#he also gives weapons to Martin

[just-an-enby-lemon]

"The Mechanisms were Jonathan Sims college band" and "Jon is the secret real past of Jonny D'ville" are both great takes but I present "Jon's descend into an unwilling antichirst figure is The Mecs new album and Jonny plays him in the songs because they just have very similar voices for some reason."

#tma #the magnus archives #the mechanisms #jonathan sims #jonny d'ville #the mechs singing about Jon's life and interacting with it as a way to get more of the story is fun #ashes would love to join the corrupt avatar old men group for the maniuplation #they would be in all elias and peter divorce and marriage parties #Jonny is angry that people actually call Peter capitain #he is also at all grifters bones shows #and even played with them once or twice #breakon and hope accidentally adopt the toy soldier for a while #ivy helps jon be a proper archivist #marius tries to psicoanalyse elias #jonny is also just melanies bestie #she call him better jon #brian and jon discuss what it is to be human #gunpowder tim makes a whole presentation about why blowing up the moon is cooler than blowing up some clowns and he is the better tim #he also gives weapons to Martin #ralph becames an eye avatar somehow #manuella and brian insult suns together #ashes and anabelle became besties #ashes annabelle and jude perry go to parties together #ashes also hangs with gertrude and agnes they might have helped them became a couple because they now tragic saphics is a mecs classic #nastya just chills with her girlfriend at earths orbity and accidentaly saves dark sacrifice space guy and lonely experiment guy #she also bonds with manuela they discuss about spaceships and suns #she and aurora add manuella to spicy their sex life for a bit as a friend with benefit of both

[bartxnhood]

back to me | d.d

gif not mine

daryl dixon x fem!reader

summary: after the fall of the prison, you begin looking for your family again. especially, daryl. the one you loved most.

warnings: typical twd violence, blood, wounds, choking, etc.

a/n: this is just a small blurb i came up with while rewatching twd, so enjoy !! feedback is appreciated

not proofread

requests open

Copyright © 2023 bartxnhood. All rights reserved. This original work is not allowed to be reposted on any platform in any format.

✵ ✵ ✵ ✵ ✵ ✵ ✵ ✵ ✵ ✵ ✵ ✵ ✵ ✵ ✵ ✵ ✵ ✵ ✵ ✵ ✵ ✵

you held judith in your arms, hushing her cries the small cabin fell silent as martin wrapped his arms around your neck, gradually tightening his grip. “back off!” martin yelled. tyreese started, “please. please.” he held his hands up after giving up his weapons. walkers surrounded the cabin, banging on the windows and door. judith’s screams and cries causing chaos.

“go outside.” martin continued, each second tyreese wasn’t cooperating, his grip around your throat was tightening. “go outside!” he yelled again. tyreese looked at you, “go” you gasped.

finally, he stepped back opening the wooden door and disappearing with the walkers. you close your eyes letting the tears stain your cheeks, as you heard the struggle.

martin finally released, hurrying over to the knife your friend dropped and cut off the restraint. “cynthia, do you copy?” he held the radio, but nothing was coming through. the loud noises finally ceased, and judith finally calmed down after your endless cooes and shushes.

he walked over to the door, holding his knife. ready to face whatever was beyond the door. then, busting the door down tyreese appeared and grabbed martin, talking him to the ground. you couldn’t face the scene unraveling in front of you. you scurried into the corner with your eyes closed, and judith to your chest.

when it was over, tyreese stood up and it fell silent. you opened your eyes, meeting with your friend.

tyreese helped you up, holding your side for support. you still clinging onto judith. “you okay?” he huffed, you nodded wiping the tears from your cheeks. “thanks, ty.” he nodded and began to lead you out of the cabin into the light.

“carol should be back soon, for now, it’s jus a waitin game” he held your side, comforting you the best he could.

so, that’s exactly what the two of you did. and it wasn’t very long before you saw the figures of your group approaching, carol leading them.

you saw rick first, who immediately saw his baby. alongside carl they came running and scooped the child in their arms, then hugged you softly. “thank you.” when he pulled away, your eyes began searching for daryl.

his eyes met with yours, he hurriedly ran to you. “oh god” you cried, holding him tightly. you were safe, in his arms. he had been hoping, praying to any god that heard him just to make sure you’d be safe. he held onto that hope, he knew you were strong. he never doubted that. daryl pulled back, looking over your current state. “you okay?”

you nodded, also looking at his injuries. “your face..” he shocked him. “‘m fine. swear.” he dropped his head into the crook of your neck, just wanting to be held. tears brimmed the both of your eyes, his quiet sobs filled the air followed by your sniffles.

later that night, sitting somewhere in the woods, you were accompanied by daryl. you tried your best to clean up his cuts with the little supplies you had, he insisted he was fine. you finally admitted, “i thought i lost you.” daryl watched you, dropping your bag to the forest floor. “nah. never” he reached for you hand, holding you gently.

his hands were coarse, but you missed it. you knew most people would be put off by that, but to you, his touch made you feel at home. daryl stared at you, examining every little detail, afraid of letting you slip through his hands.

he sat up, “yer neck” carefully using his left hand to brush your hair that was sticking to your neck, pointing to the now bruise forming. “what happened?” looking up from your bag, you met with his eyes yet again. “in the cabin” you swallowed, “there was one of the guys from terminus, at first we had him under control but then he..” you sighed, recalling judith’s cries. “he held me and judith hostage, i guess you could say. chokehold.”

fire burned behind daryl’s eyes, the sudden urge to find this guy and rip him to shreds. he stood up but you pulled him back down. “dar” you shook your head. he opened his mouth to say something but he couldn’t. nothing would come out.

“ty took care of it. he saved me.” you shook your head, holding eye contact. “i’m okay, i promise.”

daryl looked away, eyes dancing around on the ground as he chewed his gums trying to find out what to say. your hand rested on his shoulder, trying to comfort him. “it isn’t your fault. you couldn’t have known” he shook his head, finally returning to your gaze. “i shoulda been there”

“you couldn’t have known. it’s okay, i’m okay now, im here and you’re here.” you assured, you cupped his face. “we’re okay” daryl huffed, but you were right. you always here. “m’kay”

you kissed his nose, “okay” you smiled.

#daryl dixon fanfiction #twd daryl #daryl dixon oneshot #daryl dixon fan fiction #the walking dead daryl #daryl dixon #daryl x reader #daryl dixon x reader #daryl dixon imagine

[thebiggerbear]

Only Ever Holding Onto You Chapter 1

A/N: Hey all! I just want to let you know up front that this chapter is HUGE. When writing, I go more by what I feel needs to be in the chapter for setups and flow than I do the length. It's something I'm still working on as a writer so I apologize. The following chapters should not be nearly as long.

I began writing this back in July and at that time, I hadn't watched the rest of the 3rd season of Big Sky so I did a lot of guesswork based on gifs, clips, and posts I had seen on here. So that's why some things might not line up to the show, sorry about that. Also, I completely made up the name of the pharmaceutical company.

This story actually was the gateway to Ghosts so there might be some similar threads you might notice. ;) I hope you like it!

And a huge thank you to my beta Em! You rock, girl!

Please let me know if you'd like to be tagged for this story. Feedback and reblogs are much appreciated. 😊

You can also read on AO3

Warnings: mentions of animal cruelty, mentions of animal injuries seen by Reader, mentions of kidnapping of minor

Word Count: 13,543

Taglist: @deans-spinster-witch

Series Masterlist

<-->

“I didn’t do anything wrong!”

You rolled your eyes and made a left onto Washington. “Yeah, yeah. That’s what everyone who breaks into a chem lab says.”

“It’s true,” the man currently sitting handcuffed in your backseat insisted. “It’s the corporation that’s doing something wrong. They’re benefitting from those animals’ pain.”

“Doesn’t give you the right to enter the premises illegally,” you pointed out.

“What they’re doing is illegal,” he scoffed.

You couldn’t exactly argue with that one. When the call came in for a 10-62 and it was advised that the prowler was armed and dangerous, you had immediately rushed to the scene, beaten there by two officers from Helena PD and one deputy from your department. The perp had already been secured and in handcuffs, proclaiming loudly over and over that he was innocent as were the animals he had been trying to set free. Deputy Davis informed you that the only weapon that had been found on the man was a pair of bolt cutters, which had barely made a dent in the cages’ padlocks, never mind were they ever a real threat to anyone on the premises.

After contacting the higher-ups of her employer, an onsite supervisor insisted the company wanted to press any and all charges, maintaining that the animals in their possession had been obtained legally and the accusations against them were baseless. One glance past the woman’s shoulder at the cages of rabbits and cats being wheeled into another area showed that perhaps the man’s claims weren’t as baseless as she said they were. You had to keep yourself from hauling her down to the station on some trumped up charge once you noticed one cat in particular that had half of its fur missing and its side was littered with obvious injection sites. One rabbit even had sutures where an eye should be. 

Unfortunately, you had a job to do and the law needed to be upheld. You insisted on taking the perp, one Martin Webb, into the station yourself. Since Davis had arrived on scene first, Helena PD couldn’t say a peep. That was one thing that hadn’t changed with your transfer here: the good ol’ jurisdiction issue between departments. Although, up in these parts, the Lewis and Clark County Sheriff’s Department and Helena PD did play nicer together than most other places you’d been. As Webb continued to ramble on in the back of your car, you were thankful for that little fact.

When he mentioned for the fifth time that he was doing the right thing, your phone began to ring. One quick glance at the screen showed that it was Deputy Poppernak. Without saying a word, you picked up the call. “What’s shaking, Pepper Snaps?” 

You smirked when you heard the slight huff he let out when you called him the cute little nickname you had come up for him. He knew you did it to tease him good-naturedly but it still exasperated him at times. Truth be told, you had a fondness for the guy even though he did prove to be a bit of a suck-up when you first stepped into the station about six months back. Still he had always been welcoming towards you, took your quirks in stride, and he was a decent cop. That put him under the good list in your book.

“Hey, Y/N. The boss asked for me to give you a call and see if you were on your way back to the station.”

Your eyes practically rolled out of your head. Apparently, the sheriff had forgotten how phones worked along with the knowledge that you were more than capable of doing your job. If Poppernak got exasperated with you at times, your patience could be worn thin by one Beau Arlen on a semi-often basis, and that hadn’t changed with both of you relocating to Big Sky Country.

“Pops, correct me if I’m wrong, but when I radioed in to Madge that I was transporting a suspect back to the station, did I say it in Portuguese? French maybe? Japanese? Or in Gaelic perhaps?” You quipped.

“Uh, no. No, of course not,” Poppernak let out in a nervous chuckle. “It’s just, uh…sorry, one second.” You could hear his muffled voice speaking to someone; it was obvious he had covered the mouthpiece with his hand. You nearly rolled your eyes again, knowing exactly who he was speaking to, and instead chose to glance in your rearview to check on the man in the back. He had still been talking when you picked up the call but he must have gotten the hint when the deputy’s voice filled the car. Now, he sat quietly, staring straight ahead. 

“Okay, sorry about that. Madge was asking me—”

You’d had enough, especially when you heard him using a quieter tone than before. “Cut the crap, I know very well who was asking you something. What does he want and why is he not calling me to ask me himself?”

He laughed nervously again. “Uh, well, he was just—I mean I was just wondering, do you mind stopping by The 1889 and grabbing the usual order on your way in?”

Your jaw tensed. You had a sneaking suspicion of the reason why your boss wasn’t calling you directly and instead was asking his employee to do his dirty work, and it infuriated you.

“If it’s not too much trouble,” Poppernak added meekly.

You forced yourself to remember that he wasn’t the one who your ire should be aimed at. You’d get to that soon enough after you booked your suspect down at the station. You made another quick turn to head in the direction of the coffee shop. “Call the order in. I’ll be there in fifteen to pick it up and they better run it out to me or no dice. In case anyone at that station is too thick-headed to remember, I’m currently transporting a suspect.”

You heard a relieved breath come down the line. “Thanks, Y/N. You’re the—” 

You ended the call before the deputy could finish speaking. Pops knew you weren’t mad at him and knowing him, he’d get right on placing the order at the coffee house you all frequented so the order would be ready in the timeframe you’d given him. 

“Amazing. Animals are being cruelly treated in your own backyard and all you cops can worry about is your coffee order. ‘To protect and serve’...yeah right.”

You shot Webb a glare in your rearview mirror. “You have the right to remain silent, you know. Wouldn’t hurt to exercise it every now and then. Like right now.”

“How can I be silent? Do you have any idea what they’re doing to those animals? Do you have any idea how much pain they’re in? God, you people are heartless!”

“Uh huh.” You brought the car to a stop at a traffic light and took a deep breath. Losing your temper on Webb or Pops or anyone at the station would not help anything, but damn did Beau get on your nerves sometimes with his desire to placate and diffuse things. Most of the time, it was something you heavily respected about him; it was a great quality for a leader to have. At the same time, some people needed to be stood up to, put in their place, and knocked down a few pegs — and that is where you and Beau never saw eye-to-eye. It drove you crazy but you told yourself you would play the long game on this one. Beau knew how you felt. You two had argued about it enough times when it was just you two — but he refused to budge an inch. He believed time would resolve things. Six months was plenty of time in your mind but apparently, he didn’t share that sentiment. So, you did as you always had: you had his back and you followed his lead. It didn’t mean you had to like it sometimes, though. Especially not when—no, you would put it out of your mind for now.

“I’m serious, you saw the animals yourself. Do you really think they’re well cared for like they said? If you only knew the half of it!”

Webb’s rantings broke you out of your reverie. You thought over what he said, remembered the cat with the missing fur, the rabbit with the missing eye, and bit your lip in contemplation. When the light turned green, your mind was made up. “I’m just doing my job, Mr. Webb. And that job doesn’t include looking into the history of this company or what they do with their animals when it comes to testing.”

The man scoffed and you knew your words had been chosen well. “Of course not. Why would you care? I suppose you don’t care that the animals are kept in cages night and day. Not only do they pump chemicals into them consistently but they cause them pain purposely to see if their products work. I guess you also don’t care that this is a common practice for this company, or that they purposely pick up strays from surrounding neighborhoods and have even broken into people’s properties to steal their pets when the shelters and pet stores start to get suspicious! And you’re charging me with breaking and entering? What about them? And I bet you don’t care that they purposely starve these animals for certain experiments and that’s not even…”

You made your way to The 1889, keeping your gaze ahead of you as you maneuvered down the streets, all the while quietly listening and at certain points, trying to remember why you’d chosen to become a cop when it seemed like the odds always remained against you and innocents, humans and animals alike, continued to get hurt by every semblance of heartless assholes on a daily basis.

<-->

Deputy Davis, who had beaten you back to the station and waited for you to arrive, led Webb into the station as you followed behind with a tray of coffees and a paper bag full of food. 

Pops immediately hurried over to meet you, a huge grin on his face. “Thanks, Y/N. You really are the best.”

You handed him both the tray and bag, giving him a nod. 

Webb watched the exchange carefully before yelling out, “Yeah, so glad you can sit and enjoy your coffee and donuts while innocent animals are suffering!” The busy hum in the station dimmed slightly as everyone turned to look, but then it resumed when they saw the man responsible for the noisy interruption was in handcuffs.

“I’ll book him,” the deputy next to you insisted.

“Thanks, Davis.” You smiled slightly at the younger man. “I’ll get on the paperwork.”

“Let’s go.” Davis pushed Webb in front of him who kept yelling as he was being moved away.

 You and Pops watched them disappear around the corner and then turned back to one another. “So, where is he?”

Pops’ amiable smile dropped completely and he quickly glanced in the direction of the sheriff’s office. Bingo. “Uh, I think he’s interrogating a suspect right now…”

“Right.” You then moved past him and proceeded right to the location that Pops unintentionally gave away before outright lying to you. The door was shut but that didn’t deter you. Without knocking, you opened the door and barged right in.

Sure enough, there was Beau, sitting in his chair with the infamous Jenny Hoyt perched on the desk to his left, barely a foot of space between them. Of course. Was there ever a moment in the day the undersheriff wasn’t trying to get into the sheriff’s pants? 

