#i think most cops are bastards but another solid chunk of them are just fucking stupid

[friendofthecrows]

What studying criminalistics, forensics, or crime scene investigation is like in a class geared towards ppl wanting to be forensic scientists or crime scene specialists:

Professor: your week one quiz covers the assigned readings for week 1 :) you have 2 hours and it is NOT open notebook.

The assigned readings for week 1:

Professor: btw by next week you need to simulate and be able to properly document a crime scene complete with evidence handling in accordance with [three different regulating standards, 100-300 pages each] or you fail :)

What studying criminal justice in a class geared towards people wanting to be cops is like:

Professor: please write a paragraph on the good-faith principle, where evidence from illegal searches can be used if it's believed the officer was acting in good faith :) you only need 2 sources and your response should be less than 1000 words. I understand the material can be hard for some people, which is why there are 8 of these across the class, and they're mostly graded on effort and participation. I don't believe in tests or quizzes so you have none.

#hal rambles #criminal justice #forensics #i think most cops are bastards but another solid chunk of them are just fucking stupid #i am studying both criminal justice and forensics and the level of difficulty is just SO different #i think 11 y/o me could ace everything in my criminal justice classes #whereas one fuckup in forensics can fail your entire class #(for good reason. that is NOT a field you want to be making mistakes in) #Neither is policework but the difference is that if a forensic scientist messes up #all of their cases need to be re-evaluated #if a cop messes up 'well they made that error in good faith so we'll keep that evidence anyways' :) #up to and including shooting people :( #I think cops should either be held the standards of forensic scientists or they need to just. stop existing. #also most of the cases where evidence was terribly mishandled a cop was handling it instead of a crime scene specialist #most jurisdictions just don't have the resources + there aren't enough crime scene specialists #so if you've ever been interested in criminal justice but hate cops #You can make investigations a bit more likely to be evidence based instead of a witch hunt.

[gigglefitjunkrat]

Found At Sea

Guess who wrote a fanfiction for Fisherman Recluse Roadhog and Beach Bum Junkrat? 

Warnings for Alcohol Use, Descriptions of Drowning, and Mild Violence

Chapter 1/?

Beeping and static gurgling was pretty much the first of three consistent noises Jamie had in his daily life. You’ve got your surf, just your basic rhythmic waves swelling and crashing on the shore. You’ve got your flip flops, doing that annoying thing where they spring up and slap your heels no matter how weird you walk to avoid it. And of course, you’ve got your metal detector. 

At this point it was more of a habit than a hobby. Trying to imagine one day that some rich sucker takes off his solid gold rings or, maybe takes off their necklace so it isn’t tarnished in the waves, that was the original motivation that had this habit rolling. As if in some small way he was taking back a lil something from the greedy shits that wave their money around in his face. Sometimes people even leave wallets.

More often than not, that classic static beep combo would lead to useless junk, like crushed beer cans and pennies. When he first started combing he had to get used to holding the thing far to his left so the metal joints in his prosthetic wouldn’t wheel him around in circles. Even after a fairly consistent line of disappointment, habits aren’t something you tend to shrug off. Every afternoon, when people would slowly pack up and go back to their invisible lives in the background of the beach, there he’d be. Metal detector, flip flops, ocean, beep beep beep.

The day got a slight bit more interesting when the hooks started showing up.

Not the tiny hobby fishing hooks, but the giant thick ones that could pull sharks out of the waves if enough power was behind them. Not many people go out ocean fishing from this particular marina, since a good chunk of the population was stuffed shirts that couldn’t lift a finger without breaking a sweat. That being a given, the only thing it brought to mind was the old urban legend about the recluse that lives out on the sea.

“He only shows up about twice a year, usually only two days. The boat comes in from the open sea, sells it’s catch, and disappears… Alone, he’s strong enough to reel in marlin after marlin without tiring out. He’s famous for bringing in the biggest healthiest ocean fish, but he’s also a complete recluse. Nobody’s ever talked to him, nobody knows his story, nobody even knows his name. Him and his boat are well known, but a complete mystery.”

Jamie and a couple of on and off friends sat around a dune fire, killing off the last of the beers that’d showed up just as mysteriously.

“I heard once that he’d been out at sea so long, the sun and the silence made him lose his mind… If someone’s even a little bit in his way, he wouldn’t hesitate to throw them aside like they was nothin’... I knew a guy who’s friend got his shoulder dislocated after he accidentally blocked the guy at the market.” “I’d be tempted to call you a liar if it weren’t for the stories I’ve heard about him…”

“We’ve all got our theories. Here’s mine: He’s a murderer. And uh… He stays out on the ocean so the law can’t find him.”

