text → { mac }

Mac: busy? right now?

Mac: god what did you have in mind

Blythe: um, i found some leftover baggies from a gathering last month

Blythe: don't really want it going to waste

text → { open }

Blythe: it isn't technically monday until the sun comes up, yet only my dog seems to want to do something tbh.

Blythe: what i'm saying is ... are you, idk, busy?

text: Dev & Blythe

DEV: i may or may not be outside your house or very close

DEV: fancy a walk?

BLYTHE: sure! :)

BLYTHE: can you give me five to get changed?

And there it was again -- a quick, perfectly orchestrated response that had her at a slight loss for words. It seemed honest and entirely sincere, but the self-deprecation that Blythe had practically built herself upon couldn’t quite take it; she wasn’t strong enough to admit that maybe, just maybe, someone might want her for something other than a quickie. Company, perhaps. Sheer presence that didn’t have to mean anything, or exist as anything -- no intimacy, no words. It was pathetic. She was pathetic. Chasing after a boy who was so far out of reach. Blythe knew deep down that they weren’t right for one another ... or was that what she had programmed herself to believe as she lay in bed awake at night, thinking of the big mistake that’d landed them here? She was the mistake, though ... not him. That had been enough to take a toll on her self-esteem, and facing him now was difficult, for she’d spent days locked up in her bedroom, refusing to eat to she could be the tiniest bit thinner. Camilla’s size. Maybe then he’d want to know her; want to touch her like he had. It was a craving, a burning craving that she’d tried to swallow down into silence but, alas, it was to no avail.

“You don’t have to be near me,” Her entire body slumped ever-so-slightly at the chime of his rejection. “Just maybe stick around long enough so that Maddie or Mason can see you,” Blythe shrugged a shoulder, eyes flickering up and down sporadically as she spoke. “I promise I won’t touch you, or stand within a metre of you, or ... or even look at you, I--I don’t know.” And then, at the sound of his final words, Blythe shook her head as if he were grossly misunderstanding. “No, no ...” She stepped forward in a sub-conscious hurry, placing a gentle hand on his arm absent-mindedly ... a comforting technique. “I don’t pity you, but I do care about you. I .... I know how into Camilla you are, and .... listen, I just ---- I just don’t want to see you ripped apart because of me.”

“This is hurting me too,” She muttered as she stepped away, retracting her hand quickly once she noticed it’s placement. “But I don’t have anyone to get lost in like you do after a hard day of self-hatred.”

His breathing hitched when she called after him. His foot stopped so suddenly behind him that he nearly toppled over, almost skidding along the pavement the way a fast car would on the hard asphalt of the road. He swallowed loudly as her voice rang through his ears. It was soft still, it would always be soft, he imagined, the one constant that remained through everything. Even when she yelled or she was digging her fingernails into his back, her voice was gentle, soothing, maddening. It intoxicated him and wrapped around his conscience mind and lingered there, she would be gone, but it would remain, haunting him. Her voice would forever be soft as she was, this gentle thing that was so plush in comparison to the harsh prickly outer-surface his girlfriend donned. She was a pillow and after years of ice and brambles, he just wanted to lay his head, just for a second, just for a moment, but look where that got him. 

His hand shook as he turned to face her. “I never said I don’t want to be around you…” He admitted too quickly for his mouth to stop, almost angry with her for thinking at that. I can’t. He thought. I can’t be around you. I can’t. I can’t. I c a n ‘ t. “ I would appreciate a drink, but I think you and I both know that that’s a bad idea. Alcohol’s what got us into this mess…” She was innocent in a strange curious way, she was, but she wasn’t stupid. He was sure she knew what might had – nay, what would if he came over. She made a good point, though. People were going to get suspicious if they didn’t stop acting like there was a giant elephant in the room, but Jake wasn’t sure if he knew how to be like he used to post-Blythe. 

“Look, I know I must seem pretty fuckin’ pathetic to you right about now, but you don’t have to do me any favors, okay?” 

For a a fleeting moment, Blythe could’ve sworn that he was about to lean forward to lock lips with her, but he didn’t. Of course he didn’t; he was still with Camilla -- the supposed epitome of perfection -- just like he had been when Blythe’d somehow slurred the right words to make him lead her upstairs. Before she could even begin to process all that was going on in her mind, a weak loophole was planted in front of her, and she was suddenly watching ( semi-helplessly ) as Jake started to perform an exit. 

