#why is she LURKING in every police station scene???

[ninawolv3rina]

June Stahl leave the room challenge

[eviltiddyproductions]

Crash Course in Romance : Episode 5

He finally gets to eat !!!

no no no he’s frozen near the site! it wasn’t you chiyeol.

need him to see a therapist and open up so bad 😭🙏

damn keeping appearances is truly a disease. she’s lying about her elder son’s life but also like they don’t talk to him at all ?????

wow sunjae and sua’s mom are teaming up to be the worst duo on the show 😍

lmao love our girl down, she was training her brother not to accidentally spill about the tutoring thing and here she is casually chatting with her bestie and goes ‘our Mr. Choi’ and her bestie clocked it immediately

why did I just google the cast and our girl is 50!?! 50 !!! she’s looks so young 💀 skin care on the next level wow. I really was talking about her as if she was my age 😭🙏 let me put some respect on her name

oh the guy was in Hospital Playlist damn maybe I’ll check that out next

he’s just like me. passed out after one jog 😭😭😭

both the secret keepers Chiyeol and Haengseon are the only ones who keep spilling it out lmaooo

I know he’s being efficient but I hope him printing these out in his office don’t get him caught later on 💀

nooo Sunjae 😭 baby got her something but the eager ice hockey student is here 🤣

Ice hockey student is exactly as bad at maths as I was. I adore him

police officers and courts bringing the same terrible energy everywhere in every show slay 😍

the little brother celebrating because the house is clean 😭

i would actually die if someone saw me write a test in front of them

my girl is kinda boundary less 😭 but I adore her regardless

he’s so 💀 eating his dinner as he reads reviews of his work lmaooo

no no no little brother 2 people have died already in this show on the road, please don’t look at your phone while walking

what did I say about printing on the office printer 😭💀

they’re such bad liars they’re going to get caught so soon 😍🤣

nooo my heart :(

does someone working there not recognise a regular customer over a stalker 😭 but fine ig, my heart

she’s maintaining boundaries and this scene is cute as heck but I’m worried about the brother. would it kill it to not have someone constantly in a tumble in the show 😭

he’s overhearing and lurking again 🤣😭

yes offer her a ride!

their second trip to a police station

what is that guy’s problem lmao you’re the one who got violent with Jae Woo first. you got tackled fine but at least don’t roll your eyes when someone is explaining a situation you clearly failed to read 😭

that boyfriend is such a loser I’ll fight him rn

why must my sister pay for everything

the waffle maker kinda gets it

everybody’s after chiyeol’s neck and life is after haengseon’s like woah calm down

oh I teared up seeing the handcuff marks on his wrist just like her 😭 #myfamily

my man fell asleep after 2 shots? he’s literally me

the shock with which he got up, the sass with which he got out of the bathroom lmaooo

the way her bestie and her assistant are just there looking at them as my man dramatically falls with the belt in his hand. 💀

this is cinema !!!!

[ficforce]

Blind Spot Part 1

Obi x Reader Stalker trigger

Obi stopped mid-lift as he heard the sound of three women getting angry all at once, it could only mean that Y/N had come back from her date and that it hadn’t gone well. He grabbed a towel and wiped at his face before opening the door and heading toward the break room; Iris looked mildly scandalised whilst Tamaki and Maki looked ready to commit murder, Y/N stood in front of them looking a little disappointed. “So he just grabbed your butt and expected you to go home with him? What a pervert!” “You have the worst luck with that dating company, why can’t you find your prince charming already?” Maki looked close to tears and sat down as if defeated. Y/N pat her on the shoulder and then she realised Obi was stood in the doorway, he looked a little sweaty but she recognised the bright look in his eyes, he always got a good feeling after working out, “You called it, Captain. Another loser crossed off the list.” “Did you update your dating profile?” He wasn’t going to gloat, he hadn’t liked the guy’s profile when she showed him and he felt worse about it if the guy had touched her without her wanting him to, “What did you put in for your ideal match?” She sat down beside Maki and began counting off the points on her fingers, “Tall, fit, kind, fun. Adventurous, looking for a long term commitment, preferably someone in a similar line of work.” Sister Iris shook her head a little and exhaled, “Why don’t you just put in a picture of Captain Obi in that section?” Tamaki covered her mouth so she wouldn’t laugh out loud and Maki looked at the two hopefully. It wasn’t the first time someone had told Y/N that she and Obi would be a great match.

“Tall, check” Maki ticked off an imaginary box, “No ones more fitness mad than Captain, check.” Iris joined in then, getting up her own imaginary checklist, “Kind and fun, check. Adventurous… let’s just check that.” Tamaki pretended to grab Iris’ list, “Pretty sure Captain Obi said he’d only date for keeps, check. And he’s in the same line of work. Check, check and check!” The three of them looked at them excitedly, Obi rubbed the back of his head and fumbled with his words for a moment, eventually coming up with some excuse, “We’ve been friends for nearly ten years, I think if there was anything between us it would have happened by now, right, Y/N?” “And you’re my boss now,” she gave a shrug to the girls and sat down at the end of the table, still disappointed by the evening’s date. Y/N had always dreamed of a prince charging into her life one day, sweeping her off her feet and loving her until the end of time, she felt like she was running out of time now, she was nearly thirty and still hadn’t had a long, meaningful relationship. She wondered if Mr Right would ever find her… Feeling a warm hand on her shoulder she looked up at Obi and he gave her a soft smile, “You’ll find a guy who ticks all the boxes, you just need to relax a little more. How about I set you up with Hinawa?” “Great idea!” Y/N cheered, “Then I can borrow his gun to shoot you with!” Obi snorted and headed out to hit the showers, oblivious to Y/N watching him as he left, her eyes lingering on his muscled back until she heard giggling from the side, “What?!” The women couldn’t believe how oblivious the two were of their feelings. The next two dates were just as disastrous and put the usually cheery woman in a bad mood. She was almost grateful for the difficulty of their mission as it let her work out some frustration, Obi pulled her up out of the elevator shaft they had used to escape a collapse lower down and she made sure to adjust his hood when she noticed it coming loose - neither of them had fire abilities and made sure to check the other’s equipment. It was something they had done even when they were regular firefighters, they had been in some difficult firefights and they always tried to find something to laugh about at the end; it kept them sane. They had gotten separated from everyone else when two Infernals had flanked the team, “The floor’s weak here, watch your step, Ak- Obi.” Y/N still wasn’t used to calling him Captain or Obi after years of casual friendship calling each other by first names. They made their way through the building until they found the stairs, the fires were blazing hot and they rushed down the stairs to where they could hear fighting, a screech of metal made Y/N scream as the stairs sunk dangerously under their feet, she balanced herself in time but she saw Obi go over the side of the broken rail. “Akitaru!” She launched herself toward him and barely caught his wrist before he vanished - he was so heavy it was hard not to be pulled over too, “Come on, little help here…” Obi caught the edge of the stairs with his other hand and began to pull himself back up, the woman gripping his coat and belt to help him all the way, “Thanks…” he gave her shoulder a grateful squeeze, “Let’s keep going, stay alert.” The Captain took her hand without thinking and they made their way through the inferno together, it was early dawn by the time they had finished putting the Infernals to rest and Y/N’s head drooped as she fought off sleep, eventually her head dropped onto Obi’s shoulder and he opened one of his eyes to look down at her, a smile flitted over his lips as she let out a mumble. He closed his eye again and relaxed a little, there was still some driving to do before they got back to the station so he would have to enjoy this as much as he could. They’d been friends for as long as he could remember and part of him regretted that he wasn’t her prince charming… they had never even had a moment where he thought he could kiss her and she would respond favourably - perhaps he was a coward? He had told the girls what he

honestly thought, ‘if there was anything between them it would have happened by now.’ It ached every time she described her ideal man but overlooked him. Obi wanted her to be happy and if that meant helping her out before every date she had with a stranger then he would take it on the chin. — - “I give up!” Y/N announced and tossed her jacket over Vulcan’s workbench, “Vul, I need something to hit - gimme a job to do.” She pulled him out from under the matchbox, not too surprised by his animal-themed goggles but they made her laugh, “You’re so cute…” “I’m a star-nosed mole.” The redhead pointed over to a different bench, “The hubcap got a little banged up, wanna hammer it back into shape?” She passed him a bottle of water and the young man pulled his goggles off, he saw Y/N like a kind of mother but even he had to admit she looked good in her date outfit, “Didn’t it go well?” She shook her head, “It was fine at first but then he started talking about himself and it was way different than his profile, then he kept changing his story and I just got this… feeling about him. He was hot as hell but I started to really go off him by dessert.” Y/N took a breath, “You know how you said Dr Giovanni made even your bones feel creeped out - he was like that.” A little time passed with the two working away and then they were interrupted by Hinawa, the Lieutenant’s wide eyes landed on Y/N and she flinched, “…Um?” “Your date called the station, he wanted to know if you got home safe.” He would have gone on to lecture her on the proper use of the work phone but the ex-soldier paused when he saw her expression change, it was obvious the news wasn’t welcome. “Y/N?” “I didn’t tell him where I worked… I said I was in Emergency Services and there’s nothing on me to indicate I work here.” Her skin prickled and she glanced out of the garage door as if someone might be lurking there, “What did you say, Lieutenant?” Hinawa walked past her and pulled the door shut before tossing her her coat, “I told him that Company 8 only deals with Infernals in this district and hung up.” He told Vulcan to make sure he locked up when he was done and led her toward the kitchen. The kitchen with Hinawa always meant a heart to heart, Hinawa began preparing tea and she gave a sigh as she waited for him to say whatever it was he needed. “Tell me about the guy you went out with tonight? Description, occupation… concerns.” “Tall, dark hair and eyes, he was pretty broad.” He passed her a cup and she held it close as she leaned on the counter, “He said he was police force but then he kinda changed his story, I caught a glimpse of a tattoo on his arm when he took his coat off and it looked military.” She watched Hinawa nod slowly and then he gestured for the door, having her follow him to the equipment lock-up, “Hinawa?” “I didn’t like his tone, Y/N, I don’t like what you’re telling me.” He pulled open his gun draw and picked out a handgun, checking it over before holding it out to her, “I’m lending this to you, I know you can use it so I’m not too worried about gun safety.” “Hinawa?” She took it from him hesitantly, “I’m… I think you’re overreacting.” “You looked terrified when I said you got a call… It takes some doing to rattle you, Y/N. Cancel your dating subscription, it’s embarrassing that you even signed up. You’re an attractive woman but you need to get your head out of fairytales and start looking in the real world.” Y/N kept the gun Hinawa had given her in a holster under her clothes, she figured he was being overprotective and the thought made her feel better about the whole thing, Company 8 were her family and they looked out for her, maybe Hinawa was right and she needed to relax a little. It was a full week since her date and everything was just like normal, at least she had thought it was. It was Arthur that pointed out a reoccurring figure at the scenes they went out to, the blonde pointed past her shoulder and she turned along with Shinra, “He’s here again.” Shinra squinted into the crowd and agreed, “Yeah, he was here last time and the

time before. Do you know him, Y/N?” The figure was already walking away when she tried to get a better look, she felt a chill all over and stepped backwards nervously - straight into Obi. His hands rested on her shoulders and he searched the crowd too, “Y/N… you’re shaking.” Obi had heard about the stranger in the crowd and he had been told by Hinawa that there was a problem with her last date, the Captain guided her back to the matchbox and searched the crowd one more time before ordering Vulcan to drive them home. They all kept an eye out from then on, the figure didn’t appear again but someone kept calling the station and hanging up, Vulcan noticed that the lock on the garage had been tampered with and one morning they found a bouquet of flowers left at the doorstep. It had gotten to a point where Y/N couldn’t go anywhere without an escort. — - “Maki, could you go tell Y/N it’s her turn to do the dishes?” The woman gave her Captain a nod and headed down to the garage where Y/N said she was going to grab a screwdriver to fix something in her room. She looked around and saw only Vulcan’s feet under the matchbox and Licht trying to convince him to help with modifications. They both seemed confused as Y/N hadn’t been there in the last half an hour, the three of them started a search throughout the large building and then there was a mass panic when no one could find her. Obi had been the last person to leave the station, calling ahead to Company 5 to see if they could spare some extra feet on the ground and then he would search the local area. The phone rang and he prayed it wasn’t an Infernal, “Company 8, Captain Obi speaking… Y/N! Where the hell are you?!” “I was taking out the trash and… I didn’t see him…” Obi pressed the phone closer to his ear, she sounded so faint, “Akitaru, I… I’ve been shot.” His blood ran cold as that sunk in.

[black-streak]

Saturday night's alright for fighting (but Sundays are meant for rest) - Dangerous Game Indeed

Part 4

Changing gears here for a moment. This part has no fluff. More character building than anything to set up the beginning of the next part, which should go back to being fluffy. Pretty sure I'm going to write their date next, but I felt it important to establish a few things early on. I promise if this gets you confused, the next part will explain what happened here better

~---~

So here's the thing about being a secret hero in a place teeming with vigilantes and villains. 

Being a bright red flash across the horizon doesn't work. 

Not that Marinette wouldn't love to zip across the high rise buildings by her yoyo, but it just wasn't a feasible option unless she wished to announce her presence to every person in the city. Seriously, Tikki, who does she think she is, Robin? One traffic light bright hero was enough.

That's how this… possibly unwise team up came to fruition. 

See, Mari planned to stay within the shadows, outta sight from the many bat people that stalked the rooftops at night, but like hell would she stay idle and complacent while Gotham suffered. So she waited and watched for quite some time before selecting her new miraculouses, eventually settling on the cat and fox combined. After all, chaos, destruction, and deceit work well together.

