#glad to be back for the ides of March

[crueclown22]

i forgot that no food is safe now and there's a 99% chance im going into the new year with stomach pains. fun!!

[opens-up-4-nobody]

...

[vanisa-ray]

HELL YEAH MY JULIET SEIZURE GET WRECKED, THOU SHALT NOT CORRUPT ROME ANYMORE 🗣🗣🗣🔥🔥🔥

ITS MARCH YOU KNOW WHAT THAT MEANS

[cibulovychleba]

To any kcd and hansry enjoyers coming across this post who have seen kcd only in English, I need you to know what you're missing.

Hans Capon is in Czech called Jan Ptáček

Jan has a few name variations in Czech, each less formal (and each more unserious, in my opinion). Like if you're called Jan that's on you IDs etc, but your family and friends might just call you Honza, if you prefer it

The Jan scale goes from Jan > Honza > Jenda > honorable mention Janek, but I'm not sure if this variant is relevant right now

And guess what, Henry calls Hans by these variations, which is so precious to me. Yes, Hans is a noble and yes, Henry refers to him as his lord, but he also calls him Jenda, which is very much giving village boy energy, Jenda the stable boy or something. I think it really shows, on another level, how familiar and close they are with each other, and how the relationship shifts in kcd2, how Hans is becoming Henry's closest first, his lord second, how they are on the same level now, in comparison with kcd1, where they tiptoe in some dialog options around Henry keeping his distance and Hans encouraging him to treat him less formally and rewarding when Henry actually talks back.

Side note, I'm glad at least Henry has available name variant in English people who know him use, as well as in Czech (Jindřich and Jindra – Henry and Hal)

And a cherry on top, the situations when Henry uses a less formal variant of Hans' name are rare, but one of those situations that I've seen in someone else's playthrough was specifically the march to Nebakov turned ambush. When you're attacked and fight back you get periodically prompted to follow Hans and defend him, but if you can't find him, Henry will call out and use Jenda variant. And when Hans gets knocked out and Henry finds him in dirt before facing Žižka, he kneels down to him and calls him Jan, then Ptáček, and when nothing seems to work, he calls him Honza. Which makes me think this is something Henry's mind does when everything goes to shit and he's desperate and the closest person he has left and who he loves is in danger and so he reaches, asking Hans to come back to him, not as a noble with unfinished responsibilities, but simply as his Honza.

And I'm totally normal about that.

Beside all of this

I adore Tom McKay's voice and performance, but also Richard Wágner is so good as Henry, and, his words not mine, his Henry sounds much more sillier, which is a delight. And this is such a Czech-specific appreciation, but kcd2 has many iconic Czech actors and it's honestly so amusing to both see and hear them in a video game.

[juvinadelgreko]

Underage Ronan Lynch Stole Declan’s ID To Get His Massive Back Tattoo And I Can (Circumstantially) Prove It.

one question i’ve been dying to know the answer to is how in the hell ronan, while still underage, got an actual artist to give him a massive, extremely intricate full back tattoo.

we know the following:

he didn’t dream the tattoo on to himself, because a) he couldn’t control his dreaming at the time when he got it, b) it’s mentioned in TDT that part of ronan’s motivation for getting it was to see if the pain was actually as bad as people said, and c) it’s mentioned in greywaren that the sensation of hennessy tattooing his arm is familiar, like when he got his back done.

so obviously it was done with a real needle, by a (presumably human) artist. but ronan was underage when he got the tattoo. occam’s razor says the simplest solution is most often the correct one, and in this case, it’s that ronan used a fake/stolen ID.

he couldn’t have forged one himself because as we mentioned, he couldn’t control his dreaming at this point. he could’ve bought one from someone else. but again, the simplest solution is most often the correct one. why would ronan have bothered tracking down someone to make him a fake and then paid them money for it if his older brother’s real ID was sitting right there?

therefore, the simplest explanation is: ronan stole declan’s ID to get the tattoo.

it’s stated that ronan was also motivated to get the tattoo by the knowledge that declan wouldn’t like it. it stands to reason that he’d go an extra step to spite him by stealing his ID to do it. it would’ve worked too, because declan and ronan are described as looking so similar.

hold on june, you say, how do we know declan was 18 when ronan got the tattoo?

i’m so glad you asked! based on the following analysis of the TRC timeline, declan had to have been 18 when ronan got the tattoo.

it’s stated in TDT that niall died a few weeks after ronan and gansey started at aglionby. in TDT (summer 2012, right after they finished junior year), it’s noted that gansey had been in henrietta nearly two years, implying start of his senior year marks two years which means he started there as a sophomore in fall of 2010. that means niall died a few weeks later, like october 2010 at the latest. which means that ronan was a sophomore who likely hadn’t yet turned 16, considering his birthday is november 1st. declan was referred to as underage in niall’s will; this makes sense as it would’ve been the fall of his junior year, so he would’ve been at most 17 when niall died.

it’s stated in TDT (again, summer 2012) that ronan got the tattoo “a few months” before, so december 2011 at the absolute earliest, i’d think, probably more like february-march 2012. this would’ve about 1.25 years after niall’s death. therefore, if declan was 17 when niall died, he would’ve been 18 when ronan got the tattoo.

even if declan was 16 when niall died in october 2010, this naturally means he was 17 in october of 2011. in order for him to be 18 by graduation in may of 2012, he would’ve had to turn 18 at the very latest in the spring of 2012, in other words, exactly when ronan got his tattoo.

*takes a bow*

[ratatouillewastakendammit]

OMG I LOVED THE Tomorrow, I promise SO MUCH 😭🔥🙏🏻 have you considered of making part two? id be begging on my knees

I'm so glad you liked it!! Thanks for the request! (Also for the person who requested the Hawks version of this trope, it should be done soon! 💙)

Tomorrow, I promise

Pairing: Dabi x Reader

Warnings: language; slight smut/suggestive; as always I have no beta reader and this was made in maybe under two hours because I wanted to get it to yall quickly <3

Find part one here!

"You ready to beg yet?"

In all honesty, your answer would've been yes.

The desire to give in was heinous, to throw away your pride for the tickle of heat budding below your abdomen and that wicked smile coming from the man above you.

Then you heard the knock on the door.

Practically falling off of the bed, your right knee hit the floor, pulling a curse from your mouth as the wood scraped against your skin. You scrambled to your feet, allowing yourself a deep breath for composition before turning the knob.

Magne and Compress met your line of sight, both looking upward as your door creaked open, the hinges rusted with age and lack of care.

"Good morning!" The redhead grinned, lowering her sunglasses to get a better view. "We figured it had been long enough for the quirk to wear off, so we wanted to check on how you were doing..."

Her voice trailed off, face scrunching in surprise. At first, you weren't actually sure why.

Until you felt the wave of heat gnawing at your back.

Eyes narrowed, Dabi had a hand placed on the left side of the door frame, leaning slightly and wearing an expression of pure annoyance.

Magne bit her lip. "Did you two-"

"No!" You sidestepped a few inches, heat blooming in your cheeks. "We definitely did not."

Dabi scoffed, muttering a quiet, "Yeah, thanks, assholes."

"Plus Shigaraki wants to see you two, talk about tomorrow's mission or something." Compress, seemingly able to ignore the less-than-kind comment, nodded to the stairway. "Unless, of course, we're interrupting anything."

Grabbing his free arm, you yanked Dabi in front of you, effectively pushing the group out of the room. "Nope, sounds good. See you soon, bye."

The hurried burst of words was followed by the slam of your door and a sigh. The sound of relief echoed through the space, now devoid of that warmth you kicked yourself for missing. Body resting on the wood, almost like a barricade to the world outside, you pushed yourself forward and towards the dresser.

Picking out a pair of jeans and a hoodie was easy.

Facing the rest of the League was not.

You tried to listen to your leader's explanation of what would be going down tomorrow, fidgeting under the cerulean gaze stemming from across the room.

For what seemed like hours, Shigaraki droned on and on about how pissed off he would be if you messed up again. It felt like a millennium before he waved you all off with a lazed flip of his hand.

Jumping up from your chair far too quickly, you sped-walked to the stairs, going at least two at a time in the direction of your room.

Unfortunately, you weren't fast enough.

Deft hands slid around your waist from behind, picking you off from the mismatched wood and tossing you over Dabi's shoulder.

"Put me down, asshole!" You yelled, ignoring the way his hand rested ever-so conveniently over your behind.

"Sorry, doll," he replied, ushering a soft squeeze to the area above your thigh. The sound he earned drew a wicked grin across his features as he opened the door to his own room. "But not happening."

Locking clicking into place, he marched forward and tossed you onto his bed.

That seemed to be happening far too often lately.

"Wanna know what else isn't gonna happen?" He was on you before you could sit up, hands placed on either side of your body and arms caging you in. "You aren't gonna sit there and pretend like you don't have a thing for me."

"Why the hell does it matter?" You scoffed. "You don't feel the same, so just let it go. Try your best not to be a prick for once."

