#been happening since episode 1 scene 1

[they-stare-i-ship]

i am so normal about the way Charles smiles at Edwin

[nailtagyuri]

/hj

[demilypyro]

So I've seen a few too many people on twitter talking about The Kiss Scene from the new Scott Pilgrim anime. People saying it's fetishistic and indulgent, people calling it male gazey, etc. And while the kiss itself is certainly a bit exaggerated, I felt like writing a bit about why I disagree, and why context is important, like it always is. But it basically turned into an extended analysis on the metatextual treatment of Roxie Richter. So bear with me. It's a long post.

What really matters about this scene is not the kiss itself, but what precedes it. Not even just the fight scene just before it, but what precedes the whole anime series, really. And that's the Scott Pilgrim comic book, and the live action movie. Because in both, Roxie is a punchline.

She's a joke. Her character starts and ends with "one of the exes is actually a girl, I bet you didn't expect that." Jokes are made about Ramona's latent bisexuality, the movie especially treating it as funny and absurd, and her validity as a romantic interest is entirely written off by Ramona as being "just a phase." There's a fight scene, she's defeated by a man giving her an orgasm which implicitly calls her sexuality into question (come on), and the movie just moves on. It sucks. It really, really sucks.

The comic fares a little better. It never veers into outright homophobia like the movie does, and while the line about Ramona having gone through a phase remains, Roxie actually gets one over on Scott when Ramona briefly gets back with Roxie. But Roxie is still only barely a character. Like all the other evil exes, she's just a stepping stone towards the male protagonist's development. She barely even gets any screentime before she's defeated by Scott's "power of love." But Roxie stands out, since she's the only villain who is queer, or at least had been confirmed queer at that point (hi Todd). In a series that champions multiple gay men in the supporting cast, the single undeniable lesbian in the story is a villain. She's labeled as evil, made fun of, pushed aside in favor of the men, and then discarded. Her screentime was never about her, or her feelings for Ramona. It was about the straight, male protagonist needing to overcome her. And that was Roxie Richter. An unfortunate victim of the 2010s.

Fast forward to current year, and the new anime series is announced. Everybody sits down to watch the new series expecting another retelling of the same story, and.... hang on, that straight male protagonist I mentioned just died in the first episode. And now it's humanizing the villains from the original story. And there's Roxie, introduced alongside the other evil exes in the second episode, and she's being played entirely straight, without a punchline in sight. No jokes are made about her gender, no questions are made of her validity as one of Ramona's romantic interests. The narrative considers her important. In one episode, she already gets more respect than she did in either of the previous iterations of Scott Pilgrim. And this isn't even her focus episode yet... which happens to be the very next one.

The anime series goes to great lengths to flesh out the original story's villains and to have Ramona reconcile with them. And I don't think it's a coincidence that Roxie gets to go first. While Matthew Patel gets his development in episode 2, Roxie is the first to directly confront Ramona, now our main protagonist. This is notable too because it's the only time the exes are encountered out of order. Roxie is supposed to be number 4, but she's first in line, and later on you realize that she's the only one who's out of sequence. She's the one who sets the precedent for the villains being redeemed. She's the most important character for Ramona to reconcile with.

What follows is probably the most extensive, elaborate 1 on 1 fight scene in the whole show. Roxie fights like a wounded animal, her motions are desperate and pained. Ramona can only barely fight back against her onslaught. Different set-pieces fly by at breakneck speed as Roxie relentlessly lays her feelings at Ramona's feet through her attacks and her distraught shouts. And unlike the comic or the movie, Ramona acknowledges them, and sincerely apologizes. And the two end up just laying there, exhausted, reminiscing about when they were together.

Only after this, after all of this, does the kiss scene happen. Roxie has been vindicated, she has reconciled with the person who hurt her, the narrative has deemed that her anger is justified and has redeemed her character. And she gets her victory lap by making the nearest other hot girl question her heterosexuality, sharing a sloppy kiss with her as the music triumphantly crescendos.

It's... a little self-congratulatory, honestly. But it's good. It's redemption for a character who had been mistreated for over a decade. And she punctuates the moment by being very, very gay where everyone can see it, no men anywhere in sight. Because this is her moment. And then she leaves the plot, on her own accord this time, while humming the hampster dance. What a legend. How could anything be wrong with this.

[laughhardrunfastbekindsblog]

I cannot get over how much this one scene informs us of Tech's priorities, personality, and how much he cares about his squad.

THE SCENE: "Replacements," season 1 episode 3; the Marauder is in dire need of repairs

This scene is often played for laughs (and let's be real, it IS hilarious). There's Tech, completely ignoring Echo's not-so-subtle hints to help fix the ship, instead prioritizing tinkering with his gadgets because his definition of "critical systems" is apparently vastly different than others'. Result? The ship crashes.

But... Tech is RIGHT to be concerned about the chips.

He has been warning his brothers about the chips since Order 66, multiple times throughout "Aftermath" and "Cut and Run."

2. He suspected Crosshair was susceptible to the effects of the chip early on.

3. He saw firsthand the friction caused between Crosshair and the rest of the squad due to the chip, with the ultimate result that Crosshair attacked the squad and shot Wrecker.

OF COURSE he is going to prioritize creating a device that will test the functionality of their own chips - and I think he has two reasons for this.

First: Prevent further catastrophe by making sure no one else on the squad is at imminent risk of acting out like Crosshair did.

Can you imagine what could happen if anyone else became susceptible to the chip's effects? (Oh yeah, we can: we see exactly what happens with Wrecker on Bracca.) Tech's not losing another family member the way he just lost Crosshair.

Second: Support his theory that Crosshair's actions ARE a result of the chip. (Omega talked to Crosshair about this (in a roundabout way) in the brig, but it's Tech who mentions this possibility to the squad.)

And if they can find a reason, a solid explanation, for why Crosshair has turned on them, maybe they can find a way to help him.

Tech is logical and rational. He understands people by analyzing them, finding reasons to explain their motives and actions; and by understanding them, he can come up with a plan to fix the situation. And that's exactly what he's doing here: by proving his theories about the inhibitor chips, he can better help his family.

So, as much as I still laugh over Tech's nonchalant "We're fine" as they're LITERALLY CRASHING, I also find it so dang heartwarming and sweet that Tech was SO focused on saving his team in other, equally crucial ways ❤️

[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.

[jakei95]

[Post in English] Something Nyx and I want to publicly address, regarding the recent allegations in the Glitchtale Crew's Discord Server and it's moderators. I really apologize for the upcoming wall of text. These are our Twitter threads I have pasted them here, in case you don't have access to said platform. I have also added some additional notes to provide more context. All details under the line:

NyxTheShield: (Transcription from his official twitter thread) I read some mean comments lately and I just wanna be super clear: I havent been related to Glitchtale since at least 2022. I never considered myself part of the community and went through some much shit while doing stuff for it that my mental health was completely destroyed.

For people who thought I was an admin of the server, that was just in paper. I was constantly de-admin'd, demodded and kicked from the server through the years for simple stuff like asking the rest of the mod team to not say slurs or standing up against the Midnight Crew. I personally left the server for a long while because I really did not want to be around some of the people there. All of this happened years ago (from 2016~ to around 2020). On the early years, my full income came from Youtube/Glitchtale. I was a broke college student and my economic stability depended on it. Despite this, and making literally hundred of tracks and hours of music for the series, most of the income came from my own ad revenue. I was paid less than 2000 USD for all of the work. Essentially, I was paid in exposure.

This wouldn't have been an issue for me if at least I got to keep my artistic vision with the series. That didn't hold true for long.

From the second season and onwards, and in multiple instances, I would score the entire OST for the episode, watch the episode when it released, and then find out a completely new section of the episode (usually a battle scene) with music from somebody else This was completely demotivating to me because I wasn't being paid, the tracks would not fit the rest of the OST at all, and most of the income I made from the battle scenes. I had to work for weeks trying to compose music for glorified powerpoint presentations (Basically everything that's not a battle scene on the series was just still frames of characters barely moving) and do all the heavy lifting and I wasn't even let known about the guest tracks.

This added to the feeling of having absolutely no power within the community. I don't know if this was intentional or not (I don't wanna presume malice), but all of these things together contributed to me distancing myself from the community.

Honestly, there is A LOT more shit that went down these early years that are extremely traumatic to me that I would prefer to not talk about unless completely necessary, but I feel this is a good amount of context for what I wanna talk about next.

As you might be aware, extremely serious (and true) allegations were made against Camila and his partner, Veir, which was accused of grooming minors from 2015 to 2021 There are really good videos out there explaining the entire timeline of what transpired, but I specifically wanna talk about 2020.

(Jakei's note: Links to said videos are here: [1] [2] [3])

In that year, a public document was made by my head mod CrystalFlame alongside 2 other mods in the GT server, that exposed Veir and their actions. This document went mostly unnoticed. Even more, Crystal went through a lot of abuse for coming forward about their abuse and was almost ostracized from the UT AU community because of this.

Because of this, I was asked directly by one of the victims (and also representing the other victims) to please not speak up (Citing that they just wanted to move on and didn't want to involve themselves with more problems and expose themselves)

All the info was kept very vague from me, including the people who were involved, the extent of the stuff that went down, etc But I knew enough to know it was serious. I followed their request and didn't speak up publicly about this, but I banned Veir from my server, warned all of my mods and people close to me in those circles about Veir, and constantly tried to get Camila to please adress the situation. Despite this, she did not listen and we all know how stuff went down later in 2022, where the allegations came back again with full force. This time around I wasnt asked to stay silent so I spread the word around and confronted the entire mod team. I was shortly banned after that.

I needed to address this because this thing has been eating me alive for years. I was intentionally kept in the dark about a lot of context and nuance that would have completely changed my mind about speaking up or not about what happened in 2020.

Everything is easier in retrospective, and with the knowledge I now have about the situation I know for a fact that I would have spoken up about all that happened. But being asked directly to not speak up by the victims was something that goes against what I am Sorry for the long rant, but I really needed to get this off my chest. I am tired of having to deal with this kind of stuff. As a content creator/public figure I am trying my hardest to keep the communities I am active in as safe as possible.

I feel I could have done more for the Glitchtale community regarding the grooming situation, but all of the years of abuse that I endured really fucked up my judgement. I am not very good at dealing with people and I always trust the people close to help me for this kind of stuff

Sadly, in this case, those same people who were close to me were also the victims, so they couldnt have known or had a way to help me out, I should have helped them instead. Most if not all of what was described in this thread is backed up by screenshots, chat logs, and direct testimony from the people who were involved during this time.

I don't want to direct hate to anyone or start a witchhunt, I am doing this purely to decompress a bit and try to vent some of the trauma I experienced all these years.

============================================

Jakei: (Transcription from my official twitter thread) I would also like to share my experiences about my relationship with the Glitchtale Creator, Camila Cuevas. Publicly, we appeared as close friends, but in reality, that friendship was based on bullying and mistreatment, and this affected my mental health deeply.

Years have passed, and the memories still cause me pain. I decided to remain silent, but after the revelations of grooming cases in her community, I realized I wasn’t being too sensitive. The time has come to speak up about my experiences.

During the early years of Underverse, I was dealing with a serious depressive episode. Simultaneous internal and external pressures as an independent artist amplified my mental strain. Meeting Camila felt like finding a genuine friend who shared my passion for the fandom and understood the struggles of being a content creator amidst toxicity. At my lowest, I became compliant to doing things that I didn’t want to, just to keep people around me happy. For Camila, this meant allowing her to belittle my work and make me the butt of her jokes.

Only our veteran followers may remember the 'roasting games' between us on Tumblr (consisting of mutual insults), a spectacle where she'd always win. However, it was a game she privately forced me to "play" and I ended up accepting, despite the discomfort it caused me. These 'games' would give her a cool and strong image in the fandom while painting me as the dumb, 'cringe-worthy' friend. In essence, I became her personal punching bag, unknowingly reinforcing his reputation.

Camila's favorite term to demean my series 'Underverse' was “Cancerverse”. It felt like a constant contest where she'd always position herself as the superior writer and animator simply because my story and animation techniques didn't fit her standards. Years of being subjected to her ridicule left my self-esteem in ruins. I was okay with the negative feedback by some fans, but when my 'friend' publicly disrespected my art, it made me question my abilities as an artist.

I can't deny there were times when she gave me advice to deal with hate or hurtful comments. However, her damaging comments and treatment outweighed those moments of support.

My depressive state worsened around July 2017, where I had accepted people pushing me to do things I wasn’t comfortable with, while being part of Camila's demeaning games, just to appease her ego. I was introduced to Nyx during this time, he offered his music for my series, and eventually we started dating. We met in person in Chile, where I also met Camila. I hoped our friendship would strengthen but everything felt the same. Before I moved to Chile with Nyx, Camila reached out to me in dms, attempting to turn me against him because he opposed the use of slurs in the GT server. She claimed Nyx was being 'brainwashed' by his American friends belonging to the black and LGBTQ+ communities. She made fun of my dating choices, suggesting I was entering a toxic relationship, while showing off her relationship with her then-boyfriend (later exposed as a pedophile). She even quoted her own mother assuring me that Nyx would 'get back to normal', and if it didn’t happen, she would let me live in her house, almost like if she was telling me that Nyx would hurt me or make me feel miserable.

It only took Nyx 3 months to realize that the GT server was going in the wrong way. I initially felt compelled to defend Camila due to my inferiority complex, but soon realized Nyx was right. (Jakei's note: Not only Nyx was right, a lot of people that called her out over the years were right, yet they were not listened to at the time)

Even then, I found it difficult to distance myself from Camila due to the false sense of obligation I felt towards her. My fear of her making fun of my work kept me from interacting with others in the short period of time I stayed in her Discord server. I was afraid that she and her echo chamber would talk behind my back, something that I found out was happening in private chats until recent years.

