#if the Inspector arrives somewhere

[inspectorspacetimerevisited]

One can be sure if the Inspector arrives anywhere, even a pleasure planet,

that something bad is going to happen, and soon!

[drconstellation]

The Assistant Book Seller

Edit 1 Dec 2023 - added missing information on the "ribbon pattern."

Edit: 3 Dec 2023 - correct information about middle pattern from creator

GABRIEL: Greetings! I'm Jim! It's short for James, but I don't need to keep telling everyone that. I'm an assistant book seller.

I'm sorry. Before I do anything else, I need to apologize for something I need to write further in. I didn't plan to write it, I just kind of bumped into it and, well, I can't ignore it. So...sorry. It's said. Forgive me for what needs to be done.

Although he arrived with nothing but a cardboard box and Rodney the Stunt Fly, Aziraphale made sure Jim was clothed in appropriate raiment while under his protection. We'll forgive him that he took a step back about, oh, fifty years or so to the 1970's, as Jim's overall look is a nod to the famous old sitcom "Open All Hours." So if he looks a little bit out of place, or, a little bit familiar, even, that's why.

While we are used to seeing angels in overcoats, it's Jim's vest that is the particular feature here. But I will take a moment to comment on the overcoat - not just the colour but its lapels. Aziraphale has obviously given him a colour with an earthly connection and one that indicate that he has bought Jim under his protection, but the lapels look quite neutral, with one up and one down. (Muriel is the same in their Inspector uniform, btw) This is the first indication they are between two things at the moment.

Onto the vest.

There is so, so much work and thought put into this vest! It was a one-off commission for the show, and the creator, Sandy Higgins, has said she is not allowed to give away the final design pattern. I have tried to contact her, and I'm waiting for a reply, so in the mean time I thought I would ask my keen knitter of a sister-in-law about one of the patterns I'm not sure about. "Well, that's Fair Isle knitting," she said, but she knew nothing about the individual line pattern I was interested in. Hmm, I kind of know that already, its in the notes that are guiding me for this meta, but hey, why not do a broader search and see what comes up?

So once I got back home I did. "Fair Isle knitting patterns" hmm...Wikipedia page for starters...what on *earth* is that at the bottom of the page...? YOU ARE. FRIKKING. KIDDING ME!!!!!!!

"See also: Gumbys"

oh ffs

I am so sorry that needs must make me mention Monty Python yet again, but here we are. And we must mention them, because this link is just too...unbelievably, deliciously good.

If you aren't familiar with the Monty Python catalogue, and don't recognize the mention of Gumbys, they were a set of characters that dressed and spoke in a certain way but the main points to take away were they wore woolen vests in the Fair Isle knitted style and their catch-phrase was - wait for it - "My brain hurts!"

I think we've heard that somewhere before?

CROWLEY: When you first arrived, you said you were here because they were planning to do 'Something Terrible' to you. So you remembered it then. Remember it now. GABRIEL: It hurts to remember. My head isn't built for that.

Right. Now we've got that out of the way...back to the serious stuff.

The colours used in the vest are not your typical angel colours. There is a base of angelic off-white and there are some bits of purple for his royalty around the shoulder area - sometimes you need to look carefully for it. Otherwise it is dominated by vintage shades of red and green. Well. Who's an agent of change driven by love, then?

The horizontal stripe pattern is partly to remind us of the classic biblical robes with stripes that ran along them, much like the style of Crowley's black and red robe in the Job minisode, but is also part of the traditional Fair Isles pattern work. And each row only has two colours, but up around the shoulder area we do see purple start to sneak in as a third colour.

On to the incorporated symbols! I'm going to go from bottom to top.

On the lowest two we feature Crowley and Aziraphale. We have Crowley's demon satyr tail from the Good Omens logo on the lowest stripe - the double-headed arrow.

The next stripe is Aziraphale, with a variation of the classic OXO pattern ("hugs and kisses.") The X is meant to represent his angel wings, and the O is modified to mimic the "o" with a halo in the Good Omens logo. I've highlighted all three in the image on the right.

The third row up is a Sumerian Star pattern that represents one of the flowers associated with Gabriel, the lily. They are supposed to represent the purity of Mary, mother of Jesus, as he had one in his hand when he visited her during the Annunciation.

The row above that is what I believe to be a Byzantium pattern, and is included to show "an Angel's ability to be timeless."

The next three rows are still under a bit of a question mark as I write this. I plan to come back and edit it in if I find the answer.

The bottom of the three is the Duke of Buccleuch pattern, "to celebrate the long and necessary contribution that the cottage industry of hand knitted items."

The middle one - ? (perhaps you, the reader, know? It looks like a spiralling ribbon if I stand back, but that isn't sparking any connections, either.)

Edit: @noneorother tells me in a reblog (below) that this pattern represents the shoelace from the magic incantation Aziraphale uses "Banana Fish Gorilla Shoelace." So it is ribbon-like! This then points to the Second Coming, as it the shoelace references the end of the book, and the last paragraph of the book references Yeats poem "The Second Coming" as well as the novel 1984. To me it is then also telling us there is a cycle occurring, or a cycle that needs to be renewed. This fits in with some other clues other meta-writers have been picking up.

Edit 2: Turns out none of that was correct - I heard back from the creator herself and it's actually the double-ended satyr tail pattern again! It just seems to make a bit of an illusion of a ribbon or shoelace.

The pattern below is a modified OXO pattern.

The top one looks like two rams horns facing each other. A hollowed out rams horn can be used as a trumpet, and is known as a shofar in Jewish religion. Gabriel was traditionally known to carry a trumpet.

The ancient meander pattern would be recognized by most people, included as another classic timeless pattern found all over the world. For some it symbolizes eternity and endless flow.

The wheels here appear to be Michael's ophanim wheels, that would have eyes around the rims.

The hourglass is to remind us that time is running out. Memento mori - "Remember that you die." It is a major theme in both series.

Right up high, just before we lose the rest of the vest inside the overcoat, we get a glimpse of a large diamond-shaped icon. I wonder if this is another stylized set of angel wings, like we saw in the Job minisode on Aziraphale's golden collar.

To finish off the outfit, he is wearing dark gray trousers with sneakers! I'm sure that's so he could keep sneaking up on Aziraphale in the shop, haha. His shirt seems a little too large for him and the tie is knotted too high and is not settled along his centerline. It's all at odds with his previous neat and sharp appearance as Supreme Archangel Gabriel.

I'd like to say a big thank you to @aduckwithears for helping me with information on the vest and finding the creator's other social media sites. You can see their two posts about it here and here.

[bakathief]

„On our way to the US someone was killed in a toilet cabin of the plane but my best friend of who is still in high school solved it, because I explained to him how bras work. When we arrived in NY my friend‘s mom did some crazy stunt that had her oldtimer only drive on 2 wheels for a while while my friend used that opportunity to drag me halfway through an window of a moving car at high speed. However, just when we thought the police caught that crazy stunt it turned out the police inspector was an actress, perfectly disguised as the police chief. Crazy! Then we went to the play at night and after witnessing some private drama I almost got smashed by stage equipment. That was something. Then it was time for the play but the lead actor got shot midair so the play got stopped and my friend got to solve another murder case.

Anyway, on our way home we got almost assaulted by a different serial killer we ran into but he spared us because we saved his life. I passed out somewhere along the way because of a fever.“

— Ran Mouri telling her family about her first trip to the US

[jediofbooksandsnacks]

This is from something saved in my drafts under the title Only An Afternoon. It is, generally speaking, a hot fictional mess but! I decided to post a snippet to celebrate Kogami's birthday. It happens during when he goes to pick up Akane from the detention center and deliver her to the CID. I mean, what must have been going through his head? Delivering her to the place he had escaped from? Just: *chef's kiss*

Enjoy your fictional cake my fictional blorbo.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It was 7 minutes to 11 am when Kogami arrived at the detention center.

The SUV was a loaner from SAD, a car that boasted all of the tech from a few years ago. The self-driving setting often didn’t work. The AC was perpetually on the fritz. Plus, the radio was stuck on one Sibyl-approved station that played the greatest hits of the past three decades, all padded by fill chatter from the DJ. At least the radio had distracted him as he drove over. When he parked, he clicked it off before he shut down the car. Silence surrounded him, both a blessing and a curse.

It was probably a curse. Consider this: a former Inspector turned Enforcer turned renegade turned SAD agent picking up his own former Inspector turned psycho-prisoner turned statutory Enforcer for delivery to the CID. Irony lived in there, somewhere.

A tug on the handle popped the car door open. Sunlight bathed him in midday gold as he got out, the discord both startling and astute. A breeze tugged at his hair, the same breeze carrying the falling flowers from the sakura trees down to their doom. Nature mocking her with its own beauty as the MWPSB doors inevitably swung shut behind her. Another irony. Soon he could start a collection.

The door closed with a thunk. The fingers of his right hand twitched for a cigarette.

Maybe just one. Hell, he’d smoked in the office, in his MWPSB room, even in her own car. Maybe it would calm the unsettled feeling in his stomach. No sense delaying it till later.

The one thing that held him off lighting up and sucking it down with determined gusto was this: Akane would know. It was dumb, but there it was. Gods, he was just like a kid back in school, not wanting to do anything to make his favorite teacher mad. Which said some fucked up stuff about how he thought of this relationship.

That door didn’t open until it was 11:06, and when it did—

Professionalism in an emergency was the whole point of his job. He’d helped crying children escape from a burning bus, taken action to aid troops advancing within a killing zone, hell, he’d even escaped his own CID captors in SEAUn. Yet, nothing had prepared him for seeing Akane come out of that hellhole and emerge into the shade of the detention center monolith.

