#to pass around 'how to commit a felony'

[coldwind-shiningstars]

I simply do not think it's a good idea to reblog posts about how to commit crimes. I know we joke about how nobody goes on tumblr and normies don't know it exists, and people are scared, but it seems really obviously a bad idea to reblog posts giving information on how to commit crimes

[arthenaa]

blurred lines — mizu x f!reader

synopsis: your relationship with your roommate often threads the lines between friends and of something more.

content: fluff, suggestive themes, modern! au, roommate!mizu one jumping off a cliff joke mentioned, taigen, ringo, and akemi being great friends, mizu uses she/her pronouns, she/her pronouns for reader as well, mizu and you call each other bon/bonnie as an endearment, mizu is ur bf but not rlly your bf yk, mutual pining

song will be later mentioned in the story but listen to it while you're reading <3

It isn't to anyone's surprise that more often than not, people mistake you and Mizu as a couple. It's gotten bad to the point that it's already counted as an inside joke in your little group of five.

Taigen was the main culprit of the joke (as usual). He often lets his tongue run loose in the most random of situations. Whatever piques his interest, he always has something to say about it. You're not sure if it's because of Taigen's natural person magnet trait but surely, you think this is somehow his fault.

"I just want to say how adorable of a couple you two are!" A person from your year—someone you had met in passing during your Ethics class for sure—gushed as she sat down on the empty seat in front of you. You stare at her, mouth slightly agape in shock at the sudden intrusion, Akemi chortles from her seat while Mizu's starting to look like she's about to commit homicide. It was currently your free period, hoping for a time to relax and wait for your next class, you sure weren't expecting to be bombarded by a series of questions about your love life. You're hoping that both of your unwelcomed stares would drive this person away, but the gal continues off on a tangent. "Not to be like—a real gossipy person, but like, I heard from Sanchez that you guys were dating, and I had my suspicions back then during Ethics class but I just HAD to confirm it, y'know?"

You lock eyes with Akemi seated beside the girl as she hides her grin behind her drink. You're so going to wipe that smile off her face soon.

"I'm pretty sure that's none of your business," Mizu deadpans as she stares at her under her tinted glasses. She taps her index finger on the surface of the table, a telltale sign of her impatience. The girl remains oblivious.

"Oh, come on! We were groupmates last semester! I'm pretty sure we're already close enough to know stuff like this," She sends the both of you a wink to which you wince as Mizu stiffens beside you. You're sure it was taking a real toll on her to prevent her from committing a felony and so you've decided to step up.

"I-I'm sorry," You give her a sheepish smile, hand raised to provide a calm reassurance of not being hostile. "I'm sure you mean well and everything but we're really tired. Whatever you're thinking, it's a no."

You give her your best award-winning smile with the hopes that she'll leave you both alone. You see her slightly pull back, finally reading the room but she pauses at the last second as Mizu wraps an arm around your waist. You're not sure why the girl gives you a cheeky grin as she adjusts her bag on her shoulder but your resolve is soon starting to waver if she doesn't get her ass off your table.

"Alright, whatever you say," She coos, eyes squinting playfully as she gathers herself off your booth. "I'll leave you two lovebirds alone. See you around!"

The three of you watch as she makes her way out of the shop before your shoulders release the tension you've both been holding over the past few minutes. Akemi chuckles at your expressions

"Oh my god, If you hadn't done that I would've gone off the rails," Mizu groans as she rests her head on the table.

"You should've, to be honest, might make this whole debacle a lot more interesting than whatever you have with Y/N," Akemi snickers from her seat as Mizu sends her a glare. "Funniest thing I've seen all semester. Keep it up."

"You're full of shit," Mizu grumbles from her seat. Akemi flashes her her middle finger. You roll your eyes at their banter.

"I don't get what's the big deal," You cross your arms over your chest. "I mean people do the things me and Mizu do all the time."

Akemi gives you a blank stare. "I mean this in the best possible way but if I didn't love you and you said that to me, I would actually slap your face."

"I can slap your face for free, right now."

"Not now, Mizu," You nudged her knee in retaliation as the blue-eyed girl grumbled in response. "Also, bullshit. That's unfair."

Akemi rolls her eyes before slamming her drink down on the table. "That's unfair? You two are basically me and Taigen if Taigen grew the balls to actually court me instead of parading his biceps like a damn himbo. That honestly felt like I'd lost 20 years of my life. She's at your beck and call and even fucking ditches our hangouts just because you had a little cold. That's what's unfair."

You stare at her with furrowed eyebrows as she huffs and takes an angry sip of her drink. You slowly nod, trying to get a sense of her reasoning. Well, you and Mizu had developed a natural sense of service-giving to each other. After all, your deep friendship was only a resort of living together. Wouldn't anyone be that considerate to their best friends?

"I swear to God," Akemi places a hand in front of her mouth as she looks between the two of you. Mizu had already tuned her out, opting to hug you close by the waist and leaning her head on your shoulder as she took the time to rest. "I'm so close to throwing myself off the cliff figuratively and it's both of your fault."

You roll your eyes at her, crumpling a tissue paper before throwing it towards her. The gal dodges it with ease before scrunching her nose.

"You're overreacting."

"Sure," Akemi squints her eyes. "Whatever fits your story."

You're not sure when it started but somehow Akemi's words started to get to you. You knew, for sure, (you think?) that she was just bluffing. Your relationship with Mizu was yours and yours alone, anything between the two of you must be kept between the two of you only. It wasn't as if the comments of other people had affected you—you often tend to brush them off, treating some of them as either praises of your close bond or jokes due to their easygoing nature. You're not sure if it's because of Akemi's short-tempered personality that you've started to notice things too.

"Here," Mizu's voice startles you out of your focus. You turn your head to see the raven-haired gal, hair down and cozy in a black hoodie and sweatpants. You had been studying and getting things done at your uni's library as finals were nearing. The desk at your dorm and the familiarity of your room seemed to mess up with your productivity and so you decided to change venues. Mizu, being the good-hearted angel that she is, drops a cup of coffee beside you and a bag of your favorite food. She then tucks her hands into the pockets of her hoodie.

You look up at her with a pout, eyes softened. "You didn't have to."

Mizu pats your head before gingerly pulling the seat next to you. She sits down and leans her head on her arm perched on the table. "It's the least I could do. You're working hard."

You smile at her praise, glancing at the worksheets sprawled on your table. It wouldn't hurt to take a break, no?

Mizu gives you a raise of an eyebrow as you turn your body towards her, copying her form. Your lips pull into a small smile as you reach out to brush her loose locks. "It's way past your curfew. You should've just slept."

Mizu snorts. "You say that like I'm a child."

You reach out to pinch her cheek causing her to swat your hand away. Letting out a few giggles as she scrunches her nose at you. You would've continued to act normal afterward, there was nothing to freak out over but then Mizu started staring at you with that gaze of hers. Usually, you would either jokingly stare back or playfully ignore her but somehow this time, you're suddenly feeling a bit self-conscious. You let out a cough as you turn back toward your worksheets, unable to handle the intensity of her gaze.

Not sure if she noticed it or what, you make quick haste to get back on track with your studying. About 15 minutes in, you hear shifting beside you. Thinking that it's her cue to go, you turn toward her with curiosity but then your chair moves swiftly to her side. You let out a yelp as she moves your chair with one arm, closer toward her.

"Mizu—!" You squeak at the sudden movement as she lets out a few chuckles at your reaction. Soon enough, a deep flush bursts across your cheeks due to the sudden proximity. She's faced toward you, legs spread to accommodate your figure, and her other arm perched on the back of your chair.

You feel your heart speed up as she leans close and smiles. "Get back to studying, Bonnie."

You obediently follow her orders as you lower your head to get back to answering the worksheets in front of you. You hear Mizu chuckle beside you as you willed yourself to continue writing and ignore her very existence.

Heart? Speed up? What the fuck?

There's a moment of reprieve before you feel the sudden thump of Mizu's head against your shoulder.

"What's up?" You hum gingerly, your free hand moving up to gently pet her head. Mizu shifts her body close, the arm at the back of your chair pulling your shoulder and body to her.

"Do you want Italian or Chinese?" She asks out of the blue, eyes watching you write down equations and numerical formulas on your paper. Your heart softens as you feel her other hand envelope over your stomach, pulling you into a side hug.

There weren't many people around the library at this time of the night besides the occasional suffering computer science major seated at the far end of the library and the librarian herself. Mizu allows herself to be vulnerable within your care. You eye your worksheets, debating finishing them or giving your cute roommate dozing off on your shoulder attention.

Nah, fuck it.

You gently close your notes before cupping Mizu's cheek, softly pulling her up from your shoulder.

"Hm?" Mizu hums as she slowly blinks at you, face leaning towards your touch as you cup her face gingerly within your palms. You give her a soft smile, thumbs running softly across her cheeks.

"Ordering takeout might be a bit too much right now," You quietly whisper to her, eyes crinkling playfully. She lets out a few chuckles at your response. "Although, I recall having a waffle mixture back at our dorm and we still have your dad's waffle maker. What do you say?"

Her gaze darts over you face before she pulls away from your touch. You look at her curious as she scoots to the edge of her seat before pulling you into a hug. The raven-haired girl burrows her face on your neck, letting a loud sigh of relief as she encased you in her arms.

"Alright," She mumbles on the collar of your shirt, breath tickling your neck. You flush at her proximity, opting to rest your head gently against hers. Just as the two of you would continue to bask in each other's presence, a cough alerts the two of you to pull away.

Your eyes dart toward the culprit as the librarian raises her eyebrow toward the both of you.

"You can take your couple date elsewhere if you both have nothing better to do here." The old lady deadpans, fanning herself with her foldable fan. The both of you stare as she gives you one last judgmental look before walking away. Mizu wordlessly helps you pack up your stuff, leaving the library with you trailing behind with your ears flushed red.

"Listen," Taigen takes a deep breath before continuing. "We're only choosing your dorm because Akemi has their annual dorm parties, Our kitchen broke so Ringo can't cook, and we know Mizu is a loaded motherfucker, alright? It's absolutely not because we want to see your icky mundane domestic life."

Mizu leans against the doorframe, staring Taigen down as he finishes his piece. You, on the other hand, can only smile from your spot behind Mizu. It had been your scheduled movie night with friends and originally, it was Ringo and Taigen's turn to host but due to unfortunate circumstances, the duty of hosting befell on your shoulders again. Albeit, a bit rushed this time.

Akemi rolls her eyes beside Taigen before stepping up towards the doorway and pushing her way through Mizu's defense (Mizu let her in, she didn't do anything wrong). Ringo smiles gleefully from his spot beside Taigen before sliding his way inside and pulling you in a hug (again, Mizu let him in, he's the only person who can actually cook).

"Y/N!" Your tall bubbly-bear looking friend cheers as he swings you back and forth in his hug. You giggle as you return the gesture, slightly pulling away and patting his cheeks. Ringo grins. "I missed you!"

You playfully roll your eyes at him. "Oh come on Ringo, I saw you last week."

"Too long!" Ringo whines as he rests his head on top of yours. Your heart warms at Ringo's affections. Your dear friend was a walking talking incarnation of a life-sized teddy bear. The two of you continue to giggle at each other's presence, not noticing the pair of blue eyes trained on you.

"Oi, Ring," Mizu calls out from her position by the doorway, eyes pulled into a glare. Ringo stiffens beside you at her tone. You could only blink your eyes at her with a curious gaze. "Get your ass in the kitchen."

"On it!" Ringo makes no haste and eventually bolts to your dorm's kitchen. You place your hand on your hips as you stare at her with a raised eyebrow. Mizu only looks away before catching a sneaking Taigen trying to move his way inside. The raven-haired girl slams her hand on the doorframe preventing Taigen from entering.

"Where do you think you're going?" Mizu asks with a threatening glare. Her eyes squint as you watch Taigen sweatdrop.

"C'mon, man! I just want to fucking watch Ryan Gosling, can you let me in?!" Taigen whines, stomping his foot. Mizu's face stays blank, hand clutching the doorframe. Taigen resorts to plan B and looks up at you from his spot with the most disturbing try of puppy eyes. "Y/N, please I'll treat you all the fucking bobas you want just please pull your war freak of a wife away from me."

You chuckle as he clasps his hands together, ignoring Mizu's pointed glare. You knew that Mizu would let him in either way. After all Mizu says, and you quote, "It's like leaving a fucking dog outside with all that yapping."

Finally deciding to help Taigen, your eyes gaze at Mizu's back with a smile. "Bon, c'mon leave him be."

There's a pause of silence before Mizu eases up on the doorway and eventually side steps. Taigen lets out a noise of victory before making quick steps toward you and places a kiss on the side of your temple.

"This is why you're my favorite," Taigen crinkles his eyes playfully. You roll your eyes, slapping his arm.

"You said that to Akemi 3 days ago."

"The past is past, what matters is the pre—"

A loud smack on the head propels Taigen forward causing your eyes to widen. You turn to Mizu who looks at him with disgust.

"I let you in and you still yap like a dog. Do you want me to kick you out again?" Mizu stands next to you with a menacing glare. You watch in amusement as Taigen frowns, rubbing the back of his head.

"Goddamn, just fucking marry this emotionally constipated motherfucker please so that I may find peace," Taigen makes a pointed look towards you. "I hate that I'm always at the receiving end of your punches when Y/N doesn't give you a bit of her atten—AGH!"

You let out a few giggles as you watched Mizu try and kick him away from where the two of you were standing. The poor man cowers behind Akemi who elbows him off her figure as she tries to browse through you and Mizu's shared Netflix account.

Your eyes glance toward Mizu who grumbles under her breath before turning towards you.

"Never let him in our dorm ever again please." Mizu deadpans prompting soft laughs from your lips. You then watch as Mizu walks toward you, eyes squinting at the side of your temple before grabbing your face with one hand—cheeks smushed.

"Mijuuuu," You whine as she tilts your head to the side. You notice her gaze on where Taigen kissed you. Your eyebrows furrowed as Mizu reached you with the sleeve of her hoodie pulled over her fingers. She then makes harsh wiping movements on your temple causing you to groan.

"Ow." You sob playfully as she finishes her ministrations. Mizu then turns your head towards her, the corners of her lips slightly upturned as she squishes your face within her grasp.

"Cute." She mumbles before leaning down to place a chaste kiss on your forehead. Your heart thumps against your chest—eyes wide as a deep flush rises to your ears. Whether Mizu noticed it or not, she only pulled away and walked over to where Akemi and Taigen were—both too busy fighting each other for the remote (Akemi wants horror but Taigen insists on a Ryan Gosling marathon).

You stand still in the hallway, breath hitching as you try to calm yourself down.

Unfair.

There's a nagging thought at the back of your head that you think that you might've been a little bit too lenient with Mizu.

Your friendship and current situation as roommates didn't start off in a good footing. Having met Ringo and Mizu during freshman orientation, you had no choice but to stick close to them due to the unfamiliar environment. Ringo welcomed you with open arms while Mizu didn't care if you joined or not. Apparently, she didn't really care about Ringo or you.

It was safe to say that your first impression of your roommate with her ever-perpetual stone-cold glare had not been the best. After all, she had ignored you most of the time and tended to stray away from your group of three.

It was during that time that she had issues with her current roommate who always tried to bring people in as a one-night stand that the two of you decided on common ground.

You were out that night, going on a quick walk break from midterms when you saw Mizu complaining at the front desk. Still considering her your friend albeit a bit hesitant due to her off-putting nature, you hear Mizu complain to the landlord. You overheard her issues with her roommate and decided to offer your space up as your previous roommate had shifted courses, was transferred to a farther building, and therefore had to move to a closer dormitory. She seemed awkward but grateful enough to accept your offer.

Then things are where they are now. After knowing and living with each other for at least 2 years now, your closeness with Mizu didn't really bother you. It was nice being comfortable enough to just be authentic in front of somebody without the fear of getting judged. Mizu tends to be quite direct with her words and doesn't like to bluff around. That's what you kind of love and hate about her.

Love because she's upfront—what you see is what you get. She gives you thoughtful advice, the most rational between the two of you, mature and level headed enough to tell you the truth when nobody else would. Hate because sometimes she's too direct. Direct about your mistakes and wrongdoings but also direct about what she feels.

Like this instance.

"Mizu?" Your feet cladded socks thump loudly against the wooden floor, waddling your way toward your roommate who is busy mopping the living room.

"Yeah?" She calls out, hair tied in her usual bun as she continues to clean. She hears you enter the area, turning towards you with her hand outstretched. "Careful. Floor's wet."

"Yeah, yeah." You grab her hand, watching as she puts the mop away to the side. Finally having her undivided attention, you swing your hands back and forth as you come to say what you went for in the first place. "So y'know how Akemi got her internship at that company she really worked hard for?"

"Mmh."

"Then she was offered like a position right?"

"Mmh."

"So like, as a reward for her great performance, she got tickets for us to watch Laufey next week."

Mizu's eyebrows raised in recognition. "Really?"

You nod your head with enthusiasm, smile brimming from ear to ear. Mizu's eyes softened as she lets you continue.

"So I was wondering," You bite your bottom lip as your hand shifts to wrap around her index finger—still swaying it back and forth. "Can you help me find an outfit, please?"

Mizu hums as you peer at her with an excited grin. The raven-haired woman glances at her unfinished work before sighing.

"I suppose cleaning can wait." She responds before getting pulled in a hug.

"Thank you! Thank you!" You make careful tiptoes around her work as you walk back to your room.

It takes Mizu about 7 minutes to finally reach your room with a soft knock on your door. You tell her to come in as she gently opens the door to walk inside.

"Options?" Mizu sighs in relief as she plops down on the bed. You tell her your options and Mizu nods for you to try them on.

It takes a while for both of you to decide—eventually having to stick with two dresses. Finally trying the last dress on, you twirl in front of the mirror, examining the way you look before meeting Mizu's eyes on the reflection.

"That's the one," Mizu says with a soft tone. There's something about the way she eyes you up and down with a gentle look in her eyes paired with the soft tone of her deep voice. You pause, turning around to see her on the edge of your bed, arms resting on her knees—hands interlocked with her body leaned forward. Those hues of blue peer up at you with half-lidded eyes. Your cheeks heat up.

She breathes a heavy breath before motioning for you to come over with a come hither motion of her fingers. "C'mere."

You make slow steps toward her form, a couple of inches away from each other. You look down at her as she eyes you up, an unreadable look on her face before she suddenly stands up from her seat. Suddenly you're reminded of Mizu's height, albeit only a couple of inches taller than you, you still had to crane your neck at a distance as close as you were now. Suddenly the air seemed thick and constricting.

There's a sudden tension filling the air as the two of you only look into each other's eyes. You find yourself unable to blink as you admire her features. A mix of handsome and pretty—a face you've seen countless times and yet still be in awe of.

Just as the moment had started, Mizu suddenly ends it with a flick on your forehead causing you to blink.

"Hey!" You whine at the sudden gesture, hands reaching up to touch the spot she flicked at. Mizu smirks, chuckling.

"You blinked, I won."

You scoff at her. "Unfair."

She then fixes the fabric of your dress, making sure that the pleats and the flow is positioned nicely. Then the next few words stun you.

"You look really beautiful, Y/N." She says with such a genuine tone that it leaves you speechless. Seeing your reaction she lets out a few laughs then pinches your cheek. You let out a chuckle at the sound of her laughter.

"Favorite Laufey song?" You tilt your head in curiosity as you look up at her with a smile. Mizu softly blinks with a gentle smile.

"Serendipity."

Your hands slam against the wooden surface of the desk inside the library's discussion room. Three pairs of eyes—one filled with curiosity, one with indifference, and one with annoyance. You breathe heavily as you lock eyes with each one.

"I think I like Mizu."

Suddenly Taigen stands up from his seat and applauds you—Ringo, ever the sweetheart he is, smiles at you and waves his arms for a little celebration dance.

"Congratulations, Sherlock," Taigen smiles sarcastically. "If I had to watch the two of you in an eternal battle of who's the most oblivious, I would already have a degree in Bachelor of No Communication, Major in being a pussy and a minor in having mommy issues."

Akemi gives him a disgusted glare. "Can you shut the fuck up or is being a yapper your honest profession?"

"Alright," Taigen raises his hands. "Chill."

Akemi rolls her eyes before looking at you with her lips upturned. "Happy that you're finally realizing it, hun."

You groan as run your palms over your face. "That's the problem!"

"Why's that a problem?" Ringo asks innocently. You pull yours hands down with a huff.

"It's Mizu."

"So?" Akemi raises an eyebrow.

"Mizu's my best friend," You whine. "I can't risk it when I don't know if she feels the same."

"Be fucking for real right now." Akemi deadpans as she crosses her arms over her chest. "The damn woman looks at you as if you've just given her the stars and the moon. Y'know know how much I envy that?"

Taigen nudges Akemi beside him with a pout. Akemi glances at him with a sigh. "I was just making a point. You'd have to be dumb stupid to not notice anything at all, Y/N."

You purse your lips as you sheepishly look at Akemi like a child being punished.

"You did, didn't you?" Akemi squints her eyes with a smile. "Precisely why I favor you over that emotional catastrophe of a woman. I suggest taking the chance. It's not every day that you find someone that's a complete fit for you."

Akemi gives you a soft smile. You purse your lips as Taigen gives you a thumbs up.

