#gonna try to wake up at 8am tomorrow. wish me luck

[dragons-and-yellow-roses]

In my job performance review today my boss told me I need to speak to my coworkers with more tact, and consider how things might sound before I say them. Sir I'm autistic. I don't understand tact.

[noshitbarnes]

Better Now: Chapter 6

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x OFC

Summary: Sophia was 18 when Hydra kidnapped her, gave her abilities, and made her their new secret weapon. Now, flash-forward 9 years later and she’s living with the Avengers, trying to live with everything she did, and trust those she now calls teammates.

Warnings: hospital stay, language, fluff

Word Count: 3,019

Better Now? Masterlist

ONE WEEK LATER

It had been a few day since Bruce and Helen gave Sophia the all clear to head back to the compound and she couldn't have been more thrilled to be back! She didn't realized how much she had missed everyone, despite not knowing them very well.

"So how've you been feeling," Bruce asks sitting at her desk in her room, "still doing well?"

Sophia nods while putting down her book, "Yeah, really well actually, but I've still been trying to take it easy." She folds her hands in her lap, "I don't really want to over do it too much yet."

Bruce nods, "That's understandable." He crosses his ankle over his knee, "Well I'm all done with your implant and was wondering when you wanted to have your surgery done. I'm free whenever you are."

Sophia smiles big and sits up tall. She couldn't believe it, this was the moment she had been waiting for since Bruce had talked to her about the project. She just didn't realize that it would be ready so soon after her blackout. Looking to her hands in her lap she answers, "How about tomorrow?"

Bruce's eyes widen, "Really? So soon?"

She nods vigorously, "Yeah, I'm ready to start feeling better as soon as possible."

Bruce pauses and crosses his arms. He didn't mind doing the surgery tomorrow, he half expected her to tell him that anyway, "Alright, if that's what you really want, head over to the hospital wing at 8am tomorrow and we'll get started."

**********

It was the morning of Sophia's surgery and she was a little nervous, which she didn't expect. The day before, she told Bruce to make sure that no one came to see her, she didn't want everyone seeing her being wheeled back into the OR like some weak little girl; she felt that they had already seen her in the hospital enough as it was. However, Tony didn't listen and came walking in right behind Bruce and Helen.

"Okay, Sophia, are you ready?" Helen asks, smiling down at her on the bed.

Sophia takes a deep breath, "As ready as I'll ever be." She narrows her eyes at Tony, "I told Bruce I didn't want to see anyone before I went back.”

"Too damn bad." He walks up to the side of her bed and holds her hand, "No way in hell was I gonna let you go without wishing you luck, kid.”

Sophia still wasn't quite use to human contact, but for some reason, Tony made her feel safer, sort of like a father would. Her own father was a bit of an alcoholic, so they didn't get along well, when he was sober we was decent— definitely not father of the year. Tony was incredibly different in all the best ways, he didn't talk about his emotions with her, but she could see in his eyes that he cared deeply for her.

She smiles and squeezes his hand, "Thanks, Mr. Stark.”

"Maybe when you wake up, you can finally start calling me, Tony." Sophia rolls her eyes and he chuckles, "When Banner says you’re ready, I'll come by and help you with some of the settings on your implant, okay? It'll be an adjustment, but you'll like it.”

She nods and then Helen walks up next to Tony, "Alright, hun. Time to go.”

8 HOURS LATER

Sophia slowly wakes up to a blinding headache and blurry vision, she curses in her head and puts a hand over her eyes. Despite the lights being dim they were still too bright, painful even. She tries to open her eyes, but eventually gives up, it was just too unpleasant. She feels someone walk up on her right, "Sophia, it's Bruce, can you hear me?”

“Yeah,” she says breathlessly, “just give me a sec.”

"I need you to open your eyes.”

"Fuck that." She continues to hold her hand over her eyes like a shield, "The lights are too bright.”

"Dim the lights some more, not off though." He calls to someone and they scuffle away.

The lights go down slightly more and Sophia relaxes a bit. After taking a deep breath, she removes her hand from her face and tries to open her eyes once more, much easier this time. She blinks a couple of times and looks around the room, it looked like a post op type room, yet she was the only patient. She had an IV in one hand, a heart monitor on her index finger, and oxygen tubes over her ears and in her nose. Bruce was on her right, a couple nurses at the foot of the bed, and Helen on her left looking over the monitors.

Helen turns to Bruce, "Her vitals are normal, so that's a good sign. She did well.”

Bruce looks Sophia over, "Yeah, I just need her to wake up a bit more.”

Sophia groans at their voices, ”I'm awake okay, just let me sleep." She tries to push him away with her right hand, but he puts it back down.

"Sophia, stop," he says sternly, "you just had surgery. I need you to be still."

She sighs and looks back at him, "Okay, I'm sorry.”

"Now," Bruce continues, "how's your vision? Your head? Do you have any pain?”

"Okay, Mr. Doctor," the pain meds clearly taking a slight affect, "one question at a time.”

Everyone chuckles a bit and Bruce shakes his head, "Alright, how's your vision?”

She looks around the room to see, well if she could see, "A bit blurry at far distance, but I can see you guys just fine.”

"That'll clear up once she wakes up more," Helen looks to Bruce, "that has to be the anesthesia or the morphine. The implant doesn't mess with her vision.”

He furrows his brows, “Well, parts do, but it shouldn’t affect how she sees, plus it’s not even turned on yet. Now, pain wise, how's that?”

"My head fucking hurts," she points to the back of her ear where the implant was placed, "especially here.”

He quickly grabs her hand, "Don't touch it. You have dressing on it." He rolls his eyes, "You're gonna be a lovely patient, I can tell.”

She narrows her eyes, "I'll try to be good. Honest." She looks to Helen, "I'll be good, scouts honor and all that shit.”

Helen laughs, "I'll take good care of her, Bruce. Don't worry.”

"I'm not worried about that." He looks to Helen than back at Sophia, "I'm more worried that she is gonna cause you trouble.”

TWO DAYS AFTER SURGERY

The past few days had been boring for Sophia, of course she had the TV, but Bruce wasn't allowing visitors yet, so she was getting lonely. Of course that didn't stop Tony from stopping in every few hours to check on her, make sure she was being nice to the nurses, and that she had everything she could ever want. Natasha and Clint had been keeping tabs on her via her cell, which helped the loneliness a tad, but it wasn't the same as seeing an actual human. Despite not knowing everyone well, she missed the little things she had started to grow accustom too, like having dinner with them and listening to their banter.

"I told you I'd be good." Sophia crosses her arms at Bruce who was standing at the foot of the bed.

"And you have been for the most part, thank you." He looks over her chart on his tablet, "You know the routine, tell me how you've been.”

“The same. I still have my nightmares and panic attacks,” she pauses, “is this thing on cause nothing is different." She says pointing to her head.

Banner shakes his head, "Not yet, I want you to heal from the surgery before actually turning it on.”

Sophia sighs, disappointed, "It's been two days, Bruce, can I at least go back to my room?”

He sighs, “I want you to stay a few more days, okay? Just to make sure you’re really fine.”

She nods in defeat, knowing he wouldn't change his mind, "Fine." She purses her lips, "When are you gonna turn it on then?”

Bruce sets the tablet down on her bed and crosses his arms, "I think in a couple days after I discharge you. I’ll give you some time to adjust to living with everyone again, then we'll go from there. I don't want to throw too much at you right now.”

"Alright, seems fair I guess.” He nods and she fiddles with the IV, “There is something new though.” He raises an eyebrow and looks to her intently, “See I’ve been having this mad craving for some ice cream, but when I ask Helen if I can have any, she says no.” He rolls his eyes and she continues, “It's like she's my mother and I'm a grounded toddler." He laughs, "Can I have some? Or is there some rule against it?”

He shakes his head, "I don't care if you have ice cream. We just don't have any here in the hospital. You'd have to ask Tony to bring you some.”

Sophia purses her lips, “Alright, maybe I will.”

“Is there something else bothering you?”

Truthfully, there were a lot of things bothering Sophia at the moment, but the most prominent thing, was that she was extremely worried that the implant wouldn't work. She did have a track record of horrible shit happening to her, so why would something actually work out for a change? She wanted to be hopeful, needed to be hopeful, but she just couldn't do it, she didn't want to have her soul crushed like that.

Sophia takes a shaky breath and looks back down at her IV, “What if it doesn’t work?” She bites at her bottom lip, “What if this is just how I’m always gonna be?”

"It will work, you just gotta be patient, hun." He smiles and she sighs, “Your brain has been through so much and I don’t want to put it through more than is really necessary. If I did that you could get worse instead of better.”

"Okay, yeah. That makes sense.” She smiles back at him the best she's able to, “I trust you, I’m just getting a little stir crazy.”

He smirks, "I'll call Tony and have him bring you some ice cream, okay? You like cookie dough, right?”

"You're the best Bruce," she beams at him, "thank you.”

**********

"Hey, lefty," Tony walks up to Sam and Bucky in the living room, "you wanna do me a favor?”

"I dunno, Stark, I’m swamped right now,” Bucky smirks at the TV, “plus, I’m not found of your nicknames."

Sam chuckles, "I think they're awesome."

Bucky glares at the TV, "What do you want?”

"Pepper needs me to attend this meeting at D.C. with her, so I'm heading out. Can you take this—“ he throws Bucky a pint of ice cream that her catches without looking, "up to Soph? Banner said she's been craving some and Helen won't let her have any. Might cheer her up.” He smirks, "I'd appreciate it.”

Bucky looks at the ice cream in his hand, turns to look at Tony, and narrows his eyes, "Why me?”

Tony shrugs, "You two were the first slackers I happened to see. You guys play rock-paper-scissors and loser takes it to her. I gotta go!" Before Bucky could protest anymore, he was gone.

"Alright, Barnes," Sam pats his shoulder, "better get going before that shit melts.”

"Once again, why me?" He raises an eyebrow at Sam, "You do it, you make her laugh and shit. I’ll just be awkward and scare her.”

Sam groans, "Stop fighting with me. We both know you actually want to do it." Before Bucky protests further Sam continues, "plus it'll be good for you to be social with someone other than me. Now go."

**********

It's about 3o'clock in the afternoon and Sophia had found a new TV show to watch on Netflix, Supernatural, it was recommended to her by Natasha. It was really interesting, plus the guys in it were really cute, which was probably why Natasha told her to watch it. She didn't realize how much she missed while she was being tortured. Currently, she was on Season 3 and so mesmerized by the show that she didn't even notice someone come into her room until she heard their voice.

"That's a good show.” Startled, Sophia points her right hand toward the door and it starts glowing an icy white. Bucky raises his hands defensively, "You plan to kill the guy who brought you ice cream?" 

"Damn it, Sergeant," she lowers her hand and takes a deep breath, "you scared the hell out of me!” For some reason with the new implant, despite it not even being turned on, Sophia felt on edge. She hadn't threatened anyone at the compound before, so that was new. She was probably going to have a long talk with Tony and Bruce later once they found out about it.

Bucky chuckles and throws the pint to her, which she catches with ease, "Sorry, I thought you knew I was coming up here.”

She smiles down at the ice cream, "I was told Mr. Stark was coming." She looks back at him, "Got a spoon on ya, soldier?”

He rolls his eyes and walks up to her bedside, "Yeah, I came prepared.” She takes the spoon from him, "So, I'm told Helen wouldn't let you have ice cream?”

"Nope." She answers as she tears off the lid, "Bruce said it's cause they don't have any up here, but I dunno," she digs the spoon in and takes a bite, "she's very strict.” She says pointing the spoon at him.

Bucky sits down in the chair to her right and smirks, "Sounds like it.”

"Thank you by the way, this is really good! I love cookie dough.” She smiles at him and he chuckles a bit, "You want some? I'll share.”

He shakes his head, "It's all yours.”

She raises an eyebrow and offers a spoonful, "You sure? I don't like sharing, so this is a one time offer.”

He smiles slightly and shakes his head, "Thanks, but I only brought the one spoon.”

She raises an eyebrow, "I don't have a disease, Sergeant, but suit yourself." She sits back in bed as he blushes a bit, "So where's Mr. Stark?”

He clears his throat, “Um, he said he had a meeting in D.C. with Pepper.”