He stood. His heart pounded in his chest. Goddammit it all to hell. He really would need a cigarette when this was done.

Brown eyes went wide when they saw him as surprise took over. There were no words he could think of at that moment. In fact, everything he wanted to say existed in the curve of the shadow on her face and was contained in her eyes. Finally, he said, “I’m here to get you.”

It was not the most gallant thing he could think to say, but this was not exactly the most gallant of situations.

Akane’s face relaxed into a smile, a smile thankfully not separated from him by a pane of bulletproof glass and under the dim lighting from the cells’ interior. Aware that he, too, was absorbing absolutely everything about her, he broke his eyes away. The pavement looked cracked beneath his shoes. “Sorry.”

“There’s nothing to apologize for.” A broad smile beamed across her face as she took the steps downwards, her hair blowing in the mild breeze. “I’m kind of hungry.”

“Is food all that’s on your mind right now?” The double entendre took a second to catch up, good god dammit. But it was a reasonable question, after all: the deal that had been struck, the machinations behind this, everything was so far unclear to him. Honestly, he’d give anything for a line into what was going on at the CID and save the sexual harassment call from HR for later.

Sunlight traced the lines of her face and was dimmed by her grin. Maybe it was jealous that he was there to pick up a more powerful force of nature. “Treat me to something.”

He had to stop himself from letting his mind wander into the gutter. As he cleared his throat, he reached for her duffel. “Yes, ma’am.”

[hephaestuscrew]

Favourite Fleet & Clara quotes from High Vaultage 

(Page numbers from my Goldsboro special edition, I'm not sure how they line up with page numbers in other versions. Spoilers for all of High Vaultage.)

p27: Clara had met Fleet only weeks before. She had just arrived in London and started work as a crime reporter, and pursued a murder case alongside Fleet despite his repeated objections, until he eventually conceded - as Clara had known he would - that they were making a good team, and furthermore proposed - as she hadn't a clue he would - that they go into business together.

p51: "There you are, Fleet. Where have you been?" / Fleet paused, made some confused looks between Clara and the room he had just left, and finally pointed at the door. "Isn't this the waiting room for detectives whose partners have run off? They were quite a few of us in there. Quite a lot in common." / Clara suppressed a grin into something more disapproving. "You're not as funny as you think you are, Inspector." (More below the cut.)

p70: [After Clara successfully sneaks into the Iron Bridge Club] [Fleet] should have known Clara would make it in. Her tenacity had been clear to him since she had first left the police roping at a crime scene of his. It was one of the things he admired about her, even if she didn't always check whether there was somewhere to land.

p76: [After Clara's business card strategies work on Cosgrove] Fleet glanced at Clara. She grinned back, eyes wild with pride, before tapping her bag and mouthing the word 'Posner'.

p116: [After Professor McCabe says “Top marks, Miss Entwhistle”] Clara beamed, and flashed her eyebrows at Fleet while elbowing him in the ribs.

p132: "Don't think you can shake me off, Inspector. I'll come with you." / " I'm not trying to shake you off. It's just late, Clara.” / "You're always trying to shake me off. Ever since we met. Despite my constant usefulness." / "I'd say occasional usefulness," replied Fleet, maintaining a straight face. / Clara, with some effort, twisted her grin into something approximating outrage. "Frequent usefulness, surely!" / "No, but I'll agree to "regular usefulness"." / "Deal.” / “And I asked you to join me in business, Clara. If I'd wanted to shake you off, that's a poor way to go about it."

p154: [From Fleet's POV] Clara really was the sort of person - indeed the only person he knew - who could find genuine joy and wonder in a building site.

p172: [When Clara fears for her life at the display of the Lanterns] She thought of her brother, her sister, her parents... Her ridiculous detective.

p176-178: Clara without her usual pep was almost unrecognisable. [...] Normally that sort of reply would at least elicit some playful scolding. Fleet grew concerned. [...] "Do you want to talk about it?" [...] " What do you want to talk about?" [...] He tried to think of more options. Not talking about things was Fleet's speciality, but for Clara this signalled a worrying malaise. Things were dire. He was going to have to resort to small talk. "Would you like to hear about my day?" A brief pause. "Yes," she replied, with a note of hope [...] Fleet remembered the mess he was in before he switched to the task of cheering up Clara.

p184: When he saw her, she noticed his eyes were shining with a rare zeal, and he appeared bursting to explain whatever he was thinking.

p187: Fleet had, after all, taken her under his wing, even if she did have to thrust herself there initially. She thought about the door plaque he’d had engraved with both their names on it as his way of inviting her to be his business partner – typical Fleet, refusing to tell her so much as his favourite breakfast food and then to go and do something like that. It was the nicest thing anyone had ever done for her.

p201: [After Fleet sees a magpie get electrocuted] Fleet looked at Clara, who thankfully had been facing the other way.

p214: [After Fleet falls into the frozen river] Clara, removing her cape and placing it over Fleet's shoulders 

p225: [Clara] had read several books on the subject - Surreptitious Sleuthing, Introduction to Ingression, Undetectable Detection, to name a few - but she always seemed to pick up more from her partner, whose years in the police had left him full of [useful tricks].

p235: [While navigating the Brunellian tunnels for the first time] "I still think my way is more fun." / "Escape, Clara. Escape and then fun." / "That's a promise, Fleet. You've promised it now.”

p259: “That's too much topiary,” said Fleet [...] Clara's eyes lit up at this rare revelation of a personal opinion from her colleague. “I didn't know you had such strong views on topiary, Fleet.”

p293: [When Crowe increases how much he'd be willing to pay them to investigate on his behalf] Fleet knew his answer, but felt he had to see whether Clara was still in agreement. He looked to her, only to be met with an expression of astonishment that he had taken even this long to respond.

p337: [After their falling out] Where do you even begin, she thought, let alone end, with someone you've worked with so closely?

p338: [After they squash the scone Fleet brought Clara as part of his apology] "You want me to eat an exploded scone!" cried Clara, stifling laughter.”/ “I think it says a lot if you refuse.” / “Fine,” she said, grabbing the bag, pulling out the crushed scone and taking an enormous bite. / The corners of Fleet's mouth twitched. Clara was sure he almost laughed.

p341: [Before they go into the Church of the Mechanical Man to look for Helena Evans] Clara smiled, and punched him in the shoulder. / "Ow! What was that for?" / Clara realised that in her excitement at Fleet's plan she had landed her friendly thump with rather more power than intended, so she clarified: "You're a good one, Fleet.”

p371: [After Fleet gets shot in the shoulder] Fleet thought he heard Clara scream his name, but he couldn't be sure. Suddenly she was next to him, checking his shoulder.

p371-372: Clara turned to Fleet. “Now I have an idea.” / “What kind of idea?” / “A terrible idea. Just the worst idea I've ever had.” / Fleet looked towards the distant exit, which could barely be seen beyond the fire, and then back to Clara. “I like it.”

p373: [As they anticipate an oncoming wave of molten metal] Fleet felt a sensation he did not recognise. Something like calm. Then Clara took his hand and turned him towards her. For some insufferable reason she was smiling again. He couldn't help but return it. [...] Fleet realised Clara still had his hand firmly in hers, and she seemed to be saying something at him that he couldn't hear. He tried to listen, but she stopped speaking, shook her head, threw her arms around him and hauled him down onto the ground.

p375: [When Clara won't tell Fleet whether she knew they were going to be saved by Helena Evans] “And you don't think this might affect how likely I am to trust your plans in the future?” / “Does it?” asked Clara. [...] “No,” said Fleet. “It doesn't.”

p381: Clara stiffened her posture, as though she might salute. "Archibald Fleet, I challenge you to a battle of business." / "We're partners, Clara. We're on the same side." / "A point for whoever solves a case first! More for trickier ones!" / "But we work together..." / "Let battle commence!" she cried.

[talesofsorrowandofruin]

Five Lines Tag

Thanks for tagging me, @karkkidoeswriting! :D

Rules: Find a line in your WIP (can be dialogue or not) that fits the parameters given by the person who tagged you. Then change one of the parameters and tag some people. Lines can be from multiple WIPs.

My lines:

a line about a building

a line about fear

a line about a drink

a line that is shouted

a line that includes a lie

These are from Mine Eyes Dazzle:

A line about a building:

He rubbed his forehead as he looked around. Wait, he recognised that white building with the clock built into its roof. It was part of the university. He'd been directed to a theatre somewhere around here when he was looking for Inspector Meng.

A line about fear:

Zhan had already left for the police station. Wei Yang felt a wild urge to run to him and demand he send out search parties. But that would require so many explanations. All she could do for now was wait, and hope. And fear.

A line about a drink:

Edward Hannay blinked and rubbed his eyes. He must have had more to drink than he thought. For a minute he could have sworn he saw Miss Billingham put something in a glass.

A line that is shouted:

"Seo!" It was never a good sign when one arrived at work to hear a superior shouting their surname. Yo-han paused in the middle of hanging up his coat. He looked at Inspector Meng warily. Not only did he not know what was wrong, he now knew a secret about the inspector's family that the inspector himself still didn't know.

A line that includes a lie:

"I'd ask you to stay with me, but my room is a terrible mess," Vasily said. He sounded strangely wooden.

Open tag! :D

[paintedgrilledcheese]

The inspection

(Ivan has to deal with a OSHA inspector)

Everything was pure bliss. Ivan twirled around the slick floors with the mop, as he dance to the classical music on the gramophone. There was no better way to do chores than with the sound of strong violins colliding with the loud brass instruments. An graceful and elegant battle between the instruments. Symphony No. 10 in E minor, Op. 93: II. Allegro. One that Ivan has heard many times before. He could feel his left hand subconsciously move to the position of the cords as if he was playing his violin along.

