#all cops are cars

[siennamoth]

hey guys i had to draw this after finding out about another thing the australian government wastes its money on (THE 2016 BMW?!! AS A POLICE CAR?? WHY???) . also i do feel like its more like smokescreen vibes but i hate him so prowl it is. i will draw it properly someday okay

[brainrotcharacters]

I'm just so happy for Logan honestly he finally found a bitch insane enough to match his freak

[mischas]

The O.C. 1.02 The Model Home

[anemonet]

pro tip: you can always put the bugs in little outfits :thumbsup:

[potatobugz]

Lucky is he, Who lives unaware

[kyleraiyner]

The fact that Kyle's little 'ohhhh don't u want 2 ride on the back of my cool bike' move didnt work out for him but he was immediately able to course correct and the horse move DID

Lolllll connor loved this he was enchanted even

[deathdaydreamm]

[technicalgator]

“ᴵ ᵃᵐ ᵗʰᵉ ʳᵒᵗ ᵃⁿᵈ ᵗʰᵉ ᵃᶜʰᵉ ᵇᵉⁿᵉᵃᵗʰ ʸᵒᵘʳ ˢᵏⁱⁿ”

-

Fanart for @mxboxlocks INCREDIBLE fic “All That We Lost”! I am absolutely HOOKED on this fic so far!! The writing, the story, the way the characters are written?? OUGH it’s amazing!! I love the darker theme of this fic, and how the mercs react to said events, while staying in character! 10/10 writing!!

For you folks that liked Emesis Blue, yer gonna LOVE this fic! Basically, Emesis Red >:]

-

Alt. Versions below!

[violent138]

I think the Batmobile should be used for destructive purposes more. I love when it's kind of like a battering ram against other cars but it really needs to bust into more hideouts or be used to rip a gate off, move debris or tow something. Furthermore I assume before the Batplane and due to the lack of a vigilante tow service they used to just self destruct it if it got too damaged. That in of itself could be used offensively to create chaos or try and deal with a super-powered rogue.

[mazzystar24]

Eddie Diaz is so “I get mean when I’m nervous like a bad dog” coded

[superm4ks]

i am the girl who hates change who sent that ask in june when i was like there's no way max holds onto this title. i cannot believe my meowie continues to surpass my expectations because of course he would win this year. there was no other alternative.

Wow ... And like I told u back then bbygirl .. Max is also a girl who hates change. Max hates change SO much he clinched his 4th in an ice cold pig wid Monza type characteristics that lend themselves to every t0p team except the car wid the suspension of a jeep Wrangler and the top speed of me doing the mile in hs still drunk and on 3 hours of sleep and a mcmuffin. Vegas had a lil something for everybody that wasnt based in Milton Keynes. Unholy temperatures for the ((extremely confused)) merc baddies, slow corners + long straights for the ragazzi, moderate graining for the Woking dolls so Lando cud hit the slay button in low fuel ((an unexpected flop gotta say)). AND nothing for rbr. Not the right wing, not the right balance, not the best tires, not the fresh engine. Imagine being faced wid all that and still feeling fairly confident Max wud be crowned the best driver in the world that weekend, because he's Max Verstappen and for as long as theres a chance I know he'll take it. I know that because I know him. All Max had to do was out qualify Lando in a car that never once got anywhere close to papaya times during practice sessions. I swear they fitted him wid a new wheel and shit came off like three times. So obvi Max out qualifies Lando, then come Sunday, Max manages the gap like the rb20 never been better fit for a circuit, he lets the lil ponies go around and off into the distance to create drama of their own and thats all he wrote. 'there was no alternative' . Say that again. No alternative. No choice. The illusion of choice was broken in Brazil. The definition of insanity was reaffirmed in Vegas. They called an ambulance but not for him. 💎

[the-badger-mole]

How the High King of Elfhame Got His Seneschal's Photo

Well, this was a waste of a trip to the mortal world. I leaned against the brick wall of the cafe I'm waiting in front of and bite back an annoyed groan. After all, I knew coming here on the strength of a fourthhand rumor was a long shot. Still, when Randalin told me that he'd heard from his valet who'd heard from the servant of one of the gentry families of the lower courts that there was a rumor of a kidnapping plot against my brother amongst the solitary fae, I thought it best to look into it myself. Now that I know the rumor was just the product of someone's overactive imagination, I wish I had just let one of the spies from the Court of Shadows look into it .