“Th’law has boats, y’know”

“Yeah, so? Nobody’d find him out there, the waves’d make it damn near impossible to hunt down a single boat, let alone a guy who basically made a name for himself by disappearing.”

“You make it sound so spooky.”

“Innit though?”

Jamie barely finishes off his third drink before letting out an overly loud cackle. “Oooh! Nothin’ scarier than an antisocial fisherman, I’m shakin’ all over!” To accentuate, he wrapped his arms around his torso and gave an exaggerated shiver before falling back in the sand, wheezing with laughter. It was a good few seconds before he realized nobody was really joining in on the humor, to which he lifted his head and looked at everyone around the fire. They returned his questioning look as if he was the idjit getting blanched over an angler.

“Th’lot of you’s not seriously afraid of this guy, right? What’s there to be scared of?”

They all took turns looking at each other, silently deciding who should speak first. All the while Jamie had to hold back a snicker at how serious things got all the sudden. “Well, I met him once… The guy’s a giant. Seven foot something, I don’t know. I was sitting on the docks when he tethered the Sea Pig--” “The Sea Pig?” “--When he tethered his boat at the marina. I tried to just watch him out of the corner of my eye without turning towards him but I could feel his eyes burning into me. It made my skin crawl, I almost jumped into the fucking water to get away from him when he walked behind me.”

Fourth drink down.

“So you’re all pissing yourselves over a big guy with a staring problem?”

“For real Jamie, you weren’t there…”

“Yeah yeah, sure if I was the guy woulda snapped me in half, yeah?”

An exasperated murmur passed between the group again.

“Once, I saw a group of blow-in’s try to pick a fight with him. Everyone else’d be smart enough to leave the guy be, but these four guys thought they were some hot shit. He was ignoring them like they weren’t even there up until one of them slapped the back of his head… Punched the guy so hard he sent him flying into the opposite wall while his buddies scrambled to run away, then he just casually got comfortable again and went back to reading the paper.”

There was another quiet moment, like everyone was waiting for a reaction. To answer the moment, Jamie shrugged and took a long drink from his fifth… Fourth? Fifth drink that night, and breathed out.

“Is that supposed to be scary? Anybody’d wanna knock the wind out of some fruit loops tryna pick a fight they can’t handle.” “...Sounds like you’re trying to defend him.” “Yeah, well, sounds like you’re making a mountain out of a molehill.” “Whatever, man…”

Jamie was still stifling a laugh at the whole bit. The fact that this was the most well known local legend spoke at length about the creativity of the whole damn city. Just as he was about to get carried away thinking of a better scare than a random tussle, another voice at the fire started in again.

“I followed him once, when he came on shore to go to a hotel--”

Jamie howled with laughter at a joke that he’d told himself almost immediately.

“D-Didja spy on him in his underwear? Catch a glimpse of ‘is cock and go pale?”

“God, Jamie…”

“Musta been quite an intimidating fella!”

“That’s not why it was--”

“Coulda killed a man if he cracked a fatty too close!”

Jamie once again got caught up in his own laughter. The murmur started distancing itself until there was nothing but the sore exhausted ache of a joke gone stale and the gentle crash of the ocean. Ah well. Too drunk to care. Jamie faked a wave at the group of friends that had abandoned him and continued to laugh, thinking of one thing after another to keep the giggles coming. It was kind of ridiculous, being afraid of some guy that spent too much time alone on the ocean. Like there weren’t more frightening things on the shore, daily. Like, unattended children in the supermarket, or… Stepping on a lionfish, or, uh… Having your mates ditch your drunk ass on the beach.

Staggering upright, Jamie tried to get orientated to start walking. It was taking two or four seconds longer to balance himself than he would have guessed, but once he got situated he was confident enough. He looked towards the city in the distance, where all his potential sleeping accommodations had disappeared to, and… Sneered. Who th’hell needs friends like that anyway, up and disappearing because he didn’t soil his’self at the mere thought of a weird fisherman that didn’t get on well with the general public…

Who gives a flying fuck what anyone thinks about anything. He barked another laugh before flipping off the city and turning, stumbling towards the docks, somewhat aimless. More than likely it would be another night of sleeping on the sand, hoping some uptight cop didn’t make it his civic duty to cuff him for loitering.

Eventually, the rising tide made Jamie decided against the sand under the docks, instead shuffling up to the rickety stairs that lead to the boat path. There was usually at least one or two cabins left unlocked overnight anyway, the ones farthest away from the center being his best bet. He bumbled on and off boat after boat, checking doors, shrugging, moving on. Finally he got to one that was plain left open. Cocky bastard probably thought nobody’d risk it. Or he just didn’t think a drunk would be wobbling around this late at night. T’hell with it. Jamie carefully maneuvered down the stairs into the main living quarters. 