"You can do it, Y/N." Ringo smiles at you from his seat. "If there's anything I know about Mizu, it's that she cares for you a lot more than you think."

You nod, encouraged by your friends' advice and reassurance. While Mizu's someone you didn't want to lose, you'd rather take the risk on giving her the love she deserves rather than keeping it buried within you.

Finally, your resolve is built and strengthened. It's just Mizu, it should be alright.

To put things simply, it had been 3 weeks since your talk with Taigen, Akemi, and Ringo.

The three have tried their very best to allow you to confess but somehow Mizu always has something to do or something keeps ruining the moment. Confessing in a cafe? Suddenly a random NPC interrupts. In the library? Librarian follows you everywhere with that judgmental gaze of hers after your previous altercation. Campus garden? Mizu's getting called for org duties. Your own dorm? Mizu's asleep.

You're at your wit's ends and while you can tell that all of this isnt intentionally done, you can still feel the frustration.

It's this night where you reach your final straw.

You had just gotten home after a day of requirements, finals, and activities. Mizu's schedule was moved a bit earlier causing the two of you to be quite busy due to the gap in the dates for your finals. When you're free, Mizu's taking an exam. When Mizu's got nothing to do, you're working your ass off in the library.

The finals season has completely ended and you're walking home with a fleeting mind and relieved sigh.

As you make the turn toward your dormitory, you notice a familiar head of black crouched over the sidewalk. Your eyebrows furrowed as you see Mizu busy with whatever caught her attention. Just as you reach at least a meter away from her, you see a fluffy white cat perk its head behind Mizu's figure, blue eyes sparkling with curiosity as it mews at your figure.

"Huh?" You hear Mizu hum before turning to face you. A look recognition passes her eyes. "Oh. You're home."

You fall silent as you continue to watch her pet the cat. You hear its purrs as it leans its head to Mizu's touch.

"I cooked hotpot upstairs," Mizu says, eyes still looking at you. Her hair is down, only pinned back by her glasses worn over her head. That little frail bang escapes with ease from it as she looks down to see the cat on its back, paws demanding a belly rub. She's wearing the black sweater you gave her with its sleeves rolled up to her arms.

Fuck. Why does she look so—

"I can tell you're spent," Mizu softly smiles at you. There's a slight breeze that gently ruffles her hair. "You did so well, Bonnie."

Then it's as if something snapped within you and there's nothing that could stop you from unleashing the pent up frustration of not getting a moment with her.

"Oh my god," Your gaze is unwavering as you stare at her figure. She raises an eyebrow at your response. "I'm so fucking in love with you."

Mizu stops her ministrations with the cat, figure tensing as the light breeze of the wind fills in the void. Your heart thumps as you breathe heavily, watching any sort of reaction for her shocked face.

Then it is as if you could hear a pin drop then a change in the atmosphere. Mizu is flushed deep red, eyes blinking as she stares at you with mouth agape.

Your eyebrows raise in amusement.

"Huh?"

"I love you." You repeat taking a step closer to her crouched form. She furrows her eyebrows, blush spreading up to her ears. Oh?

"I-I don't—"

You grin as you crouch in front of her, eyes trained on her shy features. "I said I love you."

"Y/N." Mizu grumbles as she tries to glare at you.

"What?" You shrug, smile brimming from ear to ear. The emotions on her face are clear as she stammers and stutters in front of you.

"That's not fair." She grits her teeth.

"What's not fair?" You tilt your head in amusement.

"I wanted to say it first." She mumbles as she looks down at the cat purring between the two of you.

You let out a soft laugh at her whining.

"Well, I'll pretend I didn't say anything and that I just walked back from school," Mizu eyes you in confusion as you stand back up and run a few meters away from her—back from where you previously stood. You clear your throat as you straightened yourself up. "Oh my god! Finals is so hard, if only there's a hot tall masculine woman to declare their love for me."

You end with a dramatic touch of the back of your hand against your forehead. Mizu chuckles, shaking her head before standing to her full height. She reaches you with ease, lips turned to a smile as her hands make their way to cup your face.

"You're an idiot," She grumbles with affection before pulling you in a kiss. There's no time wasted as you kiss back, clutching the fabric of her sweater as she tilts her head to deepen the kiss.

You squeak as you feel her tongue intertwine with yours. You feel yourself get lightheaded, melting in her touch as your arms wrap around her neck while hers takes hold of your waist. She pulls you closer with no distance left to break you apart. You whine as you feel her bite on your bottom lip, gently pulling it before pulling away. Heavy breaths are what fills the space between your bodies, eyes still trained on swollen red lips while want and need courses through your veins.

She lets out a grunt as she dives to taste more of you, pecking your lips once, twice—thrice before finally breaking off.

There's a moment of silence before hushed giggles errupted between the two of you—Mizu swaying your bodies as you both bask in each other's presence.

Hushed whispers, sweet nothings, wide smiles, and stolen kisses are all that's seen between two idiots in love. Before you can further enjoy your moment with Mizu, a loud meow interrupts your moment. The two of you look down at the cat licking its paw as it stares up at you both.

It swishes its tail back and forth, tilting its head before stretching. You and Mizu look at each other with a smile.

"You up for another roommate? Might be severely in love with you too." You tease as the cat leans its body against Mizu. Your girlfriend rolls her eyes. You giggle.

"Oh, shut up."

a/n:

you: *sees mizu w a cat* marry me

mizu: ?

projecting ken tendencies in taigen mb. akemi is a mood tbh.

[milksuu]

Sorry, Mom. I'm The New Cleaning Lady For Heartsteel

Pairings: various!Heartsteel x f!reader

Status: on-going (Cross posted on AO3)

Content/Warnings: 18+ content, explicit themes, suggestive language

Summary: Identity theft was a crime—that was obvious. But when it meant paying off the bills for basically existing and your mother’s hospital expenses, committing a felony didn’t seem like a bad thing. It was like that one quote, from that one band, with that one hit song: “Two sides to a story but they never tell me side.”

Or…something like that. Wait, what was their name again? Heartsteel? Sounds like a dating sim game.

[Reader takes the identity of her mother, who had been hired to be the new cleaning lady for an up and coming boy band named ‘Heartsteel’. Obviously, there’s no way they would ever find out. But that was a joke. Because they’re definitely finding out: one by one.]

“You…brought your own cleaning supplies?”

“You always need to be prepared, young man,” you replied, adjusting your duck-yellow cleaning gloves. They squeeked and flopped comically around your hand and fingers. 

“Ma’am, you do understand today is solely the house tour.” The man folded his arms neatly against his chest, white brow raised. “In order to rely on you fully, you’ll need to be familiar with the estate first. I thought we discussed this beforehand. That and…we have cleaning supplies to provide you with here.”

You paused at the grand modern entrance. You lifted your bucket full of sponges, brushes, and cleaning spray from the dollar store. 'Buy-one-get-one' on all cleaning supplies was the grand deal of the day. How could you pass a penny-pinching bargain? Swallowing your shame, you settled the cheap items on the pristine granite floors. 

“Oh, is that so? Must’ve slipped my mind. Age will do that to you.” You forced a chuckle, adjusting your sterile mask across your youthful face. “That and, I have such a passion for cleaning. I can't help myself. I see the inside of a house, and I just have to clean it. I’m sure you could understand that.”

“I don’t believe I could,” your employer said dryly. “Anyway, if you will, follow me.”

You nodded and shuffled along accordingly. As you stared into the back of his immaculately pressed business attire, a new-found horror struck through you: you had no clue what your employer’s name was. Frantically, you scavenged your pockets. From it, you pulled out a business card, holding it so close to your face you smelled the tinge of clean cologne.

YONE

RIOT RECORDS

DJ / PRODUCER

 EMAIL: yone123@riotstudios.com

TELEPHONE:  XXX-XXX-XXXX

“The bottom floor consists of all of the amenities; gym, entertainment area, recording studio and so on.” Yone stated as he stepped into the open-kitchen plan. When he regarded you again, you awkwardly plunged the card back into your pants pocket. “The boys have their own scheduled chores every week. They’re expected to do it without you having to help them. I’m trying to keep them humble, but easier said than done. Refer to the chore calendar on the fridge. And try not to interfere with it too much.”

“Okay—who switched my protein powder with flour?” Behind an opened cabinet, a heavy-muscled stacked man growled. “Guys. Seriously. This stuff’s expensive. Where’d it go?” When he poured the contents out into the trash can, he plucked out a note from the bottom of the canister. The small print read:

‘Protein powder tastes like dog food.’’

The weight of realization punched him square between the eyes. He threw open the pantry, where dog kibble was stored in a tub at the bottom marked ‘Ernest’. Sett pulled open the container, and sure enough, found his  protein powder and scooper. There was no mistaking his favorite smell of cinnamon crunch isolate, now mixed with the scent of dry-bacon kibble. Another note pasted the inside lid:

‘Woof–Woof ฅ՞•ﻌ•՞ฅ’

“A–phe–li–os,” the name gritted between his canines. His ears flattened against his untamed hair, and crumpled the note to dust in his palm. “Oh–Ho. Mess with me all you want; but never mess with my gains. I’m gonna’ prank him back so hard tonight, he’s gonna’ be begging me to stop.” 

“Sett,” Yone coughed, grabbing the Vistayan's attention. “We have a guest today. Our new cleaning lady.”

“Oh, sorry about that.” Sett wiped his powdered hand against his sleeveless shirt. He reached and took your rubber glove with a squelch. “Hey, how’s it goin’, Ma’am. The name’s Sett.” 

You swallowed hard, hoping your glove would remain securely covering your hand. You feared if he pulled back, he would reveal a hand that wasn't so wrinkled for someone supposedly in their late-fifties. And that was according to your mother’s age printed on her driver’s license. Thankfully, you could tell he restrained himself to a delicate shake.

“Would talk more but gotta hit the gym. Nice meetin’ yah though,'' Sett started away, and called back over his shoulder. “Mom, can you take care of Phel for me? I dunno' where he hid the dog food for Ernest.”

Yone exhaled a silent sigh, and part of you felt pity for your employer. He seemed like a parent with a tag-team of overbearing children running around the house. Being a single parent was difficult; you knew this first hand from your own up-bringing. It made you grateful for your mother’s patience and attention. It was the reason you were here in the first place. 

“Let’s continue with the tour upstairs,” Yone said, motioning you to a loft-style staircase. “The second floor consists of all the bedrooms and laundry room. At the end of the hall is my room. As it stands, it’s completely off limits to everyone, including yourself.” He turned a sharp chin in your direction, “Am I understood?”

You gulped and pressed your shoulders straight. “Of course.”

“Mommy, help me!” A bed of green hair bounced to Yone’s side, tugging at his tailored suit. “Kayn’s bullying me again. But I didn’t do anything wrong, I swear.”

“You’re such a crappy liar.” The presumed assailant, Kayn, stomped out of the hallway bathroom. Magenta hair stuck to his furrowing brows. With just a towel wrapped around his steaming waist, his abdominal muscles tensed, pointing aggressively at his target. “I was trying to shower in peace, until bubblegum pop princess over here came barging in trying to take selfies of himself. Did you know people usually shower naked? I’d like my junk not to be posted on social media, unless I’m the one doing it. For cash.” 

“It’s not my fault you’re always going over your shower limit. News flash: we each only get fifteen-minutes. But you’re always breaking the rules! You know I take my selfies at the same time, at the same place, every single day. So how about you do us all a favor, and get some better time management?”

Kayn raised a vein popping fist into the air. “How about I get you a better face instead?"

Ezreal cried fake sparkling tears, cowering further behind their producer.

“Enough. The both of you,” Yone tightened around his words like a leash, restraining the quarreling pair. “For once, I’d like for you two to at least pretend you get along in front of others.” 

The two whined and grumbled under their breaths till they fell to a silent agreement. But the peace treaty wasn’t upheld for long. You saw a zap of yellow from the corner of your eye. The image was so fast, you thought you must’ve imagined it—Nope. You definitely saw something. Kayn’s towel knot popped loose. And it wasn’t caused by an event of divine intervention.

The towel billowed towards the ground. And the world felt as if it was turning in slow motion, like one of those car chase movies with excessive explosions. Except, the only explosion here would be your very own heart.

Sure, you took an anatomy class here and there. In high school, you remembered the penis joke’s and games, and they never flustered you. Heck, not even when your friends set your desktop screen to a .gif of dicks spinning in circles—you found that hilarious. And when anatomy classes began in college, they were all very clinical, rudimentary, and otherwise a snooze fest. 

But seeing one in real life when you’ve never had a boyfriend or a one night stand, was truly groundbreaking. Earth shattering, even.

Penis (en)counter: 1

While you were stuck in your prison of naïve embarrassment, Ezreal laughed and pulled out his cell phone, camera light shuttering a mile a minute. 

“You little shi—!” Time sped forward again. With fast reflexes of his own, Kayn whipped the towel and knot back in place. “That’s it. You’re dead.” 

“Uh–Oh. Time to run again,” Ezreal quipped, zooming off down the stairs.

With all bark and full bite, Kayn vanished like a cloud of smoke in pursuit. You coughed against the smog, while Yone merely swatted his hand back and forth, dissipating the gray wisps.

“You’ll have to excuse them,” he commented. “They share the same room, but have vastly different personalities. I arranged most of them together, thinking it’d help them understand each other on a deeper level. And ultimately, help them perform better together in the studio and on stage. My efforts are…yet to be determined.”

“That’s alright. Can’t be easy for young men their age to share anything. Especially with them being full of energy, testosterone, and other things. O-Oh, to be young once more…ah-ha…” you laughed nervously. Oh, God. What the heck were you saying? Honestly, you had to give pardon to yourself. You were still trying to recover from seeing your first penis up close and personal.

The image would be forever burned in your mind.

You were pulled from your self-conscious thoughts. Down the hall, a pair of shadowed eyes peeked through a sliver of door and frame. When your gaze locked together, the other pair of eyes shifted shyly from side to side. As if a poltergeist existed within the room, the visage faded back into the uncanny crack of darkness. The door creaked closed, with an audible click and lock.

Yone pursued straight to the door, and you stood a few paces back. If there was any chance that a ghost was inside living rent-free, you wouldn't be the first it possessed. You weren't a certified Ghostbuster.

But you also weren't a certified Dustbuster, either. No one will know, know one will know, you chanted the comforting hymn. 

“Aphelios. Open the door. I know you’re in there. I can see the computer light flashing,” Yone stated, rattling the door knob. “Where’s the kibble for the dog? Sett told me you have it somewhere.”

There was a beat in the air. From behind the door, you heard feet pacing back and forth, and the sounds of finger taps against a phone screen. Yone’s phone pinged with an alert. He pulled it out, and opened his text messages.

‘I can’t open the door all the way. I set the bucket of dog food to fall on Sett’s head when he comes in. ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°) ’

“For the love of…no more pranks today." Yone pinched the bridge of his nose with a groan. "But I doubt you could even manage that. Whatever trap you’ve ensembled, take it down—now. And put the dog’s food back in the pantry. Unless you want to donate a cut of your earnings every month to Ernest’s pet store bill.”

Another pause, followed by begrudging phone taps. 

‘Fine, m O T h E r…(¬_¬")’

“That might take him a few. Depending how intricate the set up was. I would be surprised if the only thing involved in this scheme was just the dog food.” Yone motioned you back down the stairs. “Last thing to see is the outdoor space.”

Continuing with the tour, you passed through the lower floor, stepping down a hallway decorated with awards and magazine clippings. From commercial modeling gigs to sold out venues, your eyes glistened at the polished look the group was slowly cultivating. Which you had to admit, completely contradicted their personal lives.

When you reached a sliding glass door that stretched from floor to ceiling, you stepped out onto a landscaped deck. Lush modern garden trims, a shaded outdoor lounge, and smooth sandstone pavement decorated the space. At the backend, an infinity pool rested in pristine stillness. 

At the head of the pool, a person of sculpted bronze physique posed in swimwear on a lounge chair. When you approached along with your chaperone, he picked up his tropical drink, and tilted it in a cheering gesture.

“Well, well, well. If it isn’t Mama gracing me with his presence. And look's like someone else is with him, too.” The man basking in the sun's rays and oil slicked, shucked his sunglasses onto his dread locks. “Let me guess. This must be the new cleaning lady you hired to pick up after our mess.”

“To a certain degree,” Yone replied. “But not all of the mess, K’Sante. Out of everyone, you should know better.”

“I only joke, Mama.” He grinned smoothly, taking a sip of his frozen alcoholic refresher. “Say, have you seen Sett? I told him to come join me for a tan by the pool. If he wants his muscles to truly pop, he needs to use some oil and not be allergic to the sun. The man is whiter than the sky is bright today.”

As he laughed to himself, Ernest left his chew toy at the far side of the pool, and came to sniff your shoes. With a smile, you slipped a very small piece of your long sleeve up, allowing him to sniff at your skin. The dog lapped his tongue around his slobbering chops, barking delightedly and pawing for you to pet him. You were more than happy to oblige.

These gloves came in handy after all, you thought pleasantly as globs of saliva fell in heaps over your fingers.

“What’s this? Ernest taking a liking to the cleaning lady already,” K’Sante mused at the sight. “Barely warmed up to us when we first met. We won’t mention the illegal trespassing but, call me impressed.” 

With a wink, he flicked his sunglasses back down to the bridge of his nose. “That or he has a ‘ting for older women. Can’t say I blame ‘em. An experienced woman has a certain power that’ll make any grown man cry. And from my own experience, it is never for mercy.”

Oh, boy. You couldn’t imagine your mother being interested in the cougar life-style. Not that you would approve of it. And you were certain your father would descend from the heavens and deliver the backhand of God to any young man who dared otherwise.

Before Yone could address the unsavory statement, Ezreal burst through the backyard sliding doors. Still possessed with laughter, he hopped and skipped over pool chairs and tables. The merriment stopped short when Kayn caught up to the cheeky idol, snatching his wrist which held the phone. From the staggering halt, the phone slipped from Ezreal’s hold, somersaulting towards the pool. 

“M-My phone!” Ezreal paled at the thought of losing thousands of stored photos of himself—Oh, and the blackmail photos he was going to use against Kayn, too. 

Yanking his wrist free, Ezreal pursued the device. But Ernest’s rubber hotdog toy squealed beneath him, forcing him off balance. Kayn latched an arm around Ezreal's slim waist, and pressed him safely against his bare chest.

He huffed against Ezreal's ear. “You can’t swim, you idiot. Remember? Just let it go.” 

Ernest barked at the surmounting commotion. Being the valiant guard dog with the perfect pedigree, he bounded on his thick paws to catch Kayn by the towel, with all the intent to keep them both from falling in. What a good boy! Unfortunately for Kayn, Ernest bit a bit more than he could chew.

Kayn’s voice bass boosted ten-octaves lower. “MY DAMN ASS!”

W-Whose voice was that? Was that even the same person? The thought rattled through you.

A chunk of Kayn's soft meat condensed in the jaws of a furry devil. A shock travelled up the nerves of his spine, into the the muscle fibers of his arm, shoving Ezreal forward. Ezreal flailed his hands in the air, desperate to find some semblance of balance—with no luck, at all. Fumbling on his tip-toes, Ezreal plummeted into the pool with a splash. Kayn stumbled from the after-shock of his spirit being bitten straight through his buttcheeks. His feet met the cursed rubber squeaker, sending him following suit into the pool. Except, the towel had its own plans. It decided to stay behind and not get involved.

Penis (en)counter: 2

“I heard some commotion, fellas. What’s goin’ on?” Sett stepped out from the sliding doors. He caught witness of Ezreal’s face treading water, gasping for bouts of air. Sett’s muscles popped at the sight, barreling towards the scene. “Don’t worry, Ez. I’m coming for yah, buddy!”

Sett launched himself into the air, preparing the most athletic Olympic dive ever conceived.

Kayn inhaled sharply as he broke through the water's surface tension. Recuperating his breaths, he slicked his wet hair back from his face. Looking down at the waters crystal reflection, an odd shadow grew in size around him. And according to the forecast earlier; there was no chance in Hell of clouds or rain. Lifting his nose to the darkening sky, he blanched in sheer horror. A body, massive enough to eclipse the sun, hurled down like a meteor descending to Earth.

What day was it today, Doomsday? He must've forgot; Kayn never bothered to look at calendar's, anyway.  

Back to the painful mistress that was his life; a weak, painful moan escaped him. “You can’t be serious. This isn’t the cool death I deserve—”

Those were Kayn’s final words. A wave rivaling a tsunami consumed him, a random pizza chair float, and the immediate surrounding pool area. Standing in the designated splash zone, pool water soaked your soles, leached into your socks, and dampened your pants to the knees. From K’Sante’s spot, a shot of chlorine or two spiked his drink. He snatched his sunglasses off and shouted the words; “This was the last bit of banana daiquiri mix, you aboas! Now I have to go down to the liquor store and hope they sell it frozen already.”

Yone, with all the grace anyone could hope to be blessed with, merely side-stepped away. A single speck landed on his polished shoes. He narrowed his steely eyes, flicking away the insignificant drop.

You caught something flashing on the second floor of the estate. Looking up, you shielded your eyes from the glaring sun. From one of the windows, you spotted someone holding up a sign. You assumed it was Aphelios. The poster read:

‘4/10 Ezreal. 6/10 Kayn. 10/10 Sett.’

