police sketch artists

homestuck NCIS au

-roxy and dirk, the flirty undercover agent with bouncy hair and bouncy demeanor and the stoic, shy, shaded robotics genius with his recent smartass AI project that runs the forensics lab

-sollux, the master tech tracker, gifted programmer, and cynical theorist with 3D glasses permanently affixed to straggly bangs and a clicking keyboard

-calliope, the tiny police sketch artist with bright green eyes and stiletto heels that punctuate with sound as much as her ivory revolver punctuates with a bullet

-jade, the lanky forensics scientist with dragonfly glasses and a suspiciously stained lab coat who’d sooner fling hydrochloric acid into her own eyes than allow her colleages to be hurt

-dave, the badge-flaunting, movie-quoting agent with a 9-millimeter pistol burning a hole in his pocket behind shiny ray-bans and a glittering smirk

-john, jane’s cheerful cousin with perpetually mussed-up hair and buck teeth that morphs into a master interrogator at the drop of a hat

-jake, the glock-toting ex-coast guard officer with dented glasses and a leather belt who actually DOES manage to ditch the shorts for a homicide investigation

-calliope’s brother caliborn, the cranky senior interrogator with a disproportionate love for cryptic cold cases and suspects that play mind games

-jane, the Boss whos always decked in red suit jackets and crystal eyeglasses accompanied by a cheeky smile, painted nails, and a razor sharp butterfly knife

-terezi, jane’s lawyer wife with too many teeth jammed in her gums and eyes, though unseeing, that can burn twin holes into guilty men’s skin as a cigarette dangle from her lips

-rose, jane’s french assistant with hair like gold and lips like the night who’ll have her pearl-handled revolver to your forehead before you can comment on her slinky violet dress


homestuck NCIS au

CP bachelor AU: part 9

part 1 | part 2 | part 3 | part 4 | part 5 | part 6 | part 7 | part 8


Through group dates, individual dates, competitions, parties, product placement and public meltdowns, the show continues. Laurent has been sure of the finalists since soon after the start of filming, but he manages to weave in enough red herrings and emotional tripwires to keep a viewing audience engaged. Even Kallias looks genuinely shocked when he beats out Pallas for a spot in the last four.

Pallas looks up at Damen, rueful, and accepts Damen’s hug goodbye. They both look sleek and strong and masculine in their suits.

“So,” Nicaise murmurs, “d'you think Lazar–”

“Don’t tell me,” Laurent says, “and I won’t have to fire anyone.”

“Ugh, you’re going soft,” Nicaise says.

The other finalists are less surprising. Erasmus has been unfurling with happiness like a literal fucking flower as the weeks pass, increasingly relaxed in front of the camera, constantly laughing and telling fond stories about the kids on his ward. For Damen not to choose him at this point would be like kicking a whole sackful of a puppies.

Jokaste is still Jokaste. Her cattiness behind the scenes is matched only by her charm when one-on-one with Damen. She is witty and edged and lovely, and if she isn’t inundated with offers after the season goes to air, Laurent will eat his headset, or possibly hire her himself.

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Glitch In The Matrix Stories #3

Too Much Tea

This takes place on a weekday night about two years ago. My friend and I are juniors in college, hanging out in the common room of my dorm (no drugs, no alcohol, not tired). After we decide we’ve done enough homework for one lifetime, we go to the CVS down the street, more out of boredom rather than hunger. We get there and notice there’s a 2/$1 sale on Arizona Iced Tea. 

Since Arizona Iced Tea is the nectar of the gods and since it’s such a bargain, we buy two. I get the raspberry flavor because why would you get something else. My friend is being “adventurous” and gets the grapeade one (even though everyone knows anything grape flavored tastes like Children’s Motrin). I’m a supportive friend so whatever. We buy our Arizona Iced Teas and walk out.

Once outside, my friend is so eager to try his new grapeade that he opens it and in the process, breaks off the little metal tab on his can. I laugh. He puts it in his pocket. I ask him how the grapeade tastes. He says it’s fine. I know it’s horrible. I open my raspberry iced tea and stick to the true gospel.

We make it back to my common room, and watch some TV (…on Youtube, on my laptop). We’re watching some quality entertainment aka Maury, sipping on our Arizona Iced Tea. It’s like an average Tuesday night. And then at one point, I go to sip my raspberry iced tea, and I just stare at it for a while. My friend looks over (you know something is wrong if someone can pull away their eyes from a Maury episode) and says, “What’s wrong?”

