintbrush made a stroke of deep green on the page, creating darker shades in the bottom of the lake.

“I did end up dating one though. Almost married him too,” you muttered, before you could stop yourself. You forgot you were talking to an insatiably curious girl.

“Really? What happened?” she asked. You looked over at her, and she was staring at you with her full attention. You remembered then that her podcast was supposed to be about relationships, but you had no desire to be a subject.

“It didn’t work out,” you said at last, and with difficulty.

“Why?” Emily asked.

Your internal struggle kept you quiet. It gave time for Emily to really see the withdrawn, almost pained look on your face, the slight hunch of your shoulders. She deflated guiltily.

“Uh, sorry,” she said.

You offered a small smile. “It’s okay, honey.”

“I’ll uh, just let you get back to painting,” she said. You waved her goodbye after she got up and left, giving you one last look before she joined her stepfather in the lake.

You let out a deep breath. The teen was tenacious, and naturally curious. That in itself wasn’t such a bad thing. But as you watched her splash at Avery, laughing that weightless laugh that kids got to have, you realized how much you missed being that young and free in your heart.

Again, out of habit, you set down your brush and rubbed at your empty left ring finger.

Mary finally joined you back in your shared tent after a long night of socializing by the fire. You had kept to the tent, reading Much Ado About Nothing for one of your classes that would start in the fall. It wasn’t your first time reading the Shakespeare play, by any means, but you did want to brush up on it.

“You know, you’re actually supposed to be vacationing on this vacation,” Mary pointed out. She started changing into her pajamas for bed. You were already cozy in one of your old college hoodies and some shorts, not to mention snuggled under the warm blankets.

“I am,” you said defensively. “I hiked, I painted, I ate no less than one burger, a basket of fries, and three smores, and now I’m reading.”

“Yeah, for school,” she pointed out. “I may not be as smart as you, but I know homework when I see it.”

You shot her a smile. “You’re plenty smart, M.”

She snorted and slipped into bed beside you. It felt like the sleepovers you two used to have in college, years ago, when she’d come to crash in your dorm, or you in hers. She’d been a philosophy major (despite not giving two shits about Socrates), forced to attend college by her parents. You were an English major, working three part-time jobs just to get you through until graduation.

“Hey,” she said, laying a hand on your shoulder. You turned to her in question. She seemed more serious than usual.

“I’m worried about you,” she said. “And I’m not the only one.”

You sighed. Lowering your book, you leaned back against your pillows and stared up at the tent’s fairy lights.

“I know,” you replied. “But you don’t need to be.”

“Yeah you keep saying that, but you know the real reason I’m here, right?” Mary asked. Her insistent hand on your arm made you meet her eyes.

“You don’t have to do this," she said. "You don’t have to move out here and leave everything behind. You should just come home with me. Your parents, our friends—everyone wants to be there for you, like we have all year.”

Your lips pursed, and you shook your head.

“I’m not going to change my mind. So if that’s really why you’re here, and not to just spend some time with me, as my friend, then you should just go home,” you said. “I’ll leave here and go to my aunt’s house. I’m sure your parents can negotiate some kind of refund.”

Mary got angry and huffy, just like you thought she would. You weren’t playing around though. This was your life, and your decision.

If your friends and your family couldn’t be happy for you, or at least understanding, then they could at least respect you. You just weren’t sure when they’d get the hint that this was real.

You were moving to Montana, permanently.

On the drive back into town from the camping site, Beau ate his chocolate chip muffin and tried his best to listen to Cassie—to her theories on where the backpacker might’ve gone, and how best to tell the parents to keep her on this investigation.

A good part of him was still thinking about his daughter, wishing he could be there with her right now. 

And maybe, his mind occasionally wandered…thinking about the pretty shade of your eyes when you smiled at him.

AN: And there we have it, Part 1 of a new series! If you liked it, please let me know! 🥰

And a special Happy Birthday to @jackles010378! 💖 I was going to say we're both Aries (mine is next month) but forgot Pisces comes first lol. ♓

Next Time:

The trees were tall and dark now. The moon was filtering through them like the sun had during other day hikes, but it was much more ominous at night.

“Shit,” you muttered. You gripped your flashlight in worry as panic started to well up in your chest.

Now you were lost.

You jumped with a start when the hoot of a bird passed by overhead.

Shiiiit. This was very bad.

You kept moving forward on what you thought was the trail. That was all you could do, keep moving forward. You made a few turns around some trees, occasionally calling out for Sunny, or Mary, or anyone to hear you.

