#tw cop mention

[weirdo-from-bonesborough]

Officer Grayson: I’m sorry sir but it’s against the law to ride a motorcycle without a helmet. I’m gonna have to write you a ticket

Robin (Tim): No *I’m* sorry sir, I’m gonna have to write you out of my will

[spop-romanticizes-abuse]

remember how in ATSV, Gwen's dad quits his job as a cop, because it required him to arrest innocent people, including his own daughter?

or how in Carmen Sandiego, Julia gives up her job as an investigator, after realizing that Carmen was a good person but the ACME still wanted to capture her?

i just wish we would have gotten something like this with Caitlyn. it's really disappointing to see a character with so much potential being completely assassinated like this.

at no point does Caitlyn realize that her job as an enforcer is only harming people.

at no point does she consider the fact that her own girlfriend was a victim of police brutality and classism, and that maybe she shouldn't continue to endorse and enable it.

there was an opportunity for growth, where Caitlyn realizes how much harm she has done, and thus decides to quit her job.

it's like the writers for s2 were completely different people, the way they entirely missed the point of the first season.

[olsenmyolsen]

Hey sorry you are ill at the moment, you mentioned requests being open. So if I may

May a request an wanda one shot where both wanda and yn are crushing in each other but both too scared to admit. Pietro is yns friend and takes her out to crazy golf or something to unwind (nothing alcohol related please) . But maybe pietro causes trouble and they end up arrested. Which stresses yn out as she's never been arrested and is scared and paranoid.

Anyway she uses her call to call wanda (much to pietro's displeasure) and she storms in to get them out (def calming down yn and giving her a hug when she sees her in jail and after she gets her out) . (Wanda def makes sure any record of yn getting arrested is gone with her powers) .

Wanda being utterly pissed at pietro, maybe they argue in sokovian and maybe pietro says something (def about them being idiots who won't admit they like each other or something along the lines) and he speeds away and it ends with Wanda being the one to confess and ask yn out.

I know this might seem a bit much or too detailed but let me know what you think :)

You Have The Right To Remain Silent

(I feel like I might start writing Pietro a lot more now)

master list . maroon master list . dark master list

Post AoU (Female Reader X Wanda Maximoff)

Summary: Pietro takes you out and tries to get you to admit your feelings about Wanda. Simple, right? So why are you making a phone call from a county jail?

Word Count: 3.2K

Content: Pietro is a great friend/menace, Emo Wanda, Cuteness

To say Wanda Maximoff was mad would be THE understatement.

Not only was she mad, she was pissed, enraged, furious, embarrassed, she was- you get it. So, as Wanda grabs her red jacket and storms down to the Avenger's garage, she can't help but replay the most recent call with You repeatedly.

In fairness, you did only have one phone call, at least, according to the cop who arrested Wanda's brother and You.

But let's back it up a bit to this morning when all Pietro wanted to do was take you out. Have a bit of one-on-one hang-out time. You were, after all, his most recent best friend since moving to America and joining the Avengers.

"Y/n, come on, get up!" You were slowly but abruptly being shaken away by your silver-haired friend. You lift your tired arms and push him away. "No, I love sleep!" You cry out why, doing your best to keep your eyes shut, but within a flash, Pietro has lifted your window blinds, making the early morning sunshine right onto you.

Damn, Stark, for putting you in the east corner of the compound.

So, with a loud groan into your pillow, you blink open your eyes to see Pietro smugly smiling. "Hi!" He waved.

What a menace.

You closed your eyes and sighed loudly. But sure enough, about twenty minutes later, you were dressed comfortably in your favorite pair of jeans and a light hoodie. It was about halfway through autumn, so the choice was perfect for the season and for whatever outdoor activity Pietro wanted to drag you to.

As of late, he was known to pull something like this. About two weeks ago, it was Basketball. A month prior, it was Pickleball.

Etc etc.

And you weren't sure if it was meant to happen or not, but the conversations always seemed to steer back to fellow teammate Pietro's sister and your crush, Wanda Maximoff.

And not that Pietro knew. At least you didn't think so...

(He knew.)

Regardless, you stumbled into the Avenger's kitchen and- "Hey, Y/n!" You jolt your head up from the floor of the compound at the accented angelic voice of Wanda. She's standing by the stove making pancakes. She's dressed in her usual wear of black skirts and cardigans. Necklaces hanging from her. Wanda's nails have some of the black polish removed, and her fingers are still wearing rings. Some of the last things from first home...

Sokovia.

Wanda keeps her eyes on you as you smile to see her. Hoping your cheeks don't light up. "Hi, Wanda!" You finally manage to say. She loves the sound of your voice, too. Even when it's all wavered. "You heading out?" Wanda says as you walk further into the kitchen. Heading to the fridge because you're on autopilot.

You look down at your outfit of choice. "Uh yeah, Pietro wanted to do something." Wanda makes anah noise and turns back to the pancakes. "You like blueberries, right?"

Wanda knew you did.

"Yeah." You reply after retrieving a glass of orange juice, making Wanda nod and not so subtly begin making a blueberry pancake. You turned your head away at the feeling of the warmth in your cheeks and sat at the kitchen island.

You felt the need to say something to Wanda. Ask her how she slept. Or what she was doing today. Or if she watched any of the old sitcoms you used to watch after school. But nothing was firing in your brain as you watched her glide through the kitchen.

You were starting to wonder if she didn't have her abilities, what would Wanda do? Chef? Ballet? Actress?

Wanda laughed while flipping over your two pancakes onto a plate. The noise made you raise your eyebrows and look at her with an acute smile. "What's funny?" You asked, but Wanda shook her head. "Just thought about something." She meekly replied with her green eyes, making her red cheeks and freckles pop slightly more. "Here." She then said as she laid down the food in front of you. Her powers setting down the syrup next to you.