With her mind made up, she proceeded to plan out the costume and discuss how their powers were likely to combine; what to expect from this merge. The end result was magnificent. The bottomless-pit black bottoms were looser than anything she'd had before, wrapping tight in fabric bands only at the ankles and waist before shifting into a long sleeve shirt, just as free in the arms with the same tight bands at the wrists. The soft fabric draped across her chest, the front coming up to cover the bottom half of her face, the sides and back lifting up into a hood that covered her all the way to the eyes. Her gloves and hidden boots were a soot gray, indistinguishable in the dead of night and only barely of note in the day, with black claw tips and touch sensitive paw pads. Under the hood, her hair took on a more soot gray tone as well, black fluffy ears with gray insides just barely hinting out. A fluffy black tail with gray tip swished behind her. The colors were all Plagg while the design took more to Trixx. Her eyes however went into catlike slits of silver sclera and icy blue irises with what appeared to be black kohl ringing her eyes. Lastly, twin daggers tucked into the seams on her inner arms.

The first thing she discovered upon merging was that she became undetectable. Her movements made no sound nor did her breathing. She blended seamlessly with shadows and the night sky alike. People who looked in her direction would blink and discover it to be a trick of the light or assume it to be a delusion if they even saw her at all. It took concentration to push off the magic and allow others to see past the illusion. But she feared once it was gone, it'd be lost on that person forever. Sure, maybe they wouldn't notice her due to her own skill, but the magic would no longer protect her from them. So she didn't test it out. The next thing she realized was that her transformation didn't have much of a timer to detransform. Having worked with different kwamis for so long had built up a resistance to the strain. 

Secondly, she found their abilities didn't end at cataclysm and mirage. Funny thing about being in control of illusions and deceit; you could spot it in others from a mile away. Making villainous plans easier to tear apart without a charm. 

Plagg's… well Plagg's was different. As it turned out, death is simply an extension of destruction and while she had always known a poorly placed cataclysm could potentially end a life, she never expected this ability to sense death itself. She could feel when a place had seen too much or where it lurked heaviest in her vicinity. 

She could also sense when someone had been brushed with its weighted touch. Which had led to many tragic, heartbroken nights of research to discover why so many of the Waynes were smothered in it. From Jason disappearing for so long and being exposed to Kwami knows what. The potentially abusive upbringing of Damian by his mother who he refused to speak of. Bruce and his parents, murdered before his eyes. Tim losing his own parents and being around to bare witness to the many brushes of his adoptive family. Add on their secondary occupations and what it entailed and well, it was enough to know not to pry.

The first few transformations, she stayed docile, never engaging, silently observing the inner workings of the city. The next few, she branched out, interfering minor crimes with quick distractions and carefully curated traps. The criminals themselves would wake up outside the police station with evidence scattered about them and no memory of how they ended up there. Then a race against the clock would commence while they tried to gather everything thrown about them and run before any officers could take note and capture them. Mari took great pleasure in watching this part, sometimes binding their wrists or feet to add an extra element to their struggle.

The two kwamis truly brought out her more sly, volatile side.

Eventually it led to foiling larger scale villains when Batman seemed to be taking his own sweet time arriving to the scene. By the time he or one of his.. partners? Pupils? Kids? She never knew what he called them in costume... Well to whoever showed up, it would look like the plan collapsed within itself as though a few variables were forgotten or fell out of hand. 

The problem with starting to take action in a place like Gotham though is that no matter how much they can't prove your existence, the bats are bound to take notice. Because if they aren't the ones taking down these people, who is? 

That's how Mari found herself narrowly avoiding encounters on a weekly basis. Sure, no one spotted her yet, but tracking her location through found thugs she'd taken down moments before made for some close calls of almost physically being ran in to. Not sure how convincing of a pipe on a roof she could be if that were to happen. 

Add on her own animalistic instinct to hunt that led to many nights of stalking different vigilantes for hours on end, holding back the urge to pounce and well… it made for a dangerous game of cat and mouse. 

'Or rather, catfox and bird,' she thought, slowly inching along an edge wall of the roof where Red Robin laid in wait. 

Mari couldn't be sure how, but he seemed to have some sixth sense for looming figures. Either that or heaps worth of paranoia. Multiple times she'd had to hold deadly still while he whipped his head in her direction, staring her down. If it hadn't been for the magic whispering across her skin, Marinette was sure he'd have had her pinned within the first night of her stalking. As it stood, Red only stared quietly, eyes roving the area she kept to, only relenting when it seemed nothing would appear. 

Tonight… felt ominous. Marinette knew how dumb it was to purposefully follow Red, even more so while cleaning up the dock she had just vacated, leaving an unconscious scarecrow tied amongst his goons by crates worth of chemicals. Normally she wouldn't tie them up, but instead misconstrue things until it looked like an accident, confused weaker pawns wandering about, trying to collect their bosses only for the bats to find and finish up the job. However, her need to remain an unknown figure lost against the need for entertainment, so she made everything of her interference obvious, but left no trace of herself for Batman to find. 

Now she watched as Red stayed still upon the roof, clean up done and nothing left to do but think. She waited for pacing, frustration, anything. She received silence. 

How boring.

Of course... he knew it was her. 

Robin, Red Robin, and Agent A had all either figured it out or had been informed by herself. It was the rest of the family they kept in the dark, her unwilling to trust them with this yet and the three recognizing it as not their secret to tell.

Doesn't mean Red didn't take every opportunity to try and catch her slipping up.

Marinette could almost hear Plagg goading her to toy with the bird, Trixx right behind telling Mari to trust in the illusion. It would only break where she wanted it to. With that reassurance and no Tikki to reason with, Mari moved forward a touch, still completely hidden, but testing how well he sensed her. 

Immediately, he turned. She froze. Then remembering herself, she carefully focused on the magic about her before cautiously letting a huff of air out her mouth, just loud enough to pick up, but quiet enough to not immediately draw attention to her exact location.

It was enough.

"You're here." 

She met him with only silence for a moment then clicked her claws gently to confirm.

Zeroing in further, he took a step forward.

Sliding to his side, Mari carefully scuffed a boot and watched him follow her.

He seemed to assess the situation before turning back to where she was, allowing her to creep behind him. The tension in his shoulders let on to him knowing her actual location though. 

Of course she chose that moment to channel her inner idiot and play along. Tapping his shoulder in a clear indication of permission to turn around, as that seemed to be what he was waiting for, she hopped back into the shadows. It was obvious he was only showing passiveness to lure her into a sense of security enough to reveal herself. 

She knew this and yet as he turned to face her again, she focused into the magic, peeling it back until she knew her eyes alone glowed out at him from the dark.

She let him meet her eyes for only a half second before taking off, quickly blending into the night once more to the sound of curses from the next building over where Hood had been waiting to step in.

Maybe next time she would stalk Jason and see how he liked being watched.

[icariagazette]

“Hi...Hey hello I am not Atti or Jasmine... I’m the editor for the show and being on the radio is uh... not my normal. But something very weird happened and I hate .... to be the one to tell you but.... both Wolfgang Jamison and Jasmine Kos have gone missing.  They had taken over the station last night and used our recording booth to record a new segment meant to air today... But uh... Well, I’ll let the recording speak for itself. This was the last known audio of the duo.”

“Hello and welcome to a special episode of Atti In The Morning. As most of you should know -- I'm not Atticus. Atticus was one of those taken earlier this year. My name is Jasmine Kos and I've been hosting the show in Atti's absence. We've been talking on and off since the first person went missing five years ago about these missing cases.Over the past five yers we've come up with some really interesting and insane theories of what has happened to our friends and family and today we decided its time to talk about all these ideas. So I've invited on an actual journalist to help us break down all these ideas and talk about all these theories.Hello Wolfgang, how are you this morning?" "Well, I'm here so that's already a decent start. Ready to discuss with you and hopefully debunk some of the more off the wall theories that I've heard floating around while writing the stories on those missing on the island." "What has been the most off the wall theory you've heard as of late? I'm sure you've heard some crazy ones, I know we've gotten some insane calls with theories. One of the most recent was that they were being replaced by the creatures that have come through the door." “See that’s not as crazy as it sounds. The doors did show up right before people began to turn up missing. I believe one of the most off the wall ones I’ve been told when interviewing residents on the island was that they weren’t missing at all but rather they all took off to start a cult ran by Chloe Vara. Which is probably the least likely to start a cult out of those missing.” “Well, that’s only partially true isn’t it?  Demigods have been going missing for five years now, but the uptick does coincide with those weird doors. Any idea what might be behind them? Beyond the one that opened at the family day party. But on the idea of Chloe, i think i rather like the idea of it being a cult run by her. At least you know they’re being well taken care of instead of this dread we all have of how they are and what’s happened to them. “ "Yes but there has never been any evidence to link the crimes now to those in the past other than no one found them. In any other part of the world that happens every single day. Growing up in New York you learned quickly that crime can happen at any point to anyone. The fact that the disappearances ramped up when the doors appear may be a coincidence but we might not find out unless those involved are found or come forward with any information. One of the things I always wondered is how Luke Decker completely vanished without a trace. Did they not have tabs on their officers at all times?" "I remember back when the first person seemingly vanished off the isle, Noreen, we all assumed she just ran away or went on some sort of extended vacation. I imagine that's sort of how it was for a lot of the people who went missing in the first couple years, back when it wasn't suggested we all live on this isle. People probably thought, 'they just went away for a bit' or because of where they lived people just chose to ignore it because of how common disappearances were in their area.  I think its massively overwhelming for isle residents because this is supposed to be a safe zone. " A beat and a breath, then,  "Which yeah -- that plays into how does a detective just vanish into thin air. You'd think after the first like 10 demi-gods went missing and the numbers ramped up they would have been tracking people's phones or something. Which -- do we know if they've been keeping a record of GPS movements of people since this has gotten so much worse?" "I would assume you are referring to Noreen Gomez? The demi-god who seemingly vanished after a fight with her girlfriend? Yeah, it might have been that way or not connected at all. These are just theories but you have to consider we're paying more attention because it's our kind that are disappearing. I just want to know why the police have only just now really started investigating the disappearances. The Gomez case has been closed for five years, they just assumed she took off. Which, alright, a demi-god goes missing and they don't bat an eyelash but how do they have no idea as to where Decker went? It makes me think that the police know more than they're letting on, which happens to avoid panic, but six months have passed since they began ramping up and we have no answers. You'd think they would be surveying everyone on the island at this point. No one else in and no one else out."

"One and the same; But yes, it appears we're all paying way more attention now than we used to. My guess as to why now compared to before would just be that one or two wasn't worth, as horrible as that sounds, all the time and energy the police department wanted to spend but now theres... 15 missing just from the isle, thats not counting those who were kidnapped off isle...It's dumb. All of it. They should have never closed the Gomez case they shouldn't even let up on the ones they're working on now. They need to search every inch of the isle, the shadows, the dark corners... all of it. I don't -- totally disagree, maybe locking down the isle could stop, or at least lead to some clues about what happened to our loved ones."

"No, I believe we are on the same page which is where my own conspiracy comes into play. I'm not sure I trust the police completely, which makes me sound as if I were a huge conspiracy theorist. Maybe I am now. Perhaps this entire situation has made me jaded and I want someone to blame, much like others do as well. I just don't understand how none of the crime scenes seemed to leave behind any trace of evidence. The entire apartment was ransacked when Atticus and Briar went missing and the same for Wesley Sullivan. Yet, they found nothing? I wonder if there's not more going on in that station." "I think the whole isle has become a giant conspiracy. We're all a bit obsessed with them now. It wouldn't surprise me either if there was a cover up, if someone in the police force is a bit to close to the kidnappers and is protecting them -- if not one of them. Its either that, or whoever is kidnapping the demi-gods is one themselves and knows what we'll look for. I just -- dont understand how no one sees them leaving the house with the person, how has no one, anywhere in the world seen anything to give us a hint at how our friends and family are going missing? Its like they’re shadows or ghosts. Which, after the door opening, I 100% believe theres ghosts running around now."

"That's my thought exactly. Something strange is going on and I want to get to the bottom of it. I know that the listeners might not know how often we get together and talk about conspiracies like this. Jasmine has become my partner in crime when it comes to this story and I do appreciate your help in what we're trying to discover. Right now, only those missing and the ones that are taking them know what is happening. What kind of creature lurks in the shadows and snatches people at night? Maybe it's Fae folk. They've been said to be tricky little things. All I know is I don't trust many people at this point."

“Yes! Wolf and i have become a bit of a duo looking into all this. It’s been sad and fun in its own way, and I’m more than happy to try and help save our friends. I also made a friend at the station, not PD but she seems pretty -- honest. We may, with her help, actually get to the bottom of this. But the idea of fae folk sounds pretty realistic to me; we have gods, creatures — who’s to say that the myths outside of Greek mythos isn’t real? I wouldn’t be surprised if all of mythology is actually real at this point. Maybe some other god from another religion is pissed off and taking children to make a point”

"Good, we need all the help we can get in getting to the bottom of this. I want to make things right for those of our peers that have been taken away from us for so long. I want to make sure they get the justice and truth that they deserve. That's a great point, it could very well be someone trying to make a point. If that were the case, the question remains what kind of point are they attempting to make right now? And how many more people have to suffer?" "I think we have lots of people on the isle that will happily help us in whatever way they can. We just have to ask and I'm sure they will. But yes i agree. We need to make sure our friends and loved ones get the justice they deserve because I can't -- seem to make any logical explanation for the reasons they're gone or why someone would be trying to make a point by kidnapping people. I just really hope they're ---" Rustling "What  -- How did you get in here?" Muffled voice "Go where? I --"  Silence

--------------------

As you can hear... someone else came into the recording booth, we’ve done everything we could to try to enhance the voice, hear what the other person said but .... nothing can be made out. Nothing makes sense.... We don’t know who or what or why this happened. All we know is when we came in this morning it was set up and recording as if they had just stepped out to go to the bathroom.... I --- I honestly don’t know what else to do or say or how the show will continue on after today... We’ll figure it out. And I’m sorry.”

