#got officially rejected from one of the wait listed scholarships. it's so over

[kimmkitsuragi]

omg and now we have the confirmation for the posthumous sophie album..

[lowellhq]

♦ Stats

» Alberto Rosende » Twenty-One » Scholarship Student » First Year » Submissive » Associates Degree

♦ Connection(s):

     Grayson Crane was assigned as Camilo's pen pal upon receiving his admissions packet in the mail from Lowell. This was an option for Scholarship students to be able to have at least one friend ahead of arrival. The two began exchanging letters and getting to know one another before they even arrived on campus. They're now roommates in Duval House.

† Biography

    Camilo Morales was born to a middle class family that was hard working, dignified, and proud. Camilo grew up with a quiet sensibility although that was tested by having two older Dominant brothers and a Switch sister. Camilo was the baby of the family and all that did was make convince him that he needed to work harder to find his place among those in his family.  

    Those in his immediate and extended family took care of Camilo but they didn’t coddle him. The Morales family believed strongly in not testing their children at birth and instead opting to leave that information blank on his birth records. It was an odd move to most. The people that didn’t get like to reveal classification at a young age were sometimes treated as though they were putting their child at a disadvantage or even at risk. 

    Because Camilo’s brothers turned out to be Dominants it was the expectation of many that he would be one as well. Camilo even sometimes believed this foregone assumption to be the case and did his best to learn what he could about the classification. He studied his older brothers, sometimes tried to emulate them, but his voice was never quite commanding enough nor his demeanor all that domineering.  

    Camilo devoured books from a young age to try to learn what he could about the world around him. Literature, lore, popular fiction. He consumed it all. Romance novels taught him what a Dominant and submissive should be. They idealized the Dominant dynamic into something that too often wasn't true to the real world.

    His passions outside of literature were for comic books and for drawing. He spent hours trying to copy from his comic books as a kid. In that world, anyone could be a hero, no matter their classification. In fact, some comic books emphasized the strength of each in their unique characters, inspiring Camilo to think he could be strong too. Camilo never expected the pursuit to go anywhere. He never forsook his academics for the leisurely pursuit of drawing. His parents wanted to ensure that he was fully able to function in whatever role he was given in the world.  

    When he was nearing the end of puberty it was revealed that Camilo was a submissive. Secretly he was overjoyed. He would often look at the Dominants at school and feel overwhelmed. Switches were another matter entirely. Camilo would’ve seen it as some kind of super power to be a Switch. They could do anything.  

    Yet, in the Morales family, submissives were often put into claims arranged between the elders of families. This wasn’t a broader tradition but there were some others in Camilo’s community who did this. They wanted to ensure their children were put in with good families who would build upon the future of the family and give honor to their respective names.  

    Camilo’s future was decided in the form of a Dominant named Anton Martinez. The Martinez family was closer to the next highest tax bracket than the Morales family. Their son was older by the time Camilo was ready for college. Anton was outwardly pleasant and well mannered but whenever they were alone he got too pushy with Camilo and would treat his drawings like the demented dream of a delusional submissive. It always put Camilo in a great place of shame. He was not comfortable with the arrangement but he had nothing to prove that Anton wasn’t who he appeared to be.  

    Camilo had a scholarship opportunity for a good college. He hadn’t yet chosen a major but he was thinking of putting in for an arts degree. Anton made it very clear that school was not in his future. Keeping a home and being of service was going to be his priority.  

    It was Camilo's understanding that he would still be able to make his own choices until he was claimed; and the submissive wasn't ready to be tied to one person yet. Then one night there was a party for Anton getting on the Dean's list. Anton made a toast and at the end he grabbed Camilo from the crowd and officially announced that Camilo was his submissive. He announced that they would be claimed by the end of the semester.  

    Camilo was blindsided. It was a complete disregard for his own plans for his future and he'd had no idea Anton was going to 'propose' as if he'd already said yes. Camilo pushed Anton away and blurted out that he didn't know what Anton was talking about. He said Anton had it wrong.  

    Anton was a proud man, much like the Martinez patriarch, and cared very much about his image. He fumed at Camilo's public rejection and demanded that he be able to punish Camilo publicly in their community. To Camilo's horror his family did not disagree. While they understood Camilo's surprise, they had already discussed the arranged claim, and they felt that some form of remedy must be applied to the wrong Camilo had done. A public insult warranted a public punishment. It was, they thought, also good for the order of the community.  

    The day was set. Camilo had only one choice. Either accept the punishment or find an escape. He applied to Lowell late after their scholarship program had been announced. He was torn between his own plans for his future and the path his parents would force him to stay on if he stayed. They would surely, as Camilo's legal guardians, make him enter into the claim with Anton despite his not wanting to. They still didn't understand the nature of his resistance to the man they didn't truly know. It would be hard for Camilo to support himself as a single submissive just getting out into the world with no degree and little work experience.  

    Camilo begged and pleaded for Anton not to punish him but Anton used the lash anyway. He'd only gotten started when Camilo safeworded out and even then Anton didn't stop. Camilo's parents stepped in when Anton didn't stop. They took him home, unsure of what to do.  

    As fate would have it...Camilo got accepted to Lowell Academy. The family, after much argument, agreed that it would be best for Camilo to learn more about being a submissive before entering into a claim. They decided time away from their community would help things smoothe over with the Martinez family. So they drove Camilo to the airport and they watched him go off to another world.  

    Camilo is often overwhelmed by the world of Lowell but he didn't come to the Academy to be second best. This is especially true since he went against his family's plans for him and only barely got to come to Lowell after numerous back-and-forth debates. He often puts his heart into his learning, hoping that will continue to give him the edge up on the other students, and in his free time he still doodles the various dreams that come into his head.  

