#team rizzoli

[anthrofreshtodeath]

Bleacher Creatures

Jane sips a beer, looking out the giant garage window of The Bleacher Bar toward center field. She’d never have paid the 13.99 this Sam Adams tall cost, not with her own money, and would never have picked this venue for a back door deal, but the amiable young man next to her has covered both of their tabs.

Cash of course. He picked the place, when she made the call on the burner phone she said she’d turned over to evidence. Jane was shocked not to hear Paddy Doyle’s voice establishing their rendezvous, but instead Jimmy Ryan’s, telling her in his twenty-eight year old timber, heard the Dodgers might be an interesting team to check out this season. You been to that new place yet? The one they converted the old batting cages into? Gets real packed on a Friday night. Got all kinds of people comin’ and goin’.

Jane had hung up without a word. A grunt, maybe. No phonemes for sure. She doesn’t get the whole gimmick bar thing, and she sure as shit doesn’t get interleague play, either. The National League is the Senior Circuit no more and at 41-28 on the season, the Sox playing the boys in blue is like swatting an obnoxious fly in the muggy summer heat. But, she saves her thoughts about new wave gangsters and new wave baseball fans going soft.

Because this isn’t a social call. And as much as she enjoyed watching the Sox hang up a crooked seven in the fifth, it isn’t a baseball call, either. She sets her glass on the bar in front of them, licks hoppy foam off her upper lip, and crosses her arms. Two drunk kids to her right bump into her, apologizing on their way to the bartender, that’s how crowded it is. They press her into her acquaintance, though no one would know he and Jane are here to see each other with the way they stare out at the game and say almost nothing to each other. 

It’s Jimmy that speaks next. “What a game, huh?”

“I’ll say,” is all Jane says in reply. 

A couple minutes pass, a routine grounder off the bat of Kevin Youkilis, and then Jimmy mirrors Jane’s stance. “Workin’ hard lately?”

“As always,” says Jane. His question rings in her head the same way her grandfather’s voice would when he’d bring up bisinis, in that glorious, affected accent - they are now speaking of things she is not really supposed to understand. But she does. “You know, it’s the weirdest thing. I got a brother named Tommy.”

He stiffens. He nods. He polishes off his drink, and leaves the glass on the bar. “Enjoy ya night,” he gruffs, and then he’s off.

How can Jane possibly enjoy her night when she’s just told Paddy Doyle’s goon who killed Colin Doyle? She just served Tommy O’Rourke up to Irish Boston’s bogeyman on a silver platter, and the worst part is she could give a fuck about the consequences, professional, legal, moral, whatever. Maura’s safer for it.

It’s just… The Dodgers? 

What a shitty, shitty state of affairs.

___

A few hours later, and Jane nurses Irish whiskey while she tries to melt into her couch. She’d thought it fitting when she pulled the bottle down from the cupboard next to her microwave.

NESN postgame coverage drones on in the background; she hadn’t bothered to stay for the rest of the game - came straight home. She twirls the glass, watches amber waves slosh against it in between fiery gulps, pulls her lips tight against her teeth when it strips her throat of all the tears she thinks she might want to cry.

She doesn’t, of course; her drink wipes them clean, just like she wanted it to. She’s being a bitch about it - she’s got her badge on the coffee table in front of her and she frowns at it when it catches the light of the overhead fan. It’s right next to that damn phone. 

How many badges throughout BPD history have sat next to phones like this, metaphorically speaking? Not only is she dirty, she’s not even special. The part that angers her the most, though, is that despite the liquor and the moping, the choice is the same. She runs the gambit in her head over and over, and she picks the same thing each time. She tells Paddy when she leans forward, elbows on knees, forcing herself into dizziness. She tells Paddy when she closes her eyes and knocks her head against the back of the sofa. She even tells Paddy when she huffs, stands up, and stomps on the phone with the heel of her boot, crushing it and all it signifies.

The night before, when she’d told Maura that at least Paddy got off his ass and did something for his kids, she was talking to herself. She subsequently got off her ass, stopped waiting for brass to swoop in and save the day, and did something. For Maura. So why does she feel like this?

Fuck it.

Fuck it all. She needs to sober up and exit this pity party.

She slams the glass on the counter, goes into her room to change into some shorts and a sports bra. It’s hot as hell out, even at midnight, but she needs to run.

___

Jane avoids the Dirty Robber the next evening because she refuses to tempt herself with more alcohol. Instead she’s at Johnny’s on Main, an old diner close to her place, close enough that she can walk. And she did, despite the humidity and bone weariness of the day’s work.

She doesn’t look up from her coffee, fingers wrapped around the mug, when the bell over the door rings again, too focused on the stinging punishment of heat against her hands.

That is, until an unmistakable pair of knees makes its way into her line of vision. 

Maura. 

Jane’s head shoots up; Maura’s been crying. And now, Jane knows why her chest has ached.

She’d actually known somewhere deep down, somewhere unconscious, from the time she let her brother’s name slip into the Fenway air, though she’d hoped that, when Maura wondered aloud at Tommy O’Rourke’s body dump, Korsak’s non-answer as to who alerted Doyle would satisfy.

Clearly it didn’t.

Jane tosses a nod in the direction of the other side of her booth, flattens a hand on the Formica tabletop to ground herself in reality again.

Maura almost doesn’t take the offer, but then she drops into the bench with such uncharacteristic force that the vinyl lets out a heavy whoosh. “I’ve been looking for you,” she finally says.

Jane rouses herself, looks at her phone. Four missed calls, a couple texts. Shit. “Well, you found me.” Her voice is extra rough, firm. 

Maura rubs her lips together; Jane knows she’s trying not to cry. And even then Jane acts defensive, because she’s damaged and, hell. She knows what Maura’s going to say. Going to do.

Maura waits for more, but when Jane doesn’t give it, she sighs. “Only with the help of your brother. I didn’t want to believe you could do something like this,” she whispers, but so conspicuously she might as well have just stated it.

“Like what?” Jane looks into watery green eyes. Dares.

Maura, still dressed in her skirt and jacket from today, straightens her posture. Despite her upbringing, she’s a scrapper. Never backs down from a challenge. Jane has always liked this about her. “Helping… my father,” she spits out, the word itself apparently acrid on her pretty little tongue. Everything about Maura is pretty. Deserves to be protected. 

Jane tells her so. “I was helpin’ you.”

Maura balks. “So… so that’s it? You just admit it?”

“Clearly you know,” Jane says, “why keep lyin’?”

“I…” Maura huffs. “You and Korsak are not as convincing as you think.” She fidgets with the ring on her finger, the newest thing she hates about herself. Jane hates that Maura hates anything about herself. And Jane has been so bummed because Maura likely now also hates her. 

The price is almost too high to have paid. But at least this way, Maura is still alive, and even if she never speaks to Jane again, Jane gets to look at her every day. Safe and sound.

All thanks to that Irish gangster of a father Maura’s got.

“You don’t have to understand it,” Jane begins, “I don’t expect you to -“

“This isn’t you,” Maura cuts her off. “You’ve never wanted to… to hurt people.”

Jane sniffs. How is she going to put this? She wants to say that she admired the touch of Maura’s baby picture under the ice pick, that it pleased her, but she doesn’t. “You and I have been friends for awhile now, yes?” 

