no lies spotted

i love reading posts about how amazing cats are from an evolutionary standpoint and then looking over at my moron slug who lies in the same spot 20 hours a day and can’t find a treat you put on the floor in front of her

Crush (Jason Todd x Reader)

Summary: Bruce is a dick and Jason storms away. You are the only one following him.

Warnings: eh, light smut? You make out, basically it’s nothing, slight angst

Note: (Y/A) = your alias

“We have to–”


Jason tried to help. He just wanted to help, but Bruce pretended he had just killed someone, what he didn’t, like Jason’s judgment was not good enough to be considered.

“He will escape!”

“You are not part of the team anymore, Red Hood. Stand down!”

This felt like a punch right in the gut. Jason stood there, looking at Bruce who turned to Dick, what made Jason’s throat tighten even more. The world around him blurred and his heart ached with pain and rage.

You watched him. Suddenly the bat on your chest burned and you wanted to rip it off, throw it to the ground and quit.
You stepped forward, searching for words that were pouring from your brain and disappear. You couldn’t understand how Bruce didn’t notice how much it hurt Jason, the uncontrollable anger that rose and was about to spill out of him.

Jason’s jaw tensed. Fine, he thought and just ran. He ran and jumped from roof to roof, not checking if it was safe. No one cared about him anyway, right? He was alone in this city, in this world.
Alone in death. Alone in life.
Would they even notice if he’d die, again.
Probably not.

“No one wants to go after him?!” You shouted at everyone, but mostly Bruce. He gave you a quick levelled look and it pushed you over the edge. “You’re an extra asshole today, Bruce. Screw you.” And with that you followed Jason.

You thought Jason was funny, you didn’t know him well, though and yes, you had developed this little crush on him, but this now was something else.
This was anger and fear.
Anger about Bruce’s behavior and fear that one day he might treated you just like Jason today.
And you never wanted to witness that.

Jason was a few feet ahead of you now. “Jason, stop!” You yelled, but he ignored you, pushing even harder. You look ahead of him and a wave of panic broke free. “STOP!” You knew he wouldn’t make that jump and you were sure he knew that too what made it even sadder.

You acted swiftly, reaching for your grappling gun.
You shot and made it pull you what gave you speed.
Jason jumped, but you just made it in time to grab his arm, swinging the two of you in a half circles and crashing into the sixth floor of some office building.

You laid beside him in the sharp pieces of shattered glass. Your cheek was cut open, blood dripping down to your jaw.

“What the hell is wrong with you?!” He growled. Jason was holding his upper arm, trying to rub the dull pain from landing away.

You scoffed. “With me? You were jumping… jump– jumping into death!” You wanted to sugar coat it, but were at a loss of words once more. He didn’t, right? He wouldn’t just want to die again?

“And?” Jason laid his head down, mask facing the ceiling. “My decision.”

“Thought since you knew how it is to die you tried to avoid doing it again.” You mumbled indignant. It just frustrated you.

“I don’t have to talk to you,” he said angrily and got up.

“Thank you, (Y/N). Thank you for being the only one coming after me.” You mimicked his voice before talking in your own tone. “No biggie, Jason. Bruce was a real dick. I really like you and if you ever need company just give me a ring. You are not alone, dude.”

He was stopping right at the edge of the window and his head turned slightly.
You wondered if he was crying under the helmet.

“You’re a good liar.”

“You are bad at spotting lies then, because non of this was a lie.”

He stomped past you. His lethal body now towering over you, making your heart race. You wanted to see his eyes so bad in this moment.

“You hate me just as much as everyone else does, don’t pretend.” He hissed.

You laughed inauthentic, almost sarcastically. “That’s what you think?” You narrowed your eyes at him. “I didn’t know you were so desperate for approval.”

Now he was the one laughing inauthentic, almost sarcastically.
You were standing there, daring at each other as if at any second you would kill one another.

You were the first to move, taking a deep breath.
Jason watched your face soften and body relax almost as if he had defeated you and it didn’t make sense to him.

“I don’t hate you, Jason. I hate that I like you.” You paused. “Like in like like. I’m not good with feelings, you know.” You shrugged.

He tore his helmet off his face. His brows were pulled into a tight frown. His eyes made your insides tingle, but they were so full of question. “What?”

“Yeah.” You raised your hands innocently. “C'mon, don’t tell me your self-esteem is so damaged you don’t believe someone has a crush on you.”

He didn’t even blink.

You got more serious now. “I mean, that’s not why I ran after you. Bru–”

His lips shut you up. Soft, warm lips moved against yours, sweet and tenderly asking for permission. One of his hands slipped from your shoulder to your neck and the other one had took a hold of your chin, tugging it up slightly.
You straightened up and stepped towards him. You pulled him closer by his leather jacket before your hand dipped into his dark hair and wrapped around the hot skin of his neck.
The ground underneath your feet shook so blissfully, making both your knees weak.

Each others lips were the best things you two have ever tasted, sweeter than honey and you wanted more; you couldn’t get enough.
Jason’s lips were making your head spin and yours made him forget about all the shit floating in his head for once.
It was an instant addiction. You craved more from one another.

His hands travelled down your sides, slowly, leaving your skin warm and charged with electricity that made you shiver.
All this stupid body amour in the way.
You jump and wrapped your legs around him. Jason carried you to one of the desk that were standing around. The shattered glass creaked underneath his boots.

You trailed kisses along his jawline. Tiny gasps sneaked over his lips as you bit the skin on his neck just so lightly.
It sounded more melodic than music to you.
Jason tugged on your hair. You breathed in sharply and found his eyes which gleamed with passion and lust, seeming three shades darker.

He laid his forehead to yours while his hands held your thighs, rubbing tiny patterns. “Not here.” He whispered, breathing heavily. “We deserve better.” He looked around and a small grin tugged on his lips.

You nodded and he leaned back in, kissing you for some more moment before grabbing his helmet and putting it on. It was so hard to pull away, to not rip each others amour off right there.

You two stood at the edge now, trying to figure out where you were.
He was holding your hand almost as if he was scared you’d vanish or be ripped away from him if he didn’t.

“I think my apartment is close,” he said. “But this hotel is closer. I mean, would be quite funny to just walk in as (Y/A) and Red Hood.” He shrugged. “I already see the article in Gotham Gossip.” His eyes scrutinized your face and he smiled seeing how flushed you were.
He didn’t feel alone.

“That be a real punch in the face for them. They always try to make me and Dick work.” You picked your grappling gun up, handing it to him.

“I don’t ship that.” He pulled you close and aimed at the nearest roof. You laughed while being dragged through the air. He let go of you as your feet touched the roof and you ran jumping to another one as a voice echoed in your ears.

“Red Hood, (Y/A), you copy?”

Jason stopped and you crashed into him. He kept his hands around you. You shook your head, looking up at the red helmet.

“We can’t just– I didn’t know you were so bitter, (Y/N).” The smirk on his lips was audible.

“I’m not bitter, I just have a million other things on my mind now and every single one is you.”

“I– Same, but we have to.”

You narrowed your eyes at him and smile warmly. “You’re too pure, Jason.”

“We–” He was searching for the right words, how to phrase what he wanted to say best. “We have time, right?”

You get on your tiptoes and kiss the helmet where his mouth was supposed to be. This wasn’t just lust. There was so much more beneath the lust and longing. “Right,” you said, smiling foolishly.

“We copy, Batman. Sup?”