The music was loud and fierce, Ivan couldn't hear anything else. That is until the faint sound of the company's phone range, snapping Ivan out of his blissful state. He spun on his toes to the phone, holding the mop in one hand and gracefully scooping up the phone in the other. His hair waterfalls down to his side as he tilted his head.

"This is the RITHOTD, Head chamberlain speaking. How may I assist you?" Ivan asked, having perfected that introduction hundreds of time. His voice was soft and elegant.

The voice on the other end sounded high pitched and feminine. "Hello? This is Ms. Cheese. I work for OSHA. I uh... I been assigned to come inspect the RITHOTD work place. I don't know if I was supposed to come unannounced but I felt bad if I didn't give you guys a heads up about your appointment. So I'll be coming around at 3, be prepared." She spoke, unsure and unprofessional. As if this was her first day on the job.

She then hung up quickly, barely giving Ivan time to process what she just said. After a moment of realization, Ivan looked around to see what he needs to prepare and clean before inspection. He wasn't too worried. How could he be worried when he's in pure bliss 24/7? The music resumed, he glides over the wet floors as he continued to dance his way through his chores.

Soon it's 3 o'clock, perfect time for afternoon tea. No one else was at the base, at the moment. It was just Ivan and his music. Eventually the expected guest finally arrived. Upon opening the front door, Ivan found a small 4'11 women with big blue eyes and pink hair. She wore glasses and a orange vest with the words OSHA on the back. Ivan was a little taken aback to see he had to look down to make eye contact. Such small people.

"Alright it's OSHA INSPECTION TIME! You better be prepared!" She greeted a little loudly, his high pitched voice still prominent. This must be Ms. Cheese from over the phone. She tried to look serious but her big eyes were making it extremely difficult to seem intimidating.

"Prepared as always." Ivan replied with a hum and a smile, allowing Ms. Cheese in. Ms. Cheese has a glance around the entrance, carrying a sparkly blue gel pen with her and a notepad. She starts scribbling down some stuff. Actual words or not? Ivan doesn't know.

Ms. Cheese continued to scribble down her thoughts and observations. "Why are there firearms left out so haphazard for anyone to grab? This is dangerous for young children and workers. They should be locked away somewhere convenient and safe. Violation number one! Show me the kitchen." She scolded and demanded. Ivan felt some of his confidence shot down as they manged to already get a violation under 5 minutes.

"Ah- er- understood!" Now feeling awkward Ivan guided Ms. Cheese to the kitchen. She had a look around and smile in approval. Ivan took extra care and time working on the kitchen before inspection. He felt a little proud for his hard work.

"Hmmmm clean so far. You guys have a new fire extinguisher and the sprinklers aren't blocked.... but wait what is that?" Ms. Cheese turned her head towards something dead by the oven. Ivan's eyes widen, a rush of panic came over him as he saw the dead rat by the oven. "Can you explain to me why there's a dead rat here befor I give you a health violation?" Ms. Cheese demanded.

"..... Ah.... Must be one of master's-" Ivan cuts himself off, hoping the OSHA employee didn't hear him. The rat must have been one of Fyodor's. How it escaped it's cage, Ivan has no clue. He'll have to find a replacement from the sewers later. Ivan clears his throat. "Er, we were, filming! And we used that for... realism! No food is cooked without inspecting the area first." He lied.

It was such a obvious lie, anyone with two brain cells would have figured that out. But after staring at Ivan and back at the very dead rat, Ms. Cheese suddenly smiled. "Oh so it's just a prop! I see. Very well. This area has a clear pass." She goes back to scribbling on her notepad. She didn't even ask any further questions. It can't be that easy, right?!

Ivan blinked a few times in shock still, but who is he to complain when he just dodged a bullet back there. Ms. Cheese looked back at Ivan, after scribbling more, with a smile on her face. "May you please show me the bathroom as well? That area must be inspected as well." She politely asked, chewing on the tip of her pen.

Ivan though for a moment. The bathrooms were fairly clean, but he remembered that his bloody bandages were still hanging out the trashcan, since he forgot to change out the trash can. Ivan shakes his head, his hair long swaying side to side. "The bathroom is currently occupied! Would you like to inspect anywhere else, though?" He asked, trying to stall from showing her the bathroom.

Ms. Cheese chewed her pen more, tapping her fingers on her notepad. "Hmmm what does this company specialize in? I need to see the working conditions how the employees are being treated. You know, pay and wages, stuff like that." She answered with a shrug.

"Does terrorism count as a specialty?" Ivan muttered to himself before coughing purposely. "...Ch... Charity! We...- our leader- my master- is working to create a better world and also offers people a place to stay with better living conditions. His organisation is full of people he has helped. We work in return for food, clothes, etc. If we need to buy something, however, master is more than happy to hand us the money we need." Ivan explained.

He was trying so hard to not get this operation shut down or fired. He couldn't imagine being separated from Fyodor, all because of one little pink hair woman with half of a brain cell gave them a few violations. Then again she only gave one so far. But still, that's a lot of money already lost.

Ms. Cheese smiled, buying into Ivan's cover up stupid easily. "Oh how nice! I never heard of your charity work until now. It's so good to be provided for the unfortunate in a away that doesn't involve work place abuse." She goes back to scribbling on her notepad. Ivan had to restrain himself from laughing at the mention of non work place abuse.

Oh dear is she saw the true nature of this place for a second, they would have been shut down immediately. . The amount of times Ivan was allowed to whack his fellow coworkers with a metal tray was far to many. Not to mention the fact Fyodor was much worse when it came to his own men.

"Now may I ask you a few personal questions about the company? How do you get along with your coworkers?" Ms. Cheese asked curiously, still scribbling and chewing on her pen at the same time.

Ah yes, Ivan's coworkers. Most of them were tame and alright, though to add to the workplace abuse, he did kick a few down the stairs one time. Ivan smiles at the thought of his coworkers, all of them weren't bad. "I get along quite well! I often make them tea and things of the sort to bond with them." He answered with the same warm smile.

Ms. Cheese smiled in approval, continuing to ask more questions. "Great to here. Are your coworkers interesting in anyway? Any odd behaviors? I ran into one earlier. Though he's a little delusional and talks about birds a lot?"

Oh crap, she ran into Nikolai earlier?! When did this happened?! Ivan's smile became larger as he panicked internally, he would look like a mad man right now with his expression on his face. Stupid lobotomy, making him smile at the worst situations.

Odd behaviors? Hahaha that's so funny, Ivan thought to himself. If this place was anything it would be the jackpot of odd behaviors and suspicious activity. Heck Ms. Cheese is talking directly to the CEO of odd behavior.

"Oh, that's not our coworker, merely a friend of my master's. No odd behaviour here! We're all very sane people." Another lie he spewed, waving his hand dismissively. Ms. Cheese tilted her head to the side, pushing her glasses back up.

"Sane people huh? What about that Nathaniel guy who was pacing back and forth outside. He didn't look sane to me. Is

your boss providing any sort of therapy or

medication for this 'chairy'?" She assumed and asked suspiciously. She was actually starting to get suspicious. Looks like she has half a brain cell after all.

Ms. Cheese comment about Nathaniel made Ivan feel slightly upset. How dare she assume and offend one of his friends like that? Ivan frowned angrily. "It's very rude to assume he doesn't look sane, that's just how he is! >:(" Ivan defended.

Ivan then put a hand on his chest and proudly exclaimed, "And master does provide joy! I am actually one of the people master has made happy!" He said with pride. Glossing over the fact he had a lobotomy performed on him.

Ms. Cheese eyes widen and she held her palms up in a backing up motion. She didn't mean to offend Ivan or Nathaniel. "Oh my apologies. I was just concerned when saw his eyes. They seem hallowed and terror. It looked like he seen things." She starts to scribble on her notepad again, about to change topic. "So you said your master has made you happy? That is very good to see chairys like this can

provide resources and and joyful moods to the unfortunate without expensive medication or brain altering lobotomies."

She's so dumb! Ivan is crying on the inside. Girlie LOOK! Use your half of a brain cell and LOOK. How can she cleary not see the bandages around Ivan's head?! Is she blind?! That would explain the glasses she wears, but even those glasses can't even show her how oblivious she is!

It's so obvious! She quite LITERALLY look UP to have eye contact. The fact that she can't see his bandages just blows Ivan away from how dense this lady is!

Ivan starts to sweat at the mention of lobotomies and laughs nervously. "......Ahahah, of course not, that would be ABSURD. I mean-that's so silly, ahah wh- hah.-..imagine THAT." Ivan clasped his hands together and smiled. "Well! Are there any more questions?" He wanted to get this overwith quickly.

Ms. Cheese continued to chew her pen. "Two last things. I still haven't inspected the

bathrooms yet and I would like to meet your boss. Nothing to serious in meeting him. I just want to know what drives him to have such a wonderful charity like this :D But if he's not here or too busy that's alright." She was buying into all of it.

Oh thank God this inspection was almost over. Ivan has singlehandedly dodged 29492 bullets in less of a hour, he was quite impressed that he's managed to prevent the organization from being shut down so far. Fyodor better be proud of his hard work, if not at least Pushkin should.

"Unfortunately master is a very busy man, but his religious views drive him to be a good man! He believes people should not suffer from sin, and therefore he saves them." Ivan said with a smile, not mentioning that fact how Fyodor "frees" his victims from suffering and sin. "As for the bathrooms, right this way."

Ivan guides Ms. Cheese over to the bathroom, all sparkly clean from his chores earlier. Ivan stood in front of the trash can to hid his bloody used bandages from Cheese's sight while she gives the room a top down inspection.

Everything was looking good and she hum and approval. "Hmmm everything seems to be in fine and clean condition. All the cleaning products aren't so easily accessible and nothing seems to be broken. Oh but what's this?"