Continuing to eat her ice cream, she nods, "I see," she pauses, "so he asked you to bring me this?" Bucky nods, "Why you?” That came out a lot ruder than she intended, but she was curious. It seemed like Bucky never went out of his way to see her, only when asked to. Which sort of hurt her feelings.

"I asked him the same thing. He told me that Sam and I were the first people he saw," he crosses his arms, "and I was the one who caught the ice cream when Stark threw it, so here I am.”

Sophia nods her head slowly, "So it's not because you want to be here," she doesn't look at him because she already knew the answer, "it was a favor for Mr. Stark?”

Bucky doesn't hesitate with his answer, "He cares a lot about you.”

She raises an eyebrow at her ice cream. Bucky's response wasn't exactly what she was expecting. It wasn’t I'm just doing him a favor or I wanted to see you. For some reason, it seemed like Bucky was just as guarded around her as she was around everyone else, "At least someone does." She says under her breath, although he clearly heard her, "Anyway, thanks again.”

There’s a moment of silence and before he speaks, ”He's not the only one who cares, ya know.”

She smiles flatly, “Okay.” Sophia knew that Bruce and Tony cared, but she somehow still felt lonely. She had so many wonderful people around her at the compound, but she felt like a fish out of water, like no one really understood what she was going through. Then again, her situation was a bit unique and it would take a special person to truly understand everything she had been through. She takes another spoonful of ice cream and shoves it into her mouth, hoping he got the hint that she didn't want to talk anymore.

Bucky sighs, “So, um, how are you doing?”

"Splendid." Sophia says flatly.

"That good, huh?”

She takes a deep breath, "I don't wanna talk about it, if that's okay?”

"That's fine. Just thought I'd ask." He says rather gruffly and then goes to stand up, "I'll see you around then." He heads for the door, when Sophia starts to feel guilty for being so cold.

“Wait," she says quietly, he stops and turns to look at her, "Thanks for, um," she looks at her pint of ice cream and pokes it with the spoon, "thanks for stopping by," she looks back up at him and meets his blue eyes, "I really do appreciate it. It's um, been quiet up here."

He raises an eyebrow, "Bruce still not letting you have visitors?"

She shakes her head, "No, he wants me to focus on healing and he thinks if people come see me, it'll just overwhelm me."

"Well, um," Bucky shifts in his place for a moment and then continues, "if you want I could stick around for a while."

Truthfully, Bucky didn't want to leave, he wanted to stay and just be in her presence for a little while longer, but she didn't seem to want his company. There was just something about her that captured his attention and drew him in, made him want more. If she would allow it, he'd be perfectly fine with just sitting with her, and watching Netflix with her in complete silence.

Sophia smiles softly, "Okay, you wanna watch Supernatural with me?"

Bucky smiles and moves back to the chair next to her bed, "Sure."

[selanpike]

Abandoned Trollcops/Problem Sleuth fic

i’m bored so i’m posting this old trollcops concept i wrote a couple years ago

i meant to have it be this big sprawling thing, including all the trolls and the beta kids and team sleuth and the crew, but it was way too big for me, so all i ended up writing was the first three chapters--basically, the intros for sleuth, pickle and ace. 

i don’t plan to return to it. i still can’t get my head around the whole thing. but i like what i wrote, and maybe you might like it too? so here u go.

Chapter One

Spending any amount of time with Spades Slick is dangerous at best, you knew that. You also knew that you were making things worse by spending so much time with him, but you were counting on bruises and stab wounds, not this.

The interrogation room is sickeningly bright. The lights make it impossible to know what time it is outside. You know it was close to sunrise when they brought you in, but you’re not sure how long you’ve been here. Even the ticking of a clock would be a welcome reprieve from this boredom. You wish they’d just throw the book at you already.

The door finally opens, creaking a little as it does so. Apparently the Alternia Police Department can’t even afford a can of WD-40. Two officers walk in. You recognize them from your various interactions with the police in the past few years--Sergeants Terezi Pyrope and Sollux Captor. Sergeant Pyrope pulls up a chair and sits down at the table across from you, lacing her fingers together. You can’t read her expression through her opaque red glasses. You’ve heard that she’s blind, but she seems to stare right through you.

“Problem Thleuth.” Sergeant Captor reads from your file, standing behind his partner. “Thirty-five yearth old. Prothpitian. Failed out of polithe academy at age twenty-four. Ith that right?”

“I wouldn’t say failed,” you say, choosing your words carefully. “I jus’ didn’t like how y’all--I mean. I wasn’t a fan ‘f the bureaucracy.”

“Is that so,” Terezi says.

You nod.

“So you dropped out and became a private investigator,” she says. “Is that right?”

“You know the answer to that,” you say, rubbing your temples. “Don’t pretend like we’re strangers.”

The silence that breaks out is painful. You run a hand through your hair, quietly wondering if your hat is okay, wherever they’ve taken it. Why the hell did they take your hat? What sort of monsters would mess with a man’s hat? This sort of shit is why you could never cut it as a cop.

“You’re charged with being an accessory to arson,” Pyrope tells you. 

“Do me a favor ‘n arrest th’ guy who actually did th’ arson-ing,” you mutter.

“The alleged perpetrator is one Thpades Thlick,” Captor says, reading the file. “Damn, man. Thpades, really?”

“I ain’t an accessory t’ nothin’ that asshole does,” you say, slamming a hand on the table. “I was tryin’a stop that goddamn arson!”

“We have multiple witnethheth who thay they thaw you making out with the thuthpect before the fire broke out,” Captor says.

You wilt under their stares.

“I was tryin’a distract ‘im,” you say, weakly. “He’s a dangerous customer, after all. ‘S the ol’ honey pot maneuver, y’know?”

“It didn’t work,” Pyrope says, grinning her sharp-toothed grin. 

“N--no,” you admit.

Sergeant Captor hands Pyrope the file, and she makes a show of flipping through it. It’s a pointless gesture since you know damn well she can’t read it. You try to look at what’s written on the pages, but she pulls the file away so she can give it a good long sniff. You slump over, leaning your arms on the table, thinking about how fucked you are, and what you’re going to do to Slick to get back at him for this. They’ll put you away for ages for this, you just know it. The APD have never been fans of yours, and you’re sure they’ve been waiting for the opportunity to put you away. 

You jump when Pyrope snaps the folder shut. She puts it down on the table, sliding it to the edge.

“I’m going to admit,” she says, slowly. “That, considering your history of making trouble, we took this opportunity to get a warrant to search your office.”

“You--you what?!”

“Well, the thusthpect is thtill on the looth,” Captor explains, and you wonder if you punch him hard enough if he’ll stop with that goddamn lisp. “We had to check and thee if there were any clueth ath to hith whereaboutth.”

“And what did you find, huh?” You’re raging mad now, and you aren’t bothering to hide it. “A whole bunch of jack shit. Or are you going to charge me with possession of a deadly writing implement or something?”

The two of them stare at you for a moment, and then Pyrope pulls a photo from her jacket. She places it in front of you. It shows your evidence wall, a large corkboard you’ve set up in your office to collect clues in the murder you’re investigating.

“So, what? You gonna charge me with murderin’ th’ District Attorney now?”

Pyrope and Captor look at each other, then back at you.

“We’ve been investigating the DA’s death too,” Pyrope says. “But we haven’t turned up a thing.”

“And here you are,” Captor adds. “With evidenthe we never even thought to look for.”

You grin a little. “Oh darlin’s, are you jealous?”

“We know Kingpin was behind it,” Pyrope says, and her voice is uncharacteristically devoid of humor. “Like he’s behind every other high-profile murder in this city. I’m sick of him making a mockery of this force.”

“Stop bein’ such a joke, then.”

 She stands up, slamming her hands on the table. “Take this seriously!”

You raise your eyebrows and wait for her to get to the point.

“We’re willing to offer you a deal,” she says. “We’ll ignore this latest… indiscretion, and you’ll help us put Kingpin behind bars.”

You laugh.

You can’t believe they’re actually coming to you for help. How many times have they impeded your investigations? How many times have they told you to buzz off, leave this to the real cops? How many times have they told judges not to accept your evidence, or straight up confiscated your evidence and claimed they found it themselves? And now they want you to help them?

“Sorry, sorry,” you say, still chuckling. “I musta misheard. Y’ couldn’t possibly be askin’ for my help. I mean, I ain’t a cop or nothin’. I ain’t got no authority.”

“Don’t be a jackathh,” Captor snaps.

“This is in your best interest,” Pyrope says. “You are, after all, still under arrest.”

She does sorta have you, there.

---

You have your hat back when Sergeant Captor takes you outside, to the back of the department. The sun has definitely risen by now, and you’re treated to all the sounds of the city waking up.

“Thith whole thing ith completely off the record,” Captor tells you as he closes the door behind him. “Honethtly, I think it’th dumb ath hell, but at leatht if you get into trouble, nobody’ll blame uth.”

“As long as I don’t trail it back to you,” you add.

“Obviouthlly,” Captor says. He pulls out his phone and types into it. “But we need one of ourth with you. Making thure you’re not fucking up too bad.”

“I’d really prefer we skipped that part,” you say, fixing your hair and trying to find just that right angle at which to wear your hat. “I don’t need no cops following me everywhere. It’ll slow me down.”

“Think of it like exthtra security,” Captor says, still typing into his phone.

The door opens and a short troll walks over, hands shoved in his pockets. He isn’t wearing a uniform, save for a badge he has hanging on a lanyard over a ratty red hoodie. He approaches you and Captor, then squints at you.

“I know you,” he says.

“I get around,” you reply.

“You’re that drunk fucknut that’s always making a scene in Crew territory.”

“Guilty as charged. Y’all’re jus’ gettin’ me on ev’rythin’ t’day!” You nudge Captor. “Sorry officer, looks like y’ gotta charge me for another crime.”

Captor groans and rolls his eyes. He slaps the newcomer on the back and mutters, “Good fucking luck,” before heading back inside.

You wait for the door to click shut before you say, brightly as you can manage, “The name’s Problem Sleuth. Solicitations for my services are--”

“I’m sorry, do I look like someone who gives a fuck?”

You drop the friendly act. “What’s your name, kid?”

“Vantas,” He says. “Karkat Vantas. I’m the undercover guy. I figure I got stuck with this because they figured I could tell the Captain I’m investigating you.”

“‘N I’m sure she’ll buy it,” you add.

“Yeah.” He sniffs, and looks you over in more detail. “I don’t think I’m the only one they’re gonna hand you. I know for sure they said they’re putting my partner, Nepeta, on this case too.”

You rub your face. “Great. Good. More cops, beautiful.”

He asks for your phone, and you exchange numbers. You then tell him to find something else to do with his day, because you’re going home and going the fuck to bed. This investigation can wait until tomorrow. 

---

It’s well after 8am by the time you get home, and all you want to do is sleep for ten years. Pickle and Ace will bitch about you not being at the office, but you can’t bring yourself to care. They’re already going to bitch when they hear about this new arrangement, so what’s a little more?

Unfortunately when you walk in, you find Spades Slick rummaging through your refrigerator.

You toss your keys onto the table and sit down. He turns around, cold pizza hanging out of his mouth, and slams the fridge door shut behind him. 

“I figured they’d have ya’ in th’ slammer a few weeks,” he explains through a mouthful of pizza. “So y’ wouldn’t mind if I ate yer food ‘fore it went bad.”

“Y’ couldn’t possibly post bail for me?”

“Fuck no. Who do y’ think y’ are, my Crew?” He moves his mug of coffee from the counter to the kitchen table, and then sits down across from you. “So who’d y’ call. Th’ stickbug? Did ‘e hafta give up his booze fund for th’ month?”

“No, nothin’ like that,” you say, reaching over and taking the coffee. Obviously sleep isn’t happening anytime soon, so what the hell. “They let me off.”

There’s a loud clatter as Slick’s chair falls over, and a knife is at your throat. It always amazes you how fast he is. You raise your hands in a conciliatory manner as he snarls at you.

“You fuckin’ snitched, didn’t you?”

“Slick, my most precious of darlin’s,” you say. “I would snitch on you all day, ev’ry day. But that ain’t what happened.”

“Bullshit!” The knife presses harder against your neck, and you feel blood beading along the blade. “Th’ APD don’ jus’ let people go, ‘specially not when they been with me. Th’ fuck did you do?”

