#(a bit of a shame since it’s the only song i wanted to video but it’s alr 🤗🤗 anything for pheebs)

[iheartmoons]

in honour of ben barnes and andrew garfield’s birthday, i listened to “letter to an old poet” live and it was the most beautiful moment of my life 🤞🤞

[sundrop-writes]

Figure It Out

A Criminal Minds Casefic

“All things are subject to interpretation. Whichever interpretation prevails at a given time is a function of power and not truth.” -Friedrich Nietzsche 

Summary:

Since you joined the BAU, you have been keeping a terrible secret from the team.

When the team takes a case in your hometown - your festering secret comes to be known with a vengeance.

Fem!Reader x Gen!BAU Team (Platonic). General Casefic, modelled after a Criminal Minds episode. Angst, Mystery, Hurt and Comfort. Set during Criminal Minds Season 3.

Word Count: 18,000

Criminal Minds Masterlist | AO3 Link

Detailed Warnings and author's notes below the cut.

Warnings: this is a general casefic - there is no romantic pairings in this fic, it is more about the mystery of the case and how the reader character fits into it (if this were a real Criminal Minds episode, this would be the episode named after the reader) - with that being said, the main relationship focuses are between Emily and the reader and Spencer and the reader (because I am biased and I love them) but there isn’t any romantic threads or romantic tones, it is all platonic; the reader character uses she/her pronouns and is described as a woman, but I went out of my way to make sure that there is no descriptions of the readers looks or body type; there is use of Y/N and L/N (as in Last Name); mentions of the reader being from Georgia (because the case takes place in her hometown); smoking/cigarettes - mentions of the reader character smoking tobacco; mentions of the reader character being injured (severely in a past incident, and minor injuries during the course of the fic); mentions of vomit/mentions of the reader character throwing up; lots of warnings for general Criminal Minds topics; murder, killing, somewhat graphic descriptions of dead bodies, violence, guns/gun violence, mentions of rape and sexual violence, mentions of systematic violence towards women; there is no graphic depictions of rape/no rape scenes in the fic, but there is mentions of the event of rape happening to certain characters, references to rape culture, and the shame/guilt/self blame a rape victim feels; mentions of stalking/stalking behaviors - including the delusion mindset of a stalker, obsessiveness, sending someone unwanted letters, mentions of a ‘one sided’ relationship; mentions of trauma/PTSD; descriptions of symptoms of PTSD; themes surrounding the cycle of violence; I did kind of purposefully make the warnings a bit more vague than I usually do, because I really don’t want to spoil the plot of this fic. But as lot as you are okay with the maturity of all these themes, you should be okay with this fic!!

A/N: This is pretty much 100% inspired by the music video for Figure It Out by Royal Blood - which the fic is named after. I highly recommend watching the music video, because it is fucking art in my opinion, but I have taken such heavy inspiration from it in terms of the style, tone, and even storyline - so the music video kind of spoils this fic. So probably watch it after you read the fic lmao. I also feel like the instrumental version of the song goes very well with this fic. This fic is not at all typical and I am terrified that people won't like it, or that they won't 'get it'. But I am very proud of it, so I am going to put it out there and hope that people enjoy it. So - please enjoy!! I really love writing Criminal Minds casefics and coming up with the details of a case, and writing it in this style was so, so exciting and interesting for me, and I really do hope that you can enjoy reading it.

...

“All things are subject to interpretation. Whichever interpretation prevails at a given time is a function of power and not truth.”

-Friedrich Nietzsche 

...

Thursday, August 16th, 2007. Madison Police Department, Interrogation Room #1 - Madison, GA. 3:39AM.

The chilled air of the interrogation room only made the regret more palpable in your lungs. 

The hum of the fluorescents overhead made you feel like a bug about to be zapped - like your entire life was over and you would soon be resigned to a cage. 

You hated it, but you had to wonder what you would have done if you had ten more minutes. Ten more minutes before they had arrived, sirens screeching, lights flashing. Your mind kept replaying the moments over and over again. The knife had felt so perfect in your hand. 

Ten more minutes. 

“I just want to talk.” 

So caught up in your thoughts, your mind so foggy from the hectic night - you had almost forgotten that there was someone sitting in front of you. 

He looked so entirely stiff - wearing his cookie cutter suit and his carved-in scowl. He did nothing to shift your mood. 

“This is just a conversation. Nothing more.” 

He continued on, using a monotone, would-be soothing voice when you didn’t say anything. 

The metal chair felt stiffer underneath you, and you felt further suffocated within that small, concrete box. 

You felt inclined to call it an interrogation, but you wouldn’t be so quick to tell him that. It’s not like you were going to tell him what he wanted to hear. 

“You can smoke in here if that makes you feel more comfortable.” He added on, pushing something from the middle of the table toward you. 

A pack of cigarettes and a lighter. There was also an ashtray. A collection of things that someone had put there, knowing that you would be resigned to this tiny, tiny room. 

“You don’t have to treat me with kid gloves, Hotch.” You huffed, saying his name, using the same technique that he would likely be using on you. You could mirror him, get ahead on the mind games. “I’m not as crazy and detached from reality as you think I am.” 

Perhaps that was a false statement. You weren’t even sure how crazy he thought you were. Perhaps, that in itself made you detached from reality. You couldn’t be sure. 

Nonetheless, you took him up on the offer. You reached out and eagerly picked up the pack of smokes, ripping off the outer plastic before you took one out, shoving the tip between your lips and lighting it up. 

You took a heavy draw, and the nicotine throbbed through you. Seemingly adding to the headache you already had from the large gash on your forehead that they had hastily bandaged before bringing you in here, rather than relieving it. Still, you sucked on the cigarette like it was your only lifeline - taking a moment to tap some of the ash into the small ashtray while you stared at Hotch carefully. 

You wondered if you should really tell him all the gory details. 

“Just tell me what happened. Tell me your side of the story.” Hotch said, trying his best to sound warm and convincing. It didn’t work. “I’m just trying to figure it out. Just like you are.” 

Perhaps your biggest regret was that you were here, cooped up in this hole - and he was in the hospital somewhere, laying in a soft bed, being attended to by nurses, being comforted. The fact that he was still breathing - even with the assistance of a tube down his throat, and not in a body bag.

“You’ll never look at me the same if I do tell you.” You managed to find these words, and these words only. Ominous, almost threatening - more so than you intended. 

“I won’t.” He returned. Shallow, fallible. 

Suddenly, a crash from the hallway broke the tense silence that was brewing between the two of you. The door was thick, but it wasn’t enough to disguise the ruckus coming from outside. 

“No! No! You have to let me through! I have to be in there!” 

The voice was familiar, but that tone of desperation certainly was not. 

“Reid, he specifically told us to sit this one out-” 

“Sit this one out?!” Reid repeated the words back, his voice warping with pure shock, the inability to conceptualize such a thing. “You expect me to just sit out?” He scoffed. “If it wasn’t for me, two more people would be dead, and there wouldn’t even be a ‘this one’! Now let. Me. Through.” 

“Reid-” 

With all his bolstering stubbornness, he shoved past whoever had been trying to stop him, and as you took another heavy puff off your cigarette, the interrogation room door came flying open. 

Hotch stood up, rushing to block the door, but you smiled. Though you were numb from the day’s events - it was your natural instinct upon seeing him. 

“Reid-” Hotch choked out, trying to block the gangly man from even entering the room. 

“Good evening, Doctor Reid.” You greeted him gently. 

Upon seeing your reaction - so much more open and warm - Hotch allowed him in. This was the wedge that he needed to pry you open. Reid closed the door behind himself with an indigent huff and a glare toward his superior. 

Reid crossed his arms, hovering near the door as he turned his stiff-jawed glare toward you now. Your cigarette turned to a hot cherry in your hands - sucked to death already, and you stubbed it out in the tray before starting a new one. You knew chain-smoking was an even filthier habit than the occasional ciggy, but you had one hell of a day under your belt. If there was ever a time, it was now. 

“What the hell is wrong with you?” Reid asked, his voice stiff and oppositional. 

“Oh, so many things.” You said, your tone clever and unphased. Hotch let out a sigh as he sat back down in his chair. He was glad that you were talking openly now, at least. “Shall we go in alphabetical order, or start at my birth and work or way back from there?” 

Reid let out another nasal thick sound. Apparently, he wasn’t in the mood for banter. 

You were met with nothing but a stony wall of silence, and cold glares of disapproval. It almost made you feel guilty. Almost. 

“Let’s start with this,” Reid corrected you. “Why?” 

Truthfully, you couldn’t give him that answer. You didn’t think you would ever have enough time to conjure it up within yourself. 

“You’re the genius profiler, Doctor Reid.” You fired back coldly. “You tell me.” 

… 

Thursday, August 16th, 2007. Abandoned Country House - Madison, GA. 2:20AM.

Prentiss led the team as they searched through the house. It was the only solid lead they had as to where you might be. It was a house that your parents used to own - a place of significance because you had lived there the summer when it first happened. 

“Clear!” 

She went through the living room, the kitchen, the entire first floor, leading the team with Reid at her side, guns drawn. 

“Clear!” 

As she crested the top of the stairs, she heard sobbing. 

It was distinct - something that tugged harshly on her heartstrings. 

Even though it was against protocol not to clear the rooms in order, she rushed toward it. Reid continued to flank her - obviously he had heard the noise too. 

Prentiss landed a sharp kick on the door’s handle, causing it to fling open. 

The picture on display in front of her almost caused her to drop her gun. 

Hotch had been right. 

You were on top of the man, straddling him. Both you and the man were badly beaten - but right off the bat, Prentiss could tell that he was far worse off. Clearly, you had bested him in the fight this time. 

The contents of the room strewn about; broken glass, busted furniture, the curtain rod torn down. It looked like the remnants of a bad WWE brawl. You were the picture of desperation - heavy, hot tears coming from your eyes, blood smearing down your face from a gash on your forehead as you stared down the man beneath you with fiery madness in your eyes. 

You had a knife to his throat. A large hunting knife - the same kind that all the other victims had been stabbed with. 

You had the tip of it poised to his throat, just barely touching his skin. If you put any amount of pressure on the blade - if you bared down, then you would slice right through his esophagus. It would take almost no effort from you at all to end his life. 

From what Prentiss could see, the man was unconscious. He was completely slack, his body still on the ground. He was bleeding from a small head wound. His life was entirely in your hands. He couldn’t fight back. 

Both your hands shook vigorously as you struggled with the warring inside of you, as you struggled with the weight of the confrontation with your life’s biggest monster. 

Though it went against everything inside of her, Emily kept her gun raised. She kept her arms stiff, keeping her gun pointed at you. As much as she detested that man, knowing what he had done - it was her job to shoot you if you tried to kill him. Right now, she hated that job. 

“Put the knife down!” Prentiss ordered sharply. 

You didn’t move. 

Naturally, Reid, in all of his softness and empathy, slackened his arms and holstered his gun before anyone could blink. 

“Come on, put it down.” She tried again. 

You ignored Prentiss entirely, your hands still shaking, making no moves to lift the knife away from the man’s throat. 

Reid moved to step into the room, and from his view at the top of the stairs, arms stiff and gun pointed in your general direction - Hotch called out to him. 

“Reid-!” He tried to warn Reid against doing this. Of course, he didn’t listen. 

Reid knelt down beside you, posturing in surrender with his arms. Of course, he wasn’t even on your radar at the moment. Your entire gaze, your entire focus was on the unconscious man underneath you - the true target of your agony. 

“Y/N,” Reid said your name calmly, trying to capture your attention. “You don’t have to do this.” 

You hesitated for a moment, and Prentiss worried that even his gentle voice wouldn’t be able to get through to you. 

“I have to.” You sobbed out. More heavy tears slid down your face, and you began to shake more visibly, shockwaves moving throughout your entire body. 

“You don’t have to.” Reid told you, his voice calming, gentle. “You - you can give me the knife, and then we can just… walk away. And then it all ends.” 

“It won’t just end!” You screamed out, your voice a curtling weep that bounced off the walls. 

It made Prentiss’ heart jump inside of her chest. If it wasn’t protocol, she would have dropped her gun and run over to comfort you with a hug. But she knew that you weren’t in the most stable place. You might have tried to stab her with the knife. 

“It can end.” Reid assured you calmly. “You just have to come with me. You just have to put the knife down and-” 

“I have to make it stop!” You screamed, trampling over his quiet voice. “I killed those women. I killed them!” 

“Prentiss!” Hotch edged in, warning her. 

If you didn’t move off of the unconscious man soon, then she would have to take you down. 

“Just give him a minute!” Prentiss fired back. She had faith in Reid. 

“We both know that’s not true.” Reid told you. “You didn’t kill them. You didn’t mean for this to happen-” 

“He killed them because of me!” You shouted, cutting him off. “We both know it’s my fault.” 

“It’s not.” Reid choked out. “Please don’t say that.” 

There was a gutting silence. 

“Please, just give me the knife.” 

At this point he was doing some pleading of his own - but your hands were unsteady and you still refused to look at him. 

You weren’t going to give up the fight that easily. 

… 

Thursday, August 16th, 2007. Somewhere On The Country Backroads - Madison, GA. 2:11AM.

“I want two squad cars down the road, I want state police cutting off all the possible exits to the major highways.” Agent Hotchner was on the scene, doing what he did best - giving orders. “I want to cut off any chance of possible escape incase the suspect tries to flee-” 

“Hotch, do you really think that’s necessary?” Morgan asked. “We’ve got the house. Thermal cam’s got two bodies on the second floor. There’s nowhere to run from here. We’ve got spike strips on all the dirt roads. No car is getting past any of that. It should function as a hard extraction from here.” 

Hotch glared at Morgan as he fastened the straps on his bulletproof vest. The glare of the red and blue lights from the squad cars only made the deep frown lines on his face look firmer. 

“I am not taking any chances.” Hotch said. “We both know this is an incredibly delicate matter. We found one of the victims across state lines. We know this suspect has mobility. I’m not risking finding another body.” 

The air became tense as everyone realized what he meant by ‘another body’. 

“I want tactical swat to go in first-” Hotch began, and was quickly cut off by Morgan. 

“You’re sending in swat when there’s a hostage in there?” Morgan questioned harshly. 

“Even if we go in there blazing, showing force, she might not come in quietly.” Hotch explained.

“You’re serious?” Prentiss replied, hooking the wire of her earpiece around her ear in order to tuck the mic in. “She’s the one you’re worried about? She’s a victim in all this.” 

“You saw the incident report.” Hotch reminded her. “The amount of defensive wounds she had… the first time he attacked her, she fought back hard. She’s desperate, she’s feeling cornered, she-” 

“She’s terrified right now.” Prentiss pressed harshly. “She doesn’t need a bunch of men going in there waving guns in her face.” 

“She could sacrifice him.” Hotch theorized, further trying to prove his point. “This could be her chance to finally get justice. Finally getting rid of the man who’s tormented her for all these years.”

“So we have to bring them both in. Quietly.” Morgan said. “We can’t just go in there shooting. If your theory is correct, then she could use him as a human shield.” 

Hotch nodded. “Fine. No tactical swat. Prentiss, you take the lead.” 

“Yeah, and I’m taking Reid with me.” Prentiss told him sharply. “Somebody with a little compassion around here.” 

Prentiss nodded and scoffed, walking past Hotch, gently whispering ‘what the hell is wrong with you’ on her way to get in the car with Reid. 

… 

Thursday, August 16th, 2007. Madison Police Department - Madison, GA. 1:45AM.

When JJ let out a harsh sigh, Emily turned to her, swiveling in the borrowed office chair with a creak. 

“What is it?” Emily asked. 

“Don’t you feel that?” JJ replied. Emily shrugged, waiting a moment for her to finish the thought. “That… overwhelming feeling of dread?” 

Of course, it was obvious. No leads. No breaks in the case. 

It was hopeless. 

“Come on, I thought you were the hopeful one.” Rossi pointed out, tossing his empty paper coffee cup into a nearby trash can. 

“How can I be hopeful when one of my best friends is caught up in all this?” JJ fired back. “If she-” 

Before she could finish that thought, Reid stormed in, capturing everyone’s attention. 

“Guys, I think we got the profile all wrong.” He announced, a look of worry knit into his features. “And - if I’m right, then I think I know where she is.” 

… 

Thursday, August 16th, 2007. Abandoned Country House - Madison, GA. 1:45AM.

You knew that it was cruel, but you couldn’t help but to enjoy his groans of pain. 

There had been so many others - so many monsters to take down. So many men that you had gotten rid of without a second thought. Men you had put bullets in that didn’t mean as much to you as this. So many others you had easily forgotten about. But he had taunted your soul in a special way. And you knew that you were enjoying this too much. 

“Tell me you like it!” 

You screamed, taking another downward swing with the piece of wood - a leg broken off from the chair he had bound you to. He had been convinced that you wouldn’t break free. Laughable. He should have known better.  

When he didn’t respond, you took another swing. 

You could have stopped. You could have ended it. But you didn’t. 

“Come on, tell me you like it!” 

You screamed in his face, sputtering blood across him. At one point, he had punched you in the mouth. You weren’t exactly sure where the blood was coming from. You didn’t exactly care.

That would be your excuse.  

He had hit you too. You were battered. You were just a fragile woman, after all. 

“You’re a fuckin’ crazy bitch.” He coughed, sputtering out some blood himself. “I… I always liked that about you. It was one of the reasons I fell in love.” 

He grinned - bright red spread out across his teeth, and it gave you the intense desire to see those teeth missing. To make him swallow them. 

“You don’t love me.” You told him firmly. “You just get an adrenaline rush from being around me because I’m not afraid of you.” You explained. “Unlike the other whores, I fight.” 

While you were preoccupied with the words, he flipped onto his stomach and began crawling across the floor. 

He thought you were too stupid to notice, but he was inching his way toward the hunting knife that had been thrown out of his hand during the scuffle. It was a slow, sluggish crawl. You had broken a few of his ribs, his kneecap. It was nice to see him so slow. You had probably severely damaged his internal organs with how hard you had been beating him with the makeshift baton. 

It was worse than last time. You stood above him like a menace - watching and waiting. You hated that you knew you would take an odd kind of joy in removing his hope when you stole the knife from his grip. 

Just as he grazed his fingers across it, you brought another harsh swing down across his achilles tendon, causing him to scream out in pain. 

You still had a lot of strength left in you. He was tiring out. 

He was losing the game. 

“Come on baby, tell me how you like it.” You continued to mock him. “Tell me how good I am.” 

“Fuck you.” He moaned out. 

You felt satisfaction bloom inside of you - those were the words. 

He had finally given up hope. He had finally realized that maybe: he wasn’t going to beat you. Maybe he wasn’t above you on the playing field anymore. He was fucking around with a fellow predator, not toying with his prey.  

“Oh baby. You know I’m only doing this because I love you.” You said, repeating his own words back to him in a cruel mockery. 

That was when he realized: this wasn’t just a lover’s spat. This was a culling. 

… 

Thursday, August 16th, 2007. Just Outside of Madison Police Department - Madison, GA. 1:04AM.

Reid needed some air. 

Working on the case so diligently, not coming up with any leads. It was intensely difficult. Letting the balmy summer Southern air flow over him, getting a good gulp of the fresh air into his lungs - it was a bit more awakening than drinking his sixth cup of coffee for that day. 

He was surprised when he rounded a corner, trying to go for a short walk to stretch his legs, and he saw a very recognizable face hovering near a gray Honda. 

“Mrs. L/N?” He posed, approaching her gently. “It’s late. What are you doing here?”

JJ had promised to call her if there were any updates. Reid didn’t want to disappoint her by telling her that there were none. 

“It’s Miss L/N.” She said quietly. “I never married.” 

Reid nodded at this. “My apologies.” 

She looked deeply troubled. 

Reid waited patiently for her to reply to his initial question - for her to tell him whatever was burdening her. If he was lucky, it could help with the case. It was always the families who could help put those final puzzle pieces into place. That was something Gideon taught him, so he took it as sacred advice. 