The blonde glared at your intrusion and you folded your arms across your chest. You offered a meaningful look to Beau, who at least had the decency to look sheepish.

“Did you always storm into your boss’ office without knocking like this back in Houston or is it only something you do here?” Hoyt snapped.

“Hoyt,” Beau warned.

Ignoring her sniping and ignoring her presence altogether — you leveled your eyes on Beau alone. “We need to talk.”

Beau glanced between you and his undersheriff, looking uncertain, before he gave a simple nod. “Give us the room for a minute,” he directed to the woman next to him. The corner of your lips lifted in the beginning of a smirk; wise choice on his part.

Hoyt transferred her glare to him but got to her feet all the same. She nearly stomped her way out the door, scowling at you the entire time. You stared her down, all too happy to close the door once she vacated the threshold. You seriously could not wait for that woman to take some vacation time; it’d be like your own vacation kicking in at the same time.

You turned around to find Beau watching you, exhaustion showing in the lines of his face a little more prominently than they had a moment ago. “Y/N, I—”

Holding up a hand, you interrupted him before he could plead with you for peace or make excuses like he had so many times before. “Aside from me thinking that it’s downright pathetic that you can’t even make a simple phone call to ask me to pick you up one of your favorite sandwiches because she’s within hearing distance, I have a bigger issue to discuss.”

Beau sat back in his chair, considering you for a moment. “Alright. Let’s hear it.”

You moved closer and took a seat. “The man I just brought in, Martin Webb, the one who’s being booked on a B&E charge from Avuna Pharmaceuticals? Turns out he was not armed like had been initially reported to emergency dispatch. He had a pair of bolt cutters on him that didn’t even work and he was not posing a threat to anybody. But the Avuna reps are insisting he was.”

“Who was first on scene?”

“Davis.”

“Any footage or eyewitness accounts that prove this guy threatened anyone before Davis got there?”

“Eyewitness accounts from paid employees and when we asked for footage after noticing cameras placed all around the lab, we were told that their legal counsel advised that unless we had a warrant, we were wasting our time and suggested we should be focusing on the arrest of the assailant in our custody.”

Beau snorted. “Not suspicious at all and damn ballsy.”

You couldn’t help but shrug. “Big corporation, big money. They’ll do whatever it takes to protect it all.”

He nodded in agreement. “Good point. Alright, let’s let the DA take it from here. For now, just book him and we’ll let the courts battle it out on what charges actually stick.”

You tilted your head at him expectantly. 

“And,” he sighed. “I take it you already knew I’d say that and that’s not why you wanted to discuss it.”

“You know me so well,” you teased, giving him a smirk and sitting on the desk next to him on his right, keeping a polite distance between you. “Something doesn’t smell right with this case. If their response to our request to view their footage wasn’t enough of a red flag, then the fact that they’re looking to throw the book at this guy is. I ran him through the system. His record is relatively clean; he’s an activist, not an ecological terrorist.” You bit your lip. “I saw the animals while they were transporting them,” you said in a quieter tone. “I saw some things that... I think this guy, while a little misguided, is actually on the right track. Something’s off with this whole thing.”

Beau leaned over to place a hand over yours. “Darlin’, I know where you’re going with this and while it pains me to say it, I have to. It’s not our job. You said it yourself: big corporation, big money. This is for the courts. We can’t get involved.” You dropped your gaze to the floor and let out a disappointed breath. You knew as much, had said as much to Webb on the ride over, but it felt wrong for that to be the actual reality. 

You felt Beau brushing his thumb over the back of your hand in tender strokes. It was his way of reassuring you and apologizing at the same time. You couldn’t help but give him a thin-lipped smile. You knew he would do something if he could, but he was right. Unless there was evidence to Webb’s claims of the company illegally obtaining those animals, this was not for you or for the department to get involved in. On the off-chance there was proof, that evidence would need to be transferred to the right agency who handled such cases. Your hands were tied and there was nothing you could do from your position, that fact wouldn’t help you sleep better at night or help you forget what you had seen.

“That being said, I will talk to the DA and see what he can do about the charges. I can’t promise anything but I’ll try,” Beau finished, after seeing your reaction.

You turned your hand over, grabbing onto his, and whispered, “Thank you.”

He returned your smile and squeezed your hand before gently letting go. “And thank you for picking up the order earlier. And for not letting Hoyt bait you into an argument.”

Rolling your eyes and getting to your feet, you made your way to the bulletin board on the far wall to study its contents. “Sometimes I wonder why you even asked me to come here.”

You heard a heavy sigh behind you but you didn’t turn around to look. “You know why I asked you to join me here, Y/N. I need someone who has my back.”

“You have plenty of people here who have your back.” You pulled the paper you were looking for off the board and folded it up. “Especially her. She’d have your back, front, and center if she had anything to say about it.” Slipping the paper into the back pocket of your jeans, you glanced back at Beau to find him glaring in your direction. “Am I wrong?” You challenged.

“I really wish you two would try to get along.”

You scoffed out a laugh. “I’m not the one who throws a temper tantrum every time I walk into a room. That would be the woman whose insufferable ass has been glued to yours for the past six months.”

Beau shook his head. “Why do I even try?”

“Why do you?” You agreed. “And why do you defend her at every given turn when you know she’s the one that has a chip the size of Texas on her shoulder?”

“I told you, she’s been through a lot. With her mom and everything…” Beau waved a hand to indicate there might be more to it than you knew. You didn’t think there was; you had heard about it from practically everyone around here, but you also knew Beau was a good man with a big heart. So while you didn’t excuse away the blatant hostility Hoyt had shown you from the moment you arrived, you knew that your best friend tried to be understanding and his patience was longer than the length of the building you were currently in.

“Right,” you muttered. When you first showed up here, Beau told you everything that went down in the amount of time it took you to be able to secure your transfer. You knew all about Jenny Hoyt, her mom, Cassie Dewell, their interesting history, Denise, Sunny, Buck, and everything that happened with Emily and Carla. As a matter of fact, as soon as Beau called you in a panic over Emily’s being taken, you had told your boss down in Houston, Burke Ellis, that you were done waiting for him to stop dragging his feet and you were out on the first red-eye you could book a seat on. As a matter of fact, that was how you and Cassie first met, and how you first came across Hoyt. 

Beau had rushed over to you the minute he had spied you hurrying into the station, asking for Sheriff Beau Arlen and flustering Madge who had no idea who you were but that the man you said you were here to see was having a personal crisis and wasn’t up for seeing any visitors. You darted past her desk, which had further exasperated her, and you practically jumped into Beau’s open arms. You both hugged each other tightly and he nearly lifted you off the ground.

“Thank you,” he rasped out into your ear. “Thank you for coming.”

“Of course.” You ran your fingers soothingly through the hair at the back of his neck. “Where do you need me?”

He had pulled back and it was then that you could see the toll this was taking on him; the fear, worry, and exhaustion were clearly pronounced on his handsome face. “Honestly?” He croaked out. He then grabbed your hand and quickly led you to an office in the back, both of you moving past many shocked onlookers, a 5’6” blonde woman among them who you would later come to know as the biggest pain in your ass in your career thus far. 

You saw the gold lettering on the door stating this was Beau’s office and he slipped you inside before shutting the door and closing the blinds. He pulled you back into his arms, burying his face into your neck. He surprised you a moment later by picking you up and placing you on the corner of his desk, never once moving away from you. You could feel the wetness against your skin and you saw his shoulders shake as he let out a pitiful sob. 

“I’m sorry,” he whispered, his voice breaking as he spoke. “I just… My baby girl has been taken by this murderous son of a bitch and I—” He couldn’t even get the rest out and you shushed him, holding him together as best you could while he fell apart, scared out of his mind at what could happen to his daughter. Emily was like a niece to you; you couldn’t even imagine how terrified she must be, let alone how her father must feel. You knew one thing, though: you and Beau would find her and bring her home. In order to do that, however, you needed to keep Beau from breaking completely and re-calibrate his focus.

You had started to press kisses to the side of his head, promising that you both would do everything to get Emily back safe and sound. “I’m here now,” you murmured into his ear. “We made one hell of a team once, this will be no different. We’ll get her back, Beau.” He sniffled and moved back to look at you, nodding. You gave him a tender smile and wiped underneath his eyes before running your hand through his wayward hair (it had grown slightly since the last time you saw him) and stroking his bearded cheek affectionately. “I’ve got you. Always.”

He stared into your eyes for so long as you comforted him that you didn’t notice that he was moving closer until his nose nearly bumped into yours. You didn’t realize that your breathing had picked up or that your heartbeat had accelerated until your lips parted to let out a small puff of air. His green gaze dropped down to your mouth at the action and then you noticed him wet his lips with his tongue. Your own tongue automatically mirrored his and you swore you felt your heart stop when you saw him take it as a green light and start to lean in, closing his eyes. Alarm bells went off in your mind: this was your best friend who was vulnerable due to the situation at hand, seeking comfort from someone familiar to him that he knew he could fully trust; there was an active investigation going on into his daughter’s abduction and you knew you were on a timeclock; every second counted and there was no time to waste. Yet you were frozen, unable to react and unwilling to stop him from taking the solace he needed in you. 

You’d be lying if you said you never imagined your friendship with Beau possibly crossing the line into something more at one point. While he was married, you had never entertained it, but afterwards, there had been that one night… Nothing had ended up happening between you, of course, but it had definitely been a close call. You had attributed it to too much liquor and the need for consolation during a rough time in his life, being more than relieved when he didn’t appear to remember the next morning. So your friendship continued unmarred by any tension or awkwardness. Now…how could you not give him what he clearly needed from you at one of the worst times in his life? 

You had just shut your eyes, making your decision and waiting for impact, when a knock sounded on his door and then it opened, a surprised gasp emitting from the doorway. You both turned to look, seeing a stunned woman standing there who you hadn’t passed by before. Beau let out a stuttered breath but pulled away from you all the same. It left a funny feeling inside your chest, but you told yourself he had made the right decision which prompted sweet relief to flood through your own veins. Nothing should occur between you and Beau right now, not when everything with Emily was going on and emotions were running high. And what if you had let him take comfort in you and it ultimately ruined your friendship? Not to mention he was now your boss. How complicated would that be? Your best friend meant more to you than one moment of throwing the rule book completely out the window. 

The woman worriedly glanced behind her and seemed to relax when she didn’t see who or what she was looking for. She then gave Beau a small smile. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to interrupt.”

Beau cleared his throat and leaned against the desk, next to you, facing the door. You discreetly ran a hand across his back in reassurance. “It’s fine. What is it, Cass?”

Your eyes widened when you heard the nickname and quickly made the connection. This was Cassie Dewell, the local private investigator Beau had told you about. He had mentioned that they had become close friends since he took the job.

“I just came to tell you that I think I might be able to help with Sunny.”

Beau immediately got to his feet. “You think she’ll tell us where Buck’s taken Emily?”

Cassie shrugged. “It’s worth a shot. She’s been married to the man for years. She may not have known he was a serial killer but she knows everything else there is to know about him. She has to have an idea of some spots he might have gone to that we haven’t come up with yet. And we do have the update about Walter as leverage.”

Running a tired hand down his face, Beau sighed. “Okay. Yeah. Let’s give it a shot.” He glanced your way and you gave him a nod. Then he started, as if he just remembered something. “Sorry. Cassie, I’d like you to meet Y/N Y/L/N. Y/N, this is Cassie Dewell.”

Your head snapped in her direction. “Oh right, you’re the PI from the local agency in town that Em’s been working at.”

Cassie gave you a wave and you studied her, expecting judgment of some kind, yet there was no malice or hostility staring back at you. You had expected such a reaction from her walking in on you and Beau, yet all you could see was curiosity... As well as worry and guilt shadowing her eyes for a moment at the mention of Emily. “Yeah, that would be me. Hey.”

“Y/N’s from Houston.” Beau gestured towards you. “We worked quite a few cases together back in the day.”

Her eyes seemed to light up with recognition which surprised you. “Y/N Y/L/N…I was wondering why that name sounded familiar. You’re one of his former partners, right?”

You quickly exchanged a glance with Beau. “Sort of,” you confirmed.

“She’s transferring here but I asked her to come to help with…Emily…” Beau looked pained as he said the name.

You immediately laid a hand on his shoulder. “Whatever you need.”

He gave you a thin-lipped smile and you squeezed him in reassurance. 

“Nice to meet you.” Cassie’s voice pulled you both from the moment.

Your gaze snapped to Cassie’s. “Likewise. So, this Sunny…she’s the owner of the campground, right? Close to where the body of the first victim was found some years ago? And she’s the wife of the suspect?” Beau had told you a little about the case before Avery’s death and Emily’s abduction.

Cassie nodded. “Yeah. I’m hoping she’ll feel up to talking. Beau, I wouldn't ask but…would you mind giving me a hand? It might help shake something loose if we both take a run at her. She’s more familiar with us, and Walter will give us more of a card to play.”

Beau thought it over for a moment. “Agreed. We’ve got to try anything and everything so let’s do it.” Cassie turned to leave when he called out to her, “I’ll be there in a second.”

She nodded and quietly closed the door behind her.

Beau let out a heavy breath and turned to you. “Y/N, I—”

You shot up, standing before him. “No need,” you spoke softly. You took his hand in yours and squeezed reassuringly when you saw his eyes tighten. “Let’s focus on saving your daughter.” You gave him a small smile and he nodded, pulling you into him to place his forehead up against yours. 

“Thank you,” he murmured, closing his eyes. When you felt him relax slightly against you after taking a deep breath, out of instinct, you did something you had never done before, not when you were this close together and it was just the two of you. You pressed a tender kiss to his cheek, right above his beard line, forcing his eyes to snap open, staring right into yours, and he focused intently on you. 

“Let’s go find her and bring her home,” you whispered, stepping back only when he nodded, and turned towards the door. 

“Do you want me to watch the interrogation or do you need me elsewhere?” You asked.

He came to a halt, thinking about it for a moment. “Interrogation.”

You nodded and opened the door, stepping through to see several pairs of eyes land on you. It might have been intimidating to someone else, but to you, it was just par for the course. Beau had warned you about the small town atmosphere compared to the big city one you were accustomed to, so you weren’t surprised in the least when people started talking in hushed tones to one another as you both walked past without a word to anyone. It appeared you and Beau were on the same page: Emily was priority and introductions to your new coworkers would have to wait. 

He led you to a closed door where Cassie stood, waiting. You glanced around to look for the room you would be led to in order to watch the interrogation but didn’t see it. 

“And who’s this?”

You turned to see the blonde woman from earlier, a forced smile on her face and her blue eyes assessing you.

Beau seemed caught off guard for a moment, his focus on getting to Cassie and then taking on Sunny, but he quickly introduced you. “Y/N Y/L/N, Jenny Hoyt.” You gave her a nod and she returned it. “Cassie and I are going to take a run at Sunny, see if maybe she has an idea of a location where Buck may have taken Emily and Denise.”

The blonde’s gaze softened as it landed on Beau. “Of course. If you want, Cassie and I can do it.” You noticed Cassie’s eyes tighten but she stayed quiet as the woman then leaned into Beau a bit, saying softly, “You’ve been through a lot in the last few hours.” You watched as she squeezed Beau’s arm in support. Ah, so this was the infamous Jenny Hoyt you had heard about. The same Hoyt that had given Beau a run for his money when he first took this job and then continued to be a wildcard in the field. The same one who Beau felt the ridiculous need to babysit. Your eyes narrowed slightly as you watched her gazing up at your friend as if he had hung the moon in the night sky but you schooled your features into polite professional interest by the time Beau glanced over at you. 

“I’m good. Actually, Y/N, I’d like you to join us.” Both Cassie and Hoyt turned gaping expressions on you. While this was certainly a twist, you knew Beau wouldn’t be asking if he didn’t have his reasons. Sure enough, he elaborated, “I think a new face might provide the perfect shakeup that we need.” He gave you a meaningful look and like always, you knew exactly what he was thinking.

You gave the group a curt nod. “Sure. Can I see the file real fast so I know what I’m working with?” You held out a hand to Hoyt, assuming that she had Sunny’s file in her hand in expectation of the interrogation, waiting for her to pass it to you.