    He hopes that maybe one day he can be the hero of his own story; even if only by simply being himself.

Secrets and Motives:

secret one: Camilo has been contacted by Anton several times since he left for Lowell. He keeps pushing Camilo to abandon the school...with the ultimatum that he will apply to Lowell himself if Camilo doesn't come back to him. Anton's family knows that Camilo can't leave Lowell without a claim and are in talks with Camilo's family about enrolling Anton into Lowell so both sons may have an education there as a claimed couple.

secret two: Camilo has anxiety about not succeeding at Lowell. He sometimes can't believe he broke away from his family's expectations to come to New York and be claimed by a stranger. He's never done anything this risky before and keeping on top of his studies is sometimes the only measure of control he can feel in a day. He's woken in cold sweats a few times if he thinks he's missed something.

motive one: Camilo's newfound freedom thrills him. He's always been known to be a good boy who rarely misbehaves but Camilo is in charge of his destiny and education in a way he's never been before. When he dreams his biggest dreams, Camilo wonders if he could prove how good he is with his art, so his talent is undeniable and he would be allowed to pursue an education in it.

motive two: As long as Camilo is offered the scholarship at Lowell he doesn't mind waiting for a claim to come around. He has firmly decided he won't settle on just anyone. He has some anxiety around Dominants that he only becomes aware of when faced with public arguments which threaten punishments. This means he's happy to explore his submissive side but keep claims on the backburner for however long it takes for his comfort to come first.

[stargleeksil-blog]

Criminal Minds S07E04 “Painless” review

Episode 04 – Painless

Heyo! So so far this is shaping up to be one of the most awesome seasons (excluding 2-5 XD) and this episode’s name is seriously freaking me out.

Really frightened of what’s going to happen.

Aww, Hotch is reading to Jack and he’s the best in the class, of course he is. Jackie boy.

“We just finished Charlie and the Chocolate Factory last night.”

“So he’s reading at a fourth-grade level.”

He’s holding back?

“Why do you think that is?”

“Paul Cain?”

“Yes, he’s been over. He’s a friend of Jack’s.”

Wait. So Jack’s bully is a friend of his and he invited him over? Something’s not right here.

“How long hast this been going on?”

“Well, Jack says that things are going very well at school, so the steps you’re taking must be working.”

“Let me know if anything changes.”

“Can I keep this?”

“Thank you so much.”

“Does anyone remember this picture?”

“Hotch and I were there.”

“That’s principal Doug Evans. We had to drag him to safety.”

“High school bombing in Boise, right?”

“School shooter and school bomber.”

“A kid named Randy Slade shot three students and set off an IED in the cafeteria via cell phone, killing himself and thirteen kids total, but not before posting all of his plans online.”

“Last night, Principal Givens was killed by a bomb modeled exactly like the old one.”

“It feels like the unsub wants to attack the man who kept the school together after the bombing.”

“It’s a pretty symbolic target.”

“And this week is the tenth anniversary of the massacre.”

“And today is the first day of a four-day event to commemorate the bombing at the school.”

“Except commemorating it isn’t enough for this unsub.”

“No. He wants to relieve it.”

Andy Partridge: “You may leave school, but it never leaves you.”

“Perpetrators of school violence are often sophisticated with their weapons. Randy Slade carried his bomb in his backpack.”

“This guy hid his in Givens’ clock radio.”

“Yeah, and progressive. Each one tries to top the body count of the one previous.”

“And they’re loners by default, not by choice. They try to join various social groups, but they get shut out.”

“Randy Slade wasn’t a loner at all. The family cooperated fully with us.”

“He was a high-functioning psychopath, straight-A student, varsity wrestler, lots of girlfriends.”

“With an above-average intelligence that made him incredibly resourceful. His explosive of choice was Semtex. It’s found at demolition sites, but it’s held under lock and key.”

“Which made us consider the possibility of a partner. Never found one.”

“Slade was too much of a narcissist to share credit.”

“But he was also an impulsive teen, which is what bothers me about this unsub.”

“His sense of control?”

“And the end game that he’s working toward. Slade’s pathology revolved around the big kill. This unsub could have done the same if he’d waited for the candlelight vigil.”

“Which means there’s no blaze of glory fantasy here.”

“This unsub has more bombs made, and he’s savoring the anticipation of his next attack.”

“Did you get the student files to our technical analyst?”

“Good. We’ll start with criminal records.”

“What’d you find, Garcia?”

“A blast from the past, I believe. Does the name Brandon Slade ring a bell?”

“Yeah, the bomber’s younger brother. Sweet kid. He couldn’t give us much back then.”

“Most seven-year-olds don’t. They do, however, grow up to become seniors who attend the same high school.”

“I thought the Slades were gonna leave Boise.”

They separated and the mom and kid stayed ... yikes.

“Did you question Brandon about last night?”

“We’ll need to talk to him.”

“So this unsub has to be tied to the school somehow, right?”

“Current student, alumni, family member who lost someone?”

“It could be Slade groupie celebrating his hero.”

“He taped nails to the exterior of the bomb, specifically to rip open flesh. That’s a sadistic detail of Slade’s the unsub copied.”

“Except he tricked Givens into blowing himself up.” 

“A groupie probably wouldn’t show that much self-control.”

“But someone with an ax to grind against the principal would.”

“Maybe he’s a surrogate for the tormentors in high school he can’t punish.”

“Who were yours?”

“I don’t even remember.”

What?

“You don’t even remember?”

“Wait, were you one of the mean girls?”

“No.”

WHAT? NO WAY!

“Valedictorian, soccer scholarship, corn-fed, but still a size zero. I think that you might have been a mean girl.”

“I was actually one of the nice girls, even to guys like you.”