▶️ Keep Reading: Part 2

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[theonewithsomethingblue]

(2/n) then Tiu came into my life in 2018, when I met him dun ko narealize yung difference ng lalaking interested sa'yo sa hindi. He showed me love and concern even sa first date na sa 3 years namin magkakilala ni Clive eh never niya naipakita sakin. Never or iniisip ko lang na hindi talaga siya sincere ever.

So going back to dreaming of him, ang weird but at the same time may feels na gusto ko siyang kamustahin pero nahihiya ako. After nung biglaan kong sabi sa kanya na ayoko na maging friends kami or any relationship pa kasi feeling ko wala ng sense at hindi ako totally makakapagmove on kung nag-uusap pa rin kami. I want to start new. Gusto ko na nung self-love na sinasabi sakin ni Tiu noon. Biglaan talaga yung desisyon kasi ayoko ng umatras. For the first time in 3 years determined nako mag-move on.

Nung 2019, nagkausap ulit kami. Nagkalakas ng loob siya ulit na i-PM ako sa Messenger. Napahukay tuloy ako how the conversation started haha but it doesn't matter naman. I'm just curious how is he doing ngayon. Kahit naman may sa-demonyo siya eh kilala ko mental health nun. I care pa rin.

At para kay Tiu, sana wag mo bigyan ng meaning ito. Hahahaha. Kahit napapanaginipan ko siya, ikaw pa naiisip ko after non. Di ko naman na mahal yung tao. Concern nalang din talaga ako siguro. Kamusta ka kaya? I hope that you're fine. 😊 PM mo nalang ako haha

[marzipanandminutiae]

sometimes I hate how much modern clothing is determined to show women’s bodies

like if it’s not skimpy, it’s skin-tight- leggings, skinny jeans, bodycon dresses, etc.

doing historical costuming has made me hyper-aware of just how “on display” my body is when I’m wearing normal modern outfits, and it affects my behavior. don’t bend over to pick things up at work because men will stare at your ass. sit differently so you don’t show stomach rolls. a guy running a pop-up stand next to my shop commented so much on how I had “great legs” that I didn’t wear leggings and skirts- one of my favorite winter outfit combinations -for the rest of the season

there’s a certain freedom in medium-to-long skirts and skirt supports, I find: the freedom to define what people see of my body. men won’t stop being creepy no matter what women wear, but I like that kind of dramatic body re-framing. you don’t get to see my legs and hips, Creepy Guys. you get to see a massive bell skirt, or a bustle, or an upended trumpet flower shape. my body is to be seen only by those I’ve chosen to trust, not the world at large

of course, empowerment is different for different women. some feel comfortable and powerful showing as much of their shape as possible, and I applaud them in doing exactly that. what pisses me off is the pressure from the fashion industry for all of us to be empowered by the same thing...a thing that just so happens to tie in with the diet industry and the cosmetics industry. it’s easier to sell the idea that you have to be hairless and smooth and thin and blemish-free when it’s all on display

sometimes I just wish I could go about in a hoop skirt and a t-shirt that says “fuck off” in delicate script

[lemon69lol]

The art gods have blessed me with the knowledge of how to draw a beard without it looking like someone took a marker to their face but they withheld the knowledge of how to connect to to the face without looking weird

[waynes-multiverse]

Let's dive right into this one! 🤓

Ooof, Harry returned with some big news, huh? It drove me maaaad as hell he pretended like he didn't know what he did. And Rhea? Kinda feel for this poor woman. It's clear she's got no clue what kind of man she married (and what a revelation that was!) The fact they adopted Tom also explains why Elle didn't immediately put two and two together. I wonder what his motive is? This all seems a bit sus 🔎👀

“Three’s a crowd, but four’s a party.” I heard a familiar Texas accent behind me, and I instantly knew it was Beau, and he laid a protective hand on my shoulder. Harry’s eyebrow twitched, his Adam’s apple bobbing slightly as he glanced between Beau and I. “Who’s this, sweetheart?” He knew exactly who this was, so it confused me a little.

Oh Beau... This was great and made me laugh so much. I love his power play by not remembering doucheface's name there 😂

Her reaction to him playing boyfriend was amazing, too 🤣🤣🤣

Cal's such an interesting character, by the way. I find myself wondering more and more about his whole backstory. Did he leave his family really by choice? How did he reconnect with Lucy? In this portrayal, he seems to care at least a little about his daughters...

The very awkward Mark/Olivia dinner was also very sus. What's his game plan here? He seems nice, but he's gotta know Liv loves her auntie more??? And everyone hates him, so the whole nice guy facade is iffy, too. Also got major emotional manipulation vibes when he spoke to Olivia. I keep wondering if he's connected to Lucy's death as well...

