#(LIKE I'm making these for FUN Just Saying OK)

[zepskies]

Merry Christmas Eve Eve!!!!!! 🥳❄️❄️

It's my favorite holiday for sure! And thanks for this little gift you've given me, Wayne. 😘❤️💚

Ooooh, snappy 😆 I've been diving into the books a bit and I do think they still have some tough things to talk out. The show's making it look way too easy lol

Ok more and more you're making me want to dive into the actual books!! It's true, the show really did shoulder through that pretty quickly lol.

But I loved all the kindergarten teasing and bantering between them. Such a fun moment! 🤍

Aw thank you!! 💜💜 I had a lot of fun creating the sibling banter moments between Russell and Colter, whether it was light and teasing or tense and angsty.

Read this fully in Bobby's voice. You totally nailed his cadence too! You're killing it here, Alex!! 👏👏

Omg thank youuu! I watched some episodes over again to try and get Bobby's voice right, even in this small moment. 🥰🥰

Ahaha knew it! Right on time too 😂 He really cares for her a lot after such a short amount of time already 🥹❤️

He really does. 🥹 I really tried my best to show that they do have this connection that's special (and worth not letting go of?), despite only knowing each other for a short time. 💕

You're a hopeless romantic. You wouldn't do this to me, right? Right, Alex???? 😭

They do share similarities 🤣🤣

Lmfaoo right?!! And not just because they're both actually "Justin."

(They could actually be bros, like what? 🤣)

I do love how resourceful he always is 🤓👏

See, that for me was actually the challenge narratively. Writing Colter and his intelligence believably, since of course, I'm not the brilliant author of the actual books. 😅😅 But I hope I faked it well enough in this story! lol

Like the reader, I'm not surprised but was hoping it wouldn't be this bad. Geez, Charlie, you call this getting your shit together? 🙄

Oh, Charlie's a ridiculous hot mess lmaoo. He's not doing himself any favors, even when he tries to "fix it."

Why? No, not the woods!! 😂 (Being lost in a forest is one of my worst nightmares lol)

Ya know, I totally get that. 😂 I don't live near forests, but I'm pretty sure Colter would have to come find my ass after 1 hour alone out there in the wilderness.

Russell's dark side is doing things to me... 🫠🫠

Ooof, why do I love a rugged, dangerous but protective man so much?

Figured something like this happened. I do feel for him, though. It's called addiction for a reason ❤️‍🩹 His argument for stealing was hilarious, however. Like, boo, really? Don't pretend you care about the Native Americans now. I think he knows his sister too well and figured this might work 😂

Oooh yeah. ❤️‍🩹❤️‍🩹 It's certainly not cut and dry.

Oh, you're totally valid for calling Charlie out like that lmaooo. Even the reader is calling him out on his BS. 😂 The way he tries to get "noble" about those Native American artifacts isn't fooling anybody.

You did it, too!!!! The "I love you" goodbye!! 🤣

Omggg you really caught me! 🤣🤣 What can I say, it's the perfect dramatic moment. 😏

Anything can happen from here, and I so hope you enjoy the rest of the ride down the cliffhanger!! 😘💕

Every Second Counts - Part 3

Pairing: Russell Shaw x F. Reader

Summary: One date with your best friend’s brother leaves you wanting more, even though his questionable job and vagabond lifestyle make you want to guard your heart. When your brother falls into trouble, however, Russell is the one you trust to help you find him. 

AN: *Deep breaths* Are you ready? 😉

Word Count: 4.4K

Tags/Warnings: Angst, protective Russell, perilous situations, violence, character death, and another (literal) cliffhanger…

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Part 3: "Timer Starts Now"

As he drove away from the museum, Colter could see it even more clearly. 

“You like her,” he said, giving his older brother a smile. 

Russell glanced at him, then rolled his eyes. 

“Focus on the road,” he said. 

“Just admit it. You like her,” Colter smirked. “And the fact that she called you for help isn’t a coincidence.”

Russell made a sound of annoyance and shook his head. At this point, he knew Colter wasn’t going to drop the subject.

“All right, we went out on one date,” Russell held up a finger. “It was fun, but we agreed that I’m just not relationship material.”

Colter sobered at that, at the wry tone of his voice. It sounded like Russell liked you even more than he was willing to admit.

“Do you have a timeline on that brewery?” Colter asked.

Russell chuckled humorlessly. “Yeah, I’m just a few dollars short on that one.”

He stared out the window for a while, but he eventually turned back to his brother.

“She called me because her brother’s a vet. Because I know what it’s like to deal with the assimilation process, coming back to civilian life. Trying to figure out where you belong, you know?” he said.

“You think you’ve assimilated?” Colter asked.

Russell shrugged. “Best I know how, anyway.”

“You can’t really call yourself a civilian though, can you?” Colter pointed out. 

Russell shot him a look. “Yeah well, neither can you, Colt.”

That created a kind of tension in the car. A call from Bobby, Colter’s analyst, mercifully broke the silence. He’d gotten some useful information on Eddie Mendez, the man Charlie was supposedly working with, or for.

“Well, he’s not the most upstanding citizen,” Bobby said. “He’s a cocaine dealer by trade. Other fun items on his rap sheet include illegal gun possession, theft, and domestic violence.”

“All right, thanks, Bobby,” Colter said.

Great, Russell shook his head. Just what had your brother gotten himself into?

They were getting closer to the bar, and it mentally brought him back to his date with you.

Okay, maybe he did like you. But he also respected and understood your reasons for cutting things short that night. Usually, he was okay with being in a new town every other week, the occasional one-night stands, the skeevy motel rooms and the fast food. It was all with a goal in mind, and that made the hustle easier.

He’d started to wonder though, what it would be like to set down roots somewhere. Doug made it work with his wife and still did his contract work, even if there were some major pros and cons to that too…

Russell was only broken out of his thoughts when he got a call himself, from Dory. He answered it and held the phone to his ear.

“Hey, D. What’s up?” he asked.

“Russell, something’s wrong,” she said. Her voice was panicked.

He frowned, his brows furrowing. “What? What happened?”

The more he listened, the more his eyes widened in shock. He looked to his brother.

“Colter, turn around. Now.”

Russell and Colter arrived back at your house, where Dory was parked out front. She came out of the safety of her car when she saw them. Russell got to her first. He laid a hand on her shoulder in the driveway.

“What happened?” he asked. 

She tearfully explained that she found your purse in the bushes, but your phone was missing. She had just picked up your call when it suddenly cut off. 

���But I heard her scream,” Dory said, with a stifled breath.

Russell’s mood darkened in response, and the longer he took in the scene. He looked over at Colter, who also wore a frown. 

The tracker examined your car and driveway first. Already he found signs of struggle. He noticed a couple pieces of dark glass on the pavement, and when he scrutinized his surroundings further, he picked your broken phone out of the grass. The screen was cracked beyond repair.

Next, he climbed the three short steps of the porch, up to the front door of the house. There were marks on the doorknob, likely scratched by a key. He spotted the Ring Camera next.

Good. He took it right off the wall.  

“Do you have her keys there?” he asked his sister. Dory handed them to him and he let himself in. “Let’s see what we’re dealing with.”

The three of them entered your house and found it dark and empty. Colter switched the lights on and got to work, after going back to grab his laptop from the car.

Russell stayed with his sister on the couch, a supportive hand on her back. He tried to shove his anger and upset deeper below the surface.

Meanwhile, Colter had Bobby retrieve the data from the camera. Within a few minutes, he sent Colter a video file, which Colter then played on his laptop. The three of them watched you approach the door.

Someone with a man’s build grabbed you from behind, wearing dark clothes and a mask that obscured his face. You screamed and tried to fight, but the man dragged you away as you struggled.

Russell’s frown deepened as his body tensed with anger again, his jaw ticking as it clenched. And then came the self-loathing.

Rookie fucking move. Should’ve made sure she got home safe, he thought. Better yet, should’ve kept her with me.

Dory covered her trembling mouth and dissolved into tears. Russell tucked her against his side, rubbing her arm. Colter laid a hand on her shoulder as well, but he continued to analyze the footage. He couldn’t make out the attacker’s face with the mask he was wearing, but Colter saw a blue sedan in the background. It peeled off after you were hauled off-screen.  

“Why would they take her? What the hell is Charlie into?” Dory said. She sniffled and wiped at her face.

“To keep her quiet after she started digging into his disappearance, possibly. Or for leverage against him,” Colter said, leveling her with honesty. “Someone doesn’t want us to find Charlie. I’m betting it’s whoever he’s working for.”

He thought it was safer if he didn’t tell his sister exactly who Charlie’s employer was.  

Dory shook her head in worry. “We need to call the police.”

Colter shared a grim look with his brother. He knew Russell understood the score here. 

“If we get the police involved, it’s at least a 50% chance that whoever has her and Charlie…will kill both of them,” Colter said. Dory sucked in a trembling breath. 

“Our best bet is to keep digging,” Colter said.

“Let’s go,” Russell said, nodding at him. He stood, parting from his sister with a hand squeezing her shoulder.

“Where are you going?” Dory asked. She got up to her feet along with her brothers.

“Howley’s. It’s our only lead on Charlie’s employer,” Colter replied. 

“Okay, but wait—” Dory reached out for Russell’s arm. It was a reflex as she tried to wrap her mind around all of this. 

Russell grasped her shoulders gently enough, but he made sure she saw the sense of urgency in his eyes.

“We don’t have time,” he said. “From here on out, every second counts.” 

After a beat, Dory nodded in acceptance. She let go of his jacket. 

“Okay, keep me updated.”

“Will do,” he said, and he swiftly followed Colter out the door.

The brothers drove in silence to the bar. Colter noted his brother’s tension, and the grim set to his jaw. 

“Hey,” Colter said, earning Russell’s attention. Colter gave him a reassuring look. “We’re gonna find her. We’ll find both of them.”

Russell exhaled. “Yeah.”  

Oh, he knew he’d find you eventually, and your brother. He just didn’t want to think about how he might find you.

Once they got back to Howley’s, they started by questioning the bartender about Eddie Mendez. 

“He’s not here. But that’s a couple of his friends over there,” the bartender said. He pointed them in the direction of a couple of guys drinking near the back. Three of them were sitting at a table playing cards. 

Russell recognized two of them. One was the same guy who made the mistake of hassling you by the pool table. He’d gotten a bloody nose for his trouble. Russell smirked at the memory. 

“Pete, make a fucking move already,” said one of the guy’s buddies.

Russell caught it as he and Colter approached them. This time, Pete seemed at least somewhat sober, even with his second beer in hand. Another bottle sat empty beside his arm.

“Hey, fellas,” Russell greeted the table. “Little Blackjack, little booze. Looks like a good night you’re having.”

“Do I know you?” Pete asked. His face showed a spark of recognition when he took in Russell. 

“Well, you’re about to. We’re looking for one of your friends, Eddie,” he replied. 

Pete set his beer down on the table. Predictably, he crossed his arms and closed up.

“I don’t know no Eddie.”

Russell resisted the urge to roll his eyes.

“I realize it’s hard for you, but don’t be dumb. Eddie Mendez,” he pressed. 

Pete glanced at his friends, then he stood from the table, drawing himself to his full height. He was a bit bigger than Russell, but a beer gut wasn’t everything.  

Russell seized up the man in front of him with an almost lazy grin. By contrast, his eyes were sharp, betraying his true thoughts. 

“Now remember. Whatever you start, I’m gonna damn well finish,” he said. 

That sure ignited Pete’s memory. He seemed to be remembering your smaller fist nearly breaking his nose. His face fell with an angry frown. Russell smirked.

Colter laid a warning hand on his brother’s arm.

“We’re not looking for trouble. We’re just trying to find someone Eddie might know. Charlie,” Colter said. “Do you know him?”

“No, I don’t,” Pete claimed.  