With a dramatic burst through the water, Sett hurled Ezreal over his massive shoulder, and walked out of the pool. Placing Ezreal onto his soaking back, he coughed and gagged against the awful taste of treated water.

He smiled at his new-found savior. “Thanks, Sett. I’m fine, but what about Kayn…”

The group shifted their attention over the silent, lapping water. After a bubble or two, the sight of Kayn’s bare bottom surfaced to the top. Floating like a wet and rounded land-mass, with the additional landmark of a pink dog-bite. 

“Kayn! Hang in there, pal!” Sett launched himself once more into the water, creating another wave of soaking magnitude.

Although the drink had already been spoiled, K’Sante reflexively covered the top of his daiquiri glass. “For God’s sake, Sett. Take your time. It’s not like you’re saving the life of an innocent man.”

As chaos continued to ensue around the gang, Yone placed himself at your side. With a shake of his head, he crossed his arms, and sent a ghost of a smile your way.

“Welcome to Heartsteel,” he said. “Your first day starts tomorrow.” 

Looks like your identity was safe…for now, at least.

an: thanks for reading! the rest of the this story will most likely just be on my AO3. You can find me @ milksuu. comments and suggestions always welcomed. &lt;3

[stillalivebydemand893]

Enemies to lovers?

18+(repost)

Story:You hate Erik Campbell. He’s loud, smug, stupidly hot, and somehow always in your space. Everyone says you’re gonna fall in love - you’re just trying not to commit a felony first.

“Why don’t you fuck off for once, Campbell?” You were practically screaming at your best friend’s brother — your archnemesis, your biggest headache, and unfortunately, the hottest man you’d ever laid eyes on.

Erik fucking Campbell.

Tattoos, smirks, muscles, the whole damn package — wrapped in the personality of a smug, overgrown child who lived to piss you off.

Ever since you'd moved to the neighborhood, it was like gasoline meeting fire — a full-blown combustion of insults, shouting matches, and unresolved sexual tension no one dared talk about.

“WHY ARE YOU HERE ALL THE DAMN TIME?!” he yelled back from across the kitchen. Julia, his sister, sat on the counter, watching the chaos unfold like a telenovela. “God, these two are gonna get married one day,” Bobby muttered to her as he passed by, grabbing a soda. “If they don’t kill each other first,” he added with a chuckle.

You pointed at Erik like he was the root of all evil. “Why the hell are you always here? Get a job, Erik.” You turned to storm off, but he followed you, hands on his hips like an offended housewife.

“I HAVE A JOB, YOU BRAT.”

You snorted. “You work three days a week, Erik. That’s barely a job — it’s a hobby with a paycheck.”

“Guys, seriously. I’m trying to swim in peace.” Julia sighed, squeezing between you and your favorite enemy.

“We’re coming,” you growled, turning back to Erik with the fury of a woman on the brink of a breakdown. “But this isn’t over, asshole.”

“Watch it, brat,” he said with a devilish smirk, leaning down just enough to make you blush for reasons you’d rather die than admit.

Maybe it was the way he towered over you. Maybe it was the way his voice dipped when he was pissed. Or maybe it was just your hormones, which clearly had no self-respect.

“Oh, and Briana’s coming over,” he called over his shoulder, heading toward his room. “Try not to light her on fire again.”

“Maybe tell her to stop wearing three pounds of hairspray — she wouldn't go up like a human torch,” you snapped, bolting for the garden before he could chase you down and drag you into his personal hell.

Briana. His occasional hookup and your full-time bully. She had the IQ of a paper towel and the personality of a fake tan. And she hated you.

One time, she actually said, “I don’t think Europe’s a real country.”

You had to physically stop yourself from seizing. “It’s not a country, genius. It’s a fucking continent.” “Whatever, nerd. Maybe you’d stop studying if you got some dick.”

The moment Erik walked in, she flipped like a switch — sweet, giggly, fake as Barbie’s tits.

It was a pool party disaster waiting to happen.

“Hey Peach, can you help me with the BBQ? Can’t find the lighter,” Bobby called — your sweet friend, aka your protector from Erik’s cereal-stealing tyranny.

“Hold on, lemme check my bag.” You fished out a pink lighter, clicked it to test the flame — and right then, Briana sprayed a cloud of toxic-ass hairspray a little too close.

Flash. Boom. WHOOSH.

Her head lit up like a damn torch.

She dove into the pool, screaming, while you tried to pretend you weren’t dying of laughter. She came back the next day looking like Lord Farquaad after a breakdown.

Erik, of course, blamed you. Briana refused to sleep with him for four weeks. Watching Erik suffer without sex was better than Christmas.

He was moping around the house like a divorced housewife with blue balls.

Then came the revenge.

You were finally about to get laid — a hot date set up by your cousin, the guy was packing, polite, and knew how to kiss. You were ready to sin like it was Sunday.

But Erik?

Oh, Erik had other plans.

“OH MY GOD, I CAN’T BELIEVE THIS!” he gasped, storming into your driveway like a soap opera star. “What the fuck—” you turned to see him holding his chest like he’d been stabbed. “YOU GHOST ME AND SHOW UP WITH HIM?! AFTER YOU GAVE ME HERPES?”

The silence hit like a slap.

“WHAT?!” both you and your date shouted at the same time.

“Erik, you son of a—” you stormed toward him, ready to rip his nipple piercings clean off.

“Please don’t beat me up again!” he dropped to his knees, hands clasped like a fake Catholic boy begging for salvation.

“YOU MOTHERFUCKER—”

“Okay, I’m leaving. Don’t ever text me,” your date snapped, jumping in his car and peeling out like the devil was after him.

Now Erik was in your face. One breath away. You couldn’t tell if you were about to hit him or kiss him. Maybe both.

“I will fucking kill you. We were supposed to fuck, Erik. What the hell?!”

“You left me with blue balls for four weeks,” he said, voice low and taunting. “It’s payback time, brat.”

Your knees buckled.

You grabbed his shirt and yanked him closer, your lips an inch from his. His eyes widened, fixed on your mouth like it held the answers to the universe.

“Listen to me, asshole,” you whispered. “I’m horny, ovulating, and at my limit. Pull one more stunt, Campbell, and I’ll burn you next — and this time it won’t be an accident.”

He swallowed so hard you could hear it. His jeans betrayed him. You smirked.

You let go of his shirt and turned back toward the house, praying your vibrator was fully charged.

Or else you were going to cry.

The Present Day

You were lounging by the pool, slipping off your shirt and revealing your brand-new bikini. The sun hit just right.

“Oh damn, look at you—body tea is burning hot,” Julia gasped, slathering sunscreen on her thighs.

“Thanks, babe. Got it on sale last Sunday,” you giggled, catching Erik’s eyes glued to you. The way he stared made your skin flush hotter than the sun, but you brushed it off—until Briana strutted into the garden.

“Speaking of burning hot—she’s back,” you muttered, collapsing into the lounge chair and sliding on your sunglasses.

“If she touches my skincare one more time, I swear I’ll redo her hairstyle—with hedge clippers,” Julia scoffed.

You giggled but fell silent when Erik placed his hands on Briana’s waist and kissed her like a man starved. You looked away. Whatever. You couldn't explain the jealousy bubbling under your skin. Was it rage? Horniness? Maybe it was just Erik—how he acted soft with her, and with you, like you were the final boss in The Exorcist.

“I’m going for a swim,” you announced and dove in. The water was cold, perfect, and cleansing. Thirty minutes later, you surfaced, refreshed and ready to tan—until the devil herself blocked your way.

“Oh. You again,” Briana sneered.

You grabbed your towel, pretending she wasn’t even there.

“Don’t think I don’t see what you’re doing,” she said, voice tight with venom.

“Plotting your next haircut? Sorry, sweetheart—I’ve retired,” you replied, plopping back on the sunbed, unbothered, flipping open your book.

“No—you bitch—”

At that word, you sat up, spine straight, eyes locked on hers.

“Watch your mouth,” Julia snapped, standing at your side.

“Tell your little friend to stop staring at my boyfriend. Or there’ll be consequences.”

You and Julia burst out laughing.

“Oh my god. Babes, you’d make such a good stand-up comedian. That was hilarious—and so sad.”

“He’s mine, you fuck. And he’ll never want you.”

You stood up. Calm. Cold. Knuckles white, pushing hair behind your ear.

“Briana,” you said, voice sugar-sweet and sharp like a blade, “you can have him. Hell, stick a name tag on his forehead. I promise no one’s coming for your boy toy.”

You turned to walk—then she grabbed your hair.

“You bitch—!”

“Touch her again and I’ll break your nose!” Julia shouted.

But you were faster. Reflexes kicked in—thank you, self-defense classes. You grabbed Briana’s wrist, spun, and slammed your elbow into her stomach. She let go with a gasp.

“Touch me again,” you hissed, “and the only makeover happening will be your fucking face.”

You walked off, heart pounding, blood boiling. Erik had seen it all. Of course he had.

He was going to kill you.

Inside, you collapsed on the couch, breathing hard. Your neck stung—you reached back and winced. That bitch had scratched you. Her claws were like knives. You headed to the bathroom for antiseptic. God knows where her hands had been.

You were about to pour it on when the door slammed shut.

“ARE YOU FOR REAL RIGHT NOW?” Erik barked.

“Don’t close the door—hey—!”

Your chest tightened. Panic started to rise. Shit. Not now. The door was sealed shut. Claustrophobia wrapped around your throat.

“I’ve told you so many times—just once, can’t you try not being a menace? You elbowed her like some goddamn Kung Fu Panda!”

You reached for the doorknob, shaking.

“Where do you think you're going? I’m not—wait—why are you—”

He froze when he saw your body trembling.

“Erik, it’s stuck. It won’t open—I can’t breathe—” You slammed your shoulder against the door in desperation.

“Hey, hey—stop! You’re going to hurt yourself!”

He pulled you back and tried the door himself. Nothing.

“Great. We’re stuck until someone comes into the house.”

You curled up on the floor, knees to your chest, hyperventilating.

“Shit. Are you okay? I—fuck—I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to yell,” he crouched beside you, his voice low, worried.

“Erik… I’m claustrophobic… I’m gonna faint…”

“Shit. I forgot—fuck.” He ran his hands through his hair. “The pantry. When Bobby locked you in—dammit.”

He tilted your chin up gently. “Hey. Look at me. Just breathe. You’re okay. I’ve got you.”

Something about his voice, his hands, his eyes—it grounded you.

“That’s it. Deep breaths.”

He tucked a strand of hair behind your ear. You looked pretty crying, he thought. Not the time to say it.

You shuffled toward him, letting him wrap his arms around you. He held you close, rubbing your back slowly.

“I’m sorry for punching your… girlfriend. But it was self-defense.”

You looked up at him, vision still blurry.

“I’m sorry for yelling. And for slamming the door,” he said, quieter now. “And she’s not my girlfriend. I could barely call that a ‘thing.’ And after today? It’s definitely over.”

You blinked. “She told me to stay away from you. Said I didn’t stand a chance.”

Erik paused. It was like his brain was buffering.

“What? Jesus. I invited her to break things off. What the hell is she—?”

He laughed, rubbing his face. You laughed too. It felt like something shifted.

“You really elbowed her,” he said, grinning. “Like a total badass.”

“Self-defense classes, baby.”

You threw your head back, and hissed at the sting in your neck.

“Ah, shit.”

“Let me see,” he said, lifting your hair to inspect the scratches. His fingers brushed your skin—your whole body shivered.

“Yeah, she got me good,” you muttered.

“Sit up. I’ll clean it.”

You stood. He trailed his fingers along your skin, slow, electric. You glanced at the mirror and caught his reflection—his eyes were dark, predatory.

“Pass the antiseptic, Peach.”

“You haven’t called me that in forever,” you whispered. “It sounds… nice.”

He smirked. “Brat suits you better.”

“Fuck—can you blow on it? It burns.”

“Hold still, brat,” he said, placing a firm hand on your waist.

You giggled—until his breath hit your skin. Hot. Slow. Dangerous.

A moan slipped out of you when he gripped your hips tighter.

“Fuck—” you gasped, steadying yourself against the sink.

“You’ve got to stop,” he growled in your ear, pulling you against him. “Or I’ll ruin you, Peach.”

“Stop what?” you asked, feigning innocence, grinding into him.

“You’re such a needy little brat.”

He grabbed your jaw, tilting your head, and bit into your neck. You were already soaked.

Your bikini top hit the floor, and his hands were everywhere—one on your throat, the other squeezing your breast like he was starving.

“Stop teasing,” you gasped. “I need you.”

He kissed your collarbone, biting hard enough to make you cry out.

“So damn eager for me, aren’t you?” He angled your face toward the mirror. “Look at yourself. Look at what I do to you.”

His fingers slipped into your bikini bottoms, circling your clit. You nearly collapsed, gripping the sink for dear life.

“F-Fuck, Erik—it feels so good,” you moaned, watching his devilish smirk in the mirror.

“That’s my girl.”

He pushed two fingers inside you, pumping hard and fast until your legs shook.

Right before you came—he stopped.

“Asshole—”

You didn’t finish the sentence. He spun you around, lifted you onto the counter, and crushed his mouth against yours. Raw. Desperate. On fire.

“Tell me to stop,” he breathed. “Or I swear, they’ll have to drag me out of here in a bodybag.”

You cupped his face, panting. “I don’t want you to stop. Not now. Not ever. I’ve wanted this for too long.”

“Careful what you wish for, Peach.”

“Ruin me.”

That was all it took.

He kissed you like a madman, hands in your hair, your nails clawing down his back. You reached into his swimsuit—fuck. Thick. Pierced. Dripping.

“Thinking of giving me another STD, brat?”

You smacked his chest. “Pull another joke like that and I will bite it off.”

He laughed and kissed you hard.

“Come on, Princess. Legs wide open.”

You obeyed.

“Tell me if it’s too much,” he murmured, stroking your cheek like he was about to wreck you and worship you all at once.

“Stop being soft—I can take it.”

And then he slammed into you.

You gasped—his piercing stretching you just right. Pain and pleasure crashing together.

“F-Fuck, Erik,” you whimpered, wrapping your legs around his waist.

“Breathe, baby.”

His thrusts grew harder, faster, cruel and perfect. He kissed you again as you shattered around him, moaning into his mouth.

He came seconds after—burying himself deep inside you, groaning into your neck.

You stayed like that. Breathless. Bruised. Blissed out.

His cock still inside you.

And you never wanted to move again.

The bathroom was quiet now.

Heavy breathing. Damp skin. The scent of sex still clinging to the air like smoke after a fire.

You were slouched on the counter, Erik still between your legs, his hands resting on your hips like he didn’t quite know how to let go.

You blinked, trying to ground yourself, brain foggy and dazed. Every nerve ending had been lit up like fireworks and you were still feeling the aftershocks.

“Fuck,” you whispered.

He didn’t move, didn’t say anything.

You could feel him still inside you, twitching slightly. His chest rose and fell, forehead pressed to yours.

“Say something,” you mumbled, voice soft, unsure if you wanted him to.

“You ruined me,” he said, finally.

You let out a breathless laugh, still reeling.

“Says the guy who rearranged my guts like IKEA furniture.”

He grinned, lazy and smug. “Didn’t hear you complaining.”

“You’re lucky I didn’t knee you in the face mid-thrust.”

“Brat.”

“Asshole.”

He leaned in and kissed you again, slower this time. No heat, just... softness. Dangerous softness.

And that terrified you more than the hate ever had.

You pulled back. “This doesn’t mean anything, right?”

His eyes met yours. Too direct. Too serious. “Does it have to mean nothing?”

That question. You hated it. Because it cracked something inside your carefully-built armor. He wasn’t supposed to ask things like that. He was supposed to fuck you and leave you confused. Not… not care.

You looked away, slipping off the counter as he finally stepped back. Your legs trembled slightly. He noticed.

“Need help walking, Princess?”

You flipped him off while pulling your bikini bottoms back on. “I’m fine.”

“Sure. You looked real stable when you almost collapsed onto the shampoo bottles.”

You scowled. “Don't get cocky just because you got lucky.”

“I think I made you lucky, sweetheart.”

You grabbed the nearest towel and threw it at his face. “You are insufferable.”

“And yet you begged me to ruin you not five minutes ago.”

You opened your mouth to fire back—but footsteps echoed outside the bathroom door.

Voices.

Julia.

Briana.

“Oh, shit,” you hissed.

Erik’s eyes widened slightly. “They’re inside?”

You scrambled to fix your top. He looked down at himself, still half-hard, still glistening, and cursed under his breath. “I swear if anyone walks in—”

“Just act normal!”

“You’re glowing like a slutty Christmas light. What part of this is normal?”

You reached for the doorknob.

It turned.

“Wait—” Erik said, too late.

The door opened.

And there stood Julia.

Wide-eyed. Jaw dropped. Then a slow grin curled on her face.

“Oh… my god.”

Your face was crimson. Erik was flushed too, shirt halfway on, swimsuit still suspiciously low on his hips.

Julia blinked. “I was coming to check if you guys had killed each other. And instead—you killed her coochie.”

“JULIA,” you hissed.

“You’re welcome,” Erik added, smugly.

Julia burst out laughing. “Okay, that’s going in the group chat.”

“No, no, no—Julia, I swear to God—”

She turned on her heel and marched down the hall, cackling. “Erik and Peach just went biblical in the bathroom!”

You groaned, dragging your hands down your face. “I’m never showing my face outside again.”

But Erik? He just leaned back against the wall, arms crossed, watching you.

“What?” you snapped.

“That was probably the hottest thing I’ve ever done.”

You squinted at him. “This doesn’t change anything.”

His smile faded slightly. “Doesn’t it?”

You looked away.

“Look,” he said, voice quieter, serious again. “I don’t want this to be a one-time thing. You know that, right?”

You stiffened.

He stepped closer. “You can keep calling me an asshole. I’ll keep calling you a brat. That’s our thing. But don’t pretend you don’t feel this.”

You swallowed hard.

“You’re not just some girl I fuck in a bathroom,” he added. “You’re the girl I’ve been trying not to want since the day you threw a beer at my head.”

You blinked.

“Twice,” he added.

You nodded slowly. “You deserved it.”

“I did.”

Silence fell between you again. But it wasn’t uncomfortable.

It was charged.

Unspoken things lingering.

“I’m scared,” you finally admitted, softly.

He reached up, gently brushing a thumb along your jaw. “So am I.”

And you both knew the war wasn’t over.

But maybe…

Just maybe…

You were done being enemies.

At least for now.

Later That Night

The house was buzzing. Julia had obviously told everyone. The group chat was in flames, and your phone wouldn't stop vibrating from notifications like:

“Bathroom battle ends in bang ✨”

“Y’all owe me $20. I knew they were gonna hook up first.”

“Plot twist: Enemies-to-lovers confirmed.”

“So when’s the wedding?”

You were mortified.

And pissed.

Mostly because Erik wasn’t helping. He was walking around like he owned the place, smug as hell, throwing cocky little glances your way every five minutes like he’d just invented sex and got a Nobel Prize for it.

You tried to act unaffected.

You tried.

But then he had to go and take his shirt off again at dinner.

“Put a damn shirt on,” you muttered under your breath as he passed behind you with a soda.

“Why? You’ve already seen everything,” he said with a wink that made your fork almost bend in your hand.

Julia, across the table, was no help.

“Okay, but why is the sexual tension still higher than my student loans?” she whispered.

You glared. “Because I hate him.”

Erik leaned in behind you suddenly, his breath brushing your ear.

“No you don’t.”

You shivered.

Julia just straight-up howled.

An Hour Later

You escaped to your room, needing air. Needing to forget the way his hands felt. The way he looked at you.

You stood in front of the mirror, brushing your hair, still scowling at your own reflection.

He had no right to kiss you like that.

Touch you like that.

Make you feel—

“Still mad at me?” came a low voice from the door.

You turned.

There he was.

Leaning on the doorframe, arms crossed, no shirt, his swim trunks riding low on his hips like he did it on purpose. His hair was damp. His eyes were darker than before—like he knew what he’d done to you and was ready to do it again.

“Go away,” you muttered.

“You don’t want that.”

You hated how right he was.

“I didn’t say come in,” you snapped as he stepped inside anyway, closing the door behind him.

“I’m not here to argue.”

You folded your arms. “Then what are you here for?”

His eyes dragged over your body. “To finish what we started.”

Your breath caught. “You finished. I’m good.”

He smirked. “Sure you are.”

“You’re cocky.”

“You like it.”

You didn’t answer.

He stepped closer.

“You gonna slap me again?” he teased, voice dropping an octave.

“Maybe.”

He was right in front of you now.

“Or maybe…” His hand slid to your waist. “You want me to ruin you again.”

You shoved his chest—not hard enough to move him, just enough to feel the muscle under your hands.

“Stop playing with me, Erik.”

He leaned in. His lips ghosted over your jaw, not kissing, just close.

“I’m not playing,” he whispered. “Not anymore.”

You swallowed.

His hands slipped under the hem of your shirt. “Tell me to stop.”

You didn’t.

“You hate me, remember?” he murmured, voice velvet-dark.

“I do.”

“Say it.”

You locked eyes with him. “I hate you.”

His lips finally met yours.

And just like that—you were undone.

He lifted you up, your legs wrapping around him instinctively, and carried you to the bed like he already knew the way.