And the scene when those guys came for her and how she told Olivia to run? OH MY GOD

God, my everything hurts.

Jesus fuck, you're aiming to kill this poor woman by the end of this, ain't you? 😂

Light My Fire (Again) | beau arlen

Summary: “I thought I’d swore off love, Jenny.” I smiled, chuckling a bit as I looked down to my feet then back up the skies, taking in the twinkling lights. “God, I really thought I did, and I was doing such a good job at it too. But, well, I just… I couldn’t help it.” I wet my lips slightly, biting the bottom one. “It’s improper, but it’s true.”

SERIES MASTERLIST

MAIN MASTERLIST

(divider credits go to @cafekitsune)

A/N - Inspired by Take Me Home by @zepskies

A/N 2 - Him in this outfit is MMM

five - make him hurt, make me bleed

PREVIOUSLY ON LMF:

A man with sandy blonde hair and blue eyes strolled into the newly opened diner where Olivia met Tom, whistling under his breath. His phone was on, a photo of him and a redheaded woman displaying a ring on the lock screen, a heart drawn around her made up face. A worker called Dan put down his mop, strolling over with a sunny smile. “Evening, sir, can I help you?”

“Yeah, thanks, man.” The man nodded with a friendly grin, eyes darting around the room as his fingers fiddled in his pocket. “I’m, uh, I’m lookin’ for my son. His name’s Tom Holden. Have you seen him?”

“He went off with a girl, Olivia Barlowe, earlier.” Dan informed, hand running through his hair as he gauged the man’s character. “Why, you have something to tell him? I can pass the message on, y’know.”

“Oh, that’d be great.” He took out a notebook from the inside of his jacket, writing an address in neat handwriting before ripping it out and handing it to Dan with a chuckle, his cerulean eyes twinkling. “Just tell him his old man’s in town, yeah?” 

“Does his old man have a name?” Dan raised an eyebrow with a small smirk as he folded the paper, careful not to read the address since it was a breach of privacy.

“Oh! Oh, yeah.” The man nodded, looking down for a moment with a deep laugh before he glanced back up. “Harry. Harry Holden.”

NOW:

“Alright, you know what to do.” I gestured in front, leaning back in my seat as I glanced at Olivia. “We’re moving onto slower roads, so clutch, change gears.” She did as I asked, and I grinned, clapping as quietly as I could to not spook her. “Good work, sweetheart. You’re a natural, just like your mom.” We pulled up at a grocery store, so I grabbed my wallet, prepping to get out. “Hang tight, gun’s in the glovebox, keep the car door locked until you see me at the passenger’s door, ok?”

“Got it, auntie.” She nodded, so I relaxed, getting out of the car. I shut the door, making my way inside the store while whistling a little tune. I made a beeline for the fruits, picking up a basket on the way before picking out the best ones, dropping them into my basket. My whistling turned into a hum, brushing my curtain bangs out of my face before inspecting a box of strawberries.

“Sunflower, I’m plannin’ on making some strawberry cheesecake, do you think these are good?” Lucy held up a box of rasberries, grinning innocently because if she didn’t know. I smirked knowingly, and replaced the box of raspberries with a box of strawberries. “Oh! Thanks. Silly me.”

“Issy?” I was yanked reluctantly out of the memory, looking up and my blood running cold as I saw… Harry. A wide grin spread across his face as he stepped forward, tilting his head slightly. “It is you, oh, I knew it!” There he goes again with that British accent that makes my skin crawl. It used to make my knees weak.

“Harry.” I sighed, smiling politely, but it faltered when I saw Rhea walk up with… Tom. I locked eyes with the boy and it clicked instantly, a sharp pang of pain shooting through my chest. “And Tom’s… your son?”

“You know my boy?” Harry grinned, clapping Tom on the shoulder. “Well, my darling-” He held Rhea’s hand, which I noticed had a shiny ring on it, “and I adopted Tom a while ago. Rhea, you know Isabelle, right?”

“You’re Tom’s old friend, right?” The redhead smiled, putting out her hand. “Rhea Summers- no, sorry, Holden. Rhea Holden, neé Summers, it’s hard to compute.”

I shook her hand, forcing a chuckle, my mouth feeling dry. “Elle Joyner.”

“Three’s a crowd, but four’s a party.” I heard a familiar Texas accent behind me, and I instantly knew it was Beau, and he laid a protective hand on my shoulder. Harry’s eyebrow twitched, his Adam’s apple bobbing slightly as he glanced between Beau and I. “Who’s this, sweetheart?” He knew exactly who this was, so it confused me a little.