Out of EVERYTHING she could have spotted, of course she nitpick a tiny wet spot on the floor that wasn't dry yet from the mopping. "Tsk tsk tsk. No caution wet floor sign? Employees can easily slip and that wouldn't be good for the medical bill if they break their back. Tsk tsk tsk. Violation." She shook her head and scribbled down a violation on her not pad.

Ivan threw his hands up and huffed before collecting his cool and smiling again. "Oh, forgive me, I was rushing to prepare

everything for when you come along. I must have missed it, but I clean everything

thoroughly!" He defended.

"Hmmm well put a sign there next time." She replied before scribbling more for a long time. After a time of "deep thinking", even though there isn't a single thought behind those eyes, she turned back to Ivan.

"Alright, that concludes this company's 6 month OSHA inspection. So far this place seems to be standing well and only two violations, but nothing too bad to be shut down. I give this the stamp of approval." She torn off the page of her notepad and stamped it with a green approval stamp. She gave it to Ivan and who took it with curiosity.

It was all chicken scratch! He couldn't read any of this! But who was he to complain when they manged to pass. Ms. Cheese turned her heel to walk away, yelling out as she exits the building. "I shall be off! And next time I'll show up unexpectedly. Farewell, take care. Lock those fire arms away and buy some wet floor signs."

Just like that she was gone. "Farwell!" Ivan waved goodbye with a smile. But the moment that door closed her turned around and clutched his chest tightly, finally letting his guard drop and de-stressing. "How was that so easy?" He mumbled to himself before laying on the couch.

It's been less than a hour, but it felt like a whole day went by. He was exhausted. Perhaps he'll order take out for the men tonight.

The End.

[yandere-collections]

Since the first post about it, I am now eternally rotating Yandere Town in my mind. Lately it’s imagining how the townspeople would react if the reader was a complete recluse. There’d be clandestine watchtowers in place with a view of the readers home, and any time they left people got some equivalent of an amber alert that their darling is out and about, so be on your best behavior! Everyone working double time to make every second count should they encounter the reader, tripping over themselves to try and make enough of an impression that they just might come out more often.

The more desperate folks get dressed in blue collar outfits and pass themselves off as inspectors who “just need to take a quick look around, make sure everything’s in order.” The reader is equal parts relieved that the town takes citizen safety so seriously and confused as to why five people have showed up in the last three days, not to mention that they seem more interested in chatting than doing any work. The local government cracks down on that pretty quickly, but a few people still slip through the cracks.

Once they all get some idea of what the reader enjoys, the events going on in town get weirdly specific. Checked out a lot of horror books at the library? Big horror movie night in the gym! Spotted shopping around the farmers market? Time for the local festival with plenty of fresh pies and homemade treats! Frequently stop by a certain restaurant? What do you know, they actually throw this big feast in town every year! Crazy how it just happens to fall on the readers birthday, huh? They wouldn’t want to miss it, would they?

And since I’m a big fan of darlings who can read between the lines, the reader catching on that people are acting weird and leaving the house even less than they did when they first arrived, and turning away any unexpected visitors, even if they really are there to check on the house. Unrest sweeping through the streets because nobody’s seen them for the past month, and the leaders have to resort to drastic measures to keep the peace. The fireman chalk up the destruction of the readers entire house to be a horrible case of flawed wiring, they really should’ve let someone check that out. Nowhere to stay? Don’t be silly! Anyone in town would be happy to take them in until they have somewhere new to stay. It’s a close knit town, so expect plenty of guests! Surely the reader won’t mind, they can’t dictate such things in someone else’s home, right? :)

(Apologies for the long-ish ask, it’s just been rotting my brain and I needed to get it all out of my system. Love the stories, love you, have a wonderful day.)

YES YES YES!!! You have reached into my mind and took my exact thoughts to the point where I don't actually have much to add to this.

I definitely think being a recluse would lead to more yanderes invading your privacy, ironically enough. If they can't come in for inspections, your "neighbors" offer to renovate and maintain your home. New paint, gardening, one of them even offered to start digging a hole in your backyard to put in a pool (no ulterior motives here! they totally aren't hoping to catch you in a bathing suit on the dozens of cameras surrounding your house). While you may be missing some things and you're pretty sure you have less locks on your windows now, you can't deny how much nicer the house looks. Hopefully you don't get too attached because, like you said, something bad may happen if you spend too much time inside. They won't resort to burning it down unless they're really desperate. Most of the time, a burst sewer line or power outage is enough. Maybe the utility company will shut off your water, forcing you to stay at a friend's for a while.

Never apologize for long asks! It's a genuine delight to see how excited people get about my writing <3

[experthiese]

my first one is messy and honestly not the way I'd want it, so here's my shot at a public vs. private information post, version two.

"but pluto, where does my muse fall on this?"

I don't know! I don't write your muse! realistically speaking, even lupin's canon can't even seem to keep itself consistent with what's known and who by, so I'm not really all that fussed about how you choose to interpret this list. go with whatever feels right, and I'll play along accordingly.

so, let's get started!

PUBLIC.

He is the grandson of Arsène Lupin, phantom burglar of France.

He is the son of Lupin II, attempted founder of the Lupin Empire.

Like his predecessors, Lupin III is a master thief who targets valuable items from all across the world. He's a household name, and even has official merchandise (including the infamous plushie claw machines).

He's affiliated with what's informally known as the Lupin Gang: his 'inner circle' of friends. The current active members are Jigen Daisuke, Goemon Ishikawa XIII, and thieftress Fujiko Mine. She's more of an independent force, and is just as likely to betray Lupin and co. as she is to aid them. More members may be present, as dependent on verse and muse connections.

His eternal rival is Inspector Koichi Zenigata of the ICPO. Zenigata is the only person able to consistently get close to Lupin, and has managed to capture and detain him over one hundred times. The issue, of course, is that Lupin has been able to break out over a hundred times.

He's polyamorous and can often be found surrounded by short-term lovers whenever he's out spending his heist gains. He makes no attempt to hide this or deceive anyone: he's poly, not a cheater.

He's a polyglot, able to speak as fluently as a native regardless of where in the world he travels. Despite French and Japanese being his mother languages, he has no noticeable accent when speaking outside of them. Lupin also knows a select handful of dead and computer languages.

He's a master of disguise, able to forge documents as the need arrives and change his entire appearance at will. He can fake scars, injuries, identifying marks such as birthmarks or tattoos, and adopt the face, voice and mannerisms of anyone he pleases. His masks do have tells, however: such as not showing sweat after a period of exercise, while real skin would.

His chosen weapon is a Walther P-38, kept holstered against his chest.

There's a tongue-in-cheek saying that, for a Lupin, walls and gates and security systems simply do not exist. Many believe them able to get anywhere and everywhere, regardless of any preventative measures attempted. While this isn't entirely true, it is exceedingly difficult to keep Lupin out of somewhere, with even supposedly 'top security' buildings having been compromised more times than I care to count.

He was married to Rebecca Rossellini, Italian heiress, model, actress, and general celebrity.

He was the star of the Lupin Game online phenomenon, where he was tracked day and night by drone cameras, whose footage was live-streamed across the internet. People were encouraged to take photographs or video clips if they saw him.

SEMI-PUBLIC.

His calling cards lay out the rules of his heist. He will appear on the date and time listed, and he will leave empty-handed if he's unable to complete his theft before the end time listed on the card. The heist's no fun if there's no game involved.

Lupin doesn't kill unprovoked. That's one of the rules of his game. Taking another's life only becomes an option once they cross the line and endanger the lives of himself or his friends. Under all other circumstances, he'll always shoot to disarm first.

Not only does Lupin have copycat thieves aiming to impersonate his crimes, but this no-killing rule is one of the biggest copycat downfalls, often being the thing that gets them discovered. Thief he may be, but Lupin has a strict code of ethics that both he and Zenigata are very well acquainted with.

He has an IQ of 300, and can temporarily raise it to 301. He's incredibly intelligent, far more than he's often given credit for, but prefers to hide it behind a silly and easily underestimated persona.

His marriage to Rebecca wasn't his first, nor his last. However, the only real 'love match' was his attempt to settle down with Fujiko, while ultimately failed and lead to a separation. All other marriages are used as a means to an end, a way to get himself closer to whatever treasure he's aiming to steal.

He was the star of dark web phenomenon Happy Death Day, where people would bet on the date Lupin would die. This inevitably ended up attracting prominent assassins who would compete to kill Lupin on their predicted date, and after a particularly large confrontation, most of these competing players have been declared dead.

He's AMAB, just androgynous enough that many databases find it difficult to make a definitive decision one way or the other. As a result, this field is often left marked inconclusive.

He's bisexual, and appreciates pretty faces of all genders. His love for womanising and vocal adoration for his beloved Fujicakes just tend to overshadow the times he pursues everyone else.

SEMI-PRIVATE.

He stayed in France for the early years of his childhood and was raised within his grandfather's sprawling Paris estate. Arsène taught him the ways of Lupin family thievery from the moment he could stand, and he had already mastered several of its skills by the time he was able to write.

He attended the later years of elementary and early years of Junior high school in Tokyo, Japan. However, he left the system before graduating.

He targeted dark web drugs trafficking and money laundering giant Marco Polo in an online heist, draining their crypto wallet and making off with millions in BitMoney currency. He was also involved in the arrest of its three executives: Chuck Glay (Peekaboo), Kunal Robinson (Chap Tip) and Sonia Boutella (MooMoo).

He can pilot any vehicle, be it for land, sea or sky. It's safe to assume that he owns at least one mode of transport for each, and tends to favour cars, submarines and planes respectively.