“They hired me.”

He looks at you like you just sprouted a second head. He doesn’t move the knife at all.

You go on. “They’re investigatin’ Kingpin. They wanted my help.”

He finally pulls the knife away, but he doesn’t sit back down. “Great. Jus’ what I need.”

“Yeah, Slick,” you say, sipping the coffee. You’re not surprised that it tastes like shit. Slick probably isn’t used to brewing his own. That’s what he has lackeys for. “It’s exactly what you need. You want Kingpin outta th’ way? Jus’ let me ‘n the cops handle it.”

“Kingpin’s mine,” he growls.

“‘Scuse you.” You put the mug down. “‘M sorry, but did you know th’ stiff we found last week? No. Fuck no, y’ didn’t, ‘cause he was th’ law, ‘n he was my fuckin’ friend, not yours. Kingpin’s mine. He owns this fuckin’ apartment, my fuckin’ office, he’s got me by th’ balls without even tryin’ ‘n he murdered th’ DA ‘n none’f that’s got anythin’ t’ do with you.”

Slick narrows his eye at you, before pocketing his knife and stealing the mug back. He chugs the coffee down. 

“Fuck you,” he says, slamming the mug back onto the table. “I’ll do it my fuckin’ self.”

“Right,” you say as Slick grabs his jacket and makes for the door. “So I guess I’ll see ya’ tomorrow, then?”

He grunts in response, and slams the door behind him as he leaves.

You know he’ll be back. Partly because you know he can’t resist making your life miserable--the two of you have been caught up in your fucked up little dance for too long, and he’s not about to give that up--but also partly because you know he can’t take down Kingpin on his own. He’s tried for months to do things his way, to just murder his rival crime boss, but Kingpin is careful, and he’s elusive. In the end, the best way to go about bringing him down is to turn the city against him, to get the law on your side. If you can get an arrest warrant on him you can have the whole of the city’s resources helping you track him down. You could freeze his assets, plaster his face on every bulletin board in town. You’ll leave him no place to hide.

You’re going to do it. Your name is Problem Sleuth, and you are going to bring down Mobster Kingpin’s criminal empire.

The APD are definitely going to steal the credit when it’s all said and done, though, and that fact makes you sick to your stomach.

Chapter Two

> Be Pickle Inspector.

You feel as though you’re being punished for Sleuth’s poor life choices.

Nepeta Leijon is a new hire at the APD. She, and her friend Karkat, used to be common criminals. Pickpockets, for the most part, although you remember seeing a few other items on their rap sheet. You’d encountered them once or twice. Never up close--their crimes were never complicated enough to necessitate your intervention--but they’d show up sometimes as witnesses.

Uncooperative witnesses.

You were aware of their being hired. Something about the APD seeing them as valuable assets for undercover investigations. You see the logic, but you’ve never been a fan of undercover operations. You stand out too much. You’re too tall, too gaunt, too recognizable. Your preferred method has always been surveillance. You set up cameras and wiretaps all over the city, in all the seedier bars and meeting spaces. Nothing escapes your omniscient ogle.

Nothing except Kingpin. He’s careful. He doesn’t discuss anything important on the phone, least of all the phones in any of his businesses. You can’t figure out where he lives or where he holds any of his most secret of meetings. Even if you could, he always has too many guards patrolling his places, making it impossible for you to sneak in and plant anything.

It was infuriating before, but now with the death of the DA it’s got you on the end of your rope. And now they want you to babysit this rookie cop? How the hell are you supposed to get anything done?

You asked Sleuth what he did to invite this upon you, but he won’t tell you. You suspect Slick was involved. Slick is always involved these days. 

You have a solution to this problem, though. Well, not to the Sleuth-Slick problem, there’s no solving that, but the Nepeta problem was easy: let her work on transcribing your recordings so the two of you can finish them twice as fast. It leaves you with just enough free time to make tea and doodle in the margins of your notes. 

You’re halfway through a wonderful drawing of a horse wearing a bonnet when your phone rings. You have specific ringtones for every person who calls you often enough, and you put your head in your hands when you hear this one. Nepeta notices, and watches you as you sigh and answer the phone.

“I’m busy enough,” you whine into the receiver.

“That’s a shame,” says the smooth, dark voice of Diamonds Droog. “And here I had something I thought you’d be interested in.”

“What is it?” you ask.

“Meet me on the corner of 34th and Feldings,” he says.

“D--do I have to?” you say, clicking your pen. “Can’t you just, just tell me? On the phone? Like a normal person? I p-promise the line’s secure.”

“34th and Feldings,” he says again. “Now.”

He hangs up. You put your phone down, put your head on your desk, and groan loudly. Why is this your life? All you wanted to do today was transcribe audio logs and not interact with anybody. You even packed a lunch so you wouldn’t have to go out and talk to any fast food workers. 

Without your realizing it, Nepeta has picked up your phone and unlocked it. You make a mental note to change the passkey and not let her see you input it next time. “Diamonds Dickhead?” She makes an exaggeratedly surprised face, and puts your phone back on the desk. “Is that who I think it is?”

You stand up and fix your tie. “I have to go out.”

“Oh! Let me get my coat.”

“No.” You grab your own coat, put it on, and start buttoning it. You make a deliberate effort to put the buttons in the right holes, and you’re secretly glad you haven’t had much to drink yet today. “S--stay here and, and keep transcribing.”

“I’m paws-itively sure that’s super important,” she says, putting extra emphasis on her pun. You’ve noticed that she likes cat puns. In less infuriating circumstances, you’d think it was cute. “But I’m not here to help you so much as to watch you.”

You smooth your hair out and put your hat on. “That’s a terrible idea. N-no, you should just stay here, and not tell a soul I went out. U--unless I don’t come back. Then tell Sleuth. Understood?”

She grins a catlike grin and says, “Nope!”

Droog is never going to let you hear the end of this.

---

34th street is where his tailor is, so Diamonds Droog didn’t have to go out of his way to meet you. It is also clear on the other side of town relative to your office, so you had to go especially out of your way to meet him.

This is par for the course, and you make an effort not to look exhausted when you get there.

He’s waiting for you on a street bench outside his tailor’s, smoking one of his expensive cigarettes. You approach him, but don’t look at him directly. You stand behind the bench, facing away from him, pretending to read a bulletin board. Nepeta follows along, but she sneaks a few glances at Droog when she thinks you aren’t looking.

He breathes out a long puff of smoke before speaking. “Is the detective business so bad that you had to take up babysitting?”

“I n--needed the second job to, to support my tea habit,” you respond.

“That’s a funny way to say whiskey.”

“Oh, no. I steal that all from m-my boss. You see, he has a wealthy patron with a vested interest in, in keeping him too drunk to make good decisions.” You lean back onto the bench, crossing your arms. “I’m s-sure you don’t know anything about that.”

“I’m sure I don’t. Can she leave?”

“I don’t know.” You look down at Nepeta. “C-can you leave?”

“I can, yeah,” she says.

“A--are you going to?”

She shakes her head.

“Sorry,” you say to Droog. “It’s a, a long story.”

He pauses and takes another drag from his cigarette. He taps some ash out on the ground, then reaches into his jacket pocket. You have just enough time to hope that he isn’t pulling out a weapon with which to kill the witness you’ve brought along, before he pulls out a couple of photographs. He passes them to you. They all depict various old-looking artifacts. You’re pretty sure you’ve seen some of these in the museum.

“All of these have gone missing in the past month,” Droog explains. “Obvious signs of a break-in, but no evidence pointing to a culprit.”

“D--do you think Kingpin was involved?”

“Absolutely.”

You scrutinize the photos further, and notice that all the artifacts share a theme. Every one of them either depicts a horrorterror, or symbols associated with said terrors. “This, um. It looks like your sort of thing.”

“Hardly,” he says. “The four of us get our magic from the Terrors, but we don’t need trinkets like this to channel Their powers. They give it to us freely.” He illustrates this by producing a small purple flame in his hand. “Kingpin, though. He’s Prospitian, like you. He doesn’t have the connection to the Terrors that we Dersites have.”

You think about that as you pocket the photos. “Do you think he’s trying to make a pact with the Terrors?”

“Perhaps,” he says, extinguishing the flame. “It’s possible he’s seen what we can do and wants that power for himself. I doubt he’ll be successful.”

You wonder whether it would be possible for a Prospitian to make a pact with the dark gods. You’re almost tempted to let Kingpin try, just to get an answer. It’s not your best idea. If nothing else, these robberies give you one more thread you can follow in your attempts to get any charge at all to stick to him.

“I’ll look into this,” you tell him. “Call me if--if you hear anything.”

“As usual,” he says, before standing up.

He smooths out his suit, throws his cigarette to the ground and snubs it out with his heel. Without once looking at you, he strolls away. Nepeta waits until he’s out of earshot before she says, “You know, Mister Detective, you don’t act much like a detective.”

“H--how’s that?”

“All the wiretapping, and purr-tive meetings with shady guys,” she says. “You’re more like a spy.”

You let out a small laugh. “Don’t say that one to the others. They’ll start coming up with spy names for me.”

“Pickle Inspector’s okay for a spy name,” she says. You start walking, and she follows you. She has to trot a little to match your walking stride. “Spies don’t put ‘spy’ right in the name! It’s too conspicuous.”

You’re enjoying this flight of fancy, despite yourself. “I’ll need to imagine up some clever gadgets, to uh, to get me out of pinches.”

“And you’ll need a car,” she says. “A fancy one, that turns into a submeowrine.”

“And a, a dangerous love interest,” you add.

“Oh? You don’t have that already?” She grins up at you. “You and Diamonds Dickhead had an awful lot of chemistry. You aren’t caliginous?”

“What?” You shove your hands in your pockets and look towards the street. “No. Obviously not. Th-th-that’s just, just gross, ew.”

She giggles, and you don’t like the knowing look she gives you. You reach into your jacket, produce a flask, and take a long gulp. It doesn’t help your mood any. It just reminds you of the last time Droog caught you drinking in the middle of the day, and had the audacity to call you “pathetic”, as if lots of people don’t drink before noon on a weekday.

She’s still giving you that look. Fuck.

“A--anyway, the, the case,” you stutter, trying to get back on the subject of work.

“I know somebody,” she says. “That might help.”

“Who?”

She shrugs. “Old friend of mine. She knows all sorts of things about old stuff like what got stolen.”

“That would be, it’d be really useful,” you say.

“I’ll call her when she gets off work,” Nepeta says, adjusting her hat. “In the meantime we can get back to listening to your wiretaps. The part I was on was pretty juicy.”

You’re relieved she’s so easily given up the subject of Droog and gotten back to the task at hand. She might, despite your initial misgivings, be useful to have around.

“I’ve also started a shipping chart for everyone you’re surveilling,” she adds.

After she explains to you what a shipping chart is, you are simultaneously horrified, and intrigued at the new avenues this gives you when cataloguing and interpreting your data.

Chapter three.

> Be Ace Dick.

Once upon a time, you were a police detective. You like to give Sleuth shit over his lack of occupational experience, but he seems to think that his two weeks of police academy are all he could need. For someone who brags about his charisma, he really doesn’t understand the importance of making connections.

You haven’t been working on the Kingpin case with Sleuth and Pickles. You think they’re out of their league. Kingpin’s ruled this city since Sleuth and Pickles were still in grade school, they didn’t stand a chance. So while they ran around on their fool’s errand, you were out hitting the pavement, solving more sensible cases and keeping the agency afloat. Sergeant Pyrope was a rookie when you left the force, but she remembers you. Whenever you have a case that requires some APD know-how, you hit her up. There’s a little diner next door to the station that’s popular with the coppers, and that’s where she meets you to give you the low-down on some two-bit drug dealer who skipped out on a debt.

You buy her a second coffee once she’s said her piece and you’ve finished writing it all down. Then you tuck your notepad back into your coat pocket and say, “So I heard y’ gave Sleuth a job.”

She shrugs, grinning. “It should be worth a laugh. He always says he can do better than us, so let’s see it!”

You shake your head. “Here ‘m always tryin’ to tell him to stay off that case, and you’re just eggin’ him on.”

“So you’re not going to help?” she asks, before taking a sip of coffee.