The fact that I probably wouldn't have trusted anyone else with this mission isn't a thought worth acknowledging.

I look down the empty street, expecting the Roach at any moment. Not for the first time, I wish for some way to travel between Faerie and the mortal world without needing to rely on one of the Folk to escort me. I would have asked Vivi if I knew how quickly this little side mission was going to be done. Oh, well.

A dark car pulls to a stop about half a block away from me. I note it absently. After all, I am not waiting on a car. Ten minutes later, I'm starting to get impatient. The Roach had come with his own agenda, I knew, but he had led me to believe that he would be done with his errand long before I was done with mine. I hope he'll show up soon. It was really starting to get cold, and I am not dressed for the weather. I shiver and pull my hoodie closer around me. Maybe, I consider, I should consider making it policy that anyone coming to the mortal realm should carry burner phones so they can stay in touch. Knowing when the Roach would be here would make waiting a little more bearable, at least.

The sound of the car door opening draws me out of my thoughts, and I realize that a man has emerged. Then I realize he's heading in my direction. My hackles go up immediately, though I try to calm myself down. He may not be coming to me. He may just pass me on the way to someplace else.

He does not pass me.

"This isn't a place for loiterers," the man says gruffly. I snort at that.

"If I see any I'll let them know."

"Oh, a joker."

"Only on occasion." The man sneers at me.

He's not dressed the way I picture mortal thugs dressing. He is in a brown leather bomber, but his jeans are clean and crisp, as if he ironed them as flat as he could that morning. Even I know that is unforgivably geeky. On his feet is a pair of shiny black dress shoes. Not boots, or sneakers, like I'd seen on gangsters and evil bikers in movies. The man is also inexplicably wearing a pair of dark mirrored sunglasses, although the sun had very nearly set.

"Why don't you show me your hands?" He phases it like a question, but it sounds like a command. I ignore it and turn my gaze away from him. In my pocket, I turn my fingers against my wrist, feeling the hilt of my dagger there. Let him try me.

"I said show me your hands!" When adding volume to his voice doesn't work, he reaches for me, presumably to force me to obey. The shock on his face when I grab his wrist instead is deeply satisfying. His yelp of pain when I twist it to an unnatural degree is even more so. My dagger stays where it's hidden up my sleeve. I don't need it for him.

Down the street, the car opens again, on the passenger side this time, and another man emerges, running towards me and his friend. Well, a fight will keep me warm, anyway.

"Freeze!" the man shouts. He pulls a gun from his waist and points it at me. Internally I groan as I reluctantly raise my hands over my head. How did I forget about guns?

-:-:-:-:-:-:-

"You're where?" Vivi screeches on the other end of the line. I flinch away from the phone receiver and glance around warily, certain that the police officers can hear my sister.

"I'm in jail," I repeat. "I need you to come bail me out." Vivi goes silent and I swear I can hear her pinching the bridge of her nose. Then, to my surprise, she laughs.

"Alright," she says at last. "Give me an hour."

"I've already been here for three!" I complain.

"Tough!" Vivi cackles. "I have to drop Oak off at a party, and I need get a card for the birthday boy first. You'll be alright. And if you get a prison tattoo, make sure it's a cool one."

"Viv!"

"I'll see you soon." Vivi is still laughing as she hangs up. I have to choke back a growl of frustration as I slam the receiver back onto the cradle.