You smiled and felt your heart flutter. "You get first dibs." Wanda smiled back. "Wow... Wanda, this looks-"

"Ah, there you are!!" Pietro rushed into the kitchen, making the two of you startle, and dropped your silverware onto the plate. "Jesus!" You yell out while Wanda takes the dish towel next to her and throws it at her brother. "Stop doing that!" She yells, making Pietro roll his eyes. "But you always say that!" Wanda lets out a large sigh and glares at him before turning back to the stove to keep working on breakfast for the rest of the team.

Effectively ending your moment with Wanda.

You pick back up your fork and knife and begin to dig into your specially made pancakes while Pietro tries to apologize to his sister to get her to make him chocolate pancakes, but she refuses and then says: "Only Y/n gets the special treatment!"

You froze, but Pietro smirked and looked at Wanda before communicating with her in Sokovian. A language you wish you could understand. Maybe in time... However, what Pietro said ended up with her yelling something back while trying her best to hide her smile.

Pietro called her out, and thus, a chocolate pancake was laid in front of him minutes later. But leaving food around him doesn't last long, so as much as you wanted to talk to Wanda some more and be terrible at flirting, you were being whisked away for a day with Pietro.

Not before waving bye to Wanda.

"Axe throwing?" You asked Pietro as the two of you walked up to the building after a 30-minute drive. "Not just axe throwing!" You tilted your head and followed the speedster inside.

Pietro took you to the newest evolution in the craze. Inside was your typical kind of place for this activity, but instead of standard sections, this place also had a glow-in-the-dark area and a gamified version where you had to play/win specific challenges for tickets for prizes.

You looked at your friend and saw his smile on his face.

Sometimes, you remind yourself that this is still the same person who lost everything months ago. And here he is with a wide smile.

Also, how in the world did he find out they opened at 10 am was beyond you. It just didn't make sense... But it's a tale, so after ordering some water and snacks, the first axe hit the board.

"No, fair, you're super strong!" Pietro was already whining.  You playfully rolled your eyes and grabbed your axe. "Yes, but that and my impenetrable skin don't make me super accurate. I'm not Hawkeye." You say with a little laugh. "Ah, right, the old man," Pietro replied, lifting the axe above his head. You smiled. "I'm so telling him you said that." You say as Pietro's axe lands slightly to the right of the bullseye.

Pietro retrieves it and laughs back before asking you about Natasha Romanoff, aka The Black Widow.

You tried your best to talk him out of asking her, but it didn't work. However, when he got knocked across the gym three weeks from now, you were there to say, "I told you so."

"Bullseye!" You cheered as your axe landed dead center. Pietro watched you walk to grab it with a smile before he did his best to shift the conversation to the real reason for today's adventure. "So Y/n..."

"So Pietro..." You said, copying his tone as he threw his axe. "You and my sister seemed to be getting along..." You tilted your head slightly. "Yeah... so?"

Pietro's axe landed a little below the target. Pietro looked at it before turning to you. "Pietro..." You said as the man stared at you. "Y/n, come on." Pietro grabbed his axe. "Just admit you like my sestra!"

"Pietro!" You raised your voice at his accurate assumption. "She likes you too!" He kept his voice level with yours. "You're too dumb or chicken to do anything about it!" You shook your head. "No. We're just friends!"

Yes, you had a crush on Wanda. Because, of course, you did, but when it came to admitting it to Pietro, you denied, denied, denied.

One, because you'd never hear the end of it.

Two, you didn't want to jeopardize anything between you and Wanda.

And three, could Wanda actually like you back??

"She made you special pancakes! You heard her. No one, but you gets them!" Pietro argues loudly, making one of the few other people in the establishment look over towards the two of you. "Pietro, shh." You say while gesturing with your head to the person, but Pietro isn't bothered by that. Too busy asking you about your crush. "That means something!"

"No, it means nothing." You argue back hoping this would be like any other time Pietro brought up this conversation and have it end reasonably quick. So, as you badly threw your axe at the wall, Pietro stood up.

"So if you think everything between you and my sestra means nothing then that must mean you don't like her."

You picked your axe from the floor. "What?" You replied, standing in the narrow space. "I didn't say that!" A customer looks over at you two. So does an employee. "So there is something?!" Pietro grins as he lets go of the axe right next to you, as you haven't gotten out of the way yet. "Pietro!" You scream even if the axe wouldn't have done anything to your body, thanks to your abilities.

An employee calls a manager over to them to watch you and Pietro.

"Just admit it: you like my sestra!" You huff, but before you can say anything else, he uses his super speed to grab the axe from the board and swing it back at you again. "Say it!" He calls out as it feels like you got a new haircut.

Luckily, nothing was trimmed.

"Yes, I like Wanda-" Pietro goes to interrupt you, but you cut him. "As a friend!" Pietro rolls his eyes and goes to use his powers again, but a man in a blue polo shirt stops him as Pietro raises his axe.

The two of you turn your eyes to the stranger—a manager.

"Hey! You are breaking some rules here and causing a disturbance. Why don't you two come with me!" Pietro looks at you and returns his eyes to the man with the name tag, 'Micheal.' "No, we're cool. It's okay."

You sigh, closing your eyes, knowing that's NOT what you're supposed to say. You move up.

"Hey. I'm sorry, my friend here is a little... much, but I-" You get cut off by the manager. "Doesn't matter what you're about to say. You two have been loud and reckless. Not to mention you're mutants." The man adds that last part in like you wouldn't heat him.

Pietro looks from you to the man. "Excuse me?"

