have you seen ( susan âsuzieâ whitlock-holmes, she/her )? They look a lot like ( meryl streep ). The ( 74 ) year old ( retired funeral director ) is so ( composed, protective, and perceptive ) but I heard they can also be really ( ruthless, condescending, and vindictive ). Can you believe theyâve been in town for ( her whole damn life )?! They live in the ( poppy court ) neighborhood and kind of remind me of ( pearl earrings worn to funerals and family meetings, a black cadillac parked outside the funeral home, a lip stain on a teacup, a purse full of peppermints, tissues, and a gun ). If I was asked, Iâd guess that they were ( most likely to scandalize the pta ) in their yearbook for the class of ( 1970 ).
full name :Â susan lenore (bellamy) whitlock-holmes
nickname(s) :Â suzie
date of birth :Â march 14
parentage: ryamond & dorothy bellamy (both deceased)
siblings: none
significant other: arthur whitlock-holmes (deceased)
children: andrew whitlock-holmes (npc)
gender identity :Â cis female ( she/her )
romantic orientation :Â heteroromantic
sexual orientation :Â heterosexual
WANTED CONNECTIONS:
business associates
hookups, a single girl has needs, you know?
exes, could be from high school or summer flings, but very desecrate. she's not here flaunting her business
anything else!!
BIOGRAPHY: (full)
susan lenore whitlock-holmes, born susan bellamy, has spent her whole life in carroll and sheâs made sure the town remembers her name with equal parts admiration and unease. the daughter of father raymond bellamy, the beloved local priest, and dorothy bellamy, a woman who treated reputation like scripture, susan was raised to be polished, obedient, and above reproach. naturally, she became the kind of girl people whispered about instead.
eventually, susan married arthur âartâ whitlock-holmes, the handsome, difficult heir to the whitlock-holmes funeral home. he was the love of her life and the worst man she ever knew, a man she mourned deeply and survived completely. officially, arthur died peacefully in his sleep after years of heart trouble. unofficially, carroll has never been brave enough to ask susan how peaceful it really was.
as a former funeral director and lifelong fixture of the whitlock-holmes funeral home, susan built her reputation on grace, composure, and the ability to comfort grieving families without ever letting them see the darker workings beneath the polished wood and lilies. now retired, she remains the true matriarch of the whitlock-holmes family: grandmother to six boys, keeper of old secrets, and the sort of woman who can silence a room with a look over the rim of her teacup.
susan is polished, protective, and impossibly perceptive, with a velvet-soft voice that can make even the most powerful men in carroll feel like misbehaving children. people may call her respectable, but susan knows respect and fear often wear the same shade of lipstick.
Bart's eyebrows lifted at the accusation, followed by a low, gravelly chuckle. "Careful, Susie Q. You keep talkin' like that and somebody might think you've actually missed me." He gave her a sideways glance, the smirk still sitting firmly on his mouth. "And for the record, I have never confused my dick with common sense. I knew exactly which one I was listening to." He let the silence linger for half a beat.
He folded his arms, considering everything she had said about the family. "Mickey's weakness ain't Maverick. That's just a symptom of a wound." His gaze settled somewhere beyond Susan, toward the darkened drive-in. "The real weakness is that he still wants somebody to tell him he's enough without having to fight for it first. Makes a man easy to manipulate, especially when somebody knows exactly where to press." The woman before him should know exactly where to press. Bart exhaled through his nose and shook his head. His eyes returned to Susan, narrowing slightly. "So if we're gonna stop this mess, we need more than a list of who's got a sore spot. We need to know who's willing to use those sore spots against them. Because that's where this gets iffy."
susan rolled her eyes at bart and took one last drag from her cigarette before dropping it to the ground. she crushed it beneath the toe of her shoe as she spoke. âas if anyone would think that. someone should know better.â she gave him a look sharp enough to draw blood, then crossed her arms over her chest. âand donât talk like you know my family, barty.â the irritating thing was that he wasnât entirely wrong. susan knew that. mickey had always been tender in the places he pretended were hard, and tenderness made a person easy to bruise. but she would sooner choke on her pearls than give bart reynolds the satisfaction of knowing heâd made a decent point.
she scoffed and looked away, letting her gaze move over the abandoned drive-in instead. âaspen isnât exactly beloved in town, not if what i hear is accurate. mickey, on the other hand, is liked by nearly everyone.â her mouth tightened faintly. âwhich makes it difficult to imagine who would press that soft little wound of his without looking like a villain.â susan was quiet for a moment, thinking it over. then her eyes slid back to bart, unimpressed and expectant. âunless, of course, you have any bright ideas.â
Bart let out a rough laugh and shook his head. "You really haven't changed in spirit, just outwardly appearance." His gaze swept over her with theatrical scrutiny before he clicked his tongue. "Father Time's been making a hell of a lot of progress." A crooked smirk tugged at one corner of his mouth. "You're getting up there, Suzy Q." He shrugged.Â
The cigarette between her fingers caught his attention for only a second before he looked away. Funny how she could stand in the same spot she had stood decades ago and somehow still make this place feel smaller. He hated that his mind remembered details it had no business remembering. Hated even more that after all these years, seeing her here made the old drive-in feel alive again. Damn this woman to hell.