He's been declared dead many times. One time 'Lupin' was even publicly hanged, though this was later revealed to be a clone. Lupin himself had no hand in the clone's creation.

He has chapodiphobia: a fear of octopi. This fear extends out to squid, cuttlefish and anything else under the cephalopod umbrella.

He's... somewhere under the nonbinary label. Most likely genderfluid, though he lacks the vocabulary to express this (nor does he have much desire to explore / pin himself down to any particular label).

His marriage with Fujiko ended poorly, and left a rift between them for some time. While she was the one to actually leave, a lot of their inner conflict was a result of Lupin and his discomfort at being truly transparent, even to her.

PRIVATE.

He has connections to the Grand Duchy of Cagliostro thanks to his efforts to save its ruler, Clarisse, from an unwanted marriage.

He's incapable of dreaming, lacking the subconscious needed to activate REM sleep. This void was once said to be the consciousness of an idiot or a god, though it's impossible to tell what one Lupin is.

The only marriage still standing is the one with Onabes, an art collector. He's the husband of Lupin's Miss Marie persona, making him Onabes' wife in the eyes of the law. Lupin has requested divorce several times, but Onabes is yet to sign the necessary papers.

He's got an occasional telepathic ability, though this link has only been shown between him and Fujiko, and it only seems to activate in times of life-or-death danger. Lupin's aware of this ability, and once called it the miracle of love.

He has safehouses in every conceivable corner of the globe. Some are luxurious mansions with grand estates attached. Others are rickety wooden shacks held together by hopes and dreams and prayers, with no running water and a single flickering lightbulb. All of them are owned under false names.

All gadgets are handmade, as are any smoke bombs or chemicals he uses. Lupin's a capable scientist when he wants to be, an often occupies himself by engineering new little toys to try out.

[clumsiestgiantess]

I couldn’t help myself, I did a bit of writing with route 2 of this post

I remember thinking how alike the cabin my uncle left me was to something from an old horror movie.  When I first found the real estate photos, I debated even staying in the old place.  But when I arrived, I found it was by no means the decrepit little shack that it was made out to be — the opposite, actually.  From the outside, where the pictures came from, the wooden walls seemed close to decaying.  However, the entire interior looked newly remodeled; it was like stepping into a whole other house.  The only way to tell you were in the same place was by the view out the window.  The drastic changes between the indoors and outdoors is definitely jarring, but nothing too fantastical.  Uncle Terrence had probably been halfway through remodeling the place before his sudden death.  

His death…  He had lived right here before he died.  There’s still no news about his body, which was never actually found.  Technically, he could still be alive, but where would he be?  A few of his friends had searched for Terrence for days before they even called the police.  It’s been two months since then.  The investigator stated that he’d likely been wounded or killed while hunting through the vast forests that surrounded the tiny town where he lived.  Both the woods surrounding the cabin, as well as the known hunting trails, were searched, but nothing was found of him.  Thus the cabin was left in my possession.

The first night of my stay I couldn’t get any sleep.  I kept imagining Terrence’s ghost wandering around in the hall, but then again, I didn’t really have anything to fear if it was just him, back from the dead and slightly opaque.  Either way, the thought creeped me out enough to keep me up.  The following day, I decided to visit the small town just to get out of the house.  I’d driven through it on the way to the cabin, and it didn’t look like much, but I had to find some decent food that wasn’t just the snacks I’d brought in the car.  The inspector I called to evaluate the place won’t get here for a few more days, so until then, I’m stuck here.  

There were only three whole restaurants in the town of Stillness.  Yes, you heard me right.  The town’s called Stillness.  That’s one of the other reasons I believed the cabin was something out of a horror movie.  The first two restaurants in Stillness were bars, and the final one was a diner.  I took my seat in the diner, ironically at the bar counter, and was halfway through my first sip of coffee when someone sat down beside me.  Annoyance spiked through my nerves.  There were so many open seats; only four other people were even in the diner.  Why did he choose the one right next to me?  

“Hav’nt seen you ‘round before,” he said, nodding at the small main street through the windows.  “Stoppin’ through?  Ain’t nowhere much to stay in this town.”  I nodded curtly, trying to keep our conversation brief.  “I’m trying to sell a cabin up the road from here.  I won’t be here very long.”  “What!?  Which cabin?  You mean Terrence’s place?”  I blinked, my mind seemed to take an extra few seconds to process that the man knew my uncle.  “Yes, that one.  I inherited it after he died.”  The stranger shook his head almost angrily.  “Terrence ain’t dead!  He was killed!”  I flinched at his outburst while someone across the dinner laughed.  “That’s the same thing!” they called jeeringly.  “No it ain’t!” the stranger protested, “Someone wanted him gone, dangit!  So they went n’ killed him!  Buried him in th’ woods somewhere!”

For a long while I stared down into my coffee, not wanting to continue the conversation.  But the man’s accusations of murder were something I did want to know more about.  I’m living in his old house, after all.  “Why do you think someone wanted him gone?” I asked hesitantly.  The stranger quickly turned back to me.  “Me n’ the others went to check on him after we realized no one had seen him in a day or so.  See, he came into town at least once a day to talk with folks.  Anyway, we went to check on him, but he was gone!”  “I heard that from the police,” I told him, “but what makes you think someone killed him?  Did anyone want him dead?”  The stranger shrugged, “No one I know of, but someone did ‘else they wouldn’t’ve cleaned out all his stuff.  Guess they wanted the cabin.”

“Wait, none of the things in the cabin are Terrence’s?” I asked incredulously, “Are you sure?”  He nodded, “Darn thing don’t even look like his cabin no more, all fancy n’ new lookin’.”  My stomach lurched as I thought back to how differently the inside seemed.  “You think someone killed him to redesign his house?”  The person across the diner began laughing again.  “Whoever it was must’ve really hated Terrence’s decoratin’ skills!”  The stranger stood in a heartbeat, “Well why else do y’ think it looks different after he disappeared?  I’ll tell you why, you old sod!  They wanted him outa the way so they could take his house and everything with it!”  The other man got up as well, humor gone from his expression.  Before things could escalate any further, I grabbed my cup of coffee and slid out the side door.

I could barely focus on anything but the sidewalk in front of me as I walked a few storefronts down to the single convenience store.  Something eerie was going on, and I didn’t like it in the slightest.  Why would someone get rid of my uncle just to remodel his house and run off?  Unless they’re still in the house.  My heart briefly stopped beating.  Is there a legitimate murdrer in the cabin that I’m living in?!  I tried to calm myself down enough to find supplies for the week.  The other person in the diner was making fun of all the unnerving accusations.  There was a good chance that they were more fantastical than anything based on facts.  It was still entirely possible that Terrence was just remodeling the cabin like I’d thought.  The police hadn’t seemed too concerned about it, so I really shouldn't be either.  However, after collecting the bags of necessities I bought, I still had one thing on my mind that bugged me.  If nothing in the cabin is Terrence’s, then where did he put all his things?  Surely if he renovated it, they must be stored somewhere until all the work was done.

The moment I got home, I began searching every single room, closet, and piece of furniture in the house.  The unsettling feeling I carried only got worse and worse as I searched.  There were books on the shelves, fake flowers in vases, cookware and utensils in the kitchen, and various trinkets placed on countertops.  However, there were no clothes in the dressers or closets, no scattered papers on the desk, and not a single personal item left lying around — nothing that showed the place had actually been lived in.  My nervousness only prompted me to search harder.  I had to find something to disprove the unsettling fact that the entire interior looked staged.  I even checked the sinks, toilets, shower, microwave, stove — anything that might be a fake like the kind used in showrooms.  Thankfully, all the appliances do work, which eased my nerves at least slightly.

Finally, after hours of searching and nothing but a vague sense of anxiety to show for it, I lay down on the couch, exhausted.  At the very least, I was certain no one else was in the house.  I’d looked over everything far too closely to have missed anything like that.  Closing my eyes, I tried to calm down my racing heart.  Just as my pulse began to slow to a normal rhythm, a thud sounded from the roof.  I chose to ignore it.  Pinecones had been falling down and making small thuds just like that one, albeit the one just now sounded a lot louder.  And the room was suddenly a lot cooler now, too.  Confused by the drop in temperature, my eyes fluttered open and someone stared back at me.

I sat up with a jolt, eyes locked on the spot where the roof should’ve been.  A gigantic face peered down at me instead, looming menacingly over the entire cabin.  Everything around me seemed to shift as the giant moved closer.  A shriek escaped my lungs before I scrambled onto the floor.  Rushing back up to my feet, I made a mad dash for the back door, nearly snapping it off of its hinges as I threw it open and tripped over the uneven stairs.  My side and ankle tensed in pain as I rolled to a stop in the tall grass.  To my disbelief, the sky was barren.  With heavy breaths, I slowly rose to my knees, looking wildly around for the gigantic thing I’d seen.  It- it almost looked like a person, but no person could possibly be that tall.  

Thinking back to what I saw, I tried to picture what the house had looked like as I ran through it.  The roof was obviously missing, but there were random walls that disappeared too.  The whole right side of my vision had been completely covered by the giant’s body.  Shakily, I made my way to the front of the cabin.  Inside, the roof and everything in the front besides the floor was gone.  From where I stood now, there wasn’t a single thing out of place.  With cautious steps, I made my way onto the front porch and peered in through the window in the door.  Nothing looked suspicious besides the carpet, which I’d crumpled up by scrambling over it in my desperation to get out.  I worked up the courage to step inside, finding the roof and walls were all still intact.  So why the hell were they gone a few minutes ago?  And where did the giant go?  

