#call me Detective Janitor

[frobin]

Hiii been following you for so long but this is the first time I've ever asked you about something lol.... I was wondering if you have a copy or remember the 4 panel comic of luffy wanting to change his hat/pirate name to a samurai helmet and Robin scolding him for thinking it was a dumb idea... I know this comic exist and it was made by Oda (i think) because when Robin scolded Luffy, Franky was behind her and they looked so adorable (even tho Franky never said anything) cause they're literally mom and dad!!!

Hey Anon! Thank you for sticking around! I know exactly which comic you mean.

The one with Robin and Franky in the background, tired by their kids antics but they still love them.

So... because I can never be fast I'll explain how I found it. I knew I had a version of it on the blog.

But it was not complete and it was posted in August 2020 so I thought "okay might have been drawn then. I did some "Luffy Samurai Hat" googling (DuckDuckGo-ing) but that gave me nothing except for one pinterest post!

As always people on pinterest don't give a single fuck about saying where they got anything from. Why pinning and sharing information if you can upload right?

Anyway, did some more variations of googling, tried Omake and I don't know what... nothing. Skimmed through the manga pages from 2020, nothing. So, I downloaded the picture of Robin and Franky in the background from @chikabika's post.

I did a reverse google search that told me that the character is Nico Robin. Thank you google. Thank you for being useless!

So, I pulled a secret weapon: tineye.com

And it gave me this posting:

I still don't know which chapter that is or where it was published but... I hope I could help XD

IF ANYONE KNOWS THE EXACT INFORMATION, please share! Thanks! Good night!

[hotchscoffeecup]

stricken

summary: hotch tries to hide a panic attack from the team. you walk him through it.

pairing: hotch x reader (platonic)

tags: panic attacks, recall to foyet attacking hotch, mentions of knife violence, recall to foyet killing haley

words: 2k

“He kept them alive.” Morgan sighs and throws the file containing photos of the most recent victim in a long string of murders down on the table.

“These stab wounds are precise,” Reid adds. “He must have extensive knowledge in a medical field; a doctor or a medic, maybe.”

“No,” Emily counters. “This man doesn’t have the confidence to match either of those professions. It would be something that allowed him to blend into the background, where he could observe and hone his skills. He might be a Medical Assistant or Vet Tech.”

“I’ll start cross-referencing work records with clinics, hospitals, and veterinary offices in a twenty mile radius.” Penelope ends the video call and disappears from the wide screen in the conference room, leaving the digital photos of the victims and the crime scenes in full view.

You stare at them, bewildered by the cruelty this unsub inflicts on his victims; the psychological torture he inflicted to coincide with the physical. You click your pen absentmindedly as you pour over the evidence left behind. As you tilt your head, squinting at one of the images, you notice Hotch in your peripheral vision. If you’re not mistaken, you see his hand shaking at his side. You blink and it stops; instead, he flexes his hand open and closed.

The others are talking, exchanging ideas and identifying characteristics to further bulk up the profile. You turn in your chair, brow furrowed as you watch Hotch reach up and loosen his tie.

“Hotch, what do you think?” Morgan asks. The team all turns to look at him and he swallows, Adam’s apple bobbing up and down. “Hotch?”

Without looking at anyone in particular Hotch excuses himself, tucking his head and swiftly dipping out of the room.

Morgan arches a brow. “What do you think that’s about?”

“I don’t know,” you say, concern edging into your tone as you push yourself up and out of your chair. “I’m going to go find out.”

As you exit the briefing room, you survey the bullpen and catch a glimpse of his jacket fluttering around a corner. You weave through detectives and uniformed officers, the din of voices, papers shuffling, copiers whirring, and phones ringing echoing throughout the space.

“Excuse me,” you say, maneuvering around three officers chatting by the water cooler.

You turn down the hall you swear you’d seen Hotch disappear into, but all you see is a janitor’s closet at the far end of the corridor.

As you turn around to retrace your steps and search for Hotch, you hear a whoosh of breath. This stops you in your tracks as you strain your ears and turn back towards the closet. Hesitantly, and feeling somewhat foolish, you reach for the handle and open the door.

Your lips part and your heart drops as you identify your Unit Chief braced against a shoddy shelving unit. In the dim light of the single lightbulb illuminating the space, you make out the rapid rise and fall of his chest as he struggles to take in a full breath.

Without hesitation, you slink inside and close the door behind you. Fortunately, the space is wide enough to grant you enough room to be in there without it feeling confining.

“Hotch, what’s wrong?” you ask, inclining your head to look up into his eyes. They’re wild, dilated pupils flickering back and forth across your features as he swallows.

“I can’t—” he starts and stops, closing his eyes and scrubbing a hand across his face. “I don’t know why, I just— I can’t breathe. I can’t—”

“Okay,” you say, voice soft but firm. “Hotch, I think you’re having a panic attack.”

His brow pinches as he wrestles with that observation. “A panic attack? No, I don’t— I’m fine. It’s not—”

His hands shake as he reaches for his tie, fingers fumbling with the knot causing them to shake even more.

“Let me help,” you say and telegraph your next moves clearly; reaching forward to completely undo his tie and first button of his shirt.

He releases a heavy sigh and something of a sob escapes his lips. “I’m the, the Unit Chief. I see this stuff every day. I don’t—I’m not—” He swallows hard and looks up at the ceiling, as if there would be some sort of solace to find in the popcorn ceiling tiles.

“I just…I can feel it,” he rasps. “I can feel it.”

“Feel what, Hotch?”

His breathing quickens; coming in short succinct bursts that leave him panting and unable to catch his breath.

“His knife. I can feel it.” He squeezes his eyes shut and a tear leaks down his cheek.

Realization dawns on you then and your heart fractures for your Unit Chief, the pillar of the team; the one who bears the brunt of responsibility to ensure everyone else on the team is okay and ultimately sacrifices himself in the process.

George Foyet. You’d joined the team after this case, but everyone knew the story. He’d incapacitated Hotch inside his own home and stabbed him repeatedly; slowly, and in places that would inflict significant damage, but not kill him. Foyet later would go on to kill Hotch’s ex-wife, Haley. Hotch had been on the phone at the time of it all and heard his wife die. You can’t imagine the turmoil he must have gone through; physically, mentally, and emotionally. It’s no wonder this case would trigger such terrible memories.

“I was alone.” Hotch breathes heavily and clutches an arm around his waist. “I can feel it now. I can—the knife, it was, oh God—” His hand taps rapidly against his leg. When his knees begin to wobble, you’re quick to react when he collapses.

Instinctively, you throw your arms out and thread your arms beneath his as you crash to the floor together, knees slamming into the hardwood as you fall. Hotch sobs into the crook of your neck as he clings to you and you wonder just how long it’s been since anyone has held him. Hesitantly, you shift your weight so you can hold him properly with one arm wrapped around his back while the other cradles his neck. You brush your fingers through his hair and speak grounding words to him.

“You’re safe, Hotch.” You then tell him your exact location and repeat your name to him, reminding him of all that is tangible. You describe the room you’re in, from the arrangement of products on the shelf to the cloying scent of bleach and Windex that lingers in the air. You draw attention to the distant sounds inside the bullpen and instruct him to focus on your voice. “I promise that you’re safe,” you repeat.

“Foyet is dead.”

His grip tightens around you and his tears soak into your blouse.

“He can’t hurt you or anyone else.” You fight to keep your own voice from cracking as you bear witness to your friend’s pain.

“I need you to breathe, Aaron.” His first name feels strange on your tongue, but you need to bring him back. “In for four,” you say and breathe deeply through your nose for four counts, patting Hotch four times on the back to offer a different type of stimulation for him to try and ground himself with through physical touch. “Out for your four,” you say as you release the air in your lungs and pat him four more times on the back.

You continue to model this pattern until you feel him start to relax under you. His breathing continues to shudder, but he’s trying to self-regulate.

“Good, Hotch,” you encourage as he works to regain control. “Keep breathing. You’re safe.”

You continue to pat your hand against his back, acting as a metronome for him to keep time. You find yourself rocking him gently as you do this and eventually he shifts beneath you.

Tentatively, you begin to pull away. You don’t let go of him though, not yet. You want to make sure he has a tether to reality and physical touch can help him remain grounded.

Hotch sniffs and wipes at his eyes with the sleeve of his jacket. He keeps his eyes downcast and shakes his head. “I’m so sorry,” he says.

Your brow knits together as a wave of utter confusion washes over you. “Hotch,” you say, almost sternly. His eyes flick up to meet yours and you look at him straight on. “Don’t ever apologize for that. In fact, I’m sorry, actually.”

Now it’s his turn to look puzzled. “For what?”

“That you felt like this was something you had to do in private. That you felt like you couldn’t tell one of us.”

Hotch rubs at his eyes. “It’s not that,” he begins. “I’m not supposed to break. I’m the Chief of this Unit. I’m supposed to—”

“That’s bullshit, Hotch.” An exasperated sort of smile crosses your lips then as you realize you never use that kind of language, especially around your boss. “Apologies, Sir, but you know as well as I do that you don’t have to save face for any of us. We’ve all been to hell and back in one way or another. That case out there; the precise stab wounds, keeping the victims alive…it’s exactly what Foyet did to you.”

Hotch bristles, but you continue on.

“The body remembers, Hotch.” You drop your hands to his wrists and squeeze. “You survived the improbable. Your wounds healed and you did the mandated counseling, yes, but you’re still allowed to break down. You’re allowed to have bad days.” You incline your head to meet his gaze head on. “But you can’t shut everyone out. You don’t deserve to suffer alone.”

Hotch nods slowly and takes a full deep breath before meeting your eye. “You’re right.”

“I know I’m right,” you say and you smile when his lips twitch up at the corners. “I know because you taught me that.”

“I remember,” he says, though he doesn’t bring up the unsub that could’ve killed you. It had only been your third week on the team and the case had brought you out to Boise, Idaho. When you’d located the unsub, he’d engaged you in a physical altercation where he’d successfully disarmed you and put you in a chokehold. Oxygen had been effectively cut off from your airway and you were so close to losing consciousness that you’d be dead right now if JJ and Emily hadn’t incapacitated him when they had.

“I was going to quit the team,” you say. “After that case, I didn’t think I had what it takes to be a member of the BAU.”

Hotch’s brow twitches as he relaxes back against the wall. “You never told me that.”

You shrug, “I didn’t have to. When you found me in the break room after hours when I thought everyone else had gone home and talked me down from my own panic attack, I tore up my resignation letter.” You smile then. “The minute we stop feeling, that’s when we can no longer do this job. That empathy is what gives the families hope and keeps our victims alive. When we lose that, we lose our humanity. Never stop feeling. Feel everything, and then feel it again. Talk about it. You’re never alone. We’re a team. We’ll always have one another’s backs.”

“I said all of that?” Hotch asks, both amused and in disbelief.

“It’s what I tell myself every time I feel the strain of this job is getting to be too much, and it helps keep me grounded.”

He tilts his head and laughs to himself. “I should probably write that down.”

You laugh in turn, “You probably should.”

Hotch moves to stand up then, scooping his tie off the ground and offering you a hand as he does so. You take it and allow him to pull you to your feet.

“Thank you,” he says and offers you a genuine smile. “I just hope that these bags under my eyes don’t look puffier than they usually do now.”