“Harry Holden.” Harry introduced, putting out his hand for Beau to shake, seemingly bothered and slightly intimidated since the man was taller than him. “I’m, uh, Elle’s old friend.” Beau’s eyebrow quirked, instantly clocking that Harry was lying. But he shook the latter’s hand anyway, adopting a smile.

“Sheriff Beau Arlen.” He introduced, putting unnecessary emphasis on the first word of the sentence. He then put his hand on my hip, drawing me closer in a manner that was almost possessive. “I’m Belle’s boyfriend.” Oh. Oh, we’re doing that. “Ain’t that right, sweetheart?”

“Yeah.” I nodded, then decided to play along, kissing Beau’s cheek (albeit I had to stand en pointe, and I am NO ballet dancer). I saw a tinge of red flood his cheeks, but he affectionately rubbed my side with a chuckle.

“Your boyfriend.” Harry repeated quietly before clearing his throat and raising his voice slightly. “Well, Olivia will be seeing Tom tonight, won’t she? I’ll drop her off, if that’s ok.”

“Mhmm, yeah, it’s ok. I’ll, uh, see you tonight.” I nodded, swallowing as Beau’s grip felt more prominent on my hip, as if he tightened it slightly. When Harry, Rhea and Tom trotted off like the happy family I seldom had but wanted, I turned to Beau with an apologetic look. “You didn’t have to do that.”

“Yes, I did.” He smirked, kissing my cheek in what I assumed was revenge, because my ears went red, my eyes widening slightly as I swallowed on a dry throat.

So… more of an attempt.

In the dimly lit basement of an abandoned warehouse, Cal Joyner found himself bound to a rusty chair, the metallic restraints digging into his flesh, adding to the weight of fear and desperation already bearing down on him. The flickering bulb overhead cast erratic shadows that danced across the grimy walls, framing his captors—members of a notorious crime syndicate—as they loomed over him with a menacing presence.

Remy, a burly man with a scarred face and eyes as cold as steel, stepped forward and snarled, "You think we're playing games here, Cal? We want Lucy's phone, and we want it now."

Cal's eyes darted around the room, searching for an escape that didn't exist. His pulse raced, and his throat felt dry. "I already told you, I don't have it!" he protested, his voice strained with a mixture of fear and defiance. "I don't know where it is."

Beside Remy, another thug with a menacing smirk etched into his features cracked his knuckles. "Maybe you need a little more convincing," he sneered, his eyes glinting with malice.

Cal's thoughts flashed back to that haunting night six years ago when Lucy, his beloved daughter, was taken from him. The pain was still raw, a wound that refused to heal. The memory of her murder lingered like a relentless specter, its grip tightening with each passing moment. And now, these men were threatening his only remaining daughter.

"You touch Elle," Cal spat, his eyes burning with defiance, "and I swear—"

The thug cut him off with a menacing laugh. "Oh, we will touch her, Cal. Unless you start being honest with us."

Cal's jaw clenched, his mind racing through a fog of fear and desperation. He was backed into a corner, and lying was second nature to him, even in this dire circumstance. "I already told you, Lucy's phone is gone. Destroyed."

Remy's patience wore thin. He seized Cal by the collar, his grip like iron. "Listen, you scum. We know you're lying. Lucy kept everything on that phone—information that could bury our client, and he paid a large sum o’ money for our services. We like to deliver. So, we want it back, and we'll tear this whole town apart if we have to."

Cal's eyes flickered towards the door, his thoughts scrambling for a way out. But the goon's grip tightened, yanking him back into the harsh reality of his predicament.

"Last chance, Cal," Remy growled, his voice low and dangerous. "Where. Is. The. Phone?"

In that tense moment, Cal's mind raced. He thought of his daughter, of the desperate need to protect her as she tried to protect him. He had to buy time, he had to think. "I don’t know!" he blurted out, his voice trembling. "I… don’t know."

The thug exchanged a skeptical glance with Remy before nodding. "You've got twenty-four hours. If you don't come up with answers, we'll bring Elle here."

As the syndicate members filed out of the room, leaving Cal alone with his thoughts, he sagged against the chair, his heart heavy with dread. The cold sweat that had formed on his brow trickled down his temple, and his hands shook uncontrollably.

He closed his eyes, trying to calm the tumultuous storm raging within him. The memories of Lucy flooded back—her bright smile, her laughter, her dreams shattered by a cruel twist of fate. He couldn't let the same fate befall his only remaining daughter. He had to find a way out of this, but the odds seemed insurmountable.

Hours passed in agonizing silence broken only by the distant sounds of the city outside—a world oblivious to the terror festering in this forsaken basement. Cal's mind raced through a labyrinth of regrets and fears, each turn leading him deeper into despair.