“You’re Doctor Reid, aren’t you?” She posed, stepping forward to approach him slightly - still stiff, still stand-off-ish. He easily understood why. He nodded in response. “My daughter speaks very fondly of you.” 

Reid cracked a small smile at this. 

His attention was then brought to a small box - a shoe box as she held it out to him. 

“I don’t mean to bother you at this late hour, but… you said to let you know if I thought of anything that might help you.” She reminded him. He nodded again. “And I - well, the reason I didn’t bring these up the first time… you can understand that I have a need to protect my daughter?” 

“Of course.” He affirmed. “It’s every parent’s natural instinct to protect their child.” 

She looked solemn at his words. 

“I had no idea that… that what happened to her could potentially be connected to these… these murders in any possible way.” She told him, shuddering as the word passed through her lips. “I was just trying to shield her, you have to understand.” 

She handed him the shoebox, and when he took it and lifted off the lid, it took him only a moment to understand. He would need to find a quiet place to fully inspect the contents, but it was all being pieced together in his mind now. 

“Thank you for bringing me this.” He told her quietly. 

“Doctor Reid, you have to promise me that you’ll bring my daughter home unharmed.” She said, tears coming to her eyes. “She’s a good girl. Please, just bring her home.” 

Unfortunately, he couldn’t promise her that. Not under the circumstances. 

“Ma’am… I will try my best. That is all I can promise you.” He told her. 

She nodded in quiet understanding before Reid turned and marched back inside. 

… 

Wednesday, August 15th, 2007. Abandoned Country House - Madison, GA. 11:03PM.

The flint of the lighter flicking seemed to be the loudest thing in the room in that moment - even with the low hum of the eleven o’clock news playing in the background. 

It was so odd. Everything was exactly like you remembered it. Withered - but the same. 

Even the chair you were sitting in. The old wooden chair that had been lugged up from the kitchen, one that you used to sit in for hours and do homework - it was rickety, but somehow the same. 

You took a sharp drag off the cigarette after it was lit for you, continuing to listen to the feminine voice on the radio as the news played. 

“I’m Special Agent Jennifer Jareau, and I’m speaking on behalf of the Madison Police Department. Tonight, we are making an urgent appeal to the public for information. Earlier this evening, a woman went missing in the area of-” 

“I never took you for a smoker.” He said, his voice sharp and confident in the words. 

You tapped your cigarette into the ashtray with your free hand before raising it up to your lips to take another drag. Right now, the smoke heavy in your lungs was the only thing keeping you sane. 

“I never smelled it on you back then.” He added on when you didn’t respond to him. “Bitches who smoke always smell like dirtbags. You just… smelled nice.” 

“I didn’t smoke back then.” You quietly replied. 

He had driven you to take up the habit. 

You took another drag of your cigarette - you wanted to enjoy it. The longer you could drag it out, literally, the longer you could delay the inevitable. 

“-The suspect was last seen driving a blue and white, 1970s Ford truck. If you see the vehicle, please-” 

“They’re lookin’ for ya.” He said casually, nodding toward the radio. 

You wished they weren’t. 

You directed the conversation elsewhere. 

“Tell me how this is gonna end.” You urged him quietly, ashing your cigarette again. 

“You and I both know… this was only ever gonna end one way.” He told you, his voice irritably cocky. 

He had you now. He had won. 

“-We believe that this abduction is connected to a string of recent murders in the area. It is critical that if you have any information, you call our tip line at-” 

He rose from his spot then, and turned off the radio. 

The silence was gutting. 

He moved toward the door, but you abruptly caught his attention. 

“Remember,” You told him. “You made me a promise.” You said quietly. “No more. No more girls.” 

He chuckled at this. “Of course, darlin’. No more.” 

It felt like a lie. 

“But only because I love you.” He gave a filthy grin along with these words, and your insides shuddered. 

You knew that he wasn’t actually capable of love. You had known that from the moment you first laid eyes on him. 

You didn’t bother to muster any words in return. 

He crossed the room back toward you and leaned down, planting a kiss on your forehead. Your body stiffened, entirely stony toward it. It was selfish on his part - loving on you like a doll, rather than trying to bring you any comfort. 

He moved back to the door silently. 

You worried about what would happen the moment he went out the door. He turned to you just before he left. 

“Don’t run off now.” He said with a wink. Ego. Sarcasm. 

“Where am I gonna go, Dan?” You sighed. 

You lifted your tethered hand up to drive the point home, and the clink of handcuffs was now apparent in the otherwise silent room. 

He shut the door with a chuckle. You put out your cigarette in the ashtray, reaching for the loose spoke in the back of the chair. This was a chair that you used to sit in for hours while studying. That loose spoke used to bug you all the time. 

It came free after only a few tugs. 

… 

Wednesday, August 15th, 2007. QuitTrip (Corner Store) - Madison, GA. 10:24PM.

The previously dark parking lot of the secluded, back country convenience store was now entirely lit up with red and blue. Four police cars had crowded into the area, surrounding the place where you had last been seen. 

Inside, under the harsh white fluorescent lights of the store, Hotchner and Prentiss were interviewing the store clerk - a young man who had supposedly been the last person to speak to you before the abduction. 

“So, you’re sure that you didn’t see anything?” Hotch pressed the young man - someone who seemed so entirely nervous under his harsh, unmoving gaze. 

“I swear, man, I didn’t see anything.” He said, his voice cracking slightly as he spoke. “She was parked in the back of the parking lot, and once you walk around the corner, there’s no way to see someone through the doors. It’s like - like a total blind spot, man.” 

“The UnSub had to have known that.” Hotch noted quietly, turning to Prentiss. “He approached her knowing that he wouldn’t be seen.” 

“Do you think he was waiting out there?” Prentiss wondered aloud. 

Then she turned back to the clerk. 

“Was there a man in here before she came in? He would have been in his 30s. Very cold, he wouldn’t have said anything. Just paid quietly and left. He might not have even bought anything - he might have just walked around, checking the blind spots. And if you asked him what he was looking for, he would have given you a glare rather than speaking. This man is not sociable. He’s very distant. He likely wouldn’t have looked you in the eye.” 

The clerk shook his head. 

“No, nobody like that.” He explained. “That lady - she was my first customer in, like, hours. She just bought her ciggies and left. And I thought it was weird cause she bought a lighter too. Most smokers already have a lighter on them.” 

“I didn’t know Y/N smoked.” Prentiss said quietly. 

“Me either.” Hotch confirmed. 

Hotch’s attention was captured by a screen behind the counter - surveillance feed, showing several different places inside the store. There was one camera just outside the door. If he wasn’t mistaken, that camera was pointed at that ‘blind spot’ in the parking lot. 

Without asking permission, he raised the partition and walked around the counter, his eyes hyper-focused on the screen. 

“Can you get me this footage from a few hours ago?” He prompted toward the clerk. “The view of the parking lot. We need to see what L/N did after she left the store.” 

The clerk nodded and began typing things onto the keyboard, and Hotch prompted him to stop when he saw you appear on the footage. Prentiss came around the counter as well, leaving the three of them crowded in close to the small screen as they watched the past version of you. 

You walked across the parking lot - toward your car, a cigarette hanging out of your mouth. You were making determined steps - until something stopped you. 

“The UnSub caught her attention.” Prentiss noted. 

Then - something entirely strange happened. While staring at the man off screen, you leaned against your car, and began ashing your cigarette, as if chatting idly with him. 

“He’s not using force.” Hotch thought aloud. “Do you think he’s got a gun trained on her?” 

“Maybe.” Prentiss hummed quietly. 

He was out of the frame, so it was only a guess. 

Then, after a few moments of this - you simply walked off. You walked in the direction he had been standing. 

“Did - did she just go with him willingly?” Prentiss gaped, entirely in shock. 

When she glanced over her shoulder, Hotch was gone. 

He stormed out into the parking lot, frantically gazing around. Prentiss followed him, chasing his chaotic energy. 

“Hotch!” She called out. “Hotch-!” 

“We need more camera angles! We need-” 

“Calm down.” She urged, grabbing him by the shoulders. 

“It just doesn’t make any sense.” He rasped. “Why would she go with him willingly? Why - why? Why would she?” He was frantic. “He must have threatened her. He must have-” 

They both didn’t want to think of the obvious. 

That you didn’t fear him. That - it hadn’t even been an abduction. 

“He must have threatened her.” Prentiss easily agreed. “She wouldn’t have gone with him otherwise.” 

They didn’t bring up the fact that you had a gun and plenty of training on how to use it. They didn’t bring up the fact that the profile said the UnSub couldn’t easily charm - he would have kidnapped you by force. 

Unless you were special. Unless he thought he could talk to you specifically for some reason. 

“Guys, what’s the news?” JJ asked, finally walking onto the scene. 

She hated the grave looks on Prentiss and Hotch’s faces. 

“I want you to put a press conference together.” Hotch said, straightening himself out and turning to her. “Make an appeal for witnesses. Tell them that there’s been a woman abducted in the area, but don’t tell them that L/N a Federal Agent. It could set the UnSub off if he believes that this abduction is being treated with a higher priority. If he feels a higher pressure from law enforcement, he might-” 

“Right.” JJ nodded. Hotch didn’t need to say the words in order for her to understand. “So: release her name and her photo, but act like she’s just a regular civilian?” 

Hotch nodded. “Exactly.” 

“If I get going now, I think I could still make the eleven o’clock news.” JJ said, rushing off with her cell pressed to her ear. 

“Let’s just hope that it brings Y/N home safely.” 

…

Wednesday, August 15th, 2007. QuitTrip (Corner Store) - Madison, GA. 8:03PM.

You felt an odd amount of relief having nicotine in your system again. 

This was the first time you had smoked a cigarette in years. You had quit the habit shortly after you joined the FBI Academy when one of your advisers warned you that it might cause you to fail the fitness test. And you felt like you should just knock the habit, seeing as the only reason you had taken it up was because of… him. 

But - all of this was so triggering. Being back in your same small shitty town. Feeling it suffocating you like a plastic bag. 

The murders. 

You sucked on the cigarette for dear life as you walked back to your car, and just as you were about to get in - the windows of the car open, inviting in the sweet summer air, the keys still inside because you did feel an odd amount of trust in your hometown - something captured your attention. 

“Y/N.” 

Hearing your name in that voice made you freeze on the spot. The warm breeze felt like ice against your skin as you took your hand off the door handle, turning toward him. 

“You’re lookin’ gorgeous as ever, darlin’.” 

“You.” You ground out the word with as much disdain as possible, hot rage boiling in your blood as you looked at him. “I should have known it was you.” 

He let out a sharp chuckle - a sound that made your throat tighten up. He flicked his tongue out across his teeth, grinning his terrible Cheshire grin at you. 

A hand instinctively went for your gun, and your palm hit an empty section of your belt. He let out another sharp chuckle when his eyes followed yours, making the same realization that you did. 

You had left it sitting on the passenger’s seat of the car. Right beside your phone. 

You wondered if you could dive through the open window before he could get to you. When he made a posturing move, brushing his unbuttoned plaid shirt away and revealing the gun he had strapped to his belt underneath - you realized he would shoot you if you moved too quickly. 

You were stuck. 

“Of course it’s me, baby.” He said, casually replying to your earlier words. “You had to know that I did all this for you. For us.” 

Giving into your fate, you propped yourself against the side of the car - trying desperately to steady your wobbling legs without making it look like you were doing so. You tapped your cigarette, spilling some of the ash before you brought it to your lips once again. 

“I missed you like hell.” He told you with a snakeskin grin. 

“I didn’t miss you.” You bitterly fired back. “Not for a fucking second.” 

“Guess I made it difficult to miss me, huh?” He said, cocky as ever. “With my frequent correspondence and all?” 

“You know what I meant.” You fired back.

You glared at him sharply but didn’t say anything more, afraid that he would whip the gun out and shoot you. 

He sucked in a breath through his teeth, something that sounded utterly sarcastic. 

“Ooh, darlin’ that’s harsh.” He said. “That would almost hurt. If I didn’t know the truth.” 

You wanted to argue. You took in another large drag to help hold your tongue. You knew the results of arguing with him - it wasn’t worth it. 

“So… I think you know how this goes.” He announced. “You can come with me now. Or… I can go get another girl.” 

“No more girls.” You told him. “I’m here now. You won. Whatever business you have - it’s with me.” 

You stamped out your cigarette as you walked toward him, and your phone began to ring on the front seat as his truck rumbled to life and pulled out of the parking lot. 

… 

Wednesday, August 15th, 2007. Madison Police Department - Madison, GA. 7:26PM.

“Hello! Everyone, listen up.” Hotch called everyone to attention as the local police continued to filter in, most of them standing around with cups of coffee in hand or notebooks out, ready to take notes. “We’re ready to give the profile.” 

“Yes, and please keep in mind that this is just a general set of guidelines describing the suspect.” Rossi said. “This is not a concrete list of things you should be looking for. A profile is more useful in the elimination of suspects, rather than the inclusion of them.” 

He then turned to Derek, who began reciting the profile that the team had put together so far. 

“This UnSub, or Unknown Subject, is most likely a white male in his thirties to forties.” Morgan explained. “He drives an American made vehicle, something large enough to conceal and transport victims, and something that has off-road capability in order to get to the more secluded areas where some of the bodies were found. So think trucks, heavy duty vans, anything with thick treads on the tires and a large payload. And his vehicle will most likely be in a more discreet color. This guy won’t be driving around in something flashy. He’ll be in something that blends into the background, like a beige or black truck.” 

“So what?” One of the local cops piped up. “We put out an APB for every single heavy duty black truck in the area? This is the south, do you have any idea how many people around here drive a truck? Especially ones driven by men in their forties.” 

“There’s more.” Hotch noted, looking toward you. 

“This UnSub likely believes that he is dating these women in some capacity before he kills them.” You explained. “He has left scraps of poetry at the scenes, pages of romance novels - several of the victims had wine in their stomachs or burns from candle wax on their skin. And it’s highly likely that he turns violent when the women reject his advances, or don’t live up to the fictionalized relationship he has made up about them in his mind.” 

“How does that help us?” Someone asked. 

“Well, it’s very likely that he frequents the same hunting grounds.” Rossi explained. “We encourage you to go to local bars, and nightclubs, even gyms or cafes and pass out the profile to women who fit this type.” He said, motioning toward the pictures of the other victims. “He will be on the hunt again soon, and he has a very narrow hunting ground, living in such a lowly populated area. So we might be able to catch him off guard if his potential victims have the profile as well.” 

“This man is romantic, but he’s not charming.” You added on. “He isn’t sociable. He’s very cocky, very self-centered. He believes that he is God’s gift to women, and he has a very fractured sense of reality in general. If women reject him in everyday interactions, he will get noticeably irritated, and even violent. So he will be remembered as an unpleasant person in most women’s stories.” 

“This UnSub most likely has an inside knowledge of law enforcement.” Reid stated. “But, because he has a very antisocial personality, he wouldn’t do well working with the public. We currently have our analyst combing through files of those who flunked out of the police academy or live in the area and are retired from the military in some capacity. We believe that he might have even been in prison for an unrelated crime or institutionalized at some point, giving him a close look at the inner workings of law enforcement, and also attributing to the large break between the first two crimes.” 

Reid took a breath, and then continued on. 

“He was knowledgeable enough to purposefully dump one of the bodies across state lines in order to get the FBI involved in this case, but it was just one of the bodies, and it was dumped in a very well trackied area where it would be found. So that leaves a heavy insistence that he was fed-up with the local police not giving his case enough attention or - simply not being smart enough to keep up with him.” He explained. 

“He is very cocky.” Prentiss added on. “Incredibly over-confident. He is a narcissist to his core, and he believes that he will never be caught unless he wants to be. He thinks that he has an intricate cat-and-mouse game with law enforcement, and he can go off the grid and disappear at any time that he wants.” 

“Well… isn’t that true?” One of the cops asked. “I mean, the guy’s been at it for years and we still haven’t caught him. There’s no DNA, no real leads.” 

Hotch hummed, nodding. And then he walked over to the evidence board and motioned to the pictures of the two most recent victims - barely recognizable compared to the shining, smiling photos their families had provided. 

“We believe that he’s decompensating.” Hotch explained. “He is growing more violent toward each victim, which means that he is getting more sloppy - eventually, he will go off-book. He will break his routine in some way, and that will be the moment he’ll give us something to catch him with.” 

“So… you’re just waiting for him to kill again so you can actually catch the guy?” Someone asked sharply. 

“No.” You easily replied. “We’re praying it doesn’t come to that.” 

“Thank you everyone.” Hotch said, clearing his throat, giving an unconscious signal for everyone to disperse. “That’ll be all for now.” 

Everyone easily fell under his authority, and meandered back to what they had been doing before, now armed with the profile and ready to distribute it to members of the public, to the potential victims. 

You had a harshly, sickly feeling in your stomach as you gathered some of your files. It was the same feeling that had been turning your guts into knots since you had arrived back in Madison for the first time in years. Your eye accidentally caught the evidence board - the tall, intimidating wall lined with the gruesome photos of all the women. 

Women who looked strangely like you. Same hair color, same skin tone, same body type. All of them horribly brutalized and left for dead. All of them terrorized, tortured right up until their last moments.  

“Hey.” 

JJ’s voice snapped you out of your swirling dark cloud of thoughts, drawing your eyes away from the evidence board with a gentle hand on your upper arm. You huffed out a harsh breath as you let her guide you, turning around to face the blonde woman as she stared you down with a distinct look of concern knit across her features. 

“Are you okay?” She asked. “I’ve never seen you like this.” 

She had a point. You had been doing this job for some time. You had gone to the FBI Academy straight out of college, after getting a degree in criminal forensics. And none of it ever bothered you. You had learned about the study of blood spatter and the decomposition of bodies on live body farms, and you never flinched. 

But this case - it was getting to you. 

It was likely the first time anybody on the team had ever seen you so disturbed. 

“I’m fine.” You lied, trying to shrug off her touch. 

“Come on.” JJ sighed in return. “I don’t need to be a profiler to figure out that was a big fat lie.” 

You rolled your eyes at this. 

“You’re so brilliant.” You let out a sigh of your own, and put down your files on the nearby conference room table. You stretched out your back, deciding that you would give her an inch, hoping that she wouldn’t take a mile. “I’m freaked out. So what? Doesn’t everybody have room for a bad day?” 

“Of course.” She nodded. “Of course, you can have a bad day.” Her lips pursed, and you knew there was more coming. “Is - is it anything more than that?” 

“I’m tired.” You lied again, hoping she wouldn’t call you out on it this time. “It’s been - what? More than twenty hours since we landed. For these guys it’s been years, searching for this bastard. I wanna catch him.” 

“We will.” JJ assured you, sounding rather dull in her declaration. 

“I’m gonna drive down the street and grab an energy drink or something.” You announced, grabbing your blazer off a nearby chair and putting it on. Not that you would need a jacket with the southern weather - but your cash and your keys were in the pockets. 

“I thought you quit Redbull.” She chuckled. 

“It’s been one of those days.” You replied, shaking your head as you walked out of the room. 

…

Wednesday, August 15th, 2007. Madison Police Department - Madison, GA. 5:13PM.

“There’s still one thing that’s buggin’ the hell out of me.” Morgan announced as he walked back into the room with a fresh cup of coffee in hand. 

“That is?” You posed, looking up from the stack of personal files - potential suspects - that you were reading in order to engage him in the conversation. 

“What is with the two year hiatus from this guy?” He said, motioning to the board. 

The first victim had been abducted and killed all the way back in the summer of ‘99, but none of the other victims matched up until a missing person from September of 2001. And from there, the killings picked up in frequency - and the killer had taken over twenty six victims in and around Madison up until now. 

“It is weird.” You commented. “Usually after the first kill is when an UnSub is the most hungry for more. After that first taste for violence.” 

Morgan raised a brow at your strange choice of words and you shrugged it off. 

“Maybe he was hospitalized.” Reid said, appearing seemingly out of nowhere to make this comment, studying the board with his own intense expression. “Institutionalized? Maybe he was arrested for something completely unrelated, like - drugs, outstanding traffic violations?” 

“That’s helpful.” You sighed. 

