how to kill a cop

Sometimes Jehan has nightmares that they’ve killed someone. They wake up on edge not knowing what’s real or not, so Montparnasse holds them close, asking for every single detail so that he can cover the murder up and reassure them


I have had to hear about every joint a black teen killed by cops ever smoked in his life.  I’ve had to hear about Trayvon’s love for rap music and his gold teeth. And Eric Garner selling cigarettes. 

I’ve had to hear about how 12 year old Tamir Rice was to blame because he was stupid enough to play with a toy guy in a playground. And how it didn’t matter that the cop who killed him him under 2 seconds was dangerously under-qualified. 

Obviously, what happened to this woman was wrong. 

But fucking hell.  The hypocrisy is off the charts.  

I guess it comes down to what you think a cop’s job is. 

If you think that the police exist to protect the system, the status quo, to protect the law and nothing else- then I can see how cops killing people can be excused.

But if you think police exist, or SHOULD exist, to protect PEOPLE then cops killing PEOPLE is fundamentally a failure. 

Bad Boss (Bias x Reader) Pt.12

You put extra effort into your appearance before you go to work the next day. Will he treat you the same way as before or differently because of last night? Thinking about the kiss still made you cover your face and smile like a little girl. 

You sit at your desk, waiting for him to arrive. Do you smell okay? Is this the right outfit?

The elevator opens and your heart jumps. But it’s not B/N. It’s a man who looks oddly familiar. 

“Is my son in?” 

“Excuse me? Your son?”

He sighs, walking into the office with you telling him not to. 

“You need to leave,” 

“Do you even know who I am?” 

“No. I don’t. But you can tell me outside of this office,” 

He looks you up and down, “You’re that girl. The one that threw the dress,” 

“And you’re the man that was inside, who now needs to go back outside until B/N comes back,” 

He’s about to listen to you when B/N walks inside, “Y/N, why aren’t you…” he sees his father and his entire demeanor changes. The brightness in his eyes from seeing you vanishes, his smile is gone. 

“Can you step outside for a moment?”

Both you and the father stand there wondering who he’s talking to. B/N manages a tender expression, “Y/N, just for a moment,” 

You nod, backing out of the room with them both waiting for you to leave to speak. As soon as the door closes his father starts talking. 

“How could you close off the accounts? What am I supposed to do?”

“Work, like everyone else in this country,” 

“I’m your father,” 

“Act like one. Get a job and stop living off my mother’s company. If she knew I’ve been helping you…” he sighs, “It’s done. You can leave now,” 

Something breaks and you jump, having not heard the sound in such a long time. You’re only worry is B/N. He’s been doing so well these past weeks, you can see how hard he’s been trying to maintain his composure. But employees are much different from parents. Who knows how he’ll react this time?

His father storming into the elevator and you head into his office, finding B/N cleaning up the mess his father made. It’s a shattered photo and by the looks of it, it it’s a family portrait. 

You help him clean up the glass. He’s so quiet. 

“Are you okay?” you ask him. 

He takes a while to respond, until you think he won’t, “I’m fine,” his voice sounds husky, his hair covering his eyes. You try to look at his face but he heads to the window, his back to you. 

“You can relax for the rest of the day, I don’t have anything for you to do. Or if you want to leave, you can do that too,” 

You place the photo on top of his desk, standing behind him. You’re not sure if he’ll push you off, but you’re prepared for that. You wrap your arms around him, squeezing him close to you. He stops breathing for a moment, until you feel his hands cover yours. He sighs, body no longer tense. You rest your head against his back in relief that he’s letting you hold him.

He won’t speak and you don’t press him, but he heads towards the couch, bringing you with him. His eyes are red, eyelashes wet. He looks exhausted.

“My mother says to have nothing to do with him. That it will only hurt me. But how can I? He’s my dad,” you wipe away the drying tears from his cheeks.

You pat your lap and he looks at you, very confused. 

“Lay down,” 

“O..kay,” he lays his head on your lap, looking very uncomfortable. He’s about to sit up, but you hold his shoulders down. You begin by combing your fingers through his hair, gently massaging his scalp. 

“Close your eyes,” It takes a moment for him to relax. The stiffness in his body is gone, he feels heavier on your legs. His arm is holding onto one of your legs. He looks like he’s sleeping.  