The longer I stood in the cabin staring at all the completely normal stuff sitting around, the more confused I became.  Like a dream, the terrifying images in my memory began to fade.  I must’ve been so tired I’d started dreaming when I closed my eyes.  I’d been so scared of a nightmare that I rushed out of the house without thinking.  Or maybe the stress of everything strange was making me hallucinate.  There’s also the chance that I was just exhausted after the very few hours of sleep I got over the last two nights.  

Taking a moment to think through everything, I became aware of how tired I actually was.  I barely felt like opening my eyes, nevermind moving.  Shuffling over to my bed, I let myself fall onto the sheets, barely even getting onto the mattress before passing out.  I wanted- no, needed things to be normal.  The cabin has to sell or I’ll be stuck with it, and it definitely won’t sell if the walls start disappearing.  Hopefully the strangeness from before was just in my head.  Logically, it had to be.

Spurred on by the thought of showings and the inspector’s arrival, I busied myself with cleaning up the place after I woke up.  I’d pulled a few things down into messy piles while searching for something of Terrence’s the other day.  I scrolled through my phone as I mindlessly shelved books, until I heard a thump on the roof.  I stared down at the floor, refusing to look up.  My heartbeat pounded in my ears as the room slowly cooled and the rushing sound of monstrous breathing rumbled above me.  It can’t be real.  It isn’t-  “Hello?”  Before the echoing word even finished, I was out of the room.  My footsteps pounded over the floor without a single creaking protest from the wooden boards.  Strange, but I could hardly bother with it now. 

My hand was nearly touching the back door before a wall of skin fell in front of it, blocking my exit.  I veered off in another direction, too scared to even react.  My throat squeezed closed so tightly I was practically suffocating as I threw myself beneath the kitchen table, clinging to the single leg like my life depended on it.  The giant’s breathing came so close that I could feel the hot air from just above the table.  I shuddered as a slightly-too-loud voice spoke.  “Who are you?” they asked in awe, “Why are you living in my cabin?”  Their second question registered in my brain as something important, but before I could act on it, fingers as thick as my torso folded around the table.

The next thing I knew, the entire thing was torn out of my shaking arms and lifted high above me.  My throat cleared up just enough to let me cry out fearfully as my entire view was filled with nothing but the giant’s gargantuan form.  “No, no, no, no!  This isn’t real!  This isn’t happening!”  I hated how frightened my voice sounded, but could you blame me?  With nothing else to protect myself, I curled up into a ball on the floor, dreading the moment I would be grabbed or poked or crushed.  Tears began leaking from my eyes, and then the giant spoke again.  “H- Hey, I’m not going to hurt you or anything.  Here, do you want the table back?  Sorry I moved it, I just wanted to see you better.  You’re already so small…”  I yelped as something fell beside me with a thud, but it was only the kitchen table.  

Sliding shakily beneath it, I stole a glance upward once I felt a bit safer.  Startlingly blue eyes watched me worriedly from what must be miles above my head.  Their face was framed in glossy black hair that fell right below their chin.  I hadn’t really gotten a good look at them before.  They didn’t look like the ugly monstrous giants from kids’ books.  Without their staggering height, they might even look human.  After calming down a marginal amount, I remembered their question from earlier.  “Wh- What do you mean, your c- cabin?” I managed to squeak out, “I inherited it.”  The giant ducked down to see me way quicker than I realized they could move.  Gasping in shock, I slid over to keep the table between myself and them.  The giant shot me a pitying look as I did, which briefly lit a bit of anger inside me.  However, it was doused with a new wave of fear when the giant started talking.

“You.. inherited it?  But I just built it two months ago.  How did you inherit it?  From who?”  I gawked, managing to peer out at them again.  They were a lot closer, but they hadn’t tried to grab me, so I stayed put behind the table.  “You didn’t build it,” I said confusedly.  The giant stared at me, shocked, and it occurred to me that it seemed like I was challenging their knowledge.  “I- I mean..  You couldn’t have built it.  My uncle owned this place for almost twenty years before he died.  You couldn’t have built it two… two months ago.”  Two months ago — when Terrence went missing.  Oh god, is this the killer who wanted him out of the house?

While the giant took a step back to process what I’d told them, I made my escape through one of the empty spots where the wall should have been.  If I could just get out of the house, everything would surely fix itself.  Just like yesterday.  

I leapt over the foundation, expecting to land on solid earth, but my feet hit something much more slippery, sending me tumbling forwards.  I got a split-second view of an impossibly gigantic bookshelf before sailing over a sudden drop.  My stomach did somersaults as I fell downwards, head over heels, shrieking the entire awful fall which thankfully only lasted a few seconds.  I was jarred to a sudden stop by something warm and cushiony.  Without even knowing what it was, I clung to my saving grace for dear life — then I felt a beating pulse beneath my fingers.  

My vocal chords started to give out with the amount of screaming I’d done.  I nearly gave into the urge to jump out of the massive hand I sat in, but realized I would just continue my deadly fall.  All I could do was stare up at the colossal being and pray they wouldn’t close their hand into a fist and shatter every bone in my comparatively fragile body.  Slowly, I was brought up to the giant’s face.  “Woah,” they breathed, “You’re so light.”  I could barely even see their expression through my tears.  “Please!  J- Just put me back!” I sobbed, “I want to get out of here!”  I don’t even know where the hell here was, but the giant seemed to take pity on me.  With gentle movements, they lowered their hand to the cabin floor, and I finally got a decent look at what they were seeing.  The view frightened me as much as the giant did.

From the giant’s perspective, the cabin looked like a miniature replica of itself.  The front and the roof were missing in order to let people look into the house.  The interior was decorated like a showroom because no one actually lived there.  As I was shuffled off the giant’s hand and into the living room, I realized that the carpet was nothing but thick paper with an image printed on it.  No wonder it had crumpled so easily when I fled the house.  “What the hell?” I whispered, looking around the cabin.  Everything was the same, but different.  Even the things made out of the same materials, like the table and the couch, were still slightly off.  Their textures suddenly looked coarser and less refined.  “What did you do?!” I asked fearfully, turning to look back at the giant, “Why did you turn the cabin into a model?  Turn it back!  I- I don’t want to be here!”

The big blue eyes only stared down at me in confusion.  There was one thing I was more scared of then the giant, and that was being stuck somewhere with them.  “What do you mean?  Are you saying you came from a real cabin?”  “Of course I came from a real cabin!” I yelped, “I’m.. I’m not a miniature, if that’s what you’re implying!  There’s a whole town and everything out there, and I want to go back!”  The giant shook their head disbelievingly, “Are you sure it’s real?”  My heart faltered at the mere thought of what the giant was suggesting.  “Yes I’m fucking sure it’s real!” I cried, refusing to believe otherwise.  

At my outburst, the giant flinched, making me flinch in turn.  “W- Well, what’s the town called?  Wait.. does this cabin of yours have an address?”  I nodded vehemently.  The giant stepped away for a moment and returned with a phone the size of a small car.  They reached into their pocket and pulled out a pair of glasses, pushing them up the bridge of their nose before unlocking their phone.  “What is it?” they asked me.  “471 Buckhead Road,” I recited, having memorized it on the drive there.  I waited anxiously as they searched for it on their phone.  The pause in action gave me the chance to see what was outside the model cabin.  The layout of a monolithic bedroom spread out before me.  To my right was a desk stacked with books.  To my left was an apartment complex sized window with the curtains drawn.  In front of me was a bed that looked like it took as long to traverse as the road into town.  And all of it could be seen from the gigantic shelf the entire cabin sat on.  Anxiety made my eyes water as I realized just how small I was compared to all of it.

“Oh, here!”  The giant’s voice startled me from my thoughts.  “Does it look like this?”  A television screen phone was lifted to the edge of the miniature cabin’s base.  Pictured on the screen in almost blinding brightness was none other than the real estate pictures I’d seen on my own phone not too long ago.  “Yes!” I gasped excitedly, “That’s it!  I told you it exists!”  I don’t know why I’m so relieved.  I knew it was real.  “No way..” the giant mumbled.  “So, were you in.. a normal cabin in the woods until I took the cover off?”  “Cover?” I repeated questioningly.  “Yeah, the cover that keeps the model from getting ruined or dusty inside,” they explained, holding up a clear plastic case.  I glanced between it and the place I stood in.  “Y- Yes, I guess so.  I didn’t know what happened.  The roof suddenly disappeared, and then you blocked me from leaving.”  

The giant thought for a moment.  “I tried to stop you from leaving the first time, too.  By putting the cover back on so you were stuck in there.  I think that just lets you out instead.”  Again I was hit with another anxious wave of terrible realization.  The giant could easily keep me here.  So long as they have that cover, they could choose when to send me back.  If they wanted to send me back at all.  “A- Alright, then it’ll p- put me back in the real cabin.  Good.”  Try as I might, I couldn’t stop my voice from shaking.  

In a few steps, the giant was looming close to me again, peering over the rim of their glasses to scrutinize my expression.  I tried to put on a brave face, but it took all my energy just to stay standing where I was.  “You’re..  You’re scared,” they said softly.  Inadvertently, my gaze flitted between the cover and their face.  They leaned back upright and held it up, looking down at me with concern.  “Do you want me to put you back?”  I nearly cried in relief.  “Yes.  Yes, please.”  The giant nodded.  “Can I come back tomorrow?  I.. I’m still a bit confused about what’s even going on with all this.”  I didn’t want them back ever, but I also didn’t want to anger them either.  “If you swear you’ll bring me back when I ask, then yes.”  Obviously, I couldn’t do anything to back up my end of the bargain.  Nothing was keeping the giant from breaking their agreement — no consequences would come to them by keeping me here.  