You were fire and gasoline.

His mouth was hungry, his hands demanding, like he’d waited years for this moment. Your shirt was gone, your shorts lost somewhere on the floor, his hands sliding down to cup your ass, grinding against you until you whimpered.

“You’re soaked,” he growled. “Again.”

“Your fault.”

“Gladly.”

He peeled off your panties and kissed his way down your stomach, biting, sucking, marking.

“You’re mine tonight,” he said against your skin. “Say it.”

You moaned. “Fuck, Erik—”

“Come on Peach say it.”

“I’m yours,” you gasped.

And then his mouth was on you.

Tongue circling your clit, fingers inside you again, slow and deep, curling just right. You were writhing, desperate, moaning his name like it was the only thing you remembered.

“You taste like sin,” he whispered. “And I’m starving.”

You came hard, hips jerking, grabbing fistfuls of his hair as you cried out.

But he wasn’t done.

He kissed his way back up your body, lips hot and wet against your neck.

“You want more?”

You could barely breathe. “Please.”

He slid inside you again—deeper, slower this time. His lips brushed yours.

“I hate you,” you whispered, trembling.

He kissed you, slow and devastating.

“No you don’t.”

And you didn’t argue.

[musicfeedsmysoul12]

Au:

Inko: izuku reminds so much of myself in my childhood

Detective sansa: you used to rob banks, commit felonies, and commit vigilantism with a group of your friends?

Inko: yes but who hasn’t traumatized both hero’s, villains, and civilians during their childhood I remember this one time I burned this convenience store cause the owner kept on scamming my friend

The image of like Inko having been an actually terrifying fucking teenager is hilarious.

Like you know what? Inko is a former biker girl who has so many tattoos under her jacket, and oooh wait wait

Former Villain Inko. She turned a new leaf when she was an adult, meeting a sweetheart named Toshinori who she had to leave because her past caught up to her. The gang tattoos she hides under her cardigans and skirts. She smiles softly at people and let the various piercings she had closed up.

No one would think she used to be the Temptress, an infamous villain who caused untold destruction. She's just Midoriya Inko, a mousey woman too stupid to realize her husband left for America without looking back.

She's so sweet, the Bakugou family says, not seeing how it's odd that they've lost more contracts ever since they won't reign in their son, who runs around and hurts Izuku.

She's so gentle, the others say in her neighbourhood, not seeing the misfortune the annoyances faced when Inko passed by them.

Inko smiles with all her teeth.

[cupcakewebkinz]

Caretaker Shanon au but... Twisted?

(This is a joke fic???)

♡ Shanon drags her beloved wife Veronica (yes you saw that, WIFE) back to Gardenview to see if they can adopt their children again, needless to say their kids aren't looking like how they remembered but... They'll adopt them anyways ♡

✮ Caretaker Shanon au is mine... So I can make branched off timelines of it too apparently ✮

☆ @soupiestzilla I think you'd like this one, probably ☆

━━━━━━･❪ ❁ ❫ ･━━━━━━

The two were driving home from a dinner date, Shanon behind the wheel and Veronica beside her, staring out the window.

"I miss our kids..." Shanon randomly said, getting a nod and a yawn from the woman sitting beside her.

"I do too, too bad Gardenview closed years ago." Veronica replied quietly, messing with the topaz and silver ring on her finger. The two sat in silence for a moment.

"Let's go back tonight." They said in unison, grinning at each other afterwards.

"Just... Probably not in dresses and high heels." Veronica pointed out, making Shanon laugh as she nodded.

"Yeah definitely not." She agreed.

They went home and immediately grabbed their old uniforms at the same time, the two looking at each other when they realized they had the same exact idea. They of course laughed at it, but actually went along with their stupid idea. They even had their hair in the same way, Shanon putting it in its old ponytail and Veronica took out her hair extensions, both putting on their badges on before putting their lanyards on. They looked like they barely aged a day, most likely because they were 20 when it closed and they hadn't grown in any grey hairs yet at 30. The two stood together in their floor length mirror, looking at themselves and each other, Veronica soon wiping off her makeup with a wipe before looking again.

"They'll definitely recognize us."

"Oh certainly."

The two then grabbed each other's hand and walked out, Shanon leading the way. After saying goodbye to their many plants, the two were back off to their cars, decided to use their shared truck, with Veronica taking the wheel this time.

"Alright, let's go probably commit a few felonies and possibly regret life, unless you want to get drunk first, then we won't regret life at least." Veronica stated, making Shanon shake her head.

"That'll just scare them even more than us literally breaking in just to kidnap them-"

"That's true, that's true. We're so dead if we're caught with them though-" Veronica replied, getting a nod from Shanon.

"Worth it though."

"Absolutely, 100% worth it, no doubt."

So the two silently went to Gardenview again, both unprepared for what they would see, yet prepared for anything, as Veronica had planned for this day for years. She had a bag with flashlights, medkits, water and granola bars she had just replaced, along with blankets and pillows incase the toons had fallen asleep on the way back home. They both have been wanting to do this for years, they had been debating doing it every night they pass by the place - but tonight was the one night they had finally gotten the courage to actually try. Veronica parked their black truck where Shanon used to always park, then they both lept out like they were on fire. Veronica only going back into it to grab the rainbow duffle bag of items they'd packed for this occasion.

"It's time."

"It's definitely time."

The two started walking to the employees entrance, which was in the back so nobody could see them, but it started opening before they even touched it. Veronica immediately backed away and pulled out her taser, Shanon stayed still - like whoever was opening the door had the apparent logic of "dinosaurs can't see you if you're still enough". Fortunately for them, what came out wasn't a threat - it was a light blue Gigi with a yellow coat around their waist, black pants, a black t-shirt and yellow boots. Gi.

"Woah... Are... You two humans..? I've never met a human before... Are you real?" They asked as they walked right over to Shanon, gently touching her arm. Shanon just watched, soon relaxing as the curious toon gently messed with her hand.

"You're so warm... So soft..." They mumbled, then gently moved on to her lanyard, gently playing with it.

"Shanon, huh? That's your name... Right? Shelly's toon handler... Shelly... SHELLY FOSSILIAN?? YOU KNOW HER???" The toon squeaked, jumping in their spot from joy. Shanon's fear was gone immediately, though Veronica obviously still didn't trust them. But the taser was put away, at least.

"Yeah, I came back to see her actually! She was my best friend for a really long time, she's really cool isn't she?" Shanon replied softly, getting nods from the excited toon.

"I really like dinosaurs, they're really cool. Oh! Wait! I can probably take you down to her museum again! Just... Uhm... Look, I don't know what happened, but the original toons, they kinda are in a lot of pain and look a bit different. I've been trying to find out what happened, but maybe - seeing you will make them at least feel emotionally better, but if anything happens and they try to hurt you, I'm knocking them out. Is... That okay?" Gi asked, making Shanon kneal to the other's level and gently cup their cheek. They stared into each other's eyes for a long moment, looking at each other's emotions. Shanon then nodded, standing up again.

"It's a last resort for you, I understand. I'll allow it." She replied softly, gently taking the toon's blue hand in hers.

"Just make it as painless as possible, okay?" Shanon asked, and the tiny blue gachapon just nodded. Veronica slowly walked over, shaking her head.

"You trust a literal clone of Gigi out of everything? What if they're trying to lure us in to kill us?" Veronica asked, getting a confused look from Shanon.

"If they wanted to kill us, they had more than enough time to, plus I know a true dinosaur fan when I see one - they have that look in their eyes, they do want to help us, just trust me on this." Shanon replied, holding out her hand. Veronica sighed and hesitantly took it, not wanting to watch her dumbass wife get hurt yet not willing to trust this weird creature yet. Gi seemed to understand, but they just nodded and started leading the two down.

"They call me Gi, I'm not the only clone down here. I'm the only one that talks though, or even seems to realize what's going on. The others just kind of... Stare and do their own thing, it's really weird. I can't believe I was like that once, like, dude how boring must our lives be if we just stare blankly and do machines? Where's the thrill?! I started sneaking out at night to find something interesting, maybe new foods too, I'm sooooo tired of just... Lemon candy and cola." Gi rambled, throwing her free hand around everywhere as she talked, being just as expressive as well. The two doubted she ever had anyone to talk to - because she didn't. The most conversation she'd get is from Dandy, who hated her. Veronica almost started to feel bad for her, soon pulling out a granola bar.

"Here, try this. Uhm... I'm Veronica, by the way, I worked with Vee." She said, offering the bar like it was some sort of peace treaty. Gi quickly accepted, ripping the package open with her mouth before looking back at the two.

"Pleasure! Vee's really really cool too, she's annoying with those pop ups though. Sometimes I hear her singing though, and she's really really good, but every time I go to the museum to tell her, she runs and hides from me. I dun get it." Gi replied to her before turning back and taking a massive bite from the granola bar in hand, ripping it out of the package, then shoving the rest in their mouth and tossing the wrapper off to the side. The two adults watched it flutter down the fire escape, then looked at each other as the gachapon leading them kicked open the door to the lobby. They were all silent as Gi lead them along, finishing off the granola bar in seconds - as if they haven't eaten in a while.

"Human food is good... Is there any way I could have more?" Gi asked, making the two look at each other. Shanon smiled. Veronica just squinted.

"We're not kidnapping three toons."

"BUT-"

"Shanon, you can't even take care of a plant, I take care of all of them!"

"I've taken care of myself since I was born." Gi blurted out, making the two pause and stare. Veronica was now fighting an internal war, Shanon was not helping her case one bit with her precious puppy eyes. She's always been too sweet for the world... For her own good... She'd take in a vicious dog that killed three people if she was allowed to for heavens sake.

"If - our kids allow it, I'll think about it." Veronica said after much deliberation, then stopped walking, making the other two stop.

"Where is everyone else though?" She added on once she realized how silent the usually loud lobby was. Gi sighed, letting go of both of them just to put her jacket back on.

"Gone. You'll understand when we get in the elevator... It's best you stay close and... Don't get your hopes up." Gi softly explained, walking off again. The two just silently followed, now worried about the two they came for, but they were hopeful. Until... They got to the museum. Gi was right... Vee still sung to herself, but it was different. Glitchy. Deeper. Strained. Shelly was heard whimpering, they were definitely comforting each other the best they could. Shanon nearly bolted out of the elevator to see them, but Gi stopped her right in her tracks.

"Don't. Run. Don't make sudden moves like that. They won't realize it's you and hurt you on accident... Just give me a minute, okay?" Gi softly told her, so Shanon sat down, making Gi just shrug and walk off. Veronica sat beside her, still silent, until... A scream. Then Gi running away, holding her arm, Vee - now much taller than they remembered - chasing her.

"VEE-"

The robot froze at the sound of someone calling her name. She slowly turned, her eyes wide, having red pupils within her green irises now. Her face, which used to be an angry scowl, now was a pout. Her antenna, much longer, were drooped on either side, arms now around her midsection where ichor had stained her. Her tail, which was just raised, was now on the floor behind her.

"M-Momma..?"

The robot then fully turned, facing the two sitting at the door of the elevator, revealing that her midsection wasn't just stained - it was torn open. Her legs weren't just darker now either, they were exposed, showing the half-toon-half-robot insides of them. It would've been gross if they weren't more robot than toon, but it did make Veronica cringe in sympathy pain as she slowly stood up.

"Yes, me and Shanon are here, it's okay-"

"NO IT'S NOT OKAY-" Vee snapped, her screen glitching for a moment. "THEY SHUT YOU OUT, THEY FORCED YOU AWAY, THAT'S N-N-NOT OKAY-"

"Vee, easy, you're glitching a lot honey. Take a breather, it's okay." Veronica soothed, though she did yelp when she was suddenly snatched up by the now massive 6 foot tall robot.

"HEY WHAT ARE YOU DOING?!"

"Shanon get up, you're going to t-the nest too." Vee stated calmly, and Shanon did stand up, allowing the robot to kidnap her too.

"Shanon why did you agree with it?!"

"Because... Vee's cool." Shanon stated with a smile. Vee didn't say anything, she just carried the two over to the massive pile of beanbags, blankets and pillows (and Shelly plushies) before she sat them both down gently.

"Wait." She demanded, then got back up (having had to sit down to make sure she didn't drop them) and walked off. Soon, she returned with Gi in her arm, and her hand holding Shelly's- who was also extremely different. Her upper half was definitely still toon, but her lower half was... Dinosaur. Definitely a dinosaur. Just... Bones of one. She walked like a t-rex, her long boney tail swaying with her, her head gently resting against Vee's arm, her ribs making a scary rattling noise every time she moved. Shanon looked her up and down, then clapped her hands together.

"Allosaurus, a part of the theropod genus." Shanon stated, making Shelly immediately look at her. Tears soon welled up in her now red eyes, the fossil soon flopping right down beside her momma, licking her across the face while her tail pounded against the floor happily. Shanon just hugged her tight, letting her toon arms wrap around her in return.

"My precious Theropod baby~" She cooed, getting giggles from both Vee and Veronica as Gi soon was placed within the pile.

"M-m-my apologies f-for attacking you on sight." Vee stated as best she could, starting to have digital sweat form on her screen from over working herself. Vee generally just looked exhausted now, her screen flickering off and on like it would on low battery, her eyes slowly half lidding as she hunched forward a little bit. Gi just nodded in understanding, using a medkit to patch up the cut on their arm. Vee nodded in return, then slowly laid down, putting her monitor on Veronica's lap. Veronica gently stroked her head, watching as the formerly tense robot slowly eased, letting herself relax for the first time in... God knows how long.

"I'm... So sorry... Mom..."

"I don't believe you did this to yourself, my dear." Veronica whispered, gently playing with one of her antennae. Vee huffed loudly, letting out so much tension, she nearly fell asleep.

"You can let yourself sleep, it's okay."

"No... It... H-hurts... So bad..."

"That's okay, we'll keep resting until you feel okay enough to sleep, it's okay now baby."

Veronica just twirled one of Vee's extended antennae around her finger, watching as the robot slowly nodded off despite being in so much obvious pain from... Missing a whole ass midsection. Shelly whimpered, nuzzling her a little bit, making Vee open her eyes again.

"'m alive..." She murmured, getting a dinosaur kiss across her face in return, so Vee closed her eyes again. Veronica just kept giving her baby love as she finally dozed off, though she did stop for a moment when Vee moved, but when she just folded her arms and used them as a pillow, she went right back to petting her. Shanon was spoiling the hell out of Shelly too, praising her as she gave her lots of hugs and pets, while Gi just watched silently. Gi didn't understand what was going on, why the two were so docile, why Vee finally was talking, why Shelly was purring and cooing instead of growling and showing her teeth. She just didn't get it...

"What kind of spell did you two put on them to be so... Actually calm?" Gi asked, making the two pause mid spoiling before looking at each other.

"Motherly love, I guess is the best way to explain it." Shanon stated after a moment, getting a nod from the still very happy dinosaur. Vee snored, burying her face in her own arms, Veronica just laughed a little at that.

"Lots of love and patience when they were little toons, I didn't expect them to get this big though. I swore they should've been around the same size..."

"Oh that would uh, be the thing I can't explain I mentioned earlier, the black stuff that's on them is ichor - it usually makes them change a bit, then turn incredibly aggressive and kill on sight. I don't know how or why, but uh... That's why I was so worried about you two staying so close. I never thought I'd see them act like... Themselves again... Wait does this mean I can get an autograph, Shelly??" Gi asked, pulling out a notebook and pen. Shelly, shocked that someone she just met remembered her, immediately nodded quickly while crying, giving Gi the prettiest autograph she could muster and even a little doodle of a brachiosaurus beside it. Gi squealed from delight, holding up the autographed notebook like it was the most beautiful trophy in the world.

"I WIN!! I EVEN GOT A DOODLE!!!"

"Veronica can we please keep the silly gachapon-?" Shanon immediately asked, watching as Gi got coated in dinosaur kisses.

"Fine... Because Shelly accepts them." Veronica muttered, patting Vee's back a little. Another loud snore came out of her. Shelly just picked up Gi by the hood of her oversized hoodie before flinging her onto her back, then the two were off on a dinosaur run. Gi was laughing hysterically from joy, Shelly honestly just looking for a drink.

"Should I... Go make sure those two are okay?" Shanon asked, getting some sleepy mumbles from Vee in her sleep that sounded like "Dandy fuck off or I'll smack you with a weed whacker", while Veronica nodded.

"That's probably for the best-" Veronica replied, trying desperately not to laugh at whatever Vee was going on about. Vee muttered "vroom vroom", Veronica soon was dying from laughter. Vee was weird.

Shelly wasn't much different, as she now held a different twisted hostage - Teagan. The teacup was out cold, a bruise on her head. Shelly was holding her up and sipping out of her cup as elegantly as possible, Gi watching with great interest.

"So you really just wanted me to knock her out for her sweet tea, didn't you? I'm sure she would've accepted you having a little if you just asked..." Gi told her, but Shelly didn't listen, she just kept lapping up the tea like a dog now that her sips weren't working. Shanon blinked a few times at the sight of it, not sure if she should be confused, worried or humored by it.

"I... I'm guessing we're going to need some really large water bowls in our kitchen..." Shanon stated, and Gi nodded.

"Oh most definitely. I don't think Vee would even stop her from doing this, she just casually started drinking from her like she wasn't a toon." Gi explained, petting Shelly's head gently as the dinosaur lapped up her drink, then gently set Teagan down. Just for the woman to faceplant soon afterwards because she was unconscious. Shelly covered her mouth with both hands and gasped, obviously ashamed that just happened, while Gi just shrugged it off.

"You tried girly, you tried. You did a good job. Wanna go home now, you sweet cinnamon roll?" Gi asked, and Shelly just picked up Shanon with her toon arms and went right back to the blanket nest. She just set Shanon on her feet, then laid down so Gi could get off, then gently nuzzled Vee again. Vee muttered some more nonsense as she put a hand on Shelly's face. Shelly nuzzled her again, Vee waking up this time.

"What..?"

"Mom... Home..." Shelly managed to mutter.

"Moms wanna go home? Alright... Can I ride your back honey..? I don't think I can walk..." Vee mumbled, and Shelly nodded, so the robot slowly climbed onto her wife's back and put her chin on the top of her fossil's head, Shelly soon getting up and the robot clung to her koala style.

"Thanks Shells..." She murmured before she dozed right off again. The two humans just stared at the now over six foot tall duo, then looked at Gi.

"We're gonna have to commit more than just two felonies to get them home."

"Having people ride in the back of a truck isn't a felony, it's perfectly legal as long as we take the back roads home!" Shanon pointed out, making Veronica raise an eyebrow at her.

"I used to ride in the back of my dad's pickup all the time as a kid, we lived in a farmers town." Shanon explained, gently picking up their new little gachapon before leading the way back to the elevator. Veronica silently followed, well until Shelly picked her up, then she was just silently held hostage and smothered in dinosaur kisses as the fossil followed her other mom into the elevator. The kisses and tail wags didn't stop, not even after they somehow squeezed the two through the human sized exit door, not until Shelly had to put her down did they stop. Veronica was now coated in dinosaur slobber and love, and she honestly didn't care, she was laughing hysterically at what they've done.

"I cannot believe we actually went along with our dumb plan-"

"I can't believe you actually were right about grabbing the truck, I mean, if those two stay laying and Shelly pretends to be asleep, they'd think we just have models in the back and nobody would say a thing!" Shanon pointed out, making Veronica laugh even more.

"You're a genius, Shanon!"

"No I'm a paleontologist-"

"GET IN THE DAMN CAR OR I'M GOING TO THROW UP FROM LAUGHING TOO HARD-"

"I love you too, Veri~"

Shanon gave her dying from laughter wife a quick kiss before she ran into the truck, deciding to drive back home since Veronica was absolutely not calming down enough to do so anytime soon. Gi was placed in the back seat, though while they were waiting for Veronica to calm down so she didn't barf, they were leaning between the front seats and looking at everything.

"So that button in the middle makes a loud scary noise and we don't touch it?"

"Yup, that's the horn, if we touch it, Vee's gonna wake up and kill us both."

"What if I wanna die from the second coolest toon though?" Gi inquired, making Shanon snort.

"We're not trying that, don't touch it." Shanon stated, so Gi nodded and went back to their seat as Veronica got in.

"Ready to figure out how we're getting the dinosaur to fit?"

"The back sliding doors, duh. Vee can fit in the front, Gi... She's the size of a kid she'll fit anywhere."

"I use she/they by the way." Gi randomly mentioned.

"Both she/her, we're also married. Now buckle up, kid!" Shanon stated, starting the very very uneventful drive home afterwards. Seriously, nothing much happened, Veronica and Shanon just laughing to their dumb jokes and having fun. When they were home, they snuck Shelly in through the back, and soon they were all in the living room together. Shelly immediately started making them a blanket nest, using the pillows from the couch and the spare blanket they had in a box for guests to use if they get cold. Veronica immediately ran off and grabbed the big box of blankets from their closet, Shanon grabbing the box of pillows, Gi somehow finding out how to use the remote and turning on the TV in the living room to one of Shanon's favorite dinosaur documentaries. Within 20 minutes, the two massive toons were fast asleep in each other's arms, holding on tight to the other as they rested in the massive pile of coziness, the two being draped in all the heated blankets they had - which was only four, but it was just enough to cover them. Shanon and Veronica cuddled on the couch, now in mismatched pajamas and coated in their own fluffy blanket, Gi passed out between them, gripping Veronica's shirt tightly in her little tiny toon hands.