[astrid-goes-for-a-spin]

Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: The Flash (TV 2014) Rating: General Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Iris West & Wally West, Barry Allen/Iris West Characters: Iris West, Wally West, Caitlin Snow, Cisco Ramon, Barry Allen, Joe West Additional Tags: Protests, 2020 protests, BLM protests, black lives matter protests, Journalist Iris West, Iris and Team Flash are out helping their community, Joe is a singer not a cop, corona pandemic 2020 Series: Part 7 of Iris Week 2020 Summary:

Iris Week 2020 Day 7: Iris in a world without superheroes. @iriswestallenweek

She’s technically a reporter for CCPN, but this is not exactly her job. In fact, it’s possible Iris could lose her job for publishing the footage she’s taking. But if it’s the end of the world, Iris wants to make sure she’s a part of making the new one a good one, entry-level salary be damned.

Iris and Team Flash at the 2020 protests.

____________________________________________

for the tumblr crowd, here’s the full text: 

.

“This is Iris West. I’m on the scene of the protests at 14th and Shultz.”

In the dim lighting from the occasional lamppost, Iris hopes her cell camera can pick up what it’s pointing at. She’s never been a videographer, but these days, she’s just having to make do.

“As you can see,” Iris narrates, both hands on her phone, “police have been lined up in front of the courthouse since I got here. Periodically protesters will get close and ask the officers to kneel with us-”

It’s quiet for a few minutes while Iris describes the situation. She’s technically a reporter for CCPN, but this is not exactly her job. In fact, it’s possible Iris could lose her job for publishing the footage she’s taking. But if it’s the end of the world, Iris wants to make sure she’s a part of making the new one a good one, entry-level salary be damned.

Iris tightens her ponytail, yanks her knit hat lower, and double-checks the mask covering her face. At her side, Wally is silent and similarly attired: all in black, wearing a beanie and a mask that serves a dual purpose – protecting his identity as well as observing virus safety.

He nods at the stairs to a small cut-through. The street is filled with chanting and prayer, but it seems like if there’s going to be a moment to rest tonight, now’s the time. Iris follows him, the eye of her camera always watching.

Once they pass off the main street, it’s like a different world. The alley is full of life: there’s some soft music playing, and two boys are showing dance moves to a small, admiring crowd. Iris makes sure to capture this on camera too – the kind of life the protests are protecting.

In front of a miniscule synagogue, a first-aid station has been set up with folding tables. Crates of water lurk on the ground for both hydration and eyewashes. This is where they find Caitlin, Cisco, and Barry.

Caitlin is gently applying alcohol and Neosporin to a little girl’s scraped arm. “I don’t have any fun band-aids,” Caitlin tells her seriously, while the girl’s father shakes his head to indicate it’s not that important. “But!” Caitlin produces a few other boxes of band-aids and holds them out. “I have every flesh-colored band-aid there is.”

The little girl’s smile grows, and Iris is so glad she caught this on camera. The beads in her hair twists clink together as she rips into a box of band-aids, selecting one that is so dark it’s almost ebony. Caitlin obligingly sticks it over the scrape and tenderly rolls her sleeve back down.

“Thank you, Dr. Snow,” the dad says, and Caitlin sends him off with a wave and a “Be careful!” Iris bookmarks the timestamp quickly, before she forgets, so she can go back later and edit out Caitlin’s name. Just because her journalistic ethics demand her transparency doesn’t mean it’s not a risk. The friends she’s filming all have covered faces and don’t use names on camera.

On the other side of the first-aid station, Cisco is taking apart someone’s phone. “If you don’t make these adjustments,” he instructs a group of college boys, wagging a screwdriver, “this phone is sending all your data – location, camera, Siri, anything not encrypted end-to-end – to anybody who wants it. That is not what we are after, fellas.”

“The first-aid station is both for medical help and tech support,” Iris informs the camera. “Fortunately, the medical side has been slow tonight, right?”

Caitlin nods. “Some scrapes and bruises. Nobody really hurt. One woman needed help adjusting her new insulin pump. We have treatments ready for tear gas and other chemical irritants, and emergency supplies for triaging more serious injuries.”

“What about you?” Iris angles the camera over to Cisco.

“These young gentlemen are woefully unprepared to fight the good fight in the age of Big Brother,” Cisco tells the camera. “That’s why I’ve got a quick setup here so if you did bring your phone tonight, we can make sure your identity is protected and your data can’t be used against you.”

Wally is sitting with a groan at this point, tucking a double-sided sign – WE’RE NOT FREE TILL WE’RE ALL FREE – WE MARCH FOR POLICE REFORM. SAY HER NAME – under the table while he peels back the foil on a granola bar.

“You see what Iris is doing?” Iris hears, and turns her phone to the sound of Barry’s voice. He’s also set up by Caitlin, with a stack of printed flyers she helped him write earlier detailing the legalities of recording in Missouri. “That’s about getting information out. But even if she recorded a crime, it wouldn’t always be considered admissible in court, even if she was an eyewitness. If there’s something they can do to discredit your evidence, they will. You should definitely record any interactions you see happening-”

“And lastly at our first-aid station we have a crash course in legal advice for how best to use phone cameras either at the protests or in your daily life…” Iris explains, zooming in on the info sheet.  

The noise from the street is starting to get lower. Wally gets up and heads to the mouth of the alley, then reports to the camera as if it’s second nature: “Looks like people are starting to head home for the night, numbers of people passing are slowing down.”

Iris knows it’s her obligation to stay until the last, and record until the streets are empty and the danger is gone. And she will. She checks the organizing info through the encrypted app Barry’s friend Felicity coded for the occasion, and it shows the same information: people are starting to trickle out.

Muting her camera for a moment, she asks her family, “Have any of you seen my dad?”

Her timing is so impeccable that she almost didn’t even need to ask. Barry smiles widely at her and Cisco points without looking. The faint music the boys were dancing to when she got here is ending, and Iris hears a familiar noise: a soundcheck. Iris hastily unmutes.  

Any minute now Iris will head back out there with Wally and record the protesters leaving for the night. But for now, Iris turns her phone toward her dad – similarly masked and beanie-d – standing on a little step with a mic and an old, cracked amp, and closes her eyes as he begins to sing.

[mxdanni]

Ethan X MC. Are you going to tell me?

Summary: The whole of Edenbrook loitering by to know why Ethan Ramsey is waiting outside, grinning widely and holding a bouquet

📍My MC’s Dr Lin Lee

“Now, that’s a sight I thought I’d never see…” Dr Harper Emery shook her head, a smile touching a corner of her lips. She simply nodded at Ethan Ramsey through the glass doors and hurried on to a board meeting.

And yet there he was, standing outside the hospital a step right from the sliding doors.

Holding some papers under his arm and a bouquet of flowers in the other.

Spooking a few more residents who knew him too well.

Because he was grinning like a complete idiot.

“Psst, Lin.”

She was almost leaving, just handed in the last files at the nurses' station, when the hushed whispers came. Round the corner, Jackie beckoned for Lin to come closer as Sienna also poked her head out from the same spot.

Lin raised her eyebrows, at that Jackie pointed to the sliding doors, a bit more to the right of those to be exact. Sienna muffled a giggle.

“Any idea what’s that about?” Mouthed Jackie, yet her smirk suggested otherwise. Which meant it wasn’t exactly a question, that is.

Lin mocked a frown but couldn’t keep the expression from slipping into a smile.

“I’ll tell you after I tell Ethan,” Lin shouted in a hushed whisper and put her finger to her lips. A few seconds later with the corner of her eye she did notice Jackie nudge Sienna just as Lin walked through the sliding doors.

“Do you think what I think it is?” echoed the muffled giggles.

“Uh,” Lin sighed to herself. “I think everyone already thinks what they think it is.”

She stopped a step away from Ethan and looked up.

“Is that for me?” she pointed at the bouquet but her eyes went to the files under his arm instead.

Ethan kissed her on the lips as he handed the bouquet. Just a quick perk, nothing more. The sweet taste left tingling on her lips.

“You already know, don’t you?” Lin pulled on a smile and tried to hide the disappointment in her voice.

“Came to pick you up too early,” he leaned in closer and smiled sheepishly. “Ran into Dr Doe, she asked me to hand you these.” Ethan took the files in his hands, the impossibly goofy grin returning to his lips.

As Lin reached out to take the files, he snorted and snatched those from under her nose, then raised above his head.

“Hey, that’s not fair!” Lin raised herself on tiptoes and clasped the fabric of his shirt to keep her balance. “You’re a head taller than me!”

Ethan said nothing but for grinning even wider. She struggled to get the files several times before giving up.

“Aren’t you going to tell me?”

Lin blinked.

“… you already know,” she pointed out as a matter of fact while hiding her flushed face in the flowers.

“But you wanted to tell me, didn’t you?”

She looked up. His intense gaze found her eyes, piercing, burning and… so sincere.

“Well, I did want to tell you,” she admitted in a whisper.

“Go ahead. I don’t know anything.”

“You do–“

“No.” He leaned in and quickly kissed her temple.

A strand of hair slipped from her messy bun and onto her forehead. Lin blew on it by habit, only for the hair to land into her eye instead. She heard Ethan chuckle, his fingers brushed her skin as he tucked the hair behind her ear. And looked into her eyes again, clearly prompting for her to speak.

Lin bit her lip instead.

“So,” Ethan drawled and paused. He was giving her time to cut in yet she stayed silent and blushed. “Aren’t you going to tell me what’s in the folder, Dr Ramsey?”

Lin sighed and looked up at her husband who was now grinning even wider if that was even possible.

“I’m pregnant,” she mumbled.

“Didn’t catch that.”

“Ethan!”

He laughed and dodged the light punch aimed at his arm. Lin groaned and waved her arms around. By the time they had attracted quite an audience, she felt their eyes on her although many did try to play it casual. Like accidentally dropping car keys to loiter in the parking lot, on staying behind the nearby lamppost.

Lin breathed in sharply and this time said it clear.

“I am a month pregnant.” Her voice was only loud enough for Ethan to hear. Maybe also Innes who was so not suspiciously lurking right on the other side of the sliding doors but still.

Ethan laughed and scooped her up into his arms. Lin yelped in surprise and wriggled to get free but he gently tightened his hold around her waist.

“Put me down! I said put me down!” She shrieked.

It was that moment some oblivious patient walked into the scene.

“Yes, unhand the woman, she clearly wants nothing to do with you,” grumbled the old man and shook his walking cane. “Or I’m calling the police.”

At that, Ethan laughed even louder and shook his head.

“Actually, I’m his wife,” said Lin and yet slapped Ethan on the shoulder. “And he knows how scared I get every time he does that!” She complained. “But still does that!”

“We’re having a baby!” Ethan beamed at the older man, then glanced around and shouted, “We’re having a baby. We’re having a baby, everyone!”

Over their colleagues cheering and Lin protesting, neither heard the old man before he limped closer.

“If she’s pregnant, you should really put your wife down,” he huffed and stomped his cane just almost missing Ethan’s foot. “You should take care of her health.”

“I’m a doctor, I know better!” Ethan snapped back.

Lin burst out laughing.

taglist: @perriewinklenerdie @confessionsofabrokegirl@hopelessromantic1352 @sophia-snw @cordoniaqueensworld @lilyofchoices @timmagicktoad @usuallyamazinglyaverage @omg-its-vixen @nxstalgicnxbxdy @abbyarchie@ninuca30 @foulponypizzabear@lorosette@redt1ger @minion-on-board @bieberismysoulmate @octobereighth @fanfictionrecommendations-com @alj4890 @emceesynonymroll @classychoicesaworld @redt1ger @countrymusicandncis-blog @tmnts-world @flyawayboo @give-me-ernest-sinclaire @regina-and-happiness  @lammaducks @drink-of-paradise @jacobsmemesibling @istanallli @classylady1234 @eastcoast-anchor @simsvetements @strangepeanutstudentcop @raines-harrington-ramsey-hunt @laylaylom313 @goldenjellyfish12 

[thefifthclown]

Part 1, Chapter 5-We Have a Traitor; Scene 4

Fifth, Pierrot, pages 169-174

September 2nd. 9PM.

Lemy was in an inn in the 12th district.

--“Second, Dealer”, who had been caught by the World Police, was apparently continuing to keep silent, but according to Lemy’s mother he wasn’t likely to hold out for long.

There was a place in one of the World Police’s establishments that was called “The Castle of Hedgehog”. The Freezis Foundation had bought the castle after it fell out of use, and then offered it to the World Police.

There was a certain tower in the Castle of Hedgehog—and the ones who were stationed in it, this “Heartbeat Clocktower”, were those who could be called the World Police’s dark side.

The Interrogation Execution Department--Popularly called the “Torture Department”. In order to smoothly obtain testimony from suspects, those who were brought to the Heartbeat Clocktower were made to receive every manner of “interrogation”. They received nothing but suffering, neither being spared nor killed. Naturally, that fact wasn’t known to the public. The only ones who knew were the higher ups of the World Police and those with political influence on Julia’s level.

And the other day, Julia had received word that Bruno was brought there.

They wouldn’t be able to save him.

That was out of the question for his mother now.