"Oh, and don't get carried away thinking I'm here because of you." He scoffed. "If I wanted to spend my evening arguing with a stubborn old woman, I would volunteer at the nursing home." His grin widened just enough to be irritating. "Here because we need to join forces and stop this before it goes any further..."
His expression settled into something harder when she mentioned Aspen. "I know my granddaughter well enough to know she's got Reynolds blood. That means she's stubborn, loyal, and liable to make a spectacular mess when she thinks she's in love." He folded his arms across his chest. "As for weakness, I would say her appearance is a pressure point." The man paused, about to feel horrible for the next words out his mouth. "Fairly sure she has issues reading, but I could be wrong." It was hard to come up with things on the spot. The man wasnât like Susan, he didnât keep track of everyoneâs weak spots. "What about Mickey?"
susan was not going to rise to the bait of aging. it was too easy and that was bart reynolds all over. the man liked easy things; easy insults, easy victories, easy women, easy excuses. his little quips about her age barely touched her. she had not cared about bartâs opinion in sixty years and she saw no reason to start now. besides, she knew how he looked at her. she was old, not blind. if susan gave him even the smallest indication that she was interested, bart would trip over his own pride getting to her. so she only took another slow drag from her cigarette and stared at him through the smoke, one eyebrow lifting. âyou done?â
then she laughed, low and humorless. âvolunteer? iâm surprised your family hasnât put you in a nursing home just to get you out of the way.â she flicked ash from the end of her cigarette and let what heâd told her settle. bartâs granddaughter was pretty, spoiled, insecure â all the usual reynolds ingredients arranged in a younger face. susan considered it for a moment, then clicked her tongue. âyou forgot airheaded.â
when bart asked about mickey, susan waved a hand as if the answer were obvious. âthatâs easy. maverick being the golden boy and his twin has always left mickey in a sour mood.â susan loved her grandchildren, but love had never made her sentimental enough to ignore their weak spots. if anything, it made her better at finding them. people forgot west existed if he was away long enough. maverick thought being gay was a secret. mickey had spent his whole life feeling second best. and matt â well. matt was handsome, foolish, and had never met a bad decision he didnât think he could charm his way out of.
âi thought for sure mickey wouldnât forgive her for inviting matt to that damn reception,â susan continued, smoke curling from her mouth with the words. âbut apparently mickey follows his dick more faithfully than his common sense.â her gaze slid back to bart, pointed and cruelly amused. âremind you of anyone?â
Maverick's jaw tightened slightly at the way she said his nickname, the familiar sound suddenly feeling less like affection and more like a warning. He had come here expecting resistance, maybe disappointment, maybe a lecture. He hadn't expected this. His eyes narrowed slightly as he studied her, trying to figure out whether she was bluffing or if she truly knew what she was implying. "This isn't a game, mamaw," he said quietly, though the hesitation in his voice betrayed the uncertainty settling in his chest. "I didn't come here to trade secrets or play some kind of family chess match. I came here because I need someone to tell me the truth."
He pushed away from the railing, running a hand over his jaw as he looked out across the yard again. "And yes, I made a decision. You are more than aware that I put in my notice." His voice softened, but there was frustration underneath it. "But choosing family doesn't mean I should have to walk into something blind." He looked back at her, his expression more guarded now. "I spent years wearing that badge believing I knew the people around me. Believing I could trust my own family. So forgive me if I'm not exactly thrilled to find out there might be things everyone decided I wasn't allowed to know."