Looked… Broken in, from a glance. Curtains were bleached, bed was unmade, one or two half eaten meals were still sitting out… All and all, not a terrible place to nurse an eventual hangover. Jamie stretched upright in the most excessive way possible before flopping down on the bed like he owned the place. Who cares who this boat belongs to. Who cares where his friends went. Who cares what’ll happen in the morning. Who cares?

Two seconds later, Jamie was asleep, having dreams about the ocean. It rose and fell like the breath of life beat within it. Rising and falling, rising and falling, rising so high it threatened to swallow him whole. Under the waves, he saw a looming figure. Something big. In a dreaming daze, he thought it to be that lone fisherman, waiting under the swell to reach out and drag him under. Almost like some kind of sailors myth come from the depths to prove a point that it was real and dangerous.

During the dream, Jamie remembered putting his arms out, daring whatever lay beneath the waves to come and get him, laughing with the same reckless joy that crashes over someone who has absolutely nothing to lose. The dark figure pulled him under the riptide, tearing the air out of his lungs and pulling the heat from his bones. All the while, Jamie could feel the smile tugging at his cheeks. In the dream, he almost felt invincible. Like the water and the waves could never truly kill him. Nothing could, so long as he refused to be afraid. After floating in darkness for a while, he drifted off into a deeper slumber, somewhere beyond dreams. Beyond hangovers and campfire stories. Somewhere quiet, calm, dark… Almost resembling safety.

It was… Eery. Cold. Still. Like the world had stopped turning.

And for a moment he was almost ready to accept it.

The sway of the ocean was not unexpected. The bright blinding sun flooding his senses, still not unexpected. The foggy memory of a grip on his leg and a yank out of bed? Eh, coulda been any number of memories from couch surfing in the marina. Now, the feeling of dangling over the side of a boat with the ocean soaking his hair? Probably a good time to come to his senses.

Jamie took a few long, hard blinks before opening his eyes to see the incredible mass of a man holding him by the leg. At first it almost didn’t feel real, until the surf caught his nose and made him sputter for breath. Suddenly he sprang to life and tried to coil himself around the anchor holding him above the sea, reaching up in a vain attempt to get away from the curling water below. A deep, coarse voice rumbled through him and snapped him to his senses cleaner than any cold water could.

“Give me one good reason not to drop you…”

Jamie looked at the water below him. It was deep blue, deeper and darker than he’d ever known the ocean could be from the shore. In a moment of panic, he flailed his limbs and tried to see what (who?) was holding him. The sun eclipsed him, kept him hidden in shadow and light, too sharp to distinguish shapes from. He shook his head, trying to get a clean line of thought on what was happening. It was difficult to construct a good argument, what with the blood rushing to his head while some insanely strong guy held him over the water, demanding a reason to let him live.

“OI, WAIT A MINUTE MATE, WAIT WAIT WAIT, I CAN’T SWIM!”

“...” “And! And I didn’t mean to stow away on your boat, honest! If I’d known you were going to be back so soon or that you were going out to sea, I wouldn’t have--”

“...”

“Listen, listen, I’m worth more alive and on board than dead in the ocean! I can uh… I’m good with tinkering?”

“...”

“I mean, I’ve fixed a good lot of things just by looking at them at my mates houses, I might be able to fix… Y’know, second thoughts here, maybe I shouldn’t fiddle around with anything keeping us afloat out here, definitely nothing flammable.”

The grip on Jamie’s leg loosened for a split second.

“HEY, HEY, DON’T DROP ME! I ONLY STAYED ON YOUR BOAT BECAUSE I HAVE NO WHERE ELSE TO GO, ALRIGHT?”

“...”

Finally, after all the blood had gone to his head, Jamie was pulled back over the rail and met the floor of the boat, granted it was face first. He quickly tried to orientate himself to see the guy who’d just threatened to drop him in the ocean.

He was… Gigantic. Probably the biggest guy Jamie’d ever met face-to-face. In that instant it became pretty apparent what an incredible hulking mass of a man this guy was. At the very least he must have been seven feet tall. He was wearing some kind of mask, the kind that’s supposed to keep the wind from tearing your face to shreds out on the ocean. The mask was the only thing visible of his face, the rest sort of blocked out by the sun behind him.

“Thank--” He didn’t have time to say much before bile was rising in his throat.

With the sudden change of gravity, light, and the hangover battling it out, Jamie rushed to the side of the boat. After a minute or two puking his guts out over the edge, he got the chance to read the name of the ship in the light of day. Congratulations, Dipstick. You stowed away on the goddamned Sea Pig.

#Junkrat #Roadhog #Roadrat