“Yes,” answers Maura. 

“You know a lot about me. But clearly you don’t know everything,” Jane counters. It sounds a little mean. 

Maura’s brow furrows like she felt it. “What are you-“

“I want to hurt anyone who’s ever even come close to harming a hair on your head. That’s what I’m saying. I wanted to kill O’Rourke myself for thinking he could hurt you. I wanted to kill Doyle for allowing you to become collateral like that. And not in any kinda rhetorical sense, either,” Jane declares. She holds onto Maura’s stare with her own and refuses to let go. Refuses to let Maura look away from what Jane has just placed between them.

“Did I ever even know the real you?” Maura asks, and it’s so fucking clinical. Jane thinks maybe that’s worse than sounding wounded. Jane thinks maybe Maura knows that.

“You remember when you called, right after Doyle let you go?” Jane asks. 

“Anything you want, I can get it,” Maura finally.

“That was the real me. Did it surprise you then?”

Maura takes time to think on it, and Jane allows it. Takes a long swig from her coffee. “Not at all,” says Maura.

“Then this shouldn’t either,” Jane replies. 

After Maura nods in assent, a long, tense silence passes. Jane watches her wave off the waitress. 

Jane’s next question, or rather the answer to it, may kill her. So, she gazes into the black expanse in her mug and hopes for the best. “So, you gonna turn me in?” She asks because Maura’s the most principled person she knows. Integrity for days and days. All Jane has is feral loyalty.

 But, Maura surprises Jane. “I would never do that,” she says. Jane snaps to attention again. Maura is frowning; Maura is livid, but Maura is here. And then, Maura is reaching out her hand. Of course Jane takes it. “But don’t make me have to consider it again.”

Jane nods. She will have to get much, much better at lying, because Paddy Doyle and the men who hate him are going nowhere. And in that moment, she resolves to watch a thousand interleague games, to break Maura’s heart a thousand more times, if it means Maura stays alive. 

If Maura holds her hand like this. 

[i-have-questions-but-no-answers]

I'm only two books into the series so far but if what I'm catching is at all true then the show def should have realized it was coming off waaaay gayer than they maybe intended lol.

[disneytva]

Rizolli And Disney Publishing Worldwide Team Up For "THE ART OF BOB'S BURGERS" For September.

Let's get this patty started! Rizzoli, Disney Publishing Worldwide and Disney Press are teaming up with "THE ART OF BOB'S BURGERS" slated for September 23, 2025. 🍔

The 256 page book is a celebration of one of the memorable adult animated shows in history with a look at it's behind the scenes.

📚The Art Of Bob's Burgers

September 23, 2025

Rizolli

Disney Publishing Worldwide

Disney Press

Disney Editions

Disney Books

Disney Hyperion

The jewel in the crown of the Bob’s Burgers library: the long-awaited official book on the creation and artistry behind the beloved Emmy Award–winning animated series. The long-running and beloved animated series Bob’s Burgers centers on patriarch Bob, who runs his business with his wife, porcelain baby collector and dinner-theater enthusiast Linda; with help or distraction from their teenage daughter Tina, who is obsessed with boys and horses; their son Gene, who is only afraid of snakes; and their youngest daughter Louise, who never, ever takes off her bunny ears. For this special book, the show’s original creator, Loren Bouchard, lifts the curtain to reveal every facet of the Bob’s Burgers world, from its earliest conception and the inspirations he took from his own life to the industry and magic behind the animation, and the intricacy and pathos in the show’s cast of characters. With insight from art director Phil Hayes and the animation team, as well as from Loren’s team of writers, the book explores everything from the creation of Ocean Avenue, Wonder Wharf, and the town to the writing process itself. The book is a treasure trove for fans, with hundreds of never-before-seen images alongside the stories, including photographs and sketches from Loren’s archives, animation cells, and objects from the tremendous archive of Bob’s Burgers collaborations. Moving chronologically from the creation of the show through its remarkable fifteen seasons, and culminating in the critically acclaimed movie that premiered in 2022, the book is at once a celebration of some of the most memorable television in recent history, and a look behind the scenes at a work of a comedy genius.

[rooks-dagger]

Three Things You Have in Common with Your Rook

Thanks for the tag, @jouskaroo! 💜

1. The ability to improvise: OK, maybe this is just my ADHD talking, but I do my best work under pressure, facing a deadline, when shit hits the fan lol. I work at a tech startup, so that means putting out one fire after the next, working with a scrappy rag tag team, and building the plane as you fly it. I like the chaos, the unpredictability and opportunity of it all.

2. Optimism and a can-do attitude: It could just be stubbornness, but there's something in me that really does keep hope even when things look bleak. I believe there's always a way forward, that things can work out if you stay in the fight. Sometimes you gotta bring your own sunshine to the day.

3: A love for mysteries and crime stories: My mom is a romance/romantic suspense author. I was practically raised on TV shows and movies like Castle, Remington Steele, Bones, Chuck, Rizzoli & Isles, Romancing the Stone, The Mummy, etc. So, I was predisposed to the whole NeveRook dynamic lol. I love me a good slow burn partners that fall in love as they solve cases and go on adventures together. It's cute!

This was fun! Gently tagging @kindlyfeline @augustnugs and @litchigaming if you'd like to play ���

[castawaycat]

Dragons Den: Chapter 1

Summary: (A Once Upon a Time / Rizzoli & Isles Crossover )

Detective Maleficent Mills thought she was chasing monsters—until she rescued a regressed ten-year-old girl from the ruins of a trafficking ring and brought her home to the quiet life she shares with her wife, Mayor Regina Mills. But when the child, Emma, begins to remember the horrors she survived—and the sister she lost

As Mal, Regina, and Emma try to rebuild something resembling family, the team at Boston PD races to bring down the man behind it all—Gold. With Jane Rizzoli Isles leading the charge and testimony from the bravest little survivor, the battle for justice becomes personal… and no one is walking away unchanged.

The rain hit the pavement in steady, stinging sheets—an unrelenting Boston downpour that painted the city in wet shadows and a grim, metallic sheen. Flashing police lights reflected off the slick surface of the warehouse lot, washing the scene in red and blue strobe.

Detective Maleficent Mills—Mal to those who knew better than to use her full name—stepped beneath the crime scene tape, her boots crunching glass and gravel. The hem of her black trench coat flared in the wind, and the scent of blood, wet rust, and rot hit her the second she crossed into the chaos.

“Detective Mills, thank you for coming so quickly.”

Chief Korsak, grizzled and grave, stepped forward, his hand extended. He wore fatigue like a uniform—deep lines etched into his face, his eyes bloodshot and underslept.

“You can call me Mal.” She shook his hand, a firm grip that still carried warmth. “My sergeant said it was urgent.”

Korsak nodded grimly and gestured toward the looming brick building. “I requested you. This has Gold’s name written all over it.”

Mal’s jaw tightened. She didn’t need to ask which Gold. She’d been tracking the trafficking network for over a year now—rumors of children, missing teens, littles snatched from system cracks. Girls who weren’t just used but discarded.

“How many?” she asked, already bracing.

“Ten dead.” Korsak’s voice cracked faintly. “One alive.”

Mal’s shoulders squared, her spine snapping into rigid precision. Her features smoothed out into a mask of controlled steel. “Age?”