The words pulled at your chest, but the silence was worse. Abundant and humid, it hung over the air like a toxic gas as Dabi stared at you.

"Are you fucking serious?"

"I-"

"Do you know how fucking hard it was to watch you sit there and bat those pretty, little eyes and go on and on about how much you liked me? How hard it was to say no when you, of all people, are practically begging for me to take you?"

"So, you just wanted to sleep with me."

Rolling his eyes, he smirked. "If I wanted a simple fuck from you, I would've done it yesterday when you were frothing at the mouth."

"I was not." You mumbled, face heating.

"Oh, come on, princess. You gotta admit how needy you are for me at some point." Dabi cradled your chin with his hand, pulling your face upward as he inched closer, the warmth of his breath tickling your ear and sending a chill down your spine. "Or else I can't show you how much I like you."

Tongue running across your neck, his free hand moved under your shirt, hesitating just enough to give you a chance to pull away. When you didn't, his fingers traveled beneath your bra, cupping your chest gently.

He pinched your nipple, earning a small moan. "So, let's hear it."

"Fuck," you cursed, back arching into the warmth of his touch. "Yeah, fine. I like you too, or whatever."

A smirk pulled at the corner of his mouth. "You can do better than that."

"You're an asshole."

"And you're an idiot." He pushed his lips against yours, tongue skimming the bottom, begging for entrance, a request that you happily indulged.

The heat of his touch coursed over your body, warm and inviting and absolutely nothing like the mask he wore. It felt safe, a pure contradiction to what the world saw. The idea that he was only like this with you made your chest feel light.

When he pulled back, taking that heat with him, it was like the air had been sucked from your lungs. Still, the way that he looked at you had a pleasant fervor running through your limbs.

"How the hell could I not like you?"

[rebelliousstories]

Did You Know?

Relationship: Spencer Reid x Reader

Fandom: Criminal Minds

Request: No

Warnings: Angst, Light Fluff, Allusions to Pregnancy

Word Count: 1,083

Main Masterlist: Here

Criminal Minds Masterlist: Here

Part Two: I Know Now// Part Three: Somebody Knows// Part Four: What We Know

Summary: Spencer is sent to prison and is waiting on his team to get him out. Meanwhile, his partner is there for morale support.

“It is good to love many things, for therein lies the true strength, and whosoever loves much preforms much, and can accomplish much, and what is done in love is well done.” Vincent Van Gogh

Never in a million years did she think she would be in this position. Getting a call from Emily in the middle of the night was not what she expected. But to be told that her husband is currently in federal custody and awaiting trial, that was another. But she took it as it came. There was nothing she could do for her husband except just to be there for him. She would never be able to get the image of him in handcuffs in the BAU out of her head, but she was glad she was able to hug him.

“Spence. Oh my Spence.” She hugged him over the handcuffs that were hidden with the jacket. His fingertips were just barely able to grasp on to her shirt to pull her as close as physically possible.

“Hey honey. I’m sorry you have to see me like this. How’s my mom?” He whispered into her ear. Spencer was thankful that everyone decided to keep a healthy distance as the husband and wife reunited.

“She’s good. Wondering when you’re coming home, but I am helping Cassie take care of her. I don’t care about seeing you handcuffed, sweetheart. I’m just glad I can see you and hold you.” Her reply made Spencer want to cry. He knew it was not fair to her to have to deal with this whole situation. Stepping back, she pressed a sweet kiss to his lips and tried to convey all of the lover she felt into that kiss. Pulling away completely, she watched as he accepted embraces from his teammates.

If only they knew at the time, how much of a roller coaster this was going to be. She sat on the prison bus waiting to be taken to the facility. Being able to see her husband was wonderful, except for the fact that she would be sitting across from him in a cubicle, with a sheet of glass separating them. The bus ride was bumpy, but thankfully it was over quick. Stepping off, her hair was swept away in the windy weather outside.

Walking inside the correctional facility, her eyes kept scanning the room, looking for any threats. A side effect from working for the FBI all those years ago. Now, it only served as a reminder of where she had once been, and of how her husband became that title. She walked up to the reception desk and placed her id down.

“Inmate name?” The officer asked. Her voice was devoid of any emotion.

“Spencer Reid. I’m his wife.” She supplied her name, and waited as the officer scanned a list and then her ID again.

“You’re not on the list. Next!” The officer yelled, pushing the woman off to the side. She stood there dumbfounded as she was handed back her ID, but knew better than to fight with the officer. Her body, especially her heart felt numb as she walked outside and waited for the bus to take her back to the car lot. Why was she denied access to see her husband? JJ was able to see him; so why was she not?

After the numbness wore off, rage fueled her. It kept her going all the way to the FBI headquarters where she signed in for a visitor’s pass silently. Marching her way into the BAU’s office on the sixth floor, she noticed how everyone was still there thankfully. She made her way over to JJ, who was surrounded by Tara, Matt, and Stephen.

“Hey,” JJ greeted, ”how are you doing?”

“Don’t give me that.” She snapped, leaving the agents in a state of shock. Never had she ever snapped, not even raised her voice.

“Whoa, what is going on?” The blonde woman asked, holding her hands up in surrender.

“Did you know?” Mrs. Reid growled, with her patience wearing thin.

“Did I know what? You’re not making any sense.” JJ tried to reason and de escalate the situation, but Emily and David were already out of their offices and looking out at the bullpen.

“Did you know when you went to visit Spence that he had put me on the ‘no visit’ list?” There it was. The million dollar question. JJ remained silent for a minute, but her face did the talking before her words caught up.

“Listen, you have to understand his reasons.” She tried to reach for the woman, but she slipped out of the way.

“You knew? And you didn’t tell me? I just got back from there, hoping to see my husband and check in on him. Only to be turned away at the gate. And you never told me?” Now, she was yelling. It was scary to see the former profiler turned professor yell. She spoke sternly sometimes sure, but she never raised her voice in anger.

“He wants to protect you from the inside. Spence asked us not to tell.” A slip of the tongue and now her fury was leveled to everyone.

“You all knew?” Prentiss and Rossi made their way down the stairs by this point.

“Yes, we did.” The dark haired agent said, walking along with her right hand man.

“Spencer doesn’t want you to see him like that so he asked if we would not tell you that he had put you on that list.” Emily placed her hand on the woman, and it was like her strings were cut. Rage left and was followed by intense depression. Sobs wracked her body as she crumpled to the floor. Emily tried to grab her, but Luke was the one that actually got his arms around her.

There was nothing left for her now. Everything came crashing down around her; her world was shattered. She thought about every interaction that she had ever had with Spencer. There were probably some that she was missing, but she was not blessed with his memory skills. But every major moment came to her at that time. The first time they met, their first date, when he introduced her to his mom, their proposal and wedding. Rubbing her stomach, she wondered when she would wake from this nightmare and be safe in her husband’s arms once again.

Zsa Zsa Gabor said, “To be loved is a strength. To love is a weakness.”

[stone-stars]

[ID: A five page comic, centered on Aryox as he has a dream of Melora's future as a goddess. ID in alt text, and full description under the cut.]

@operationslipperypuppet hi alli.

higher than you'd think, apparently! um.... happy hoglidays, merry crickmas, i don't think i've laughed harder than when i saw the little message pop up that said my giftee was you, and i'm sorry for lying to you for a month.

this gift is in two parts. this comic, and the accompanying fic, which i've posted here! i hope you enjoy both, i'm really glad i got to make something about our guys. thank you for being a wonderful friend <3

for the @naddpodgifting exchange!

[ID: A five page comic, centered on Aryox as he has a dream of Melora's future as a goddess. Everything is drawn in bright colored outlines against a black background.

First page. Aryox (in light blue) opens his eyes slowly. Mist cuts across the top of the page behind the panels. The bottom half of the page is frameless, and shows Aryox standing at the base of steps leading up to a large temple, with mist swirling around it. Green vines wrap around the temple, with everything else being drawn in Aryox's blue.