“Guys like me? I’ll have you know that my social standing increased once I started winning at basketball.”

“Oh, yeah, you played basketball?”

“I didn’t play. I coached basketball. I broke down the opposite team’s shooting strategy.”

“Is that why Morgan kicked you out of the pool last week?”

“Yeah. It took him three rounds to realize I was hustling him.”

“Huh.”

Okay, it’s official, Reid is my favorite. Who the fuck scams Morgan and gets away with it for so long? DAMN.

“Well, it looks like we’re not the only ones interested in Brandon.”

“It’s gonna make it a lot harder for us to talk our way in.”

“Unless we use it to our advantage.”

“Good afternoon, ladies and gentlemen.”

“My name is SSA David Rossi of the FBI. That’s R-O-S-S-I.”

“So if anyone has any questions, you’re free to ask them now.”

Well that was certainly a distraction of the press.

“Mrs. Slade? I’m Special Agent Emily Prentiss with the FBI. This is …”

“Martha, we can do that. We’ll just have to come back later.”

I, too, don’t believe that her son did it. But ...

“Let us prove that for you.”

“Once we rule him out, we can get these people off your lawn.”

“Martha, you can observe. You can stop us and call your lawyer whenever you want.”

“Agent Rossi was always very nice to Brandon. Let him do it.”

Of course Rossi is the cutest thing ever and leaves a good impression.

“Dave.”

“All right, feel free to call me if you have any other background questions. My phone number is …”

“It’s Dr. Spencer Reid. R-E-I-D.”

What the ... oh my god, it’s Morgan payback. I am starting to like this episode. Oh boy.

“You know, there’s a sniper right be … oh!”

“Never mind.”

I love that Rossi is into video games.

“Oh, a while back. After this kid told me how much he loved playing with his big brother.”

“First edition. I’m touched.”

I’m impressed. And apparently, the kid is also a good writer. Damn.

“So are you.”

“I read one of your AP English essays. The Futility of Jay Gatsby and the Green Light.”

Whoa.

“Well, I was curious as to, uh, what kind of kid you grew up to be.”

“But that didn’t stop you from getting beaten up on a regular basis.”

Hee hee, that kid is seriously my fave here. ‘You bang your fans, mine beat me up.’ He’s sharp as fuck.

“And uh, Principal Givens, he couldn’t stop that, could he?”

“That must have really ticked you off.”

“Well, just because you downloaded them doesn’t mean you sat here and watched them.”

Ooh, someone’s been taking lessons from Garcia.

Rossi was much cooler ten years ago?

“So were you.”

Oh snap.

“When did Harry leave?”

“Is that why Brandon ended up in North Valley?”

“Just want to see if you took after your big brother.”

“Actually, dude, I don’t think you’re mean enough to have done it.”

“But tell me the truth. You’re happy that Principal Givens is dead, aren’t you?”

“Well, Randy wanted the whole school dead.”

“Whoa. Am I missing something here, Brandon?”

“Well, did Randy have some sort of agenda? Did he target specific people inside of the school?”

“We didn’t. We couldn’t find any logic to his actions.”

“So how do you know, huh? Did he tell you?

“Did a seventeen-year-old confide in a seven-year-old?”

“Did you find something?’

“He had a list, didn’t he?”

“If he still has the list, it’s somewhere in that room.”

“Martha, do you know anything about this?”

“I can have a search warrant in an hour.”

“Tear it apart.”

Whoa.

“Yeah, bookshelf is clean.”

“I love dating readers, hate profiling them.”

“Catcher in the Rye, Atlas Shrugged.”

“These are all titles that a teenage kid would obsess over, but Randy made that list when Brandon was just a kid.”

“You’re right. So, however Brandon got his hands on that list, he would have hid it in something a seven-year-old would read.”

“Hotch! We found it.”

“Principal Givens is on this list.”

“You’re on speaker, JJ.”

“So we might have another one.”

“Might?”

“One of the North Valley alumni was killed in her motel room. No bomb or gun this time. Looks like he used his bared hands.”

“You got a name?”

“Chelsea Grant.”

“She’s on the list.”

Shit.

“The unsub crushed Chelsea’s throat so she couldn’t scream, then he pulverized her ribs, sending fragments of bone into her heart.”

“Principal Givens was high-profile. Chelsea wasn’t.”

“Right now the only thing connecting them is they’re both on the kill list.”

“A kill list Brandon kept secret for ten years.”

“But he was in custody when this happened.”

“The question is, how did the unsub get the exact same list?”

“We ruled out a partner, but not exclusively. Slade made every part of his plan public.”

“It doesn’t make sense that he would hide a partner. He didn’t want to share the credit.”

Well, I really don’t like where this is headed.

“And this weekend is the partner’s best chance to claim it.”

“Partners of dominant psychopaths are usually submissive, but that doesn’t mean that they can’t be intelligent or that they’re physically weak.”

“The unsub laid low after the bombing and successfully evaded police and FBI. That took cunning and patience, which he’s exhibiting now with his current murders.”

“We think he fits the loner profile Slade debunked. He grew up in an abusive home, which kept him from forming the normal social bonds in high school.”

“Even outcasts eventually form friendships. But this unsub was the outcast the outcasts rejected.”

“He won’t stand out in any capacity, and as a matter of fact, most of his fellow students probably won’t even remember graduating with him.”

“And that invisibility is what made him attractive to Slade.”

“This partner wouldn’t steal the spotlight.”

“Slade turned to the cafeteria because of the names on his list ate there together during fifth period.”

I love the way he points with his pinky.

“So his hatred festered when the names on the list emerged from the cafeteria as media heroes.”

“And now he wants to finish the job that Randy started.”