Rebuilding my self-esteem wasn't an easy task. I began noticing the red flags – Camila's lack of respect not only for me but Nyx also, the emotional manipulation Nyx was suffering from Veir (something he used to do all the time with his other victims), her attempts to 'roast' me in front of her family and fans in the Underverse/Glitchtale meetings, and her constant criticism of my artstyle not being compatible to hers in the few collabs we made.

All these 'small' instances, dismissed as insignificant by many, caused me immense pain while treating my depression. I felt it was too late to express how I felt, as I feared being labeled as attention-seeking or oversensitive by her and her fanbase. Ironically, the moment she talked about her traumas after being bullied in the past, her feelings were the only ones that mattered any time she was involved in a problematic situation in the fandom and deserved to be the only to get pats in the back.

I never expected a sincere apology, as I was convinced she didn't remember or didn't care about the hurt she caused. I tried to maintain a facade of good terms with her, both publicly and privately. Eventually, I distanced myself from her, unfriending her and banning her from my own server even if she didn't interact there. I started focusing on my own work and the people who appreciated it. Despite this, the aftermath of the bullying continued to affect me.

Everything fell into place when the grooming accusations against her former boyfriend and server mods came to light. It was a shocking revelation, but it validated all my doubts and fears about her. The purpose of sharing my experiences is not to stir up drama, but to address the concerns of those worried about my association with Camila. I want to make it clear that I will never tolerate such behavior. Although the things I did for her in the past cannot be erased, I hope Camila at least deletes the animation remake I did for her and all the collabs that boosted her views for free, though I'm not optimistic about it happening.

As I've matured, my hope is that she and her crew learn from their mistakes, start behaving like adults, and take responsibility for their actions in their future projects and with their new followers. But I'm skeptical about any real change, especially if their server continues to exist. The best course of action for me was to cut all ties with Camila and Glitchtale.

NyxTheShield (now my husband) and I have endured too much from our treatment by Camila. We no longer want to be associated with her or Glitchtale. It's a chapter of our lives that we wish to close. It's time for us to focus on recovering our mental health, as remaining silent is only prolonging our pain. We have been working to improve our mental and physical health over the past few years and this is a crucial part of our healing process.

[autumnmobile12]

7 Ways to Introduce the Villain.

1. The Shadow

A lot of series go with the classic 'ominous shadowy figure in the background.' Here's Silco in Arcane. Sinister voice, sinister dude, sinister intent. Boom, you have your villain.

2. The Slow Reveal

Other variations of the 'shadowy figure' in which the series draws out the reveal of the villain. Avatar: The Last Airbender doesn't reveal the Firelord until the final season, but his presence is felt throughout the series. He's always this looming threat whose will is carried out by his underlings. (General Zhao, Azula, etc.)

3. The Fabulous Entrance!

Okay, so we do hear Ragyo on the phone a couple times before they actually show her face, but goddamn, this entrance. It is impressive and terrifying and, it perfectly suits the utter psycho that she is.

There is no normal expression this woman makes when she's 'happy.' She's always smug or angry or annoyed, but this face with her staring, manic eyes and smile still haunts me. Send help.

4. The Sudden Entrance

Shigaraki kinda comes out of nowhere in My Hero Academia. For the first few episodes, its all lighthearted and fun and dealing with Bakugo's BS and then the class heads off on a field trip and suddenly,

"Oh, shit! Plot is happening!"

This series started off with kids learning to be heroes, and now its tragedy and social upheaval and people's lives are in danger.

5. The Incognito Entrance

This is when some random nonthreatening dude/lady just kinda sidles into the plot the be the butt of a joke and later turns out to have been one of the villains.

This scene was so weird. Tyki is just minding his own business, scamming people at cards. Then Allen and Lavi show up looking for their friend (the guy currently being scammed), and even though he recognizes them as exorcists and his enemies, Tyki has to sit there and play it off like he doesn't know jack cause if he does anything, he's gonna blow his cover in front of his human buddies. And then he suffers the indignation of being stripped in a poker game in broad daylight because the main protagonist is absolutely evil with a card deck. And then he just walks away from this like it's a totally normal thing, not even really taking vengeance for it. (He went after Allen, sure, but that was more of a job than any personal vendetta.) He's not the main villain, but I couldn't resist pointing out how bizarre this is.

For those who haven't seen D. Gray Man, the guy in the center is one of the main antagonists, and though this is technically the second time you see him, the first encounter was so short it was practically a cameo and he was a Victorian-era, Dorian Gray dandy gentleman, not this hobo riding a train.

6. The Traitor

Since the Undertaker was more of a neutral party in Black Butler, I don't think he really counts as a traitor. Still, I don't think too many of us were suspecting the morbid jokester Grim Reaper was going to turn out to be a major antagonist later on.

7. The Protagonist

And sometimes the protagonist is the villain!

[amnesique]

do you write smut? if you do, can you write the scene in episode 1(i think?) where belly tells conrad to quit smoking and he says "what will you give me if i do" but that it leads to smut?

and can you do it with x reader instead of belly if possible please, thank you so much :)

what'll you give me if i do? — conrad fisher

warnings: SMUT (18+, MINORS DNI!), dirty talk, fingering, protected sex, p in v.

there was a wave of fog that enveloped every girl that stood around conrad fisher, as if it was encouraging them to pluck up the courage to pass through it to try to understand what was happening to the boy, besides the silence that surrounded him wherever he was. and yet, none of them seemed to succeed. at least, not yet.

the fisher boy was sitting in the back yard, by the pool, with his feet in the water as he was lazily smoking a cigarette. something you saw him doing more and more that summer, even though that summer had just started.

being belly's cousin, the daughter of his mother's best friend, it wasn't out of the ordinary for you to spend the summer with them, although the fact that you jumped into the pool, as if was out of nowhere, caught him a little off guard.

he was staring fixedly with a cigarette in hand at the place where you had plunged into the water.

“sorry,” you murmured to him after getting out of the water, not before flipping your already damp hair back. "i haven't seen you here," you added, trying to adjust your vision, because of the water on your face.

"no problem," he replied dryly, taking another drag from his cigarette.

typical conrad fisher, you thought, as you suddenly just then noticed the fact that he was smoking, after your gaze had adjusted enough.

"since when do you smoke?” you asked him in a tone that was meant to be accusing, but it only ended up making conrad smile at the corner of his mouth, immediately after blowing the cigarette steam into the dark night sky.

"don't tell me you care," he said, running his tongue across the front of his teeth, accentuating his smile from before.

he took another drag from his cigarette, his gaze locked on you as he did so.

you didn't know what to answer.

you didn't care, did you?

but your mouth got you ahead of you and you found yourself telling him "i think you should quit."

"what'll you give me if i do?"

you didn't know what had made you stop breathing in the first place, his words or the way he let the smoke leave as he continued to have a smile on his face, this time actually looking more of a grin than a smile.

conrad knew that smoking can be attractive to certain girls, even for you —despite the fact that you had just suggested that he quit—, and he took full advantage of it.

acting on the spur of the moment, you swam the remaining distance between you and rose to the surface in just a few seconds. you put your arms on either side of his body, leaning on the edge of the pool for balance, and you suddenly connected your lips with his while he put out the cigarette.

he quickly took the opportunity to wrap his free arm around your waist to help keep you afloat, as he rushed to deepen the kiss the moment your lips parted slightly over his when you felt his touch on your wet skin, ignoring the presence of your bathing suit.

he was so good at kissing you that you were so damn grateful for his arm holding you. because if it hadn't been there, then you would surely have drowned already if you had to support yourself alone.

a faint sound left your lips as, using his hand around your waist, he pulled you all the way over his lap, lifting you out of the pool. a sound that he would've liked to hear endlessly.

only, being the wrong people at the wrong time, jeremiah and steven showed up outside the house, making a lot of noise before they noticed you, and you immediately pulled away from conrad, leaving him yearning for having you again in his lap.

you were preoccupied with looking at each other, both mentally cursing the two of them —conrad more than you—, that you didn't even realize what they were talking about. not until steven addressed conrad specifically, "come on, man, we're leaving," he said with excitement visible all over his face and conrad struggled to look away from you to look at him. "you ready?"

you weren't aware of what it was about, but it didn't matter either, because conrad was quick to turn him down. "actually, change of plan, man, i can't come tonight."

both steven and jeremiah looked at him confused.

steven raised an eyebrow. "how? why?" he asked.

conrad fisher was not a man of many words, so he just shrugged and said, "something else came up."

jeremiah and steven exchanged glances, not knowing whether to believe him or not, but neither of them would've thought that the thing that came up was actually someone and you were right in front of them. eventually they gave up and left the backyard, leaving you alone with conrad again and with a tension between you which could not be overlooked, the desire still being on both sides.

"soo," you lengthened the letter because you didn't know what to say, "good night, i think," you added and you wanted to leave, but he grabbed your hand and when you looked at him, you couldn't take your eyes off his gaze and the way you could see he was longing for you.

"good night?" he used a tone to tease you and a grin appeared at the corner of his mouth. "it would be a good night if you continued what you started."

"what?"

your cheeks flushed and you stared at him like a deer in the headlights.

oh, your naivety.

it attracted him even more that even though you were perfectly aware of what you had started, you were unaware of the effect you were having on him.

he pulled your hand so that your legs were around his lap again, placing his hands on your back, lightly forming circles on it with his long fingers, and his lips on your neck. when you felt his lips on your neck, you involuntarily arched your back and moved against his growing erection, having him gasping to try and keep his control.

"don't move," he warned you, his mouth now close to your ear as he lowered his hands to your waist to stop you.

but the area where you needed him was starting to throb and yearn for his touch, forgetting about the layers of clothing that would separate you both from making skin to skin contact.

you tried to tell him that, but instead you made a soft sound, almost like a whimper, and he couldn't resist the temptation anymore and pressed his lips to yours, kissing them as if hungrily as if he had been waiting for this moment for a long time.

and so it was.

only he knew how often it became painful to see you in a short dress or a bathing suit, making him think about how you would look without any clothing item.

during the kiss, you started to rub against him again taking advantage of his carelessness and when your pulsing core made contact with his length, your lips parted and you sent a soft moan into his mouth, right before his tongue entered your mouth and entwined with yours in a dance of desire.

you continued the kiss for several seconds, conrad completely dominating you while you tried to keep up with him.

you broke the kiss, leaning back just as you could breath and whispered under heavy breath, "we shouldn't be doing this."

"why?" conrad asked you, breathing just as hard, running his finger over your bottom lip.

"anyone can see us here," you said and you weren't phased that you saw another grin appear on his face.

"let that be our last problem,” he replied and lifted you off of him, taking you over his shoulder and covering your bottom with his hand as he slipped through the back door to go up to his room, without you two bumping into the belly or even worse, into one of the mothers.

you reached his room and he put you down, with your back to the door, as soon as he made sure he locked it, and the way he looked at you made your thighs squeeze around nothing.

"i think you should ditch the swimsuit, love, or you'll catch a cold."

you swallowed hard, looking at him as he measured you from head to toe, and you couldn't go on even though you wanted it more than anything.

he noticed your avoidance and moved closer to you, playing with the strap of your swimsuit, his breath blowing lightly heat against your skin. he couldn't be more wrong than that. there was no way you could catch a cold, even though your bathing suit was indeed still wet, when your whole body was on fire for him.

"do you want me to help you?" he whispered, brushing your hair aside with his free hand so he could see your neck.

with your breath caught in your throat, you nodded your approval and his hand lifted your chin with two fingers, bringing your lips to his.

"with words, love."

you snapped out of your trance, muttering an "yes", just to urge him on.

his hands slowly went down one strap at a time, taking his sweet time to look at your chest as it was right under his nose, and he couldn't control himself and grabbed both of your breasts with his hands, gently massaging them, drawing a weak moan from you. he ran his tongue over one of them, continuing to caress the other as he removed the entire bathing suit from your body and moved down, wanting to run his mouth over your body, but you stopped him, instinctively grabbing him by the hair to get his attention, and he could've sworn he was almost ready to finish in his pants, right then and there.

"aren't your clothes also wet after the moment before?" you asked, and he gave you a knowing smile.

he pulled away from you, the smile still playing on his lips, and he removed one item of clothing one at a time, earning a sigh from you each time. you liked what you saw.

he was only in his boxers and started to come towards you, but you put your hand on his chest, stopping him. “not fair,” you said and looked at him seriously, so he chuckled in a low tone and took them off as well, leaving you both completely naked in the moonlight that filtered through the blinds of the bedroom window.

plucking up some courage and trying not to think about how big he was, you pulled his neck towards you and you kissed him, as he pushed you back towards the bed until you fell on it. he leaned over you, continuing the kiss and helping you get comfortable between his pillows.

"are you sure?" he asked and you agreed. he moved his hand down between you and when he reached your opening he felt how wet you were and he smirked against your lips. "all this for me?" he asked teasing you but inserted a finger of his inside you, making you open your mouth slightly. "shh, love," he cooed, and kissed you briefly, earning your moans as he inserted another finger and and he curled them just right so he can touch the place that made you lose yourself under him. "we wouldn't want anyone to hear us, would we?" he continued and asked you between short kisses,

you wanted to tell him you were close, your breathing becoming alert as you followed your release. but he already knew that by the way you squeezed his fingers inside you, so he suddenly withdrew, at which point you whimpered and felt your body begin to calm down, though you still felt the desire pulsing at your core.