“She appears around ten, but…” Korsak hesitated, rubbing the back of his neck. “We think she’s a classified little. Headspace fluctuating between one and three.”

That stopped her.

“A trauma regression?”

“Possibly.” He sighed and led her toward the ambulance stationed under a halogen lamp, its red lights casting ghostly glows across the pavement. “Or maybe that’s how she’s always been. We pulled her file. She was in the foster system under a known recruiter. Jefferson.”

Mal’s heart dropped. The name was familiar—in all the worst ways. She’d questioned Jefferson once and never forgot how smugly he folded his arms and smiled when she couldn’t prove a thing.

Korsak lowered his voice. “She doesn’t speak much. Cries when touched. We haven’t figured out where to place her yet.”

Mal stopped beside the open doors of the ambulance. Inside, bundled in a too-thin blanket, was the smallest ten-year-old she’d ever seen. Her blonde hair was stringy and matted, her skin nearly translucent under the harsh white light. Wrists and ankles wrapped in blood-speckled gauze. Eyes wide and glazed with terror.

She was sucking her thumb like it was the only thing keeping her tethered to this world.

Mal’s throat burned. She didn’t care that there were officers watching, or that the crime scene still pulsed with activity around them.

“I want to take her,” she said quietly. “My wife and I… We’re licensed caregivers. Regina’s qualified in that age range.”

Korsak blinked, visibly stunned. “You’re serious?”

“I’m not letting her go back into the system,” Mal said, her voice firm and clear. “Not after what she’s survived.”

There was a long pause. Rain slapped the metal of the ambulance, and inside, Emma whimpered softly.

Korsak handed over a folder—thick, tattered at the edges. “Her name’s Emma Swan.”

Mal held the file like it was a fragile thing, a paper life hanging by a thread.

The EMT stepped back as Mal leaned into the vehicle. She knelt beside the girl, slowly lowering herself to Emma’s eye level, voice soft enough to stroke air.

“Hello. Emma.”

The girl didn’t look up, but her thumb stilled against her mouth.

“My name is Maleficent, but that’s a mouthful, isn’t it? You can call me Mal.”

Emma’s eyes flicked toward her. Barely. But it was enough.

“I’m here to help you. The people who hurt you won’t ever touch you again. I promise.”

She watched the girl’s gaze flit to her badge, and she realized that some part of Emma understood what that meant. Safety. Maybe not trust. But something.

“You’re going to come stay with me and my wife for a while. We want to keep you safe. Do you feel okay coming with me?”

Emma didn’t speak. But she gave the smallest of nods, a tremble riding her shoulders. She kept her thumb in her mouth but inched closer—millimeters at a time.

It was all Mal needed.

A few feet away, Korsak had already pulled up his unmarked cruiser. “I had a booster seat installed. It’s not perfect, but it’s the best we could do on short notice.”

Mal stepped back from the ambulance, her coat already soaked through. Gently, she slid her arms under the child’s fragile body, lifting her with infinite care.

Emma whimpered—small, sharp—and flinched at the contact.

“I know, sweetheart,” Mal whispered as she rocked slightly to soothe her. “I’m sorry. I’ll be as gentle as I can.”

The buckle clicked around her. Emma’s arms were too thin, her skin mottled with bruises, but she didn’t scream. She didn’t fight.

She just shrank into herself, and Mal sat beside her in the back seat.

“I’m not tying you up, love. Just making sure you’re safe while we drive.”

She fastened her own seatbelt, showing Emma how it worked—softly, slowly. She turned her body just enough to keep Emma in view, not crowding her. The girl clung to the purple blanket Korsak had dug from a lost-and-found bin.

As the cruiser moved away from the warehouse, Mal reached into her pocket and pulled out her phone. With one hand, she tapped Regina’s contact.

The call rang once. Twice.

“Mal?” Regina’s voice, rich and smooth even through a speaker, calmed something knotted inside her chest.

“I’m on my way home,” Mal said. Her tone was tired, but steady. “We’ve got a guest. Her name’s Emma. She’s a little. Headspace one to three.”

A pause. Then Regina’s voice softened even more. “I’ll prepare the nursery. Just come home safe.���

Mal looked over at Emma, who had finally closed her eyes again. She didn’t look asleep—just exhausted enough to give in.

“She’s so small, Gina.”

“I’ll make sure everything’s warm when you arrive.”

By the time they reached Mal’s car, the rain had slowed to a whisper. Korsak parked close, shielding the car door with his own umbrella as Mal transferred Emma into the seat Regina had insisted on buying months ago—“just in case,” she’d said, a hopeful dream under her words.

Emma stirred, but didn’t wake. Mal tucked the soft purple blanket tighter around her tiny form and kissed her temple before moving to the front seat.

She turned on the baby monitor, angling the small lens toward the car seat so she could keep an eye on her. As she pulled away from the curb, Mal reached out and lightly touched the folder resting on the passenger seat.

Emma Swan.

Ten years old. Malnourished. Foster system ping-ponged since infancy. Marked as a “difficult case.”

No. Not difficult. Failed by every adult she’d ever trusted.

But that ended tonight.

The car rolled silently through Boston’s quieter neighborhoods, the rain now just a mist clinging to the windows. Streetlamps cast golden halos in the fog. Maleficent stole glances at the rear-view monitor, where Emma remained still—too still for a child, even one asleep.

She didn’t make a sound, didn’t stir. Just held her blanket tight and occasionally moved her thumb to her mouth. It wasn’t self-soothing. It was survival.

The house came into view like a lighthouse in a storm—warm light glowing from inside, gentle shadows dancing behind gauzy curtains. Mal parked and slipped out of the car, circling to the back door.

“Alright, little one,” she murmured as she unbuckled Emma. The seatbelt clicked, and Emma flinched awake. For a moment, terror flared in her eyes.

“No, no, it’s okay,” Mal whispered, lifting her gently into her arms. “It’s just me. We’re home now.”

Emma didn’t speak, but she tucked her head beneath Mal’s chin, clutching her blanket. Her whole body trembled with exhaustion.

The front door opened before Mal even reached the steps.

Regina stood barefoot in the doorway, wrapped in a soft charcoal robe over a navy camisole and leggings. Her hair was loosely pulled back, and her dark eyes locked onto Emma the moment Mal stepped into the porch light.

“Oh, sweetheart,” Regina whispered, her voice catching.

“She’s out of it,” Mal said, stepping inside. “But conscious. Korsak confirmed ten bodies. Emma was the only one left alive.”

Regina’s expression flickered with sorrow and rage. She stepped forward, instinctively reaching for the child. “May I?”

Mal nodded, transferring Emma slowly into her wife’s arms.

Regina cradled her like she weighed nothing, despite the girl being ten. She made a soft, comforting sound in the back of her throat as she rocked gently side to side. “She’s so light.”

“She’s barely forty-five pounds,” Mal said, removing her coat. “Korsak said she’s been with Jefferson. Emma hasn’t spoken much—just nods and whimpers.”

“I’ve got the nursery ready,” Regina said, heading down the hallway. “Everything’s clean, and the diapering station is stocked.”

Mal followed, watching as Regina moved with practiced calm. The woman radiated warmth. In another life, she could have been a therapist or a teacher. But caregiving was her calling—and every inch of her home reflected that.

