#who's gonna stop me; the police? hardly

[invinciblerodent]

it's been a real struggle to find notebooks that I actually like, but I think I have found myself at a crossroads where I must ask myself--

am I the kind of person who would put function above form, and use the lovely, though plain notebooks from the office supply store

or am I the type to say fuck it, form over function, bitch, and order a custom-made one with a collage of my blorbo on it strictly for the meme

[miryum]

"The Stakeout"

Summary: Detective!Jason Todd x detective!Reader based on Jake and Amy's relationship

Series Warnings: Swearing, descriptions of violence (but nothing descriptive), guns and other police stuff

Series Masterlist

“Did you leave the precinct last night?” Jason set a mug of coffee next to Y/n’s desk. 

“The internet’s out at my apartment. The neighbour I’m leeching off turned it off for a couple days to teach their kids a lesson and this is the only place I can watch Bluey.”

“The kids show?” Jason raised a brow. 

Tim gasped and raced to Y/n’s computer. “I love Bluey!”

“Of course,” Jason rolled his eyes.

“Don’t you dare scoff at the majesty that is Bluey!” Y/n pressed a dramatic hand to her chest. “Clearly, you haven’t seen its brilliance. Sit down, baby Jay. You’re gonna love this.”

Both Tim and Jason crowded around the screen. Y/n pressed the keyboard and the iconic intro music played. Tim hummed along and Jason stared longingly at his book.

He hardly registered when the unicorn came on screen. “Children,” Tim and Y/n murmured with the unicorn.

The unicorn was spoiling a book about a princess and shoes. Jason wasn’t really paying attention. He could be reviewing files or reading books or bothering Damian. All valuable uses of his time.

“Wait, did you quote John Mulaney?” Jason realised. 

“Baby Jay? Yeah.” Y/n shushed him, “now watch this cinematic masterpiece.” 

“It’s a goddamn kid show. Any adult that watches this voluntarily needs therapy.”

“Yeah, I thought that was obvious,” Tim peered at him. “You’ve known us for more than four years. You hadn’t deduced that already?” 

“Touche.” 

“She calls herself The Queen of Crime,” Dick announced to the briefing room. “Or more well-known as Harley Quinn. She and her wife have broken into, set fire, exploded, and murdered more people and places than I can count.”

Y/n gasped. “Oh my gosh, gay crime queens? Do you think they would adopt me?”

“L/n, you would be an accomplice.” Tim frowned at his friend. 

“I would go to jail for my criminal moms.” 

“Anyway,” Dick rolled his eyes, a smile creeping at his mouth. “L/n and Todd will be staking out a place we’ve seen Quinn and Isley frequent. Cain will be their contact. Drake and Brown, I have another assignment for you that involves a murder.” 

“A murder?” Y/n whined. “No fair! How come I’m stuck with Todd and Steph gets a murder?” 

“I’m just better than you,” Stephanie shrugged. Y/n glowered at her. 

“I’m sure you’ll make the stakeout incredibly frustrating and boring,” Jason patted Y/n’s arm from his seat next to her. 

“Frustrating and boring: Title of your sex tape,” Y/n muttered, crossing her arms. “Dickie, you can’t expect me to live with Todd for three days! He won’t even do anything! He’ll just read and… I don’t know, what other nerdy things do you do?”

“Nerdy?” Jason shot back, “Says the person who references every TV show known to man!”

“Just so everyone knows,” Y/n raised a finger up. “The obsession this week is the Barbie movie.”

“Amen,” Steph clapped Y/n’s hand in a high-five. 

Cass fistbumped her. “Margot Robbie is a goddess amongst men.”

“Speaking of goddesses: Julie Andrews.” Y/n said. Steph hummed in agreement. “Princess Diaries marathon this weekend?”

“Y/n,” Dick interrupted. “You’ll be on a stakeout with Jason.”

“You think that will stop me?”

“No,” Dick admitted. “But... we‘re done. Everybody just go back to work.”

“You remind me of the Hulk.”

“I’m sorry, what?” Jason looked away from the camera that was perched in the windowsill.

“You remind me of the Hulk,” Y/n repeated from her seat on a beanbag chair. She grabbed some goldfish and popped them in her mouth. The apartment where the stakeout was taking place was small and decrepit. When Y/n had first seen it, she’d said, “I’m sorry, but I don’t wanna get tetanus.” Jason had locked the door before she could escape. (“If you wanted me alone, Jay, you could’ve just asked.”)

“How so?” Jason fought the urge to roll his eyes before turning back to stare out the grime-covered window.

“Well, first off, you’re fricking huge, but also a nerd.”

“Yeah, but I’m not a destructive green monster.” 

“I don’t know what you do outside of work.” Y/n shrugged. “But seriously, my dude. You need to stop working out. You’re making the rest of us look bad.” She reached over and poked Jason in the bicep.

“Are you flirting with me?” Jason smirked.

Y/n huffed and said, “you wish, Todd.” Thankfully, the walkie talkie crackled to life. “Talk to me, Goose,” Y/n snickered into the walkie talkie. 

Cass replied, “Maverick, we’re getting intel that Quinn and Isley are headed your way.”

“Thanks, man. Iceman’s keeping a watchout.”

“Iceman?!” Jason scoffed. “What makes me Iceman?!”

“Because you’re all stoic and impassive and eventually, you fall in love with me,” Y/n explained.

“I don’t remember Iceman and Maverick’s romance,” Cass’s voice was staticy and Jason was surprised she was still listening. 

“Come on,” Y/n’s eyebrows rose incredulously. “We could all feel the tension.” Cass hummed in acquiescence.

“L/n,” Jason shushed. “They’re here.” Y/n immediately quieted and turned off the walkie talkie. She went to sit next to Jason, making sure the camera was effectively hidden behind a screen. Outside, the pair could see a large truck pull up to the warehouse across the street. Out jumped Harley Quinn, her pigtails bouncing as she whistled. She skipped around the semi-truck and opened the door for her wife, Pamela Isley. Isley gave Quinn a kiss on the cheek and Y/n let out an ‘aw!’ Jason rolled his eyes and said, “just because they’re lesbians doesn’t mean they’re cute. They’ve committed many crimes.” 

“Being lesbians automatically makes them adorable and exempts them from all their crimes.”

Jason shushed her again and started taking pictures, the camera softly clicking away. Quinn opened the back of the semi and Isley pulled open the doors of the warehouse. Cheerfully, Quinn stacked boxes for Isley to roll away on a dolly. 

“What’s in the boxes?” Y/n wondered. 

“Do you think we’d be here if I knew?” Y/n glared at Jason’s response. 

Minutes passed, silent only for the snaps of the camera. Quinn and Isley continued to unload the truck and by the way they were piling them in the front of the warehouse, Y/n guessed that they were either moving the boxes soon or the warehouse was already filled. It wasn’t long before Isley slammed the truck door shut and blew a kiss to her wife. Quinn waved dramatically as Isley started the truck, leaving Quinn behind to man the warehouse. 

“Are we good?” Y/n asked. “Did we get all the pictures? Can we return to civilization and its cleaning supplies?”

“The apartment isn't that bad,” Jason said. “And no, we have to wait to see what Quinn’s doing.” Y/n groaned loudly and flopped over on her beanbag. “I figured this would happen,” Jason began to dig around his bag. “So I came prepared.” He pulled out some paper and pens and threw them at Y/n. “Draw me a picture or write me a story.” 

Y/n frowned at him. “What do you think I am? Five?” Jason shot her a knowing look and she muttered, “yeah, okay. That’s a pretty good idea.” Y/n sat down on the ground, mumbling about blastomycosis and mold poisoning. Jason silently wondered how she knew so much about diseases. Sitting back on her beanbag, Y/n uncapped a pen and started drawing. Or writing. Jason wasn’t really sure. He was more preoccupied with the case. 

After fifteen minutes, (Jason had hoped it would distract her for longer,) Y/n proudly showed Jason her drawing. “I even wrote a story to go with it!” She presented another piece of paper, filled with her scribbly handwriting. 

“What’s it about?” Jason asked, eyes slowly turning away from the camera and towards Y/n. 

“It’s a tragic love story between a marshmallow and a cup of hot chocolate who can never be together because the hot chocolate would melt the marshmallow, but the marshmallow stayed with the hot chocolate, even though it was slowly dying, because it loved the hot chocolate.” Y/n taped her picture and story up on the wall.

“Shakespeare would be put to shame,” Jason said after a moment of processing. Y/n nodded along. “Romeo and Juliet, who?” 

Y/n gasped softly. “Oh my gosh, I think I love you.”

“I thought that was already established,” Cass’s voice came through the walkie talkie. 

Y/n quickly pressed the button. “You’re still there?” 

“L/n, this is an open police line.” Cass was rubbing her temples. “We need to be in constant contact with you.”

Jason snagged the walkie talkie away from Y/n and updated Cass. “Quinn’s still at the warehouse. L/n and I request to prolong our stay to keep tabs on her.” 

“Wait, we could still leave?!” 

“I’ll ask Wayne,” Cass said. “Stay sharp.” The line crackled and went silent. 

“Todd, why are we staying later than needed?” Y/n whined. “We could be back at the precinct right now.”

“Because this would be a big bust for us. If we shut down the Crime Queen’s operation, and maybe even catch one, that’d be a major operation off of the street.” He looked back at the detective. “Come on, Y/n. Think about it.” 

Y/n grumbled, but relented. “Fine.” She went back to scribbling on the paper, angrily huffing out profanities every now and then and asking Jason how to spell certain words. (“How the hell do you not know how to spell equipment?” “It’s a hard word!”)

“Cass, I’m transferring some pictures to you,” Jason spoke into the walkie talkie, sometime around ten fifteen at night. “I’m not seeing any activity right now, but I’ll keep you updated.”

“We’ll keep you updated,” Y/n corrected. “We’re a team, remember, Todd?” 

“You’re right,” Jason looked back at her. “I’m sorry. We’ll keep you updated.” He flipped off the walkie talkie and said, “if we’re a team, then do you want to take a turn at the camera?”

Y/n scrunched her nose. “Nah. I’ll just wait until you pass out from exhaustion to take my shift.”

“Thanks,” he said dryly. “Really helpful.” 

“I know.”

It was late the next morning and Y/n was sitting dutifully by the window, letting Jason snore on the beanbag. She had the movie Deadpool on in the background, occasionally quoting things alongside Wade Wilson. “A fourth wall break inside a fourth wall break! That’s like… sixteen walls,” she mumbled, wrapped in a fuzzy blanket she had stolen off of Jason. A loud honking lifted her from the edges of sleep and Y/n bolted upright, cursing. A sleek, black limo pulled in front of the warehouse and Y/n immediately radioed in to Cass. “Hey, Goose, we have a situation.” 

“What is it, Maverick?” Cass yawned, still following along with Y/n references.

“A black limo, licence plate…” Y/n took dozens of pictures. “PNGIN, just pulled into the lot. Sending evidence now.” She opened the precinct laptop Jason had packed and uploaded the photos. “I might need backup if an exchange is going down.” 

“Copy that,” Cass said. 

From the limo stepped a pudgy man in a three-piece suit with a large tophat. Y/n had to refrain herself from commenting on his appearance. “Jay, get up! Get up!” She kicked the beanbag chair and Jason awoke with a start, mumbling things about interrupting his sleep. “Oh my god, is that…” Y/n squinted through the camera lens, pressing the ‘talk’ button on the walkie talkie. “Cass! It’s Cobblepot! Cobblepot’s meeting up with Quinn!”

“-at?” It sounded like Cass said ‘what?’ but only clicked her button during the last half, surprise evident in her voice. “Lemme get Dick. And Wayne.” She added the Captain as if on second thought. 

After a tense minute where Y/n had to kick Jason again, Dick came on the radio. “L/n, report,” he commanded.

“Cobblepot’s meeting up with Quinn. I’ve sent the photos. I’m requesting a soft backup. Let me see what’s going on, but I want officers on hand. We could stop something big here, Sarge.”

“Copy that. You’ll get your officers. Where do you want them?”

“A half a block away,” she said. “And Dick? I need ‘em now. I don’t know what’s going on, but Quinn’s coming out to meet Cobblepot.”

Cass’s voice returned. “Y/n, Dick’s going to lead the officers himself. His ETA should be about ten minutes. Sit tight.”

“Will do, as soon as Todd WAKES UP!” Y/n kicked Jason in the shin, earning a loud “ow!”

“I’m up!” Jason shot up, rubbing sleep from his eyes. “What?”

“Fucking Cobblepot! You’re about to sleep through our bust! Bitch,” she clicked her tongue, ”wake up!”

“Cobblepot?” Jason said blearily. He raced the window, squinting down at the scene below. “Holy…”

“I know!” Y/n punched Jason on the shoulder excitedly. He flinched away from her, acting as if it had hurt. 

Y/n snapped pictures as Jason took over the computer, typing a report. Finally, after what seemed like ages, Cass said, “Backup’s here, just in case.”