Bruno had yet to reveal that Julia was the leader of “Pere Noel”. But there were already people in the government coming forward who looked upon her with suspicion.

Naturally the ruckus that had occurred when the Freezis heads had come to visit reached the ears of Lucifenia’s statesmen who hadn’t been present. Those who didn’t think well of there being a young female president were trying to take the opportunity to run her out of office.

Even tonight, adults were intruding on their home. Lemy didn’t know whether they were government officials or police officers. In either case it was clear they were driving his mother against the wall.

Julia had prepared this inn for Lemy’s sake.

“Stay here for the night,” she had said.

Lemy wanted to think that it was out of concern, of not wanting to get him wrapped up in all this, but in truth that probably wasn’t the case.

It’s because she’s afraid you’ll let something slip around them.

Ney said that. That had to be it. But Lemy figured that it was reasonable for her to treat him like he was a burden on her.

He had been unable to fulfill her hopes.

If only he’d killed Bruno without hesitation back then—

The door to the room suddenly opened. Without so much as a knock. There was a woman sitting in a wheelchair and a green haired woman behind her.

“Seventh, Magician” and “Eighth, Sniper”.

“Pardon the interruption,” Magician said, Sniper pushing the chair into the room. Lemy gazed upon her with indifferent eyes.

Frankly, Lemy didn’t like this magician all that much.

She hadn’t quit being the brothel owner even after joining Pere Noel. She was a woman managing the prostitutes that Lemy hated. There was little chance of them getting along.

“Your mother’s in quite a bind.”

Lemy glared at her comment, spoken like it was someone else’s problem.

“If you know about it, you should do something. Use your specialty ‘Hypnosis’.”

“That’d be tricky. Too many people know what’s going on in this case. I can’t put my hypnosis on all of them.”

“Didn’t you put all of the people that lived in your home town under hypnosis before you came here? That’s what Mom told me.”

“I can’t use hypnosis on that scale as I am now.”

“Because your body’s changed?”

“Well—sure.”

Magician smiled, looking on kindly.

But something dark seemed to be lurking in her eyes.

“—Lemy. I have one suggestion for you. That you flee this town…No, that you flee from Julia Abelard.”

“…What are you saying, all of a sudden? I have no intention of abandoning my mother.”

“It’s not Julia who’s going to be abandoned, but you. Rin Chan—she’s a victim in this incident, so she won’t be subject to the World Police’s interrogations...but eventually she’ll mention your name to them.”

“…”

“You’ll be locked up as the culprit of Ton Corpa’s murder. And once that happens, they’ll find out that you killed all those prostitutes. Julia wouldn’t defend you. Rather, she’d make you disappear before any of it went public—just like Bruno.”

“…No one can kill me. Not now—not while I have this knife.”

Lemy took out his silver knife and showed it to Magician.

“There’s still ’Sixth, Venom’—Don’t underestimate him. He can rival you as you are now, at the very least. And sneaking into enemy territory is his strong suit. He’ll be killing Bruno too, pretty soon.”

“…You know a lot about him. Even though you two have never met, as far as I’ve heard.”

Lemy glowered at Magician.

--Did she learn that by being almost killed by him once before?

Ney spoke up after him.

There was no way that Magician had heard her voice. But Magician’s brow lifted slightly.

As though in response to what Ney had said.

So you do hear me after all.

Magician heaved a sigh. “—It’s true, I can hear your voice. But leaving that be, you have miscalculated something. My knowing about Venom is because I met him when I was in Mayrana’s mansion.”

I knew it. You aren’t ‘Sleep Princess’. The one that I knew didn’t have that intellectual air like you.

“I know that you detest me. But…see the truth, Ney—no, Gretel.”

…

After noting Ney’s lack of response, Magician once more looked to Lemy.

“I won’t hypnotize you tonight.  You will decide yourself. Whether to stay at Julia’s side or run away. If you choose to run, then I will help you. There is a country called ‘Jakoku’ to the far east. Even the World Police couldn’t reach you there…It’s a little peculiar, but a fairly interesting place.”

“…Why would you try to help me?”

Magician squeezed Lemy’s shoulders and brought her face closer.

“You are still young. If this keeps up, Pere Noel and Julia will come to ruin. But you shouldn’t go down here. You can’t die in a place like this…..You still have so much life ahead of you. Don’t do anything to throw that in the gutter.”

Magician’s eyes looked a touch misty.

Does she have sympathy for me? –Lemy was a little confused at her unexpected demeanor.

“…I can’t decide right away. Let me think about it.”

“There isn’t much time. I plan to leave town with Gumillia tomorrow night. If you have a mind to, come to the brothel before midnight. We’ll take you with us—and make sure you bring anything precious to you with you. Alright?”

“Precious to me…”

“You know well yourself what those are, don’t you?”

What immediately came to Lemy’s mind was his favored silver knife, hand mirror, clockwork carriage, pocket watch, and—

The red wineglass. The item he’d received from his mother, that catalyzed his meeting with Ney.

“…Well then, I take my leave. I’ll say it once more. You must make this decision on your own. Not your mother, not Ney—you.”

Sniper said nothing, starting to push Magician’s wheelchair again.

Then the two left.

<<prev------directory------next>>

[talesofthebnha-marvel]

Tales from Peter Parker Foreign Exchange Student: Scorpion and the hunt for the Hero killer

Somewhere in the Naruhata district, in one of the many condemned buildings in the area is currently being resided by the infamous villain team, the Sinister Six!

A group consisting entirely of Spider-mans rogues formed under an always-consistent even number. Though its members have rotated there burning hatred of the arachnid hero remains the same. Mysterio, Chameleon, Shocker, Sandman, Scorpion and Vulture are the current members of the group. Currently they are residing in the land of the Rising Sun as a favor to Mysterio involving an as yet unspecified plot for lucrative gain. Yet unbeknownst to the Sinister Six, Spider-man is also stationed in Japan as a student of U.A. High. Eventual a collision of rivals will occur, for now the members of the Six explore there new surrounding some partaking in extracurricularactivities.

Mac Gargan, alias the Scorpion looking is over a large board. On it is pinned with various newspapers and several threads crisscrossing each other like a web.

"Scorpion!" The vulture shouted from above as he descends besides Scorpion.

"What do you want Toomes?" Scorpion asked annoyed having his concentration broken.

Vulture sneered at Gargans dismissive tone.

"Our meeting with the local crime informant, Giran has been rescheduled for now Dmitri suggest we should acclimate to our new surrounding." Impatient to a response, the Vulture makes a quick turn around to see Scorpion still ignoring him.

"The least you could do Mac is make some conversation, what on earth are you researching 'Hero Killer'" Vulture scans the papers.

"Yeah its about this crazy who's been going around offing heroes or injuring them bad towards early retirement." Scorpion explained turning towards Vulture finally.

"And what offer him membership Macdonald, were already at max capacity of sociopaths with you in our group we don't need another one." Vulture mocked.

"Very funny jack-ass, but this ain't about recruitment."

"Than what exactly?"

"The WHY?" Scorpion responded to Vulture.

Vulture seemed perplexed but he reminds himself that Scorpions logic always made sense to his twisted mind.

"Every article is always the same, always asking the wrong questions." He continues.

"Who is he? How is he doing this? When will the Pro heroes stop him, (spit)." Scorpion mocked.

"No one ever asks the 'why' of his motives that's the real story the real scoop." He grins.

"Imoressive, if a bit pointless but he's a serial killer Gargan not much to glean from that. Said Vulture.

"These ain't no random killing Toomes this guy clearly has a conviction and its kinda bringing the detective side out of me, THERE!" he motions his tail on the map as he walks past Toomes grabbing his coat and hat.

Toomes looks at the city map Scorpions tail banged on the board as he sees the mark on the city, Niihama.

Its soon night in the city of Niihama, with Scorpion staking out on rooftop. Several food wrappers and soda cups are littered around him as he peers across the landscape with his binoculars. On his left a crude yet working customized police radio is broadcasting your standard police reports, all noise to his ears waiting purely for calls towards Pro heroes.

"Hrrm, what was it that Kraven always said 'to become the hunter you must think like your prey.' Scorpion recalled internally.

"This should be the place that 'Hero Killer' was last scene and knowing these 'heroes'. Scorpion said with a venomous tone at that last word.

"Them Pros will be rushing off during a crisis, I just need wait for one them to wander off into a dark alleyway and that's when Mr. Herokiller will strike."

Eventual a hero team burst into the scene as they begin a rescue operation by a nearby burning building. One of the heroes note something in an alleyway as she ventures alone.

"Bingo" Scorpion said elated.

Sometime later

Limping and bleeding out, the female hero costumed in a beetle inspired design finds herself exasperated and panic as the Hero Killer approaches. Garbed in an attire of a ninja, with mixture of red and black while his face is covered in several bandanas no doubt to reel in his unruly hair. He slowly moves in a katana in hand as he licks the blood from blade. The heroe's movements are quickly frozen in place unable to move desperately crying to herself

"Why can't I move?!" She screamed hoping her panic tears would be heard.

As she finds herself face first to the ground she can see the killer ready to thrust the blade until…

"HEY!" shouted the Scorpion across the alley as Stain looked up to see the yeller.

Reacting without thought, Stain quickly throws one of his daggers with almost lighting speed. However the Scorpion quickly counters with his mechanical tail sending the blade back as it pass his owners face right by the side of the wall. Unfazed, Stain held his ground staring at this stranger.

"Oh thank you hero please save me fro-"

"Shut up, I ain't here to save nobody especially some Beetle poser." Scorpion insulted as he cut her off using his tail to knock her out.

"I came to see you ' Hero Killer!'

"My business is not with you villain, leave me to my work or I share her fate." The killer threaten.

"Oh I ain't here to stop ya pally, I'm just a simple foreigner is all, I just got ask ya something is all." Scorpion explained.

The Hero Killer saw no ill intents from this stranger yet he could feel his aura of treachery and insanity lurking behind that false sense of camaraderie. For now he played along in order to gauge this new face.

"Very well foreigner, I am Stain ask your question and leave me to my mission."

Scorpion was a bit taken back by this 'Stain' character and pissed off. How dare he makes threats to me, Scorpion thought. But he remembers to keep his cool, he's Mac Gargan the detective first and Scorpion second on this case.

"Okay Stain, the names Scorpion." He introduced.

"I've been looking ya over for some time now trying to figure your M.O. all them heroes you killed or injured no relations what so ever. Yet one thing is common there all heroes. Its clearly not about the money, no real motive for payback and clearly puck and choose who lives and dies." Scorpion explained trying to inflate his ego as a detective.

"GET TO THE POINT!" Stain grew impatient.

Scorpion frowned holding back his gritted teeth from showing from Stains yelling.

"I was getting to that 'friend'." Said Scorpion losing his demeanor.

"Why? What are trying to accomplish offing off these loser heroes?" Scorpion asked in a serious tone.

Stain smiled a cold smile as he sheathed his sword.

"You are correct, I seek no monetary gain nor have these so called 'heroes' wronged me in the past." Stain confirmed Scorpions deduction.

"I seek out the false heroes that solely use there powers for wealth and fame, putting the needs of the people second for there own ambitions while ignoring there obligations as public servants first." Stain explains.

"Its an insult that they call themselves heroes, I have made it my mission to cleanse this world of false heroes, I will never stop for only All Might is worthy of the title hero! Only his sense of justice will I allow to bring about my defeat!" Stain continues as he slowly ramps up his rant.

"Does that answer your curiosity?"

Scorpion felt a bit taken back by the hero killer almost as if Stains aura swallowed him whole, trying to hold his ground Mac composes himself taking a quick breath to ease his nerves.

"And people say I'm crazy." Scorpion mocked.

Stain narrowed his eyes at Scorpion, annoyed by his flippant tone.

"Listen I hate these wannabe heroes as much as the next guy, but at the end of the day no chump can just live off good will and samaritan service."

"People gotta eat, pay taxes and all that other bureaucratic crap we can't all live up to that high horse ideal of the perfect hero crap, so you can stick your bull% $# college thesis up your $$ pally loser!" Scorpions retorted.

"Thanks for wasting my time." Scorpion walks away as he turns his back spitting at a trash can in a disrespectful manner as he makes a leap to the neareat fire escape ladder.

"Come back please, DON'T LEAVE ME!" The pro hero awakens begging for Scorpions help.

"F $# OFF LOSER!" Scorpion continues move on unmoved by the heroes cries.

"Foreigner villain, what does he know of our way in the end they will all learn." As he prepares to lunge his blade, Stain halts his action as he hears the voices of the oncoming team members of his victim closing in. Disappearing without trace he says to himself.

"Another time a different place, perhaps I'll visit Hosu."

Back at the rundown apartment, an enraged Scorpion storms the front entrance annoyed and pissed off.

"So how did it go?" Vulture said with a dry uninteresting tone.

"Pretentious looking ninja turtle with f #$ing delusions of grandeur!" Scorpion replied with a pissed off attitude.

"Sounds lame, you kick his ass?" Sandman asked.

"No"

"You steal his wallet?" Asked Shocker concerned.

"No!" Scorpion said again.

"So in other words a complete waste of time and effort, I'll be needing a receipt for your purchases." Chameleon prioritizing his funds.

"F $# off you losers, it wasn't all total loss." Scorpion grinned.

"Oh so their was a silver lining to this wasted ordeal of yours than?" Mysterio echoed behind his dome.

"People always underestimated me thinking I'm just some joke like you dorks, (except you Sandman.)" Sandman responds with a middle finger.

"But this event just reminded me, I'm still a damn good detective!" Scorpion unveils several headshot photos of different pro heroes.