"i won't let you finish until you finish when i'm inside you," he assured you and reached to grab a condom from the bedside drawer and open it with his teeth as he roll it on.

you moaned in anticipation, involuntarily clenching your thighs, but he pulled them apart, making a sound of disapproval and positioning himself at your entrance. "i hope you haven't changed your mind because i don't think i can back down now,” he said, tucking a strand of hair, that sticks to your face because of the moisture on it, behind your ear as he watched you while standing on his elbows at the either side of your body. and when he met your gaze, you placed your hands on his cheeks, kissing him and pulling him back down over you, giving him the answer.

he put it inside you, waiting a bit until you squeezed his hand to continue as you both moaned at the contact, and he picked up the speed.

"you feel so fucking good," he said and your moans had become his new favorite sound, he could have listened to you all day and all evening and he would not have had enough.

he was nearing his finish, and he couldn't resist anymore, so his movements became sloppier and faster, as he lowered his hand to massage your clit in small circles to help you both finish at the same time.

the only sounds in the room were your hurried, strangled breaths, and the sounds of wetness as his body pounded inside you, until the released washed up over you both, and he fell on your chest.

"it was amazing. worth quiting smoking for," he said unexpectedly from the euphoric high he was feeling, —more euphoric than the feeling he got from smoking—, and you giggled under him, hiding your face with a hand as the other one hugged his body softly.

[skamenglishsubs]

Subtext and Culture, Young Royals, Season 3, Episode 2

Episode 2 starts days or maybe a week after episode 1. The curfews and phone ban is in place, so Wilhelm and Simon make the most of their one hour of phone sex talking.

Blink and you miss it: Wilhelm snapped a quick instant picture of himself and Simon at the palace in the last episode, using the camera we saw on his desk. The heart is still on his hand, so maybe it's the next day, or maybe he's been filling it in every day.

Cinematography: Intense red light typically symbolizes their mutual love, and this scene is overflowing with it.

Lost in translation: They both finish the phone call with "puss", which means kiss, but not exactly. It's more platonic, something you can say and do with your parents, or your kids, or end phone calls with. The other word for kiss, "kyss", is more romantic/sexual, and would be super weird to end a phone call with. Simon is using that word when he says he would kiss Wilhelm's collar bone birth mark.

Subtext: Of course Vincent doesn't believe anyone was bullied. He's the biggest bully, but what he does is just a joke, or the other guy deserved it. This is gonna be a recurring theme™ in this episode, how various characters look back on and remember, or choose not to remember, what happened to them.

Subtext: If you didn't pick up this meaningful glance, you're blind. The initiation porno was totally real, and Nils and August clearly remember it, and weren't as flippant about it as Vincent.

Culture: In Sweden, inner city schools are typically better and have richer students than the poorer schools out in the suburbs. This is the exact opposite of the typical US school demographical pattern.

Subtext: Wilhelm avoids Farima's question by evading it. Note that it does make sense that she doesn't know what's going on at these schools since she's an employee, she's not upper-class herself. Wilhelm's parents know though since they attended Hillerska, but they would of course never admit it either.

Culture: Ironically, this is exactly how the real-world Danish royal family handled the Herlufsholm scandal in 2022 involving prince Christian. Only when the media storm in Denmark got too intense did they pull him out of the school, while furiously denying knowledge of the abuse or that he was involved in any way.

Cinematography: We're in the cursed music room, but the light is soft and golden, and the scene is just cute. No fight this time.

Subtext: We're touching the theme™ again, but from Simon's perspective. He has the same outsider perspective we have; speaking up about abuse is always good, and if the school's closing because of it, that's an obviously good thing. There's plenty of scenes in this episode showing that most Hillerska students don't share this perspective, they really love their school, as fucked up as it is.

Subtext: Although it sounds like a rehearsed PR line and Felice is thinking about her girl group here, it's gonna come true for her and Sara.

Subtext: Yuck. No further comment.

Cinematography: The immediate cut to Felice getting her aggressions out in gym class shows us exactly what she thought of what the principal said and how much it pissed her off.

Blink and you miss it: Simon audibly sniffs Wilhelm's hair.

Blink and you miss it: Micke made dinner for both of them, but in her depression, Sara ignores the cooked food (Pyttipanna, btw), and makes herself a cucumber sandwich instead.

Subtext: Micke is a man on a mission, and he is constantly steering the conversation towards helping Sara get her driver's license. For him, it's a way to make up for having been a shitty parent.

Culture: Sweden has long been a holdout of stick-shift cars, and if you don't do your practical test in a stick-shift, you'll get a restricted license, so it's not out of the ordinary for Micke to be teaching Sara how to drive one. However, automatics have seen a sharp rise in the last decade, and in 2024 automatics will finally overtake them.

Culture: The green ÖVNINGSKÖRNING sign is compulsory in Sweden if a car is being driven by someone on a learner's permit, with a parent or friend as the instructor. There's also a red version of the sign, which indicates it's a student driver with a professional instructor in a dual control car.

Cinematography: The room is filled to the brim with things to do, there's a bazillion board games, they have books, magazines, fidget thingies, they're drowning in stuff, and yet the girls are still soooooo boooored just because they don't have their phones. Except Madison, who is knitting.

Subtext: Here comes the theme™ again, and Fredrika is firmly in camp denial. Everyone else is just lying and exaggerating! The wheels are starting to turn in Felice's head though.

Subtext: Nils and August are finally talking about the initiation without Vincent being present, and they can finally be honest about what they actually thought about it. It happened, they didn't like.

Subtext: Their idea of fixing it however is not to go out publicly and talk about it, but to just quietly stop the tradition, hoping they'll be the last ones. (Since there are no second-year students in the show, we have no idea what happened to them, so we're just gonna ignore that.)

Subtext: And here comes the reason that August wanted to put a stop to it. He was completely humiliated by it, and he doesn't want anyone else to know that he was humiliated, because that just makes it worse. This is also the reason that traditions like this keep on going, no-one wants to blow the whistle on it, because everyone was abused, everyone was a victim, it's hard for abuse victims to speak up.

Cinematography: The talk with Nils triggered an anxiety attack for August, and being inside his small room doesn't exactly help. Him going so close to the camera that he almost bumps into it really shows how he feels like the walls are closing in on him.

Culture: This, kids, is a standard Swedish landline telephone jack. For the longest time I thought phone jacks looked like this everywhere, but it turns out that this particular design was only used in Sweden and Iceland(!?!). You won't find these in newer buildings because landlines are pretty much dying out, and if there are phone jacks they'll probably be using the much more common RJ-11 standard.

Culture: This, kids, is an Ericsson Diavox phone. The former government phone monopoly in Sweden, Televerket, only allowed certified and approved phones to be used on the network, and they only approved a very small set of phones, so everyone had pretty much the same phones in their homes. However, in the 1980's the market started getting flooded with "illegal" phones from other countries, so the monopoly simply stopped enforcing the rule, and you could finally, finally, plug in that novelty Garfield phone that you always wanted.

Blink and you miss it: Sara is studying for her driving test, and she's reading about driving in the dark.

Subtext: We're gearing up for the main plotline of the season, dropping more hints that maybe Wilhelm's image of Erik wasn't complete, and what August says sows some seeds of doubt in him.

Subtext: This song is objectively not very good, please don't kill me, but it is very sixteen-year-old-boy-just-singing-from-his-heart, not thinking about the text.

Subtext: Simon isn't wearing anything purple, but just after he posts his song video, he picks up a purple shirt, drops it immediately, and then the camera lingers on it. Colour theory goes brrrrrrrr. He thought about Wilhelm, and then stopped because his music is more important to him or something?

Subtext: Unlike Simon, Wilhelm immediately understands how problematic the text is for him, and how people will interpret it...

Subtext: ...but since he doesn't want to hurt Simon's feelings, he lies about why he thinks the song was a very, very bad idea. And he cushions it by telling Simon that he thinks the song is jätte-jätte-bra. Giant-giant-good.

Subtext: Yes, but also no, and someone from the court really should have given Simon some media training and explained to him why he has to be very careful about what he posts. But it's drama fuel, which is why this disaster is allowed to happen.

Subtext: A nice little throwback to season 1, this is exactly what Erik told Wilhelm in the first episode, about making sure that their public image is carefully curated.

Subtext: That's some on-the-nose foreshadowing there, since Felice is one of the main causes for the school ultimately closing.

Subtext: We're back to the theme™, Fredrika is saying pretty much the same thing as Vincent. It didn't happen, and if it did, it wasn't that bad.

Subtext: However, Felice isn't playing along this time, she's starting to speak up about the issues, and the result is a long, awkward silence, because her friends are not willing to do the same.

Subtext: Wilhelm and the rest of the rich kids are of course all wearing pretty expensive high-end hiking gear, in contrast with Simon who is simply wearing one of his usual hoodies and his usual winter jacket that we've seen before. That's a damn fine jacket from Fjällräven, btw, the same company that makes the weirdly globally popular Kånken backpacks.

Blink and you miss it: Henry is getting dragged for his actually quite reasonable objection to the tent groupings.

Subtext: Felice physically distances herself from her friends, and joins Simon and Wilhelm, in a nice little foreshadowing of the show's ending.

Blink and you miss it: Did you miss the line in last episode where Ayub said they were also gonna go camping at Talludden with their classmates from Marieberg? Well, here they are, because they pitched their tents nearby, and decided to go check out the Hillerska camp. It's not just Rosh and Ayub randomly walking through the woods.

Subtext: In season 2, we learned that Stella has a crush on Fredrika that she thinks is one-sided, but Fredrika sure has some kind of reaction to seeing Stella being close with Rosh. Jealousy, perhaps? Not clear at this point in time.

Subtext: Read the room Fredrika, for fuck's sake. At least Wilhelm has started learning to recognize privilege. The other rich kids probably recognize their privilege, but they're mostly just enjoying how much better they are than the poor regular kids.

Subtext: But Wilhelm's still got a lot more to learn. Yes, technically he is forced to spend his summer studying, and technically it is a kind of work, but the underlying reasons are completely different. If he skips it or fails, nothing bad will happen to him, unlike the Marieberg kids who rely on their summer jobs to have any sort of spending money.

Lost in translation: Wilhelm's dad says that the queen is going to be "sjukskriven", which is more serious than someone deciding on their own to take some time off or to use some sick days. It means that a doctor has evaluated you and decided that you are not fit to work, and that if you're a regular person, you are eligible for sick pay for the foreseeable future.

Cinematography: Yeah, mommy is really sick and Wilhelm is feeling the weight of responsibility, but take a look at that sunrise! It's so pretty! Wilhelm is completely in shadow because trouble whatever, but look at how that light just pops, with the sky and the water and the sun on the trees! Beautiful!

[tocomplainfriend]

SEE!? THEY DON'T CARE!

TW: Rape, SA, Homophobia, Misogyny, Misandry

The specific censored word with "-", it's for my own reasons and comfort. It's not censored up and in tags due to filtering! Sorry if I made mistakes like forgetting of filtering or similar, I haven't used tumblr much before!

THIS IS A R-PE JOKE! THAT'S WHAT I HAVE BEEN FUCKING SAYING! ONE OF MY BIGGEST PROBLEMS WITH EPISODE 4 IS THE FACT OF "we want to write an empowering story about men getting sexually assaulted. Men victim don't get that attentio-" BITCH, YOU MADE MANY R-PE AND SA JOKES ALL THE FUCKING WAY THROUGH HELLUVA AND KNOW HAZBIN! You are the one making fun of scenarios where your male characters get assaulted or r-ped.

HOW TF DO YOU PRETEND TO BE SOOO ABOVE PEOPLE (INCLUDING VICTIMS OF SA AND R-PE) THAT'S EXPRESSED HOW THEY FELT ON THE EXECUTIONS AND WHO WORKED IN EPISODE 4. WHEN YOU YOURSELF MAKE JOKES ABOUT IT????? For some context, Sir Pent is trying to get with Cherri, but always deflects first in case she rejects him. He offers her a drink, but immediately says it's because he'll buy a drink for everyone on the club. Then he asks Cherri if they can have sex- and deflects back (a repetition joke) "Because I'll have sex with everyone here". Then he gets dragged into a room by other people, yelling wait and no! And the door closes as you heard him scream.

Out of context in the screenshot, you might even think it might be a serious scene where something happens to Pentious. BUT NO! IT'S BRUSHED OVER REAL FAST AND PLAYED AS "HAHA SOMETHING BAD HAPPEN TO SIR PENTIOUS AGAIN LMAOO"- it's the punchline.

Then at the end of the episode he gets out asking "Where is Cherri" (who btw is having sex with a random guy).

And please don't say "Well, he asked for it"- you know how you sound. The whole point of the joke is that he is trying to get with Cherri and failing astronomically. The point here is that he really doesn't want to have sex with a bunch of random people, but he has to do it because he is getting dragged into a room. (Again, Pentious is like Moxxie Their joke it's getting trashed and bullied by the world or people around them).

You made a whole episode about dealing with a male character's sexual assault, abuse or r-pe. Saying how much you respect victims, and your episode, it's just perfect about the topic. BlaBlaBla- no, you don't. You made all this jokes since HB season 1. This new joke was episode 6 of HH. You never acknowledge power dynamics, or coercion. You never acknowledge anything bad in your show.

Remember, as much as this shows go for LGBTQ+ representation and Queer media. As a ""Female lead show"". This jokes link back (not only to making fun of SA and R-pe itself, but to) homophobia and Misogyny. A scenario of where a man gets SA'ed or r-ped by another man or woman- leads to a scenario where the character is made fun of for not being "masculine enough" for being a victim or for not being able to defend themselves. In a scenario where this happens by a man to man, "It's funny because the victim is viewed as gay. As less masculine = gay and that's bad cause gay = weak and feminine and the idea of feminine = weak".

(There are a few jokes here and there, like Blitzo touching Moxxie's dick after making fun of him for having a baby penis.)