"Pietro, let's just leave." You say, moving your eyes to Wanda's brother. But Pietro tightens his jaw. He brought you to this place to have fun and to finally have you admit that you are head over heels for Wanda. He also wants to spend time with his friend. He's tired of people telling him what to do or not do.

So, in a lapse of better judgment, Pietro uses his super speed and, thus leading to the two of you pinned to a cop car while Peitro wears Micheals's name tag as paramedics look over the man in the polo with a bloody nose. "I didn't push him that hard," Pietro comments, making you huff as a cop tightens the cuffs on the two of you.

"You both have the right to remain silent..." The mustache'd cop behind you starts going over your Miranda Rights as you close your eyes and let the world fall to a hum around you.

What the fuck were you going to tell Wanda...

The cell door at the sheriff's station closes behind you as you and Pietro walk inside. "I still think we could've gotten away. I'm super fast." You throw your arms up and let them fall against your side. "And then what Pietro? My car would still be at the place, and they'd track the registration to the compound. Could you imagine two cops knocking on the Avengers doors!?"

Pietro noticed your voice. You're frustrated and exhausted. Uneasy as your anxiety courses through you.

Pietro looks away.

The last time you were arrested was before you joined the Avengers... Those memories are seconds away from coming back.

After a few quiet moments, you take a seat on the cold bench next to your friend. Pietro hears the deep exhale come out of you. "I'm sorry." He calmly speaks up, making you look at him. "I shouldn't have engaged or acted out." You nod. "Why did you?" You ask. Pietro shrugs but looks at you. "I was more than okay leaving, but then he said... that word a-and it made me think back to Hydra. You know they weren't exactly known for being the nicest people..." He jokes with a slight smile but is still solum with his words. "Plus, I guess. I guess I really just wanted today to be the day." Pietro looks at you, and you know what he means.

"I do like her. A lot." You speak up. Pietro smiles. "Oh god, what are we going to tell her?" You say as you lean back against the grey wall.

"Tell her?" Pietro says, making you glance at him. "We can't do that." You widen your eyes. "Are you kidding me? That's exactly what we're going to do!" You say back.

"She'll kill me!" Pietro jokingly looks scared.

"Pietro, you're lucky I haven't killed you! Besides, we're calling Wanda. I'm not about to have Cap come down here and treat us like we're children. I am not about to have Natasha scold us and make our weekly gym sessions increase. I'm calling Wanda!"

Pietro knew this was the only option as everyone else was too busy or off-world. But he still argued and pleaded. But he relented when he saw you start to shake from your nerves.

Ten minutes later, you walked back into the cell, and an officer closed it behind you.

"I think she's mad." You said. Knowing his twin, Pietro knew that if you thought Wanda was mad. Gear up because she was past mad. Pietro sighed and stood up, needing to stretch his legs. "Did you tell her it was my fault like I asked?" You nodded. "But then Wanda asked me how come I was arrested as well. I froze. I told her I pushed the man back when he tried to push me but couldn't." Pietro laughed through his nose. "Your super strength and impenetrable skin will always amaze me."

"Yeah..." You sigh. "Too bad it won't make me Wanda like me again after this." Pietro watches you sit on the bench. "I'll talk to her," Pietro affirms you, but you don't know if you want him to talk to the witch or not. But before you can say anything, you hear muffled, loud yelling coming from outside the double doors down the hall. "How did she get here already?!" Pietro asks because it makes no sense. You shake your head and shrug before the doors down the hall open, and Wanda's black boots hit the white tile floor with force.

The officer with Wanda opens the cell door without a word to either of you. When you look at his eyes, you see how red they are.

Pietro looks to you and gulps.

"Sestra-" Wanda raises her hand to Pietro. "I don't want to hear it. Let's go." Wanda starts to walk away, and as much as you shouldn't, you do, in fact, look up and down her backside. Your crush on her and her demeanor towards you in this moment makes something click inside you. Fuck.

As the three of you exit into the station lobby, you realize that everyone in the building is under Wanda's control. You glance at a monitor and watch as a red-eyed officer deletes your and Pietro's files. You look back to Wanda, who pierces you with her green eyes. A smile wants to break out on her lips, but she remains stern as she gestures for you two to pick up your belongings at the front desk. You nod, and you and Pietro grab your things—one of them including your car keys for your impounded car.

"It's out front," Wanda speaks up before you send her a gracious smile. She sees it but doesn't return one as she leads the three of you outside. Her red car is parked next to your older vehicle.

"Pietro in the car," Wanda commands her brother, who does so without wanting to be under her power. As she stops in front of her driver's side door, Wanda looks to you. She opens it before closing it and walking over to you. Her green eyes looking at yours, getting softer by the second. She then surprises you with the most Wanda thing ever. She wraps her arms tightly around you and hugs you. "It's okay." She whispers to you as you feel yourself melt into the embrace. "Wanda, I'm sorry." You feel the need to say back, but Wanda shakes her head and pulls back. "Y/n, the only thing you need to be sorry for is your choice of friends." You can't help but laugh as you wipe the corner of your eye. The last thing you needed to do was cry.

Wanda moves her hands and fingers covered in rings up and down your arms to comfort you. "Pietros has already taken the blame again and again," Wanda says, confusing you until she points to her head. "Right." You nod. Wanda smiles. "A lot of yelling in Sokovian." Wanda drags her hands down and off of your arm. You already feel the loss of her touch, but look at her eyes as they find yours. "Do you think we could talk later? After we get back to the compound?" She asks, and you feel your throat grow tighter. "Not about this!" Wanda quickly corrects your thoughts as she points to the sheriff's office. "It's just Pietro called me an idiot, and it has something to do with you."