"I've got a lot of dirty secrets to expose on these "so called heroes" and what better practice is there than in Japan!" Scorpion said ecstatically.

—–

Based on Tumblr @alexdrawsagain comic

Peter parker: foreign exchange student

[http-lostforever]

Silenced- 1

Pairing: OT7 x reader

Summary:Y/n was an average girl, passing the police academy with a passing score and no overly special talents, she was matched with a sarcastic, moody, cigarette-smoking detective as a partner. Not only was he already a handful, but the forensic scientist that was assigned to Team 4--as they called themselves--had made it clear that he was interested in Y/n. With those two constantly bickering and the tragic event of a new unsolved case thrown in their laps, how will they feel when their worlds are turned upside down with the entry of a new officer and a case that was way over their heads?

Warnings:Blood, Gore, smoking, cursing, cliche?

Ducking underneath the iridescent yellow tape lining the edges of the scene to keep any onlookers out, I followed his footsteps as they interrupted the blood mixed puddle upon the hard cement. Red and blue siren lights of our car flickered in the corner of my eye, giving too strong of a stimulus for my brain to focus on the situation at hand. Resting my eyes upon the changing hues of light, my mind wanted to drift into a rain lulled stupor, each droplet hitting the shell of my umbrella was hypnotizing enough as it is.

A smoke laced cough caught my attention, whipping my head back around to look at my partner in worry and confusion. He had caught on to my hesitant steps, more like exhausted as it was 5:37 am, but with furrowed brows and a white burning cigarette placed between his lips he jerked his head to the side, motioning for me to follow and get this over with. With a hefty sigh and a quick glance at the tumbling, grey sky through my clear umbrella, my eyes ghosted over each raindrop that hit upon the plastic.

Taking a quick step to match his we began walking past the mass of response unit cars, as we detectives are the last to be called on scene. A stout man ran up, shoving himself between my partner and I, and earned a grim look of annoyance from the taller man.

"So what have we got?" He grunted, smoke billowing from his lips in a small stream as he blew out the deadly toxin. From the corner of my eye I could see him rest his arm upon the shorter mans head, a clear display of disrespect but he could care less. Looking down at the officer we arrived just outside the actual crime scene, the faint smell of blood now becoming stronger, more potent within the rain filled air as a wave of bile begged to rise from my stomach and burn the inner of my throat.

" Melody Smith, 22 years old, 26 lacerations to the torso and neck area. She was DOA and there hasn't been any friends or family to show up as of yet."

" She was stabbed 26 times? Doesn't that seem like a little bit overkill, and why hasn't anyone covered her with a tarp yet? Don't these guys know that at this point all the evidence is just being washed down the drain?".

A young girl laid on her back, limbs splayed out unevenly as her head twisted to the side, an angle that confirmed the female was certainly dead, her wide eyes staring directly into the dark clouds above. All signs of life had left them, at this point she was just a corpse waiting to be put into the ground, a being that once was as alive as me but now left as an abandon shell waiting to rot in the open.

Her shoulder length brown hair that had once been in--what I would guess to be a messy bun--was now matted with her own blood, parts torn out as a clear indicator of fighting for survival. She wore a heavy sweatshirt, embroidered on the front was what I could only guess was a university's motto. A gruesome display of how unsafe the public truly was to the wicked evil that lurked the earth. Well that would explain the copious amounts of blood that were pooled all around her body when we arrived, but thanks to the rain my shoes would be safe another day.

"So who found her?"

Taehyung nods his head in the direction of a blonde haired women sobbing hysterically while hoards of people around attempt to comfort her.

"Ohhh..so that's where the dying cat sound was coming from earlier." A scoff of laughter escaped my lips from my own joke.

Tae shakes his head in disappointment before pivoting on his heels and heading over in the direction of the damsel in distress. Although not nearly fast enough for me not to see the corners of his mouth curve ever so slightly upwards. If there's one things that Tae and I share, it's the ability to make light of whatever dark and morbid situation that we've gotten ourselves into that day.

After all the losses there was no more sentimentality for the dead. It was easier if you didn't think of them as people at all. Indeed, our senses of humor became warped and darkly macabre. We laughed at their silly expressions and gave them rude names.There is only so much horror you can take in and understand, after that your mind will snap. So we joke.

I decide to do a once over of the body to see if there's anything that the crime scene analysis guys might have missed just to prolong the inevitable drama that I'm about to step into, but ultimately I end up heading in the direction of Tae and our devastated jogger. Upon getting closer, I can see that she's much younger than I initially expected. She had long blonde hair swept up into a tight ponytail, one that made my own head ache after looking at it for too long. She wore a matching set of leggings and sports bra that were a soft shade of pink with small gold flowers embroidered all over it.

I had to admit that it really complemented the dark hue of her bronzed summer skin and made me question the last time that I had hit the treadmill after looking at her toned abs. She had deep blue eyes and plump pink lips that reminded me of those little sea shells that you find when you walk the beach early in the morning but ended up getting washed away if you didn't grab them fast enough. I couldn't help but wonder how I looked compared to her since my morning routine that day consisted of just barely remembering to jump in the shower and throw my uniform on.

I also noticed that her already long eyelashes were coated in a layer of mascara and her lips were also supporting a clear gloss as well. I never really could understand the point of wearing makeup to work out since you were just going to sweat it off anyways, but to each their own.

Little to no surprise she was no longer crying, all thanks to Taes "charm". The girl that once was having screaming fits of nearly tripping over a dead body now acted as if she had no recollection of what had happened and was solely focused on trying to stealthily push her cleavage a little bit higher into Tae's line of sight.

I wouldn't blame her though. Tae was a pretty good looking guy according to all the other girls on the surrounding teams at the office. He stood around 5'10 and had pretty large shoulders for a guy who spent most of his time sitting at a desk chair or driving a patrol car to observe crime scenes. Muscular in the kind of way that you can tell when they work out but not anything that says that I'm desperate and my muscles are the only things that gives me confidence. He had dark hair that looked like it was almost in need of a haircut since it slightly hung in his eyes but you could also say that it gave him a casual boyish charm that made him comfortable to talk to.

His eyes were dark brown and almost completely unreadable if not for the millions of facial expressions that he's given me the pleasure of seeing. That was his dead give away. Most people at work think that he's a moody officer but if only they saw the endless faces that were shot my way throughout the day. I look Tae's direction to see if he's being lured into her act and hoping to find something to tease him about later, but unfortunately if he does find her attractive then he's good at hiding it.

"So can you give us a rundown of what happened today?" Tae asks while leaning in and placing a hand on the girls shoulder. As soon as this happens she breaks down into tears again and takes his comforting as a chance to further his touch.

"Well, I got up around 4:15 am to do my daily morning jog. I came up around the park and did two laps around the northern buildings of the university before heading this way. Normally I would head back towards the park but I needed to pick up a jacket that I left at a friends place for an event that was going on later at the college. Halfway to her house I noticed a girl who was laying down on the ground. I thought that she might have also been on a run and slipped and hit her head or something, but that's when i saw all the blood......" her voice trailed off after she realized the severity of what she had stumbled upon that morning.

I looked over at Tae who was already looking in my direction. We both knew that there wouldn't be anything else to get from her in this state at the moment. So I headed in the direction of our car while Tae gave his new admirer a form and a time to stop by at the station later when she had calmed down. I looked over my shoulder to see him giving her a polite smile and a little wave goodbye before heading my direction. I got into the passenger side, the cold leather seat consuming the warmth of my body thus causing a shiver to crawl up my spine. Tae laughed lightly at my action then slipped himself into the driver's seat. For some reason we had this unspoken agreement that he would always drive and I would be the one to man any incoming calls and most importantly, the radio.

I immediately popped in the Journey CD that he had tucked away into the glove department and before you knew it he was belting out the lyrics to every song that came on. His voice was husky as it was still to early for either of us to be completely awake and functional. But nonetheless I didn't sing along like he did. Instead I just sat back and listened to his voice, the deep tones of each word struck my mind with ease as he could quickly raise the tension within seconds. His voice used to be a secret between us until he got to drunk at the rookie Christmas party and did a duet with the one of the other rookies to some song. His voice paired with his looks gets him teased a lot around the office with the common name of pretty boy and such, so he doesn't sing now unless its in the car. But it makes me happy to know that he's comfortable sharing it with me.

Looking out the window of the car it was easy to get lost in the moment as the grey clouds blanketed the sky, accompanied by the soft pattering of rain drops hitting windshield as we made our way through the city. Despite the heavy tension that hung above us, rain commonly calmed me down. Easing my feelings into a more simplified state--helping me enjoy the music with Tae and hum along quietly-- and helping me wake up more than before. My eyes ghosted across the early birds that walked along the streets, warm coffees resting in their freezing glove lined hands.

We slowly came to a stop--red light being the cause--while the sharp sound of someone clearing their throat drifted my attention from the window to Tae looking at me briefly before pressing on the gas once more.

"It's pretty cold out..."

"Mhm" I hummed glancing back at the window, then turned back around once more as he motioned for my attention.

"It's also pretty early..."

"Tae if you're trying to start small chat then let me just be the one to tell you, you're awful at it."

"Listen smart ass, I was trying to ask nicely but now you don't get a choice."

Chapter 2

[goondis-and-the-plupples]

1920′s Chicago AU masterlist

all credit goes to the brilliant anon who created this au!!!

Scene:

“1920s Chicago people from all over are moving, the world is changing and whether they are immigrants or natives, rich or poor, a suave detective or an artist they’re all a possible victim but to who and why? Crime, love, and the changing of times, it’s all happening. “

Starring:

Ryan Bergara: The out of place Californian “ghost hunter”. Broke, desperate and with nothing to lose when he hears about the strange occurrences happening in Chicago he caught the first train there and now is stuck. He’s got some dark secrets and no matter what his two partners do he’s not letting them know anything about his brothers who are only known as Goldsworth and Night-Night. Reluctantly he joins forces with Detective Madej and Miss Impicciche to get to the bottom of what’s happening. 

Shane Madej: Detective Shane Madej used to work for the police station but his bosses hated him and he spent his day drawing hot dog comics so with the money his brother he affectionately calls “long legs” sends him he bought himself a big house and started his own detective agency and he employs his friends such as Miss Impicche who he’s still not sure how he found. He met his partner in crime and best friend Ryan the day he moved there and saw him yelling at the “ghosts” in the corn field.

Kelsey Impicciche: A ball of sunshine who Shane says he “discovered”. She tags along on cases and can be seen in the back making her shocked faces at Ryan and Shane and figure clues out. No ones quite sure where Kelsey came from the story changes every time is she a Italian immigrant, a lost movie star, a former girl on the streets all they know is she’s employed at the Madej house and is pretty crucial in solving what the heck is going on in Chicago.

Sara Rubin: An artist who you can find drawing around the city; she loves Shane and has one rule - “don’t get killed and don’t get any animals killed or I’ll kill you.”

Madam Safiya Nygaard: A literal Queen; once shot down a robber from her third story window window with a slingshot. Left the business Buzzes Miracle Feed a few years ago. Lives in the huge mansion on the end of the street with Tyler and Crusty and no one knows anything about her except that she gets packages every week.

Steven Lim: Food critic who has a joking rivalry with Ryan since they’re both stuck in Chicago but Steven for a different reason unlike Ryan he has money but is always seems to be swindled by the Lady Like Ladies Of Cherry Street. The guy just can’t resist what they’re offering him. Kind of disappointed the city doesn’t have that much truffle. 

Andrew Ilnyckyj: Works for the newspaper and tags along with Steven to write about local restaurants and because Steven always pays and is pretty nice.  

Adam Bianchi: Takes pictures for the newspaper takes along with Steven and Andrew. looks reallyyy good in a 1920s suit and sometimes Kelsey calls him up because Ryan and Shane forgot to bring a camera to take pictures of the crime scene 

Lady Like: the ladies dressed to the nines that sip tea and watch people outside Freddie’s boutique. Know everything about everyone. Will dwindle you out of money. The law doesn’t apply to them.

Try Guys: Exactly what they are today: a bunch of guys who started their own company after leaving Buzz’s Miracle Feed and are literally the only people in the whole city that don’t have any dark secrets. 

Ariel Fulmer: An architect and interior designer for the town and they’re all just wholesome with Neds son like a big family.

TJ Marchbank: Shane’s neighbor who pretends he doesn’t like Shane, but is always lurking around cases; when asked why, he claims that they’d all get themselves killed if it wasn’t for him. Keeps the boys in line when Kelsey can’t. Scares Shane a lot and says he has a life outside of the boys but does he really no ones sure

ANYWAY I LOVE THIS AU THANK YOU ANON AND BLESS YOUR SOUL

[azure-wolf-227]

Coco AU: Witnesses Ch 2

I’m not familiar with how police procedures were like in 1920′s Mexico so if anyone knows then please inform me so that I may make the necessary changes.

Chapter 2: Police Procedure

Oficial Gabriel Gutierrez is a tall man, fit without being too muscular, with sharp eyes that take in every detail and a clean cut mustache over the serious frown his mouth is in. He has been part of the Mexico City police for almost ten years, joining shortly after his father had been murdered and the perpetrators never caught and convicted. Ever since then, he has vowed to do everything in his power to give people the justice his family was denied and tonight was no different.

He and a few other officers from the night shift had been busy with some paperwork when the man had bursted into the station.

“Oye, necesito ayuda!” he had shouted, getting everyone’s attention. “There’s some guy who dropped dead near the train station and someone tried to rob him!”

Gutierrez and a few other officers had risen from their desks and rushed to follow the shorter man. They had arrived to the crime scene to find the man’s wife trying to disperse a small crowd that had formed around the body. Some of the onlookers scattered when the police arrived but most remained, standing some distance away to watch curiously. Among them was the owner of a nearby inn who recognized the man as one the inn’s guests.