“Emotionally, this weekend is more a high school reunion to him than a memorial.”

“We go to reunions to show who we grew up to be. Often that means changing everything about who we are.”

“Consciously or not, Randy Slade revealed clues as to his partner’s identity when he detonated his bomb.”

“Agent Prentiss will be conducting cognitive interviews to see what the survivors might remember.”

I’m with those skeptics. I mean, they survived a traumatic experience, and now they want them to relive it? No dice.

“Yes, but there may be some details that you didn’t think were important at the time that could help us now, things that could help us learn about the partner.”

“The interviews we’re going to conduct won’t focus on what you saw, but what you felt.”

“The Boise police have offered everyone on this list a protective detail.”

“So as you can see from your board there, this kill list is weirdly similar to high school. Group one is like the popular kids – prom court, football team, Dean’s list .the Heathers, if you will.”

“Kid’s in Slade’s social circle.”

“What about number two?”

“That would be the kids from the other side of the tracks, 180-degree difference, kids this close to getting kicked out – stoners, burnouts, mental cases.”

“Chelsea Grant is on this list.”

“Maybe Slade targeted them because they disgusted him?”

“But they didn’t threaten Slade’s sense of superiority. He wouldn’t have even cared about them.”

“All right, well, maybe the partner put them on the list. They’d be closer to his social status than Slade’s.”

“Why would the …”

“I’m so sorry.”

Oh my God, it’s working.

“Why would the unsub list kids that he fit in with?”

“Apparently that’s how this clique worked.”

“The kids in it were meaner to each other than kids on the outside.”

“Garcia, separate out all the kids who got into trouble regularly. Then eliminate the names that the partner put on the list. Now, who’s left that came to the memorial?’

“Right. Whoever made the list wouldn’t put their name on it.”

“Uh … Sir, I think … I think I’ve got him.”

“Lewis Ramsey. FBI.”

“Put the drink down. You’re coming with us.”

“Did you hear the conversation?”

“What did you notice?”

“That was when he ordered you to lock the doors, right?”

“What did he say?”

“Why did he detonate so early?”

“Now, let’s go back for a second.”

“Randy was pointing the gun at you. Did you see the cell phone in his hand?”

“What was on it?”

“The black cell phone?”

“Are you sure? The grey cell phone was the detonator.”

“The black cell was the one he’d talked to his mother on.”

“Then how do you explain your fingerprints in her room?”

“You’re very convincing, Lewis. But you were convincing ten years ago, too.”

“Oh, yeah. You were blowing up in the back parking lot, right?”

Oh dear, sarcastic, judgy Morgan is seriously the hottest fucking thing.

“Yeah, of course it was.”

“It also allowed you to pose as a loser. The very type you wanted to kill.”

“You know how we know? You wrote it down.”

“‘All the losers in this godforsaken school’.”

“But you did type up the rest of the list.”

“Lewis, we know how guys like Randy make friends.”

“They build up rapport through secrecy.”

“Only the two of you are smart enough to see through the BS of high school, right?”

“And it felt so good doing whatever Randy said and not have to tell anybody about it.”

“Make me a list of kids we should kill.”

“Sure, Randy.”

“Get me a pound of Semtex from your dad’s construction site.”

“Whatever you say, Randy.”

Ugh.

Oh what, he thought he wouldn’t use him? God, this dude is stupid as fuck.

“He would use you?”

“You were mad that he actually did it.”

“But you were also mad that he left you behind.”

“Then why come back?”

“What does a loser like you have to gain by seeing all the kids that he hated so much?”

Oh shit. Morgan talking down on potential unsubs shouldn’t be getting me all hot and bothered like this.

“You buy it?”

“He fits the profile, and the evidence points to him, but he seems sincere. He’s not the unsub.”

“He was the partner, but look at how Slade added ‘all the LoSeRs in this Godforsaken school’.”

“This capitalization isn’t an accident. Look.”

“L-S-R … Lewis Stuart Ramsey.”

“So Slade named his own partner.”

“Ironically, Lewis’s marijuana conviction saved his life.”

Thank you for using ‘ironically’ correctly.

“Well, that puts us back to our original problem.”

“If the unsub isn’t the partner, how did he get his hands on a list that Slade and Lewis kept to themselves?”

“The only answer is that part of the profile is wrong. The unsub’s vendetta has nothing to do with the list.”

“Did you get anything from Jerry Holtz?”

“Only that he mixed up the cell phones that Slade used. It felt like he was making the story up, but I only had a hunch.”

Important lesson: Always trust your gut instinct, Emily.

“We need to find him now.”

“There’s a connection to the victimology that we’re missing.”

“Whatever he’s holding back might be the key.”

Oh shit, the guy Emily interviewed just got stabby-stab-stabbed like shit. Fuck.

“Jerry Holtz?”

“How long?”

“Less than an hour.”

“The only people who knew we were doing cognitive interviews were the other survivors.’

“The unsub must be a part of that group,”

“Well, we don’t know that for a fact. He could have been lying in wait. Look, Hotch wants me to go through the victims’ lives and find the overlap. We can compare their histories with the unsub’s.”

“Well, what else do we have to go on?”

“Spence said the unsub would have broken his hand beating Chelsea to death. Did you notice anyone with a cast on their hand, someone who seemed hurt?”

“No.”

“I might know why. This unsub doesn’t feel pain.”

Of course he does.

“There’s a medical condition called pain asymbolia, where patients register harmful stimuli without being bothered by it.”

“They’ve been documented holding their hand over an open flame because their brain doesn’t send pain signals to the central nervous system.”

Oh shit, so this fucker can’t even register pain? Damn, that is fucked up.

“Sounds pretty rare.”

“You sure the unsub has it?”