“Hell no,” you say. “I quit the force to get away from that malarkey. You at least payin’ him?”

She laughs. “Do you think he’s going to ask?”

“He damn well will, because I’m goin’ to tell him to,” you say, jabbing a finger at her. She can’t see the gesture but she usually can tell that you’re doing one. You’re not sure if she hears the movement or somehow smells it. You don’t know how her weird sense of smell works. “We got rent to pay, missy. If he’s runnin’ around chasin’ Kingpin he isn’t doing other cases.”

“We’ll have to set up a collection,” she says. “I’ll put a little can in the break room. ‘Pay Mister Candy Corn’s rent’.”

Detective Vriska Serket walks over, whacking your hat off your head as she passes you to sit next to Terezi. “Can’t be too much, right? Doesn’t he live in a cardboard box?”

“That sounds right,” Terezi says. “But in this city that’s what, 500 bucks a month?”

“Depends on how new the box is, probably,” Vriska responds.

Terezi nods. “Either way, Kingpin owns it so it is absolutely drafty and leaks in the rain.”

“I’m not opposed to makin’ jabs at my dumbass not-boss,” you say as you straighten your hat out. “But I’m serious. You’re payin’ him. And Pickles too, if you got him involved.”

“We do,” Terezi says. “He’s got poor Nepeta bored to tears.”

“That’s a lie,” Vriska says, taking Terezi’s coffee and putting it in front of herself. “She started writing fanfiction about those counterfeiters on seventieth street. I’m going to try and convince her to submit it as evidence.”

“While that is hilarious, don’t. The Captain doesn’t need to know about any of this.” Terezi takes her coffee back and chugs down the remainder before Vriska can make another attempt. She coughs. 

“Now there’s an idea,” you say. “If you don’t pay up, I’ll go let Captain Peixes know what you’ve been up to.”

“Why Ace,” Terezi says, leaning forward. “Are you threatening me?”

“Might be.”

“Maybe if the Captain finds out she’ll get embarrassed enough to put me on the case,” Vriska says.

“Gettin’ tired of solvin’ murders?” you ask.

She throws her arms up in the air. “The only interesting crimes are the mob ones! All the regular crimes are just dumb shit, there’s usually a witness or a camera or something, there’s no challenge!”

“I thought you liked racking up wins,” Terezi said.

“I fucking love racking up wins,” Vriska says. “But I want ones worth my time. Kingpin’s the biggest baddie there is, I gotta get in on that.”

“Maybe you should let her follow Sleuth instead of that angry kid,” you say to Terezi.

She snickers. “No, I’d give her to Tootsie Roll Frankenstein.”

Vriska slaps the table. “You think you’re kidding around but I’d love having that guy work for me! He’ll do all the tedious boring shit so I have more time to pound pavement and beat in faces.”

“I’m glad you appreciate Pickles’ special sort of appeal.” You stand up, straightening out your suit. “Thanks for the tip, Pyrope. Now please stop takin’ advantage of my teammates.”

She salutes at you, and it’s dripping with irony. “No, I don’t think I will. You’re welcome to come get taken advantage of, though!”

“Fat chance,” you scoff, getting out your wallet. You pull out a few bills, enough to pay for your coffee and Terezi’s, and drop them on the table. “Take care of yourselves, ladies.”

“Tell Sleuth if he gets evicted I just got a washing machine and he might fit in the box if he gets on all fours!” Vriska calls as you leave the diner. You hear the two girls snickering behind you.

They laugh, but you know the APD’s pay is shit. You do much better for yourself working as a private dick. The lack of benefits are a kick in the nuts, but at least you don’t have to deal with all the paperwork and politics, and every now and then you got a client who paid you a ridiculous sum for some dumbass thing. Sleuth could do as well as you. He’s certainly got the sleuthing skills for it. He just keeps wasting his time worrying too much about justice and too little about the real world.

You figure he’ll learn eventually. Kids like him always do.

[mirkwoodshewolf]

Set it all free; Queen x reader

*Author’s note*

Hey guys, well after reading several Bohemian Rhapsody fanfics on some tumblr pages, I thought I might try to have my luck at it. Now please bear in mind this is my first time ever writing a fic about a Band. I don’t normally write about musicians (private message me about my reasons why) but after seeing the movie Bohemian Rhapsody last month, I couldn’t stop thinking about it. Anyways I also got inspired after listening to Scar Jo’s song she did in the movie “Sing” to also help with this fic. So I hope you all enjoy this and any Queen fans out there, hope I didn’t make the boys to OOC or make this story suck.

Warnings: Swearing, cheating, bit of angst, fluff over all.

_________________________________________________________

It was a typical day at the studio.  Being a college student doing an internship is a luck of the draw, getting that one in a million chance of interning under the biggest band in the world like Queen. That’s practically almost damned near impossible. But yet here I am.

Jim Beach or as Freddie likes to call him “Miami” hired me to help assist with the band during recording sessions as well as 3 weeks of touring with them.  While being their intern, I got pretty close with the guys, I looked up to them as not only my mentors for music and songwriting (since I play and sing a little bit but never really had the confidence to perform in front of a live audience) but they became like 4 big brothers to me.

Sadly however tomorrow would be last day of the internship before the next world tour of Queen, which meant I wouldn’t see the guys until 6 months until then.  So I tried to make do with the time I had with the guys left.  

I was currently lying on the couch watching Deaky do his solo bass recording for their current next smash hit.  Once he was done he asked.

“How was that?”

“Let us turn to our younger audience for approval,” Brian said into the mic so that Deaky could hear it.  The boys then turned toward me.  Of course me being a college student, they always wanted a “younger” persons perspective just to see if young people like me would bang their heads, or drum on their attiring wheels while the song played on the radio.

“What do you say darling? Will your people love it?” asked Freddie.

“Oh um please hold,” I played along and made my hands into a phone and then said in my best snotty business voice, “Queen it’s the Grammy’s you’ve just won the awards for Best Producers, Best Vocal performance in a duo/group and Best song of the year.”

“Oh darling you are too kind!” Freddie praised.

“In all seriousness it was great guys, you don’t have to always rely on me to be the barrier you need. Your breakout for Bohemian Rhapsody already proved your musical talents. Much better than ‘I’m in love with my car’.”

“Watch it squirt, I was just starting to like you” Roger threatened.  I stuck my tongue at him playfully giggling.

For the rest of the day, it continued on watching the guys record again and again until it was up to Freddie’s image.  Once the recording was done, the guys were now just lounging around drinking some beers while I was packing up to head back to my apartment.

“Okay guys, I’m about to take off.” I said.

“Oh come now (y/n) darling, stay for a while and have a couple of drinks with us” suggested Freddie.

“I can’t Fred, I’ve got an early class tomorrow and a shit ton of homework, if I miss this bus right now I’m officially gonna be late for classes tomorrow.”

“But love tomorrow’s your last day with us, and after that we won’t see you for years.” I went to argue when Brian interjected.

“It’ll only be six months Fred. Go on love, you’re free to go. We’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Thanks Bri,” I then hugged and kissed the boys goodbye and said my farewells and they did the same for me.

I then raced out of the studio and headed towards the bus stop that was a few blocks away and thank God I made it just in time as the bus was coming.  I paid my fee and took a seat and took out my journal and started writing my internship for the day, logging in how many hours I did and retailing the hours in total I now had so that they would count towards my Internship credit at the University.

By around 7pm I finally arrived at my neighborhood and did the remaining 5 block walk to mine and my boyfriend’s apartment.  Oh yeah the one detail I left out, I live with my boyfriend Adam.  We met at University, me being a music major as well as him so we hit it off pretty well.

He’s cute and pretty good looking, but sometimes his attitude can really be a real pain in the ass. Like when I first signed up for the internship, he at first didn’t want me to take it because that would mean I was always would be away from him.  We had a fight about it till finally he just dropped it.

So things lately between us have been strained, so we’ve been trying to avoid each other, even though we live under the same roof which sometimes makes even going home awkward.

When I finally arrived at the door, I unlocked it and set my bags down with a groan and said.

“Baby I’m back.” But there was absolute silence.  I thought it was a bit odd because he’s usually still here after dark, very rarely does he ever go out this late.  “Adam? Adam you here?” I called out again.  I looked around the usual placed of the flat where he would usually be but he wasn’t in the kitchen, the living room, not even his game room.  So I decided maybe he was sleeping in our bedroom.

I walked down the hallway towards our shared bedroom and when I opened the door, my heart sunk.

Adam was asleep in bed alright, but he had another woman in his arms cuddled into his chest. I turned on the lights and screamed out.

“WHAT THE FUCK!?” Adam and the bimbo woke up and I saw that she looked like she belonged at a strip club with long blonde hair and possibly fake boobs.

“Hi, I’m Becky” the girl introduced herself in a bubble voice.

“Becky!?” I snarled.

Next thing I knew, I was tossing my now ex-boyfriend and his slut out of my flat.  Adam was struggling to put his clothes back on as was Becky when Adam proclaimed.

“You were never around! What else was I supposed to do?”

“I did it for us Adam! You couldn’t have had the balls to breakup with me? No! Instead you bring this, this this—bimbo into our flat. And you sleep with her in our bed!” I then threw his prized guitar case at his chest which knocked him down to the ground.

“Oh sweetie I’m sorry. I think I left my hat in there could I maybe—” before Becky could even walk another step into the flat, I slammed the door in her face and pressed my back against the door.

‘Come on Becky, let’s get out of here!’ I heard Adam say.

I was in hysterics as I slid down onto my butt and tears filled my eyes.  I couldn’t even be in this flat anymore.  Without even thinking, I just bail out and took off running.

I didn’t care if people walking past me saw my crying, all I cared about was just getting as far away from my flat as I could.  And I don’t know whether it was by some miracle nor do I know how I managed it, but I soon ended up back at the studio.  And judging by the lack of the limos and other cars, I knew no one would be home.

Using my extra set of keys, I entered the studio and turned on a couple of lights so that I could see better.  I first went into the loo and I finally saw how god awful I looked.

Blood shot red eyes, tearstains glistening on my cheeks, as well as mascara that made me look like a wasted raccoon.  I turned on the tap and splashed some water on my face hoping to clean myself up before taking a towel and dapping my face lightly with it until I look slightly presentable.

I then walked into the recording booth and spotted the couch.  I plopped down on it and grabbed the blanket that was over the top of it and covered my entire body with it, head and all.

Hoping and wishing that this couch would just eat me alive.

*3rd Person POV*

Around 8am sharp, the members of Queen well three of them anyways Brian, Roger and John arrived at the studio for another days of recording when they first took notice that the studio had been unlocked.

Worried that the place might’ve been ransacked, they rushed in but saw everything still in the right order.  They noticed a couple lights were on so they walked towards the recording booth in the back of the studio and that’s when John noticed someone sleeping on the couch.

He quietly walked up towards the couch and removed the blanket just enough to reveal the head and that’s when he saw (y/n).

“It’s (y/n) guys.” He said quietly.

“What the bloody hell is she doing here this early?” Roger asked.

“I dunno” stated Brian.

“Should we wake her?” asked John.

“Good idea, you do it Deaky.” Roger said.

“Me? Why me why don’t you do it?”

“The last time I got on that girl’s bad side waking her up, I nearly had all my hair chopped off!”

“Hush you two! If you children keep arguing she will wake up.” Brian hissed quietly.  He then shoved the other two out of the way and knelt down beside the couch and gently stroked her shoulder and whispered, “(Y/n), wake up love.” With that, (y/n) began to stir.

*My POV*

I grumbled as I felt myself waking up and the first thing I saw was Brian kneeling down in front of me.  I looked up to also see Rog and Deaky standing a couple feet away from me.  All three men looking at me with the same look.

Concerned.

“Hey” I stated tiredly with a hint of sadness.

“Morning (y/n). How long have you been here?” asked Brian.

“Don’t remember the time I got here, but it was pretty late. Ran all the way here from my flat.”

“Wait, wait hold on. You ran all the way from your flat to here? (Y/n) that’s like 3 bloody miles! Why did you come here?” Roger interrogated.

That’s when everything came back to me.  Adam and her. Tears once again filled my eyes as I let out a couple of sobs.

“Way to go Roger you made her cry!” Deaky snarled.