Next page. Aryox walks up the steps of the temple, his hand briefly resting on one of its columns next to a green vine, then snaps his fingers and summons a light which he raises above his head, parting the mist. He stares into the distance, where within the mist a pale green light shines back. Grinning, he remarks "towards the light, then. Morbid." The next sequence shows Aryox walking through the temple, the edges of each panel just the columns of the temple itself. By the second, faint speech bubbles appear in the background. One is unreadable and yellow, and then in the third, as Aryox steps off-panel behind the column, a green text box faintly says "i'm sorry". Aryox stops and turns, saying "hello." Then a yellow (for Telaine) speech bubble appears isolated, reading "So THAT'S how little WE mean to YOU?" Aryox looks shocked, then looks away as his light extinguishes, looking hurt and guilty, and turns away. He marches forward as a green speech bubble (for Melora) echoes behind him: "how could you…"

The entire next page shows Aryox walking, then running through the mist, with speech bubbles and words echoing all around him. They start more spaced out, but by the end of the page crowd and overwhelm him. First, he walks with purpose. A text box in his blue shows that he's thinking "It's alright." The words he hears as he walks forward are: "(Melora) Aryox, don't do this, PLEASE." "(Telaine) I have nothing to say to you" "(Melora) I can't let you--" A closeup of his face is shown, just the bottom half, with his mouth set in a frown. His own voice, in the style of the other echoes, reads "I'm sorry Mel." Then, he starts walking quicker. Behind him is Telaine's speech bubble yelling "If you want my heart, you can do what [scribbled out] did and break it yourself". He walks through Lumi saying "She seems to have inherited Aryox's penchant for cold, calculating actions. They don't make for the best parents. At times, they don't make for the best friends." Melora says "Aryox". Next there are more of Aryox's thoughts: "if I betray them…", followed by a drawing of Telaine (in yellow) and Melora (in green) laughing together, "I have a reason." A speech bubble in gray offsets this, reading "[illegible], I pray to your indifference." Telaine says "Aryox al-- broke our-- pact and--" Finally, Aryox runs through a mass of speech bubbles. One panel overlayed on top of them is a closeup of his eye, staring forward. His thought cuts through them too-- "It's for their sake. For the future. Because I saw--" The speech bubbles are overlapping, and cutting each other off. They are: "(Aryox) --ell Telaine --'m sorry" "(Telaine) That is why I think [illegible]'s indifference is WRONG" "(gray/Mira) Saved --ed, but at the cost of betraying" "(Telaine) Aryo--" "(Callie, teal) I don't think even he was on his own side." "(Aryox) I know. I had to. If there had been any other way, I would've…" "(Melora) --about the world, I needy you, Aryox." "(Melora) I am not neutral. I protect the--" "(gray) May [illegible]'s indifference protect me." The last speech bubble is just behind Aryox as he runs-- Melora's voice begging "please."

The first half of the next page is entirely taken up by a drawing of a statue of Melora, in slightly faded green. She stands in a column of light, stepping forward, smiling softly with one hand extended towards the viewer. She's looking down, towards whoever is looking at her. Green vines wrap around her, and she carries a green branch in her other hand with yellow, blue, and green flowers on it. Below the statue, a tiny Aryox stands across from it, on top of the border of the next panel, as he says "Mel?" Aryox stares up at her in shock.

The last page shows Aryox staring up at Melora from the front, his ears drooping and text bubbles echoing behind him. They are mostly illegible but some words can be made out: "(Aryox) Mel" "(Telaine) Goddess" "(Melora) I need you, Aryox" "(gray) Melora's indifference" Melora is shown laughing, with the panel fracturing into ice below her and cracks running through the vision of her as Aryox things "no." He is then shown stepping forward raising a hand towards Melora, ice crumbling away from the border of the frame, with Melora's statue still standing across from him. Text echoes behind him: "(Aryox) I know. I'm sorry. If there had been any other--" "(Telaine) Melora's indifference is WRONG" "(gray) Melora, I pray ---ence" "(Telaine) THAT'S how-----tle WE--- YOU" "(Melora) Please." "(Aryox) If I betray them, I have a reason." The ice is cracking below them, too, as Aryox thinks "not you." Mist begins to swirl into the page, and very faintly in the background Aryox's name in light green begins to appear. Aryox reaches up towards Melora, then stares up at her with a frown, putting his hand on her cheek. It is small against her face, and mist cuts across the corner of the panel. It is cut off in the corner by Melora yelling "Aryox!", the tail of this speech bubble parting the mist on the page. The speech bubble leads to Melora in the only colored panel of the comic-- Melora and Telaine leaning over Aryox from his Pov, with his hand on Melora's cheek, bigger against it than the statue's. Melora frowns as she speaks, and Telaine smiles softly, her eyebrows furrowed.

The discord DMs after read: discord dms between me (stonestars) and alli from november. I say "I'm hoping. What are the chances one of us gets the other since we both put the eladrin." Alli responds "possibly high"]

[gothic-aesthetic-gal]

Old Scars (Part 19)

Ledger!joker x reader

Fem!reader is kidnapped by the joker and his henchmen while just trying to get a moment's reprieve from her boring, soul-destroying job ✨️

Tw: I mean, we all saw TDK, right? I'd say this is on the same level/rating. Kidnapping, violence, mentions of minor characters (not J) being misogynist/threatening SA.

In this chapter specifically, Transphobia directed at side character (perp gets swift comeuppance) some violence.

Beyond this i'm not sure, i'll update these when I write more.

Part 19 -

I switched trains several times, still paranoid that I might be being followed, and found myself heading downtown. I had finally calmed myself enough to decide that I had to find a place to crash and I couldn't go back to my apartment. I'd been gone for a couple of weeks now, so I probably hadn't been served an eviction notice yet, but I was supposed to be missing and presumed dead. Going back there would be a sure-fire way to run into the crooked cops, or J.

I looked out over the city flickering by the train window, framed by scribbled graffiti. Even in the dead hours of the night, there were some cars on the roads, some businesses open, some lights still on. These small signs of life were a strange comfort to me: In a city that never sleeps, there are always some people out there awake with you in the early hours. When you know that, it feels less alarming being awake at a time when you're not supposed to be.

I was ripped from my momentary trance by shouting at the end of the train car, and looking up, I saw two figures. One had the other herded into the corner. The other was protesting and trying to get around him. The man had his back to me as I approached.

"Shut up you t***ny slut!" he yelled out, slurring his words.

The lady he was attacking pushed him away and managed to run towards me.

"Hey!" I yelled at the drunk asshole, sending him spinning round to see who was addressing him.

"What?!"

"Leave her alone!"

"And what you gonna do about it?" He laughed.

"I'm not joking. Leave her the fuck alone and keep your hands to yourself!" I barked back.

This clearly pissed him off as he straightened up to full height and started marching towards me. I wasted no time in pulling the taser out of my pocket, flipping off the safety and pressing the trigger. In a flash, the two spiral wires shot out and embedded into his chest. He started to violently convulse and jerk around, falling to the floor with an uncanny groan as his entire body stiffened up. I pulled out the used cartridge and tossed it onto the floor, glad I hadn't given him a chance to get any closer to us.

"Gotham city am I right?" The lady beside me muttered, kicking the man in the groin for good measure, then pulling a cigarette and lighter out of her black corset and lighting up as she returned.

I shook my head at the guy crumpled up on the floor.

"I always carry a stun gun in my purse when I'm working. It's not safe, espescially for girls like me out here - Only some other stupid fucker stole my goddamn purse earlier!"

"Wow, it's not been your night, huh?" I said as we walked to the other end of the train car.

"No it hasn't. But you stopped it being a whole lot worse. I'm Candy, what's your name, doll?" She smiled, smoothing down her miniskirt.

I flinched a little at her choice of pet name.

"I'm (y/n). Nice to meet you Candy... I'm not having a good night either, i'll be honest," I sighed, loading a new cartridge into the taser and throwing the strap of my duffle bag back over my shoulders.

"Awe no honey, what's eatin' ya?" She asked earnestly.

Again, I was taken back by anyone in the city being kind to me.

"I need a place to crash, do you know anywhere... kind of, off-grid no questions asked? I got a little money, but not a lot," I said, scratching the back of my head.

"Somewhere that doesn't ask for ID you mean?" She asked.

"Yeah, I kinda, crossed a bad cop... or four," I admitted, deciding I could trust her.

"Oh wow!" She giggled, "Don't worry, I got you. I know a place or two."

"Thanks, I'll make it worth your while," I added, handing her a hundred dollar bill.

"Oh doll, that's way too much. I can't take it. Don't ya need it?"

I pushed it into her hand.

"Trust me, i'm good for it. I want you to take it, just promise you'll help me?"

"Of course!" She said, tucking it into her corset and patting my hand supportively.

The train pulled in to a stop and we both exited the doors to move to a different car, leaving my new friend's attacker groaning in pain on the floor.

I followed Candy's lead as we got off two stops down and I wondered how the hell she could walk so gracefully in heels down the slippery staircase to street level.

"I'm going back to my place for the night, if I didn't share with some very sketchy people, I'd invite you there," she sighed.

"Hey that's okay, I appreciate what you're doing already."

We rounded a couple of corners and came across what once must have been quite a grand building in the forties. The steps up to the cracked art deco façade spilled down onto the street and we stopped in front of them. The graffiti and flyers pasted to the walls indicated that it wasn't so grand any longer.

"I'd try this one first. It's a bit less dangerous than the other places," she explained, stubbing out her cigarette under her pointed heel and starting up the steps.

I hopped up after her and entered the lobby.

There was a man sat behind the reception desk with his feet up watching television. The blue light flickered across his pallid face as he sat, chewing on something. I had to press the little bell on the counter for him to slowly peel himself away from the TV set.

"Yeah?" He asked gruffly.

"Can I get a room here please?" I asked.

"A double?"

"Sure," I nodded.

"It's twenty five bucks a night. How many nights you stopping?"