“The crime scenes prove it.”

“This unsub displayed an unusual level of savagery towards his victims.”

“And consider this – he smashed through a glass display case, but there were no cuts on Jerry. That means he most likely punched through it as a show of force.”

“Now, the only way the human body could withstand that level of pain is if he couldn’t feel it at all.”

When Reid realizes something is up ...

“It must have taken a major toll on someone’s emotional development.”

“A significant contributor to our sense of empathy is the way we personally experience pain.”

“And the unsub didn’t develop his sense of empathy because it was cut off.”

“Does every person with asymbolia have this?”

“Actually, most feel empathy just fine, which makes me think the rest of our profile is still accurate.”

“Loner, invisible, outcast, boiling rage ….”

“Son of a bitch!”

WHAT?!

“Hi! This is Dr. Spencer Reid. I actually can come to the phone right now with a very special message that your mother is …”

“Reid.”

“Sorry. I’m really sorry.”

“I don’t know where that came from.”

“Where were we?”

“I’m going to have Garcia check medical records. What causes asymbolia?”

When Reid suddenly realized that Morgan got him back ... 

“Severe trauma produces lesions in the insular cortex, usually after a stroke.”

“But this unsub’s young, it’s most likely caused by an external factor.”

“Like a bomb going off next to him?”

“Yeah, a bomb going off next to him.”

“I will crush you.”

“What?”

“What?”

Ooh, my puppy is gonna get it this time.

Okay.

I just ....

Hands down one of hte best scenes in the entire seven seasons so far.

HOLY SHIT.

“It’s so weird seeing yearbooks again.”

She’s so cute! I love JJ so much.

“A friend of mine who teaches said that Facebook is making them obsolete.”

I’m in total agreement. Facebook is making life obsolete, but ... different discussion for a different time.

“I’m having serious flashbacks going through these senior bios.”

“Four years of accomplishments boiled down to one paragraph.”

“Hey, did your school have anything called Top 10?”

“No. Is it an academic thing?”

“No, I don’t think so.”

“Only ten of the survivors listed it, including Jerry and Chelsea, and neither of them were valedictorian material.’

“Okay, so … what are we looking at here?”

“Well, maybe it’s a clique inside a clique.”

“Yeah, but it’s jocks, nerds, theater geeks. Nothing that would bring these kids together.”

“Except …”

“What?”

“I know what the Top 10 is.”

“Recognize the Top 10?”

“No.”

“They were the students that went in front of the cameras after the bombing.”

“I thought all the surviving students were interviewed.”

“After the initial aftermath, yes, but these are the kids that went on talk shows, traveled to other schools.”

Wait. So the list comprises of those ‘elite’ that have gone on talk shows and talked to schools about the tragedy? Oh boy ... I have a bad feeling about this.

“My guess is that they didn’t self-select who made the cut.”

“Principal Givens did.”

“That’s why the unsub killed him first.”

“He was an outcast who wanted to fit in.”

“Being a survivor should have been his golden ticket. But he was excluded again, and that’s why he’s killing them.”

“Yeah. The rules of high school never changed, not even after a tragedy.”

“Go ahead, Garcia.”

“Hey, listen up. I cross-referenced students files with medical records.”

“Now, there were six kids that were knocked unconscious in that blast, but only one fits the outcast profile.”

“His name is Robert Adams, and he just used his credit card at a local restaurant, the address of which …”

“I just sent you right now.”

“I’m on my way.”

Oh shit. That fucktard who can’t feel anything just took the top eight hostage in a fucking restaurant ... oh damn.

“He’s nowhere near the window, so there’s no line of sight.”

“We profiled this would be like a reunion to him.”

“He wants people to recognize who he is.”

“I think I know what he wants to be recognized for.”

“Robert Adams, we’re with the FBI. We just want to talk to you.”

“We know why you’re doing this, Bob.”

“Bob, you’ll be in the news for a couple of days. But no one will know the real story.”

“Tiffany … what did Randy say to the kid who looked him in the eye?”

“But he didn’t say it to Jerry, did he, Bob?”

Wait, so this whole thing started because they stole his thunder and told his story? Oh boy. This is fucked up in the head.

“Did he, Bob?”

“We can give you back your story, but you have to drop the gun.”

“Drop the gun.”

“Bob.”

“Morgan, he’s heading to the south entrance.”

“Copy. I got the back covered.”

Awesome.

“FBI. Drop the weapon, Bob.”

“Hotch!”

“Prentiss, in here!”

“We need medical in the boiler room.”

“Hold your fire.”

Damn. Hotch is one badass motherfucker.

Khalil Gibran: “Pain is the breaking of the shell that encloses your understanding.”

My gorgeous honey enjoying his music

Until ...

“We interrupt your regularly scheduled musical selection with an important announcement.”

“Never wage a practical joke war against an MIT graduate, because we have a history of going nuclear.”

Who hacked into his playlist?

“Now sit back, relax, and enjoy the dulcet sounds of me screaming in your ear.”

Screaming.

“Okay, kid, that was cute.”

“But that’s all you got?”

Snoring.

“Hey, baby gi…”

Screaming.

I am so in love with this show.

Oh my God, Rossi giving him the white towel of surrender. AWESOME!

“Uh-uh.”

“All right, Reid, it’s on.”

“Just know that paybacks are a bitch.”

Snoring.

Oh my fucking god, just when I thought this show couldn’t get any better. This is seirously the best episode ever.

“Hey.”

“How’s Jack?”

“There’s a kid that’s being mean to him at school, and Jack’s solution is to invite him over and make friends with him.”

“That is the sweetest and saddest thing I’ve heard.”

“How did you find out?”

“His teacher told me.”

“He wants to solve it himself.”