“It could be.” Reid replied, sipping his own coffee. “I mean, we theorized that this UnSub has pre-existing knowledge of law enforcement - if he was in prison, maybe he was reading up on the law while he was in there? Who has closer knowledge of the law than ex-cons?” 

“Good point.” Morgan nodded. “I’ll call Garcia and have her widen the search.” 

“She is gonna love that.” You mumbled under your breath, already frustrated with the large pile of potential suspects you had to go through. 

Morgan took out his cell and walked into the other room, and you heard a distant ‘hey mama!’ as he chirped to Garcia on the other end. 

Then, you heard another voice that was all too familiar to you. 

“See, you’ve all just been working so hard, I thought you could use some sustenance!” 

It was your mother. 

You rushed out of your seat to find her in the middle of the bullpen, handing out muffins from a large basket that she had in her hand. 

It wasn’t entirely surprising to you, but it made your stomach sink. She was too much of a social butterfly for your liking. She knew about the last time you had been in this police station, she talked too much. No. You couldn’t risk her telling anyone. 

“See, that one’s blueberry, you like blueberry?” She was chatting idly, being her usual overly social self. 

“Yes, thank you so much Ms. L/N,” Prentiss smiled as your mother pushed more food into her hands. 

“Oh please, call me-” 

You knew that you must have looked like a storm, walking toward her with a scowl on your face. 

“Ma!” You barked, much harsher than you meant to, causing her to look up at you abruptly. “Ma? What are you doing here?” 

“Well see, you’ve been here all day, and you’ve been working so hard, so I made dinner for you and your friends,” She grinned, motioning toward a large tinfoil tray filled with mac and cheese that she had placed onto one of the desks next to a stack of paper plates and plastic forks. Naturally, a chunk of it was already missing. 

You wanted to scream when Reid walked over and began scooping out a portion for himself. 

“Ma, they’re not my friends, they’re my co-workers.” You said, exasperation ripe in your voice. 

You knew that this, too, ended up sounding much harsher than you had intended. As if you didn’t think of these people as friends. But you couldn’t stand the woman babying you. It’s not like she did much of that when you were an actual baby. 

“I’m an adult now, and-” You continued on, and she cut you off. 

“Oh yes, yes.” She nodded, reaching out to pinch your cheek in an utterly frustrating way. “Your co-workers.” 

“Please, Ma.” You sighed. “You can’t be here right now. This is a police station, not a bake sale.” 

“She can stay for a few minutes, can’t she?” Prentiss grinned, peeling the wrapper off her muffin. “We can take a break for dinner. I wanna hear some childhood stories about you.” 

Reid looked up eagerly at this, and you glared at both of them. 

“Oh, you should hear about the time she painted her face blue with the paint from-” Your mother began to tell a delightful embarrassing story, but you cut her off. 

“No.” You said sharply. “I’m sorry, but we have work to do. Important work. Once we actually catch the guy, I’ll bring everyone by the house for tea and cookies and you can show everyone my naked baby pictures, the whole nine yards. Just - not now.” 

You unceremoniously ripped the basket of muffins out of her hands and placed them on the desk beside the tray of mac and cheese, and she began to argue with you, calling you rude, telling you that she had raised you with better manners while you ushered her out the door. 

Prentiss and Reid exchanged a particular, concerned look as they watched you and your mother argue through the glass doors of the precinct. 

“Now what do you think that was all about?” Emily asked quietly. 

“For once, I have no idea.” Spencer mumbled in return. 

…

Wednesday, August 15th, 2007. Georgia Highway 72 - Madison, GA. 1:32PM.

“This is new.” Morgan noted as the two of you walked away from the SVU, approaching the dumpsite where the latest victim’s body had been found. “This guy doesn’t usually dump bodies out in the open. You think he was in a rush?” 

The two of you had been sent to check it out while Hotch and Prentiss spoke to the family, and the others went over evidence from the many pre-existing cases at the station. 

“Not likely.” You replied. “Preliminary report says there’s still no DNA, no skid marks from his tires, no shoe prints. He’s not getting sloppy.” You felt a sickly wave of vomit splash up as you looked at the woman - her ankles sticking out of the tall grass just off the edge of the highway, where she had been left, entirely visible for anybody passing by to see. “This was a present. Like a fuckin’ cat leaving a dead mouse on the porch. He wanted us to find her. And he wanted us to find her quickly.” 

“I’ll tell you one thing,” Morgan noted, tentatively stepping into the grass and gently moving the long spokes of greenery back to get a better look at the victim. “He’s definitely escalating.” 

You crouched down to get a better look yourself, and you had to agree. 

Her face was almost entirely caved in, but it appeared to be from a series of blunt hits, and not from a singular swing with a heavy object. Between the pre-mortem swelling and the post-mortem rage, where he had continued to mutilate her even after her death, she was practically unrecognizable from the photo that her family had provided you with. The only reason the team had been able to confirm her identity for sure was that she had been reported missing, and she had been found wearing a unique custom charm bracelet that her parents could confirm belonged to her. 

You wished that you could guarantee they would never see her body in this state. 

“What’s that?” Morgan wondered aloud. 

You hummed back in confusion. 

Before you could wonder any further about what he meant, he reached out and gently pried open the victim’s mouth, fishing out a small piece of plastic that he had seen sticking out from the corner of her swollen, bruised lips. He had to fight to get it out of her stiff, death rigored body, but when he was able to - a small plastic bag came out of her mouth. 

A small plastic bag containing a piece of white paper. 

“What the hell?” Morgan mumbled quietly. 

Naturally, he opened the bag and took out the paper, and you looked on with nervous curiosity as he read what was on the note. 

“You are the stars hidden by clouds.” He read aloud. “I know you’re there even when I can’t see you. Your shine peeks out and reaches me in the depths of my soul. Tell me your arms are long enough to reach me across oceans. Tell me someday we will be together, somehow, some way. Tell me that this love we have can survive being together as well as we’ve survived being apart. Tell me we are more than the chasm of our divide.” 

Bile splashed up in your throat. 

You hated that the quote was distinctly familiar to you. You hated how you knew it. 

You could still hear his voice in your head, and it made your bones quake. 

“Hmm.” Morgan looked over the paper thoughtfully. “It’s another page ripped out of a book. Just like the other one. I’ll call Garcia and have her look it up, maybe-” 

“You don’t have to.” You said, hoping that your throat wasn’t too painfully constricted around your words. “It’s Jacqueline Simon Gunn.” 

Morgan easily saw the haunted look behind your eyes - the years old terror that you were having a much harder time suppressing now. 

Oddly enough, it was a feeling that he knew well. Perhaps that’s why he saw it in you so easily. 

“You alright?” He bothered to ask, even though he knew the answer was ‘no’. 

“I’m fine.” You lied. “We should bring this back to everyone else.” 

You rushed away from the crime scene like a bat out of hell, and even though he knew he should have pressed further - he let you. 

… 

Wednesday, August 15th, 2007. Madison Police Department - Madison, GA. 10:08AM.

“Good morning, y’all.” 

The BAU was greeted by Chief Dalton, the Madison County Chief of Police, as you all filed into the small police department. 

“You can set up in the conference room over there, I hope we got y’all everything you need.” He said, flashing a warm, welcoming smile. 

“This looks fine, thank you.” JJ said, reaching out to shake his hand. “I’m Special Agent Jennifer Jareau, this is Doctor Spencer Reid,” She pointed to him, and he nodded in return - of course, rather than shaking hands. “This is Special Agent Emily Prentiss, Agent Rossi, and Agent L/N. Our Unit Chief Aaron Hotchner and Special Agent Morgan will be here later - they wanted to go and interview some of the families of the victims, get some more background information.” 

“L/N?” He motioned toward you, his eyes becoming fixated on you as you set down your bag and lifted one of the lids off the boxes to get a glance at some of the files. “That name sounds awful familiar to me - are you from Madison?” 

“Oh yes, I am,” You grinned at him, stepping forward and giving him a handshake, to which he grinned back widely. “I grew up here. This is actually my first time back in years.” 

“Well, welcome home.” He said. “I wish it was under better circumstances.” 

“Me too.” You easily agreed. 

You thought that would be the end of it, until: 

“You know I hardly recognized you. Such a pretty face, but the last time I saw you, you was beat to a darn pulp.” He remarked, giving a pained chuckle. 

Your stomach swelled with anxiety, and it felt like a pure balloon of concrete sitting inside of you. You felt all the eyes in the room on you - Rossi, JJ, Emily, Spencer - all of them staring you down as this man aired your dirty laundry like it was as casual as the weather report. 

“You came through here - what was it, the summer of ‘99? I’ll never forget that assault report. I’m surprised you can still see out of that right eye of yours, with the way-” 

“Coffee?” You cut him off when you managed to find your voice, rushing to change the subject and praying he would get the hint. “Where can I get a coffee around here? Long flight. And we’ve had an early morning. Long flight, going over the case.” 

You didn’t even realize you were tripping over your own words, repeating yourself in a rush to fill the air so he wouldn’t speak about the past anymore. 

“Oh, it’s right through there. In the break room.” He said, motioning vaguely behind him. 

“Would you mind showing me, please?” 

You knew it was cowardly, but you were now desperate to escape your colleagues, and wanted to drag the Chief away before he spilled anything else from his loose lips. 

He escorted you out of the room and it was only a mere moment before conversation ensued about the strange thing that had just happened. 

“Am I gonna be the first person to say ‘what the hell’?” Rossi asked, looking around to his teammates, who all had equally shocked and confused expressions. 

“It’s a small town. These people don’t exactly understand secrecy. Or tact.” JJ sighed. 

“Yeah, but why would Y/N keep that a secret from us?” Spencer asked, frowning. “If she was assaulted-” 

“Yeah, in the summer of ‘99.” Emily pressed. “That was a long time ago. Have you told everyone on the team every little detail about your life from ten years ago?” 

“Eight years.” Spencer easily corrected her. 

“Whatever.” Emily rolled her eyes. “We’re not here to profile her. We’re here to catch another scumbag and leave.” 

There seemed to be a resounding nod at this.

“If she wants to tell us about what happened, she will.” Rossi added on.  

… 

Wednesday, August 15th, 2007. Outskirts of Madison - Madison, GA. 9:52AM.

“There’s my beautiful girl.” 

He had a perfect view of you through the scope of his gun. 

Of course, he would never hurt you. There was no bullet in that gun that was intended for you. This was just the perfect way to see you. Up close and personal. Just the way he liked it. 

This was the first time he had seen you in so long. You wore your makeup differently now - your hair was a bit different. But you were still his girl. 

“You’re gonna love the present I left for ya.” 

You spoke his language - violence. 

You wrote your life in blood, just like he did. 

You were perfect. His perfect girl. 

…

Wednesday, August 15th, 2007. Inside the BAU Jet - Somewhere Above America. 7:12AM.

“So, the ME dates eight of these victims from within the last year alone?” Prentiss questioned, looking over some of the files on the table in front of her. 

“Well, it’s difficult to tell with the soil erosion and the heavy rain that the area had recently, but they are significantly less decomposed than the others.” JJ explained. 

“What I don’t understand,” Morgan noted. “Why would he give up his gig now? I mean, twenty four victims in a mass grave in the middle of the woods, and he leaves a twenty-fifth victim in the middle of the road, clearly intending for police to find it. With a damn note attached, giving up the exact coordinates of his mass dumpsite. Why?”

“It is strange.” Reid agreed. “Typically, whenever killers have contact with the police, it is to taunt them for their inability to get caught, believing that the police are stupid and they as killers are invincible.” He said. Naturally, this rolled into a rant as more facts came to mind about the subject. 

“Serial killer Dennis Rader, also known as the BTK killer, standing for Blind, Torture, Kill - he taunted police with letters over a period of three decades, between 1974 and 1991, each one that he sent to the local police simply saying ‘good luck hunting’.” Reid explained. “Occasionally, he would send them graphic descriptions of how he had posed the bodies at each crime scene. And he was only caught when a floppy disc he sent to a local television station was traced back to a computer that he had used at his church.” 

Reid laughed at this revelation, finding it amusing. With all eyes staring at him, he reached the realization that this wasn’t helpful to the case at hand - and then he easily clammed up. 

“So, this UnSub gives up the dumpsite because… he’s feeling remorseful? He wants to get caught?” Rossi theorized. 

“The level of violence across these recent victims has no indication of remorse.” You replied. “One of the bodies found at the dumpsite was missing over half her teeth, and had all ten of her fingers broken in multiple places. Seemingly pre-mortem.” 

There was a heavy silence at this. 

“Perhaps he’s feeling ignored,” Hotch posed. “He feels like his crimes aren’t being well covered by the media and he wants glory. He finally wants recognition for what he’s done.” 

“Well, wouldn’t he have sent some kind of manifesto or another letter to the police?” Morgan posed. “And it seems like the guy went through a whole lot of trouble for a long time, trying not to get caught. He buried them out in the woods, secluded. Wrapped them in plastic, scrubbed the bodies clean so there’s absolutely no DNA. Doesn’t seem like someone looking for glory to me.”  

“Not to mention that he wrote the coordinates for the dumpsite on the back of a page ripped out of a novel.” Rossi said, squinting down at one of the files - a close up forensic photo that had been sent over by the local police department. 

Prentiss held out her hand, and Rossi handed over the photo, and then she began reading the words off the page aloud. 

“-I wish, as well as everybody else, to be perfectly happy, but-” 

“-but, like everybody else, it must be in my own way.” You finished the quote before she could, the words flashing through your mind with a sickly twist in your gut. It was all too familiar to you, in the worst way. “It’s Sense and Sensibility. Jane Austin.” 

Everyone fixated on you with a strange gaze, wondering how you knew this off the top of your head. Especially when usually this would only be something that Reid would be able to recite so perfectly by heart. 

“Maybe he thinks that he’s romancing these women?” Prentiss theorized, trying to move on from the strange moment. 

“That’s plausible.” Hotch agreed. “When we land, Morgan and I will go interview some of the families. JJ, get us their contacts. I want to know if any of these women had problems with an ex boyfriend or even a bad date whom they rejected. It could be someone they once viewed as a potential romantic partner that went horribly wrong.” 

JJ nodded at this, going to look through her files for the information. 

“This level of torture - it’s likely a substitute for sexual gratification.” Morgan theorized, looking at the crime scene photos one again. “Maybe he is romancing these women, but in his mind, this is the ultimate form of romance? Having all of his conquests together in death - it’s a declaration of what a casanova he is. In his fractured world.” 

“It still doesn’t explain why he gave up the dumpsite to the police.” Prentiss argued. 

“Men like to brag about their sexual exploits.” Rossi said, nodding toward Morgan. “If these women are his conquests, in his mind, then he wants his manliness, his accomplishments, to be appreciated by other men.” 

Prentiss sharply rolled her eyes at this. 

“Well, at least we know our UnSub’s not a woman.” She remarked sharply. 

… 

Wednesday, August 15th, 2007. BAU Offices (FBI Headquarters) - Quantico, Virginia. 6:15AM.

JJ stood at the front of the room, ready to present the newest case to everyone. 

“Last night, a body was discovered on the backroads of South Carolina, about five miles outside of the town of Delph. She was found naked, mutilated. Heavy bruising all over her body that insinuates the killer kept her and tortured her for days. Final cause of death appears to be blunt force trauma from multiple hits to the head, but she also had several shallow stab wounds across her body, seemingly from some kind of hunting knife with a rough blade.” 

JJ explained, beginning to present the case as she clicked the small remote, causing images of the crime scene to pop up on the large screen in the room. 

“The victim - now identified as Ashley Prembrooke, hadn’t even been reported missing. She left her parents house in Madison, Georgia, about three days ago to drive back to her dorm at the University of South Carolina. When she didn’t show up on time, her roommate assumed that she was staying at home for a few extra days. Her father has cancer, so she wanted to be there for him.” 

There seemed to be a particularly dark aura in the room at this news. 

“Did the killer know that she wouldn’t be reported missing, or did he just snatch her up by chance?” Morgan asked. 

“Her car was found abandoned at a rest stop a few miles from the border of Georgia.” JJ explained. “So… it seems to be random.” 

“Well, I hate to ask this,” Rossi said. “But why are we being called out for just one body?” 

“That’s the thing.” JJ sighed. 

She clicked the clicker again, and several close-up photos appeared. Photos of the victim’s mutilated body - among the harsh bruising on her torso, there was a piece of white paper, partially stained with blood. It had been folded and stapled into her flesh. 

“The victim was found with this page… stapled into her skin.” JJ said, clearly finding the words disturbing to speak aloud. “Written on the back, was a set of coordinates. Local police discovered that these coordinates lead to a random patch of woods, about ten miles outside of Madison, Georgia.” 

JJ queued more pictures onto the screen. It was those very woods - overturned dirt. And more than a dozen bodies, wrapped in plastic among the soil. 

“It was the site of a mass grave with twenty-four other victims - all women around the same age, with the most recent ones all having the same body type, the same hair color, same general makeup as Ashley Prembrooke.” 

“He has a type.” Hotch stated the obvious. 

“And for some reason, he tipped the police off to his hiding place.” JJ reminded them all. 

“Twenty four victims?” Prentiss questioned, clearly shocked by this number. 

“That’s what they’ve found so far. The decomposition on some of the bodies seems to go back as far as a decade, but it’s difficult to date them exactly.” JJ replied. 

“So… the guy is experienced, hasn’t been caught in years, and he hands over his honey pot to the cops? Is he trying to get caught? Is he feeling guilty?” Rossi posed. 

“No, not with that level of violence. There’s no remorse there.” Morgan replied. 

“He dumped Ashley Prembrooke over state lines. We could be looking at somebody with an incredibly wide hunting ground who gave up one of many dumpsites as a way to taunt police.” Hotch theorized. 

“That doesn’t seem to be the case.” JJ explained. “So far, eight of the most recent victims have been matched up with missing persons reports, all of them women from Madison. All within the last year alone. It seems like he targeted Ashley because she was from Madison - that’s his comfort zone.” 

When the pictures of the missing women - now confirmed dead, murdered violently, popped up on screen, your throat tightened. 

You had known at least two of them. You had gone to school with them. You had seen them cheer proudly at high school pep rallies - you had known them lively and bright. And now they were bones rotting in the soil, taken by some monster. 

Beyond that, there was an alarming trend. 

They looked like you. You couldn’t deny that. Same hair color, same body type, same skin tone. 

And they were from your hometown. 

Between this, and the letter, the morning was getting to be too much for you. You wanted to believe it was all a series of terrible coincidences, but… 

Looking across the roundtable at you, Reid was the only one who saw that sickly look come over your face. He was desperate to know what was troubling you. 

“Reid?” Hotch got his attention, finding it strange that the overly talkative man was quiet this morning. “You’ll work the geographical profile?” 

“Yes.” Reid nodded, finally taking his eyes off you. “It’s unusual for the killer to hunt wider than a five hundred mile radius from home. So it’s likely that he lives, works, and operates all within Madison.” 

“Good. We could be looking at a copy-cat who knew about the previous killer’s dumpsite, or… something else entirely. But we need to get on the ground there and find out.” Hotch said. “Wheels up in thirty.” 

Everyone dispersed from the table when Hotch finalized with this, and you found yourself much dizzier than you realized as you tried to stand. As everyone moved to their desks to gather their things, you moved to the counter to get a coffee - hoping to calm your nerves. 

“Y/N.” 

You nearly jumped out of your skin when Reid’s voice came from behind you - your own blood was pumping in your ears, and seemingly, he had snuck up behind you. But his usually quiet footsteps simply couldn’t be heard beyond the nagging thump of your own anxiety. 

“What?” You barked back, knowing it was far too harsh. 

“Are - are you alright?” He asked, hesitant to bother you with the question. 

“I’m fine.” You lied as you dumped the sugar packets into your cup, your shaking hands accidentally spilling some across the counter top. 

“Are you sure?” Reid pressed. 

You let out a heavy sigh and turned to face him, crossing your arms heavily over your chest. 

“What?” You said the word again, sternly, glaring at him. 

All he did was give you a soft, understanding expression in return. 