“Thanks, Cain,” Jason said, eyebrows furrowed in concentration.

“Quinn’s taking Cobblepot into the warehouse,” Y/n reported. “But I can’t see… do we have any footage of the interior?” 

“Would we be here if we had access inside?” Jason groaned. 

“Now I see why people avoid you in the morning,” Y/n grumbled back, shooting Jason a warning glare. She shoved a cereal box towards the man and Jason angrily shoved some food into his mouth. “Now you won’t be so fucking cranky,” she muttered.

“Stop fighting!” Cass demanded, “what do you see?”

“Nothing! Other than Cobblepot’s men standing ominously by his limo.” Y/n asked, “how come we don’t have limos? That would be so much cooler.”

Cobblepot stepped out of the warehouse, Quinn trailing behind him. He gestured to his men and a couple of them started loading boxes into the trunk of the limo. “We’ve got movement!” Y/n shouted into the walkie talkie. “If we’re going to arrest them, it’s gotta be now! We won’t get Isley, and she’ll probably break Quinn out of prison, but at least we’ll get Cobblepot.” 

“You’re just soft for your crime moms,” Jason exhaled sharply. 

Dick’s voice was hardly understandable through the radio, but Y/n and Jason watched from the window as Dick and his team surrounded Quinn and Cobblepot and his men. “I feel like we should help,” Jason mumbled.

“Do you have a zipline?” Y/n asked out of the blue.

“No… why?” Jason seemed hesitant to answer, concerned about the answer. 

“Dang it,” Y/n shook her head. “It would’ve been easy for us to join the fight if we could just zipline down there. It’d look so cool, too!” She mimed shooting down a zipline and fighting all the bad guys off. Jason chuckled. 

Dick eventually managed to apprehend Cobblepot and Quinn, the latter who threw a wink right to the window where Y/n and Jason sat. Y/n gasped and threw open the window, sticking her head out. “Hi!” she shouted down to the apprehended criminals. “Oh my gosh, you’re Harley Quinn! I’m a huge fan!”

“Hey!” Harley Quinn waved back before Dick handcuffed her. “Aren’t you just a sweetie pie?! Were you the one spying on us since Tuesday?” Her thick Brooklyn accent shouted up to the detectives.

“Yeah! That was me!” Y/n grinned. “I love you and your wife! Can you adopt me?”

“Oh, honey, we would love to!” Harley called. “But unfortunately, I may be going to jail.” She pouted sadly and then grinned hopefully. “Think you can do anything about that, sugar?”

Y/n frowned and said, “unfortunately, no I can’t, adopted mom. But, I can promise to turn the other cheek when my other adopted mom breaks you out.”

“Deal!” Harley winked again and said, “send me the adoption papers and I’ll sign anything.”

“I love you!” Y/n shouted as Dick shoved Quinn into the back of his police car, rolling his eyes. 

“You just can’t help yourself, can you?” Jason joined Y/n leaning on the windowsill, gazing over at her. 

“Nope.”

[oneofstarkskids]

fresh out the slammer

pairings: steve randle x reader

summary: steve's gotten himself into trouble... again. but it's alright, cause he knows who his first call will be to.

a/n: not my usual fandom, but you can hardly blame me.

*not my gif*

you had planned for a quiet evening full of studying for an upcoming test, but when you're dating steve randle there is no such thing as a quiet evening. your rotary phone rang loudly from it's place on your desk, scaring you half to death.

you jumped up from your bed and reached for the device. breathlessly, you held it up to your face, "hello?"

on the other end was that charming voice, smooth as butter, "hey darlin'." you couldn't stop the smirk that tugged at your lips, and thank god he couldn't see it.

"steve jacob randle! do you know what time it is?"

steve chuckled on the other end, "yeah. sorry to bother you, sweets, but i need your help."

worry suddenly washed over you and your brain went through every possible scenario, "are you okay?"

steve thought it was cute how concerned you sounded, "i'm alright. i just need you to come pick me up."

you frowned. pick him up? steve had his own car, so why would he need to be picked up? "from where?" you asked curiously.

"me, dally and two-bit are kinda in the slammer..."

you were furious. why would this man think it would be a good idea to call you? he knew exactly what you thought of his talent to get himself in trouble.

nonetheless, you loved him. sometimes you wondered why. so, you made your way over to the curtis' place to tell sodapop what happened.

he wasn't all that surprised. he just grabbed his coat and you caught a ride with him over to the station.

soda filled out some paperwork as you talked to an officer. "no charges were pressed so bail's not an issue, but this will go on their records."

you gave him a tight lipped smile, "thank you, officer." he led you down the hall towards the holding cells.

dallas was sitting on the floor with one of his legs propped up, looking bruised and pissed off as ever.

two-bit, who hardly had a scratch, was standing against the wall with his arms crossed.

and then there was yours, standing the closest to the bars with an apologetic smile on his face as soon he saw you.

the officer unlocked the cell and the boys slowly walked out one by one. you didn't say anything, just gave them all a stern look and walked back the way you'd come.

they followed a bit behind, but steve hurried to catch up to you, "baby, i'm real sorry."

you tried to ignore him, but he was persistent, "not here, steve." by the time you guys had gotten back, soda had finished all the paperwork and you were free to go.

soda, two, and dally went straight to the car but you paused, "stevie and i are gonna walk home. thanks for the ride."

steve pouted, "but i'm tired." you shot him a glare. you were not going to put up with his whining right now.

soda nodded in acknowledgment and drove off with the others.

the two of you walked for a bit until you felt like you were far enough from the police station to kick his ass.

"what did you do this time?" you asked in annoyance. steve placed his hands on your arms, "it wasn't my fault, darlin'! those soc's were fixin' for a fight."

you scoffed, "then that's something you have in common."

steve shook his head, "wasn't like that. we were smoking outside the dingo and they roll up in their fancy mustangs with some kinda grudge."

steve wouldn't lie to you and you knew that, so it didn't take long for your anger to fizzle.

"i really wish you wouldn't get yourself in these situations," you sighed as you eyed his scrapes and bruises.

"you don't gotta worry about me. i can handle my own," he smirks and pulls you closer by your waist.

you rolled your eyes lovingly, "i know you can. sometimes i just wish you wouldn't."

steve shook his head, trying to understand what you meant, "and run away? no way. those stuck up soc's get what's comin' to them. i'm never gonna stop fighting, baby. i can't. not after everything they done."

and for a moment his macho exterior fades and you see the tears shimmering in his eyes.

"stevie, you know i love you, right?" you ask with a soft smile on your face.

he smiles back, but it quickly turns into a smirk, "does that mean i get a kiss?"

your laughter fills the night air, "not with that busted lip."

you turn to continue walking but steve, who now has a taste for revenge, comes running up behind you and swings you off your feet.

you helplessly protest so he puts you down, but he doesn't let you walk away just yet.

swiftly, he grabs your hand and spins you to face him before planting his lips on yours.

despite the fuss you had made, you kiss him back with just as much fervor.

as soon as the kiss is over his expression turns very serious, "i still can't believe you had soda leave us here to walk home."

he curses from the sting of your playful slap.

[pinazee]

First season wrap up:

Okay, to start, i should mention my general opinion on first seasons for shows, especially cable shows, is not to read too much of it as canon. The writers, producers, actors- everyone- are all trying to figure out what works and what doesn’t, so i give them latitude, particularly when it conflicts with later seasons. That being said, i do enjoy jumping through the hoops to make it all fit haha

So heres a few leftover notes i had as i revisited the eps to rank them:

I bet part of Lassie was craving the father figure in Henry, since we find out later his own father passed away when he was quite young. I wonder if thats part of the reason why he became a cop, as they are portrayed as the protectors and in the 80’s they were mainly men (i don’t really remember if he states his reason later, i suspect he did and im just not remembering). So when Henry didn’t meet up to the expectation he had in his mind, i bet it hurt a little more as it reminded him of what he lost :/

I think the other reason Shawn plays dumb so much, besides hiding his genius so ppl believe hes psychic, or for laughs, is because its how he gets people talking. Like in Shawn vs. the red phantom, he purposely guessed the wrong room number so the boys would correct him. My apologies if someones pointed this out before, i haven’t combed through the internet for everyone’s theories 😬 i only now noticed. I’m not the quickest at picking these things up lol

If i had to guess, Shawn didn’t want to be a cop for halloween, he probably wanted to be something star wars related to go with Gus’s Lando. So i wonder at what age Shawn stopped trying to please his dad. But also, why didn’t his mother ever stand up for him?? I’ll come back to her later -_-

I somehow missed it the first time, but shawn clearly asked Gus to come to the dinner and Gus even points out that it was a big deal for henry to reach out. Soo, yeah, shawn obviously didn’t wanna be alone with his dad, and even henry seemed nervous about it as hes pretty drunk.

Shawn has a right to be afraid of pointy things, his dad hid his easter eggs under glass when he was 6! Not to mention he later gets stabbed 3 times! (Also its just a legitimate fear???)

So far the list of Shawns knowledge (things i wouldn’t expect an average person to know) includes (beyond the obvious observational skills, deductive reasoning, reading people (poker), and all things police (marksmanship, police codes, etc.)):

Incredible spatial and physical reasoning skills (knowing how much money could fit in the duffle bag, knowing to rotate the water pitcher to catch the reflection from the tv)

Kurt Vonnegut (well, I didn’t know who he was at least)

How to spell aggiornamento (and probably all words because of his photographic memory)

Handwriting expert

Casually spoke and understood german

Has every road he’s driven mapped in his brain, and likely all of Santa Barbara

Familiar with paint (enough to know to mix latex enamel for no messy drips)

Animal tracks (i went back and forth on this but ultimately decided he must have known what to look for)

And heres a list of Gus’s niche interests:

Forensics

Spelling bee

Safe cracking

Historic rifles

Comic books

Astronomy (even though he was going to the planetarium for the girl)

Law

Local tennis

Online poker

Lastly, Ive decided instead of ranking them, im putting them in tiers. I feel like too many of them are hitting at the same level and I can’t differentiate:

Sweetest, Juiciest Golden Pineapple Tier

Scary Sherry, Biancas toast (ohmygod i just got the biancas toast 🤦🏽‍♀️)

Blue Psych Logo Tier

Weekend warriors

Forget me not

From the earth to starbucks

Poker? I hardly know her! (Sorry @pineapple-psychic!)

Pepto Bismo Pink Tier

Spelling bee

Pilot

She loves me, she loves me not, she loves me oops hes dead

Who ya gonna call?

Shawn vs the red phantom

Oops Canadian Flag Tier

Cloudy with a chance of murder

9 lives

Game set muuurder

Speak now or forever hold your piece

Woman seeking dead husband, smokers okay, no pets

[jungle-angel]

While He Was Sleeping (Bob Floyd x Reader)

Summary: Bob's parents have been together for close to 30 years, but there's a little secret to how they met

Warnings: Weed smoking, concert shenanigans, Bob's uncles all being complete morons etc.

Notes: For @sorchathered for the RomCom prompts!!! I did kinda deviate a little bit from the story, but my darling, please enjoy (lol).

30 years........30 years to that day Bob's family had been together and you and him could hardly believe it.

The whole Floyd family had convened en masse to the ranch in Montana to celebrate, but at the end of the day it was just you, Bob and his parents, the four of you sitting out by the firepit in the waning evening light, the haze of late spring having set fully over Bozeman and the bright red disk of the sun fully visible in the sky.

"Holy hell what a day," Joe sighed as he pulled Irene close to him.

"Good day, Dad?" Bob asked him.

"Yeah, just exhausting," he said. "Wasn't expecting that many people to show up."

"I'm surprised your brother's brain still works," Irene chuckled as the flames crackled.

"What do you mean?" you asked, laughing a little.

"Bobby never told you?" Joe asked. "Jeez, I thought that story ran rife in the family."

You looked at your husband who in turn grew sheepish. "What happened with your uncle?"

"Um......I.....I don't remember......" Bob said, trying to hide the laugh that was threatening to come out.

"Oh I do," Joe chuckled. "Eyeballs, you remember this one?"

"Oh indeed I do," Irene laughed. "Because that's the story about how we met."

Your eyes went wide, yourself smiling as your jaw hung open.

"Alright, my guess is it's storytime," Joe said, making himself comfortable in the Budweiser camp chair. "Back in the late 70s, me and my brothers decided we were gonna sneak into a Doobie Brothers concert with a few friends of ours."

"Summer of '79 right?" Irene queried.

"Yep," Joe replied. "Us five idiots had piled into the back of our friend's Vista Cruiser and headed off to the stadium to go see'em in Oklahoma City. Concert was great, until Chris decided he was gonna actually smoke a doobie."

You and Bob laughed a little bit. Bob's uncle, Chris, had always been the straight laced one in the family, a very well respected police officer just like Bob's brother, Michael.

"Anywho....." Irene said, giving her husband 'the look'.