I’m just staring at my iced tea can, trying to figure out why I’m staring at it. I say, “I don’t know. Something’s just different.” And then the big gaping hole in my can hits me. “Oh I just don’t remember breaking the tab off my can.”

We look at my can and the metal tab is gone. Huh. Ok. And my friend is like “Oh yeah I did that to mine too, remember?” He picks up his grapeade and the metal tab to his can… is there. HUH. OK.

We both remember him ripping off the metal tab on the grapeade outside the CVS. He even reaches in his pocket and pulls out the metal tab that allegedly had broken off his can. But now his can is cured and mine is the one with the missing tab. We are both stunned.

The metal tab fits onto my can as well as any broken metal tab can, but we are both certain that we never switched drinks (like I would be caught dead holding grapeade), I didn’t break my tab off at any point, and I was staring at my can for so long because something had clearly changed in the last 10 seconds.

We have no explanation for this. We laughed it off at the time so we understand when other people laugh at us. But this really minor, seemingly trivial event really freaked us out. This will henceforth be known as The Great Arizona Iced Tea Switch Glitch of Late 2013.

Credits to: waytoomuchtea

Horoscope On Radio Told My Mom She Was Pregnant With Me

My mom told me this story. When she was 32 she was tired and nauseous for a week or so and thought she pregnant as my parents were trying for a baby.

She took a test, negative. Went to the doctor, blood tests again not only showed she wasn’t pregnant, but going through early menopause. She was devastated.

Shortly after her visit with the doctor, she was at home cleaning the house. She was listening to the radio (this is way back in 1981), and it said, “Capricorn, don’t worry, you’re pregnant”.

She thought to herself, “well that’s ridiculous, why would they say that to every Capricorn listening?”

Not long after, another trip to the doctor confirmed she was indeed pregnant.

Credits to: ranna35

I’ve Either Been Drugged, I’m Losing My Sanity, Or I’m Literally Teleporting - My Most Profound “Glitch” Yet

So, I’m a security guard working 12 hour shifts midnight to noon on a large 3-building campus. I’ve had one or two weird things happen before, but never anything like this.

At 2:31 am I was walking back from a patrol in another building when all of the sudden I got this pang of electricity. It felt like I got electrocuted; I stopped in my tracks, the wind was knocked out of me, and everything was buzzing. It was like a jolt of energy was sent up my spine, and it felt like getting tased in the back while standing in front of a massive sub woofer.

I didn’t know what to think about this. I assumed it was like when you turn your head the wrong way and you get that twinge in your neck, but it was like that for the whole body. I moved on feeling bewildered.

Later, at 4:27am, I was outside walking the perimeter of two of the three office buildings on campus. I had 3 minutes left on my podcast and decided to take another loop to let it finish before I got back to my post.

23 seconds later I all of the sudden became aware that I was somewhere I shouldn’t be if I had only been walking 23 seconds; I had almost completed the loop - something I know for a fact takes about 3 minutes at average walking speed. I’ve been doing it every night for more than 6 months.

I know it was exactly 23 seconds because I instantly paused the podcast, and I remember at what point in the podcast I had made the decision to take another loop, and I paused it the moment I realized something was wrong.

At this point I’m completely bewildered and confused and convinced I’m going crazy. I know I wasn’t walking backwards, I didn’t change directions, and there are no shortcuts I could have taken. I even went back and timed how long it takes to do the loop at a normal walking pace (~3min 20 sec), and powerwalking/light jog (~1 min 45 sec).

At 4:45 am I drew the last straw. I scanned my ID badge to enter the building and go back to my post, and stopped to go to the bathroom on the way. When I came out of the bathroom, I SHIT YOU NOT I WAS IN A DIFFERENT BUILDING.

My mind was literally blown. I was frozen with existential dread. I could not/can not logically accept what my senses were/are telling me. Bewildered, I walked out of the building and into the correct one I was in when I walked into the bathroom.

I was telling myself that I just wasn’t paying attention and walked into the wrong bathroom. Then I realized that the bathrooms are completely different, and wanted to confirm.

I walked back to the other building, when my mind proceeded to blow itself AGAIN. MY ID BADGE DOES NOT OPEN THE DOORS TO THIS BUILDING. There is a separate badge that is kept in a drawer at my post that the guards share to patrol this particular building. There is no way I could have accidentally walked into this building; it would have rejected my ID and the doors would have remained locked.