"We're so not regretting this, aren't we? She really really likes you~" Shanon teased, getting a kiss on the nose from the sleepy human snug beside her.

"No, we're not regretting a single thing." Veronica sleepily replied, yawning. Then she paused.

"How are we going to feed Shelly though-"

"Awh shit I didn't think about that one-"

"It's fine we'll figure it tomorrow, goodnight Shanon."

"Goodnight Veronica."

[robidentevil]

₊𝜗my spot𝜚˚

collegestudent!leon kennedy x fem!reader

- fluff and some swearing -

—————————

hope you enjoy this because i couldn’t get any sleep last night so i’ve been up writing this.. i felt super productive so here we are.. word count isn’t that much..! but chapter 3 will be way longer trust… so it might take a few days..

chapter 2

---

Something felt off the moment you stepped inside.

Maybe it was the lighting—colder than usual, tinged with a sickly gray that made everything feel just a little off. Maybe it was the way the air clung to your skin, damp and still, like the whole building was holding its breath. Or maybe, just maybe, it was him.
Already there.
Settled into your seat like he owned it.
Like he knew you’d show.

You didn’t say anything. Just sat across from him and opened your laptop, pretending not to notice how the silence stretched, pulling thinner and thinner by the second.

You didn’t even realize the flurry had started outside. Didn’t catch the flickering lights, the way students began to shuffle out in twos and threes. You were too focused. You had to win this. Get that seat back. Reclaim your pride.
One smug look from him and you were ready to rewrite your entire academic career just to spite him.

And then—

BEEP. BEEP.

Your phone lit up, buzzing like it had something personal against you.

Emergency Weather Alert: BLIZZARD WARNING. CAMPUS LOCKDOWN IN EFFECT.

Perfect.

You looked up slowly. He didn’t even flinch—just kept scrolling, perfectly calm, like this was a normal Tuesday.

You were halfway to the door when you realized it wouldn’t budge. You tugged again. Nothing. You turned to the librarian at the front desk, who didn’t seem remotely phased.

“Sorry, dear,” she said, far too chipper, flipping a laminated sign with practiced ease.
LOCKDOWN IN EFFECT: DOORS SEALED UNTIL MORNING.

You blinked. “You’ve got to be kidding me.”

Outside, the snow was already halfway up the door. You turned around like maybe, just maybe, the universe would show you some mercy.

Nope. There he was. Still in your seat. Still smirking.

You dragged yourself back to your chair—your former chair—facing him like you were about to start a duel.

This time, he looked up. Clocked your expression. And smiled.

“Something wrong?”

Oh, fantastic.

You tried to stay composed, but your mouth decided otherwise.

“Could you get any more fucking annoying?”

His smile widened. The bastard looked delighted. You blinked at him. Was this his thing? Did he enjoy being screamed at? what a sicko.

You pulled out your phone and tried calling Jill.
No signal. Of course.

“No signal. Cool. Love that for me.”

“You’ll survive,” he said without looking up.

You glared. “You sure about that?”

He raised an eyebrow. “...Not really.”

You both lapsed into silence. An hour ticked by. The air was stuffy. Your stomach growled so loud it felt like betrayal.

He unzipped his bag and pulled out a protein bar.

You eyed it. “Seriously? That’s all you brought?”

He shrugged. “What, you want half?”

You stared at the wrapper. For a second, you considered it. Then decided to stand your ground .
“I’d rather eat the table.”

“Your loss.”

He took a bite, then closed his laptop and leaned back like he owned the room. Again.

“You always this talkative?”

“Only when I’m trying not to commit a felony.”

He tilted his head, mildly impressed. “Romantic.”

You kicked his shin under the table. “Shut up.”

“Hey—don’t attack me. I’m delicate.”

You snorted. You actually snorted.

And he grinned like he’d won something.

Another hour passed. The wind outside slapped against the windows like it had a personal grudge. You sat, curled into your hoodie, half-asleep, half-annoyed.

“You sure this place won’t collapse?” you asked.

He didn’t look up. “If it does, at least I’ll die in your seat. Full circle.”

You rolled your eyes so hard it gave you a headache.

But then, just as the quiet was starting to settle, he spoke again.

“You know, you could just admit it.”

You blinked at him. “Admit what?”

“That you like sitting across from me.”

You stared, deadpan. “Keep your friends close and your enemies closer.”

He smirked. “So which one am I?”

You studied him. “Aren’t you a curious thing.”

He leaned forward, squinting at your notebook. “Is that a word or a summoning circle?”

You didn’t miss a beat. “Guess I’ve been summoning you by accident.”

He looked far too pleased with himself, leaning back like he owned the air in the room now, too.

Eventually, he finished his granola bar and crumpled it like he was putting on a whole show.

“Nice of you to offer me one,” you muttered.

“I thought you were gonna eat the table.”

“Maybe I was waiting for a better flavor.”

He shrugged. “Then maybe you should’ve brought your own.”

You hated that he was kind of right. And worse, kind of smug about it.

Then, mercifully, the intercom crackled to life.

“The campus lockdown has now been lifted. Students may exit the building at this time. Please proceed with caution.”

You nearly sobbed. Your bag suddenly felt twenty pounds lighter.

The door that had been frozen shut was now cracked open, the hallway beyond blanketed in eerie, muffled white. Cold air rushed in and hit your face like a slap.
You stepped out, boots crunching against the fresh snow, breathing in freedom for the first time in hours.

You made it to your dorm in silence. Dropped everything. Collapsed into bed. Didn’t even bother to change.
You weren’t sure if you’d hallucinated half of that or if you were just losing it.

But the next morning made one thing very clear:
The universe wasn’t done with you yet.

You shuffled into your lecture hall, brain half-asleep, coffee untouched. You scanned for a seat—

And froze.

There he was. Hoodie up. Headphones in. Backpack flopped lazily beside him.
Three rows down. Same exact posture.
Like the blizzard never happened. Like he was summoned.

You sat a few rows back. No way were you giving him the satisfaction.

But he turned around.
Like he knew.
Like he felt you.

And of course—he smirked.
And winked.

You blinked. Did… did he just wink?

You looked away fast, but not fast enough to stop your stomach from fluttering.

why was it even fluttering?!

What was he, a curse? Some kind of walking karmic punishment?

Had you wronged him in a past life?

If so, you were pretty sure he deserved it.

previous chapter - next chapter

[autisticlenaluthor]

“I’m just so tired,” Lena cries, leaning forward, and pressing her heating pad further into her stomach. “I don’t want to live like this anymore.”

She inhales deeply and releases the breath back through her mouth. It’s an instinct now– breathe through the pain, slow and steady. Steady and calm. Calm and consistent. Breathe so she won’t pass out, so her heart rate won’t continue to rise, so she won’t spiral even harder the next time the knife digs into her side and expands so far she thinks it might make the entire organ pop. 

“I don’t want to be sick. I don’t want to keep doing this.”

She sniffs and squeezes her eyes shut. Hot tears trail down her cheeks as her nose begins to run. The heating pad is making her sweat now too. It’s damp around her shoulders and inside her armpits. Her back is sticky and so are the undersides of her knees. But if she takes her sweatshirt off, she’ll start to shiver, even with the heat cranked up. 

So she pulls her arms around her and tries to ignore the wet spots on her back because somehow, she’s still freezing. And when she opens her eyes again, she looks at Kara, as if somehow, Kara could fix things. But all Kara does is return the same regretful glance. 

“I’m sorry,” she says– like she had any say in this. “I’m so sorry. You don’t deserve this.” 

Lena nods and bites down on the inside of her mouth. She hugs herself around the heating pad and presses it in so deep it burns. 

She used to think it was true– nobody could deserve to live like this. It was a cruel fate to watch your body rip down its tendons like wallpaper, peel apart its muscles like expired fruit, and chip away at its bones. Lena had felt every last aggression and with each attempt to fight back– to savor the life she knew, was met with more anger.

 Accusations over anxiety diagnoses and trauma, as if she’d committed a felony for having emotional pain too. Speculations over her weight, her age, and her family. It didn’t matter that one day, the vessel she was living in decided to tear itself apart while she was still stuck inside. All that mattered was that her symptoms, her personality, and her past, weren’t convenient enough to be taken into consideration. 

Lena knew that kind of treatment wasn’t normal. She knew that at least, it shouldn’t be. And yet it was. So she rationalized it. She told herself that maybe she did something terrible in a past life. Something eons worse than anything Lex Luthor ever did, and this was her punishment. She told herself whatever vague, obscure story she could come up with in the moment because pain like this shouldn’t be allowed to exist without a reason. She’d tear down everything she’d ever believed in– destroy the fundamentals of science and existence and everything else she’s put a lifetime of faith in because she needs to keep herself on this Earth and if she doesn’t have a reason, she isn’t sure she can continue to stay. 

“What can I do?” Kara asks her. “How can I make this better?”

Wordlessly, Lena shakes her head. Another wave is hitting her. It’s sharper and stronger than the last one, and God, she feels like she could puke. 

“Just…”

Sit with me, she wants to say. Hold me.

“I don’t know.”

Kara looks at her with an expression like Lena just shot a baby deer and somehow, Lena manages to start hating herself even harder.

She hates herself for not being able to cope after years of being sick. She hates herself for still feeling the pain as deeply as she did when it first came on. Hates herself for not getting better like she was supposed to. 

“I’m sorry,” she murmurs– the words are the only thing she believes in right now. “Kara… I’m so sorry.”

“It’s okay.”

Kara grabs one of the blue bags from Lena’s nightstand and unfolds it. Without a word, she moves behind Lena and sits so she can rest between her legs.

“Just breathe,” she says. “It’s okay.”

Lena does as she’s told and tries to focus on her uneven breaths. She watches the way Kara loosely wraps her arms around her stomach, where the heating pad is, and squeezes her thigh. 

“Is this okay?”

Lena swallows and nods. Her brow furrows when the stabbing starts to grow again. Saliva fills her mouth. 

“Am I hurting you?” 

Lena shakes her head. 

“No, it just generally hurts,” she says. She gets the words out as quickly as she can before she needs to swallow again. 

Kara nods. She leans a bit closer and presses her front ever so slightly into Lena’s shivering spine. She lifts the bag just a bit so Lena won’t have to move if she needs it– something about the gesture only makes Lena cry harder. It overwhelms her so strongly the pain almost takes a backseat. She can feel the weight of Kara’s body hovering over hers, feel her breath on her neck, see her arm extending in front of her. The woman who’s always told her “I don’t do throw up,” is now waiting to catch her vomit. 

Lena almost wants to tell her she doesn’t have to stay– she doesn’t want Kara to be feeling shitty too. So she keeps quiet, not wanting to risk her leaving.

[thelawfulchaotic]

This is a summary of how court cases go. Partly inspired from posts about recent events that show me just how much the general public doesn't know about what happens after arrest and before prison (or acquittal).

Warning: Much of this is specific to my state. Not even just my country: my state! I've tried here and there to mention other ways things are done, but I have almost ten years of experience in this one and approximately zero in any other.

Part 1: How Cases Begin/"Investigation"

One question seems to come up a lot in true crime cases. That question is: why are the police so bad at this? Why didn't they canvass the scene? Why didn't they get witnesses? Why didn't they (insert incredibly basic investigative step here)?

Sorry to bust your bubble, but police rarely do any actual investigating. Cases most commonly begin in the following ways.

1: Case directly reported to police. There are several different types of this. The most common two are via 911 call and via citizen report (i.e., coming into the police station to report a crime). However, in recent years, we've seen the rise of automated reporting of certain crimes via social media companies, most famously with regards to child sex abuse material. The police will simply get a report that x IP address accessed/shared/downloaded Y image at Z time.

2: Traffic stop. The police saw a car committing a minor traffic violation (ran a red light, headlights out, failed to come to a complete stop at a stop sign, changed lanes without signalling, etc.) and they stopped it. They found a pretext or got "permission" to search the car from the driver (who likely did not really know they could refuse). Or they got a drug dog to run around the car. (Drug dogs are not nearly as accurate as people think they are; overwhelmingly drug dogs respond to the signals of their handler and not the presence of drugs. I can cite studies if requested.)

3: Narcotics investigation. This is a distant third, but worth mentioning because it's probably the most proactive that most police departments get on a regular basis. They will have undercover officers or informants do controlled buys of narcotics on video, meticulously documented before and after. They take a level of care with this type of investigation otherwise only really reserved for the most violent felonies.

This all isn't to say that cases can't come up any other way. Sometimes police departments really do just do long-term investigations of things. Mostly, I find, they spend so much time picking the low-hanging fruit (guy who had drugs on traffic stop, yelling drunk homeless person) that the more complex and complicated cases just get dropped.

—

What happens next?

Next, the police are supposed to investigate. Gather evidence? Talk to people?

This is going to be disappointing to many people as well, but police tend to do the absolute minimum necessary investigation to establish the case and get a conviction, then pass it over to the prosecution. This is even if there are leads and suspects they haven't cleared. They'll just leave that kind of thing out of the final report, unless the defense comes specifically nosing around.

Let me give a few specific examples.

Example 1: 911 call for assault and battery. Officers arrive to find that two brothers absolutely beat the ever-loving shit out of each other at grandma's funeral. Brother 2 has left. Brother 1 remains. The police talk to Brother 1, who has a broken nose. Brother 1 fully blames the aggression on Brother 2, claiming that Brother 2 attacked him unprovoked and broke his nose. Brother 2's wife backs him up. The police, having gotten two witnesses saying one version of events, bring a malicious wounding charge without ever having spoken to Brother 1. A different officer serves Brother 1's arrest warrant and does not interrogate him in any way.

This is not unusual. Once the officers have found enough to arrest one person, often the last thing they want to do is generate more work for themselves by then finding a reason the case isn't so simple and easy. That would mean they then have to talk to many more people, examine evidence, and make a decision as to who the "primary aggressor" was, which will require a judgment call. Meanwhile, their extra investigation has just made it easier for the defense to win at a trial later on, because now the defense has loads of helpful info. They helped the “bad guys” by doing their job better. Can y’all see why an officer wouldn’t even bother? Would just go on to the next easy case instead of staying late and tracking down another witness?

In my past assault and battery cases, it has been just about as common for officers to have spoken to both parties as it was for officers to have only spoken to one party.

Example 2: Reported Property Damage. Girlfriend walks into a police station and says "my boyfriend broke my phone." (In my jurisdiction, a person can just walk straight in front of a judge, swear that what they said was true, and the judge will issue an arrest warrant. This is not true in all jurisdictions and is in fact completely fucking buck wild.) Police ask her a couple questions, look at the phone, bring a warrant, it's done. Maybe they call the boyfriend and ask him what happened. This is most likely the extent of the investigation.

You notice both of these are incredibly low-effort cases that result in easy arrests and immediate prosecutions. Wow, could that help an officer’s statistics? Could it actually hurt his stats if he takes longer and does a better job?

–

Okay, what happens now? The police have a suspect, they (in theory) know what happened.

Next, police seek an arrest warrant.

This involves going before a judge and swearing that there's probable cause to believe that their suspect committed their crime as alleged.

1: The Affidavit. There are very few rules for what they can and can't say in these affidavits to get their search warrants. Police officers can attest/swear to things that other police officers saw, because of "imputed knowledge." They can quote witnesses. They can decline to identify informants, as long as they say that their informant has a history of being reliable. (They do not have to provide any evidence of that history.)

They don't have to include all the facts. They don't have to include facts that contradict their version of events. They're not supposed to lie, but sometimes these affidavits are not provided to defense counsel and are sealed, so the defense can't even find out later what they said. And they can shop around for judges who are the most friendly. If one judge says "no," they can try another.

On top of that, all they have to show is "probable cause." Nobody is willing to put a percentage likelihood on "probable cause," but places tend to agree to things like: if there are four guys in a car and you find drugs where all four could reach it, you have probable cause for all four. It's not that you probably did it. It's more than a suspicion that you did it. In my experience, "probable cause" means that there's literally any reason to believe that this person might have actually done this thing.

2: No-Knock Warrants. The media has made a big deal these days of no-knock warrants and nighttime "warrant service." These are when the police bust into someone's house without announcing themselves, at night, in order to take everyone by surprise. This is horrendously dangerous! And yet, police seem to crave it. They get really, really mad when anyone tries to take it away.

My jurisdiction banned arrest warrants after dark, but didn't do the same for search warrants. Guess when all search warrants seem to get served? Goddamn midnight, that's when.

Furthermore, police seem to be able to request exceptions to the no-knock, daytime only rules. Recently, I saw a case where that exception was granted for the following reason: "drugs can be consumed or sold with great speed so might not be there in the morning." Okay, cool, if that's a good enough reason to dispense with the knock-in-the-daytime requirement for one case, that means that literally every other drug case qualifies for dispensing with that requirement too.

3: When to serve the warrant? After business hours on a Friday, obviously. That means that the person they arrest will be in holding over the whole weekend before getting to see a judge on Monday. That's like forty-eight extra hours of jail time, in which they won't have a lawyer, for police to visit them and try and pressure them into confessing, or just intimidate them into feeling like shit.

4: What happens when warrant is served? The suspect is arrested in whatever they were wearing, sometimes allowed to grab phone and wallet but sometimes not for reasons I can't even attempt to explain, they are driven to the jail, and they are processed in. They then wait until they can see a judicial officer to hear about the question of bond. But that's the subject of the next post!

See tomorrow for information on bail, bond, pretrial supervision, counsel at first appearance, and why it all matters. Edit: Bail and pretrial post here.

[the-penguin-of-baskervilles]

Chapter 27

Summary: Lloyd and Zach make a shocking discovery at Copper Ridge Quarry. Meanwhile, Princess commits a felony with Court Gentry and unmasks her stalker... kind of.

Author's Note: Thank you all for having so much patience while waiting for this chapter!

Word Count: 7,723

Masterlist

Warnings: Generalized violence, criminal behavior, kidnapping, police, bad language, 18+ content in this story, minors please do not interact.

The Princess & the Lawyer Chapter 27

Lloyd  Monday - 9:27 p.m. In the woods near Copper Ridge Quarry Fairfax County, VA

- - - - - - - - - - -

Seven years had passed since Lloyd last faced real danger. He'd forgotten the sudden surge of adrenaline, how it flooded and overwhelmed the senses. His grip tightened on the Glock. The familiar weight of the firearm was oddly comforting, despite the thundering of his heart in his ears. With moonlight obstructed by tree branches and his flashlight still off, visibility was minimal. The undergrowth snagged at his pant leg as he pushed through the suffocating darkness, following the faint sounds ahead. Twigs snapped and foliage rustled.

He could almost pinpoint the source of the noise. He was close.

Zach was somewhere to his right, but without light, the exact position was unknown. The broken branches, trampled vegetation, and the cacophony of noise told him they were on the trail of a human. Lloyd trusted Zach to have reached the same conclusion. Another snap - the sound of something breaking, followed by a gasp, guided Lloyd toward his target.

His white-knuckle grip on the Glock eased. It was too dark to shoot and risk friendly fire. The sounds were sufficient to lead Lloyd. He caught a glimpse of light filtering through a break in the canopy ahead, revealing a shadow fifteen feet ahead. He flicked on the safety and tucked the Glock into the back of his pants. Ducking under a low-hanging branch, Lloyd seized the momentary visibility to increase his speed.

Closing the distance took only three strides. There was a sudden movement, and Lloyd lunged, relying on a split-second glimpse to aim. He led with his shoulder, directing his weight low, aiming at hip level. These movements were more instinctive to him than reaching for the Glock that Zach had provided.

His arms wrapped tightly around the figure's thighs, and a scream pierced the air.

They crashed to the ground in a tangled heap, with Lloyd on top. The person clawed at his back, tearing at his jacket before finding purchase on his neck. Just before sharp nails could pierce his skin, the realization that the figure beneath him was female set in. Immediately, he loosened his grip. The woman took advantage of his lax grip and kicked him in the chest. She screamed again, her voice piercing.

"Hey!" Zach's voice echoed.

The harsh beam of a flashlight momentarily blinded Lloyd when Zach flipped it on.

"We're not here to hurt you," Zach said, softer.

Lloyd squinted against the light, spots dancing in his vision. He felt the woman panting beneath him, her damp, sweaty palms against his neck, mixing salt from perspiration into the scratches she'd left, stinging. When his vision cleared, the illumination revealed familiar features he hadn't expected to see in these woods.

"Laine Cruz. You're… Laine Cruz."

Her eyes darted from Zach to Lloyd at the sound of her name. "How do you know my name?" 

Lloyd rolled to the side, easing his weight off her. "You've been on the news every hour for the past three days."

Leaves crunched underfoot as Zach approached. He crouched down, lowering the flashlight. Laine recoiled.

Zach spread his hands, showing they were empty, including the one holding the flashlight. "Hey. It's okay. We're not here to hurt you."

"Then why did you chase me?"

"We thought you were someone else," Zach explained.

Laine inhaled sharply. "Who?"

"We thought we were chasing a trespasser," Lloyd replied. "What are you doing here?"

Laine sat up, bracing her arms behind herself as she surveyed her surroundings. The whites of her eyes flashed, and Lloyd could see sweat-dampened skin glistening in the flashlight's beam.