"Uh, three for now."

He held out his hand expectantly as I withdrew the bills, being very careful not to flash exactly how much cash I had with me. I handed them over and he licked his fingers and counted them, before slamming a fist on the side of an ancient looking cash register so that the drawer popped open with a ping. Once he'd jammed the drawer closed again he turned to a wall covered in chipped plaster with hundreds of keys hanging from hooks. Grabbing one down, he handed it over.

"Third floor, room 27," he said already settling back in front of his TV show.

"Thanks," I muttered.

The stairwell had a flickering light and I could still see my breath as we climbed. There was an elevator but it looked incredibly unreliable and I really did not want to get stuck between floors. Once I reached my room, we sat on the edge of the bed. The sheets looked clean enough - much to my relief. There was a little bathroom and I had a window that looked out over the street and the train tracks. With each passing train the vibrations rumbled through the room.

"Thank you," I said, my voice cracking a little as my emotions overwhelmed me.

"Oh baby, what are you running from?" She said, taking my hand as she sat beside me on the bed.

I blinked back my tears.

"It's not just the cops," I managed to get out, struggling to find the words to explain the rest.

"It's okay, you don't have to tell me what. We all got our demons."

I smiled weakly.

"How do you do it?" I asked shakily.

"Do what?"

"Stay kind, when life is so bad to you?"

"Seems to me like you're doing the same. Don't give up honey. Kindness is rebellion in a world like this," she answered patting my thigh supportively.

"I guess you're right," I began.

"I am. But don't get me wrong. There are some nasty fuckers out there who don't deserve your kindness. Give people what they deserve. If they are kind, be kind. If they're not... well, you already understand; you tazed that creep for me."

Her words struck me to my core.

"Now, I got to go. If you need to find me, I work Jefferson most nights. Or you can ask in the Black Dog Club on fifty-second, they usually know where I am."

I nodded.

"You're gonna be okay?" She asked, looking guilty.

I wiped the remaining tears from my face and put on a smile.

"Of course, I'll be fine."

I wanted to give her more money, but I was terrified of anyone else finding out what I had. She walked out of the door leaving me on my own.

I turned the key until the door locked and slid the dead bolt across the back. Then I placed the key on the bedside dresser and pulled the chair from the corner of the room in front of the door, hooking it under the handle.

Finally, I laid back on the bed, exhausted. I could see the faint glow of the oncoming dawn in the dark sky through the gap in the broken blinds and the sounds of the city clawed at the glass - as though it was desperate to destroy the tiny layer of separation I had just established.

I thought about what Candy had said. I thought about the crooked cops, and the man on the train. I thought about the man who had attacked me in the alley until J intervened, and Vladislav injecting me with the fear toxin. I thought about all of it, turning it over and over in my mind.

I had to do something. I was already on the run... I had already committed a laundry list of criminal offences. Maybe it was time to be less reactionary, and more proactive. It wasn't hope that filled my chest now, but there was a growing desire for some kind of revenge. If the law couldn't be relied on to provide justice for people like myself or Candy, then maybe the only other option was to do something more drastic... an idea was spreading like fire in my mind.

I knew that J would come looking for me, turning over every stone, and the cops i'd crossed, but what I didn't know, was that the Batman was also on my trail. Running the letter through the computer database had not returned the results he was hoping for, although it had given him a set of my prints which could potentially confirm whether I was at other locations, and therefore still living. He'd managed to piece together our movements away from the burnt out apartment, between the mysterious bloody clothing at the laundromat and the car-jacking on 89th. The kid running deliveries was terrified - who was gonna believe that he'd run into both the joker, and the bat? Still, he'd recounted his story and the mysterious vigilante vanished into the night once again, like a deadly shadow.

Running the plates had taken time, but eventually that had lead him across the water, to the hills, and the crumbling remnants of Parkview Asylum. Again, he found only traces, echoes where he wabted to find voices. It frustrated him, and he looked out of the window at the twinkling lights of the city in despair. She seemed to be winking at him, as if once again she concealed her secrets. Gotham had the upper hand; she always did. She was full of shadows, and corruption. The rot was so deep you couldn't dig it out. But whenever he wondered if she was too far gone, he would think of his parents, and find the renewed strength to pull forwards against the tide. He would find them. He would free her from the Joker's profane clutches.

When I woke up it was almost midday, and uncharacteristically sunny. The warmth of the yellow light brought a genuine smile to my face as I held out a hand, watching my movements send dust particles swirling around in the beams. For a few precious moments I had forgotten that I was living on borrowed time - that I had crossed J and fled in the night. My heart felt heavy with guilt, not just for staying with him in the first place, but also for leaving. If he had a heart, had I just taken a hammer to it? Wouldn't he be angry?

In a desperate attempt not to focus on the alarming reality of my situation, I cast my mind instead to the idea that I might be able to make some productive use of my time before the end I was rapidly screeching towards. If this train was going off the tracks, I would ride it until it plunged off the fractured bridge into the waters. I knew I didn't want to kill anyone. For the most part I didn't want to cause major bodily harm either... but exceptions could be made for some if necessary. Setting fire to people, or beating them with a crowbar wasn't going to be my first move, but if things became truly desperate, I already had a track record for it.

Knowing where to start was difficult, but I figured that I would try to track down the guy who had attacked me in the alley. I wanted to know he hadn't hurt anyone else, but I wasn't convinced, and something in my gut told me he was part of something much bigger. I wanted to know what.

Link to the Masterlist of other Chapters ⬇️

Tag List

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[dylansilverdreamer]

Beware the Ides of March

Word Count: 1.9k

Tags: Ashes to Ashes ending, Graphic Depictions of Violence, Gore, Body Horror(ish), Codependent Tendencies, AdBell, fem!Bell

Inspired by this post!

A/N: My first fic on tumblr!! aaaaaaa!!!! Of course, I had to write something for my blorbos. I haven't sat down to write anything in years, and uploaded any of said writing in even more years so I may be a little rusty. Don't hesitate to leave a comment if you notice something wonky, please enjoy!!

@fastleopard1521

— — — — — — — — — — —

“The cat becomes the mouse.”  The man commented with the slightest hint of a smile behind both his Russian accent and gas mask. He nodded toward the door, signaling for Bell to take the lead. She pushed open the red door to find the sun beaming through a grimy old window, perfectly framing her target. 

Adler.

Bell felt her blood boil as soon as she lay eyes on him. A disgusting, pitiful, awful man. Her rage licked up her spinal cord, hands tightening over the assault rifle in her arms. 

The man lay in his own ichor, smudged all over the tile and his clothes, hands drenched in the stuff from pitiful attempts to stop the bleeding. She ought to put him out of his misery right here. Pump his guts full of lead and watch as rigor mortis made him twitch. She ought to bash his skull in with the butt of her gun. Smash those stupid aviators and leave scars in his eyes to match hers. 

The American wheezed out a raspy chuckle, letting his head loll to look at Bell. “Glad to see you still care... Mind giving me a light?” Adler gestured with his chin to the lighter that lay just out of his reach. 

Bell stopped a moment, standing in the middle of the room. She smirked underneath her mask. Sure. Why not. Humor the dying man. She stepped closer, kneeling to give Adler his last wish. The thought of whether or not he deserved such an escape from his bad decisions crossed her mind only to be interrupted by a metallic shing! and a defiant grunt. 

The blade of the dagger glinted in the sun as she easily caught his wrist. Adler struggled. Audibly. It made a twinge of joy twist Bell’s gut. Adler, the man who she’d though untouchable, who shined in her “memories” as a savior. A man who her entire life had seemed to revolve around. What an egotistical piece of shit. Bell pushed back against him, slowly but surely forcing her captor back down to the blood smeared floor. She marveled at just how easy it was, now that all the strength was leaving his body. Did it feel like his limbs were filling with lead? Was his head starting to get fuzzy? Could he still feel the tips of his fingers? A small part of Bell died at the fact she would never know. 

There was a wild sort of spark in her eyes, ones that were usually so far away. Somehow, in this moment, they were both. As she slowly won the battle of strength against Adler, forcing him further and further into submission, she wondered if he felt like the prey he’d become. The sounds of his struggle only served to fuel that wild excitement in her stomach, watching the horror slowly slide into his expression. Bell stretched her neck out just a little, to peer beyond his sunglasses to see if there was that glint of fear in his eyes. Even just a flicker and she’d be satisfied for the rest of her days. 

Bell shifted herself on her knees, over Adler’s body. She could feel the pressure of the sharpened tip up against his shirt, his skin, his lungs. It was thrilling, to finally have some kind of power over him. Her breaths came in gasping lungfuls, that untamed, wild look in her eyes grew like an uncontrolled fire, pupils dilating from adrenaline and the pure euphoria of the moment. All it would take was the slightest bit of pressure. Just a push and it would all be over. 