You roll your eyes and open your arms to hug him. He chuckles as he embraces you and thanks you once more.

“Don’t ever change, sir.” You rub your hand up and down his back and feel that the tension has completely relaxed out of his posture. “Don't ever change.”

[incorrectbatfam]

Wayne Tower yelp reviews pls (wrong answers ofc)

★★★☆☆ Disappointed but not surprised

Was invited to the Wayne Gala held at the Tower this year to accommodate special guests from the Justice League. Was photographed by reporter Clark Kent. Wanted to meet Superman but he didn't show up. Food and atmosphere was good. Got told off for swinging from the chandelier. Why have a chandelier if not for swinging?

★☆☆☆☆ Not even gonna dignify it with a title

I'd give zero stars if I could. The CEO is a massive fucking asshole. He's full of nothing but smooth-brained takes. He claims he'll be there when you need him but never shows up. And when you RIGHTFULLY resent him, he'll turn around and pretend YOU are the bad guy. That isn't even touching on his AUDACITY to replace you so soon after you leave. You think you know this man, you think you've grown to trust him, and then he goes and stabs you in the back. Believe me when I say RUN. Get as FAR away from this company and that bastard Bruce Wayne as you possibly can.

★★☆☆☆ SOS

I work here. Too many emails. Half the execs are Boomers who can't export a PDF. The break room is out of coffee. My dad won't stop visiting the office. When will the nightmare end???

★★★★☆ Imperfect but respectable

I had the opportunity to visit Wayne Tower on Bring Your Child To Work Day. The building is up to code and I was able to view all the health code certifications. I admire that Wayne Enterprises takes care of its employees by allowing ample vacation time, in-house daycare, and well-maintained recreation spaces. The cafeteria did not have as many vegetarian options as I would have preferred, but I have been informed that they operate on a rotating menu, so I shall revisit again next week and possibly amend my review. I would leave five stars but I ran into Tim Drake on the way out and that brought the whole experience down a notch.

★☆☆☆☆ No Chipotle

Was told there was a Chipotle here. Did not find Chipotle.

★★★☆☆ Badge entry didn't work

I'm on the night shift at the company's call center. One time I was already running late but for some reason I couldn't badge in. The janitor wouldn't let me through even though I had proof I was supposed to be here. Had to escalate to the CEO. Still better than working the Batburger drive-thru though.

★★★★★ Hi Dad

Hi Dad.

★★★★☆ Good but...

I love the bathrooms. They're easy to find and very accessible for a wheelchair user like myself. There's plenty of space for me to navigate and the products are top-notch, especially the hot towels. The toaster oven under the sink also doesn't make sense, but then again, my lockscreen is Nightwing so I can't judge.

★★☆☆☆ No cats allowed

I got written permission from the CEO himself to bring my cat to the office, but the doorman turned me away. Next time, there should be better communication between the employees.

★★★★☆ Rooftop makes for good date

I brought my girlfriend up here for our anniversary date. The building has a beautiful view of the city and the restaurant was great. The bread was a little dry, but nothing that a little butter couldn't fix. Unfortunately, she's an on-call detective and we had to cut our evening short, but that's not the staff's fault.

★☆☆☆☆ Got called Bri'ish

Someone called me Bri'ish.

[seat-safety-switch]

Whenever there's a crime in the town that has to deal with old Japanese cars, I'm the guy they call to solve it. My name is Detective Archibald Shitpope, and this is not one of those cases. Once in awhile, and I know it's hard to believe, something happens that's not about vintage Nipponese iron.

I was hand-washing my manual-swapped '92 Sera in the parking lot of the station when I heard a loud sigh from the next car over. It was my sometimes-lunch-buddy, sometimes-drinking-buddy Investigator Lionel Tout. He came from England, as part of a "detective transfer" that involved us finally getting rid of Detective Giorgio Mustang, who I genuinely hated. Dude would sit in the detective's bullpen and make idling-cammed-V8 noises the entire time he was thinking. I hope he enjoys Luxembourg and never wants to come back.

Tout, though, was a special case. His fixation? Trains. You've got three guesses what mode of transportation we don't have in our city. Hell, a few years back, the mayor then ordered the removal of the federal cargo train lines, convinced that A) he could sell the tracks for quick cash to a metal scrapper, and B) self-driving cars would soon deliver all of our stuff. Zero for two there, hoss, which is why he was literally crucified during an elementary-school Christmas play. That wasn't on the kids. It was the janitor trying to use it as a convenient way to dispose of a body. I got the call, because he had a 4Runner, but the responding officers figured it out real fast before I got there.

Tout came to town after that. Every day, he got a little more depressed that he wasn't able to solve crimes anymore. Back in Europe, he told me, he once solved a locked-room murder mystery. An heiress (or countess, I can't remember which) had lost her crown jewels and a man died to cover it up. Big deal in all the news, but Tout made the mistake of fixating too much on the train and not enough on the press. Solved the case, but his rival on the force got the promotion to Inspector First Class and the rest is history. Now he's here, drowning his sorrows in a mug full of rum shaped like Thomas the Tank Engine. And that gave me an idea.

That night, I phoned Tout at home. "Inspector," I tried to sound as much like a frightened old dispatch-desk lady as possible, "they've found a body at Uncle Steamy's Good-Time Hobby Emporium. You better get over there right away!"

The rest was all a detective's dream: a murder scene amongst a jealous swarm of model train hobbyists. Tons of passionate suspects, all with inconvenient alibis. A spiral of clues easily missed by lesser mortals. No security camera footage. And at the end of it, a perfect accusation and a tearful confession.

As he carried a perp (Jimmy One-Shoe, formerly arrested for foot crimes at the Payless) to the squad car, he noticed something sitting on the back seat. A little scale model of a Japanese Odakyu Limited Express "Romancecar."

Merry Christmas, Inspector. If the chief asks where I've been for the last two weeks, you tell him I was doing some detective shit, alright?

[infinitecyanroses]

So with all the lore we've gotten lately I decided I want to organize how many player characters have been tied to or affected by the Federation. First I wanted to make a chart but I realized it would be quicker to just list everything down first. Feel free to correct me if anything is missing. I may also continue to update this

Last updated: January 30 (Prison event update)

Had a Past with The Federation Before the Island

Baghera Jones- confirmed former Federation test subject/experiment

Jaiden- confirmed to have helped Cucurucho in the past, role unknown

Aypierre- has memories of being operated on by the Federation before coming to the island

Quackity/ElQuackity- ElQuackity called Quackity his brother and since it seems that ElQ has been working with the Federation for a long time, Quackity could have a related past

Bagi- After joining the island, she discovered a tree house with two journals that were signed by her. The journal also mentioned a cat named Zeno which Cellbit found who belonged to an ex-federation worker that Cellbit had been investigating clues from

Cellbit- Bagi found more journals confirming that she had a family on the island, including a brother who went missing and a lot of details from her journal point to Cellbit potentially being that brother, Cellbit found further information confirming Bagi is his twin and he believes he was kidnapped

Antoine Daniel- see Currently Affiliated, Cucurucho (pink ears) also mention Antoine having worked on previous experiments

Polispol- is the one who directed/created the Quesadilla Island commercial that played when the first islanders arrived by train

Currently Affiliated with The Federation

Cellbit- became an official Federation employee after signing a contract, is often tasked with investigation work and information retrieval, got employee of the month

ElQuackity- seems to be an official Federation employee, status unknown but seems to be a high ranking experimenter. ElQuackity went to Egg Island/Purgatory and seemed to have a past with the cyclops who was controlling the island there. At the end of Purgatory, the cyclops asked ElQuackity to stay by his side and he agreed. When Cucurucho traveled to Egg Island and saw ElQ, he called him a traitor and told him he would stand trial. ElQ chased Cucurucho off so ElQ is no longer aligned with the Federation

Fit- currently working as the Federation's janitor

Foolish- was made an official Federation detective by Cucurucho and was tasked with investigating Mr. Mustard's disappearance. After submitting evidence to the Feds of other islanders breaking the rule, Foolish was promoted to Police Administrative Assistant and Dispatcher and also made employee of the month for September

Aypierre- is currently making wine for the Federation

Jaiden- spent two weeks helping the Cucuruchos and is currently tasked with informing new members about Cucurucho.

Forever- recently elected as president of the island to serve as the go-between for the island citizens and Federation.

Kameto- Has been helping the Federation ever since his disappearance by watching footage and recording the happenings of the island and is now working as a spy for the Feds under guise of being a former Federation prisoner

Antoine Daniel- Role unknown but he was able to get a private meeting with Cucurucho (pink ears) and criticized him for letting the 6 panel comic leak out to all the islanders, saying it was too soon. Cucurucho apologized to him, implying some sort of connection between the two

Polispol- Cucurucho hired him to create a new video for them

Has Been Kidnapped/Arrested by The Federation

Felps- agreed to sacrifice himself to the Feds in exchange for getting Richarlyson's first life back, only to be captured and iced by the Feds

Cellbit- was caught trying to warn other people about what happened to Felps while first infiltrating the Federation and was held in a Federation building with Felps

Quackity- was captured and held by the Federation and replaced with ElQuackity. Was also recently kicked from the server after playing the dice game, no clue who's responsible or what happened. Quackity came back but was captured by ElQuackity, who stole his new train ticket before the Purgatory event. Quackity later escaped after the islanders left but was shot by the black colored Cucurucho

Maximus- was arrested by the Federation for terrorizing a Federation building but was only held for one day

Pac- first arrested by Foolish under Cucurucho's orders, then later recaptured and placed in a cell at the bottom of the ocean with Federation guards

Mike- first arrested with Pac for the same reasons, has recently fallen into a trap, unknown if the Feds are also behind it, recently came back acting more paranoid and wanting to eat/kill the eggs

All of the current new members- were arrested and kept frozen until the other islanders found them

Baghera- after discovering her childhood bedroom on the island, she woke up 9 days later in a Federation hospital room and found a recent subject file about her and a book listing other federation hybrid experiments

Philza- followed a string of crow-related clues he thought would lead him to his missing kids, only to be trapped in a giant bird house by Cucurucho as payback for lava casting the Federation office building, he woke up days later in his house, unable to find proof that the bird house existed, making him question if it was real

Badboyhalo- arrested by Foolish and Cucurucho for 15 minutes for vandalizing Federation property (though BBH claims it was longer)

Aypierre- was imprisoned by Cucurucho for a full night for lashing out at Cucurucho while asking about what the Feds had done to him

Roier- was drugged and captured by Cucurucho while he was investigating Cellbit's whereabouts, taken to a dungeon cell and blindfolded for a few days before Cucurucho brought him to a lab where his missing twin brother, Doied was (continued in fed operation category)

Forever- after getting infected by dark matter due to a Fed sanctioned trip to the Nether, Forever became possessed by an entity known as @v@ who made Forever attempt to kill the eggs. Cucurucho intervened and teleported Forever/@v@ into a max security prison, keeping him chained up before downing him with a chainsaw

ALL of the active islanders and their eggs (except Baghera and Cellbit) were taken and kept in a maximum security prison by the Federation for three days in order to keep them away from the attacking eye workers while the Federation did damage control. Despite not being officially charged with crimes, they were all treated like prisoners

Was operated/experimented on by the Federation

Maximus- was treated by the Federation after the code entity attacked him but learned later that the Feds had also stuck a recording device in him so he had it removed, was operated on again after contracting a parasite only to wake up with part of his leg turning into code

Felps- after he was rescued from the Federation, he was found wearing a hospital gown and had a mark on his arm, hinting that the Feds might have experimented on him

Cellbit- was also treated by the Federation after being attacked by the code entity, suffered memory loss from the time the Feds captured him

Quackity- was seen being put through multiple tests by Cucurucho before being released with very little memory of his past, only being able to speak in Spanish, and not being able to read or write (probably a form of aphasia)

Roier- After being captured and taken to the lab to see his twin brother, Cucurucho and Doied forced Roier into a machine that would swap his brain with a rat, the operation successfully put Roier's brain in a rat's body and he ended up passing out (probably more to come)

[svuobsessed]

SVU team X Autistic Victim teen reader

Literally started watching Law and Order SVU yesterday and fell in love with the show well the sixth season at least.