When the basement door creaked open once more, Cal's heart skipped a beat. The heavy thud of footsteps echoed through the dimly lit space as Remy and his men returned, their silhouettes casting elongated shadows against the grimy walls. The flickering bulb overhead bathed them in an eerie light, rendering their expressions unreadable beneath the dance of light and shadow.

Remy's gaze bore into Cal like steel. "Well, Cal, any revelations?" His voice was low and commanding, cutting through the tense silence that enveloped the basement.

Cal's throat felt dry as he searched desperately for words, any words that could appease these dangerous men. His mind raced, grappling with fear and uncertainty. "I've been trying to remember," he stammered, his voice hoarse with anxiety. "But it's all a blur. Please, just give me more time."

The thug standing beside Remy snorted dismissively. "Time's up, old man. We're not in the business of waiting."

Remy's eyes narrowed, his patience wearing thin like fraying rope. "You're testing our goodwill, Cal. That's dangerous territory."

Cal's pulse quickened as he felt the weight of their scrutiny bearing down on him. He knew he was running out of options, but the thought of Elle's safety propelled him forward, a flicker of determination igniting within the depths of his despair.

And then, as if a spark of inspiration had ignited in the darkness, Cal's gaze fell upon the shadows creeping along the walls—the same shadows that had become his silent allies in this harrowing ordeal.

"I remember something," Cal began, his voice steadier now, laced with a glimmer of hope amidst the prevailing fear. "It's a long shot, but... Lucy used to talk about a storage unit she kept for sentimental stuff. Maybe the phone is there."

Remy's eyes narrowed further, skepticism etched into every line of his scarred face. "Don't play games with us, Cal."

"I'm not," Cal insisted, the lie slipping effortlessly from his lips. "I'll take you there. Just... spare Elle."

The thug exchanged a meaningful glance with Remy, their silent communication speaking volumes of the danger that lingered in the air. After a tense moment of deliberation, Remy finally nodded, a glimmer of reluctant acceptance in his eyes.

"Fine, Cal," Remy relented, his voice tinged with caution. "You've got one chance. Lead the way."

Relief flooded through Cal like a rushing tide, though he masked it behind a façade of determination. He knew he was treading on thin ice, balancing on a knife's edge between deception and survival. But for his youngest’s sake, he would navigate this treacherous path with unwavering resolve.

As they unbound him from the rusty chair, Cal's limbs felt heavy with both exhaustion and renewed purpose. He rose to his feet, the cold basement air biting against his skin as he prepared to embark on this perilous journey.

Together, they ascended from the depths of the basement, stepping out into the frigid embrace of the night. The distant sounds of the city seemed muffled, drowned out by the weight of their shared secrets and impending dangers.

Cal led the way through narrow alleyways, empty highways and deserted streets for hours that felt like days, his mind racing with the urgency of their mission. Each step forward carried the weight of uncertainty, a delicate dance between deceit and salvation.

The storage unit Lucy had mentioned existed on the outskirts of town—a forgotten corner obscured by neglect and urban decay. As they approached the weathered metal door, Cal's heart hammered against his chest with a mixture of apprehension and hope.

He fumbled with the lock, the metallic clink resonating in the silence of the night. With a creak, the door swung open, revealing a dimly lit interior cluttered with dusty boxes and forgotten relics.

Remy and his men followed closely behind, their wary eyes scanning the surroundings for any sign of deception. Cal's gaze swept over the disarray, his memories of Lucy flooding back with a poignant ache.

"She kept it somewhere here," Cal murmured, his voice barely above a whisper. He moved cautiously through the labyrinth of forgotten treasures, his hands trembling with a mixture of anticipation and dread. He searched desperately, found object after object, but no phone. He knew that the game was up, that his lies had only gotten so far. “I swear, it’s here-” He collapsed in a crumpled, lifeless heap as a gunshot rang out through the hollow space, smoke pluming from Remy’s gun as he blew it off.

“My patience wore thin.” Remy’s sighed, storing the gun back in its holster. He turned to the rest of his team, nodding resignedly. “You lot know what to do.”

Markham poured himself a glass of wine, trying to settle his nerves as he set the table for dinner. Olivia was visiting for the weekend, as she did when no one was at home, per the arrangement with her aunt. Markham’s relationship with Olivia was polite but distant, a delicate balance between the roles of stepfather and guardian. He often struggled to connect with her, unsure of how to bridge the gap that had formed between them over the years.

When Olivia entered the dining room, her eyes brightened at the sight of the beautifully set table. “Wow, this looks amazing, Mark,” she said with a warm smile, taking her seat.