I love Jack Hotchner so much. He is possibly the best human being ever ... on television.

“There’s probably a part of you that wishes you could step in.”

“Well, there’s a part of me that wants to protect him from everything that could hurt him, but I know I can’t.”

“No. But you can show him that he doesn’t have to face it alone.”

“How did you get by in Paris?”

“Um, I, um … I played a lot of online scrabble.”

“With some girl named Cheeto Breath.”

XD

I am so in love with this kid.

“We haven’t talked to mom in a while, so I thought it would be a good idea if we did it again.”

“Buddy, you’re not making me sad.”

“It makes me happy, because it reminds me what a great job mom did with you.”

“So maybe if we got in the habit of doing this again, you know, mom could help us.”

“You know, if you have a bad day.”

“Mrs. McKee said Paul’s been mean to you.”

“No?”

“Okay.”

“Well, mom, look out for Jack anyway.”

“Oh, dad, too. Of course.”

“Good job.”

“Okay. Time to settle down.”

“Good night, buddy.”

“I love you, too.”

Best daddy award to Hotchner.

And best son award to Jack, because that kid is the fucking best!

So despite the horrific part of this episode - oh my fucking god how the fuck are those people managing to make me giggle during a serious show???? 

The Morgan/Reid prank war.

The knowledge that JJ is addicted to Cheetos and plays scrabble.

And Jack Hotchner always brings a huge smile to this face.

Again, thank you so much for keeping up with me and my crazy notions.

See y’all next time!

[nekojitachan]

Okay, so no ‘official’ Wednesday post, but here’s the beginning of a Raven!Neil fic. It would be cleaned up more and probably added to (not sure I’m happy with the Andrew part) and there’s lots more for the Neil part, it’s only a snippet of that, but you get a feel for the set-up/premise here. It’s maybe a little different?

*******

Wymack pulled up to the Fox Tower and gave a bleary-eyed Kevin a sympathetic look. “Hernandez said he’d work on the kid, would talk to him some more on Monday. I’m not giving up, either.”

Andrew scoffed at that, because he was more than a little familiar with lost causes and Josten? Among many other things, that kid had ‘lost cause’ written all over him, along with ‘trouble’ and ‘rabbit’ and ‘better off forgotten’. He hadn’t missed how the kid had looked at Kevin, the expression almost one of hunger, and he was oh so pleased that the kid had turned down the mighty Day even if it had meant that he’d flown out to Arizona and back for nothing more than seeing a certain arrogant coward shot down.

Kevin slumped down further in the passenger seat, for once incapacitated due to a lack of sleep and not alcohol, his favorite crutch, before he managed to speak. “He’s the best candidate out of a pathetic lot,” he mumbled, ever the cheerful bastard. “We need him if this team has any chance of being something.”

Wymack gave him a sour look as he glanced back at Andrew. “We’re going to crash for a few hours and then head over to the stadium to look through the rest of that ‘pathetic lot’ just in case Josten doesn’t come through,” he informed Andrew, well aware of how Andrew insisted on keeping track of Kevin. He ignored the rude gesture Andrew gave him for ruining his entire weekend while he climbed out of the car while Kevin nodded before they drove off.

Andrew hitched his bag higher up on his shoulder as he entered the Tower, annoyed with wasting a perfectly fine Friday night flying out to bumfuck nowhere in Arizona to see a twitchy rabbit turn down Kevin (actually, that part had almost made it worth it), to put up with Kevin’s bitching at being turned down by a ‘no-name amateur’ who didn’t understand the great ‘honor’ being bestowed on him, blah blah blah, and have his meds be all fucked up by the time change and now be stuck on campus all weekend.

For once, Andrew was looking forward to practice on Monday, just so he could throw some fucking balls at Kevin fucking Day’s Exy-obsessed head. Hmm, perhaps he could start in the locker room, before the coward put on his helmet and gear. His fingers itched to grab something and start throwing things immediately, but he forced himself to ignore the sensation and crawl into his bed, his brother and cousin still dead asleep in their own.

Aaron and Nicky were just as displeased to find out that there was no going to Columbia that night, no Sweetie’s and No Eden’s Twilight, no cracker dust and clubbing, but at least they could stay in the damn dorm suite and drink while Andrew was stuck sprawled out on the couch in the stadium while Wymack and Kevin fought over the next candidate on the ‘just in case’ list, between a girl in Houston and a guy in Minneapolis.

Andrew stroked his right hand along his left armband and fought the urge to go slice apart all of the racquets just to give himself something to do – too much effort in the end. He should have brought a book, dammit, and was about to get up to go pick the lock to Abby’s office when Kevin came storming out of Wymack’s.

“Ah yes, the age old negotiating tactic of the hissy fit, how mature, Day,” Andrew sat up to applaud the coward as Kevin stomped past him, face flushed with anger.

“Fuck you!”

And someone had just offered to walk back to Wymack’s apartment, hadn’t they? Andrew hummed as he trailed along, while Wymack stood in the doorway of his office muttering about stubborn jackasses.

It stirred a glimmer of true amusement to see the expression on Kevin’s face when Andrew started the car without him in it and drove off, and kept it just out of reach for a couple of blocks through campus. “Never talk to me that way again,” he warned when he finally did let him into the car.

Sweaty from the heat and the humidity, Kevin merely gazed at him for a couple of seconds before grunting in agreement then slumping down in the seat.

The next day was much of the same, except that time Andrew brought something to read and Wymack threw Kevin out after a few hours of them arguing. If by some chance Josten did change his mind, Andrew was going to ensure that the kid repaid him for putting up with all of this shit.