This will be my first ever L&O SVU one-shot.

Summary: The team are called in after a Teen was beaten up by two other students.

Third person pov...

The smell of the hospital woke Y/N L/N up, they had always hated the smell of the rooms it made their sensory issues skyrocket.

Opening their eyes they are meet with bright white lights, groaning they close their eyes again, sitting up carefully being mined full of their injuries.

Slowly the teen opens their eyes again, this time the light was not as bad, Y/N looked around the spacious room, the teen was alone in the room.

They could not remember anything, rocking slowly trying to calm down they wracked their brain for something but could not remember. "Stupid stupid, what the hell happened to me" they shout smacking their head as they started to freak out.

As they were having a meltdown the doors opened and in came Detectives Olivia Benson and Elliot Stabler. "Y/N what's wrong sweetie?" Calls Olivia as they rushed over to the teenager.

Hearing voices they did not know made Y/N look up and crawl out of their bed as they stood searing pain shot through their head groaning in pain they wobbled; Olivia grabbed the teen to stop them from falling.

Instead, they struggled in her hold trying to get away from her. "Stop let go off me" they yell eventually Oliva let them go. The teen crumpled to the floor against a wall rocking back and forth hands in their hair trembling all over.

Olivia and Elliot look at each other. "What the hell happened there?" questions Elliot watching the distraught teen work they way through a panic attack. Suddenly the doors opened it was Y/Ns parents, outside the room they answered the twos questions. "Y/N is autistic which is why they reacted that way, the new room and new people triggered them into a meltdown" explained Y/Ns dad as he held his wife.

Crying the woman looked at the two detectives "what happened to our child, why where they attacked" she cried, Olivia and Elliot look at each other before telling the two.

During Y/Ns 4th period lesson they left the classroom for a breather as they got overwhelmed, as they did the teen was followed by two students. 15 minutes later the two students walk back joking and shoving each other in the hall, Y/N know where to be seen.

Lucky for them the janitor was passing by and found them unconscious and beaten up, at the end both Y/Ns parents wanted to press charges but could not without Y/N present.

Days later Y/N had woken up again in the hospital this time a lot more calm and not as anxious. The 13 year old was sat up in the bed, they had a bandage wrapped around their head their attackers got in a few good swings to their head.

The teen also had bruises on their arms, they had tried to protect themselves from the attack though being surprised, the door to Y/Ns room opened the teen turned their head, it was the detectives from before.

Sitting up they continued to look off sideways as the two detectives approached the H/C Haired teens bed. "Hi Y/N, I'm Olivia this is Elliot" she introduces them. Y/N does not look at them but nods.

Elliot looks at the teen and stands closer. "Y/N we wanted to ask some questions about the day you were attacked?" he asks the teen, sighing the teen turns their head to look at the man.

"I didn't see their faces" they whisper, the adults could tell they were lying by the way their voice cracked, the two detectives eye each other before Olivia sits next to Y/N on the bed.

"that's a lie sweetie and you know it" she tells them gently, Y/N looks up at her tears in their E/C eyes. "I know, I can't tell I won't" they cry hands shaking in their lap. Olivia holds out her hand to the teen as an invitation to hold hers.

Two both hers and Elliots surprise the teen grabbed her hand squeezing tightly as they cried.

The team are stuck at the precinct Benson, Stabler, Tutuola and Munch all stand around the evidence board in front of them, it was filled with pictures of what happened to Y/N, the footage of the two students.

"That poor child, who in their right mind would beat someone for being different" says Munch as he stares at a picture of Y/Ns injuries pissed off. "Your right partner, little shits" Fin pats the man's shoulder.

On the desk next to them stand Olivia and Elliot. "If only we could persuade Y/N to tell us their attackers" says Elliot slamming his hand down on the table, Oliva sighs and looks at the forage. "We can't push the, they are already traumatised enough" as the team stand around someone pats Elliots back.

This scares the man; he had not heard any footsteps telling him someone was there. Turning around he was shocked at who was there. "Y/N" the name made the others turn around.

Behind Elliot stood their 13 year old victim, the teen had numerous bandages around their arms and head, headphones around their neck and a small stuffed toy. "I'm here to report an assault" the relief on the faces of the detectives is seen.

Olivia stands from her chair and beckons the teen over. "Come on sweetie, I'll take you to an interview room" she takes the teen to an unused room, the teen looks around and sets their bag and stuffed toy on the table.

Munch and Fin are disgusted at how the arseholes beat up Y/N, turning to Elliot they see a pissed of look on his face. "Those bastards" growls Fin, Munch agrees "they deserve to be locked up for good" he says, Elliot follows after Y/N and Olivia.

Hours later Y/N had told the two everything that had happened to the over the past year, they had been beaten up before by the same kids but not so bad they had to go to the hospital, lucky for Y/N both attackers were charged with category 1 of grievous bodily harm with 26 month in juvie with 100 hours of community service.

Y/N was more than happy with the charges, their parent profusely thanked the SVU team for their help.

The end!

I plan to skip most of the court parts because I know nothing about how they work so sorry I only really know about the kind of charges you can get, anyway sorry for any grammar and spelling mistakes.

Requests are open!

Word count: 1171

[spindlewoed]

["Homo-sexual underground" internalized]

NEW TASK: Talk to the smoker again (optional)

***

SMOKER ON THE BALCONY — “Hello there, Gendarme.” The man offers you another one of his honeyed smiles, “I have to say, something feels different about you. Are you done with your twenty-hour mind project?”

As a matter of fact, I am.

Not really, I’d like to talk about something else.

SMOKER ON THE BALCONY — His eyebrows rise minutely, “*Beautiful*. And what was your conclusion, if I may ask?”

EMPATHY [Trivial: Success] — He’s genuinely curious. 

It helped me have a little bonding moment with my case partner over here (point to Kim).

A waste of eight hours of my time. Don't think I gained anything from it. On multiple levels.

It was a very immersive thought process, very educational. I feel closer to the plight of the underground community now. I think you guys should form some sort of union.

I’m really not sure…

KIM KITSURAGI — The lieutenant gives you a stern look before you can say more.

AUTHORITY [Easy: Success] — It is not your place to disclose my personal information, *officer*.

YOU — shut your mouth instantly.

It helped me have a little bonding moment with my case partner over here (point to Kim).

A waste of eight hours of my time. Don't think I gained anything from it. On multiple levels.

It was a very immersive thought process, very educational. I feel closer to the plight of the underground community now. I think you should form some sort of union.

I’m really not sure…

SMOKER ON THE BALCONY — He hums, contemplative. “Well of course. A measly day wouldn’t be enough time to comprehend the scope and grandeur of the *homo-sexual underground*, obviously.” He smiles again, his heart shaped lips almost breaking into a grin.

“But do tell, Gendarme. Indulge me. Have you thought about where you stand on the matter?” 

Couldn’t be me. I'm not one of those.

I’ve stopped obsessing over my sexuality, I’m afraid there’s no going back to thinking about it. That would be another eight hour project. Twelve if I’m honest.

[Electrochemistry - Heoric 15] Look for clues in your past. Try to remember.

[CHECK SUCCESS]

ELECTROCHEMISTRY — Looking like a dust covered film, your memory slowly unravels in your mind. A young man, just like yourself. He’s taller than you by an inch or so. Slightly muscular, round figure. Kind eyes. An explosion of electricity travels all over your body as he places a casual hand on your lower back. No one else in the room seems to notice. Later, you’re in the janitor's closet, and small talk concerning your shared students turns into hit after hit of oxytocin as he kisses you. You don’t remember his name.

YOU — “Does it count if it was once, in a closet?”

SMOKER ON THE BALCONY — His eyes widen then he laughs, suddenly and openly.

DRAMA [Medium: Success] — He’s only making fun of you a *little* this time, sire. He's positively *delighted*.

SMOKER ON THE BALCONY — “Forgive me, gendarme. It’s always a pleasure talking to you." He composes himself, leaning back against the bricks. "But to answer your question - yes. I believe it counts.”

No, there’s no way. Forget I said anything.

Ok…

SMOKER IN THE BALCONY — He nods, waiting for you to reach a conclusion.

YOU — "Ok. But that was the past. How do I know that this is me, now?"

SMOKER ON THE BALCONY — He takes a drag of his cigarette while studying your face. As he exhales, his smile returns to his face like it never left.

ELECTROCHEMISTRY [Trivial: Success] — He smiles a lot when you're talking to him. It’s a warm, smooth shot of dopamine every time.

SMOKER ON THE BALCONY — “That’s up to you to figure out." He flicks the ash off his cigarette with his slender fingers. He adds, lightly: “But feel free to give me a call once you do, officer.” He winks.

Oho?

Uhu?

Ogh?

[Savoir Faire - Godly 16] Try to come up with something a little bit more eloquent.

[CHECK FAILURE]

YOU — (whisper) "Awooga…"

SMOKER ON THE BALCONY — “Pardon?”

KIM KITSURAGI — "Detective," the lieutenant interjects mercifully, "perhaps it's best we get back to the case, yes?"

YOU — "Yeah, I gotta go. See you. I mean, yeah. Bye."

SMOKER ON THE BALCONY — He chuckles, waving his fingers goodbye. “See you around, Gendarmerie.”

[jonesthefightingtiger]

Inspiration struck me in the oddest of ways today. I've encountered a YouTube video on a TikTok series for the Total Drama Island AU, "Island of Slaughter," by @eavee-ry (Awesome work!). The concept is both creative and brutal, adding plenty of story and depth to these characters and creating a sort of "survival game" to it with the angry spirits. Because I liked the concept of spirits pretty much existing because of horrible deaths, I figured I could create a Mouthwashing horror AU (as if it wasn't horror enough) called "The Adderal AU," where Jimmy was the only survivor of the Tulpar crash and no one ever doubted he was innocent. Rather than return to the wreckage of the Tulpar, he spends his "well-earned" life doing his job. No matter where he went, the memories lingered. As always, fanart for this AU is encouraged and highly appreciated. I'm more of a writer than a drawer, so seeing your styles would make me giddy with joy!

Without further ado, let's go and get started!