The mention of his own secrets sat heavier than anything else she had said. For a moment, Maverick didn't have a response. His face stayed composed, but the brief flicker in his eyes gave him away, the surprise, the fear, the realization that maybe she knew far more than he wanted her to. "What exactly are you saying?" he asked, quieter now. He swallowed, forcing himself to hold her gaze. Hesitation caught in his throat as debated on saying something further. But as always she knew how to get him to go quiet.
the hesitation in his voice made susan tilt her head. âhow unfortunate,â she said. âi love games.â and she did. board games, card games, riddles, the long delicate pleasure of letting someone believe they were winning right up until the moment they realized they had mistaken the rules entirely. susan had always had a fondness for strategy. her favorite game, of course, was the one she had been playing for most of her life: cat and mouse with anyone foolish enough to circle the whitlock-holmes family business too closely.
she had been keeping secrets since before maverick was even a twinkle in his motherâs eye. before he had a badge. before he had a gun. before he learned to stand on her porch and speak to her like he had earned answers simply because he had worked himself up enough to ask for them. âthe truth,â she repeated, almost amused, as she continued rocking in her chair. âhow dramatic.â her gaze stayed on him, cool and steady. âand why do you assume the funeral home is not what we do? why the sudden distrust in your own family, mavvy?â
when he questioned what she meant, susanâs eyes narrowed. âyou know exactly what i mean, maverick. donât play dumb. it doesnât suit you, and worse, it bores me.â she crossed one leg over the other and let her attention drift back toward the yard, as if he had become less interesting by the second. âyou come here hunting for some grand secret, but youâve been carrying one of your own for a long time.â her mouth curved faintly. âi am your grandmother. i know you. i hear things. and despite what you may think, old age has not made me soft in the head.â
then she looked back at him, all the warmth gone from her face. âyou are very lucky we are family,â susan said, voice quiet and precise. âbecause if anyone else stood on my porch and spoke to me the way you just did, there would be consequences.â she let the words sit between them. âso take a breath. choose your next words carefully. and remember who youâre speaking to.â
Hunter's eyebrows shot up the instant the barrel settled against his hip, but instead of looking rattled, a slow grin spread across his face. He glanced down at the gun, then back up to her, letting out an amused huff. "Well..." He lifted both hands in exaggerated surrender, blue eyes sparkling with mischief. "And here I was thinking I was being subtle." His gaze lingered on hers for a beat before he added with a crooked smile.
He leaned in just enough to lower his voice, careful not to close the distance she'd just reclaimed. "For the record Susan, I also wanted to cuddle afterwards." A chuckle escaped him as he nodded toward the target downrange. "But seriously, wanted to make sure you still had that bite to go with your bark." He clicked his tongue with a playful shake of his head.Â
His smile softened into something a touch more genuine as he tipped his head toward the pistol still resting against him. "Message received, sweetheart. I'll keep my hands where they're invited." He flashed her that familiar devil-may-care grin. "Now...you gonna shoot the target, or are you planning on making me harder?"
susan tilted her head at hunterâs surrender, though she did not take her finger off the trigger just yet. âyouâre as subtle as a sledgehammer.â it wasnât that she minded a man taking initiative. she didnât even mind hands, under the right circumstances. but men had a nasty habit of mistaking a little permission for an open invitation and susan had learned long ago to correct that sort of thinking early. comfort made men lazy. worse, it made them presumptuous. and nothing about susan â not her time, not her patience, not her body â was ever a guarantee.
his whispered tone drew a small smile from her. âiâm not a cuddler.â that much was true. susan enjoyed sex. she enjoyed the heat of it, the usefulness of someone elseâs body, the brief and honest transaction of wanting and being wanted. but once it was done, she had no interest in lingering beneath another personâs weight or warmth. she ran hot as it was. the thought of someone draping themselves over her afterward, breathing against her neck like a needy house pet, made her skin crawl.
when hunter asked if she was going to shoot the target, susan finally lifted the gun from his hip then she turned. three shots cracked through the air in quick succession, clean and merciless. no hesitation. no wasted movement. the target jerked with each hit, all three clustered near the center. susan may have grown up a preacherâs daughter, but she had been around weapons long enough to know exactly how to handle one. she lowered the gun and turned her head just enough to look back at him, her smile slow and wicked. âso,â she said, sweet as poison, âhow hard are you?â
The man pulled up to his grandmotherâs house with preconceived notions and a bit of paranoia. Why all of a sudden was he questioning things? Maverick found Susan on the back porch, the afternoon sun doing little to soften the sharpness she had always carried with her. Even retired, she still commanded the family more than most people ever realized. Andrew, his father and Mickey might have their names on the funeral home now, but everyone knew her opinion still carried weight. Resting his forearms against the porch railing, Maverick let the silence stretch between them before finally speaking. "As youâre aware, I'm leaving the sheriff's department," he said evenly, eyes fixed on the pastures instead of her. "I put my notice in because I figured it was time I came home and helped Dad and Mickey carry the business." He swallowed before turning to meet her gaze. "But the closer I get to walking away from that badge...the more it feels like there's something nobody's telling me."