"Finished?" the deputy who'd escorted me from my cell to make my one phone call.

"Finished," I sigh. A few moments later, the iron bars slam shut behind me. I am not alone in the cell, but the woman on the top bunk is in deep slumber, if her bone rattling snores are anything to go by. Then the smell of her hits me. This must be the drunk tank, I realize. With a huff, I sit on the bottom bunk and wait.

And I wait.

And wait.

One hour passes without Vivi showing up. Then two. At two and a half hours, I get up and pace the floor. Surely they'd give me another call, I think. But then, who else would I call besides Vivi? It was almost a miracle that I remembered her phone number. I never even tried to memorize Heather's. Besides, even if I had, Heather was probably with Vivi, or stuck at home. They only had one car between them.

Finally, as the clock was about to mark the third hour since I'd called my sister, I hear a commotion outside of the cell block.

"We're here, Jude!" Vivi yells back. Then her voice goes low. I can tell she's talking to someone, and finally they seem to come to an agreement. Then they are headed in my direction. Vivi appears behind the sheriff and she is the most beautiful sight I've ever seen. I'm so happy to see her that I don't see who's with her for a moment. It's not Heather who is standing behind her. It's Cardan.

"What do you mean I can't see my sister? I am here to bail her out. I have the cash right here!" Vivi's voice carries back to me, and I almost cheer in relief.

"Vivi!" I call.

Seeing him here, in the mortal realm- in a mortal police station of all places is so jarring, I can only stare for a moment. Especially since he's in a ridiculous red silk shirt with pearls at the cuffs and collar. Then I turn back to Vivi.

"Por que lo trajiste?" I demand in harsh whisper.

"Llegó a mi puerta y no me dejaria salir sin él." Vivi shrugs. "It was faster to bring him."

"That doesn't sound like you're grateful to see me," Cardan says, raising his brow.

"What are you doing here?" I ask him. I'm not angry. I'm too confused for anger, and I guess he sees that in my face, because he's not nearly so defensive when he answers.

"The Roach came rushing back to the palace raving that you'd been kidnapped," Cardan said. He eyed my cell distastefully, keeping well away from the iron bars. I have to force myself not to shrink in embarrassment. "And here you are indeed being kept captive for ransom. It wouldn't be very gallant of me to leave my seneschal imprisoned."

"Estaba furioso," Vivi tells me with an amused glance at him. "Tengo preguntas para ti luego. A lot!"

"Hey, pal," the sheriff cuts in. "Bail ain't ransom. She was arrested, not kidnapped." Vivi shakes her head, ignoring both men.

"Jail, Jude?" she sighs. "Que hiciste, hermanita?"

"Nothing!" I hiss back. "No hice nada. Es solo que él tiene una lasca en su hombro!" I jerk my chin towards the sheriff without looking at him.

"Little lady, assaulting an officer is not a little chip on my shoulder," the sheriff says. Vivi and I fall silent and stare at him. He shoots us a smug smirk. "Yeah, I speak Spanish, too." Behind him, I see Cardan is also smirking. His brows go up in amusement.

Little lady? he mouths silently. I scowl and shake my head at him. No. He will absolutely not make that a thing. I am not above ordering it so.

"You assaulted an officer?" Vivi is doing her best to sound disapproving, but she is barely keeping the grin off of her face, or the laugh from her voice.

"I didn't know he was an officer," I explain for for feels like the ten thousandth time tonight. "Some guy approaches me and starts making vague threats and I'm just not supposed to defend myself? He wasn't in uniform. He didn't even show me a badge!" At that, Vivi whirls on the sheriff, all amusement gone from her face.

"He didn't even identify himself?" she almost yells.

"W-well, h-he...he was only trying to warn her not to loiter," the sheriff stammered. "That block has had some issues with vandals recently, so plain clothes cops patrol there."