The nursery door opened on a softly lit room. Painted with pale lavender and adorned with shelves of plush animals, sensory toys, and a reading nook, it was more than child-friendly—it was little friendly. Calming. Gentle. Safe.

Regina laid Emma on the changing table with care, whispering soothing words as she examined her.

“I’ll call Katherine tomorrow morning,” Mal said, leaning against the doorframe. “She can assess the injuries and help with any medical records.”

Regina peeled back the blanket and let out a slow, shaky breath. “God. Her wrists are—”

“Raw,” Mal finished. “She’s been restrained. Ankles, too.”

Regina’s fingers trembled for just a second before she stilled them. “I’ll clean everything again tonight just to be safe. No scents, no antiseptics. I’ll keep everything unscented for now—anything too strong might overwhelm her.”

Mal nodded, heart swelling as she watched her wife work. Regina wasn’t just comforting the girl. She was claiming her, in the soft, silent way caregivers did—with warmth and protection instead of words.

Regina hummed softly as she opened a drawer and pulled out a fresh pink sleeper printed with tiny strawberries. She turned back toward the table. “She’s damp. I’ll change her into a diaper and this sleeper. It should fit her frame. She’ll sleep more comfortably.”

“Do you think she knows where she is?”

“I think she knows she’s not in hell anymore,” Regina said, unfastening the medical bandages carefully.

Emma stirred with a faint whimper as Regina began to change her. Her eyes fluttered open and locked onto Regina’s face. There was fear at first—then confusion. And then something else.

Trust.

“It’s okay, little one,” Regina murmured. “I’m just going to clean you up. You did nothing wrong. You’re safe now.”

Emma gave a tiny, reluctant nod.

Once changed and cleaned, Regina picked her up again, cradling her against her chest. Emma sank into the warmth with a tiny sigh, her limbs too tired to resist.

Mal stepped forward, brushing a damp curl from the girl’s forehead. “She’s still in shock. But she’s responsive.”

“She’ll need a bath tomorrow,” Regina whispered. “A proper one. And food. We’ll start slow. Liquids first.”

“She’ll need therapy too.”

Regina looked up at Mal. “She needs love first. The rest can come later.”

They placed her in the crib together, gently tucking the purple blanket around her. Emma had her thumb in her mouth again, eyes closed, but her expression had softened. Less panicked. Almost peaceful.

The nursery camera monitor lit up on the side table with a soft chime. Regina adjusted the angle and nodded. “We’ll keep it on through the night.”

“She didn’t speak,” Mal said as they walked down the hallway. “Just nodded when I asked if she’d come with me.”

“She doesn’t need to speak tonight,” Regina replied. “She needs to rest.”

Mal followed her into the kitchen, where Regina poured them both chamomile tea. The scent was calming, like everything else about her.

They sat at the small breakfast table, sipping in silence for a long while.

“How are you?” Regina asked eventually.

Mal scrubbed a hand down her face. “Angry. Sick. She’s ten, Gina. Ten. And I could see the shape of every bone under her skin.”

Regina reached across the table, taking her hand. “We’ll help her. Like we always said we would.”

Mal swallowed hard. “I didn’t expect it to be tonight.”

“I did,” Regina said softly. “Not because of a case. Just… I had a feeling.”

They finished their tea in quiet comfort. In the monitor, Emma didn’t move. Her breathing remained steady. Regina checked it three times anyway.

At 3:14 a.m., a soft cry pulled them from sleep.

Regina was up first, moving down the hallway with practiced ease. Mal followed, bleary-eyed but alert.

Emma was curled up in the crib, her cheeks wet with tears. The blanket was damp beneath her.

“Oh, baby,” Regina murmured, reaching down. “You had an accident, huh?”

Emma whimpered and curled away.

“You’re not in trouble,” Regina promised, lifting her gently. “Let’s get you dry and comfy, okay?”

She carried the girl to the changing table again, humming lowly. Mal stood nearby, watching the soft ritual unfold—each motion full of reassurance.

“You’re wearing a diaper now,” Regina said gently as she worked. “And that’s okay. Diapers help us stay dry when our bodies feel scared. You’re not bad. You didn’t do anything wrong.”

Emma didn’t respond. But her breathing calmed. She didn’t flinch at the cold cream this time. She even let Regina dress her in another sleeper—this one blue with stars.

“There we go,” Regina said, pressing a kiss to the girl’s forehead. “All fresh.”

Mal stepped forward, brushing a thumb along Emma’s cheek. “Still hungry, love?”

Emma blinked once. Her stomach gave a tiny gurgle.

Regina smiled. “I’ll warm a bottle.”

They settled in the glider, Regina holding Emma in her arms with the bottle in hand. Mal knelt beside them, close enough to stroke Emma’s hair. The room glowed with soft night-light hues—lavender and moonlight.

Emma latched to the bottle slowly, carefully, and then more hungrily. The warm formula soothed her. Her body relaxed, one small hand clutching Regina’s robe.

“She’s strong,” Mal whispered.

“She’s still here,” Regina replied. “That’s strength enough.”

Emma finished the bottle and let out a soft burp as Regina gently patted her back. Her eyes drooped again, and this time, when she closed them, it looked like real sleep—not unconsciousness.

Mal kissed Regina’s cheek. “You’re magic.”

Regina leaned into her. “No. Just practiced.”

They laid Emma back into the crib. She turned slightly, curling into the blanket with a contented sigh.

Regina stayed another few minutes, watching her.

When they finally returned to their bedroom, Mal pulled her wife into a long embrace.

“She’s ours now, isn’t she?” Mal asked.

Regina’s smile was sad and hopeful. “She always was.”

The house was quiet when dawn slipped through the curtains, casting thin golden stripes across the hardwood floor. The nursery monitor glowed softly on the nightstand next to Mal’s side of the bed, displaying a still image: Emma, asleep on her side, one thumb in her mouth, the other curled into her blanket like it was armor.

Mal lay on her back, eyes open. She hadn’t slept—not really. Every time she closed her eyes, she saw the warehouse. The blood. The broken wrists. The hollow faces of the ten girls they hadn’t been able to save.

She turned her head to find Regina already watching her.

“I didn’t hear you wake,” Mal whispered.

“I didn’t sleep,” Regina said simply. “I couldn’t.”

Mal rolled toward her, wrapping an arm over her waist. “She’s still sleeping.”

“She’ll wake soon. Her stomach will demand it.”

Mal pressed a kiss to her wife’s collarbone. “You okay?”

Regina didn’t answer right away. Her dark eyes lingered on the monitor. “I keep thinking about what would’ve happened if you hadn’t gone last night. If someone else had taken her in. If she’d slipped through the cracks again.”

“She didn’t,” Mal said firmly. “You’ve got her now. She’s safe.”

Regina blinked once, then nodded, almost imperceptibly. “I just want her to know it.”

By the time Emma stirred, Regina had already warmed a new bottle and laid out soft cotton clothes on the dresser—clothes small enough to fit Emma’s malnourished frame.

She stood over the crib with practiced ease. “Good morning, sweetheart.”

Emma blinked up at her, dazed. Her expression fluttered between confusion and fear.

Regina reached in and smoothed a lock of blonde hair from the girl’s brow. “It’s okay. You’re safe. You’re in your own bed, remember?”