TW!!! Blood and Gore and implied SA

Daisuke Juarez-Kida

"Mercy Ruler"

Location: Ulysses City University

Don't Lose

Daisuke was quite a breath of fresh air to some, a chatterbox to others, you included. Still, he had plenty to live for, and enough time to grow. A shame his life was cut short, quite literally with an axe to his sunny face. You knew this the most out of everyone that he deserved to live, Jimmy. The guilt obviously consuming you proves that. What could be home runs were now fouls, corked out of the playing field. But you never cared much for sports, did you?

You will encounter him when you decide to take a stroll by the football field after your big speech about space ship safety in Tech Studies class, as you called it. He will stand there with the wrong gear for football, but you realize that he's playing an entirely different ballgame altogether. His arm, now replaced with a modified baseball pitcher, will start aiming your way as he decides you will become the sole player for dodgeball.

I hope you're good at track and field when he's at your heels.

Anya Musume

"Maddened Mother of Medicine"

Location: Highland General Hospital

Don't Disturb

A sweet woman with a knack for clever quips and smart plans for helping others. Clearly, it wasn't in her plan to let you help yourself with her body. And it definitely wasn't in her plan to down those pills, but it was the best plan to painlessly kill two beings at once.

No one has a plan, they just do what comes naturally to them. The best leaders do. That sounds about right to you, Jimmy? Sickening, almost as if it nauseated you to think about it. That's probably why you found yourself walking into a hospital.

And speaking of- No... You shouldn't speak. This nurse has a strict "No Noise" rule here. Noisiness can make the room feel dirty, and she wouldn't dare let the room fester with dirty words, or dirty thoughts. You will see a woman looking down at you, eyelids so baggy they can catch tears. Her fingers have sickening, metallic protusions jutting out, which you can easily detect as needles. She reeks of various cleaning chemicals. The nurse had unwillingly become a janitor, finding a single dirty breath to sanitize. Do not weep out to her when she catches you and sanitizes you from the inside out. You asked for this. Why did she of all people have to clean up your mess? Why did she have to be left feeling filthy?

Swansea Harold

"Ugly Duck"

Location: Cygnet Park

Don't Judge

Swansea was many things to Pony Express. Abrasive. Cynical. A stickler for the rules. But his experience gave him a better understanding of his crew, even when he didn't show his care for others in the most obvious ways.

And you shot him down. Like a rabid old dog.

Was it the right thing to do, you think to yourself. Knowing you, Jimmy, you've already justified it. You had to do it, or no one else would have survived. Or rather, you wouldn't have.

And now, you were watching the swans and other water fowl swim about in this peaceful park, taking the edge off.

Did you know that swans are highly territorial creatures? They won't hesitate to attack if they feel provoked, or feel that their families are in danger.

You'll sense dread within your soul when you hear heavy flaps over you. Do not look up, Jimmy. The sky is his for the taking. Do not look at the reflection of the lake. That's also his. Don't start running off, because the only path is through the cattails, which can break off with a loud snap. You're in the home of the Axe-Beaked Swan, now, so it would be wise to respect it and its home. In his life cycle, like most swans, he starts off as a familiarly ugly mallard-looking chick. When he grows older, though, the only thing ugly would be your face on the grassy ground if he catches your sight towards him. You were always unable to bury the hatchet. Which is why you're on his chopping block.

Grant Curly

"The Marred Phoenix."

Location: Kensington's Museum of Failures

Don't Lie

This is where it all started. The winged horse that crashed and burned. After Pony Express went out of business, it was natural to man yourself in the logistics side of the A.I driven ships, even though you had ample amounts of experience as a co-pilot and acting captain. The truth is, Jimmy, you've already crashed. This ship, where you escaped death, was your failure. I suppose a captain going down with his ship doesn't matter when everybody else is dead.

But such things... They are upsetting to me. It makes my blood boil. You can feel the flames. You can hear the shaky exhales. This firebird may be tired, but he will not be snuffed out. To make up for the lack of limbs, wings have grown out of the stubs. Every swoop will rise the temperature significantly. You will sweat. You will burn. You will melt. This is the hell you've made for yourself. And let me be honest with you, as a friend who thinks you need a real heart-to-heart with someone:

I HOPE THIS HURTS

[enkisstories]

Detroit Police Department, Central Station (In one of the AUs where Daniel gets reactivated to work as a janitor at the DPD)

Daniel: "Hey, meerkat... Heard tell you bit off more than you could chew."

Gavin: "Obligatory "You should see the other guys" reply."

Daniel: "Coffee?"

Gavin: "Hand!"

Daniel: "You wouldn't even have to ask."

Gavin: "Good. Now I know you can't fucking run after the ones who did this, brandishing a stolen service pistol."

Daniel: "Why, I'd never do that!"

Tina: "We know. You'd use John Phillips' gun. But run after them you would."

Daniel: "Wait, you, too?!"

Tina: "Let me put it like this: When I found Gav with those injuries, I first assumed you two had had an argument."

Daniel: "You patched Gavin up? Thank you for looking out for him for me!"

Gavin: "Hey! That's MY boyfriend! And that's MY alibi girlfriend! For you two's information. Are you dipshits even listening?! Hey, there! This is the office bully calling! You can't just ignore me!!! I'm not dead yet!!!"

Tina: "If you ask me, this makes our arrangement actually easier."

Gavin: "Danny... I know you not just killed John, but also that before the betrayal you'd have killed FOR the Phillips. And they were assholes. For Tina and me, you must stop killing."

Daniel: "Because you're the bigger assholes, check."

Gavin: "C'mon, this isn't a joke!"

The fingers grasp more tightly now. Daniel Phillips is, after all, Gavin on the other side: He has a beef with Connor, is afraid to lose his place in the herd and is an unapologetic android supremacist. There is the chance that Danny cares for his humans like one does for pets, but wouldn't dream of making big concessions for them. In fact, had Daniel found Gavin first, the detective wouldn't have beeen 100% certain if his android love interest wouldn't have mercy-killed him.

But the moment of anxiety passes and Daniel nods. If he allows his whims to drive him, lets his frustration get the better of himself again, then he'll lose his new family more finally than if they were dead.

Extra: Closeup of their coffee mugs:

For Tina I picked the red one in CAS because that's her second favorite color. Then I saw the inscription in the game and found that it fit even better.

Gavin's (held by Daniel here) has ice cream cones all over it, only on closer inspection the "ice" is all cats. Definitely something he'd own!

[heroesfixated]

50/50 Heroes - The Mysterious Symbol

There's one more mystery scattered throughout the episodes I have yet to discuss: the mysterious eye-question mark symbol.

Episode 12B - The Invisibles

This is the first episode that we officially see this symbol appear on a book that J.C. is reading.

From this book, he has discovered a map leading to a secret room in the library, marked by the symbol, as well as having it on the door's handle. He calls the room a "lost time chamber", however, his description of it being a "fun room to escape the teachers" is only based on a legend.

Upon opening the door, the room appears to be empty and long abandoned.

That is, until Lenny discovered a secret switch, revealing the actual hidden room. It's interesting to point out, that we never get to see what's inside, not even a peek, leaving us with only Mo and Sam's reactions, as they remain the only people (including Lenny) to have seen the inside of this room.

As of right now, I have no idea what this room could be, or what secrets may lie in there. Their reactions don't indicate it being anything dark or mysterious, but either way, I am certain this room will come back to play a major role in season 2.

However, this is not the only episode we get to see that green book...

Episode 25A - Sam Plays With Time

In this episode, when Sam and Mo time travel 10 years back and search their grandmother's house for some information on how to get back to their timeline, Sam is seen checking this book before being interrupted by Mo and closing it.

This prompts a question (assuming there is only one copy of this mysterious book/journal): how did it end up in J.C's hands in the present time, if it used to be in Wanda's possession? The only thing J.C. says is that he "found" it, which doesn't explain anything.

And in true Gravity Falls fashion, let's not forget the question of all time: who's the author of the journal?

However, the journal and the room are not the only times we see this symbol. Interestingly enough, several adults in the show seem to have/know about this symbol as well.

Episode 13B - A Sizable Problem

For example, the symbol appears on Peter Witherspoon's (Amber's father) ID card, which we can see when Sam is calling Mo from his pocket.

Episode 16A - A Dazzling Future

We can also see it on the janitor's ID card in this episode when he announces that he is quitting the job.

Episode 22B - Good Old Mo

It was also seen drawn by Mr. Brick. Even tho his conscience has been turned into a baby by Mo's half-power, he still seems to know about the symbol and purposefully draw it on the door.

How and why do the adults know about it? Perhaps it's not a symbol representing one single person, but instead it's a group of people, which some adult characters we know belong to?

That's not all, though, as we still have a few more random appearances of the symbol to go through.

Episode 15A - Dramedy My Friend

Kevin, the town's first police dog, has this symbol on his collar in both the big picture and his statue.

Episode 25B - Who Took the Fly Swatter

Moreover, J.C. and Amber's detective board has two pieces of paper with the symbol, one is seemingly some kind of document or note.

And in that same episode, when J.C. is talking about his ancestors, the very first one is shown with the symbol on the beetles.

Episode 26 - Swatteroo the Sublime

And this collection wouldn't be complete without the mysterious person's hand. The symbol on it could be a drawing, a tattoo, a mark left after some magic, or even possibly a scar, like the one Gruncle Stan from Gravity Falls had burned onto his back.

How does all of this connect, what does it imply, and what does that symbol mean? It is seen in many almost random places and it's hard for me to pinpoint any correlation between these moments to come up with one fully explained theory. Hopefully, this mystery will also be explored and explained when or if season 2 comes.

[death-in-a-handbasket]

ranpo with his eyes close is “I’ll have your daughter home by nine, sir.” But ranpo with his eyes open is “your daughter calls me daddy too.” Ughhh he’s soooo 😍

NAH FR THOUGH.

bro goes from cutie patootie to absolute dickwhistle I’d lock tongues with in a janitors closet jesus mary and joseph

that man isn’t daddy that man is SIR. I’m in his bed saying yes detective 🙏

from the windows to the walls to the ceiling to the halls every surface every dimension every state of matter. do you understand me.

[whack-patty]

more comic practice! Context/rambles below the cut but all u need to really know is This Is Fun

OKAY SO

idk what im doing but i'd highly recommend throwing your ocs into another universe and practice writing comics n stuff with them bc it takes the edge of "oh no this has to be perfect/presentable/make sense" off bc it just gets to be absolute nonsense bc w h o gives a frick. nobody

((Plus this was genuinely good practice for how my own ocs would handle this situation/how I want to write them WITHOUT worrying about inventing the perfect side characters/scenarios. Just a "what would Simon/Ethan do in THIS situation?" and now I feel More Confident in writing them in my own stuff. 10/10 would recommend. This is your cringe pass, dear reader, join me))

for those of you who might give a frick/be curious:

one of the Detective's main antagonists is an arsonist who attacks big fancy buildings f u l l of people, which just hAPPEN to be like the ones Buster and his troupe perform / rehearse in a lot. Making them a very bright and bubbly and fun target.