The blonde glared at you, a hint of suspicion in her eyes, before glancing back at the man. “Beau, maybe we should slow down and think about this for a second. We might only get one shot at this so maybe—”

“Hoyt, my daughter has been kidnapped by a serial killer. She fits his MO to a tee and we need to find her before…” He pressed his lips together tightly before blowing out a breath. “Look, Denise has been taken too, my ex-wife is a mess of tears, Avery is dead, and I’m barely holding it together. Just let me do what I have to do to save my little girl. So give Y/N the damn file.” He spoke the last part through gritted teeth, signifying the end of his patience, and that appeared to shock Hoyt and Cassie. You assumed that this was a new side of Beau that they hadn’t seen before but his daughter’s life was on the line. What did they expect? If he hadn’t said anything, you would have snatched the damn folder out of Hoyt’s hands yourself. Precious time was being wasted with the useless pissing match she seemed intent on engaging in. 

Cassie recovered first. “Jenny.” She gave the blonde an encouraging nod.

Hoyt’s features tightened and her eyes were pure ice as she finally placed the folder into your waiting hand.

“Thanks.” You immediately started scanning the contents. After a minute or so, you felt you had a general understanding of Sunny and her history from the file in addition to things Beau had mentioned to you already. You had more than enough to be able to pull off what he needed you to do. You shut the folder and gave Beau and Cassie a nod. “Let’s do it.”

Cassie opened the door and led the way inside, followed by Beau and then you. Hoyt stared you down as you passed her but you couldn’t be bothered to care. Right now, your priority was the young girl whom you had watched grow up, who you had sat through a blistering hot, cheesy middle school graduation for — all to watch her walk across the stage in a cap and gown. Her life was on the line and you’d make sure she returned to Beau safely no matter what.

You weren’t in there long. You did exactly as Beau had intended for you to do. You teed him and Cassie up very nicely to get what they needed to. Not much time had passed before Sunny admitted she most likely knew where Buck went, especially when Cassie swooped in with the information that her son, Walter, was still alive despite Buck’s attempt to kill him.

Once you left the room, Cassie was intent on finding Sunny’s other son, Cormac, since Beau and Hoyt were going to drive Sunny to the location she had revealed. You were about to offer to do whatever was needed from you when you heard a loud cry erupt to your left. Out of the corner of your eye, you saw a woman with dark hair rushing towards you. You barely turned in time for impact when Carla threw herself at you.

You held her as she cried, thanked you for coming, asked you to help find her daughter, mentioned her recently murdered husband, and just overall sobbed. This woman had been through one hell of an ordeal in the last few days. You couldn’t even imagine how torn apart you’d be if this were you, not to mention Carla was one of the most level-headed and toughest women you had ever met in your life. She was definitely tougher than you, and that was saying something considering you had seen some shit in your time. Now, seeing her reduced to tears like this, begging you to help save her little girl, to do whatever you had to in order to bring her baby back home to her…it turned your stomach and only added to the urgency of finding Emily and getting to her before that sick son of a bitch could hurt her. You hoped to hell he hadn’t already. Your stomach turned further at the thought and you could feel an all-too familiar fire that you kept a tight lid on when working cases that involved children… 

You forced yourself to let go of the thought. This was about Emily and her parents, not about you. Ignoring your experience that nagged at you and insisted that, due to the circumstances and the time already passed, there was a likelihood of a bad ending here, you swallowed past the lump forming in your throat and refocused your energy into trying to calm Carla down so you could help find her daughter.

It took Beau peeling her off of you and promising that you both were going to look for Emily right then to calm her slightly. She held onto Beau and you grabbed her hand, ignoring your training yelling at you in your head, and swore you would do everything you could to help bring her daughter back to her. 

“Y/N, Beau, please, you have to save her,” she begged. “Save our daughter!” She threw at Beau before Madge was able to lead her away. Watching her go, your jaw tensed as that fire from earlier threatened to return. You had the desire to find Buck and take the sick bastard down yourself.

Beau turned to you, his green eyes even more haunted than when you had first seen him, and that dulled the fire inside. No matter the anger you felt, it was nothing compared to what he must be feeling. You could only imagine the rage and hopelessness mixed with desperation that was swirling inside of him right now, and you knew exactly what he was thinking because you were thinking it, too. What if you couldn’t keep your promise to Carla? You shook your head to get rid of the thoughts. You wouldn’t think like that; those types of thoughts were useless. You needed to be at your best for him, for Carla, and more importantly, for Emily. Instead, you focused on the positives: you all had a lead right now, two in fact, and that was all that mattered.

You instinctively reached out and cupped his face with your hands, anchoring him as best you could. “Beau, listen to me,” you murmured. “You and Hoyt take Sunny to the spot she told you about. I’ll go with Cassie to find Cormac. Alright?”

He nodded, staring at you, and the movement forced a single tear to shake loose. You wiped it away discreetly before it could be seen and hugged him to you. “Go. Keep your phone on and if you need me, you call me. It’s going to be okay. We’re going to find her,” you whispered into his ear. 

You heard a sniffle in your ear. “Right, we’ll find her.” 

“And we’ll take down this sick son of a bitch,” you promised, pulling back to look him meaningfully in the eye. Come hell or high water, you had his back. 

Nodding again, he gave you a smile that was more of a grimace and placed a hand against your cheek. “Yeah, we will.” You reached up to give his wrist a squeeze.

“Beau.”

Both of you turned to see Hoyt and Cassie watching you curiously along with Madge and a deputy who you would come to find out to be Poppernak.

“We should go,” Hoyt insisted. 

Beau glanced back over at you, quietly clearing his throat and removing his hand. “Yeah.” His gaze snapped over to the other man, as if he had suddenly just had a thought. “Poppernak, get Y/N here a vest before she leaves. Get one for Cassie, too.”

“You got it, boss.” 

Poppernak walked away and Beau swung his head back to you. “You call me the second you get anything from Cormac.” At your nod, he laid a hand on your shoulder and lowered his head slightly to look you right in the eye. “Be careful.”

You couldn’t help but smile and say to him the thing you’d said to him every time he told you this in the past: “Always am.” His features softened the slightest bit at the familiar exchange between you. “Now, let’s go find your daughter and bring her home.”

“Yeah,” he breathed out and gave a sharp nod, what you had always called his game face filling his expression. Squeezing your shoulder, he released you and walked away. You watched him go and sure enough, the blonde’s glare entered your vision when she looked back over her shoulder while walking with him out the door. It was the same suspicious glare you’d been getting from her in the last hour, the same one you couldn’t help but notice when Carla had first launched herself at you. You knew then that whatever her reasons, she was going to be a problem for you. 

“Ready to go?” Cassie asked kindly.

You gave her a small smile. “Yeah. Let’s go get Em back.”

“And Denise,” she added.

“Right. Her, too.”

The both of you grabbed the vests Poppernak held out to you on your way out. 

Cormac had actually proven useful and he had thankfully led you to the correct location Emily was being held in. Beau had been practically inconsolable when he called you before that, thinking Emily had been killed in an explosion. Even though you had seen him at the worst times in his life, and had just seen him breaking down in front of you back at the station, you had never heard the pain that saturated his voice right then. You struggled not to break down in tears yourself. Laughter, football games in the Arlen yard, ice cream runs after particularly tough days at school, you teaching her how to make paella and her mom’s smile when Em proudly insisted she made it all on her own later at dinner that night, rides on the ferris wheel at the fair because her dad was too scared to take her but wouldn’t admit it — the memories of time spent with your favorite teenager assaulted you in rapid succession. You forced yourself to focus on Beau, to keep him from falling to pieces right then and there. You knew that’s why he had immediately called you, before he had to tell Carla. 

You were beyond grateful when a minute or two later someone interrupted your conversation to inform Beau that there was no evidence that Emily was in the explosion. The body they’d found appeared to be male. No Denise and no Emily. You had nearly fallen to your knees in relief right then, and you could only imagine how Beau must have felt. 

And soon enough, you, Cassie, and Cormac located both girls, very much alive, and freed them. Emily had held onto you, her young face streaked with dirt and tears, clearly traumatized from all that had taken place over the last week. It broke your heart to hear her terrified whimpers. When she first saw you, she had cried out your name and once you had her in your arms, she refused to let go of you, which was just fine by you. You were grateful she was alive and appeared to be unharmed, but you secretly wished you could have two minutes alone with Buck, that sick bastard who had done this to her. Hell, you wouldn’t have needed your gun at all. 

Beau and Hoyt showed up just as you were all stepping out into the sun and a huge lump formed in your throat when Emily finally let go of you to run to her dad. Seeing them embracing each other forced tears to run down your cheeks which you quickly wiped away. 

You were grateful to Cassie for that day. Her hunch about Cormac and her personal connection to him had helped get Emily back home safely. Not only had the two of you worked well together in that short span of time, but ever since then, you could see that she was good to Beau, and to Emily. Both Arlens had massive respect for her and you could see why Beau had spoken so highly of her before you came to Helena, and why he insisted on having her back professionally despite her being a private investigator. It was common knowledge that law enforcement didn’t always like having PI’s poking around cases, but Cassie had been given full access and assistance. You now saw why and you were thankful that Beau had such a good friend up here, someone who truly had his interests at heart as well as his daughter’s. And now you were also lucky enough to be able to call her your friend. There were many movie nights at Beau’s that were filled with light-hearted teasing and plenty of laughter since you’d settled into life in Montana.

As for Hoyt…well, things hadn’t really changed on that front. She certainly wasn’t a fan of yours, no two ways about it. 

You had gotten to know Poppernak a bit after you arrived but he was still in suck-up mode, so you decided to turn that to your advantage. It really didn’t take much to get it out of him; Hoyt had a thing for Beau, nothing you already hadn’t caught onto. Hell, she was practically all over him at his movie nights as well as anytime there was a meetup arranged at the local bar; if she wasn’t present for one reason or another, she was calling him constantly, either saying she needed a friend to talk to or it was under the guise of discussing ongoing cases. Beau never got a day off and there wasn’t one day he spent with Emily that didn’t get interrupted by a phone call from Hoyt. There had even been times he’d had to call you and ask you to take Em to a movie or keep her entertained because Carla was out and he had to go help the blonde on what should have been a case that a rookie fresh out of the academy could have handled. The kicker was that this was after what Em had been through, Hoyt knowing full well that Beau needed some time with his daughter after that ordeal. Not even you interrupted them, though both father and daughter had invited you to join them quite a few times.

At one point, you remembered the other thing Poppernak informed you about: rumors were circulating around the department that Beau and Hoyt were involved and had been secretly seeing one another. You knew Beau would have told you if he was seeing anyone, but it was no secret that Hoyt had appointed you as her archnemesis and you didn’t care for her at all. What if the rumors were right and Beau was too embarrassed to tell you? Or what if he thought it might make a bad situation worse? What if he wanted to find what he considered to be the right time to tell you? And if he was indeed seeing her, it would explain the incessant calls, the moon eyes, the distaste she had for you — all of it. The doubt continued to gnaw away at you and you didn’t sleep so well the first few nights after the talk with Poppernak. 

Finally, one day you asked Beau point-blank if anything was going on between him and Hoyt. Once he closed his gaping mouth and put his eyes back into his head, he assured you they were just friends and he was her boss. She had been through some ordeals herself and he was just trying to be there for her, to give her support when she needed it. Nothing more. You knew it was complete and utter bullshit or Beau wouldn’t have been so suddenly interested in the case file on his desk. A case file you knew had been sitting there for the past two days.

There was no way that Beau was ignorant of Hoyt's attraction to him. The woman practically had a flashing neon sign on her forehead every time she looked at him, not to mention she had pulled out all the stops to let him know she was very much interested. Beau was an affectionate person by nature so little touches here and there between you were par for the course with him if you were his best friend, as long as they were welcomed and didn’t cross any lines or make you feel uncomfortable. There wasn’t a single opportunity Hoyt didn’t take to get her hands on Beau or to get those little touches out of him. Of course he knew; he had to. All of this was so blatant, everyone else around them knew, too, hence the rumors swirling around the department. Even Carla knew, as she’d mentioned to you one afternoon, and if you thought you didn’t care for Hoyt, then the former Mrs. Arlen downright despised the woman. People who Beau and Hoyt didn’t know knew, as evidenced by a witness at a crime scene asking to speak to the sheriff’s girlfriend again. Yet, if he was willfully ignoring her consistently throwing herself at him, then there was nothing more you could say. To his credit, you had never seen him return any flirtation or interest, no matter how hard Hoyt was putting herself out there, before or after your conversation with him. 

There were a couple of times you discreetly noticed the hurt in Hoyt’s face when Beau chose to accompany you on a case, if he and Cassie were laughing together, or if he was extra tender with Carla when she would drop by the station to talk about Emily. It quickly became clear that this was more than a crush or some simple attraction; the blonde had serious feelings for your best friend. Knowing Beau the way you did and everything he’d been through the past few years, it shouldn’t surprise you if he was purposely putting blinders on when it came to this topic. Beau had dated some since his divorce, but he wasn’t ready to get serious with anyone. At least that’s what he’d told you time and time again, back in Houston and now here. It had taken him some time to get over his ex-wife and now Emily and his job were his top priorities. While deep down you might have a very tiny trace amount of sympathy for the blonde, Beau was the one who mattered to you in this equation. If Hoyt wanted to keep chasing after her emotionally unavailable boss, then that decision was on her. It wasn’t like Cassie hadn’t warned her, something the PI had mentioned to you one night after a few drinks while you both sat at a table, watching Hoyt pulling Beau onto the dance floor despite his clear reluctance. So if your best friend lived more comfortably in the land of Hoyt-is-just-being-extra-friendly-because-she-appreciates-my-friendship, then who were you to burst that bubble? 

It did bother you tremendously though to see Beau not putting up any kind of boundaries whatsoever with Hoyt even though they were sorely needed. So, in your own subtle way, from time to time, you tried to suggest he put one up… Maybe two. He would humor you and hear you out, but then he’d either pick up the phone the next time she called him on a day off or he’d refuse, saying she was in a fragile state right now and he couldn’t afford to put distance there when she needed his support. After a few instances of this craziness and Hoyt’s attitude with you grew, you stopped being subtle which resulted in arguments that turned into yelling matches, tense silences on the rare ride-along, slammed doors (usually at your place since a slammed door at Beau’s would most likely have knocked that thing over; Pedro’s door was a good replacement though—that thing may be old but it was strong like a tank), refusals to look at one another, crossed arms, and sometimes radio silence for a few days if the disagreement had reached a bad enough point. You were always professional when on the clock and you always resolved things eventually, but this was one sticking point neither of you budged from. You knew Beau was a good man and had a heart of gold, something you loved and respected about him, but he could sure be infuriatingly stubborn at times.    

And while you could admit Hoyt was a decent, hardworking cop, she was also a decent-sized, hardworking pain in your ass. You knew she’d be a problem for you and boy had she been. Her whole thing with the sheriff aside, it was no surprise that the source of her hostility towards you was the man himself, namely your friendship with him. You both were close and even though nothing had ever happened between you, it became clear that the blonde detested any familiarity or affection shown by either of you to each other. You thought it was ridiculous and you refused to change your relationship or how you did things just because she was eager for your friend to look at her the way she had been looking at him. In fact, whenever you were around, she turned her obvious coyness and see-through flirting attempts up a notch. Presently, as of a few weeks ago, Hoyt had taken to physically marking her territory, or what she considered to be hers, like her sitting on Beau’s desk—right next to him. She’d slide in beside him in your usual booth at The Boot Heel or she’d take the chair next to him during movie nights which would force you and Cassie to sprawl on the deck with a blanket, struggling to get comfortable on the hard wooden planks underneath. You fully expected one of these days to walk in on her jumping Beau right there in his office chair, something you hoped to hell you never did because you would never get that sickening image out of your head.

Sure, you had talked with Beau plenty of times about her open hostility. He had begged you to try to make peace which always made you laugh because you were not the intentional catalyst of all of the contention in this situation. 