“Like you didn’t know Eddie?” Colter replied, raising a brow. “Where can we find him?”

“Now you are looking for trouble,” Pete spat. “Fuck off, Timberlake.”

Just then, Colter’s phone buzzed in his pocket. He took it out and saw a text from Dory, asking for an update. He ignored the message for now and put his phone away.

Hearing a commotion, he quickly looked up in time to realize that Russell had wrangled Pete into a stronghold with his arm behind his back and had slammed him onto the table. Drinks and bottles rattled and spilled; playing cards fell to the floor. Pete’s friends got up with angry, threatening gaits.

“I think you can point us in the right direction before I break this meaty arm of yours. How about that?” Russell said. 

“Hey! No fighting!” the bartender called from the front. “Take that shit outside.”

Colter internally sighed, but he’d have to roll with this, even though this wasn’t how he’d wanted to play it. 

“I wouldn’t test him,” Colter advised. “That’s gonna be a bad break. You got good health insurance, Pete? You’ll probably need surgery, expensive bills, a little physical therapy, a few months of recovery time.”

Pete seemed to weigh Colter’s logic, albeit with an angry huff. He waved off his friends and caught his breath while pinned against the table. 

“I can’t talk to you,” he said. “I’ll get myself killed.”

“I’d worry more about your odds right now, Pete,” Russell said. He tightened his twisted hold on the man’s arm, earning a strangled sound of pain. 

Colter weighed the options here in record time, and he came to a decision. He grasped Russell’s arm firmly.

“Let him go,” he said.  

Russell gave him a look of disbelief. “Colt?”

Colter implored him with his eyes. Trust me.

After a few more seconds, Russell’s lips pursed, but he let the guy go. 

“Ah, fuck,” Pete muttered. After he was able to straighten up, he rubbed his aching arm and shot them both a red-faced glare. 

Colter steered his brother out of the bar before a real fight could break out. He knew it’d become a bloody mess, and they didn’t have time for a night stay in a county jail cell this time.  

“You better have a damn plan,” Russell whispered, as they neared the front doors of the bar.

“You know I do,” Colter replied.

They later sat in his truck while it was still turned off. Just waiting in silence.

A few minutes went by before the back doors of the bar opened to Pete and his gaggle of delinquent friends. As Colter suspected, one of them made a call. It lasted no more than a couple of minutes. Then, they piled into Pete’s car and pulled out of the parking lot.

Colter started up his own car, and he followed them.

You were led into what sounded like a warehouse. You couldn’t know for sure with this musty bag over your head and your wrists bound together with zip ties, but you clenched your teeth and tried to stop sniffling. Your fear made your heart pump fast and loud in your ears.

Voices echoed around you, arguing, yelling about shipments. You were shoved hard to the ground, and you gasped, instinctively throwing your hands out when your knees hit the hard cement. 

“No…” 

That voice was all too familiar. 

The bag was finally ripped off your head, the edge of it catching in your frizzy hair. You blinked wearily at the florescent lights above, and you wiped at your tears and smudged mascara. Your breath left your lungs when you saw your brother, Charlie. 

He was tied to a chair, shirtless and shoeless, beaten and bloody. Some parts of his skin even looked burned. His jeans remained, at least. But his face was hard to look at. His left eye was swollen, his lip split, his cheek cut and bloody. Both his eyes were red-rimmed, and he was sweaty and dirty, as if they’d been keeping him down here like an animal. He looked thinner too.

He stared back at you in dismay, your name falling from his lips.

You tried to scramble over to him, but someone grabbed you by the hair and yanked you back. You cried out in pain.

“Eddie stop! Don’t hurt her!” he shouted. He drew enough strength to pull at his restraints. Your hands reached back on reflex to grasp at the hand holding your hair. 

“No, you did this,” Eddie said. He clicked the safety off his handgun and pointed the barrel at your head, right between the eyes. You gasped and froze where you sat. 

“You couldn’t make it easy, huh? Well now, I’m making it real simple for you,” he continued. “Even more simple, now that we cut out the middleman.”

Eddie gestured to what looked like a woven potato sack laid behind Charlie’s chair, but really, that was just part of it. As your eyes scanned over, you saw the narrow shoulders of a man with a familiar dark blue blazer. It was stained red with a bloody hole carved through the back. Your breath stilled in your lungs.

Eddie glanced over at you, his lips curving. He walked over to the dead body, turned it over with his boot, and dragged off the potato sack to reveal the lifeless blue eyes of Dr. Feinman.

Your eyes widened.

You let out a blood-curdling scream that startled a pigeon out of the warehouse, from where it had been perching on a high support ledge. You leaned back on your bound hands, but you could go no further as one of Eddie’s men grabbed your shoulder, pinning you on the ground. His annoyed face told you to shut the fuck up.

Charlie grimaced and turned his face from the sight of the body. Both shame and hate filled his eyes when Eddie bent down to face him.

“Tell me where you hid the goddamn weapons,” he demanded.

Your lips trembled as new tears brimmed over and streamed down your cheeks. You’d suspected the truth, but it was different from being faced with the reality. Charlie was the one who stole from the museum. He’d likely been doing a lot worse for the past few months. And somehow, Feinman had gotten in between. He’d also paid the price.

Your brother saw your disappointment, and he accepted it. But lacking an answer, Eddie pistol whipped you in the face, earning a pained cry from you as you fell back onto the ground. You had to blink the stars out of your eyes.

After his shock wore off, Charlie’s face hardened with fury.

“Oh, don’t give me that fucking face,” Eddie said. He grabbed you by the back of the neck, startling another sharp breath from you. “If you don’t tell me what I want to know, what I did to you’ll be child’s play, compared to what I’m gonna do to her. And you’re going to watch.”

Against your will, tears filled your eyes while you stared at your brother. You were terrified, and Charlie knew it. He was scared too, but he also knew then what he had to do.

“I buried them,” he admitted. 

“You buried them?” Eddie repeated. He brushed back his dark hair with the same hand that held his gun. “Ain’t that ironic. All right, where did you bury them?”

“In the national forest, less than an hour out,” Charlie replied. “But you won’t find it without me.” 

Eddie shook his head on a sigh. “Of fucking course.”

He gestured to his men waiting nearby. He wordlessly gave them the order to untie your brother. 

“All right, Charlie. Let’s go for a drive,” he said, and gave you a sleazy smile. “You too, sweetheart.”

He hauled you up onto your feet and kept you close to him, with a hand like a vice around your arm. God, you hated a sweethearting man.

You held your breath. You could only pray that Dory had noticed you were missing…and that Russell and Colter could find you before it was too late.

Please…

It was still dark out, but the sky was beginning to lighten when Colter pulled to the side of the road. The car they followed had stopped in front of a warehouse near an industrial downtown area. Colter spotted the blue sedan from the Ring Camera footage. It was parked out front. 

With a shared nod of understanding, Colter and Russell climbed out of the truck and took the time to arm themselves properly before scoping out the warehouse.

“What does a drug cartel want with museum artifacts?” Russell remarked as they were gearing up. “That’s still not adding up for me.”

“It is odd, but maybe the idea came from Charlie,” Colter said. “He had access. Maybe he saw it as a way to buy their trust.”

“Okay, then what went wrong? Why’d they take her?” Russell replied. “I don’t know, man. Something feels off here.”

Colter nodded in agreement. “We don’t have all the pieces yet.”

But they were about to get them. They moved closer to the warehouse, with Russell heading towards a side door and Colter going around the back. They saw a few men crowded around a TV in the corner of the warehouse. Behind them were crates upon crates of what surely was product. Probably tens of thousands worth of coke.

Jesus, Russell thought. It was nothing he hadn’t seen before, but still. This was a serious operation.

Colter caught sight of a lone chair under a bright corner of the room. It was stained with sweat and blood, and some cut ropes hung from the seat. He alerted Russell to the scene with a subtle gesture of his raised gun. Russell’s face turned grim. He nodded minimally, then pointed with his eyes at the group of unsuspecting men. The brothers drew in closer.

Russell fired a shot directly into the TV screen, making it crash onto the ground. The men startled like rats, but they soon faced Russell and Colter’s guns. When one of them reached for the gun tucked in their pants, Colter aimed directly at him.

“I wouldn’t do that,” Colter warned. 

“Where’s Charlie?” Russell demanded. “And his sister.”

He aimed his .45 caliber M1911 at their friend Pete, who had Cheeto stains on his shirt. 

“How about you, Pete. You finally wanna share with the class, before I blow your fucking face off?!” Russell shouted. 

The depths of his voice reverberated widely in the warehouse. It set the tone for things to come, if he didn’t get some cooperation.

Pete shifted on his feet, betraying his nerves. His forehead was starting to sweat too. 

“They’re not here,” he admitted. “They left a while ago.”

Russell flexed his finger over the trigger of his gun. 

“Tell me where,” he said.

Eddie wasn’t exactly an outdoorsy kind of guy. He kicked his boot against a tree while leaning against it.

“Fucking rock in my shoe,” he muttered angrily.

He was getting more and more frustrated with the uneven terrain (and the mosquitos) the longer the five of you trekked onwards: including you, Charlie, Eddie, and two of his men, Rick and Kevin. Both of them had guns trained on your back and Charlie’s. 

“I’m sorry,” Charlie said quietly to you.

You shook your head. Disappointment didn’t even begin to cover what you were feeling as you looked at him, but at least they’d given him a shirt to cover his beaten torso. His face wasn't so lucky.

He righted you when you struggled on the gravel and loose dirt in your ankle boots. Your hands were still tied together too.

“What the hell happened to you?” you asked, as you caught your breath. 

“I needed the money,” he said, though he knew it wasn’t an excuse. “I was his bodyguard.”

“He’s a drug dealer,” you snapped. “What the fuck were you thinking?”

“He was my dealer,” he admitted, though his gaze was heavy. “I’m sorry. I just couldn’t bring myself to tell you, but…a few weeks after I left rehab, I slipped. I never really did quit. Just got better at hiding it.” 

You let out a sharp breath, and tried to blink past your tears. Another disappointment, another heartbreak for the books.

“But when he offered me a job to pay off what I owed, he wanted insurance that I’d stick around. To prove myself,” Charlie explained. “He came up with the idea to rob the museum.”

“Why was Dr. Feinman involved? Did he find out?” you asked.

Charlie nodded with a sigh. “He caught me the first time I tried to steal the artifacts. I…I lied. Told him we planned to sell them. So instead of turning me in, he wanted to be cut into the deal.”

“What? Why?” you said. Your former boss was many things—a stuffy, self-important man chief among them—but you’d never taken him for a thief.

Charlie gave you a wry look. “Owed his second wife up to his eyeballs. Alimony’s a real bitch.”

You shook your head. That explained why Charlie hadn’t yet been a suspect in the theft. Feinman had probably helped cover Charlie’s tracks. But whatever shortcomings Feinman had, he hadn’t deserved to die like that. A shudder went through your body, remembering his lifeless eyes. You breathed out slowly and tried to rid yourself of the nightmarish image. You managed to push past that to ask your next question.

“And who chose the Native American weapons?”

Charlie’s lips pursed. He glanced over his shoulder. “He did. Thought they looked cool.”

Eddie smirked and waved his gun at him, spurring you both onward. Charlie kept walking and turned his attention back to you. 

“The way I figured it, the museum shouldn’t have them anyway.” 

Your lips pursed at that. You sort of saw his point there, however convoluted his justification, but putting those artifacts in the hands of a drug dealer was even worse.

“And this is so much better for them,” you said pointedly. 

“That’s why I couldn’t go through with it. Tried to get out of the whole damn mess,” he said. “I know what you would’ve said to me. And I knew if I ever saw you again, I wouldn’t be able to look you in the eyes.”

Your tears welled up again, when you saw the sincerity of his gaze.