She felt Adler’s hand clap over her shoulder, a last plea for mercy. Her mind flashed to all the times he had done the same in the past. In the safehouse, in Berlin, Vietnam. Usually only when he needed her attention, but occasionally, it would be accompanied by praise. Crumbs of affection to keep her obediently kneeling at his side, waiting for him to spare another. Like a fucking dog. His blood smeared down the shoulder pad beneath her coat as he used the fumes of adrenaline to tighten his grip and push her away from him, and it was all for naught. In the next instant, she lodged the blade into his chest. Making sure to hit deep. 

The way he gargled and choked on his own blood made Bell’s stomach clench, nausea and adrenaline tearing through her like flames. Watching his face go slack made her blood run cold, hearing his arm hit the ground with a heavy, dull thunk made her head spin. Blood roared in her ears like thunder, she couldn’t focus. Oh, god, she killed him. 

Bell was reeling, panting for air through the sturdy cloth of her balaclava. She couldn’t breathe, she couldn’t breathe, the world around her was fuzzy and crumbling away until it was just her and the body. 

Adler, no, no, no, no- 

Carefully, Bell reached up to set a hand on the side of the American’s face, barely missing the way his blood began pooling on the tile. What had she done? Tears bubbled up in her eyes and she couldn’t stop them from falling. Adler couldn’t be dead, he just couldn’t! The knife she had put in his gut had to have been fake, it had to! Sure, he deserved it after everything he’d done, but… 

He deserved this. Oh, the wrongs he had made. With her, with Perseus, with the world. Bell drew her hand back from his face and let it hang at her side. Today the west would fall, and his body would mark the start. Today the world had been rid of a cancer, of a thorn in its heel. No one would have to go through what she had ever again, she’d personally make sure of it. Her palms suddenly itched for the handle of his knife. Maybe she would keep it as a souvenir, or a good luck charm. Bury it somewhere deep in her closet, never to find but to know it’s there. Yeah, that sounded good. 

Bell used both hands to slip the blade from the new gash in Adler’s body, carefully, like something about this was ceremonial. She held it at her own chest level for a moment, letting silent tears spill. Russell Adler was gone. For real. His heart would never beat again. His lungs would never fill with the acidic tang of cigarette smoke again. His hands would never rest on the back of Bell’s neck again. His lips would never mutter another “We’ve got a job to do…” 

The phrase so easily crossed Bell’s mind. Too easily. Somewhere, faintly, she heard her namesake. Ringing in the back of her head, the resonance rising to a crescendo until her brain was full of buzzing. It made her angry. Her face had hardened, and brow furrowed as she raised her arms higher. The arrogance. We’ve got a job to do, as if there was ever a “we” in the first place. She’d been kidnapped, experimented on, brainwashed, lied to at every turn, and somehow those missions were her responsibility. She’d show him responsibility. Are you watching, Adler? From your throne in hell? I’ll fucking show you responsibility! 

With a sob, more akin to a grieving howl, Bell plunged the dagger downwards, straight back into Adler’s lifeless corpse. What little blood was left in his body spattered upwards and onto her clothing and mask. There was a strange sort of satisfaction that came with the hollow beating her fists made against his ribs, the ease in which the metal slid into him. It fulfilled a sickening corner of her mind; one she wasn’t even sure was hers. She only knew she wanted to do it again. And again. And again. And again. 

Bell couldn’t stop crying, heaving sobs and angry growls took turns escaping from her chest. Adler was gone. He was gone and it was all her fault. It was over. 

Again and again, she drove the knife deep into his ribs, chipping away at bone and hacking off hunks of flesh. This one was for pushing her to the border of death strapped to a chair in that lab, that one was for dragging her out to the Lubyanka building, those two were for sticking a needle into her eye. Bell couldn’t tell if the sound of screaming was coming from her or somewhere outside. All she could focus on was the feeling of Adler’s corpse coming apart under her hands. Stab after stab after stab, it was all the girl could bring herself to do. Adler was dead and it was all Bell’s fault. She raised her arms for another blow and wailed, coming down without the same force that she had before. The dagger slipped from her hands and clattered to the floor, joining the blood of its previous owner. 

Bell didn’t sit back up this time, leaning forward over the mushy cavity she had carved from him, bloodied hands splayed out on his shoulders and putting her forehead just between his collarbones. Adler was gone. There was a gaping hole in her chest now, like she was the one being gutted rather than him. Even after everything he did, he was still a part of her. In his own, artificial way. He’d poured himself into her memories, cemented himself as a staple in her life. Without a hand to hold its leash, what was a dog to do? Even just a few hours ago, when he had interrogated her after injecting her brain with whatever was in those orange vials, the way he had held her head so still. As if he were cradling it gently. Bell already craved that warmth again. Her soul screamed for the steadying hands on the sides of her head, and Adler’s voice telling her to think, Bell, try to remember. 

She couldn’t do it anymore, her head was full of static and memories she wasn’t sure were hers. A jungle, a helicopter crash, a jeep on an airstrip, a door, a red door, a red door. Bell’s head was on backwards and it hurt to open her eyes. She wanted to drown herself in the lingering scent of his expensive cigarettes and let him sink his disgusting, calloused fingers back into her brain and make sense of things. Her collar had been taken off and she’d been shooed out the back door to be a stray. His name slipped from her lips between breathless sobs, Adler, Adler, no, Adler, please- 

 Once she was sure his heart had stopped beating, again, Bell sat up to stare down at the carnage, the mess she had made. Her emotions had warred with each other so much that she no longer felt anything. Today had been exhausting and all she wanted was to curl up in her cot. Hell, maybe even a real bed. 

As she stared down at the remnants of her mentor, splayed out on the floor and soaked in blood, a hand slid onto her shoulder. Warm and strong, ungloved. It squeezed just enough to ease some of the tension in her bowstring tight muscle. Bell couldn’t help but lean into it, just slightly. A new sort of silence blanketed the room, one that accompanied change. The kind that made rocks form in your gut at the prospect of just how different everything would be after you took your next breath. Bell hardly felt it through the thick clothing and just how far she’d disappeared into her head, but there was a thumb gently rubbing back and forth against her shoulder blade. Though her comrades voice was muffled by the gas mask, his words couldn’t have cut clearer. 

“That street dog should have been put down long ago.” 

[pkg4mumtown]

Special Weapons and Tactics (Ch. 4)

Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x Original Male Character (OMC)

Rating: Mature

Summary: León and Hotch are called away on separate cases after their coffee date.

Content Warnings: strong language, first person POV, canon-typical violence, mostly fluff, descriptions of murder, casefic

A/N: (March 8, 2025: The fic has been officially transitioned to Hotch/OMC. The fic sort of got away from me and I realized I've been putting more detail than I should be for a reader insert as I've been writing future chapters. I apologize ahead of time for anyone who enjoyed it as a reader insert, but I wanted to rectify this in the hopes that future chapters wouldn't feel so forced/odd/specific as I write them.) Welcome back!! Thank you for all the love you’ve all given! This fic is the first CM fic I started and I love it with all my heart. This chapter and the next chapter are pretty case focused, so I’ve changed the rating because of the descriptions.

Spotify Playlist songs for Chapter 4: Working for the Weekend

Also available on AO3 - I do use a workskin on AO3 for text messaging, so I uploaded screenshots of the texts here. I know this isn’t what iOS looked like in 2010 but I didn’t feel like learning a new workskin lol.

tags: @l-a-u-r-aaa

July 2010

I took off toward the DC office to get briefed on the case and sighed at the interrupted date Hotch and I both had to leave. I was glad he had a good time, though, and I couldn't wait to see him again. I scrubbed a hand roughly over my face, needing to get thoughts of him out of my head.

Now was not the time.

“The victim is Theodore Jackson, forty-three years old. Baltimore PD found him Friday morning in Mt. Vernon Place stripped naked, beaten, and with mutilated genitals. ME is working on the autopsy now and they’re already started a full blood work up.”

“Jeez. Mutilated genitals?”

“He was castrated,” my chief simplified.

I looked at the horrific images that he pulled up. Our unit was stretched thin, leaving usually one or two agents to work with local PD on violent crimes cases.

“Family?”

“No one local except for a partner, Tyler Clarke. Said he went missing Thursday night when they were out at a club,” my chief stood from where he’d been sitting on the edge of our conference table.

“Any other victims? Gang ties? MS-13 has a high concentration around there.”

“We just got the case. No one has looked into previous victims yet,” he gave me a dejected shrug. “Everyone has their hands full with other cases."

“I’ll get Fielding on it,” I nodded, making a note to call our analyst. Being short-staffed was an understatement.

“They want you there today. I sent you all the info.”

“I’ll get going,” I pushed myself away from the table. “Thanks, Chief.”

“I’ll take you off rotation,” he called after me.

“Thanks.”

How ridiculous would a SWAT mobilization be when I was forty miles away?

-

I started the drive after making sure I had everything I needed, then left DC as quickly as I could. About halfway through the drive my phone rang, and I answered it without looking at the caller ID.

“Navarro,” I answered the phone.