If you didn't notice, Moxxie gets attacked by multiple succubus, and that's apparently funny. KEEP IN MIND is not basic physical violence-no he comes out with lipstick kisses marks, the sounds effects are (ugh)... and Blitz tells him "Don't let them access any of your holes". In other concepts, I want to point out that the times when Moxxie is viewed as a bottom or feminine- he is made fun of. When Millie pegs him, he is made fun of because he is the man of the relationship, being implied as the bottom. When he wears the outfit of unhappy campers, he is extra objectified or made fun of even more than in any other episodes. He is also forcefully put on a dress in his wedding.

He is made fun of for being SA'ed for being uncomfortable scenarios:

These aren't jokes made by characters that "are bad because they are from hell". These are scripted jokes written by a person searching for the audience to laugh.

AND the reason why many audiences accept this jokes or even find them funny is because of some of these views (internalized or not) above. You'll also notice how all these jokes are directed at men (if you find an R-pe or SA joke directed at a woman in this two show, say something about it! POINT IT OUT!). People accept and write these jokes more because they care less about the idea of a man being a victim of such situation. More often than not- in the present, a woman getting assaulted or anything similar in any media gets noticed and called out. THESE JOKES OR THE NORMALIZATION OF SEXUAL HARASSMENT, ASSAULT, COERCION, OR SIMILAR TOWARDS WOMAN STILL HAPPENS!!!! There is an idea that men just tend to just want sex all times at any time. -And that a man getting SA'ed or r-ped by a woman it's just sex, cause "Why wouldn't you like free pussy". When it's a gay perpetrator is viewed as funny cause "that makes you gay or a woman" and that's apparently hilarious. Men can be r-ped no matter what. Men can be targets of all of these acts.

Remember that all the scenes of sexual abuse, harassment and r-pe in Poison are directed by the R2. Who, once again, is into r-pe porn- and they themselves said they are not an SA victim either. So remember, not even a victim trying to cope with their own R-pe or SA. This person draws and ships "R-pe ships", and tags it as "naughty men uwu" bullshit. Also, a person so obsessed with the character of Angel that they changed their name to Tony (Angel's real human name), make themselves look like him, and become a sex worker like Angel. They themselves looked at a comic of Val threatening r-pe and abuse on Angel as "thank good you have balls to draw something mean with these too, I was so bored" ???? (this stuff is in:) and cosplay and take photos of your Val x Angel ship

Congrats if you as a victim yourself thought that the scene with Angel was good. If it helped you be and feel seen. But remember the rest of the show, the hypocritical writers, don't care enough to view it as a serious topic to not joke about. Both HB and HH written by the same people (as in Vivziepop), take their sweet time to turn these topics into jokes.

What pisses off more, it's the trying to make yourself be viewed as a sensitive person about such topic. Make it seem like you are a savior for writing about it in such "serious, powerful and not sugar coded" way. But then you drop that on the fucking ground to make a joke about it when you are tired of pretending you are so good. If you were so informed of SA and r-pe, you wouldn't be making these jokes. If you knew how much SA male victims struggle to get viewed as serious or their stories taken into account-you wouldn't be this shitty.

God, you are so proud of the joke too.

My poor snake guy... one of the few characters that I like-

[destinysbounty]

There's a scene in the first episode of season 1 suggesting that as of the start of canon, the Serpentine have faded into nothing more than myth. Naturally, this has led a lot of the fandom to question how this could be possible since the Serpentine War only happened ~40-50 years ago. There are plenty of still-living people in Ninjago who were present for this war - hell, even Ed and Edna were probably alive during the war. How could the existence of the Serpentine, a race that has been around and at conflict with the humans for over a thousand years, suddenly blink out of public awareness in just 40 years?

After some consideration, I think I've come to a pretty simple answer, if you'll indulge me as I overanalyze the silly lego show once again.

In order to understand the situation, let's take a look at the scene in question one more time.

The key thing to note here is that out of the four, Kai is the only one who doubts the existence of the Serpentine. Jay, Cole, and Zane all treat the subject with a heavy amount of importance and trepidation (and a bit of fear). Zane even explicitly insists that they're real. In fact, correct me if I'm wrong but Kai is perhaps the only character in the entire show that we've seen expressing this kind of doubt about the Serpentine.

In my opinion, this means the Serpentine aren't just a myth and are instead a known part of Ninjago's history, and the belief that the Serpentine are a myth is a belief exclusive to Kai and Kai alone. Which...honestly feels pretty in-character for him, ngl.

(Why, then, are the Serpentine taught in schools but the ninja all somehow didn't know about the existence of other elemental masters? Great question! Unfortunately I cannot explain that without going on a long and rambling dissertation-length essay, and I don't have the brainpower to write all that. Long story short? Ninjago's education system is in fucking SHAMBLES and we shouldn't be surprised about any gaps in anyone's knowledge.)

[canonizzyhours]

I'm a professional screenwriter. I know nobody reading this has any reason to believe that, and I work pretty hard to keep my fandom activity separate from my professional identity, so I'm not going to offer any proof that would doxx me here, believe me or don't. But it's true and I don't just mean I'm trying to get hired as a screenwriter, I mean I am pretty well established in the industry and I've worked on some stuff big enough you've probably heard of it. I've also been active in OFMD fandom for about two years now, since nearly the beginning.

The canyon really freaks me out because seeing it up close makes me worried I've drastically underestimated audiences' empathy gap around characters of color and tendency to sympathize with and excuse the actions of white characters. I've always tried to be conscious about that sort of thing in my work but now that I'm seeing the whole process up close it's so much worse than I always thought.

I think a lot about what I would have done during season 1 of OFMD, if I were in the writers' room and I'd wanted to make sure it would be clear to the audience that Izzy was Ed's abuser and wasn't acting out of secretly sympathetic motives and we're supposed to be genuinely horrified by his actions. I'm in writers' rooms workshopping issues like this all the time. I know the kinds of suggestions I'd make.

Like, if we were worried that the audience would think Izzy's hostility toward Stede was about class instead of homophobia, I might have suggested we make sure Izzy's dialogue never has any reference to Stede's class at all, and that we might do a subplot in one episode where Izzy is equally hostile toward Lucius, since Lucius clearly isn't rich but is extremely gay. But that already happened, and it didn't help.

If I wanted to make sure the audience understood that Izzy is bossing the crew around and screaming at everyone to work harder because he's a petty little bully on a power trip and not because the work actually needs to get done, I might have suggested a scene where Izzy deliberately makes a mess on purpose just so he can order the crew to clean it up. But that already happened, and it didn't help.

If I wanted to make it clear that Izzy has always been awful toward everyone around him -- especially his colleagues of color -- since long before the show started, I might have suggested we repeatedly emphasize throughout the season that while Fang is willing to work with him, he doesn't like or respect Izzy and this is because Izzy has always treated Fang very badly. Have him pull on Fang's beard for no reason and have Fang explicitly say he hates that but knows it wouldn't help to complain. Have Fang tell strangers jokes about times Izzy humiliated himself in public. Have a scene where everybody unanimously VOTES TO MURDER IZZY and someone explicitly stops to ask Fang if he's cool with this and Fang explicitly says yes this is absolutely fine with me and then he actively participates in the murder plan while smiling. But all of that happened and I still see the canyon insisting that Izzy was a much nicer person before the events of s2 when he wasn't under so much stress and has always been liked and respected by the PoC around him, including specifically Fang!

If I were worried that the audience might take seriously the idea that Izzy is motivated by "loyalty to your captain" -- well, honestly I don't think it ever would have occurred to me to worry about that, since he says that in a scene where he's in the middle betraying his captain and I'd probably assume people are capable of picking that up and understanding that when someone says they're abusing you for your own good you should not believe them. But if someone else insisted we address the concern, suggestions I'd make would include: make sure some of the first interactions we see between Ed and Izzy involve Izzy complaining about how he doesn't want to do the job Ed just gave him, then half-assing the mission and lying to Ed's face about it. Show Izzy deliberately undermining Ed to the crew by telling them he's half-insane, then insist to Ed that he's the only one keeping the crew loyal when they're worried about his judgment. But they did that stuff and we still have people thinking Izzy's central motivation throughout season 1 is selfless devotion to Ed.

The show did every single thing I would have suggested, and none of it worked. So what does it say about all the stuff I've already worked on, whenever I've written a scene where a white guy was being a dick to characters of color? Have I just been embarrassingly naive this whole time? Have I undermined my own work by not getting this?

You can't control audience reactions, I know that, that's part of what's great about art, you have to let go and accept that people will interpret things in ways you never intended, I get it. But if it's THIS impossible to choose words that will create the kind of feelings you meant to, what's the point? Is it even possible to write about the kind of abusive relationship Ed and Izzy have, where the white guy thinks he's entitled to control a brown man's life "for his own good" and that the brown guy is obligated to be grateful and reciprocate his "love" and not have a huge group of people creating elaborate justifications for the white guy? What else could they have done? What else can I do, when I'm writing about characters of color? I'm seriously asking. If anybody reading this has advice I want to hear it. What could I do?

#408.

[hysterotic]

✩ 𝑺𝑻𝑨𝑹𝑹𝑰𝑵𝑮 𝑻𝑶𝑲𝒀𝑶 𝑹𝑬𝑽𝑬𝑵𝑮𝑬𝑹𝑺 𝑿 𝑭𝑬𝑴!𝑹𝑬𝑨𝑫𝑬𝑹

𝑮𝑬𝑵𝑹𝑬 : horror erotica, campy/corny, comedy.

⚠︎ : vulgar language, drugs and alcohol, cabin party, lots and lots of sexual tension, get referred to as “new girl” a lot, cute little scene with kazutora, minor stalking, fluff, super corny, nothing bad happens, i took this chapter idea from bodies bodies bodies.

<3 𝑰𝑵𝑻𝑬𝑹𝑬𝑺𝑻 𝑰𝑵 𝑻𝑯𝑰𝑺 𝑪𝑯𝑨𝑷𝑻𝑬𝑹 : baji keisuke, hanma shuji, kazutora hanemiya, tiny bit of mitsuya takashi.

𝑩𝑨𝑪𝑲 𝑻𝑶 𝑪𝑨𝑴𝑷 (𝑴𝑨𝑺𝑻𝑬𝑹𝑳𝑰𝑺𝑻) | 𝑻𝑨𝑮𝑳𝑰𝑺𝑻 | 𝑨𝑪𝑻 𝑰𝑰

it was late october, halloween weekend to be exact. the night was cold and breezy but hopefully nothing that could stop you from wearing something skimpy to the trip—something emma would definitely suggest.

“ugh, not a single mini skirt in sight.. what are you, a nun?” emma teases as she rummages through your black hearteyed-skull print duffle bag. ignoring her, you continue to search your closet for the swimsuit you specifically bought for occasions like this that’s been collecting dust in your closet for months.

you pull out another swimsuit you had forgotten about, still cute nonetheless. turning to face her, before you can ask for her opinion, you notice emma’s new hair-do, almost dropping the swimsuits. “oh my god, you did your curls..”

she shakes her hair side to side making her curls bounce, “super cute no?”

“i can’t believe it..” you say, marveling at how gorgeous her curls look compared to her usual straightened hair.

“but super cute right? hurry up with the super cute ‘cause i’m getting insecure now.”

“no, no! it looks amazing. draken’s gonna lose it.”

she playfully twirls a curl around her finger. “i know.”

“okay, but which one? this black two piece or this red one with the skirt? don’t choose the black cause it’s sluttier.”

emma glares at you before grabbing the black two-piece and shoving it into your bag. “you’ll thank me for making you wear this, and if you’re lucky with keisuke… you might end up getting out of it.”

of course she would bring that up and feed into the little 1 week crush you had with keisuke baji, yeah he’s hot, whatever, but you never met him or seen him anywhere besides the only 3 photos she’s shown you, all you know about him is that he’s a scorpio. lately she wouldn’t stop bringing him up, especially since he’s coming to this trip.

you groan at the thought of emma treating this trip like it’s an episode of a dating show, “if you treat this trip like a setup. emma, i swear to god.” you sit down on your bed, watching emma going back and forth between your bag and your closet.

“i’m not pushing! calm down.. but we’re packing this.” she starts throwing clothes around as if she’s looking for something specific, pulling out the tiniest black skirt you own, “i bought this for you, how come i’ve never seen you wear it?”

“i just.. never got the chance” you lied.

“well now you do, which means there won’t be room for these.” she then heads toward the chair where your duffle bag is, throwing out your clothes with a thick-material without checking what it is, including your underwears that aren’t thongs.

she turns to you, holding your average looking underwear strap with a finger, “seriously? what’s the point in wearing underwear if your not gonna show it off.” she tugs on her baby blue thong straps that are sticking out of her low waisted jeans, making it snap on her hips. she then walks towards your closet and starts going though it again.

you stand up to put your clothes back in your bag. “just cause you’re gonna be wearing skimpy clothes this weekend doesn’t mean i should too.”

“uh, yes, you should,” she says matter-of-factly, her voice slightly muffled as she is nose-deep in your closet. “that’s like rule number one of girl code.”

“says who?” you respond, organizing your bag enough to fit more clothes, not realizing that someone is looming behind you to scare you, preparing to pull a prank.

“says me,” a muffled voice speaks from behind. you roll your eyes and turn around, expecting to see emma. Instead, you come face-to-face with a man wearing a ghostface mask.

you yelp in horror, stumbling backward and falling into a chair, which tips over. he scoffs in surprise, pulling the ghostface mask off, “shit, didn’t expect a reaction like that,” mikey says, sticking a hand out to help you up, clearly holding in a laugh. “thought I was the real thing?”

you glare at him and stand up on your own, pulling the chair and your bag up from the floor. “thought you were emma, actually.”