“Okay, this touching little scene is making my balls itch,” Eddie said. He grabbed Charlie’s shoulder and turned him around. “Where the fuck are we going? If you’re trying to pull something smartass here, Charlie, I promise you, you’re gonna regret it.”

He cocked the safety back on his gun and pointed it at Charlie’s chest. Charlie raised slow, placating hands.

“It’s just a little further,” he promised. 

“If you’re giving me the runaround—” Eddie started.

“Then what? Without me, you’ll never find it,” Charlie barked back. 

Eddie’s face tightened, and he pointed the gun at you instead. You sucked in a breath.

Charlie quickly held up his bound hands again in surrender. After a beat of tension, he pointed up when he heard rushing water. 

“Hear that?” he said. “I buried it on a cliff near a waterfall. We’re getting close.”

Another stretch of silence filled the clearing. 

Eddie weighed Charlie’s words. When he was mollified enough, he lowered his gun away from you. At his command, Rick and Kevin kept you and your brother moving. 

Charlie glanced to his right side. He realized that you all were walking near the edge of a steep hill that careened downward. Taking in a breath to center himself, he turned to you.

“I love you, you know that?” he whispered.

Your brows furrowed. You opened your mouth to reply, but you found the look in his eyes suspicious. Like he was saying goodbye. 

That was when he swiftly turned. He snapped the heel of his hand into Kevin's throat and grabbed his gun while he was choking. Charlie shot him in the chest, then he clipped Rick in the shoulder. 

Just as Eddie began to raise his own weapon, Charlie met your look of shock with his own determination. 

He pushed you down the hill.

AN: I know, I know. Two cliffhangers in a row is cruel, but I promise we're getting to even more fun action and cathartic moments in Part 4! 😘

Next Time:

Russell called your name as he searched through the dense trees. Sunlight was beginning to filter through their leaves in dappled color on the trail. It gave him a better view ahead.

He stopped short when he saw a splatter of blood on the ground, painting the dirt and some dead leaves. A well of unease rose in his gut.

He headed toward the sound of running water, and he soon found another cliff. Just beyond it was a waterfall, and river below. Seeing no signs of life, he pulled back and continued to call your name, and all the while, pushing down his worry.

“Russell?!”

▶️ Keep Reading: PART 4

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[holmesianlove]

Chapter 24 -  Pudding

The next morning, John was in a good mood, working in the kitchen. The evening with Sherlock had been quite lovely in the end, just the two of them, alone together. He realised he hadn’t finished speaking to Sherlock about the case, though. Sherlock had been to see his brother, hence he'd needed the ice cream too, but didn’t say why. So when Sherlock strolled in to find the mess surrounding John, his face a little horrified, John already jumped in to distract him.

“Was he mad?” John asked.

“Who?” Sherlock looked confused. 

He was already dressed. Looking nice for this time of morning. Perhaps he was about to go out for the day. Should John have checked if they had a case first? Had John forgotten something they were doing entirely?

“Mycroft. Was he mad that the case wasn't as exciting as he had hoped? You didn’t say.” 

“Oh. He'll get over it,” Sherlock said with a flippant hand gesture.

“Did you still get paid, though?” John turned to ask.

“Yes, we got paid,” Sherlock corrected.

“Good,” John said, nodding as he worked. 

“What are you doing in here, then? It smells amazing,” Sherlock sighed, walking in and looking around. Every surface was a mess, all covered in bowls and flour, and spices.

“I thought I'd cook a Christmas pudding. I found my Nan’s recipe.”

“Really? You've never done that before,” Sherlock said, surprised.

“I was feeling inspired by all the sweet goodness on our trip,” he said with a laugh. “Well, actually, I also promised Molly I would bring… something to the party.” He grimaced. Sherlock was not thrilled about having to go in the first place.

Sherlock flashed him an annoyed look.

“I know. I know. And you wanted to get out of going. I know.”

Sherlock went straight to the kettle to make tea. 

“Anyway, I agreed to bake some cookies - simple enough. And then, when I was looking through my recipes I found the pudding recipe and I thought I’d make that just for us... to have, before you go away for Christmas.” John looked around him at the mess and suddenly felt overwhelmed. 

“Can I help?” Sherlock asked, noticing John's distress.

“You ah… you want to help?” John asked, looking surprised and nervous at the offer.

“Yes, John. I want to help. Put me to good use. Just let me have a tea first.”

“You’re not doing anything today?” he checked.

“Nope. Free as a bird,” he said with a smile. He grabbed his tea and moved over to a chair placing his cup on the one corner of the table that was clear of cooking paraphernalia.

“Ok. Sure. Here, put an apron on or that posh shirt of yours will get ruined.” John handed him an apron from the cupboard and then set about trying to organise the chaos a bit, now that he had someone else involved in it. Once Sherlock had finished his tea, John passed him a bowl with dough in it and a rolling pin.

Sherlock still managed to make wearing an apron look sexy. It irritated John - making it hard for him to focus. He set Sherlock to rolling out dough and pressing the biscuit cutter into it, making different Christmas shapes and placing them on the tray for baking. For a while they worked in silence, just concentrating on what they were doing. John mixed his soaked fruit into the bowl of dry ingredients and got the pudding mixture sorted.

“This is nice. I feel like we usually don't share in the cooking together,” he said finally.

“I’ve made you cook too often,” Sherlock rushed to reply.

“It's alright. I don't mind doing it so long as you don't mind my terrible cooking,” John laughed. 

“Your cooking isn’t terrible.”

“Well, I’m not a terrible cook. I don't know, I just assume you are more accustomed to nicer food.” John blushed at the admission. His basic cooking kept them alive, he supposed. It was sustenance, but it wasn’t fine dining.

“John, we get takeaway when I’m in charge, or when you’re tired. When you make time to cook, it means something. To me, at least.”

“Well, I appreciate that. And that you don’t, you know, make fun of my cooking. I'm sure you can cook too.”

“Yes, I can, and I have done so on occasion, but when my brain's busy and my body's tired, I struggle to sum up the energy. My brain often doesn't have room left to think about what I want to cook, or what I could cook, or what I should cook… or if we have the ingredients… or when I'll have time to go to the shops to get the ingredients. You just have this ability to look at what's in the fridge and make something up. I can't do that.”

“You're a chemist!” John exclaimed. “I would have thought potions would be your specialty.”

“No, funnily enough. At least, I don't do that with food, so much as actual chemicals. Not advisable for the kitchen.” 

“Yeah, all right, genius,” John teased. "Hasn't stopped you running experiments in here, has it."

Sherlock rolled his eyes. His experiments on the kitchen table were always a source of heated conversation. “But honestly, John, that's a skill. I can follow a recipe and I've cooked some very fancy, very impressive things when I was younger, but I'm following someone else's recipe with ingredients they've told me to buy. You can just improvise and I am constantly in awe of that.”

“Okay, that makes me feel a little bit better. Keep going with the compliments.” He flashed Sherlock a grin and his eyes sparkled with joy.

“I really like that one you do with the… with the minced meat?”

John laughed. “Mystery mince?” 

“Is that what you call it?” Sherlock chuckled.

“Yes, but it's just a bunch of stuff from the cupboard. It's just a mix of herbs and leftover veg and mince on toast it's not rocket science.”

“Well, I like it.” Sherlock lifted his chin defiantly.

“Good to know.” John chuckled to himself. “It feels good to know that I can still impress a genius.”

“You are a physician, John, you're not an idiot.”

“No, I know. You're just… very intimidating.”

“Me?” Sherlock looked shocked.

“Yes. You’re very—“

Sherlock’s brow creased as he watched John. Was that really what he thought? Was that why he was so nervous all the time? 

“You're very scathing sometimes... very unforgiving of people who you think are stupid. And I am prone to a lot of stupid things. So…” He looked down at his bowl, suddenly embarrassed he’d said anything.

“Oh, John, you're not even close to the idiots we see the rest of the time. You are an army surgeon. Are you seriously suggesting that I would think that you are stupid?” Sherlock asked.

John thought about it, and while they occasionally called each other idiot, he knew it was more in an affectionate way, somehow. A term of endearment. He’d used it on Sherlock too, and Sherlock Holmes was no idiot. He never meant it like that. “Well, I suppose when you say it like that, it sounds silly.”

“Perfectly ridiculous,” Sherlock said. He went back to working the dough. “John, maybe I’ve never said it to you directly. But you are one of the smartest people I know. I happen to have one of the fastest, most complex minds in the world. The skills I have are not are not particularly usual for the average human. So sometimes it seems like I expect everyone to be like me, but I know that I'm peculiar. You might have a more normal brain in comparison, but you are highly intelligent, highly accomplished. You have skills I've never even dreamed of having… to open up a human? To cut them open and understand what you're looking at? And fix them? At that level? Fascinating,” he sighed. “I find you fascinating.” 

John was lost for words. Sherlock had certainly never said that before. “I just always thought you lumped me in with the rest of the idiots.” He blushed.

“John, I wouldn't let you live here with me if I thought you were stupid. Quite honestly. You should know better than that.” He tilted his head and gave John a look of disbelief.

“Well, thank you, that's all the Christmas present I need.” He smiled at Sherlock and his friend looked back at him.

John was always fascinated with how Sherlock’s eyes changed colour, like a mood ring. Depending on his mood, or what he wore, his eyes shifted. And right now they were the most beautiful blue, while they were looking at John. Stunning. He didn’t mean to but he licked his lips nervously, lost for words. “Looks like you’re… ah… out of dough. Why don’t you pop those trays in the oven. Set the timer for eight minutes,” he said, returning his focus to the task.

He set about getting the pudding on to boil and then began making the icing for the biscuits, as Sherlock churned out more biscuits like a professional. Those violin-skilled fingers manipulated the dough and the biscuit cutters in a beautiful choreography that John kept finding himself watching. He was always rough and clumsy when he made them.

When the timer went off, Sherlock jumped up excitedly, and grabbed the tea towels to pull out the first tray of biscuits, eager to see how his handy work had gone. When he turned there was no bench space.

“John… if you could just…”

John’s thoughts were a million miles away. Sherlock, meanwhile, had grabbed both trays - one in each hand. So his hands were full, and the heat from the trays was burning through to his fingers now. 

“John!” Sherlock said more forcefully.

John spun around in a hurry, lifting the spoon out of the bowl, which managed to flick green icing across onto Sherlock’s cheek. He snorted and then realised the situation. “Sorry,” he laughed. “Sorry. Here, let me help.” John moved to the bench and frantically shifted his recipe pages and a used bowl and put down some cork board to take the heat of the trays. “Sorry,” he said again.

Sherlock dropped both trays down, and let the tea towels drop to the floor as he shook his hands out. The heat had worked through to his fingers but not enough to burn them.

“Are you alright?” John asked.

“Yes, sorry, I should have thought about the bench space…”

“No. My fault,” John said then smiled. “Come here.”

Sherlock’s brow furrowed.

“I got… icing…” John moved to Sherlock and reached up his thumb, to wipe the icing away.

Sherlock froze at the action and watched John intently. John’s only focus seemed to be on the icing splatter, but he moved his thumb slowly, deliberately across Sherlock’s cheek, pressing ever so slightly to wipe it off. John’s eyes were suddenly captivated by the little freckles on the rise of Sherlock’s cheek, just above the icing, and the trail of colour it still left on his skin. Without meaning anything by it, without thinking, he moved his thumb to his own lips and sucked the icing away. Sherlock’s pupils dilated at the suggestive gesture, which John had apparently done unconsciously.

“Green,” John said quietly, with a smile, as he moved away, back to his stirring.

“Hmmm?” Sherlock hummed in question, words escaping him in the moment.

“You have green on your face. Finally I have my revenge,” John said with a cheeky smile.