After I go back and grab the right badge, I confirm that the two bathrooms are a completely different layout, and opposite color. I’ve never used the bathroom in the “glitchy” building before; it’s brown and yellow with wooden counters, whereas the one I use about 8 times per shift (16 times per week, 64 times a month, ~384 times total) is two different shades of blue with marble counters. They look completely different and I’m fairly certain I remember the bathroom I used being blue with marble.

So, yeah. This event is by far the most profound “paranormal-ish” event I have experienced in my life as of yet. I can’t think of a logical scenario that explains all three experiences I had, other than I’m going insane.

Credits to: cyntrix

Reoccurring Dream Character Showing Up In Family And Friend’s Dreams As Well

So this all started last summer I believe, when I had an abnormally vivid dream. In it, I was attending a large conference I’d been too many times IRL with a bunch of my friends and their families. I was standing in a long line for either a book signing or food (to this day I can’t remember which) and stood behind one of my friend’s dad. 

Then, as I was standing there at the end of the line, this guy comes up and stands behind me. I remember the details of what he looked like in my mind so clearly I could probably describe him to a police sketch artist and get a completely accurate image. The short version I’d give is that he was like a really good looking suburban dad. He was pretty tall, just slightly taller than I am, with blonde, combed back hair and really clear and hard blue eyes. His facial features were very sharp and angular, and he had thinner than average lips and a sharp nose. He was wearing a red, button down plaid shirt, which was one of the first things that caught my eye. 

The most distinctive thing about him though was his presence. Calling the feeling that I got when he walked up “uneasy” would be vastly understating the deeply unsettling nature of his presence. I don’t remember much of what happened in the dream after that, because I left the line in a hurry and woke up not long after.

Over the next three or four days, I had two more dreams with this character in them. In one, I was browsing my phone and I happened to look up at my window and see him standing outside, and in the other, I saw him on the news, the reporter saying he was working with some sinister entity or organization. This alone would have been enough to weird me out, but the weirdness doesn’t end there.

One day, my good buddy and I were talking about dreams, and I happened to mention that I had a really vivid dream about this conference, which he had also attended. He responded that he had also recently had a dream about the conference. He then began to recite back to me the exact dream I had dreamED two and a half weeks before. 

About halfway through, I started confirming details with him, like the line, the dad standing in front, and the weird guy in the plaid shirt. My friend starts getting more worked up as we go back and forth confirming details of the dream and this guy’s appearance, which he also vividly remembered. He tells me that before he had this particular dream that we’d apparently both had, he had seen the guy before in another dream, and also felt really uneasy about him. 

His previous dream had involved him helping a girl escape from a trafficking ring, and at one point in the dream, the man in the plaid shirt had showed up and appeared to be the head of the ring or at least involved with it. We were both pretty freaked out by this, but the weirdest part was yet to come.

About two months later, I was talking with my mom. She was telling me about this bizarre dreams he had the previous night, in which she was fleeing from a tornado that was making it’s way towards our house. She told me how in the dream, she had gone downstairs and hid in the closet, only for the wall to be ripped off by the tornado, providing a view of the driveway. She described how when the tornado got to the edge of the driveway, it suddenly began to spin out and dissipate, twisting and transforming into a large mangled metal girder that fell to the ground. 

Then, she said, the next thing that happened was really vivid and unsettling. She said that the metal stood up and turned into a man with a plaid shirt. I got chills when she told me this, and I started quizzing her on details. Everything was exactly the same as I had remembered. Sharp features, cold eyes, blonde hair, red plaid shirt.

I have never seen anyone matching this description before in real life. I never told my mom or friend or anyone else about this guy before they told me about their dreams, and they were both legitimately shocked to hear that I had seen the same character, whom I have taken to calling Plaidshirt Guy.

Credits to: BookwyrmBOTPH


“The Pledge”
I pledge allegiance to the Flag of the United States of America, and to the Republic for which it stands, one Nation under God, indivisible, with liberty and justice for all.

A comic for the 4th of July; the day we as Americans take pride in our independence. However, this past year my country has broken my heart over and over again, and I don’t feel quite as free as I thought I did. Today I won’t be able to eat apple pie without a bitter taste in my mouth, and the fireworks will remind me of the gunshot sounds aimed at innocent Americans.
Go celebrate Independence Day, but ask yourself why?


The Hunt For Bible John

“Bible John” is the popular nickname given to an unidentified serial killer who was active in Glasgow, Scotland between 1968 to 1969. The centre of the case is the Barrowland Ballroom- a popular dancing venue for courting couples -where all three of the victims danced before meeting their deaths. 

