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Me remembering this accounts info 

😏

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He’s going to be there for her while she’s pregnant, and he’s going to be there with her while their child grows up, and he’s going to be there for her while she does whatever it is she does. And I am in exactly the same place that I was in before.

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Adrianne Palicki

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Little (2019)

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Logs into this account to see that it has the horrible beta now.

Whelp time to burn it and never look back.

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DJ WHEATY

Maybe he could do that. Ask Eli about Corpse Duty. That was a sure-fire way to get him to launch into endless explanations and reasons why Wheaty still was on Corpse Duty every time they headed out. That topic. Jesus fucking Christ.

But at least Sam was allowing the best shit ever to happen. Wheaty immediately perched up, sliding to the edge of the old couch he had been sitting on and the grin on his face now was blatant and not the least bit hidden.

He could deal with some guards being around. They could have a beer or two, too. And he just needed a few to turn a blind eye… and surely he could bargain Sam to have a few less resistance around… he just needed to play a bit.

“What? No…. Nooo, Eli doesn’t give a fuck about that. He just wants no parties in here, quite understandably. With the Den being secret and all. But if I got a location and the music won’t make him lose sleep? No damn problem at all!”

That was a lie through and through. Eli would probably fucking lose it. No fun allowed.

“You could come, too… or you stay here with Eli. Come on, as if that wouldn’t be the perfect pact for us both. I head out. You stay here with him and you can do whatever, without you being embarrassed and me contemplating to pierce my eardrums. Win-win, am I right?”

While he doesn’t bother hiding his grin, Creed has to so she doesn’t come across as being accomplice in this plan of his, well in his two plans. First they’re going to steal from Eli – a moderate theft – and then she’s going to help him throw a party. In her defense the testy festy had been a morale booster and people insisted on taking the small celebrations where they could.

Wheaty’s instant denial of how Eli would respond has her suspicious. “Right.” She draws the word out, clearly skeptical about Eli ‘not giving a fuck’. Odds are he’d prefer Wheaty safe at the den, and preparing for the worst in dealing with the project’s people. Either way she does think that it’ll do them both some good to have time not dealing with the Project. Wheaty off doing teenager mayhem in John Seed’s house and Eli taking a breather for himself, ideally. Getting the militia leader to do that was another story entirely and she knew she’d have her work cut out for her. Worst case scenario she’d pick up the slack while they have some time to themselves.

“Thanks but I think I’ll let you kids do the partying.” Creed declines the invitation, figuring he was throwing it out there to be nice since she was enabling him. Besides, she was well beyond house party years and even though she’d never attended one, she wasn’t about to try and make up for lost time by hanging out at a party occupied by people a decade younger than her. “Wheaty.” She covers her face with one hand, somewhat embarrassed but mostly stunned by his lack of a filter when he mentions pierced eardrums.

“You can have the party, give me a few days notice before you want to throw it.” Eli…she’d cross that bridge when she got there. “No one else in the den needs to know,” she gives him a serious look, “right?”

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DJ WHEATY

Now it was time to smile at her, his head dipping down and a slight shake to it. Raised eyebrow completing the look of mustering Sam as if she had lost her marbles.

“Dude… Sam… Dep… I can’t just distract him with that. Asking him about what songs he’d like to play. Do you think I can trust a man who is past 30 to know what music is the best for my radio station? I have a highly selected track list, carefully picked by yours truly. Eli knows that. It’s why he sometimes messes with my workbench, but never with my music. He’d smell my bullshit.”

The mention of John Seed’s Ranch had the teenager narrow his eyes though and now he was leaning forward, definitely interested. He had more than one mission to better his reputation among the youth of Hope County after all.

“Say, what do you think the chances are of me getting to throw a party at that ranch?”

“You’re smart, you can come up with some kind of distraction.” The idea of trying to pull one over on Eli in the middle of everything is absurd enough to have her biting her lip so she isn’t grinning. The deputy has to maintain some decorum here, or at least try to. “Something to keep him talking for a few minutes. That’s all I need.”