“Why’d you stop?” he mumbles once you lean over to check if he’s awake. 

You play with his hair some more, “Feel better?” 

He nods, rolling onto his back, “Can we do this every day? I’ll pay you overtime,” You smile at him, him taking your hand, “Thank you. Before I would’ve flipped out. Felt I was close to doing that until you came in,” 

You bring his hand to your lips, knowing you couldn’t possibly understand the situation between him and his father. But you have something else on your mind. 

“Why did you switch when that man spoke to me at the event?”

At this, he sits up, biting his lip in thought, “Events like those require dates. And all the women I took with me, he would speak to them and say unkind things that they would agree with. I wouldn’t have cared much if I hadn’t felt something towards them. So when you spoke to him, I thought the same thing was happening again and I…did what I did,”

Hearing his explanation, you put everything together. From the way he looked at the man, to what he was saying about B/N. It should’ve been obvious that they had bad blood. But the coldness in his voice when he spoke to you that night can’t seem to leave your memory. 

“I’m sorry,” he tells you, cupping your cheek with one hand, “I’m so sorry,” 

The rest of the day, you spend at your desk answering calls and emails. You rest your head on your arms for a power nap when someone taps the counter. You sit up quickly, vision out of focus. 

B/N is standing before you as you sit in your chair, an energy drink in his hand. 

“Did you not sleep last night? Or too busy thinking of last night?” he smirks at you and you snatch the drink from his hand as he laughs. He stands beside you, leaning against your desk as you drink. 

“Better?” he asks. 

“I don’t know, I just drank it,” 

He takes hold of your chin, “Your chin is so cute,” 


“And your nose is adorable,” 

“Don’t kiss my nose,” He leans in close and you don’t move away. 

“Then where,” he traces his finger along your jaw, “can I kiss you?” 

You’re suddenly very glad only you two are on this floor because when he kisses you there’s no thought of anything else. Only the way his body feels beneath your fingertips and the way his hands are holding you against him. 

Somehow you ended up sitting on the desk, managing to say, “The keyboard,” because you’re practically sitting on it. 

“I’ll buy another one,” he breathes against your neck and you wonder if you should go into his office instead. 

“Um…” neither of you had spoken, “Sir?” B/N suddenly stops, looking around you.

You’re glad your back is facing the elevator because you’re squeezing B/N’s arm in embarrassment. 

“Yes?” he’s very casual, as if kissing his secretary is a normal thing.

“Here’s the package you asked for,” they rest it on the desk and you avoid their curious eyes.

“Thank you,” 

Once they leave, you bury your face in his chest. 

“Why are you embarrassed, no one even saw you. They saw me,” 

“They’ll know that it’s me,” 


You point at your hair, “Everyone recognizes the hair,” 

“Everything will be fine,” he sighs, patting your shoulders, “So should we go to my office now or…?” Shoving his chest, you get off the desk as he laughs at you.

By the time work is over, you want to leave before everyone else starts to. You tell B/N you’ll take the next elevator as to not be seen with him, but he thinks that’s nonsense, taking your hand instead. 

Once you reach the lobby, you see that your colleagues appear to be waiting for you. Their eyes are wide when they see your hand in B/N’s. You had no intention of letting go, but he does. 

“I’ll see you tomorrow,” he tells you.

Once he starts to walk away, they swarm towards you, questions hitting you left and right, “Are you two dating?” 

“Since when?! I thought you hated him,”

“You were the girl he was kissing like that? Whoa.” 

“Sleeping with the boss eh? Pity, that was my idea…” 

You look for B/N who’s talking with another man. Biting your lip, you ask your friends a question no one ever cared to ask. Surprisingly, they all agree. 

“Hey Boss,” they call to him. He turns to them, eyebrow raised, “you wanna come for some drinks?”

You know he never expected the invitation, because he stands there speechless before walking towards you with a smile. 

*skims newspaper* *sees ‘her wife’ in the headline* *immediately gets excited* *reads entire headline*

“local cop kills her wife”

*thinks about how i’ll never be happy bc it’s not like me, a lesbian, will ever have a fulfilling relationship*dea

anonymous asked:

Number 9, mavin pls??

9. Distracting Kiss

Michael loved Los Santos.

He knew Los Santos better than most, and he reveled in it–the dirt, the unapologetic corruption, the scum of the earth all gathered together in a united thirst for blood and depravity. It was home.