"Where, exactly, is here?"

"Copper Ridge Quarry," Lloyd said.

Laine's gaze swept the clearing, her eyes widening, her mouth tensing.

"We need to get out of here."

She scrambled to her feet, and Lloyd noticed blood staining her ripped jeans, still flowing from scratches on her legs.

"What's the rush?" Zach asked, his tone even.

"The man who kidnapped me. He was right behind me at first, and I thought I'd lost him, but then I heard him calling my name. Come on. You're not safe either. We need to keep moving."

A chill ran down Lloyd's spine. "You saw him?"

Laine nodded. "I saw his face."

"Can you describe what he looked like?” 

“I recognized him.” 

“You recognized him?" Zach parroted. 

"Yeah. I used to work with him. It was Shun Nguyen."

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

Princess  Monday - 9:45 p.m. Intersection of 14th Avenue & K-Street  Washington D.C 

Just leaving a note on the desk felt wrong, but with the midnight deadline, it was the only option. Earlier, on the walk to the car, your attempts to reach Lloyd had gone straight to voicemail. Zach's phone did the same. They were likely out of cell service range at Copper Ridge. Being unable to reach them made you twitchy. Guilt tugged at your conscience. What if they came back, saw the empty office, assumed the worst, and missed seeing the note? 

You should try Lloyd again.

"Relax," a quiet voice from the backseat interrupted your thoughts. Your gaze met Court Gentry's in the rearview mirror.

"Pretend it's any other night. You're just swinging by the office to grab a file."

He must have assumed your anxiety stemmed from the mission. It made sense. You were about to commit a felony, which should’ve taken precedence over your current fixation on getting in touch with Lloyd. However, all you could think about was the promise you’d made to him not to lie or keep secrets. How long ago was that? A week? Maybe ten days?

The stoplight turned green ahead, and you pulled through the intersection, weaving around concrete K-rails blocking off an underground construction site in the median. You turned left, onto the block where Bishop & Howard was located.

"Park at the meters up here," Court directed.

After paying the meter, he let you lead the way to the firm. 

Entering through the front doors felt weird - you usually arrived through the employee parking garage.

The guard at the front desk wasn't a familiar face. He looked to be about mid-twenties clean-shaven with a crew cut. You handed him your badge, per company policy for anyone entering or exiting after nine p.m., he inspected it before scanning the barcode to pull up your personnel file.  

"It says here that you're on temporary leave," he observed.

"I've been working from home."

The guard scrolled down, then grunted, acknowledging the notation.

"Purpose of your visit?" he asked.

"I need to review some files that can't be checked out."

"Alright," he responded, eyeing Court with suspicion.

Damn it. You had hoped to pass Court off as your guest and slide by on charm, but Crew Cut was not one to be swayed easily.

"He's with me," you said casually.

"I.D. badge, sir?" 

"He’s just started at Hightower Investigations. His badge hasn't arrived yet," you fibbed.

Crew Cut raised an eyebrow. "He's an employee of Zach's?"

"Yes."

His acceptance bolstered your confidence - until he reached for the phone. 

Please, please let Zach's cell still be out of service.

The guard frowned. "Straight to voicemail. That's unusual."

"He's on assignment right now," you explained.

"Did Zach file paperwork for his badge? I can process it tonight."

"I don't think so. You know Zach and paperwork. It's an ongoing saga."

The guard's suspicious gaze shifted to Court, and you realized that doing all the talking was probably a huge red flag. Maybe Court should be the one handling this conversation. However, considering that he has the same training as Lloyd and Zach, and they both gravitated toward brute force instead of subterfuge… Yeah, maybe not. This approach would have to work. Amid your internal war, the elevator chimed, diverting Crew Cut's attention. Bishop stepped into the lobby, briefcase in hand, engrossed in his cell phone. Relief flooded through you in a rush, as if you’d stood up too fast and your blood pressure couldn’t catch up.

If Bishop vouched for Court, the guard would have to relent. The guard seemed to have the same idea. 

"Mr. Bishop," he called.

Bishop looked up and smiled. "Evening, Morgan! Did you catch the Nationals game last night? Ah, Princess!"

His warm greeting to Crew Cut broke off when he saw you. At the sight of Court Gentry standing beside you, a split second of suspicion flitted across his face before smoothing out. The swoop of blood pressure you’d felt earlier surged again as three critical problems registered in your mind simultaneously.

One: you shouldn't be at the office. 

Two: it was very late

Three: Court Gentry was with you.

The last fact sent a shiver down your spine, because it related to a much larger issue. There was a 50/50 chance of Bishop recognizing Court. He had represented Lloyd in the kidnapping case, so it was plausible that he’d at least know Court’s name. You hoped Bishop only knew him by name because if he recognized his face, you were in a world of trouble.

"Hi, Bishop," you said, trying to project ease.

Bishop's eyes darted between you and Court, studying the blond man for a moment before tilting his head, his expression shifting to a cool, pleasant mask. Seeing that look made your palms sweat. You had seen the shark come out of this pleasant, affable man before, during jury trials where he tore into witnesses like a great ocean predator. 

"What brings you downtown at this hour, Princess?" he inquired, addressing you, but maintaining eye contact with Court.

You scrambled for an explanation.

"I needed to review some files in Lloyd's office," you replied.

Bishop's gaze lingered on Court before turning slowly to you. "Excellent. I'm glad you're making progress on the case. Who's your friend?"

Before you could respond, Bishop stepped around you, extending his hand to Court.

"I'm Clayton Bishop. Who are you?"

Court smiled and returned the handshake smoothly. "David Parker. Pleasure to meet you."

"What brings you in tonight, Mr. Parker?" Bishop asked.

Court's expression remained friendly and calm. "Just accompanying Princess. I've just started at Zach's, and she’s been kind enough to show me around town."

Bishop nodded, his shoulders relaxing, though the cool, pleasant expression persisted. You knew the visible relaxation was a facade, meant to give a false sense of security before the actual test began. 

"How do you know Mr. Hightower?" Bishop asked.

"We served together," Court replied without hesitation.

A wave of relief washed over you; it was an excellent answer. 

Bishop nodded, his eyes flickering. "You were in the Rangers together."

Court shook his head. "SEALs, actually. We met during BUD/S.” 

“Virginia?” 

 “No, Coronado."

"You don't look old enough to have been in the same training group. Remind me, what year did you two graduate?"

"‘02, sir."

Bishop snapped his fingers. “Ah, yes, I remember now - must’ve been a senior moment. Anyway, I won’t keep you. Morgan? Get Mr. Parker a visitor pass. We’ll sort the paperwork out later. Good night, Princess. Don't work too hard."

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

Lloyd Monday - 11:24 p.m.  The Harmony Police Station  Harmony, VA 

The fluorescent lights of the police station bounced off the bleach-white walls, assaulting Lloyd's retinas as he navigated the hallways, scanning the acrylic placards posted outside the offices for Roth's name. When he finally located the office tucked away in the back corner, he noticed the door partially ajar, affording a view of Roth reclined in his chair, engrossed in a file. Lloyd knocked to announce his presence.

"Come in," Roth replied, without glancing up.

Lloyd raised an eyebrow at the curt response. After all, he’d just located Roth's missing person a couple hours ago. Taking a seat in the stiff plastic guest chair, Lloyd crossed his legs, slipping his hands into his pockets.

"We need to talk," Roth declared, tossing the file onto his desk. He removed his glasses and spun them by the earpiece as he regarded Lloyd. Something prickly lurked in his pale eyes.

“You seem grumpy for someone who just scored a major win,” Lloyd said when the silence became uncomfortable.

"Do I?"

"Laine Cruz is safe in the hospital and has turned out to be a key witness. That's actually two wins, if we're counting.” 

Roth's thin lips twisted sarcastically. "Right."

"Is there something I'm missing here?" Lloyd asked.

"Let me give you a hint: I received reports from the uniforms at the Copper Ridge scene twenty minutes ago and followed up on their leads."

Lloyd waited, but Roth didn't offer any further explanation. "I suppose none of those reports mentioned finding my phone?"

"I don't care about you losing your phone," Roth said.

"Then get to the point because I'm getting bored."

"Here's a hint. The bulletin I issued for Nguyen came back within five minutes."

Lloyd's stomach sank - then, in the next moment, his blood boiled.

"Does the name Detective Diskant ring a bell?" Roth asked.

"It does."

“Would you care to enlighten me how the information he passed to earlier today about Shun Nguyen didn’t reach my desk until…” Roth glanced at his watch, "eight hours later."

“Information he shared with Princess,” Lloyd corrected. “She told me an hour later. And remember, that information was only discovered because Diskant found it while investigating her stalker, which is a separate case from yours.”

“Nguyen was the number one suspect in Princess’ case. Funny that he’s back to the top of my suspect list, too. Ever heard of sharing information, Hansen? I feel like it’s a matter we’ve been over before… Can’t remember why…”

“We were handling Princess’ case discreetly. Given the sensitivity of the subject and the multitude of suspects, including yourself, we opted for a closed-loop approach. Until recently, Nguyen wasn't even on our radar. As you're likely aware from your conversation with Diskant, he's been cleared of any involvement."

"You knew he was in the area but didn’t bother picking up the phone. That hampered my progress. I expected better.”

"I had my reasons for playing it close to the vest," Lloyd snapped.

"Passing along Nguyen's whereabouts without mentioning the stalking case wasn't an option, huh?"

"Look, Princess met with Diskant this afternoon. She informed me of the new information around seven o’clock, just before Zach and I went to check out Copper Ridge."

"And she didn't see fit to share this information with me because…?"

Lloyd's lips pressed into a thin line. "She was upset that the case had hit a wall. Trust me, talking to you was the last thing on her mind."

"Fair enough."

"You know, the last time we had this debate, the roles were reversed."

"I have a badge and a mandate from the taxpayers. You're a tagalong, at best."

"And dead weight at worst," Lloyd quipped.

"Your words, not mine. Tell me about finding Ms. Cruz."

"She’d escaped and was running through the woods. Zach and I heard the noise while hiking around the perimeter of Copper Ridge Quarry. We out flanked her and I tackled her, which is why he accompanied her to the hospital, and I'm here."

"Tate Corbin's comments about acid took you out there," Roth said. "You interviewed him this morning?"

"Yeah. Burned through my last real suspect, too."

Roth sighed, twirling his glasses before folding them neatly and leaning forward, resting his elbows on the desk.

"Tell me about it. Leo McKenzie's alibis have held up, and Tate Corbin's whereabouts are confirmed from every angle."

"Nguyen is the last viable suspect," Lloyd said.

"Any thoughts on that?" Roth asked, running his hand over his head.

"If I hadn't heard it directly from Laine, I wouldn't believe it. Princess spent a good two hours dissecting all the holes in the case against him this evening. All the points she made still hold. Nguyen wasn't part of the narrative until 2000."

"And there were two murders before he moved to town."

"Logic versus an eyewitness," Lloyd said.

"Disputing a victim's account isn't very logical."

"Eyewitnesses are notoriously unreliable."

Roth sighed. "True. Any chance she could be wrong? Wasn’t it dark? How certain is she about what she saw?"

"It was dark, but she was certain of his identity. She named him with no prompting."

"And provided his full name?"

Lloyd nodded. “She volunteered at the hospital in high school. The same years when Nguyen was a resident - 2000 and 2001.”

Roth twisted his head from side to side, cracking his neck. "Damn it. What the hell is going on here?"

"The trail leads back to the only suspect who logically couldn't have done it."

"Not according to Clayton Bishop. He used every trick in the book to convince a jury Nguyen was guilty. That's unlike him."

Lloyd raised an eyebrow. "How would you know what's usual for Bishop?" 

"His track record in court speaks for itself. He's meticulous, deliberate, doesn't take risks, doesn't overlook details. There's only one exception to that rule: the Nguyen case. That's the only time he played dirty - so to speak."

"Are you implying he knows something we don't?" Lloyd asked.

"Does he?"

"No. He had a strong hunch about Nguyen, but that's all there is to it."

"Because the murders ceased after his arrest," Roth said.

"It's a post hoc fallacy, but the longer this drags on, the more appealing it becomes."

"The abductions started when he returned."

Lloyd frowned. "Shit. You're right."

"We could prosecute him based on eyewitness testimony, but there are a dozen gaping holes in the case. You know it, I know it… and unfortunately, Peter Shaw knows it too."

"I don’t want to think about Shaw right now. He’ll be turning up soon enough. Do you believe her? Was Nguyen really chasing her, or is someone messing with us?"

Roth grunted. "I've been considering that since the missing person’s report. I didn't even believe Nguyen was in the state until I received the photos from Diskant."

"And?"

"I'm still not ready to abandon other possibilities."

"Do we have any other leads to pursue?" Lloyd asked.

Roth rolled back in his chair, disappearing under his desk momentarily before reemerging with three tan cardboard file boxes, slamming them onto the tabletop one by one. Lloyd stared at them, then at the detective.

"Princess can build databases, which has been immensely helpful, despite my initial doubts. But not everything gets scanned into a computer."

"What are these?"

"Arrest records spanning thirty years for the Copper Ridge area. Hunting licenses, reports from the Wildlife Department on poaching, and much more. Everything I could get my hands on."

A surge of hope propelled Lloyd to the edge of his seat. "You think there's anything here linking Nguyen to the crime scene?"

"Assuming Ms. Cruz identified the correct person, we need to find evidence. And if she was mistaken… Well, the location alone gives us something, doesn't it?"

"If you want another pair of hands-"

Roth handed Lloyd a box before he could finish, gesturing to a table in the corner. "Make yourself comfortable. I spoke to the hospital. We have an hour before Laine is available for questioning."

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

Princess  Monday - 10:12 p.m.  Sixth floor of Bishop & Howard - Patent Office  Washington, D.C. 

The sight of the steel-plated door guarding the patent department loomed ominously, threatening to send you spiraling into a panic. Despite occasional visits to the sixth floor, you'd never scrutinized its entrance up close until now. What had seemed innocuous from afar now appeared formidable; the department's door resembled something sourced from a nuclear bunker.

Court Gentry seemed oblivious to your unease. You opened your mouth to inquire if he had smuggled in a diamond-tipped drill bit when he pulled out his phone, scanned the wall to your left, and punctured it with a pocket knife. You gasped.

"Keep it down. A guard rotates through here every half-hour," Court said, continuing to dig out a section of drywall with his knife.

"You stabbed a wall! What the hell?!" 

"The mechanisms controlling the locks are routed through shielded cables inside the wall. They’re unhackable, but nothing protects them from physical splicing."

He withdrew the tool from the wall, revealing it to be a small, handheld oscillating device rather than a pocket knife as you’d initially assumed. You stepped back, nervously scanning your surroundings as Court manipulated the keypad and biometric scanner. A buzzer sounded, and you jumped as the door swung open. Court smirked, catching the handle and holding it open.

“Ladies first.”

You stepped through as Court disconnected his phone from the wires in the wall. 

"Not to state the obvious, but what if someone notices the softball-sized hole in the wall?"

Court smirked. He produced an orange and green package, easily recognizable as a construction-grade temporary drywall patch. You’d seen similar ones in your father's work truck. Peeling off the adhesive backing, he fixed it over the hole. The stark white patch stood out in glaring contrast to the soft cream color of the wall.

"That actually made it worse," you said.

"I'm not finished yet."

He reached into the inside pocket of his jacket and retrieved a cloth-wrapped object. Unwrapping it, he held up a plain interior signage commonly posted around the office. The hard plastic sign depicted a wheelchair with an arrow pointing left, accompanied by the words "accessible route" in all capital letters. Court returned the oscillating tool to his jacket and used his pocket knife to secure the sign to the wall, effectively covering the hole and the patch, with room to spare.

You didn't want to be impressed, but you were.

The patent department was dimly lit. After nine o'clock, the overhead lights automatically switched off, leaving only the middle bar of every third panel illuminated. The faint scent of stale coffee lingered in the air, like someone had forgotten a half-empty mug left on their desk. Thin carpet muffled your footsteps as you followed Court down the aisle of cubicles. The space was larger than you had expected. While Court discreetly placed a couple of spy cameras, you counted the cubicles. There were sixteen.

"Come here. I need your badge," Court called out, drawing your attention.

Lost in distraction, you hadn't noticed that he’d crossed the room. To reach him, you had to maneuver through the U-shaped path of cubicles to the corner of the room, the one furthest from the entrance. Along the far wall there were actual offices, secured with locked white oak doors and interior windows granting a view over the cubicles presumably assigned to managers.

On the door to the last office sat a fancy-looking keypad and badge scanner. You eyed it warily, then turned to Court.

"Go on," he said when you hesitated.

"With what?"

"Scan your badge."

"Are you insane? I don't have access in this department!"

"Your badge will work," Court assured.

"What if it doesn't? What if an alarm goes off?!"

He sighed and held out his hand. "Give it to me. I'll scan it."

"How would it work on this door? I don't even work in this department, and I—"

Suddenly, he pressed a finger to his lips, his eyes narrowing. You instantly fell silent, feeling the hair on the back of your neck prickle. Court’s gaze darted to the door. Hinges creaked from the other side of the room and Court grabbed your wrist, pulling you down.

"Quiet," he hissed, barely audible even though his face was inches away from yours.

A beam of light sliced through the dimness as the patent department door swung open. You shivered at the sudden visibility. Footsteps shuffled over the carpet, signaling the arrival of an interloper. Your heart pounded against your ribs, each beat thundering in your ears. Dryness filled your mouth, like a physical echo of the worst hangover you'd ever experienced.

The footsteps halted, followed by the sound of metal scraping against metal  — you recognized the sound as a desk drawer being pulled open — followed by the rustling of papers. A sigh came from the other side of the cubicles. Court tightened his grip on your wrist, urging you to remain still. You peeked through a gap between the cubicle partitions, catching sight of a man with reddish-brown hair in a dark suit. He was standing in the aisle with his back to you. Court's warning grip tightened again, prompting you to shift to the left, ensuring you were out of sight if the man turned around.

Seconds stretched into minutes as you remained coiled like a spring, every rustle of your clothing deafening in the silence. Finally, the sound of a phone ringing pierced the air, accompanied by a triumphant exclamation from the man. Relief washed over you as you pieced together the clues, realizing he’d called his own phone to find it.

Muscles still tensed, you listened as the man's footsteps faded away. A shaft of light fell over the room as the door remained ajar longer this time, letting in brightness from the hall. You had the urge to peak again and locate the cause of the delay, Court's tight grip on your wrist dissuaded you from risking it.

"Hey, Gary!" the man's voice echoed down the hall. "Can you look at this keypad? It's not… uh, working… I think…"

Keys jangled, heavier footsteps approached, and you closed your eyes in horror. Court tugged your arm. You hesitated, but he pushed you forward, pointing to the entrance of a cubicle. The guard's steps grew nearer, and you struggled to keep your breathing steady. With every rustle, you expected to be discovered. Your hands trembled as you crawled under the cubicle desk. Court folding his larger frame into a surprisingly compact shape as he slid in beside you.

The crackle of a radio sounded closer this time. Court's breath remained steady beside you, contrasting the frantic beat of your heart. A moment of panic gripped you as the guard's voice echoed through the room, exchanging pleasantries with the man. They discussed the malfunctioning keypad.

Finally, the voices receded. 

Court released your wrist. Trembling with relief, you remained frozen until he spoke.

"They're gone now," he said, rising to his feet and extending a hand to help you up. You accepted, carefully brushing yourself to conceal your reaction.

Leading the way back to the door, Court gestured for your badge again. Without argument, you handed it over. He scanned it and the light turned green. He entered a code on the keypad, unlocking the door. You were too rattled to ask how he’d known the code.

"Sit tight, I'll only be a minute," Court said, disappearing into the office.

You obeyed, keeping one eye fixed on the entrance as you listened to Court typing. Glancing through the office window, you observed two computer stations. Court occupied the one closest to the door. When he eventually finished typing, he scribbled on a sticky note and posted it on the monitor of the adjacent computer station.

"There. Out of order," he announced. “Come on, all that’s left to do is wait.” 

After an internal debate, you followed him. Since Zach and Lloyd were out of cell phone range and Landon and Jake were still across town, staying with Court was probably your safest option. Anticipating Lloyd’s fury over your latest decisions, you decided it was also the most defensible course of action and trailed after him into the hallway.

“Let’s wait in Lloyd’s office. It’s more comfortable than mine.” 

“Lead the way,” Court said.

He followed you to the elevator bank. As you waited for the car to arrive, you slipped your hands into the pockets of your blazer to hide your still trembling hands. Really, the shaking made no sense. You’d engaged in far riskier activities with Lloyd over the past three years, but without him around your level of bravery dropped considerably. 

The elevator chimed its arrival, and you stepped inside with Court, leaning against the back railing beside him.

"You know, something Gentry?”

“Hmm?”

“You should really work on your communication skills. They suck.”

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

Lloyd  Tuesday - 12:28 a.m.  Emergency Department - Forest View Hospital  Harmony, VA 

Zach possessed a remarkable ability to settle the nerves of females in distress. He wasn’t cursed with the automatic reaction most men had when confronted with a crying woman. Most men vacillated between two reactions: at best, they responded to the sight with awkwardness and discomfort — at worst, they simply ran away. Zach on the other hand, shapeshifted into the personification of warmth and comfort. He thickened his Texas drawl as his voice took on a calming cadence and his movements became slow and steady. His serene presence had a profound effect on Laine Cruz.