“So, you’re meeting up with my boss on the weekends now?”

“Hi, Derek, Happy Saturday,” my firehead softened at the voice on the other line and I cooed in my best teasing tone.

“Don’t try and sweet talk me now, boy,” I heard his grin over the phone. “What gives?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I exhaled, feigning ignorance.

“Your name is on his cup, genius,” He laughed, and I heard the sound of a plane engine coming closer over the phone.

“Ah, well, plenty of Leon’s in the world,” I shrugged even though he couldn’t see me.

“Brother, there is a whole ass accent on there. They might not realize who the name belongs to yet, but I do. The bets are being placed as we speak,” he said in a sing-songy voice, a smile evident in his tone.

“Let me know how that goes. Have fun in Indiana, babe,” I blew the phone speaker a kiss and hung up.

“Little shit,” Morgan grumbled playfully to the phone after I hung up.

“Who was that?” Hotch asked curiously from his seat as Morgan stepped on the plane.

“Don’t play with me, Hotch,” he sighed and threw himself into a seat.

Hotch took a slow sip of his coffee to hide his growing smile.

“And how was your morning?” Rossi greeted Hotch, eyeballing the exchange between him and Derek.

“It was great.”

“Great, huh? Have anything to do with that name?” Rossi nodded to the coffee cup. Hotch immediately spun the name away from him. “I saw it in the elevator. You’re not slick, Aaron. Who’s León?” he drug out the name dramatically, adding a little flair to add to the drama.

Hotch feigned ignorance by opening a case file and flipping through it.

“Were you on a date?” Emily asked curiously, making JJ lean in to hear better.

Hotch opened his mouth to speak and was interrupted by Reid, “According to a study published in the Journal of Divorce & Remarriage, divorced men tend to re-enter the dating scene faster than women. They found that 31.5% of men were dating again within a year compared to only 19.4% of women. Considering how long-ago Hotch’s divorce was, it’s not unlikely.”

Hotch stared at Reid with a blank expression.

“Sorry.”

“The case? Please?” Hotch looked at the rest of his team.

-

I arrived at the Baltimore Police Department’s Central Station in an hour and immediately got to work.

“Captain O’Malley,” an older, weathered looking woman introduced herself as I walked to the front doors.

I shook her hand, “SSA Navarro.”

“Sorry to call you guys in on a weekend,” she peered around me as if she was waiting for someone. “I thought they’d send more of you?”

“We’re pretty inundated. Let’s hope we don’t need more than me,” I shifted, my bag threatening to fall off my shoulder during the exchange. “Where can I get set up?”

“We cleared out an office for you. Let me know if you need anything. I can take you to the crime scene when you’re set up.”

“That’d be great.”

Upon visiting the scene and looking over the surveillance footage, we determined that the unsub did his homework scoping out cameras and being careful to not get his face seen. He seemed fit enough to carry the act out alone in what we did see of him and managed to lure Theodore outside where the visuals ended. This meant that the murder was meticulously planned, and further we noticed the castration didn’t have any hesitation marks. It led me to believe that the unsub had definitely done this before. In conclusion, it was a big “NO" to gang activity.

Great.

“Fielding,” our analyst answered.

“Hola, mi reina. Justo la voz que quería escuchar,” Hello, my queen. Just the voice I wanted to hear, I greeted, hearing the smile in her laugh.

“No idea what you said but, oh, do I love the way it sounds, Leo,” she cooed.

I laughed and got us back on track, “I need you to run a search for me. Murdered males, middle aged, castrated or mutilated in some way.”

“That might be a big search, honey.”

“I know, uh—narrow down anyone who went missing from bars or clubs.”

“Alright, I’ll let you know what I come up with,” she confirmed and hung up.

A knock sounded on the office door, “Hey,” Captain O’Malley rushed in. “The M.E. finally called, they found traces of ketamine in Theodore’s system. They also found saliva on his neck and face but no hits.”

“The unsub drugged his drink? Maybe that’s how he got him outside?”

“It was hard to tell from the video,” O’Malley hummed.

I got Fielding back on the phone, “Hey, also cross reference any victims who had ketamine in their systems.”

“You got it,” she answered and hung up again.

We interviewed Theodore’s partner and other bars in the area, as well as reviewed hours upon hours of surveillance footage from surrounding bars to see if we could spot the unsub hunting anywhere else. According to Tyler, he and Theodore were dancing, Theodore left to grab them a couple more drinks, and never came back which checked out with the footage. Their car was still in the lot when Tyler checked outside.

The bartender that Thursday night that Theodore went missing took some persuading to talk. He had initially waved me off, claiming he had already given a report to the police but I managed to strike a rapport with him, stressing how important it is that murders in our community are taken just as seriously as anyone else. With some reluctance since he didn't want to be involved, he finally sighed and mentioned seeing Theodore and Tyler that night. He said they were regulars and that Theodore was a bit of a flirt with other men, too. He had seen Theodore talking to another man that night, someone who wasn’t Tyler but with how busy it was with their happy hour special and being understaffed, the bartender didn’t have time to get a good look at the guy—just that he was younger and pretty fit. He also mumbled about it not being his business, but mentioned that they were there one moment and gone the next.

It was equally helpful and unhelpful, though we could safely assume this was carried out by one person. Captain O’Malley increased patrols around the clubs in the area in case the unsub decided to strike again tonight.

I checked into a hotel near the station to try and get some sleep and come back to the case with fresh eyes. After taking a quick shower, my phone broke the silence.

“Hey,” I answered Fielding’s call.

“Hey, so I had a lot of hits but focused specifically on genital mutilations and narrowed the list a lot. Ten other victims fit the victimology,” she answered. “I’m sending them to you now. Six of them were in Missouri and four in Oregon, all in the same areas within each state, all fitting the age, too. And get this...”

I hummed in response, leaning over the desk in my room to pull up the info.

“They were all abducted from gay clubs, and all had partners around ten or more years younger than them.”

“Shit.”

“That’s an understatement,” she sighed.

“Thanks, get some rest,” I ordered and hung up.

After getting dressed, I sifted through the information she sent over in bed. Surveillance footage showed similar abductions to the case here with the victim willingly following the unsub. Just like those, the unsub was cognizant of keeping his face hidden. My phone vibrated next to me, breaking me out of my trance and making me realize it was 2:00 AM. I set the laptop on the nightstand and grabbed my phone.

Damn profilers.

“Get some rest. You’re no use to them off your game.” -Hotch

Damn profilers.

“At this point it might not even matter.” -León

“Are you OK?” -Hotch

“Might have a serial on my hands.” -León

“Are you sure that’s all that’s bothering you?” -Hotch BAU

Before I could respond, my phone buzzed. Hotch was calling me.

“Talk to me,” he murmured.

“I just—” I sighed. “—there’s a bunch of gay men being murdered and this guy is pretty good at staying under the radar. I’m frustrated that people aren’t being more helpful.”

“Yea, that kind of frustration can get under your skin. But—” he paused, sighing, “Staying up this late isn't going to help.”

Despite his words not being all that helpful, I was already feeling a little better just hearing his voice.

“Yea, well, we can’t all be top-notch profilers.”

Hotch laughed over the line, “I’m sure you’re not half bad.”

“Careful,” I teased. “You talk me up too much and I might get a big head.”

“It can get bigger?” he teased back.

“Ouch,” I laughed, sighing as my frustration subsided with our laughter lightening the load a little. “Thank you for checking on me.”

“Of course. Call me if you need any help,” he stressed.

“I don’t want to be a—”

“You’re not. Get some rest,” he interrupted me.

“We’re in the same time zone, you go to bed, too, Hotchner.”

“Yes, sir,” he replied with a hint of sarcasm.

Once the call ended, I tossed my phone onto the nightstand and flopped onto the stiff hotel bed, rubbing a hand over my face. I was mentally exhausted but my mind refused to slow down despite that.

Ten victims. Three states. Same pattern.

I closed my eyes, willing my brain to rest. I even tried a technique I learned years ago overseas, relaxing my toes, ankles, feet, legs, fingers, arms...nope. Groaning and feeling the frustration bubbling up again, I turned onto my side, staring at the glowing red numbers of the hotel clock:

2:47 AM.

With a frustrated sigh, I pushed myself up, knowing damn well I wasn’t getting any real sleep.

Sorry, Aaron.

The case file was still pulled up on my laptop, the screen dim in the dark room. I laid back against the pillows, cracking my neck as I scrolled through the victims again.

Male, mid-40s, younger partner, abducted from a gay club, castrated ante-mortem.

The unsub wasn’t picking victims at random—he had a specific type.

I tapped my fingers against the plastic of the laptop just next to the trackpad, my jaw clenched and tight.

What’s the connection?

He wasn’t just going after older men. He was going after older men with significantly younger partners. But why? Was it about control? Power? Or something personal?

I pulled up the Missouri cases, clicking on one of the earlier victims. Daniel Watts, 44. Murdered in 2008. Same exact M.O.