You hated it. 

You hated how he was so open - it was almost horrifying, how you could have easily told him what was bothering you. 

Sweet, accepting, understanding Reid. 

If you told him the truth, he probably would have told you some statistic that he found comforting. It would have been sweet, coming from him. But then, he would have been looking at you with those eyes all damn day, holding pity in his heart and not truly focusing on the work that needed to get done. 

“Can you look at the shit we see every single day and always be okay with it?” 

You easily made up an excuse, pretending you were rattled by the crime scene photos, even though this murder was no more graphic in nature than any other you had been subjected to seeing recently. 

“I’m human. So what?” 

Reid studied your face carefully. He saw guilt dancing in your eyes - the way you gently bit your lip was your tell for lying, that much he knew from playing many rounds of poker with you on the plane rides home. 

But he felt that simply nagging you more wouldn’t get the truth out of you. Not right now. 

“Okay.” He acquiesced. “I know it’s hard. If you ever need someone to talk to-” 

You stormed off, accidentally slamming into his shoulder on the way along in your haste to escape the conversion. Reid heavily eyed the cup of coffee that you had left cooling on the counter before he turned and left himself. 

… 

Wednesday, August 15th, 2007. BAU Offices (FBI Headquarters) - Quantico, Virginia. 6:04AM.

You walked into the bullpen with your bag on your arm, sipping a strong coffee in a travel mug you had brought from home. 

“You look tired.” Emily commented as you walked over to your desk. “Late night?” 

You moaned in reply, not yet ready to let go of nursing your coffee mug, taking a few more long gulps as you took the strap of your bag off your shoulder and slung it into your chair. 

“Last night, the fire alarm in my building went off at 3am.” You told her, finally surrendering the mug and putting it down on your desk. “I was out of bed in a panic, barely awake, went into the hallway to evacuate - and the sprinklers had gone off. So I ended up standing outside for more than an hour in my little jammies, soaking wet, and it turns out - some teenager from the third floor pulled the alarm because he was having an argument with his mom. He didn’t want to go to summer school.” 

“Yikes.” Derek commented. “Well, you know, if you ever need a calm, cozy place to sleep, you can always give me a call. And you can bring your little jammies.” He told you with a wink. You rolled your eyes, knowing that flirting was his default. “As long as you don’t mind Clooney licking at your toes in the mornin’.” 

That almost made it sound more appealing. You did love that dog. 

“You know, a study was done at the University of New Hampshire that concluded that twenty to thirty minute windows of sleep actually optimize the human brain for functionality the most.” Spencer added on, leaning back in his chair at his desk as he explained this. 

“The schedule of a ten to twelve hour work day, followed by an eight hour sleep period has only been instituted in society as a commonality since the industrial revolution. And it doesn’t actually flow with how the human brain has been optimized by evolution. Before that, most people optimized their lives around a wake-sleep period of three to four hours, taking care of chores in the morning, participating in a midday nap, and then socializing in the evening and partaking in community events before sleeping again in the evening. And most communities functioned around people sleeping and waking at vastly different times rather than everyone having one collective morning routine.” He concluded, giving you a smile. 

You found his rambling fascinating, but you found it ironic that you could barely process half of what he had said - because you were too tired. 

“Well, unfortunately we can’t all live in villages and pick berries for a living.” Emily remarked with a yawn. 

The conversation shifted when Penelope walked in, and gave you a bright smile. 

“Good morning, pretty girl.” She greeted you. 

“Mornin’, Penny G.” You replied.

“This arrived on the mailcart for you, postmarked from a few days ago, stamped express. I figured you’d want to have eyes on it as soon as possible.” She told you, handing you a very average looking white envelope. 

You weren’t sure why, but it invoked a strange feeling in your gut. 

The moment that you saw the handwriting on your front - the script that made up your name. 

The way he had written it. 

Bile rose up in your throat, and you forced yourself to swallow it back down. All eyes in the room immediately knew that something was wrong. 

“What is it?” Emily asked. 

“Nothing.” You quickly replied. 

You didn’t even want to open it, but bitter curiosity was eating at you. 

How the hell had he found your work address? He knew where you worked now? 

“I’m gonna - bathroom.” You mumbled an excuse as you rushed back out of the room again, practically fleeing toward the bathroom, leaving all eyes on your shadow. 

In particular, Spencer’s eyes followed you hard as you retreated. He wondered how a simple letter could upset you so much. 

You secluded yourself safely in a locked stall, your heart thumping in your chest as you began to tear into the letter. The envelope turned to sinew in your hands with your anxious inability to open it properly. In a few moments, you pulled out the piece of paper with a shaking hand, and dropped the shredded envelope onto the floor. 

You barely managed to read its contents through tearful eyes. 

Lover, 

Fate has sent us on such different paths, but I will be with you again soon. 

I still miss you every single day. I remember your smell. 

I know none of the men you have spent your recent years with can measure up to me, which is why I have set you on the path back to me. 

“I wish, as well as everybody else, to be perfectly happy; but like everybody else, it must be in my own way.” 

-Daniel 

Your chest caved in when you realized that there was something taped to the corner of the page. 

You recognized the piece of dark cloth in an instant. 

It was from that night. He had kept it. 

You couldn’t keep the bile down that time. You turned to the toilet and puked up a horrible swirl of black coffee and half a toaster waffle that you had scarfed down while getting dressed for work. 

When you had just barely caught your breath, you heard the door to the bathroom creak open. 

“Y/N?” Emily called out your name. “Are you in here?” 

You didn’t answer. 

Instead, you heaved a large glob of putrid spit into the toilet and wiped your mouth with the back of your hand. 

“Are you okay?” She asked, her voice now coming from right outside the stall you were in. 

“I’m fine.” You handed out that lie, not knowing how many times in the next day you were going to be saying it. 

“You don’t sound fine.” Emily told you. “I thought I heard you throwing up.” 

“Bad sushi.” You lied. “Stopped by the corner store on my way home. You know I never cook. Food poisoning is usually 50/50 with that kind of shit. Just another thing to add to my great night, right?” 

You let out a sour, sarcastic chuckle, but Emily didn’t follow suit. 

You knew that you would have to face her sooner or later, so you wiped your mouth again and then turned and unlocked the stall door. 

“I’ll be fine.” You told her, throwing her a very fake smile. 

“Yeah.” She said, tone flat, entirely disbelieving. “Would it have anything to do with that?” 

She motioned to the letter, which you had almost forgotten was crumbled up in your fist. 

“Can I see?” 

You didn’t even consider how suspicious it would be, but as her hand moved toward the paper, you ripped it up and tossed it into the toilet, grabbing the envelope up off the floor and tossing it into the mess of paper and vomit as well before you flushed it all down. 

“It’s nothing.” You grunted out, another very poor lie coming from your lips as you exited the stall and moved toward the sinks. “It’s garbage.” 

You turned on the tap and leaned down, taking in a mouthful of water to rinse out your mouth while she watched you with careful, piercing eyes. 

“It’s kind of pathetic that you’re trying so hard to bullshit me.” Emily remarked. “Not just because we’re both profilers, but because it’s so painfully obvious that something is wrong.” 

You swirled the water around your mouth, rinsing it out, and then spit into the sink before you turned the tap off. When you rose up to your full height, you caught Emily’s eye in the mirror - pitying. You hated it. 

It was that kind of pity that held you back from telling her the truth. 

She reached over to the dispenser and got you some of the paper towel, handing it to you as she spoke again. 

“You know you can tell me what’s bothering you, right?” She said, reaching up to put a gentle hand on your shoulder. 

There was a small, quiet moment - the words edged on your tongue. 

You truly considered just coming out with it. 

But then- 

A harsh knock on the door cut through the silence. 

“Y/N? Em?” JJ poked her head in through the door, clearly looking for the two of you. When she spotted you, she continued on. “I need everybody at the roundtable in five.” 

“Let’s get going.” You said, wiping your mouth and then crumpling the paper towel to toss it into the garbage can. 

… 

Thursday, August 16th, 2007. Madison Police Department - Madison, GA. 1:45AM.

Reid stormed in, capturing everyone’s attention. 

After being given a shoebox full of strange letters by your mother, he had finally pieced it together. He finally realized the secret you had been hiding - the thing that put you right in this killer’s crosshairs. 

“Guys, I think we got the profile all wrong.” He announced, a look of worry knit into his features. “And - if I’m right, then I think I know where she is.” 

He motioned to something in his hands - it was a worn-out old shoebox, something that made everyone curious and confused. 

“What the hell is that?” Prentiss asked. 

“Come on.” Reid ushered everyone into the conference room, and once the whole team was gathered, he shut the door. 

He opened the box and spilled it into the middle of the table, revealing a flood of hand-written letters. JJ stood back in shock, Hotch observed carefully and silently as usual, and Rossi, Morgan, and Prentiss began to pick through them while Reid explained his revelation. 

“Y/N’s mother gave me these.” He explained. “All of them are addressed to Y/N, and from what I can see, they’re pretty much weekly, and they go back as far as 1999.” 

“When the first murder occurred.” Morgan easily pieced the two things together. 

“Not only that,” Reid added on. “The first murder took place in August of ‘99.” He said, pointing to the picture of the first known victim on the evidence board. “And I think the first letter, or one of the earliest, is from July of ‘99. At least.” 

“So - so she was having correspondence with the killer?” JJ questioned. “What? Was he in prison? Are you saying that Y/N is involved with this in some way?” 

“No-” Reid rushed to correct this assumption, and Morgan cut him off. 

“She was at Quantico when the latest victims were killed. Even if the guy has a partner, I really don’t take her as bein’ responsible for this.” He said. 

“Plus, these don’t exactly read as love letters.” Pretniss pointed out, her expression growing disturbed as she read what the killer had written from the letter in her hands. 

“-every day I dream of you, my love. I remember the way you felt underneath me - clawing for your life, desperate. I remember the way you screamed. Tasting your blood for the first time made me feel alive again. I hope the bruises meant as much to you as they did to me.” 

“The use of ‘I’ language denotes self importance - the author has a natural narcissistic personality disorder, but he pretends that it’s a fulfilling two-way relationship, when naturally it’s a fixation on someone who could never truly live up to his fantasies.” Reid explained. 

The room fell silent as the reality of it hit everyone. You were the target of someone truly dangerous. Someone who was going to kill you when you didn’t perform the fantasy that he had in mind for you. 

“She was being stalked.” Reid declared quietly, sounding defeated. “She still is.” 

“These killings aren’t someone having separate, individual fantasized relationships with each victim; this is about the killer repeating the same relationship over and over again, performing the same ritual killing in order to relive the same fantasy over again, projecting it onto different women of the same type.” Hotch said, coming to the realization as he stared at the different victims photos on the evidence board with a firm look on his face. “He’s been in love with the same woman in his mind for years, but nobody can live up to the real thing. That’s why he gave up the dump site. Because he wanted to lure her here. He wanted the FBI here, because he wanted to get L/N here.” 

“Okay, but the bigger question is: why L/N? What was the incident that got him fixated on her in the first place?” Rossi questioned, asking what was on everyone’s mind. 

JJ’s face was struck with horrible realization, and she ran to the door, ripping it open. She screamed the Chief’s name at the top of her lungs until she got the man’s attention, looking entirely crazed to everyone else in the station. Naturally, she didn’t care. He bustled over, scurrying toward her urgent voice, spilling coffee on himself in the process. 

“Chief.” JJ breathed out. “You said that Y/N came through the station, and she was beaten up the last time you saw her - when was that?” 

“Oh, I dunno?” He creased his brows with concentration, trying to remember. “About ‘98? ‘99?” 

“Did she file a report about the incident?” JJ asked. 

“Yeah.” The Chief replied. “It was a break-in. Poor thing. Summer vacation, her mother wasn’t home, off with the church on a retreat hittin’ the bingo halls up in Texas. She said that she never saw the attacker, though. He was wearin’ a ski-mask.” 

There was a silent exchange among the group that said they knew the truth - you had seen the attacker, you knew him. It’s why you had gone with him willingly this time. But you hadn’t told the police the truth back then because you had been too scared. 

“Can you get me that report?” JJ asked. 

After too many anxious minutes, the Chief came back with an old file in hand, and JJ snatched it out of his hands with a mumbled thank you before she shut the door in his face once again. She placed it down on the table among the mess of letters, and flipped it open. 

“Oh my god.” Emily gasped when she saw the photos inside. 

There was a spread of old polaroid photos, pinned to the sides of the file. They were almost too graphic for the team to look at - one showing the damage to your face; both of your eyes bruised, one of them entirely swollen shut. Scratches, deep gashes, harsh bruising all over your body. You were wearing a dark cotton tee shirt with patches ripped out of it - as if someone had been clawing at you and nearly ripped the clothing off your body to keep you from getting away. 

“This wasn’t a burglary.” Derek mumbled, frowning as he picked up one of the photos and inspected it closer. 

“Get Garcia on the line,” Hotch told JJ. 

She dialed the tech’s number on the conference hub, having to unbury the small bit of technology from some papers before she did it. It rang for a few moments before the woman on the other end picked up. 

“Where’s our girl?” Garcia asked anxiously, talking about you. “Is there any news? You’re calling because there’s good news, right?” 

“Babygirl,” Derek called out, trying to get her to focus, but she trampled right past this and continued to ramble on. 

“Please don’t tell me she’s dead!” Garcia shrieked on the other end. “Cause I can’t keep losing people! And I know it’s selfish to say that I can’t lose her, but she’s one of my best friends, and I’m gonna be a mess! And she promised to be the maid of honor and my wedding, and I know I’m not even engaged, and I don’t even have a boyfriend, but I need to have her around for big milestones in my life like that, she’s like the best person I know, and-” 

“Garcia, we need you.” Hotch told her firmly, cutting off her emotional ranting. 

“Right.” The tech replied, sucking in sharply, trying to catch her breath. There was some scraping in the background - the wheels of her chair on the floor as she scooted her chair into her desk. “What do you need? I’m here.” 

“I need you to look up reports of rape in and around Madison County between 1991 and 1999.” Hotch told her. 

“Rape?” Garcia replied, seemingly shocked by the topic and how it might relate to the case at hand - how it might relate to you. 

“Come on, babygirl.” Derek encouraged her. “Work your magic.” 

“Yeah. I got it.” She said hesitantly, and then there was the clacking of her keyboard as she worked. 

“Oh. Ugh.” 

“What is it?” Rossi was the first to ask. 

“There’s over five hundred cases.” Penelope told them, clearly disgusted by this number. 

“Can you narrow it down to women in their twenties? With similarities to the victims who have been targeted by the killer. Same hair type, same race, same body type.” Hotch told her. 

“Turning on the creep filter.” Garcia said, using her usual sense of humor that she turned on to shield herself. “That leaves us with… about twenty cases.” 

“Were any of them prosecuted?” Hotch asked. 

“Two of them.” Penelope replied. “A couple of sorority sisters from the University of Georgia were held at gunpoint and raped by a pizzaman in ‘95. He went to trial, got ten years. And he was paroled for good behavior in 2003. Yikes.” Emily rolled her eyes in agreement with his comment. “And shortly after his parole, he crashed his car into a tree in a drunk driving incident. Looks like he’s probably not your guy.” 

“What about the other eighteen cases?” Reid asked. 

“Um… no.” Garcia replied. “None of them went to court. A lot of these say that the victims were attacked by a stranger… that he broke in through the back door. Hold on.” 

“What?” Derek prompted her. 

“There is one here. Terry Driver. She said that she was raped, and she identified her rapist as someone she knew - Daniel Matthews. But he was never arrested because his brother gave him an ability for the night of the incident.” Garcia explained. 

“I bet that one was air-tight.” Rossi scoffed. 

“What type of injuries did the victims have?” Hotch asked. 

“Um… nothing major.” Penelope replied. Hotch frowned. “A black eye… a few scratches.” She hesitated. “Ligature marks… from being tied to their beds. God. That sounds like the most horrible night of your life, doesn’t it?” 

Hotch shook his head, sweeping a tense hand over his face. “He doesn’t fit the profile.” 

“Wait.” Reid swallowed thickly, staring at the photos of you that were sitting in the middle of the table. 

Battered. Bruised. Broken. 

“Some of the letters refer to him having an awakening. ‘An awakening in my soul. A bond through blood.’” He explained, naturally reciting the words from memory after having only read them once. 

“She fought back hard.” He held up one of the photos - one of your arm, showing deep, bloody scratches. Defensive wounds. “She found back so hard - he must have liked it. It-” 

“It gave him a taste for violence.” Prentiss finished off the thought, fear written all over her face. “She - she was the one who made him realize that he could use violence to replace sex completely. So he switched from rape to murder.” She came to the shocking realization aloud, her eyes flickering from the photo of you to all the photos scattered across the evidence board - all the victims he had practiced on in the wake of you. 

“Oh - oh my god.” Penelope gasped, having heard all of this over the intercom. “He’s gonna kill her? He’s gonna kill Y/N?” 

“Garcia, What can you get me on Matthews?” Hotch asked. 

“Um, right - Daniel Matthews…” There was more clacking of keys, and then Penelope replied. “He grew up in Madison. Looks like he went to the same high school as Y/N. He used to play football. He has a juvenile record for… vandalism, underage drinking. The usual. Oh…” 

“Oh?” JJ wondered aloud. 

“He had a very brief stint in the FBI Academy. He was kicked out 2001 when he was accused of sexually harassing fellow female applicants, and he was flagged on the psych eval as having a possible narcissistic personality disorder.” Garcia explained. 

“Bingo.” Rossi sighed. “That’s our UnSub.” 

“Oh my god. The hiatus.” Morgan said, his eyes fixated on the evidence board now. “‘99 was the year he attacked Y/N, when he first got a taste for it… and then… he followed her to the Academy?”

“And he resumed the killings when he got kicked out.” Rossi picked up on the thought. “When he couldn’t be in close contact with her anymore… he couldn’t get a high off of retraumatizing her, reliving that night in his mind, he needed to relive it through the other victims.” 

It all fit together now. 

It was a horrible puzzle, but it all fit together around you. 

“Reid, you said you might know where he took her?” Pretniss said, turning back to the very tired looking genius. 

“Yes,” Reid shoved aside the file with the graphic photos of you, and went shuffling through the letters for something. When he found it, he handed it over to Prentiss. “A lot of the earliest dated letters make reference to ‘our special place’. Or-” 

“-the bed I first made love to you in.” Prentiss read it off the page, clearly holding back vomit. 

JJ grabbed up the file with the report about the break-in, shoving aside the photos, looking for an address. “It’s here. I’ve got it.” 

“Okay, I want squad cars, tactical swat, I want spike strips on every road in or out of that place. I need everyone mobile in ten minutes.” Hotch ordered sharply, causing everyone to jump into action. 

…

Thursday, August 16th, 2007. Abandoned Country House - Madison, GA. 2:20AM.

It should have felt like a victory to hold a knife to the throat of your rapist - someone who had been taunting you for years after the incident. 

But somehow, you still felt small. You still felt so chaotic and out of control. 

Both your hands shook vigorously as you struggled with the warring inside of you, as you struggled with the weight of confronting your life’s biggest monster. 

In the back of your mind, you were aware of the guns pointed at you. You would have liked to believe that because Emily was your friend - she wouldn’t shoot you. 

Part of you thought it would be worth it. To kill this man and take a bullet in the process. 

You just hoped that she would aim to wound and not to kill. 

“Put the knife down!” Emily ordered, her voice sounding muffled in your ears as blood thumped hard through you. “Come on, put it down.” 

“Reid-!” 

You heard his name being called out, and you saw a figure moving from the corner of your eye, but all you could focus on was the blade in your hand. The sight of a thick, unmarked neck, ripe for the taking in front of you. The idea that all you had to do was press down and slice through flesh - and then, this would all be over. 

No more torment. No more letters. No more taunting. 

“Y/N,” 

His soothing voice spoke your name, and you held a sob inside of your chest. 

You had grown so much of a life beyond this. Beyond him. He had tried to ruin you, he had tried to keep you in some little cage in some shitty town, and you had outgrown him. You had friends. You had people who loved you. 