And, listening to the laughs that echoed through his comms, he knew his crew felt the same way.

“Alright, assholes,” Geoff called, the sound of sirens intermixing with his call to attention. “Ten minutes before pickup; get what you can and get the fuck out.”

Michael verbalized his agreement, already zipping up his duffel bag full of money, when a voice rang out behind him.

“Michael, boi?” He turned, smiling when he caught sight of Gavin in the entrance to the vault, his own bag slung over his shoulder.

“Ready to get the fuck outta here?” He asked. He looked at his partner with confusion when Gavin merely grinned at him.

“Fancy a wager, boi? We got plenty of time.”

“Greatest number of cop kills wins?”

“Winner chooses how to celebrate tonight,” Gavin grinned, wagging his eyebrows beneath his golden glasses.

“Your ass is mine tonight, bitch,” Michael laughed, cocking his gun. “Count it down.”

“Go!” Gavin yelped, ignoring Michael’s spluttered cry of “Cheater!”

The next few minutes were a cacophony of bullets and screams, a symphony against the crescendo of police sirens wailing and helicopter blades whirling outside. Michael couldn’t suppress the manic grin that stretched across his face.

“Die, you bitch,” he snapped, unloading an entire clip into the corpse of a particularly troublesome officer of the law. “That’s nine!“

He paused behind a destroyed counter to reload his pistol, expertly exchanging one clip for another. He gasped when blood sprayed across the right side of his body, a cop’s corpse landing inches from him with a neat hole through the center of his head.

“That’s eight.”

Michael turned from where he was crouched, pistol raised. Gavin smirked down at him, green eyes dark and glittering with adrenaline. He pulled Michael up and grabbed ahold of his jacket, pulling him flush against Gavin’s chest as Gavin kissed him.

“If you could see how you look right now,” Gavin muttered, placing aggressive, biting kisses all over Michael’s skin. Michael stuffed his pistol behind his back and pushed Gavin up against the wall, returning the favor.

Gavin broke the kiss and wrapped his arms around Michael’s waist, pressing his lips to Michael’s nose, his cheeks, his lips. The mixture of adrenaline and lust pumped through Michael’s blood, spurring him to pushGavin further into the wall and bite Gavin’s lip, feeling a burst of pride at the sound the other man made. Suddenly, there was a movement behind him, and two shots went off right next to Michael’s ear. He startled badly, nearly falling to the floor.

“Nine. Ten.”

Michael gawped, his head flitting back and forth between the two cops dead on the ground a foot next to him, and the smug Brit against the wall, spinning Michael’s gun around his finger.

“Hey, idiots! Pick up’s here! Get the fuck out, now!”

“Look’s like I win, Michael,” Gavin grinned, fixing his hair.

“You son of a bitch,” Michael whispered, absolutely dumbstruck by the turn of events. Gavin pressed a smacking kiss to his cheek, dancing out of the way when Michael growled and swiped at him.

“Don’t be like that, love! We still have to celebrate tonight!” He hefted his duffel back up, sending Michael a shit-eating grin.

“I fucking hate you, you know that?” He called after him, trying to be angry, but mostly coming off as fondly exasperated. Gavin blew him a kiss and ran outside.

Michael smiled, shaking his head. Yeah, Los Santos was definitely home.

Thank you so much for the ask! <3

All I need is someone

Thinking about posting a part 2. What you think?

Jerome x reader

Summary: where the reader is Jerome’s therapist (Harley Quinn) and they develop feelings for each other.

(Y/n) POV:
I sit in the metal chair starring at the empty red couch. I check my watch and sigh. 5 minutes late. I huff my breath cause my hair to fly out if my face. I tap my pencil on my note pad till the sound of the rusty door opens. I look behind me and see two guards on either side of my new and very first professional patient.

One guard turns to me with a worried look. “Are you sure you don’t want him in bonds?” “Yes I’m sure.” The guard nods and they both walk out closing the door and leaving the two of us alone.

“Welcome Jerome. My name is (y/n) (y/l/n). I’m here just to talk is all. Would that be okay?” I ask in a light voice making sure to use my words carefully not wanting him to snap. He nods and sits on the couch. “Ohh. Comfy!” He bounces up and down a few times causing me to giggle at his child like behavior.