His partner? Cameron Ellis, 27.

I moved to the Oregon cases. James Holloway, 46. Murdered in 2009. Partner? Jordan Lewis, 28.

My stomach churned uncomfortably at the images and testimonies given by the distraught partners. Every age gap was nearly identical: Forty-something victim. Partner ten to fifteen years younger. Over and over again.

My fingers hovered over the trackpad as something settled uncomfortably in my gut. He’s not just killing them because they’re older men. He’s killing them because they remind him of someone and the mutilation played a key part.

I exhaled sharply, leaning back until my head hit the wall, replaying the rudimentary profile in my head.

Was the unsub in a relationship like this before? Was he the younger one or the older one? Based on the interviews, likely the younger one. Did something happen to make him snap?

The longer I stared at the screen, the heavier my eyelids became. I scrubbed a hand down my face and checked the time again.

4:57 AM.

I should at least try to sleep.

Shoving the laptop aside, I slid down back into bed, my body finally feeling the weight of exhaustion. My eyes shut, but my brain kept working, crime scene photos and autopsy reports flashing behind my lids.

Hotch was right—I was no use to the case if I let it consume me. The thought barely settled before my phone rang, its sharp buzz slicing through the darkness.

I groggily reached for it, barely checking the caller ID before answering.

“Yeah?” My voice was hoarse.

Captain O’Malley’s voice came through, groggy but tight, “My boys found another body.”

Damn.

I was already sitting up and throwing the covers back before she even finished the sentence.

“Where?”

“Monarch. Club goers found him behind the bar. We’ve got a perimeter set up, but…” she hesitated, exhaling. “This one’s fresh.”

My stomach tightened as I pulled on random clothes from my bag. “How fresh?”

“Less than three hours.”

My pulse spiked, the unsub was still in the city which meant we could expect more murders still.

“Send me the address. I’m on my way.”

I hung up and grabbed my badge and gun, my exhaustion forgotten for the time being.

-

Chapter 5

[cirr0stratus]

thinking about frodo and sam and how their characters are near identical to stanislaus katzinsky and paul baumer and how they are both fictional men of different statuses that were created during the horrors of world war one by two people who used their incredible poetic voices to cope with the realities of warfare and how the relationship that these characters have transcends friendship and brotherhood and even romantic love because what they have is so much more important than that, it’s so much more. how there isn’t a word for the relationship that they have, and people like me are stuck thinking about these quotes and being completely normal about them

“We sit opposite one another, Kat and I, two soldiers in shabby coats, cooking a goose in the middle of the night. We don't talk much, but I believe we have a more complete communion with one another than even lovers have.

We are two men, two minute sparks of life; outside is the night and the circle of death. We sit on the edge of it crouching in danger, the grease drips from our hands, in our hearts we are close to one another, and the hour is like the room: flecked over with the lights and shadows of our feelings cast by a quiet fire. What does he know of me or I of him? formerly we should not have had a single thought in common – now we sit with a goose between us and feel in unison, are so intimate that we do not even speak.”

“you lay close to me. I'd be dearly glad to see you have a sleep. Id keep watch over you; and anyway, if you lay near, with my arm round you, no one could come pawing you without your Sam knowing it.”

“A little soldier and a clear voice, and if anyone were to caress him he would hardly understand, this soldier with the big boots and the shut heart, who marches because he is wearing big boots, and has forgotten all else but marching. Beyond the sky-line is a country with flowers, lying so still that he would like to weep. There are sights there that he has not forgotten, because he never possessed them – perplexing, yet lost to him. Are not his twenty summers there?

Is my face wet, and where am I? Kat stands before me, his gigantic, stooping shadow falls upon me, like home. He speaks gently, he smiles and goes back to the fire.

Then he says: "It's done."”

“Frodo's face was peaceful, the marks of fear and care had left it; but it looked old, old and beautiful, as if the chiselling of the shaping years was now revealed in many fine lines that had before been hidden, though the identity of the face was not changed. Not that Sam Gamgee put it that way to himself. He shook his head, as if finding words useless, and murmured: 'I love him. He's like that, and sometimes it shines through, somehow. But I love him, whether or no”

“Kat my friend, Kat with the drooping shoulders and the poor, thin moustache, Kat, whom I know as I know no other man, Kat with whom I have shared these years—it is impossible that perhaps I shall not see Kat again”

“'If you don't come back, sir, then I shan't, that's certain,' said Sam. 'Don't you leave him! they said to me. Leave him! I said. I never mean to. I am going with him, if he climbs to the Moon; and if any of those Black Riders try to stop him, they'll have Sam Gamgee to reckon with,”

[tiny-sassy-aggressive]

9-1-1 S8 E13 WATCH AND REACTION

INVISIBLE

Archie this poor man this is so sad

BUCK IS SO EXCITED TO USE THE RAM! I love the first person pov of being the door and being slammed?? Like okay cinematography

So are Eddie and Buck ever not on FaceTime?? I’m???? Both while cooking??? What in. The??

Eddie. Darling. I love you. But how awkward for your kid to ask his dad if he can stay with him again after all this time! He needs his dad! Please!

Awww the tickets are so cute :((((

what time are we meeting to fight the Diaz parents?? It’s. I’m genuinely shocked and horrified at their behavior yet note how damn realistic it is.

Only Eddie eating his amazing home cooked food I’m gonna sob

ONLY ONE PARENT CAN GO. YEAH. EMPHASIS ON PARENT. WHAT THE HELL

Hennnn lookin good for her birthday!!!! Hell yeah!

No way they all forgot. Absolutely not they did not this has to be a ploy.

Currently fighting Helena in my mind in a parking lot. Her attitude is making my skin CRAWL

Oh Archie not again.

PAUSE- that’s a photo of Buck in Maddie’s kitchen baking. THATS A BOLD PHOTO AS THE CONTACT PHOTO. They are probably just playing it off as a photo as in whatever it’s just a photo BUT in my headcanon this is setting up the Eddie/maddie friendship (interaction) we’ve been waiting for. Bc Maddie took the photo and either sent to Eddie or sent to Buck and Buck sent to Eddie. On no level am I assuming Maddie took this photo and Buck made it is Apple ID photo and now that appears for everyone when he calls

Eddie on facebook and buck making fun of him WHILE trying to get advice about hen im DEAD

LOWKEY— Buck saying it’s Eddies job as Chris’s dad to damage him is so good. DAD UP

I’m so glad Eddie is fixing up this entire house so he can sell it again and come back to LA

Karen having an emergency gift cabinet is so good. CHIM GOES WHIMSICAL WHEN HES IN FHE WRONF —- I need more examples.

Oh no Chris :( HE HATES CHESS. HE HATES CHESS HE HATES CHESS. YES EDDIE DAD UP CHRIS IS LIVING WITH EDDIEEE YEAAAHHHHH

ARCHIE WAIT NO!!! oh my gosh he really didn’t mean to stab the guy. I mean. Archie is still unstable but wow! It really was an accident.

Hen is such a good speaker tho. So calm and knew exactly how to help him and get him off the bus. WHY WIYLD ARCHIE REACH IN HIS POCKET DUDE??? Aww he got hen a gift I-

HELL YEAH EDDIE MARCH IN THERE GET CHRISS STUFF. THIS IS JUST LIKE SO MANY OF US IMAGINED IT. HES so calm and confident. THIS is the energy. Not screaming or angry. Pure. Confidence that what he is doing is the right thing for Chris and for himself.

Realllllyyyyy hope the ballroom dance line isn’t throw away but knowing 9-1-1 it totally is but I would have loved to see it. Please fanfic writers I need you rn!

“Punch it dad” and what if I cried?

Awwww big dinner for hen :) OH MY GOSH GUILT ACTS OF SERVICE FROM BYCK IM CRYING HE WILL DO ANYTHIINNF AND EVERYRHINF TO MAKE IR UP FOR HER— and Bobby making sure he’s fed with a to go box they. They are such a family

Honestly. Ended a little too happy what horror are we getting at next week?

[cconfusedkat]

(shaking hands, functioning on three iced coffees, not beta read we just die) (LIL BRO TREATING THIS LIKE AO3Anyways yeah i did not read anything i typed here a second time so my wording might Suck Major Kuss)

Hey chat! sorry my holiday depression unfortunately kicked in, i had a ,, relatively decent Eid (cuz i dont celebrate christmas) ...? so i hope everyone had a relatively better holiday than i did… 💦

My friends often tell me i look like my art and i kinda see it. Hooray! Meeting the artist! Except i took matters into my own hands of making my own collage because I Do Not Have Enough Storage Space For Any Other Editing App

Additional shitpost ❤️ the art I've been most proud of are not actually in here, really! I'm mainly proud of the fanart i made for the few smiling critters AU's aaaall the way back feb-march but. I guess the stuff i liked the most i did this year was probably for the one who wilts? Im trying to think of stuff earlier than that. I noticed i definitely had an improvement in art, and i learned i do have a preference of drawing certain ways now too lmao- the fun of art! I hope to improve more in 2025 :-)

Herm,, all jokes aside, im glad people like my art...?? I am not a very Secure artist myself (already taking me five minutes to type that out and consider myself as an artist) so im SHOCKED when people Actually like my things. My doodles. The sometimes rare occasion of real art i put out there. Like! Wow! Thats crazy

Id have to say the same for youtube- im currently at 456 subscribers 🥺❤️ that is huge to me,, i wouldnt have expected me posting for the first time in years on youtube would result to me getting this many subscribers? ? .???