While writing this, this scenario of someone trying to hug Jason and his chest taser is still on, popped up in my mind and made me laugh real hard.
Also, I guess I’ll do a part two. » part two is up

Interrogation as Torture

Interrogation is probably the scenario that comes to most Western people’s minds when torture is mentioned. The belief that torture can be used during interrogation is heavily ingrained in Western pop culture whether the story believes it ‘works’ or not.

I’m going to go over some of the most common misconceptions about what bringing torture to the interrogation table does and does not do.

Tell the Truth

‘Care must be exercised when making use of rebukes, invectives or torture as it will result in his telling falsehoods and making a fool of you.’ Japanese Kempeitai manual found in Burman 1943

The use of force often has the consequence that the person being interrogated under duress confesses falsely because he is afraid and as a consequence agrees to everything the interrogator wishes.’ Indonesian interrogation manual, East Timor, 1983

Intense pain is quite likely to produce false confessions concocted as a means of escaping from distress.’ CIA Kubark Counterintelligence Manual 1963

I can’t prove conclusively that in the history of the world torture has never ever once produced accurate information. Overwhelmingly often it does not. There are several reasons why.

Torture produces a lot of lies. Both people with information and people without information have a good reason to lie under torture. And they both do. The person with information does not want to give it up. The person without information needs to say something to make the torture stop.

Humans are bad at telling when someone is lying. When tested even people who think they’re good at spotting lies can’t do it consistently. It can be almost impossible to tell who is hiding something and who genuinely doesn’t know what’s going on. A person under torture might have already told the truth and started lying when the interrogator didn’t believe them. Which is exactly what happened to Shelia Cassidy when she was tortured in Chile in the 70s.

Pain and stress destroy the human memory. Experiments with willing volunteers have repeatedly shown that stress, pain and lack of sleep make it difficult for people to remember. A 2004 paper using US military survival school as the ‘high stress situation’ which simulated capture and interment as a POW (C A Morgan et al, International Journal of Law and Psychiatry 27, 265-279) found that between 51-68% of soldiers identified the wrong person as their interrogator. Interrogations had lasted four hours with the interrogator shouting at and manhandling the volunteers. The low stress group identified the wrong person 12-38% of the time.

Torture results in loss of public trust. Most police and intelligence investigations live or die on public support. People coming forward voluntarily with accurate information. People reporting on suspects. In the long term torture actively recruits for the opposing ‘side’. According to the IRA this is exactly what happened in Northern Ireland when the British used torture. It also happened in Aden and to a lesser extent Cyprus.

Torture in short produces more lies than truth and in such a mixture that it can be hard to tell which is which. Because of the pain it causes torture can make it impossible for victims who want to tell the truth to actually do so accurately. And because of the effect it has on communities it often makes it harder to gather accurate information through more reliable sources.

Accuracy in torture is so poor it is ‘in some cases less accurate than flipping a coin’. (No that isn’t exaggeration, that’s a quote from D Rejali who literally wrote the book)

The Ticking Bomb

The famous ‘ticking-bomb’ scenario is a fictional situation (it literally came from a novel, written by a suspected torturer) where a disaster (such as a bomb attack) is known to be approaching and in order to save innocent lives the characters need more intel fast.

So they start debating whether to use torture.

Depending on the story and the characters they sometimes do torture. Usually if they do it gives them information they then use to save lives.

There’s another problem, aside from the total lack of accuracy for information that comes from torture. Torture takes as long or longer than other interrogation techniques.

According to the CIA’s own records detainees were put through several days of sleep deprivation before interrogation. The Senate Torture Report (testimony from Ali Soufan) estimated that their torture techniques took 30 days.

According to British records and accounts from the IRA during the Troubles a single torture session by ‘walling’ (sleep deprivation, white noise and stress positions combined) could last between nine and forty three hours.

I’ve selected the following quotes to give an idea of the time frame for short tortures used in interrogation. Both are from Northern Ireland by Irish men detained by the British. Emphasis is mine.

‘One powerfully built RUC detective would keep me pinned in a position while the other one would hold my elbow then press back on my wrist. And that could last for an hour or possibly two hours. And it’s excruciatingly painful, to the extent that I remember after three or four days I would simply go unconscious-’ Tommy McKearney

When I was taken away from Girdwood to be interned, I thought I had been there for about eight days, but it was only three. I later realised I was only being allowed to sleep for ten minutes at a time.’ Joe Docherty

Interrogation always takes time. And that time is measured in days not minutes.

Sanitised Portrayals

‘NO useful information so far….He did vomit a couple of times during the water board with some beans and rice. It’s been 10 hours since he ate so this is surprising and disturbing.’ Senate Torture Report, from quoted emails SSCI 2014, 41-42

For me this is one of the most noticeable differences between torture in pop culture and torture in reality. Torture in films and books is always sanitised.

I don’t mean that it isn’t gory or isn’t gory ‘enough’. Blood seems to be a cinematic staple and seeing the hero beaten and bloodied in a dingy lit room has become standard in a certain sort of action story.

What I’m talking about are the body fluids and products we’re trained to think are less acceptable. Vomit. Urine. Mucus. Faeces.

I can think of several movies where a ‘good-guy’ gets beaten to a bloody pulp on screen. I can’t think of any where they piss themselves. But losing control of bladder and bowel function seem to be pretty common in real life. A lot of the eyewitness accounts I’ve read about systematic torture mention the smell of urine and shit.

Vomiting is something I don’t see mentioned as often in survivor accounts but I think it’s very likely to occur frequently because a lot of common methods of torture produce nausea.

The ‘Tough’ Interrogator


It may be only later, outside of that specific environment, that the torturer may question his or her behaviour, and begin to experience psychological damage resulting from involvement in torture and trauma. In these cases, the resulting psychological symptoms are very similar to those of victims, including anxiety, intrusive traumatic memories and impaired cognitive and social functioning.’ Psychologists Mark Costanzo and Ellen Gerrity.

Those techniques [CIA ‘enhanced interrogation’ techniques] are so harsh it’s emotionally distressing to the people who are administering them.’ Dr James Mitchell, psychologist involved in the CIA’s EIT program.

We are where we are- and we’re left popping our Prozac and taking our pills at night.’ Anonymous torturer quoted in Cruel Britannia

There’s a growing body of evidence that torture has a negative psychological effect on the torturer.

The evidence is for the most part anecdotal, based on patterns emerging across interviews. Torturers, funnily enough, don’t show up in droves for psychological studies. But there is a pattern. One of substance abuse, addiction, PTSD and suicide.

The cause of these symptoms in torturers is the same thing that causes trauma in people who witness horrific things. It is well known that seeing violent attacks on others can cause trauma in witnesses.

Humans are empathic creatures.

There is a measurable, automatic response in the brain to seeing others in pain. We can not control it and we can not stop it. Even when we are told that the other person is anaesthetized our brains still respond to their perceived pain.

This, combined with the destruction of normal social interaction and dehumanisation, appears in a very real sense to harm torturers.

If you’re planning to use torture as part of an interrogation scene it’s worth noting that some torturers do believe torture is a useful way to get information, despite the evidence. Some of them cling to the idea that they had to torture, that what they did was useful and saved lives. Some of them seem to overplay the value of torture in order to justify their own actions and jobs.

None of that makes them immune to the effect of torturing another human being.


[Additional Sources-

‘Torture and Democracy’, Princeton, D Rejali (Only order this if you’ll be at home to pick it up, at over 850 pages it’s a monster)

‘Accuracy of eyewitness memory for person encountered during exposure to highly intense stress’, The International Journal of Law and Psychiatry C A Morgan, G Hazlett, A Doran, S Garrett, G Hoyt, P Thomas, M Baranoksi, S M Southwick, 2004 (This team have actually done a series on high stress situations and the effects on memory. Charles Morgan is the first author on this set of papers.)