“Oh.” Sherlock’s lips formed a circle as his brain caught up. “Oh right, yes. Ha!” He tried to settle his brain and bring himself back to his task. John hadn’t meant anything by it all. Just friendly teasing. He bent down and grabbed the towels from the floor and set about moving the biscuits silently to some cooling racks so he could place more biscuits on the trays, then get the next batch in the oven.

He turned and without thinking, he used the tea towel to flick at John’s leg. Revenge indeed.

John spun around, icing covered spoon in hand, in shock. “Oh it's like that is it?” he teased, his brow shooting up, recognising the threat of a food war.

“It could be like that,” Sherlock said, raising his brow as well, pausing to see what John would do.

They both started giggling at themselves, and Sherlock adjusted his grip on the tea towel, as if he was ready for battle. John walked closer to stand right in front of Sherlock, spoon poised, spine tall ready for the challenge. But something in Sherlock’s eyes changed when he got that close and all of a sudden the tension between them shifted. John’s smile dropped and he couldn’t take his eyes off Sherlock’s. They were trying to say something without words and John so wanted to hear what it was. He wanted to believe that the things racing around his own head might be reciprocated in his flatmate. In his friend. His best friend. His eyes searched Sherlock’s face for answers, but he wasn’t giving anything away. Sherlock’s eyes had shifted to that shade of blue again, and he was watching John just as closely, but the message wasn’t transmitting loud enough. John couldn’t read it.

Sherlock bent ever so slightly forward and John sucked in a quiet breath, suddenly feeling like Sherlock might actually kiss him. Maybe he was feeling the same, maybe this was the moment that would change everything. He didn’t move, he didn’t dare. What if he bridged the distance and Sherlock had not intended to do that. He would never survive the humiliation. He froze to the spot.

"John, there's something I..."

And then the timer startled them both. Sherlock pulled back and the tension shifted. Sherlock pushed past John and opened the oven to remove the next batch of biscuits and the whole moment was gone.

John stood staring into the void in front of him where Sherlock had been, trying to reconcile what he thought might have been happening, what had Sherlock wanted to say, and what did it all mean?

Posting early as today will be busy for me. Merry Christmas Eve to you all! Thanks for the support and comments and for following along. Hang in there! The next few will lead you to your resolution!!

@lisbeth-kk @helloliriels @totallysilvergirl @221beloved @safedistancefrombeingsmart 

@givemesherbet-blog-blog @naefelldaurk @a-victorian-girl @phoenix27884 @peanitbear 

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@kittenmadnessandtea @whatnext2020 @egregiously-chuffed @chriscalledmesweetie @catlock-holmes

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@westandforships @fuck-off-watson-rp @notjustamumj @melodious-me @sherlocke3d

@otter-von-bismarck @silvergoldsea @calaisreno

[thethirdromana]

I'm watching the edited version of the War Games (it's on BBC4 right now and my parents wanted to see it), so, have some thoughts.

I'm normally a bit iffy on colourisation but this is genuinely very well done. The titles are gorgeous.

Squishing it into 90 mins makes the opening very zippy. The pace feels a shade too quick if anything.

It also gets a bit weird when the cliffhanger is turned into continuous action.

This is despite the fact that they only cut about 10 mins of episode one.

They drink a lot of tea in the War Games but it comes across as even more when you cut out of the non-tea-drinking bits.

OK, there's some very fun editing around the redcoat and Buckingham remembering the mist coming down. (Dare I say possibly an improvement on the original?)

But then it goes back to feeling too zippy, but least because episode 3 is brutally cut. Very little of it left.

Gah, I'm trying to like this, because it's clearly been lovingly made and the colourisation is genuinely superb, but the grinding relentlessness of the War Games has been replaced by rattling through the plot at a frenzied pace and it's not really working for me.

Ooh, Murray Gold's Master theme has been added over the War Chief's appearance. Not sure how I feel about that, but it's certainly an interesting choice.

They've dealt with the cliffhanger issue at the end of episode 4 by taking it out entirely.

The little added CGI bits are not hugely successful - they look oddly plasticky. Which is a bit disappointing, because have I mentioned how good the colourisation is?

It's taken my dad until the episode six cliffhanger to note the place where the original cliffhanger was.

(My mum has given up because she doesn't like how much fighting there is. Not sure if the original edit would have been any better on that score.)

Episodes 6 and 7 are so thoroughly chopped up that it's tricky to trace the original storyline. It's neatly done but it's not really the War Games any more.

More of the Master's theme when the War Chief admits to knowing the Doctor.

My dad comments that this bit seems like it was inspired by the Prisoner (which he also watched when it first aired).

It feels a bit weird when it switches from Murray Gold to 1960s incidental music.

This really centres the War Chief et al over the rest of the storyline.

"Complete loyalty and devotion" - oh, Jamie. This loses a lot of character beats in favour of the Time Lord-centric storyline, but not all of them.

Oof, their last desperate attempt to escape is still just as grim and desperate in the edit. Like there's still part of me wondering if they might somehow get away this time.

There are new Who-style images of Gallifrey on the view screen.

"Is the next episode The Trial of a Time Lord?" asks my dad, who has seen all of Doctor Who, but mostly not very recently.

The middle bit of episode 10 is cut, which means that I can watch the ending without crying for once.

Lots of establishing shots of Gallifrey.

The too old/too young/too thin shows a series of New Who Doctors. Not entirely sure how I feel about that choice either.

And it ends with the Doctor regenerating in the TARDIS - again, New Who style - before the date ticks back and forth erratically between 1970 and 1980, a joke that will appeal to a small number of people that includes me, and finally the very opening scene of Spearhead from Space.

I think if you accept the premise that a 90-min version of the War Games could be done, it's about as good as it could be. A few of the choices make it pretty clear that this is primarily for a New Who audience - particularly that it becomes a very Time Lord-centric story - not really for existing fans of the War Games.

Still, I wasn't expecting to love the colourisation as much as I did, and it made me wish I could watch a colourised version of all 10 episodes.

[elyssaarts]

Literally haven't posted in years so here's a picture of some folks from Arcane and a single one of Anya because I wanted to see what all the fuss was about. The first two were without reference just for funsies. Sketches done with ancient dried out Stabilos (Jinx, Anya, and Vi are only Stabilo), color with ohuhu alcohol markers, black is acryla gouache. The graffiti is done with Gelly Roll Moonlights, shout-out to the orange one who decided he'd never been used and never would be.

Some things I learned from this one:

* Daniel Smith Watercolor Ground can protect crappy paper from alcohol markers and make a somewhat toothy, impermeable surface that's excellent for blending. It does take 24-48 to dry completely. It WILL smudge water based media underneath. Not as bad if you swipe it on really fast (not recommended)

*Sakura has been saying for years that you just need to scribble with a jelly roll to fix it. I decided I wasn't giving it my all the previous times I'd tried, and used a full sized sketchbook page scribbling as hard as I could to get ink out. I also tried water, alcohol, and wd-40 to get the ink to flow. It did not. This was the last set of Gelly rolls I bought probably more than five years ago. I was angry because 2 of the pens I bought did not work when I bought them. They still don't work. I'm frustrated because they either work flawlessly and beautifully, or literally not at all.

* I already knew this one from previous mistakes but do NOT layer Gelly Roll over water based media (including regular gouache) unless you're ok with the colors possibly blending. They probably will. Hence, acryla gouache.

* I did something different for each portrait, so each one has some positives and negatives for me. My favorite in terms of quality is Ekko, which was done with an off-white colored pencil for the sketch. I think that worked best.

*Caitlyn's is a little disappointing to me because the lead-pencil shading looks like a five o'clock shadow. Good to remember for future.

*just fyi there's a bunch of other sketches that got covered up. You can see a bit of dog snoot up/right of Ekko. Just thought it was a fun little thing.

[two-bit-too-high]

lost boys with a hyper mate/pack member, then when they get back to the cave they just burn out and pass tf out. Fluff 100%

A/N hello y'all thx for the suggestions I'm gonna work on them over the next few days or whenever hope y'all are having a good Christmas or holidays and I hope you enjoy. Feel free to send in anymore ideas and as always nothing too spicy.

The Lost boys x Hyper reader

☁️ Pure fluffy

⚠️Warnings: drugs (mentioned in passing) also for just incase Cotten Cady = Fairy Floss

(I am dyslexic so I do apologise if anything is miss spelt or if the gramma is awful)

Anyway enjoy

Summer time in Santa Carla the best time school was out and the boardwalk was busy. Busy boardwalk ment easy picking for the local vampires. Speaking of the local vampires, two of them were currently parked at the beach watching over a group of surfnazis scouting out their meal for the night.

“Ew no he is not sunburnt ” said Paul as he leant up against Marko’s bike “oh come on that doesn’t change anything about the blood, about the good bit” Marko replied. “It’s the sunblock that makes it taste different” Paul adds The two continued to talk and make their choices for food. After a few moments they heard the other three motorcycles pull out a little bit away then a few seconds after Paul had been tackled to the ground.

“Ah! What was that for, boo” he yelled as he started to rough house with them in the sand “DAVID GAVE ME COTTON CADY” you yelled in reply “ the big cotton candy” adds Dwyane in a less than impressed.you keep tussling and rolling around on the sandbank with Paul. “Just cotton candy?” Paul says “ AND A SNOW CONE” you reply. After a few More moments of laughter and roughhousing you two are pulled apart by Dwayne “that’s enough little one” he said with a smile. You The smaller vampire was still buzzing as you sat down on the sand looking around like a Meerkat “ I can taste colour” you say looking up at David who was standing behind you looking down “oh really now” he replied “yeah” you say as lean back on his legs “you done being a little critter yet” he asked before he could get an answer you were gone. you had scaled up a tree and started to swing back and forth on a branch “wooooow I can see the whole of Santa Carla from up here” you say like a child at an amusement park for the first time. “Come on Meerkat get down we all need to feed” calls out David from under the tree “right right Proper food” you let go of the branch and land on your feet in the sand “come on then ya lazy bums” you say as you run past the boys into the camp of surfnazis the boys following suit.

After your delicious bloodbath the five of you washed off in the ocean. The boys ended up floating around for a while in the meantime you had decided to go and climb some cliffs. Still running on your sugar high you quickly found a clif you were willing to challenge and started climbing. Grabbing rock after rock as you scale the rocky wall. “Woah look at them go” yelled out Marko and pointed you out to the others. By the time they had turned around to look at you where at the top waving down at them the biggest smile plastered across your face.

After your little climbing expedition was over you all made your way back to the bikes.Unbeknown to the boys you had found a few sticks of sherbet in Marko's bike bag and downed them all at once. “Marko Marko Marko Marko” you yapped as you jumped around him in a small circle “what what what what” he yaps back his eyes following you around. “ Was that sugar or cocaine in those sticks” you ask “sugar” he Answered “ok” you say before jumping into your bike. “We are gonna be in for a long night” says Dwyane to David “yeah,but they are having fun so who cares” David replies

The drive home was faster than usual due to your sugar boots. Now usually the boys don't care about speed limits. That was more of a you thing as you were human more recently than them and knew what a nasty high speed crash could do someone.but on this particular night you had completely thrown those fears out the window. Where you gonna go at 150 over that old rusty bridge absolutely and did you love absolutely.

Once back at the cave the boys expect you to keep going. Too jump about the cave from rock ledge to rock ledge but alas they were wrong. Once you all got home they watched as you slowly and lethargically walked up to the small bedroom that they had made for you when you turned six years ago. Once inside you tuned to your records and record player picking out a vinyl that Paul had given you for your new birthday day that being the day that made your First kill and completed the process to becoming a vampire.

“What are you doing boo” asked paul as he joined you laying down in the nest bed that had been made a few months ago. “Energy low” you say as you cuddle up to his chest fiddling with the fishnet shirt he was wearing .As the sound of Bon Jovi started to softly fill the room the boys started to file in joining you in the nest eventually you fell asleep. You are in the middle David and Dwyane to your right and the two blonde bombshells to your left.