His body language changes the moment she mentions John Seed’s property and she has an idea of where this is going before he says anything. Internally she thinks it’s a hilarious proposal that would no doubt ruffle the Baptist’s feathers, but on the outside she maintains a blank expression so as not to get his hopes up right away.

“Hm.” Creed draws it out, “I’m not sure. There’d have to be a few ground rules.” She lifts one finger, ticking them off as she goes, “First off, resistance stationed there remains, outside and a few inside. Second,” another finger is raised, “any room I say is off-limits is off-limits. There’s maybe two of them.” John’s personal bedroom, because even she wasn’t comfortable infringing on personal space like that, and the room of model airplanes she’d discovered while snooping around.

“Otherwise yeah sure go for it, just let me know so I can tell the people there ahead of time.” She shrugs, appearing unbothered by the idea of the party, but then something occurs to her, “Wait, do you need to ask Eli before you do this?” Had she overstepped? Creed gives Wheaty a squint, “Did you just get me in trouble with Eli?”

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DJ WHEATY

“Uhm, no?”

Wheaty looked at her as if she had just suggested the most ridiculous thing ever. 

“You can’t just fucking ask Eli. I would’ve done that myself, if it was an option. But I sure as hell am not gonna ask Eli on his specific bodycare routine. Have you seen the man? He hasn’t shaved in… a month? Two? Who knows? I just want a sample.”

She raises her eyebrows when he says no and waits for him to clarify, giving a roll of one wrist to encourage him to explain why not. When he says that he would’ve asked but it ‘wasn’t an option’ for whatever teenage logic reason he had rolling around in that head of his, she sighs.

“Okay, I won’t ask him.” She concedes and then folds her arms, one finger pressed to her chin as she considers their options. “Hey, what he’s doing works for him.” Her defense of Eli and his beard is tinged with restrained laughter and then she exhales, “Alright, alright how about this? You distract him. Ask for his opinion on what songs he’d like you to play, or something like that and while you two talk I’ll grab ‘a sample’ for you.” She had plenty of small containers stockpiled from her EMS days.

Then she narrows her eyes further and gets a far-off look in her eyes. “Y’know I did just acquire John Seed’s ranch. Bet he’s got a bunch stockpiled in there somewhere.”

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DJ WHEATY

“… I lived here before you. And if you are at it, just get me Eli’s instead, we all know you’re a sucker for whatever he uses.”

“And I was born on this planet before you, point being?” Then he goes and teases at that particular point and her lips press together, a bemused twitch of her lips. “Besides it’s not the aftershave that made me like him.” Then she grins, “I can ask him for you though.”

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caught this cool interaction with The Judge and Carmina. 

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Guys, seriously, we’re spies. I thought we all learned languages.

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MEME || [ accepting ] @tzdkh​

They’d been forced to split up. The project had taken them by surprise and while Creed could scale the rock face easily, the same couldn’t be said of Deacon. They had a better chance of splitting their focus if they went different directions and while Creed didn’t like it, she hid her uncertainty. She gave Deacon a confident grin before she hooked her hands into a hold and began to haul herself up the jagged boulders. The judges reached where they split and a few howled, the sound eerie and alerting their handlers to where Creed had gone. She hoped Deacon could make it to the river and lose them before they tracked him.

She pulled herself over the edge right as an arrow was let loose and hit the rock she’d just been hanging off of. A mumbled curse follows as she rolls out of sight and then gets to her feet and takes off in a sprint. They probably couldn’t climb after her but there were bound to be more hunters around. Jacob Seed didn’t seem to half-ass anything which was frustrating. The radio at her hip crackles and alerts her to the hunter’s movements. They know where she went, but had yet to track Deacon – the other deputy.

‘The one Jacob wants.’