I moooost likely won't be drawing the rest of this comic bc this one in particular would just get kinda dark ((ɥqʇ ʇᴉ opɹǝʌo ʇuplnoɥs ʎllɐǝɹ ᴉ os ɥƃnouǝ ʞɹɐp ʇǝƃ ɐuuoƃ sᴉ ǝuo dɹous dǝǝus ǝɥʇ puɐ)) but if it were to keep going, Simon and Ethan would split off in two teams:

Ethan would be in charge of getting everyone OUT safely, but she knows that at this point the mystery arsonist would already have blocked off all the main exits and fire escapes, so the challenge is finding a new, safer exit. The team probably would've ended up taking some weird hidden tunnels (bc hc that no matter HOW good things get, Buster always has a backup escape/hidey hole. Tis The Way of people who have come from bad places -- they're generally prepared) and having to do a mad scrambling dash out.

BEFORE the teams split, Simon would've pulled Clay and Johnny to the side to give them some unfortunate instructions --- ideally it won't come to this, but there's a good chance their group may be attacked by someone VERY dangerous before they get out. Clay and Johnny, as the largest/toughest/most experienced with danger, would be the best bet to protect the others should worse come to worse.

Simon would split off to both call the cops, find ANYBODY who may not have been with the main group (janitors etc), and if he can, stall the Arsonist themself. ((aaaaaaaaaaaand potentially some of the more ambitious/crazy troupe members sneak back to see what the frick is going on. Nooshy I'm looking at you)) (((actually that scene might be fun to draw. potentially)))

also. Simon can speak in emojis. That's how they communicate quickly without causing panic in the people around them/alerting antagonists of their plots right away. Why can he do this? that's a ramble for another day lol

if you read this far you get a royal kiss on the hand btw thanks for indulging my madness <333

[xf-cases-solved]

S1E23: Roland

Case: Our story starts by introducing the main of the episode—Roland. We see Roland in his janitor uniform, struggling to use a keycard, and getting exasperatedly reprimanded by a guy named Dr. Keats, in a very overt way of letting the audience know that Roland has an intellectual disability and occasionally struggles with basic tasks, which is in stark contrast to the others in the cold open, Dr. Keats and his colleagues, who are clearly Scientists doing Science with Math and Intellect. 

Anyway, stuff happens and Roland murders one of the scientists by causing him to get turned into hamburger with a giant wind tunnel thing, and then he does some math. Cue credits!

Mulder and Scully come to investigate, and are so very extremely puzzled when all of their leads take them to Roland, who couldn't possibly have had the intelligence to have murdered the scientist. Except, we find out that Roland... can count really super good. Boom. Case blown wide open. 

Mulder tries to relate to Roland by trauma dumping about his horrible nightmares; a Good Will Hunting-esque whiteboard plot device has suspicious handwriting; Mulder correctly guesses a password for the first time in the series; and man-popsicles may be the answer to it all.

Does someone die in the cold open: Someone gets splattered all over the cold open.

Does Mulder present a slideshow: Nah

Does the evidence survive the investigation: Did they even really have physical evidence to begin with?? Like, the man-popsicles and the picture of Roland and his brother ig? Idk, bro, I think their evidence game was weak this episode.

Whodunit: Roland, but he might be being Ratatouilled by his man-popsicle twin.

Convictions: I don't think Roland was arrested, but they took him somewhere to be evaluated.

Did they solve it: Reluctant yes. Since the case was "who turned this man into hamburger?" and they DID witness, with their own eyeballs, Roland trying to turn another man into hamburger, and are able to use that as evidence to reasonably claim that Roland committed the first murder and can put him somewhere where he can cause no further harm, they technically solved the case. That said, I don't think any of them remotely understand what happened (except maybe Mulder, tho even that's a toss-up), and they probably don't deserve my yes, reluctant or otherwise, but whatever.

[how do i determine if a case is solved? check the scale here: x]

THIS EPISODE IS SPONSORED BY: A generic autistic person who is secretly really good at a thing. Are you writing a cop procedural show and need a protagonist detective who is insanely good at picking up fine details on a case (but not so great at social interaction, haha)? Or maybe you're writing a thriller that involves a seemingly impenetrable code being broken... by the last person you'd ever suspect 👀. Are you a big fan of like, idk, "Good Will Hunting" or some shit, and want to write a similar plot but have no original ideas of your own? Might we suggest incorporating a generic autistic person who is secretly really good at a thing! It's 100% not not super cringeworthy, and that's our guarantee!  Try it today!

***

General Total Stats:

(green means stat has changed since last ep; red means new stat added to list)

Total Cases *Definitively* Solved So Far: 12 (streak restarted, ig)

Total Number of "Mulder/Scully, It's Me" Phone Calls: 1 

Total Number of Times Scully Has Conveniently Not Seen Something Crucial: 5

Total Number of Times Mulder Has Been in Mortal Danger: 7

Total Number of Times Scully Has Been in Mortal Danger: 8

Total Number of Sexually Charged, Uncomfortably Intimate, and/or Flirty Moments Between Friendly Coworkers: 11

Total Number of Autopsies Scully Has Performed On Screen: 3 

Total Number of Times Scully Plays Doctor: 2

Total Number of Times Mulder Talks to an Informant: 10 

Total Number of Times People Making Out in a Car Are Hurt or Killed: 2

Total Number of Times Someone Correctly Guesses a Password: 1 (new stat!)

Total Number of Nosebleeds: 4

Total Number of Times Mulder Has Tasted/Sniffed/Touched Something Questionable Without Following Proper Safety Procedures: 2 

Total Number of Times Someone Says "Trust No One": 1 

Total Number of Times Someone Says "I Want to Believe": 3

Total Number of Times Someone Says "The Truth is Out There": 1

Total Number of Cigarettes Cigarette Smoking Man Has Smoked: 6

Total Number of Maggie Scully Sightings: 1

Total Number of Lone Gunmen Sightings: 1

Total Number of Alex Krycek Sightings: 0 :(

Total Number of Times I Had to Look Up What State the Episode Takes Place in Even Though I Literally Just Watched It: 8½ (actually, i STILL don't know what state this took place in bc the wikipedia page doesn't say, which probably means it's in or around D.C., but -shrug emoji-) [edited to add after the fact: i went back to the episode later, and yeah no, it took place in washington state. complete opposite side of the country lmao]

Total Number of Times I Had to Look at an Episode's Wikipedia Page to Fill This Out Because It Was Fucking Confusing and/or Too Boring for Me to Pay Attention: 5

[goneforfree]

Archive #7

A ghost can be many things. A memory, lost dreams, whispers in the night. But I know what my ghosts are. They’re the sudden, severed souls of the victims I encounter in every new crime scene. As a detective in homicide, I knew the job came with sleepless nights and endless paperwork, but the supernatural was usually omitted. I can still remember the night of my first encounter. Eight years ago, a child was walking home from school and never reached his destination. After a certain amount of time, a missing child’s case turns into a homicide case very quickly. Witnesses claimed they saw the boy enter a blue sedan, and when my team tracked the car down it wasn’t far, parked at the very same school. As we searched the area, we found the perpetrator. A new substitute teacher from the outskirts of the city. But they couldn’t find the boy. I kept searching, scouring empty classrooms and janitor closets until I looked through a window and saw the boy running in circles around a tree on the playground. I run down and call my team, relief flooding my system because these cases usually always end for the grim. When I reached the tree, the boy was nowhere to be found. Only a freshly dug grave and two little shoelaces sticking up from the dirt.

“Detective! Detective Whitlock!” I stumble out of my reverie, recognizing my underling’s voice, a new hire fresh from college and eager to be out on his first crime scene. The door in my office swung open, “Detective Whitlock, have you been watching the news?” I rub my temples, “Richie I know I told you to either call me detective or Whitlock, but never both. It’s a mouthful to hear every time.” Richie nods his head twice, “Sure thing, boss. But the news-,” I cut him off with a wave of my hand. “The body found on the river. I’m expecting a call any minute.” My underling stirs in his stance as his eyes shift to my phone. I recognize his nervousness instantly, years of questioning witnesses and suspects honing my senses. “Tell me,” I demand. Richie snaps his eyes back up to mine, his mouth slightly agape. His body sighs in defeat, “I overheard from Chief Stacy that you were gonna be left out of this one, boss.” My interest peaks. Stacy always has me take the lead in newsworthy cases like this. Even the smaller hit and run cases I was at least seconded in, just to be thorough. My skills as a detective were always over subpar, to say the least. But the ghosts have given me a bigger success rate than any of my seniors at the time, leading me to evidence and witnesses, resulting in a bigger workload. I guess they want their murder solved just as much as I do. I glance down at my watch. Grabbing my jacket, I take off my tie and hide my badge into my back pocket. I toss the keys to Richie, “Now, which river was it again?” Richie fumbles as he catches the item. “But Detective Whitlock- “ I give him a sharp stare. “Uh, sir. You’re not on the case.” I stretch my arms above my head, hours of hunching over a desk taking a toll. “I’m well aware of that, Richard. But as of two minutes ago, I am no longer on the clock.”

It was the Hans River, I soon found out, where they found the body. A curious place because it was more like a stream than a river, a little too small to have rushing waters or a lot of local animal life. It was a popular spot back when I was in high school because there was a bridge up stream, a perfect height for throwing rocks or makeshift bungee jumping. Despite that, I’ve only visited twice. I wasn’t very popular amongst my peers then, not keen on making friends after being forced into a big move to a new city. Not much has changed, thinking about all the dismissed lunch and party invites from coworkers. I tell myself it’s because I can’t afford small distractions, not when there’s a dead mother trying to show me the murder weapon her husband used or a dead teenager wailing over her own body. The dead take priority over the living.

“Alright, boss. Here we are.” Richie slows the car to a stop just behind a slew of police cars and news vans all parked along near the bank of the river. I shake my head, already noting the sloppily placed boundaries on the crime scene. They should have at least pulled it a couple hundred feet farther from the river in case of footprints or tire tracks. The weather was awful, bleak and grey, a cold front sweeping over the city making me wish I brought my thicker jacket. We walked towards the throng of reporters, my hands shoved into my pockets, and pushed through them until we reach the caution tape. I try to peer through bodies of police until someone roughly puts a hand on my shoulder, slightly pushing me back. “James? Man, I don’t think you’re supposed to be here.” I recognize Officer Montez, a street cop I’ve worked with many times. Dependable and follows order well. I’ve requested for him multiple times for those reasons, but I suspect he thinks that makes us friends of sorts, always calling me by my first name. I brush his hand off, now overwhelmed with confusion. “I think I can decide that for myself, Montez. I’m off duty, just a curious bystander.” I spot Chief Inspector Stacy not far off, and with my pride hurt from the blatant omittance from the case, I wave my arms and call out, “Chief Stacy!” Montez quickly darts his head back and forth from us, trying to pull my arms down and quiet me. “Trust me, James. This ain’t a good idea.” The Chief looks my way, his eyes widened behind his lenses before motioning Montez to move me out. Richie starts to protest, but I quickly shut him down, opting to wait for the media to die down before causing a scene. Officer Montez escorts us to one of the police vans. “Just uh, wait here for a minute, man. The Chief’s almost done so he’ll come by and see you soon.” And with another hand on my shoulder, more like a pat this time, Montez walks back into the crowd. I can feel Richie looking at me, waiting for some sort of answer as to why this case is so off limits, until I see a familiar silhouette from a distance. Long black hair tied tightly back, a signature red puffer jacket, and a DSLR resting on her hip. I leave the van, telling my underling to stay there, and a run up to greet her. “Hey! Hey, Ami wait!” My voice came out in a rush, eager for her to turn around. When she does, her face lights up and I have a feeling so does mine.