“emma? i sound like a girl to you?” his voice drops an octave, trying to sound more intimidating but really just coming off as overly dramatic.

emma, not realizing what just happened or who walked in, throws a thong your way for you to pack, which lands on mikey’s head. he turns to face where it came from and sees the thong string dangling in front of his eyes. he hums questioningly as he grabs it and starts to examine it.

you snatch it out of his hand and quickly shove it into your bag. “you shouldn’t joke around about this when he’s still active.” you grab the mask out of his hand and throw it on your bed, where it lands on top of a plushie, making it look like the toy is wearing it.

“you should get that stick out of your ass before we leave.” mikey points at you as he approaches your bed, picking up the plushie and removing the mask from its head.

“mikey, I’m serious!”

“oh, she’s serious. did you know that she’s serious?” he talks to the plushie, pointing a finger at you for emphasis.

“manjiro, give her back,” you deadpan.

“oh, it’s a her? huh… you mind?” he starts to playfully makeout with the plushie, clearly trying to piss you off even more.

“seriously, mikey, grow up!” you say, exasperated as you reach for the plushie, he holds it out of your reach.

emma finally looks over with a bunch of thongs and outfits in hand, noticing the commotion, “what’s going on here?”

“mikey’s being a jackass,” you say, crossing your arms.

“oh, nothing new then,” emma replies, she walks over and takes the plushie from mikey, throwing it back on your bed, “come on, we have to finish packing” she shoves the clothes on your chest, “once again, you’re gonna thank me.” you push it down your bag before mikey gets nosy again.

“thank her for what?” you hear a voice behind you say, from emma’s excited reaction and how her eyes sparkled at his sight, you take a good guess on who it is. you turn around, proving yourself right.

emma jumps into his arms, hugging him as if she hadn’t seen him a couple hours ago before coming here, she lets him go, standing still to let him admire her new curls. he furrows his brows in amusement as she runs her hand down his chest.

“hey, kinda seein’ this chick, she looks just like you, but with straight hair. i was thinking, y’know.. maybe we could-“

“you think i sound like a girl, ken?” mikey interrupts, standing in between the two wearing the ghostface mask.

draken clicks his tongue in irritation at mikey, not even looking at him. “you’re about to,” he mutters threateningly, his eyes rolling over to you. he looks down, noticing that you aren’t wearing any pants, sitting there in your lace lavender panties. “that’s what you’re wearing to our trip?” he says sarcastically, mikey following his gaze as well.

confused, you look down and realize that you are, in fact, not wearing any pants. “oh my god, get out! both of you!” you start to push draken and mikey out of the room, closing the door behind them.

through the door, you hear draken’s voice. “alright, but wrap it up quick, we gotta leave in a couple.”

emma snorts. “real smooth. now c’mon!” she shoves a couple more outfits she picked down your bag, winking at you. she finally grabs her bags and walks out of your room.

you quickly put on dark jean shorts with bedazzled back pockets in the shape of skulls, you slip your shoes on, zip your bag closed, and carry it on your shoulder. finally, you walk out of the house, finding them on the sidewalk, putting the bags in the van.

he places the 2nd bag emma packed in the far back of the van. “y’know, emma, it’s only a week, not an evacuation.”

she clings to his arm with a wide smile. “trust me when i say that there’s nothing in those cases you won’t be glad I brought.”

draken smirks at the thought as he picks up the 3rd one, “i’m shuttin’ right up.”

mikey grabs your bag off of your shoulder as he places it next to the rest. “that all?”

“yeah, i hope so,” you reply as you crawl into the van.

mikey hops in the passenger seat, emma crawls in the back. and draken finally finishes strapping up the bikes on the back of the van and gets in the driver’s seat last. the car finally pulls away from the spot, driving off towards the destination with a map in hand.

“there is a scourge in our society, my brothers and sisters, the evil that is heavy metal rock music is resolute, steadfast, and unwavering in its goal to corrupt our children’s souls.” the pastor’s eerie voice crackles through the old static-filled vintage tv behind the gas station register. the voice of the pastor is slow and deliberate as the white haired cashier sits back and nods at the screen.

you walk around the store with a strawberry-flavored sour lollipop in your mouth, your eyes glued to the newspaper shelves all the way in the back. you stride towards them, grabbing the first one you see. the headline reads, “teens slain for satanic rituals on a forest campsite.”

you continue to read about the headline, seeing the photos of symbols that were carved into their flesh, the evidence of the dark rituals that were placed in the camp, the stories about the camp being haunted and how it haunts. the more you read the more your stomach churns, then a terrifying detail lands in your eyes: it’s the exact camp location your on your way to, but they changed its name for this fucking reason.

“boo!” emma jumps in front of you, breaking your train of thought, you roll up the newspaper and swat at her. “fuck! you cunt,” you breathe out.

“damn, you’re so tense today,” she says, you furrow your brows, giving her a side-eye.

“ohh, yeah, totally not because we’re gonna be sleeping over at a cabin in the middle of nowhere, surrounded by nothing but trees, with barely any service, while a serial killer is still active. It’s not like this week is a horror movie adaptation waiting to happen,” you reply sarcastically as you stuff the rolled newspaper on your pocket, contemplating if you should tell her about this or not.

emma takes her time to chew on whatever’s in her mouth before responding. “see, thinking like that is just gonna make you paranoid. we’re supposed to have fun! it’s a halloween party, loosen up, maybe mikey was right about that stick in the ass thing.” she mumbles the last part as she grabs a couple of ultra beer bottles and walks over to the register, placing them on the counter.

“you see, these bands, with their shrieking guitars and pounding drums, do not merely entertain; they indoctrinate. they spread messages of rebellion against god, promoting the worship of evil and the destruction of morality. lyrics that speak of death, murder, destruction, and depravity are whispered into the ears of our youth, leading them down a dark path from which there is no return.” says the overdramatic pastor through the old tv.

you roll your eyes at his nonsense blabbering as you grab a couple of snacks and place them on the register counter with emma’s, including the newspaper.

you pull out your lollipop with a pop! sound, “oh, and include whatever’s in her mouth,” you say, pointing at emma with your lollipop as she playfully starts to chew faster with her mouth shut, forcing the old guy to guess. he does nothing but stare at her, as if waiting for her to pull out the empty bag from her back pocket. she rolls her eyes, giving up on the fact that he’s not in the mood to fuck around, and places the empty bag of gushers on the counter.

“ID?” the cashier says with a gruff voice.

she blinks rapidly at him, “seriously?” emma asks. the cashier continues to silently stare at her with a deadpan expression. she turns toward you, and you shrug. “didn’t bring my wallet on this trip.”

“i’m gonna call over draken, wait here.” she walks out toward the gas pump where the rest of the guys are, leaving you alone with the creepy man, listening to the pastor’s gibberish through the tv screen,

“ghostface is not an isolated incident. he is the tragic, inevitable product of a society that has turned its back on the lord and embraced the wickedness of satanic music. parents, i implore you, cast out these demonic influences from your homes! break the CDs, delete the MP3s, and forbid your children from partaking in this unholy noise!” the pastor continues. the creepy cashier’s eyes bore into you so intensely, you kept your eyes on the door, waiting for emma and draken, ignoring the way he’s staring at you as if your who the pastor’s talking about—completely forgetting that you’re wearing a slipknot baby tee.

they finally walk in with mikey trailing behind. he quickly grabs a couple of snacks of his choice, while draken hands the man his ID. “how many packs of beer you got?”

“like two packs?” emma responds.

draken turns around and yells out for mikey. “mikey, grab two more packs of beer!”

mikey heads back to the fridge. emma leans against the counter, drumming her pink stiletto nails on the counter impatiently. the cashier, still watching the TV, mutters something under his breath something about the end times and the corruption of youth.

draken looks at you, raising an eyebrow. “you okay?”

you nod and hum in response, trying to shake off the uneasy feeling that’s been gnawing at you since preparing for this trip, since you read that newspaper headline.

mikey returns with the beer, and the cashier rings up the total, still muttering to himself. as you all head out with bags in your hands. the pastor’s voice on the TV follows you, “heed my warning, close your doors and lock your windows. for the devil walks among us.”

“you’re so lying.” emma speaks with a slight muffle from her applying her pink lip gloss through her baby blue sparkly heart-shaped compact mirror.

“what?” you ask.

she snaps the mirror shut and turns to you, putting her lipgloss wand back in the tube screwing it in, “i said so you’re lying, you’re full of shit.” she says it slowly now, enunciating every word as if she’s talking to someone stupid.

“it’s literally written on a newspaper, how in the hell would i lie about that.”

emma grabs the newspaper and chucks it out of draken’s open window. “that is just something to scare the tourists with.” she starts rummaging through her makeup bag, grabbing a few touch-ups. crawling onto your lap, she hovers over your thighs to fix your makeup. “you’re just looking for excuses to pussy out because of that masked killer.” she opens the charlotte tilbury blush wand, tilts your chin up, and applies it to your cheeks.

you can see draken staring at you through the rearview mirror, noticing his brow furrowing in thought, but he remains silent, gripping the steering wheel tighter.

“those incidents happened ages ago. the paper probably dug up some old story to scare people.” mikey adds as he crosses his arms behind his head, propping his feet on the dashboard.

“i think we should tell her.” draken interjects.

“tell me what?” you reply, your voice slightly muffled as emma puts lip tint on your lips while holding your chin still.

“she doesn’t know that it’s ghostface themed?” mikey blurts out from the passenger’s seat, causing everyone to groan.

you pull back from emma’s touch, frowning. “wait, what do you mean ghostface-themed?”

mikey sighs, sitting up and rubbing the back of his neck. “It’s just a theme the guys thought would be fun, It’s no big deal.”

“not a big deal? you could have told me!” you exclaim, this trip’s is seriously sounding like a horror movie adaption waiting to happen, a lesson on what not to do when a serial killer is fucking active. “is that why you brought your little ghostface mask with you?” you look toward mikey, he attempts to calm you down with a laid-back smile.

“look, we didn’t wanna freak you out. but mikey’s right, it’s just a theme for the halloween party. we’ll be fine.” emma reassures. “if some old ghost story is the worst thing we have to worry about, I’d say we’re doing pretty good.”

“you sayin’ the camp might be haunted?” draken glances at emma. “it is.” you respond instead.

“i’m gettin’ a little freaked out now.” mikey mocks as he clutches draken’s bicep, he quickly shoves mikey from him, “don’t start.”

bikes line the sidewalk as they pull up to the camp, “this it?” draken leans his head down from the driver’s seat to get a better look at the sign.

while distracted he slams into an unknown bike. “shit, whose bike was that?” mikey winces.

“couldn’t recognize it.” draken mumbles as he parks the van, stepping out of it, his eyes scanning the row of bikes, “keisuke, kazutora and matsuno are here, mitsuya, pah-chin and peh-yan, the twins, the rest i dunno.”

you grab your bag and sling it over your shoulder. as you’re about to step out, draken extends his hand to help you and emma out of the van, giving him room to unload it.

“this place is.. something.” you shield your eyes from the sun as you check out the giant knife shaped sign on the entrance of the camp, it reads: “camp terror ridge.”

“i know, right? it’s gonna be killer.” emma bumps her shoulder against yours, a grin spreading across her face.

“guess so.” you twirl, taking in the forest surrounding it.

draken walks over, carrying emma’s bags with ease, his muscles flexing under the weight. “let’s get to the cabins.”

draken leads the way, towering over most of the campers as he carries emma’s bags. you maneuver through the crowd, red solo cups littered the floors that you almost trip over, dodging two shirtless curly haired guys who looked like twins, one with baby blue hair who seemed pissed and the other peach with a cheshire smile on his face, chasing each other.

as you reach the girls’ cabin, draken stops and sets emma’s bags down at the front door. the cabin looks cozy from the outside, with fairy lights hanging from the eaves. you tune out whatever’s draken saying to emma even though it could be important as you look around the camp.

you notice mikey talking to somebody, specifically. keisuke baji, and the two other guys standing next to him, the hot one with a wolf cut, highlighted with yellow-blonde on the top, and the other’s a cute blonde with an undercut.

you watch keisuke leaning against the tree with his arms crossed, his biceps unknowingly flexing. he was even hotter than those blurry photos, you couldn’t get your eyes off his arms until you notice his head cocking to the side, you glance up to him, meeting eyes with whiskey colored ones, fuck, he caught you staring at him. the undercut guy notices baji’s eyes on you and glances at you too.

then suddenly emma grabs your elbow and drags you inside the cabin with her, telling draken that we’ll see them in a couple, keisuke unfortunately disappears from your eyesight.

the floor creaks slightly underfoot. the air inside the cabin is cool and carries a faint scent of pine and aged wood. in the corner of your eyes, you see a row full of ghostface masks hung on the wall right next to the front door, is there seriously one each cabin?

the cabin is modest in size, with ten single beds lined up against the walls, arranged in five rows across each other, leaving a narrow aisle in the center for walking. each one with simple, black blankets and pillows. right next to the beds, there’s a small wooden nightstand with a soft nightlight on each one, looks like your gonna have that on for the night.

“Is that hina?” emma cuts in, pulling your attention towards the occupied bed with peach pink hair sticking out, takemichi, sitting by hina’s bed, suddenly stands up at the sight of you and emma. his face turns red with embarrassment. “I-I’m sorry!” he stammers, clearly ashamed to be caught in the girls’ cabin. “I was just checking on hina. I didn’t mean to intrude.”

you both approach it with emma beating you to it first, she gives him a reassuring smile, “It’s okay, takemichi.” she moves hina’s hair to the side, and touches her forehead. “you okay, hina?” emma whispers.

hina mumbles something incoherent that only emma hears. she turns to you, “she’s caught a cold from the lake,” she says, caressing hina’s hair softly. “hopefully you’ll be good by tomorrow. need me to bring you something hot?”

hina shakes her head, her eyes still closed. “It’s okay, yuzuha brought me soup.”