But you still couldn’t escape him. 

“You don’t have to do this.” 

Your hand shook as you held the knife. 

“I have to.” You replied, unable to hold back your sobs. You barely noticed the tears coming out of your eyes - barely able to identify why your vision was blurring, why your face was suddenly wet. 

“You don’t have to.” Reid told you, his voice calming, gentle. “You - you can give me the knife, and then we can just… walk away. And then it all ends.” 

“It won’t just end!” You screamed out, your voice a curtling weep that bounced off the walls. 

If you let Daniel walk away from this, he would come for you again. He would. 

Or he would keep killing other women in your place. And you couldn’t let that happen. 

You couldn’t let your cowardice be the reason that so many women had died. You should have killed him the first time he had ever touched you. You should have been brave enough then. 

“It can end.” Reid assured you calmly. “You just have to come with me. You just have to put the knife down and-” 

It just sounded like noises in your ears at that point. 

Spencer just didn’t understand. 

“I have to make it stop!” You screamed, urgent to make him truly hear you. “I killed those women. I killed them!” 

“Prentiss!” A voice called her name, but it was so distant in your ears. 

“Just give him a minute!” Prentiss fired back. 

“He killed them because of me!” You shouted, cutting him off. “We both know it’s my fault.” 

“It’s not.” Reid choked out. “Please don’t say that.” 

There was a gutting silence. 

“Please, just give me the knife.” 

You couldn’t give up. 

You had come too far to let Daniel win now. 

“It was my fault. I know what happened. If I had just been a good little girl… if I had just laid there and taken it… it’s all my fault.” You quietly wept, your arms still shaking - muscles ripe with hesitation as you struggled with your grip on the knife. “I have to be the one to make it stop.” 

By violence it was done, and by violence it would be undone. 

You could be brave enough this time. You could be the one to end it. 

“No, no you don’t.” Reid told you. “You don’t have to do it alone. We can make it stop together. Just give me the knife. Please.” 

You had been alone your whole life. What was one more thing? 

Just press down. Something in your mind screamed. Slice his throat. End it. 

“Please, just look at me.” Spencer begged, his voice growing more desperate. “Please.” 

You didn’t look up at him. 

You knew that you couldn’t. 

If you took one look at those soft, pitying eyes, then the tiny bit of bravery you had gathered up would crack away. 

“Y/N, please.” Spencer continued. “I know why you think you have to do this. I know that his face is the one that’s been in all your nightmares since that night. I - I know you were all alone then, on the night that happened. You must have felt so alone.” 

You let out another sob at this. 

You had been so alone. 

“But you’re not alone now. You’re not alone now, okay?” 

Spencer’s gentle voice delivering the words made them feel so true. 

“We’re here with you now. I’m here with you. You don’t have to do this alone. You don’t have to fight by yourself anymore. You don’t have to be strong.” 

You heard a crack in his voice for the first time - his own tears. 

It wasn’t pity. 

It was genuine sadness for you, as he thought about what had happened to you. What had happened in this very bedroom all those years ago. 

“Spencer-” You choked out his name, and your body betrayed you. 

You finally collapsed, your hand dropping the knife, and Spencer reached out and grabbed you as you fell, helping to move your shuddering form away from the unconscious, horrible man as the others finally moved in. 

You heard more voices, more shouting - maybe Hotch giving orders. 

But all you felt was Spencer’s arms around you, creating a shield as he rubbed your back and gently hushed you, letting you sob as loudly as you needed to, giving you a kind of comfort that you had never felt on that horrible night. 

… 

Thursday, August 16th, 2007. Madison Police Department, Interrogation Room #1 - Madison, GA. 3:39AM.

The chilled air of the interrogation room only made the regret of it all more palpable in your lungs. 

Maybe Reid had saved you from yourself, or maybe he had caused you to make the biggest mistake of your life. 

You should have killed Daniel. 

You hated it, but you had to wonder what you would have done if you had ten more minutes. Ten more minutes before they had arrived, sirens screeching, lights flashing. Your mind kept replaying the moments over and over again. The knife had felt so perfect in your hand. You should have sliced his throat. 

Ten more minutes. 

The hum of the fluorescents overhead made you feel like a bug about to be zapped - like your entire life was over and you would be resigned to a cage. 

Daniel had been hauled away in an ambulance. He had been entirely unmoving. In ‘critical condition’. They would likely charge you with manslaughter if he didn’t recover - it wasn’t likely that he would. You had overheard Prentiss remark on the irony that he was an organ donor. Because you had beaten him so badly, but not killed him, it was likely that his comatose state would lead to his organs being donated, and saving more lives. 

It could be viewed as a beautiful thing. 

But you had to wonder if the poison he had in his veins was contagious. Should the heart of a killer really live on inside someone else’s body? 

“Let’s start with this,” Reid asked you sharply. “Why?” 

Truthfully, you couldn’t give him that answer. You didn’t think you would ever have enough time to conjure it up within yourself. 

“You’re the genius profiler, Doctor Reid.” You fired back coldly. “You tell me.” 

You let out another puff of your cigarette, and he frowned at you. 

“No.” He said. “No more bullshit. No more games.” 

You definitely were not used to this version of Reid. 

You were surprised that it had taken you almost killing someone to bring out his cold side. But you supposed that everyone had a line. And you had crossed his. 

“Why didn’t you tell us you had been raped?” He asked. “Why didn’t you tell us that the rapist lived in your hometown and was a viable suspect in all of this? Why didn’t you tell us that the letter you received the other morning was just one of many your rapist sent you over the years, stalking you, obsessing over you after-?” 

“Why?” You said, your voice scraping against the word harshly as you tossed it back at him, cutting off his ranting. 

He gave you an impatient expression as it hung in the air - eyes wide, pursing his lips. 

It caused you to flare with anger. 

You let the cigarette burn down to a hot cherry between your fingers, the harsh sting against your skin being the only thing keeping you from lunging across the table and strangling him. 

You stubbed it out in the ashtray before you answered him. 

“Why didn’t I want to suddenly announce to a group of my intellectual peers that I was raped?” You echoed back, more tears gathering in the corners of your eyes - you knew that you must have looked quite crazed, especially when Hotch stiffened, and Reid’s expression dropped. “You know, when I first came to the BAU, it was the only time in my life that I wasn’t viewed as a victim.” 

“Y/N-” Spencer said your name in that gentle tone again, but you weren’t having it this time. 

“My dad left us when I was only a year old. And everybody viewed my Mama as this fucking martyr because she raised me by herself. ‘Oh poor girl. She doesn’t have a daddy. Poor little girl, all alone. Her mama does such a good job.’” You said, ranting in a crazed tone. But the floodgates had opened, and you couldn’t stop it. “Nobody wanted to talk about how my Mama was off half the time, drinking at bars, out partying with friends. She got pregnant at sixteen and she didn't want to stop having a life. God forbid I get in the way of that. I took care of my damn self! I raised myself!” 

You knew you were screaming, but you couldn’t stop it. 

“L/N-” Hotch tried speaking to you in a firmer voice. 

But you couldn’t stop. 

“Daniel only broke into the house that night because he knew I would be alone.” Your voice warbled harshly on the word, and you hated it. 

You hated the look that Reid and Hotch were giving you. 

Pity. 

That look you had been trying to avoid for so long. 

“When I came here that night and made the police report, they all knew I was bullshiting. They knew that it wasn’t a fucking burglary.” You pressed on. “But none of them said anything! They didn’t care.” 

There was a tense moment. You swallowed thickly around your own tears, holding back sobs once again. 

“Why didn’t you tell us?” Spencer tried again, seeming to be personally stuck on this point. “I asked you if something was wrong. Why didn’t you tell me?” 

“That look in your eye.” You told him, entirely honest. “That look you have right now. I - I couldn’t stand the idea of you looking at me like that forever.” 

“Daniel approached you in the parking lot of the corner store.” Hotch stated calmly. “Why did you go with him willingly? Did he have a gun on you?” 

“He had a gun.” You told him. “He did have it pointed at me. But - I didn’t have mine. I didn’t like the odds.” 

Hotch nodded at this. 

“I didn’t want him to take another girl.” You added on. “I knew they were replacements. At that point, I realized what it was. I figured nobody else should have to die because of my mistake.” 

“Mistake?” Spencer echoed back quietly. 

“Not killing him the first time.” You said, knowing this was likely a bit too honest. “I should have killed him the first time he ever put his hands on me. I should have. I wanted him dead.” 

Tears leaked hot from your eyes at this, and Spencer’s eyes grew glassy - he blinked back his own. 

“You wanted him dead, but… did you want to kill him?” Hotch posed. 

“I don’t know.”

...

“That is how heavy a secret can become. It can make blood flow easier than ink.”

-Patrick Rothfuss

...

A/N: This is a oneshot, meant to function as an episode of Criminal Minds, so please respect it as such. Please do not ask for a sequel or a continuation, because there will not be one. If you are going to comment about the work, please comment about the body of what has been written. I highly appreciate reblogs and comments if you enjoyed it, and if you want to see more of what I have written for Criminal Minds, definitely check out my Criminal Minds masterlist.

[aurorabyler]

the significance of heroes by david bowie to stranger things + byler (finn wolfhard interview)

byler nation. i just found an interview clip of finn that i’ve literally been looking for since season 4 dropped. i remembered watching it but i couldn’t find the video afterwards and i also haven’t seen many people talking about it, so here it is:

transcript (finn wolfhard): “this is my life in songs. a song that reminds me of stranger things — heroes by david bowie. there’s a cover in the first season, but i remember when we were first shooting the first season shawn levy (one of our directors and executive producers) cut together a sizzle reel and put it to heroes, and that was kind of the first glimpse we got into the show. and it really just kind of blew me away and also made that song so important as well to me.”

if any of you are familiar with the way heroes is used in stranger things as well as some of the theories surrounding the specific lyrics that are selected and placed over scenes (especially related to byler) this is quite significant. it’s also significant that it was in fact shawn levy who put together the sizzle reel with heroes — he is known in the byler community to kind of be a byler champion, if you will.

he has directed some of the most significant byler scenes in the whole show — finding will’s fake body in the quarry in season one (WHICH HAS HEROES PLAYING IN THE BACKGROUND), the rain fight in season 3, the byler scenes in dear billy (including the legendary “i didn’t say it — you didn’t have to” scene) among others.

furthermore, heroes is established as a theme/musical motif that is very explicitly related to byler in season one of the show, as the first time it plays mike literally breaks down at the sight of will’s fake body and bikes all the way home. the specific lyrics that play when he goes to hug karen in that same scene are (quite notoriously):

and the guns, shot above our heads

and we kissed, as though nothing could fall

and the shame, the shame was on the other side

it’s interesting that finn notes the song as being one that specifically reminds him of stranger things and that seems to (based on not only shawn but the fact that heroes has been used TWICE in the show over NEAR PARALLEL byler scenes) to have a very big role in the show.

anyways. what i'm saying is that leading up to season five, a lot of people are kind of expecting that the pattern of using heroes will be completed -- they used the cover in seasons 1 and 3, and it only really makes sense to kind of complete that in season 5 as the song has been used as a throughline for a very specific storyline for what will have been the almost ten years since season 1 came out.

lastly i just want to say that i am not implying finn speaking about a song that has personal meaning to him is somehow solely connected to byler. my main interest in this is the shawn levy bit and just the general significance of the song to the show, which has been spoken about in lots of theories ever since the show came out in 2016.

i'll link here some posts about byler theories related to heroes that might give you some more context to its significance:

[waklman]

Hi Tilly! So, I’m living by myself for the first time and my dishwasher just flooded my apartment 🫠I’m fine😀, really… 😭. Anyways, I just wanted to ask you to maybe write something with Bradley and babybear 🥺. They are my comfort characters! love ya ❤️

summary: you and bradley go out for a late night snack or bf! bradley who stands there in silence x gf! who orders food for them both.

warnings: mentions of strict dieting, one or two suggestive jokes. fluff, 18+ blog.

note: helpp the way that kind of made me laugh. as a fellow girlie who also gets herself in trouble when left alone, i hope your floors are okay! excuse the quality as writers block has me by the neck

something 'bout you masterlist.

It’s not often that Bradley dines out. He’ll indulge in some of Penny’s greasy bar snacks once in a while—nothing more than that.

With the one time he did slack off, it wasn’t exactly easy to get back to his original physique. In fact, Bradley even found himself struggling to keep up with the likes of Hangman at one point.

And that was just the wake up call he needed to finally get back on track. 

Since then, he’s made sure to double down on his efforts to stay in shape, scarfing down his protein packed, repetitive, plain meals. It’d be a lie to say that it wasn’t a bit tasking, but it's nothing Bradley Bradshaw couldn’t put up with. And when Bradley was committed towards something, he was all in. 

But what he forgot to include in his ‘fool proof’ plan to remain loyal to his diet, was his stubborn girlfriend who loves to spoil him rotten. Which is why he's finding it difficult to swallow down his food tonight.

The usual pre-prepped dinner has never tasted so bland and downright dry, especially when you’re planted in front of him with that tablet in your hands.

For the past thirty minutes, Bradley has been subjected to a screening of strangers eating a variety of foods—from huge portions of instant noodles—to enormous crab legs being dipped in buckets of cheese. 

He’s seen it all. 

“Give in,” you whisper, fingers tightly curled around the edges of the ipad, though, you’re careful enough to not block the screen itself.

Across the rounded table he’s sat in, you’re standing there like you’re getting paid to show him a compilation of mukbang videos. You’d put the billboards lined up on the nearby highways to shame. 

“Not a fucking chance,” he mutters under his breath, shaking his head firmly. 

Stabbing his fork into another piece of boiled chicken, Bradley stuffs it into his mouth in defiance. He refuses to wave the white flag, not when he’s worked so hard to finally restrain himself.

Maverick would have to come twirling into the living-room in ballerina-get up for him to take it as a sign to treat himself to a cheat meal. 

At his clear refusal to give in, your head peeks out, just so slightly, behind the thirteen inch screen, eyes narrowed with fiery determination igniting them.

“Mcdonalds. Wendys. Burger King. In and Out,” you repeatedly chant, legs starting to tremble under the strain of standing up for so long. 

Bradley only flares his nostrils, a sign that he is not backing down either.

In any other scenario, his knees would’ve immediately buckled after one plea from you. But right now, he knows you’d stuff his face with junk—that he’s been successfully cutting out for months, if you were given the okay from him.

Though, he does have to admit, he’s finding it hard to keep a stern face because your legs look like they’re about to completely give out. Not wanting to keep you up any longer, Bradley tunes out your endless chant of fast food chains—which somehow turns into a catchy song, as he shovels more strips of chicken in his mouth.

Maybe if he finishes his dinner faster, he could coax you onto the couch to watch more Ryan Gosling movies. 

Following your gut feeling, you lift a finger to the front of the screen, tapping repeatedly on the skip button—until it felt right. After spamming your pointer just a few times, you lift the index off the glass, letting it play at a random point in the compilation.

Bradley’s tongue prods his cheek, straight face starting to falter. “Baby it’s not gonna work. Please just sit dow—” 

His mouth immediately clamps shut, throat moving as he swallows back a wad of drool pooling inside his mouth. The boring dinner under him is long forgotten. 

Noticing his dazed state, you lower the screen to probe what finally caught his attention. Bradley’s eyes practically trails the movement of the tablet, not looking away for a second.

A platter of juicy burgers leaking oil and mountains of fries is what breaks him. 

“And he’ll have the double bacon-burger, two large fries, one coke and—” 

The teenage boy behind the register blinks in disbelief, watching the giant man in front of him lean down towards his girlfriend, shyly whispering in her ear. 

Bradley draws back again, standing a head taller than you with his arms crossed around your front, glassy eyes roaming the lit-up menu stretched above the line of registers. 

“Oh, can we actually make that a root beer? Also I’m really sorry, but can you remove the tomatoes from the burger as well?” You request, giving Bradley comforting strokes on the forearm he has slung over your chest.

“Yes, Ma’m I can…I can do that for you,” the worker clears his throat, editing the order on the screen, customer service voice practically cracking. 

When you two first walked in, with matching pajama pants, the fast food employee assumed he was dealing with a pair of psychos from the streets.

It wasn’t an uncommon occurrence, he’d always get one or two unsettling visitors in the duration of his night shift. But they’d always prowl inside the joint by themselves—they never had company—nor have they ever teamed up on him before. Briefly, he considered hovering his hand over the dusty emergency button directly under the counter. 

But to his surprise, you two were just a relatively normal couple with a craving for burgers at midnight. 

“Alrighty, your total comes out to 18.50,” he reads, eyes nervously darting between the two of you. “...Will that be cash or card?”

Almost in a race with each other, you both drop the lovely couple act, digging in your own pajama pants for your wallets. The anxious worker behind the counter starts taking a careful step back, afraid you two were going to pull out a weapon on him all of a sudden. God, he shouldn’t have let his guard down so easily. 

He stills as you beat Bradley to it, holding out a credit card between your fingers, excitedly pointing it towards him. 

Bradley begins to panic, patting down his empty pockets. “Babybear, where the fuck is my wallet?” He tilts his head down at you, a knowing look settling on his face. 

As the credit card is taken from you, your mouth stretches into a wide smile, and you crane your neck backwards to look at him. “I tossed it in the back of the car when you weren’t looking,” you gleam in satisfaction.

Bradley sighs in disbelief, no wonder you were so clingy in the car. 

“Is that why you were crawlin’ all over me during all the stop lights?” 

“Gimme a kiss,” you suddenly demand, cutting him off. 

Bradley blinks at your puckered lips.

It practically pulls him into a trance, because he’s already dipping his head down to give you a quick peck. In a strange way, it’s almost a perfect recreation of that upside-down spider man kiss scene. 

Ultimately, he decides to keep the comparison to himself. If he were to mention it, you’d most likely start gushing about another movie actor.

He’s already heard enough of Ryan Gosling lately.

“I know you can open your mouth bigger than that,” you frown in his lap, readjusting the bundle of fries between your fingers. 

The buckle of his undone seatbelt hits your ankle when you wriggle to find a comfortable position next.

Bradley licks the ketchup off his lip. “Yeah, you would know,” he teases, giving your butt a quick squeeze, sleazy look on his face. 

Somehow, he’s the same person who was barely able to order food for himself inside the burger joint that’s currently behind his parked Bronco.

Receiving a silent look of disapproval from you, he finally clears his throat. 

“Okay, someone didn’t find that funny,” he mumbles, stretching his mouth wider for you.

“A little more. Ahhh,” you sing, encouraging him to take the fistful of french fries. Under you, Bradley nearly chokes when you stuff one more in his mouth, slamming his jaw shut with finality. 

“I like when your mouth is full. Less talking,” you jut your chin at him, all too pleased with the lapse of silence. 

Bradley stills his chewing, raising a brow at you. 

“Ugh! Stop it. Keep chewing those fries,” you complain, reaching for the large root beer resting on the dashboard behind you.

Bradley grins, mouth full of food, holding you steady when you twist your middle to grab the drink. 

Swallowing down a large ball of potato, he leans forward, wrapping his lips around the straw, taking a long sip from the drink cradled between your hands. 

“Are you full?” You question, watching him lean back after finishing off the remains of the beverage. You decide to set the empty cup into the driver's seat for now. 

“Feeling so full, baby,” he groans, shutting his eyes as if it’ll help him digest it faster. 

Pursing your lips to hold back a laugh, you place a suggestive hand over his stomach. “Yeah? Feel it all in your tummy,” your voice drops to a lower register, mimicking his dirty talk from the other day. 

His eyes snap open, immediately.

The cramped Bronco, littered in empty paper bags and greasy wrapping paper jostles as he rushes to sit up tall. “You said no more jokes,” he scoffs, pinching your sides. What you said was worse than everything else he spat out tonight. 

“Hey,” you whine, scratching his bloated stomach with your nails. “Don’t act all mad big guy. I know you’re about to give in anyways,” you giggle. 

Bradley traces his teeth with his tongue, failing to conceal his growing smile. Because you’re right.