"Anywho," Joe continued. "Chris is high out of his mind by the time the concert gets out and walks himself right into a fuckin lamp-post on the way back to the car. He's not moving of course, so we've gotta book it right to the hospital. We get there and the nurses completely freak so they test him and fin out he's concussed."

You and Bob both grimaced at the image.

"So us idiots are waiting," Joe explained. "When lo and behold I see this gorgeous lady coming in because a friend of theirs was so loaded that she ended up eating shit on the pavement."

You and Bob shouldn't have laughed, but you were, the two of you letting out a piggish snort.

"Oh my God," Irene laughed. "Cheryl Anne was more than loaded. She was giving the nurses a hard time and I needed some air."

"So she goes out and I'm thinking that maybe I should talk her up a little bit," Joe chuckled.

"Yeah, Chief Running-Of-The-Mouth is hitting on me while his partner, Afraid-Of-Crotch-Hair is near the dumpster and has just lit his pants on fire," Irene remarked.

"Nobody knew he had a lit roach in his pocket, dear," Joe reminded her.

By this time, you and Bob could barely breathe, let alone stop laughing. "Dad what the hell.....?" Bob squeaked in between laughing fits.

"Do you even remember what we were talking about that night?" Irene asked Joe.

"I think it had something to do with the furniture," Joe theorized. "You were leaning kinda funny on it."

"There was something else too," Irene added.

"What was that?" Joe asked her.

"Chris asked me when it was the two of us fell in love," Irene told him. "I told him it was while you were sleeping."

Joe's forehead came to rest against Irene's, and yours against Bob's. Who would have thought, that his father had found the same romance that the two of you had found all those years ago.

[dol-dee]

So... you imagine DoL set in the early 2000s? ME TOO. Tell me more about that!

aaaaaaa yes I do!!!! (Sorry for the late reply haha. I kept forgetting to come back to this ask) I think I started to feel that way pretty early on, since there's hardly any electronics around in game.

You don't have access to a phone yourself (which, admittedly makes sense as an orphan) but electronics get barely mentioned in general. (I'm guessing the true reason for it, is that it would be too much of a hassle to implement electronics as a mechanic in game. bc arguably you should easily be able to buy a phone or w/e later on, if dol actually took place in our time) Named npcs often have phones to record you with (which I kinda forgot about tbh lmao) but unless in that context, phones don't get brought up at all iirc. None of the named npcs ever ask you for your phone number and Social media isn't really a topic of conversation either.

The only Computers that I remember mentioned in game are Leightons, Mickey's, Kylars and the one you can check in the police station. (I don't remember if Bailey even has one or not.) They are far and few between. They also all read as desktop computers to me and not laptops. Hell, the only gaming Console to ever be a topic of interest, is Robins. I don't think we hear of/see any handheld conosles at all. Even TV's rarely get mentioned.

Pop Culture, like manga, anime and games doesn't seem to be a big thing yet either.

All of that gives me the impression that most electronic is still pretty sparse and hard to come around and kinda reminds me of my childhood when those interests where still conisdered niche/nerdy and weird. The few characters that have desktop pc's seem to be ones that had/have enough money (like Kylar, maybe Bailey?) to foot the bill, are either in a high enough position of power to own one (like leighton) or they're involved enough in shady business that they might have the resources to have their own equipment (Mickey).

tbf a lot of my reasoning can be argued against or easily explained away, but I think dol is infinitely more interesting as a game/story when it's set during the early/mid 2000s, where most electronics were still hard to come by.

Oh and last but not least: it simply makes for easier story telling haha. I think there would be way more ""plot holes"" you'd have trouble explaining away if it was set during modern times. considering how much digital surveilance we have nowadays.

Aside from all the examples I just brought up, dol just has that 2000s grime to me. It's so grungy and dank in it's vibes that it always reminds me of that timeframe. Just has that kinda clunky/kitschy charm to it. (a more eclectic personal explanation is that the seasons in game still feel the way I remember them for my childhood. nowadays everything feels really out of wack thanks to global warming. Although I'm sure that people who are older than me would say the same haha)

to keep this already long post short(er lmao) I'm gonna go into some headcanons under the cut; Basically which Characters have electronics and why:

Avery: has an expensive af and extremely clunky looking (by todays standards) work laptop, that she sometimes lugs around. Also owned one of the first mobile phones. Those really big and blocky ones. Maybe even had one of those phones that were built into cars. However, I think shed be kinda annoyed by mobile phones*, even if she's extremely diligent in answering her calls. (the grind never stops) *based on this comic from 1919 about pocketphones: Mostly because she strikes me as someone who doesn't care to be overly accessible and also hates it when whatever shes doing at the moment gets disrupted by something else.

Alex: Canonically has a phone in game. To me it's a landline phone. They don't own much electronics beside it. They have no desktop pc and no mobile phone. (canonically the own a tv and I feel like they'd have a radio, maybe even an old record player) Bailey: It would make sense for them to have a desktop computer but I can't remember if they canonically (and with that I mean in game) do have one or not. I could see it either way tbh. As they strike me as a stubborn hard ass whos paranoid about electronics and quickly gets annoyed by it) They only own burner phones aside from the official landline phone thats designated for "over the counter" orphanage business. Eden: Has an old ass radio and an extremely dusty burner phone that bailey gave them once. They don't own anything else

Harper: has a mobile phone they got from Remy, it's purely for business. I don't think they have one for personal business. They own a pager though bc of the hospital. They probably have a desktop pc too if only for hospital stuff.

Kylar: Has a Desktop pc, their parents footed the bill for that many screened monstrosity (tbf i dont know enough to remember if old pcs are even able to have several monitors connected to them or not). Probably had a mobile phone once. Whitney stole it. They own a few consoles but they prefer pc gaming (pc master race /j) Some 2000s era games (with no consideration for an exact timeframe) that I think Kylar would be into are : Vampire: The Masquerade Bloodlines American McGee's Alice Shin Megami Tensei: Persona 3 / Persona 3 Portable The Urbz: Sims in the City The Sims 2 The Legend of Zelda: Majora's Mask

Robin: No mobile phone, the only electronics they keep around (until they inevitably need to sell them for emergency money) are an old tv and a gaming console. I have no concrete headcanons regarding the exact console and games unfortunately. (They seem to like superhero related stuff and I don't remember enough games that I associate with that direction of the top of my head)

Sydney: Has access to a landline phone but thats it. they don't have a mobile phone. Maybe they got to look at/ try out a pc at Kylars house once upon a time, but I don't think Sirris has one themself. I might be off with this but I could see Sirris being the one who bought a few early nintendo consoles like the SNES and Game Cube. Maybe even a gameboy.

Whitney: I don't think Whitney or their family is particularly wealthy so all of the access to electronics that they got, is either through wealthier friends, bullying or stealing. They have a mobile phone and probably a few handheld consoles they nabbed off their victims (in secret).

[sixhours]

bright spots - chapter 6

Series Chapter Index | Read on AO3 | In progress

Rating: Teen Words: 2.1k Series tags: The Last of Us, The Last of Us (HBO), Joel & Ellie, Joel Miller, Ellie Williams, Marlene, canon divergence, hospital AU, medical stuff, blood, hurt/comfort, angst, canon-typical violence, vomiting, implied rape/sexual assault, I've probably forgotten some so please let me know <3

Joel

Nine appears to be the magic number. Nine days since they stumbled into the Fireflies’ domain and got flash-bombed for their trouble. Ellie must be considered well-rested, because that morning, the doctor himself makes an appearance alongside Marlene, the older nurse, and two soldiers. Marlene introduces him as Dr. Anderson.

Joel doesn’t know what he expected when the man walks into the room. He just knows he doesn’t like him.

He’s slight and pale, tired eyes sunken into his head. His clothes are clean but threadbare and ill-fitting, and something about that sets Joel’s teeth on edge. They haven’t even started yet and the man looks weary, plainly put. Haggard and exhausted, instilling no confidence.

Worse, he doesn’t bother acknowledging Ellie. He’s frowning at something on a clipboard as he talks in clipped tones with Marlene and the nurse, something about samples and a schedule and lab assistance.

“Think you should at least explain what’s gonna happen to her,” Joel cuts in when he can’t hold his tongue any more.

The doctor looks up as if surprised to see him, frowns at the interruption.

“We need to establish a baseline now that she’s had some time to settle in. We’ll want to measure other things, of course, but for now, it’s the routine stuff. Cell counts, blood sugar, iron levels. We might test her plasma, and eventually we’ll want a bone marrow sample. Nothing nefarious.”

Strange choice of words.

The man doesn’t offer further explanation, doesn’t wait to see if either of them has questions. Finished with his business, secure in the knowledge that his staff has their orders, he turns away and leaves the room as if he has somewhere more important to be.

Yeah, Joel really doesn’t like this guy.

And then the nurse is putting a tourniquet around Ellie’s upper arm. Joel can’t help but think it’s all for show. Flanked by her guards, Marlene is hardly there in a medical capacity. So the first blood draw happens under the watchful eye of one nurse and a small militia. As though Ellie’s blood needs a fuckin’ police escort.

And who’s protecting Ellie?

He is, he realizes with a twist in his gut. Like Marlene said, he’s on the payroll, complicit in what happens over the next however many weeks and he’s supposed to just…let it happen. 

Ellie peers over her shoulder at him then, something questioning, almost pleading in her eyes. The look is so unfamiliar, it takes him a long moment to place it.

Is this okay?

He remembers that look on Sarah’s face, always a cautious kid, always looking over her shoulder at him and waiting a beat before throwing herself headlong into the thing. That pause said “This is good, right Dad?” and Joel always marveled at how she trusted him so completely, the twenty-something dumbfuck from Nowhere, Texas who got his girlfriend knocked up when she was nineteen.

Ellie was nothing like Sarah that way. She’d had no one to look back to and therefore no reason to ask for reassurance. She’d forged ahead on her own power, knowing the only one who’d be looking out for her was her. He saw it time and time again on the road, every time he pulled her back from a ledge or stopped her from running into a building they hadn’t cleared. She had a fierce and foolish bravery and never once had she let Joel’s worrying and fretting for her safety slow her down.

But today, she pauses. She asks him with her eyes, asks the same dumbfuck from Nowhere, Texas who managed to lose the most precious thing he’d ever known, a broken man given a second chance in the form of a silent question.

This is good, right?

Joel makes the decision. He can’t tell her no, he can’t deny her anything as much as his instincts are screaming for this to stop.

I’ll follow you wherever you go.

She was wrong. He was always the one following her.

He gives her a subtle nod, meets her eyes. I’m with you.

She turns back, squares her shoulders, and sticks out her arm.

“I’m ready.”

Ellie watches in fascination as the needle pierces her skin, seems almost thrilled when the nurse has to try again because her veins are so small. There’s a tiny, delighted gasp when the vein is found and blood spurts into the vial, a soft so cool whispered under her breath. Joel isn’t normally queasy around needles, but Ellie’s lack of self preservation borders on obscene.

It’s over in less than two minutes; there’s a bandage at the crook of her arm and the nurse turns the vial a few times before sticking it in a little tray.

“That’s done,” she chirps, and then the team is gone, leaving a heavy silence in their wake.

Joel knows this won’t be the vial that makes the cure, but there’s still a weight to the moment. Ellie stares at her bandaged arm, draws her fingers over the gauze lightly, thoughtfully, as though the fate of the world hinges on this moment. Maybe it does.

He watches as she seems to come back to herself, turning to him with an expression that’s all teenage bravado.

“Dude, look,” she says, grinning, holding out her arm. “Dinosaur band-aid.”

Ellie

So far, being the world’s only immune person is about what Ellie expected. They take a lot of blood, and she likes watching the red liquid spurt into the little tubes–it’s kinda like Joel’s gas siphon, but cooler. The nice nurse, Nurse Joanna, is gentler about it, and always prefaces the draw with just a little pinch in warning. Nurse Cooke goes rough with the tourniquet and doesn’t say anything, just jabs her until she finds a vein.

Plus, they have fancy dinosaur band-aids. Fuck yeah.

She imagines them putting all her blood into a magic machine that spins it around and takes out the immune parts and stuffs them into vaccine shots. It’s a silly thought, she knows, but she doesn’t have much basis for comparison…and she has way too much time on her hands to dream up stupid shit.

They do more tests–Marlene calls them neurological evaluations and cognitive screenings . They’re boring as fuck, but less boring than sitting around in her room and reading dumb magazines, so she cooperates and counts to ten and answers the same questions over and over again.

At least Marlene humors her when she has time. Occasionally Ellie walks down the hall to her office, usually when Joel is otherwise occupied–so, sleeping. He said he trusts her, but that frustrating need for his approval has her sneaking out of their room regardless.

Today she leaves him snoring in the chair by her bed with his chin tucked to his chest and wanders Marlene’s way, bypassing the guards to knock at the threshold of her office.

“Come in.”

She pokes her head in the door as Marlene looks up from her paperwork, arching a brow. “Does your guard dog know you’re here?”

Ellie shrugs.

Marlene snorts, but she nods to the chair across from her desk. “Have a seat. What can I do for you?”