“And they crashed” said Marko as he cuddles up beside you “sugar crash” added Paul “I bet you their teeth are gonna hurt tomorrow night” said David who was laying half on the bed half on Dwyane.”Good thing I brought more toothpaste today then” slurred Dwyane as he was half asleep. One by one they all started to slip into sleep.As the soft sound of Bon Jovi’s “living on a prayer” filled the room.

Thx for reading I hope you have a great day :)

[lgbtlunaverse]

Thinking of the Nie disciple that told Nie Mingjue it was Meng Yao who stayed behind to clean up corpses on the battlefield today.

Nie Mingjue didn't just randomly stumble upon poor lil meowyao eating bread in the novel, he was already looking for him to thank and reward him for his work.

That's what makes it so fun that nieyao's first conflict will end up being about someone else taking credit for Meng Yao's work.

And I'm sure that Nie Mingjue's actual opinions on plagiarism are a lot more nuanced, all we really get from him in this scene is "well you shouldn't kill someone over it!" which leaves a lot of room for what punishments he thinks are appropiate. But I bet that it isn't occuring to him in this moment that the only reason he knows Meng Yao at all, the only reason he got such a capable deputy, is that he noticed someone was taking care of the dead and cared enough to want to know their name. And then the Nie disciples didn't lie to him. The disciple he asked could have said "it was me, Zongzhu" to rise in the ranks himself, but he didn't. He went and asked others, who all also could have taken the credit, but they didn't. Someone saw Meng Yao working and decided to be honest about it and that simple decision is the catalyst for Meng Yao becoming Nie Mingjue's deputy.

Meng Yao can't just work hard to get results, others have to acknowledge that work. If they don't, it's as if he didn't do anything at all.

[ruvviks]

right now i'm essentially just working through the list of my less talked about ocs from the cyberpunk extended ocverse, with this time: rikki! she's the youngest of the valentine family, leader of a small gang known as santa madre (previously a branch of the valentinos), and she works at club bodytalk as security specializing in cargo transport, escorts, and pickup/dropoff gigs :D

taglist (opt in/out)

@velocitic, @deadrlngers, @euryalex, @ordinarymaine, @gurathins;

@mojaves, @shellibisshe, @dickytwister, @mnwlk, @rindemption;

@ncytiri, @calenhads, @noirapocalypto, @florbelles, @radioactiveshitstorm;

@strafethesesinners, @fashionablyfyrdraaca, @radioactive-synth, @katsigian, @estevnys;

@elgaravel, @aezyrraeshh, @carlosoliveiraa

[winchestergirl2]

First, I just want to say I hope you and the family are feeling better. Covid is no fun (legit wiped me out a few months ago), so hope you are all doing ok now!

“I can’t do this. We can’t do this…”

Oh no, Beau, don't do this. Don't push her away. Let her make up her own mind of who she wants to be with!

Oh, she doesn't want to go see Randy!

The thing was, though, you didn’t want to even try.

Sounds like Beau really came to the wrong conclusion in all his overthinking.

Running into Carla again before coffee, she seems to be making a bit of a habit of that. At least it was a relatively friendly meeting.

That conversation with Emily...

“Don’t leave Dad,” she told you, her brown eyes pleading. She was giving you the full puppy dog look, and all you could think about was how much she resembled her father like this. “He’s finally happy and like the dad I used to know again.

That tugs on the heart strings.

Donno...

"Is he a zombie?"

“If he is, you need to smash his brain. Only way to kill ‘em,” Donno informed you helpfully.

“You’re welcome. I’m good at smashing brains. Just call if you need my help.” Donno gave you an oddly crooked smile. “Aren’t you dating the sheriff? Is that true?”

"Want to hear my vote?"

“Sheriff Arlen once throat-punched me. He’s very strong. Good build. Like a warrior,” Donno noted. “He could probably kill a zombie. I’d pick him.”

“Again, you’re welcome.”

😂😂 Donno. I read this hearing him saying that! So, in character, I love how you captured him!

Uh-oh Randy knows!

"That crazy psycho lady told me,"

Of course she did!!

Well, that discussion between Beau and Randy went about as well as expected.

Randy's really pushing hard for an answer, isn't he?! At least this time, Beau could she how much she was struggling with the situation.

I'm not surprised she said she picked neither of them after how Beau acted this morning, and Randy acted just then.

Beau only shook his head in response and scoffed, leaving the room in search of you.

It mattered how you felt.

Yes Beau go find your girl!

Polaris – Chapter 10

Series Summary: When Beau Arlen moved to Montana, he left behind a past he wasn’t proud of. But when a series of murders requires the FBI’s help, Sheriff Arlen‘s ghosts come back to haunt him one by one. With a wrong turn waiting at every crossroads, it’s hard to make the right choices and find his way back home – back to you.

Pairing: Beau Arlen x FBI Agent!Reader

Warnings: 18+, angst, heartbreak, everyone being all over the place, one very tough conversation...

Word Count: 6.0k

A/N: Ooof, what a week! The whole fam came down with Covid and I was barely holding the fort down 😮‍💨 But in the midst of all the stress and chaos, all your kind comments brought me so much joy! I really appreciate you guys 🥹🤍

Series Masterlist || Main Masterlist || Tag List

Chapter 10: It Matters

Pick me. Don’t go.

Those words had pervaded Beau’s mind and tormented his heart all night. It had been a mistake to utter them. He should’ve never said them in the first place. They forced you into a corner, and he had never wanted to do that to you. He didn’t know if it was the alcohol in his bloodstream or the sheer love in his heart that drove him to say them, but he hated himself for his blatant selfishness.

How could he do that? What else were you supposed to say to him? Of course, you’d stay, even when Beau knew it was wrong.

You were still peacefully asleep next to him, unaware of the train wreck of thoughts that circled his mind in an endless loop. The smell of you lingered in the air and pulled him closer to you. Every fiber of his being wanted to make you his again, love you the way his muddled head had convinced him only he could. But he abstained, and it was the hardest thing he ever had to do. Leaving you always was.

“Hey, morning.” You stretched with a soft smile and glanced behind you at Beau. He lay awake next to you, forest green eyes opened wide and staring at the ceiling. Internally, you sighed at his brooding. You rolled onto your stomach and began kissing a path from his throat down to his chest, your fingers trailing his taut skin.

“Y/N, stop. Please, darlin’…”

With a deep sigh, you crossed your arms on top of his chest and rested your chin on them, looking up at him. His fingers brushed tenderly through your hair, but he still didn’t look at you.

“Talk to me. What’s going on in that pretty and rumbling head of yours?” you prompted softly and pecked his chest, just above his wildly beating heart.

“I can’t do this. We can’t do this…”

You lifted your head and found his eyes, forcing him to look at you. “You want me to go?”

His features hardened as he fought for an answer. After a moment, he shook his head. “No.”

But his actions contradicted his words. He rose from the bed and dragged a palm over his face and through his hair. His feet found solid ground, but his body remained anchored to the bed as if he was torn between leaving and staying with you.

“I shouldn’t have said those things last night. It wasn’t fair to you…” His head fell into his hands. “I don’t wanna force you to make a decision. I’m the wrong choice.”

You straightened behind him and stroked his back. “You’re not the wrong choice,” you insisted. “And if you don’t wanna make a decision for me, then maybe you shouldn’t push me away either.”

“I had no right to say those things to you, Y/N. I was drunk and emotional… I shoulda never let things get this far last night. I was being selfish,” he stated, and you could feel him pull away from you, like he’d done so many times before. It was an all too familiar pattern. “But I have my head on straight now,” he declared, the irony lost on him, but the determined and harsh tone of his voice shattered your heart. No one did it better than him. He made breaking your heart an art.

“Beau…”

“No!” he silenced you sharply. Your hand dropped from his shoulder. His face softened as he looked back at you. “You should be with him, Y/N. You’re just confused right now. I know once you’ve had some time to think about it, you’re gonna regret it, so I’m backing down, okay? Just take me outta the equation.”

Anger flared up inside of you and surged through your body. “Don’t ever fucking tell me how I feel,” you snapped. “You wanna be a coward again? Fine, consider yourself out. I’m leaving.”

March 2021

Beau’s head was a thundering earthquake as he left his motel room. The desert sun was stinging and blistering hot as he walked no more than two blocks down the street to the little plaza of food trucks. And plaza was a nice word for it, really. It was just a rundown parking lot, but the food was delicious nonetheless. God knows, with his punishing hangover, he craved something greasy and unhealthy.

Unfortunately, the fourteen tequilas had ironically not been enough to cause a total blackout – or maybe his body had just ejected them too soon. Either way, he remembered every embarrassing and shameful bit and piece of last night’s events. How he had pathetically sulked, how he had puked his goddam guts out in front of you, how you had still taken care of him and stood by his side, how he had audaciously hit on you – multiple times – and how you had angrily shot him down.

All of these glorious moments were saved on his hard drive, able to torment him for eternity.

It was already late morning, close to noon, but the whole team was gathered on a picnic table. Some were enjoying breakfast after a nightly stake-out, some were taking their lunch break or enjoying their day off. You sat between Cody and Jordan with an extraordinarily big cup of joe, both guys seemingly bringing their A-game in the flirting department. Beau rolled his eyes underneath his dark sunglasses and took a seat across from you. Judging by the sheer size of your coffee, he assumed you didn’t have the best night’s sleep either.

“Hey, mornin’,” Beau greeted the group with a tired nod. He noticed you shift in your seat and avoided looking at him like it was a challenge. It was safe to assume you were mad at him.

“Hey, Arlen.” Amused, Cody grinned at him with all his teeth. “Back so soon? Thought you were supposed to be gone the whole week. What, wife kick you out? You look like shit.”

One clumsy joke already hit bullseye, going straight to his sore point.

Beau only chuckled politely. “Nah, Carla just had a work thing, so…” he lied. He wasn’t ready to get into his whole divorce drama with all of the guys just now – not on so little sleep and such a major hangover. “Guess I chatted a little too much with Don Julio last night.”

The guys laughed and started to remember their own recent drinking escapades. But not you. You let out a small scoff and shook your head, jumping up from your seat.

“I’m gonna get a refill. You guys need anything?” They guys shook their heads at your question, and you sauntered back over to the coffee truck.

“I’m gonna grab somethin’ to eat, too. Excuse me.” Beau cleared his throat and got up as well, the group continuing to chat, unbothered.

He walked straight up to you, and if he had thought earlier he had only imagined your anger, he was damn sure now. You didn’t even try to hide it. Carla was the passive-aggressive type, but he remembered Randy had once referred to you as “sharp and direct like a knife,” which was definitely the case here. As soon as Beau approached you, you exhaled an exasperated sigh and rolled your eyes back.

“Look, can we talk?”

“I think you’ve done enough of that last night, gaucho,” you retorted, annoyed.

Beau pursed his lips. Alright, second try. “I get that you’re mad. You have every right to be. I just wanna apologize for the way I behaved.”

“Oh, I’m fine. I’m not mad,” you remarked wryly, shaking your head. You then belligerently met his gaze. “Refresh my memory, though. What exactly did you do again?”

Beau let out a deep exhale, frowning slightly. “You really gonna make me spell it out?”

“Yup.” Coolly, you took a sip of your coffee.

Beau sighed once more, scratching the back of his neck. “I’m sorry I was an ass last night.”

“And?”

“And… I’m sorry I hit on you,” he admitted ruefully.

You grinned victoriously but not any less furious. “There it is.” Grabbing your giant cup, you waltzed back over to the table, Beau quickly catching up with you before you had reached your destination and were within earshot again.

“Y/N, c’mon! I thought you’d forgive me once I said it,” he argued.

You snorted a scoff. “I never said that. ‘Sides, that apology was kinda half-assed.”

“Alright, what d’you want me to say, huh?” he prompted with an impatient huff.