“yuzuha’s here?” you interject, “yeah, everybody’s here, they’re all at the lake right now.” takemichi replies instead. “okay then, rest up, i already miss you too much for you to be sleeping the whole week away.”

she then looks toward takemichi. “you gonna stay with her?” he immediately nods, sitting down beside hina. “if you guys don’t mind me being here..” he scratches the back of his neck, emma tosses her bag onto one of the beds. “we’d prefer that actually, make sure she eats, okay?” she then turns to you with a grin. “put on your swimsuit! we’re hittin’ the lake!”

you weave through the dense forest with emma following behind, the towering trees casting long shadows. the air is thick with the earthy scent of moss and damp leaves, and the forest floor is a carpet of roots and fallen branches. making you regret leaving without slippers on. sunlight barely filters through, creating an eerie, twilight ambiance even though it’s still sunny.

“are we even going the right way?” emma asks as she glances around, trying to find any sign of the lake.

“i hope so,” you reply, the path seems to twist and turn endlessly, each direction looking almost identical to the last.

the sounds of the forest are all around you: the rustling of leaves, the distant calls of birds, and the occasional snap of a twig underfoot, it sounds peaceful in the mornings but eerie at night. you both continued forward, stepping over tangled roots and ducking under low-hanging branches, a couple scratched your arm but not deep enough for an infection.

“i swear we should have hit the lake by now,” emma mutters, stopping to catch her breath. “did we take a wrong turn?”

just as you’re about to agree, you hear footsteps from behind. you both turn, seeing somebody approaching, a lilac hair with a mullet cut. he lifts a branch out of the way, revealing another guy behind him, a blue haired buzz cut with some sort of spiral design on the side of his head and a scar on his lip, unlike the shirtless one he’s wearing an unbuttoned blue plaid shirt.

“lost your way to the lake?” the guy with the lilac hair questions with a smile, placing his hands on his hips. the one with blue hair hides behind him shyly, though it’s pretty hard to because of his height, his eyes darting between you and emma, careful not to look down at your bathing suits.

emma nods, “yeah, we followed the sign in the camp but the direction is so vague.”

“c’mon, we’re heading there.” he offers, nodding toward the path you and emma were originally heading to.

you and emma exchange a quick glance before deciding to follow them, mitsuya slows down his steps so you can keep up, giving him a chance to take a good look at you, his gaze lingering on you for a second too long, you kept your eyes forward pretending to not notice.

“you’re a new face.” he tilts his head to look at you better, or to put himself in your eyesight. you realize how gorgeous he is upclose, his eyebrow slits throwing you off because of his a soft looking face but it adds up so well, noticing the thick hoop earring with a cross on it on one of his ears, something you’d definitely wear too. just as you were about to introduce yourself, emma cuts in, “she’s my best friend, ken and mikey might’ve mentioned her a couple times.” she nudges you softly, giving you the chance to introduce yourself.

after you told him your name, a slight recognition clicked in his brain, “yeah, heard a thing or two. i’m mitsuya takashi, that one right there’s hakkai shiba, he’s a little shy when it comes to women.” the blue-haired guy remained silent the entire time, occasionally glancing at you and emma but quickly looking away when caught.

a faint sound catches your attention. straining to hear over the rustling of leaves. It’s the distinct sound of water splashing, accompanied by music, sounding like they’re playing “glamorous lifestyle” by the jacka, you all follow it, the music getting louder now.

when you finally reach the lake, you see the rest of the group already there. mitsuya turns to face you again before leaving, “see you ‘round.” definitely seeing him around.

the shoreline is dotted with towels and coolers full of the beer draken got earlier, in the corner of your eye you spot a blonde guy with baby blue highlights, and a tattoo on the right side of his back and chest, beginning from his nape and ending at his foot, you almost mistook him for a merman.

seeing that he’s hanging onto a rope from a tree, his feet kicks out as he swings towards the lake, letting go at the peak of the swing, plunging into the water with a loud splash that unfortunately hit another guy who was sunbathing, with the same tattoo mirrored on the left side of his body, he removes his now wet sunglasses from his eyes to shoot him a glare. he resurfaces, shaking the water from his hair mesmerizingly, so far your eyes are getting very spoiled today.

nearby, a couple of guys are in a rowboat, paddling lazily. suddenly, someone emerges from beneath the water—senju—and pushes the boat down, causing it to tip precariously and the guys to scramble.

you notice yuzuha approaching you both, shielding her eyes from the sun and runs towards you, wrapping her arms around your neck, pulling you into a tight wet hug, indicating that she was swimming before. “you made it!” she squeezes, a couple guys walk past jokingly muttering a “damn what about me.” nevermind, eyes no longer spoiled. yuzuha shoots them a quick glare.

you scan her swimsuit noticing that she’s wearing a sheer top above. wishing that you brought similar with you before walking here. you cross your arms, feeling a little too exposed now, your anxiety grows even more as emma and yuzuha drag you toward the deck, already feeling more eyes on you, “i’m gonna grab a drink, want some?” yuzuha offers, you nod in response, “no alcohol please.” she approaches the cooler, grabbing lemonade cans and pours them on a cup, handing one to you and emma, taking a sip.

“you got stopped by the cops coming here?” draken questions the guys.

“yeah, he was creepy as hell,” says a blonde with an undercut, the same guy who was standing next to keisuke baji, sitting on a donut shaped float. “he went on about making us go to this weird motel before coming here.”

“pretty sure he thought we were some thugs on our way to trash this place or whatever,” the same guy from earlier with yellow-blonde streaks on his hair throws in, swimming closer to the deck, placing his hands up to push himself out of the water. he walks towards the cooler to grab a beer, which happens to be next to you, you step aside, noticing a tiger tattoo on his neck, and a cute mole on the left side of his cheek.

“think he alerted cops patrolling the motel for us?” asks the blonde with an undercut.

“you saying you could’ve gotten ambushed there?” draken questions.

the guy with the undercut shrugs in response.

you finally spot keisuke baji up close now, wearing nothing but black shorts, with lesserof2evils jewelry from head to toe. silver rings glint on his fingers, and a thick cross hangs from his neck, glimmering in the sun. he approaches draken, beer in hand. with a practiced motion, he pops it open with his canines.

“he was real anxious, sweatin’ his ass off when he kept naggin’ us not to go to the camp,” baji says, taking a swig of his beer, his eyes then land on you.

“almost as nervous as the girl.” the guy with the tiger tattoo continues, pointing at you with his beer bottle and crossing his arms, his bottle clinks with baji’s, their eyes roaming over you with a shared thought, “who’s this minx?” the tiger tatted man asks.

their sudden attention makes you feel like a spotlight is on you, a deer in headlights. you instinctively tighten your arms around yourself, trying to make yourself smaller. your presence too acknowledged that it becomes overwhelming until you feel someone wrap their arm around your shoulder.

you turn to see mikey, who loudly introduces you to everyone, gesturing toward each person as he says their name. they either wave or smile at you until he reaches baji, who simply scans you from head to toe and takes a sip of his beer, keeping his hungry looking eyes locked on yours, he can’t be staring like that shirtless right now.

“someone’s thirsty.” emma mumbles, holding a cup up to her mouth to mask her lips.

“anyway, she’s a friend of emma and yuzuha, and mine too. so be nice to her, alright?” mikey’s tone makes you feel like a kid, but his reassuring squeeze on your shoulder helps ease your anxiety a bit, he walks away, unknowingly giving baji a free pass to approach you, his expression more curious than hostile, but his intense gaze makes it hard to tell, god he looks so mean.

“how’d you end up with this lot?” he asks, nodding toward mikey and the others.

“oh, um.. long story,” you reply with a chuckle, squeezing your arms out of nervousness. baji seems to pick up on your discomfort and steps a bit closer, his presence making you feel even smaller.

“got a whole week to hear it.” he says, looming over you.

before you can respond, kazutora jumps in, wrapping his arm around your shoulder. “you scarin’ the new girl already baji?”

he takes another swig of his beer, turning to kazutora, “just curious about the new face.” he says, then turns back to you, his dark brows lowered with attentiveness. “that’s all.”

“right.“ he slides his hand down your arm and grabs your wrist, pulling you toward the edge of the deck. “swim with me?” his steps quicken, and he suddenly drags you into the water with him.

your body goes into shock from the freezing cold water. you quickly resurface, gasping. “holy fuck! that is the coldest, cold water.” you breathe out, swimming closer to chifuyu’s float. you cling to it, looking up at him apologetically, he smiles down at you with reassurance.

“yeah, how cold? Is it worth deactivating my curls?” emma asks as she gets closer to the deck, bending down to speak to you.

draken, sits on the deck next to mitsuya. “c’mon, emma, jump with ‘em.” he splashes her with water, but it only hits her legs. she backs away, bumping into mikey.

“yeah, i might just lie out in the sun for a while instead.” she says, scrunching up her curls.

“hey, what is that?” mikey points far out at the lake as if he saw a crocodile, or worse, a body? in sync, you all turn to look at what he’s pointing at.

“what? where?” chifuyu asks, kicking his float closer to the deck, you continue to cling to his float, wrapping your arms around the donut, looking around frantically for unknown ripples in the lake.

“in the lake right there…” mikey insists, his eyes blown wide.

“c’mon mikey, don’t fuck around,” kazutora says nervously as he swims closer to the deck.

“guys, i’m serious, it’s right there,” his voice dropping an octave to convey urgency. emma starts to cling to him nervously.

“it looks … just like emma!” mikey suddenly shouts, pushing her into the lake without warning.

a big splash of her body hitting the water sprays on all of you, she resurfaces, gasping for air. “oh my god!” emma screams, you can’t tell if it’s because the water is freezing or because her curls are ruined, you hold back your laughter as you swim towards her, she clings to you desperately.

he laughs at her hysterically, then points at the lake again. “there’s somethin’ else in the lake!” he quickly jumps in right next to you two and drags emma down with him.

she then resurfaces again, pushing her hair back and glaring at mikey. “you jerk!” she yells, then lunges at him, wrapping her arms around his neck. “you think you’re so funny, huh?” she tries to dunk him under the water, both of them splashing wildly as they struggle.

you giggle at them both trying to drown each other, though you can’t shake the feeling that you’re being watched. glancing around, you meet keisuke’s intense stare again. he stands slightly apart from the group, his gaze fixed on you with an unreadable expression.

then you see a towering figure behind him, a man with slicked-back black hair, adorned a single blonde streak in the front, walking up behind keisuke, slapping his seemingly tatted hands on baji’s shoulders and shaking him from behind. he notices baji’s gaze lingering on someone, following it, his purple eyes lands toward you. he then whispers something in baji’s ear, causing him to push his tongue against his cheek to stifle a laugh as he nudges his beer towards hanma.

mitsuya, on the other hand, whispers something to draken, his eyes locked on you throughout. whatever mitsuya said made draken glance in your direction.

you’d think you’re a circus freak from the way they’re attention is on you, confused and a bit overwhelmed, you decide to swim a bit farther away from the group. enjoying the cool water and the brief solitude. emma follows closely behind submerged under the water. just as you start to relax, she grabs your leg, causing you to jump.

she resurfaces, “careful, swim too far and you might land on a body in the water.”

you splash her with water, laughing. “yeah? that gonna be yours when i’m done with you?”

“oh piss off!”

the thumping bass of a live DJ—who you found out was rindou haitani, one of the hosts of this camp party—pounds through your chest as you walk into the entryway of cabin 13. it was the biggest cabin in the camp, where everybody goes to hangout whenever they don’t wanna sleep yet. it has two stories, the top floor only providing a view of the balcony. surprised that he had managed to keep the music loud, considering the majority of people were already asleep since it was midnight.

the place reeked of stale beer and lingering smoke, ghostface masks scattered around the couches and the tables, you notice mikey and takemichi with a couple other guys lounging on the couch, passing around a bong, mikey laughing at takemichi for not being able to inhale without violently coughing. the scent almost lures you in but you don’t wanna smoke weed, not yet.

instead looking to emma who was sitting on the kitchen counter chatting with draken. she wore a white mini pencil skirt with a sleeveless black turtleneck. her eyes slowly move away from draken to look at who entered. she sees you, smiling immediately and motions for you to come over with her hands, making draken turn to see who she was motioning to.

emma hops down from the counter and grabs a bottle of malibu. “It’s already midnight, and the fact that you don’t have a single drop of alcohol in your system is just insane,” she says, grinning mischievously. she grabs your jaw and tilts your chin up,

“on my way here i saw a tall thin silhouette of somebody in the woods, no joke.” you spoke, face pressed against emma’s hand, she squeezes your jaw gently as if telling you to open your mouth, and you do just that. “that was probably a skinwalker.” draken responds with a smirk, knowing that you’re about to punch his ribs for saying it’s name, you did just that too, he backs away laughing.

emma pours the rum into your mouth, letting out a soft woo at how quick you were to swallow it, hearing draken whistle at you for encouragement to keep going, feeling the cold, sweet, coconut flavored liquor slide down your throat. you start slapping emma’s arm, realizing that you drank a little too much. she finally moves the rum away from your lips, placing it back on the counter, you wipe the bottom of your lip as you feel familiar eyes on you.

you instinctively glance where the pool table was. at the back of the cabin, you spot keisuke baji playing with hanma, chifuyu and mitsuya, holding the cue. the way he was looking at you seemed curious, his eyes lingering over your face and down at your body, as much as you didn’t wanna wear anything skimpy for this trip, you liked keisuke’s eyes lingering on your body a little too much to pass up the opportunity.

you were wearing a black lace bustier iamgia top with front strap above the sweetheart shaped neckline that are pushing your tits up so perfectly, paired with a black mini skirt with two bow ribbons on the sides. he then looks at the pool table, it’s his turn now. you watch him hover against the pool table, making you weak in the knees.

you chew on the bottom of your lips, watching baji line up his sight, aiming it carefully at the cue ball, he draws the cue back, with a sharp crack, the cue ball darts forward. at the corners of your eyes you see somebody with blonde hair, forming words at you, your eyes slide over, seeing glittery pink lips opening and forming words, oh fuck. forming words, emma was talking to you this entire time and all you did was ogle at the long haired hunk around the pool table.