If you weren’t, he wouldn’t be thirty minutes away from home, favorite person in his lap and favorite cheat meal in his stomach.

join the taglist for this series here or follow me on @waklman-library and turn on notifs to be notified when i post!

tags: @s0uz4s @bradswolfe @swiftsgirlfriend @djs8891 @cherrylipgloss-baby @mannsachds @strokesofstokes @grxcisxhy-wp @anna1523 @coconut152 @goosterroose @chicomonks @pedrohoe04 @cruelmissdior @angelbabyange @shanimallina87 @ohgodnotagainn @cottagecori @maplesyurp07 @atarmychick007 @Olivia21blunt @s-u-t @hangmanscoming @geraltsaxii @wkndwlff @sammyrenae68 @bradshawed @roosterbruiser @gracelyn-writes @bubblegumbeautyqueen @angeliccks @zombiedeathsworld @blueoorchid @averyhotchner @laylaskywalker @swiftsgirlfriend @genius2050 @domeafavour505

[collisvng]

♠︎♡●WALK OF SHAME○♥︎♤

Pairing ♤ Han Jisung x Fem Reader ☆

Synopsis ♤ You and Han had become friends quite fast.  You loved his writing, he loved your voice. He and Bangchan manage to get you an audition that could potentially start your career as an artist under their company. But things go terribly wrong, resulting in the potential loss of Jisung's friendship. ☆

Warnings ♤ Mentions of: anxiety, panic attacks, brief mention of blood, yelling/screaming, crying, the feeling of being useless, a LOT of angst ☆

Word Count ♤ 1,837 + 8 sm screenshots ☆

THE BEGINNING ♠︎

"What the fuck?!" Jisung yelled after you.

You click-clacked your way ferociously through the halls of the JYP building, faltering a few steps that almost landed you on the ground.

You were running away from your only shot at getting into the company, but you didn't care. The air was leaving your lungs, your eyes became blurry from a combination of dizziness and tears, and for the first time in your life you knew you couldn't handle any sort of pressure. There was guilt and hatred in your eyes; feelings towards yourself and your actions. And worst of all, you had Jisung following after you in the most confused rage you had ever seen before.

For the last two weeks Han had been helping you with your audition. You guys had been friends for a while now ever since meeting at an anime convention that Jisung somehow managed to sneak into unnoticed. One moment you’re chatting it up with a Turnip-Head cosplay that approached you because you were dressed as Sophie Hatter, then the next thing you know you're at the dorms hanging out with Han and his friends. 

After a few failed attempts due to his anxiousness, he eventually invited you to see him work. He took you to the studio and showed you songs he wrote. Each one being passionate excerpts of romance, heartbreak, and acceptance. He was a literary magician in your eyes. And one day, when he heard you singing the chorus to a song he was working on, he never let a moment pass without speaking about it. You were full of surprises, and his brain was full of lyrics he wanted to hear you perform. Eventually, the guys learned about your hidden talent and encouraged you to try to do something with it. Chris was especially encouraging and even tried to sample some of your melodies for background vocals in his own songs.

You guys bonded over your love for anime, video game lore, and your constant praise of each other’s talents. You loved his writing and lyricism. He loved your voice. And eventually… you secretly grew to love more parts of him. He even took the time to write your audition song for you, after the company finally gave you a chance (with the help of Jisung and Chan’s constant pleading).

You became his muse, he became your best friend. And now, with your nails digging into your palms trying to keep yourself calm, you couldn’t even look at him.

He called after you again… And again… And again…

It wasn’t until around the fifth time that you finally spun around and yelled, ‘What the fuck do you want?!’ did he finally stop.

You both stood a great distance away from each other. Partially because Jisung needed space to calm down, and partially because you both knew how you can get in moments of stress. Your eyes widened, then narrowed sleepily as you stared him down. Just one word, one word, and you were ready to blow up in his face. Whether it would be with anger or with tears though, that was a mystery.

“What are you doing?” His voice came out a bit softer than the last time he spoke. “You just walked right out!”

“I couldn’t do it,” your nails were one clench away from drawing blood. “I’m not ready. I told you I wasn’t ready. Now your boss thinks I’m a dumbass.”

Han let out an angry sigh, rubbing his finger tips over his nose before bringing his palms from his chin to his eyes. He pressed inward, as if to push them through his skull.

“You’re not a dumbass,” he huffed, “and you ARE ready. Stop telling yourself you’re not.”

“LOOK AT ME!” You released your hands from their clawed prison to hold them up to show him. The imprints were deep, you were borderline hyperventilating, and your eyes widened once more. If you could see yourself in the third person, you probably would have thought you were crazy. “I look insane, Ji. I’m too anxious for this.”

His hands dropped to his sides, eyes opening slowly. A small vein began to stick out on his neck as he clenched his jaw. Jisung was always understanding and compassionate–the type to listen when people asked him to, responding in the best way he could. But right now, seeing you freak out as he stood in front of you, was setting him off. He knew you had potential. He knew you were capable. And as a person who became an idol himself despite also having anxiety issues, he knew anything was possible as long as you wanted it badly enough. 

“So that’s it?” His blunt tone caught you by surprise. 

Jisung made his way over to you in long strides, practically gliding across the floor. He made it to your side in record time, looking down at you with what little distance there was between both your heights. He looked annoyed, he was annoyed, and he wasn’t about to let you walk out of the building without knowing that he was.

“You’re just going to let this go? Everything Chan and I did to even attempt to give you this opportunity… And because you feel nervous you’re just going to walk out?” An irritated laugh left his throat as he glanced up at the ceiling. “Gosh you always do this.”

You felt your heart on the verge of cracking. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

Each word that left his mouth next sent you into anguish.

“You never stick to one thing.”

Crack.

“You always need help, but never follow through.”

Crack.

“And you use your anxiety as an excuse to give up.”

And there it was, in its final form; heartbreak.

You were no longer present in your body. Arms limp, eyes glossy, a hitched breath in your throat, and no emotion shown on your face. You almost looked bitchy, but in a ‘I no longer have anything to lose’ kind of way. You wanted to fight him, but also wanted nothing more than for this end and to just hug him. You couldn’t believe someone you grew so close to in such a short time would end up being like this.

“I think you, of all people,” you took a step forward, the tip of your nose practically meeting his chin as your glass eyes searched his, “would know how messed up that last statement is.”

He leaned down to meet your gaze. Pupils to pupils, nose to nose, mouth to–fuck what kind of shit was trying to pull? You wanted to punch him, but with him being so close like that for the first time your mind was running laps. But that all ended the moment he said, “At least I’m not letting my problems get in the way of my own opportunities.”

That was the final straw. The overstimulation in your brain took over and your whole body began frantically shaking. Jisung being so close, his anger, the mix of emotions in your head, wanting to sob, feeling ashamed for walking out of your only shot at the career you’ve always wanted, knowing that your friend saw you as nothing but someone who gives up… 

It took Han a moment before he realized you were finally in full panic attack mode. Harsh breaths expelled themselves from your mouth as you vibrated from your torso upward. You were flexing and unflexing your hand as if you needed to grab something, and your eyes were no longer looking into his, but blankly staring at something in the distance to hyperfixate on something other than what was happening. He took a step back, his big boba eyes filling with concern.

He pushed you too hard. He let his emotions get the best of him. He did it; he fucked up. 

“Shit,” he mumbled a swear under his breath. “Shit, shit, shit, shit, shit.”

Grabbing your hands at the right moment as they unflexed, he intertwined his fingers with yours.

“Breathe.”

The phrase was repeated over and over, followed by Han squeezing your hand with every intake of oxygen you made. Eventually you found a steady rhythm. And his words, despite you wanting to slap the living hell out of him, were actually helping you calm down.

Once your breathing became stable, you and Han stood there in silence. You came down from your panicked high and once that was done… you didn’t really know where to go from there.

With Han’s fingers still laced with yours, he tried to step forward. It caused you to flinch, almost stumbling backwards, which filled him with dread. “Listen, I–”

“Thanks for calming me down,” you released his hands instantly. “But I think I need some space from you right now.”

His lips came forward into a pout, as puppy dog eyes met your blurry vision. You could tell he was remorseful for what just happened, but it wasn’t enough for you to stay and hear him out. You needed to be as far away from this place and him as soon as possible.

As you turned to walk away, Jisung tried to stop you by reaching out for your arm to pull you back. But he was immediately stopped by the sound of Bangchan’s voice echoing across the hall.

“Don’t.” His voice was stern and blunt. It almost sent a shiver down your spine. “Let her leave. She’s been through enough.”

Han looked over his shoulder at Chris, then back to you. His hand remained floating in mid-air, while sudden realization began to set in for you. When did Chan get here? How much did he notice? Was he here the whole time? Who else–

Before you could flare yourself up again, Bangchan was already in front of you grabbing ahold of Han’s shoulder and pulling him to the side. He told you to leave, followed by saying he’d text you later. Then without letting Jisung get a word in, you left. The last thing you remember before exiting was hearing Chan ask Han what the hell he was thinking, then next thing you know you were pushing through a set of double doors and running.

That night you received several texts from a group chat that Felix randomly made that included everyone except for Han. Apparently there were already rumors being spread about your conversation with Jisung and all the guys knew. You also received many texts from Bangchan and Jisung himself.

This was it, you thought to yourself. You would never be able to show your face around the JYP building ever again. And to make matters worse… You probably lost a friend.

Notes ♤ AHHHHHHH! It’s finally done! Hope you guys enjoyed it. Figured since I am best at writing angst that I should start off my page with it lol Depending on how things go, this might turn into a two part mini series. We’ll just test out the waters for a bit and see how it goes. Thanks for reading! 🩶 — collisvng✨️

[signed-sapphire]

Who do you see as the voice actors of your characters from The Fallen Star au? P.S. The question appeared after reading this post: https://www.tumblr.com/annymation/740501852095905792/the-voices-in-my-wish-rewrite?source=share

OOHHHHHHHHH thank you for asking!

Okay okay so I will be recasting most of the main characters. Like @annymation, Chris Pine is still Magnifico because he’s literally Magnifico, and I don’t really have a problem with any of the seven teens’ voices.

So here we go!

Asha is voiced by Cynthia Ervo!

I really like Ariana’s voice, it’s very much what someone would associate with the 3D Disney princesses. However, TFS!Asha has a completely different personality than most Disney princesses, and I want her voice to match that. She has a very strong singing conviction, and it’s different voice representation! Plus, Cynthia has HUGE vocal range, it’s seriously amazing, and honestly fits exactly how TFS!Asha is

And as a bonus, Cynthia was in Disney before!

Cielo is voiced by Anthony Ramos!

I first found out about Anthony because of Hamilton, and I’ve loved him in everything since. Literally every character he plays or voices is similar to Cielo! Particularly his roles in In the Heights and Bad Guys, he sings in both too!

Anthony is just so funny and goofy, and has SUCH STRONG flirtatious vibes EXACTLY how I imagine Cielo to be with Asha

^This is the song I’m imagining when I imagine domestic royalstar. I’m only attaching the song instead of the music video bc it’s a tad suggestive and also, Jasmine (his then girlfriend and fiancée featured in the video) broke up and that makes me sad

But!!! Musical experience, chill personality, Spanish, literally all Cielo.

Magnus is voiced by Chris Pine!

DON’T COME AFTER ME OKAY HIS VOICE SOUNDS AMAZING IN THIS SONG

It won’t be used like this in my rewrite but CMON IS VOICE SOUNDS AMAZING AND IT FITS HIS CHARACTER IN THE FALLEN STAR

Seriously, Chris Pine really loved his role, you can tell. “This is the Thanks I Get” didn’t fit his voice in the honeyed way it’s perfect in, and I’ll forever be mad at Disney for that. Chris is good in slow, emotional songs, which is why his villain song in my rewrite will be perfect for him

Amaya is voiced by Carolina Gaitán

So I’m still not really sure about this one. Amaya in TFS is Egyptian-Hispanic and I didn’t really know a lot of singers outside of Broadway tbh, but Carolina is such a great one! She voices Pepa in Encanto and it’s a shame we didn’t get to hear much of her singing voice (besides that small bit in “We Don’t Talk About Bruno”) because she’s such a great singer! I’m not 100% sure of her voice, but I do think it fits and that it will grow on me. I also haven’t had the chance to draw Amaya as much as I’d like to, so I feel like once I do I’ll be able to picture her more.

Valentino is voiced by Ravi Cabot-Conyers

Now, Valentino doesn't have any significant singing roles in my AU, but he does still speak. And I love, love Alan and know he has done amazing things for Disney, so I want to find him a voice in The Fallen Star too, but Ravi also voiced this little cutie

And yes, it's another Encanto voice, but Ravi was so adorable and amazing and it would be funny to have his dichotomy with the deep-voiced Asha

[arthuluart]

Hiii - wanted to say first thing first I love your art style, it's so dynamic and fun and those color palettes? Stunning ^^

And second thing second, just some food for thought if you ever want to get angsty about Jerry and Dean, coffee by Chappell Roan sounds like it was written about their break up specifically and I can't stop thinking abt it dndnden

*Cue me losing my mind*

Hiii- they say flattery gets you everywhere and turns out with me, it gets you animatics- jkjk but I do appreciate the kind comments ^^

I’ll put up the animatic separately and take the opportunity to leave the preamble here to keep the video post neat bc until someone tells me to shut up and just post art- I’m gonna ramble… So here’s the commentary you didn’t ask for along with my favourite panels:

First off- You turned me into a big time Chappell Roan listener which is great bc I need music recs to fix my listening habits before Spotify wrapped drops. My roundup last year was shameful… Red Wine Supernova is my new dish washing song.

Even tho it’s not the song’s vibe I kept the content as silly as I could for my own sanity. I don’t love getting too deep into the serious/sad side of M+L for a few reasons but I do find it all very interesting. Point being this song was too good to pass up doing something a bit bigger for.

Ngl tho- this did have me pulling out hair at multiple points. I never colour animatics, rarely even tone them- but you mentioned colour palettes and I was determined to deliver so pardon the messy colouring but (that was the tradeoff) I did not have it in me to stay in the lines. I’m choosing to be kind to myself and opt to call it an artistic choice and not midway burnout. And nothing was gonna get me to open after effects/premiere not even the janky ass golf ball OML this only makes sense if u watch the video.

There are parts of this I’m SO happy with and others I hate. I think it’s really obvious which sections I started losing steam on but overall I lowkey like the end product. Nothing I make will ever be good/perfect- this was one hell of a practice in accepting that lmao- but I can still be ok with the work problems and all yknow? I very nearly shelved this completely bc I got so worked up about the maybe 5 panels I dislike out of 106 total. Counting them was eye opening to ask myself: you’re gonna let that small a ratio stop you from sharing this after putting in days and days of effort? The insecurity goes deep and TBH getting asks has been a nice way of working through it since I post the art I make for answers no matter what only bc I KNOW someone out there wants to see it. It might not sound it but it’s actually quite positive.

Also, although I feel I’ve done my fair share of reading, I’m no expert. So if anything is really off point- sorry my bad (I won’t fix it tho bc I cannot physically stand to look at this another second lol)

I tried to stick to real things found in articles/books/photos/interviews etc bc outside of obviously fictional AUs I’m not super into making stuff up about them (and who needs to I mean the legit stuff is already insane enough) Sure I framed the events in specific ways to suit the song and some aspects are fictionalized (mainly bc the referenced written accounts lacked detail to draw 100% faithfully from anyhow) but otherwise I got my sources cited.

ANYWAYS… sorry for hijacking this answer I need to learn to chill out. Irl I’m a pretty reserved talker so you can tell I’m in a comfy place when I let loose and blather on endlessly lmao brevity is not a skill I possess.

You were probably expecting illustrations or smth but I hope what I came up with is still somewhat alright AND please don’t let my complaining fool you, I genuinely loved making this.

One FINAL Relevant Note: the line “nowhere else is safe every place leads back to your place” is gut wrenching. You’re so right about this song perfectly describing the break up. They always came back to each other and there’s something so devastating about that kind of haunting human connection.

OkAY I’m done promise- I thought I’d implode if I didn’t get all that out

[obscurecharactershowdown]

Before I reveal the contestants, I want to shout out some characters that didn't end up getting in, for one reason or another, but stood out to me

Prince Peasley (Superstar Saga): I mentioned him as a character I really enjoyed learning about, but since he won the Luigi ship competition, I'm unsure of his obscurity status and he may overpower the other characters. I'm sorry your highness, please know I love you

Francis York Morgan (Deadly Premonition): I was stunned to see not one, but 2 people submit this character. I'm endlessly entertained by his weird ass game. He would've been a shoe in had he not been submitted twice. Sorry buddy. Also if he was I would've put in my own propaganda, consisting only of this image

and a video of the squirrels that make monkey noises

Crow T. Robot (Mystery Science Theater 3000): the only reason he's not in is because another MST3K I consider comparatively more obscure was submitted, but I am going to post part of the propaganda for him now because I really loved it and it would be a shame if I was the only one who got to read it:

i have to take a chance on crow, for he is my #1 blorbo and my favorite mst3k character since forever. i charted out a whole TIMELINE for him and there's like. 4-6 of him just existing in various locations. he's shaped like a friend. he can be folded into a torpedo. he has legs and i constantly forget this until he has them on-screen and i'm like OH SHIT this guy is mostly leg (he's around 5'4"). he managed to kill mike (the human guy he lives with in space) TWICE on accident and neither time stuck. all of his presentations are insane and completely factually inaccurate. he claimed women were myths like bigfoot in a short-film style black and white presentation. he's friendly/friends? with pearl, one of the main antagonists (and a woman, who he just claimed didn't exist). he can play the trombone. he just kinda bounces up and down sometimes and is so shaped. he spent 500 years alone because he got bored of being pure energy at the edge of the universe after five minutes. he wrote patrick swayze christmas, the only christmas song ever. he's constantly doing t-rex arms. he keeps falling from extreme heights. to a few ancient romans he's a spider-duck god. he's a bit of a pyromaniac. he went to thanksgiving in deep 13 and walked away unharmed (everyone else got poisoned). he causes an illusion in the theater where it looks like he's staring at you instead of the movie. he's an absolute menace. he contains so much gender yet none at all. he's different! he wants to decide who lives and who dies, and i think he should. he is simply so guy. ty for reading my crow rant sorry for the wall of text

Thank you for this. I love Crow and MST3K too, you are in good company

Mister Qi (Stardew Valley): In the propaganda section, the submitter wrote: "He sucks and I hate him. It'd be really funny if he lost." and it made me laugh

Chuck Cunningham (Happy Days): The submitter's dad told them to submit him and that was also funny to me

Vincenzo (kdrama of the same name): Submitter's dad has a crush on Vincenzo <3

Pioneer 9 (17776): This was the most submitted character, with a total of.....4 submissions! Wow!

Husky (+Anima): This is the second most submitted character, with 3 submissions! I'm sorry to you both but this means you are automatically excluded from being picked for the competition.

Less specifically, shout out to the many characters who were just barely well known enough to drop out of priority. And the major characters/protagonists of major series. A couple were clearly jokes, but several were not.

And all of the characters from albums, commercials, various Real Life Things, myths, some OCs, etc: I have a plan for you. It's not the main bracket, but you are not being left out here. More information on that when the time is right.

Thank you for all your submissions! The list of contestants and their matchups are coming soon!

[jsuika]

JUST FOUND YOUR BLOG AND I LOVE YOUR ART!!!!

Your line art is so smooth and the colors too! How are u underrated

Thanks :]]

Actually I remember doing thick linearts before to make it look like y2k bubbly styled and I was thinking of going back again since I wanted to make logos or icons like this one:

These ig were just a lil practice if someday I'll be making one (or more of these). Also this is just an example btw, these are artist-made game icons. Imo, if it were me to be commissioned to design one or if I was assigned by a game dev, then most likely its gonna look like something that y'all won't know who did that thing lol.