Her teeth grind at that. Of course Jacob would see Deacon and think he’s a perfect candidate for his ‘program’. She reaches behind for the rifle slung across her back and doubles back towards the wall she’d just climbed up and lays flat on her stomach. There’s a spot of red weaving between the trees and she knows it’s one of the hunters. They all have the same uniform. She takes aim and fires. They drop out of sight, a spray of red letting her know she’d hit her target.

Killing isn’t something she enjoys, and she tries to avoid it whenever possible, but this isn’t a situation where she’s willing to risk letting them go. That meant putting Deacon in danger. The other hunter wises up and ducks for cover before she can take a shot at them the way she did the other. Her radio goes off again, with them alerting others to her position and she has to move. Maybe she bought him enough time. She shoulders the rifle and crouches on her knees for a moment and then is off running once more. They know where she’s at, but Deacon is still their focus

Creed slides to a stop beside a tree so she can catch her breath and thinks about him, about how much she cared for him and how she couldn’t let one of the few people she’d ever cared for get hurt. It’s a feeling she’s not used to, the fierce need to protect somebody not because it was her job but because she cared. The trials would ruin him. She only knows what Eli has told them and what they’ve heard from others in the area but it sounds like hell. It’d take him, chew him up and ruin him ... and he’s too gentle for something like that. She’s running out of time to come up with a plan when she hears what sounds like a moose call, but then it repeats. Tammy had told them to look out for the wolf beacons and as she hurries in the direction of the animal calls she realizes that’s exactly what she stumbled across.

Luckily, she’s got one last explosive she’d been saving. Ideally, for one of Faith’s bliss operations but an explosion may draw them off of Deacon. Knowing him he’s thinking about trying to take the heat to protect her which means she has to act fast. So she grabs the timed charge from her pack and then sends it flying at the generator beside the tower. The impact doesn’t set it off, but the 9 mm round she fires into it does. Her ears ring, and when she starts running again it’s in the opposite direction of where she’d seen Deacon headed for. The chatter on the radio increases and when the ringing thins out she hears Jacob’s voice. He’s not happy. Typically, she didn’t try to needle the Seed siblings, she makes an exception this time, for Deacon.

“Not much security for former military.” She keeps her voice quiet since she’s uncertain of how loud she’s speaking due to the blast. Everything sounds like it’s coming through cotton stuffed in her ears.

Jacob makes a threat, implies his hunters are on their way when she already knew they were. She just had to keep them from going after Deacon. Creed would rather die than let Jacob get his claws in someone as kind as Deacon, but she doesn’t die – not when the arrow lodges itself in her leg and she goes down from the bliss. She doesn’t die in the trials or when Staci Pratt, their coworker tells her they should’ve stayed out of the Whitetails. Once, or maybe twice, Jacob calls her predictable and taunts her, but he has it wrong thinking she was playing hero. It wasn’t for the county it was for Deacon. She’s not sure how much time passes before a trial gets interrupted and she wakes up tied to a chair with no other survivors in the room with her, but she does recognize the silhouette in the room, checking each body he passes.

“Deacon-” Her voice is nearly nonexistent, cracking on his name but he zeroes in on her and rushes over. She closes her eyes when she feels his calloused fingers at the ropes binding her wrists. It’s a soft touch, softer than she’s used to and it nearly breaks her.

Arms slip beneath her back and behind her knees, lifting her as though she weighed nothing and maybe she did. Jacob’s treatment left her feeling like a wisp of herself, like she’d been hollowed out. Her head falls to rest against his chest and she frowns at the blood that seeps from her onto his clothes, but they’re already stained. She presses a hand to the stains, feeling to see if it’s fresh or from him but it doesn’t seem to be.

“I can walk.” She murmurs, but she’s not really sure she can. Deacon holds onto her tighter and when she glances up at his face she sees how worried he is. The man should never play poker.