“I didn’t mean to! (Y/n) love you know I—”

“It’s not you Rog. It’s not any of you.” I choked out.

“Then what is it? Come on love tell us,” Brian encouraged me as he had me sit up so he could sit beside me.  Roger sat on the chair while Deaky came back with a box of tissues and sat on the other lounge chair beside Roger.

“When I got h-home last night. I—I found…..Adam. He was….He—he slept…..with another girl in our room!” I took a tissue and pressed it against my right eye as I let out a sob.

Now I have told the guys about my relationship.  Around my 2nd week of my internship with the guys, we were all just hanging out and they were talking about their relationships/marriages and that’s when the boys started to interrogate me on if I had a special man in my life (mainly from Freddie) and of course when I said I did.

They wanted to know everything.  It was like my four brothers became my four dads as they wanted his name, what he did for a living, how we met, how long the relationship had been going on for, and whether he was treating me right.  

When I told them about the starting strain of the relationship, Roger almost wanted to go to my flat and beat the living shit out of Adam but I told him we were trying to work it out to avoid Roger Taylor being front page news of beating a young college boy.  But of course he said, ‘so long as the headline say; ‘Roger Taylor defends girl’s honor’.’

“Where is he?!” Roger growled.

“Rog not now” Brian tried to keep the peace but Roger cried out.

“No! I made a promise that if he broke her heart I’d beat his bloody arse into a pulp! Now tell me (y/n) where is he?”

“I don’t know, and frankly I could give a shit. I should’ve just ended things when they got bad. This is my fault, maybe I deserved it.”

“Don’t say that love! You didn’t deserve anything. If anything he didn’t even deserve you.” Brian assured me as he rubbed my shoulder comfortingly.

“Adam was a dick to do that to you (y/n). And I agree with Brian he’s not worth it, not even your tears” Deaky said as he took another tissue and reached over and wiped away the tears from under my eyes.  I looked between the three of them and just before I could say anything, the doors opened the Freddie came strutting in.

“Alright lads let’s get straight to—(y/n) why the long face darling?” he asked.

“Her boyfriend was shagging another girl last night in their flat.” Roger said clearly still wanting to kill Adam.

“Oh no, come here dear,” he came right over to me and took my hands and stood me up so that he could embrace me tightly in his arms. “Deaky, why don’t you and Rog go and make her a cup of tea, Bri see if we still got any leftover sweets.” The three of them left the booth leaving Freddie and I alone.  “Did you stay here all night?”

“Yeah I just—I just couldn’t stay in that flat I…..”

“Shhh, there, there darling. Not another word about it, he was a wanker. All little boys are.” I managed out a smile. “There’s that smile I love so much darling,” he gently brushed his thumb against my cheek and lifted my chin to look up at him as he continued, “You can stay here and take it easy. You don’t have to worry about doing any work, and if anyone questions your lack of work for your final day, I’ll out in a good word for you.” He winked down at me just as Brian came back with the bowl of sweets Deaky bought a couple weeks ago, and both Rog and Deaky came back with a cup of warm tea.

The boys then guided me to a private room located next to the recording booth that felt more like a lounge room that the guys would use to just sit around if they ever needed a private moment to focus on songwriting or whatever.

Freddie set me down at the small love seat, Roger had taken the blanket that I had used last night and placed the blanket over my shoulder, Brian placed the bowl of sweets at my lap, and Deaky finally handed me my cup of tea.  Judging by the smell of it, it was my favorite brand; Jasmine.

“You just take all the time you need to get settled, and if you need us, we’ll gladly drop everything and help you out.” Said Brian.

“You guys don’t have to do all that—”

“Nonsense darling. You’re hurting and we can’t allow you to be sad. It’s a crime in itself. We won’t take no for an answer. Whatever you need, no matter how big or small, you just let us know. No matter how busy we are” Freddie interjected.

I looked between the four of them and just couldn’t believe my luck.  The biggest rock band in all the world, were my angels sent from above to help me through my heartbreak.

“I swear you should change the band from Queen to Angels.”

“Darling the only angel among us is you” said Freddie as he gently stroked down my hair and planted a kiss at the top of my head before leaving the lounge room.  Brian gave me a sideways comforting hug before kissing my temple, Deaky came up and kissed my cheek then Roger came up and kissed my other cheek before ruffling my hair messing it up to which I playfully shoved him making him chuckle.

Once the guys left me alone to begin their work, I sat there drinking my tea and snacking on as many sweets as I could.  About 10-15minutes into just sitting around, I just knew I had to play a song, but not just any song.  I was getting inspired to make my next song that I had in mind.  So finding some paper and a pen and noticing one of Brian’s guitars still in the lunge room, probably from the last time he must’ve been in here to just do some strumming or whatever.

I knew he wouldn’t mind cause he offered that if anytime I wanted to play, I was allowed to use his guitars so long as I didn’t break them cause otherwise he’d curse me for eternity.  I sat down on the floor and just did some strumming while I hummed trying to find the melody of my song first.

I tried about three different tunes until I finally found the right rhythm of the song.  Then came the lyrics.  Now as mentioned before I have written songs in the past but like with any song it’s not always easy but thanks to some of the tips that the boys have given me, I simply wrote what I was feeling down on the page.

The first and second verse came pretty easy to me but the chorus was where I started struggling with the most.  I quietly strummed the rhythm to myself as I sang what I was thinking.

“I can finally see it’s not just your name. When you set it all fr—free. No, no that’s not it,” I scribbled out the first few lines of the chorus and tried it again.  I then turned Brian’s guitar and played the tune again as I muttered the new lyrics this time, “When you set it all free, all free, all free. You set it all free”.

“(Y/n)?” I looked up to see Freddie standing by the door way.  His eyes widened almost in shock as he just stared right at me.  “Have you—been writing that song this whole time?”

“Well, not the whole time. I’ve only been just finished the first half of it in what—” I looked up at the clock to see that two hours have gone by since I started. “Two hours, wow that long? Is it bad?”

“‘Is it bad?’ Darling, it’s amazing! You have to sing it for us!”

“Whoa, whoa, whoa Fred slow down. You know how I feel about singing, I can barely sing in front of you guys without almost having a breakdown.”

“No worries darling, we’ll work on that. Just show us what you’ve got so far, please I would really like to hear it.” He looked at me with those puppy dog eyes of his and I knew I couldn’t refuse.

“Alright” I groaned before he cheered and took my hand and dragged me back to the booth.

“My darlings, our little rock angel has been working on a song of her very own and I say we give it a listen to it.” The boys turned toward me and Deaky said.

“Is it true (y/n)?”

“Yeah I’ve uhh—it’s just something I thought would help me out with—you know.” At that moment, the boys dropped their things and sat in front of me anticipatingly like little children ready for a story from their teacher.  I knew then I had no other choice.

I sat down at the couch in the correct posture and tuned Bri’s guitar to the right key and strummed a couple of times.  I then began to sing as much of the song as I had ready singing the first two verses and then the chorus.  Once I was done, I looked to the guys and they all now looked like profession record producers as they muttered and whispered to one another.

“It’s not complete yet and I know it still needs work but I just—”

“Quiet for a second darling, the adults are talking.” Freddie said as he held up his finger gesturing me to be quiet.  They continued talking before nodding and standing up.

“Well (y/n), you were right there is a lot of work to be done with the song” Roger started off, “First of all it needs more than just a guitar, the first few lyrics should be introduced by drums, not strums of a guitar.”

“Secondly you’ll need a base to pick up rhythm of your melody on the guitar” John said.

“And of course the lyrics need more, plus some rewriting just a couple of the words.” Stated Brian.

“But this song will truly be a smash hit.” Finished Freddie.  I smiled at them and we all then got to work.

For months I met up with the guys to work on the song, improve on the lyrics and hear the accompaniment they’ve come up with on how the song will sound all together.  I then got gutsy and whenever I would record my guitar solo I had in mind for the song after one day in class, I played it for the guys and they all sat there in shock, even Brian, “The Guitar playing God” of Queen was blown away with what I had done.

Finally Queen was ready for their second tour.  This time worldwide.  We were about to tour everywhere from coast to coast of Europe, across America, to Rio, Japan, China and even Australia.  Then one day just before our show in New York City, the Big Apple itself.  I was backstage helping some of the crew set up for the show when Roger called for me to their dressing room.

I followed behind him and when I entered I saw the guys all sitting around looked dead at me. I was confused and asked them.

“What’s going on?”

“(Y/n), we’ve been talking and it’s time.” Brian said.

“Time for what?”

“In the middle of our set, we are going to introduce you and have you sing the song that we’ve helped you with.” Said Freddie.

Shock doesn’t even compare to what I was feeling.

“No I—I can’t this is…..I can’t sing out there. This is a Queen concert not a Queen featuring an unknown college girl who thinks she’s a singer. I can’t I won’t sorry wrong number I refuse!”

“But you can’t darling, you’ve got to finally show that wanker Adam that he hasn’t won in breaking your heart. Show him up on that stage that he didn’t break you down, that he didn’t get to you. Own that stage just as I do.” Freddie said as he placed his hands on my shoulders looking me right in the eye.

“Freddie I—what if I screw up? You know how I feel about big crowds and this—this show is sold out. I know I’ll choke. Why can’t you sing it?”

“Because this is your song darling, and I won’t take credit for a song that isn’t mine. Especially one that is personal to you”.

“And you won’t be alone up there love, you’ll have us backing you up.” Brian said as he came up to me.  I looked at all four of them and they all looked like they really wanted me to do this. I sighed deeply and said.

“How long do I’ve got to get ready till showtime?” The boys all cheered and they all guided me towards the makeup room.  The boys each had an idea of how I should look on stage and what my wardrobe should look like, for they didn’t want me to be a frilly princess cause they all knew I hated that, but they didn’t want me making a slut of myself.

So in the end, I was in long black jeans that flapped out at the ankles, a wore a dark grey patterned black shirt with a black leather jacket.  My makeup was a basic base with a dash of sparkling blue eyeshadow and to add to my eye makeup, my eyes were given wings to make them really pop out. And to top it all off, Freddie had actually asked Mary to go by apartment and I was given Becky’s light grey flat cap.

I looked at myself in the mirror and almost couldn’t believe that this was really me.  I twirled a bit of my long hair and said.

“This is so—scary.”

“Honey you never looked better,” Freddie said as he came up behind me and looked at me in the mirror. “Our little angel is ready to fly, and she is going to give those two arseholes a reason to fear her.”  A knock was soon heard and the stage manager called out.

“Five minutes till curtain gentlemen.”

“Stay lose to the stage, we’ll give a proper introduction dear,” Fred kissed my cheek and the boys all filed out giving me either a nod or a gentle pat telling me all would be well.

The right at 8pm on the dot, the introduction of Bohemian Rhapsody began to play on stage and the crowd went nuts.

The boys gave the audience a well earned Queen show, singing all the favorites like “Bohemian Rhapsody”, “Somebody to Love”, “Killer Queen”, “We Will Rock you” followed by “We Are the Champions”, and “Crazy Little thing called love” and “Another one bites the dust”.

It was then Freddie gave the crowd as well earned “Ay oh” which they all echoed back.  He kept the audience on their feet with how quick he would sing the note or have them screaming when he would hold a note.  At the end he proclaimed.

“Alright!” The crowd all cheered loudly. “Now ladies and gentlemen, this next song is gonna be something different. It’s written by a wonderful friend of ours, heck she’s an angel to us. But tonight, she will finally break out and we shall witness first hand of a future Rock Angel being born. So New York we’d like you to give a warm, Queen welcome to (y/n) (l/n)!” The crowd all cheered and I was practically frozen backstage.

I almost didn’t want to move but I took a deep breath and slowly walked out onto the stage adjusting Becky’s hat on my head with my head held high and the guitar in my hands.

The audience cheered louder as I came up on stage and Freddie turned to me and embraced me and I somehow heard him say through the screaming crowd.

“Own the stage darling, we’re right behind you.” I then walked up center stage up to the mic that Fred had adjusted to my size.  Even though I couldn’t see the audience, I knew what the stage’s size was and had seen all the seats before showtime and I already had pictured in my mind that all of them were filled and they were all looking right up at me.

I turned to Freddie and he mouthed to me.