“I have to make peace. Right,” you muttered, taking a sip of your beer that Beau had offered to you when you arrived at his place a couple of months back.

Beau threw his head back against his chair in disbelief. “I’m just asking you to maybe extend an olive branch. This thing between you two is killing me... And everyone else in the department.”

“Maybe you should tell your undersheriff to, I don’t know, act like an undersheriff?” You ignored Beau’s loud groan and continued. “Isn’t that what she’s supposed to do? Run the department while you’re out? My God, Beau, she can’t even go to the bathroom without your permission. You know that, right?”

“Y/N…”

“You and Em were supposed to go fishing last weekend with Cassie and Kai. I was going to take Carla out for the day to catch up and keep her mind off things while Em was gone. Remember that?”

You ignored Beau rolling his eyes. “Yes,” he begrudgingly admitted.

“And what happened?”

“Y/N, a case dropped. Alright? It happens. When a dead body pops up, I need to know about it.”

“Know about it, yes, not work it.” He turned to meet your unflinching gaze. “No more bullshit, Beau. You didn’t make it to Sheriff by being stupid. You’ve worked in a bigger department before, dealt with way more crime, and overseen a bigger force. All on your own. If this were anyone else, you’d have told them to do their goddamn job by now, or you’d get someone else to fill the spot. You’re making excuses for her and you’re holding her hand like she’s a damn 5 year old.”

Beau dug his teeth into his bottom lip, staring at you in thought. “I told you, she’s been through a lot these past two years.”

“And you haven’t? Cassie hasn’t? Your daughter and her mom? Really?”

He let out a deep breath and sipped from his bottle. “We all have. That’s why when one of us needs a hand, we give it without question. When one of us falls, no matter how often or how long it takes, we help them get back up, every single time.” 

You swallowed the argument on the tip of your tongue and sat back in your chair, staring down at your bottle and playing with the edge of the label. “Okay, Dr. Phil.”

A laugh erupted from the man and out of the corner of your eye, you saw him shaking his head. “I’m just saying we all help each other as best we can. If that means she needs help on a few cases, I’ve got her back.”

“I think you and Hoyt have very different ideas of what the word few means.”

“Y/N, if it was you, if it was Cass, I’d do the same thing. You know that. Look, she was there for me when Em was taken.” You did your best to hide your flinch but it must not have been well enough because his hand suddenly covered both of yours. “You all were,” he clarified. “I’m just trying to return the favor.”

“Sounds like you two are a lot closer than either of you let on,” you mentioned quietly.

When he didn’t respond to that, you snuck a glance up at him. His eyes were glued to you but after a minute, he retracted his hand and dropped his gaze to the deck. “We’re friends.”

You felt a weird sensation in your chest, like something fell into the pit of your stomach with those two words. Beau was a very direct person. He looked you in the eye, he shook your hand, and he didn’t bullshit. That meant if he wasn’t looking at you, if he was feeding you this same line of bullshit, you knew that wasn’t the entire truth. You weren’t sure if it hurt because your best friend was lying to you yet again, possibly still not trusting you with the truth, or if it was due to what he’d said. Either way, you refused to look at it too closely, not wanting this feeling to consume you as it seemed intent on doing. It was easier to put distance there in your mind, to tell yourself that Beau Arlen was a grown man and he could make his own decisions. You just wished he’d get involved with someone better suited for him, like Cassie. Granted, Cassie was with Cormac and they seemed happy, but why couldn’t Beau find his own version of Cassie? Someone who wouldn’t interrupt his time with his daughter, who wouldn’t selfishly absorb all of his time off, who didn’t physically embody the definition of clingy, and who wouldn’t treat his best friend like shit day in and day out?        

Honestly, you could care less about what Hoyt thought of you or how she acted towards you. For you, this was all a one-sided issue that Hoyt herself was making. You saw through her bullshit and you didn’t take her crap, and that infuriated the blonde. But what did she expect? After working a short stint in homicide in Manhattan and then with cartels, drug rings, and all sorts of other mess in Houston, very little had the power to intimidate you these days. Certainly not some little Miss Perfect whose work uniform appeared to consist of band t-shirts, leather jackets, and thick long heels as an undersheriff (how did that make for a successful running down of a suspect? seriously), who also batted her eyelashes at her boss and scowled at you from the moment Beau addressed your existence. You’d seen some things in your time and Helena’s runner-up for this Regina George wannabe was a mere speck on the windshield of shit on top of shit. You had no time for it. You just wished sometimes that Beau would stop trying to put it on your shoulders to do something about it, especially when he knew who the real culprit was.

And almost as if he had just heard your thoughts, he hit you with: “I’m asking you if you can be the one to reach out, Y/N, because I know I can rely on you. If I ask her… With Jenny, it’s complicated.”

“Not my problem,” you snapped out, taking another sip and refusing to look at him.

A very tense silence followed for the next few minutes as you both nursed your beers. You half-wondered if this night was going to end in yet another argument about a woman that wasn’t worth wasting a second over. This much disagreement was uncommon for both of you and you hated it. Oh, sure, you’d had your spats over the years but they were pretty minor and easily dissolved. And the silences… Usually, if a silence fell over the both of you, it was comfortable and felt overall peaceful. Not lately, which always seemed to follow a mention of Hoyt in some fashion.

You felt the all-too familiar burning in the corner of your eyes when you had the thought that had been getting louder and louder as more time passed: perhaps your transfer here had been a mistake. You didn’t regret being here to help when Emily was taken, but maybe once she was safely back home, you should have returned to yours. While Beau had made room for you in the department, there wasn’t really a place for you here; as much as you enjoyed spending time with your favorite family and new friends like Cassie, the person you had dropped everything and moved across state lines for was on the other side of a huge chasm that hadn’t been there before his move up north. It was growing every single day and you had no idea how to stop its progress or bridge the gap. You did your job well and deep down, you knew you would be more efficient elsewhere. You settled into the Montanan lifestyle as best you could but you had to admit to yourself that you knew it wasn’t a perfect fit. The more time passed, the more and more you believed your decision to be a mistake. The man you cared most about in this world had called you, told you he needed you, and you jumped without hesitation, not sparing a single thought or even looking to see where you’d land. Were you really that surprised that things were turning out this way? And every single time Hoyt threw hostility your way, it reinforced what you already knew to be true, the very message she had been sending you these past six months: you didn’t belong here. You turned your head to the side to discreetly wipe away a tear that had managed to escape and you took a breath to prevent any more, telling yourself to get it together.  

You waited for your eyes to clear, to push back down the swell of emotions inside you, and took one last sip of your beer. Just as you were about to announce it was time for you to head home and thank him for the drinks, Beau spoke up. “See that?”

You glanced up to where he was pointing and caught the tail end of a shooting star. A small smile formed on your face as you took in the night sky. You had never seen anything like that before. That was one thing you’d give Montana. It was hard to believe but the sky was so different compared to Texas and definitely not the same as New York. Everything up here was so clear and beautiful. Big Sky Country indeed. 

One night you, Beau, and Cassie had taken to trying to pick out as many constellations as you could find on Cassie’s smartphone. You were not completely successful but there were a lot of laughs as you all tried your best and then there had even been a very interesting conversation about UFOs and the possibility of extraterrestrial life. That had been a night for the books, especially when you and Cassie broke out into fits of drunken giggles when you grabbed Beau’s nose and made a weird mix of a boop and honking sound when you all discussed how you would greet aliens should they ever show up but were not hostile towards humanity. Beau had merely rolled his eyes in good humor and promptly cut you and Cassie off for the rest of the night, taking car keys from the both of you.

“A shooting star,” you whispered in amazement. “I think you’re supposed to make a wish on them, right? Did you make one?” You kept searching the sky, hoping to see another one so you could do just that. The other one was too fast and you desperately wanted to wish that things would get better and you could make your new home work like you had in Houston. The thought immediately saddened you when you remembered how a certain Texan and his family had helped in that department. You swallowed the lump back down and kept watching the sky, hoping like hell the universe would help you out just this once. Just one more. You weren’t wanting a meteor shower to suddenly happen of course, though that would be amazing to witness. You made a mental note to yourself to google it later to see when and where you could see one.

“Already did.”

Your brows furrowed at his response and you turned to find him watching you closely, almost as if he was waiting for you to realize what that wish had been. When you did, you scoffed and got to your feet, second shooting star and your wish be damned. “I’m not doing the olive branch thing so you can forget it. Not even some small rock from outer space is going to force me to do that one.” You stretched, feeling slightly more energetic than you had a moment ago, most likely due to the irritation you were currently experiencing. “Well, this has been fun but I should head home. Thanks for the beer.”

A hand pulled the nearly empty bottle out of yours and another dug into your jeans pocket, pulling your keys out before you could react. “Beau, what the— I’m fine.”

“Uh huh. Listen, you know the deal. You need to sober up before you leave.”

“I’m not drunk! I’m not even tipsy!”

Beau shot you a look. “It’s late. There’s a possible ice warning for later tonight. You’re staying.”

“I have work tomorrow!”

“Good thing you have such an understanding boss then, huh?” He gave you a wink which made you roll your eyes and fold your arms across your chest.

“If you’re so worried about my blood alcohol level, maybe don’t serve alcohol when I come over?”

“What, and miss great moments like…” He reached up and grabbed your nose, making the same boop-honking sound you had made weeks ago. 

You pushed his hands away. “First of all, that is not what I sounded like. Secondly, I’m no lightweight. You know that. How many times have I drunk you under the table?”

He lifted a finger and opened his mouth to argue but then thought it over. “Good point.” You gave an approving nod. “But that was one time, in San Antonio.” He was referring to the day trip you had taken so you could visit the Alamo. You had never been and when you mentioned it, he insisted on being your guide. Carla and Emily were supposed to go as well but the latter had gotten sick so her mom stayed home with her. Beau didn’t want to leave Emily and you were willing to reschedule but Carla insisted you both still go. When you visited a bar later on, Beau issued a little friendly drinking competition between the two of you, as long as one of you was still sober enough to drive home. He had been convinced he would emerge victorious; he was wrong. That had been a long ride on the I-10. By the end of the night, Carla had her hands full with two sick people, each having their own trash baskets by their bedsides. It took some time but she eventually forgave you.

You held up two fingers. “Twice actually. You didn’t really think I’d let you forget Austin’s birthday party at that place in downtown Houston, did you?”

The man winced. “Alright, alright. Twice.” You nodded in approval. “Now, all the talk about drinking aside, you did just remind me how my time with people I care about has been interrupted quite a bit lately. Even if you’re set to drive, just stay. We can watch a movie and you can have the bed.”

A part of you wanted to accept but the other part wanted to retreat to your sanctuary, where you could break down in tears or mope around in peace. “I don’t really want to spend another night in the tin can,” you whined. “My bed is so much more comfortable and I feel it calling to me right now…” You glanced longingly in the direction of the road.

Beau’s jaw dropped. “Tin can? Between you and Em, I swear… Why can’t my girl get any respect around here?”

“Because you refer to it as a girl. You know how I feel about that.” Another eye-roll. “Beau Arlen, you keep rolling those eyes of yours at me, they’re going to fall out of your head. You just wait.”

“Sure they will.” He laid an arm around your shoulders, pulling you in closer and giving you a smirk. You couldn’t help but lean into him, hoping to feel that closeness between you again even if it was only physically. “What if I whip out some marshmallows? Whaddya say?”

“Are you really trying to bribe me to spend the night? With a gooey, sugary, yet very deliciously fluffy confectionery treat, no less?”  

“Is it working?”

You shrugged though deep down you knew it was. Marshmallows over a fire were your kryptonite and the son of a bitch knew it. “Tell me you have graham crackers and some chocolate that’s not expired, and you’ve got a deal.”

He beamed at you like a kid seeing wrapped presents under the tree on Christmas morning, making your heart feel a little lighter. How could you say no to that?

A few s’mores and quite a few more beers later, you were snuggled into his side, rapidly falling asleep. He had insisted you sit with him in his chair so you could both huddle under his one blanket for warmth on the cold night. Your drunken giggles may have made a reappearance as he worked to adjust the both of you for maximum blanket coverage but you would never admit to it if ever questioned in open court. You swore you’d buy him a few more blankets, especially when the thought popped into your head that there was a possibility that he and Hoyt had cuddled and done God knew what else under that thing. You’d even tried to wiggle it off of you since the thought took root in your stomach and soured (or maybe that was the beer), but Beau kept tucking it around you and pulling you closer until you finally gave up and settled against him with a sigh. The sound of his heartbeat and his deep voice as he spoke to you lulled you into slumber almost immediately. You thought you felt his lips brush against your forehead and you could have sworn he said something akin to “Definitely came true” but you had practically drunk your weight in beer and you were exhausted from the late hour as well as all of the roiling emotions inside of you so you couldn’t be sure it wasn’t something you dreamt instead. When you woke up with a massive headache the next day, alone in Beau’s bed with the blanket completely wrapped around you while the man snored from the couch, a dream was definitely what you chalked it up to.

And now here you were, yet again, at another impasse over the insufferable pain in your ass named Jenny Hoyt. The woman barely interacted with you, preferring to act like you didn’t exist or to silently glare at you from across the room, and she wasn’t even here, but somehow there she was, always in between the two of you. It really made you miss the old days, back before things went to shit for Beau in Houston. Back when things were a lot less complicated. 

“Davis is booking Webb so I’ll go finish up the paperwork.” You turned to head towards the door.

“Y/N,” Beau sighed, giving you a pleading look.

“Thanks for the talk. I’ll catch you later.” You sent a forced smile his way and slowly spun out the door, closing it behind you. Passing by Poppernak on your way to your desk, you snatched a muffin right out of his hand. 

“Hey! That’s the only blueberry from the bag. Madge got the other.”

“That sucks,” you teased before breaking off a piece of the top and tossing it into your mouth. “I thought you liked chocolate chip, anyway.”

“Nah, not anymore. It gives me bad heartburn,” he confirmed sadly.

You couldn’t help but arch a brow at him. “And blueberry doesn’t?”

He shrugged. “Not as much.”

With a roll of your eyes, you tossed the muffin back at him and he caught it with a bright smile. You slipped the paper out of your back pocket and punched a familiar number into your phone.

“Who are you calling?”

“Your mother, Pepper Snaps.” Poppernak frowned over at you. You couldn’t blame him; you were being a total crankpot. It wasn’t just your recent conversation with Beau or Hoyt’s attitude or even your most recent case. You hated that you had to sit at a desk in the middle of a busy station while Beau and Hoyt got to have their own offices. Normally, you wouldn’t care, but when it came to phone calls or conversations best kept away from prying eyes and overeager ears, it was frustrating. You weren’t a deputy — you had as much authority as Hoyt, and Beau had made that perfectly clear to the department when you started (though you had a different title due to politics and budgetary reasons). Due to lack of room, however, you were forced to share a space with them, your deskmate being Poppernak. Not that you minded but damn the rest of the department could be so nosy sometimes. When you noticed a couple of other deputies watching you, you asked loudly, “Can’t a girl get some privacy around here?” All of them looked away, not willing to enter into yet another glaredown with you. They never emerged victorious in those encounters, even Miller who could be a real jerk when he wanted to be. They had all learned very quickly in your first week that you could hold your own and you could go endless rounds with the best of them. You could stand the heat and before long, it would be your kitchen and they’d be burnt to a goddamn crisp or running for the door. 

“Mind your muffin,” you grumbled to Pops.

When the line connected and the operator asked you who you were trying to contact, you cupped your hand over the mouthpiece and asked for the department you needed. While you were being transferred, Pops arched his eyebrows at you in question since he had overheard you because no damn privacy.

You let out a sigh in resignation and shook your head. “I’m following up on a case. It’s nothing.”

“Sure sounds like something,” Pops said through a mouthful of muffin.

Giving him a look, you sat back in your chair and listened patiently to the public information that substituted what normally would be hold music. You thought back to your ride over to the station and what Webb had said while in the back of your car. You may have pushed the right buttons to get him to open up and say enough to help you make the decision you just made, but you didn’t have any evidence that anything he’d mentioned was the truth. Still, you knew what you saw and you knew what your instincts were telling you. Like Beau said, you couldn’t get involved but that didn’t mean you couldn’t do something.