“sorry, what?” emma rolls her eyes, she knew you were drooling over keisuke but brushes it off because she got something else in her mind right now. “draken and i are gonna go smoke, you still got the zip in your bag?”

“yeah, just don’t finish it.” you brush her off quickly, leaning against the counter, eyes sliding back to keisuke baji, watching him light up a cigarette. emma and draken walk past you hand in hand, heading out of the cabin.

you don’t know what’s gotten into you exactly, maybe it’s the liquor, maybe it’s the constant eye-fucking you’ve been having with him all day today that’s driving you crazy, but something within you kept urging you to approach the pool table right now, you don’t even know how to play fucking pool. you straighten your posture and stride towards the pool table, subconsciously adding an extra sway to your hips as you go.

you can see the exact moment hanma spots you, he stops talking to keisuke and slides his eyes all over you with a smirk, keisuke following his gaze.

“you know how to play this, new girl?” hanma says with a neutral face, chifuyu raises his head to nod slightly at you with a polite smile as he gets back into focusing on the cue, you nod back, ignoring baji, who’s eyes bore into you, holding the cancer stick as smoke curl out of his lips.

“not really, i suck at it.” you lean against the pool table near baji, keeping a good distance. watching the cue ball darting forward from chifuyu’s motion, clipping the 9-ball, sending it rolling into the corner pocket.

“show us, can’t be that bad.” mitsuya strides closer to you, handing you his cue. both hanma and baji stand behind you as you position yourself, bending over the pool table. one hand grips the end of the cue, and the other holds the tip on the table. you hear them hold in a laugh and snort at your awkward position. rolling your eyes, you turn toward them, cocking your head to the side and narrowing your eyes. “you guys gonna help me or am i here to be made fun of?”

“nah, I’ll help you.” hanma strides over, placing his cue on the table and positions himself behind you, placing his hands between you and pinning you in place. jesus christ he’s so tall. you go back into the same position again. “that’s too high, new girl.” he takes your hand and moves it down the cue just a little bit, holding your waist and angling your sight on the cue ball better.

“you’re sabotaging her like that,” keisuke mutters, the cigarette bobbing as he speaks.

“no, I’m not. that’s a perfect score,” hanma insists.

“perfect my fuckin’ ass. here’s how you do it, new girl! come here.” keisuke points to a spot in front of him on the other side of the table with his chin, you stride over, and he quickly puts you in position, his hand on yours as he angles you toward the cue ball.

“you know how to hit it right?” he murmurs, his breath warm against your ear. “no.” you kept your answer quick and short, cause if you spoke any more you’ll accidentally moan, getting drunk on his manly scent mixed with his cigarette, a small hint of coconut from the sunscreen he had on the lake, feeling his cold cross necklace dangling on your back, hoping your not obviously blushing right now. he sighs and adjusts his grip on the cue where your hand is, guiding you as he draws the cue back and strikes the ball. the cue ball glides smoothly, and several balls roll into the corner pockets.

keisuke straightens up from you, pretending as if nothing happened, smirking cockily at hanma. hanma flips him off with a grin.

“think you got the hang of it?” mitsuya asks, leaning his chin against the cue propped up on the floor.

“I think so.” you reply, starting to get confident now. shaking off the earlier interaction with keisuke, you focus on the game. lining up your shot, you strike the cue ball, sending it smoothly across the table, hitting another ball getting it close enough to the corner pocket, damn it.

keisuke walks to the other side, his eyes calculating. he ties his hair up, a few strands falling perfectly on his face as he gets serious, you watch him play. yeah, playing with them was a mistake cause now you can’t focus anymore.

It’s hanma’s turn now. he slicks his hair back with his “punishment” hand and lines up his shot, he pockets a ball in the corner smoothly.

you notice keisuke’s brow quirk up at hanma’s move, slightly impressed. hanma then moves closer to keisuke, taking a drag from the cigarette still held between keisuke’s fingers. he remains focused on the table as mitsuya takes his turn.

what. a. sight.

distracted with drooling over the guys, you notice that the pool table has no balls left, “another game?” hanma proposes.

keisuke exhales the smoke. “yeah, seems unfair to the new girl,” he mocks, his tone teasing, is new girl seriously you’re name now? you sigh, getting a slight whiff of the weed the guys had earlier, a joint sounds so good right now. “yeah, okay, but i gotta go wash up, know a restroom nearby?” the bathroom excuse was a bit unnecessary, but you need to get your mind off of this, stat. mitsuya responds, nodding his head toward the back of the cabin. “yeah, there’s one outside from behind.”

you step out, walking towards the girls’ cabin, carefully opening the door to avoid waking anyone. sneaking to your duffel bag, you search for your stash, only to realize emma has taken it. fuck, she better not have finished it all. you exit quietly, heading towards the boys’ cabin where you find emma lounging next to draken, chatting casually as if there aren’t any guys asleep around them, but who are they to defy draken and his time with his girl?

you approach them, emma spotting you, “oh, heyyy, whatcha doin’ here.” she giggles, clearly stoned, you cross your arms. “where’s my stuff?” you ask, emma’s mouth forms into an “o” with a guilty look on her face. “oops.. we may or may not have smoked it all.”

“you kidding me? it was more than enough for a week!”

“noooo, it wasn’t, don’t know how you smoke your shit but it wasn’t nearly enough for a week.” she shakes her head.

“ugh, whatever.” you mutter, walking away from them, their laughter trailing behind you.

now you actually want to go to the bathroom. you turn to where mitsuya directed behind cabin 13, finding nothing but a shed sitting in between the forest trees, confused but still approaching it. you turn the door handle, walking into kazutora, looking like he’s snorting something on the countertop. he glances up to see who walked in, before he could react, you quickly apologize, “oh, shit! sorry!” you shut the door, leaning against it.

was he doing coke? he was doing coke, but alone in the bathroom countertop? you start consider if you should do coke with him instead, chewing on your bottom lip as you ponder around that idea. you open the door on him again, finding the countertop clean, spotless even.

you lean against the door frame, raising a brow, narrowing your eyes on him. “what were you doing?” kazutora—guilt written all over his face, gulps. his expression quickly changes back to being nonchalant once he realizes that he’s already caught in the act. he leans back against the countertop, crossing his arms. “what’s it look like i was doing?” he replies sarcastically.

a smirk tugs at the corners of your lips as you walk in, shutting the door behind you and locking it, you shut the toilet cover, sitting on it. “i won’t tell if you won’t.”

kazutora raises a brow at your response, a sly grin spreading across his face. “you’re full of surprises, new girl. what’s in it for me if i keep quiet?”

you roll your eyes as if he asked a stupid question. “you’re clearly hiding from somebody if you’re snorting coke in this disgusting dump.” you kick the bath mat that was once white but now stained with muddy shoe prints, you do a “my lips are sealed” motion with your hand as you point at his pocket with your eyes.

you catch his smirk twitch at the corner of his lips as he listens to your observation, you’re smarter than he gave you credit for. he looks down at the dirty bath mat, stuffing his hand in his pocket as he thought for a minute. “alright.” he pulls out a small baggie with a bit of white powder in it.

“got your phone with you?” he asks, you stuff your hand in your skirt pocket, pulling out your phone to use as a surface, a makeshift black mirror. kazutora sits down on the bathroom floor in front of you and lines up the powder with a motel ad card, grabbing a straw he cut out from the drinks and leaning down over the phone, he holds one nostril closed, “done this before?” he asks before inhaling sharply.

“in highschool, haven’t since then.” you have never seen somebody look this hot snorting cocaine, and yet here you are, watching him snap his head back, sniffing frequently. he knocks his head back straight, looking at you with heavy-lidded eyes, moistening his lips and biting it. he then starts to line up the rest for you, handing you the straw, “all yours.” he says, his voice softer now, almost coaxing. he leans against the wall, his eyes now fixed on you.

you hesitantly grab the straw, looking down at the white powder lined perfectly over your phone, staring at the reflection in the back of it. you don’t even know why your hesitating, there’s something nagging in your subconscious telling you to not snort it, telling you not right now. and still you ignore it, knowing you shouldn’t but the dilated sandy colored eyes are staring at you too intensely that you can’t pussy out now. you hold one nostril closed and line the straw from your nose to the powder, inhaling it quick. okay, regret.

“fuck.” you grimace, snapping your head back, blinking rapidly as your eyes water, instinctively rubbing your nose as you try to stifle a sneeze. your heart starts to race. kazutora let’s out a deep chuckle, noticing your discomfort, “gets better.” he swipes the rest of the powder with his finger and rubs it on his gums. you slide down from the toilet seat onto the floor and lean against it, placing your legs on top of his thigh for comfort.

you start to pant, breathing manually now, kazutora observes you with his head slightly tilted, his earring jingles softly. eyes roaming down your body to your soft legs, his senses now heightened, noticing the addictive cocoa butter smell on your legs, he slowly places his hands on your calves, caressing it gently, testing the waters.

“how’re you feeling?” he asks as he massages your calves softly, making you to focus on that sensation more than the rapid beating of your heart, you take your time to answer, you can’t really tell if you’re enjoying this or freaking out right now, but whatever’s he’s doing to your legs should not stop. you nod slowly, sinking down, your other leg curling up to shyly hide your face from his gaze, he slides his hands up to your thigh, spreading your legs open. “let me look at you.” he rasps, the sound of his voice activating something within you that you have been trying to get rid of since the pool game with keisuke.

you let out a soft giggle as his heavy-lidded gaze lingers over your eyes, lips and down to your skirt that you forgot your wearing, the position your in giving him a good view on your panties.

“gotta take care of you, right?” he slowly leans closer to you, resting his chin on your knees, softly kissing it, his lips hover down your knee to your thighs, kissing a little too close to where you need him to be right now. you run your fingers through his hair, softly dragging your black stiletto nails on the back of his hair. he looks up at you, his eyes almost black from how dilated they are. he leans closer to your face, hovering over your lips, just as he’s leaning to kiss you, the bathroom lights flickers then plunges into darkness, hearing the guys yelling over at cabin 13.

my luck. you feel kazutora’s forehead press against your knee and sigh, clicking his tongue in irritation. you lean your head back against the toilet cover, looking up at the ceiling—nothingness really—hearing a commotion going on outside, though kazutora shows no signs of getting up, you nudge your leg at him softly. “let’s check out what happened.” you feel him hesitate for a bit, then he shuffles around, from under your legs you feel his pants adjust, you hold back a giggle. he pushes himself up. “here.” he reaches for your hand, and pulls you up.

kazutora opens the bathroom door, seeing the camp in complete blackout, surrounded by nothing but darkness with the only light source being a couple of iphone flashlights, the glowstick necklaces on mikey, rindou and emma, and the moon. you fumble for your phone, turning the flashlight on.

in the center of the camp, you saw a circle formed around rindou, who’s trying to get a signal on his phone to call the cabin owners about the power outage. keisuke stands around with his arms crossed, his gaze sharp as he notices kazutora walking out the bathroom with you trailing behind.

“where were you?” emma rushes toward your side, “oh, uh, bathroom, what’s going on?” you ask. keisuke cuts in, “what were you two doing in the bathroom for so long?” keisuke observes kazutora’s reaction to his question, already catching him trying to make up a lie in his head, you step in quickly, “i asked him to wait for me outside, i got scared earlier by something in the woods and didn’t wanna be alone.”

kazutora looks at you gratefully for covering for him, then turns to keisuke with an innocent smile. keisuke, however, isn’t easily convinced. “could’ve asked me or mitsuya, or any of the guys that were around you before.” he says, his tone slightly reproachful.

“I didn’t want to bother you guys while you were playing pool,” you explain.

“but you didn’t mind botherin’ kazutora?” keisuke’s eyes narrow at you, fuck he’s sharp.

before you can respond, the group calls for everyone’s help with the generator issue. keisuke gives you both a lingering look before heading towards the others. you exchange a knowing glance with kazutora and emma before following suit, she nudges at your shoulder. “i’ll tell you back at the cabin.” you whisper.

after a long walk in the woods looking for the generator, you join the group clustered around the it. emma stands beside you, wrapping her arms around yours, leaning her cheek against your shoulder tiredly. rindou flashes the light for draken to fix the generator, watching them argue and try to diagnose why the power has gone out. they twist knobs, check connections, and mutter to each other as they attempt to revive the generator. you subconsciously kept your eyes around the forest, getting paranoid, it’s a little too dark for your comfort, either that or you’re just very coked out right now.

draken leans back, “the problem isn’t from the generator, it’s the whole area.”

“cell towers too?” rindou queried, shining the light towards draken’s face, he swats it away from his eyes, “if there’s no bars in your phone then yeah, cell towers too.”

“they doing maintenance on it or what?” rindou pressed.

“does it fuckin’ look like i know what they’re doing to the cell towers right now?” draken retorted.

as the guys continued bickering about the generator you couldn’t shake the random shiver that ran down your spine, you turn to scan around the forest, looking in between the trees and tuning their voices out to try to listen to anything out of the ordinary. you spot a tree with a weird shape, as if there’s a black silhouette behind it, watching you.