He held her stare despite the familiar look of disappointment that settled across her face. The same one she had worn for years whenever he failed to live up to whatever standard she had set for the Whitlock-Holmes men. She had always thought he was too gentle, too principled, too willing to see the good in people. He knew she would never approve if she learned the truth about him, about the part of himself he kept hidden his entire life, but this wasn't about that. Not today. "I've spent my whole life believing I knew this family," he continued, his voice quieter now. "Lately.. I don't know if I do." He shook his head once, frustration creeping into his tone. "If I'm going to leave everything behind and dedicate my life to this family business, then tell me what it is I'm really walking into. Because right now it feels like everybody knows something except me...and I'm done pretending I don't notice."
susan had been enjoying a perfectly nice evening on her back porch, which meant she had neither invited nor desired company. still, when she heard the car pull up, followed by the heavy sound of a door opening and closing, she was not surprised. people had a habit of appearing on her property with their troubles in hand, as if she were a confessional with better furniture. she did not expect maverick.
susan said nothing as he came onto the porch. she only glanced at him once, then returned her attention to the yard, where the last of the evening light stretched long and gold across the grass. maverick stood there for a moment with that particular look men got when they had come to say something important but had not yet found a way to make it sound brave. so susan let him stand in it. silence had always been one of her more useful tools.
when maverick finally began to speak, she did not look at him. not when his voice tightened. not when he turned toward her. not even when he started circling the thing he had clearly driven over here to ask, but when he said there was something no one was telling him, susanâs gaze slid to him at last. she raised a single eyebrow. maverickâs quiet demand hung between them: what did the rest of the family know?
susan did not answer right away. instead, she studied her grandson with her head slightly tilted, as if he had brought her a puzzle she found more irritating than difficult. it was not her job to tell him what the family truly was. that responsibility should have belonged to his father, but maverick had apparently decided to play hardball by darkening her porch with all this dramatic nonsense and susan had never been fond of rewarding theatrics.
she folded her arms over her chest. âbut didnât you already decide to leave everything behind?â she asked. her voice was mild almost pleasant. âyou put in your notice, didnât you? about to turn in that pretty badge and gun?â susan settled back in her chair, her arms lowering to rest neatly against the armrests as she watched him. she had heard whispers about maverick. more than whispers, really. even the redhead had said things about him on her show. so no, there was not only one secret sitting between them tonight. not even close.
her mouth curved, faint and without warmth. âif weâre spilling secrets tonight, we might as well spill all of them, donât you think, mavvy?â she let the nickname land softly, cruelly. âshould we start with yours?â
LOCATION: The Impact Zone
WHO: @susanwhitlockholmes
Hunter stood behind the firing line at The Impact Zone with his arms crossed, watching Susan in her stance. The man could hardly control himself as he stepped closer to the woman, his hand reaching for her hip and him gently putting her in a better position to fire the gun. "You know, for someone who spends half her time intimidating everyone in town, you're actually a pretty decent student," he teased. Hunter pressed himself closer to her body. âI know you like it rough,â he whispered in her ear, "but with this youâre going to gently pull the trigger while keeping your sights.â As he stepped back, his hand grazed against her back side. âOops, my bad.â
susan had been around guns for a long time, ever since she became involved with her first husband, but she had always believed a woman should keep her skills polished. aim, manners, judgment, all of it dulled without practice. so when hunter offered to take her shooting, she accepted. besides, he was handsome. that made the afternoon feel less like discipline and more like entertainment.
what she did not tell hunter was that she was already an excellent shot. there was no need to ruin his fun so early. she let him stand behind her, let him adjust the angle of her shoulders and the placement of her feet, let his hands settle at her waist a second longer than necessary. she even allowed herself a faint smile when he leaned in close enough for his breath to brush her ear then his hand grazed lower. too low.
susan turned so quickly, the gun still in her hand as she faced him with her head tilted and a smile so sweet it bordered on cruel. ânow, hunter,â she said softly, âyou didnât invite me all the way out here just to fuck me, did you?â she stepped closer, watching his expression shift as she brought the barrel to rest lightly against his hip. not quite a threat. her mouth curved into a slight pout. âbecause you could have just said that.â then her eyes narrowed, amusement cooling into something sharper. âi donât mind a man putting his hands on me when heâs been invited. but i would hate for you to confuse my patience with permission.â
LOCATION: Old Abandoned Drive-In
WHO: @susanwhitlockholmes
The old drive-in looked exactly the way Bart remembered it and nothing like it at all.
The faded sign still stood crooked against the evening sky, the cracked pavement beneath their feet covered in years of dust and neglect. It had been their place once. Back when they were young enough to believe in naive things such as love conquers all. Before she chose to be a Whitlock-Holmes.