Mark nodded, attempting a smile in return. “Thank you, Olivia. I’m glad you’re here.” He cleared his throat, trying to find the right words to broach the subject that had been weighing heavily on his mind. “How have you been, sweetheart?”

Olivia glanced up from her plate, her expression softening. “I’ve been good, thank you,” she replied politely. “School’s going well. Aunt Isa says hi, by the way.”

“That’s good to hear,” Mark said, trying to hide his disappointment at the mention of Olivia’s aunt. “Listen, Liv, there’s something I’d like to talk to you about.”

Olivia looked up curiously, her fork pausing midway to her mouth. “Sure, what is it?”

Mark took a deep breath, steeling himself for the conversation ahead. “I’ve been thinking… maybe it’s time for a change. I know you’ve been living with your aunt for a while now, but I’d like you to consider staying with me permanently.”

Olivia’s eyes widened in surprise, and then her brow furrowed slightly. “Oh,” she said softly, setting her fork down. “I… I appreciate that, Mark, but I really like living with Aunt Isa. She’s been taking care of me for so long, and I feel comfortable there.”

“I understand,” Mark replied, trying to keep his tone even. “But I think it would be good for us to spend more time together, to get to know each other better.”

Olivia fidgeted with her napkin, a troubled look crossing her face. “It’s not that I don’t want to spend time with you, Mark. You’re nice to me and everything. It’s just… Aunt Isa has always been there for me. She’s like a second mom.”

Mark’s heart sank a little at Olivia’s words. He had hoped that she would see him as more than just a distant figure in her life. “I see,” he said quietly, hiding his disappointment behind a forced smile. “Well, I want you to be happy, Olivia. That’s the most important thing.”

Olivia nodded, her expression apologetic. “I’m sorry, Mark. I don’t want to hurt your feelings.”

“It’s okay, sweetheart,” Mark said, his voice tinged with sadness. “I just want what’s best for you.”

The rest of the dinner passed in strained conversation, both Mark and Olivia making an effort to keep things light. As they finished their meal, Mark cleared his throat again, summoning the courage to address the inevitable.

“Well, Olivia,” he began, “it’s getting late. I should take you back to your aunt’s place.”

Olivia nodded, pushing her plate aside. “Okay,” she said quietly, her eyes downcast.

Mark stood up and walked around the table to where Olivia was sitting. He placed a hand on her shoulder, trying to convey a sense of reassurance. “Thank you for coming over, Olivia. I always enjoy having you here.”

Olivia looked up at him, her eyes shimmering with unshed tears. “Thank you, Mark. I’m sorry I can’t… you know…”

Mark smiled sadly, squeezing her shoulder gently. “It’s alright, Olivia. Maybe one day things will be different.”

Olivia nodded, offering him a small, grateful smile. “Yeah. Maybe.”

Mark fetched his keys and jacket, and together they made their way to the door. Olivia grabbed her coat and bag, her movements slow and deliberate.

Outside, Mark held open the car door for Olivia, waiting patiently as she settled into the passenger seat. As he drove towards her aunt’s house, the silence between them was heavy with unspoken words.

When they arrived, Mark pulled up in front of the house and turned off the engine. He turned to Olivia, his expression earnest. “Take care of yourself, Olivia,” he said softly.

Olivia nodded, her eyes shining. “You too, Mark.”

I opened the door, adopting a wide smile as I ignored the mixture of red, blue and green cars, along with a random black sedan, as my eyes focused on Olivia, her golden curls bouncing as she bounded up to me. She threw her arms around me, and I returned it with a laugh. “I missed you too, gumdrop.” I grinned, kissing her hair. “C’mon, I got ice cream.” I led her inside, closing the door with a curt nod to Mark. “What flavour are you feelin’ tonight? Vanilla or mint chocolate chip?”

“How about both?”

“I like the way you think.” I smirked, going to the freezer and pulling out the two tubs. “We’re gonna have this snack before heading to the sheriff’s trailer, because he hosts movie night. That ok with you?” I gave her a soft smile, only willing to go if she was.

However, her eyes lit up and so did the rest of her face, a broad grin spreading on her lips. “Yeah, of course! I still can’t get over the fact that my aunt has movie nights with the sheriff.” Olivia smirked. “Is there something you’re not telling me-?”

“Olivia Autumn Barlowe, where do you get these ideas from?” I passed her a bowl of ice cream with a laugh. “Jenny, Cassie and Carla will be there too.” I gave her a stern look, but couldn’t help but break into giggles again alongside her. “You’re insufferable.”

“You love me.”