‘Audacity to Believe’ Cleveland, S Cassidy

‘Why Torture Doesn’t Work: The Neuroscience of Interrogation.’ Harvard University Press, S O’Mara (Highly recommended, reasonably accessible for a layman)

‘Cruel Britannia: A Secret History of Torture.’ Portobello Books, I Cobain (Very good history, although the author doesn’t seem to understand many of the techniques he writes about)

‘What are you feeling? Using Functional Magnetic Resonance Imaging to Assess the Modulation of Sensory and Affective Responses during Empathy for Pain’, PLoS ONE, C Lamm, H C Nusbaum, A N Meltzoff, J Decety 2007 (The experiments in this paper include brain scans of people seeing photos of a needle and a hand in various different positions, some of which would be painful. There wasn’t much change in brain response if the volunteers were told the hand couldn’t feel pain.)]

Engraved pt. 14

<– Engraved 13 | Sheltered 2 –> | Chased 1 –> | Engraved 15 –>

Short: You’re a tattoo artist for a gang known as EXO who own a club down town. (read synopsis at masterpost)
Words: 9770
Notes for updates: 40
Warnings: Fraud, some form of threatening, S.M.U.T. and not the fluffy king. swearing, piercings.
Pairings: D.O. x Reader, slight Chen X Reader
A/N: Okay so finally we got here, what all you (sorry) impatient bitches have been waiting for. Enjoy it, and kindly fuck off! For the nice people, let me know what you think i love you <3

AFF link

Your pov

She didn’t scare you but she took the words out of your mouth. You needed a few seconds to reply to her. Miyong was quite a lot shorter than you especially on those heels you were wearing. Hers were only 3 inches or so.
“You’re Miyong? Jongin’s girlfriend?” you asked, putting the ball in her court.
A blush spread out over her cheeks and she looked to the side. “I’m not his girlfriend, and with all the women, like you, clinging to him I don’t think he needs me.” She mumbled a bit, and you saw that she was disappointed, her gaze flickering to your friend.
“Hey, I need to go to the bathroom, and it’s quite the walk. Mind accompanying another girl? I hate going alone.” You said, and she frowned at first but then nodded.
You walked out in front of her a little, down the hallway that stated where the ladies room was. When you passed most people you slowed down to her speed.
“What is a tattoo artist doing, as the date of Kim Minseok?” she asked, looking at you.

Originally posted by jimjammed

Keep reading

anonymous asked:

Hi alex! I dont know if you take prompts and if you dont thats ok. If you do can you write a scene in your bth verse where emma tells killian about her ability to spot lies please? Thank you and dont worry if you dont have time to write it i understand.

So, this is one of those things where it’s clear that at some point in Beyond the Horizon, Killian finds out about Emma’s superpower, but I never wrote the actual scene where she tells him. Then I got carried away and wrote 4,000 words once I started thinking about how it would have come out. Unlike the other BtH extras, this isn’t a single scene, this is some missing bits and pieces that take place over several chapters of the main fic.

Also on here as part of my Interlude at Sea series.

(and yes, there’s smut)


Something was nagging at him.

It was a faint but insistent tug at the back of his mind, a lurking shadow in the corner of his eye.

“Women on ships are bad luck.”

Killian Jones was superstitious - all sailors were, to some extent. He wore charms around his neck to guard against the cold grasp of Davy Jones (no relation) and never dared to challenge the wind by absent-mindedly whistling on deck. He steered well clear of the flocks of albatrosses soaring about overhead in search of dinner and avoided the sleek schools of mermaids below - treacherous, untrustworthy creatures they were, but he’d never held much stock in the old belief that a woman aboard a ship was bad luck. He certainly didn’t think that his golden-haired treasure had brought him any ill since he’d stolen her away for his own, the single storm (that they’d forded with no casualties and no cost save a lost day or two on repairs) aside, he’d had nothing but astonishingly good luck with Princess Emma by his side.

In his arms.

In his bed.

But still, there was something about her that he couldn’t quite put his finger on. Some mysterious quality about her that had nothing to do with her more obvious, feminine charms, like the tilt of her lips that practically begged for his kisses or the curve of her waist that seemed to have been made for his hands to circle and pull her close, lovely and dreadfully distracting whenever he tried and failed to get to the bottom of exactly what was bothering him.

So he watched,

And waited.

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anonymous asked:

Your writing is wonderful. It's such a pleasure to read your one-shots. Thank you so much for sharing your work! I have a prompt request: Sana and Yousef's toddler wakes up from a nightmare and goes to their bedroom... snuggling in between them.

Hey :)

Thank you so much, you’re so nice!!

I hope you like the way I wrote this. Let me know!


“Mamma?”, little Yousra could be heard.

She tapped down the corridor from her room to that of her parents. She did light all the lights in her room and in the corridor and then the big light in her parents’ room. 
Immediately Sana and Yousef both shoot up from their sleep and look around, very confused as to what is happening. 
Yousra is standing in the doorway and sniffles her cries. Still half asleep Yousef jumps out of the bed and quickly rushes to his 4- year old daughter. She’s standing there in her baby blue pyjamas and with her stuffed bunny in her hands. 
Yousef kneels in front of her and Sana sits up and looks at her husband and daughter. It’s unusual that their daughter is up at.. Sana looks at the clock.. 3 in the morning. She has been sleeping through the night since she was just a tiny baby. 
“Hey, princess. What happened?”, Yousef asks her and his heart breaks a little seeing tears streaming down his daughter’s cheeks. He cups her cheeks and wipes away her tears and kisses the tip of her nose. Over the last few years he has seen their child cry so many times because children cry, that happens. And he is used to it from work but it’s completely different when it’s your own child. 
Yousra wraps her short arms around her father as much as she can and sniffles into his shoulder. She starts hiccupping and all Yousef understands is “Nightmare.”

“Yousef, bring her here.”, he hears Sana say softly from the bed. When Yousef picks up their daughter, Sana lifts the covers. He places his daughter in between him and Sana and stands back up.

“Baba, don’t go.”, Yousra pleads frowning. 

“I’m just going to put the lights out, alright?”, he responds and leans down to place a kiss on Yousra’s forehead.

While Yousef is doing as he said, Yousra turns to her mother and hugs her close. Sana wraps her arms around her daughter protectively and gently soothes Yousra’s slightly curly hair she has from her dad. Sana knows that always calms her daughter.

“Do you want to tell me what happened?”, Sana asks quietly. Yousra’s breathing got more even, she stopped hiccupping.

Sana can feel Yousra shaking her head but mumbling something of monsters. It makes Sana want to cry seeing her daughter cry because of nightmares. But she can’t. She is the mother and has to be the strong one.

Yousef joins them again and puts the covers over all of them and snuggles closer to the two favorite people in his life. He listens as Sana quietly and in a soothing manner explains something to Yousra.

“You don’t need to be afraid of monsters, alright?”, Sana says but Yousef missed the first part of their conversation. He watches as his daughter pulls the stuffed bunny Elias had given her as a present when she was barely a year old to her face. Sana meets Yousef’s gaze in the dimly lit room, only the lamp on the night stand is on, and they both smile at each other. They’re really tired because they went to bed late after Elias and Adam left their house after a ‘How To Get Away With Murder’- marathon.

“No monsters.”, the couple hears their daughter mumble while falling back asleep, “Bunny will protect us.”