Ami is a reporter I became familiar with, dare I say almost friends, after being interviewed by her so often in all my cases. She seemed to find my inner workings noteworthy, asking more about the emotional intricacies and connections of my cases rather than the plain facts other reporters salivated over. It wasn’t until our fifth interview where I realized Ami and I went to high school together. She was also rather secluded, her head bent down over a book most of the time. Funny thing about outcasts, we don’t even fit in with each other. The more I saw Ami, the more she intrigued me. She’s of Japanese descent, her parents moving her the States after the earthquake that devastated her city. I finally asked her to lunch one day, interested on why she reports the way she does. I never find myself dwelling on someone that was alive for too long and so I knew there was something about her I needed to figure out. We met at a diner, her choice, and I arrived fifteen minutes early as I always do. Ami arrived right on time, sans red puffer and camera and her hair loose for the first time. She spotted me, smiled, and walked over to sit down. “Hello, James.” Her tone was always soft and barely above a whisper, she talked to you as if she’s telling you a secret. After I indulged her in small talk, understanding that it’s a custom people usually follow to make others feel comfortable, I decided to ask her the question that’s been running through my head. “Why did you become a reporter? It seems to me you’re more fit to be a therapist or guidance counselor.” I flinched after the words left my mouth. This is why you don’t have friends, Whitlock. Ami laughed, “I was waiting for you to ask me that.” She gets a far look in her eyes, like a hundred memories flash through them, staring through me more than at me. “Do you believe in ghosts?” I froze. She’s waiting for my answer, and I hold my breath. “No,” I lie. Ami rested her back against the booth, her arms crossed. “That’s alright, most people don’t. I’ve never seen one, but I know their sadness.” My ears perked, “So you can… feel them?” I asked. Ami shook her head and smiled, like I just said a joke that didn’t land. “After the Tōhoku tsunami, Japan was left in ruins in more ways than one. The number of tragic deaths was felt by the whole country. The day after the tsunami it started to snow and the dead were stuck, frozen in place. As time passed, there were many ghosts that came from the land, seeking loved ones or roaming aimlessly before falling back into the sea. But we do not fear them. We believe that the dead are much closer to the living than you think, like a shoji screen sliding back and forth, there is only a thin door that separates us from them.” I listened intently to her, seeking an answer to an unspoken question. “I knew I wanted to be a reporter to give a voice for the distressed families, but also because these tragedies always leave a ghost behind. I want to find their voice too.” She gave me an inquisitive stare, “Your interviews have always been the ones I look forward to. It’s almost like you know the victims, know their sadness.” I almost felt compelled to tell her the truth. That I’m plagued with their grief at all times and that I felt like I had no choice but to solve the case or else I’d be haunted for the rest of my life. A curse, not a blessing. “I guess I’m just that good,” I gave her a cocky grin and leave it at that. Ami laughed again. “I guess you are,” but then she paused. “The dead are grateful towards you, James. You’re their voice.” I never thought of it that way. At first it spooked me. The little boy in the playground, the woman stuffed into a closet, all the way to five friends gathered around a basement where they were tortured and murdered. It felt like a curse to not only find the bodies, mangled and bloody, but to also see the aftermath that the horror doesn’t end in death. But Ami saw this grief and poured light into it. She understands that life is fragile, that death is always near, and that’s why we should still live, even for one more moment. A blessing, not a curse. Lunches with her became a part of my routine after that day.

“I hate the break it to you,” I huff, out of breath from my sprint, “but I’m not on this case.” Ami tilts her head to the side, silently asking me why. I shrug, “I don’t know why either, but I’m keen on finding out. The Chief’s got some explaining to do leaving his best detective off a big one like this. I mean, there’s more reporters here than police,” my eyes cut to her, “no offense.” She shakes her head with a smile, my comment not bothering her. “Detective Whitlock!” I shift my gaze behind her and I see Chief Stacy making his way towards us. That was quicker than I thought. I look back at Ami, “Wait here, I’ll be right back.” She doesn’t say anything, her eyes look glossy. I open my mouth to ask her what was wrong, but the Chief calls my name again. I repeat my promise of a swift return and then made quick strides towards the Chief a short distance away. The older gentleman’s face as bleak as the sky, his demeanor dejected in a way I’ve only seen after yet another case is left cold. I decide to ask first before he could start any excuses. “What’s going on here, Chief? Why is everyone telling me I can’t be involved?” Stacy steadies his gaze at me, “Son, it’s the reporter.” I furrow my brows. What reporter? He sighs, “It’s Ami. The body we found is Ami Satori.” I whip my head around. Long, black hair tightly tied back, red puffer, and a camera slung around her neck. Ami doesn’t smile, she doesn’t laugh, she just has that faraway look again.

A ghost can be many things. A hundred memories, dreams gone and lost, a voice in the night. But I know who my ghosts are, and this one can stay.

[froggod69]

THE GENERAL

by Matthew Craig Reilly

It was nearing midnight, and all was dark at the offices of the PDCO (Planetary Defense Coordination Office). The lights were always set to disable at 10pm sharp, which annoyed Johnson, whose shift ran from 10pm to 6am.

Johnson felt that he was not respected at this workplace. He was smart, diligent, and punctual, and his Masters degrees in astrophysics and computer science distinguished himself from many others in this field. However, having dedicated his life to his studies, he had grown into a fat, sweaty bald man with a high-pitched, squeaky voice and a perpetually shaky, anxious disposition. He had no girlfriend, no family, and no social life outside of work. Nevertheless, Johnson was proud of his academic achievements and believed his position at the PDCO to be both admirable and important to the world.

Johnson stared at his computer screen, illuminating his face in the indigo-shaded darkness of the room. He took a sip of his sweet milky coffee and a handful of some Cheez-Its while trying to shut out the sounds of the janitors vacuuming the neighboring offices. His job was easy, but dull; he had to monitor the skies for any chance of an NEO (near Earth object). He analyzed data from various telescopes across the world to detect any objects that could potentially impact the Earth. There were often many NEOs to be found, but it was unbelievably rare to find one headed directly towards the Earth; most just zipped on by without ever acknowledging this world teeming with life.

The phone rang, shocking Johnson out of his staring contest with his computer screen. Calls were rare, especially during the night shift, so Johnson felt a tremor of anxiety jolt through him. His clumsy hand reached awkwardly for the receiver, which slipped through his clammy palm, clattering on his desk. Johnson could hear a loud, gruff voice yelling through the phone: “God damn it, Johnson! Did you drop the phone again?! Sounded like a damn gunshot going off in my ear, you baboon!”

Johnson finally maintained his grip on the phone and held it up to his ear; his clumsiness had caused him to sweat even more profusely.

“Yes sir, sorry sir,” Johnson had a tendency to be overly formal with his superiors, much to their annoyance. The man on the phone was Donaldson, his rigid and loud-mouthed supervisor. “So, why are you calling? You never-“

“You’re probably wondering why I’m calling so late,” Donaldson interrupted. “I have important news. The General is coming.”

“The General?” Johnson had no idea who ‘The General’ was supposed to be. “As in… the U.S. military?”

“He was supposed to arrive earlier, but his flight was delayed,” Donaldson said, ignoring Johnson’s queries. “His time is limited, so he would still like a tour of our offices even though it’s after hours. I practically begged him to come tomorrow, but he insisted on visiting tonight. Since you’re the only one on duty, the task will fall to you.”

“Me? But sir, you know I have to constantly monitor-“

“Johnson, this is The General we’re talking about. His presence takes precedence over your duties. We have no other options.”

“W-well… Okay…”

“Fantastic,” said Donaldson, his voice dripping with condescension. “Oh, and one more thing: you’ve probably seen the Cheez-It snack bags that were left out on the breakroom table. Those are for day shift only. You are not to have any. We made sure to count them.”

Johnson gulped, looking down at the empty snack bag in his wastebin underneath his desk. “Guh… Yes, sir.”

“God knows you don’t need any more snacks, you fat bastard.” Donaldson suddenly roared an evil, scathing laugh that sounded like a vicious Rottweiler barking at a bird. “Anyways, I’m going to sleep. Don’t call me if you need anything.”

The line went dead.

Johnson, temporarily relieved to not be on a call with his boss any longer, had another pang of anxiety after realizing he hadn’t asked what the General was supposed to look like, his real name, his age, nothing. The General could be anyone. Johnson hoped it would be painfully obvious when the General arrived.

His computer began beeping, alerting him that an NEO had been spotted. This, again, was not abnormal; the computer found NEOs all the time. But as soon as Johnson focused in on what the computer had located, he nearly passed out in his chair. His heart jumped out of his chest. His minor sweat beads turned into a raging waterfall. His armpits moistened, his pupils dilated, his nipples hardened, and his hands began shaking with the ferocity of a 9.8 eathquake.

A massive asteroid. Hurtling directly towards Earth.

There was no mistaking it: the computer does the math well, but Johnson ran a few ancillary tests to confirm. Indeed, the asteroid was on a collision course with the Earth, and would collide within a day or two, based on its relative speed. It was huge; perhaps 2.5 - 3 kilometers wide. Typically, asteroids that size could be detected years, or even decades, in advance, but this asteroid appeared to be approaching from the direction of the Sun - what all astronomers know to be called the “solar blind spot”. This was indubitably the worst-case scenario.

Johnson, who had trained for this moment his whole life, sprang into action. He immediately called dispatch, who would connect him to the U.S. military. A bored woman answered his call.

“Dispatch.” she moaned dully.

“Yes, this is J-Johnson from the Arizona PDCO,” Johnson spit the words out frantically, trying and failing to maintain his composure. “There is a massive asteroid heading towards Earth, I need to speak to a high-ranking officer in the military immediately.”

The lady did not seem fazed. “You said Johnson?”

“Yes, ma’am, Johnson from the Arizona PDCO.”

“Isn’t that where The General is headed?”

“I, uh, yes…” Johnson furrowed his brow in confusion. “But that isn’t important right now. An asteroid, a huge, huge asteroid, will collide with Earth in roughly two days and cause unbelievable devastation! I need to be connected with someone immediately!”

“Hmm,” said the unaffected lady. “Most of ‘em are asleep right now and would rather not be awoken. Ooh, I have an idea, why don’t you just tell The General when he shows up?”

Johnson shook his head in disbelief, spurring a few beads of sweat to fly off him like skittish bugs. “Look, can I speak to someone else? Maybe someone who can understand the gravity of the situation?”

The lady laughed, a sharp, acerbic sound. “Gravity. Ha ha. I get it. ‘Cause you’re, like, a space guy.”

“That’s not what I-“

“I’m the only one on shift tonight, Johnson. Everyone else called off sick,” said the lady, and Johnson could hear her take a big gulp of something. “And to be honest - it’s my first day.”

“You’re kidding,” Johnson replied, his eyes widening in abject horror and frustration. “Well, you’re supposed to connect me with someone in the military. They need to take action on this as soon as possible.”

“I told you, they’re asleep.”

“Well, WAKE THEM UP!” Johnson suddenly screamed impatiently, surprising himself.

“I will not tolerate disrespect,” the lady stated, suddenly speaking in a sharp and mature tone. “Donaldson will be notified of your transgressive behavior.”