A few minutes later, after consistently turning Webb’s words over and over in your mind and listening to the same public safety message for the twelfth time, someone finally answered.

“Agent Sanchez? It’s Y/N Y/L/N. Not sure if you remember me from the Carter case last year. How’ve you been?” Carter had been an escaped convict that a manhunt had been on for last year, and it had been an all hands on deck situation. You and your partner had been stuck with Sanchez and this other dickish agent whose name wasn’t even worth remembering, but you and Sanchez had gotten along well enough to help get the job done. In the end, Carter had been apprehended and dumped back in prison thanks to the cooperation and joint efforts of all of the agencies involved.

You made a little small talk and then you got right to the point. “Listen, do you happen to have any contacts in the branch office in Montana? You do? Do you think you could put me in touch? I have a case up here that I think one of their departments might want to take a look at.”

Sanchez gave you the name and number of his contact, told you to keep him updated, and let him know if you needed anything else. He also mentioned you should call him to go for a drink next time you were in town. Remembering the wedding ring he had been sporting, you gave him a vague but polite noncommittal, thanked him, and promptly hung up. You glanced up to find Pops staring at you wide-eyed.

“What?”

He glanced around, seeming unsure, and then leaned in closer. “Does the boss know you’re doing this? Because if Hoyt finds out you’re pulling the Feds into this, she’s going to—”

You held up a hand after you dialed the next number and unfolded the paper from your pocket, looking at the information you needed. “Pops, let me stop you right there. I spoke to the sheriff already about this case. What Hoyt does or doesn’t do, doesn’t concern me, and the same goes for her where I’m concerned. Understood?”

Poppernak shook his head and leaned back. “Okay but it’s your head if she finds out. Just warning you.”

You gave him a wide grin right before the line connected once again. “She can try.”

#beau arlen x reader #beau arlen x you #beau arlen x y/n #big sky fanfiction #beau x reader #beau x y/n #beau x you #beau arlen x female reader #beau x female reader #only ever holding onto you #beau arlen

[intersectionalpraxis]

Heyo! As a Canadian, are there any particular ways we can help Palestine? Also, who are the companies actively shipping shit to israel?

Hello! Thank you so much for the question. I'd first like to take the opportunity to state that the federal government in Canada right now -the Trudeau Government -has been terribly consistent with supporting the IOF. For DECADES -since the creation of the settler state (which should not be a surprise to anyone, of course), Canada has a LONG 'diplomatic' history of being pro-Isnotreal. For folks who don't know/aren't aware, since we often hear about/talk about the US's imperialistic policies and actions against many communities around the world (which, again is understandable given the billions in military aid they give to Isnotreal and the sheer amount of militaristic aggression and violence the US unleashes daily to people they deem a 'threat' to their empire) -but I always remind folks to not forget that Canada is equally awful and problematic.

The Trudeau government, like many MP's across party lines, have supported the IOF and the Trudeau government has denied genocide 'allegations' against Isnotreal at the ICJ. Trudeau is also the one who advocated for a "humanitarian pause," after stumbling on his words a few months ago, and has, from time to time, 'condemned,' the IOF military for going 'overboard' when he trickles in his little empathetic 'we are so concerned for the people in Gaza,' while in the same breath saying the IOF didn't strike hospitals... (side eyes).

These are some recent examples (the first in June, and December of 2023, respectively) -which shows proof that Canada exports weapons to the IOF (but often through the US -the article below addresses this). Since you asked about about which companies are shipping to Isnotreal, the only one I can reference is CN Rail [Canadian National Railway] (which is where some protests have happened), but there aren't any other particular companies I can reference because shipments are done relatively in secret, so there's not a strong/direct paper trail, so to speak. this is an except from the first article below:

"Canada doesn’t normally release many details on defence exports to Israel or other countries. Since 2015, however, the largest annual categories of shipments fall into three categories: bombs, torpedoes, missiles and other explosive devices; aircraft, drones, aero engines, aircraft equipment for military use and electronic equipment; spacecraft and components." "A 2020-2021 study by the House of Commons foreign affairs committee obtained records that shed some light on the goods Canadian firms were seeking permission to export to Israel, including transport vehicles, circuit boards for Israel’s fleet of F-15 and V-22 aircraft and components for radios." "The Canadian-made components that go into each F-35 don’t show up in Ottawa’s records of military goods exports because they are shipped to the United States, where the aircraft’s manufacturer, Lockheed Martin, is based, and Global Affairs Canada does not publish the full value of annual military exports to the U.S."

It is very concerning how the Canadian government operates this way, and we should all be demanding more transparency about arms transfers to the US. Project Ploughshares, the research committee that they spoke about in the first article, is a resource I would look into if you want to learn more about this. They focus on "disarmament efforts and international security specifically related to the arms trade..." I've attached their website below. You can also access previous webinars, reports, and commentary on their page on these topics.

There were 2 successful direct action protests in Canada, one in Winnipeg and the other in Montreal, in November and December of last year, respectively. Both of whom were blocking railways in an effort to raise awareness about Canada supporting and sending arms to Isnotreal.

This also happened recently:

Now, what can be done on our ends? Plenty -sharing and creating posts about what is happening -and telling the world we won't remain silent on the genocide happening in Gaza.

This is the most updated BDS movement list for you to boycott companies and brands that either profit off of or indirectly support the genocide of Palestinian people:

Oxfam also created this small article about what we can do to help which I find is a great start:

Some of the actions include emailing the Prime Minister (they have a template for you to work with), and I wanted to also include emailing your MP's (Members of Parliament), to demand a ceasefire.

There is also a current petition in parliament right now you can sign -it's a demand to a ceasefire, and also demands an investigation into Canadian arms deals/sells in Isnotreal -and for more transparency into this, generally speaking (you can read everything the MP outlines below). This is open until February 19th, 2024. I may also make a separate post about this too:

There are some petitions on change.org I know people have set up, so you can take a look there of course. There is also a source that Oxfam links -they have a section of current events/resources where you can take action. The most recent national march for Gaza was in December 2023 (it took place in Ottawa, on unceded and un-surrendered Algonquin territory -Parliament Hill), and I am sure more will be planned for those able to attend/what is accessible to you.

I know this was quite long, but I hope this offers some direction and clarity, if not encourages more people to look into some of these topics and issues more deeply. Thank you once again for sharing this today. I will also be updating my page soon.

As always, free Palestine!

#feminist #feminism #social justice #free palestine #freepalastine🇵🇸 #settler violence #settler colonialism #free gaza #current events #canada #canada politics #members of parliament #liberals #justin trudeau #trudeau news #canadian politics #world politics #us imperialism #activism #protest #petition #ceasefire now #ceasefire #end the occupation

[littlebitsmile]

in flames [C.L.] | Chapter I

Welcome back! Here's the first official chapter, situated inbetween the ending of the 2023 season and the beginning of the 2024 season. This played out in my head and be prepared, this whole story will be a SLOW burn. Even slower than Ferraris pit stops.

Dropping a new chapter next week, would be nice to see lots of you again!

But until then, enjoy your happy holidays!

[also, please don't forget to read the Prologue first]

story: in flames driver: Charles Leclerc [C.L.] trope: #haterstolovers summary: Always working three times as hard as everyone else, Emma does not intend to blow her chance of driving among the best of the best in her very first season in Formula 1. Concentrating on first and foremost getting ahead of her brother, she does not even notice that there are some people even in her own team who think she does not deserve this spot and would rather see her fail. And one driver in particular seems to have a need of always reminding her of that.

────ʚ C H A P T E R I ɞ────

As soon as the news broke, I have been swarmed by paparazzi. Hell, I could not even go to the toilet in peace without someone asking me about my deal with Aston Martin. But after finishing my last race in Formula 2, I could officially call myself part of a new team.

Sadly, I still have no clue why they approached me with an offer and why they went through with signing me. Initially, I thought it was a joke, some PR stunt to rile up Red Bull, since they made it pretty clear they wanted me and Max as the power duo - after a second and eventually third year of proofing myself in Formula 2. However, a ten-minute phone call turned into an unofficial hour-long meeting, which morphed into a Zoom session involving my manager and a team of lawyers. Three separate five-hour sessions later, where expectations on both sides were thoroughly discussed, I found myself facing a stack of papers with small "x" marks beside every line I needed to sign.

And here I am, wearing a green polo, black trousers, decent makeup, and a smile plastered across my face. Fernando Alonso, one of the biggest names in the sport, nods in my direction, giving me a last look of encouragement or approval—I'm not sure. We walk through the double-winged doors and are instantly met with flashes of light. The noise is overwhelming; I have to restrain myself from covering my ears and squatting on the ground with pleas of "stop." People shout not only my name but also Fernando's, alongside questions we surely are not allowed to answer at the moment.

Navigating through the chaos, we take our places on the couch atop the stage, in front of what must be hundreds of people. I feel like prey, reporters wielding notepads, iPads, and phones as their weapons to summon words that cut through us like knives.

As we sit down, I immediately reach for the glass of water standing next to me to soothe my dry throat. Nausea washes over me as I glance around the room.

"Welcome, ladies and gentlemen, to the first pre-season interview of Aston Martin! We are delighted to have our two drivers, Fernando Alonso and Emma Verstappen, here for approximately one hour to answer all the questions you certainly have. But first, let’s address the elephant in the room, shall we?"

I was informed about this. We went over a few potential questions in countless meetings with my new PR manager. Nonetheless, I can't help but feel like this is a test I didn't prepare for at all.

"Emma, let’s start with you. This is your first year in Formula 1, and there is a big question on everyone's minds: Why Aston Martin? I mean, your brother – Max Verstappen, for everyone who has been living under a rock for the past couple of years -…" Laughter fills the room. I chuckle myself, but I would rather cry. "He has been with Red Bull since 2016. Everyone thought if there's a chance of you getting into Formula 1, it would be alongside your brother in a Red Bull car. What happened?"

I take a deep breath, swallow, pick up the microphone in my lap, and try not to look straight into the ceiling lights.

"Firstly, thank you all for being here. I do realize you’re here for Fernando and not for me—at least that’s what I’ve been trying to tell myself for the last week so I wouldn’t freak out." More laughter in the crowd. I relax a little. "And thank you for the question. I guess a lot of that was gut feeling. To be honest, I am really not sure why Aston Martin initially talked to me about my chances in Formula 1 since my last driver championship was in Formula 3 two years ago. I just finished second in Formula 2, and I've only been there for a year, so that was quite unusual. But when I talked to the guys and they introduced who was supposed to be my future race engineer and some people from the pit crew, I saw in them what I saw in myself: a purpose. They all spoke so passionately and ambitiously about the next season, and suddenly I felt like I found a place where I belonged. At least that's what my PR told me to say. Actually, I am here because green is my favorite color, and I have the biggest crush on Fernando."

The crowd goes crazy. Everyone claps and cheers. Someone screams, "We all do!" I glance at Fernando, and he smiles at me. Then he picks up his microphone: "We all hope you realize that was a joke. You could be my daughter, Emma. Also, Linda is still the love of my life."

"Damn, if there will ever be a chance of dating Fernando Alonso, Emma, you will have to line yourself up in the back. But, thank you for the close insight. We are pretty proud to have you wearing our colors." The host looks away from us and turns to the crowd. "So, let’s do what we and all of you are here for. Time for some questions."

A few hands instantly shoot into the air. My palms are sweating, and I look around nervously, praying that some people here have the decency not to focus too much on my transfer. But apparently, there is no god in the big blue hanging above us.

"Fernando, how do you feel with a rookie as a teammate? A female one?"

Tiny voices in my head agree with him, and probably many reporters in the room too. I shift uncomfortably on my seat. This press conference is not going in the direction we anticipated. Fernando seems to think about the question, but even though I have not known him for very long, I can feel how he tries to behave and stay calm.

"Age or gender have nothing to do with talent. Or capability, for that matter." His eyes revert to me. A smile. Then he continues: "We’re a team, and success comes from working together. I’m pretty sure an old man like me will learn a lot, but we always have to remember that this is a process. Growing as a team will not happen overnight."

Fernando's calmness washes over me and captures me. He has been doing all of this for so long—PR training, talking to reporters, reading about himself in newspapers and on tabloids. I feel pretty lost, like I am on an island with only a book about survival strategies, but it is not written in any language I can speak.

"What did you think about the statement Charles Leclerc made last week, about you being in this sport solely because of your brother? Or maybe, a bold follow-up question: Is your place in Formula 1 rather about connections than skill?"

I laugh, and the room immediately goes silent. "Sorry, what was your name?" I ask.

"Uhm…Kevin?"

"Well, Kevin, that’s a really good question, and I have to say there hasn’t been a single day where I haven’t asked myself the exact same thing." I pause and look around. Shock is plastered all over the reporters' faces, probably because they did not expect this kind of answer. "The thing is, my whole life I was second. Second being born, second to being seen, second to being supported. Second to start karting after Max had already a great start. The only time I did something Max didn’t do before me was when I joined a Formula 2 team—and that was only because he went straight from Formula 3 to Formula 1."

I remember the call I got when my place at DAMS was secured. I was excited beyond words, screamed, cried, laughed, all at the same time. I thought, finally, I have something to be proud of, something I achieved by myself. Something for myself. But when I went to tell my family, the only comment I got from Dad was: "Well, maybe you’re not as talented to just go straight to Formula 1. But it’s a nice chance, for a girl." Max does not know about that conversation, and I try to keep it that way. Otherwise, he would probably punch Dad in the face, a couple of times.

"Of course, it is hard to believe in yourself when there are so many people who doubt you, but that’s the beautiful thing about Aston Martin and the seat they offered me: They see something in me no one else sees, and they believe that I can contribute something to this team. These are guys who have been in motorsport way longer than I am, so I think it would be pretty fair to say I trust their judgment more than someone who tries to make a living of writing stories about strangers, I guess." A few people laugh, a few clap. I try not to be rude, but it is true. People are so quick to judge situations they are not in, and I am not here for that.

"Also, I cannot influence what any other driver on the grid has to say about me. As I said, I am here because some people see potential in me being a F1 driver and I will not let them regret this decision, so...I guess Charles, and any other driver for that matter, can have opinions about me all they want, but I am going to race these guys, whether they like it or not. This is a chance and I don't intend to blow it."

"Well, that’s a clear statement, and I’m right with you on that. Hopefully, pardon my French, you will kick some ass out there this season. The men need it, believe me." There is a wink in his tone. The room erupts in applause and camera flashes. I smile and nod, a small "thank you" gesture to the reporter.

"Thanks, Kevin. I will try my best not to disappoint you."

The press conference concludes about thirty minutes later; we say our quick goodbyes and leave to go back to the headquarters.

"What a day, huh?" Fernando remarks as we come to a halt in front of our cars. I sigh, shake my head, and gaze down at the ground.

"This was a lot more challenging than I thought. They're like... like..." I struggle to find the right word to capture the feeling. Fernando nudges me, a gesture of understanding.

“I know what you mean, but that’s their job. If they don’t bring out the worst in us, they would suck at it. But you handled it quite well, so don’t worry about it.” I glance at him. When I grow up, I want to be as calm as this man—like a huge cliff at sea, never giving in to whatever storm is coming.

“I haven’t seen what statement Charles made, did you?” I try not to sound too curious.

“Don’t dwell on it. I’m sure a lot of people will comment on you joining Aston Martin, some more, some less. But the most important thing is to clear your mind. We don’t need distractions – we only need some confidence. I can feel it; this will be our year.”

"If you say so."

And with that, Fernando waves one more time, gets into his car, and then drives off with a loud roar of the engine.

I look around, absorbing the peace and how silence envelops me.

Guess it’s time to start believing in myself and kick some ass.

────ʚ [Masterlist] [Prologue] [Chapter II] ɞ────

#f1 #f1 fanfic #formula 1 #charles leclerc #haters to lovers #f1 imagine #slow burn

[freetobeeyouandme]

Chapter 6: We Take a Portal to School

Chapter 6 of my Byler Isekai AU is now up on Ao3! The party gets to relax a little after almost dying in the last one while also making plans on how to proceed. Plus there is some Mike and the boys bonding and worldbuilding happening, which is why this whole thing comes in at almost 10k. You're welcome.