At that Yousef smiles widely and Sana tries really hard not to laugh out loud. Yousra’s uncle Elias had named the stuffed bunny ‘Bunny’ because he thought it would be easier for her to remember.

“Good to know she trust Bunny to protect us.”, Yousef whispers over his daughter’s head to his wife.

Yousra is snuggled to her mother and Yousef directly next to her. Yousef observes his daughter falling into sleep and in that moment, at three A.M. in the morning, seeing Sana sleepily watch their daughter with her hair messily falling down her shoulders, feels like the happiest and luckiest man alive. He has a wonderful, intelligent, strong wife and they have the most beautiful daughter. He loves that Yousra looks more like her mother, with her cute little nose and the eyes. He also loves that Yousra is as curious as her mother about everything. And if Yousra wanting to learn about everything means that he has to answer hundreds of questions a day he’ll gladly do that.

“That stuffed animal is like her hero, thanks to Elias.”, Sana whispers back. Elias always tells Yousra all these epic stories about what Bunny is doing while she is sleeping or at preschool.

Yousra starts moving and both of her parents think she’s going to wake up but she doesn’t. She only turns around and snuggles up to her father. Since she was just a baby she always snuggled up to Yousef’s chest. Yousef smiles at that and wraps one arm around his daughter and extents the other one for Sana to take. She takes his hand and intertwines their fingers. Sana watches how lovingly Yousef looks down at their daughter and then her gaze falls on Yousra. She loves that Yousra has her father’s hair and she loves how similar she is to him in some ways. She adores that Yousra loves dancing with her father and loves that many mornings are spend having a dance party in the kitchen before having breakfast.

Sana notices Yousra’s ponytail being loose and smiles to herself when she remembers how she makes her parents take turns in doing her hair. It’s always one day mom, the other day dad. When Elias or one of the other guys is there in the morning they have to try to. Elias actually got really good at doing his nieces hair. She has them all wrapped around her little finger; she really is their little princess.

Having so many uncles and aunts that spoil her doesn’t help that matter but it’s okay. Sometimes Sana has to be the strict parent but she doesn’t mind. Yousra is a good kid and listens so she really doesn’t need to be too strict anyway.

Absentmindedly Sana strokes little patterns on Yousef’s arm draped over their daughter towards Sana.

Yousef leans up and towards Sana and kisses his wife shortly but sweetly without waking Yousra. 

When he lies back on his spot he asks her: “What are you thinking?”

Sana smiles at him and looks down at Yousra who now has Bunny close to her chest and squished between herself and her dad. Sana is lucky to have a family like this. It’s a small family, at least for now, but Sana loves having her own little family.

She kisses Yousra on the top of her head and looks back at her husband.

“I think we’re doing good.”, Sana says.

Yousef nods. He completely agrees. Being parents is not easy but their daughter is the best thing that has happened to either of them and they’re not alone. If they need help with anything they have their family and friends.

With a look towards his daughter curled up to him he smiles.

“We’re doing good.”

☆ For shizuuchans ☆

(I’m really sorry about how late this is — I think I took on more complexity than I should have, but I hope you like it)

You mentioned that you like AUs, so I did a crossover with Tsuritama!

Hope your holidays are going great!

anonymous asked:

Talon Heacanon: Reaper designed all of the outfits seen in The Masquerade, and Sombra's jester outfit was a spiteful punishment for her behind the scenes activities. She's furious with him.


because Reaper knows exactly what Sombra has been up to. she thinks she’s successfully tricking him into thinking she is loyal to him, but Reaper knows better. he was the Blackwatch Commander; he can spot lies and deceit from a mile away. as much as he has changed over the years, that has always remained the same

it will be interesting to see a confrontation between the two. Sombra respects Reaper a lot. to an extent, she cares about him, and probably wouldn’t mind if he joined forces with her instead of with Talon. and I think Reaper begrudgingly cares for her too, otherwise he would’ve killed her by now for betraying him

Home Again| 15

One || Two || Three || Four || Five || Six || Seven || Eight || Nine || Ten||Eleven || Twelve || Thirteen || Fourteen

Originally posted by mvssmedia

It’s been a couple of weeks since I’ve seen Jay or anyone from AOMG for that matter. Three weeks to be exact. I’ve been distancing myself from them all. If you’re with one, another appears out of nowhere. I can’t risk it. I decided to leave Korea soon. It’s better for me. I really can’t stay here if I’m getting nothing but trouble. It’s my home, yes. But I’m scared for Seulgi. She wants to stay but I know what happens to mixed race children here in Korea. I was one of them. I basically grew up here. Both physically and mentally. But more mentally. They get bullied. I was used to get pushed around. I owned up to it, fought a few girls and boys here and there. But I don’t want her to be like me. I want her to have a good life. I don’t want her bullied because of her darker skin color. I don’t want her coming home crying or coming home expelled because of a fight. She deserves so much more. 

I was currently in Soyoung’s apartment, playing with Seulgi. She brought out a few dolls for us to play with. “Aren’t they beautiful?” I asked. “They’re okay. But they don’t look as beautiful as mommy.” She said. I could only smile at her. She smiled back at me. I heard a knock at the door. I got up and walked over to the front door. I opened it without thinking. I was greeting by an unwanted guest. Sunghwa. “Can we talk?” I shouldn’t have opened the door so wide. He could clearly see Seulgi behind me. “Who’s the kid?” I grabbed his wrist and shut the door behind me. “She’s m-my, my niece. Her dad is my brother Byungho.” I lied. When I lie there are two reactions from my body. My hands either start shaking like crazy or a slightly twitch. This time it was the twitch. Only a few people can spot my lies. Of course Sunghwa was not one of them. He just wasn’t. “You never told me about your niece. Can I meet her?” “Aniya! You need to leave! Soyoung doesn’t like people in her apartment without her permission.” I explained. “Why do you keep pushing me away?!” “Why do you have fucking love me?! Do you know how hard life is for me right now? Ever since the fucking accident! I got hit with a car running after you, Sunghwa! You! Not Jay! You! I care about you! Hell, I am even love you! But I can’t be with you. I can’t be with Jay. I don’t need nor want a man right now. Stop making life so hard and back-” Interrupting me, he smashed his lips on mine. I couldn’t pull away because deep down inside of me, I wanted this. I wanted him. I wanted his lips on mine. I wanted nothing more than to kiss him. It was everything I imagined. His soft lips against mine felt like heaven. I kissed back for a few seconds then pulled away. “I can’t.” I said. 

-Jay’s POV-

I needed to see her. She’s been avoiding me. I pulled up to Soyoung’s apartment, I guess she lives here now. I let the window down. I saw her and Sunghwa? Kissing?!?! I turned my car off, jumped out of it and rushed over to them. She could see me coming. She almost immediately jumped in front of him. “Why the hell are you protecting him?! Move Y/N!” “No! I’m not letting you hurt your friend of me, Jay! Stop this! You two are like brothers!” She shouted. “No brother of mine would kiss the woman I love the most!” I screamed. I tried to push her out of the way but she hugged me tightly, not once loosening her grip. “Please don’t hurt him Jay! Please! I’m begging you! Please don’t do it!” She said her voice breaking. Is she crying? I wrapped my arms around her. She was so soft. I missed this feeling of hugging her. But she was hugging me for the wrong reason. I can feel her tears drenching my shirt. Sunghwa looked at Y/N before rushing off somewhere. I couldn’t focus on him right now. “I’m sorry for everything. Eight years. Eight years.” She said in my chest. Eight years? What the hell does that mean? 