"With me?" You find yourself questioning even though you one hundred percent know what she's getting at it. Wanda nods as a shy blush appears on her face. Wanda looks back to the car before turning to look at you. She bites her lip. "I like you. A lot." Wanda confesses after a brief moment.

You can't help but smile wide.

You nod. "I like you a lot too, Wanda." Wanda feels her heart grow warm as she hears your words. "So yeah, we can talk later?" She says, making you chuckle. "I'll see you at the compound." You reply back.

Who would've thought that to get your crush, all you had to do was get arrested?

dividers by @/benkeibear

[literal-trans-beans]

Guys during Halloween I went up to a guy with a police costume and said

'Hey your costume looks really convincing'

And then his radio went off

Quote, 'Yeah, I've been told that'

I told a police officer that he looks like a police officer

[howlsofbloodhounds]

Just randomly remembered that one time a cps worker or whatever claimed that a principal at one of the many schools I’ve been to described me and my younger sister as “two of the most unhappy kids I’ve ever seen.” We were just vibing bro

And also that one time a principal lied to us, said they would help us, if our mom just took us up to the school and talked about it but when we did they tricked us and cops were there to arrest my mother all because she was worried about my father showing up at our school and trying to kidnap her kids again and not willing to take that risk all because the school refused to help and only cared because we were missing too much school

[angstfactory]

@a-small-drop-in-a-big-pond (micah)

Honestly, Neylani had intentionally dragged out going to The Lone Wolf as long as possible now. It was literally the last business she needed to check up on to see if it had been affected in the chaos of that festival weekend. The town was really rallying together to make sure the residents of Raven's Peak got what they needed, which included their local businesses-- those needed to be up and running as soon as possible, so the place could go back to pretending that everything was okay.

However, this bar was owned by Micah Boudreaux. A person the sheriff wasn't too keen on interacting with.

Maybe if she hadn't stupidly asked the man for a date only to get stood up by him, things would be different. Neylani should have stuck to her guns on that whole 'no younger men' rule of hers. It already felt so awkward, like she was some cougar chasing after guys that barely had a steady foot in this world. Granted, she did at least try to stay above the 30's but even then... It made her feel desperate.

She was desperate. She knew that. Didn't mean she wanted anyone else to know, too.

Still-- the sting of having been stood up by the guy, there being zero follow up from him afterwards, not even a hint of apology... Neylani didn't appreciate the disrespect, and she liked wasting her time even less. The sheriff strolled into The Lone Wolf, ready to talk discuss professional things and professional things only. "Mr. Boudreaux," Ney approached the man behind the bar in a forced tone of polite indifference, "the department is checking on the local shops and businesses in the area, to see if there's anything to you need assistance with, after the festival." She paused about a couple of feet away from the bar, clearly ready to be in and out. The place looked fine to her.

[the-fallen-collective]

if anyone I said goodnight to sees this, ignore me, I am going to sleep, just gotta say this/get this off my chest before I forget

tw for sa mention and mention of hallucinations

..I’m sorry, but what the ever loving fuck? I’m not opening up to my therapist about shit anymore until we can find a new one

fuck her

therapists are only allowed to tell the legal guardian(s) things if the kid or someone else is in active danger

last I checked, mentioning having hallucinations and feeling unable to meet expectations isn’t us being in immediate danger. It’s certainly not the first time we’ve mentioned it either. But she goes and tells our ABLEIST mom who doesn’t actually listen to us about anything about both things!!!

But the times we straight up told her “oh yeah we feel unsafe at school because someone is ACTIVELY sexually assaulting us” she doesn’t fucking say shit to anyone! When we actually are in danger!

what the fuck? fuck her, fuck everyone god fucking damn it I hate people this is why we never open up to adults because it never fucking ends well literally every single time we’ve opened up to adult we’ve been ready led, we’ve been grounded and in trouble, we’ve been yelled at, we’ve been given silent treatment, we’ve had the cops called, we’ve been not believed, we’ve had a lot of adults take our abusers sides, we’ve had adults lie about keeping things (things that aren’t any active danger to anyone) to our parents leading us to get in trouble, and now this!!

we can’t fucking trust anyone can we??

I want to just lay down and cry I hate everything

[oh-look-a-homosexual-punk-bitch]

I FUCKING HATE MY SIL'S MOMS BOYFRIEND, HE BANGED ON THE DOOR AT 5:30AM AND I HAD A FUCKING PANIC ATTACK BECAUSE I THOUGHT IT WAS THE FUCKING COPS OR DRUG TASK FORCE, ITS A FUCKING TRAUMA RESPONSE FOR ME CUZ I WAS IN A DRUG RAID AS A KID, HE FUCKING KNOWS THAT, YET HE STILL DID IT, I FUCKING HATE HIM

[stardustsomewhere]

moved out. no hope for my girlfriend at this point. i checked my food, you guys were right. she was poisoning me. i am so heartbroken someone i love would do something like this to me.

she invited apple to come live with us without my consent. thank god my friend is willing to take me in

i dont know whats next for us. i took photos and screenshots of the evidence. maybe i should go to the police at this point

[themagicmusicman]

driving home from holiday today and we passed a group of horses that the police use for,,,, something? anyway the horse cops were feeding and as we drove past them, out of my open window, i heard someone shout the best thing ive ever heard:

“OI! THOSE ARE HORSES, NOT PIGS”

whoever you are, i love you and you’re my honorary son now. sorry, it’s the law,

The horse cops said so

[incorrect-worldless-quotes]

Edda, kicking down the door: Consider the fundraising over! Your hero has arrived!

Old One: Uhh… where did you get so much money from, kids?

Aven: Well, you know, I’m pretty good at numbers. I just crunched them, I stretched them, I analyzed my accounts, I timed the market-

*police sirens start to wail in the background*

Old One: DID YOU TWO ROB A BANK?!