Having witnessed this scenario unfold countless times, Lloyd stood in the corner of the curtained emergency room, hovering near the edge of the drapery, while Detective Roth conducted his interview. He watched as Zach interacted with Laine. She reached over without hesitation, slipping her hand in his, seeking reassurance. Zach’s fingers curled around her palm as he reciprocated by squeezing her hand. 

Lloyd lowered his gaze, but not in time to miss how Laine leaned slightly toward the blond man. Watching them made Lloyd’s guts churn. Envy gnawed at him as the bitter taste of his own emotional limitations lodged in his throat. There always seemed to be an insurmountable distance between himself and others; offering comfort was not a skill he possessed. Even with you, his abilities in that department were hit or miss. 

Roth proceeded with his routine questions, jotting notes on a pocket-sized pad, as Zach tenderly brushed Laine's hair back to reveal a bruise on her scalp.

Unable to tolerate it any longer, Lloyd slipped out of the room and followed a patient carrying the distinctive yellow discharge papers out into the lobby. The absence of his phone, a missing weight in his pocket, grated on his nerves. Outside, darkness enveloped the surroundings, with circles of light emanating from the faux-Victorian street lamps along the walk. 

Briefly, he considered crossing the street to purchase a burner phone at a convenience store, but knowing his temper was dancing on a thin ledge, he turned in the opposite direction. A winding path led Lloyd around the hospital to a garden adorned with a vine-covered pergola. Seeking refuge under its vines, he settled on the bench, letting the swirling storm of thoughts consume his mind. 

Laine's accusation against Nguyen should have settled things — it was a solid lead, from an eyewitness, something untainted by even a hint of dishonesty. So why didn’t he trust it? The timeline was a persistent challenge, the same one he’d initially focused on back in July when Bishop presented the case. Those first two murders didn't align with Nguyen’s movements and the geographical profile didn’t fit him at all. Something crucial was missing. There was a void in the puzzle and that mysterious space compelled Lloyd. He wanted to return to the police station and delve deeper into the files Roth had dug up. While McKenzie and Tate hadn't yielded results, they were just two of the most obvious suspects. 

To solve the case they’d need to turn everything over and look at everyone. The obvious suspects — and he included Nguyen in that category — hadn’t panned out. However, thanks to Laine’s indictment, all of law enforcement's resources would be spent tracking Nguyen down. 

What if he was wrong to dismiss Laine’s account so quickly? Perhaps Nguyen had done exactly as Bishop postulated and targeted Harmony at random to confuse the trail. He was the exception to rule, a killer who launched his campaign of terror far outside the bounds of his usual geographic range. The mathlete and chess team captain, who despite showing no inclinations towards the outdoors, or possessing any knowledge of Fairfax County’s remote trails, let alone the city of Fredericksburg, had navigated both locations well enough to create and dispose of not one but two dead bodies in June 1999. 

No. It didn’t make sense, and Laine’s claim didn’t sit right with Lloyd. Lost in contemplation, he remained concealed in the shadows of the pergola. Foot traffic past the garden area was minimal during the early morning hours, which suited Lloyd's mood. He stayed under the cover of the pergola’s shadow until the wind kicked up and snaked under the collar of his jacket, chilling his neck. Lloyd filled up his collar and stepped out of the garden, onto the sidewalk. At the sight of movement ahead, he stopped and ducked back into the shadows.

A figure in a black hooded sweatshirt stood by the side entrance. 

Its back was turned to Lloyd. From a distance, he couldn't discern the figure's gender but noted they were of average height. As the person in the black sweatshirt attempted a code on the keypad, Lloyd observed from a distance. Something felt off. The lock gave an angry buzz, rejecting the password and his suspicions solidified. He reached into his pocket, ready to call Detective Roth… but came up empty. Right. His phone was stuck in the woods.

After another couple attempts, the lock finally opened. The figure stepped inside.

Lloyd waited until the door began to close and darted out of the shadows, catching it before it fully shut. He waited a beat, letting the figure get a head start before he followed. Inside, he found himself in a hallway with laminate flooring designed to mimic wood and cream-colored walls. Proceeding cautiously, he passed by a conference room, a remarkably disorganized office, and at the end of the corridor, an on-call room with an unmade bed. This must be some sort of doctor’s area. Lloyd paused at the end of the hall, wondering which way to go.

There was a soft rattling sound. The noise guided him to the right. Around the next turn, he located a hooded figure attempting to unlock a door. Lloyd watched for a moment and waited for the person to feel his eye on him. Their situational awareness seemed to be lacking because the realization never came. He stepped around the corner. Still nothing. 

“Looks like you don’t have access to that room, pal.” 

The figure in the black sweatshirt froze. Without looking back, they darted to the left, attempting to flee. Lloyd caught up swiftly and grabbed them by the shoulder, twisting their arm behind their back. In a sharp motion, he pulled back the hood, revealing a familiar face.

"Nguyen."

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

Princess Monday - 11:42 p.m.  Office of Bishop & Howard, Fifth Floor  Washington, D.C.

Without Lloyd in it, his office felt cold. 

You rummaged through his closet, finding a navy knit quarter-zip sweatshirt to ward off the chill. Meanwhile, Court settled at Lloyd’s desk, using your work laptop to monitor the cameras he'd strategically placed in the patent department — providing views of the entrance, the path between cubicles, and the office door.

When he’d checked the cameras, he leaned back in the upholstered chair and folded his hands behind his head and studied you for an uncomfortably long moment. You sat on the sofa, legs folded underneath you, folding up the sleeves of the oversized sweatshirt.

“Is there something on my face?” 

Court’s eyes narrowed. “Are you in love with Lloyd?”

The direct question, delivered with such casual ease, caught you off guard. 

"Excuse me?" you responded, taken aback.

"Do you love him?" Court reiterated.

"Yes. He’s my best friend," you said.

"He’s more than that."

You frowned. "How do you know?"

"Like I said, I keep an eye on him. How long have you two been dating?"

"We’re not dating. I’m living with him because of my stalker."

Court nodded, acknowledging the situation. "I read the police report. Your ex won’t be a problem for you much longer."

"Aiden?"

"Mmmhh."

Court turned back to the laptop, seemingly to close off the conversation.

 "Care to elaborate on that?"

"I shouldn’t have mentioned it. Forget I said anything.”

"No. What do you know about Aiden?"

Court shifted almost imperceptibly. The thought of him being your stalker flitted across your mind, but you quickly dismissed it. Gentry wasn’t unstable enough to send the messages your stalker had, nor would he resort to such indirect tactics. That wasn't Court Gentry's style — from what Lloyd had said about him, he was the closest thing to a boy scout the CIA had ever produced.

"I know Aiden didn’t send those messages," you said, cautiously testing the waters.

Court’s eyes flickered from the laptop to your face and back again.

"He didn’t hack my computer either. That attack originated from inside the company."

"I doubt he’s your stalker, but he’s connected to the investigation," Court said.

"Who? Aiden? Or the person you’re investigating?" 

"Aiden.”

Your heartbeat quickened in your ears.

"He’s tried to break into my apartment twice. Do you know anything about that?"

"The spy has been in contact with Aiden, and I suspect there was coordination between them. I just don’t have proof of it," Court said.

"What do you have proof of?"

"I have proof that Aiden illegally shared information about government cybersecurity systems. Since that program protects the servers here at Bishop & Howard and he had a personal connection to the firm through you, well… one plus one equals two.”

“You got him fired because he was assisting the spy.”

Court shrugged, but a hint of a grin tilted the corner of his mouth. “Perhaps.”

"But I thought the spy had been transmitting to China for months. Why would he need Aiden?"

��They heightened the security on the patent department’s computers in June. In order to breach it, the spy had to crack the encryption.”

“Which Aiden provided. But why?”

"Money, obviously."

"Court, the only person Aiden talked to here at the firm was Zach."

"No. I already cleared Zach. There has to be someone else."

You frowned. "Aiden used to wait for me downstairs, in the lobby. We were working on this insurance case, pulling long hours. We'd usually meet up after I was done, around eight or nine, and go clubbing or grab a late dinner."

"He never associated with anyone else in the company?" Court asked.

"No, never."

"What about the hack on your laptop? Did Jensen manage to trace it?"

“The hack on my laptop?” 

“Yes.”

You frowned. "We traced it back to an IP address at B&H."

"What’s the IP address?" 

"Let me find it in my email. Jake sent it this afternoon..."

Searching through your emails on the laptop, you showed Court the message. He frowned.

“What?”

“Princess, this is the same IP address the spy transmitted from last week."

“I don’t understand.”

Court looked at you. “The hack came from the same computer the spy used. When did it occur?”

“Uh…”

His fingers flew over the keyboard, looking up the information in the report instead of waiting for your lagging brain to process.

“"Shit.”

“What?!” you demanded, leaning down to read over his shoulder.

“Not only did the hack on your computer come from the same computer that the spy used, it occurred just a few minutes after he finished transmitting.”

“You’re saying… that the spy… the spy is my stalker.”

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

Lloyd Tuesday - 1:47 a.m.  Medical Offices Annex, Forest View Hospital  Harmony, VA

“And what were you doing in the Medical Group offices?” the security guard demanded.

His questions grated on Lloyd’s already thin patience.

“I heard the cafeteria was handing out free samples, but I got lost on my way over,” Lloyd replied dryly.

“Is that a joke, sir?”

“It was sarcasm, actually.”

The guard hooked his fingers in his belt and frowned at Shun Nguyen as he lay on the floor, hands and feet tied up with oxygen tubing.

Then shifted his gaze to Lloyd and the resident physician beside him. The doctor was tall, nearly the same height as Lloyd, with icy blonde hair twisted into a messy top knot. She wore aviator style eye-glasses, and a rumpled Patagonia jacket.

“You witnessed this?” he asked her.

“Kind of. I swung by the offices after clocking out and found him fighting this guy,” she gestured to Nguyen.

“And then?”

“He asked for something to use as restraints, so I grabbed the oxygen tubing.”

“Which one of you tied him up?” the guard asked.

“We both did,” she replied.

“Do you know either of these men?”

“No.”

“Then how did you know which one was the intruder?” 

“Um… I…” 

The doors opened, and Lloyd sighed in relief at the sight of Detective Roth.

“Finally. Detective, could you arrest this guy?”

“Holy shit,” Zach interjected, moving around Roth to get a better view of the trussed-up hostage on the floor. “Is that oxygen tubing? Nice, very creative.”

Lloyd jerked a thumb at the resident. “It was her idea.”

Roth unfastened the cuffs from his belt and secured them to Nguyen’s wrists above the oxygen tubing.

“Shun Nguyen, you’re under arrest for the abduction of Laine Cruz.”

“Wait, you’re really arresting him?” the security guard asked incredulously.

“There’s a warrant out for his arrest,” Roth stated matter-of-factly.

“Do you know this guy?” the guard inquired, gesturing at Lloyd, who sighed.

“Mmmhh. Yeah. He’s with me.”

“See?” Lloyd said.

The guard crossed his arms. “I need to see some identification, sir.”

“No.”

Zach snickered, and the guard flushed. 

“Come on, people,” Roth said. “We need to get this guy out of here.” 

“Hold on!” The guard barked as the men headed for the exit. “I need your badge number for my report!”

Roth ignored the guard and steered Nguyen toward a patrol car that was parked by the curb. Two uniforms waited beside the vehicle. 

“Have your supervisor call my sergeant,” Roth suggested.

“Can you arrest him for interfering with an arrest?” Zach asked.

“You wanna do the paperwork?”

“Never mind.”

The guard followed them all the way to the police car, belligerent as ever. From the corner of his eye, Lloyd saw the doctor who’d assisted him in restraining Nguyen sneaking towards the parking lot. 

“Hey, wait up.” 

She paused. “What?”

“That office, the one Nguyen was breaking into. Do you know whose it was?”

“No one’s, really. It was a shared office, but since they renovated it’s been empty.”

“A shared office?” Lloyd asked.

“Yeah, for the supervising E.R. doc. Whoever was on shift could use it, since they didn’t have their own offices.”

“Thanks.”

- - - - - 

Nguyen was cooperative all the way to the police department, other than that he refused to talk. In the interrogation room, he only spoke to request water. No one could crack his stubborn silence.

“He won’t give us an alibi and he hasn’t asked for a phone call or a lawyer. We have to book him,” Roth sighed.

Lloyd looked at Zach. “Is there any chance that Laine was mistaken about who she saw?”

“She’s certain, but she only saw him in the woods outside the cabin. That’s not enough to prove that he’s kidnapped her, but it places him at the secondary crime scene.”

“Tertiary,” Roth corrected him. “The house where she was held is the secondary crime scene, and the cabin is tertiary.”

“I got a list of everyone who had offices at the Medical Group,” Lloyd said. 

“Names?” Roth asked, clicking his pen as he flipped open a new page on his notepad.

“There are seven doctors with offices in that hallway: Suraj Chadha, Miguel Catalan, Kennedy Knox, Elena Svenson, Nathan Thompson, Ethan Barnes, and Sofia Delgado.”

“Specialties?” Roth asked.

“Emergency medicine, trauma surgery, family medicine, and neurology.”

Zach cocked his head. “Neurology?”

“Space constraints. It’s temporary until they renovate the upper floors. The offices are mainly reserved for doctors working in the E.R.” 

“That’s the same configuration as when Nguyen was a resident there,” Roth said.

“Maybe he was looking for resources,” Zach suggested. “Did you find any connection between the doctors in that office and Nguyen?”

“No, nothing,” Lloyd replied.

“Bold of him to stage a break-in at his former place of employment,” Roth remarked.

Lloyd snorted. “Not really. I could’ve broken into any of those offices with the items I had in my pockets and the guards are hardly worth mentioning, let alone worrying about.”

“What if he came back to finish Laine off?” Zach said. “Did you post someone at her house?”

“There’s an officer outside, and her sister, who’s a cop up in Baltimore, is staying with her,” Roth said.

“We should look for other connections between Nguyen and anyone on staff at the hospital. Maybe none of the current doctors knew him but there’s plenty of other people who might. Nurses, techs, any of the other staff,” Lloyd suggested.

“Zach, you’re on that,” Roth declared. “Lloyd and I are searching the property records and anything else we can get our hands on, trying to identify the cabin where Laine was held.”

There was a knock on the door, before a uniformed officer poked his head inside.

“Excuse me, sir? Is there a Mr. Hansen in here?”

“That would be me.”

The officer stepped inside and offered him a plastic bag. “We found your phone, sir. It keeps ringing.”

On cue, the phone buzzed. 

Bishop’s name flashed on the screen. Lloyd fished out the device and answered, putting his boss on speaker phone so everyone could hear.

“Hey, Bishop. I take it you saw the news?” Lloyd said.

“News? What news?”

Bishop sounded out of breath.

Lloyd frowned. “That we found Laine Cruz.”

“Good. That’s good. I’m glad to hear…” Bishop cleared his throat. “Lloyd, something’s happened. You need to come to GW hospital.”

“What? Why?”

“It’s Princess. She was in an accident.”

The room suddenly felt cold as Lloyd’s breath froze in his chest.

“What? What happened? When?”

“I’m not sure, exactly. She was at the office earlier tonight with a man, uh… David Parker. He introduced himself as a colleague of Zach’s, but I was suspicious. I hung back and waited for her to leave-”

“Bishop! What happened?!”

“Princess was in a car accident. She drove head-on into some K-rails on 14th Street. I’m here with her now and... Lloyd... there’s something else.”

“Tell me, damn it!”

“She’d been shot in the head.”

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

Next - Part XXVIII

Masterlist

[live-from-flaturn]

Here's How Kim Theerapanyakul Qualifies as a Greek Tragic Hero:

I accidentally came up with this thesis statement while chatting with @shou-jpeg (as per usual) and they encouraged me to expand on it... so here's the outcome of my academic fandom ramblings!

From page 17 of “The Poetics of Aristotle”, as translated by S.H. Butcher:

1. A perfect tragedy should, as we have seen, be arranged not on the simple but on the complex plan. It should, moreover, imitate actions which excite pity and fear, this being the distinctive mark of tragic imitation. It follows plainly… that the change of fortune presented must not be the spectacle of a virtuous man brought from prosperity to adversity: for this moves neither pity nor fear; it merely shocks us.

Layman's Translation: The perfect tragedy is complicated. No matter what story is used, the main emotional payout should be pity and fear for the Hero. In order to achieve this, you cannot simply punish a good man for no reason. Shock will not induce catharsis [emotional release].

2. Nor, again, that of a bad man passing from adversity to prosperity: for nothing can be more alien to the spirit of Tragedy; it possesses no single tragic quality; it neither satisfies the moral sense nor calls forth pity or fear. 

Layman's Translation: A bad man cannot receive good fortune. That goes against the entire point of tragedy and will only frustrate the audience further. 

3. Nor, again, should the downfall of the utter villain be exhibited. A plot of this kind would, doubtless, satisfy the moral sense, but it would inspire neither pity nor fear; for pity is aroused by unmerited misfortune, fear by the misfortune of a man like ourselves. Such an event, therefore, will be neither pitiful nor terrible.

Layman's Translation: The story cannot end with the downfall of an obvious villain. It satisfies the audience’s desire for justice but doesn’t leave them pitying the Hero or fearing the story’s eventual outcome. Once again, this ending would be void of catharsis/emotional release.

4. There remains, then, the character between these two extremes,—that of a man who is not eminently good and just,- yet whose misfortune is brought about not by vice or depravity, but by some error or frailty. He must be one who is highly renowned and prosperous,—a personage like Oedipus, Thyestes, or other illustrious men of such families.

Layman's Translation: 

A good Tragic Hero must: 

Be royalty or nobility (he might also come from a well-known or wealthy family).

Be morally grey (if he is too Good or too Bad it will prevent the audience from projecting onto him and achieving catharsis). 

Cause his own downfall or “catastrophe” by making a mistake (an extension of his Hamartia, or “error” / ”inherent flaw”).

So how does Kim fulfill the requirements of a Tragic Hero?

He is from a well-known family and has an image to keep in check. Because of his role as Wik/an idol, Kim must present himself as a kind or at least pleasant person to the general public. Much like Oedipus or Electra, Kim has an outward persona whose specific responsibilities play a role in his fall to hubris. 

a. As Kimhan Theerapanyakul he is required to do his father’s bidding on some level. We know he’s at least somewhat beholden to Korn from the scene with Tankhun screaming, “I don’t know where they [Porsche and Chay] have gone!”

2. Does it get any more morally grey than a guy willing to kill a dozen men in cold blood (with his bare hands) to protect his pseudo-ex-boyfriend? Or date an underclassman fanboy only to commit minor felonies against him/his family? Or go against his father (rebellion against the family is a BIG no-no in Greek Tragedy!!!) and attempt to escape the fate of his bloodline? 

3. I doubt this part really needs explaining… But trying to protect Chay by lying to his face and destroying their relationship, only to turn around and beg for Chay’s forgiveness via blatant musical plagiarism, is probably Hamartia at its finest.

4. It's Kim! He is "a man who is not eminently good and just,- yet whose misfortune is brought about not by vice or depravity, but by some error or frailty". His greatest loss is brought about by his own poor decision making and furious need for freedom/independence. His determined self-flagellation only ever hurts the people around him while we as the audience scream for him to stop. He qualifies for the Tragic Sadboy Squad!

[crimeismydayjob]

//This is a Pokémon IRL RP blog CW: violence, death, mature themes typical of sci-fi, maybe some military propaganda /j //

👋 Hey, I’m Jack.

I live in Unova (Driftveil area, if you must know). I work in International Pokémon crime prevention, investigation, and general problem-solving—which means I spend a lot of time chasing after people who thought committing felonies was a solid career move. I also occasionally train Pokémon for high-stakes jobs. Sometimes I work in an office, sometimes I don’t. Don’t ask too many questions.

Technically it's law-enforcement but I'm not a cop, the police don't like me that much either.

I’ve got a small team of very cool, very dangerous, and way too smart Pokémon:

Rook (Lucario, M) – "Your Honor, he’s my emotional support hand-to-hand combat specialist." Built like a tank, punches like one too. Would be the responsible one if he wasn’t also an enabler.

Shade (Greninja, F, Shiny) – Stealthier than the IRS. More competent than me. Knows it.

Rett (Garchomp, F) – If you hear a sonic boom and I don’t post for a few days, assume she’s the reason. Reigning champion of crashing into walls.

Sylvester aka Sylvie (Umbreon, Intersex, Shiny) – A literal shadow with an attitude problem. Sneaky little shit. Probably smarter than me.

What You’ll Find Here:

Photos of my team being cool (or embarrassing themselves).

Occasional commentary on the wild state of Pokémon crime and law enforcement.

Pokémon training, stealth, tracking, & combat tactics (for educational/legal purposes, obviously)

Occasional Q&A sessions where I answer questions in a way my employer would probably disapprove of.

Me getting way too invested in random topics at 2 AM

What You Won't Find Here:

My full job description. Stop asking.

Anything self-incriminating (I’m not an idiot).

No, I won’t tell you how to evade law enforcement. If I do, it’ll be bad advice.

If you ask if I work for the League, I’m blocking you out of spite.