Emma sat up slowly. Her sleeper clung to her in the back—wet again. She looked down at it, frowning, lip trembling.

“Hey, none of that,” Regina said gently. “We’ve got clean clothes right here. And I’ll bet you’re hungry, huh?”

Emma hesitated, then gave the smallest nod.

“I thought so.”

Changing her was easier this time. Regina worked quickly, cleaning and powdering her with sure, gentle hands. Emma didn’t speak, but she didn’t flinch either.

Mal appeared in the doorway with a soft “Morning,” her voice honey-smooth. She leaned against the frame and watched the quiet miracle unfolding before her eyes—Emma allowing someone to care for her.

Once changed and dressed in a pale green shirt and leggings with little cartoon clouds, Emma was scooped into Regina’s arms and carried to the kitchen, where sunlight now spilled across the table.

Mal handed Regina the bottle. Emma looked at it with suspicion, but after a quiet nod from Regina, she took it.

It was still strange—watching a ten-year-old drink from a bottle—but neither woman commented on it. They both knew better.

Emma didn’t stop until the last drop was gone.

By midmorning, Katherine arrived—a tall, silver-haired woman in her early fifties with a no-nonsense demeanor and a surprisingly warm smile.

“Good to see you, Regina,” she said, stepping inside and shaking out her umbrella. “And you, Mal. I came as fast as I could.”

Regina led her to the nursery, where Emma sat cross-legged on the floor with a stuffed dragon in her lap.

“Hi there,” Katherine said as she knelt in front of the girl. “My name’s Katherine. I’m a healer. That means I help people feel better when they’re hurt. Would it be okay if I looked at your arms and legs?”

Emma gave her a long, wary look. Then, slowly, she nodded.

“Good girl,” Regina said, kneeling behind Emma to offer her support.

The exam took thirty minutes. Katherine murmured gentle encouragements the entire time. She applied new wraps, checked bruises, noted scars. When she finished, she looked at Mal and Regina with quiet gravity.

“She’s severely underweight. Probably hasn’t had consistent nutrition in over a year. Wrist ligatures suggest weeks—maybe longer—of restraint. The bruising on her ribs isn’t new, but it wasn’t treated either.”

Mal’s hands clenched into fists at her sides.

“I’ll leave some ointments for the rashes. You’re doing everything right,” Katherine said, patting Regina’s shoulder. “But she’ll need emotional healing too.”

“We’re ready for that,” Regina said softly.

After Katherine left, they gave Emma space to explore.

She walked quietly through the house, clutching the dragon. Regina watched her from a distance, noting how she trailed her fingers across furniture, stopped to stare at framed pictures, and jumped at the sound of the kettle whistle.

Mal came up beside Regina and rested a hand on her back.

“She’s casing the place,” Mal said softly.

“She’s learning the shape of safety,” Regina corrected. “She’s never known one.”

Emma stopped at the bookshelf in the living room. Her small fingers hovered over the spines of picture books. Finally, she pulled out one with a green cover: The Dragon’s Nest.

“You want to read, sweetheart?” Regina asked, stepping closer. Emma nodded again. No words, but the answer was there.

Regina knelt and held out her hand. “Come sit with me, then.”

Emma walked to her. Slowly, but deliberately.

That afternoon, Emma napped again. The monitor remained on. Regina sat curled in a blanket on the couch, book in her lap. Mal paced the kitchen, silent.

“Mal,” Regina said after a long moment. “Talk to me.”

“I can’t stop thinking about the others. The ones who didn’t make it.”

“I know,” Regina replied gently.

“I keep seeing them. And I keep thinking… what if we’d found her too late?”

“But we didn’t.”

Mal leaned against the wall, dragging a hand through her hair. “I’ve never felt rage like that. Not even on the job. And now she’s here and safe and I should be relieved but I’m not.”

Regina crossed the room and wrapped her arms around her wife. “You’re still in the fire.”

“I don’t know how to come out.”

“You don’t have to,” Regina whispered. “I’ll wait right here for you.”

That night, the house was still. Emma had eaten a soft dinner—apple sauce, yogurt, and warm milk. She’d even let Regina braid her hair, just a single plait to keep it out of her face.

But at 2:33 a.m., the first scream shattered the silence.

Mal and Regina bolted upright. The scream had come from the nursery—high and strangled and full of pure, animal fear.

They rushed down the hall together.

Emma was thrashing in the crib, caught in a dream too dark to escape. She sobbed and kicked, her hands clawing the air.

“Emma!” Regina called, her voice sharp but gentle. “Sweetheart, wake up! It’s okay—it’s me!”

Emma didn’t wake.

Regina climbed into the crib, wrapping her arms around the small body. Mal watched in awe and panic as her wife held the girl through the storm.

“It’s okay, baby. It’s just a dream. You’re not there anymore. You’re safe.”

It took minutes. Long ones. But finally, Emma went limp in Regina’s arms, her sobs reducing to whimpers.

Regina rocked her, whispering low nonsense sounds. The kind only littles understood.

Mal stepped forward and brushed a tear from Emma’s cheek.

“I’m here too, little one. You’re not alone.”

Emma cracked one eye open. Her mouth moved. Then…

“…Gina,” she whispered.

Regina froze.

Then her arms tightened. “Yes, sweetheart. I’m here.”

The sun rose gray and dull the next morning, but inside the house, something new flickered between the walls.

Emma sat curled into Regina’s lap in the nursery glider, a blanket draped over both of them. She hadn’t let go since the night terror. Every few minutes, she whispered “Gina” like it was a spell she wasn’t ready to stop casting.

Regina responded each time, without fail. “I’m here, little one. I’m not going anywhere.”

Mal stood in the doorway, watching her wife hold the child like she’d done it a thousand times before.

She wanted to stay. She wanted to be the one to make pancakes and read stories today. But there was a lead that couldn’t wait.

She stepped into the room, crouched beside the glider, and brushed Emma’s cheek with a knuckle.

“I have to go to work for a bit, love. But I’ll be back before you finish your lunch, okay?”

Emma looked up at her, eyes wide.

“I promise,” Mal said, and tapped the tip of the girl’s nose gently. “You be good for Gina.”

Emma nodded, clinging tighter to Regina’s robe.

Two hours later, Mal stood outside an abandoned diner on the East End, arms crossed, breath fogging in the morning air.

Jefferson was already there, waiting beside a rusted-out sedan like he hadn’t trafficked a dozen girls through his fake foster pipeline.

“Detective,” he said coolly. “How charming to be summoned.”

“Cut the crap,” Mal said. “Ten girls died under your watch. And I found the one you missed.”

He blinked, his mask slipping just a little. “You don’t have anything on me.”

“I have Emma Swan,” Mal said. “And I have every file you ever falsified. We just didn’t have the right victim to talk. But she will. Eventually.”

“You don’t have the guts to take me down without her testimony.”

Mal stepped in close. Her voice was low. Dangerous. “Try me. And if you so much as breathe in her direction again, I will burn down every system that’s protected you until there’s nothing left but ash.”

Jefferson didn’t speak again. He didn’t need to. His eyes gave away the fear. Mal turned and walked away without looking back.

Back at home, Regina sat on the couch with a stack of picture books, reading one aloud while Emma lay across her lap, head resting on a soft pillow.