Edda: Oh, come on, Old One, do you really think so little of us? *opens the bag as purple dye explodes on their face*

Old One:

Aven: …it was a credit union.

(Submitted by @chaosandtoomuchideas)

[janny-aqua]

I remember making a post about how Leon wouldn't want to be a cop cause of how corrupted the system is and Jill telling him likewise, and guy said that he would still be a cop only to try helping people. I call BS on that, if he has a heart, he wouldn't be a cop.

[poll-ventures]

Perdition 1.6

<                      ≡                      >

I dialed the number I knew by heart. As the ringing tone purred throatily into my ear, Horne turned back to me. I stared up at her, and a thin smile grew on my lips. She matched it, with one twice as mean.

“You calling your lawyer?” she crooned.

“No.”

“Then who? Who’s gonna get you outta this pit?”

You’re looking at him, I thought. “You’ll see.”

She glared at me, a thin frown forming another crack in her sagging, fault-lined face. She rolled her eyes, dropping her attention to the wood she was carving.

The sixth ring was cut short. They had picked up.

“Hello, this is Fuhgeddi's Pizza, what can I get started for you?”

“Hi, I’d like two large pizzas, one with pepperoni and one just cheese.”

“Will that be pick-up or delivery?”

“Delivery,” I said, grinning madly.

The look on Horne’s face spread from her all-purpose frown to what seemed to be a fine china special, a genuine glower.

Her eyes were full of disgust, mouth wiggling up and down between an evil smirk and a furled grimace. It was horrifying and gratifying in equal measure, and I took a step back from her.

It was a good thing I had, because she reached out with the hand holding a stupidly sharp knife, grasping for the receiver. 

“Give me that,” she growled, not seeming to want to take even one step closer to the dumbass in front of her. She quickly sheathed the knife, then held out an open hand, not breaking eye contact.

I blinked. The young lady on the phone had asked me where the pizza was to be delivered. “Old Hill Police Station,” I said with an edge of laughing panic. I saw Horne turn to slam the button that would end the call. Hurriedly, I spat out “And we’ll pay with cash!” 

Three sad beeps told me my line had been disconnected. She had slammed the block of lightly carved wood into the wall mounted base, shattering the hard plastic in several places.

I stared at the phone, then at her, and dropped the phone piece into her outstretched hand.

Her lip still couldn’t decide on a smirk or a scowl. Both looked equally furious.

“You said any numb-”

“Shut the fuck up, Dempsey,” she said, her voice rasped like the drawing of a sword that ill-fit its scabbard.

She let the receiver drop out of her hands, and it clattered against the white bricks as it hung from its cord like a noose. As I watched it hang, she grabbed my shoulders quickly and slammed me hard against the bars. 

My temples, jaw and chest ached where the cool bars dug into me. Probably steel, I thought distantly, head ringing like a struck bell.

A bell’s usually copper and tin, mostly copper… Metal on metal. Blinking, I tried to clear my thoughts, still with half a grin stuck on my face.

“Ain’t you as happy as a dead pig in the sunshine?” She was angry again, and with her anger returned the mountain accent. 

I groaned, unable to open my mouth with my face against the bars. I had a dull, prickly feeling that this was only going to get worse from here. Horne very quickly confirmed my theory, pulling me back from the cell and then swiftly slamming my head against the bars.

****

When I woke up, the first thing I felt was pain. Head piercing, mind melting, and excruciating pain. I moaned, shifted on the cot, then slipped back into an aching sleep.

****

When I really woke, I realized I was in a cell. My head still pulsed with pain, but it was more subdued. Quietly, somewhere down the hall, Kim was still watching old episodes of Cheers. As I moved to sit up from the cot, my forehead felt like it was on fire, but my hands were free.

The cot had a small, crusty pool of dried blood where my head had been, and a matching, angry scab was built up on my forehead. My ears were ringing slightly, and I felt my stomach turn at the sight of the blood. 

You smiled.

I froze, looking around the empty room. I was alone. I rubbed at my head, closing my eyes and holding what I had just felt in my mind, staring at it in painful detail, pouring all my attention and will into the voice, the smile in an attempt to make sense of it.

First a laugh, now a smile? I had heard the laugh, and seen the smile, seen it like it was someone right next to me, looking down at me with a hungry smile from within my cell.

What the fuck was happening to me?

Had the bitch cracked my head like an egg? It felt like something other was inside me, inside not just my head but my entire body. It felt wrong, sickeningly wrong, and I stood up and shook my arms to try and rid myself of that feeling.

Suddenly on my feet, I felt my head spin, and I grabbed the bars to anchor myself. I started to shiver, first softly, then all over, unstoppable. That's when I realized they'd taken my coat. I slowly stepped over to the cot, shaking the entire way, and finally, carefully slipped underneath the thin cover. 

I turned to face the wall, and tried to focus on breathing, my entire body still violently shaking. Somewhere deep inside me, something wanted out. I held it down, painfully gripping my arms through the paper thin linen, breathing slowly and carefully.

I spent what felt like hours this way, and the shaking slowed as I warmed, but my headache only grew worse.

I dozed, listening to the theme song of Cheers wax and wane, idly feeding the clock in my brain with what info I could glean from the span of an episode. Kim hated advertisements, and muted the TV every time they came on, sometimes just letting a few words slip.

It became a game: Ooh, you let the first note of the jingle play Kimmy, you’re really falling behind! I laughed, which felt close to a sob.

Throughout this interminable and hazy delirium, I could hear nothing else in the police station. I idly wondered if the blue-suits were still out there, in the woods, pouring over all the evidence Noel and I had left. Footprints, unspent bullets, and a feather.