“I was hoping we could…talk. About my mom.”

“What did you want to know?”

Everything , Ellie thinks, but she looks at her fingers, picking at her cuticles.

“I dunno. You were her best friend, right? So I figure if anyone can tell me stuff…”

She trails off.

Marlene sighs and sits back in her chair, abandoning her papers for the time being. “Anna and I were…very good friends even before the outbreak. We grew up together.”

“And she was a Firefly, too?”

Marlene nods. “We were both from Boston, so when everything went to shit and FEDRA took over, it was…personal. It was our home. We wanted to protect it.”

“Was I born in Boston?”

“No, you were born outside the QZ, in a safe house.”

“Can’t have been very safe if my mom got bit.”

Marlene smirks. “There aren’t many safe places left in this world…you know that. This hospital is probably one of the most well-protected compounds in the country, and we’re still at risk every day.”

Ellie thinks of Jackson and bites her tongue. “Why was she out there in the first place?”

“Well…you know how things are in the QZ. When you were born, the situation was particularly unstable. And as a Firefly, Anna was considered a criminal. She couldn’t give birth at a FEDRA hospital or she would have gone to prison, and we needed time to obtain forged identity papers for you. The plan was for her to stay at one of the safe houses for a few months after you were born, then we’d find a way to smuggle you back in.”

“What, like…supplies? Like chicken and pills and–”

The stuff Joel used to do , she stops herself from saying.

“Everyone has a price. FEDRA will look the other way if you can get what they want, and we had connections throughout the QZ on both sides. It’s never black-and-white, Ellie.”

She looks down at her hands in her lap, thinks of Riley. It’s okay that you don’t know everything.

“The night you were born, our group was delayed getting out, so Anna had to make the trip alone. Normally that wouldn’t have been a problem…but she was already in labor when she left, which slowed her down. We think she came across a runner,” Marlene’s voice drops, sadness creeping in. “Wrong place, wrong time. By the time we found her, she’d already been bit.”

Ellie’s eyes widen, some distant understanding beginning to click into place. “Wait…was she bit before or…or…”

“We don’t know for sure, but…we think before. Dr. Anderson thinks the cordyceps has been with you since birth.”

“So she turned?”

“No,” Marlene says softly. “We found her before it happened.”

Ellie swallows hard, unsure if she wants the answer to the question she’s about to ask. “Were you the one who…y’know…”

“Yes. We have that in common, Ellie,” Marlene murmurs. “I’m sorry it happened that way. Riley was a good kid. I’m sure she was…grateful to have you with her at the end. You did her a kindness.”

Ellie thinks of her best friend, of the cold metal weight of the gun in her trembling hand and the sound of–

She shakes herself out of the memory before it can consume her, clears her throat and schools her face into an expressionless mask. She’s not having this fucking conversation. They wouldn’t have been in that stupid mall in the first place if Riley hadn’t…if Marlene hadn’t… fuck .

“But you can do what I couldn’t,” Marlene says, eyes shining. “You can make their deaths…mean something. Anna’s…and Riley’s.”

Ellie looks down, feels the pressure like an ache in her chest.

“What was she like? My mom, I mean.” 

Marlene softens, genuine sorrow in her voice. “She had a great sense of humor. We laughed a lot…especially in the early days. Before the outbreak, she was…light. Pure light. She’d do just about anything to make someone smile.

“And after the outbreak…she was badass,” she says, smiling a little. “She was quick with a knife. Always preferred them to guns if she had a choice…I used to give her shit for her aim, but she wasn’t that bad. I think it was a matter of principle. She treated enough gunshot wounds, lost enough friends to bullets…she didn’t like the damage they could do.”

“So she…killed people?”

Marlene arches an eyebrow.

“You said she was a criminal, so–”

“I said she was considered a criminal, by FEDRA. Your mom was a nurse, Ellie. She was a healer.”

“Oh…”

“In FEDRA’s eyes, she helped the wrong people and that made her a terrorist. She killed to defend herself. She killed to protect her friends, her family. Same as you.”

Ellie sucks in a breath, blows it out again.

“Like I said…nothing in this world is black-and-white,” Marlene murmurs. “We’re all just trying to survive. But I hope…with the work we’re doing here…we can make that a little easier for everyone.”

Ellie creeps back to their room after their conversation, finds Joel still snoring. She crawls into her bed and curls into a ball and pulls the covers over her head, even though it’s barely dinnertime. She doesn’t think she can eat, anyway; thinking about Riley has curdled her stomach. When Joel stirs, whispering her name with a tentative hand to her shoulder, she pretends to be asleep.

It’s so little, but it feels like so much. She thinks of all the things that happened to bring her to this point; her mom and Riley and Marlene and Joel and her immunity, everything irrevocably entwined, knotted together.

It can’t be for nothing.

Ellie lays awake that night thinking of her mother, picking apart each new fact, turning them over and over in her mind, trying to imagine this stranger who brought her into the world. She falls asleep looking for herself in the pieces.

[specialagentlokitty]

John x reader - do I make you nervous?

A/N: so I decided on John for this fic because there’s not enough of my little hedgehog man!💜

Slamming the door to your car, you walked over to the crime scene only to be stopped by your least favourite detective who held his hand up, stopping you in your tracks.

“Absolutely not, not dressed like that. Get away from my crime scene.”

Rolling your eyes, you leant back a little, crossing your arms over your chest as you titled your head up a little, keeping eye contact with him.

“What’s wrong with the way I’m dressed Bitcherson?”

“It’s Anderson! Jesus Christ how can a police officer be so childish?” He hissed.

You smirked just a little.

“Uhm.. Lestrade… who’s that?” John asked softly.

Lestrade turned to where John was pointed and cursed under his breath.

“Sally get them away from each other!”

“Why, lest them put Anderson in his place, he’s hardly worth the air he breaths.” Sherlock said.

They all began to make their way over, hoping the scene wouldn’t escalate any further than it already was.

“Why call you that? You are the embodiment of a bitch, so I’m not really lying am I?”

“Get out of my crime scene.” He warned.

“Or what? What’re you gonna do? Lay a hand on me I dare you, I’m just itching to punch your stupid little face.”

Before Anderson could reply he was pulled away by Donovan, and Lestrade pushed you back a few steps by your shoulder.

“Come on, I was just play!” You smirked.

“No you weren’t, last you said that you sent him to the hospital!”

You shrugged a little.

“Not my fault he’s got a punchable face Greg.”

“(Y/N)!” Lestrade snapped.

You smirked and raised your hands as you took a few steps back towards the tape.

“Seriously, he looks like a rat. Sherlock back me up, doesn’t he look like a rat?”

“They’re right.” Sherlock nodded.

“Sherlock!” John scolded.

You laughed a little, stuffing your hands into the pockets of your jeans as you rocked back and forth on your feet.

Humming a little you looked up at the street sign before pointing at it.

“Hey moron, what does that street sign say?” You called.

Anderson looked over at it.

“Oh no, you’re not.. you can’t be serious! Lestrade!”

Lestrade also look at the sign and so did John looked a little confused.

“I don’t understand, what’s wrong with this street?” He asked.

“(Y/N) and Anderson don’t work well together, so since (Y/N) is a good detective.. though their methods are… questionable… they get point on anything they want on this part of the city.” Lestrade sighed.

You turned to John, a little smirk on your face as you offered him a knock bow before holding your hand out.

“Detective inspector (Y/N) (L/N), pleasure to meet you.”

“Uhm.. j..John Watson…”

He nervously shook your hand and you smiled a little at him before you pulled your hand away from him and held your hand in the air, gesturing for a small group of officers behind you to move forward.

“Lestrade get the rat and his girlfriend out of my crime scene thanks.”

You heard the two protesting but they couldn’t argue and they just stormed away.

“So does this mean case over?” John asked.

“No, (Y/N) couldn’t care less we’re here. Actually they involve me in all of their cases, keeps me busy and gives them time to get on everyone’s nerves.”

“Yup!” You grinned.

Sherlock went back to what he was doing and you waited for him to finish before you began working on the investigation.

John wasn’t sure what to do, so he just stood back and out of the way, slightly scared of you.

After the first meeting he saw you a lot, and he realised how different you really were compared to everyone.

Even after knowing you for a few months he was still scared of you, and it was something everyone could easily pick up on.

While they were at the station talking to Lestrade John watched as you walked past, swinging something between your fingers.

“Hey Watson.”

“Oh.. Uhm.. hi…” he mumbled nervously.

Donovan smirked at that and walked over, standing next to him.

“You’re really scared of them? You, the big, bad soldier?”

“What? No!”

“Oh you so are, you’re really scared of them!” Donovan laughed.

She began to make fun of John for being scared of you. Saying how he shouldn’t be scared since he was a soldier and had faced much worth.

Anderson started to join in and Sherlock looked over.

“Oh shut up you two.” Sherlock snapped.

“Or what freak? What’ll you do?” Donovan said.

“Guys enough!”

Everyone started bickered and you walked over, standing next to john as you carried on twirling whatever it was you had in your hands.

He looked at you then at what you were messing with and it clicked.

“Is that a knife?!” He shouted.

“Pocket knife, for cases and emergencies.”

You turned to the other bickering.

“Oi idiots.”

They all stopped.

“Who the hell keeps giving them the knife back?!” Donovan yelled.

You smirked and took a daring step forward and Lestrade quickly stepped in front of you, but you didn’t even look at him, your eyes were glued to Donovan and Anderson.

“How have you not been fired your unstable freak?!”Anderson yelled.

“Because I’m hot obviously. Now, what were you lot saying about Watson? Huh?”

The two shared a look and you narrowed your eyes.

“You think it’s funny to mock a soldier? A man who risked his life of this people? Huh? You think that’s funny? C’mere and let’s see how funny it is.”

Anderson scoffed.

“You won’t do anything. Especially not here, especially not with that.”

“Wanna find out?”

Anderson quickly hid behind Donovan and you laughed loudly, step away from Lestrade and he held his hand out to you so you handed over the little knife.

He put it in his pocket.

“We’re talking about this, my office in an hour.” He said sternly.

“Bitch you’re not my boss.”

“(Y/N)!”

You raised your hands and backed away with a smile on your face and turned to John who was grinning a little.

“You’re the embodiment of trouble (Y/N) they’re going to fire you one day.” Sherlock said.

“Would they Sherlock? Would they really? Lestrade is my handler and I’m yours so in a way they really can’t otherwise nothing would get done here.”

“That’s true.” He shrugged.

He went back to finish his conversation and you turned back to John.

“Did they bother you? I can punch Anderson if you want?”

“By the looks of it you don’t need a reason to punch him.” John chuckled.

“You’re right, I don’t.”

You spun around and started to walk away and John realised where you were going.

“(Y/N) don’t!” He yelled.

Lestrade whipped his head up and watched as you jumped over a desk, tapping Anderson on shoulder, you waited for him to turn around before taking a swing.

You hit him in the face, watching as he went stumbling to the ground.

“(Y/N)!” Lestrade yelled.

He went to run after you but you easily dodged him.

“Fuck around and find out bitch! Don’t fuck with soldiers!” You yelled.

You grabbed your jacket and bag and walked back over to John, patting him on the cheek.

“I’m not that scary.” You smirked.

With that you waltzed away and John just watched your form leave.

John didn’t see or hear anything about you for a few days until there was a knock on the flat door, and when he opened it you were stood there.

You had a split lip, the remains of a bloodied nose and a small cut on your cheek.

“Bloody hell what did you do?”

John took your arm and led you in, sitting you in his chair he went to grab everything he needed and brought it over.

He grabbed a table over and sat on it as he started to clean up your face.

“I had to have a meeting this morning about punching that idiot in the face.”

“And you punched yourself in the face?” He asked.

You laughed a little and shook your head, looking around the flat.

“(Y/N) keep your head still.”

John tried to carry on cleaning your wounds but you wouldn’t sit still, so he reached out and grasped your jaw between his fingers forcing you to look at him.

“No, he kept running his mouth, so I punched him. He punched me back. Jokes on him, he has a broken nose.”

“You can’t just go around punching people.” He sighed.

He cleaned the cut on your cheek and set everything down and looked at you.

Then he realised that he was still holding your jaw between his fingers and quickly let go.

“Do I scare you Watson?” You mused.

“N…no…”

He quickly got up and started to clean everything and you titled your head back to look at him as he tossed everything in the bin and put the small medical kit away.

“Are you sure?” You hummed.

“I.. i.. I’m sure…” he stuttered.

You stood up, and he walked over, quickly walking past you to stand in the doorway to the hallway and you looked at him.

He did anything to looked at you and you walked over, standing in front of him and he moved away pressing his back to the wall.

You placed your arm on the wall, resting your head on it as you smirked to yourself.

You loved pissing off Anderson sure.

But making John all flustered and Embarrassed? That was a whole fun new game for you.

You loved flirting with him, watching as he got all embarrassed and refused to look at you and stuttered, you found it cute.