"I wasn't loitering. I was waiting for my ride." I press myself to the bars and glare daggers at the sheriff. "Then this random guy comes over and starts demanding to see my hands. I wasn't vandalizing anything! Tell me where that falls under protect and serve."

"Let my sister out!" Vivi demands. "Whatever your officer got was well deserved, it sounds like."

"It sounds like he got off lightly." Cardan's voice is deceptively airy. There's a coldness in his eyes that I know from experience means nothing good for the sheriff.

"I already told you, I can't let her go," the sheriff huffs. "Assaulting an officer is a felony, and a judge will need to set bail. She's in there until Monday." My jaw drops in shock. It's Friday. He expects me to stay in this disgusting cell for two days? Before I can protest, Cardan speaks again. This time when he speaks, the anger is tinged with glamour.

"I believe you'll find that you can let her go tonight," he says.

"I...I can let her go..." The sheriff's voice is distant, as if he's talking in his sleep. "Yes...I...I can let her go tonight. Just be sure to show up to your hearing on Monday."

"There won't be a hearing on Monday," Vivi says, her voice taking the same ineffable quality that Cardan's had. It was always strange watching the Folk glamour mortals from this end. Normally, I'm not a fan, especially of my sister doing it. But I cannot spend the weekend in a jail cell.

"Ri-ight," the sheriff agrees. He goes quiet for a moment and I suppose it's during this time that his brain supplies a good reason for letting me leave. He blinks his eyes rapidly, as if waking, and he shakes his head. Then he unlocks the cell and holds it open for me. "You're free to go."

"Wait, he still has my dagger," I say as I step hurriedly out of the cell. The sheriff closes it slowly behind me and stares at my cellmate thougthfully. She had been snoring loudly through this entire exchange.

"By all means let us retrieve it," Cardan drawls. "We all know how naked you feel without a weapon." Vivi rolls her eyes and enchants the sheriff again. A few minutes later, he's brought my sheathed dagger out from the evidence locker, and thrown away the plastic baggie it had been stored in. I wonder if he will get in trouble for this, then I decide that I don't care. I shouldn't have been arrested in the first place.

"Hey buddy," the sheriff calls Cardan aside. His brow goes up. At the informality of the address, I suppose. Still, he's intrigued enough to move closer. Whatever glamour Cardan had put on the sheriff seems to have left him with the impression that he and the High King were friends. He grinned mischievously at Cardan and hands him a manila envelope. "I figured you'd want a souvenir of your girlfriend's time as a felon."

"I'm not his girlfriend," I huff rolling my eyes. Cardan accepts the envelope nonetheless. I'm too tired to care, though. It must be near dawn, and all I want is to go home and sleep.

"What did he give you?" Vivi asks as we make our way to her and Heather's car. Cardan opens the envelope and pulls out a glossy picture. It's my mug shot. A flash of hot rage rolls through me, and I have half a mind to go back inside and show the snarky sheriff what assault with a deadly weapon truly looked like.

"I need ten copies of that!" Vivi howls with laughter. "I'm sending this to everyone!"

"No you're not!" I say, snatching the picture out of Cardan's hand and stuffing it in my pocket. "We are never talking about this again."

"Oh, honey," Vivi laughs again, throwing her arm around my shoulder. "You know that's not true." I grumble something vaguely threatening as I climb into the backseat of the car, but I know she's right. At least the photo evidence will soon be gone. I plan on burning my mugshot as soon as I can.

Later, in my rooms at the palace, I intend to do just that. Only when I check the pocket of my hoodie, it's gone. It must have fallen out in the car.

-:-:-:-:-:-

In his room, Cardan pulls out the photograph the sheriff had given him, and smooths it out. It's not very wrinkled, despite having been shoved unceremoniously into Jude's pocket. The woman herself stares up at him, holding a black placard with Duarte written in white block letters and a series of numbers beneath that. Loose strands of hair had fallen from her simple braid to frame her face, and she looks like she'd just been through a battle. Cardan supposes that wasn't far from the truth. Despite her apparent disarray at the time of her arrest, she manages to somehow look both imperious and sullen at the same time. Cardan grins at the image, knowing that Jude might actually kill him if she knew he had it.