‘Breathe.’ I took a big shaky breath in and exhaled out as I closed my eyes before opening them once more.  I turned towards Brian, Rog and John and they all nodded to me.

I adjusted the guitar in my hands and had everything plugged in thanks to the team and I took my right foot and slammed it down on the stage.

Boom. Boom. Boom. Boom. Boom. Like a heartbeat.

Roger then accompanied me with the drums and I turned to see Brian, Fred and John clapping their hands in the air to get the audience to clap along.  Soon thousands of people were clapping in unison as I began my song.

*Me (Queen)*

I followed my heart into the fire Got burned, got broken down by desire I tried, I tried but the smoke in my eyes Left me blurry, blurry and blind

John and I soon picked up the accompaniment with the guitar and base. I turned towards Fred who stood at the piano and he gave me a confident nod before allowing me to take the stage for a while. I then turned the volume up on my guitar and once the chorus hit I just let go.

I picked all the pieces up off the ground I've burned all my fingers but that's gone now Got the glue in my hands

I'm stickin' to the plan Stickin' to the plan that says

"I can do anything at all” I can do anything at all

This is my kiss goodbye You can stand alone and watch me fly 'Cause nothing's keeping me down gonna let it all up Come on and say right now, right now, right now This is my big hello 'Cause I'm giving, never letting go I can finally see, it's not just a dream When you set it all free, all free, all free

You set it all free (Oh oh oh) (Oh oh oh) (Oh oh oh)

Feeling more confident, I then took off Becky’s hat and tossed it into the audience and I continued the song.  My boys backed me up on the vocals but for the main singing, they left it all to me.

I was a girl caught under your thumb But my star's gonna shine brighter than your sun And I will reach so high (so high), Shoot so far (shoot so far) (She’s) Gonna hit, gonna hit, hit every target

Make it count this time I will make it count this time

This is my kiss goodbye You can stand alone and watch me fly 'Cause nothing's keeping me down I'm gonna let it all out Come on and say right now, right now, right now This is my big hello 'Cause I'm here and never letting go I can finally see, It's not just a dream When you set it all free, all free, all free

You set it all free (oh oh oh) You set it all free (oh oh oh) You set it all free (oh oh oh)

It was then Brian and I doubled out on our guitar duets.  But when the moment came for me to explode on the guitar solo I had in mind, Brian allowed me the chance to shine so that he wouldn’t upstage me (like I mentioned, even he feared me at this solo).

I then sang in acapella for a brief moment letting my sorrow take over for a brief second but refused to shed anymore tears as Roger came back up with the drums and the rest of the boys followed behind me as we finished the song.

This is my kiss goodbye You can stand alone and watch me fly 'Cause nothing's keeping me down I'm gonna let it all out Come on and say right now, right now, right now This is my big "hello" 'Cause I'm here and never letting go I can finally see, It's not just a dream When you set it all free, all free, all free

You set it all free (oh oh oh) You set it all free (oh oh oh) You set it all free (oh oh oh) You set it all free (oh oh oh) You set it all free

I slid across the stage on my knees as I just allowed my final solo to take over and then die down. I was so overcome with the adrenaline the entire stage was almost silent to me.  But when I began to recover, I could hear stadium cheers of a real Queen audience, only they weren’t cheering for Queen.

The roar of applause was for me.

I couldn’t even get up as I was overcome with emotion lowering my head and sobbing tears of happiness.  I was soon lifted by Brian and engulfed into a group hug by my four boys.

“Didn’t I tell you all? We just witnessed the birth of a true Rock Angel! Give it up one more time for (y/n) everybody!” Freddie proclaimed into the microphone.  I waved to the audience and raced backstage.

After the second half of the concert was done and our trip to New York was over, the boys came piling into the dressing room where I was recuperating after my performance and I was once again tackled into a group hug of them all piling up on the couch and hugged the hell out of me.

“Oh darling you were amazing out there!”

“You were fantastic!”

“You are a Rockstar now love, welcome to the club!”

All their praises made me feel so good in side and made me forget all about my heartbreak.

“I say this calls for a celebration!” Proclaimed Freddie.  He then took out the champagne and poured into five glasses and we each took a glass and Freddie toasted, “To our lovely and sweet angel (y/n). Who proved today that heartbreak is never the end. You prevail through it and become one beautiful, shining star in the heavens. To (y/n)!”

“To (y/n)!” The boys praised as they toasted to me.  I lightly clanged my glasses to them and I added.

“But none of this would’ve been possible without you guys giving me the confidence to get on that stage.”

“No love, that was all you. We didn’t do a damn thing.” I smiled at them and we continued the celebration long into the night.

*Extended ending*

It was another several months after and Roger and I spent the day together.  He was actually helping me move into a nearby flat that was right around the corner of where he and his wife were currently living that was up for sale.

After helping me move in, we had lunch together and that’s when someone tapped my shoulder so I lowered my sunglasses and saw Adam standing over me.

“Hey (y/n).” he said quietly.

“Adam.” At his name Roger went to sit up but I took his wrist and held him back.

“Listen, I’ve been doing some thinking and I was a real wanker for bringing Becky into our flat and sleeping with her. I want you back baby, you’re my best girl the love of my life and I can’t live without you. Please will you take me back.”

Oh I knew exactly what kind of game he was playing.  For you see shortly after my first concert with the band in New York, record companies left and right were trying to have a piece of me but I stuck close with my boys and had Miami be my record executive.  

Currently now I am in the works of my first album and on a few songs I do have my boys featured with me.  I was being paid big money while Adam here probably got dumped by Becky by the look of his unclean state and needed to be supported now, so he thinks he can crawl back to me and hope that I’ll forgive him for breaking my heart just so he can live off my well-earned money.

I put my shades back over my eyes and I said to him right in his face.

“You were. The way you turned your back on me after three years of a relationship that meant nothing to you but everything to me. You are worse than Paul if not up to his speed Adam. Which is why I am going to do to you what I should’ve done the very first day I met you in the University cafeteria.”

I then took my ice cold water that had just been refilled, took him by the loop of his pants and dumped the water down his pants.  He cried out at the freezing cold on his balls while I took my pasta and dumped it all over his head and then topped him off with Roger’s pie to his face.

I didn’t even care if I had an audience watching me, he deserved to be humiliated just like he humiliated me.

“Tell Becky I said hi.” I sneered happily as I grabbed my jacket and walked away.  I felt Roger’s arm go around my shoulder and he said.

“Couldn’t have done it better myself love, I’m so proud of you.”

“Really cause I can still feel my hands shaking.” We both laughed and he brought me close in a one armed hug as he kissed the top of my head and we headed back to my new flat.

[jaime-etudier]

Final Exam Tips

If you couldn’t tell by the things I’ve been reposting lately, finals week has arrived. My first exam is at 8am tomorrow (wish me luck), and I wanted to share some tips and things I’ve learned over the years. Most of this applies to both college and high school, but everyone’s method is gonna be a little different. You do you boo. 

Self Care

This is super important. It may seem like you don’t have time to worry about these things but your body is just as important as your mind. Nurture it. 

Make your bed. Every morning. If you have to wake up early to give yourself more time, do it. Someone somewhere once said “the state of your bed is the state of your head.”

Brush your teeth. Floss if you can. I know it’s a pain in the ass but it’s literally 2 minutes of your time. 

Put on chap-stick. Bring it everywhere, to all your exams, leave some in your car, in your pocket. It’s never fun to have chapped lips. 

Wash your face. Morning and night, depending on skin type, etc. This is super important to wash away all of the dirt, makeup, and toxins your skin is exposed to. It also helps to wake you up and get you started. And if you’re anything like me, stress breakouts are always a possibility.

Moisturize. Your face, your arms, your legs, etc. A good facial moisturizer and body lotion can do wonders for your skin and your mood. Do a face mask too, if you really wanna pamper yourself. 

Keep your space clean. Where you sleep, where you get ready for bed, and especially where you study. This goes back to making your bed, your surroundings play an important role in your mood and state of mind. 

Eat Healthy. Don’t skip meals, your brain needs good nutrition to function. Take it easy on the sugar, you might be on a high for a little while but the crash is real. 

Drink. Water. Lots of it. I’m terrible when it comes to this, but I find that keeping a refillable water bottle on me, one that’s easy to take quick sips from, helps a lot. You need to be hydrated in order to function properly. Drink juice to help you stay awake if you’re not a fan of coffee or tea (Idk why but this really helps). 

Stay active. Keep moving, get that blood circulating. Whether it’s running, yoga, or a walk in the park, the movement is sure to clear your mind and get those endorphins kicking. 

SLEEP. 7-8 hours, ideally. No all-nighters. Don’t even think about it. I limit myself to one all-nighter a semester, and never on the night before an exam. Your brain works to learn and memorize at night, so get your rest and study in the process.Take catnaps between study sessions if you get tired during the day, but don’t sacrifice that sacred sleep for a few extra hours of studying that will haunt you the entire next day. 

Studying

Now that you’re all zenned out, you can fill your brain with all that dope knowledge. 

Go to review days. Your teacher should explain what’s on the exam and what she expects of you, and if you skip you could miss out on important details like room and time. It may seem like skipping gives you more time to study, but you’ll be at a disadvantage in the end.

Summarize. Outline/summarize/prep class content expected on the exam. Being able to summarize content and place it in an order that makes sense shows understanding, and it’ll help you figure out what you need to work on most.  

Find study stations. Coffee shops, the campus library, bookstores, diners, you name it. Study anywhere but home, at least not alone. I sometimes crash at my friend’s place and we’ll have silent study sessions, keeping each other in check. 

Use a time management tool. I use the app Forest, or the chrome extension. When you use the timer, you plant a tree or a bush and it grows until the timer is up. I like it because when I use it on my phone, I set the timer for 25 minutes and I can’t exit the app or the tree dies. On chrome, you can blacklist certain websites that distract you, and if you visit that website during your study session, the tree dies. Don’t kill trees people. 

Prioritize. What exam do you have first? How prepared are you for it? Which exam will be the hardest/are you least prepared for? Use your sessions wisely and focus on the material you don’t know as well. 

Method. What works for you? Are you an auditory learner? Record your notes and listen to them in the car or while you work out. Kinesthetic? Rewrite your notes, make models, etc. Visual? Find good pictoral representations of your content and try drawing diagrams. It’s super important to find a study method that works for you, and everyone’s is gonna be a little different.

Come prepared. Buy pencils, scantrons, and erasers beforehand and come to your exam with everything you need (i.e. calculator). Hand lotion, chap-stick, and deep breathing are great ways to calm yourself before an exam. If you’re religious - pray, spiritual - meditate/center yourself, non of the above - have faith in yourself and your abilities. 

Dress comfy. If sweats are the way you roll, then go with it. If you feel more productive dressing a little nicer, have at it. 

Trust yourself. Stop second guessing yourself. Trust in your work. Honestly, we doubt ourselves way more than we should. Don’t underestimate yourself, love. You show that exam who’s boss. 

Celebrate. You’re done! Congrats on another exam finished, another day slayed, and another semester behind you. 

[selanpike]

Unfinished Trollcops thing

I remembered I had this thing, and figured I’d post it because it’s good, but it is never going to get finished.

I had this idea that I wanted to write a big Trollcops AU fic, from Team Sleuth’s perspective, but it sort of collapsed under its own weight. I wanted to include all the trolls, plus the kids, PLUS Team Sleuth (including the girls), the Crew, Kingpin.... I couldn’t find things for all these characters to actually contribute, and also, I’m not great at writing all the trolls!!

But I did write the first three chapters, which were the introductions for Sleuth, Pickle and Ace respectively, so here u go. Abandoned Trollcops fic.

Chapter One

Spending any amount of time with Spades Slick is dangerous at best, you knew that. You also knew that you were making things worse by spending so much time with him, but you were counting on bruises and stab wounds, not this.

The interrogation room is sickeningly bright. The lights make it impossible to know what time it is outside. You know it was close to sunrise when they brought you in, but you’re not sure how long you’ve been here. Even the ticking of a clock would be a welcome reprieve from this boredom. You wish they’d just throw the book at you already.