“---- Wait!” She took a step forward, simultaneously clearing her throat in order to recover from the sudden rising of her tone. “I’m um ... “ She paused, lifting fiddling hands to her mid-drift in a fluster. “I know that ... I know that you don’t want to be around me,” Her heart pounded against the ribs that’d promised to protect it -- somehow many had surpassed the cage that they created; Jake being one of them -- and she could feel a lump of fear travelling through her chest, destination: unknown. “I know that,” She reiterated one more time before continuing with her usual soft-spoken ways. “I also know that my mom isn’t home, but her alcohol is. And I----I know that you keep avoiding me for a reason, but people are starting to notice, I think.” Nimble fingers trembled beneath her sleeves and she avoided any eye-contact. “S--So what d’you say? Drink?” 

This was a mistake. This was all a horrible mistake. Even now, he wasn’t sure why he had came up to her, why he had addressed her, why he had even looked her direction. He wanted to say that it was because he was curious about the Fincher Flash and the response to her warning was for a result that would help him win a bet, but he couldn’t – he couldn’t because right now, Jacob Renner couldn’t tell you about the bet or even if there was a bet, just that there was Blythe and that she was beautiful and close…almost close enough to fall into and drown in… 

                                            – Too close. 

His skin began to itch and his palms began to sweat. He needed to get out of there, he needed to be far away from her because the farther he was the less g u i l t y he felt – or at least, that’s what he told himself. Now, Jake was a man who enchanted people and who could build cities and crumble them with a mere tremble of the lips, but the guy who knew exactly what to say suddenly could only manage a sudden, “Right, yeah! Good plan. I better go get over there before he’s gone” as he turned on his heel and began to “casually” scramble away from her. 

“Hm,” The blonde mumbled in response, pursing her lips lightly to convey feigned interest. “Wise words. ---- Anyway, my mom will be wondering where I am,” Blythe took a step back in preparation to move off; all an effort carried out with the sole purpose of cutting the conversation short. “I suppose I might see you around, maybe.” And then, finally: “Be careful of the Fincher Flasher.”

Something in Mac’s jaw set when she heard Blythe’s words, getting the feeling that there was a point to her words– one that Mac really wanted no part of. She stared back at the area around Blythe’s eyes before shaking her head. “No, guess not. Everyone needs at least some sort of acknowledgement. ‘S what makes us human. I mean, that we can acknowledge each other with sounds ‘n’shit.”

The one with the red sweater and shades? And the guy gets caught with scissors at the airport because he was a hairdresser -- M a d i s o n, that’s one of my all time favourites, I’ve told you to watch it! You promised you would so I could tell you about my conspiracy theories. Nah, I’m saying you’ll be a gold digging trophy wife -- best of both worlds -- and it’s a necessity that you take me to Las Vegas when we’re old enough to get served. Either that or I can sit on top of your shoulders with a long trench coat covering you up? That’s guaranteed to work. No, nope, nah. I swear it’s got a rip in it on an inappropriate place. And it’s sweaty because, like, isn’t it that material that you can’t wash? C’mon, we can collaborate and make you something better.

Kangaroos? Those things are vicious; damn, I am honored. Have you ever seen that Jack the Kangaroo movie? ‘Cause I didn’t, but I’m pretty sure that CGI kangaroo fucked people up and I don’t even know what a real one would do. Maaaaaybe. Writing a list might be your initiation, so you never know! Y’know Mason — you can never predict that unpredictable little shit. Actually, you totally can and I probably just described myself more than anything, but we’ll see! Are you saying that I’ll be a trophy wife or a gold digger ‘cause either way, I’m in if I can get a private jet and go everywhere. Ugh, Blythe… B l y t h e. Please. I don’t ask for much! I’m begging you. That costume is prime.

→ SPOTTED: 

Blythe Cooper and Jake Renner, 2014.

headcanon 002;

Blythe has become very fond of photography and sketching. It all started back when the first rumour about her was running rampant, and she needed a new escape. Once the afternoon bell rung signalling that it was the end of the school day, and the end of merciless bullying for Blythe, she escaped around the back in order to avoid any more confrontation. Walking without a route in mind, she found herself at the edge of Ridgeview lake, where the sunset offered her one of the most beautiful scenes imaginable. That evening she revelled in the peace, but she was sure to return the next day with her art book, pencils, and camera -- one her father had bought her before ... everything -- to ensure she captured some semblance of the panorama before her. She has a number of photos stuck artistically around her room. Some are of candid memories (friends, faceless strangers at parties, etc.), others are landscapes and, finally, her dog, Monty. Whenever she’s feeling the pressure, whether the source is school, home, or something to do with other personal matters, Blythe will disappear for a few hours, only to return when she has something she’s proud of.