“His name is Héctor Rivera,” the man had said when questioned. “He and his partner, Señor Ernesto de la Cruz booked a room about a week ago.”

“I bet that’s the pendejo that we saw!” the short man had stated when he heard. “He was wearing a mariachi suit.”

With that information, Gutierrez had sent a pair of officers with the innkeeper to search the musicians’ room while the rest of the scene was processed before the body was transported to the station. He then had addressed the short man and his wife.

“I’m going to need you to accompany me back to the station,” he had told them. “So we can take your statements as you are the only witnesses at the moment.”

Now, sitting before him, side by side, are Señora Juana Maria Cristo de Santos and her husband, Señor Federico Alfonso Santos, though the man insists on being referred to as ‘Chicharrón’ (not the strangest apodo he has encountered). Apparently, the couple had traveled to Mexico City for the week to celebrate their anniversary. To most people, the pair would appear to be quite ugly and Gutierrez can understand why. Señor Santos (or Chicharrón) is short and squat with a constant look of amargura present in his face, looking at oficial Gutierrez with annoyance. In contrast, his wife is taller than average with a very ‘beefy’ thickness to her, not really fat but more like possessing more muscle than a woman should have. Her eyes are also unusual as they are two different colors, the left bright green and the right a sky blue while her lower jaw sticks out in a slight under bite. But despite these traits diminishing her physical appeal, her eyes shine with kindness (though there’s a slight hunted look in them as well), and there is a motherly aura that surrounds her. Still, Gutierrez has a feeling that despite her gentle nature, Señora Juana Cristo de Santos is not a woman to mess with.

Either way, Gutierrez is not here to analyze the looks and personality of these people but to ask them what they had seen.

“We were coming back to our room after a day out in the city,” begins Señora Juana Cristo, her composure excellent “and Cheech “she gestures to her husband “suggested that we take a short through some of the alleys.”

“It was getting late and I didn’t want some ladron to attack us,” grumbles Señor Santos as he tries to justify himself.

“By creeping through dark alleys were ladrones lurk,” his wife snarks back before continuing. “So as we came out to the street we saw de la Cruz taking a red notebook from the suitcase while poor Señor Rivera was tirado en el piso just a few feet away.”

“What was he doing with the notebook?”

“He looked through it for a moment then put it inside his jacket,” Señora Santos continues. “We found it very suspicious that he was taking Señor Rivera’s things while his partner was lying unconscious nearby. That’s when my husband confronted him.” Señor Santos took this as his cue to speak.

“The maldito pendejo ran,” he nervously shrinks when his wife glares disapprovingly at his swearing. “I chased him and would have caught him if the bas- MAN!” he corrects himself quickly when his wife glares again. “The man hadn’t thrown that guitarra at me,” he growls at the memory. “By the time I picked myself up, de la Cruz had escaped.”

“And you are certain that man was Señor Ernesto de La Cruz?”

“Of course,” says Señora Santos. “We actually saw them performing at the plaza while we were out earlier so we recognized de la Cruz immediately.”

Gutierrez nods as he accepts that and goes back to questioning them. “So what were you doing while your husband went after de la Cruz, Señora?”

Señora Santos becomes a bit uncomfortable at this question, the haunted look in her mismatched eyes intensifying slightly as her hands shake slightly. It’s only when her husband places his hand on hers that she answers.

“I-I went over to Señor Rivera to see if I could help him,” her voice trembles slightly but is clear. “I turned him over to his back, there was blood on his face, probably from hitting the ground but he was still breathing a little.” She falters a bit before steeling herself. “He suddenly began convulsing and vomiting blood then went still just as suddenly. I checked for his pulse but found nothing, he was already dead.”

She sags slightly as she finishes speaking, as if reliving the memory drained her energy.

Señor Santos glares as he stands to wrap an arm around his taller wife’s shoulders in comfort. “Are we done with these preguntas tontas?”

“Just a few more questions, then we only need a description of the suspect and you can be on your way,” Gutierrez reassures them.

“Good.”

After giving the police a throughout description of de la Cruz and what the man had been wearing, Chicharrón and Juanita exit the police station back to Mexico City’s dark streets. It was way past midnight and the streets were cold and deserted, the couple pressing close for warmth. They walk a few feet before Juanita stops and sighs sadly.

“I should have tried to do more.”

Cheech hears the guilt in her voice. “Is not your fault; that poor bastardo was already at Muerte’s door.” He worries when she doesn’t scold him for swearing.

“Still, I wish we could have done something more to help him.” His wife falls silent as they resume their slow walk.

Chicharrón is not the soft and comforting type but he really loves his beautiful wife and hates to see her this way. He too wishes that they could have done more for that young músico. Cheech may have never spoken with the young man but when he saw him playing his guitar, he felt a sense of kinship. While he didn’t think of himself as having amazing musical talent, Chicharrón has a great deal of respect for the art and can easily tell when others are the same. And while he could admit that de la Cruz was a talented performer, Cheech could see that he was only in it for the attention, the music being only a means to an end.

But not Héctor Rivera! No, the young man was a real musician as he played from the bottom of his heart and the deep of his soul. He clearly enjoyed music for its own sake, it was obvious to Chicharrón and he feels the injustice that such a kindred spirit had been snuffed out so young.

But there’s nothing more than they can do but be there for each other as family must do- wait, that’s it!

“I know what we can do!”

Juanita stops walking again and turns to her husband, confusion and some hope in her dazzling eyes. “What is it?”

“We can go find Rivera’s family and let them know what happened to him. Those músicos said that they’re from Santa Cecilia, right?”

“Yes,” Juanita looks a bit skeptic. “Wouldn’t la policía be able to do that on their own?” She likes the idea but isn’t sure it would work.

Cheech snorts. “You saw how little people they have in there and I bet that they will be busy with other cases.”

“Still...”

“We can ask is they need help, we lose nothing if they refuse.”

“Oh, alright,” but some determination creeps into her eyes and together they run back into the station.

Gutierrez is a bit skeptical about letting civilians help in a police investigation but relents, admitting that they do have so lots of cases and very few people.

“Rivera’s case would likely get pushed back by a more ‘urgent’ one,” Gutierrez scowls at this. “And is no family comes to claim him then he’ll get buried in a common grave.”

Juanita scowls at that. “In that case, I better stay here and make sure that doesn’t happen.” There would be no dissuading her from it.

That’s how Chicharrón finds himself in a train towards Santa Cecilia with Héctor Rivera’s guitar in hand as well as a picture of the man that was found in his pocket, on a mission the find Rivera’s family to give them the sad news of his demise.

Yes, the witnesses were Chicharron and Juanita (I know that most people give Cheech a wife called Juanita but I don’t care). I’m going to try to keep the chapters short and simple so that I can update quickly but my real life is also a factor so I won’t promise weekly updates.

Next up, Chicharron finds Hector’s family to tell them the news, which won’t be easy.

[dammit-stark]

Below the Surface

This here is a Hotch x reader requested by anon. It gets pretty angsty in there (a near-death experience), then ends with some, um, making out? So beware. Also, I wanted to address the elephant in the room which is the fact that it’s been so long since I’ve posted anything and all I can say to that is that I’m truly sorry and I’m working on it. For the time being, I hope this satisfies some of your BAU-loving needs. I was really happy with this one and I hope you are too :)

You and Hotch are in a secret relationship where the you can’t swim and when an unsub tries to drown you, Hotch has to save you. Then the team finds out about your relationship.

“Good morning,” You smiled, walking into the kitchen of Hotch’s apartment, “How are my two favorite boys this morning?”

You kissed the top of Jack’s head on your way to Hotch, who tugged on your waist and pressed a kiss to your lips, “There’s pancakes on the counter, babe,”

You smirked, “I knew there was a reason I kept you around.”

Sitting back down at the table next to Hotch, pancakes in hand, Jack was just finishing up his last pancake.

“Put your dish in the sink before you get dressed, bud,” Hotch reminded his son before the young boy could run out. And then you were alone, eating in silence.

Your phone dinged and you laughed when you saw who it was from, “Emily had a wild night last night. Met a guy. I bet she’s never going to talk to him again. She doesn’t even know his name, ha,”

Hotch made a face, “I really did not need to know that about Prentiss.”

You laughed, “Oh, that’s nothing! Last weekend was even worse! She had a whole big adventure. There was lots of drinking and multiple guys and cowboy boots and a spotty trip to Alaska and back that she doesn’t entirely remember. It sounded wild!”

“Oh no, why does she tell you these things!”

“We all tell each other about one-night stands, Emily, JJ, Penelope, and I. Sometimes I wish I could tell them about you, babe. They’d love to hear all about it.” You smirked, letting your hand fall around Hotch’s wrist in the most seductive manner you could manage, “I’d certainly love to brag about you, anyway.”

Hotch scrunched his face even more, an odd combination of being grossed out at the thought of the BAU girls knowing the most intimate details of his sex life and apology over the fact that they couldn’t, “I’m sorry, babe. You have no idea how much I would love to brag about you to the world whenever we’re in public or on the job, but we agreed that it was simpler to keep things private for awhile.”

You smiled back at him, because yeah, you did know that, and anyways you were enjoying things how they were, your little secret. So you told him that, your hand gradually gravitating farther and farther up his arm and across his chest and up and up until you were gripping his tie and pulling him close and kissing Hotch with all your might.

“We’re going to be late for work,” You said, much too late, far too into the kiss, panting.

Hotch paused, grimaced, thought it over, “Do we care?”

You laughed at Hotch because this was how it was supposed to be, just you and him, and that was all that mattered.

At work, morning kisses over pancakes and laughable chats about one-night stands don’t matter. At work, they don’t even exist. All that matters, all that is real, is the formidable unsub, the body count, the job at hand.

But, okay, also, Hotch looked super hot in that suit.

So, yeah, maybe the two of you were making inconspicuous heart eyes at each other from across the table, but that was neither here nor there. Work was the priority, and this unsub was particularly rubbing you the wrong way and the debriefing wasn’t even over yet. It was going to be a long week.

The UnSub’s MO seemed to be that he preyed on adults that couldn’t swim, then drowned them on nearby piers. Hellloooo, can you say issues?

Spencer spouted out some statistic about how more than half of Americans (“Just about 54% if you really wanna know,” he had informed the team) can’t swim. You were part of that statistic, but that didn’t scare you one bit. This unsub didn’t scare you. They never did anymore, just one after the other.

Hotch stared at the board for a long moment after Penelope stopped talking, thinking over every detail she had just told them, his hatred for this cold blooded killer building in his veins.

Hotch’s eyes made contact with yours one final, meaningful time before he nodded, “Wheels up in fifteen.”

“I think I have a lead,” You said, closing the laptop and grabbing your jacket, “I’ll be back.”

“Do you want me to come with you?” Hotch asked, frowning from the doorway.

“No, I don’t think it’s anything, but I’m just going to check it out anyway.”

“Alright,” Hotch said, making that face of his again, the one that kinda looked like he had a million regrets.

“I’ll be at the pier downtown. I have my phone and walkee. Call me if you need me.” You said, heading for the door.

“Wait,” Hotch grabbed your arm. Nobody else was in the room, but Hotch stuck with a meaningful look, “Just be careful.”

You grinned confidently, “Of course, Hotch. Who do you take me for?”

When the wood beneath your feet really started to creak and you got that eerie feeling in the pit of your stomach, that was when the ominous premonition that your lead had been dead-on hit you like a natural disaster.

You were alone and you’d never regretted it more. The unsub was here somewhere, he had to be, you’d bet the world on it, because that beating in your chest, that feeling of a fluttering bird trapped within your ribcage, where bars are bone and all is dark, wasn’t just luck, it was an instinct you had developed over years of hard work, over time and time again of working with predators like this monster. That ominous feeling? It was a gut reaction to what was inevitably going to come next.

You could hear the wind whistling, the footsteps behind you, before you, beside you, somewhere, anywhere, everywhere.

“Mr. McCollough?” You called out into the mist, “I’m with the FBI. I thought I would be able to find you here. Can we talk?”

But you couldn’t see him through the fog, could only feel that the unsub was lurking within one of those shadows, and you clutched your gun a little tighter.

“I just want to talk,” You said, you didn’t really mean it, not at all, and he knew it. Your knuckles were turning white around the charcoal handle of your weapon, and you couldn’t help but think of Hotch and the team back at the police station, safe and pensive and utterly unaware.

You were almost positive that the unsub wouldn’t fall for your trick, wasn’t about to listen to a woman, let alone a woman cop, but you weren’t about to stop trying. You made sure to use all the right trigger words, tried your damnedest to lure him out, hoping to god that  it worked, held onto hope that he didn’t claim you as another one of his victims.

The hope shattered when you felt breath on your neck and a gun at the base of spine.

He growled in your ear, and you shivered as he cackled, guiding you closer and closer to the edge of the pier.

“Brave cop girl can’t swim, can she?” He laughed, gravelly, low, sounding like death and disaster, something like the end of the world, and you hated it, “I saw you. You’re afraid of falling in.”

He laughed again and spat obscenities down your neck, “FBI scum. Worthless bitch.” He used the words fear and afraid like insults that nestled in his hands. 

You heard a voice, so blessedly familiar, and you wanted to fight back, wanted to stab, kick, punch, shoot, anything, but then suddenly the wind was knocked out of you as the unsub landed a hard blow to your stomach. He grabbed you and just threw you straight into the water.

You’re drowning.