“I swear I’ll let you go back whenever you want,” the giant responded.  Their determined look gave me a bit of hope.  They seem genuinely willing to help me, which is good.  I don’t know what I would’ve done if they weren’t willing to work with me — or what I could’ve done for that matter.  I took a shuddering breath as their oversized hand reached for my own.  “My name’s Casey.  I know things must look weird and scary to you, but it’s not as bad as you think, I promise.  It’s weird for me too.”   I had severe doubts about giving them my hand, but in the end I caved and offered it up, deciding it was best to keep on the giant, Casey’s, good side.  

I half expected their grip to be crushing; I thought I would hear my bones snap.  Thankfully, it wasn’t that harmful.  It hurt enough to be uncomfortable, but not enough to be painful.  “I’m-  My name’s Daniella.”  Casey gave me a half smile and released my hand.  “Here, let me put this back on.”  I ducked my head as the cover slid into place around the miniature cabin.  One moment I was surrounded by plastic casing, the next all the walls phased back into place.  With an actual roof over my head, I raced to the front door.  The outside world was still there, completely intact.  

“Oh thank god!” I gasped in relief, sitting heavily on the front steps.   I brought my hands in front of me, watching how badly they shook before pressing them into fists.  I wanted to cry, yell for joy, and vomit all at the same time.  I was safe, for now.  And I was almost certain that the giant had something to do with my uncle’s disappearance.  The two month timing was too perfect to be a coincidence.  Were they hiding the truth from me?  Or did something happen that they weren’t even aware of.  They did seem just as clueless as I was.

Whatever that ordeal was, it definitely wasn’t in my head.  Meaning the giant-  Well, actually, they must be a person living out in the world somewhere.  They’d found the real cabin on their phone, meaning it was somewhere where they were.  Which meant…  “Holy shit,” I said quietly, “I must’ve been so small!  I- I fell off a shelf!  I was in someone’s hand!”  I know I knew all that the moment it happened, but I hadn’t actually given it much thought.  I was too busy fearing for my life.  

“Why did I tell them I wanted to meet them again tomorrow?” I whined as I made my way back inside.  “I don’t even know when they're going to come back!”  A few scenarios seeped into my brain of me doing something in the privacy of the house, only for the roof and walls to suddenly disappear and reveal me.  You could see into every room, and the shower was glass.  “Shit.”  There was always the closet.

I really like this lil scenario, honestly.  Let me know if y’all want me to continue this!  (Daniella doesn’t, but it’s not up to her)

[inspectorspacetimerevisited]

A Peaceful World Somewhere In The Cosmos:

The BOOTH: Arrives

That Same Peaceful World:

[olderthannetfic]

Anon who sent an ask about old Edgar Wallace movies and particularly a conversation from "Die Gruft mit dem Rätselschloss" to you 30min ago or so again. I have taken the liberty to transcribe and translate (very amateurishly because my translation skills are rusty as fuck which is embarrassing because I had professional training about a decade ago lol) the conversation in question for anyone who's interested but doesn't understand german well enough. Sorry for the length!! I hope the translation notes aren't irritating and the formatting isn't either. Also my listening comprehension is very bad regarding the penultimate thing said. Sorry for that, too.

Still I hope someone else gets "inspector very playfully flirting with his beloved criminal" vibes here too, both from the dialogue and the body language, and I'm not just silly. :D

Original: <39:15> <Ferry Westlake leaves.> Jimmy: Wo hast du denn den aufgegabelt? Angel: Dasselbe könnte ich dich fragen. Wie geht's, Jimmy? Jimmy: Angel. Angel: Ich wusste, dass du in London bist. Schon vor deinem Anruf. Wo hast du dich rumgetrieben? Jimmy: Seit wann kennt die Polizei nicht jeden meiner Schritte? Angel: Stimmt. Ich weiß auch, wo du heute Nacht warst: im Hause des alten Real. Du solltest weniger ausgefallene Zigaretten rauchen... Jimmy: Ich werde unvorsichtig. Angel: Bleib so! Jimmy: Was kann ich für dich tun? Angel: Du wirst es nicht glauben: Ich wollte dich wiedersehen. Jimmy: Also kein Verhör? Angel: Kein Verhör. Jimmy: Du weißt, das liegt mir nicht. Angel: Ich weiß. Also? Jimmy: Ich war bei Real, aber mit dem Tod Massays habe ich nichts zu tun. Angel: Ich möchte mit dir über etwas ganz anderes sprechen. Über ein junges Mädchen, das Real nach London geholt hat, das aber nie bei ihm eintraf. Sie wird irgendwo in London gefangen gehalten. Ihr Name ist Kathleen Kent. Jimmy: Wie aufregend! Von wem? Angel: Willst du mir helfen? Jimmy: Du wirst langweilig. [Or "Das ist langweilig" or "Du bist langweilig."] Angel: Ich danke dir. <40:10>

Translation: <39:15> <Ferry Westlake leaves.> Jimmy: Where did you meet him? [Or "Where did you dig him up?"] Angel: I could ask you the same. How are you, Jimmy? Jimmy: Angel. Angel: I knew that you're in London. Even before you called. Where were you hanging out? Jimmy: Since when does the police not know every step I take? Angel: True. I also know where you were last night: at the old Real's house. You should smoke less conspicuous cigarettes... [May also be "fewer", german text is ambiguous.] Jimmy: I'm getting careless. Angel: Keep doing that! [Or "Stay like that!"] Jimmy: What can I do for you? Angel: You won't believe it: I wanted to see you again. Jimmy: So no interrogation? Angel: No interrogation. Jimmy: You know I'm not good at that. [Translations I found said "congenial" and "suit" but both don't feel fitting here.] Angel: I know. So? Jimmy: I was at Real's place, but I have nothing to do with Massay's death. Angel: I'd like to talk to you about something completely different. About a young girl whom Real had invited to London but who never arrived at his place. She's being held captive somewhere in London. Her name is Kathleen Kent. ["Invited" doesn't really fit the meaning perfectly but it's close enough I think.] Jimmy: How exciting! By whom? Angel: Do you want to help me? Jimmy: You're getting boring. [Or "That's boring" or "You're boring".] Angel: Thank you. <40:10>

--

[jedi-lothwolf]

Two Weeks of Whump Day 5: Broken Glass/ Building Collapse

Fandom: Across the Spider-verse

Warning: Character Death

Summary: what if Miles hadn't saved Inspector Singh? What if everything went according to the canon?

    Pavitr watched the building as surrendered to gravity. He watched as the fragments of the building fell around Inspector Singh and a child. It rested on the ground.

    From there everything seemed to move in slow motion. Pavitr couldn't think right. What Inspector Singh had died? What if the child has been killed? What would he tell Gayatri?

    Gayatri. Looking down at the bus he continued pulling it up. Hobie came over to help. Miles and Gwen got down and Miles started to ask her why she wouldn't let him help.

    After the bus was brought to stable ground, Pavitr ran over the remainder of the building. Hobie helped the civilians out of the bus.

    Glass crunched beneath Pavitr's feet. The shards stabbed into them, leaving blood behind. He didn't even know. The pain didn't register. As he walked the pieces tore more and more of his skin and went further into his feet.

    Pulling pieces of ruble from the pile, Spider-Man searches for the police chief and the child he had been trying to help. He could hear the child crying but other than that the sounds around him were like a faint ringing.

    "Inspector Singh?" He whispered to himself. As Pavitr removed one of the pieces a pained scream came from under it. Finally the two were uncovered. Other than being terrified the kid was okay.

    Inspector Singh not so much. His bloody body lay on the ground. One of his legs was crushed under a larger piece of debris and it appears a rode had impaled him. However the rode had been attached to the piece of rubel that had been part of the puzzle of the Alcomexe building.

    Hobie came over and took the child to safety, understanding that Pavitr had to take care of his Captain Stacy. He would help him through it later.

    Pavitr tried. He placed his hands on the wound and put pressure on it. Yelling for a doctor wouldn't save him now. The child" strained the Inspector, "is he okay?"

    "Yes, he is." Pavitr's voice faltered. Tears formed in his eyes and fell, being hidden by the mask. "Hanging there sir, please."

    "My daughter?" The question took Pavitr off guard.

    "She's okay. I got her. Sir, you'll be okay. I promise." Before a doctor could arrive on scene Inspector Singh passed. Pavitr knew somewhere in his mind but didn't stop holding on to hope. After all he promised.

    When Gayatri realized what had happened she ran towards her father. Hobie, who had given the child to his father and was trying to get Miles and Gwen to stop arguing about why Miles should have been there to help and why Gwen shouldn't have stopped him, ran towards her. He grabbed her from behind and she screamed. "Dad!"

    Suddenly the agreement between Miles and Gwen didn't matter. Hobie tried to help Gayatri but she wouldn't stop fighting him. She kicked her feet as Hobie tried to move her farther from the unstable wreckage. "I'm so sorry."

    "Let go of me! Dad!" Her voice broke the hearts of the people she was near. Hobie held her tighter. She sobbed and screamed, never letting up on Hobie. She hit strong, if this was a better time Hobie would compliment her on it.

    Doctors finally arrived on screen. Pavitr took a step back. He walked back over the glass. Looking down he saw the blood and looked around to figure out who had been injured. It was then that he realized the pain in his feet.

    Ignoring it he walked right up to Gayatri. Hobie was no longer restarting her but instead holding her as she cried. Pavitr tapped on her shoulder gently with the back of his hand as go not get any blood on her. "You're his daughter, right?" Of course Pavitr knew that she was.

    Gayatri turned around quickly, accidentally sending Hobie back. "yes."

    "I'm so sorry." He no longer could hide that he was crying. The sobs came through the mask that he desperately tried to keep on.

    Unsure if what to say Gayatri nodded. Hobie came over and hugged Pavitr. "You did your best."