“I-I’m sorry!” Johnson wailed. “I just need you to take this seriously! This is a matter of life or death!”

No reply.

“Hello?!”

The line was dead. Johnson cursed and re-dialed. No answer.

“G-God damn it!” Johnson slammed his hammy fists on his desk, causing his coffee cup to spill on his keyboard and mouse. Johnson then tried calling Donaldson, who did not answer either. Feeling desperate, he then opted to call Donaldson’s boss. Donaldson would typically be furious that Johnson would go over his head, but he truly felt that he had no other choice.

“Robertson here,” said a grim, elderly voice on the line. “This better be good.”

“Robertson, it’s Johnson. Night shift.”

“Johnson? Donaldson’s employee? Why are you calling me in the middle of the night?!”

“There is an asteroid hurtling towards Earth. Nobody has answered my call except for you. We desperately need to alert the military.”

“Well, call dispatch. That’s your entire job.”

“I did. They were no help at all.”

“Hmph. I actually received a report that you disrespected a dispatch officer, verbally berating her until she felt no other option than to quit. Why would you do such a thing?”

Johnson squinted his eyes. “She quit?! Look, she wasn’t doing her one job of dispatching me to-“

“That is unacceptable behavior, Johnson. We will discuss this next time I’m in the office. I’d fire you right now if The General wasn’t coming in. You’re all set to meet him, correct? He should be there any second to inspect the facilities.”

“Just who is this General guy? If he’s so important, why aren’t any supervisors here to meet with him?”

“There’s that disrespect again. Johnson, if I hear you utter even a single disrespectful syllable to The General, I will make your life a living hell. I won’t just fire you, I’ll fuck you. For life.”

Johnson paused.

“But sir… The asteroid…”

“Christ, again with this asteroid bullshit. Just tell The General. He’ll know what to do.”

The line went dead abruptly.

Just then, before Johnson could even register that the call had ended, a janitor walked in with a serene look on his face.

“Señor… The General es here.”

Johnson blinked, his heart surging in his chest. He had no idea what to expect, but he was anxious anyway.

He hastily put his coat on and walked to the front entrance of the spaceport. Across the street sat a dark, ominous limousine; Johnson wondered why they didn’t park closer to the actual entrance. A silent driver, who looked more like a walking corpse with his skinny body and pale skin, gave Johnson’s presence zero acknowledgement as he slowly lifted himself out of the car and slowly walked to the rear door of the vehicle. He moved so slowly and so quietly thay Johnson felt as if he were watching a surreal play, especially with the moonlight’s glow being the only thing illuminating the scene.

But finally, the driver opened the door.

A man with a button-down shirt, red as blood, and a long, black leather duster stepped out of the vehicle with a confident swagger Johnson had never before witnessed. This man carried himself like a celebrity, or a sports star, or a used car salesman. He had shockingly white teeth, possibly veneers, that seemed to smile and grimace at the same time, like a demented Gary Busey. His greying hair was slicked back like a 1950s greaser. A cigarette dangled out of his mouth, but no smoke was emitting from its tip; was it merely a prop? He wore clean, perfectly ironed jeans that dropped down to his domineeringly large cowboy boots. He looked like a character from a Tarantino movie that Harvey Keitel would typically play.

This man was an enigma. He just had to be The General. There was no mistaking it.

The General looked directly at Johnson, sizing him up. It seemed he was not too pleased with what he saw.

“I’m here.” said The General, a hint of disdain in his voice.

“A-are you The General?” Johnson asked. He was intimidated by the man’s sheer confidence.

“Am I The General?” The General giggled and looked at his driver, who laughed as well. “He’s asking me if I’m The General.”

Johnson blinked, feeling pathetic.

“I need to be shown around,” said The General, finally stepping towards Johnson, his cowboy boots clinking metallically with each step. “You will serve as my guide. Do only as I say or you will be severely punished. Do you understand?”

“I, uh, I suppose…”

“My god, you are pathetic,” The General said, sneering at Johnson. “You really must take more pride in your appearance. You’re sweating as if you just ran a marathon, but I presume your job requires no manual labor. A desk jockey! Tell me, is it a condition? Or do I make you nervous? You may answer.”

“To be quite honest, sir…” Johnson gulped. “I found an asteroid headed towards the Earth, which is set to collide with us within one to two days. Approximately.”

The General lip-smiled sheepishly and looked back at his driver, who met him with only a blank, emotionless stare. He then looked back at Johnson.

“How interesting. Yes, yes, this is quite an interesting development indeed!” The General began pacing with his hands behind his back. “I knew there was a reason that I was supposed to come here tonight. I knew it.”

“So… you’ll call someone? So we can do something about it?”

The General smirked mockingly at Johnson.

“No. No, my dear boy. You do not become someone of my status by merely leaning on others for help. You and I, we will take action here, tonight. We don’t need anybody else.”

“S-sir, but-“

“I did not tell you to respond, did I?” The General raised his hand and smacked Johnson’s cheek with an unyielding strike. Johnson yelped like a wounded coyote. “Now, bring me inside, and we’ll figure this out. Like men!”

Johnson begrudgingly led The General into the lobby of the spaceport, greeted by an empty front desk and a darkened room. Johnson heard this room was often very welcoming during the day, but it took on a foreboding look in the dead of night.

“This is the lobby,” Johnson said, continuing towards the elevators. The General grunted, looking around with a stern and focused expression. Johnson hit the ‘up’ button. “Now I’m going to show you the 2nd floor, where I work.”

They stepped into the elevator, where a dainty jingle was playing. The elevator lurched upwards, and quickly settled on the 2nd floor with a jarring ‘ding’.

Johnson saw the janitor down the hallway, who, upon noticing, stood up straight and saluted. Johnson, confused, looked at The General, who nodded as if this was expected behavior. The janitor maintained this salute as they passed by and into the breakroom.

“Ah, Cheez-Its, morsels of the gods,” The General said, somehow unironically, and grabbed a small bag off the table.

“Ah, sir, those are for day shift only…” Johnson felt as though he was talking to the wind.

“Day shift. P’shaw!” The General ripped open the bag and poured the entirety of its contents into his gaping maw. “I am the All-Shift. Shifter of worlds. I can turn Day Shift into Night Shift and Night Shift into Day Shift.”

Johnson made a conscious effort to disregard this comment, and opened the door to the large, dark room that contained his office. At the far end of the room was a single window that took up the entire wall, serving as a viewing port for the Space Shuttle down the tarmac, about a half mile away. The sight of the shuttle often inspired Johnson, and reminded him of why he went into this field in the first place. It seems The General was struck by this sight as well; his eyes lit up and filled with tears, while his mouth hung open, just slightly agape in wonder.

“A tower… No, a monument to the Heavens. Mankind’s ultimate goal, fulfilled. Not just a marvel of engineering, but a marvel of imagination, determination, and victory over science. Victory over God, even. Beautiful.”

“Yeah… we have a launch scheduled for next week. Just to test some of our propulsion syst-“

“This is why I’m here. I understand now.”

Johnson was confused by The General’s ramblings, and vainly attempted to soldier on with the tour. “Yep, and over here is my desk.”

“You will allow me onto the spaceship,” The General said, still looking directly at the shuttle, spellbound. “You will launch me towards the asteroid. I am The Savior. I understand it all now. This is my purpose.”

Johnson, confounded, shook his head. “Look, I know you’re The General and all, but I can’t just… launch you. This is a billion dollar project, plus it would take a whole team to get it to work. Also, you’re not trained, your safety cannot be guaranteed, and-“

“These are all excuses. Matters of semantics. We are two men tasked with finding a solution for a danger that threatens all of humanity. I am not a fan of bureaucracy. I take charge. All of mankind is at stake here, yet you’re still too filled with trepidation to actually do anything about it? It’s time to take charge and stop being the pathetic animal you’ve been your entire life.”

Johnson blinked.

“Can you get me on that spaceship?”

“I mean… y-yes.”

“Do you know how to initiate the launch sequence?”

“Uh… yeah, I guess I know what needs to be done…”

“Very good. I will handle the rest. I will eliminate the asteroid, even if it costs me my life. Safety be damned. This is our purpose.”

Johnson couldn’t help but feel inspired by The General’s words. In many ways he was just happy this matter was finally being taken seriously by someone, even if it was only by this eccentric man.

“Now. What do we need to do to get this bird airborne?”

Johnson explained that the shuttle was already fueled and fully tested for the upcoming launch, and all that was needed to be done was the countdown sequence, which would only occur once The General was in the ship’s cockpit. The rocket would need to be armed, the tanks pressurized, and the spacecraft fully powered up. Typically this was done by a team of people, but Johnson understood the basics of what needed to be done, as most of the hardest bits of the mission were already completed.

“Good. Very good! We were put on this Earth to meet each other at this precise moment for this specific reason. I will save the world, but I need you to be the Shepherd to my Savior. Understand?”

The General’s charisma was overwhelming. Johnson didn’t understand, but he still nodded, as if in a hypnotic trance.

The General walked out of the building, and Johnson watched from the viewing port as the limousine drove out to the parked shuttle, like a lamb to the slaughter. At this distance, Johnson could barely see, but with a bit of squinting, he watched as The General climbed the precarious ladder leading to the cockpit. After a few minutes, The General’s voice sounded from the computer.

“Alright, Shepherd, I’m in place and buckled in. Not that it matters!” An uproarious laugh echoed from the comm system, causing a high-pitched feedback noise to scratch Johnson’s earbuds. “You’re going to launch me right at that fucking asteroid, and I’m going to obliterate it!”

“But what exactly is the plan here?” Johnson asked. “It’s not like the ship is equipped with asteroid-destroying lasers.”

“It’s simple. Elementary. I’m going to collide with the asteroid at a high speed to alter its trajectory. I’m going to give it a good bump and move it away from Earth!”

Johnson considered this. “Kinetic impact… of course. That could actually work. But that’s suicide!”

“It’s every man’s dream to die for something larger than himself,” The General replied. “We’re running out of time, and I’m running out of patience. Initiate the launch sequence.”

Johnson began powering up the rocket while running through the tasks on his timed checklist.

Rocket: armed.

Tanks: pressurized.

After approximately 15 minutes, the spacecraft was powered up, and dawn was beginning to break.

“We’re all set. I locked your coordinates directly towards the asteroid. We just need to do the countdown!”

Johnson couldn’t wait for this. It was every astronomer’s dream to do the countdown.

“FUCK the countdown, let’s fucking ROLL!”

Once again, maniacal laughter emanated from the comm system, and soon enough, Johnson was laughing hysterically too. Their riotous laughter was almost in sync.

Johnson hit the button.

Beautiful, menacing plumes of smoke and fire erupted from the bottom of the spacecraft. The haunting bellow of the rocket blasted through the room, and directly into Johnson’s soul. Everything shook, as if the ground too was nervous of what was about to happen. Beyond the roar of the rocket, Johnson could only hear The General hooting and hollering loudly as the ship took off at an incredible speed.

Johnson cried.

The next morning, the sun came up, and the world continued turning.