“Hmm, I would’ve preferred, ‘I’m sorry I tried to use you as my rebound and fuck you last night after my wife left me, even though you’re the only friend I have,’” you fired sassily, watching his frown deepen. “How does that sound? Sound about right to you?”

“I did not try and use you as my rebound,” he shot back.

Your brow arched. “No? What was that then last night?”

“That was…” Beau couldn’t think of an answer, because he didn’t quite know himself what kind of devil had possessed him that night. But he did know even his drunken alter ego wouldn’t use you as a sheer rebound. However, he couldn’t very well say that now, could he? “I-I don’t know. Maybe you’re right.”

“Yeah, thought so…” With a disappointed scoff, you pushed past him and walked back to the group.

Since bolting out of Beau’s trailer in nothing more than an old tee and some mere sweatpants, with a pile full of random laundry in your hands, you hadn’t even inhaled your caffeine intake this morning yet. And God, you needed it, especially after getting dressed with miss-matched clothes in the backseat of your car in the parking lot of a Walmart. You knew this wasn’t rock bottom, but you were eerily sailing close to it.

You could’ve driven straight to the hospital and gotten your coffee there, but a part of you wanted to avoid Randy for as long as you could. That same part also felt incredibly guilty and like the worst person in the world for even thinking that.

Was it crazy you didn’t want to see Randy? You had missed, cried, and grieved this man for years, praying he’d come back to you. Now he had, your prayers answered, and all you could do was hide.

But no matter how hard you tried to force yourself to feel the same way, it wasn’t right anymore. The flutter in your heart was gone. The urge to touch and kiss him had disappeared. Holding his hand felt weird. Your conversations didn’t flow like they used to. He was once your best friend, but now he felt like a stranger.

Or maybe you were the strange one.

And maybe Beau was right, and all you needed was more time to get used to everything again. Start from scratch. Go on first dates and get to know one another again until strange would become familiar. Maybe you even owed it to Randy to try and give it a shot.

The thing was, though, you didn’t want to even try. Twenty-four hours ago, you’d been happy with your life exactly the way it was – as terrible as that made you sound.

But didn’t it matter how you felt?

Your search for coffee, distraction, and escapism led you to the Blue Fox Diner once again. And as it was a habit with small towns, you immediately ran into some familiar faces. This time, you met Carla and Emily there. The former was in a much better mood, even gifting you a smile.

“Morning, ladies. Seems like the need for coffee keeps us united, huh?” you quipped, but only Emily giggled a little.

Carla’s brow furrowed slightly, on the other hand. This time out of concern instead of anger. “Hey, uh… How-, uhm, how are you holding up?”

Realization instantly dawned on you – escapism was nothing but a sham. “Beau told you?”

“Yeah, but he just sent a quick text, saying Randy was alive and at the hospital. I guess I should be happy his communication skills are getting slightly better,” Carla joked wryly, earning her a small glare from her daughter. “But, uhm, I’ve tried calling him multiple times since then. He isn’t answering. Is everything alright? How’s he doing?”

“Uh, yeah, everything’s… well, not fine, but Beau’s… I honestly don’t know. He’s hanging in there? I-… He’s just taking it hard, I guess,” you replied in a stammer. You didn’t know what else to say. The whole thing was as messy as your answer.

“Yeah, okay.” Carla nodded, sighing. “I can’t believe Randy’s back and actually alive… I’m glad Beau has you, though. Watch out for him? And yourself?”

“Sure, yeah.” You swallowed harshly and forced a polite smile to your lips. How could you look out for him, though, if he kept pushing you away? If anyone knew what that was like, it was ironically Carla. “Hey, uh, can I ask you a legal question?”

“Sure. It’s about Randy, isn’t it?” Carla gave you a knowing smile. She’d always been the best lawyer you’d ever known for reasons exactly like this one. She could anticipate someone’s intentions from miles away.

“Yes, uhm… if your spouse comes back from the dead, are you still married?” Judging by Carla’s amused smile, she had somehow expected a weird question like that as well.

“Yeah, are you?” Emily repeated your question with a curiously inquiring look at her mother and a scrunched nose.

Carla chuckled a little. “No, once someone is declared dead, may that be true or not, a marriage cannot be reinstated,” she explained and then paused for a moment, pursing her lips. “However, you can always contest it in front of a judge. In rare circumstances like this, I’m sure there can be something done about it… if that’s what you want. Is it… what you want?”

Your mouth opened but couldn’t produce an answer. Was it what you wanted?

“Right. None of my business,” Carla said and raised her hands in surrender before she placed one gently on your shoulder. “Call if you need something. Anytime, okay?”

You nodded with an appreciative smile. “Thanks.”

“Come on, Em. Let’s go.” Carla gestured for her daughter to follow her outside, but the teenager stayed next to you.

“Can I talk to Aunt Y/N for a minute alone?”

Carla shot you a look, asking if it was okay. You gave a nod in return, telling her it was fine.

“Alright, but be quick. I don’t want you to be late for school,” Carla reminded her and strolled ahead to the car.

“What’s up, trailblazer?” You grinned at Emily and tried to keep it light, although you could tell by the look on her face that she was planning on the opposite.

“Don’t leave Dad,” she told you, her brown eyes pleading. She was giving you the full puppy dog look, and all you could think about was how much she resembled her father like this. “He’s finally happy and like the dad I used to know again. He was better when we moved here, but I could tell that he was missing you. And those last few weeks, he was smiling all the time and not just ‘cause of a bad joke he was proud of. Like, legit smiling. For real. It was kinda creepy. But he was happy. Really, really, really happy. Please don’t take that away from him.”

“Em…” You exhaled a deep sigh. What were you supposed to say to that? You were flattered she thought you had so much to do with her father’s wellbeing? “I-… I don’t wanna hurt your dad ‘cause I do love him. But there’s also Uncle Randy to think about. He’s your dad’s best friend, you know? Neither of us want to hurt him. And your dad’s–…” An ass sometimes. “–difficult. It’s complicated, okay? There’s a lot to think about.”

Emily nodded thoughtfully, but she seemed to understand. “I get it. I just don’t want him to be sad again and lose himself like he did back then.”

You squeezed her shoulder and looked at her deeply. “I promise you it’s never gonna be like last time again. Your dad knows that now, too.”

“I hope so…”

As Emily left the diner, you finally got back to your coffee. Apparently, it was an Arlen family trait to confront you with some heavy-hitters before your first drop of caffeine.

“Heard your husband is back from the dead. Is that true?”

A voice drew your attention to a man behind the counter with chin-length hair and a beard. “Donno, right?” The man nodded, and you replied, “Yeah, he is.”

“Is he a zombie?”

You pursed your lips and took a sip from your cup, wishing it contained whiskey at this point. “I don’t think so, no.”

“If he is, you need to smash his brain. Only way to kill ‘em,” Donno informed you helpfully.

“Thank you. I’ll keep that in mind,” you replied warily. If Beau hadn’t already filled you in on all things Donno, you would’ve thought the guy was insane. Well, maybe he still was.

“You’re welcome. I’m good at smashing brains. Just call if you need my help.” Donno gave you an oddly crooked smile. “Aren’t you dating the sheriff? Is that true?”

“Also true.”

Fucking small towns…

“Want to hear my vote?”

You exhaled a small sigh and sent him a tight-lipped smile. “Sure. Why not?” Might as well, right? Maybe you should make use of the gossipy small town charm altogether and start a Helena-wide poll.

“Sheriff Arlen once throat-punched me. He’s very strong. Good build. Like a warrior,” Donno noted. “He could probably kill a zombie. I’d pick him.”

“Well… I’ll take that into consideration. Thank you.”

“Again, you’re welcome.”

March 2021

Still hungover, Beau almost dozed off during the daily briefing in the meeting room of the task force’s headquarters in Mexico – all DEA owned. You sat next to him in your usual seat of the glass box but hadn’t spoken a word to him since this morning at the coffee cart, mindlessly drawing doodles on the edge of your notepad. Obviously, you were still fuming, and Beau didn’t know whether he should try to suffocate the flames or if the fire would eventually burn out on its own.

“Alright, next on the agenda,” Cody said and clapped his palms together as he stood in front of the whiteboard. He was a longtime DEA agent and their task force leader, couple years younger than Beau and probably what most would classify as Hemsworth good-looking. “We need to get everything ready before sending Y/N in with our contact in the cartel. She’s been preparing for the last few months, and if everything goes according to plan, which I hope it will, we can start the mission by the end of next week. Jordan’s also going in with her.”

Beau’s brow furrowed in confusion, his head whipping back and forth between you and their leader. “Whoa, send her in where?”

“Oh, uh, sorry. Forgot you’ve missed last week’s meeting, Arlen,” Cody said with a subtle jab. The others frowned upon him leaving sometimes, none of them having families back in Texas – or at least none that they cared about. “Y/N agreed to go in as a buyer, gather intel.”

Beau’s eyes widened and looked at you, but you still stubbornly averted your gaze. “I’m sorry, what?! Why her? Can’t someone else go in?”

That was the first time you looked at him then. Well, glared.

Cody scoffed disapprovingly. “We need a woman for this one, and if you haven’t noticed, she’s the only one, unless you suddenly grew a vagina, Arlen.”

“He definitely hasn’t,” you muttered in sing-song under your breath, referring to last night’s events. But Beau still heard you, sending you a narrowed glare.

“Our cartel target only makes deals with female buyers. Word on the street is, he likes to get a little… handsy sometimes,” Cody continued.

“Well, that’s comforting to know,” Beau huffed, green eyes then landing on you. “Why did you never tell me you were planning on going undercover?”

There was a moment of awkward silence spreading around the table, everyone’s curious eyes landing on you and Beau. You didn’t respond, however. You clearly had your reasons why you’d left that part out, considering the scene he was making right now.

Cody’s eyes squinted at your partner, his brow scrunching. “You got a problem with that, Arlen? ‘Cause you startin’ to piss me off,” he snapped. For the record, that was the exact moment Cody landed on Beau’s punch list. “Maybe you should have a little more faith in your colleagues, dipshit. Y/N’s got the most experience as a UC in narcotics out of all of us. There’s no doubt in my mind she can pull this off.”

The wink Cody sent you and the smile you gave in return almost set Beau off like an atom bomb, but he contained the explosion and only imploded. He gave a tight-lipped nod in understanding and averted his eyes to the yellow legal pad in front of him, strangling the pen in his grasp instead.

As the meeting ended and everyone filtered out of the glass box, Cody called him back, though. “Arlen, a word.”

You glanced at Beau, your eyes briefly meeting before you left the room as well and strolled back to your desk. You knew he was in for a lecture, having overstepped a line earlier, which wasn’t uncommon for him. But you couldn’t always come to his rescue and offer your own head on a silver platter in return.

“Yeah?” Beau wasn’t even a smidge apologetic in his demeanor. In fact, he was pretty much the opposite and stood his ground with his chin held high as he faced off with Cody.

“I don’t appreciate your little protests during our meetings,” Cody bit. “Look, I don’t care who you fuck in your free time, but keep your personal bullshit to yourself. It’s got no place on this team. You understand?”

Beau let out a humorless chuckle, hands balling into fists by his side. “I’m not sleeping with her.”

“Who the fuck are you tryin’ to fool, huh? Everyone knows you’re hanging out in her room every night. It’s a small motel,” Cody provoked with a mocking smirk.

“I’m her friend. I’m looking out for her,” Beau snarled through gritted teeth.

“Oh, unlike me? Are you insinuating I put my agents in danger? ‘Cause then we have an entirely different problem,” Cody barked, the muscles in his neck and arms tensing. “Maybe it’s best I partner up with her for a couple of weeks till you’ve cooled off enough, Arlen.”

Beau scoffed, laughing darkly. It was the last straw before he decided to throw his inhibitions out the window. “Oh, I’m sure you’d love that, wouldn’t you?”