After her little meltdown she headed back inside and I left. It was for the best. I went home. I couldn’t even come into work. Eight years? Eight years? Those two words stuck in my head. She left Korea nine years ago. Not eight. Did something happen eight years ago when I wasn’t there for her? Why did she say it twice? And why was she sobbing over that phrase? I know Soyoung and Steph won’t really help. Maybe, just maybe Steph’s, little cousin knows. What was that sweet little girl’s name? Seulgi? Yeah that’s it!   I made my way to Stephanie’s apartment. She was outside with a friend of hers. I hid behind a railing around the corner of her apartment. “I just want her to tell him, you know?” “You can’t force her to tell him about the kid. Maybe one day she’ll admit it to him. She shouldn’t tell him. He’s not ready to be a father yet. I can clearly tell.” Her friend said. Who the hell are they talking about? Her friend got into her car and drove off. I walked over to her. She slightly jumped at the slight of me. “What are you doing here?” “I wanted to talk to you about Y/N.” She sighed and mumbled a few curse words. She opened the door to her apartment. “Come in.” I walked in and sat on the sofa. There was something off. “What is it? Why’d you come here when you know my sister’s at-” “Is she in love with Sunghwa?” I interrupted her question with my own. She sighed and looked away. “She doesn’t love anyone.” She answered. “Maybe you’re right. Maybe I’m just jealous of every man in a 10 meter radius of her.” 

I looked over across the room and saw a family picture on the coffee table in front of the sofa. I grabbed it and smiled. It was a cute little picture of Seulgi and…Y/N? Y/N was hugging Seulgi. Oh yeah. That’s her niece so it’s not really weird. But she looked like a mother in this picture. I don’t know why. She was holding her so tight. I saw little writing on the bottom. It looked like a children’s writing. “My Mommy” Mommy? This is some joke, right? 

-Stephanie’s POV-

“My Mommy” I heard him mumble looking at Seulgi’s picture. I snapped it and hid it. “Why does that picture say my mommy?” He asked. “That’s none of your business. Let it go!” I shouted at him. He looked like he realized everything. “Seulgi. She’s not your niece is she? Y/N is her mother, isn’t she?” He asked with pleading eyes. I felt bad for him. “Tell me the truth. Is Seulgi her daughter?”

-Y/N’s POV-

Seulgi wanted to go to the park so I took her to the nearest park. We were walking through the park. Well I was walking, she was skipping. “Mommy?” “Yes, Seulgi?” “Can you tell me about when you lived in Korea?” She asked. I sighed and looked up into the sky. “When I lived in Korea. Honestly the best time of my life. People cared about me. I always thought it would be hard because wasn’t like the other kids. But it wasn’t. They actually liked me.” “That’s not what I wanted to know. Tell me about Dad.”

“Your father was the world to me and I loved him with all my heart. I met him in my first few months of Korea. He was my everything.” “Then why did you two break up?” She asked. A tear fell from my eye remembering what happened. “…Please don’t leave. I love you too much…..Then tell me why you’re leaving and I’ll let you go, only if you agree to come back….I can’t live with you Y/N…..I’ll do whatever it takes-” (Shout out to the people who know where these lines come from. Hint: Chapter 6)

I could hear his voice in my head as if it was happening for a second time. “It’s complicated sweetheart. Maybe in the future I’ll explain. But now go have fun. The playground is over there.” I said trying to change the subject. She rushed over to playground and the other kids welcomed her with open arms. I sighed and sat on the bench. I watched the children play with Seulgi as if she was just like them. It warmed my heart. “Y/N?” I heard a voice. I looked to my right and saw Stephanie’s friend and co worker, Yumi. She walked over and sat next to me. “You look a little down. You okay?” She asked. “Yeah I’m fine.” “I had a talk with your sister early about Seulgi’s father and-” “I’m gonna tell him.” I interrupted her. “What?” “I’m gonna tell him about her. He deserves to know about her.” I said. She didn’t say anything. She just sat there in silence. I looked down at my phone. 

Here’s the next chapter since a lot of people were asking about it. We hope you enjoyed. Thanks for reading. Sorry for any mistakes. Admin Kai and Admin June. 

Originally posted by oncw

Imagine fainting after testifying in court for Barba

Imagine fainting after testifying in court for Barba

You were embarrassed to tell anyone.

You were too embarrassed and too stubborn to admit it to anyone.

It was a normal night. You took that that walk every single day. The only outlier was that you were tired. It had been a long day at the precinct and you weren’t as alert as usual. It was outside your apartment. You lived in a nice area and maybe you took that for granted.

They pulled you into an ally. Their were three of them. Probably teenagers. They shoved you against the wall. Demanding your wallet and pulling out a knife. You were slightly winded but when you saw the flash of the knife you snapped. You suddenly became alert and actually realised what was going on but by that time you were too late to stop what was coming.

You flashed your gun and attempted to tackle the knife out of the boys hand. You struggled with him while the other two ran off. In a final shove he got you on the right side of your torso before running off screaming something about cops being pigs.

Steadying yourself against the wall you examined the damage. Blood was gushing out of the wound. Clutching your side you hurried into your apartment being careful to hide your discomfort and the blood so not to arouse suspicion from your neighbours. Throwing yourself into your apartment and taking off your shirt. You applied pressure and then cleaned it off in the shower. Examining it you decided that it wasn’t that deep and stitched it up yourself. Which in hindsight wasn’t the smartest decision you’d ever made. You made the decision based on the emergency medical training course you did when you were in high school but you were stubborn. You wrapped it up and took an Advil slightly hoping that the pain would subside before work.

At work the next day you wore a loose fitting shirt so no one would see the bandage you had on. The pain in your side was sharp and relentless but you’d be damned if you didn’t act if everything was fine. You fooled everyone but the pain had made you forget that you were due in court that afternoon as a witness for a case you had closed a few weeks ago. Liv had to remind you

“Y/L/N, what are you still doing here?” Liv asked walking out of her office and spotting you.

“Working?” you replied unsure turning your chair as slow as possible.

“Don’t you have you have court in an hour?” she asked.

You sighed heavily, “I completely forgot.”

You gathered up your things as quick and unsuccessfully as painlessly as possible. You hurried to the courthouse in your car the sting of the pain getting more and more unbearable.

When you finally got the courthouse, you were sweating, breathing heavily and slightly cursing the courthouse for having so many steps. Barba had come to greet you and unlike your other colleges who you had easily fooled you suspected that he might notice something was off especially in your current state.

“What happened to you? You look like hell.” he asked looking up from his phone and raising an eyebrow as you walked up to him.

“What do you expect? I live there.” you attempted to joke.

You and Barba had that sort of relationship. You made jokes at each others expense but worked well together. You talked about yourselves but nothing too serious. You had your moments together. You liked him a lot but you’s never say anything in fear you’d be shot down because he most likely only saw you as friend.

“And was the long trip the reason why you’re late?” he probed as you two began walking to court.

“Mmm.” you winced taking a heavy step in an attempt to keep of with him.

You chatted complacently to him as you walked to the witness area of the courthouse. When you arrived you went to say goodbye and turned away from him when he grabbed your hand.

“Are you sure you’re okay?” he asked examining your face and staring directly into your eyes.

“Yeah.” you answered trying to be as convincing as possible,flashing a smile.

“Y/N. You can’t fool me. I know you too well and not to mention I spot lies for a living.” he said clearly not believing you.

“Barba, I’m fine.I’ll admit I’m not feeling too great. I think I’m coming down with something.” you offered hoping he would buy it.

“We’ll talk about this later.” he said still not taking your word for it but he had to leave as the trial was starting.