The door finally opens, creaking a little as it does so. Apparently the Alternia Police Department can’t even afford a can of WD-40. Two officers walk in. You recognize them from your various interactions with the police in the past few years--Sergeants Terezi Pyrope and Sollux Captor. Sergeant Pyrope pulls up a chair and sits down at the table across from you, lacing her fingers together. You can’t read her expression through her opaque red glasses. You’ve heard that she’s blind, but she seems to stare right through you.

“Problem Thleuth.” Sergeant Captor reads from your file, standing behind his partner. “Thirty-five yearth old. Prothpitian. Failed out of polithe academy at age twenty-four. Ith that right?”

“I wouldn’t say failed,” you say, choosing your words carefully. “I jus’ didn’t like how y’all--I mean. I wasn’t a fan ‘f the bureaucracy.”

“Is that so,” Terezi says.

You nod.

“So you dropped out and became a private investigator,” she says. “Is that right?”

“You know the answer to that,” you say, rubbing your temples. “Don’t pretend like we’re strangers.”

The silence that breaks out is painful. You run a hand through your hair, quietly wondering if your hat is okay, wherever they’ve taken it. Why the hell did they take your hat? What sort of monsters would mess with a man’s hat? This sort of shit is why you could never cut it as a cop.

“You’re charged with being an accessory to arson,” Pyrope tells you.

“Do me a favor ‘n arrest th’ guy who actually did th’ arson-ing,” you mutter.

“The alleged perpetrator is one Thpades Thlick,” Captor says, reading the file. “Damn, man. Thpades, really?”

“I ain’t an accessory t’ nothin’ that asshole does,” you say, slamming a hand on the table. “I was tryin’a stop that goddamn arson!”

“We have multiple witnethheth who thay they thaw you making out with the thuthpect before the fire broke out,” Captor says.

You wilt under their stares.

“I was tryin’a distract ‘im,” you say, weakly. “He’s a dangerous customer, after all. ‘S the ol’ honey pot maneuver, y’know?”

“It didn’t work,” Pyrope says, grinning her sharp-toothed grin.

“N--no,” you admit.

Sergeant Captor hands Pyrope the file, and she makes a show of flipping through it. It’s a pointless gesture since you know damn well she can’t read it. You try to look at what’s written on the pages, but she pulls the file away so she can give it a good long sniff. You slump over, leaning your arms on the table, thinking about how fucked you are, and what you’re going to do to Slick to get back at him for this. They’ll put you away for ages for this, you just know it. The APD have never been fans of yours, and you’re sure they’ve been waiting for the opportunity to put you away.

You jump when Pyrope snaps the folder shut. She puts it down on the table, sliding it to the edge.

“I’m going to admit,” she says, slowly. “That, considering your history of making trouble, we took this opportunity to get a warrant to search your office.”

“You--you what?!”

“Well, the thusthpect is thtill on the looth,” Captor explains, and you wonder if you punch him hard enough if he’ll stop with that goddamn lisp. “We had to check and thee if there were any clueth ath to hith whereaboutth.”

“And what did you find, huh?” You’re raging mad now, and you aren’t bothering to hide it. “A whole bunch of jack shit. Or are you going to charge me with possession of a deadly writing implement or something?”

The two of them stare at you for a moment, and then Pyrope pulls a photo from her jacket. She places it in front of you. It shows your evidence wall, a large corkboard you’ve set up in your office to collect clues in the murder you’re investigating.

“So, what? You gonna charge me with murderin’ th’ District Attorney now?”

Pyrope and Captor look at each other, then back at you.

“We’ve been investigating the DA’s death too,” Pyrope says. “But we haven’t turned up a thing.”

“And here you are,” Captor adds. “With evidenthe we never even thought to look for.”

You grin a little. “Oh darlin’s, are you jealous?”

“We know Kingpin was behind it,” Pyrope says, and her voice is uncharacteristically devoid of humor. “Like he’s behind every other high-profile murder in this city. I’m sick of him making a mockery of this force.”

“Stop bein’ such a joke, then.”

She stands up, slamming her hands on the table. “Take this seriously!”

You raise your eyebrows and wait for her to get to the point.

“We’re willing to offer you a deal,” she says. “We’ll ignore this latest… indiscretion, and you’ll help us put Kingpin behind bars.”

You laugh.

You can’t believe they’re actually coming to you for help. How many times have they impeded your investigations? How many times have they told you to buzz off, leave this to the real cops? How many times have they told judges not to accept your evidence, or straight up confiscated your evidence and claimed they found it themselves? And now they want you to help them?

“Sorry, sorry,” you say, still chuckling. “I musta misheard. Y’ couldn’t possibly be askin’ for my help. I mean, I ain’t a cop or nothin’. I ain’t got no authority.”

“Don’t be a jackathh,” Captor snaps.

“This is in your best interest,” Pyrope says. “You are, after all, still under arrest.”

She does sorta have you, there.

---

You have your hat back when Sergeant Captor takes you outside, to the back of the department. The sun has definitely risen by now, and you’re treated to all the sounds of the city waking up.

“Thith whole thing ith completely off the record,” Captor tells you as he closes the door behind him. “Honethtly, I think it’th dumb ath hell, but at leatht if you get into trouble, nobody’ll blame uth.”

“As long as I don’t trail it back to you,” you add.

“Obviouthlly,” Captor says. He pulls out his phone and types into it. “But we need one of ourth with you. Making thure you’re not fucking up too bad.”

“I’d really prefer we skipped that part,” you say, fixing your hair and trying to find just that right angle at which to wear your hat. “I don’t need no cops following me everywhere. It’ll slow me down.”

“Think of it like exthtra security,” Captor says, still typing into his phone.

The door opens and a short troll walks over, hands shoved in his pockets. He isn’t wearing a uniform, save for a badge he has hanging on a lanyard over a ratty red hoodie. He approaches you and Captor, then squints at you.

“I know you,” he says.

“I get around,” you reply.

“You’re that drunk fucknut that’s always making a scene in Crew territory.”

“Guilty as charged. Y’all’re jus’ gettin’ me on ev’rythin’ t’day!” You nudge Captor. “Sorry officer, looks like y’ gotta charge me for another crime.”

Captor groans and rolls his eyes. He slaps the newcomer on the back and mutters, “Good fucking luck,” before heading back inside.

You wait for the door to click shut before you say, brightly as you can manage, “The name’s Problem Sleuth. Solicitations for my services are--”

“I’m sorry, do I look like someone who gives a fuck?”

You drop the friendly act. “What’s your name, kid?”

“Vantas,” He says. “Karkat Vantas. I’m the undercover guy. I figure I got stuck with this because they figured I could tell the Captain I’m investigating you.”

“‘N I’m sure she’ll buy it,” you add.

“Yeah.” He sniffs, and looks you over in more detail. “I don’t think I’m the only one they’re gonna hand you. I know for sure they said they’re putting my partner, Nepeta, on this case too.”

You rub your face. “Great. Good. More cops, beautiful.”

He asks for your phone, and you exchange numbers. You then tell him to find something else to do with his day, because you’re going home and going the fuck to bed. This investigation can wait until tomorrow.

---

It’s well after 8am by the time you get home, and all you want to do is sleep for ten years. Pickle and Ace will bitch about you not being at the office, but you can’t bring yourself to care. They’re already going to bitch when they hear about this new arrangement, so what’s a little more?

Unfortunately when you walk in, you find Spades Slick rummaging through your refrigerator.

You toss your keys onto the table and sit down. He turns around, cold pizza hanging out of his mouth, and slams the fridge door shut behind him.

“I figured they’d have ya’ in th’ slammer a few weeks,” he explains through a mouthful of pizza. “So y’ wouldn’t mind if I ate yer food ‘fore it went bad.”

“Y’ couldn’t possibly post bail for me?”

“Fuck no. Who do y’ think y’ are, my Crew?” He moves his mug of coffee from the counter to the kitchen table, and then sits down across from you. “So who’d y’ call. Th’ stickbug? Did ‘e hafta give up his booze fund for th’ month?”

“No, nothin’ like that,” you say, reaching over and taking the coffee. Obviously sleep isn’t happening anytime soon, so what the hell. “They let me off.”

There’s a loud clatter as Slick’s chair falls over, and a knife is at your throat. It always amazes you how fast he is. You raise your hands in a conciliatory manner as he snarls at you.

“You fuckin’ snitched, didn’t you?”

“Slick, my most precious of darlin’s,” you say. “I would snitch on you all day, ev’ry day. But that ain’t what happened.”

“Bullshit!” The knife presses harder against your neck, and you feel blood beading along the blade. “Th’ APD don’ jus’ let people go, ‘specially not when they been with me. Th’ fuck did you do?”

“They hired me.”

He looks at you like you just sprouted a second head. He doesn’t move the knife at all.

You go on. “They’re investigatin’ Kingpin. They wanted my help.”

He finally pulls the knife away, but he doesn’t sit back down. “Great. Jus’ what I need.”

“Yeah, Slick,” you say, sipping the coffee. You’re not surprised that it tastes like shit. Slick probably isn’t used to brewing his own. That’s what he has lackeys for. “It’s exactly what you need. You want Kingpin outta th’ way? Jus’ let me ‘n the cops handle it.”

“Kingpin’s mine,” he growls.

“‘Scuse you.” You put the mug down. “‘M sorry, but did you know th’ stiff we found last week? No. Fuck no, y’ didn’t, ‘cause he was th’ law, ‘n he was my fuckin’ friend, not yours. Kingpin’s mine. He owns this fuckin’ apartment, my fuckin’ office, he’s got me by th’ balls without even tryin’ ‘n he murdered th’ DA ‘n none’f that’s got anythin’ t’ do with you.”

Slick narrows his eye at you, before pocketing his knife and stealing the mug back. He chugs the coffee down.

“Fuck you,” he says, slamming the mug back onto the table. “I’ll do it my fuckin’ self.”

“Right,” you say as Slick grabs his jacket and makes for the door. “So I guess I’ll see ya’ tomorrow, then?”

He grunts in response, and slams the door behind him as he leaves.

You know he’ll be back. Partly because you know he can’t resist making your life miserable--the two of you have been caught up in your fucked up little dance for too long, and he’s not about to give that up--but also partly because you know he can’t take down Kingpin on his own. He’s tried for months to do things his way, to just murder his rival crime boss, but Kingpin is careful, and he’s elusive. In the end, the best way to go about bringing him down is to turn the city against him, to get the law on your side. If you can get an arrest warrant on him you can have the whole of the city’s resources helping you track him down. You could freeze his assets, plaster his face on every bulletin board in town. You’ll leave him no place to hide.

You’re going to do it. Your name is Problem Sleuth, and you are going to bring down Mobster Kingpin’s criminal empire.

The APD are definitely going to steal the credit when it’s all said and done, though, and that fact makes you sick to your stomach.

---

Chapter Two

> Be Pickle Inspector.

You feel as though you’re being punished for Sleuth’s poor life choices.

Nepeta Leijon is a new hire at the APD. She, and her friend Karkat, used to be common criminals. Pickpockets, for the most part, although you remember seeing a few other items on their rap sheet. You’d encountered them once or twice. Never up close--their crimes were never complicated enough to necessitate your intervention--but they’d show up sometimes as witnesses.

Uncooperative witnesses.

You were aware of their being hired. Something about the APD seeing them as valuable assets for undercover investigations. You see the logic, but you’ve never been a fan of undercover operations. You stand out too much. You’re too tall, too gaunt, too recognizable. Your preferred method has always been surveillance. You set up cameras and wiretaps all over the city, in all the seedier bars and meeting spaces. Nothing escapes your omniscient ogle.

Nothing except Kingpin. He’s careful. He doesn’t discuss anything important on the phone, least of all the phones in any of his businesses. You can’t figure out where he lives or where he holds any of his most secret of meetings. Even if you could, he always has too many guards patrolling his places, making it impossible for you to sneak in and plant anything.

It was infuriating before, but now with the death of the DA it’s got you on the end of your rope. And now they want you to babysit this rookie cop? How the hell are you supposed to get anything done?

You asked Sleuth what he did to invite this upon you, but he won’t tell you. You suspect Slick was involved. Slick is always involved these days.

You have a solution to this problem, though. Well, not to the Sleuth-Slick problem, there’s no solving that, but the Nepeta problem was easy: let her work on transcribing your recordings so the two of you can finish them twice as fast. It leaves you with just enough free time to make tea and doodle in the margins of your notes.