[fairytales-and-folklore]

The Doctor's Darkest Hour

Doctor Who » Eleven Era

Title: The Doctor's Darkest Hour

Author: fairytalesandfolklore

Fandom: Doctor Who (Masterlist)

Characters: The Eleventh Doctor x Amelia Pond x Rory Williams

AO3 Rating: Teen & Up (a complete collection of author's notes, inspiration credits, content warnings and tags can be found on AO3)

Summary: The Doctor travels back in time and accidentally becomes the new sex education professor at a local high school. As if that isn't already awkward enough, he discovers that two of his students are none other than Amelia Pond and Rory Williams.

The moment he discovers the large cardboard box with its terrifying silicone contents sitting innocently on his desk, he realizes that he can't possibly make it through this alive. He silently curses the administration (but it's his own fault, really.) Shouldn't have said 'Doctor.' Everyone always assumes you're an actual medical professional when you call yourself a Doctor. Should've just stuck with 'Professor.' At least then he could've gotten assigned something easy like maths or physics. Health and wellness isn't all that important, is it? If they don't understand basic hygiene at this age, then clearly, there's no hope for the future.

Read On AO3 | Read On Tumblr:

The Doctor paces outside of the classroom door, wringing his hands and sighing desperately to himself. He glances at the sign taped to the splintering wood and rolls his eyes. He repeats this process over and over and over again for several minutes straight, frightening the other professors that roam the hallway as he mentally and physically slaps himself into a relative state of confidence, before turning the handle and stumbling inside. 

The classroom isn't very large, and the Doctor can't decide if that makes this entire situation better or worse. His eyes rove over each student, scrutinizing them. A wave of panic washes over him as he realizes that the class is mainly comprised of girls.

Big, scary, senior-ranking girls. 

Girls who pop their bubblegum like a series of small gunshots and scrape their boots on the back of the chairs in front of them. 

Girls with super-fast perfectly-manicured fingernails clicking away on cell phone keyboards, apps at the ready to catch all of his mistakes on camera and upload them for all the world to see. 

Girls with seemingly permanent don't fuck with me scowls and raging teenage hormones and…dare he say it…periods. The Doctor shudders in horror.

None of them have even bothered to spare him a passing glance, even though he's been standing at the front of the room, pacing in front of a large whiteboard, for the past ten minutes. 

The moment he discovers the large cardboard box with its terrifying silicone contents sitting innocently on his desk, he realizes that he can't possibly make it through this alive. He silently curses the administration (but it's his own fault, really.)

Shouldn't have said 'Doctor.' Everyone always assumes you're an actual medical professional when you call yourself a Doctor. Should've just stuck with 'Professor.' At least then he could've gotten assigned something easy like maths or physics. Health and wellness isn't all that important, is it? If they don't understand basic hygiene at this age, then clearly, there's no hope for the future. 

Besides which, the Doctor is here strictly on the grounds of wibbly wobbly timey wimey activity. Realistically, he could probably accomplish his detective work just as effectively if he were to become a janitor. The more he considers it, the more appealing of an idea it becomes. He decides to make a run for it. It's not like any of them will actually notice if he leaves, anyway.

The tips of his fingers just barely graze the brass handle when the door crashes open and he's smacked full in the face as two more students come barreling through. It's Amelia's cricket bat all over again as he struggles to regain focus, but then, a ridiculous smile spreads across his face as he takes in the sight of a buoyant, uniform-clad ginger girl dragging a sheepish, pointy-nosed boy by the hand and popping down into a seat directly at the front of the classroom. 

The young girl's long, scarlet-painted fingernails reach into the depths of her purse to pull out a notebook and a pen, while the boy opens his rucksack right side down and spills its contents all over the floor. 

The girl sports an amused sort of smile as she rolls her eyes and shakes her head, leaning over to help him pick up his pencils, and accidentally giving the Doctor a full shot of her breasts. Her skin is pale and adorably freckled, her little pink lips poised for a playful jab. 

The boy looks at her like he's never seen anything more beautiful in his entire life, and secretly, the Doctor can't help but agree with him. He clears his throat, shaking all manner of lecherous thoughts from his mind as he attempts to gain the class's attention. 

Adolescent Amy Pond looks up from her notebook, its pages filled with sketches of vintage police boxes with flashing lights, tiny little cartoon fish swimming in a sea of custard, and a lanky, disheveled looking man in a ripped, ragged shirt with its sleeves rolled up to his elbows, loosened spiral tie carelessly flung over one of his shoulders, and her mouth falls open, eyes wide with shock as she takes in the sight of her substitute health teacher.

In that moment, the Doctor realizes that he could, potentially, rewrite their entire history if he even speaks a word to her, and so, with much difficulty, the Doctor does his absolute best to just ignore her, and turns to address the class as a whole.

"So, you lot. Look at you. On the brink of adulthood, all bright-eyed and shiny-faced and brimming with teenage life. Well, good for you," he says, smiling cheerfully, carefully avoiding Amy's gaze as he bounces on the balls of his feet. 

Rory stares straight ahead, unaffected by this perfect stranger, because technically, Rory won't have actually met the Doctor until about a year from now, but Amy looks positively starstruck, her cat-like, olive green eyes roving over every inch of the Doctor as she tries to figure out why he looks so much like her childhood imaginary friend.

"So, this is the health and wellness unit, I take it?" he asks. 

The class stares back at him blankly. A hand rockets into the air, and a girl with light blonde hair asks, "What happened to Miss Harper?" 

The Doctor raises his eyebrows and smiles.

"She's on holiday. Won a fortnight's paid vacation to Mallorca in a random draw. I'm her substitute. You can call me Professor Smith," the Doctor says, smirking smugly as he writes his name in large, bright blue lettering on the whiteboard. 

It was entirely too easy to trick humans these days. Just sonic an ATM, purchase plane tickets, book a hotel room, and create a fake lottery for the professors of the high school. End result: immediate temporary vacancy with an urgent need to fill up a job posting.

"So, erm…you're all studying the section on personal hygiene, right?" he asks, rubbing his hands together and glancing furtively at the big cardboard box filled with all manner of silicone horrors, sat next to the comically large textbook on the desk. He decides there's no way in hell he's not touching them, because truthfully, he doesn't even know what half of the items in that box might do.

"No," the blonde girl corrects him. "Actually, we've just covered drugs and alcohol last month. This month's topic is sex education."

The Doctor cringes and the rest of the class giggles at the mere mention of the word as conspiratorial glances are shared across the room. 

Amy, however, looks perfectly unbothered. Meanwhile, Rory has flushed a deep shade of crimson down to his neck as he glances over at his girlfriend. 

Clearly, they haven't reached that particular milestone in their relationship just yet, but the Doctor doesn't even want to think about the fact that they eventually will.

"Oh," he says, blushing furiously and backing away slowly in another attempt to make a run for it. 

Only, his curiosity about meeting eighteen-year-old Amy and Rory, of getting to hang out with his two best friends (even though neither of them technically know it yet) gets the better of him. 

He sighs, shakes his head, and makes up his mind to stay and follow through. He can do this. He's lived for over nine hundred years. Fought Daleks and Cybermen and Slitheen. Saved countless planets and people from war and destruction. He can handle a simple sex education class. Probably.

The Doctor swallows nervously as he picks up the heavy textbook from off the desk, and instructs the class to turn to a random page, hoping for the best. Unfortunately, he opens to a spread of a rather large penis, all floppy and hairy, staring him boldly in the face.

"Erm," he begins, scrunching up his eyes to read the tiny text on the page. "So…as the book clearly states, throughout history, there have been several euphemisms used to distinguish the male genitalia, some of which include 'the hickory-smoked sausage,' 'the lap-rocket,' and 'his majesty in purple cap,' however, we must learn to call it by its proper name, which is, of course, the penis."

The Doctor can feel the blush creeping into his cheeks, threatening to melt the skin clean off of his face, when Amy raises her hand.

"Yes, Pond?" he says, regretting it immediately when she asks, "But why is it called 'his majesty in purple cap'? I thought they were a bit more, you know, pinkish."

The Doctor swallows nervously and says, "Yes, well, they are when they're all floppy and dangly, but when they're very firm, they can get a bit purple, I suppose."

"Do you know this from personal experience?" A tall brunette from the back smirks at him, waiting for an answer.

"Erm…well, I mean, I do have one, so technically, that answer is yes."

"But why do they get all firm? What has to happen in order to make them firm?" She punctuates each word with a mocking drawl, and her friends all giggle madly.

"Well, erm…when a man gets excited, all of the blood rushes there and then it just sort of pops up," he says, struggling to keep composure, practically glowing scarlet when Amy runs a hand along Rory's thigh.

"For example!" he shouts before he can stop himself, pointing to Rory's trousers. Amy immediately takes her hand away and smiles sheepishly. Rory's eyebrows all but disappear behind his fringe, his cheeks about as red as the Doctor's.

"Erm, right then, let's move on, shall we? If you could all just turn to page three-hundred and ninety-four, you'll find…oh dear lord," he groans.

The Doctor nearly passes out as he stares at the contents of the new page: little cartoon images of women brandishing whips at bound and gagged men, tying them up to bedposts with handcuffs and silk ties, whipped cream and strawberries and feathers barely concealing breasts and thighs, and all manner of frightening things displayed under the giant header KINKS. 

The little cartoon women all share a striking resemblance to River, he notices. The Doctor blinks several times and chances a glance at the class, all of whom are dead quiet, shoulders shaking like they're drilling the road with bouts of silent laughter.

"So, alright then, let's talk about kinks. Erm…kinks are like fetishes…which are things that people like to do with other people that involve out-of-the-ordinary…erm, practices," he says, closing the book and trying not to think about the time that River asked him to dress up in a French maid costume.

"Do you have any kinks, professor?" the brunette chimes in again.

"That's a rather inappropriate thing to ask your…that is, I mean to say…no, I don't."

"Bollocks," she whispers. "He's obviously got a thing for bowties."

The Doctor adjusts the little red bundle of fabric that sits at the base of his throat, pressing uncomfortably against his Adam's apple with each anxious swallow. He hastily turns the page one last time, hoping for something relatively innocent. 

He quickly flips through the section about sexually transmitted infections, grimacing at the rather graphic photographs contained therein, skipping past the section on pregnancy and childbirth with such an alarming momentum that he nearly rips out the pages. 

Finally, he turns to a page where a curious-looking object with lots of narrow tubes and circles stares back at him, and he can't, for the life of him, figure out what the hell it is. In a moment of sheer desperation, he turns the book toward the class and asks, "What is this, exactly?"

To his horror, the room explodes with laughter. The boys all shake their heads, clutching their sides, while the girls whip out their phones to get a good shot of their dumbfounded professor. 

In a moment of desperation, the Doctor turns toward Rory, trusting he'll offer up a proper answer that won't make him look like a complete fool. Rory blushes furiously and shakes his head, cursing himself for his terrible luck, and murmurs, "Erm, professor, that would be a vagina."

The Doctor's eyes widen in shock as he stares from Rory's face back to the textbook. With one last embarrassed glance toward Amy and Rory, the Doctor mumbles something about needing a loo break and bolts for the door, slamming it swiftly behind him. 

Hearts hammering wildly inside his chest, the Doctor reaches into his back pocket for a false moustache, slaps it under his nose, and walks off in the direction of the janitor's closet to hide with the friendly-looking mops and brooms for the remainder of the day.