“I don’t bite Watson.”

“Maybe not, but you punch, and apparently you’re willing to stab?”

“Nah that’s more for fun, but I do punch. But… I wouldn’t punch you.”

“Have you punched Sherlock?”

“Yeah, but it’s Sherlock. Everyone’s punched him at least once.”

John laughed and turned around, leaning against the wall as he looked at you, a shy smile on his face and you smiled back.

“Still scared of me?” You said softly.

“I.. I wasn’t scared of you…” he whispered.

“Then what are you?”

He shrugged a little and you walked over, placing your finger under his chin, you made him look at you and he swallowed nervously.

“Okay… maybe a little scared…” he whispered.

“Do I make you nervous John…?”

John nodded his head and you hummed, leaning in, you softly kissed his cheek and pulled away as the door opened and you looked at him.

“You’re cute John, if you want a different kind of kind then the boring bar or dinner dates let me know.”

You let him go and walked away, saying hit to Sherlock before you left the flat and John stood there for s minute before walking over to his chair and slowly sitting down.

“So they finally asked you out?” Sherlock said.

“W.. what…?”

“(Y/N) finally asked you out. What did you say?”

“I Uhm.. I didn’t have a chance to reply.”

“They slipped their number in your pocket, they’ve been hitting in your for weeks John seriously how did you not notice?”

“I.. what..?”

Sherlock sighed, rolling his eyes as he turned to his friend.

“Seriously? Are you that blind you couldn’t tell they were hitting on you? Just agree to the date I know you want to.”

“I hardly know anything about them!”

“Isn’t that what dates are for? Getting to know people?”

John rolled his eyes this time.

“They said they punched you before.”

“They’re a little unhinged, absolutely unpredictable, everything about them and what they do and how they work is unorthodox. It’s what makes them so entertaining to work with, it’s never a straight line when you’re with them, they’ll leave you second guessing everything.”

John nodded along as Sherlock told him some more about you.

“Just call them already, I know you’re going to do it. May as well do it now.”

“I need to think about it.”

John got up and walked it his room, closing the door he rummaged through his pockets to find the little slip of paper that you slipped in there and he stared at your number.

You made him nervous, and in a way scared him, but yet when he looked at you he felt a rush of adrenaline go through his body, like he was about to risk his life for a stunt.

You were so different from all the people he had dated before, he was used to calm, predictable.

Maybe a new thing was good for him? Maybe that’s what he needed in his life?

Sure, he had Sherlock and that was an adventure enough, but John was just drawn to you.

He thought for a moment before nodding to himself.

He wanted something new, he wanted to experience something new, add a little bit of fun to his life and he felt like you could help him with that.

So he dialled your number and held the phone to his ear waiting anxiously as it rang

[mcflymemes]

CSI: CRIME SCENE INVESTIGATION PROMPTS *  assorted dialogue from the television show, season 1

we look at each case objectively, without presupposition.

i'm sorry. what are you saying?

it didn't have to be that way.

people make assumptions. that's the problem.

there were bodies.

you know, i'm not even gonna ask.

i want to be just like you.

how dumb are we?

i think we'd better head over to the police station.

that's a cop-out.

i'm not good with kids.

if that's your stance, how could it have been prevented?

they should have protected me.

where are you going?

i mean that as a friend.

i think you scared him. all his hairs are standing up.

fine suit.

get your finger out of my face.

you're kidding me, right?

hey, i'm just doing my job.

blood's like my grandfather. never lies.

oh. i barely heard you.

i can't answer that question.

i didn't know this was a competition.

that's a career killer.

i have no idea how it got there.

by law, you've got to disclose everything.

pin me up against a wall and lay one on me like you mean it.

you assholes.

if it involves the protection of my child, i fight to the death.

hey, give me a little credit.

look, forget the formalities.

what's that smell?

you can joke all you want. it's your ass on the line.

i didn't say i couldn't do it.

did i just do that?

normal would be nice.

my spider sense says it wasn't.

you didn't even hesitate.

half of them couldn't find their own ass with a map.

i love my work.

so who's winning?

do yourself a favor. think for yourself.

maybe i saw you perform.

i would never doubt your word.

keep thinking. that's what you're good at.

i never screw up one of my cases with personal stuff.

these things will only confuse you.

concentrate on what cannot lie.

whose blood is that?

somebody left a message. i need to see the rest of it.

you would've remembered.

i need to see their shoes.

we restore peace of mind.

you can pick up your gun tomorrow.

now tell me, why are we here?

it's our job to know how.

is there anything in there with alcohol?

if you stay with it, my hand to god, you will never regret it.

what do you think?

how about a gun?

stop flirting with me.

what an imagination you have.

actually, it's just an audio book.

are my observations distracting you?

i come here for calamari.

that's why i took this job.

what's the status?

high altitude enhances the entire sexual experience.

like i said, it's all about results. if you don't get them, i will.

you're right, you know.

would you mind taking off your jacket and rolling up your sleeve?

you can do that?

that's what's so sad. you see this as a career.

i saw some bruises.

it's not going to be easy.

would you hand me a swab please?

there's no smoking in here.

well, that's good news.

no offense, but i don't think i want to eat anything that's been in this office.

someone chased this kid to death.

i just thought it'd be something different.

what makes you think you belong here?

you're avoiding the question.

one life imposed itself on another.

you want to sleep with me?

it'll be back to normal in 24 hours.

how would the night end?

that is correct... according to this book.

i have a crime scene to process, so you'll have to excuse me.

i might have to do some field research to find out.

good thing i have a healthy ego.

i'm gonna go out on a limb here and say they're hiding something.

how do you talk to a dead body?

i should be just like you.

sometimes i have a beer with it.

how do you figure?

got anything for me?

so you slept through the whole thing and woke up next to a dead body.

we don't impose our will. we don't impose our hopes on the evidence.

what's the matter with your guys?

do you think we're dressed for a wedding?

i wish i had been married to you.

i hardly know that woman.

look, could we have a truce?

[branwhen-will-the-pain-end]

about to get serious

i am hardly exaggerating when i say i clip every interaction i have with kieran

i have 99gb of rdr2 clips on my computer - i clip and record everythingggg - while i know y'all have probably seen everything already, i'm going to post them anyway cuz lmfao who's gonna stop me the kieran police?

[petersbaby]

Cold - Eddie Munson x reader

Part one ♡

Part two

WARNINGS: this story is based around the premise of an SA but has NO detail about the assault and it doesn’t take place during the story. This starts right after it happens, not a second before. Please stay safe and listen to the warnings, I don’t want to trigger anybody. Like I said, no details or anything, only vague mentions of it. Fluff :)

-

You stumble down the stairs, crying. Your main objective was just to get out of this house. Tears stain your face, a hint of black from your eye makeup. Once you step out of the front door, you take a big deep breath of the cool fresh air.

Looking to the side, you notice a boy standing there, leaned up against the wall and smoking a cigarette. His eyes meet yours when you look at him, and his neutral expression turns to great concern.

“Hey, you okay?”

“No, not really,” you say, crying softly.

He looks a little panicked, not sure what to do. He didn’t want someone to see you two together and assume he hurt you or something.

“Come here, let’s get away from this,” he suggests, gesturing to the loud party inside. You had nothing left to lose so you just followed him. You end up on the side of the road where his van is parallel parked and he opens the passenger door to let you in. You timidly sat down and he walks around to take his seat on the driver’s side.

“Please don’t be scared of me,” he starts, sensing your tenseness. “I’m not gonna hurt you. I just needed to get you away from everyone else, need you to calm down, stop crying. What can I do?”

Your tired eyes shift towards him and fall down to his hand.

“Cigarette?” He asks, guessing that’s what you wanted.

You just nod. He pulls one out of his beat up pack, handing it to you along with his lighter. You light it and give it back to him. He takes the lighter, fumbling with his keys to turn them in the ignition.

“It’s cold. Are you cold or is that just me?” He laughs awkwardly as he turns on the heat in the van. He wanted you to see that he’s nice, but feels like he’s acting stupid. So nervous to be talking to you, trying to play it cool.

“Yeah. A little cold.” You smile, feeling the warm air cool down your red flushed cheeks that were cold to the touch.

As the nicotine rushed through your body, you started to feel a little relief. You felt your body relax into the soft and plush fabric of the seat when the buzz comes, taking the edge off.

After a few drags, you’ve managed to calm down enough to talk after a comfortable amount of silence passes. Well, to you it’s comfortable. To him, it’s stressful. Eddie wasn’t the type to sit in silence, he has to know what you’re thinking or he’ll overthink himself to death in the quiet.

“You don’t have to tell me what’s wrong. I just know that these asshole guys here will try to take advantage of you and I want you to get home safe.”

“You’re right, but it’s too late.”

“Too late for what, sweetheart?” He asks, then the gears turn in his head. Anger runs through his bloodstream but he tried to keep the soft expression on for you.

“Who hurt you? Just give me a name. I’ll fuckin’ kill him if you need me to.”

“I don’t know his name, just that he’s a friend of Jason’s, part of his group, some stupid basketball player.”

“Uhh, shit. Okay. What do you want to do? I can drive you to the police station, you can make a report?”

“I’ve been drinking underage and my parents don’t know I was here. I can’t.”

“So, home? You want me to take you home?”

“No. Don’t wanna go right now, they’ll have too many questions and I can hardly think.”

“Hm. So… you want to go back into the party? I’m confused.”

You take the last hit before the filter and toss the cigarette butt out the window to the asphalt.

“I wanna stay here, stay with you. Your van is so warm and comfy.”

He half laughs. Your statement makes his heart melt. “Okay, as you wish. You wanna listen to music? What do you like?” He asks, starting to rummage through his messy tape collection.

“Whatever you like is fine.”

He inserts a Metallica album but turns the radio down as it had been blasting earlier. He didn’t want to stress you out more.

A couple minutes go by of comfortable silence before he breaks it.

“I’m Eddie, by the way. I now realize I’m a random guy who basically told you to get in his van.” He says nervously, slightly laughing.

“I know who you are.” You giggle. “Eddie Munson. You play guitar, you hang out with the nerds at school, you like to listen to music obnoxiously loud in the parking lot at 7am.”

He smiles, surprised. “That’s me, alright. But how and why do you know that stuff? You’ve never said a word to me.”

“You make me nervous.”

“Me??” He asks incredulously, holding his chest over his heart in mock hurt.

“Stop it. Forget I said that.” You try to shrug off the dorky smile spreading on your face.

“But do I really? Are you nervous right now? Or like…uncomfortable?”

“No. Not at all.” You assure.

“Good. Because I never want you to feel that way around me. A lot of people do, and it kinda makes me feel like a weirdo.”

You sit and converse about school and friends until you check the clock on the dash and it reads 1:00 AM. When he notices you checking the time, he looks too.

“Alright, I could sit here all night with you but I think you really should get home.”

“Fine, you can take me home.” You offer. “To your home.”

He laughs loudly, but you don’t and he realizes you weren’t joking. “What’s gotten into you? I think you might still be a little drunk because there’s no way you’re suggesting I take you back to my house.”

“We don’t have to do anything, I jus wanna keep talking. Please?” You give him big doe eyes. You weren’t drunk anymore, but you might’ve been just a little bit in love.

You sit in the passenger seat as he rides, blowing cigarette smoke out of the window and he traveled down the dim roads and into a gravelly trailer park.

“This is it.” He announces, getting out of the van.

“It’s cute.” You suggest, taking in the house.

“You can say it’s a piece of shit. We both know it is” he jokes, unlocking the front door and pushing it open.

-

“Alright, I want you to drink this whole glass,” he says, setting some water down beside you. Next to you was a nightstand and next to it was you, perched on the edge of Eddie’s bed.

“And then I want you to eat these. Okay?” He also sets down a little pack of peanut butter crackers.

“Okay.” You sip on the water and nibble on the crackers, starting to feel less sick. Afterwards, you lift up the comforter on his bed and climb underneath it, wrapping it around you over your shoulders.

“Wow, you’re really making yourself comfortable, huh?” He laughs. It was true, you felt right at home for some reason, like you’d been there a thousand times before. Your heart even flutters as the smell of him overwhelms you.

“Mhm. Cold.” He sits on the bed beside you with an adoring smile as you’re rolled up like a burrito in his blanket. Your mind was still fuzzy, but it was okay because you felt safe.

“Anyways, basically, he had been hitting on me for over an hour and I wasn’t paying it any attention. Eventually, I guess he got tired of that and dragged me into one of the bedrooms. I won’t go into detail, but I really didn’t want to do that.” You sigh, finally telling him why you were crying earlier that night.

“It’s okay though. It could’ve been worse, but you were there.” You add.

“It’s not okay at all, and trust me I will find out who that prick was and give him what he deserves. You’re so sweet, too sweet. I can’t imagine ever hurting you.”

Flustered at the kindness, you blush a little. He notices this and you just smile shyly.

“What? What’s so funny?” He asks you, half amused and half genuinely curious.

