When Critical Thinking Evades, Never Fear for Dustin Henderson is Here!
Rất tiếc! Hình ảnh này không tuân theo hướng dẫn nội dung. Để tiếp tục đăng tải, vui lòng xóa hoặc tải lên một hình ảnh khác.
tw: hey guys! i just wanted u guys to know that at the end of this chapter, steve and jude get to question 18: what is your most terrible memory? jude's worst memory is of her mom, and as such, includes a recounting of physically abusive behavior. abuse wasn't in the warnings in the synopsis because honestly i hadn't planned going much in depth into jude's relationship with her mother at all in s2, but it felt remiss to make her worst memory of like steve or something like ... she has more going on hello? so i just wanted to make u aware in case that's not something u want to read ! ur most important, take care of urselves
WAKING UP, NOT in her own bed and with a sizable chunk of hair in her mouth, was not exactly Jude's preferred method of coming to. After blowing air out of her mouth aggressively to try to clear her airways, she realized that the reason she was now awake was that something was poking her in the shoulder relentlessly. And, when she opened her eyes to see Dustin Henderson standing beside the bed, she jerked into an upright position. It took a full ten seconds for her to remember what was going on. When she did, she raised her hands up to her face and groaned, "Oh, Jesus."
"Where's Steve?" Dustin asked.
Jude dropped her arms to her sides just to look at Dustin dumbly, "Why on God's green earth would I know where Steve is?"
"Because I get up to wake you up, and you're not in your room, you're in here. Where Steve was supposedly meant to sleep."
Jude was really getting tired of Dustin explaining things to her like she was stupid, but, alas, she'd have to suck it up for, probably, the next twenty-four hours at least. And also the rest of her life. She should stop asking Dustin any sort of question.
She slowly looked around the guest room. Everything was still in order: the bedspread, while wrinkled, was still made, the frame on the chest of drawers was still turned face-down, the bedside table still had Steve's possessions—car keys, a (the) pair of sunglasses, the Cosmopolitan—laid out on it. "I dunno."
Dustin fully pushed Jude's shoulder. "Well, let's find him. We've gotta haul ass before your dad gets up."
Jude yawned obnoxiously, noting that the reason there was light in the room was because Dustin had turned on the overhead light, not because the sun was up. She let her back drop back onto the bed, "Five more minutes."
"Jude, if you're not up in five minutes sharp, I am going to pour water on you."
"Yes, Mom."
The next time Jude stirred, it was Steve who had woken her. He looked the same, but his hair was a little less aerodynamic than usual and his eyes more tired. The sight of his face shocked Jude probably more than it should have, but she was startled nonetheless. "Where did you go? Dustin was looking for you like five minutes ago...?"