“…And the dragon said, ‘This nest is mine now, but there’s room for one more.’ So the little fox curled beside her, and they watched the stars together.”

Emma’s breathing had evened out. She wasn’t quite asleep, but she was calm—enthralled.

Regina closed the book and set it aside. “That’s one of my favorites,” she said softly. “I used to read it to myself when I was scared.”

Emma stirred. Her thumb came away from her mouth. “Why scared?”

Regina’s breath caught. It was the first full sentence Emma had spoken.

She ran a hand gently through the girl’s hair. “Because I was little once too. And there were times when the world didn’t feel very kind.”

Emma blinked slowly. “Bad dreams?”

“Sometimes,” Regina said. “But then I met someone who helped me feel safe.”

Emma shifted just enough to peer up at her. “Mal?”

Regina smiled. “Yes. Mal.”

Emma was quiet for a long time after that. But she didn’t look away.

Mal returned before noon, her jaw tight and eyes stormy. Regina met her at the door.

“Well?”

“He knows he’s done,” Mal said. “He just doesn’t know when it’ll hit him.”

“And Emma?”

“She’s the key. But I’m not rushing her. We build her up. We make her strong. Then we give her the choice.”

Regina nodded. “She spoke to me today.”

Mal blinked. “She did?”

“Asked why I was scared when I was little. Said your name.”

Mal’s expression softened, some of the day’s weight falling off her shoulders. “That’s… that’s everything.”

“She trusts you. She just doesn’t know how to show it yet.”

That night, they bathed Emma together. Regina knelt by the tub, gently washing her hair, while Mal sat beside her with a towel ready.

Emma giggled once when Mal tickled her knee under the water. It was faint. But it was real.

They dressed her in fuzzy pajamas and tucked her into bed. Regina kissed her forehead, then Mal did the same.

As they turned to leave, Emma whispered, “Wait.”

They both froze.

“Can… can I have a hug?”

It was the first time she asked for contact. The first time her voice held no fear.

Regina blinked hard. “Of course, sweetheart.”

She scooped her into a hug first. Mal followed. The three of them stood in the soft glow of the nursery lamp, tangled together. A makeshift family born of fire and wreckage and something stronger.

Love.

Later, Mal and Regina sat together on the couch, Emma’s monitor glowing quietly beside them.

“I think we’re going to keep her,” Regina said, voice thick.

Mal wrapped an arm around her. “I think she’s already ours.”

[julieverne]

One of my colleagues left ponies all over my desk (because when the former team lead asked me to do something I would ask him for a pony) so I can give them to people when I ask them to do things because he knows I'm socially anxious and also because he's lovely.

He also has the exact Jane Rizzoli RayBan aviators and yeah, I look like a badass.

[c0untry-mouse]

9, 13 and 19 for your Rizzoli and Isles thingy ma bob 😘

Angie baby wtf - whenever Maura is talking and Jane's face just goes through 🥹🥲😍🤩🥺. I have seen it in MANY gif sets.

Character for a day - I would be Hope. I would have a Talk with Maura and say... Baby girl....what the fuck is going on with that hot piece of cop ass that follows you around like you hung the moon? And Maura would go "oh we're just BEST FRIENDS doing BEST FRIEND THINGS" and I (Hope) would say "the fuck you are" and show her the Lesbian Master doc. I would then team up with Angela Rizzoli to form a team of unstoppable matchmakers. (And I would hang around and show Angela Rizzoli what she's been missing with men).

Worst parenting - I would say Frank Snr but I don't think what he did actually qualifies as parenting so I'd say he's just "worst absolute dick-cheese". Worst ACT of parenting I would award to Angela for berating her daughter for doing her job and vocation (in a way she never treats her sons!) and then... AND THEN... berating her for quitting that job to do something safer elsewhere. Just absolute selfish nonsense. And then she is appeased by an alternate child moving nearby? Nonsense.

[neve-gallus-girl-detective]

I see you're also a CM fan! How do you think a BAU AU of the datv crew would look? I'm itching to put them in a modern crime procedural situation lol

omg I love this

I feel like the natural teams are:

Rook and Neve, Taash and Lace, Davrin and Lucanis

with Emmrich as the Captain and Bellara as the techie

Davrin and Lucanis are already husbands, but it's hidden from the audience bcs they bicker constantly lmaoo

Rook and Neve are the will-they-woke-they ship that everyone is obsessed with

Lace and Taash are the ones who are so stupidly in love, but they deny it for a while and then get caught making out in a closet ahahaha

Bellara and Neve are the unlikely friendship duo where it's like "cool, hot girl" and "nerdy, awkward girl." It's a Rizzoli and Isles dynamic haha and Neve will absolutely throw hands for Bel whenever she's made fun of

The show starts when Rook joins the team and the only thing the team hears is that she's some prodigy, but she's gotten in a lot of trouble recently and so she was sent to their ragtag little team lmaoo Lucanis is like "why are we a punishment?" and then the camera pans to Davrin and Taash chugging sprite and trying not to burp lmaooo

[stanathanxoox]

Completed Masterlist Updated 3/1/2024 PART 1

NCIS

Abby Scuito Masterlist

Ellie Bishop Masterlist

Jimmy Palmer Masterlist

Leroy Jethro Gibbs Masterlist Part 1

Leroy Jethro Gibbs Masterlist Part 2

Timothy McGee Masterlist

Tony DiNozzo Masterlist

Tony and Ziva Masterlist

Ziva David Masterlist

NCIS LA

Densi Masterlist

Eric Beale Masterlist

G Callen Masterlist

G Callen and Sam Hanna Masterlist

Kensi Blye Masterlist

Marty Deeks Masterlist

Nate Getz Masterlist

Nell Jones Masterlist

Neric Masterlist

Sam Hanna Masterlist

NCIS NOLA

NCIS NOLA Team Masterlist

Loretta Wade Masterlist

Meredith Brody Masterlist

Meredith Brody and Sonja Percy Masterlist

Meredith Brody and Tammy Gregorio Masterlist

Patton Plame Masterlist

Raymond Isler and Dwayne Pride Masterlist

Tammy Gregorio Masterlist

Hannah Khoury Masterlist

Christopher LaSalle Masterlist

Chris LaSalle and Meredith Brody Masterlist

Sebastian Lund Masterlist

Dwayne Pride Masterlist

Sonja Percy Masterlist

Sonja Percy and Tammy Gregorio Masterlist

Hannah Khoury and Tammy Gregorio Masterlist

CASTLE

Richard Castle Masterlist

Castle Misc Characters Masterlist

RIZZOLI AND ISLES

Jane Rizzoli Masterlist

Frankie Jr Masterlist

Tommy Rizzoli Masterlist

911fox

Bobby Nash Masterlist

Eddie Diaz Masterlist

Evan Buckley Masterlist

BROOKLYN NINE NINE

Rosa Diaz Masterlist

Jake Peralta Masterlist

Amy Santiago Masterlist

Jake and Amy Masterlist

Raymond Holt Masterlist

The Team Masterlist

HARRY POTTER

Harry Potter Masterlist

Draco Malfoy Masterlist

Neville Longbottom Masterlist

Fred Weasley Masterlist

George Weasley Masterlist

Oliver Wood Masterlist

Cedric Diggory Masterlist

Hermione Granger Masterlist

Luna Lovegood Masterlist

Ron Weasley Masterlist

Percy Weasley Masterlist

Bill Weasley Masterlist

Seamus Finnigan Masterlist

Dean Thomas Masterlist

HOGWARTS MYSTERY

Hogwarts Mystery Masterlist

FANTASTIC BEASTS AND WHERE TO FIND THEM

Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them Masterlist

TWILIGHT

Carlisle Cullen Masterlist

Carlisle and Esme Masterlist

Edward Cullen Masterlist

Emmett Cullen Masterlist

Jasper Hale Masterlist

Alice Cullen Masterlist

Demetri Masterlist

Jacob Black Masterlist

Seth Clearwater Masterlist

Sam Uley Masterlist

The Denali Coven Masterlist

The Wolf Pack Masterlist

The Cullen Coven Masterlist

[littlesolo]