Im very, VERY thankful for the people ive met this year through fandom and generally. Unfortunately—for the past few months—Ive hit a really low stump in my mental health that limits me from talking to people without getting super drained, even on social media i kinda struggle with being active again. I am thankful for the people that continue to stick around and know im the way that i am,, one day ill be mentally stronger and everyone is gonna see my growth as soon as i can ,, Actually leave my own home and hopefully start a new. I didnt really consider that until one of my friends shared its experiences with me and i GENUINELY realized i can run away and get better one day,, there is a light at the end of the tunnel,, there IS,, but not now. Not today. Not in a few months. Itll take me years to heal but 2025 and ongoing years as i get more freedom to do so,,

UHHHH UHHH. ASIDE FROM CHEESY RANTING OF HAVING HOPES FOR THE FUTURE, YAPYAPYAP- i got a drawing tablet (again another thing my friend inspired me for- technically two major things in a row it inspired me for- hope in the future and drawing BWAHAHA-) and uhhh. HmMMOOHHH YEAH I REUNITED MY MEOWMEOWS! HOORA🎊🎊🎊🎊

my 2025 goals are not just improvement in art,, but in hopes of getting a full time job (since my last full time UMM. did NOT work out well! How am i gonna learn to pay my taxes on my own dawg,) and trying to get a place of my own since i missed out on that two years ago (or one? One year ago? I DUNNO..!!!!) , therapy and trying to heal better compared to my terrible stumps of 2022-2024,, i dunno what else but. Maybe working on my social skills at some point 🗿🗿 a far fetched goal is moving out of state completely and also going on testosterone but that is farrrr from now </33

Thank you lot for following and keeping up with my goofiness i gen did not think an animanga nerd with a passion of indie and mascot horror games could reach 510 followers within one year HELPPP thats crazy

On less serious goals though i hope on watching more animes than reading manga in 2025 BWAHAHAGAHSAJD i read manga more and anime is Extremely Rare for me to watch but both jjk and Beastars have all ive been watching as of recent lol- trust i will be such a geek (girl Please that is NAWT something to look forward to) (YES IT IS. HAVE YOU NO WHIMSY?)

[roguephenon]

How has Harvey been after his second chance?

He’s been well! Didn’t take long at all for him to work his way to earning ALL the keys to Moonbase. Comes in handy when Patrick locks himself out of the Decommissioning Wing. You’d be surprised how often that happens.

Moonbase Zero-point-One has never been cleaner with him in charge of Custodial Operations. He takes the job very seriously.

His work was essential in helping Sonia with negotiations with Queen B, the leader of the Teen Ninjas Remnants. During his Moonbase deep clean, he found a TON of old, lost toys and mementos. Kids can be messy and misplace things, especially when they’re turning 13 and decide to betray everyone and escape decommissioning.

Harvey found an old security blanket and something compelled him to wash it up and stitch it back together (he learned stitching from that weird Vin Moosk guy when the latter would pop in to visit Bonnie.)

Good thing, too. Turns out it belonged to Queen B. Upon being reunited with her blanky, Stacey’s heart thawed out, and she got all emotional and signed the “Let’s Give This Whole Peace Thing Another Shot” Treaty.

Oh, then there was the time where he single-handedly held back the army of War Dust Bunnies when the Couch Dave Empire launched a surprise invasion during the Ides of March Madness. Crazy times!

Yeah, Harvey’s doing alright. Sonia, Lee, and Patrick are glad to have him around.

[mediocreanomaly]

Heya! Same patchwork anon here >:]

Im so glad you like the idea! And id definitely see Vash being so protective of it, but sir we need to clean that omg 😩

But i did wanna shoot another reply cause i had another thought (Its 3am, so its the perfect time for thoughts) but imagine instead of white solid thread for Nai's janky ass milk puzzle blanket, its instead stitched with colored thread to at least give it some more life :0

I do like the idea that Nai just keeps it hidden, but imagine Nai's mate finding it and wanting to improve on it more, so little by little theyve been hand-embroiddering stuff on each patch to give it more life, and Nai doesnt notice cause he doesnt really lay it out often, and one day he just has this urge to look at it again, maybe give it a chance and add it to the nest, afterall its the thought that counts right? but then he spreads it out and sees the different embroiderry, like hearts or flowers that Nai's mate saw in books~ Theres even an ongoing embroiderry that makes it clear that his mate has been stitching this behind his back lol

(okay thats all sorry for the ramble im just so weak for them huhu)

Authors Note: Oh my gosh??? I'm so sorry for being away everyone work is busy busy busy rn, gotta serve up some of my drafts fr...anyways! Patchwork anon strikes again! You know nesting hc's are my weakness I had to indulge, R.I.P. Knives milk puzzle.

In reference to both of these post: Nesting Hc's, Patchwork Anon

A Blanket of Many Colors, Knives x Reader

You run your fingers over the blanket you had gifted Nai, the patchwork of white making the blanket look more like a haphazard ghost costume rather than a gift you'd painstakingly sown together. You sigh, you didn't really blame Nai for hiding it away in fact you'd been a be relived when you found out your mate kept the scraggly piece of fabric at all. While the vision had been there the end result had ended up lack luster at best.

You groan, about to tuck it back away in its hiding spot for good when you pause over one of the squares. Although by itself it wasn't much...it'd be the perfect base for something else. You think of what you could fill the tiles with, you had more than enough colored thread to add a bit of life to it, you mull over a couple options before remembering the book of flowers Nai had shown you once, his expression had soften as he explained the differences between each species. Inspired, you quickly grab the blanket and march over to the large bookcase in the corner of Nai's room, running your fingers over the spines of the books trying to find the correct one.

"c'mon...it's gotta be here somewh- ah!" you say triumphantly, pulling out the book containing pictures hundreds of different flowers. You'd been amazed when Nai first showed you, plants like this didn't bloom on Gunsmoke, so the idea of their soft petals were all you had to go off of. You quickly flip through the book picking out one of the flowers and grab some red thread and a needle, ready to go to work.

Some where along the way this little practice had become routine for you. Every time Nai was away or you were bored you'd sneak over to the cabinet your mate had stored the blanket and add a small embroidery. Adding a different flower every time until the blanket was becoming a colorful tapestry of your own making. You weren't sure if Nai even knew what you were doing, if he did he didn't say anything about it. So you continued the harmless pass time figuring he had just forgotten about the gift to collect dust.

He hadn't. Nai was, admittedly, particular when it came to his nest and he knew it. He'd mull over the sheets over and over making sure they were the same shade of white and that they were both soft and large enough. When you had presented him with the hand made blanket...it wasn't that he didn't apricate a gift from his beloved mate, it's just that he cringed internally anytime he thought about it in his nest. He couldn't bring himself to throw away something made by your hands though, so he had stored it away for safe keeping, not wanting anyone else to get their filthy hands on something made specifically for him.

It wasn't until a couple months and one tedious day later that he found himself marching towards his quarters. His instincts where screaming to wind down and drag you into the nest with him but you were out in Ja'Lai, escorted by Legato. He huffs, thinking of grabbing some of your clothes to add to the nest for your scent but then grimaces at the idea of all that disorganized fabric against the white sheets and pillows. He pauses looking at the cabinet that contained the gift you had made all that time ago. Although he still bristles slightly at the idea of it sprawled out in his nest...maybe it's the thought that counts? No. Absolutely not. But he could at least drag it out for a little while, maybe it wasn't as bad as he remembered.

Nai opens the cabinet and reaches in for the blanket but when he pulls it out...his eyes go wide. He holds it up so that he had a better view of what he's seeing, flowers he had only seen as a child blossom against the white fabric painting a scene of an intricate garden that only his memories and dreams could recreate. Had his mate been doing this the whole time? He tilts his head and gently traces the patters of the petals and whining stems that adorns the blanket now, then...he glances up towards his nest.

"Nai? You you here?" you call walking towards your shared room. The others had informed you of your mates arrival while you were out in town and you were eager to welcome him with open arms. You pad in, cold floor beneath you feet. He must be curled up in the nest it's where he liked to recharge after being gone. You walk towards the bed where you know a heap of white blankets and pillows is waiting as you quietly peek in the room. Your mate is in the nest alright, but...instead of the usual stark white, a myriad of color litters the top. Your blanket, you realize, is now the main center piece of the nest, curled securely around your sleeping mate as he purrs in his sleep, plant marking glowing softly. It seems...he liked the gift after all.