You let go of the blanket, letting it fall off of you as you reached over to touch both sides of his face. He only had a moment to search your eyes before they were shut, lips against yours as you kissed him sweetly.

“You didn’t-“ he starts after you pulled away.

“I didn’t have to do that? I know. I wanted to, did you not like it?” You start to worry you misread the situation.

“I did. Quite a lot, actually.”

-

“Alright,” he had said, “I need you to get some rest for me, okay? Stay there and I’ll go sleep on the couch.”

And he did. You couldn’t sleep too well, mostly just tossing and turning. You missed his presence the second he left, even though he was only down the hall. At about seven the next morning, you crept into the living room to wake him up.

“Shit, what time is it?” He asked in a groggy, sleep-filled voice.

“It’s early. Sorry. I just- could you take me home?”

“Yeah, ‘course.” He rubbed his eyes, getting up and putting his shoes on. He had slept in his clothes from the night before so he was ready to go. You both get in the car, and he put his hand against his forehead as if he had just done something wrong.

“What?” You asked, genuinely wondering if he was gonna be okay, or at least okay enough to drive you home.

“I fuckin’ forgot to open your door for you.”

You laughed. “Oh no, how will I ever get over this? It’s okay, Eddie. You don’t have to be such a gentleman.”

You got to your house safely, told him you’d see him around. You didn’t know if that was the appropriate thing to say, it was super friendly considering you had kissed.

But it isn’t like he asked you out or anything, not after just that. It was only a kiss. Only a kiss, you thought.

[lilacella]

"You don't have to come with me. If you prefer, I'll call you an ambulance instead. But be warned, the hospital isn't the safest spot to be. Someone may come and question you."

James shivered, from the cold, of course. He wasn't scared of Sirius' clan.

"I'll come with you."

"Good," Sirius sounded relieved. "Then let's not waste anymore time, shall we?"

Safehouse

CW blood/injury

Part III

Previous Next

(read on ao3)

James was being carried. He felt awful. Nauseous, dizzy, cold. What had happened? Where was he? He heard a door slam shut behind him. Then, a female voice shouting:

"What the fuck, Sirius! You can't just walk in here like that and... Is that a police officer?!"

"Calm down, Lily, I have no intention of dropping him off here. He's been shot. Not too bad, I managed to stop the bleeding and patched him up with the first-aid kit from the car but he'll need some stitches."

"And some painkillers would be nice," James mumbled against Sirius' shoulder. He remembered. And with his memories came the pain. Biting sharply into his side, like fire and ice.

Sirius carefully lowered him onto a recline.

"You're awake, good." James' heart fluttered at the softness of his voice.

"Let me look at this." A young woman clad in a white coat leaned over him, her red locks falling over her shoulders. She was pretty, James thought, before his eyes got drawn back to Sirius. The mafioso was leaning against the wall, crossing his arms. God, he looked so attractive. A few strands of his long dark hair were falling into his frowning face, the dark thick brows drawn together over the most enticing grey eyes James had ever seen. The way his button up shirt fit around his body, sleeves rolled up to expose his forearms...James knew what was underneath these clothes and it really didn't help his predicament right now. This was hardly the right time to think about stuff like this!

The young doctor - or at least he hoped that she was one - cut open the bandages Sirius had applied to him, and examined the wound. James groaned in agony as she pulled on his skin.

"I'm sorry, I need to check for the bullet. I don't see an exit wound."

"It's further down the back," Sirius said. "But from the angle I don't think anything vital has been hit."

"Obviously not, I'm still alive," James pressed out between gritted teeth. Dr. Lily was now inspecting the other wound and wasn't particularly gentle about. He was getting nauseous. "Fuck! Hey, can't I have anesthesia for this or something?"

"And who is going to pay for that? It's not like I will be talking to your insurance," Lily snapped back, irritated.

"I'll pay."

She turned around to Sirius who pulled his wallet out of his well tailored pants, throwing an unreadable look towards James who was clutching onto the edge of the recline, trying to breathe calmly.

"How much?"

Lily raised an eyebrow.

"How much are you willing to pay, Black?"

Sirius glared at her but she didn't look away. Then he offered her a stack of banknotes. She took them, counting and examining the money. James huffed in pain.

"Are those real?"

"Bloody hell, Evans, can we do this later! Just give him something already!"

She shot him a look, but proceeded to prepare a syringe. Sirius turned to James, still glaring.

"Hold on, it's gonna be okay in a second." His tone barely matched his comforting words.

"So, he's a friend of yours, huh?" Lily was watching them with interest.

"None of your business," Sirius snarled.

"Hey, be nice. Otherwise I'll refuse to patch up your boyfriend."

"He is not my boyfriend. And you wouldn't dare..."

Lily snorted.

"Don't test me, Black."

"Can you guys postpone your little power play to some other day? Please?" James felt like he was going to throw up from the pain.

Lily turned back to him with a disparaging look and gave him the shot, delivering blissful relief.

After Lily had made sure that no pieces of the bullet were left in James' body and had sewn him up, they left again, through the backdoor. Sirius was supporting James at every step until they reached the car. But instead of getting in, Sirius pulled out a lockpicking set from his pocket and opened the door of a different car, disarming the alarm with concerning proficiency, maneuvered James onto the backseat and closed the door. James let himself drop over both seats. The pain was starting to creep back and he felt cold and weak. How much blood had he lost? Shouldn't they go to a hospital? Why had Sirius taken him here? Why were they stealing a car?

He was about to ask, when he realised that Sirius was gone. He wasn't in the car with him and James couldn't see him on the street nearby either. The black car with which they must have come, though, was gone. He sat up, his pulse rising. Sirius had left him behind. Where had he gone? Would he come back?

James tried to open the door but it was locked again. Panic enveloped him. He patted his pockets but could neither find his phone nor his gun. He was trapped. In a car that was definetley not his. What if the owner returned? Had Sirius left him here to die? Why patch him up in the first place? Did he maybe sell him out? Had he made a deal with the members of his family to accept him back in, in return for James? But what would they want from him? He didn't care to find out. He needed to get out of this car!

James repeatedly slammed his elbow against the window, but couldn't muster the strength to break it. He dropped back in defeat, his back drenched in sweat, his arm now throbbing with pain as well. There was no way out. He'd just have to wait for Sirius to come back. If he came back...

James was sure he would. Sirius wouldn't do that to him. He just couldn't imagine...

James had almost fallen asleep when the door opened and Sirius dropped into the drivers seat, starting the car. He lifted his head, his supporting arm shaking violently under his weight.

"Where were you? Where are we going?"

Sirius didn't turn around.

"Why so nervous? Worried I'll kill you too?" The snarky tone didn't escape James' attention. "We needed a new car. Got rid of the old one. We can't drive around with a license plate registered to the police." He reversed out of the parking space and started driving. James almost rolled off the backseat. "I'll take us somewhere safe. But we need to wait until it is dark again. I don't want anyone following us. And you need some time to rest."

James didn't disagree, but he still felt uneasy.

"Sirius?"

Sirius looked at him through the rear mirror, his eyes still cold. James suddenly didn't know what he wanted to say anymore.

"Don't leave me alone again."

That had not been it. But Sirius' gaze softened and he sighed.

"I won't. I'm sorry."

Sirius drove them to the top level of a multi story car park, parking the car in a deserted corner. James heaved himself into an upright position.

"Aren't you worried about the cameras?"

"Nah, we won't stay here for long enough. When they look at the tape we'll already be gone." He turned back to face James.

"How do you feel?"

James pressed a hand onto his aching side. He felt dizzy and awful.

"I'm okay," he said, trying to sound like it was true.

"Are you cold?"

He was.

"No, I'm fine."

Sirius climbed trough the seats, sat beside him and put a hand on James' bare arm. His skin began to tingle under Sirius' warm touch. He was only wearing the t-shirt from his uniform and it had been cut and was still damp from his own blood.

"You feel cold."

James shivered. He felt so weak. The bloodloss made him shaky and pliable. He just wanted to lean against Sirius' warm body, but he wasn't sure if Sirius would want that. Not after what had happened three days ago.

James had been shocked at Sirius' revelation. Of course he had known that Sirius was a criminal, he'd been a member of the Black clan for fifteen years after all. But murder? It was so hard to imagine Sirius doing that. Or maybe it wasn't and James simply hadn't wanted to see it, blinded by Sirius' good looks and charms. The thing was: James hadn't really been shocked that Sirius had murdered people, but rather how little this mattered. It should matter. He was a police officer. Murder was a crime, one of the worst ones. And James had always been of the opinion that murderers couldn't be good people. But Sirius was. Sirius wasn't nice, but he was good, deep down, James just knew that. And he didn't care how many people Sirius had killed, he still felt the same about him. That had been what shocked him. That had been why he left Sirius behind in bed, in that fateful moment that had ruined everything between them.

He had tried to talk to Sirius after, tried to reconnect with touches or looks but Sirius had been withdrawn. Completely shut him out. If he had known that Sirius would react like that, he would have been more careful. He wouldn't have given up his kissing privileges so easily...

James hadn't been able to take his eyes off of Sirius since they had met. He was fascinating. He seemed cold, hard-bitten and a bit mysterious, but also determined and surprisingly caring. When Sirius had tried to talk him out of staying with him he had been touched. But he'd be damned if he'd let something happen to him. So he had stayed and they had kissed. James still couldn't really believe how this had happened. He had had some hookups with guys before, but Sirius was just something else. He wasn't a hookup... It was absurd to think that after just three weeks, but James was a little in love with him. And he had fucked it all up, with one thoughtless reaction. All the fondness that he had found in Sirius' eyes had suddenly been ripped away. He hadn't even let him sleep next to him in the last few nights.

James had worried that Sirius might not care about him anymore at all. But he did, didn't he? He was here, with him, wondering if James was cold.

"Maybe I'm a bit cold," he murmured weakly. There was a moment of silence, Sirius seemingly making a decision. Then, warm, strong arms wrapped around him, pulling him into a gentle embrace.

"There aren't any blankets, I'm afraid. So this will have to do."

Oh, this would do. This was perfect. James buried his face into Sirius' arm, snuggling up to him as close as possible. The gunshot wounds burned mercilessly. He winced. Sirius started gingerly petting his hair.

"I'm sorry you got shot."

"I'm glad you didn't."

Sirius snorted.

"I can handle it. It's not that bad."

James was prone to disagree.

"Have you been shot before?"

"Sure. Didn't you pay attention when you undressed me?" He could hear the smirk in Sirius' voice. Good. They were back. Almost.

"I didn't think these were gunshots." James remebered the scars. A couple white dots, on Sirius' arms and legs, one right over his heart. He thought they might be from pox or something. You couldn't survive a shot to the heart, couldn't you? "You have one on your chest. That threw me off. Or is that something else?"

"No, 't was a gunshot. Bullet got stuck in my ribs though. Lucky me, huh?"

James frowned. He felt so lightheaded. He needed to keep talking.

"That sounds awful. How did it happen? Another clan?"

"Nah. That was Bella. My cousin. She got mad at me because I kept stealing her pens."

"You stole her pens?" James laughed and immediately regretted it as pain shot through his torso.

"I was six! And I wanted to draw, I suppose. I don't remember."

"You were six?! She shot you when you were a child? How old was she?"

"I don't know. Fourteen I think? She took her dads gun. Mamma was quite pissed at her."

"Your family is so weird."

Sirius laughed.

"That's a way to describe them."

James felt terrible. The pain in his side was piercing and he was still cold. Had he lost too much blood? He was so dizzy...

"Don't let me die," he whispered.

Sirius lifted James' head off his shoulder, his voice filled with worry:

"What's going on, are you feeling unwell?"

James decided that he couldn't afford to play off his state anymore.

"I don't...I'm so cold..."

Sirus cursed under his breath.

"Okay, wait. Lie down." He carefully lowered James down until he was laying on the backseat again, his warmth slipping away from him. James whinced in protest, but Sirius proceeded to climb to the front and started the car again, turning the heater on.

"You shouldn't keep the car running in a car park," James mumbled, but his body was trembling and he was secretly glad.

"This isn't an underground garage. There is sufficient airflow, noone will die. Except you, if we don't do anything. I'm sorry, I should have asked Lily to give you a transfusion. I saw how much blood you lost...I should have thought of this." Sirius rubbed his palms over his face, shooting a worried look to James. James huffed. He missed Sirius' touch.

"Can you...can you hold my hand or something? I'm...I'm scared." His voice trailed off in embarrassment. But he was. He was fucking scared. And cold and he wanted Sirius...

A second later he felt Sirius' hand on his arm.

"We just have to wait for two more hours. Then I'll get you somewhere warm. With a bed. And I think spare clothes, as well. But definitely a bed. Just hold on until then, okay? Try to stay awake please."

Sirius voice was so gentle now and comforting and with the car heating up around him, James struggled to comply with his request. He wanted to sleep. But it was too dangerous, he knew that.

"Tell me something, then. Talk to me."

"What should I tell you?"

"I don't know...Did you...Did you ever date a guy, before?"