After he found out why the hell Josten had acted the way he did back in Millport, why he screamed ‘huge risk’ and turned Kevin down after looking at him like that, why his first impression had been to run upon meeting Wymack. The kid was a puzzle, and him refusing a scholarship to a sport he loved (according to Kevin, in order for him to play like that)?

Andrew hated puzzles.

He also hated practicing for Exy, come Monday (no thrown balls in the locker room, damn it). They were changing into their gear when Gordon came strolling in looking worse for wear, probably from a weekend spent drugging and drinking with Arnolds and friends since it was an ‘off’ week with Reynolds (according to Renee during their practice after Andrew had dropped Kevin off at Wymack’s apartment).

“So what, how was Nevada or Utah or wherever the fuck you went to get us the piece of shit striker?” Gordon asked as he pulled his t-shirt over his head. When Kevin didn’t say anything, Gordon paused in reaching into his locker for his gear. “What? You guys went there, got out of practice early and everything to make the flight.” When Kevin grabbed his helmet and slammed his locker shut, Gordon raised his eyebrows over that reaction. “You get shot down or something?” His eyes grew wide when Kevin stomped out of the locker room. “Wait, no shit? Someone told the great Kevin Day no?” He smirked at Andrew “Tell me you filmed it! I wanna watch it on loop for hours!”

Even though he agreed with the asshole, Andrew merely gave him a grim smile in return. “What can I say, as soon as Josten realized that he would be playing on the same team as you, he decided to give up playing Exy all-together.”

Gordon was quiet for a moment before he gave Andrew the finger, his thick brows drawn together in anger. “Fuck you, you freak. Don’t blame the no-talent kid for not wanting to join this team of rejects, especially after meeting you and the prick over there.” Then he muttered curses into his locker as he yanked on his uniform.

Oh, how sad, one of Andrew’s beloved teammates was upset with him – Andrew would wait for the wellspring of sorrow and remorse, but concrete and steel didn’t last that long and would come tumbling, tumbling down around him at some point during his bout of introspection. That and Wymack’s dulcet tones beckoned the man’s beloved ‘lazy worms’ to get their asses out onto the court.

Hmm, perhaps Wednesday’s topic with Bee would be of Sartre’s insightful belief that hell indeed was other people, and how Andrew appeared to be wallowing in an unknown ring of it at the moment.

That theory was only strengthened by Wymack informing Kevin and Andrew after practice that both the board and the ERC were after him to find another striker quickly, so they could only wait until the end of the week for Josten to change his mind. That meant a return trip out to ‘lovely’ Millport on Friday if Hernandez didn’t convince the kid by then (Andrew suggested a little light waterboarding, but no one ever listened to him for some reason), and then off to Minneapolis on Saturday if the rabbit proved stubborn (flighty) – it seemed Kevin had won out in the end.

“I’m not flying all over just so you have a new toy to play with,” Andrew warned as he followed Kevin into the showers; he’d gone along without too much complaint the first time because Kevin had been so certain that Josten would say ‘yes’, that anyone who played with such desperation, with ‘everything to lose’ would jump at the chance to sign with a bunch of losers like the Foxes. Hmm, someone had been wrong, hadn’t they?

“I won’t leave until I get him to say ‘yes’.” There was that look on Kevin’s face as he spoke, the one he got during practice, when he’d told Andrew that he would play again, that he would give Andrew something to live for once Andrew came off the meds. That he got when he told Andrew that he could be a professional Exy player if he just gave a damn. Hmm, delusion, such a wonderful thing. Though Kevin could surprise one, he had to admit. Maybe he would surprise everyone by making Neil Josten change his mind.

Andrew wasn’t certain he liked that idea, not when the kid rubbed him the wrong way.

Not that he got a chance to worry about it, in the end. By Tuesday it was out on most of the NCAA Exy forums that the Foxes had attempted to recruit an unknown striker from some tiny rural high school that didn’t even make it to the state championships, who had only played for one season, who had turned them down. Some of the commenters were crowing over that fact, a player turning down Kevin Day, turning down the Foxes because they were the laughing stock of the NCAA, while others posted that it only showed how desperate PSU must be to go after such a raw player.

Andrew had to admit, some of them had a point.

What had Wymack ranting and raving (along with Kevin) was that the news never should have leaked. Wymack hadn’t told anyone other than the Foxes and Abby who it was he’d gone to recruit, and Andrew doubted that Hernandez had said anything. Andrew also doubted that Josten had said something, not when the kid had been acting so dodgy about stuff. So that left the rest of the Foxes, who knew that Wymack had wanted to keep things quiet because he was going after someone so unorthodox – that and all the shit that had happened after word got out that Kevin had come to PSU.

Correction, that left one Fox in particular, since Wilds wouldn’t disobey her precious ‘Coach’, Boyd wouldn’t go against Wilds, Renee would never do such a thing, and Reynolds… well, she couldn’t be bothered. No, there was just one other player left, one who hadn’t been happy about Josten in the first place, and one only too happy about anything that made Kevin look bad.

Unfortunately, Boyd stepped in before Andrew could do more than slam Gordon into the lockers and split his lips, and Wymack kept the asshole in his office for the rest of the practice session while Andrew sat it out on the bench. The damage was already done.

Hernandez called on Wednesday to say that Neil hadn’t shown up for school, that he hadn’t been pleased about the news getting out about the Foxes trying to recruit him but he wouldn’t talk to Hernandez about anything.

The kid didn’t show up on Thursday, either, and Hernandez discovered that he didn’t have a real address for him or a working phone number for his parents, either. That there was no way to contact the kid. Andrew felt a faint smugness at being proven right, at having his suspicions confirmed, while Wymack cursed and Kevin freaked out.