“Almost,” She agreed with a subtle nod, before lifting her eyes back to meet Mac’s. “I don’t know of anyone that likes to be completely ignored though. Do you?”

Mac let out a chuckle, almost surprised at the fact that she found Blythe funny. “Almost like you do it on purpose or something.”

“I was thinking of taking a nap to ‘escape’, but I don’t think I’m prepared for him popping up in my dreams or something. The second, and most reliable option, is probably alcohol ... but I don’t want to be branded a day drinker.”

“So what do you propose for the forgetting-an-old-wrinkly-dick operation? How are you gonna get rid of that horrid memory?”

“Funny,” Blythe smiled genuinely in Mac’s direction, though eye contact was still minimal. “I suppose that’d be a mutual benefit to both myself and whoever it’d hypothetically be.”

“Not sure anyone would hear you if you did.”

I’d probably take on a small pack of kangaroos for you, maybe? It’s the thought that counts over the masses, right? Good, I’d wear the little misfit badge with pride. I hope I get to skip the initiation -- I think you two have put me through enough over the years, don’t you? The answer is yes, if you’re struggling; I’ll write down every little thing I’ve done with or because of you two, if you like. Just to prove a point. And you’re the quirkiest, most insane person I’ve ever come across -- cool, rich men love that. You’ll be snapped up before I even have a chance to tell you about how I’d like our first pregnancy to pan out. No. No, I refuse to be seen with you in that for a third time.

Always. I would threaten a whole nation for you. Have I told you about how I’m making Honorary Forrester badges? I’m still getting them patented, but it’s gonna be cool as shit. Of course, you’ll be getting the very first one made — even if it’s fucked up, so get pumped. Mason and I still need to plan out an initiation process, but we’re gonna haze the shit out of everyone. Oh, thank God. I thought you were going to make me wait until forty — I can definitely do thirty. But let’s be real, you are a beautiful, intelligent baby dolphin that anyone would be hashtag blessed to be married to. Oh my God, oh my God! Am I finally going to have a reason to wear my shooting star costume again?

“Oh. Me either.”

“Because I don’t invite them.”

PICSPAM ( 001/? ) || BLYTHE IMOGEN COOPER;

YOU FOUGHT AND FOUGHT TO KEEP ALL THE CRUELTY LOCKED UP IN YOUR HEAD, AND FOR WHAT?

NONE OF THEM EVER LOVED YOU, BECAUSE NONE OF THEM EVER KNEW YOU.

– Cruel Beauty | Rosamund Hodge

“Why? -------- Does no one go ‘round, that is.”

“You’re probably safe there; no one ever comes over to my house, and he never leaves. I’ll keep dreaming, though.”

A sigh of released tension filled the air as soon as he responded -- which was shockingly brisk --allowing her to relax a little in his presence. This was the first time he’d acknowledged her in ... well, since the incident that he had sworn her into secrecy about. It was a welcome change from the silent treatment she usually received, and she couldn’t help but feel a little giddy. “Um ... “ Blythe muttered as he blew up with excitement, unsure of how to respond in a way that would help fuel the conversation further ( after all, she wanted the moment to last ). Before any more thoughts on the matter entered her head, a familiar warmth was applied to either shoulder, and she could feel her legs transform into jelly. “Um.” Her eyes started to trail towards his hands, but before she could fully comprehend what was going on, he had removed them quicker than he had placed them there.

“Oh, sure, yeah -- the Fincher Flash.” She nodded, pretending to know exactly what he was talking about. That’s what made boys like you, right? “Um, I mean, he’s probably still down where I saw him if you wanted to, like, I don’t know ... grab a photo or something.” The blonde laughed nervously, realising that she was babbling without a true route. 

“Hey,” He said a little too quickly after hers, mentally cursing himself. How had he forgotten to say hello? Normal functioning members of society said hello when they first encounter people. Friends said hello, he reminded himself, but the minute his eyes flashed across the smile and rose-dusted cheeks of the angelic blonde in front of him he remembered why him and Blythe could never truly be friends. “ – Oh my…no way. No way, you saw him! The Fincher F l a s h !  That’s – that’s awesome!” In excitement he lifted his hands to the sides of her shoulders smiling wildly before realizing what he had done. Quickly, Jake dropped his hands and focused at something behind her head so as not to meet her eyes.

 “ – I mean not, that he flashed you, it’s just the Fincher Flash – he’s an urban legend. They say he’s been going around flashing people since the 1950′s and hasn’t been caught yet. This means he’s r e a l. Shit, I can’t wait to tell Mace. He owes me ten bucks.”