You’re halfway through a wonderful drawing of a horse wearing a bonnet when your phone rings. You have specific ringtones for every person who calls you often enough, and you put your head in your hands when you hear this one. Nepeta notices, and watches you as you sigh and answer the phone.

“I’m busy enough,” you whine into the receiver.

“That’s a shame,” says the smooth, dark voice of Diamonds Droog. “And here I had something I thought you’d be interested in.”

“What is it?” you ask.

“Meet me on the corner of 34th and Feldings,” he says.

“D--do I have to?” you say, clicking your pen. “Can’t you just, just tell me? On the phone? Like a normal person? I p-promise the line’s secure.”

“34th and Feldings,” he says again. “Now.”

He hangs up. You put your phone down, put your head on your desk, and groan loudly. Why is this your life? All you wanted to do today was transcribe audio logs and not interact with anybody. You even packed a lunch so you wouldn’t have to go out and talk to any fast food workers.

Without your realizing it, Nepeta has picked up your phone and unlocked it. You make a mental note to change the passkey and not let her see you input it next time. “Diamonds Dickhead?” She makes an exaggeratedly surprised face, and puts your phone back on the desk. “Is that who I think it is?”

You stand up and fix your tie. “I have to go out.”

“Oh! Let me get my coat.”

“No.” You grab your own coat, put it on, and start buttoning it. You make a deliberate effort to put the buttons in the right holes, and you’re secretly glad you haven’t had much to drink yet today. “S--stay here and, and keep transcribing.”

“I’m paws-itively sure that’s super important,” she says, putting extra emphasis on her pun. You’ve noticed that she likes cat puns. In less infuriating circumstances, you’d think it was cute. “But I’m not here to help you so much as to watch you.”

You smooth your hair out and put your hat on. “That’s a terrible idea. N-no, you should just stay here, and not tell a soul I went out. U--unless I don’t come back. Then tell Sleuth. Understood?”

She grins a catlike grin and says, “Nope!”

Droog is never going to let you hear the end of this.

---

34th street is where his tailor is, so Diamonds Droog didn’t have to go out of his way to meet you. It is also clear on the other side of town relative to your office, so you had to go especially out of your way to meet him.

This is par for the course, and you make an effort not to look exhausted when you get there.

He’s waiting for you on a street bench outside his tailor’s, smoking one of his expensive cigarettes. You approach him, but don’t look at him directly. You stand behind the bench, facing away from him, pretending to read a bulletin board. Nepeta follows along, but she sneaks a few glances at Droog when she thinks you aren’t looking.

He breathes out a long puff of smoke before speaking. “Is the detective business so bad that you had to take up babysitting?”

“I n--needed the second job to, to support my tea habit,” you respond.

“That’s a funny way to say whiskey.”

“Oh, no. I steal that all from m-my boss. You see, he has a wealthy patron with a vested interest in, in keeping him too drunk to make good decisions.” You lean back onto the bench, crossing your arms. “I’m s-sure you don’t know anything about that.”

“I’m sure I don’t. Can she leave?”

“I don’t know.” You look down at Nepeta. “C-can you leave?”

“I can, yeah,” she says.

“A--are you going to?”

She shakes her head.

“Sorry,” you say to Droog. “It’s a, a long story.”

He pauses and takes another drag from his cigarette. He taps some ash out on the ground, then reaches into his jacket pocket. You have just enough time to hope that he isn’t pulling out a weapon with which to kill the witness you’ve brought along, before he pulls out a couple of photographs. He passes them to you. They all depict various old-looking artifacts. You’re pretty sure you’ve seen some of these in the museum.

“All of these have gone missing in the past month,” Droog explains. “Obvious signs of a break-in, but no evidence pointing to a culprit.”

“D--do you think Kingpin was involved?”

“Absolutely.”

You scrutinize the photos further, and notice that all the artifacts share a theme. Every one of them either depicts a horrorterror, or symbols associated with said terrors. “This, um. It looks like your sort of thing.”

“Hardly,” he says. “The four of us get our magic from the Terrors, but we don’t need trinkets like this to channel Their powers. They give it to us freely.” He illustrates this by producing a small purple flame in his hand. “Kingpin, though. He’s Prospitian, like you. He doesn’t have the connection to the Terrors that we Dersites have.”

You think about that as you pocket the photos. “Do you think he’s trying to make a pact with the Terrors?”

“Perhaps,” he says, extinguishing the flame. “It’s possible he’s seen what we can do and wants that power for himself. I doubt he’ll be successful.”

You wonder whether it would be possible for a Prospitian to make a pact with the dark gods. You’re almost tempted to let Kingpin try, just to get an answer. It’s not your best idea. If nothing else, these robberies give you one more thread you can follow in your attempts to get any charge at all to stick to him.

“I’ll look into this,” you tell him. “Call me if--if you hear anything.”

“As usual,” he says, before standing up.

He smooths out his suit, throws his cigarette to the ground and snubs it out with his heel. Without once looking at you, he strolls away. Nepeta waits until he’s out of earshot before she says, “You know, Mister Detective, you don’t act much like a detective.”

“H--how’s that?”

“All the wiretapping, and purr-tive meetings with shady guys,” she says. “You’re more like a spy.”

You let out a small laugh. “Don’t say that one to the others. They’ll start coming up with spy names for me.”

“Pickle Inspector’s okay for a spy name,” she says. You start walking, and she follows you. She has to trot a little to match your walking stride. “Spies don’t put ‘spy’ right in the name! It’s too conspicuous.”

You’re enjoying this flight of fancy, despite yourself. “I’ll need to imagine up some clever gadgets, to uh, to get me out of pinches.”

“And you’ll need a car,” she says. “A fancy one, that turns into a submeowrine.”

“And a, a dangerous love interest,” you add.

“Oh? You don’t have that already?” She grins up at you. “You and Diamonds Dickhead had an awful lot of chemistry. You aren’t caliginous?”

“What?” You shove your hands in your pockets and look towards the street. “No. Obviously not. Th-th-that’s just, just gross, ew.”

She giggles, and you don’t like the knowing look she gives you. You reach into your jacket, produce a flask, and take a long gulp. It doesn’t help your mood any. It just reminds you of the last time Droog caught you drinking in the middle of the day, and had the audacity to call you “pathetic”, as if lots of people don’t drink before noon on a weekday.

She’s still giving you that look. Fuck.

“A--anyway, the, the case,” you stutter, trying to get back on the subject of work.

“I know somebody,” she says. “That might help.”

“Who?”

She shrugs. “Old friend of mine. She knows all sorts of things about old stuff like what got stolen.”

“That would be, it’d be really useful,” you say.

“I’ll call her when she gets off work,” Nepeta says, adjusting her hat. “In the meantime we can get back to listening to your wiretaps. The part I was on was pretty juicy.”

You’re relieved she’s so easily given up the subject of Droog and gotten back to the task at hand. She might, despite your initial misgivings, be useful to have around.

“I’ve also started a shipping chart for everyone you’re surveilling,” she adds.

After she explains to you what a shipping chart is, you are simultaneously horrified, and intrigued at the new avenues this gives you when cataloguing and interpreting your data.

---

Chapter three.

> Be Ace Dick.

Once upon a time, you were a police detective. You like to give Sleuth shit over his lack of occupational experience, but he seems to think that his two weeks of police academy are all he could need. For someone who brags about his charisma, he really doesn’t understand the importance of making connections.

You haven’t been working on the Kingpin case with Sleuth and Pickles. You think they’re out of their league. Kingpin’s ruled this city since Sleuth and Pickles were still in grade school, they didn’t stand a chance. So while they ran around on their fool’s errand, you were out hitting the pavement, solving more sensible cases and keeping the agency afloat. Sergeant Pyrope was a rookie when you left the force, but she remembers you. Whenever you have a case that requires some APD know-how, you hit her up. There’s a little diner next door to the station that’s popular with the coppers, and that’s where she meets you to give you the low-down on some two-bit drug dealer who skipped out on a debt.

You buy her a second coffee once she’s said her piece and you’ve finished writing it all down. Then you tuck your notepad back into your coat pocket and say, “So I heard y’ gave Sleuth a job.”

She shrugs, grinning. “It should be worth a laugh. He always says he can do better than us, so let’s see it!”

You shake your head. “Here ‘m always tryin’ to tell him to stay off that case, and you’re just eggin’ him on.”

“So you’re not going to help?” she asks, before taking a sip of coffee.

“Hell no,” you say. “I quit the force to get away from that malarkey. You at least payin’ him?”

She laughs. “Do you think he’s going to ask?”

“He damn well will, because I’m goin’ to tell him to,” you say, jabbing a finger at her. She can’t see the gesture but she usually can tell that you’re doing one. You’re not sure if she hears the movement or somehow smells it. You don’t know how her weird sense of smell works. “We got rent to pay, missy. If he’s runnin’ around chasin’ Kingpin he isn’t doing other cases.”

“We’ll have to set up a collection,” she says. “I’ll put a little can in the break room. ‘Pay Mister Candy Corn’s rent’.”

Detective Vriska Serket walks over, whacking your hat off your head as she passes you to sit next to Terezi. “Can’t be too much, right? Doesn’t he live in a cardboard box?”

“That sounds right,” Terezi says. “But in this city that’s what, 500 bucks a month?”

“Depends on how new the box is, probably,” Vriska responds.

Terezi nods. “Either way, Kingpin owns it so it is absolutely drafty and leaks in the rain.”

“I’m not opposed to makin’ jabs at my dumbass not-boss,” you say as you straighten your hat out. “But I’m serious. You’re payin’ him. And Pickles too, if you got him involved.”

“We do,” Terezi says. “He’s got poor Nepeta bored to tears.”

“That’s a lie,” Vriska says, taking Terezi’s coffee and putting it in front of herself. “She started writing fanfiction about those counterfeiters on seventieth street. I’m going to try and convince her to submit it as evidence.”

“While that is hilarious, don’t. The Captain doesn’t need to know about any of this.” Terezi takes her coffee back and chugs down the remainder before Vriska can make another attempt. She coughs.

“Now there’s an idea,” you say. “If you don’t pay up, I’ll go let Captain Peixes know what you’ve been up to.”

“Why Ace,” Terezi says, leaning forward. “Are you threatening me?”

“Might be.”

“Maybe if the Captain finds out she’ll get embarrassed enough to put me on the case,” Vriska says.

“Gettin’ tired of solvin’ murders?” you ask.

She throws her arms up in the air. “The only interesting crimes are the mob ones! All the regular crimes are just dumb shit, there’s usually a witness or a camera or something, there’s no challenge!”

“I thought you liked racking up wins,” Terezi said.

“I fucking love racking up wins,” Vriska says. “But I want ones worth my time. Kingpin’s the biggest baddie there is, I gotta get in on that.”

“Maybe you should let her follow Sleuth instead of that angry kid,” you say to Terezi.

She snickers. “No, I’d give her to Tootsie Roll Frankenstein.”

Vriska slaps the table. “You think you’re kidding around but I’d love having that guy work for me! He’ll do all the tedious boring shit so I have more time to pound pavement and beat in faces.”

“I’m glad you appreciate Pickles’ special sort of appeal.” You stand up, straightening out your suit. “Thanks for the tip, Pyrope. Now please stop takin’ advantage of my teammates.”

She salutes at you, and it’s dripping with irony. “No, I don’t think I will. You’re welcome to come get taken advantage of, though!”

“Fat chance,” you scoff, getting out your wallet. You pull out a few bills, enough to pay for your coffee and Terezi’s, and drop them on the table. “Take care of yourselves, ladies.”

“Tell Sleuth if he gets evicted I just got a washing machine and he might fit in the box if he gets on all fours!” Vriska calls as you leave the diner. You hear the two girls snickering behind you.

They laugh, but you know the APD’s pay is shit. You do much better for yourself working as a private dick. The lack of benefits are a kick in the nuts, but at least you don’t have to deal with all the paperwork and politics, and every now and then you got a client who paid you a ridiculous sum for some dumbass thing. Sleuth could do as well as you. He’s certainly got the sleuthing skills for it. He just keeps wasting his time worrying too much about justice and too little about the real world.

You figure he’ll learn eventually. Kids like him always do.

(i can’t remember if this ace chapter was even finished but EYY THERE U GO)