Not for the first time in that cell, my mind slipped back to Noel. Her eyes when she held me at gunpoint. Not showing even a bit of nerves. I kept seeing her, with that tiny red blanket wrapped around her shoulders, being directed out of the woods by a quietly consoling cop. It reminded me of the dress she'd been wearing when we first met.

The first time spoke to Noel, she’d been very nervous. It’d been the day I arrived in Old Hill, and I was as tired as I’d ever been from the last leg of my trek.

I arrived just after sundown, and it was freezing cold. I remember scanning the street, looking down at the carbon copied rows of mcmansions for the address I’d been given by my father, many highways ago.

When her father opened the door, they’d all been standing there like a family photo, even the dog. Kyle Montgomery had stepped back, putting an arm around his wife and daughter, face tugged upwards with a thin smile that didn't bother to reach his eyes.

He had made the introductions, then disappeared into his study, leaving the tour to the two women. 

When I first saw Noel, she’d almost been hiding behind her mother. She was dressed perfectly, almost doll-like in that red dress and subtle makeup. It felt wrong, and I could almost at once tell that she felt the same way.

The reason I could tell: It was like looking into a mirror. A mirror that shows a you from ten years ago, with perfect braids and a red ribbon in her hair. She may not be blood, but even her name was similar to my own and my sisters. 

For a moment I’d wondered if this was part of father’s plan, to shack me up with some rich folks that were just like the ones I’d left, right down to the names, and hear tell of me breaking down from his hundreds of miles away. Surely I’d crack, go back to the way I was and the who I was, and come back home once I had seen his brand of reason.

That was not going to happen. I was sure of it.

In my mind's eye, I swiftly blurred past the tour. I didn't want to think about the empty, freshly cleaned out room where I was supposed to sleep, which had no furniture, save for the bedframe and the box it had came in. I didn't want to think about the camera that would lie witness to what Noel believed happened in that hallway.

After the tour, wherein Noel had warmed up a bit as we traded stories from their winter vacation and my trip down America's highway system, we made dinner.

It was a much needed change in the power balance: I got to take a break from saying my thank you's, while Rachel and Noel got to thank me for handing them freshly cut peppers and mushrooms to layer over the cheese and tomato sauce.

While her mother was putting the finishing touches on the pizza, Noel and I sat down in the massive open living room, to relax until dinner time. I sat by awkwardly as she did homework on her laptop.

Over the top of the screen, she watched me stare up at the Christmas tree in the corner. It was very tall and slowly dying, a month after its eponymous holiday.

"She's a pretty big one, isn't she?" Noel had gingerly put aside her small laptop. "Daddy let me pick it."

"You picked well," I'd smiled. "It reminds of the woods. I slept under a lot of trees just like her."

Her eyes went wide, as they had anytime I mentioned my hike. "Did you ever see a bear?"

I chuckled, turning away from the tree. "Quite a few, but not the animal kind."

She'd turned her head curiously, then said, "I've always wanted a little brother." She'd seemed to size me up, then nodded. "A big brother will have to do."

We both giggled. Now, thinking back, I don't think I'd been a very good older brother.

The pizza had been good, and it drew Mr. Montgomery out of his study. We ate at the dinner table with fork and knife, while Mrs. Montgomery told me about the history of their lace tablecloth and I tried not to spill pizza sauce on it. I had gotten used to the quiet of my own company, so their idle chatting was a herculean effort to abide in.

I could still very clearly see Kyle Montgomery sitting at that table. He'd been silent for almost the entire meal, just nodding politely with the discussion and bringing out that thin smile of his when he deemed it appropriate. As the girls cleaned up at the end of dinner, he offered, quite grandly, a drink in his office. 

I walked with him, and he remained silent as he opened a thick glass door that led into his study. The walls were lined with bookshelves, which were adorned with a small rolling ladder at the far end.

Just past that and before the back wall was a massive mahogany desk which sat proudly empty. A large fireplace roared hungrily. I stepped in, looking around in polite interest. 

He showed me the first real smile I had seen on him as I turned back to him opening a thin, black walnut liquor cabinet. His perfect white teeth gleamed in the firelight, and he said something… Something I don’t remember. Then he stepped forward, producing a curved knife from the top shelf.

And I took it, nodding. The memory was getting blurrier, and I had no recollection of this knife or anything past the study, save for saying good night and retreating to my room.

I felt my brain trying to walk through both versions of events in my mind. In one, I took a glass of fine whiskey and walked up to the matching glass door that led out into the wooded backyard.

In the other, I took the gleaming knife, and slipped it into the pad of my index finger. A small bead of blood pooled, threatening to spill over my finger.

In the other memory, we made polite discussion about the expenses a room like this can run, and I told him of my father’s study in New York, the towering walls of bookcases and hidden reading nooks.

In the opposite memory, Kyle took a white, lace edged cloth out of his back pocket, carefully dabbing the blood away. Another bead of blood spilled from the tiny wound, and I watched uncaring as the man bent and licked at the wound, quickly and business-like.

I placidly stared at my finger as the sides of the wound somehow started to reach out for each other, like molasses filling the sides of a bowl, until the skin met in the middle, appearing healed.

And now in both memories, I left the study with a nod and a wave, pausing to help with the last of the clean up before heading upstairs to collapse, exhausted.

Inside my cell, shivering and with my head pulsing in rhythm with my heart, I dragged my hands across my face and moaned. I didn’t even want to think about it.

I couldn’t not, the plain reality of the double memory was staggering, but I just wanted to ignore it. I wanted to be done with whatever crock of crazy bullshit I’d ended up in, just sleep and be done with it.

The memory wouldn’t let me. I sat up in bed, slowly, then closed my eyes, elbows on my knees to support my head. Why now? I’d thought back on that memory a dozen times before, why today does it bring back two opposing truths?