    Pavitr broke the hug quickly and got on his tippy toes to whisper something to Hobie. "I'm going to go change, I need to be there for her." Hobie nodded and Pav turned to leave.

    Gayatri stopped him, "thank you for trying."

    "I just wish it had worked."

    With that he swung away. It wasn't but a few minutes before he returned. He ran up to Gayatri. Hobie finally let her go, her sadly smiling at him as he did. Hobie joined Miles and Gwen in aiding where needed. "I got here as quickly as I could."

    Gayatri could tell he had been crying. It looked like he was still trying not to. She grabbed him shaking and slowly the two sat down. As she sobbed into his chest Pavitr did what he could to comfort her.

    Moving from her position, Gayatri looked him in the eyes. She didn't say anything. Pavitr pulled her back in, not being able to look her in her beautiful brown eyes, "I'm sorry."

@promptsforyourwhumpfic

[multific]

Back Home

Greg Lestrade x Reader

Warnings: kidnapping, human trafficking.

"Damn it, Sherlock!" Lestrade banged on the table, knocking over an already empty mug. 

"I told you Inspector, once I'll have any information about the woman, I'll let you know, I'm working on another case which is much more important than some woman fr-" Sherlock stopped as he noticed the fire in Lestrade's eyes. He missed something. Of course, Sherlock would miss something, Lestrade was going on pure emotion, while Sherlock was not.

"What is the name of the woman Sherlock? The woman you deem to be so unimportant, what is her name?" Greg managed to choke out, but his anger only grew. 

Sherlock still didn't know what he missed.

"I can't recall." he answered truthfully, but he only gained a bang on the table as Lestrade turned his back to the man, holding his head in his hands.

"Her name is Y/N Lestrade, Sherlock."

"Your sister?"

"My WIFE." yelled Greg as he turned back to look at the detective. "My wife, Mr Holmes, has been gone for over three days, you know how that feels? And the worst is that I have to go home to my two year old son every day and not have her there." Sherlock now saw what he missed. He missed out on who the client really was. He thought this was the case of a cheating wife, but no, now he saw it all. And even he wasn't sure why, but now, the case on his walls wasn't so interesting. "So, I will ask one more time, where is my wife, Mr Holmes?"

"Have you considered... that she might be cheating?" Sherlock knew he was now on very very thin ice, he could see Greg clench his hands, ready to punch. "No, she is not cheating, just wanted to be sure." because Sherlock is an asshole, no other reason.

---

You knew you shouldn't have opened the door. You were soo dumb. Why did you have to be always so nice to others? Why did you have to be so naive? 

They could have hurt your son. But thankfully, they just took you. You tried to fight, but they were stronger, and they outnumbered you.

"You will be sold for a good price." is what you heard before you were hit in the head and knocked out.

Turned out, there was this group, that kidnapped women from their homes in order to sell them on the black market.

There were about five other women with you in that dodgy basement. Chained to the wall.

However, at that point, you didn't know who to trust. You recalled a case your husband had that he told you about when the men sent in one of their own to stay with the victims, pretending to be one. And you couldn't help but think one of them could be the same.

So, you stayed quiet and hoped Greg and his detective friend would be able to get to you quickly.

---

That evening Greg arrived home only to find the nanny and Tom in the living room. She left soon after Greg arrived, leaving little Thomas with his dad.

"I'll find her I swear." he told his son as he carried him to bed. "I love you so much and Mommy loves you too." Greg said as he kissed his son's forehead and put him to sleep. That evening, he gave his son extra kisses.

---

"To be sold?" Lestrade looked at Sherlock in disbelief as they made their way to a warehouse. 

"Yes, they are selling women as slaves, all types of women so that the police would be thrown off, now, while I'm not too sure who they sell them to, I'm sure they will have a list of clients somewhere, they can't be tipped off or they will destroy it." explained Sherlock and Greg nodded.

He was finally getting you back.

---

You were quiet as a mouse, some men even joked how you must be a mute and how it will cost them money as your value would decrease. 

But you didn't care.

All you cared about was Greg and you son, Tom. 

You needed to find your way back to them, but you still hoped Greg would be able to find you first. 

You couldn't possibly come up with a plan to escape. Every corner there was another man, with a gun.

But this really began to take a toll on your mental health. You were exhausted and you really didn't want to wait until any 'buyers' are interested in you.

Then you heard gunshots, people yelling and soon a team of policemen barged into the warehouse.

Everything happened so fast, soon a young officer asked you about your side of the story.

"Where's my wife? Y/N!" you heard Greg call out and you just ignored the young deputy and rushed to your husband.

With tears in your eyes, you hugged him close to your body. You could barely breathe, you cried so much that day.

But finally you were back home.

Holding Thomas again, you could tell he very much missed you. His hold on you never loosened as he made you promise to never leave him. And you intended to keep that promise.

Greg showed you the new safety features he installed into your home, so you could feel safe finally.

You were in the kitchen making tea for yourself when Greg joined you, moving his arms around you, holding you close.

"I missed you so much Darling. I'm so sorry, this happened."

"It wasn't your fault and I'm ready to put this behind myself. Maybe later, I will talk about it, but for now, I just want to get back to normal, with you and with Tommy."

"Of course." he kissed your neck, completely understanding, not wanting to push you. He got everyone locked up. He got the list and everyone was safe now. 

His heart was finally at ease as he held you close while you prepared the tea, not letting you go even for a second. You loved to feel his warmth around you, after the many cold nights in that basement, you were finally home. Greg kept on kissing your skin, his affections and regrets clear from his actions.

"I will never let anyone take you away from me ever again. If I have to burn London down to make sure no one hurts you, then so be it."

You smiled, knowing he was exaggerating but still loving everything he said.

"I love you Greg."

"And I love you, Sweetheart."

He turned you around and trapped you in between himself and the stove, pulling you in for a heated, long kiss. 

Oh yes, you were definitely home.

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~Masterlist~

ˇAO3ˇ

                DO NOT REPOST OR TRANSLATE ANY OF MY WORKS

[veryrealimagination]

"I'm not as stupid as you if you didn't see us coming."

Day No: 19 + 22

Prompt: "They never saw us coming, 'til they hit the floor." + "I'm not as stupid as you think I am."

Fandom: Murdoch Mysteries.

Medium: fic

Trigger Warnings: allusions to SA

SFW

The group of men were chuckling at the constable and detectives they had finally captured. George was struggling against the arm around his neck while fighting to get his other arm free. It wasn’t going well. Someone was smart enough to get a hold of his gun and use it on Murdoch. Not that it would have mattered much, he was hovering over Watts. With blood coming out of a wound somewhere on his head and a stab wound that they had cruelly ripped the knife from, the younger one was in clear pain and had his attention. The man had cloth against the chest wound, pressing down, but they needed a hospital. Or at least, his wife.

“Station House Four, brought to its knees,” the one that appeared to be the leader said.

“We should have done this ages ago,” another one mentioned.

Another chuckled, “Even with the moron not in attendance, we’re still gonna managed to put a dent into their force.” He kicked Watts, thankfully missing the knife wound but still drawing a moan. “Could have had more fun with this one. He’s pissed off a lot of friends of mine.”

“Maybe they’ll use Murdoch instead?” one of them suggested.

“Well, part of their fun would have been,” he muttered, gesturing with something crude. The mere thought was vile, but darkly fun to ponder. Some had the same with women that said no.

Murdoch frowned and looked down at the younger man. Through a small slit of eyelids, he saw a small amount of fear wrapped in disgust at them. When he saw the man looking down at him, he made himself calm down. He muttered something incomprehensible at the moment. The man looked over at George, who was vaguely murderous when they started talking as such.

“So, how are we finishing them off?”

The one with their gun angled it down towards Watts, wanting the easy way. Murdoch wondered if he would be able to force it up before the trigger was pulled. Crabtree wondered if he could trip one of the men into knocking into him.

Instead, a cane came out of nowhere and bashed their so called leader in the head. Another man was twisted around before a fist crashed into his jaw. The third with the gun and the one holding Crabtree were swiftly and quickly taken down. Inspector Brackenreid picked up the revolver that they had gotten in their hands. “One of ours from the armory?” he asked, carefully checking it.

“Yes sir,” George admitted, “Managed to grab it after I was distracted.” Three more constables were cuffing and hoisting up the men that they took down.

Higgins, who had delivered two wonderful hits, glared at one of them. “You called me a moron,” he said, “Guess I wasn’t as stupid as you thought I was.” He punched the man again, getting a groan as it hit a previous bruise.

Brackenreid watched in amusement over the second punch. Then, he turned back to the other constable. “Distracted, Crabtree?” he questioned.

“They got the gun when one of them stabbed Watts and made him scream to get our attentions,” Murdoch informed. Brackenreid turned when he heard the man talking and saw his last man on the floor and held the cane tightly instead of dropping it when he reacted. “Sir, we need a cart.”

Higgins nodded, “The attendants should be arriving quickly. The lockup’s already here.” The men turned to him with slight surprised. “I had a hunch when I heard them talking.”

“Good hunch,” Brackenreid said, “Lead the others in locking them up and processing them. Crabtree, make sure they can get the gurney here safely.” The constables nodded and went about their orders. Kneeling down, he pulled out his own cloth to switch with Murdoch’s soaked one. He checked the head wound himself before staring down at the younger man, who was barely conscious. “You’re on desk duty for two weeks.” He groaned and made a face, eyes not even open anymore. “Three weeks.”

“I am lying on the floor in pain with my life slowly draining out of me, even with someone trying to keep it in, and you’re punishing me?” he complained.

“Four weeks.”

“I’m not a child,” Watts mumbled.

The attendants finally managed to make their way down, forcing the men to stand up and get out of the way as they loaded the now unconscious man to be delivered to the nearest hospital.