#beautykillertaskforce

[bruisedconscience]

@beautykillertaskforce ( from answer! )

“You know, that’s the first interesting thing I think I’ve heard come out of your mouth. What a delightful idea.” 

Aaron rubbed across the back of his neck and offered up a small, mousy smile. “I been think...think-thinkin’ about it for a wh...while. Haven’t got off much since..since I really started liv-livin’ here, so...” 

Roy might have, Aaron had felt drained a few times, and tired, but he’d chalked it up to general fatigue. But Roy might’ve been doing things like that without him. The Good Book said not to, though, so Aaron tried to avoid it. And pre-marital... anything. 

But this was different, right? Absolutely. So long as they didn’t.....copulate. 

[untestxd]

@beautykillertaskforce​  ♥ 'ᴅ ғᴏʀ ᴀ sᴛᴀʀᴛᴇʀ

“ ʜᴇʏ.  ʜᴇʏ----!”    The first call to the stranger goes unheard, prompting     a second, more physical approach as the musician     taps away at his shoulder. Unlit cigarette hanging from     his lip, he continues to provoke the man at the bar until    he turns to face the musician. 

              “I’m fucking ᴛᴀʟᴋɪɴɢ ᴛᴏ ʏᴏᴜ.   You got a light?”

[cracknoir]

@beautykillertaskforce​ // liked.

Summer rain pelted the shoulders of Jimmy’s suit jacket, the small congregation of people stood around the grave, the priest spoke about God, spoke about heaven, spoke about bad choices. This was the third funeral Jimmy had been to. He didn’t usually let it get under his skin, didn’t usually let it bother him.

He remembered how Crystal would tussle his hair when she walked into the clubs back room, like one would pet a cat when returning home from work. Jimmy didn’t know her that well, didn’t know much about her life or who she was outside of the club, he knew her the way one would know a coworker -- vaguely, without proper context. He remembered how she would send Jimmy a wink, how they could make each other laugh just by looking at one another, back then Jimmy was shy, quiet, she would make sure he was looked after, fed, clothed, he remembered these details, and forgot so much more, but those little details were enough. He had hoped she had gotten out the game, hoped she had moved on in the years since they last spoke.  

Serial killers rarely made the news, not in the modern day. There was nothing about the twelve murders, nothing about Crystal. Nobody cared. Jimmy didn’t know it for a fact, but he had always assumed Crystal was a mother -- and if she wasn’t, she was more of a mother to Jimmy than the woman he ran away from way back when.  

“We should do something,” Molly said, when they were back at the Snow White, everyone dressed in black. “We should find the fucker that did this. Make him hurt.” It was the first thing she’d said all day. She was closer with all the girls. She wouldn’t show it, but Jimmy knew Molly was in pain. Maybe that’s why he entertained the idea of trying to find this guy. 

Sometimes being a criminal was boring, more akin to doing daily chores. To keep himself occupied, he did cocaine, or smoked weed, or drank, the couple of days after the funeral all ran into one. In the morning, he would steal a car, preferably on the other side of town. Then, he’d drive to the lot in front of the precinct for around five AM. Then, he’d wait. Jimmy had a lot of blackmail information on a lot of people, but he singled Archie out using a very complex method of selection: he covered his eyes and chucked a dart at a bunch of pictures he’d pinned to the wall, it had landed square between Archie’s eyes. Jimmy understood it was overkill to spy on this guy, yet no matter how much he wanted to go raging in half-cocked like he usually did, he refrained, he was taking his ventures into vigilantism very seriously.

The hatchback with the smashed window rolled up next to Archie as he left the cop-shop, “hey -- pig.” He wrapped on the cars door in an attempt to get his attention as he crept the car along behind the guy, “get in the car. We need to have little talk.” 

[archiveghostofaformerself]

RANDOM TEXTS FROM LAST NIGHT / ARCHIE – @beautykillertaskforce​ [ text ] –– is your delayed response due to the massive amount of judging going on?

     ( rayne » archie ) my delayed response is because there’s nothing to say

[intuitkiller]

        ❝ i can’t keep looking at them &&. come back as my self anymore, i lose a little bit every time. ❞

@beautykillertaskforce​ liked for a one liner

[pursuedinterest]

@beautykillertaskforce​

Being loaned one of the conference rooms seemed so against the normal. Then again James quickly took to using the whole room. Midnight asleep underneath the table. Things up on the board, papers spread out and nobody interrupting him. Almost a dream of sorts; getting lead on the case too. 