I’ve had thoughts regarding a crackship for a while and need to share and since you’re familiar with both shows, you’re the lucky recipient lol. Have you ever considered Maura Isles and Emily Prentiss? Emily has a lot of similar traits as Jane but was raised around the finer things and would have more of an appreciation to that kind of thing as opposed to be kind of dismissive of it. I just think they would be an interesting couple and could have a fun dynamic.

Oh no. Oh no no no no no.

I can totally see this!

Maybe they met as teens at a party? A high class shindig that their parents attended. Emily didn't want to go... which is how Maura met her as she was eating cocktail shrimp and crab legs outside the door off the kitchens. Friends ever since.

And Maura's dad being who he is, I think Emily wouldn't be the type to think it's cool, but would understand and say something like "families are complicated" and not shun her for it. Which was something Maura had been worried about since Emily is FBI... She didn't want to lose one of her best and long time friends. Emily dismisses it, saying she's not the only agent to know mobsters, she just doesn't play poker with them like Rossi does.

I can see Emily confiding in Maura of her hopeless attraction to JJ.

Emily: It's bigger than a crush, but not all out love (she's lying to herself)

Maura: You are smitten.

All of this is fine until they have a case in Boston.

Maura of course is the ME on the case...

Maura: Oh hey! Should we wait for Agent Jareau? (Gives Emily a less than subtle wink)

(Emily violently shoves her old friend down the hallway)

Emily: I'LL GO FIND OUT ABOUT THE AUTOPSY RESULTS

JJ: Want company

Emily: NO!!!

Jane Rizzoli has no idea what's going on... might say as much to JJ over small talk. A "something is going on with the two of them.... Maura is being really weird, even for her."

JJ realizes that Em is too and at some point joins them for a meal unannounced. She finds them talking about their moms and they share they grew up together.

Jane picks up on their dynamic and asks if they were ever more.... Emily shrugs and shares a look with Maura.

Maura: Nothing... official? Might have been--

Emily: --if Ambassador Prentiss wasn't assigned to Egypt and we left that same week...

Maura rolls her eyes at how Emily still calls her mom by her title rather than mom.

I think a close friendship would have developed between them and it would have been a relief to have someone that could relate in terms of parents, culture, travel, and education... I picture them taking advantage of that before anything romantic would have occurred to them? Only because they both knew how early on how rare it was.

Did they sleep together? Maybe once or twice but neither saw it as serious since Emily moved. They remained friends and in each other's orbit since then, but Emily being around has always been temporary since then. Maura would know that. Maybe they had a thing like she did with Ian at one point - but I think that would have ended when Maura met Jane and Emily became part of the team.

[norriszn]

F1 IMOLA GP 2025 | lando had a chat & virtual group pic w fans (giovani pazienti del rizzoli) may 16th 2025

on may 17, 2024, patients in the pediatric orthopedics and osteoncology departments of the institute rizzoli were able to experience the f1 gp at the imola racetrack up close. thanks to the use of two telerobots supplied by the company awabot, they had the opportunity to enter the paddocks and interact with the drivers and their teams. the initiative was opened by domenicali who brought greetings and spoke with the young patients and their families. all of this was followed by a tour of the various paddocks with the robots and patients who met and asked questions to drivers nh27, aa23, ls2, vb17 & zg24) this year, new teams joined the initiative — including mclaren, with lando taking part in the interaction.

pag 3 of the issue n° 208 of Il Rizzoli – IOR News where they talk about this lovely iniciative below the cut !

[lespetitesmortsde]

just saw your tags abt rizzoli and beckett as an obscure ship and my friend, I think you’ve broken 15 year old me’s closeted brain, holy shit

omg welcome, thank you, so happy to assist. kazzoli existed in my mind and like... five other folks on tumblr back in the day.

they could meet at a crime scene because it's crack so why not ignore the miles between nyc and boston. they could have a little sanvers' first meeting kinda vibes. then they end up teaming up for the case, they burn the midnight oil together at one of their precincts. beckett makes fun of how rizzoli makes terrible breakroom coffee and rizzoli decides she's not sharing her hard work with someone so ungrateful. they're tired, sleeves rolled up, button-ups in differing degrees of undone, collars ruffled. they lean against counters sipping their coffees and getting to know each other before one of them says something that sparks a eureka moment in the other. they leave their half-drunk cups behind in their haste to pile into an unmarked car, firing off facts and the way they all connect to each other, both of them filling in the missing pieces of their investigation as they drive to arrest their suspect. classic investigative foreplay, high on adrenaline and the thrill of intelligence.

and at the end, rizzoli's like, alright, well, i'm gonna go home and crawl into bed. and beckett smirks, trailing a hand down rizzoli's arm - "mind if i join you?"

anyway. so nice to hear from you.

[drghostwrite]

Hello, can I please request Jane Rizzoli x fem reader. Reader is the new homicide detective at BPD and Jane's new partner. She is seen putting her things on Barry's old desk (after Frost dies), and Jane yells at her. So reader keeps her distance from Jane. Meanwhile, korsak, Maura, and Frankie all get to know her and end up really liking her. (Maura talks to Jane, and Jane ends up apologising, and j and r end up really close.) (Then idk how to end this, lol.)

Wait, I love this idea, like I'm kinda upset I didn't think of it sooner lol...

Pairing: Rizzoli & Isles x reader

Summary: You just read over it above. :)

******************************************************************

You pulled into the parking lot down the street from BPD stepping out of your Jeep and making your way into HQ. As soon as you walked in you felt overdressed, you were used to the BAU, where suits were everywhere, and with you being unit chief it was typical of you to wear something that stood out, whether out of the norm colors or some muted but outgoing patterns. Today you went a little safer but still a nice tailored Italian suit with a window pane check pattern, a white button-up, and matching white heels, it was simple but enough to make you stand out. You saw heads turn and watched as you showed your badge and made your way upstairs, the elevator ride was quiet up by yourself was quiet, but as soon as those metal doors slid open you felt at home, it was chaotic. Still, you chased serial killers all over the country this seemed like a cakewalk to you.

You walked through the set of glass doors to where the detectives desks were, Cavanaugh had told you early just to pick a desk that was open, and you would be assigned your partner or squad later, you looked around and found an open desk that faced another desk it seemed pretty empty except for the action figure placed next to the computer. You set your purse on the chair and made your way into the computer room at the other end, walking in you saw a small group of three crowded around the front desk, a younger man, fair-skinned with raven hair and deep eyes, a younger black woman with gorgeous curls and an older gentleman. As you entered they all looked at you with trained eyes.