Tags: M, Graphic Descriptions of Violence, Fantasy AU, Canon Typical Violence, Canon Typical Horror, Friends to Lovers, Slow Burn

Summary:

Mike Wheeler hates High School, so when he almost dies and falls through a portal to another world, he’s not going to complain. Especially not when that world does not only have swords and magic but seems to work exactly according to the rules of his favorite tabletop role-playing game. But his euphoria might be short lived because the party of adventurers he falls in with turns out to be the target of an evil god and the fate of the world might rest on their shoulders. So, exactly like his games of D&D. Except the wanna-be Paladin soon realizes that being a hero is much harder in real life than it is in-game. - Or, Mike gets isekai’d into a world where D&D is real.

An excerpt and taglist below the cut:

Excerpt:

They are found, eventually. From where Mike is sitting he can see three doors leading into the building, all made of the same heavy wood. The one that opens grates on the stone floors, the noise so loud in the reverent quiet of the courtyard that Mike jumps.

The others turn towards the noise with equal looks of dread and resignation.

The door admits two men wrapped in white robes and big, colorful fabrics wrapped around them like greek togas. The smaller of the two is elven, a little shorter than Mike himself, with a pudgy, almost dad-like shape, short, thin white hair and pale skin. The other man is an owlin with brown and creme feathers, sort of like a barn owl. He towers over the other man but hangs back as they make their way to the edge of the walkway, curiously watching their bedraggled group, whispering to each other, before they finally step into the courtyard proper.

Mike puts his hand on his sword, not sure he’s ready to fight if it comes to it but also knowing that he’ll have no other choice. The men hold themselves friendly enough and as far as he can see they’re not carrying weapons, but in a world with magic that doesn’t mean much.

One’s weapon had also only been his mind.

The others react calmly to the approach, though. Lucas straightens up a little, clearly torn between holding onto Max and assuming his princely duties as their leader. Hop, Mrs. Byers and Jonathan look from the men to the group around Mike, and Will rises to his feet and approaches them. He meets the smaller man’s eyes and bows.

The man in charge smiles a smile that isn’t really comforting when he sees their Cleric. “Young Master Byers. I didn’t expect to see you here ever again.”

Will keeps his head bowed. “High Mage Owens.”

“Did that goddess of yours forsake you after all?”

Mike is sure the intention is just friendly ribbing, but the man’s tone is just slightly off, and Will gives him no more than a tight smile when he lifts his head.

“I’m afraid not, sir,” he replies. “But we seek shelter all the same. We will leave if you need us to, but-” he trails off, looking around the courtyard at his tired and grieving friends.

Owens follows the gaze with the same look of cold kindness that he’s been wearing since he stepped through the door. His eyes snag on the corpse sprawled out beside their bags. “So it is true that the Circle has fallen. I told Martin not to trust in gods.”

El tenses at the name, looking down at her feet. Mike understands the feeling. He doesn’t like that fact that this man used to be on a first name basis with the Father of Gods.

The man behind Owens leans forward, whispering something in his superior’s ear. Owens purses his lips, then shakes his head.

“Have you brought his body here with you to resurrect him, or-”

“No,” Lucas says, much too loud in his hurry to speak up. Again he looks at Mike in a way that makes him uncomfortable – a feeling not at all helped by the way Lucas still clings to Max. “He should receive a proper burial...we brought him so he wouldn’t fall into One’s clutches, but no...we just- the body just-”

He trails off.

Owens watches him with calculated interest, the barest hint of a shadow passing over his face. Then he turns back to Will with a tight smile. “We will take care of it.” He nods at Max. “Your friend-”

Hop rises to his feet and joins his son. “She’ll be alright, she simply needs rest.”

Owens nods. “You all need rest. And you shall have it. Let it not be said that the Laboratories turned away heroes in their hour of need.” He motions for the man behind him. “Shepard, see that rooms are prepared for our guests. And have the kitchens bring some food up for them.”

The man whispers something else in Owens ear, and Owens nods. Then the owlin hurries away.

“Come,” Owens gestures for them to follow him. “We have far more comfortable places to discuss your predicament than our portal room.”

Unofficial Tag List (aka you interacted with my posts about this fic, please tell me if you want me to not tag you in the future (or want to be added)): @smalltownwheeler @wheelerpilled @wrong-energy @willthelies @foodiewithdahoodie @doggo9 @gardenfairie @beelikesbyler @beverlysclown @yickarus @sourdough-el @hessolivagant @hesquietoday @oldfashionedmorphine @total-serene560 @bylersrise @hawkinsunderground @longtallglasses @generalstorecashier @usnaavi @camel-casing @bylersbear01 @turningsoft @casatoan @maru-chu @xobyers @goldentrunks @itachisnipplesharingan

#kingslayer fic #mike wheeler #will byers #byler #stranger things #byler fanfic

[ego-osbourne]

Oblivion Group

Something I planned on finishing for a ref but I did that that where I put too much effort into the sketch layer and now have zero motivation to do the lineart layer

Ignoring that, though! I drew this not long after I’d finished my first playthrough of Oblivion! God a little story idea going on, maybe I’ll write it — it’s not super high priority though as I’ve already got TDI to focus on.

Still, though, in the main trio we have Glarthir (yes I’ve latched onto him that hard, his quest makes me so fuckin sad), Sweetheart (my HoK who misses his girlfriend), and ofc Martin (yes that is Mehrunes’ Razor. I thought it’d be funny).

Glarthir and Sweetheart are most often seen traveling together while Martin hangs back in Cloud Ruler Temple, but there are many missions where Martin is able to sneak away and come along with them. Glarthir, despite his build, insists on being a heavy fighter. His “battleaxe” is really just a waraxe made for orc warriors much bigger than him. He at first got it for home protection, but now carries it around as his weapon of choice on travels. He can cast magic, but just. Really. Likes the axe. He’s also supposed to have antlers, but I had drawn this before I made that headcanon for him.

Sweetheart is the speediest of the three, and prefers a type of “gun and run” tactic. He holds a powerful shock spell that he lovingly named “Heart Attack” that damages on touch. His nimbleness allows him to slip away before the enemy can get a counter hit on him. He’s also a thief, though much prefers to steal in plain sight than try and sleuth around (he was the distraction while his girlfriend was the sneak, before the Crisis separated them). He wears glass armor stylized like actual glass pane artwork. Bc that’s cool.

Martin is much less of a fighter compared to the other two, but does do his best to play defense. He and Sweetheart shake hands about always getting asked “are you alright?” due to their Resting Wet Cat Faces, and they’d much rather talk their way out of a situation than fight through it. Sweetheart, with the best of intentions, raided a Mythic Dawn encampment for the Razor specifically to bring it back to Cloud Ruler to gift it to Martin. Jauffre and Baurus were… less than stoked. The very weapon that killed Uriel Septim and many emperors beforehand—quite literally dubbed the “Kingslayer”—was not a very good gift to give to the last remaining emperor. Martin thought otherwise, and uses it for defense against Daedra (due to it’s unique ability to instantly banish Daedra with one cut). He has is wielding arm completely armored to protect against any accidental nicks, for it’s other unique ability involves producing a wound tenfold the damage of the actual cut.

#Glarthir #sweetheart #martin septim #tes #tesblr #tes art #tesiv #tesiv oblivion #oblivion #Bosmer #altmer #imperial #mehrunes razor #mortal intentions #my art #hok #hero of kvatch

[pinkeoni]

Stranger Things and the Male Gaze

In the second episode of season one, Stranger Things gives us a literal example of a character employing the male gaze, when Jonathan takes a snapshot of Nancy undressing through his camera.

Following this creepy display of voyeurism (I'm sorry Jonathan, but it's what you did!) Jonathan turns his gaze to a similar yet very different subject— Barb.

And it's after Jonathan asserts his gaze on these two subjects do they experience a point of "attack" from a male presence, eg Nancy has sex with Steve and Barb is killed by the demogorgon.

The term "the male gaze" was first used in film theorist and feminist Laura Mulvey's 1973 essay "Visual Pleasure and Narrative Cinema."

"In a world ordered by sexual imbalance, pleasure in looking has been split between active/male and passive/female. The determining male gaze projects its phantasy on to the female figure which is styled accordingly."

The idea of the "male gaze" can be a hot topic of discussion in recent film theory and film spaces, even with its legitimacy being debatable. But it's an idea that has been known within film for half a century and, for all intents and purposes, Stranger Things is made from a male perspective. Its creators are male, its producers are male, its directors are mostly male and its cinematographers are male. There are certainly strong female voices within the show as well, but the control of the narrative, like most mainstream media, is still male.

The idea of gazing within the show is present from the very beginning to where the series is now. We see the government spy on Joyce's phone call in episode one, the Man "with a capital M," as represented through Martin "Papa"— the government itself being understood as a male presence historically, and the other great-omniscient-male gaze present in the show comes from the Mind Flayer/Vecna.

Gaze as a Weapon

The male gaze is a sexual one, and it's a dangerous one at that. In her book on gender in horror Men, Women and Chainsaws, (yes I'm still reading this, reading the final chapter actually inspired this whole post) author Carol J. Clover writes:

"This is the narrative's present and casual gaze, its "doing" gaze. It is also, of course, a predatory, assaultive gaze—in the story's own terms, a phallic gaze."

Clover writes about the 1960's film Peeping Tom, which shares the story of a filmmaker who enjoys gazing at women sexually as much as he enjoys killing them, their bodies and gruesome deaths all captured through the crosshairs of his camera, which doubles as his weapon.

The idea of gaze or sight as danger or as a weapon is prevalent in the show. Papa forces El to spy on soviets, employing her as a weapon through the power of sight, Vecna utilizes hallucinations to attack his victims, and Kali weaponizes her ability to manipulate what people see.

To control the gaze is to have power and autonomy, and to be gazed upon is to lose that power. For example, we see Will enacting his own gaze through his own lens when he brings Bob's camera trick-or-treating. When Will is scared and sent into a true-sight vision, he drops the camera and thus loses control of said gaze. We later see Joyce gaze upon Will through the television screen as she replays the tape. This is also the moment when Joyce discovers the presence of the Mind Flayer.

In a similar vein, El has been subjected to being gazed upon and gains power and autonomy through sight. This is shown most literally during NINA, when El is subjected to Papa's gaze. Not only is he watching her as an omniscient eye through this whole process, but he is using tapes that were recorded and curated by him— Papa is literally the male gaze that is manipulating the narrative.

The strongest moment for El during NINA, the one where she gains new knowledge she never knew she had, is when she has a flashback where we see the world through her eyes, her gaze, and I think it's important that in this moment the person gazing back is another woman.

And after this experience, she shifts the narrative that has been given to her by Papa.

Gaze as Knowledge and Freedom

The way that El has learned about the world has been through sight. It's significant that part of this exploration involves looking at a television screen, in both seasons 1 and 2.

In seasons 2 and 3 El picks up spying on her own, which is something she brought over from the lab. But this time, without her gaze being controlled by Papa. While it's encouraged by Max (granted a female presence) using her powers to spy is something that El chooses to do.

While the spying is indicative of El's anatomical freedom, it's inherent invasiveness of this act, especially as she spies on the boys, is something that codes it as male. The idea of a "female gaze," while sometimes debated as real or not, is something that exists in modern feminist film theory. The idea isn't that it subjugates men under the power of women, a mirror of what the male gaze is, but rather "about using the presence of a female perspective on screen to emphasize the story’s emotions and characters."

But it should still be considered what gaze the show is made under. As stated before, Stranger Things is made from a male perspective, even with a female character at the lead. And perhaps this is why El's personal freedom feels male, since it's controlled by a male perspective. If the female gaze is pervasive then it is in indie-film spaces, and mainstream and commercial projects such as this show have been dominated by men for years.

Part of the male gaze isn't just the act of how the male viewer gazes upon women (scopophilia), but how the male viewer identifies with the on-screen female presence (ego libido). If El is meant to be the hero in a show from a male perspective, and arguably for a male audience, then perhaps her personal freedom and empowerment was always going to feel male.

But still, I don't think that El's gender can necessarily be completely ignored, or that the existence of the male gaze eradicates the importance and meaning behind El's empowerment and gain of autonomy. I think about a quote that Clover used to describe the maleness of final girls. If El is a woman, then her personal freedom, autonomy, and empowerment is not completely male.

#stranger things #el hopper #st analysis #my analysis #film theory

[patrickjanebrain]

This scene from 5x01 is fascinating; there's so much unsaid but still fully communicated - both between them and to the audience.

Lorelei Martins presents a conundrum for the audience. She is presented as a femme fatale. She is literally presented to Jane by Red John, and as a present, she's something of a Trojan Horse. She's looks like Lisbon, but she is like Jane.

At this point in the show, Jane values two things, nearly equally: his quest for revenge against Red John and his relationship with Lisbon. The quest has been his #1 priority for a decade or more, but in working with Lisbon and the team, Jane has become marginally tamed. He sees what it's like to be cared for, and he's found that strong person - a better person - who will be there for him through thick and thin, someone who he can truly trust in every way.

Lorelei is a threat to both of those things, and I think he senses it, but does not want to admit it. He does not.

He knew she was Red John's weapon. He wanted to be approached. He thought he could easily dismiss that she resembles the woman he loves. While he and Lisbon are not a couple and have never been physical, Jane does love Lisbon, and he needs her in his life. He accepts her on her terms, whatever those terms may be.

Lorelei is a direct threat to Lisbon - she demands her head to give to Red John. But she's also a threat to the trust that he's developed with Lisbon because he knows that Lisbon will not like that he's become intimate - in any way - with Lorelei. He's also unwilling to talk about that intimacy because he's in denial. And not about Lorelei and her importance or his attraction, whatever those may be. He's in denial that he's the one in control in this situation.

He WANTS to be in control. He needs to be the one doing the playing, not the one being played.

See how defensive he gets when Lisbon tells him Lorelei is playing him? He mocks her suggestion that he tell her what Lorelei's game is. Like that's so far fetched. It's his literal job to tell her what the criminal's game is, and he does it all of the time.

But if Lorelei is playing him, Jane is not the one in control. And worse, it might not just be Lorelei who's is pulling his strings.

Lorelei is like Jane. She's been traumatized by Red John, and she lost her most important person. She's also a sly, cunning criminal. Being cruelly victimized by a psychopathic killer can lead to multiple outcomes. Jane became a better person, partly because of Lisbon and the CBI team. Lorelei became further enthralled to Red John.

Jane is an exceedingly lonely man. He wants to get close to people, but he is excruciatingly aware that anyone he gets close to become a potential target. In gifting him Lorelei, Red John is giving him a peace offering: Here's someone you can love. I'll let you have this person, someone who will understand exactly what you're going through. You don't have be alone. We don't have to be enemies. And you don't have to be a better person, you can be yourself. We like you for who you are.

In this short scene, we see Jane wrestle with that comprehension and his loyalties, to Lisbon and his mission.

Ultimately, he rejects Red John's peace offering and tries to turn Lorelei, at which point she betrays his trust, goes after Red John herself, and puts her lust for revenge over and above Jane's offer of friendship and a successful outcome. He loses his hard earned lead, six months of his life, and a person he wanted to try to save (a version of himself). He loses everything but Lisbon's friendship.

What Red John didn't understand is that Jane doesn't want or need someone like himself. He needs a person of compassion, concern, objectivity, self-sacrifice, and iron-clad loyalty.

Lorelei Martins - There but for the grace of Lisbon, goes Jane. And that's not who he wants (or needs) to be. He knows how that story ends: in an alley, alone, covered in blood. And without Lisbon and her stubborn loyalty and patience, he probably would have come to the same end.