Bible John struck first on February 23, 1968, on a frigid winters night at the Barrowlands. Twenty five-year old Patricia Docker went along for a night of dancing with her sister, and got so drunk her sister could not support her on the walk home. As they waited for a taxi, a young man with reddish hair approached Patricia and offered to walk with her home. The drunken woman agreed and left with the man, leaving her sister behind at the ballroom. 

The next day a road builder found Patricia’s naked corpse lying in a door yard,  just feet from her home. She had been raped and strangled. Her clothes and purse were missing, but one detail stood out; Patricia had been menstruating at the time she was murdered, and the sanitary napkin she had been using had been quite deliberately placed next to her body. Though her sister gave police a reasonable description of the man’s appearance, her testimony was considered unreliable because she had been drunk when she saw Patricia’s killer. Months went by, and the case went cold.

Nearly eighteen months later, the killer of Patricia Docker again prowled the Barrowland Ballroom. This time he chose Jemima McDonald, a pretty young secretary who agreed to walk with him home after a night of dancing. Her sister went to her house the next day to drop off her purse, but there was no sign that Jemima had come home the previous night. Frantic, her sister waited for news, but then she saw something odd; a group of children running out of an abandoned building nearby, screaming about a body. She hurried over to the house, and in an empty room she found the hideously beaten body of her sister.  Jemima had been choked and beaten around the face, and again a used sanitary napkin gad been positioned next to her corpse.  Like Patricia, she had been violently raped.  

Police immediately noted the similarities between the Dockery and McDonald murders, and warned the young women of Glasgow that a killer was on the loose. Nobody got a good look at the man who accompanied Jemima home, but the crime scene evidence was in strong favor of a single offender having committed both murders. The killer would strike a final time, and then seemingly vanish into thin air.

On October 31, 1969, Helen and Jean Puttock went to attend a birthday bash at the Barrowland Ballroom. As they worked the room, Helen noticed a tall man with red hair following her; he bought her a drink, and the two appeared to hit it off. The man politely introduced himself to Jean as “John”, and when the ballrooms closed John accompanied Helen and Jean to the taxi stand. While they waited another man - ironically also named John - chatted to Jean, and this man would later tell police that “John” was very well spoken, appeared educated, and seemed to disapprove of ballrooms. Jean, Helen, and John took the same taxi home, and during  the ten minute trip home Jean got a good look at her sisters companion. She described John as being twenty five years old, clean shaven, with short cropped red hair and a slim build. During the trip he quoted from the Bible and spoke about praying instead of dancing (it’s this pious attitude that earned him his famous nickname) Jean bade goodbye to her sister and John when the taxi arrived at Helen’s house, and Continental on her way. 

The next morning a postman collecting mail noticed a white shape spread-eagled on her back in the back garden. Upon closer inspection the shape was revealed to be the partially nude body of Helen Puttock. Like the other two victims she had been raped and strangled, and a sanitary napkin was placed near her arm. Her bloodied clothes were scattered about the garden, but her handbag and stocking were missing - most likely taken as a trophy by her murderer. Jean Puttock immediately met with a police sketch artist and created a very good likeness of Bible John. He was profiled as a power-reassurance killer with a fixation on menstruation, a confident killer who carefully planned his murders and took care of evidence. A poster bearing the police sketch and his mannerisms was circulated throughout the Glasgow region, but despite thousands of tips police were no closer to catching the killer. The case faded from public memory, and eventually grew cold.

Nobody has ever been charged with the Bible John murders, though investigators currently believe serial killer Peter Tobin may be responsible. Tobin was in his mid twenties during Bible John’s active period,  and the police sketch is a good fit for his appearance at the time. However, with no concrete evidence available, police haven’t moved to officially charge Tobin with the murders. The case is still open. 

anonymous asked:

Maybe if you were on the police force in the AU, you would be the person who drew descriptions of criminals. But they all end up looking like yoi characters

I have what the kids call
“Same face syndrome”
It’s a curse, I’ll learn to get past it someday XDDD

In the early morning hours of Jan. 15, 1978, Ted Bundy broke into the Chi Omega sorority house at Florida State University. Shortly after 2:45 a.m., he began a brutal rampage.

Bundy bludgeoned, raped and strangled several sorority sisters. By the time he was finished, two women were dead and two more were seriously injured. More than 30 other sorority sisters were in the house, but none heard a thing.