Focused so much that it took him a few minutes to notice somebody had entered. “You are?” 

[anarmyofcanons]

@beautykillertaskforce​ // ✉ sent: “Ѡ” for my muse’s reaction to being sent accidental nudes

❝ Ho-Holy shit. ❞ She’d opened the text in the middle of a briefing, curious as to what it might be. As soon as she saw it though, Dani quickly turned her phone off and shoved it back in her pocket before quickly excusing herself. Out in the hall, she looked at the phone again before shooting a text back: I don’t think this was meant for me. Thank you? 

[protectxthem]

@beautykillertaskforce​ said: “you’re such an idiot.” [x] | Accepting

“Did you get any on you or on the body`?” He asked, shrugging his white coat off and rolled up the sleeves on his shirt. Martin dropped a pair of gloves down on the tray that was sitting on the table that Gretchen was sitting on. He pulled a stool up and sat down, pulling the gloves on before reaching over to touch the cut on the other serial killer.

“Is this the only spot?” He asked not looking up at her as he grabbed some gauze to try and stop the bleeding. He meant well, he really did; but he didn’t want the cops to come knocking on his door any time soon just because one or both of them got sloppy.

[prodigalsonmalcolm]

Closed Starter - Guest of Honour - Malcolm and Archie

@beautykillertaskforce

Technically Malcolm was not exact or explicitly welcome in the New York City Major Crimes Unit that day. Malcolm had forgotten which of his erratic stunts he had pulled and been yelled at for. Apparently his total disregard for his own wellbeing or survival made other people uncomfortable and upset. They would move past it, it would blow over, the glares and concerned looks always died down after a while. Some people could even become immune to being around someone who's will to live and sanity was hanging on by the thinnest of strings, propped up by a multitude of dubious prescriptions and a passion and talent for solving cases. Archie Sheridan was the guest of honour. Naturally Malcolm's mind had calculated the probabilities, times, delays that could occur in the detectives journey to the office. He was not going to miss the opportunity to see Archie Sheridan in person, his story was fascinating and naturally he had a long list of inappropriate questions that had already been confiscated and destroyed by his boss.

Sitting down at the table Malcolm's leg bounced up and down as his opposite hand twitched on his thigh. His other hand clasped a carboard cup of coffee which had been already consumed, while he was holding something he was able to stop his whole body from becoming a twitching anxious mess. "He should be here" he spoke to himself as rolled the chewing gum over his tongue and his eyes fixated on the door.

[vyrulent]

random image 16 from Archie for Clarice? and hello!

image meme || image || @beautykillertaskforce

Serial killers weren’t her bag anymore. Now the FBI agent’s ducks were comprised of violent crimes and organized crime. This had simply been an accident that she had come upon. Early morning runs had brought her by this stretch countless times, yet this was the first time she had come upon a crime in the serene area. 

“FBI doesn’t have jurisdiction here,” Clarice told him, badge displayed on her hip as she stood with arms crossed. “This is your duck to chase.”

It wasn’t that she wasn’t willing to work it, but the last thing she needed was more publicity in any capacity since the Lecter incident. She, especially, didn’t want to deal with a pissing contest when she had her own ducks to go after. 

[altarsburning]

Hi! I just wanted to let you know you popped up on my dash just now and without knowing anything about the rp or who your muse was, I read the first line of the post and immediately thought "This sounds like Drusilla!" which of course it was. So like, I'm just saying you have a REALLY great grasp of her voice for me to have figured that out with NO context, and I'm really impressed!

aw, thank you! that means a lot. dru is definitely one of my harder muses to get the voice for, and sometimes i have it, and sometimes i don’t. so it’s good to hear that you can ‘hear’ her in my writing. xo.

[bruisedconscience]

@beautykillertaskforce => Gretchen

Aaron had to do a double-take. No... That couldn’t be her, could it? She was supposed to be in jail. She’d been sentenced for a very, very long time, the way he could’ve been.

But he wasn’t in jail, either, so he supposed he shouldn’t be so surprised.

Aaron swallowed and took a step closer to her, standing and waiting for a boring, cheap coffee in this vibrant, expensive little cafe. He reached up and tapped her shoulder. Her hair looked different, but Aaron was so sure...

“I’m sor...sor-sorry,” Aaron managed, keeping his voice relatively low so as to not be overheard, “but... Aren’t you the...the-the lady from the new-news?”