You realized with shocking clarity that you couldn’t breathe. You were gulping in seeming gallons of water at a time, and you screamed for help and only got a mouthful of water in return. You dipped beneath the surface again and again, tried to splash or float and only fell. Everything was so terrifyingly dark, oblivions of tiny daggers stinging your eyes and your lungs and you cold even see the moon and the stars above, like a naive illustration in a children’s book, laughably bright against the faceless waters, and you’re so sure this is it.

But then you heard your darling Hotch, and he was yelling, frantic, even as you sank deeper and deeper. There was a gunshot, muffled by distance, followed by a heavy-limbed splash, sort of like fireworks firing in quick succession. Somewhere you heard the sound of a perfect dive into the water, could see a jet of Hotch swimming toward you.

With your head beneath the surface and your eyes closed, Hotch wrapped an arm around your waist and called your name.

There wasn’t enough of you there to reply, all consciousness pulled beneath the water, drowned.

When you woke up again, you were on your back and choking up the entire lake. There were artificial lights blinding you, the LEDs used by the crime scene techs shining in your face.

Hotch and the rest of the team were hovering nervously above you. It was obvious Hotch had just given you mouth to mouth, and with your mental capacities at half-speed and the chaos and the trauma all compounded into one mega detriment, you made a weak joke about kissing and Hotch that fell utterly flat and you forgot within a moment.

Everybody just sat there in silence, huddled protectively around you, until a local cop came in and ruined the moment, in need of the help of the legendary BAU. A medic approached you with a woolen blanket and a demand to check you out and you’re forced to divide from the group.

You felt cold without Hotch by your side. And lonely.

Hotch managed to slip away much later, alone this time.

There was nothing but metal and red and blue as you tucked yourself into an ambulance with him and tried not to think about deep waters and terrifyingly blue oblivions. Hotch settled beside you and pulled you close and you just cried and cried and cried because this was Hotch and you could.

He rested his head on the top of yours, whispered sweet nothings, told you how everything was going to be just fine. Then he kissed the top of your head over and over again, nevermind the lake water, until you felt like you could cry no more and that the wet of your cheeks was more tears than lake water.

You pulled away from him, hands pulling taut on his tear-stained shirt, “Thank you.”

Then you kissed him on the lips, hard, crushing your mouth against his, drinking him in because he’s even sweeter than air. You inched yourself closer and closer until there was no space left and the only thing left to do was to pull yourself into his lap so that you were straddling him. He let out a soft gasp of surprise, but you didn’t stop. No way in hell. You didn’t want to.

“Thank you.” You whispered again

Your fingers wound around the nape of Hotch’s neck and found the tips of his hair as his hands landed on your waist. You pulled him closer as he opened his mouth for you. You felt like crying again, but instead you stuck your tongue down Hotch’s throat, because who needs tears and sadness when you have this man and oh god you’re pretty sure you’re in love with Hotch and that you’re entirely okay with that and also okay trauma and near-death experiences certainly have a way of causing you to readdress your priorities and Hotch is most definitely pretty high up there and-

The mixed sound of an absolutely shocked gasp and an elated giggle forced you to pull away from Hotch, ever-so-slightly. Emily and Spencer were standing at the entrance to the ambulance, looking nothing short of utterly mortified (though Emily looked just as excited as she did horrified) at the frankly scarring sight of you with your tongue down Hotch’s throat.

In that moment, you’re well aware that you really should care a whole lot more about the compromising position that your friends just found you in, but you honestly couldn’t care less. Who cares if they know? Who cares if the world knows?

So instead, you lean into Hotch and laugh.

[yesokayiknow]

someone asked me what my favourite headcanons for black siren were so:

(though these are technically headcanons for what will hopefully happen after she stops being too stubborn to undertake a redemption arc)

-she flunked out of high school. not because she couldn’t handle the work, but because she just didn’t care. and it’s another thing she’s jealous of: perfect laurel lance with her perfect grades and her perfect career. normally she’d just let it fester but people keep telling her that she could be better, so she decides to do something about it, if only to keep them off her back. she watches lessons on youtube and she steals books from the library and she sneaks into college lectures, about anything and everything she has a fancy for. though she doesn’t touch anything law related, of course. and she turns out to have a real knack for computers.

felicity is almost unbearably proud.

-she’s spent so long on her own and flitting from place to place that she doesn’t really know how to clean up after herself? like, why would she, when she’s just going to leave? but then, she doesn’t leave. she stays in star city, and her place is a tip. garbage and clothes and weapons strewn all other the place. the mess eventually ends up attracting animals: mice and rats, and then birds, and then finally stray dogs and cats. she’d kick them out, but they don’t care whose face she’s wearing, or whose blood is stained across her knuckles, just as long as she keeps leaving her leftovers everywhere. it’s nice.

well, it’s nice up until thea points out that she’s basically a disney princess.

-she doesn’t celebrate her birthday, for obvious reasons, which is unfortunately something that sara, who turns up at her door carrying laurel’s favourite cake, doesn’t know. and she rages and fights and screams.

i’m not her, she snaps, and sara leaves, and good. she didn’t want her there anyway (she didn’t).

sara comes back later with bags of flour and sugar and other baking supplies. we’re gonna find you a new favourite, she promises.

two hours later, her makeshift kitchen’s on fire and they’re both covered in flour and cocoa powder. they end up going out for doughnuts instead. it’s a good day.

-she’s spent so long going from cage to gang to cage again that she doesn’t really know what to do with herself when she has free time. so she starts by looking up the references that felicity and curtis and thea make (they’re delighted and start recommending more things for her to watch and read and play. she’s pretty indifferent to star wars, and felicity declares that to be the most villainous thing she’s ever done). she somehow ends up in a wow guild with team flash (they all know exactly who she is, but she’s a pretty good player so they never mention it. plus a good half of the rogues are on there too so). she hangs around quentin’s sometimes, lurking in the shadows (he never addresses her directly, but he starts narrating as he cooks, and sometimes she tries to recreate the recipes later. and then leaves the least burnt attempts outside his door. she’s very adamant that it’s not a thing. it’s definitely a thing).

-she spars with nyssa exactly once. it’s uncomfortable for both of them, and they both agree not to do it again. nyssa shows up the week after though, and introduces her to laurel’s favourite diner. it somehow becomes a regular thing. it’s less awkward than it probably should be (it helps that sara crashes every other meeting and distracts them with stories of her team).

-she’s definitely not a superhero or a vigilante, and she ignores every single one of team arrow’s attempts to lure her into the scene (sometimes though, dinah drake leaves copies of case files outside her door; assaulters and abusers and the worst of the worst. they’re later found strung up outside the police station, eardrums shattered and throats slit. they don’t talk about it).

[penniesforthestorm]

“Me and dead owls don’t give a hoot”: Justified Season 3, Episodes 2-4

We’re back at it, as the major conflicts of Justified’s third season begin to take shape. My recap of Episode One, “The Gunfighter”, is here; the previous season’s notes are tagged with ‘#justified season 2′, and the general tag for related business is ‘#did you miss my heart on purpose’.

Episode Two: “Cut Ties”

-In the aftermath of the encounter with Fletcher Nix, Raylan wakes up in the house Winona shared with Gary, only to have his morning routine disrupted by an ill-timed visit from the new realtor.

-Raylan goes to visit Boyd in jail, and the two of them muse on their unconventional relationships-- Raylan’s contemplating moving in with his pregnant ex-wife, and Boyd is, as he describes it, sleeping with “his dead brother’s widow and murderess”. Raylan also drops a hint that he knows why Boyd was so keen to get himself locked up this time around.

-Marshal Service Case of the Week: Art Mullen gets a visit from his old pal Bill Nichols, who works in Witness Protection. Nichols gets cornered outside a diner and shot in the leg. Following up on his disappearance is Agent Karen Goodall (Carla Gugino) up from Miami, and it’s implied that she and Raylan have a shared past. As the two of them track down a possible lead, Art sends Rachel to the home of one of Nichols’ witnesses--a woman with two small children-- with orders to watch and wait. Art tracks down the man who shot Nichols and, after interrogating him, establishes the link: he sold the addresses of Nichols’ other witnesses to a mob boss named Little Joe DeLaHunt (the man Raylan and Agent Goodall are tracking). Raylan, Goodall, and Art show up to help Rachel, who has managed to fend off two attackers and keep the witness and her children safe.

-Meanwhile Boyd, acting on a reluctant tip from Dewey Crowe, engineers another fight to get himself placed in solitary confinement, where his new neighbor just happens to be Dickie Bennett. Boyd sneaks into Dickie’s cell and holds him at knifepoint, demanding the location of Mags’ money. Dickie informs him it’s with a man named Ellstin Limehouse. Next morning, Boyd is released into Ava’s arms, and explains that getting the money will be trickier than they anticipated.

-In the final scene, we meet the mysterious Mr. Limehouse (Mykelti Williamson)-- aside from Rachel, he and his assistants, Errol (Demetrius Grosse) and Bernard (Cleavon McLendon) are the first major Black characters we’ve seen on the show. While carefully carving up a pig, Limehouse lectures Bernard for falling asleep on watch duty, and offers a choice: Bernard can submit to having his hand burned with lye, to settle the affair, or he can promise not to screw up again, knowing, if he does, the consequences will be dire. Bernard takes “Door #2.” As the camera pulls away, it lingers on Errol’s hand, which is marked with a heavy burn scar.

Episode Three: “Harlan Roulette”

-Ava makes a nocturnal visit to Limehouse’s BBQ shack-- clearly, they know each other well. She brings him to meet with Boyd, who is decidedly out of his comfort zone. Boyd offers to dispatch Dickie Bennett, but Limehouse doesn’t bite, and instead, slyly hints at Boyd’s “weed problem”. Boyd takes a swing at Devil for not burning the marijuana as ordered.

-Trooper Tom Bergen calls Raylan down-- they’ve caught scent of Wade Messer. They’re looking at him for a series of armed robberies, possibly connected to OxyContin trafficking, and Raylan expresses surprise that the generally benign Messer would be caught up in such business. Messer escapes the roadblock, but his buddy JT is caught and arrested.

-We catch up with Dewey Crowe and Dickie Bennett, bro-ing out in the prison yard. Corrupt guard Ash Murphy, who assisted Boyd in the previous episode, bends Dickie’s ear about the Bennett money. Jeremy Davies, as Dickie, gives possibly my favorite line-delivery in whole series when he tells Murphy to “h-h-hold your horses.”

-Messer and JT show up to apologize to their dealer, pawn-shop owner Glenn Fogle. Fogle makes JT play a few rounds of “Harlan Roulette” in punishment. “Maybe it’s just your lucky day, son,” Fogle says, as JT escapes round after round. “Maybe not,” Fogle intones, after shooting him.

-Errol arrives at the Givens home to offload the ruined weed stash, and Boyd directs Devil to help. Arlo puts a flea in Boyd’s ear about their discontent. Inside, Boyd pulls Devil, Arlo, and Ava in for a meeting and lays out his plans for the new Crowder empire. “We will not work with outsiders,” he declares.

-Off to Lexington, where Robert Quarles is describing his plans to take over the Oxy racket to Wynn Duffy. Quarles takes a phone call, and Duffy asks for the restroom. He takes a wrong turn, and discovers a seemingly naked man, gagged and bound on a bed. Quarles cheerfully redirects him- “Other side, buddy,” and Duffy turns away, visibly creeped out.

-Raylan visits Glenn Fogle, on Messer’s trail. Fogle makes a panicked call to Wynn Duffy, and Quarles, listening in, suggests that Fogle arrange for Wade Messer to kill Raylan.

-Step one of Boyd’s agenda: re-taking control of Johnny’s bar. Johnny, who has been conspicuously absent up to this point, unveils some new recruits to the crew: young punk Jimmy (Jesse Luken), about whom Johnny affectionately says, “We never know what he’ll do, so that’s a problem,” and the menacing, longhaired Rip.

-A very glum Wade Messer, having summoned Raylan to his house under the pretext of surrender, finds Raylan already waiting on the front porch. It turns out that Raylan went inside and found the gun Messer was supposed to shoot him with. Messer lures Glenn Fogle to the scene, and a standoff ensues, with Fogle and his henchman each offering Raylan information before unwittingly shooting each other.

-Boyd drinks with Devil, who reminisces about the glory days of Crowder’s Commandos, to Boyd’s obvious discomfort. Finally, Devil comes to the point-- which Boyd Crowder is he being asked to follow? Boyd responds that he’s the same as he’s always been, which, while probably true, isn’t the answer Devil thinks it is.

-Raylan, acting on a tip from Fogle, pays Wynn Duffy an impromptu visit, just as Robert Quarles is showing off his new wrist-gun rig. Raylan roughs Duffy up a little, and then, in an escalation of his previous threat, drops a bullet on Duffy’s chest. “Next one’s comin’ faster,” he growls, to Quarles’ obvious amusement.

Episode Four: “The Devil You Know”

-Devil meets with none other than Robert Quarles, at the recommendation of his friend Tanner Dodd. Quarles claims to sympathize with Devil’s plight (as told to him by Dodd), and suggests Devil join forces with him. Devil isn’t an idiot, repugnant politics aside-- he knows an opportunity when he sees one.

-Speaking of joining forces, Dewey Crowe jumps in to defend Dickie Bennett during a ruckus in the prison yard, and Murphy, who planned to help Dickie escape, expresses profound irritation. The infirmary nurse Lance (Clayne Crawford), on the other hand, seems to think Dewey might be useful.

-So, there’s a thing in dog training called the “blanket test”, used to measure problem-solving skills. You put a towel or blanket over the dog’s head (gently), and most competent pups will be able to extricate themselves in less than 30 seconds. As Murphy goes to let the two miscreants out of the van, Dewey Crowe falls out, and begins flopping around in a panic, still inside the body bag, failing the blanket test in spectacular fashion.