You watched him go and then sat down heavily. The pain in your side was growing and you started to see double. Time seemed to speed up as you were called to the stand in what felt like almost instantaneously. You dragged yourself to the door before taking a large breath and straightening up for the best performance of your life.

You don’t remember walking in or sitting down. All you remember is seeing everyone stare at you,watching you. You remember Barba asking you question which you answered just like you practiced a few days earlier. You remember answering but you couldn’t see anything. You blinked rapidly in an attempt to focus but in was just blurry. The cross was the worst. You had to formulate answers and try to be convincing but all you wanted to do was shut your eyes and sleep. When the judge told you to step down his voice seemed louder than usual, you went to stand up and something snapped. You became unsteady and your eyes shut. You heard someone shouting your name and felt your head smacking against the floor.

When you woke up you heard a loud beeping in your ear which made you wince audibly. You opened your eyes to an excruciatingly bland room. A room that you’d never seen before. You went to sit up alarmed.

“You shouldn’t move. You’ll tear your stitches…again.” A voice rang out from beside you.

You leaned yourself back down and turned to see Barba sitting beside you reading the paper.

“Where are we?” you asked stupidly.

“The hospital, obviously.” he answered rolling his eyes.

“Why?” you asked not remembering at that point what had happened.

“Well to put it bluntly your stupid decision came back and bit you in the ass. Though the damage to anyone or anything besides yourself was minimal. I still won the case so you shouldn’t feel too bad.” he replied bluntly.

“Huh?” you questioned still not gaging what he was saying.

“Do you not remember getting stabbed on Monday night?” he asked finally putting his paper down to look at you.

“Rafael…” you began.

“No. No. Don’t you remember getting stabbed in the ally by your building after an attempted robbery? Don’t you remember making the idiotic decision to not go the hospital? Stitching yourself up. Going to work, to court, testifying while you were bleeding internally. Don’t you remember?” he accused fiercely.

“I…” you attempted to answer.

“No. You probably don’t remember. Most likely because you got a concussion after you smacked your head against the courtroom floor.” he answered for you.
You shook your head slowly before looking back up again.

“Why are you so angry?” you spat out.

“Why am I angry?” he repeated, “Maybe because you almost died because you were too stubborn to ask help. The doctors said if we hadn’t gotten you to the hospital when we did you would have died within twenty-four hours. Exsanguination.”

“I’m sorry, okay. I didn’t think it was that bad. I thought I would be okay.” you admitted.

“Of course you did. That botched stitching was evidence of that.” he scowled.

“How do you know all this? How did you know what happened” you questioned.

“Well after you were rushed here and the doctors actually told us what had happened. Your colleagues, remember them, did their jobs, and saw what happened to you on a security camera. They found the boys loitering nearby. Apparently they had been doing it for months all over the area. The only differences is that you were the only one of their victims who didn’t report it.” he explained still angry.

“I was going to investigate after I felt better. I wasn’t planning on just letting it go.” you informed.

“Oh a detective work from beyond the grave. What a pioneer. Sounds like a movie. Maybe you can act in it from the beyond the grave too.” he joked spitefully.

“What do you want from me?” you asked starting to get angry yourself.

“I want you to understand what you did. You almost died. What would have happened if you had? What would have happened to your brother? Your nephew? Did you think of them at all?” He ranted standing up in frustration.

“I told you. I didn’t think it was that bad. What’s really wrong with you, Barba? I’ve never seen this angry and you get angry a lot!“you badgered trying to defuse the situation.

“You don’t understand.” he said beginning to pace the bed at the foot of the hospital bed.

“Then explain it to me.” you pleaded.

“I wasn’t fast enough. I knew something was wrong with when you didn’t say how ugly my tie was like you always do. I wanted to believe that you were okay like you were saying but I knew you weren’t. Even on the stand you weren’t looking at me like you usually do. Pulling faces so you can make me smile when things aren’t going well. You were just staring blankly asking questions like a robot. And then you stood up and you fell.I was too slow to catch you or help you or anything. You were bleeding because your stitches broke but I din’t know that then. You were just laying their and you weren’t waking up. And then you stopped breathing…I thought that I…had lost you. And I don’t know what I would have done if that had happened.” he admitted leaning against the railing at the foot of your bed staring right into your eyes.

You looked into his eyes. They were filled with pain and sadness. You hated seeing him so upset especially because you were the reason.

“I’m so sorry. I promise to try and not get stabbed again but if I do or I’m in any other sort of trouble, I’ll call you but obviously not past eleven because I know you get cranky when you don’t get your sleep.” you apologised.

He chuckled at you, shaking his head.

“Come here Barba. You look like a sad puppy and I love puppies. Can’t bear to see them upset.” You said raising your arms gesturing for a hug.

He circled the bed and held you getting tangled in your hair. He held on murmuring something into your ear. You heard exactly what he said.

“Me too.” you smiled as you clung on tighter.

pomrania  asked:

Would you be able to talk about alternatives to torture, for gathering information? Like, you've made it very clear that torture does NOT work for that, so what are some things writers could have their characters do instead, to provide an example for people making real-world decisions, that wouldn't involve human-rights violations? (If this isn't your field of knowledge, would you know of things to look up, as a starting point?)

I’m happy to try but the proviso is that almost everything I’ve come across to do with how interrogations and investigations should actually be conducted has come up while researching torture. Which skews the information somewhat.

The main thing that needs stressing is something almost all sources agree on INTERROGATIONS ARE A BAD WAY OF COLLECTING INFORMATION.

A good investigation would rely primarily on evidence gathering and informants. For evidence gathering I’d suggest looking up books and blogs on forensics and perhaps ScriptHacker for computer-based evidence.

Informants are a little trickier. In a best-case members of the public actively want to help with information gathering. A good real life example is the London Bombings in July 2005. Members of the public were essential in the capture of the terrorists responsible.

These people included the parents and neighbours of the bombers. These people recognised the bombers from CCTV footage of the attacks, contacted the police and gave them a lot of essential information. This actually stopped another bomb from going off and saved lives.

Support and help from the public is essential to the success of any investigation. And having been in the UK at the time of those attacks I can also say that this sort of support is often also a sort of public/civic pride. Part of how torture hampers investigations is by making this level of public trust and cooperation impossible.

In situations where the public doesn’t necessarily support the investigation, such as in repressive regimes, people are often paid for information. The system doesn’t work as well but it still functions reasonably. It’s hugely expensive and not always as reliable.

In settings with informants it is highly likely the public is aware of informants. There’s an atmosphere of fear and the mistaken tendency to believe that people picked up by the police/government must have had some sort of information. The climate of fear may hamper investigations, making ordinary people hesitate to come forward for fear they might be arrested or implicated.

It’s also worth pointing out that even in repressive regimes there are cases that will get widespread public support. It is perfectly reasonable for the determined gumshoe in your dystopia setting to get help and support from the public when he’s trying to solve a child’s murder even if the same people ignored him last week when he was looking for political dissidents.

Which brings us to the stuff I can actually talk a little about the least reliable method: interrogations.

I wouldn’t consider myself an expert on interrogation and I’ve never conducted an interrogation. Most of what I’m putting down here is based on experiments on human memory rather than interrogation per say. These techniques are focused on trying to improve memory more then ‘catch’ lies, they spot inconsistencies they don’t show whether the inconsistencies are accidental or on purpose.

Get them to tell their story backwards.