#patrick jane #the mentalist #teresa lisbon #jisbon #tm #lisbon x jane #jane x lisbon #lisbon and jane #jane and lisbon #youtube #red john #lorelei martins #meta #my meta #Youtube

[kellyvela]

One of my favorite things about Dani and her fans is how much they have romanticized dragons and unironically feed into the mother of dragons title and will literally treat those three lizards like they are her 'children.' Like, they don't know that considering fire breathing lizards that can only destroy as your children is probably not a great thing in their fave's arc lol.

Let me answer you with GRRM's words, from the comment section of his blog post "Coolest Dragons Ever" (Feb. 10th, 2014).

George's ranking of the Cooles Dragons Ever is:

Vermithrax Pejorative (From Dragonslayer)

Smaug (From The Hobbit)

Drogon (From Asoiaf)

In the comments, a couple of readers argued that "Draco" (From Dragonheart) was "the nicest dragon ever" and "the most friendly and charming dragon."

This was GRRM's answer to them:

"Yes, but dragons are not meant to be friendly or charming"

So, lets add this quote to the list:

Dragons are the nuclear deterrent, and only Dany has them —GRRM - Vulture - 2011

Yes, but dragons are not meant to be friendly or charming —Coolest Dragons Ever" (Feb. 10th, 2014)

She[Dany]'s the mother of dragons, and she controls what is in effect the only three nuclear weapons in the entire world that I’ve created. —“Interview exclusive de George R R Martin, l'auteur de Game Of Thrones” de -Le Mouv’- 2014 - [Transcription]

If I were Daenerys Targaryen. I could ride on my dragons and eliminate them in the flames. But is death the only solution we have to offer? —Lire Magazine - April 2015

“Oh sure, dragons are cool too,” he chuckles. “But maybe not on our doorstep”. —The Guardian - November 2018

Maybe if she[Dany] understood a few things more about dragons and her own history in Essos, things would have gone a little differently. —Esquire - November 2018

“I have tried to make it explicit in the novels that the dragons are destructive forces, and Dany (Daenerys Targaryen) has found that out as she tried to rule the city of Meereen and be queen there. (...) “She has the power to destroy, she can wipe out entire cities, and we certainly see that in ‘Fire and Blood,’ we see the dragons wiping out entire armies, wiping out towns and cities, destroying them, but that doesn’t necessarily enable you to rule — it just enables you to destroy.” —GRRM - Fox News Channel - November 2018

"In my head the expression "mother of dragons" is much better than "father of dragons". There is also this link with the woman who gives life, who transmits lives, carrying a gigantic power of death, of fire, of destruction. There are very powerful metaphors in there." —Dragons! (2/4) Dragons d'Occident, la figure du mal [2018] - Video - Reddit translation

Now dragons are really formidable and they can turn the tide of a battle. It flies, it's difficult to hit, it breathes fire, against which most knights and men at arms have little or no protection. So if you have dragons, that's were the nuclear option analogy comes in. You're hard to mess around with. So the dragons and fear of dragons was one of the things that made the Targaryens very secure in their power. —Before the Dance: An Illustrated History with George R.R. Martin | House of the Dragon (HBO) - August - 2022

¯\_(ツ)_/¯

Read more here:

Chronicle of a Death Foretold

Queen of Ashes

All Grrm Quotes About Dragons

#anon asks #asoiaf #grrm #deagons #UPDATED

[densi-mber]

A Gesture of my Affection

A/N: You know I had to do it.

***

“Is this Martin Atticus Deeks?”

“Yes,” Deeks replied, instantly on alert at the sound of his full name over the phone. “Who is this?”

“I’m Charles Westhaven of Westhaven and Moore Financial,” the man explained. “I’m calling in reference to your account—”

“Sorry to interrupt you, but I don’t have any accounts with your company. I never have.”

“Well, unfortunately, our records show that you do. If you wish to close it out, you’ll have to come down to our office and fill out some forms.”

“All right, when can I come?” Deeks asked, hoping this wasn’t some plot that ended in him getting kidnapped.

***

Deeks arrived at the Westhaven and Moore Financial building Monday morning. He was ushered into an office almost immediately, by Charles Westhaven himself.

“I’m afraid I got you under slightly false pretenses,” he said once Deeks was seated in a deep cushioned chair.

“Oh here we go,” Deeks muttered. He glanced around for a possible weapon, eyeing the stapler and heavy ceramic paperweight on Westhaven’s Deeks.

“The account I mentioned is actually a trust in your name,” Westhaven continued, oblivious to Deeks’ plans. “Initiated by Anatoli Kirkin.”

“Excuse me?” Deeks said, startled out of his scheming. Anatoli Kirkin has been dead for more than two years.”

“Yes, I’m aware. A few years before he passed, Mr. Kirkin started the fund. He added to it regularly until his death, and it’s been accruing interest the entire time.”

“This is unbelievable.”

“Yes, it can be overwhelming to suddenly come into so much money,” Westhaven agreed, apparently mistaking the source of Deeks’ disbelief. “I understand you’re an attorney, but I do want to make certain you know the terms of this trust. Today we’ll sign the forms to make you the custodian of the trust. You may withdraw a specified amount each fiscal year and the rest is to remain until any and all of your children attend a higher institution.”

“Woah, woah, woah, back up a step,” Deeks said, holding up a hand. “So, not only did Kirkin set up a fund in my name, but he also included my children? I didn’t even have any kids when he passed.”

“Mr. Kirkin wanted any children you should have to be well-provided for. He thought you might have some difficulty accepting his other bequests, which is why he set up the account in this way.”

“Yeah, no. That makes perfect sense.”

Westhaven smiled sympathetically. “I know it’s a lot to take in. I’ll give you a few moments to consider everything while I retrieve the paperwork and the the safety deposit box Mr. Kirkin left in our care for you.”

“Of course there’s a safety deposit box,” Deeks sighed, rubbing his temples.

***

“So, what do we do with this?” Kensi asked, staring at the financial papers Deeks brought home from Westhaven and Moore.

Deeks, Kensi, and Rosa sat around the coffee table, discussing the latest development in the Anatoli Kirkin Saga.

“I have no idea.”

“I mean, this is technically dirty money, right?”

“Almost certainly,” Deeks confirmed. He shook his head, thinking back to the various shenanigans Kirkin had gotten into. “You know, I came to…like that odd little man, as disturbing and as obsessive as he could be, but damn if he isn’t still causing me problems from beyond the grave. Wasn’t leaving me his empire enough?”

“His empire?” Rosa repeated. “What does that mean?”

“After Kirkin died, he left Deeks all his criminal ventures. In the process, his employees abducted Deeks,” Kensi explained.

“Oh mi dios. And you liked this man?”

“It was more of a love-hate relationship. More love on Kirkin’s side.” Deeks cleared his throat. “It’s hard to explain.”

“Why don’t you open the box,” Kensi suggested, gesturing to the safety deposit box displayed in the very center of the table.

Deeks hadn’t dared open it in front of Westhaven after Kirkin’s past “gifts”. He eyes it dubiously, hesitating with the keys in one hand. Drawing in a deep breath, he grabbed the box, inserted both keys and gingerly lifted the lid.

Inside were several items, a thick envelope on the very top. Deeks took that out first, breaking the wax seal—even in death, Kirkin was over-the-top—and pulling out multiple sheets of thick paper.

“My Dear Marty,

I hope this letter finds you well. As always, your interests have been of the most importance to me. You may not agree with some of my methods, such as when I attempted to rescue you on the morning of your wedding (an act fully borne of love).

“Oh good lord,” Deeks groaned, pinching the bridge of his nose and then ruffling his hair. “If Kirkin actually pops out at some point, I’m leaving.”

“He tried to stop your wedding,” Rosa said, turning to Deeks with a raised eyebrow.

“Yes,” Kensi confirmed wryly. “He held a lot of affection for Deeks. It all started in a bathhouse.”

“Moving on!” Deeks said, clearing his throat again to drown out any details Kensi might slip.

He skimmed over the parts of the letter detailing Kirkin’s fond memories of said bathhouse and other moments Deeks would rather forget.

“As an extension, I wish to provide for your family in some way. Your lovely Kensi and any future children that may bless your home.

Please accept these resources as a token of my affection.

Anatoli Kirkin”

P.S. I have also included a few more keepsakes.

“Whelp, that tracks,” Deeks commented, folding the letter back up and jamming it back into the envelope.

“Oh, I bet I know what at least one of these is,” Kensi said with far too much glee for Deeks’ liking.

“Ok, calm down.” He paused to give her a look, and she pressed her lips together, adopting a suitably abashed expression. Satisfied, he turned his attention to the box again and started sifting through the remaining contents.

The next packet contained five medals emblazoned with the patron saint of children. “I guess Kirkin assumed we’d have a big family.” He handed one to Rosa, who accepted it with a smile.

“That’s sweet. What else is there.”

“Uh, some jewelry, a lifetime subscription to a bathhouse—lovely, and—damn it,” he grumbled, trying to conceal the final item, but Kensi was too fast. She snatched it out of his hand, grinning at the small framed painting.

“Oh my god, yes! This is perfect,” she said.

As far as Kirkin portraits went it was fairly benign and in good taste. Starting at mid-shoulder, the image of Deeks looked head-on, head slightly cocked, and a content smile playing at his lips.

“Is that a picture of you, Marty?” Rosa leaned forward to get a better look.

“Yes, yes it is, Rosa.”

“It’s actually very good. I wonder who drew it.”

“We don’t need to delve into that at all.” Deeks shook his head firmly, futilely trying to take it from Kensi.

“Wait, I think I see a tiny A and K,” Rosa continued. She looked at Deeks with a curious expression, one brow raised. “So this man drew a portrait of you?”

“Oh, it wouldn’t be the first time,” Kensi said in the undertone. She gave Deeks a sly look, raising an eyebrow. “At least this one is suitable for mixed company.”

“I think I need to hear this bathhouse story,” Rosa decided.

“Someone shoot me, please,” Deeks begged. “And don’t even think of adding that to your collection,” he added to Kensi, who hastily slipped the portrait out of her pocket.

***

A/N: As always, rest in peace to Kirkin and Ravil Isyanov who portrayed him.

This story contains elements of canon as well as references to details created for other stories of mine.

#densimber 7.0 #densimber 2023 #ncis la fanfiction #densi #marty deeks #kensi blye #Rosa #anatoli kirkin #humor #ncis la #post series finale #densimber day 6 #by ejzah

[phoenixstark1708]

the daughter of an archangel

chapter 1

sooo..... this is my backstory in my marvel DR, major trigger warnings, this also crosses over into supernatural later, but i havent even written that yet.

trigger warnings: abuse, torture, blood, death, fucked up timeline, etc.

pairings: later will be sam/dean winchester, and even later will be bucky,

in this, endgame/inf war doesnt happen, i took plenty of creative liberties.

summary: (this is written in first-person) phoenix is a girl who was created by the nazi organization HYDRA, and she meets the winter soldier on a mission, i cant say much more without spoiling future chapters. will try to proofread but no promises.

word count: 2,654/10,649 - that ive written so far.

change of POV's will be indicated

“Get up you stupid pig!” the guard said, in a thick Russian accent, banging the cell door with his truncheon. He shone a flashlight in my eyes, making them burn from the lack of light for the past two days. I stretched out my sore muscles, wincing from the scabbed-over cuts all over my body. After days of no contact with anyone, just me and the cold, dark cell. Somehow being dragged away for training almost feels like a blessing. I stood and allowed him to cuff me. at this point, I know the drill. “so, Angel, how was your weekend?” He asked while holding my shoulder, guiding me out of the cell – the only place I’ve known as home for my whole life – literally. I was born in the damned bullpen. My mother died during birth, I guess having twins really had her beat.

On the way to the hell chamber – sorry, training room - I saw him, I saw Benjamin. For the first time in weeks, I saw my twin. He looked rough. Probably just had a sparring sesh with one of the winter soldiers. he’s always been smaller than me, But there was something different. he seemed especially weak. I haven’t eaten anything in what I assume has been around 4 days. He probably hasn’t either. They were always doing this, trying to weed out the weaker members. Its grim, but I knew he would die soon. It was clear that I was stronger, and if it came down to it, I would kill him without a second thought. After all, that’s how I was trained. I was bred, raised, and trained to be ruthless. And that is the only reason that I am still alive. HYDRA has no room for error.

As I walked into the training room, I saw the winter soldier, long, brunette hair, with a metal arm. The only time ive ever seen him is in cryo-sleep, he looked so peaceful, so harmless. The man standing before me was soemthing different entirely. His eyes were blue as ice, and just as cold. He looked right through me, almost like a drone. “this is her first mission. You will be supervising her.” he hands the man with a metal arm a file containing four pictures of senator james martin, whos been a public neusence for hydra for a while. The winter soldier grabbed me by the arm and dragged me through the door.

It was a quiet drive on the Harley, at the moment, we were just n full assassin gear. My small arms were wrapped around his waist, making him clearly tense up. His metal arm was glinting in the moonlight as we pulled into a nearby parking garage, a birdseye view of the gathering senator martin. “I will stay up here while you go inside. As many casualties as possible. No survivors.” He said gruffly, setting up the rifle. “They won’t let me in. I’m wearing a costume.” I said, my voice gravelly from days of no use. He glanced down at me for the first time, and gazed at me for a moment, before pulling out a T-shirt that had the senators face on it, and a pair of grey sweatpants. “Change into these, keep your weapons concealed until my signal.” I quickly stripped. he turned away, giving me privacy. I was more then used to being watched, so this was surprising. I fixed the too-large clothes, and looked harmless. Instead of looking like an eight-year-old assassin, I looked like a normal kid.

There was something in the winter soldier’s eyes that I didn’t recognise, almost like affection. I walked down the stairs of the parking garage, feeling his eyes on me the whole way. Slowly, I crossed the street, nearly getting hit by a truck that I didn’t know to look for. As I made my way to the entrance of the granite building, I noticed trucks outside, like the kind I saw at my home, - armoured trucks. I, of course thought this was normal. “Careful, there are hostiles in the building. Captain America and the black widow are protecting the target.” His voice came through my earpiece. “I don’t know who they are” I whispered back. “You will. They won’t want to hurt you, use that to your advantage.” And with that, he went radio silent.

As I walked barefoot through the large doors, I spotted a woman in a similar outfit to what I wear, only without the red skull. She spotted me immediately, and I tried to disappear through the crowd. I was unsuccessful. A man in a red, white, and blue uniform grabbed my arm gently, holding a shield in his other hand. “Who are you kid?” He peered down at me “I’m here to see my daddy.” I said, feigning panic. I pulled my arm out of his grasp and ran toward a random man, tugging on his shirt. Shield guy turned away before he could see the man push me away. I stayed by him, trying to convince the people that he was my father. I got a little turned around, when a perverted looking man grabbed my wrist “hey sweetheart. You’re gonna come with me now.” He said, his voice just as weird as him. The man in the jumpsuit put his hand on his shoulder “why dontcha leave the girl alone pal.” He dragged him away.

Just then, his signal came, by shooting the senator in the gut, taking him down. The panic set in immediately. People running around screaming like headless chickens. The man with the metal arm burst through the door, sealing off the only accesable exit. I grabbed the first person I saw, they just happened to be the senators daughter. She couldn’t have been more then seventeen; I snapped her neck. I unfurled my wings and tripped some old man with them. I stabbed him in his corroded artery, a fatal blow. Killing got easier the more I did it.

The fight went on like this for a while, until the red-haired woman pushed me to the ground “stay down kid.” seeing me pinned down, the man i was on the mission with began to make his way over to me. I waved my hand, and the woman went flying, hitting the wall with a thud. Oh yea, something I forgot to mention; I'm not a normal person. In addition to having my DNA spliced with the peregrine falcon, giving me wings, and the ability to fly, I was also experimented on with energy from the soul stone, one of the six infinity stones. Ergo, I had ‘powers’. The winter soldier stared at me, shocked, his brief moment of distraction caused him to get a wooden chair to the head. He shot the dude that hit him.

The man in the flag costume, and the woman ran. Smart. Tactical retreat. I ran to every person I saw, and killed as many as I could. Once we were sure that there were no more targets, the winter soldier grabbed me, and threw me on the motorcycle behind him.