“what’s up?” emma notices your attention elsewhere, following your gaze. you blink, watching the silhouette disappear and the sound of tree branches on the floor breaking as if somebody or something is stepping on them. “alright, can you guys wrap this up quick so we can get to the cabin?”

“getting scared, new girl?” hanma teases. “yes, yes i am, so can we please get to the cabin,” you start to walk briskly towards cabin 13, actually breaking into a run. you push open the creaking wooden doors and immediately turn on the flashlight, setting it on the kitchen counter to illuminate the rest of the cabin. the others follow suit. rindou making his way to his DJ set, spinning it and playing with the buttons with a bored expression on his face as the rest of the guys sit on the couch.

“what’s gotten you so scared?” chifuyu asks you, concerned.

“i don’t know. i just didn’t like being out there. It’s too damn dark,” you explain, making room for emma to join you on the couch, sitting close.

“you scared of the dark?” keisuke mocks, sitting across from you and leaning back with an amused expression.

“yeah, i am,” you reply, already growing irritated.

“keisuke, that’s hypocritical,” mikey interjects, throwing whatever’s near him at keisuke, which happens to be a ghostface mask.

he dodges it smoothly, “if you’re gonna bring up that one time, we were kids,” keisuke retorts defensively.

draken and kazutora chuckle, clearly remembering the incident. “fuck you two laughin’ at?” keisuke shoots back. “if anybody’s scared of the dark it’s chifuyu.”

“how did i get dragged into this?!” chifuyu protests. in the corner of your eyes you see rindou suddenly appearing near the couch, picking up a ghostface mask. a slight mischievous smirk plays at his lips as he turns towards the group. “silence!” he suddenly yells, grabbing everyone’s attention. “who wants to play bodies bodies bodies?”

© 𝑯𝒀𝑺𝑻𝑬𝑹𝑶𝑻𝑰𝑪 all rights reserved. please do not repost, steal, or modify my work.

[possiblylando]

Who's the ghoul? [HTP;4 SPOILERS!]

Alright so Hunter the Parenting Episode 4 has been out for a bit. If you haven't watched Hunter the Parenting and are just seeing this for whatever reason like coincidence or following me... WATCH IT! I assure you it's worth it it's all on Youtube its great come on don't get spoiled here. Seriously SPOILERS FOR BASICALLY EVERYTHING IN EPISODE 4

Alright hopefully everyone who hasn't watched it is out of here and now watching it. We can start by establishing the suspects.

Now for what I hope are obvious reasons we can rule out every member of the D family. Door and Boy aren't even here anyway. As such our current list of possible suspects is;

Upper Management Occam Blacklaw Sr. Gloria Waters Wernon

Security Brock Spit Giles

Cleaners Amanda Matilda Students Elise Grimal Harry

Now who else can we rule out for sure? 1. Occam can be ruled out. He's the chapter leader and if he was the ghoul for whatever reason the information would already be out. Plus Occam is already a mage or sorcerer of some sort so I doubt he'd get trapped into becoming a Ghoul. 2. Blacklaw Sr. can be ruled out. While he has keys to whole building we knew exactly where he was the entire time the crimes were being committed. Alright so then who can we rule out based on intuition? 1. Harry was with Markus for most of the time so it likely isn't him. 2. Elise, While Big D did interrogate her first I feel like he would've had some more suspicion if he genuinely believed her to be the ghoul. As such we can shorten the list to the following;

Upper Management Gloria Wernon

Security Brock Spit Giles

Cleaners Amanda Matilda Students Grimal Now we can look at where everyone was known to be while Occam was in the vault.

During this time the ones left unaccounted for are Elise, Big D, Wernon, Gloria, Grimal, Occam (duh), Spit, and the Cleaners. For obvious reasons we can ignore Elise and Big D as we've ruled them out as suspects. Now we can also rule out Giles and Brock from the list as during the time Occam was attacked they were both accounted for. HOWEVER I want to talk about brock for a moment. While I doubt Brock is the ghoul there is a moment near the end of the episode I want to bring attention to. While Markus and Co are saving Grimal from being tortured, D absolutely rocks Brock to the point he gets slammed into a wall. Yet Brock gets up with very little damage and continues to brawl. This is very interesting as Brock is apparently stronger than Blacklaw. This could be ghoul strength but I doubt it since Brock is a VERY big guy. Also about Giles, We know his boss at the 99p store is related to the vampires. Either she's a vampire or just a ghoul I'm not 100% sure. So Giles would have the connections to become a ghoul however having multiple ghouls working at the same 99p store seems like a waste of resources. So I doubt he's the ghoul. So now our suspect list is;

Upper Management Gloria Wernon

Security Spit

Cleaners Amanda Matilda Students Grimal Now that we've narrowed down the list of suspects I doubt that the either of the Cleaners end up being the ghoul as while both would be fairly easy to get in the building they lack any real clearance to get into the archives. As such they would be little strategical use outside of minor surveillance. Additionally they have no way to gain access to the Archives. Now ime to talk about that final scene. Wernon being killed at the end of the episode is very interesting as it acts in contradiction to what happened to Occam. Occam was just knocked out but Wernon was EVICERATED yet Wernon is a much lower priority target than Occam. Now I doubt Spit is the ghoul because again how would he have access to the Archives. However I do think Spit is the one who killed Wernon. Perhaps Spit is a Werewolf or other weird being as they were very specifically pointed out as killing machines in the episode where Big-D tells Kitten about some stuff. At the very beginning of the episode we can see the moon is full.

The lighting is a bit weird in these early scenes as outside is very red and orange but in other scenes we can see the moon and it's detailing a bit better so this is certainly the moon. As such the circumstances exist for Spit to turn into a Werewolf and flip the fuck out. Given the fact Spit is absolutely losing it I doubt he did it intentionally either. That answers the question of what happened to Wernon, what about the ghoul. Currently these are the possibilities as I see them; 1. Wernon was the ghoul. He had the means to get into the Archives and attack Occam. He's advancing in age so becoming a Ghoul might help with that slightly which would supply a motive. If he brought Spit off to deal with him, then spit flipping out in self defense would continue to track with him being a possible werewolf. 2. Grimel is the ghoul. Grimel was acting a bit weird the entire episode and during the start when the ghoul was announced she looked very uncomfortable. Additionally she's spent a majority of the episode away from the rest of the group and was missing while Occam was attacked. When she was being "interrogated" by blacklaw she doesn't actually say she isn't the ghoul she changes the subject. However this again could be coincidence as she saw Amanda get fried. Additionally there is the issue of her not having access to the archives. 3. Gloria is the ghoul. This one I think is the least likely. The only real evidence for this is that she was willing to so quickly take control of the situation when Occam was passed out. Currently the odds as I see them are Wernon; 40% Grimel; 30% Gloria; 10% Anyone else; 20% However if it is Wernon that raises the question, What will the rest of this arc be about? If the ghoul is dead then the rest of the arc would have to be about sorting shit out and kinda loosing it at eachother. But again that seems weird right? Killing the culprit off? So I guess my final guess is; Grimal (MAYBE Wernon) is the ghoul Spit is a werewolf (or similar creature) Matilda is going to be important somehow

[conflictofthemind]

Not only do Robin and Will (and Mike!) have scenes together, they have a plot where the three of them visit Castle Byers in the Upside Down and here's all of the proof:

I originally posted this on twitter a month ago, which got a lot of backlash as well as prompting a certain someone to lie directly to my face about it. Now that I've been vindicated so much in the last few days, I want to share this mini-theory that I'm mostly convinced of at this point.

1.Let us go over the filming timeline: February 15th (left), Robin and Will at the McCorkle farm. Take note of the outfit that Robin is wearing here. February 20th (right), fans stumble on an Upside Down Castle Byers set in the woods.

February 22 (left), a pap reveals they were filming at this location the past week, and likes a comment saying one of the figures in the red picture was of Noah/Will.

March 1st (right), Ross Duffer posts what is (possibly) weeks 7-8 of filming, including a picture of Castle Byers in the Upside Down with the prominent American flag.

March 13 (but not really), we get a hidden shot from Episode 4. Oh, and an iPad in the corner that says this was actually February 13 - the same week they were filming with Maya/Noah/Finn at the farm.

Oh, but zoom in. Enhance image. What is that? It's the unknown!

A flag.... the body of a person with a dark coat and a white t-shirt.... possibly in the mirror view of a car or some kind of framing device. Now what did they film in the same week(s) that looks like this? Just Castle Byers and Robin.

2. Aaaaand then we get a little bit into Lovers Lake gate (literally).

The official version of the map, that could still be incorrect tbf, has Lover's Lake placed near the farms on the outskirts of town. There is also a fan-made map referenced from the actual show, which is different but still places Lover's Lake next to some farms and specifically Eugene McCorkle's farm.

Then we have this classic BTS photo from Ross of (possibly lol) Weeks 5-6 which would include the week of February 13 and 16th where we know they were filming at the farm.

What this all means, I won't speculate on too much, but I am fairly sure we are getting a mission with Robin/Will/Mike as they venture into the Upside Down (maybe Mike drives them himself) through a rift that has strategically opened near the farm because of it's position near the Lovers Lake gate. I think it's possible that they are investigating Will's memories, and trying to induce them to come back. The opening scene as we all know happens at Castle Byers. Will wants to go for his own self-development and discovery, Mike tags along because that's his boyfriend bestie, and Robin tags along after developing a soft spot for Will and to get a glimpse at how the two interact.

3. Where are the others at (why only them three)? Also in episode 4, we have Nancy, Jon, Dustin and (probably since it's his car) Steve as a group all travelling from the McCorkle farm into the Upside Down. Perhaps they split off into their own missions, or something goes awry and this is the reconnaissance team sent in to find RoWillMike.

The one thing I do have extra confirmation of is that Millie has not been involved in any of the farm scenes, even the ones filmed in April. There is no way El is involved in this plot. Millie was also on a filming break during most of February.

The others all likely have a plotline together (Lucas/Erica/Joyce/Hopper/El). Vickie couullldd be there though?

Fin.

[teeny-tiny-revenge]

It's home cinema manufacturing time! 🏴‍☠️ Gonna put my pirate show on my shelf! (I'm doing an Arts and Crafts Project and I'm making it everyone's problem.)

After seeing how much they cost, I abandoned the idea of getting a Blu-ray writer for now. For the time being, good old DVDs is what it's going to be! My TV is old and not very big, so DVD resolution is gonna be fine.

It's been ages since I last burned a DVD. For the full experience, I'm gonna create nice menus and pretty sleeves for the boxes. Graphic design is my passion! Um.

Well. First needed to find a program to do stuff with. I'm a Linux guy, so I'm using Devede. (Which is free, btw. In case someone else wants to do a low cost spot of putting pirate show on the shelf.)

DVDs fit a maximum of 120 minutes of video. So, four episodes, I thought. But after a quick attempt, the program refused to do more than three (maybe because of the menu also taking up space, and four episodes cutting pretty close to the 120 min mark?). Anyway, three episodes per disc it is. It's a pretty nice runtime for watching the entire disc, IMO. An hour and a half, and then you can return to reality to realise you should probably eat something, or go to bed because it's midnight.

OFMD with its current two seasons has a total of eighteen episodes, which is divisible by three. You get the following setup:

Disc 1: Pilot, A Damned Man, The Gentleman Pirate - That's pretty good, Stede's introduction to piracy all on one disc!

Disc 2: Discomfort in a Married State, The Best Revenge is Dressing Well, The Art of Fuckery - All bangers. Great to watch together, our boys meet and shenanigans happen!

Disc 3: This is Happening, We Gull Way Back, Act of Grace - Many romantic moments, lots of great scenes, shit hits the fan at the end there. Alright!

Disc 4: Wherever you go, there you are, Impossible Birds, Red Flags - ... Pain and angst! What have I done!?! The disc of horrors. Gotta make sure to have tissues at hand when I watch this. But hey, it also has messy bun Ed! Small mercies.

Disc 5: The Innkeeper, Fun and Games, The Curse of the Seafaring Life. - Another disc with all winners. I love all these episodes so much! (You can watch this disc to recover from the trauma of the previous one!) But seriously, this one slaps.

Disc 6: Calypso's Birthday, Man on Fire, Mermen - Great combination again. Season finale! Love and excitement!

... Honestly, except for the psychological damage of putting all the most painful episodes together, this is coming out pretty cool. Says a lot about how good the show is. I actually really love all the episodes (yes even the painful angsty episodes of massive depression). Thinking about this little project really reminded me how much I love this entire show.

So, we got a tracklist, now menus, then we can burn this stuff!

I did the menu backgrounds in GIMP. Realised I have a big folder full of screenshots I took myself, screenshots someone else took and posted on Tumblr, official promo pics for the show, and I have no idea anymore where most of them are from, because I named the files according to what's on them. Which is useful for when you want to find pics (Need a picture of cursed suit Stede? I have files named that, easy peasy!), but not so great if you wanted to give credit to whoever took a given pic you used. (It's probably @sherlockig or @ofmd-ann or @blakbonnet. Please feel credited, your beautiful screens and gifs brighten my day, and some of them are now probably part of my DVD menus. Shrunk down and cropped, but, yeah.)

I originally wanted to structure my menus as having the title of an episode, then some pics from it, then the next episode, then pics from that, and so forth, but I couldn't convince the program to give me the necessary padding between the menu items, so I ended up just putting the episode images below the menu. Still like it.

Anyway, DVD menus can also play sound! Behold a crappy video of my beautiful creation (provided entirely for sound):

It plays Gnossienne N°5!

More crappy pics of my other disc menus:

Gonna make them some nice sleeves next. Some day. Gotta make sure they all work properly first. So. I'll be on my sofa, watching my DVDs. With menus! (Edit: here are!)