[untestxd]

@beautykillertaskforce​ // ₮Ɇ₴₮ɆĐ

He woke with a ᴘᴏᴜɴᴅɪɴɢ headache in the dim room. The taste of metal burned against Scott’s tongue as he fought the urge to vomit from the overwhelming dizziness that pounded away at his skull. Had he been spiked? He felt heavy in the groggy place between sleep and wake, his whole body aching as it remained curled up on the floor. ʲᵘˢᵗ 5 ᵐᵒʳᵉ ᵐⁱⁿᵘᵗᵉˢ… His mind pleaded with him, but his body betrayed.  A dry inhale of breath left the man coughing-  but something didn’t feel right. It didn’t feel right at all. As Scott sat up, spluttering with the burn raging through his chest- that’s when he first felt the chain. No longer a creature of sleep, his ocean eyes blew open wide. He felt it digging in slightly, hues watering as he did his best not to gag. It was in there, it was all the way in there. He tried to cough again, but the pain in his throat was unbearable. And the culprit? There was something in there, something cold and metal and painful. Shoved all the way down his throat, leading out through his mouth was something that looked to be like a barbed-wire chain. A mangled, panicked sound erupted from him like some sort of prey caught in the jaws of its hunter. He tried to move his hands to try and get rid of this obstruction, only to realise that they were tied behind him, cuffed to the dirty brick wall to his rear. Where the fuck was he? What the fuck was going on? But he knew. As soon as the panic had flooded his mind, so too had the understanding. His eyes were streaming silently with the discomfort, but all at once too with the sudden rush pitting its way in his stomach. This was it. This was fucking it. A cry, a mixture of pain and relief squawked out from the man’s preoccupied throat as he tried to struggle his hands out. This was awful, but at least he knew what to expect. He knew who had done this to him ——- but wait- no. John Kramer had died. He had been caught, and he had died. Whatever twisted sense of ease that had nestled itself into Scott’s mind flooded away and soon enough came that jarring jolt of panic. He did his best to breathe through his nose, any attempt to do so through his mouth risked gagging. His eyes followed the length of the chain that protruded, finding it all the way across the room, slacking amongst a bed of something in the dark before it reached a shadow on the other-side. Another person? That wasn’t good at all. “He-!”

Scott tried to call out, but grimaced in pain with the effort, feeling the metal stretch across the inside of his throat. He instead opted for just making a noise, a muffled and feral barrage of noise in an attempt to get the attention of the stranger. Whatever this was going to be. It wasn’t going to be good- and Scott wasn’t dying here.​

[detectivepowell]

send me △ for my muse to get trapped in a small closet with yours -- from Archie

@beautykillertaskforce

The slamming of the door made the detective jump, her body twirling around, practically crashing into the man next to her.  

“Shit...shit shit shit.”  Quickly Dani moved to try the doorknob, coming at no surprise that it was locked.  “Hey!” she yelled through the door.  “Hey!  Open the door!  Open the door!”

[archiveghostofaformerself]

I DON’T FEEL SO GOOD / ARCHIE – @beautykillertaskforce​ ☀ receiver has a mental breakdown and sender tries to comfort them

     THEY’RE A RARITY AT THIS POINT, but once in a while something hits a little too close to home. sometimes it just gets her at the right time and she can’t hold it together anymore; rayne makes sure no one is around when it happens.

     she needs a distraction, a release, something else to focus on. anything at all. her first response is one she hasn’t turned to in years, not since she was a teenager: rage. anything she can get her hands on is grabbed. things hit the walls and smash or splinter into irreparable pieces. it’s loud, messy, and bound to attract attention.

     in her haste to get away, though, she’s forgotten to lock the door. it shouldn’t be a surprise when he comes into the room rather abruptly, but it is and it means the next object thrown connects with the wall barely a foot from where he stands.his presence stops her in her tracts for a moment, chest heaving with laboured breaths while her form trembles.

     ❝get out,❞ it’s hissed out between gritted teeth.

[intuitkiller]

@beautykillertaskforce​ // susan asked:  "You look like you need a million hugs," declared Susan. "I can't give you a million hugs, but can I give you ONE hug?"”         meme: random asks are the best // status: always accepting

        brilliantly blue hazel hues drift slightly from the scene of crime photos scattered wall to wall &&. even pinned to it, before that gaze returns to susan once more, wary &&. skeptical. who was she &&. why did she seek to give him a hug? there is a distant memory lingering in the dark drifts of his mind palace. a name that can’t quite be recalled. ❝ uhm... as nice as the offer is, i will have to decline. ❞

        ❝ may i help you though, miss? ❞