If the story stays consistent when it’s told backwards as well as forwards then you can be reasonably sure that it is genuinely what that person remembers. That isn’t quite the same as it being true. Forcing someone to focus on their story in this way sometimes help people to recall additional details. It also makes spotting inconsistencies easier. It is much harder to keep a lie consistent when telling the story backwards, so lies are easier to spot. But inconsistencies may also be down to trauma or normal flaws in human memory.

Separate the people involved

This doesn’t just prevent suspects from coming up with a ‘cover story’, it also prevents witnesses from accidentally affecting each other’s memories. In group settings people often have agree with the consensus of the group. This can powerful enough to trigger alterations in people’s memories.

Build a repartee

Interrogators/interviewers should try and build up a connection with the people they’re interviewing. This takes time and patience. Speaking the interviewee’s native language is usually essential as is treating them with respect.

Avoid leading questions or pressure tactics

These lead to false confessions.

And that’s…..a pretty complete summary so far as I know.

The truth is that the backbone of investigations and information gathering is public support. Dossiers are built on people voluntarily supplying information about their neighbours, friends and family as well as strangers.

A close second is forensics and physical evidence, which given how much information about any one person is now digital, often includes a large amount of online and computer-based data.

Interrogations suck. The human memory is unreliable and becomes more unreliable under stress. Which affects innocent people who are nervous because they’ve just been arrested as much as it affects guilty people who are trying not to get caught.

If you want to write real-world information gathering my advice is avoid interrogations as far as possible. They just aren’t that useful.


S. O’Mara in ‘Neuroscience and Interrogation: Why Torture Doesn’t Work’ covers a lot of the points on memory.

Rejali in ‘Torture and Democracy’ covers how investigations are actually conducted in the absence of torture with a focus on public cooperation and informants.

The New Scientist has published several articles relevant to human memory over the years and one specifically on interrogation/interviewing.

Edit: You might want to also check out this blog that takes questions on forensics and investigations.


H.G x Reader #7

Prompt: Hermione has a crush on you and in an attempt to find out if you like her back she decides to snoop through your journal.

Originally posted by hogwartsfansite


Said boy looked up, not surprised to see his best friend standing in front of him.

“Yes?” He asked, pushing up his glasses as he did.

“Can I borrow your invisibility cloak and the map?” Hermione tried to seem nonchalant but, the slight tremble in her voice have her away. Plus Harry was very observant and could see right through her.

“What for?” He asked suspiciously. He faced her and crossed his arms, curious as to the out-of-character vibe coming from her.

“I need to sneak into the library later. Restricted section.” She lied.

He narrowed his eyes and sized her up. “Hermione, I can tell your lying.” He said bluntly.

Hermione sighed. She figured Harry would pick up on her agitation so she didn’t even try to change his mind.

She grabbed him by the elbow, never mind his essay, and pulled him into an empty aisle.

“I need to go into the [y/h] dormitories.” She whispered. Harry raised a brow, wordlessly ordering her to explain further.

She sighed and debated pulling out a book and smacking Harry across the head with it. She decided that if she was trying to convince her friend to let her borrow something of his, hitting him while doing so might not be the best idea.

“You know [Y/n]?”

[Y/n]? [Y/n] [Y/l/n]? No, not at all.” He shook his head making his glasses fall lower onto his nose. He pushed them back up and rolled his eyes. “It’s not like you spend every waking moment talking about her. Or stalking-”

“I don’t stalk her!”

“- sorry, ‘admiring’ her from afar. Or thinking about her. Merlin, I bet you even dream about her-”

Okay!” She hissed, hoping Harry hadn’t seen her blush. “I get it. You know who I’m talking about”, Hermione paused to look around the library again and seeing no one between hearing distance, dropped her voice down to a whisper.

Harry leaned in closer.

“Anyways. She has Quidditch practice later. I needed your invisibility cloak to sneak into her dormitory. I need the map to keep tabs on everyone in her house. ”

“Why?” Harry pulled back to stare oddly at his friend before she pulled him closer by his tie.

“I was getting there.” She muttered.

“As I was saying. I’ve noticed that she always-”

“What haven’t you noticed?” Harry interrupted sarcastically.

Shut up! Stop interrupting!” This time she didn’t hesitate to hit him, though she didn’t reach for a book. She found more satisfaction in the way he flinched when her hand connected with the back of his head.

“[Y/n] always carries a book with her. Everywhere. It’s leather bound. I think it’s some sort of journal or uh, diary.

“Oh yeah!” Harry exclaimed, snapping his fingers. “She’s always writing in it during class, everyday. Not that I blame her, but now that I think of it… what has she been writing in it these past years?” He questioned, pulling his brows together in thought.

“It’s not notes.” He added thoughtfully. “She has specific parchment for every class so it can’t possibly be notes.”

Hermione clapped his shoulder. “That’s what I’ve been trying to tell you! My plan was- well is- to sneak into her room while she’s at practice. I feel she’s been sending me mixed signals for a while. I need to find out if she feels the same way I do about her. If she likes me… she’d have something written down about me in it!” Hermione whispered excitedly.

Harry blinked then scratched the back of his head uncertainly. “Why don’t you just, I don’t know, ask her then? Instead of going through so much-”

Hermione groaned. “Things don’t work like that Harry! First, I need to-”

Harry held up his hands in surrender. “Okay, 'Mione. If you really, truly think this is a good idea, then go for it.” He grabbed her hands tightly, “Best of luck to you.” He pressed a brotherly kiss to her forehead then stuffed his hands into his pockets and shuffled back toward his homework.

“You know where to find my stuff,” he called over his shoulder.

Hermione bit her lip to keep from squealing and rushed out of the library to grab Harry’s cloak and the Marauder’s map.

Originally posted by watsonlove

Hermione threw the cloak off and it landed on your bed. (She knew it was yours because it smelled like you and okay maybe she was a stalker.)

She placed the map open on your dresser so she could keep throwing glances at it. She looked around your room and her eyes landed on a small shelf above your bed. There were many books, many muggle books, she realized. But immediately her eyes fell on the leather book laying horizontally across the top of the other books. Surprised at not having had struggled with finding your journal she walked toward your bed.

She grabbed the book gingerly and ran her finger over the spine, tracing your name engraved in it. She carefully slid off the cord binding the back and front of the book and grinned when the book popped open, revealing the first page.

“Oh!” There wasn’t any writing in the first page. There was, however, some sort of doodle. Her eyes scanned the page, taking in the bright colors and designs moving around the page. She glanced at the map and seeing no one in the dormitories, she flipped to the next page.

She sat on your bed, flipping though countless drawing before she realized that, you didn’t write anything at all.

Confused she fanned the pages and saw only drawings.

The knob to the room rattled and Hermione made quick work of hiding your journal under your pillow. Her heart nearly beat out of her chest as she ran and sat back on the edge of the bed just in time for the door to open.

“May I help you?” Hermione turned around to see your room mate enter. Caught like a deer in headlights she gaped, not really knowing how to react. If anything, she had expected you to come in. Not that she was any better prepared.

Your friend, not knowing that Hermione wasn’t supposed to be in your room merely smirked. “Oh, you’re waiting for [Y/n] I bet. She’s still at practice I’m afraid. I just came back to get my Jersey.” Your friend waved the [Y/h] Jersey up and giggled. “I’m not even sure how I left without it on.” She shook her head. “Anyways, I’m heading back out now. Make yourself comfortable,” She motioned toward your bed. “I won’t tell [Y/n] you’re here.” With a quick wave and a wink your roommate slammed the door behind her.

Hermione, not quite processing what had happened simply nodded to herself. In a daze she lied down on your bed and reached under your pillow for your journal. She flipped through the pages and continued studying your art work.