Besides, I'm pretty sure a lot of people were inspired by my artstyle. 😭 Also in case you guys don't know what these are, I'll show you guys mine. (NOTE: You can still check on archive, I don't mind though-)

Examples of my artworks with thick lineart:

The first one was Hatsune Miku fanart

I kinda remember drawing this back in the day since 2023, the sketch version (on my other sketchpad) was discontinued. Supposed to finish it but, sadly I gave up because the hair was something that reminded me of an Inkling from Splatoon (rarely I noticed the first miku fanart also reminded me too lmao).

I wish I'd do this again hopefully if I could use my artstyle, then yeah. Watch here if you want to see the speedpaint :3 : https://youtu.be/sRE3-snDGkM?si=op3tISbGFTjLCcdB

Next one is Bomb Rush Cyberfunk fanart

Okay LISTEN, I may not be good at anatomy but might as well tried especially RED's head. For the BG, I only duplicated the character + added a screenshot/fakescreenshot/whatever, to make it look related to both y2k & frutiger aero (same applies to Hatsune Miku).

Nothing to say much but I've been thinking of making more character concept arts in the future & maybe work on shoes since they look a bit too complicated much.

Overall, I'd say it isn't bad. I'll just leave as it is for now (until some BRC fan shows up and sees this).

Last but not the least, my very first artist-made album cover

I remembered drawing this for future use if I ever find a music composer either if they can do DnB, game soundtrack or whatever but it slightly depends on them. Also shout out to Lxchee Music! They're the ones who compose music like these. They even commented on my speedpaint video!!! (after using their songs lol).

Such a shame that I am limited to drawing only however, I wish I also was a composer of this whooooooole album then everyone's gonna listen to my bangers. One time I used to make music in Beepbox.co (a website where you can compose there).

There are some music-composing softwares that most people use for their game making & also songs. I wish I'd even use FL studio or other music-composing. Reminds me, I also have one friend who makes music (unrelated to dnb or any genre) using accordian & any other instruments that he uses. I swear, he is so good in composing Nintendo Orchestra-music related I can tell.

Conclusion

No worries though, I didn't say I hate using thick lineart but its sometimes too much for the anatomy still and might not fit pretty well. I can still do another one hopefully just to focus on more y2k aesthetic. But if it were me to learn anatomy, might as well use thin lineart and just increase to make it look like there is perspective on it.

Anyways, ig this might be a long one but I do hope you understand what I mean-

[moon-alight]

Could you do a fuma x chubby reader? slightly smut? only if you are comfortable!

Yes, hello! :) Sorry for the wait. I hope you like it. I'm chubby myself so I like doing things like these. Justice for us thick girls.

Also, this is my 69th post. . . I had to.

Masterlist

Your Curves - &Team Fuma

Synopsis: You're overweight (Whether a lot or a bit, whatever you like) and Fuma loves all your edges and curves.

Warnings: slight smut (whatever that means), fluff!!!!, chubby reader, talk about weight and bodyfat, Fuma being adorable, bodyworship, bit of self-fat shaming, talk about body dysmorphia, It's not very smutty, just a little. . .

Word Count: 1225

It wasn't hard to love your body when your boyfriend was so accepting in the way you look. He would never tell you this straight but he loves your curves more than anything. And you know that.

You're currently scrolling on tiktok while walking into the kitchen of the dorms to get yourself a glass of water. It is surprisingly quiet today since most of the guys had gone off to some theme park.

You scroll down another video when the familiar song fills your ears.

Get yourself to the Butterfly Lounge, find yourself a big lady Big boy, come on around and they'll be calling you baby

A beautiful bigger girl appears on your screen and you wonder, just for a moment, how you absolutely love her body but don't like yours that's so similar to it. Maybe it's a mind-trick and humans are supposed to hate their bodies.

You lean against the kitchen counter and click on the sound to see many more beautiful plus-sized women but also some skinny girls using the sound just because they don't want to be left out or something. Your confidence fades the longer you scroll.

There's not many plus-sized girls in the long run. Most girls using this sound are skinny but have body-dysmorphia. If only you had that, then you would've looked better at least. . .

"Hey darl--" Fuma stops when he hears the same sound being played from your phone, over and over and over again. He frowns and studies your face. You look down, sad, maybe a bit disappointed.

He can't have that.

He walks over and starts humming along to the song. When you replay it, he sings along and puts his hands on your waist before pulling you closer. You chuckle at his impulsive action.

"What are you doing?" You ask, holding onto his shoulders so you don't fall by the sudden pull he had just done.

"The song said, 'find yourself a big lady'. So I did." Fuma replies, simply. You stare at him, the insecurity returns and he sees it in the way your hands slide from his shoulders and your smile fades a little. "There's nothing wrong with being bigger."

"Then why do so many people make me feel bad?" You ask back. If there is really nothing wrong with it, why are there so many people fat shaming you constantly? Make it make sense.

"Because they have nothing better to do." Fuma tells you. "I love that you're bigger, there's just more of you which means more to love." You can't stop the smile from reappearing on your face. "And it suits you."

"You're telling me I'm supposed to look like this?" You ask, not being able to believe your boyfriend just yet.

"I do." He agrees, kissing your lips before going to the fridge and taking out some grapes.

"I'm very heavy though." You remind him. He rolls his eyes, manages to pick you up anyways and puts you down on the kitchen counter.

"Weight doesn't matter." Fuma says, standing between your legs and stroking your thighs with his hands. "Someone can look really, really slim but could weigh a lot because bone density or muscle mass or unhealthy food, and then someone could look really big but could weigh less so numbers don't really matter."

"I look big and I weigh a lot."

"That's why I'm going to the gym, baby." He tells you, offering you a grape which you take. "So I can lift you anyway." He winks and takes a glass, fills it with water and hands it to you. "So, what's the problem here?" At this point you can't disagree anymore.

"Fine. . . I'm beautiful and perfect and amazing." Fuma smiles at you.

"That's it." He boops your nose and wraps his arms around you. You place the glass of water down on the counter next to you and wrap your own arms around him. You suddenly feel him squeeze your sides.

"What are you doing?" You ask, a giggle leaves your lips at the ticklish feeling.

"Squashing my teddy bear."

"Alright, that's my thirteenth reason." You joke and push him away from you.

"Are you kidding me?" Fuma asks, crossing his arms over his chest. "How dare you push me away?"

"You called me a teddy bear!"

"Because you are!" Fuma says. You roll your eyes. "Hey! I know you didn't just roll your eyes at me."

"What if I did."

"Don't provoke me." Fuma warns but you're curious where this goes so you go on.

"I definitely rolled my eyes at you. . . and I'd do it again." Fuma gasps dramatically and walks towards you, he places his hands on either side of your legs on the counter, his gaze is sharp.

"Last chance, care to take that back?" You stare at him and shake your head. "My teddy bear is being very mean right now."

"Stop calling me teddy bear." You whine out, pouting a little.

"Have you forgotten you look like one?" He asks back. "I could also call you munchkin but that seems even worse." You chuckle.

"Are you done?" You ask, he looks at you.

"I haven't even started." He leans up and kisses you. What was supposed to be just a normal kiss became a bit more heated and before you knew it, you were making out in the kitchen. He reaches to take off your shirt but you're hesitant once again. "Are you kidding? Princess?"

"I'm sorry." You look down. "What if you don't like me?" Fuma has a very annoyed look in his face.

"You know, I thought you were much smarter." He says.

"I have stretchmarks--"

"Tiger stripes." He corrects you.

"Cellulite--"

"Beauty scars."

"I--" You stare at him, you try to look for a thing that would put him off because that's what you had to hear all your life. "Fat."

"Extra squash."

"jiggling arms and legs, I got stomach rolls."

"Personal squishies."

"Damnit, Fuma." You breathe out, defeatedly.

"What do you think will happen when you take your shirt off?" He asks, seriously.

"Maybe you'd get disgusted or not like me anymore."

"Baby, it's more likely for me to die from a heart attack." He looks you up and down. "Or from happiness." You push him playfully and smile at him. Maybe it were his words or maybe it was a heat-of-the-moment thing but you take the fabric of your shirt and pull it off of you.

Fuma stares at you, his eyes take in your body. You watch as a smile makes its way on his face, he bites his bottom lip. "Fuck." He breathes out. You see his cheeks redden.

"Can I touch you?" He asks, making grabby hands to you. You laugh and nod. He leans up, kissing your lips once more as his hands roam over your chest. His fingers glide over your stretchmarks. He traces each and every one of them on both sides of your hips. You suddenly hear him giggle. You frown.

"Are you okay?"

"No." He giggles again, like a school girl. "I'm in Heaven." You can't believe how you've gotten so lucky. "Don't you dare ever hide yourself from me again."

"I won't." You promise. He smiles and pecks your lips. "Now, I can die in peace if I have to."

"Oh my God!"

[wiroxi]

I'm delusional so this is a small essay on why I think my really self indulgent poly ship would work (sorry in advance if there are any grammar mistakes:P)

Lux/Cait/Sera/Jinx/Gwen essay

(penta ship essay)

(lightcannon) It all started with lux/jinx it works for obvious reasons star guardian and you really got me going music video XD

(sonic boom) then there is Sera/jinx jinx has been through so much pain and trauma that she deserves love and affection but most importantly understanding. Sera didn't experience anything even close to what jinx has been through but she can feel what she feels and help her with understanding all those emotions. also jinx could build something for her to help with the noise and they probably would just build stuff together. Also they both kinda hear voices.

(pistolwhip) With Cait/jinx it depends on where they star as enemy's or strangers but no matter with one it is they just have a lot in common they always wanted to be understood, they where outcasts and only had one friend to relay on. Both of them like guns and at the beginning of the series powder just wanted to help, it didn't change it's just who she's helping and with what means.

(snip shot)Gwen/jinx is very similar to Sera/jinx Gwen can see people for what they really are not the masks they put on she help jinx with her emotions and she can also offer an escape, Because she travels so much she can take jinx to many places meet other people with similar problems like her's and sometimes just help her forget (even if just for a second) all the bad things that she's seen and done.

Now the others

(Shining star) Lux/Cait I like to think they know eachother not really well they talked on some party's but since they hate who they really are for the public image. But one day them and Jinx meet and Jinx just brings out the real them they see how beautiful the other is when honest and it helps being more honest with both themselves and others so they bond over that they can help eachother be more open show their true selves without fear because why care what people think when you have your loves

(laze show) Sera/Lux work really well even with the "lux is crazier" tag Sera did fall for jinx at this point it's a plus. Sera can help lux with all her bottled up emotions and her fear of her own magic while lux can help with Sera's so she has better control and it all can be a bit more quiet. Also their characters would just fit they would definitely lean on to earth other.

(sharp song) Sera/Cait is a interesting one because Cait is Sera's fan and would be freaking out at first but as they would get to know eachother she would be less fangirlie and as she was being more herself around her I think Sera would start to admire and maybe slowly fall in love with Cait's passion and drive to achieve her goals. And Cait loves Sera's determination, how she cares so much and how she knows to make a visible change between the people of Piltover and Zaun

Gwen was the hardest to tie to all of them and honestly only had a good one for Lux. I mostly worked of of voice lines and Gwen is kinda a bad bitch

(hollow note) Gwen/Sera "A stage, a voice, is that really all you are?" "A pretty voice, Seraphine. What a shame that's all you were." I will just ignored the second voice line cuz as I said Gwen really sees people for who they are so she knows that there is more to her then just her perfect idol

(golden thread) Gwen/lux just like with jinx Gwen sees lux's pain, fear and the way she hides who she really is. Gwen want's her to understand her pain and work on it instead of hiding it "You seem happy, Lux, but you know pain too. Why deny it?" "No running from pain, Lux. Next time, shine through it."

(royal blues) Gwen/Cait this is just an idea but maybe Gwen could help Cait not to break her back working, and that she should enjoy her life because there are wonderful things in it and she's missing that because her overwork (this is a suggestion from people on a discord server and I just loved it too much)

So that all was honestly expecting it to be longer XD stay healthy drink some water and have a good night or a nice day

Also I need ship names for the rest of them

I ALMOST GOT A SKIN LINE WITH ALL OF THEM I'M CRYING

[bangobeep]

A Love Letter to Jazzpunk, by Ed

It's crazy how fast time can go by when you're enjoying yourself. It's been about three years since I first encountered this game, and I could not be happier with where it's brought me. I've learned so much and met so many wonderful people through it.

For a game that can be played in 2 hours and a half, it sure is complex; so full of jokes and content that can take literal hours to be taken apart. It's brought me closer to an appreciation of things like abstract art, the cyberpunk genre, analog tech, vintage clothing, suits, among a few others.

I remember my first interaction with the game. Funnily enough, it was not through Ranboo like what I usually tell. Back in the day, 2021, I was a mere high school student who, to cope with the horrors of the pandemic, used to be into the DSMP. Woo. Yeah. No shame in admittance. Well, only a little bit.

There was this one cosplayer I used to follow on TikTok (if I recall correctly, their name is Fern [they/them]); mainly because of their c!Foolish cosplay. I was drawn to them and their energy and the way they portrayed characters! So, naturally, I followed them and interacted with their videos every now and then.

On the 23rd of June of 2021, I found myself doom-scrolling on the app (as one does), and I came across one of their videos, though this one was not from any media I knew or was used to watching from them.

The song spy? by WHOKILLEDXIX started playing, and there he was. Glasses and (makeshift) orange tie. Business card. Coat. A little unhinged, yet classy. The Editor.

I feel as if I was so drawn to him because of what I wanted to do after high school. I wanted to study literature in college to become an editor myself! I wanted to correct people's texts, be annoying about it and get paid for it! And would you look at that, the name of the guy is quite literally The Editor. LOL.

As the days went by, I found myself going back to the video, waiting for them to upload more, to feed into my curiosity. I loved the video I saw so much I saved it to my gallery the exact same day I saw it.

Then came the second one, with actual footage from the game. "Quick, look behind you." The Director says, and the camera cuts to the ground, and Fern's shoes. I heard their voices for the first time. "Improvise, I know you'll do well by me." He says again, and I grow ever so drawn to it. Five videos are more than enough. And while I don't look it up just yet, it's in my head.

Until the 25th of July 2021! Like I said, I used to be into the DSMP, though by then, the fixation was fading, and I found myself in that limbo where nothing quite caught my attention. On that day, Ranboo tweeted something about a Jazzpunk stream, and it instantly caught my attention. I was quick to put down anything I was doing to find out what it really was.

And though I was not particularly interested in them, or their streams anymore, I was hooked! I was not the kind to stay for an entire stream, yet there I was. Two hours and thirty something minutes of being beamed in the brain with pure madness.

And then it was over. And I found myself gripping every single piece of fanart I could find with my bare hands, screaming because there had got to be more, right? There had to be more.

And there was! That's when Tumblr became my main form of internet presence. First was Instagram, then came Twitter, and well, would you look at that, I made it here.

I started drawing. I must admit, my first few drawings were atrocious, but looking back on them now, I feel proud. People say that when you fixate on something, your art develops as you go, and they're right!

A year and a half are all my prior account lasted. By the same name. I made a stupid joke to my boyfriend, sending one (1) spam message in their ask box and it was gone! And so, bangobeep 2.0 came to fruition. But that's not the point.

Back when I first got into the game, the need for connection was strong. I found myself craving the partnership; the long, late-night talks about little details of the game, the roleplaying, the scenario thinking, and so the Jazzpunk server came to life on the 13th of August 2021. Named Jazzpunk Moment. I sent a DM to the people I saw most often in the tag back then: Pangolin-404 and Vendotlover, both of which I admired very much!

I remember looking at their art and reading their fanfics and thinking to myself: 'Wow, what I'd give to be able to talk to the cool kids!' And well, I did! I talked to both, and they both agreed to give me their discord, after which they (and a few others with time) joined the server.

Some time after that, I befriended them personally through our mutual love for the game and similar interests, as well as through general chitter chatter about me being hyperactive when on caffeine, 404/Caligula telling me about Sammy Lawrence from Bendy and the Ink Machine, and Ven telling me of xeir OC whose name came from Gaslight, Gatekeep, Girlboss. I’m happy to say nowadays I still talk to both Caligula and Ven very often. In fact! I consider Cali one of my best friends, and I am kinda gay dating Ven. So, you know. Fun things bring fun people together. :)

Then came around people like Jazz Jazzanon, Zippy Zippycup, Jazzhands, Noah, Wither, and a couple others that, while I won’t mention, made this experience something wonderful for me.

I can’t quite find the words to express this something so dear to me. Jazzpunk, as short as it is, changed my life in ways I could’ve never imagined. I’ve started researching things I thought I’d never be into, started books I loved, got into music I had never listened to before, and it all helped build me as a person these three years. It’s brought me unimaginable amounts of comfort and joy, and I don’t think I’ll ever find something else that will make me feel this whole.

I could go on and on about how I have projected so many little aspects of my life onto my interpretation of it. About how the way I interpret Polyblank is highly influenced by those I love. About how the paintings in The Editor’s house fit him and his personality, but those are topics for another day.

The world out there is wacky and crazy, and Jazzpunk does a great job at feeding into the fact it can be strange, it can be difficult, and it can be fun.

So, to 10 years of community, 10 years of happiness, 10 years of a game that will stay with me forever, and many more to come!

Thank you, Jazzpunk.

[frostbite-the-bat]

no but genuinely. i love shadow filbo dearly. he means a lot to me.

he marks a time for me where i began embracing what i like just... for the sake of it!

he embodies the things that inspired me to draw online in the first place. hell, sparklecat characters with bangs have made me stop cutting my hair. i haven't cut my hair properly since. just because i wanted the same bangs, not knowing how hair works. now i have what is best described as messy fluttershy hair. to many people just how long my hair is, is what defines me when they see me and my hair is in a way special to me.

and again - he was what inspired me to draw. in class i'd be drawing my own sparklecats at the age of like 8, with bangs and wings and little companions that sit on clouds that rain hearts. (and bolts and skulls when ANGRY!)

i put rainbows on everything. i thought nyan cat was the embodiment of everything good in the world. i listened to nightcore versions of songs only. i say, as i am listening to nightcore, right now.

because of all these old classic animation memes and sparklefurs and silly scene and emo song flash animations i'd find... i'd pick up ms paint and draw. i imagined just how i'd animate, finding even the simplest methods absolutely mesmerising. there is something to be said about me being this young with internet access - because it very much so had it's negative effects. not me watching fetish videos at the age of 8 just because it had pokemon in it. yea that did not have any lasting effects.

but despite all this shit - it raised me! and even just a few years later... like.. 2015 when i began posting online on deviantart for the first time, not being just a lurker... learning how The Computer works better - not only drawing on paper anymore and gaining more and more interest towards digital art... i was already nostalgic towards these earlier days. but still living IN it, y'know?

just having fun, doing my own thing! isn't that what art is all about?

well. then the cringe culture nation attacked. severe bullying at school. and in general, just shame - which i am still fighting in certain aspects. but it's a bit more complicated than just "shame". (more so fear of Things.)

i'd look back at things with either genuine "cringe" or a distaste. how DARE these people have fun? because deep down, i was simply jealous.

if i was going to reference anything old like this, like classic animation memes, it was framed as "JOKE" "NOT SERIOUS" because i feared i would be harassed, made fun of, or people would thing THAT is the best of my artistic abilities. but... it's not like that.

and now, more and more people are embracing this. and it makes me so happy. and shadow filbo helped me fight off these fears a lot and just let me love what i love and be myself.

maybe it's not an ""aesthetic"" that completely defines me, maybe it IS a tik tok trend to do nowadays - but i don't care. without any of this i wouldn't be here. those were my first inspirations. silly colorful cats animated to crunchy mp3s of songs using movie maker and 3 (three!) frames drawn in ms paint. it had so much charm. it had so much genuinity. and i could feel it even back then.

without it i might've not been here as i am now. there are so many things that go into this, of course. but i simply would not be the exact way i am. and i dunno. that's something to think about.

thank you so much, shadow filbo. one "mistake" with you i've had was thinking i should be a good creator of something and respond to every fan and fanart, which only stressed me out. i have... opinions! about being recognized in various places and, as some dub, a "NICHE INTERNET MICROCELEBRITY" (nothing against you fox </3).... yeah! not a fan.

another mistake was dubbing him as a "joke" always. and... he is! he is humorous! i am a jokey person! i like crunchy shitposts! i like being the reason people laugh! i will go to certain levels to even ridicule myself just for the bit, and i don't mind it. i'm hyper(active) and i am just a jokey person, that's that. but... him being called a joke was honestly just a shield from people taking him too seriously.

if people were to mock me for being nostalgic for nightcore, and rainbows, and edgy amvs, sparkledogs, scene culture and clothes, rave songs... all this!

but... no! people loved it! people loved it so much, it moved THEM to create art!

me, referencing things that made ME inspired to draw all those years ago - then inspired OTHERS to draw other things. to embrace themselves. to have fun. to connect.

it means so much to me. it's a bit odd to comprehend, too.

but it means the world to me. sorry if i am ever annoying about shadow filbo, and is often the first thing i bring up when bugsnax is brought up - but he is the highlight of my experience with bugsnax.

thank you so much, shadow filbo. and me and my wretched little claws, of course. for making them. and those that inspired me. those old friends i lost along the way, too. and those, that inspired those that inspired me. and so forth.

thank you.