Cody took a step closer and huffed, their faces only mere inches apart from one another. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“I think you know.”

One corner of Cody’s lip twitched in amusement. “Let’s make one thing clear here. The only reason you’re down here is ‘cause Y/N vouched for you. If it were solely up to me, I would’ve never let your sorry, drunk ass come down here in the first place. My patience with you is slowly running out. One more strike and I’m sending you back home to the wifey, and you can kiss your side piece goodbye. Got it?” he threatened as the two men glowered at each other. “Now, get the fuck out of my office. You’re off duty for the next few days till you’ve got your head screwed back on straight.”

Clenching his jaw, Beau spun towards the door and furiously kicked a trash can on his way out.

Peeking his head inside Randy’s hospital room, Beau found you sitting by your husband’s bedside. He figured you had spent your day here and had given you till the late afternoon to catch up before he decided to check in on his old partner, too.

The two of you were chatting with smiles on your faces, although yours looked a bit sadder and more subdued than Randy’s. As both of you noticed Beau, the conversation halted. Randy sent him a smile, while your brow creased into the familiar angry pattern. If looks could kill, you were surely aiming your daggers at his heart.

“Hey.” Beau smiled hesitantly at you two and remained close to the door in case he needed to flee quickly. It was always good to have an exit strategy in mind.

“Hey, man.” Randy gave him a nod, his mood a little more dampened than the night before. “They’re letting me out today. No major injuries or head traumas, just a couple of bruises. I can go home later this evening.”

“That’s great. Glad you’re okay.” Beau forced a smile, guilt settling in his stomach that he couldn’t be happier for Randy. His best friend was alive and well. It should’ve been cause for celebration, and yet, he wanted to get stupidly drunk for a different reason.

Randy then looked at you, his brow slightly creasing. “Uh, babe, where’s home, by the way? Did you move to Montana, too?”

You giggled lightly. “Uh, no, I have an apartment in Texas.”

His brow furrowed a little more. “Apartment?”

“Oh, uh, yeah, I kinda sold the house,” you told him. “It’s just… after you were, uhm… gone, I couldn’t really stay there anymore. I’m sorry. But, uhm, you can stay at my place.”

For a little while, you thought but refrained from saying that part. What were you supposed to do? Kick him out after you sold his home? Instead, you made a mental note to ask Carla about the proceeds of the house as well. You still had enough left in your saving’s account that easily covered his share. And suddenly, it dawned on you that this began to feel like a divorce.

“Oh.” Randy was quiet for a moment before he sent you a small smile and squeezed your hand. “It’s alright. We can start over, okay?”

Randy was sweet and had tried to take everything you’ve told him so far in stride, but you could tell he began struggling a bit with all the changes. When you came by this morning, he seemed less relaxed and more anxious than the night before.

“I guess, yeah.” You compelled a smile onto your face. You hated lying to him. You hated to pretend the two of you were just going to sail off into the sunset together. But you didn’t want to crush his heart. He’d always been good to you, making you wonder what was wrong with you for not wanting him back. But one look at the green-eyed sheriff by the door answered that question for you. “I-, uhm, I’ll check with the nurse about your discharge and get a coffee refill. I’ll be back soon, okay?”

“Yeah, sure, sweetheart.” Randy gave you a nod and watched you leave, brushing past Beau on your way out.

Beau shared a brief look with you, checking if you were okay, and then rested his palms on the rail of the bed’s footboard. He tried to seem as natural as possible in a situation like this. “So, how are ya holdin’ up?”

“Uh, good, I guess,” Randy replied with a little sigh, his hazel eyes still transfixed on the door where you had walked through.

“Now, that doesn’t sound like the Randy I know,” Beau noted half-jokingly, although he knew what was on his friend’s mind. The same thing that was on his – you.

“Yeah, guess we’re all a little different now, huh?” Randy mumbled pensively. “She seems… distant.”

“Uhm, just give her time, okay? Was a lot on her, too,” Beau said, but he wasn’t sure time was the answer. He could see you struggling as soon as he had strolled into the room, trying your hardest to uphold a crumbling façade.

He started to slowly regret this morning’s decision. One day without you already felt like hell. How was he supposed to survive the rest of his life?

“You two have gotten close, huh?”

Randy’s question was a lightning bolt to Beau’s chest, jolting him awake. He swallowed subtly, thinking about his answer. “Uh, yeah, a little… We’ve spent some time together when we worked on that task force in Mexico.”

“Well, I’m glad she had you. Thanks for taking care of her,” Randy said, smiling, but it didn’t reach his eyes.

“Uh, yeah, sure.” Adding ‘You would’ve done the same thing’ didn’t seem right in this instance, however.

“You-, uh, you know if she’s seeing anyone?”

The question whipped the air from Beau’s lungs and stole the ground beneath his boots. If Randy was aiming to give him a coronary this afternoon, he was succeeding. “I-, uhm, I’m not sure. Not that I know of, but I don’t think it’s anything you need to worry about.”

That was a good answer, right? And it was sort of the truth. Even if it was killing everything inside of him, he’d stick to the words he’d said to you this morning – he was bowing out of the race. In fact, he considered himself never even been in the race in the first place. Randy didn't have competition. End of discussion.

But Randy didn’t seem to think so, apparently. He scoffed a humorless chuckle and licked his lips. “You two are good liars. I’ll give you that.”

Beau’s green eyes widened. He could guess where this was going, but he knew for certain you hadn’t told Randy. That whole thing screamed psychotic witch, and he only knew one person who fit that ammo – currently locked up in a holding cell at the station.

“Randy, I don’t know what you think, but–”

Randy’s laugh of disbelief interrupted his sorry excuse of a deflection, however. “You really wanna tell me there’s nothing going on between you two? Really? That’s how you wanna play this? I think you owe me a little more than that.”

Beau nodded and rubbed his mouth with his palm. “Yeah, you’re right. I do owe you more than that.”

“So, it’s true?”

Beau swallowed down the thick lump in his throat and met his former partner’s eyes. “Yes. How did you find out?”

“That crazy psycho lady told me,” Randy said and confirmed Beau’s theory, the tears brimming in his brown eyes as he spoke. “I didn’t wanna believe it at first, because, well, it’s you and… her. So then, she showed me a video. Was pretty convincing... But me being a fucking idiot, I still didn't quite buy it, you know? Well, till I saw you two yesterday. Couldn't have been more obvious...”

Beau squeezed his eyes shut for a moment as the words sank in, but then his brow furrowed, something heavy falling into his gut. “What-, uh, what video?”

“I guess if I had to describe it, I’d say it showed you fucking my wife on a desk,” Randy said bluntly and almost hysterically laughed at the outlandishness of it all. “I’d check my office for cameras if I were you, by the way.”

Beau was shocked into silence, muscles frozen in place. He would’ve told Randy eventually, when things had settled enough and the two of you had decided together it was time. But he should’ve known Diane wouldn’t go down quietly and just float to prison. She took pleasure out of torture.

“Speechless, wow.” Randy whistled in mock. He was seething, clearly having held onto his anger for a while now. “How long till you moved in on her, huh? Was my empty casket even in the ground yet?”

“Look, it wasn’t like that,” Beau defended the unwarranted accusation, feeling his own anger start to simmer as well. Even if Randy was angry, he should know better than that. Their friendship had meant something once, and Beau would’ve never betrayed it like that if Randy had been alive and still around.

“So, in your office, that was a one time slip-up?” Randy lifted a brow, and for a moment, Beau could see a sliver of hope in his brown eyes. If it had just been a one-time thing in the heat of the moment, something that could be forgotten and discarded once it turned cold, he would’ve been able to forgive both of you.

But Beau couldn’t lie to him any longer. “No,” he stated earnestly. “We’ve been datin’ on and off for about two years now. First time ‘round, we’ve been together for a little over twelve months before we broke things off. We didn’t see each other for almost a year when I moved here, but we’ve, uhm, recently rekindled things, as people might say. But we waited more than a year after your funeral. There was nothin’ rushed about it, alright?”

Randy scoffed bitterly. “Wow, a whole year, huh? Glad I have a friend like you.”

“Randy–” Beau sighed deeply and ran a palm over his face.

“What, huh? You’re gonna tell me you’re fucking sorry?”

Thoughtfully, Beau pursed his lips for a heartbeat but then shook his head. “No,” he stated firmly, Randy’s brow raising in surprise. “Look, I am sorry that I hurt you, but I’m not sorry for what happened between me and Y/N. I love her.”

Randy's gaze drifted out the window as he ground his jaw. It was tensely silent for a moment. “Does she love you?”

Hesitantly and unsurely, Beau still nodded. “I think so, yeah.” At his response, Randy scoffed in incredulity. “But look, like I said, you got nothin’ to worry about. I already told Y/N I’m out. I’m backing down, alright? She’s all yours, man.”

“She’s always been mine,” Randy gritted. “And thanks for your fucking charity. What a hero! But I don’t need it, you got it? I want her to make the decision. I don’t want her to fucking pick me by default ‘cause y’all feel sorry for me.”

“I don’t think that’s such a good idea, Randy,” Beau warned cautiously.

“What, why? You actually think she’s gonna pick you over me?” Randy snorted a mocking chuckle. “I’m her husband. You’re the fucking rebound. You’re the guy that just happened to be there when she was fucking sad and then took advantage of her.”

“I’m cuttin’ you a lot of slack here, but you better take that back,” Beau snarled with flaring nostrils.

“Or what? You gonna punch me? Leave me to die again? Fuck my wife?” Randy challenged. “News flash – you’ve already done your worst… It’s true, though. You’re the fucking second choice. She’s never gonna pick you!”

“She already did!” Beau yelled explosively and bit his tongue immediately after, watching Randy’s face fall.

“What’s going on here?”

The men’s eyes fell on you as you appeared in the room and blinked at them in confusion. You had overheard parts of their conversation since both of them shouted so loudly it echoed all the way back to the nurses’ station.

“He knows,” Beau informed you quietly and shared a sideways look with you. “Diane told him.”

“Uh…” You stumped, your mouth falling open. Another part of you, though, scolded you for not anticipating this. This had been Diane’s real ace, hadn’t it? Bringing Randy back from the dead was just a small part of it.

“You need to make a choice, Y/N,” Randy demanded, his features stern. In all the years you'd known him and been married to him, you'd never seen him this upset.

“Randy, just leave her alone. Now’s not the time,” Beau argued firmly.

“Yes, now’s the time,” Randy insisted, his brow knitting into even more furious creases. “What are you now, her white knight?”

“Would you shut the fuck up already?”

“Would you shut the fuck up? I’m tryna talk to my wife here!”

“You’re not her fucking husband anymore!”

“Well, you’re not her fucking boyfriend!” Randy yelled snappily and then looked at you again. “Who’s it gonna be, huh? Me or him?”

“For fuck’s sake, Randy! Stop pressuring her and give her a fucking moment!”

“Oh, I forgot! You know her so well now!”

“A blind person can see she’s struggling, you self-centered ass!”

“I’m self-centered? What about you, you–”

“No one! I pick no one!” you shouted between their bickering, the two men finally falling silent. You looked at Randy with tears stinging your eyes. You could barely see the heartbreak and anger on his face through your blurred vision. “Are you fucking happy now?” Disappointedly, you gave a shrug of your shoulders and bolted out of the room.

“Are you happy? ‘Cause I damn well hope you are. Got your fucking decision, man,” Beau retorted.

“Fuck you.”

Beau only shook his head in response and scoffed, leaving the room in search of you.

It mattered how you felt.

Chapter 11: You With Me

Did that conversation go as you'd expected? I think even Carla is secretly voting for Beau 😂 Next week, Diane's back with more shenanigans... 👀

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@thebiggerbear

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Polaris Series: @corruptedcruiser

[deoidesign]

Hi, how did you learn to draw Steve's physique?

