#shes been kidnapped. shes been on trial for murder

[ultramaga]

"An aggressively racist man can still have the support of numerous people of color", says the moron incapable of consciousness. Here's an idea. Maybe he wasn't racist? Maybe, instead, you are ? "A chauvinist that wants to enforce laws" Oh no. He wants to enforce laws. How dreadful. "an restrictions on women's bodies" Everyone's body is restricted. Which is why it is a crime for a man to punch you. Every Leftist manages to forget that one the second it is inconvenient.

Good thing he enforces the laws. "coined the term "grab 'em by the pussy"" Oh, how dreadful, a heterosexual wants to touch the genitals of the opposite sex. Where is my fainting couch? Leftists always edit out the "when you’re a star, they let you do it".

Because it's inconvenient to admit that women do gravitate to high status males, even if it's just to use them as cash machines.

Oh, I am sure they let him grab more than a pussy ....

"A xenophobic man who wanted to build a wall" If he was xenophobic, he wouldn't have married his wife and certainly wouldn't be beloved by foreigners. You confuse wanting to keep out criminals with hating outsiders because you don't know there's a difference. Because you are racist, or a moron.

Walls around countries are pretty common.

Or are Indians just xenophobes as well?

"still has the support of immigrants" Yeah, the people who obey laws don't want the criminals inside the house. So what does that make you, glassmermaids?

Oh right, you are from South Africa, the country where whites are routinely murdered if they aren't behind walls. So of course you want the walls torn down - silly me!

"People still support and voted for a convicted felon" As opposed to Kamala Harris, who boasted that she broke the laws and never, ever was punished - the same laws she imprisoned young black men with, the same laws she used to make them slave for her. Of course you are in favour of two-tier justice -- rules for thee, not for me. And look at the trial -

https://www.washingtonpost.com/politics/2024/05/29/jurors-must-be-unanimous-convict-trump-can-disagree-underlying-crimes/

THE JURORS WERE TOLD THAT THEY DIDN'T HAVE TO THINK HE WAS GUILTY OF THE ACCUSATIONS TO VOTE HIM GUILTY. There's no precedent for that.

Which is why HE HASN'T BEEN SENTENCED. It was obvious to everyone that it was a political witchhunt of exactly the sort that is routinely used in corrupt states to eliminate political opposition. So the accusation that he's a felon? He literally isn't! And the American people didn't think he was guilty either. Of course, what was he even accused of? Paying hush money to a sex worker? What happened to "sex work is real work"? Funny how that vanished the second it was inconvenient. But tell me, how many convictions did Hunter Biden get for his under-age hookers? None? Even mentioning his laptop got you censored and threatened with prison? Laws for thee, and none for meeeee! What about the cocaine in the Whitehouse? No consequences? Huh.

But as Leftists point out, it's not "hush money" when Leftist leaders do it, it's "a settlement between gentlemen and their many ladies of the night".

"People still support and voted for a convicted felon, racist, rapist" Number of convictions is zero - the best you ever got was he paid hush money to a sex worker. In fact, you know who does commit rape?

Yup! South African women are proven to be more likely to be rapists than Donald Trump. Huh. Makes me wonder. Makes the old noggin' go a'joggin'.

"people still support and voted for Donald Trump" And they will never do that to you. Your birth is back there in time, your death somewhere forward of now, and nothing in between those events will matter a fig.

So much salt.

So. Much. Salttttttt.

Rape allegations and charges do not ruin mens' lives because a rapist can run for president and win. An aggressively racist man can still have the support of numerous people of color, can run for president and win. A chauvinist that wants to enforce laws an restrictions on women's bodies and coined the term "grab 'em by the pussy" still has the support of women. A xenophobic man who wanted to build a wall to keep foreigners out of the country still has the support of immigrants. People still support and voted for a convicted felon, racist, rapist and scum of the earth. Despite it all, people still support and voted for Donald Trump.

[chiliontherocks]

who could've come up with that plan?

[reiderwriter]

Hi Kacie!! Now that your requests are open... Could I request a smutty fic where Spencer finds out reader has a not-so-common sensitive spot (like her legs, hair, arms, whatever body part you want). Maybe he finds out kinda in a public setting after she gets all flustered and wants to keep pushing to test his theory?? You can take as much inspo from this as you want<3

(If this emoji's not taken)-💃 anon

A/N: Hello! Sorry for going MIA for a while there. It was the beginning of a new school year here in SK, so I've been really busy! I've been chipping away at this one little by little, and it's finally done! I hope you enjoy it ♡

Warnings; Smut, 18+ Minors DNI, case details, misogyny from a bartender in the opening scene, Semi-public sexual experimentation, edging, PinV sex, use of pet names (good girl), slight degradation, cum play, etc.