“I do.” I was about to open my mouth, but there was a loud bang on the door. My hand rubbed my exposed forearm from where my plaid shirt’s sleeves were rolled up to the elbows, a small frown on my face as another, more forceful bang shook the doorframe. It didn’t sound like it’d hold, and the many men’s voices from outside told me that this was a situation that I needed to get Olivia out of. I grabbed the keys to the back door just as a look of terror crossed her pretty features, breaking my heart.

“A-Auntie? What’s going on?” She whispered, looking to me with pleading eyes. I walked over quickly, acting on my feet and putting the keys in her hand.

“I don’t know. But you need to go.” I gripped her shoulders tight, my eyes flickering to the door, which was echoing- bang, bang, bang - and making it hard to think as the door rattled on what I knew were now flimsy hinges. “Out of the back door, ok? Our phones are upstairs, so there’s no time to get ‘em. Don’t get in the car, they might see you. Just run, keep on running, you know where Sheriff Arlen’s trailer is. Go tell him what’s happening, and he has backup with him already, ok? I need you to be strong for me and stay calm, alright?” Tears were starting to well up in her eyes, so I hugged her quickly, then kissed her forehead. “Please, sweetie. Run.” And she did what she was told right as the door busted down. I grabbed a knife from the kitchen drawer, ready to attack. Five men rushed in, all younger, taller, and with stronger builds.

There’s no way I was winning this fight.

“There’s Cal Joyner’s little girl.” One of them smirked, stepping towards me. “And she’s got a knife.”

“She’s a pretty little thing.” Another added with a matching wolffish grin. “D’you reckon we should have our fun with her?” The statement made my blood run cold and heart thank my mind over and over that I got Olivia out.

“Not if she’s wielding that pigstick.”

“That won’t be a problem, Yates, we’ll have that out of her hands in seconds.”

“Don’t you dare.” I spoke up, holding the knife out cautiously, trying to remain strong. “Deputy Elle Joyner, Sheriff’s Department. Tell me what you’ve done to Cal.”

“Cal’s got a bullet in his brain, sugar lips.” The one at the front chuckled, stepping forward, and with one clean swipe, his beefy hand knocked the knife out of my hand, another fist connecting with my cheek and knocking me to the floor. My fingers touched my bloody lip gingerly, but I found my back crashing through the glass coffee table, the shards slicing my clothes and skin. My brain tried to compute the pain as I let out a small groan, even more so when the wood of my dining table chair came into view. I rolled over, letting it hit my back with a strangled cry.

Olivia was running like her life depended on it- or her aunt’s, more accurately, sprinting over to Beau’s trailer with her legs pumping and tears flying from her pretty blue eyes.

“Say, is Belle gonna take any longer?” Beau chuckled deeply, his fingers drumming on the chair leg.

“Give her some time, Beau.” Carla chastised. “She has a life.”

“Yeah, Beau.” Jenny smirked, nudging him with a cheeky grin.

“You tell her, Carla.” Cassie added with a giggle, and when Beau looked to Emily for support, she shrugged in a way that said ‘don’t look at me’.

“You inducted my daughter into your little support group.” Beau faux-gasped. “I’ll never forgive you. Never-”

“SHERIFF!” Olivia came bounding up the driveway, and all of them sensed right away that something was seriously wrong. Beau met her halfway, catching Olivia as she practically collapsed into his arms with rasping, shaky breaths, on the verge of having a panic attack.

“Easy, Liv, sweetheart, what’s going on?” He asked with a frown, stroking her hair in an attempt to calm her down. “Shh, easy, talk to me.”

“It’s A-Aunt Isa!” She cried, holding onto him like a lifeline. The sentence made Jenny, Cassie and Carla stand up, the latter gesturing for Emily to stay put. “Some men s-started breaking d-down the door, s-she told me to run; why did I run-”

“I’ve got you.” Beau nodded, sharing a look with Jenny and Cassie. “Your aunt’s gonna be ok. I’m gonna go with Jenny. You stay here, with Carla and Cassie, alright? I won’t let anythin’ happen to her, sweetheart. I promise.” Then he turned to Jenny, grabbing his keys from a side table. “Hoyt, let’s go.”

“I’ll call for an ambulance.” Jenny announced, pulling out her phone as they rushed to Beau’s car, Jenny’s panicked voice and the emergency line operator filling the atmosphere. After a drive that felt like an eternity, they pulled up at their destination and almost leapt out to find the door ajar and shards of glass and splinters of wood on the floor, along with a stain of red that only sent chills down their bones.