You laughed loudly as your team and you entered the common room. Everyone was asleep by then. You pushed and shoved jokingly before bidding each other goodnight.

“You head on to bed,” said [y/f]. “I’m going to take a bath. ”

You nodded and with the two other girls on the team headed up to your respective rooms.

You all tiptoed up the stairs as not wake up the other girls and when you each reached you rooms you quickly slipped inside.

You moaned in relief as you threw your bag on the foot of your bed. You took off your jersey, leaving you in just a bra and threw yourself onto your bed.

Instead of sighing in relief however, you groaned. You weren’t the only one who was now in pain.

Taken aback you all but flew right off your bed. Am I in the wrong room? You wondered, your heart pounding in your chest.

Looking around you realized that no, this is my room. You were not in the wrong room. Someone else was.

Grabbing your wand from your bag you pointed it at the mound shifting under your covers.

With your wand in hand you walked forward carefully. You were just about to peel off the covers when something caught your eye though. Your journal.

I thought I left it on my shelf, you thought, picking it up. It had been lying upside down on the side of your bed with your most recent drawing faced up. A portrait of your long time crush.

Not caring about whoever was in your bed you threw off the covers.

You pointed your wand about to shout a curse at the figure when it turned around. Immediately your blood ran cold. Apparently so did the other person’s.


[Y/n]?” She asked, horrified.

Her face was as white as a sheet as she scrambled off your bed, faster than any creature you had ever seen. She had her hands raised and she was apologizing profusely even though you couldn’t make sense of her apologies. That was until her gaze fell and stopped on your body. Basically you were half-naked from the waist down- well not really- despite your bra. Her mouth hung open as she stared at you for a few seconds before she fanned her face as her pale complexion quickly turned a bright red.

Hermione turned around, you were still speechless and she was desperately wishing the ground would swallow her whole. MerlinMerlinMerlinMerlinMerlin! What the bloody hell Hermione!!

Finding your voice you managed to utter a small, “What are you doing here?”

Hermione was muttering to herself, too busy to pay any attention to you.

Your heart was beating so hard in your chest you were surprised she didn’t hear you.

“Hermione”, you called once more, though now, you grabbed her elbow, turning her gently to face you.

She allowed you to turn her but she looked at the floor, refusing to make eye contact with you.

“Hermione… what are you doing here? Were you looking th- no. I know you were snooping through my stuff, but why?” You asked, turning scarlet.

Why?” You repeated.

Hermione bit her lip. She wasn’t as good at making up lies on the spot like Harry. Truth be told she was just a bad liar but, could she tell you what she was really doing in there? She was supposed to leave as soon as your roommate had left and instead she fell asleep on your bed! How does she explain that?

Apparently Hermione was taking her sweet time answering because as soon as she did open her mouth you narrowed your eyes. “And don’t you dare try to lie to me,” you said sternly.

It took a few minutes for Hermione to say anything at all. She still wasn’t sure what to say.

“I was looking through your journal.” She replied. She wrung her hands and avoided your penetrated gaze. “I uh, happened to have noticed that you carry that around at all times. ” You raised a brow in question at this but she kept going.

“I was searching for an answer in it.” She mumbled. She finally looked up and you could see very clearly the rosy hue on her cheeks and across her freckles on the bridge of her nose. She was biting her lip, waiting for your reaction.

“An answer to what?” You inquired. Did I take notes of something she didn’t. Why didn’t she just ask me for notes it that was what she wanted?

Hermione took a deep breath. It’s now or never, right? I did come in here searching for an answer and I didn’t get it from the book. Well… not wholly. She did draw me… Feeling her Gryffindor courage building up she looked you in the eyes.

“I like you. I have for a long time and I was hoping to read in your journal if you liked me back or not.” She admitted. Taken aback you stared at her. Uhm… what?

“You what?” You squeaked.

“I’ve liked you since second year-”

“You like me too?” You inquired incredulously.

Too? Wait- You do like me?” Hermione questioned, just as shocked as you.

Now you were both staring at each other with your brows raised as you both waited for answers.

“Do I like you? Are you kidding? Do you think I draw random classmates during class and keep them in my journal? Yes. I like you. A lot.” You crossed your arms and glared at her in irritation. “You know Granger for someone so intelligent, you really are unintelligent.”

She gasped at you before she too crossed her arms. She walked to stand in front of you, glaring and punched you in the shoulder.


Me? I wouldn’t have been so ’unintelligent’ if you hadn’t been giving me mixed signals!” Hermione shrieked, throwing her hands up in exasperation.

“Mixed signals?” You bellowed.

Yes! Mixed signals! All the winking, the smirking, the teasing, the seductive lip biting and then going and calling me a ’good friend’?! What was I supposed to think? I’ve literally been losing my-”

“Okay!” You growled. She’s right though. Poor girl. Had that been me I would have already lost my head.

I get it. I wasn’t clear at all but neither were you! Can we get past this now? I really like you Granger, okay?”
You reached for Hermione’s hand and intertwined your fingers with hers.

Hermione smiled as you quickly became flustered. “I always did wish we were more than friends,” she relented.

“Then why don’t we become more than friends?” You grabbed Hermione’s other hand and pulled her toward your body. Hermione gasped as she came in contact with your body, not to mention all the bare skin. She has to have had taken a shower before she came in, she thought. No one smells this good after practice.

You enveloped her in an embrace as she wearily wrapped her arms around your waist.

Be mine, Granger.” You whisper into her ear.

Hermione’s lips parted as her heart picked up it’s pace. She couldn’t utter a word for the life of her but she immediately knew her answer.

Being shorter than you she looked up at you and nodded rapidly. Grinning like an idiot you grabbed her face and pressed a soft kiss onto her lips.

Worried you might have overstepped your boundaries you pulled back with wide eyes. Hermione smiling as much as you.

“I’ve been waiting for that for years,” she mumbled. She grabbed your jaw before you could utter a word and pulled you back in for a heated kiss.

You fell back against your bed and she fell on top of you, both of you laughing slightly into the kiss.

Eventually, after pulling away she rested her forehead against yours, looking pleased with herself. You kissed her nose and reached for your blanket and tossed it over the both of your bodies.

“What are you doing?” Hermione giggled.

You pressed a kiss to her forehead and wrapped her snuggly in your arms. “I reckon you were sleeping before I so rudely woke you up,” you chuckled.

“I assume you’re quite tired. With all that snooping you did, who wouldn’t be?” You teased. You tucked a strand of brunette hair behind her ear, trying not to comment on the blush on your girlfriend’s cheeks.

“I’m sorry about that. I’m sorry I searched through your personal belongings. Though I do have to say, you have quite the artistic talent.” She turns in your arms, peering at you curiously.

“How did you learn so draw like that?” She asks in awe.

“I’ve always drawn. In my family fine arts are quite important. It’s a huge part of our culture all of use have some kind of talent. My brother is a good actor. A thespian. My father a master at art. An artist. My mother a music goddess. A musician. And so on and so forth.”

You both continued talking about random things- your history, her family, the fact that the piece of art you most love and feel proud of is the most recent one of Hermione and so on and so forth. At some point even getting to how she had gotten into your room, until eventually, early in the morning, the two of you fall asleep. Hermione lying on top of you with her head tucked under your chin and one arm around her waist protectively while the other hand is intertwined with hers.

Later, your friend came back from 'the showers’ (that’s totally not where she really went), saw the two of you cuddling and cheered- nearly waking everyone up- as her ship had finally sailed.

A/n: Dedicated to the @Anon who requested this! 💗