Sirius laughed in surprise.

"No."

"So I'm the first guy you liked?"

"You think I like you?" Sirius was clearly joking, but his words still stung. James stayed quiet until Sirius continued.

"There was someone. Before you...But we didn't...we never did anything. I don't even know whether he liked me as well."

"You never asked?"

"I realised my feelings only when it was too late." Sirius' fingertips drew tender cicles on James' arm.

"Did he get married?"

"He died."

Oh. That took a turn.

"I'm sorry...What happened?"

"I...I don't know." Sirius hesitated before he continued. "He was one of our book keepers. I suppose...I suppose he talked to the wrong people. They only called me to...," he took a shaky breath. "To deal with the body. I didn't know it was him until they opened the trunk. I didn't ask any questions." Sirius voice was thick with emotion. James looked up and saw that his eyes were glistening. He reached out and put his hand on Sirius', squeezing it lightly.

"I'm so sorry. That must have been awful. So...You hid his body then?"

Sirius nodded and wiped over his eyes.

"It was too late anyways. But I...I couldn't stop thinking about it. He was a good guy. He was really kind. He didn't deserve to die like that."

Like what?, James wanted to ask, but it seemed inappropriate. Sirius seemed shaken enough.

"It's why I want to testify. Kind of the last straw, you know..."

James nodded. He caught Sirius' eyes.

"Sorry for bringing that up."

Sirius smiled weakly.

"It's okay. As long as it keeps you awake."

"A boat?" James asked in surprise while leaning against Sirius. They were standing at the dark pier looking up to a large yacht, named "Merope". The Blacks really had a thing for stars...

"It's our best shot. We drive out into the Mediterranean and achor down. I've got enough supplies on the boat for a few weeks and it's untrackable."

James raised an eyebrow.

"Untrackable? Are you taking me on a heist boat?"

Sirius shrugged.

"You don't have to come with me. If you prefer, I'll call you an ambulance instead. But be warned, the hospital isn't the safest spot to be. Someone may come and question you."

James shivered, from the cold, of course. He wasn't scared of Sirius' clan.

"I'll come with you."

"Good," Sirius sounded relieved. "Then let's not waste anymore time, shall we?"

**

The Merope was gently making its way trough the dark water. The sea was calm tonight. Almost eerily quiet. When James stepped into the cockpit, Sirius lounged in his chair, his feet propped up on the headboard, observing the technical instruments with obvious boredom.

He turned around and mustered James with barely covered amusement.

"What? It's what I found and I was cold." James plucked on the pink sweat suit he had dug out of the wardrobe that Sirius had pointed him to, while he got them out of the haven.

"I think this is Medas. Surprised it fits you...Do you feel better?"

James nodded. Dressed in dry, warm clothes and after taking some additional Tylenol, he felt a little less like he was dying. But he still didn't want to be all by himself. The darkness of the sleeping cabin had made him uneasy. He looked around the cockpit for a place to sit.

"Do you mind if I stay here?"

Sirius gestured towards a small couch tucked away in the corner.

"Be my guest. But I think the bed would be more comfortable?"

James dropped into the seat. The seating area was too short for him to fully stretch out so he left his legs dangeling over the armrest. His side throbbed with pain and he groaned.

"Just didn't...I just wanted to be where you are. I'm still supposed to protect you."

Sirius snorted.

"You got pulled off the case, I heard that. And you won't be much help in your state anyways. You are simply here because you apparently enjoy hanging out with a ruthless murderer like me."

James sighed. There it was again.

"It really bothered you, huh? My reaction?"

Sirius huffed, his eyes fixed at the monitors.

"I didn't mean to...I'm sorry I hurt you." It seemed like the right thing to say but Sirius still didn't react. At all. James felt uneasy. They had been talking so nicely in the car, he had felt like they were rebuilding their connection, but now it seemed like Sirius was shutting him out again. James must have really hit a sore spot with this...

"I shouldn't have left like that. That must have felt pretty...bad. I don't think I would like that either."

"I don't care what you think of me."

James could tell this was a lie. And it tugged on his heart to think about how Sirius must have felt.

"I think you do. Otherwise you wouldn't be so mad. I hurt you, when I pushed you away and now you are withdrawing, because you think I might do it again."

Sirius' head swirled around in anger.

"Don't fucking analyse me, Potter! You know nothing about me!"

James lifted himself up a bit, holding Sirius' furious gaze.

"I know enough. I know that you were worried about my safety even when you barely knew me. I know that you cared so much about this other guy that it made you break omertà. I know that you care. And maybe you don't care about what people think of you, but you care about me. Even if you don't want to admit it."

James was sure that if Sirius hadn't been forced to stay in the cockpit to supervise the instruments, he would have stormed out. His eyes were gleaming with anger. And hurt. James could see how the muscles around his jaw tightened.

Which meant that he was right. He had spent many years learning how to read peoples faces in the interrogation room and had gotten quite good at it. In the beginning he hadn't been able to read Sirius at all, but now...now he could. At least a little bit. He felt rejected and had become defensive. The only way to fix that was to bare his own neck.

"Sirius, I'm sorry. Really. I don't care about it. I don't care how many people you've killed. It doesn't matter. The truth is..." James took a deep breath and lifted himself into a seating position. "The truth is that I... I think, I might be... I have feelings for you."

The emotions flickered through Sirius' eyes like the symbols on a slot machine, finally locking in on touched confusion, but his eyebrows were still furrowed with distrust.

"You are aware that I will testify anyways, right? I won't hold back information to get a better deal for myself. There is no reason for you to coax me into anything."

James' heart clenched. Sirius still thought that he was a plant? After everything?

"I am not trying to. I think we have a connection," James continued quietly. "Or maybe we had... And I know that you don't trust me, but I swear I am being honest."

Sirius let out a sigh and rubbed his hands over his face, dropping his elbows onto his knees to support his head.

"Well... I guess I haven't got much to lose anymore anyways..." He looked up to James through his fingers, still pondering his decision for a moment before sitting back up.

"I think we do. I think we have a connection or whatever you want to call it." James heard the small hint of vulnerability in his voice. Like a thin trail of blood trickling down, betraying his unbothered facade. "But I don't think you understand what you are getting yourself into."

James laughed.

"Of course I do. Or... Or maybe I don't. So what? I know that I like you..."

"You're a cop!" Sirius interrupted him. "And I will spend the next few years behind bars. There is no point in starting anything, really."

James knew he was right.

"I'll be your prison wife. I'll write you saucy letters and all."

Sirius snorted a laugh, the last remnants of ice between them cracking.

"Stop being ridiculous."

"What if I don't want to?"

Sirius looked at him with exasperated fondness.

"You know, when I met you, I thought you were an idiot. And it turns out I was right."

"Hey! I'm the most capable officer at the station!"

"I bet you are." This time he sounded genuine.

[callofthxvoid]

WHO: Fleur Villiers and Quincey Harker

SUMMARY: Two idiots turn their fake relationship into a real relationship. But because they're, you know, idiots, only one of them is genuine about their feelings.

QUINCEY had a towel around his shoulders, drying his hair as he walked into the room he shared with Fleur. Considering it's late he'd only bother to throw on a pair of shorts. The last month had taken some getting use to, plus dealing with a pissy Quill was never fun. Though what actually had him concerned was how distant Fleur had started to be. "Hey," he greeted, his southern accent making the word more drawn out, "Are you and me cool, or you joining the Quincey hate club with Quill?"

FLEUR was sitting in bed, staring down at her phone as if it would magically produce the internet from her sheer intensity, when Quincey's greeting caused her to look up. The corners of her lips tugged up when she caught the slight drawl. "We're cool," she confirmed, dropping her phone onto the bedside table and turning toward him completely. There was a thoughtful expression on her face. "I mean, I guess I've just been thinking... Why are we still doing this, exactly?" She shrugged. "It's not like my parents are around to care what I'm doing. Feels rude to still police what or who you're doing."

QUINCEY felt his lips twitch and tried not to frown before he sat down next to her. His hands were fiddling with the towel, still drying at his hair despite the fact it wasn't even wet anymore. They'd been together for over 3 years, the idea of going to bed alone now seemed foreign. "I mean yeah guess your folks ain't around," he mumbled. He let the towel drop around his shoulders, thoughts racing, knowing how Fleur could get without restrictions. It was more likely she'd be out alone without him if they weren't together, being her boyfriend meant being able to keep an eye on her. Though he'd need a better reason than that for why to keep it up. "I mean haven't really looked around for that kind of thing," not a complete lie, too busy being scolded, "We've had a good thing going, why change it?"

FLEUR looked genuinely puzzled when she looked over at him. Yeah, their fake relationship had been wildly successful, and she had sincerely enjoyed large parts of it, but at the end of the day, it was still a means to an end. It had outlived its purpose. "Why keep it going?" she asked, running a hand through her hair. "It doesn't have to be like, a dramatic breakup, or anything. The good thing about all of this being pretend is that we can decide how we call it quits." She shrugged. "Obviously we're gonna stay friends. And nothing's stopping us from still fucking whenever we feel like it. We'd just be able to also fuck other people."

QUINCEY was chewing on the inside of his lip, moving to lean back on his hands not even caring how exposed his chest was now. He looked up at the ceiling in thought for a brief, she wasn't wrong their friends were likely to only be about as upset as that two of them acted about it. If they hardly reacted they'd forget about it. He almost wished he had Quill to bounce things off of, he was always better at getting things under control. The idea swung by his head and without thinking he looked at her, "What if I don't want to fuck anyone else, what if I just want you now?"

FLEUR didn't bother to hide how her gaze dropped to his bare chest when he leaned back. She was attracted to him, he knew that she was attracted to him, why bother being coy about it? Once they were done with this conversation there was nothing stopping them from fucking and then going to sleep. It wasn't until he looked at her and said that that she shyly dropped her gaze to her hands. "I—I mean—Do you?" She looked up at him again. Clearly, the question had rattled her. "Quince, I swear to fucking god, if you're fucking with me right now..."

Now would be the time to run this back, think it through. Maybe come back with a more clear argument for why to stay together, why it would be beneficial. It what's Quill would have done, but he wasn't Quill. He was QUINCEY, and he'd always been impulsive and maybe a little stupid. He's not technically lying, he currently doesn't have anyone else he wants to have sex, but saying he only wants her? It could be true, maybe, he's not sure he's never thought about it. Shifting on the bed he cupped her cheek and brushed his lips against hers, "I'm not fucking with you, I like being your boyfriend and taking care of you. We work right?" He's never thought about their relationship in the long term, it was convenient and fun, made his job easier. In their lives people got married for worse reasons, stayed together for worse things, he wasn't the bad guy, right?

FLEUR stilled when he brushed his lips against hers. She was having a hard time wrapping her head around what he was telling her. Yeah, she had friends, but did any of them actually like her because she was her, or because she was rich like them? She had hooked up with plenty of people before being with Quincey and none of them had ever shown the slightest bit of interest in dating her. Quincey hadn't even shown interest in dating her. Their relationship had been a business arrangement. "Yeah, we do," she replied quietly, brushing her lips against his in return before tentatively kissing him. It felt nice, and it hit her how desperately she had been longing for real affection from someone. She slowly licked her lips before looking him in the eyes. "So... You wanna be like... My boyfriend for real, then?"

QUINCEY kissed her back, a small sigh slipping out when she pulled away. Kissing Fleur had always been nice, it was why he'd gone to her when he'd been upset in the past, and maybe why she'd picked him in their friend group for the fake boyfriend. Getting picked first had felt good, though he'd never really asked why she'd picked him, a small part worried he'd find out he hadn't actually been the first choice. "If you're willing to let me be, then yeah I do," he said nodding as he looked back at her. He kept his hand on her face stealing another quick kiss. "I want you to keep being my girlfriend," he added.

FLEUR felt like she was in a romantic comedy. Okay, it wasn't quite as dramatic as it was in the movies, but being in a fake relationship only to have her fake boyfriend develop real feelings for her? That was some Hollywood shit. It was a great story that would probably have done bonkers well on social media and yet, for once, that wasn't what she was thinking about. She was too focused on the warm feeling in her chest from the idea that there might be someone in the world who loved her like that. "I want to keep being your girlfriend," she replied, leaning in to kiss him again. Without breaking away, she moved to straddle his lap and wrapped her arms around his neck. A soft chuckle left her lips when she finally pulled back. "Can't believe we're actually together now," she whispered, brushing her lips against his.

QUINCEY grunted when he found himself with a lap full of Fleur, the towel falling onto the floor. Wrapping his arms around her waist this wasn't new for them, if anything they'd gone a bit long without physical contact, PDA had always been one of the biggest factors in their relationship. Kissing her back he pulled her closer to him, chuckling with her. A voice sounding vaguely like Quill's saying they'd need to discuss this, but as he'd done in the past he flicked that little combo of angel / devil off his shoulder. "Cool," he mumbled leaning his forehead against hers, not able to hide the relief in his face that things had gone over alright. He was vaguely aware he was still shirtless and they were on their bed, he knew how things would usually go, but something told him that that would be a step too far to do when he hadn't been completely genuine. Brushing his lips against hers he idly rubbed at her back, "Think we could just sleep together? Like actually just sleep?" He asked softly.