“BELLE!” Beau yelled as he ran inside, and the moment he saw my body, lying weak, barely conscious and covered in blemishes and remnants of blows, he fell to his knees beside me. I recognised his face only barely, a short, raspy breath leaving my mouth as I tried to say his name. Was Olivia ok? Is she safe? Of course she is, otherwise Beau wouldn’t have found me- God, my everything hurts. “Hoyt- Hoyt! I need an ETA on the ambulance.” Panic riddled his voice as he checked me over. “I-It’s bad, J-Jenny, it’s bad, she’s bruised all over- what did those bastards do to her?” He looked down at me, my eyes meeting his pretty green ones as he smoothed back my hair from my face. “Stay with me, Deputy. Don’t go passin’ on me now, don’t you dare.”

I tried to whisper out anything at all, but my lungs and/or ribs hurt too much.

I woke up groggily in Beau’s cabin for the third time this week, rubbing my forehead as I grunted softly, propping myself up on the pillows. Beau now no longer trusted the safety of my own house, which had now become a crime scene, therefore prompting him to insist that I stay at his trailer while Dean took care of Olivia. I had taken a beating that day, and my limbs felt like Jello.

“Mornin’ sweetheart.” Beau stepped in with an affectionate smile, sitting down beside my legs, his hand on my knee while his thumb stroked it. “You doin’ better?”

“Physically, yes.” I nodded, sighing dejectedly as I took in the angry red marks on my forearms. He tried to meet my eyes with what looked like concern add even pity flashing behind his.

“And… emotionally?”

“I…” I bit my lip, frowning as I looked down at my hands. The hands of the law, or so I claim. “I just feel useless, Sheriff.”

“Useless?” He looked incredulous, his hand tightening on my knee. “T-The hell you calling useless, Belle?”

“Me.” I sighed, licking my lips nervously. “I have been so… weak lately. I’ve taken but after hit and… I was a niece to protect. If I can’t protect myself, how can I protect her from others? I feel like I’ve failed her, Sheriff. I’ve failed my baby.” My voice cracked at the end, the pain tearing at my heart.

“Your first instinct was to protect Liv.” He assured. “You didn’t think of anyone else before her. You got her to safety first, and I’d label that a damn good aunt, Belle. She’s safe and sound. No longer in danger, and she’s with her dad. She’s ok.”

I nodded. “I guess I can rest now.”

LMF TAGLIST:

@nancymcl @deans-spinster-witch @hobby27 @thej2report @winharry @abramswife

Make sure to like, reblog with feedback and comment! Comment if you want to join the taglist!

[sayaaensland]

*gazes mournfully out of the window at the rain* When will people stop comparing abemiha to ba//ku//de//ku?

[kmp78]

When's Juliannabimbofucktard's birthday party? Emery probably flew in for it. I bet Mark is there too.

Nah Mark seems to be in the tropics.

It's just EW fawning over Lord Doucheface's ass.

And of course the new young "modelitas". 😂

[erijonarexhepis-blog]

AUTHOR’S NOTE

SEASON SIX

"We need to go to the FBI"

"Absolutely not"

"A child is missing"

"Channel some of that anger"

"I've learned to live with that"

"You haven't"

"That man hurt you for years, April. Made you feel ashamed. Took away your dignity. He deserved to die. It was self-defense. You didn't have a choice. Say it"

Main cast

— Sarah Drew as April Coleman / SCHOOL PRESIDENT / "And it would be a shame if she couldn't practice law anymore. And a bigger shame would be if she went to prison for something I did"

— Aja Naomi King as Michaela Pratt / PROM QUEEN / "Hard is being trapped in a basement somewhere and your friends not doing anything about it!"

— Jack Falahee as Connor Walsh / HAIR GEL / "Look, she chose all of us for a reason. Michaela now, too"

— Viola Davis as Annalise Keating / THE PROFESSOR / We're going to beat out all of the guilt and the shame and the lies and the fear. Bury it"

— Liza Weil as Bonnie Winterbottom / BON BON / "They're not going to find out"

— Charlie Weber as Frank Delfino / HITMAN / "She was stolen off the street. And the only reason they got Christopher is 'cause you two took your eyes off him"

— Matt McGorry as Asher Millstone / DOUCHEFACE / "No more reject! No more loser! No more doucheface! You're a good man"

— Conrad Ricamora as Oliver Hampton / THAT IT GUY / "I'm not scared. I'm not a little boy!"

Side characters

Rome Flynn as Gabriel Maddox

Billy Brown as Nate Lahey

Paul Dano as Trevor Peterson

Amirah Vann as Tegan Price

Connie Ray as Karen Coleman

Warning

— Spoilers

— Mention/description of blood/injury/death

— Mention/description of rape/sexual assault

— Mature content

— Sexual content

— Spelling/grammar errors

— Shitty writing

Enjoy!