If you're here to tell me 'but actually, Pokémon training should be about love and friendship'—cool, but also, tell that to the guy last week who tried to stab me. Love and friendship didn’t stop him, but a well-placed Aura Sphere did.

Serious Note: While I will investigate any tips (anonymous or not) about crime nationally (Unova) or internationally (will take much longer) I do not recommend seeking action through Rotomblr. Please contact your local authorities. If the situation is big enough I might be contacted by them anyways. Please do not take advantage of this by giving me fake information, I investigate everything and wasting my time on fake news helps no one. In some cases it takes my attention away from potentially life saving information.

Ask box is open, but be warned: If your question is stupid, I will answer it. You just might not like the answer.

// OOC DISCLAIMER: This is a Pokémon are real blog, my setting contains the Pokemon universe and all of it's canon, as well as most real-world flora placed around the world depending on each regions inspiration and biomes. In my setting each region functions as it's own sovereign country, containing an economy, government (the League is not government), military, etc. Each region is also much bigger than depicted in the games.

I am an adult but that does not mean my account is 18+ but beware of mature themes. I keep a very "yes, and-" attitude about canon. I try to stick as close to canon as possible with a few exceptions mostly for pokemon biology. I fill in a lot of blanks left in the canon for my character, mostly around regional governments, politics, crime, etc. I rarely interact with blogs including things like fakemon/pokefusions, custom regions, or wildly out of canon things. I'm iffy about pokemon with blogs but some of them get a pass (like that rotom blog). I'm also open to suggestions about how I fill my canon gaps if you have a fun idea. Be sure to tag Out Of Character asks with "//OOC" or similar. If you have questions feel free to send an ask or DM!

[justinspoliticalcorner]

Will Sommer at The Bulwark:

Flynn-kenstein’s Monster

FEW AMERICANS HAVE DONE MORE to mainstream conspiracy theories than Michael Flynn, the retired Army general who served as national security advisor for the first few days of Donald Trump’s first term. After being indicted by Special Counsel Robert Mueller, Flynn became a martyr for the MAGA right. QAnon believers, in particular, came to revere him—a reverence that Flynn eventually embraced. Flynn posted a video of himself and his family members taking the QAnon oath, and appeared at a QAnon convention, where he helped auction off items like a QAnon quilt. He did all that, it’s worth noting, despite privately saying that the conspiracy theory was “total nonsense.”

But now, after having spent years fanning political conspiracies, Flynn finds himself the victim of one: a yarn weaved by a group of Trump supporters that Flynn’s family and associates actually orchestrated the January 6th attacks on the Capitol. It’s gotten bad enough that Flynn has urged them to stop, saying his family wants to be left alone. “Speaking for myself, the Flynn Family is done being a f’ing pin cushion for the mob,” Flynn posted on X on April 17. Flynn didn’t respond to a request for comment. This is some weird shit. We get it. And we can help you understand it, too! The conspiracy theory currently targeting the Flynns revolves around Earl Matthews, a former lawyer for the D.C. National Guard who’s been nominated to be the Pentagon’s general counsel.

While Matthews is a Trump supporter, his beef with the Flynn family dates back to late 2021, when he filed a whistleblower complaint claiming that Flynn’s younger brother, then-Lt. Gen. Charles Flynn, lied to Congress about the military’s handling of January 6th—specifically, a meeting about how the military should respond to the riot in which the younger Flynn participated as the Army’s deputy chief of staff for operations. Charles Flynn retired from the Army as a full general last year.

When Matthews first filed his report, some QAnon influencers embraced his claims. Some of the most prominent were the hosts of the popular, Q-friendly “MG Show,” who have fallen out with Michael Flynn after years of internal QAnon feuds. As they saw it, Matthews had provided proof that the Flynn family somehow conspired with other figures like the Proud Boys to lead unwitting grassroots Trump supporters into a trap on January 6th. That’s a big change for QAnon’s treatment of Flynn. Roy Davis, a QAnon clue “decoder” who dedicated a book about the conspiracy theory to Flynn, said Flynn and his associates—dubbed the “Flynnstones” by believers—were once heroes to Q theorists. “Flynn was always painted in a good light,” said Davis, who still supports Flynn. Flynn’s supposed reasons for tricking Trump supporters into committing major felonies remain unclear. Matthews’s complaint largely boiled down to an internal Defense Department dispute about who was to blame for the slow military response to the riot.

The 2023 complaint may have passed largely unnoticed if not for right-wing activist Laura Loomer. This month, fresh off successfully recommending a purge of the National Security Council, Loomer targeted Matthews for alleged disloyalty to Trump. In an April 9 post on social media, Matthews shot back that Loomer herself was working on behalf of shadowy forces who were out to undermine Trump—“only doing what others have asked her to do,” he exclaimed. Then Matthews ramped it up, in a way that’s pretty wild for a guy who’s still awaiting confirmation to be the top lawyer at the Defense Department. On X, he reposted an “MG Show” episode alleging that Flynn and other supposed January 6th schemers were panicking over his nomination.

Then, even stranger, he reposted a rap song from an X user named “Captain Chaos” about the “Flynn network.” The song, which comes with a blurry AI-generated picture of what appears to be Matthews, takes shots at a wide range of pro-Trump personalities for supposedly covering up the “truth” about January 6th. It portrays Flynn as the mastermind of a plot against Trump. “Michael Flynn’s crew, they playing it slick,” the song goes, adding, “Earl’s truth cuts deep, exposing their sins.”

The song includes several more jabs at Flynn, with verses about how the “Flynn network” is “nervous,” “shook,” and has “nowhere to hide.” Like we said, weird shit. Like the rest of the “Flynn network” conspiracy theory, the song doesn’t explain why Flynn would concoct these schemes. Instead, it points to Flynn’s real ties to various far-right Trump world figures, and just implies an anti-Trump plot to orchestrate the January 6th riot. Matthews’s embrace of the unsettling rap irritated Flynn’s MAGA allies. On X, right-wing media figure Jack Posobiec asked why Matthews was “attacking a patriot like Gen. Flynn?” As you might imagine, Flynn himself has been less than thrilled to be accused of being an anti-Trump operative. He responded, predictably enough, by posting a conspiracy theory of his own on social media, asking whether the rap’s creator made the hip-hop song as a distraction to somehow benefit China.

Traitor Michael Flynn’s championing of QAnon and other conspiracy theories has come back to haunt him, as the same conspiracists he praised are now turning on him.

[fruitcoops]

If you wanted to write grumpy logan and finn/leo lovingly making fun of him until logan is no longer grumpy, you would do it so well and I would love it

Fic O'Ween Day 7: Pumpkin Spice, for the Cubs :) Kudos and thanks to @noots-fic-fests and @lumosinlove for fest details and characters!

“You’re so cute when you’re grumpy,” Leo hummed, nuzzling into the soft fluff of curls above Logan’s ear. A wordless grumble answered him and he smiled. “Like a kitten, getting all puffed up.”

“—fucking—taxes, mon dieu—”

Cranky French interspersed the muttered undercurrent. Leo wasn’t worried; Logan got loud and direct when he was angry. This was nothing more than the usual fussiness. “I made muffins.”

“—witchcraft fuckery—”

“With cranberries,” he coaxed.

Logan aggressively scribbled out a line on his notepad, but Leo felt him lean closer.

“You’ve been here for two hours, cher.”

He pressed a flat palm between Logan’s shoulders, rubbing gently over the tight muscle and warm skin beneath his shirt. It was one of Finn’s, he thought—a faded thing from the Strand in the pretty red that made his eyes pop. It might have been a gift from some point in their college years, but that was unlikely. Logan had always preferred petty theft from their closets to actually owning anything he liked.

Logan groaned under his breath and pushed the heels of his hands into his eyes. “I’m going to commit felonies against the IRS.”

“Very American of you.”

“Get out of my apartment.”

“It was my apartment first,” Leo smiled into his temple, and sealed it with a kiss. “C’mon. Muffin time. You’re hangry.”

“It’s not my fault you can’t do your own taxes.”

“I can. It’s just that I have a boyfriend who offers to do them for me.”

Logan snorted. “Do you?”

“Mhmm.” He wrapped his arms around Logan from behind, bending slightly. “He’s real smart, too. Capable. Knows how to do math.”

“What a dreamboat,” Logan deadpanned.

“Yeah, you got it.” He was still tense in Leo’s hold, but it softened when Leo pulled his hat off and kissed the top of his head. “I have a thing for nerds.”

“Boo. Go away, I need to finish this.”

“You’re sure you don’t want a muffin? They’re still warm.”

“Not hungry.”

Liar, liar. “Alright. More for me, then.” He nipped the shell of Logan’s ear. “I’ll tell Harzy he’s got free reign.”

“Fine, whatever.”

Leo rolled his eyes and hoped Logan felt it. “Taxes aren’t due until April, baby.”

Logan’s pen gave a prompt clack. “Ouais, and if I put it off until then, you won’t see me for four days. Let me drown in my spreadsheets, please.”

“Whatever makes you happy.”

Logan grumbled something like never makes me happy, but if he wanted to continue making himself miserable, Leo couldn’t really stop him. He had already offered muffins; what more could he do?

He had only partially been telling the truth, anyway. One batch of the muffins was done. It was just that he tended to get excited when fall hit, and ravenous when hockey season started, and every recipe spontaneously doubled in his hands like a cornucopian miracle. Some people kept special daylight lamps around. Leo had a five-pound bag of Craisins and a free afternoon to go absolutely ham with the last bit of sunlight energy he could throttle from October. They all had their own methods of dealing with it.

He only burnt his fingertips a little while prying a muffin from the tin and popping it into his mouth in one bite, and considered that a win.

An hour passed without much change. Leo measured, Logan worked. Leo mixed, Logan groused. Leo doled out batter to (perfectly-lined) muffin tins, Logan scribbled away at his notepad and beat Google Calendar into submission. Finally, as the third tray went in, Leo watched him stand with a groan worthy of an octogenarian and wander stiffly down their short hallway. He smiled to himself and set the oven timer. The work would be done soon enough. If he popped a show on and got comfortable on the couch, he might even be able to tempt Logan away from his numbers into a pre-dinner snuggle.

Whistling echoed from the hall outside, followed by the jingle of keys. Finn was already kicking his shoes off when the door opened, clicking his tongue to the rhythm of whatever played in his earbuds. His face brightened when he saw Leo. “Sup, Butter?”

“Heads up.” A muffin sailed through the air and Finn caught it, barely. “Tremzy’s cheating on me.”

“Wh—” Finn gave a hard blink and glanced over his shoulder. “Is this—I’m going to walk out and come back in again. Wrong apartment. Sorry, cheating? Logan Tremblay? Are we talking about the same person? If you’re talking about me, I’ve made sure that joke is overdone.”

“Her name is Microsoft Excel, and she’s got to be stopped.”

“Oh.” Finn’s bafflement became a regretful nod as he joined Leo by the sink. “His first love. I see the problem.”

“He turned down muffins.”

“Damn, this guy sounds lame. Need a new boyfriend?”

Leo kissed his sideways grin and flipped the water on. “Not currently looking to fill that position, but I’ll keep you at the top of my list.”

Finn’s arms folded around his waist and gave a gentle squish. “You should let me do that, babe.”

“Just rinsing.”

“Hmm.” He felt a kiss through his shirt. “Been cooking all day?”

“Mostly. Reg called this morning and I’m going out with Bliz and Cole at five.”

“What, I’m not invited?” Finn asked with false offense.

“Goalies only,” Leo said with even falser sympathy.

“Reyes isn’t a goalie.”

“Well, we like him better.”

Finn’s indignant noise was stifled by a mouthful of muffin and Leo laughed, jumping at the light pinch to his hip where his shirt rode up. He let Finn shoo him away from the sink with a dishtowel and waited by the counter instead to admire the way he shoved his sweater sleeves up to his elbows.

The bathroom door opened and Leo watched Logan make his way back to the table, all grimaces and stretches, with a final jaw-cracking yawn as he fell into his chair again. The neckline of his shirt was damp, like he had washed his face. He took no notice of the sneakers by the door or Finn at the sink.

“Hey, Lo,” Leo called. “Gotcha something.”

“An accountant?”

Like you’d let anyone else handle this. “A treat.”

“Thought you made muffins.”

Leo caught Finn’s smile out of the corner of his eye and shut the faucet off, passing him the towel. “Nope, different treat.”

“What is it?”

“Guess.”

“Uh…” Logan trailed off, tapping his pen against the notepad. “I don’t know, what?”

“C’mon, humor me.”

“Give me a hint.”

Leo bit his lip against a smile and hooked his finger in Finn’s waistband, guiding him away from the sink. “Pumpkin spice.”

Finn had to turn his face into his shoulder to muffle a snort. Leo pressed three fingers over Finn’s lips, not that it would do much. Ahead of them, Logan’s shoulders relaxed. “You got me coffee? That’s nice of you.”

“Try again.”

“What—uh, bread. Pumpkin bread.”

“Sweeter.”

“Cake?”

“Sweeter.”

“…doughnuts?”

“You like it more than doughnuts.”

“Is it…like, Halloween candy, or something?” Logan sat back from the table and lifted his arms to adjust his hat; Leo caught Finn around the waist and hefted him off his feet, then plopped him with great ceremony into Logan’s waiting lap.

“Oh, hi there,” Finn laughed.

“Coucou.” Logan’s eyes crinkled with the force of his smile and he ducked his laughter into Finn’s neck. “Pumpkin spice, eh?”

“Apparently.” Finn shuffled into a more upright position and slung his arm across Logan’s shoulders, toying lightly with his mussed curls. “A little birdie told me you’ve been up to no good. Taxes, scowling, refusal of muffins.”

Logan’s cheeks darkened with a blush. He cast Leo a guilty look. “Sorry.”

“There’s a heavy punishment for neglecting baked goods,” Finn informed him. “We have to take you into custard-y.”

“Get off me.”

“And you have to pay a fine of a hundred kisses before five o’clock.”

Logan’s eyebrows rose with interest—his loose hold around Finn’s waist tightened. “Stay on me. Quoi?”

“This is serious business, Mr. Tremblay.”

“Who gets this payment?”

“Well, it’s a half-and-half deal.” Leo didn’t know how Finn kept his face so solemn. “Half to the lawyer—me, obviously—and half to the baker who was so cruelly slighted in this afternoon’s incident.”

“Do I have to pony up all at once, or can I make…” Logan nudged up against Finn’s cheek, a dimple just barely forming. “…a down payment?”

“I’m sure something can be arranged.”

“Hmm.” Their kiss was soft enough to make Leo’s breath stutter in his chest—just a whisper over Finn’s bottom lip that had him chasing more. Logan bumped their noses together. “Spicy.”

Finn all but melted into his chest. “You know it.”

Jade eyes darted over and fixed Leo in place. Logan cast a quick up-and-down look over him, then propped his chin on Finn’s shoulder and gave a small, close-lipped smile. “That baker better get over here so I can give him a piece of my mind.”

The countertop was oven-warm when Leo leaned back. “How much are we giving to charity?”

Logan blinked. “Seventeen percent.”

“What’s seventeen percent of fifty?”

“Eight and a half.”

Leo stepped forward and braced his hands on the back of the chair, bracketing Logan’s head. “Tip your local bakeries, Tremblay. You owe me fifty-eight and a half kisses.”

Confusion blossomed into the kind of smile Leo lived for. “Let’s call it an even twenty percent. I’m feeling generous.”

“You’ve got yourself a deal.”

[randomrabbidramblings]

Some Incorrect Quotes Generator silliness

Rabbid Mario: Welcome to Fucking Applebees, do you want apples or bees? Rabbid Luigi: Bees? Rabbid Mario: THEY HAVE SELECTED THE BEES! Rabbid Luigi: Wait- Rabbid Peach approaches, shaking a jar of bees menacingly

Phantom: We should get you to a doctor for a check up immediately. What if it happens again, and there isn’t anyone around to help you? What if it’s congenital? Oh my God! Was it me? Did I hurt you? Woodrow: …You realize any other person that made their partner pass out on bed would simply feel really proud of themselves, right?

Woodrow: I'm trash. Phantom: As someone who's environmentally conscious, it's my duty to pick you up. Does 7 work for you? Woodrow: Woodrow: You smooth motherfucker. Woodrow: And yes it does.

Phantom: I committed all 7 deadly sins in 30 minutes. Bea: Wow, I've gotta hear this. Phantom: I was angry and envious of my neighbor so I lazily seduced his wife and ate all his groceries and didn't share. Bea: You forgot pride. Phantom: No, I'm pretty proud of this.

Rabbid Yoshi: Hey there demons, It's me, ya boi. JEANIE: Rabbid Yoshi, NO!

Allegra: I’m genuinely surprised you haven’t gotten arrested, let alone gotten a felony yet. Phantom: Nat 20 Charisma. Allegra: That is NOT how that works-

Rabbid Luigi: You know, I really wish you’d just admit you made a mistake sometimes. Beep-0, stirring their coffee: I prefer it with salt.

Orion: Happy Throwback Thursday! Here’s a throwback to when Augie ate an entire tube of lipstick. Augie, whining: But why would it be cherry-flavored if you can’t eat it?!

Rabbid Peach: I'm not doing to well. Rabbid Mario: What's wrong? Rabbid Peach: I have this headache that comes and goes. Beep-0 enters the room Rabbid Peach: There it is again.

In a group chat Woodrow: A pegan just flew into my window. Orion: Pegan? Momma: A what? Allegra: Ah yes, my favourite bird, Pegan. Bea: I thought you said penguin for a second, LMAO! Allegra: Just a normal day with flying penguins crashing into my window. Bea: You have pigeons flying into your window? Can't relate, I have penguins flying into my window. Woodrow: I literally just made a typo-

Bea: What is everyone for Halloween? Woodrow: I’m superman. Phantom: A clown. Bea: So I’m guessing we don’t need to get you a costume then?

Incorrect Quotes Generator

[bandedbulbussnarfblat]

Alright y'all, I'm going do something I don't normally do and get political for a minute. I mean, I reblog things that are political sometimes, but I don't make my own posts about them.

So, I was on Kamala Harris' wikipedia page. Bc she's running for president. And I'm gonna vote for her bc she's not Trump. But I wanna see what she stands for or whatever. For what that's worth in American politics these days. (btw how fucked up is it that everyone refers to Biden and Trump by their last name, but Kamala by her first? like with Hillary there was the excuse of her last name being tied to a former president aka her husband. but with Kamala Harris there is no reason to justify it? it's just plain old sexism)

And I found this:

That's a screenshot from her wikipedia page. Oh shit, screen readers won't be able to pic up what that says. Let me copy and paste it here:

In February 1998, San Francisco district attorneyTerence Hallinan recruited Harris as an assistant district attorney.[55] There she became the chief of the Career Criminal Division, supervising five other attorneys, where she prosecuted homicide, burglary, robbery, and sexual assault cases – particularly three-strikes cases. In 2000, Harris reportedly clashed with Hallinan's assistant, Darrell Salomon,[56] over Proposition 21, which granted prosecutors the option of trying juvenile defendants in Superior Court rather than juvenile courts.[57] Harris campaigned against the measure, which passed. Salomon opposed directing media inquiries about Prop 21 to Harris and reassigned her, a de facto demotion. Harris filed a complaint against Salomon and quit

For those of you who don't know what Prop 21 is, here is a summary from the wikipedia page:

California Proposition 21, known also as Prop 21, was a proposition proposed and passed in 2000 that increased a variety of criminal penalties for crimes committed by youth and incorporated many youth offenders into the adult criminal justice system. Major provisions of the proposition, as summarized by Attorney General of California are:

Increased punishment for gang-related felonies; death penalty for gang-related murder; indeterminate life sentences for home-invasion robbery, carjacking, witness intimidation and drive-by shootings; and a new crime of recruiting for gang activities; and authorizes wiretapping for gang activities.

Requires adult trial for juveniles 14 or older charged with murder or specified sex offenses.

Elimination of informal probation for juveniles committing felonies.

Required registration for gang related offenses.

Designation of additional crimes as violent and serious felonies, thereby making offenders subject to longer sentences.

As someone who works with kids, let me just say that charging a literal teenager as an adult is absolutely horrendous. Because they are not adults. Studies have, in fact, shown that the adolescent brain is only about 80 percent developed.

I have worked with teenagers. They are not children, but they aren't adults. Like Britney Spears said "Not a girl, not yet a woman" Except you know, replace girl and woman with whatever your gender is.

And it's tough for these kids. I think a lot of adults forget how hard it is. Puberty. Hormones. The social hell that is high school. And there are so many of these kids walking around undiagnosed. Bc a lot of mental illnesses can trigger in your teenage years, most commonly depression and anxiety. Which is like, just a natural fear response to the American education system, tbh. Not only for mental illness, but also for disorders and disabilities. There are parents who refuse to get their kids help. I'm not talking about the 'I don't want to medicate my child' people, though they are annoying af too. Like, there are parents who will be told somehow by the school system that their child is showing delays, etc. And they just...refuse to process that. They can't accept it, so their kid goes their whole life until adulthood without getting the help they need. Some of them get help as adults. Some of them don't. And that's not even to mention the dozens of kids who fall through the cracks.

So I personally think it's a good thing that our possible future president was opposed to it. Like, she's got that going for her. And in today's political hellscape I take my wins where I can.