"Cool," FLEUR repeated with a small smile, leaning her forehead against his as well. She hadn't realised how nervous Quincey must have been about having this conversation, but based on how relieved he looked now, it seemed like quite a bit. She found that oddly endearing. Just like she found it oddly endearing that he didn't actually want to have sex with her after all of that. A small part of her had been a little worried that he'd just said what he did to keep sleeping with her even if she had already said she'd be down even if they weren't together. "Yeah, of course, babe," she replied, leaning in to give him a soft kiss before climbing off him and slipping under the covers. Tucking one arm under her pillow, she used the other to reach out and gently tug at his wrist, encouraging him to get under there with her. "You don't have to ask if that's okay. If you're not in the mood then you're not in the mood. I might get a little whiney about it if I'm already worked up, but you know me, that's just what I'm like."

QUINCEY had felt his shoulders relax when she said it was fine, more than a small part of him worried she might get offended. It wasn't like he wasn't into her, but something about it all had made him hesitate. A new one for him, though he doubted it become a habit, he was too impatient and impulsive. Letting her tug him under the covers he wrapped his arm around her, shifting closer until her head was tucked under his. "Yeah I do know you," he mumbled, "And you know me." She knew him, eventually he'd tell, maybe. She'd understand, they were friends, she'd seen him on one of the worst days of his life and hadn't thought he was lame. He was just returning the favor for her having his back, it wouldn't be that big of a deal. "Night babe, love you," he mumled pressing his lips to the top of her head.

FLEUR shuffled closer when he wrapped his arm around her and pressed her face to the crook of his neck. It wasn't that unusual for them to be close like this, but it did feel a little different now, in a good way. It was one thing for them to be affectionate in public. It was an entirely different thing for them to continue being affectionate in private. The fact that they had been doing the latter for years, whether she'd thought about it or not, made a small smile tug on her lips. It really was like a romantic comedy. "Love you too," she mumbled back, pulling herself a little closer and settling in for the night. "G'night babe."

[brightstvrlights]

INSIDE THE INTERROGATIONS;

Dylan was still reeling from the sobering events from the days prior at the Frightfest event. He'd barely slept; every time he closed his eyes he couldn't stop himself from visualising Daniela face down in that damn tub, lifeless in his arms as he pulled her out. Who the fuck would do this, to her of all people? The question constantly bounced around in his head, making him angry, sad, confused all at once.

A knock on his screen door snapped Dylan out of his thoughts, taking him a moment to register as he came back to the present. "Hello?" He called from his position on his worn-out couch just a mere few feet away. "Marina Police, we just want to ask you a few questions." He pursed his lips as he reluctantly rose and made his way over to open the door, coming face to face with two officers; one he recognised from the scene. "Do I have a choice?" He asked vacantly even though he already knew the answer. It wasn't his first trip to a police station. "You're not under arrest, it's just a few questions and then you can go." Nodding silently, he moved to grab a jacket, sliding it on before following the officers down to their squad car, hopping compliantly into the back, staring aimlessly at the moving scenery until they came to a stop outside the station. As he was led inside, Dylan couldn't help but feel the eyes of everyone there boring into the back of his skull. Did they really think he did it? Fuck everyone, he thought as he was instructed to sit down in Marina police station's stuffy little interrogation room. I didn't fucking do it.

Where were you during the Halloween "Frightfest" festival when the murder of Daniela Carvalho occurred?

I was at one of those pop up bars beside all the food trucks. Couldn't even tell you how many drinks I'd had by that point but it was a lot. I ran into an ex and I was pretty rattled by it. That's why I went to go find Dani, I wanted to fuckin' drunkenly rant to her about it I guess.

Did you have any contact with Daniela Carvalho during the event, and if so, can you provide details about your interaction?

Yeah of course I did. She was my friend, we hung out. I saw her early in the night, we had a few beers and then I had to go do my set and she said she was gonna meet up with some dude named Atticus. I think they're friends or somethin'. I don't really keep up. Anyway, I texted her later to meet up, she said she was helping out at the apple bobbing stand for some fuckin' reason so I went there, the other person running the stall said she'd gone out into the storeroom to restock or somethin' so I went out there and yeah, that's where I found her.

Can anyone vouch for your whereabouts and actions during the time of the murder?

One of the bartenders probably. I couldn't tell you what their name is, I hardly know anyone in this place. It was a brunette chick, I remember that much. The dude at the apple bobbing stand. My ex, her name's Sawyer. She'd be able to tell you that I was in no state to be fuckin' murdering anyone.

Do you have any knowledge of individuals who may have had a motive to harm Daniela Carvalho?

I know Marcy Roman had some kinda issue with her. They got into a punch up not that long ago, so maybe you should ask her where she was instead of me.

Were there any disagreements, conflicts, or altercations that you witnessed or were involved in during the festival that might be relevant to this case?

Not really, but I wasn't really lookin'. I was paid to be there for a gig, I spent most of my night doing that and when I wasn't, I was at the bar or gettin' food. I wasn't lurkin' in shadows people watching. Got better things to do with my time.

Have you seen anyone acting strangely or fleeing the scene before or after the discovery of the body?

Like I told you. I was pretty drunk by that point in the night and I'm already not a guy that really cares about what's going on around him. I wasn't exactly lookin' for any sus people skulking around the fuckin' apple bobbing stand. Honestly I wish I was, I wish I could tell you somethin' helpful because I wanna know who did this to Dani as much as you do. I'm fuckin' pissed.

Do you have any information about any potential witnesses or individuals who might have valuable information regarding the murder?

Again, not really. Only person I could think of would be whoever else was at that stall, maybe they saw somethin' I didn't.

Is there anything else you believe could be relevant to helping us solve this heinous crime?

Look into Marcy. She's the only person I can think of that had a problem with Dani. Maybe the people she was hookin' up with. I couldn't give you names though, she never really told me. Wish I had more for ya but I don't. I'm just the poor fucker that found her and that's already hard enough to deal with, now I gotta put up with people accusing me of killin' her. I didn't. She was important to me.

[imsparky2002]

Class of Villainy - DuPont

DuPont Reform Academy

Each of the children had been spotted causing trouble by DPD (Disney Police Department), a magical police force dedicated to stopping the forces of evil.

The children were sent to the Academy in order to be reformed, to change their ways and begin bonding with more heroic students.

The teachers in charge of the classes were Miss Bustier and Mme. Mendeleiev, a pair of fairy godparents.

Marinette, Adrien, Alya, Nino, Nathaniel, Max, Kim, Alix, Juleka, Rose, Ivan, Mylene, Sabrina and Chloe were placed in Miss Bustier's class.

Marc, Kagami, Luka, Zoe, Aurore, Mireille, Jean, Reshma, Simon, Denise, Ismael, Cosette and Lacey wre placed in Mme. Mendeleiev's class. (Marc eventually forced his way into Bustier's group to be with his boyfriend Nathaniel, and Juleka forced her teacher to add Luka to Bustier's class as well.)

Bustier is a kind yet naive fairy, who believes all the villains need is compassion and to spread the love. Very doting, but finds it difficult to stand up to her students. Mendeleiev is a total hard-ass, she's showing these kids that she won't be pushed around, and that they're gonna be reformed whether they like it or not.

There are certain spells placed in the school to prevent villains from killing each other or heroic students from other classes. The kids just find other ways to hurt the good kids and each other.

The whole "redemption" project was a total failure. The teenagers grew too bond with each other through their love of villainy, sharing methods and evil plans with one another. They hardly listened to their teachers, and terrorized the other students. Some of the magical villains found spells that allowed them to teleport outside the school and commit evil acts while outside of school grounds.

While there was a sense of friendly rivalry between the two classes, they soon realized that they would become unstoppable if they partnered up. By their senior year, they had taken over the school, and had plans to dominate the world.

Quite a story, huh? If you have any questions about, drop me an “ask” and I’ll answer it. We’re almost done, but we have two heroes that will be facing off against these dastardly foes. Thank so much to  @artzychic27 for inspiring me to make this in the first place.

[everthewip]

Prompt: 1. "It's not too late, let's go."

Fanfiction 

Fandom: Shadows of Doubt (video game)

Rating: T

Warnings: Mentions of death and murder

Notes: You don't need to have played or know anything about this game for this to (hopefully) be understandable. Also no, this is not edited or beta read.

Banner by @fictober-event

Wednesday, Jan. 4th 6:20AM

I wake to the apartment building shaking again. Entire damn city feels like it's going to collapse into the toxic water any day now. Don't really have time to care about that, though.

Breakfast is leftover lo mein and a can of Kola. I sip the bubbly drink, ignore the way its sugary sweetness irritates my teeth, and study the case board on my kitchen wall.

Omarr Jack. Slashed to death in a bloody mess two days ago. Different colored strings and pins link his picture to photographs of the crime scene, some to sticky notes with vague details. Black string leads to the time of death, between 9:00 and 10:00am. Yellow links to his workplace address, a scrap of paper with his hours written down, a list of colleagues to question later. Green is more personal, linking to a note about his girlfriend not being home during time of murder. Red focuses on the crime scene, a picture of the body, the bloodied carpet, the business card left behind with no traceable fingerprints and only a cryptic message: Didn't have what it takes.

There isn't much else to go on; the murderer covered their tracks too well.

One more sip of the Kola and I grimace, already feeling like my teeth are going to rot out any second. Wonder how much it'd cost to buy my own fresh water dispenser and keep it filled. Only ever seen them in the office buildings around here. Probably costs a fuckload of Crows and Social Credit to keep those full.

I set the can aside and reach up, fingers poised on the pin keeping poor Mr. Jack stabbed to the board. His expression is solemn, professional some might say. He stares out with a gaze as dead as he is now.

“Sorry buddy,” I mutter. “Don't think I can handle your case.”

But something keeps me from pulling the pin and clearing the board. Maybe it's the folders sitting in my filing cabinet, the ones that whisper in the night and keep me awake, the cases still unsolved. Maybe it's a bitterness at Starch, our megacorp president that replaced me and the rest of City 46's police force with their incompetent Enforcers. Maybe it's the notice taped to my fridge, reminding me that rent is well overdue and repossession is imminent.

I leave the picture pinned, the center of a chaotic web that may never get unwound.

7:04AM

“More coffee, detective?”

Blake stands with one hand on her hip, the other holding an old coffee pot full of fresh, steaming brew. The scent is mesmerizing, almost overshadowing the greasy aromas ever-present in the Phat Model Diner. Shitty name for a shitty place with shitty food. Only good thing about this shithole is Blake.

“Hope you're ready to take credit if my heart explodes.”

I push my empty mug closer to her, smiling a little as she chuckles and fills it about three-fourths full; just enough to still add creamer, exactly how I like it.

“Maybe I should stop servin' you, then.” She places a few extra sugar packets on the table, gives me a wink, and then steps away to offer coffee to the few other diners. There aren't many this morning, but even if this place was packed, Blake would still serve me first. Never asked her to, but she always does.

I lift my coffee, take the first blissful sip, and watch her drift along the row of booths. She's a big woman, Blake is. Broad and muscular from years working as a security guard for a gambling den in her old city. She can hardly move through the diner without bumping into tables, but when you're that imposing, who the fuck is gonna call you out on it? I'd watched her toss a man out the door with one arm once. She'd just started to wear glasses and the idiot thought, “Hey, Four Eyes” was a smart way to call her over to his table.

She's finished her rounds now and I'm quick to look down before she sees me staring.

There's a newspaper someone left on the table, so I scan over the front page.

Omarr Jack's face almost makes me choke on my coffee.

“Heard it was brutal.”

Blake's returned, squeezing herself between the booth and table across from me. I almost don't register what she's said, I'm too busy noticing her arms as she crosses them, rests them on the table.

“Yeah, it was.”

“You saw it then?” She leans forward, voice lowered. The table wobbles a bit, but she doesn't notice.

“Yep, investigated what I could.” I lift my drink to take another sip and shrug. “Think this is another case for the cold filing cabinet, though.”

Blake's frown deepens as she studies me, and I have to look away so I don't blush like an idiot. If anything, maybe she'd think the coffee is what warms my cheeks. This isn't even the time to be crushing over the hot butch waitress, not when a dead man's murder stares up at me from the damned paper.

“It's not too late, Rory,” Blake says, her voice softer than the steam rising from my coffee mug. I look up, lips parted, and try to find the right words to say.

But then my old police scanner is going off in my bag.

There's been another murder.

Before I realize it, I'm already getting my shit together to leave. Blake's eyes are on me and when I look up she's got this half-grin on her face that makes the breath catch in my throat.

“Let's go, detective,” she says. “Solve the case.”

She winks again.

I can only nod.

And then I'm through the diner door and out into the rainy morning of City 46.