"Hey so I'm not sure who Jane Rizzoli is, I'm with but I'm the new homicide detective, Y/N Pierce." you spoke up.

"The transfer from the FBI?" spoke up the older man.

"Yep that's me." you smiled.

"Your my sister's new partner. Nice to meet you I'm Frankie," the younger man offered you his hand to shake.

"I'm Vincent Korsak but feel free to call me Vince, welcome to the team." spoke the other man.

"And I guess that leaves me, I'm Nina Holliday, and I know what it's like to be the new girl so if you need anything let me know."

"Thanks I appreciate that," you both smiled in response.

Before anyone could say anything else, a drop-dead gorgeous woman stepped through the door, strawberry blonde hair laid perfectly and breathtaking amber eyes, she quickly spotted you and nodded but continued to talk to the team.

"Hey guys I got the tox reports back," she flicked open the folder handing it to Nina.

"Etomidate?" they all gave confused looks.

"Wait like the drug used during surgeries... It's a CNS depressant but it's used for minor procedures because it doesn't last as long."

"Um...Yea." She studied you with precise eyes as everyone else started at you wondering how in the world you knew that. Before anyone could say anything a woman rushed in the room, "Guys there's been another murder, we gotta go."

Everyone looked to you, "Jane I'm assuming." and they all nodded, everyone rushed from the room, leaving just you and the doctor and she stopped you on your way out the door.

"I'm Dr. Maura Isles, by the way, chief medical examiner."

"I would say Unit Chief SSA Pierce but my FBI days are over," you looked into those amber eyes and your breath caught in your throat, this woman was going to be the death of you and you barely knew each other, "I would love to tell you about it but I guess my new partner has other plans." you gave her your signature smirk and turned to leave but she flashed you a wide smile and chuckled, "Yea that's Jane for you."

----time jump----

Three hours later and you were returning to the precinct, you could tell it was taking a toll on everyone, it was a pretty gruesome crime scene but something felt familiar to you. Jane told you she was going down to see Maura but then she'd be up, you quickly made your way upstairs with everyone and sat at the empty desk, you logged on the computer and started looking at the board they had set up, you were talking with Korsak and Frankie reclining in the desk chair looking at a file when Jane came in. You stood up and almost bumped into her as she stood frozen in place.

"What're you doing?"

"I'm sorry." you responded curious.

"Why are you using that desk?"

"Cavanaugh just told me to find a desk, luckily i found the one closest to you."

“No, no you can’t sit there that’s my partners desk he… he…”

“I am your partner.”

“I… just leave okay please just find somewhere else.”

you studied her and grabbed your jacket moving over to Frankie’s desk as he motioned to you, she sat down and didn’t look as everyone returned to working.

“There’s a story there,” Frankie spoke up.

“Yea I figured, it’s all good though I have to make some calls and then I’ll be back let me know if you hear anything.”

“Will do.”

Your walked out of the room towards the elevator, you recognized some things from past cases but you needed to talk to Maura to confirm you suspicions. When you stepped on the elevator the woman inside greeted you she was carrying a division one cafe apron as she gave you a big smile.

“Haven’t seen you around here before, ya new?” She asked

“Yep, I’m the new homicide detective.”

“Oh no way my kids both work up there, I’m sure you’ve met them though.”

“Rizzoli?”

“that’s them!” She said with a proud smile. “So where ya from?”

“Well I actually loved from Quantico, Virginia where I worked for the FBI but I grew up in Seattle.”

“Oh that’s so cool.”

“Oh yea, I loved my job.”

Just then the doors dinged open and you quickly stepped out making your way to Dr. Isles office. She saw you coming and gave you a big breathtaking smile as you walked in the door.

“Y/N to what do I owe the pleasure.”

“Well for a lovely lady like yourself… maybe dinner at a nice little hole in the wall that I know,” you both laughed, “Honestly I’m down here to ask about some past similarities, these victims seem similar to some I’ve come into contact with before.”

“Oh well here’s everything we have, I can go over it with you if you want.”

“Yea an extra set of eyes would be great.” You started going over the files and a few hours later you realized who the killer was.

“Oh my God, we’ve known this whole time!”

“what?”

“This man he’s the only common denominator I remember writing the case in Chicago and he injected himself into the investigation and he just recently moved here and the killings started, Jane and Frankie talked to him the other day but no one saw the old FBI file the BAU had.”

“Wait so he’s a past killer?”

“Yes, and my team worked tirelessly to catch him but then he went off grid. Maura I need you to get a kit and meet us there, I’ll send you the address I need to get everyone else.” You quickly ran out of the room calling Frankie to tell him, as he told the team you made your way to the unsubs house…

To Be Continued…

[shadowhuntersficrecs]

Hi, I was hoping you could help me find a story I read ages ago but I can't seem to find for the life of me.

It's one where Alec as well as most of the gang are NY detective while magnus is a medical examiner who's just joined the team. I believe it's based around the show Rizzoli and Isles, and I could have sworn it was called Lightwood and Bane but even with that I can't find it, so I don't know if it's been deleted or I'm just misremembering the name.

Any help you can give would be great!

The fic you describe sounds similar to 'Anything You Say' by milominderbinder. The only fic under 'Lightwood and Bane' found is an AU by dykeadellic where Magnus is a fashion designer and Alec is a Lawyer.

[sloaneross]

Placing her napkin gracefully on the table, Sloane chuckles as she observes her colleagues enthusiastically discussing the delectable nature of their meal. She wholeheartedly concurs, acknowledging the exceptional quality of the cuisine at High Water. It surprises her that she had never come across this establishment before. Glancing around, she notices a familiar style in the decor, which she vaguely recalls having seen elsewhere. However, she dismisses the thought, attributing it to a mere imitation sourced from Pinterest. "Alright, so who among you will be settling the bill?" Sloane inquires, raising an eyebrow as she presents the check to her companions. Kosisk, her former partner, then takes the check and inserts his credit card into it. "I shall take care of it this time. Thank you for treating me, everyone," he declares, patting detective Frost on the back. Laughter and smiles fill the entire table as they beckon the waitress over. Kosisk expresses his gratitude and requests to convey compliments to the chef. The waitress, Gwen, nods sweetly and departs to fetch the cook. "So, any guesses on the identity of the chef? I wager it's an attractive woman," ventures young detective Rizzoli. Sloane rolls her eyes at this remark, while Frost simply nods in agreement. "Indeed, I can envision that. I bet she possesses captivating blue eyes as well," he adds. Kosisk and Sloane exchange a knowing glance, prompting Sloane to roll her eyes once more, while Kosisk chuckles. Engrossed in the camaraderie of her team, Sloane is abruptly interrupted by the unmistakable sound of a familiar voice. No… it couldn't be… @lucasxroden

[itwasrealtome]

HEART AND ISLES: INCORRECT QUOTES

A Rizzoli and Isles fan fiction [Coming Soon]

Talk about a team

*Jane and Andy talking about baseball.*

Andy: Actually, I’m more of a Dodgers fan.

Jane, in her dramatic tone: That’s it, you have to break up with her Maura.

Maura, sadden by the news: But you did say she was the only one without a record, Jane. That’s unfair.