#badge to boot don't lick cops

[enkays-den]

YEAH it's been rough ever since cub decided exile wasn't enough punishment. there have been times I've had to pause watching and remind myself that at the heart of it all it's a bunch of theatre kid friends playing a really intense game of cops and robbers and that, if nothing else, the poe vs no poe stuff seems to be pretty good for boosting the numbers of hermits like jevin and cleo and joe who aren't in the spotlight as much.

(...also might be occasionally going back and watching the clip of skizz talking about that time he threw a burning pallet at a cop. for enrichment, lmao.)

I haven't really watched hermitcraft before this season so I don't know how their plotlines work but it seems to have been majorly ramping up lately, so maybe it'll be resolved soon? my personal hope for the endgame is that skizz and poe skizz duke it out somehow and poe skizz gets booted from his body exorcism style /hj I keep thinking about the phrasing of skizz saying that as regular, non-poe skizz, he's "allowed" to be happy to see cleo when they got home from exile...

anyway, tl;dr, I super feel you on the discomfort with the storyline at the moment, so fingers crossed things settle down soon! love your posts and hope you have a great day!

THIS IS ALL METAFICTION, NOT A STATEMENT ON THE HERMITS AS CONTENT CREATORS OR STORYTELLERS

yeah, i think that the anti-poe movement hasn't been unified at all, no fault to them, but the POE rn just seems like a very Brick Wall concept in terms of narrative, especially with cub at the helm. The oppressive, conformist government department is just wayyyyyy too easy of a villian to play, and the first step to confronting a force like that is you need the numbers and the motivation, and right now it's mainly been scattered mild defiance. I will have more concrete thoughts once we have a few episodes with skizz in exile and grian and scar in the mainland, as well as having two powerhouses like Joel and False exiled.

With Cub permanently in Exile, just killing him doesn't solve the problem, because he just comes back. He doesn't care if he blows up or the things he builds are destroyed, he's the perfect apathetic villian. Combined with the fact that he has lackeys to drop him supplies whenever he needs it, Cub is just this pit for the exiles to throw their time and resources into until they tire out or give up, and just slink away into the wilderness and not give in to the POE's demands.

I know Joe is trying to connect the two spawn points, and honestly i think he could ally with doc if he presents it as a way to get out of the conflict he's been "dragged into".

I think that contacting "Upper Management" might be the way to go here, because it's basically a way to nerf the POE somewhat. The idea is that the POE are somehow the authority and power here, but who gave them that right? The right to move spawn 30 million blocks away and start sending the hermits to permanent time out? (ignoring the meta for a moment). Another boss. The only thing that validates the POE's power is the POE itself, and once they lose that identity, it just exposes that it's all a bloodthirsty power play.

I love Skizz, but i think slowly 'losing' his friends is the perfect price to pay for mindlessly doing what is told of him. The mans isn't even involved in the discussion of exiling, he just sees the aftermath and says "those brutes need to be punished" without knowing what was even done. He didn't even get told that Ren and Cleo trapped the basement, he just assumes they're an enemy because he's told so. Skizz didn't show compassion or care for his fellow Hermits or give them the benefit of the doubt when told to go on a headhunt, why should he be given that luxury in return?

He's the most likely to go "hold on a sec" when FINALLY directly witnessing Cub's relentless campaign against those exiled, because skizz is a softie that likes his friends, but it will be hard to tell who's at the helm now that Poe skizz lost his sexy sexy accent.

but yeah ACAB. Legal does not inherently mean good; illegal does not mean immoral; laws are a manmade way to enforce compliance with the threat of violence as a consequence, and not inherent rules about how people should act. Catch me in a Joe Hills stream for the next while.

[knockknockchicagopd]

A SERIE WITH HANK VOIGHT. CHAPTER I.

❚❙ WORDS: about 1.3k

❚❙ A/N: this writing hasn’t been edited, you may find some grammar mistakes, I’m sorry about that. If you find a description about body or a word out of place, or something that it makes you feel uncomfortable / unrepresented, let me know by a private message and I will change it delighted. — The parts of this writing in italic are situations in the past.

❚❙ GIF credits: to my wonderful @sonsofeorl .

❚❙ Tag list: @melblacc @rebelwrites @skyofficialxx. If you want to be added to my tag list, send me a message.

“OFFICER SHOT! Repeat, we have an officer shot! I need an ambulance and backup in Hyde Park boulevard with Kenwood avenue!”

Your eyes are lost somewhere over the gleaming tiles, sitting on the floor with your back against the white wall and your legs curled to your chest. With your arms resting on your knees, you're putting away your shaky hands covered in your partner's blood from your view field. It has been almost forty five minutes since you arrived at the hospital, holding her hand from the ambulance to the inside of the surgery.

“Stay with me Lucy, please… Don't close your eyes… Look at me… Look at me, please”.

You couldn't barely breathe, pressing your hands over her chest, trying to stop the wound from bleeding. The bullet trespassed her vest, you didn't even see that guy coming. When you heard the shot, it was too late to push her away.