The grisly attacks would ultimately lead to his arrest: As Bundy left the Chi Omega house, a co-ed hid an alcove and watched him leave. Nita Neary saw Ted Bundy, but he didn’t see her.

In the hours after the attack, Neary, an art student, sat with a police sketch artist and described Bundy, who had been wearing a ski hat and holding a club.

By today’s standards, the sketches are simple, almost cartoonish. But Neary remembered one detail: Bundy’s pointed nose. She described the nose to the sketch artist. When Bundy was arrested, Neary was a star witness in his trial.

Bundy eventually admitted to killing at least 30 women in 7 states, and was executed in 1989.

For decades, the police sketches of that horrible night were missing, buried somewhere in the Florida state archives.

The photos were recently uncovered by Sara Ivey, a producer for the Reelz Channel’s new show, Murder Made Me Famous. She spent hours combing through boxes of evidence and documents in the archives, hoping to find the sketches.

“I asked the people [at the Florida archives] about them,” Ivey tells PEOPLE. “They said, ‘I don’t think we have those sketches. We’ve never seen them.‘”

So Ivey began methodically looking through the boxes herself. Finally, she found the sketches – which had not been seen since the 1970s – in a folder marked “Miscellaneous.”

“These sketches were important at trial,” says Ivey. “So was Nita Neary’s testimony. All of this evidence helped convict Ted Bundy.” (x)

anonymous asked:

Question: Are these, and are you, on Archive of Our Own anywhere by chance? That would be awesome, if not, *shrugs* they are still awesome. Prompt: Police Officer Bucky and Hot Mess Clint: "Can you describe the man that tried to stab you?" "Yeah. He was... not very friendly."

They are! All can be found over here. :D


[Sequel, of course, to this]

Bucky won’t lie, he’d been kinda hoping to hear from the hot drunk guy. Steve had got a phone call - in the morning, first thing - and for that Bucky’s inclined to like Sam, inclined to give him a chance not to break Stevie’s heart. Him, though? Nada. Another guy who’d sobered up and balked at the prospect of dating a cop. Whatever, he’s used to it, it barely even stings. 

So when Steve tells him that Sam’s called, that there’s some kinda disturbance, Bucky’s barely even thinking about Clint when they walk through the door of the bar. Seeing him sprawled against the wall with a dishtowel held to his arm is more of a kick in the teeth than he’d expected. 

“You’ve called the paramedics?” Steve is asking Sam, but Bucky goes straight to Clint, squats next to him and hovers worried fingers over the towel. 

“You okay?” 

“Oh, sure,” Clint says, and he gives a rueful kinda grin. “I’m used to it.” 

“Used to getting stabbed?” 

“Sure,” Clint says, and he lets out a laughing breath that suggests he’s been drinking again, and maybe Bucky is better off outta this after all. 

“Can you describe the girl who - “

“Stabbed me? Course. She was - not very friendly.” 

Bucky snorts under his breath quite without meaning to, and Clint’s eyes crinkle into an unrepentant grin. 

“I could tell you all about her over coffee, if you want,” he says, and Bucky’s eyes snap to his, a little incredulous. “Just you, me, a police sketch artist - pretty romantic, right?” 

“…You’re asking me out?” 

“For all intensive purposes, sure.” 

“Intents,” Bucky says, and clears his throat when Clint looks at him sidelong. “Intents and purposes, y’know, like loitering with - ?” 

“I got intent,” Clint says, and suddenly his eyes are dark, and he’s looking about ten times more sober, and a line of heat traces itself down Bucky’s spine. “I’ve got so much intent when it comes to you, you have no idea.” 

“Yeah,” Bucky drawled, flipping a page in his notebook like that would make him look nonchalant, “I could tell that from how hard you tried to contact me.” 

“Would you believe Tasha was trying to protect our secret identities?” Clint watched his face, blew out a breath and continued before Bucky could speak. “Yeah, I thought not. No one ever goes for that. She’s - protective?” 

“I’m a cop,” Bucky says. “I get that the press ain’t exactly kind, but that’s not character reference enough for you?” 

“I’m not exactly known for making great decisions,” Clint says, and shrugs his arm a little like gettin’ stabbed is some kinda proof. 

“I’m a fantastic decision,” Bucky says. “Wanna make it with me?” 

It’s worth it, the awfulness of the line, for the way a laugh looks in the lines of Clint’s face.