And why does it feature Noel’s father handing me a knife? Why, for that matter, had I taken it?!

And what had he said? Why couldn’t I remember? Why in God’s name had I allowed him to lick my finger? Why had it healed me? In the footage Noel had shown me, why had his hand hovered-

The door to the room opened. I looked up as Horne shoved a set of keys back in her pocket, staring at me over those gold rimmed glasses. Her eyes lowered to meet mine. She had been staring at the scar on my head. 

“Pepperoni or cheese?” she asked as she stepped in, booting the door closed behind her. In the crook of her hip, she held two large grease stained pizza boxes.

The smell hit me immediately, and I realized I hadn’t eaten for… I didn’t know how long. Still, I looked up at her, evaluating. “Pepperoni,” I hedged.

She slid a box through the bars vertically, and I grabbed it, putting it down on the cot next to me. Opening it, I saw it was plain cheese. She leaned against the wall, facing me smugly. Next to her, the shattered phone hung limply. 

I ripped free a slice of the pizza, then closed the box as I bit into it. It was good, but cold. I stared down at the box, remembering nights spent with Sam, Jack and Danny.

Fuhgeddi's Pizza was their go to, and I was always the one to order it. I read the name on the box, and the circling design around the logo that read 'Great People, Great Service, Great Food? Fuhgeddi-boudit!''

I smiled around the slice of pizza, then turned back to Horne. Her box was on the floor next to her, and she stared at me eat. It seemed clear that she would wait for me to finish before talking.

As I wiped my hands of my second slice, she pulled a water bottle out of her back pocket. Stepping off of the cot, I grabbed for it.

She grinned, pulling it back at the last second. I snapped for it again, and this time she let me have it. I cracked the cap off quickly, drinking it carefully as I sat back down on the cot. Breathing slowly as I recapped it, I looked at Horne. I felt marginally more normal, and thought to thank her for the food. 

Staring at the broken phone and feeling the ache in my skull pulse, I decided against it.

“So,” she said amiably. “We ran your details. Your wallet’s a piece of shit by the way, you’ll want to get that replaced someday. Tracked you down to New York City, with a trail of police meetings on your way down to Old Hill.” I watched her as she spoke, but my hands grabbed another slice of pizza. I ate it. Slowly.

“It’s pretty clear you aren’t who you say you are. For one, your license says you’re a woman by the name of Natalie Dempsey, but that’s out of date.” I tried to hide the cold vacuum that description suddenly poured into me. It helped that I had a slice of pizza firmly lodged in my mouth.

She watched me like a hawk. “Seems to me that you’re some type of con-woman. Folks take you in, for a year or so, and you screw them over. But this time," she got close to the bars, squinting at me. "You fucked up.” She said it, fully believing it. It almost made me want to laugh, but a thick layer of dread muffled the mirth. 

“Tell me about what happened today, Natalie.” She intended to call me by my deadname the entire time.

****

Hours later, Horne was heavily panting. My ears still rang from her screaming, slamming the bars, and throwing around the chair she had dragged in about thirty minutes ago. She hadn’t sat on it once. 

Next to me, the box of pizza lay open and half eaten, the water bottle sitting open on the oily cardboard. Across the room, Horne’s box was open, a thin pile of wood shavings on top of the pepperoni pizza. She leaned over to pick up the chair, which had landed on its side.

Its legs stuck in the bars of my cell for a moment, then noisily decoupled. She gripped the metal chair with the thin plastic padding tightly, staring death at me.

I slowly brought the water bottle to my mouth and took another sip. I hadn’t spoken once. She’d asked me many, many questions, sometimes insulting my intelligence, sometimes my appearance. I wasn’t going to give her what she wanted.

“You’re going to tell us what you did. One way or the other,” she said, still breathing heavily. She finally sat down in the chair, and started to dig out her key ring. I couldn’t help but grin.

In the silence, I heard the idle chatter that was Kim's episode of Cheers suddenly die. I had gotten so used to it, only hearing the theme and the ever-present 'Norm!'s over the muffle of the hallway. Now it was gone, and not at the start of a commercial either. 

Horne seemed not to notice, breathing carefully as she searched for the right key.

Footfalls approached from down the long hallway, the thin squeak of wet sneakers. With a metal clank, the door unlocked and opened. Horne looked up, and we both stared at what was, plainly, a pizza delivery boy.

Maybe boy was putting it too young; the thin, lanky guy looked about my age. He was wearing a backwards hat, and a black shirt that matched the Fuhgeddi’s Pizza logo on the box.

I briefly glanced down at the pepperoni-and-wood-carvings pizza on the floor next to Horne, who looked up at the intruder in confusion.

Meeting Horne’s gaze, the boy smiled brightly. He jingled a ring of keys in his right hand, and the grin widened as Horne stood, reaching for the handcuffs on her belt.

“Nuh-uh,” he said, stepping back and putting his right hand on his left hip. “(Sit, give me your keys, and forget.)” I stared at him as he said this, and his mouth did not make the shapes of the words.

They moved, and he was speaking, but he had not said ‘Sit, give me your keys, and forget.’ It was what I heard, however, and it was what Horne was doing.

She sat back down again, not roughly, staring at the newcomer. He held his hand out, and she dropped her keys into his hand. Somehow, his smile widened even further. Then, he started flipping through the keys on the ring.

Past him, I watched Horne’s eyes glaze over. She was awake, but seemed unseeing, not there. A sleepwalker's gaze.

“Nice to see you again!” The boy said, and with that smile all over his face I could see him as nothing but a boy. "Damn, she got you good." He gestured to my head, then stepped towards my cell’s door. He squinted for a moment, then deftly unlocked it.