There was no point in going to Millport on Friday when Hernandez told them there was still no sight of Neil, so they changed their flight to Minneapolis, left with no alternative but to move on if they wanted to sign someone for the next season. Andrew spared one last thought for the kid as he prepared for another damn flight, annoyed at having to fly, at having to leave his armbands behind, at having to deal with a sulking Kevin upset at being deprived of his first choice, and annoyed at being stuck with a mystery about the vanishing ‘rabbit’.

Ah well, it wasn’t like he would see the kid again, so one less thing to worry about.

********

Neil cursed himself for being stupid, so stupid. He should have listened to his mother, should have kept running, should never have stopped and stayed in one place for so long. Should never have played Exy. And what had he done? He’d stayed in Millport for way too long, long enough for Hernandez to notice things about him. He’d joined the damn Exy team, something his mother would have beaten him black and blue for doing, and been recruited by an NCAA team.

By an NCAA team with Kevin Day on it.

He curled up in his seat on the Greyhound bus a little more as a sharp pain went through his chest at that thought, at the reminder of seeing Kevin, and it wasn’t just because of the lingering bruises from being hit by his own racquet thanks to Andrew fucking Minyard. If there was one thing that had gone right last Friday, it was that Kevin hadn’t recognized him, thanks to almost eight years and him altering his appearance, but no matter how much he’d wanted to say ‘yes’, to grasp a tenuous chance at some sort of the future… he hadn’t been able to get his mother’s voice out of his head in the end.

His fingers itched to pull out the packet of cigarettes from the duffle bag draped across his lap, but he couldn’t smoke on the bus. Perhaps when they got to El Paso and he switched buses or tried hitchhiking for a while, when he changed his hair color yet again to throw off anyone following him (he couldn’t risk it, not after seeing his latest name all over the internet. Not after having people who had ignored him all year long come up to him and talk to him as if they knew him).  

He’d done everything he could to stay unnoticed, to take on a new position, to stay in a small enough town, to play on a team not quite good enough. To allow himself the one thing he enjoyed the most for a brief time before he moved on again, before he left it all behind. To give himself a chance to rest and recover after California and that night by the ocean and the acrid tang of smoke clinging to the back of his throat.

He’d learned his lesson – no more weakness. No more deviation from his mother’s rules. There was a contact in Monterrey whom he could use for a new ID, could stay in Mexico for a while and see if he had any better luck there than in North America. If not, maybe try Russia…

Dammit, why had Hernandez sent the tape to Wymack? Why did the man have to interfere?

Neil lightened his hair some more and switched out his clothes at El Paso, and managed to hitch a ride with a truck driver by using a story about an asshole roommate leaving him stranded and him not wanting to ask his parents for money since they had enough financial troubles at the moment with his sick grandmother. That got him as far as Fort Stockton, where he once more hopped on a bus that would take him to San Antonio. He figured he’d hitchhike the rest of the way to confuse anyone following him, and was just looking for a suitable place to grab some supplies as well as pick up a ride when they caught up to him.

All he knew was that there were two of them, one of them an Asian man, both well-dressed, and they must have paid off the guy in the convenience store because they had no problem walking up to him and tasing him in the back as he tried to walk away. He had faint memories of being hauled around, and then nothing.

He woke up in the back of an SUV with tinted windows with his hands bound by not one but several plastic ties. One tie he could manage, but several? That would take some effort, and considering that there were two large gentlemen sitting next to him and two more in the front of the vehicle, somehow he doubted that was something he could manage without their notice. He cleared his throat and attempted to speak, but the man on his left – he thought it might be the same Asian man from the convenience store – held up the taser in an obvious warning.

“You’ll be quiet,” he said.

Neil didn’t see the point in arguing, not when he figured they were taking him to his father’s house for the Malcolms or DiMaccio to deal with him. So he slumped down and did his best to save his energy for later, at least for a little longer, until he began to squirm. When the taser came out again, he motioned to his crotch, his face flushed with embarrassment. “Uhm, bathroom?”

The SUV pulled over and both men got out so he could go to the bathroom by the side of the road; as much as he’d love to try to run, it didn’t make sense when there was a taser in the small of his back at all times and a gun pointed at him two feet away. He didn’t recognize the men, which wasn’t unusual, but they were rather calm for his father’s people, calm and quiet. That worried him, because calm and quiet didn’t give him much to work with at all.

One of them handed him a bottle of water when they were back in the SUV, and a when they stopped for gas he was given some sort of breakfast sandwich as well. It was clear that they were determined to drive straight through somewhere, and as long as Neil remained quiet and cooperative, he was allowed to remain awake. Judging from the highway signs and all, they were headed northeast.

Neil felt his heart speed up when he realized that they were going to West Virginia, especially when he saw the signs for Edgar Allen. Why there and not Baltimore? His father was still in prison, right? It didn’t make sense.

They arrived on the campus in late afternoon, with the SUV pulling right up to the huge black stadium and the men rushing Neil inside; they knew the necessary codes to grant them access and the one or two guards stationed nearby ignored their presence. Neil could hear what sounded to be practice out on the court, but he was dragged along to the East Tower. He had to struggle to breathe properly as he remembered the last time he was up in that tower, at what his father had done to the man with an ax, but the two men holding onto his bound arms had no problem with his weight.

It felt like a torturous eternity, the ride up to the top floor of the East Wing, felt like the walls of the elevator were closing in, and the door opening up didn’t bring any type of relief. Neil wanted to sink into the plush carpet and drown in it, but forced his feet to carry him forward, into the room with the black carpet and leather sofas, with the red vases filled with the orchids and the walls covered with the priceless screens and woodblock prints and the wall of glass overlooking the court below.

The room where Tetsuji and Riko Moriyama stood waiting for him, along with Patrick DiMaccio.

*******