[hils79]

Hils Watches Love Me, Love My Voice - Ep 4

First of all shoutout to this post because when I tried to take the below screenshot it was suddenly blocked despite all the other episodes being fine. Turned off Hardware Acceleration as instructed and it immediately worked. Reblog to save the life of a liveblogger/reviewer

I love that Gu Sheng having to work with one of Mo Qingcheng's fans is the closest we've had to any sort of real drama, and this is being played as funny rather than angsty or dramatic. Like 'awkward, my employee has a crush on the dude who keeps flirting with me'

I love how brazen he is. Openly admitting he's trying to get a girlfriend. I wonder who it could be... Also, LOL at Gu Sheng in the background pretending not to eavesdrop

I would like a man with a nice voice to recite poetry to me late at night when I can't sleep

That does not sound pleasant

Confession: I am in my 40s and it literally never occurred to me that conch shells have creatures living inside them or that you could eat them. I mean I couldn't eat them because I am allergic to mollusks but people can and do eat them. Every day is a school day as they say. I do enjoy these little recipe segments.

He just did the dorkiest little laugh it's a shame I can't capture video/sound. So cute.

Oh no I'm in danger. Look how soft he looks in this sweater.

I was just thinking this is the most heterosexual drama I have watched in ages. But there we go the intern has a crush on Mo Qingcheng. Get in line, my dude.

Wait, what? Don't the rest of them literally work and live in a recording studio? One that is specifically designed for them? Why do they need to use hers? I mean obviously I am ready for them to finally meet but do better with your plot device shenanigans.

Uh...you've literally had a crush on him since before this drama started.

Yes, it's definitely that and not all the cute flirting you've both been doing

Ohhhhh! Now I understand! She was just going to record her parts in her studio. I thought they were all going to record together for some reason. Except apparently he wants them to do that? Amazing.

The intern has a lil dragon/dinosaur on his shoulder. Adorable.

This poor girl. Everyone is staring at her and being weird because they all know Mo Qingcheng has a massive crush on her.

I would literally die of embarrassment if I was her

Of course he had to cancel. It's only been 4 episodes. I did think it was a bit soon for them to be meeting in person.

Excellent!

Oh, wait, I was wrong. Maybe they are going to meet.

This is all very cute

I mean I'm not sure anyone would expect a cardiologist to also be a famous voice actor

He sure is! Also, I headcanon manager lady as bi now.

Yeah, I tend to remember people if they have a cute animal with them

The boys are making fun of how he eats. That's how you know they're a family

I thought she said she had to go back to school after she'd recorded her song. I mean don't get me wrong I would totally ditch school to spend the day with my voice crush who turns out to be hot and also a doctor

I love how much they roast him

Ooh we're at the getting into each other's personal space stage already

He's so pretty

[1moremilgram-enjoyer]

Muu T1 Cover - Otome Dissection

More cover connections! This time, we have our favorite queen bee herself, Muu, and her cover, Otome Dissection! Honestly, this is probably my favorite cover so far, Muu's voice is so good for this song! I really recommend you listen to it if you haven't.

That said, what, and I cannot stress this enough, the fuck, is happening in this song?

CW Suicide and death, bullying

Otome Dissection is about a girl in a relationship, who loves her partner and is scared by the idea of them leaving.

Good evening, is now a good time? I didn't really have anything specific I wanted to say, but Now there's this and that, and an "it's alright" comes to mind Without you, none of that matters Both of us with our masks on, we flirted

Sorry for calling you so early I must've woken you up, huh? Are you up to chat right now? I had a dream where you fell in love with somebody else Please tell me it's not true. C'mon, love me please?

(Translation)

Got that? Good, because that's about the only thing I could gather the first time I read the lyrics.

The girl does not feel very happy with her life outside of the relationship, but struggles to communicate their pain to their lover. She really does want them to understand there's a problem, but she ends up framing her issues as only boredom.

It's in pieces, without spelling out "love" It's a penalty shoot-out, Feelings vs. Boredom Yeah, there's a kid there, lost in anything and everything, Shedding tears, meowing "SOS" with their eyes only halfway open This disease, the whole package, I'll send it to you as an attachment I don't wanna go so far as to share all the things that cause me pain I just wanna run away from this love...

(... Okay I'm gonna be honest. Different translations have very different lyrics, to the point where a lot of this might not be applicable to all translations. I hope you understand I'm struggling and accept that I have to pick one and run with it)

As you can see, she wants to share the "disease" with her lover, tell them what she's struggling with, but can't get herself to share all the things she's in pain about. No, I have no idea what the "wanna run away from this love" line means, it sorta contradicts literally the entire rest of the song, so... under the rug it goes!

The "kid meowing SOS" is actually the protagonist, because if you look at the video, while that lyric plays, the girl has a cat tail, and you know, "meowing."

DECO*27 try not to relate your characters to cats challenge level impossible.

The point is that she's dismissing her tears, like "yeah there's a kid there, they're kinda lost in the mess, don't worry about them." It comes off as somewhat nonchalant imo. Again, struggles to share her pain.

Let's play [Otome] Dissection! Calling each other by our real names "I don't wanna live" was what I should've said Will I ever find peace?

(Note: The translation I'm using translates 'otome', but since the title doesn't, I don't want to do it here. Don't ask how my brain works, I don't know myself)

She should say she's suicidal, to get her lover to understand her issues before they go too far, but she can't get herself to do so. And because she's hurting so much, she attempts suicide, and her lover saves her. And she finds that... exciting? She finds it's the only way she can get him to pay attention to her struggles.

Let's play [Otome] Dissection! Don't we all want some excitement to get our hearts pumping? I've wanted to feel shame ever since that night when I realized it's good as long as it hurts

Let's play [Otome] Dissection! Pulling burning passion out of each other Feels stupid already, I can't stand you telling me "no!" Will we ever clear up this misunderstanding? Let's play [Otome] Dissection! Smearing drool on top of the "baguette" Let's see if our climax had been a letdown Ever since that night

It's not immediately obvious from the lyrics, but the video makes it much clearer.

... It makes it a bit clearer.

That's what "Otome Dissection" is. Otome means 'maiden', but with the wording of 'playing Otome Dissection' it may also be a reference to 'otome games', a genre of visual novels which are basically dating sims with girl leads. And I assume you know dissection is a process done on dead things. With that in mind, "playing Otome Dissection" would imply "playing at killing the maiden to date the lover", aka attempting suicide and getting her lover to save her. I know it sounds odd, but that is what's happening. You see her 'dancing with death' in most of the choruses.

The singer claims she does it because it's exciting, that nothing else makes her feel as good as it. Again, I believe it's more so that it feels good to have her lover concern themselves with her safety, but she just doesn't know how to express she wants them to do that without "playing Otome Dissection."

Let's play [Otome] Dissection! Don't we all want some excitement to get our hearts pumping?

Let's play [Otome] Dissection! Smearing drool on top of the "baguette" Let's see if our climax had been a letdown Ever since that night

"Smearing drool on the baguette" is vaguely sexual imagery depicting pleasure, though I'm not sure why we're bringing bread into it. Unless... baguette -> French -> Muu? My job is so unbelievably easy sometimes.

She does understand this isn't exactly good, but she can't help the way she feels when she does it.

I've wanted to feel shame ever since that night when I realized it's good as long as it hurts

(Note this all started in 'that night', when she came to a realization. 'That night' likely refers to the first time she attempted suicide, and thus, it seems she didn't know she'd enjoy it the first time. If you follow, that means she had other reasons for attempting suicide, which heavily implies those other struggles she's not mentioning do in fact exist and I'm not going insane. I clarify because the lyrics are very confusing so I gotta properly explain my interpretation)

Her lover also clearly isn't very happy with it, but she wants him to understand it really does make her feel good.

Let's play [Otome] Dissection! Pulling burning passion out of each other Feels stupid already, I can't stand you telling me "no!" Will we ever clear up this misunderstanding?

But there's a big problem. You might have seen it at the start, the lover starts to grow distant towards the end of the second verse.

I had a dream where you fell in love with somebody else Please tell me it's not true. C'mon, love me please? Two times a day, morning and night, I'll sprinkle spices on you The insanity of wrong assumptions has no effect Listen, you've been pretty cold lately

Uh... "sprinkling spices" probably means "making the relationship more exciting", which as we've established is what she feels she's doing by "playing [Otome] Dissection." The "wrong assumption" is probably that the lover is growing more distant and might even be interested in someone else, but the girl denies the idea, calls it "insane." She's in denial over her relationship breaking down.

Which is why she doesn't notice when the lover drifts away so much, the next time she "plays Otome Dissection", they don't end up saving her. She goes too far, and ends up dying.

Yeah, the song's pretty sad.

This was all already only slightly less complicated than the average Milgram MV, and what's even funnier is that now I have to find a way to connect all this to Muu! How the fuck- Yeah this one'sdifficult.

Okay, so there's two ways I think this can work. The first is what I think is more likely; the "lover" is actually Muu's group of old 'friends', and 'Otome Dissection' is bullying other classmates.

[It's Not my Fault] Sorry, sorry, that must’ve hurt. I didn’t mean to though. You got on my nerves just a teensy tiny bit, that’s all. So let’s say this makes us even.

(Using the fan translation here)

Since that lyric seems to be directed at her bullied classmates in the context of the MV, Muu is claiming she bullies them for small reasons ("you got on my nerves just a teensy tiny bit"), though it's very likely she's hiding the real reasons. As you may know, bullies are generally hiding some of their own insecurities by making fun of others', and considering the way Muu speaks of herself in After Pain, it certainly feels like that may have been the case.

[After Pain] If I was gone, If I had just disappeared I overheard, I found out How much I’m not needed There’s no special meaning, I got the short end of the stick I overheard, I found out How much I’m not needed

Plus there's the fact many people have pointed out that in It's Not my Fault, Muu is still represented in her own mind as a monster. Though everyone else in that mind space thing is also an insect, so maybe she just doesn't really think anyone in her school was all that great. Well, except Rei. The lesbian interpretation grows stronger by the day.

So, the same way Otome Dissection's protagonist was hurting in other ways yet claimed she only attempted suicide because it was exciting (and I guess she just expects us to ignore why she attempted suicide the first time), Muu bullied others to feel better about herself, but claimed she did it for more superficial reasons. In fact, the official translation even claims she did it "because of being bored", the exact same reason Otome Dissection girl gives. Admittedly I'm pulling this more from the cover itself than the base Milgram content, and a very specific reading of the song too, which is not always recommended, but still.

This means the end of the song, with the lover growing more distant and possibly taking interest in someone else, is paralleled in the way Muu's friends abandoned her for Rei. While Otome Dissection girl goes too far and ends up dying without receiving help, Muu bullies the wrong person or something, Rei "turns the hourglass" and she's abandoned to suffer for her actions. Get it? I think it makes some sense.

(I will ignore the fact most of this interpretation comes from It's Not my Fault when this cover was released with After Pain, and there's nothing you can do about it)

The second way to read this is... way less charitable, to both Muu and Otome Dissection girl. Basically, you could argue Otome Dissection girl was only attempting suicide to get pity from her partner, and connect that to Muu's desire to be pitied.

[It's Not my Fault] It’s not my fault after all, after all. Everyone wants me to be innocent. What a relief. Can’t be helped. I’m always meant to be pitied!

In this interpretation, Muu "playing Otome Dissection" doesn't refer to a specific action she does, but rather to the way she used to present herself in Trial 1, when she was trying to get pity from Es/the others. However, that doesn't explain what the ending of the song would imply for Muu. Although you could argue Otome Dissection girl's death isn't really referenced in the lyrics, so it wouldn't apply to Muu, maybe?

Alternatively, you could speculate Muu was getting pity from her old 'friends', and that's what Otome Dissection was for her. That way the ending could still parallel Muu being abandoned for Rei. However, I don't think that works too well, since it's never really implied otherwise that the others hung out with Muu out of pity, and in this case "playing Otome Dissection" didn't directly lead to her "death", unlike the song.

Because of all of that, I personally consider the first interpretation I gave the most accurate. Where Muu "playing Otome Dissection" refers to bullying others to get attention from her 'friends' and to hide her pain, and ends up being abandoned for bullying someone in front of Rei. All interpretations are valid, though!

Well, that took longer than usual. Hope you enjoyed anyways! Take care!

[penroseparticle]

Penrose Song(s) of the Day, Day 38: Ohmygodiloveyoupleasedontleaveme by Clever Girl and Cream on Chrome by Ratatat

That’s right, today is a twofer bitches. Enjoy the extra song. I hope that, if you guys don’t live for the writing and the navel gazing and the thinky thoughts, you at least like the music. I have good taste! It’s like one of the only good things about me I think. Refined after several time loops into something that’s broad and far reaching, yet still specific.

I don’t remember when I first found Clever Girl. Apparently sometime after 2018, since that’s when the EP No Drum and Bass in the Jazz Room came out. It feels like I’ve known them for much longer. Like Jagged Gorgeous Winter was on guitar hero. It’s oooooooold magic, from like 2009 (which btw, something from 2009 rating as old makes me feel old as a hill but take a look at a video game from 2008. We were truly living in caveman times). This song and A Jagged Gorgeous Winter are kissing cousins though- give them both a listening to when you have a second, and you’ll hear what I mean. No lyrics in Ohmygodiloveyoupleasedontleaveme though. It’s a little more… I don’t know. Pure? Direct? Distilled? There’s something in the song that makes it seem like it more fulfilled its desires without the words.

Like, when I discovered Clever Girl it had the energy of me finding a long hidden gem. But I’ve had this song forever, I downloaded it-which means it predates my Spotify use. So I must have discovered Clever Girl like. Right when they came out? Baffling. It’s genuinely astounding. I have such a fondness for them, they are enshrined in my head as something truly great but hidden, secret. There’s something so earnest about this song. I mean. Look at the Band aesthetic, name, EP name, song name, etc. There are some drums in the jazz room, by the by.

Clever Girl has style. It is for better or worse, the kind of music that you have to look for to find. You want vaguely jazzy, instrumental, indiepop song name, math rock bullshit? Well boy oh boy I’ve got your fix! Garage music from the Great Lakes.

The album art always gets me. Sun Tarot Card, but the kid’s a little girl in overalls with pigtails holding a rubiks cube riding a dinosaur!!! Reminds me of someone that I know, mixed a little bit with me. I’m a sucker for good branding, and if your album art is good, it goes a long way with me.

Clever Girl is going to be lost to time- the band is broken up now, and they released no music after this EP. Which is a shame- this EP is one of my no skip albums (it’s 4 songs long, let’s not get carried away, but still- that’s good work on an EP). The drummer is a DJ now, according to some amateur sleuthing I’ve done. I already got misty about lost media, so I just want to say- I will carry Clever Girl forward. Someone has to.

Ratatat, on the other hand, is much more prolific.

See one of the reasons I wanted to write this one is because people are so damn inconsistent when it comes to describing music. To so, so many people, berlioz from yesterday and Clever Girl and Ratatat are all the same genre of music- Instrumental. I touched on lyrics in music a few times when I was writing these, and I stand by the things I said- sometimes a song touches you in spite of the lyrics, or because it has none, or because the lyrics aren’t comprehensible to you, just a voice ardently singing. I don’t want to touch on that any more, really. But wow. Imagine Garage Band, Jazzy Math Rock being pitted against Smooth Jazz House pitted against the mainstream, no frills Electronic Rock that is Ratatat. You miss the elements that build them. Clever Girl is Jazzy like berlioz, but has some shoegaze-y, Postal Service-y, electronic-y bits to it, but it has some good, classic rock guitar riffs in it. Good prog rock structure. Meanwhile Ratatat reads much more electronic, has almost no smooth or jazzy components, and leans full throttle into that rock space that makes it more frenetic. It’s a rich textural journey along the instrumental tapestry.

What I’m saying is if someone told me they wanted more music like Clever Girl, I wouldn’t recommend Ratatat. I would recommend Cuzco instead (We Miss You Clever Girl, specifically. How’s that for recommendations. I think when Cuzco is leaning on the Sax it’s a bit worse, but Clever Girl adjacent it is, and the Math Rock is Mathing). Or Sawce? Probably a bit too uptempo but their song School might work.

Having listened to them closer together though, and with berlioz as the catalyst, I wouldn’t NOT recommend them now, though.

Ratatat always makes me think of my friend @lost-and-found-causes (That and Bat For Lashes). Maybe I’m nostalgic for a time when I got to see him regularly. Maybe I like the song because I like my friend. I think I just like the song, and I miss my friend. Both true but not influencing each other. Cream on Chrome however, is probably their best known single aside from Loud Pipes.

Cream on Chrome is one of those songs that I think is timeless. It’s got that feeling of being from any era (once we started electronic instrumentation anyways. Which is still like. 6 decades now? 7? Definitely we started getting synthesizers in the 60’s.). It is also embarrassingly milquetoast in a way I have a hard time describing. Like Katy Perry music or Arena Rock- I have seen many a youtube video with this song as the background (including Binging with Babish once. I’ll have to track down the video). This is not to say that it’s bad- I like both Katy Perry and Arena Rock. But it does have some of that Built Ford Tough advertising approved banal appeal going for it. It’s also got that groove to it. What that synth does is it makes it feel a little fresh, a little fun, a little with it. It gives it some life. The modulation lets them have a lot of fun with what is, ultimately, a simple riff song- there’s the melody, and how it changes. Real point A to point B song.

But it’s worlds apart from Clever Girl. Clever girl makes me feel soft and tender. Like I’ve got a secret. A little wistful. Powerful, but fragile. Like something momentous is being born. Ratatat is flowspace- it’s accomplishment and competency and going from one challenge to the next. It moves me forward, while Clever Girl makes me pause and take stock. They are not remotely the same to me.

I worry that so many of us make the classic mistake of lumping our Clever Girls with our Ratatats. I’m starting to realize its super easy. I’m not challenging myself with Baba Is You, I’m playing video games. I’m not destressing with Tetris, I’m playing video games. I’m not absorbing a rich story with Persona 5, I’m playing video games. Do you get what I mean? I’m reading Bird By Bird right now. It’s good but I can only read it in spurts. I have been really sitting with each section- and the sections are small, designed to be read in spurts. Like Anne Lamott knew that the people looking for writing advice, for life advice, would want to really sit with and digest what she wrote. My other most recent read One Puzzling Afternoon, however, gripped me. The mystery pulled me in and I read it in about 2 days, all told. Why do I think of it as “reading” when I use the books differently? Because they’re the same medium? Ridiculous.

I treat music with much more care, however haphazard I may be, than any other genre. Than the food I eat, for Christ’s sake. If I love my ears, can I love my eyes? My brain, my heart, my tongue, my voice. Can I remember that Clever Girl and Ratatat are both nourishing, but in different ways? Can I realize I’m engaged with Bird By Bird, but differently than One Puzzling Afternoon, and that they are both serving me?

I’m starting to, I hope. It’s tough, but I’m realizing how to take care of myself after so many years of just… not. And of course it starts with a song.

Listen. You could be dead right now. Go listen to something you love.