“Who the fuck are you?” I asked unbelievingly, sliding back on the cot as he opened the door to my cell.

“Isaiah," he said with a hand to his chest. "And you’re Parker. Unless I just really, really fucked up.” He had stepped a little into my cell, hanging in from a bar. I looked back at Horne, who was staring sightlessly at me.

“What did you do to her?” I asked, blinking up at him.

“I (told) her,” he said, as if that cleared everything up. Again, his lips moved wrong, too fast to be 'told'. “She’ll be okay. Anyway, wanna go?”

I looked at him, concerned, and slowly shook my head. “That’s… I’m already in jail, I don’t want to get in any more trouble.”

“I know,” he said in a pacifying tone, “and that’s our fault. I’m here to make that right. Plus, we've got a tie to break. So let's go,” he said, nodding towards the open door with a grin.

Rapt in some dull species of mania, I felt a grin creep onto my face as well.

"Well?" Isaiah asked, his smile only growing.

What do you do?

<                      ≡                      >

[angstfactory]

@roman-werewolfy

Another long night. Well past the time she should have gone home. Since the festival, though, Neylani had taken on many extra hours to assist in getting their beloved town back to its original shape. It was the only way she could make it up to all of them for having failed so wildly that night, in not being able to protect anyone else, let alone herself. The sheriff wasn't two blocks from home, the rest of her evening mapped out in head as the cackle of the radio started up-- she often forgot to shut it off.

Nightshade Park, yeah. Check the north bench. 10-4. ETA is 20 minutes.

"Jesus Christ," the woman sighed, immediately cutting the wheel to turn the SUV around. She was a lot closer than twenty minutes. Neylani leaned forward to shut off the radio. Another two turns and five minutes later, the wolf's vehicle pulled in at the curb and got placed in park. She quickly unbuckled and hopped down, rushing down the dimly lit pathway towards a bench she had plenty experience with before. Sure enough, a large figure was slumped across its hard surface.

This wasn't the first time they'd found the man there like this before, but this many times in one week? It was like he was getting worse all over again. And she suspected it wasn't just coincidence. Yes, she had been concerned about his habits before and did her best to go easy on the wolf-- she had witnessed the changes in him over the last several decades. She'd just been a girl, when he was a young man and happy with his wife, when he became a father three times over. But then he enlisted, and each short return home, there was something else different in him. And after his wife passed, all light had gone from his eyes completely. All the locals knew, they sympathized. What could be done, though? The man spiraled straight down the drain and all anyone could do was look away, so they didn't witness the wreckage. Maybe, even, they thought it was respectful to mind their own business. She'd been that way too, feeling it wasn't appropriate to get involved when she had no business to.

Neylani couldn't do that anymore, though. Not after what he'd done for her that night.

She wiped a tear away, moving forward to help. "Roman, honey, wake up, come on," Neylani's voice was gentle, but she took him by the front of the shirt to sit him upright, "we need to move." If he got another arrest so soon, he may land before a judge that was sick and tired of giving him second chances.

Booze, aftershave, and cigarettes-- he always smelled the same, it was thick. The liquor particularly heavy tonight. "I know you're tired, but right now you got to help me help you, I don't want the deputies to get you tonight," Neylani told the drunk wolf, both arms going about his middle in order to heave him straight off the bench. Thankfully, the sheriff was strong enough on her own that she could bear the brunt of his weight and basically half-drag his body back to the SUV as fast as she was able. Within a few moments of struggle, Roman was placed in the backseat of the sheriff's SUV.

By the time Neylani drove from the curb and turned down another street, the flashing lights of one of her deputies reflected briefly in the rearview mirror. Close call. If anyone found out, it probably wouldn't look too good on her, she was doing this. Too bad. "Are you okay back there?" she asked, reaching to adjust the mirror lower so she could see the man laying there better.

One of these days, he wasn't going to come out of one of these funks, that's what she was afraid of.

[the-fallen-collective]

man life is shit lately

sorry for being such a downer, but I wanna get this off my chest and I’m too scared to actually talk to anyone directly

I’m not gonna go into detail for anything, just make a list of things that mostly started since last week

-got posted on r/systemcringe due to a misunderstand leading to a several day breakdown, a spike in paranoia and a few splits

-someone we really like and felt comfortable and safe around and had made a safe community for systems turned out to be a pedo

-our therapist told our mother things, which goes against our confidentiality considering the stuff we told our therapist isn’t anything that has us or anyone else in danger

-our mother is yet again ignoring us and our needs :/

-thinking back a lot and realizing our mother may not be as good as we thought she was, possibly even being borderline abusive for neglecting and brushing off our needs

-remembering something really traumatic that happened a long time ago but also part of the reason we ended up developing our CDD and our system

-remembering we are in fact still living in an abusive household (possibly two)

-going back to school tomorrow where one of our abusers are (and just.. our school has so many problems, the chances of us dying/being killed there are much higher than they should be but I guess since the last incident, there a lot more cops around. Which doesn’t help much for personal reasons, but i guess I’d rather not worry not being shot at or stabbed than the initial panic that happens whenever I see a cop)

-despite all this and our trauma, I still feel like we aren’t valid in anything because it “wasn’t as bad” or whatever and now my intrusive urges to throw myself into a really abusive relationship is back :/

[catmatpat]

Cops are not the judge jury and executioner and it is not their job to kill people even if they are criminals

Image Description: tweet from MsShaniqueLee says "Black Lives Matter even if they do resist arrest. Black Lives Matter even if they did commit a crime. Black Lives Matter even if they disrespect a cop. Black Lives do not matter conditionally. Black Lives Matter, period. All of them.

End description

-fae