Some months later, when she is in the middle of carving a space for herself in his room (their room, he corrects himself), Cardan is proven right.

"Are you serious?" she demands, snatching the framed photo from among his things on the dresser. Her eyes are alight with anger when she rounds on him. Cardan only chuckles in reply.

"Well, I could hardly commission an official portrait of you without drawing some uncomfortable questions," he tells her. "Besides, I don't think any painter in Faerie or the mortal world could capture your essence quite as succinctly as this."

"Get rid of it!" Jude orders him. His wife didn't need any magical binds to get Cardan to do whatever she wanted. He would swim the entire ocean to bring her the fruit of the trees that grew in the Court of Teeth if she wanted. But in this, he would have to insist on his own way. He crosses the room and gently pulls the picture from his wife's resisting hands.

"I would sooner throw my crown in a tar pit," he tells her. At her indignant shriek, he laughs again and kisses her forehead. The novelty of having the privilege to do so hadn't yet lost it's luster, and Cardan suspected it would be a very, very long time before it did. "Have I ever told you how adorable you are when you're angry?"

"I thought I was terrifying," Jude says, crossing her arms and scowling at him. Cardan shrugs.

"Who said you couldn't be both?" He smirks at her as he goes in for the final blow, "My little lady."

[del-stars]

s.o.b.

i get mean when i'm nervous, like a bad dog // i am cruel, i am gentle, i can make you laugh // i don't think about the past, it's always there anyway // and i will never die, i will never die, i will never die

[anotherpapercut]

last night I was hanging out with friends outside a bar when 6 cops showed up to arrest a 75 year old woman for sleeping on the sidewalk across the street from us so the 4 or 5 of us who were outside watching started loudly making fun of and taunting them for being useless cowards

they all just stood there watching us for a minute not saying anything until one said "would you like to come on a ride along and see how hard our job really is?" and we all immediately busted up laughing and started yelling "oh yeah harassing poor old women on the street that seems really fucking difficult" and they just quietly and awkwardly got in their cars and left while our friend repeatedly shouted "go protect and serve" after them

[cobra-creampuff]

we went over the 14yr long torture session in my last therapy visit actually, and i told her that toward the end i was fantasizing about and then actively considering walking into traffic because if i got catastrophically injured then they would have to treat my pain. and she told me that's not an uncommon thing for people to do. that she has heard that many times before.

like think about that. we are so moralistic about drug use and have politicized a particular type of medicine so much, and doctors are so uncompassionate toward and even suspicious of patients who are in pain because of it, that it's NOT UNCOMMON for people who are otherwise not suicidal to start completely genuinely longing to get hit by a fucking car just for the chance to be oh so graciously provided the absolute bare fucking minimum of care.

think about how many different things have pain as a symptom. how many things have pain as the only symptom the patient is aware of. how many of them are life or death crises. heart attacks. blood clots. strokes. bleeding ulcers. those are just what i can think of off the top of my fucking head, AND I'M NOT A FUCKING DOCTOR.

what i had, for example, feels exactly like appendicitis. and they left it for fourteen years because my only symptom was excruciating pain and i didn't fit their stupid little (completely unsupported by evidence, btw) diagnostic mnemonic. if it had been appendicitis, or anything else as immediately deadly that "just" hurts, i would have fucking died the same night i got sent home from the emergency room with "medical" "advice" to take some tylenol and rest - for the first time, that is. out of dozens. how many people do die that way?

because addicts are Bad. and because doctors are too arrogant and biased to practice medicine on the basis of evidence and informed consent when the profit model and conservative propaganda make it soooo easy to stay in the good old days of paternalism instead.

[vampiricbisexuality]

I hate cops