He looks up at me and smirks. “When they told me I was gonna be put in therapy I expected an old broad with rotting teeth…not a beautiful girl like yourself. Tell me how old are you? You seem young to be getting this position.”

I blush slightly and look at my pad. “How about we make a trade? Next two weeks we talk about you and then if you want you can ask me anything and I’ll answer. Deal?” I stick my hand out to him asking for agreement. He grasps it and brings it to his lips kissing my skin tenderly.

“So Jerome let’s start at the beginning.” Jerome told me about his mother and how she was abusive. He even went into exact detail about how he killed her. That’s information the cops don’t even have; so for me to have it I feel very privileged.

We had gone over his whole story and all his memories in just 8 days. Right now he sits in the couch constantly moving around bored. “Can we play a game?” Jerome asks looking at me. I tilt my head to the side and smile. “What type of game?” Jerome stands up and talks around me. “Well…more like role play actually. You be me and I’ll be you.” “Honestly Jerome I don’t think you could pull this skirt off.” I say smirking at him. “Oh you’d be surprised, but what do you say? It’ll be fun! We’re not exactly doing anything productive anyhow.” I sigh and look at this mad man. “You Mr. J are sure one of a kind.” I giggle and go sit on the couch.

Jerome picks up my pad of paper and pencil and sits straight up acting professional as possible. “Now (y/n) let’s start from the beginning.”

“Well my parents were nice people, good people, but my mother was killed in a car crash. After that my father started drinking and he soon became abusive. I stayed out as much as possible, but that didn’t work because when I came home he got upset and beat me. One day the neighbors heard my screaming and called the cops. I was taken away and into a safer home. That was when I was 10 and since then I’ve been missing something. In school I was always called weird just because I never fit in. I started home school when I was 16 and finished all my education earlier then all my school mates hence why I’m so young and have my job.” I breath deeply trying to hold in tears.

“You know the same pain as me. The one thing I need is someone to laugh with and just love me. Maybe even join me in my crime.” Jerome says as he writes something down on the pad. “Yes! Exactly!” I exclaim siting up. Jerome stares at me and smiles; his lips stretched wide and his teeth showing. “Who’s someone who makes you happy (Y'n)?” Jerome asks while staring at me with soft eyes. I know what you’re thinking. How unprofessional she is. Falling for her patient. Not to mention he’s a psychopath. You sure do know how to pick em! “Well I would have to say you J. We’ve become friends and you make me laugh and feel wanted I guess. I don’t have many friends so it’s nice.” Jerome smiles at my answer. “Well (y/n) you got one now.” He smiles once again but it’s not the menacing creepy smile he gives. It’s filled with actual happiness, and maybe some soft of affection.

“What’s your favorite holiday (y/n)?” I look at him strange confused by the sudden subject change. “Um Halloween actually. I always go to this once costume party with my one friend.” “How exciting! What do you dress as doll?” I blush looking down at my fingers. “Usually harlequin.” “The clown character? Huh. Interesting.” I raise my eyebrow at him. “Interesting how?” “Well if you just change up the letters slightly or miss say it you could get the name Harley Quinn. Ever thought of a name change (y/n)? It would suit you.” I ponder on the name. Harley Quinn. Not bad I must say.

Suddenly a beeping sound is heard meaning our time is up for today. “Ugh. Come on doll don’t send me back yet. We’re having fun!” Jerome sighs dramatically slumping in the old rusting chair. I giggle walking over to him and resting my fingers under his chin and pulling his eyes up to mine. “Same time tomorrow J. I promise.” I kiss his cheek quickly, but he holds my neck and pulls me back to him, and presses his lips against mine. He’s are cold, but surprisingly soft. Jerome pulls back to my dismay. “Same time tomorrow doll.” He winks and walk to the door for the guards to come and escort him back.

I walk home and unlock the door to my appartment turning the light on making my surroundings known. Especially the unknown man sitting on my couch. I gasp and quickly pull out my gun from my vase by the door. “Who are you?” “Nice response time. Could use that.”

I walk closer with my gun pointed right at his head. “Who are you?” I ask once more. “Theo Galavan. I’m here to help you.” “Help me? I don’t need any help.” “No? Not even with a certain inmate at Arkham?” I lower my gun slightly but still keep my guard. “What do you mean by that?” “Oh drop your act Ms.(Y/l/n). It’s not hard to see you have feelings for Jerome, but seeing as his current placement it’d be hard to grow any type of romantic side. I can help get him out.” I lower my gun fully and stare at the man. “What’d you have in mind?” Galavan smirks and pats the seat next to him.