-Raylan goes to visit Loretta McCready, to ask if she might have any ideas about Mags’ missing money. She gives him a hard time, but clearly, both of them enjoy the interaction, and she mentions Limehouse.

-Next, Raylan and Rachel go to visit Limehouse, and Raylan explains the history of Noble’s Holler-- founded by emancipated slaves, and kept in self-willed isolation ever since. When Raylan mentions his surname, Limehouse pretends not to recognize it. He reluctantly agrees to let the marshals set up a roadblock, watching for Dickie Bennett. Dickie and Murphy see the police lights and head back to a motel, where Dickie makes new arrangements with Limehouse.

-Raylan heads to Johnny’s bar, trying to sniff out Boyd’s angle on Noble’s Holler. More history is revealed: Limehouse has offered sanctuary to white women looking to escape abusive husbands, including Raylan’s mother Frances. Raylan witnessed Arlo receive a beating at Limehouse’s hands when he attempted to get Frances back. Raylan then pulls Boyd aside, alerting him that Dewey and Dickie are out and looking for Mags’ money.

-Back at the motel, Murphy, Lance, and Dickie squabble-- Limehouse is supposed to call Dickie when the money has been delivered, and hours have passed with no word. Murphy goes out for fried chicken.

-At the bar, Johnny finds Devil lurking in the back office, and asks what’s on his mind. Devil says he’s through with Boyd Crowder, and he knows how to get in some “deep pockets”. Johnny drily says, “Start talking, Devil.”

-Raylan tracks down Murphy, tray of chicken in hand, and literally runs him down, as Dickie and the others escape from the hotel room. Murphy details the plan, and makes a remark about things potentially getting “weird”. Dewey tries to run away at a gas station, and Lance takes him, while Dickie and the others head to the store.

-Rachel stops Errol’s truck, which he claims is full of pig manure, and makes it clear she has every intention of searching it before she’ll let him through the roadblock. He turns back around, and a dismayed Raylan realizes that he was probably carrying the money. “Goddamn if I don’t have to save Dickie Bennett,” he mutters, driving off.

-Sure enough, Dickie is about to meet some unpleasant fate at the hands of the two men from the motel when Errol and Limehouse arrive at the store. Dickie opens a cooler, only to find that there’s significantly less money in it than expected. He angrily hands it back to Limehouse, saying their business isn’t finished until the whole $3 million is recovered. Raylan shows up, and Dickie surrenders.

-Devil makes his play-- with Johnny at his side, he corners Boyd for a “come-to-Jesus” meeting. Boyd sighs with regret, calling him “son”, and seeming to surrender. He asks for one last word, and Devil nods. “Knowing me the way that you do,” Boyd says softly, “What ever led you to believe you could pull this off?” Johnny raises his pistol to Devil’s head, and Boyd shoots him in the chest. He’s clearly furious, but there’s also grief in his voice-- no doubt Devil reminds him of his younger, angrier self. The episode ends with Boyd firing directly into Devil’s forehead, to ease his passing.

[pendragonfics]

Down The Rabbit Hole

Paring: Jim Hopper/Reader

Tags: female reader, Stranger Things spoilers, parent Jim Hopper, fluff & hurt and comfort.

Summary: You're a teacher at Hawkins Middle, who's accidental right-place-at-the-wrong-time leads you to be a part of the secret goings-on in Hawkins. Jim Hopper is just a cop, trying to do right by the law, who happens to adopt a psionic pre-teen who's in your history class.

Request: by @seksibaek - hope you like it! 

Word Count: 2,176

Current Date: 2017-12-02

A school teacher’s wage was decent. It had you living in a nice, small house paying rent by the week, living modestly in the small town of Hawkins. You wanted a dog, but didn’t have the yard, or fence for it. You taught history, but inside, wished you could teach English. But your mother, and your mother’s mother were teachers, and all the __________ family name had been teachers since women could be teachers, and there was no greater subject in your lineage than history. It wasn’t that history was terrible, but perhaps, that the greatest things to ever happen had already happened, and life in 1982 would never live up to the epics.

But that was true until you all but fell into the rabbit hole, or rather, the conspiracy of danger that lurked after dark in Hawkins. It had been a Friday night, and unlike those who unwound from the weekly stress by watching Charlies Angels, you took yourself on long walks around the lake, taking time to remove your mind from unruly students and unmarked tests to be completed before Monday.

But it was here you found something truly and utterly horrible. The body of one of your students, the young Will Byers, the body blue and bloated upon the water’s edge. You wasted no time calling 911, and when State Trooper O’Bannen came to the scene, you were frightened out of your wits. You wished you could take a week from work to process the horrible thing you found, but it wasn’t an option. The kids at Hawkins Middle School needed to keep the daily routine, despite the death of a fellow student.

Apart from Mrs. Byers, the only person who stopped long enough to care about what you saw was the Hawkins Chief of police, Jim Hopper. But then again, he was chasing a case too, because not too long after that, another student went missing, from a grade you didn’t teach. Barbara Holland. And then there as something about a little girl, with a shaved head –

You kept your head down, and taught history to the classes you had. No matter how strange the world seemed now, there was one consistent thing that kept your kids writing their essays on time, and that was the fall of Rome.

You even planned to have an in-class event where you would bring in old sheets and had them dress up like senators. Minus the stabbing, of course. But you didn’t, in the end. Instead you put on a VCR of Julius Caesar and fast-forwarded past the murderous parts.

But as much as going back to everyday life went, it just couldn’t. Perhaps it was because every so often, you’d have a knock on your classroom door, a visitor on your home’s doorstep. The one and only Chief Hopper. And further down the rabbit hole you fell – unrequitedly in love with the police chief.

“Do you have ten minutes?” he’d ask, eyes pleading. “I need to hear your statement again for the Byers case.”

You’d agree. Ten minutes would turn to an hour. Talk would stay mostly on topic, until he’d notice your empty ring finger, and you’d notice the tan line on his, empty. Then he’d get radioed in by the station, and off he’d go.

“I need you to come with me, on this,” he’d say, leaning against your front door like the lead man in an early Hollywood movie, all dramatic and gorgeous, “I have to check out a lead, but I need someone.”

“Why don’t you ask one of your officers at the station?” You ask, your hands full of dough from your biweekly bread making, the dough falling off as you talked. “I’m just…me.”

He shook his head. “It’s more than needing back up. I need someone, who can, uh, talk to civilians…who isn’t a part of all of it.” He looks to your hands, and the carpet where the dough is plopping onto it. “Sorry if it isn’t a good time –,”

You shake your head. “It’s a sourdough, so it needs plenty of time to rise by itself. Give me fifteen minutes and I’ll be ready to help out.”

When you’re all cleaned up, you notice all the dough has been picked up from the carpet. You don’t say anything, and instead lock the house up, and don’t think twice about getting into his car, and roaring away to nearly out of town.

Down the rabbit hole? Perhaps you were always there. Life seemed to be upside down, back to front, and shaken up for good measure. You fell further behind in your marking for the classes you taught, further away from the required norms required for single, young school teachers spending time around reputable, divorced police chiefs.

If anyone gossiped, you did not hear it.

In the end, Will Byers was fine, alive – back from the dead, as the newspaper reported it. The world went on spinning. The child Jim had been looking for had disappeared, and you were still pining for the man who seemed to not care less for anything in the world that wasn’t coffee or a cigarette. He went back to his life, solving petty feuds between farmers and teenagers, and you went back to telling Heather Gutmann that she couldn’t sleep in class.

Life went on. It was good.

But that was until you had a new student enter your class. It was a new year, after all, and new students came and went like the ebb and the flow of the tides. Last year, you had the young Maxine Mayfield enter your class, and now, the grade where the friends of her had gone to, there was another new face. She had curly hair pulled back with colourful clips, and looked at the class of ninth graders like they had extra teeth in their mouth.

Behind her, was Principle Coleman, and Chief Jim Hopper, of the Hawkins Police Department. She looks to you with wide eyes, silent. “Hello everyone! We have a new student to welcome to the class,” Principle Coleman tells the all-but rowdy class, “This is Jane Hopper, make her fe–,”

“I go by Elle,” she says, voice small, but big enough to interrupt Principle Coleman.

You smile, and approaching your new student, you point out a spare desk behind Dustin Henderson, beside Mike Wheeler. “Go on and take a seat, Elle. I’m sure we’re all going to enjoy having a new face to our cohort. Now, can you all turn to page three of your textbooks and start reading about ancient Egypt while I talk to Chief Hopper and Mr. Coleman…”

You steer the men from the classroom, and closing the door behind you, you turn to them. But Principle Coleman speaks first. “Jane has a sort of…learning problem. I hope you understand what this means as her teacher. She will need extra attention to become up to speed with the other children.” He goes to add something, but upon hearing another teacher paging him from up the hall, excuses himself, and goes to fix the uprising in room 3B.

You look to the Chief. “In what ways does Jane need extra attention?” you ask him, curious. “You know, as her teacher.”

He clears his throat, a blush staining those cheeks under the stubble. “She’s just never been to school before. I taught her the time, and how to read chapter books.”

“I see,” you hum, and glance through the glass panel in the door to see the class. Like you instructed, they’re reading from the text, some highlighting the lines, some taking notes, some doodling in the margins. “Are you free this afternoon for coffee?”

Jim’s cheeks darken again, but he coughs into his fist, diffusing the pigment. “Uh, yeah. I’ll organise Elle to go after school with the Wheelers.”

You smile. “Fantastic.”

But instead of taking you to a diner, you decided to make the coffee yourself, in the staff room. Perhaps it was because of your tight money belt, considering that all the things that had happened in Hawkins in the last two years had been troubling to you. Perhaps it was because you wanted to make sure this encounter was as strictly professional as it could. This was not a police investigation where Jim Hopper had you running around Hawkins like Nancy Drew and The Hardy Boys. This was a teacher, talking to a parent, about their student/child. Professional.

But when Jim entered the staff room, still in his police uniform, hat off, hair tousled, why did it feel anything but? It was just a crush. Damn the rabbit hole. It was just an illusion.

He accepts your coffee, smiling into the cup at how you didn’t add cream or sugar. You both sit at the long table, notepaper, and pen before you, a bowl of nearly-rotting fruit further along. A beat passes between the pair of you, and then, clearing your throat, you begin the parent-teacher talk. “Elle – Jane,” you correct yourself, “She’s the child you were searching for last year, isn’t she?” Your voice is low, even though you’re alone, most of the teacher’s gone home for the night, and cleaners too. “Hopper?”

He nods. “I found her.” He smiles, “She’s been through hell, and she’s a hell of a kid,” he tells you. “Uh, what was she like in class today?”

You smile. “We’re still on the last topic, but from what I can see, she’s interacting well, taking notes along with the other students. Needs to work on raising her hand to talk, and getting a hall pass for the bathroom…” you pass a page of your notes him, and see him nodding along, and add, “I’m excited to see what Elle can achieve this year.”

Jim smiles, but it’s small, sad. “Not many people have been so positive about her,” he says. “I talked with Christopherson, and he wasn’t so thrilled with her. All but said she was a freak.” Jim’s eyebrows rise, and wiping a hand over his face, he adds, “She’s just a kid.”

You nod. “An amazing little girl who has done more for this town than anyone will ever know,” you tell him softly. “I know about what all of it was about,” you confide, “I put all the pieces together, it wasn’t the Russians,” you laugh softly, “It was monsters.”

He drinks the rest of his coffee like a bitter shot, agreeing.

“Elle is going to be fine,” you tell him, “She’s strong. She’s mastered the Demogorgon, and the Mind Flayer. She can defeat Middle School, no problems.” You move your hand across the table to take the notes back, but without noticing, your hands brush, the touch almost electric. A blush mottles your face, and taking your hand away, you go to apologise.

Jim shakes his head. “Don’t,” he says softly, “It’s okay.”

You know this is a parent-teacher talk. You know this is a professional, casual setting. But you’ve got to ask it. It’s been on your mind ever since Jim took you for questioning the third time after you gave your official statement.

“Why me?” you ask, voice low, soft. “You kept coming to me, again and again,” you say. “I know I’m your daughter’s teacher and this is out of line just thinking of it –,”

You don’t finish your sentence. Because he leans across the table, and silences your qualms with a soft kiss, his hand cradling the side of your face, and for a second, it’s all good. The worries and the horrors and the panic and the terrible, terrible shit that you and everyone else has gone through is liquefied, dripping away until it’s noting compared to what is happening, until there is no world, no Hawkins, just Jim, Jim and his stubble, Jim and his soft lips and the smell of coffee, cigarettes and a faint whiff of whiskey or cologne. You melt into his kiss, and by the time that you realise it’s happening, it isn’t, and you’re just two adults sitting at a table once again.

“Jim,” you whisper, “I – I thought I was going mad, I didn’t –,”

A history teacher who lived in a time that was greater than in the books? Maybe it wasn’t that history was terrible, but perhaps, that the greatest things to ever happen had already happened – to you, and to all the people around you in Hawkins. If poor young Alice fell into Wonderland by accident, and saw all the beautiful horrors of the fantasy world, it didn’t mean it wasn’t real, or that it wasn’t for those who hasn’t touched the abstract world of the Upside Down. It just was a secret world, a fantasy that proved that only the select few could see it. You. The children you taught, Jim Hopper. Little Elle.

Maybe life in 1984 would never live up to the epics. For everyone else.

Jim grins, his eyes meeting yours, “Didn’t you know? In Hawkins, we’re all mad here.”