Bart pulled his truck into the far corner of the abandoned lot, cutting the engine and sitting there for a moment longer than necessary before stepping out. He looked toward the screen, then toward the woman waiting for him, his expression hardening into something familiar. "Well, look at that," he said, voice carrying the same bite it always did with her. "The old hag actually showed up." The insult came easy, practiced after years of resentment, but there was something quieter underneath it. Something that sounded a lot like disappointment. "Wasn't sure if you'd still remember the way here, or if that memory of yours has been betraying you as of late since you're getting up there in age."
He walked closer, stopping a few feet away instead of greeting her properly. His eyes flickered over her for a moment before he looked away, jaw tightening. "Never thought we'd end up back here for this." He gestured vaguely toward the empty drive-in around them. "But apparently our grandchildren need some guidance." A humorless chuckle left him. "Mickey and Aspen." He shook his head. "So tell me, Suzy Q, how exactly do you plan on convincing them they don't know better than the rest of us?
susan hated that she had to text him. of all the indignities age had brought her â stiff knees, weaker eyesight, men her own age mistaking survival for wisdom â having to reach out to bart reynolds ranked higher than most. but this ridiculous infatuation aspen had developed with her grandson had to stop before it grew roots. from what mickey had told her, he wasnât nearly as invested in the girl as everyone else seemed to think. then again, when a boy crossed an ocean for a hookup, it did suggest he was either lying to his grandmother or lying to himself. neither reflected well on him.
either way, susan had no intention of letting some child with pretty eyes and reynolds blood get close enough to hurt him. children were careless with fragile things. that was what made them children. she drove the familiar road out to the old drive-in alone, careful to check her mirrors more out of habit than fear. once, the place had been the best spot in town: all chrome speakers, fogged windows, cheap popcorn, and girls pretending not to know why boys parked in the back row. then time had gotten practical and ugly, and society decided people needed more shopping centers more than it needed a place for teenagers to make mistakes in the dark. a shame, really.
susan had always loved the drive-in. it held a special place in her heart, though she would have rather swallowed glass than say so aloud. too many memories lived there, tucked between the cracked pavement and the rusted posts where the speakers used to hang. most of them involved the man she was meeting tonight. she parked beneath the skeletal remains of the old screen and stepped out, smoothing her coat before reaching for her cigarettes. the flame from her lighter caught briefly against her face, softening nothing. she took one slow drag and leaned back against the car like she had every right to haunt the place. which, in a way, she did.
a figure emerged from the dark a few minutes later, broad and familiar in a way that irritated her before he even opened his mouth. susan rolled her eyes as soon as he spoke. âconsidering you forgot you donât live in this town anymore, iâd be careful who you call senile.â her gaze moved over him with deliberate slowness, not because she cared to look, but because she knew it would annoy him. then she smiled, small and sharp, and blew smoke in his direction. âare you still here because youâre worried about your granddaughter, bart?â she asked. âor are you still waiting for me?â there. let him choke on that.
susan flicked ash from the end of her cigarette while bart, predictably, started talking too much. the man had always mistaken volume for conviction. she let him go on for a moment, mostly because interrupting him too quickly would have been a mercy. âiâm not going to convince them of anything,â she said at last. âchildren donât listen. they mistake every feeling for fate and every bad decision for romance.â she tilted her head, studying him through the smoke. âwe donât have to tell them this little escapade is meaningless. we simply have to show them. pressure reveals substance, bart. if thereâs nothing there, it will collapse.â her smile thinned. âand someone can say they love someone and not mean it. people do it all the time.â
she held his gaze a beat too long, just long enough to make sure he understood that she was no longer speaking only about mickey and aspen then she took another drag, calm as a widow at a graveside. âtell me,â susan said, voice gentle enough to be insulting. âdo you know your granddaughterâs greatest insecurity? or are you one of those men who mistakes providing for a family with paying attention to it?â
okay but do we think Mickey has been sent in to seduce Aspen as a whitlock-holmes attempt to take down the Reynolds from the inside? No way he actually has feelings for that vapid single IQ witch.
"You know, I never thought about it that way, the Whitlock-holmes' trying to make a play to destabilize the Reynolds family. They are rather close to Sada Vang, are they not? And with her political aspirations and close friendship with Susan Whitlock-Holmes... Would explain why Mickey Whitlock-Holmes is always hovering around Aspen Reynolds."
a bouquet of white lilies and white chrysanthemums are delivered to @gus-reynolds' hospital room with a note:
dear gus,
wishing you a peaceful recovery and the comfort of your family close by. there is nothing like a hospital room to remind a man what he stands to lose.
warmly,
susan whitlock-holmes