Three years patrolling the 21st District. Three years living together. Three years of memories that, now, are being played like an old black and white movie in front of your crystal eyes. You can't even think about catching her killer, trying to assimilate that you are not going to hear her voice anymore; nor to spend your free nights watching movies at home or drinking beers at Molly's, nor to complain about the senior cops who always ask you for coffee as if you were their secretaries.

“Lis—Listen… I will let you wear my red dress, okay? But you have to be strong… please… I can't lose you, Lucy. You are my family”.

She closed her eyes when your hand loose hers, coming into the surgery. Will stopped you at the entrance putting his hands on your shoulders.

“We'll do our best, I promise”.

But the bullet punctured an artery close to her heart and no one in the hospital could do anything for her life.

You don't even hear the heavy and fast strides coming closer to you. You only notice his presence, when he cups your wet cheeks between his palms. The contrast of his cold hands touching your warm skin makes you shudder, causing you to break into a bitter cry again uncontrollably. Hank embraces you tightly, helping you to stand up over the black military boots, guiding you to the closest bathroom.

Putting your hands under the tap as the water starts to run, he washes off the dry blood of Lucy, after pressing her chest until the sanitary came. Your eyelids are strongly closed, barely breathing and feeling your life escaping away from you with every tear shed. And you only open them again when he speaks.

“Look at me, sweetheart… We will find him, you hear me? And I, personally, will make him pay”.

His hands land on both sides of your neck, using his thumbs to lift up your face, urging you to look at him. You believe in his words. Of course you do. You do trust him with your life. Briefly nodding, Hank wraps your waist and your back with both arms, to hug you trying to comfort you somehow.

You have been sitting now in the locker room for almost thirty minutes, finding yourself anxiously breathing when you hear some knocks on the door. Cleaning your tears with the back of your trembling fingers, you take a deep breath still assimilating what has happened two hour ago. Licking your lips and withdrawing the salty taste of your tears impregnated on, you stand over your feet to grab your backpack and step outside. As soon as you reach the hall of the police station, everyone there becomes quiet. Every pair of eyes laid on you, leaving your badge and your service gun over the desk.

Platt doesn't know what to say, being aware that I'm sorry doesn't fix anything. She has decided to give you some days off to rest, but the real reason is that you aren't allowed to be part of this investigation.

“I know it's too soon, but do you think you can give us your testim—”.

“Not now!”

The hoarse and angry voice appearing from the stairs at your right earns all the attention. Voight is walking straight to you, taking your bag from your hand to place his free arm on your shoulder. If looks could kill, Platt would be already dead.

“Let's go for a ride, hm?”

Your eyes continue glued to your badge being grabbed by the inspector, to keep it under the desk. Your chin moves from the top down in a soft nod, letting him turn you around to come out from the police station to the private parking. His SUV is stationed close to the fence, opening the copilot seat door for you before going to the truck to keep your stuff, Hank hurry up on abandoning the place. You can't be there. You don't need it.

At first, he thinks about taking you to your house, but seeing you so broken he knows that you shouldn't be alone. Lucy was all your family, since your parents moved to Arizona; everything you had is your job and your friends. The man doesn't ask you, thinking that the best is to bring you to a quiet place. The loading bay. Where he goes after a hard day to clear his mind. Hank needs your testimony to catch the murder, but he needs you first to be focused, to be calmed.

Stepping out from the car, after turning off the engine, you follow him by inertia. Raising your eyes from your feet, the imposing city of Chicago stands in front of you. Red, blue and white small lights all around the jungle of buildings, captivating you instantly.

“(Y/N)...”

“I told her that I was hungry… I didn't take anything for lunch and we were close to Brandon's pizzeria… I… I made her stop… It was my fa—fault”.

The tears fill up again your reddened eyes. The anxiety is oppressing your throat. The lack of air is suffocating you. Hank doesn't let you blame yourself, welcoming into his arms without hesitating.

“I need to know how he looked to catch him”. After some second in silence, with your face hidden into the crock of his neck, he has to continue the talk.

Pulling yourself away, making the biggest effort of your whole life, you nod in the meantime that he cleans your cheek using his fingers.

“He came from… nowhere. I don't know… I don't know if he was… wa—waiting inside a shop, or… if he crossed the road. I don't know… He was wearing a black hoodie… and, uh… a pair of worn jeans. Blue… That kind of blue only Levis produces. And a… A pair of sneakers. Nike Air Force One. They were too clean, too white, too shiny to have more than… one month. Maybe a couple of weeks”.

You're trying to give him the most minimal detail, so it could help him to trap him sooner.

“His face was co—covered by a bandana. Black. But… But it had some white ornaments… I don't remember them. He was far away and they were too small… I'm so—I'm sorry, Hank… I don't remem—”.

“It's okay, it's okay, sweetheart. You have given me more than I could find myself”. His encouraging words make you feel somewhat better. “I will call Antonio to tell him, so they can start to work”.

You're sure that now he has your testimony, he will take you to your house. But you can't. You don't want to go. You don't want to be alone. Stopping him by grabbing his forearm covered by the leather jacket, you close your fingers tightly around it.

“I don't wanna go home”. You whisper with a fine thread of trembling voice.

Coming back on his tracks, Hank places his free hand on your nape to lean forward and press his lips on your forehead. Two long seconds that feels like an eternity.

“I got you, (Y/N)”.