Creed would sooner struggle and suffer than let someone carry he. Being a burden or seen as incapable is one of her biggest fears, but she knows what he’d say if she told him that. He may not actually say anything but it’d be clear as day that he didn’t consider her a burden. That he cared in a way she wasn’t deserving of or entirely understood. So she doesn’t fight him, and lets him carry her out of the building and set her down into the passenger seat of a project truck. Only after buckling her in does he get into the driver’s side and pushes down on the gas.

She drifts in and out but eventually she leans as far as her seatbelt will allow, resting her head on his shoulder and reaching for one of his hands to hold. He can steer with the other.

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MEME || [ accepting ] @peacefulapostle​

She’s stuck, truly, stuck. It’s the first time she’s gotten herself into such a predicament since moving to Hope County and she’s more than a little embarrassed. Calling any of her coworkers for help is going to open the door for a slew of teasing for months to come and she really doesn’t want to give them anything else to hold over her head. So she stands beside her jeep, bags of groceries at her feet and hands on her hips as she contemplates the best way to get into her car where the keys are locked inside. The run back to her house would take hours and her food wouldn’t last the trip. The approaching snowstorm isn’t exactly promising either.

“I’m going to have to call someone.” She mumbles to herself, running one hand through her hair in defeat before reaching into her back pocket for her phone –

Which isn’t there.

Creed leans closer to the driver’s side window, cupping her hands so she can peer into her car and yep, there’s her phone, sitting on the passenger seat. She sighs heavily and her shoulders sink with the motion. Slowly, she turns around, leaning back against the door with her arms folded in front of her stomach. The grocery store probably had a landline but she didn’t have anyone’s number memorized, except the Sheriff’s and she really didn’t want to call her boss only a few months into her new job as a junior deputy.

A few minutes pass with her contemplating her options before someone clears their throat. Her head snaps up eyes darting over towards a man that was looking at her. Despite him making obvious eye contact with her, she glances around, as though she was expecting someone else to be behind her that he meant to catch the attention of.

“Do you need help?” He asks, and he has a voice for radio, a trait that Creed learned came naturally to some people and not so to others. She bites down on the inner corner of her mouth, glancing down at the bags piled at her feet and then back up to him.

“Sort of?” She’s hesitant to put herself at a disadvantage, but the stranger lifts one eyebrow and calls her bluff without so much as saying a single word which has her shrugging, “Yes.” She admits, tapping at the handle behind her, “I locked myself out. I’ve got a spare key back at my place but that’s about twenty minutes that way.” She points towards the northwest.

Without needing to be asked he walks over and picks up a few of the bags, “I can give you a ride to get them.”

Creed blinks, dumbfounded by the generosity from a stranger and tilts her head, obviously confused. “You don’t even know me.”

He pauses on the walk back to his vehicle and gazes over his shoulder at her, waiting. She grabs the remaining bags before jogging to catch up to him. “Is this a small town thing or a you thing?” Another bemused glance at her and she lifts her hands in a surrender gesture as best she can given she’s got two arm full’s of food, “Not that I’m complaining, I’m just...Confused.”

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nonverbal starters prompts featuring nonverbal scenarios.

guide take them by the hand, arm, or shoulder to guide them.

shelter protect them.

shove push them.

loop drape an arm around their shoulders.

touch a gentle touch like rubbing their back, hugging them, holding their hand. 

kiss a kiss on the cheek, knuckles, forehead, in their hair.

palm smack them upside the head.

bed rest gently push them back down when they try getting out of bed.

aid help them with a task.

note pass a note to them.

cry wipe away their tears.

wash wipe something off their forehead, cheek, so on.

bandage patch them up when they get hurt.

heal take care of them when they get sick.

book silently read a story with them. 

carry pick them up. 

scrap punch them.

cherry find blood on them.

sit help them sit down.  

medical wake up in the hospital and find them holding their hand.

steer place a hand under their chin to make them look up. 

beat dance with them.

stare stare them down. 

off track get lost with them.

no shaking their head in disagreement. 

yes nodding their head in agreement.

rush tackle them to the ground.

open hold the door open for them.

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