We stopped at a motel that charged by the hour… if that tells you anything. “we will stay here for a while. You need to get clean, I know that the hoses hurt.” he said, a hint of compassion in his voice. Hes right. They used fire hoses to ‘clean up’ whenever any of us got dirty. I walked into the bathroom and stripped. I didn’t close the door, because I assumed I wasn’t allowed to. I didn’t know how to use the shower so I just sort of stared at it, waiting for it to turn on. The man walked in, turned the handle of the shower, and left. I jumped when water started to spurt out of the faucet. I stepped into the water slowly, gauging the temperature before completely immersing myself into it. My muscles involuntarily relaxed at the sensation of the warm water. I began rubbing the dirt off of my limbs when the winter soldier walked in.

He didn’t look at me, but made a damp washcloth and started cleaning his wounds. They were worse then I assumed, and I coudnt help but observe him while washing the rest of the dirt off of my body. I only sustained minor cuts and bruises in the fight, but he had deep lacerations on his face, presumably from the chair. I stepped out of the shower and stood there, a towering three-foot-seven-inches, short for my age. He glanced at me and handed me a towel while dabbing his wounds “whats this for?” I asked “dry yourself. They will notice our absence if were not back soon.” so, I dried myself off, and put on my uniform, running my fingers over the red skull with tentacles, like a squid. I giggled, imaging it wiggling its tentacles.

Bucky

The little girl was looking at her uniform, giggling. For a moment I thought of two young girls in brooklyn. I was a teenager with sisters… what? No, I wasn’t. I am a weapon for hydra. Whats going on? I was steadily bleeding from the prick who hit me with a chair, we needed to get back to base. She suddenly looked up at me, concern evident in her sweet, blue eyes. “are- are you okay? You're bleeding,” she frowned. “Let me help you. I can make people feel better.” I skeptically sat on a bed near where she was standing. She slowly reached over to me; I shied away when her hand got close to my wound, remembering the various punishments I've had over the years. I am a wild animal. I need to be controlled. She looked into my eyes, the child-like glimmer long gone. It's unfair; all children should have that. No. She is not a child; she is a weapon. That’s it- like me. She gently laid her small hand on my head near the cut. All of the sudden her eyes started glowing, a certain gold color I'd never seen before. Her hands began glowing the same, and my head started tingling.

I immediately felt better. I can't explain it, but she somehow lodged herself into my memory, unintentionally. And I knew I would never forget her. She looked at me worried, noting the glazed look in my eyes. “are you alright? I'm sorry if I hurt yo-” I cut her off “My name is Bucky,” I blurted out; I had no idea where that came from. “You need to call me Winter, or ‘the winter soldier’, otherwise they’ll kill us both” she looked at me confused and alarmed “okay… I will” “we need to go back.” so I took her small hand, gently, and led her to the HYDRA-issued motorcycle we came here on. The drive back to base was cold. I could feel it in my bones. I couldn’t help but wish I could help her warm up. I didn’t know what I was feeling, but I knew HYDRA wouldn’t like it. I am a machine. Not a man.

I rode up to the gate “солдат?” soldier? “миссия успешна. приветствую гидру.” mission successful. hail hydra. The gate opened, and we rode into the garage. She was immediately ripped off the back of the bike and dragged away. “you are late. The camera in your suit shows you made a ‘pit stop’. She had an effect on you. You will both be heavily punished for this.” no. I practically jumped off the bike. I grabbed the mans neck and snapped it before being sedated. The last thing I heard before I got knocked out was “well, after we make them watch, we’ll have to wipe him again.” I woke up strapped to a modified autopsy table. Modified so I was reclined enough so that I had a clear view of the girl. And she had a clear view of me. One of the doctors walked in with an array of surgical instruments “doctor- sorry- creator! Thank goodness! I was scared we were taken by the bad people!” the little girls face lit up with relief. The doctor sighed and placed his kit on a surgical tray, the knives clattering against the cold steel. “child, птичий урод.” bird-freak “you have been very bad. And you know what happens to bad children.” he put on surgical gloves, and picked up a Sickle Probe, the device that dentists use. He walked toward her slowly “creator, im sorry! It was a mistake! Please. Im sorry” she cried out. however, she didn’t struggle against the restraints. “it is too late to apologise freak. You will be punished.” “yes sir.” she slumped against the autopsy table, keeping her fear-filled eyes on the doctor. He walked up to her small body, and turned off the magnetic cuff, allowing her arm to fall. The monster grabbed her arm, and stuck the hook of the sickle probe into the inside of her elbow. She began silently crying from the pain, blood slowly dribbling from the wound. He slowly dragged the hook down her arm, toward her wrist, tearing her skin. The blood was flowing heavily now, and he was trying to stifle her cries. After reaching her wrist, he put the probe down and picked up a rusty razorblade.

He moved to her chest, and drug the blade down her sternum, and to her lower stomache. She was crying freely now. “heal yourself.” she did as she was told, her eyes glowing gold, and the wounds shimmering as they healed instantly. He grabbed a klein tool – essentially a broader pliers. He walked to her bare feet, and clamped down on her small toe. He bent it to a sickening angle, causing the bone to snap with a disturbing CRACK. She screamed. He used the wire-clipping part of the klein tool to cut off a patch or skin on her foot. He grabbed a knife, and made slow, deep, and deliberate cuts all over her body. After nearly an hour, he decided hed had enough of that. he only reason she was still alive was because she wasn’t fully human – she couldn’t have been. “heal. Now. Not your foot though. You will deal with that.” she did as she was told. She was exhausted. She collapsed against the table before he shocked her with a set of jumper cables rigged up to a car battery. While watching this, I struggled against the restraints so much, my wrist began to bleed. Every time I screamed for them to let her go, my restraints would get an electrical charge. I was muzzled like a dog. Reminding me that I am no better then one. I am one. She screamed every time he cut her, shocked her, stabbed her, or tore the skin off her flesh. When she screamed, the building would shake. Not figuratively either.

She was clearly more powerful than she could see. She could easily kill him, she could kill everyone in this god forsaken building. HYDRA had control over her mind. But not in the same way as they had mine. They beat her down, made her feel powerless, made her think wrong is right, and right is wrong. I have to get her out of here. The doctor made his way over to me “judging by your reaction, she made an imprint on you. Well, time to forget her!” he said, laughing malevolently. “no! You cant-” I was cut off by a blow to my temple. They dragged me to the Memory Suppressing Machine. A white hot pain ripped through me. I couldn’t remember the mission, but I could remember a girl. A sweet, young girl. I knew I should protect her. As far as they're concerned, I don’t remember a thing. “Желание. Семнадцать. Ржавый. Рассвет. Печь. Девять. Добросердечный. Возвращение на родину. Один. Товарный вагон” my trigger words.

let me know if you wanna be tagged in pt2

#bucky barnes #bucky barnes smut #bucky x reader #female reader #smut #avengers #bucky fanfic #bucky x you #catws #dom!reader #supernatural #castiel #spn crack #spn #bi dean #jack kline #marvel cinematic universe #marvel #mcu #marvel mcu #infinity war

[thesupreme316]

Could I request Eddie Kington and the reader as mixed matched a team?

Eddie Kingston as a tag team partner (Eddie Kingston x Fem!Reader):

Genre: Crack

Summary: How I would imagine Eddie as your tag team partner

Word Count: 700

Supreme Speaks: OKAY IK IM LATE BUT BETTER THAN NEVER. thank you to @hookerforhook for being so patient and lovely (please lemme write more for you). I hope you and everyone else enjoys. ALSO, i hope everyone is doing well and remember you are loved and appreciated.

Warnings: slightly proofread, an obscene amount of yall (sorry I'm just country and hood)

Taglist (if you wanna be a part of it, lemme know): @hookerforhook @triscillal @wwenhlimagines @sheinthatfandom @hooks-martin

You know that older brother who loves you but will bully you at every given chance?

Yep, that’s Eddie

He’ll protect you from your opponents, will drop a ref for you, will chew everyone and their mommas out 

But is quick to spear you and give you a noogie

I feel like the way ya’lls team came to be wasn’t because he was soughing after a tag team partner (cause he’s Eddie Kingston and he’ll kick anyone's ass)

But it came to be when you helped even the odds with JAS and you actually didn’t mind fighting the dudes

At that moment, Eddie knew you were his partner

“Why Me?”

“Because you literally just kicked everyone’s ass…besides you’re the only other person in the back I like…besides Mox and Lulu of course.”

That’s right; out of all the enemies and allies he had in the back, he considered you an ally

HOWEVER, I still think he wouldn’t open up to you immediately but would gradually become more comfortable with you

At first, he would only talk to you for match purposes

And then he started hanging out with you a little bit before the show

And then he would text you “you good?” If he hasn’t heard from you (if you respond, he’ll say “great, btw fuck you”

Everything would change when he needed a place to crash cause all the hotel rooms were taken and you allowed him to crash with you

Although he left before you could wake up, he left you a note stating how he’s blessed that he has you as a friend

Now ya’ll at the point where ya’ll are inseparable

Where ever you go, he goes, and vice versa

Ya’ll in each other favorite contacts

Eddie would act like he genuinely doesn’t like you (in the eyes of others) but everyone knows he adores you

You two know each other like the back of your hands

Will tag you on Twitter posts that remind him of you, ya’lls friendship, or just things you need to see

Would say “EW” or “Gross” at you (if you're just walking by) or if you mess up in the ring he’ll laugh and say “you suck”

But heaven forbid someone else said that about you

Everyone can see how much you mean to him

Anyways you would do the same to and for him

You made it your goal to annoy the living shit out of him (and to make him scream and shake his fist at the sky)

But you were quick to shake someone if they irritate him

You played little pranks on him, stole his shirts (and threatened to burn them), made him cut promos on random items

“Now pretend he just lit your family on fire”

“Y/N, this is a toilet brush”

Now in the ring, your and Eddie’s styles complement each other

And you often came together to do tag team moves (especially the ones that Eddie learned from watching old Japanese tapes)

But if you were ready to get out the weapons, he was right behind you (either getting more weapons or just watching)

Essentially, you had crazy ideas and he just supported you in any way he could

Would not wear matching ring gear colors, but will match t-shirts with you (if you have tag team merchandise)

If not, ya’ll would wear each other’s designs

You two could pick up on the other’s next move without talking (you could expect/predict what he was gonna do and how you follow up or help)

Not gonna lie…Eddie would tag you in the match on the head/in the face

I can just see him lightly slap your head to signify a tag

If ya’ll won, then ya’ll were celebrating by doing chest bumps and getting food after the show

If ya’ll lost, Eddie would just berate everyone in sight (except for you)

Despite what he says, he would never talk down to you or degrade you (you’re his soft spot)

Would introduce you to Mox and form a trio if the situation called for it

Overall…Being Eddie Kingston’s tag team partner would be a rollercoaster, but one that would become your favorite rollercoaster

#aew #all elite wrestling #aew imagine #eddie kingston #eddie kingston x reader #eddie kingston imagine #eddie kingston meme

[lonelysa1lor]

hope it's ok to pop in, jon and ford would really be an interesting dynamic. i feel like ford would be suspicious of jon at first but warm up to him eventually, maybe?

HIHI :D

yea Jon would also be wary of Ford. Mostly because he'd give off avatar of the hunt vibes and literally carries around weapons all the time. Ford has a thing where he views people like experiments and things to be studied other than people, he forgets to consider how the person feels about certain things in hope of gaining information about them. This works real well with Jon, living archive of fear, Sims [sarcasm].

But once they get through all of that I think they'd be pals. Both got tricked into ending the world after all. Both went on long journeys for answers in hopes of stopping an apocalypse and got tons of scars along the way. They both hold a ton of guilt over how they treated others in the past and have a "its my fault so I'm the only one who can fix it" mentality. In other news I think Martin and the Stans would get on like a house on fire. Martin is trapped to be around annoying sailors for the rest of his life. Dipper would attempt to catalogue the fears, then of course get more confused when he's given the soup/colour analogy.

#tma #gravity falls #crossover #stanford pines #jonatham sims #crossover raaaaaa

[yugioh-rare-pair-poll]

Round 3: Final Round

Propaganda under the cut

Pairing 1: Emasculateshipping(Professor Cronos de Medici | Dr. Vellian Crowler/Napoleon | Jean-Louis Bonaparte)

Propaganda: As the Funny European Team Rocket Men of GX, the two are almost too obvious-- not just in how much time they spend together or how much of that time seems a bit too intimate for men who are supposedly just work buddies. The ship, with its participants being based on historical figures (obviously, Napoleon Bonaparte and the Medici family respectively), the ship therefore has a real-world historical precedent of sorts (Napoleon was Italian; two Medici women married into French royalty); the two have similar and compatible priorities (Cronos being first and foremost concerned with his babies-- ahem, *students*, while Napoleon is mostly worried about his own son; the step-father potential in Cronos is Immaculate) and, of course, the ship is very funny-- not in the least because you have two men, one single in his mid-thirties while the other is divorced in his fifties, thereby trying to navigate their relationship like a pair of stupid teenagers. But of course, there is also serious potential in the ship as well. After all, Napoleon's divorce means that he's going to be extremely anxious about screwing up a good thing again, while for Cronos it's a potential red flag that their relationship will end in disaster. The plot of season 3 also gives them both immense pain to work through, after all that they've been helpless as their respective kids suffered. It's easy to overlook them both, especially Napoleon (I promise that's not a joke at the expense of his height, he's just kinda mainly remembered for how he's introduced in season 2 as French Cis Cronos and has little unique character of his own until Martin's introduction), but there's absolutely something to engage with both in the characters themselves and in the interactions between them. Also they literally went on a picnic date while watching Judai duel once they're gay your honor

Pairing 2: Lacunashipping (Yubel/Manjoume Jun | Chazz Princeton)

Propaganda: It's my absolute favourite !!! Two emotionally messes up goths together !!! Not only is it funny for Judai to be the 3rd wheel between his rival and his soulmate, but I also think Jun and Yubel can vibe together in their own weird way. Yubel is a living weapon who is very much not used to anyone other than Judai caring for or respecting them, so I think Jun's casual (and rude) attitude towards duel spirits would really Do Something to them emotionally. They should kiss sloppy style. They should

Now, let’s keep things civil. This is a silly poll where we can share why we love our overlooked ships. There’s no need to be nasty to prove your point.  Bashers will be consumed by darkness.

#Yugioh GX Rare Pair Poll #yugioh gx #ygo gx #GX Round 3 #emasculateshipping #lacunashipping #jun manjoume/yubel #Chazz Princeton/Yubel #Vellian Crowler/Jean-Louis Bonaparte #Chronos de medici/Napoleon Bonaparte

[stackslip]

literally wild how american leftists will (rightfully) decry anybody becoming a cop, or working for the police, but will then ardently defend working for a defence contractor that designs and sells drones and missiles for profit, bc what if the person doing so is disabled or trans? blatantly saying that cops are bad bc they oppress them domestically but it's morally fine to participate in murderous imperialism worldwide and help sell the missiles that blow up people in yemen, bc people in the global south aren't people. utterly flabbergasted and enraged.

like, saying that we should disbelieve kiwifarms as a source? a thousand times yes. i have no idea if that dude actually does work for lockheed martin, because i dont trust kiwifarms. but this isn't the discourse—people are flat out going "who cares if he works for lockheed martin, if he does it's not that big a deal because capitalism and trans and disabled people need to work to survive and he does good activism etc etc". like sorry but no! this isn't an argument! it's basic principles. it isn't No Ethical Position Under Capitalism, it is the bare minimum if you pretend to care about human life. you do not work for an arms manufactor. you do not defend the idea that it's ok to work for an arms manufactor bc you're disabled or lgbtq+ and struggle to find another job. this is more than a line in the sand its a fucking trench, you don't work for cops and you don't work for the army and you do not help build weapons that are sold exclusively for the purpose of murdering people in countries you can't even bother learning the place on a map. and if you do decide to do that or find it morally acceptable, then you should just stop pretending to care about any issues outside the usa and admit you only give a shit about the inhabitants of your evil country and maybe the west but people outside the west are not human beings to you. also go fuck yourself and i dont want to speak to you again lol

#eli talks