Community Policing

I have been rematching SVU and I was reminded about how much I actually love this episode but I also absolutely hate the ending. The episode is about three police officers who, believing they are chasing a rape suspect, ends up killing a young black man, Terrence Reynolds, and then goes on to the Grand Jury and the indictment.

I love Barba in this episode. He might have been ordered to get an indictment from the DA’s office, but it is clear that he is getting one because he believes that they should be indicted, not necessarily because they ended up killing Reynolds, but because of the excessive force the officers used, they shot Reynolds 35 times!!, but also that they did not verify if he was armed or not, they just started shooting. He also expressive how tired he is with cops killing blacks and that this incident is part of the pattern of cops using deadly force against blacks, where they wouldn’t do so against white people in similar situations.

I love that Barba goes against not just the NYPD and their wishes but also goes against the almighty Olivia Benson.

It’s not that I as such hate Olivia Benson, it’s just that the show sometimes treat her as if she is incapable of being wrong even when she obviously is, such as in this episode. The entire ending, with the death of a young cop, with the obligatory young wife, with children, just to make it even more tragic, has the entire police station meeting at the hospital grieving  the life of this never before seen or mentioned cop who would have lived if he had shot the bad guy. The scene not only implies that Olivia Benson was right the entire time and that Barba getting the three officers indicted was the wrong thing to do, it also implies that cops are right to use deadly force - the young cop might have lived if he had shot the criminal but he didn’t do it because of these indictments, and therefore died. 

it always made my brain itch watching cop dramas, how cops respond to cops getting killed like “cop killer” being an especially repugnant label for criminals, etc., ‘cause of course a job like that is gonna feel like a brotherhood™ or w/e and it’s terrible to have a coworker you care about die but when it’s like “he killed a cop……..he went too far” the implication is always that the loss of a cop’s life is inherently more grievous than the loss of a civilian life when cops are the ones who signed up for a job where getting hurt or killed was an immediate risk. a risk they undertook by signing up for the job. the ideal figure of a Heroic Law Enforcement Officer is supposed to be heroic because they chose to undertake that risk. they chose, of their own accord, to put their lives and safety on the line to serve and protect civilians but suddenly there’s some kind of performative outrage at that risk coming to fruition


are u seriously telling me the one goddamn time they actually get arrested, this is what it’s over?

I was trying to work out how the car ride back to the CIA was going to go and honestly, at first I could imagine it being hilarious.

On the one hand you have Dirk Gently, who tried to comfort Farah by poking her shoulder and who decided to introduce himself to Todd by climbing through his window. And on the other hand you have Hugo Friedkin who (canonically!) uses cinnamon as his safe word, and who struggles to talk and chew gum at the same time. So initially I thought that they’d start having two completely different conversations and it would be a whimsical and amusing trainwreck.

But then it’s also Dirk “I’m always surrounded by bizarre and frightening states of disaster, and I am always alone” Gently and Hugo “I’ve just been burning everything” Friedkin, and we know that Dirk couldn’t stop talking if his life depended on it.

So I’m guessing that Dirk would probably end up lashing out with something justifiably hurtful and Friedkin would snap back with “yeah, well I killed your cop buddy” and that’s how Dirk would learn about Estevez being dead so.

Not as funny as I thought it would be.

Zarna Joshi

Zarna is a proud woman of color and activist.  Recently, she was protesting the building of a police-issued training facility in Seattle that would be used to train cops how to kill people of color they call The Bunker.  She went to a city council meeting to protest and decided to ask a “Pro-Bunker” support a few questions.  She asked his name.


He said his name was Hugh Mungus.  It was such a vulgar and sexually violent joke.  She had every right to be upset, but instead, noone did NOTHING.  She was surrounded by shitlords.  The video is up for all to see but since she has deleted it off facebook, I decided nto to post it.  You can make up your own minds and watch  it if you like, but it is some harrowing shit.  My hands are shaking just thinking about the situation.  We must all show our support of Zarna Joshi and send her well wishes and positive feelings.  She was greatly triggered by this ordeal.