Ohh what a complicated thing to answer...

When it comes to how I learned to draw anything, it's hard to say anything too specific since it's always a culmination of many years of assorted study and practice... but I can try to do my best to explain some of the biggest things that helped me learn, some tips I keep in mind, and maybe at least some places to start/delve further.

(just a little disclaimer it's not like my drawings here are going to be 100% medically accurate.. they're just to illustrate concepts!)

The main thing about learning various physiques is understanding anatomy. Which feels obvious, but I don't mean proportions; these are important, but perhaps more important is understanding the skeleton and how it moves and learning where muscles connect to bones and where fat grows on the body. When you understand how these function on a more mechanical level, depicting form and movement in a way that feels natural comes in tow.

For instance, understanding things like the pronation and supination of the radius and ulna, as well as the fact that muscles can ONLY contract or relax, will help you understand a bit better which muscles will be flexed and which will not while someone moves. It's inherent to the positioning based on the structural makeup of the body... It's not like you NEED to memorize all the muscles and bones, of course, but understanding and gaining at least a passive familiarity with the concepts really helps.

In tandem with this concept is the way parts of the body flow into eachother. Muscles ALWAYS come in groups because they can only contract. Whatever muscle is there to lift something, there is a muscle on the other side to pull that bone back down. What this results in is a series of straight edges next to curves, which gives us a lot of really lovely "s curves" and dents and folds and so on and so forth just naturally occurring.

I would suggest at least learning the "bony landmarks", which are bones (usually) visible on the surface of the body. things like the iliac crest, the great trochanter, the 7th vertabrae, the acromion process... These can be used to help you understand the parts of the body as angles and relationships, rather than trying to remember lengths and sizes, which vary immensely... (since you asked about steve, he can be our model... also study these on your own don't just take my word for it haha, these are the ones I personally keep in mind)

I've done the same thing with body hair... learning where it grows and in which directions... It helps me make up variations without needing reference, because I have a set of rules I can follow.

The biggest thing that helped me understand all this on a much deeper level was my ecorche course. I sculpted this guy. We started by sculpting the entire skeleton to understand the bones, and then we added muscles on top. Not every single muscle, of course, but the "artistic muscles" AKA the ones which directly affect the surface of the body. Doing this let us see where muscles connect, because we would make a shape, put it on the bone where it actually goes, and then you get to see how other muscles overlap that.

This helped me, perhaps, more than anything else. But I also didn't just start with this course, I had been drawing for years before I even took it. I had been in school for years before I took it. Not that I think it wouldn't be helpful to someone just starting out, but I do think that the more you know going in, the better an in-depth course like this will help you and stick with you. Classes are also expensive, though so I'm not really like... recommending you pay potentially thousands of dollars to take one... But it did help me a lot, personally.

I also, of course, have done many figure, gesture, and master studies...

These just help you quickly gain a stronger understanding of generalized anatomy, and gives you real life examples of and practice with of how people move and balance.

What all this does when combined, is gives me a very solid ability to depict movement and form in a way that feels relatively natural from my subconscious without the need for reference.

The rest of how I've learned to draw his physique is honestly mostly just stylization. I understand the body, and this is how I am depicting it for his level of musculature.

And as I move into depicting him in other ways, either moving in comics or in animation, realistically rendered, or extra stylized, these concepts inform every step of that process for me! When he keeps the same/similar relationships between parts, he gets to still look like himself.

It ALSO really helps when putting clothes on, because the way cloth falls and bunches and lifts is all directly related to the form it is on... So the more you understand that form, the more you can depict clothing and movement in a way that feels natural.

This is all, of course, true when I draw anyone, you asked about Steve so I'm trying to mostly show with him! But because I'm just drawing from raw information of general anatomy rather than trying to study one body type at a time, it allows a lot more "give," I think!

Like, here's most of the cast from TTA so far... actually, they're not as varied as I thought they were nevermind LMAO ignore this part

But, it also makes monster and alien design much easier! It's a lot easier to come up with non-human anatomy when I understand human anatomy, because I can manipulate the knowledge I have...

There is infinite more to study in the world of anatomy... The complexity of the human body goes extremely deep. For our purposes as artists, we need only depict a fraction of it, but more information rarely hurts the process.

I'm sure there's something in here that's wrong on a technical level, I'm mostly going off of memory. But that's kind of my point - I understand enough generally and conceptually that when I am missing something and need to find reference for it, I understand what I'm looking at. It's much easier than trying to learn AND draw at the same time.

I hope even one thing in here helped you! Sorry it's so long.

[destinywillowleaf]

one of a kind living in a world gone plastic

baby you're so classic

@most-tragic-character-tournament

(all my thoughts in the tags)

[littlebittyhollowbugs]

Hornet headcanon!

'Hornet' is not Hornet's true name.

I'm still torn between different reasonings for her having the name either

A- It was given to her as an honorary title, by Queen Vespa, during her training within the hive (or bestowed upon her after having finished her training as a symbol of her accomplishments.)

Or B- She gave the name to herself, after the fall of the kingdom, as a way to separate her current self from her past while still honoring some part of her past. (The part that is easiest for her to look back on.)

As for her birth name my sisters and I have decided on Arachnè. (The name is from a Greek myth, where the protagonist Arachnè challenges Athena to a weaving contest, wins, and is afterwards transformed into a spider.)

[dr-chosenberg]

Finally getting around to watching! I wasn't able to join this time around but we wanted you guys to get my opinions as well! I got a little burnt out so it’s not like a play by play on every episode but it’s some highlights of my thoughts.

Gds Favorite: 

Best Christmas truly brought us one of the most impactful frames in television history, I genuinely can't think of another show that so smoothly presents it's thesis with a silent still of a character. I think it should be studied by anyone looking to make a TV show. 

Blessed: 

I wholeheartedly agree with you on Gds Chef, it's an episode that kind of separates people who can really understand Moral Orel from people who don't. BWHHAHA I loved Sena spraying you guys with the Clanielle water bottle, it’s ok you guys do the same thing to me with Holy Visage, it takes a village XD 

Lords Prayer is such a fun episode, on the surface “moralton hates people who are different from them” seems like a redundant concept, not to mention the superficial divide that christianity can cause, it’s a similar concept to what was explored in elemental orel. But the dynamic between Orel and Christina is really the star of the show, I get the sense that she’s a little closer to the maliciously compliant sassy Orel we see later on. There’s the whole concept of girls maturing faster than boys that would really make a young girl cynical.

Turn the other cheek is another example of how talented the MO staff are, we see it all the time “oh i wish so and so would be miserable forever” “kys clay” but we already have catharsis given to us through an immature lens and it’s written in a funny way that moves the story along. 

Jesus: 

Loyalty is a good example I think of knowing the rules before you can break them, the hamfisted foreshadowing as you guys put it only adds to the humor because of it's absurdity while still moving along our understanding of the story. The "you're nice" boys would have bumped it up to Blessed for me, but I'm generous LOL I agree that Gd’s Image just doesn’t make it far enough to be blessed by the angels, it’s message is muddled at some points and can be pretty easily misconstrued at others. However, it is an all around solid episode outside of that. The interaction between the Figurellis and the Christiens is required watching to me. In general but also to understand the show’s attitude towards faith and the people who practice it, similar to Gds Visage. I’m glad you guys settled on Jesus would have laughed for elemental orel, it’s another episode that’s misunderstood by…fuck I sound like a rick and morty fan, but by people who the humor and writing style of the show just isn’t for. You’re not mad at the writers for making Orel scold someone doing an obviously good deed over going to church, you’re mad at christianity. 

Good: 

Good moments but not super memorable I think was the perfect way to define this tier, Omni's moment of showing just how small Bloberta's world is (dicing and slicing) is an all time quote that you can really sink your teeth in to. 

I don’t have to say much about Bartholomew. I just wanted to note that I agree the town seems incredibly flanderized. 

Satans: 

Wow I didn't know you guys were antisemetic /j 

My fellow Moralton professors know how annoying I am about this episode but you guys in the audience may not, I personally think Holy Visage gets a bad wrap in a similar way Gd's Chef does. I will concede, however, that it doesn't have that punch towards it's message that GC packs. I am also biased as grossout is usually a genre of things I love and I truly don't think it's that serious here, lol The reason, however, I say it gets a similar bad wrap to Gd's Chef is the erasure of the importance of Dr. Chosenbergs character, so I was very pleased to see you guys actually talk about the contents of his character. The good Drs faith is as important as Orels is to the show and to his character, maybe we can get in to that when we discuss the towns racism or something 

Genuises is so boring the only episode I actively skip

The concept of the main writers not writing an episode gets brought up a lot and I’d be interested in hearing how the main writers feel about those episodes, it gets a little tricky because these scenes and episodes are still IN the show and should be taken seriously as aspects of the characters we’re being presented. Not just in the realm of presents for Gd and not just in the context of you guys analyzing the show, I mean in general.

2 AND A HALF HOUR CHRISTMAS TIER LIST

[howtodisappearcompletelyand]

20/10 stars little guy

[nach0]

wanted to draw fanart for @remxedmoon's isatscryption au but i realised i didn't actually know the plot yet which. whoops! so i settled for chucking my oc at it

OH YEAH INSCRYPTION IS 60% OFF ATM!! Consider this my official propaganda to go get this game

[13eyond13]

love it when a character that's hard to read intuitively for you has like a dedicated fandom interpreter who can just glance at their blank face in a panel and then give you a 3k word essay on their innermost thoughts & desires & fears and neatly tie it back into the themes & whatnot as if it's the most obvious thing in the world

[moddeydhoo]

Given some of the D&D alignment grid memes I've seen, I wouldn't trust a large part of Tumblr to represent any kind of neutrality correctly...

Ramble that got away from me under the cut

(Hint: "alternate between good and evil based on whether I like you because I'm so lolquirky!!11" is more of a chaotic thing, often shading towards chaotic evil. Ok, tbh, it's fae, that's just the fae. Neutrality in adult characters is generally a decided moral position, not an absence of position... unless you're one of the fun kinds of monk, or a teenage necromancer who's reblogged so many Nietzsche memes you reckon you might as well have read him. Good and evil alignments are largely interventionist for game design reasons: one needs one's adventurers to meddle. Neutrality varies a lot -- from imposing absolute balance with a god-sized thumb on the scales, via a surgically-applied minimum necessary nudge at the crotch of the trousers of time, to studied non-intervention even though it's really annoying seeing the fifteenth revolutionary party take the country over with exactly the same mandate in a new coat of paint.)

(The point I meandered away from is that Tumblr thinks the middle of the bell curve is bourgeois scum and the only respectable positions are at the extremes, because Tumblr is full of teenagers and people trying to appeal to teenagers, and that's why saying "it's more complicated than that" tends to get people sent death threats, and that's also why they can't make good D&D alignment memes for tooffe.)

https://www.tumblr.com/olderthannetfic/770624075936808960/today-i-found-some-very-random-things-on-someone?source=share

Body neutral and sex neutral are real things, it looks like people explained it in the tags. Body neutral is "you don't have to love your body, but you do have to learn to live with it. The body has no moral value, positive or negative." Sex neutral is an ace thing, "I'll have sex or not, it's no big deal either way".

But antis are morons who like to play weird games with words, so I wouldn't trust that an anti-AO3 rant is using these terms correctly.

We've all seen that breed of anti who goes "I'm not an anti! I just know age gap ships are WRONG" and the "I'm not an anti or a proshipper. I'm a secret third thing, an anti who's too lazy to send death threats myself."

In another context, I'd say that body neutral and sex neutral mean what I said above, but coming from an anti it's probably 50/50 that "body neutral" really is being used to mean "it's OK to harass fat people but only sometimes" and "sex neutral" is supposed to mean "Don't call me sex negative! That's mean! I just think people shouldn't consent to sex I think is weird!"

--