Masterlist

The back of the bar was dimly lit as you walked through it, keeping pace with your teammate as you kept one eye on the shady inhabitants of the bar. 

You'd been sent - with Spencer of all people - to ask the local dive bar staff about suspicious regulars. A fact that didn't exactly take into account his general lack of intimidating looks and your status as the newest member of the team. 

A trial by fire if you'd ever seen one. 

You tried your best not to stick out like a sore thumb, but the people in these parts could spot a Fed from a mile away. And though Spencer was remarkably pipe-cleaner-like, they'd certainly recognised enough FBI in him to clam up upon your entrance. 

“We got some visitors, I see. What can I be getting you, little lady?” The barman greeted you as you reached the first stool at the counter, a patronizing smile on his moustache clad lips. 

“If it's okay, we'd like to ask you some questions. I'm Agent Y/N with the FBI. This is my partner, Doctor Spencer Reid.”

“You're a Fed? Now, why would you bother doing all that hard work when you could be warming my bed, girl. It's definitely more honest and satisfying work.” 

The way the man leered at you over the counter has you freezing momentarily. Your instincts were saying fight, but you held your tongue just long enough to not ruin any rapport your team could build with locals. 

“I'm flattered, but already spoken for I'm afraid. Have you seen any suspicious men in here in the last six months, one that would pass through only semi-regularly, maybe with a few female companions, though never the same.” 

Professionalism at the cost of your peace of mind was going to be a hard learn for you as you grit your teeth and swallowed the bile in your throat. 

He just continued to leer at you as he dried up beer glasses. 

“You're looking for a man who likes cheap whores? Maybe you are in the market for a career change after all.” 

That was about all you could take, and luckily, Spencer Reid was well aware. 

Quickly grabbing you by the wrist, he pulled you behind him defensively and leaned over the bar, his voice low and somewhat chilling. 

“Disrespect my partner like that again, and I'll have you charged with aiding and abetting a murderer who has kidnapped and ended the lives of three local girls. Local girls whose fathers you're more than likely acquainted with, who absolutely have multiple acres of property and just enough bullets to put you in the ground.” 

The blood rushed to your ears at his voice, but the light grip of your wrist held you in place indefinitely. 

All the fight left your body, as you found yourself coming dangerously close to melting into Spencer in relief. 

He forced the man to answer some more basic questions, but it wasn't as if you could hear them. He stroked a quick thumb back and forth across your wrist as all the thoughts fled your head, and the words fell asleep on your tongue, resting there until he released you from his grip. 

You'd known that the area was slightly sensitive for a while, having accidentally brushed up against things and felt serious chills shoot up your spine. What you hadn't known was that it was that kind of sensitivity. 

Though, in all honesty, you hadn't exactly known that you could feel that kind of excitement for Spencer either. You just hoped he wouldn't notice. That much. 

Having finished his line of questioning and reiterating his threat, he moved his hand from your wrist to the small of your back and adeptly guided you from the restaurant and out of the line of vision of every pair of eyes in the place. 

“Are you okay?” He asked when he finally got you to the car, voice still quiet and low, and slightly too close to let you fully relax. 

“Peachy. He talked to you at least.” You turned away from him and began opening the passenger side door. 

“Nothing new or useful, though. Your bpm is high,” he joined you in the car, putting on his seat belt while you completely let go of yours, letting it zip back into itself.

“My… my what?” 

“Your bpm is high. Your heart was beating so fast,” he said, reaching over you to help you reclip it. “Were you nervous, Y/n? Or just sensitive?”

“Your mouth is entirely too close to mine to be asking that question,” you breathed out, cursing your eyes from stealing a glance at his lips. 

Only five minutes into this sudden attraction to Spencer Reid, and you were already mortified and extremely horny. In equal measures. 

“What would be the appropriate distance to ask that, then?” 

“I hear Australia is lovely this time of year.” 

He chuckled softly at you as he finished adjusting your seat and then moved far enough away to let the ground swallow you in peace. 

Never one to leave well enough alone, it seemed that Spencer took it upon himself to experiment with you for weeks on end after that. 

He'd constantly ask you to pass him papers, pens, anything that'd allow him to run a finger across the inside of your wrist. On more than one occasion you'd caught him staring into your eyes as he did it, and it took a nearly embarrassing amount of time to realise he was checking how dilated your pupils were before and after. 

When he'd gathered enough data for that line of questioning, he moved on to bigger things. 

You knew you were in danger of seriously falling head over ads when he offered to walk you to your motel door in a seedier case location. 

You, an FBI agent with a real-life gun and badge and job at Quantico, and you were jumping at the chance to have a man walk you to your room. You'd have been embarrassed if you weren't burning with anticipation. 

You hoped that like every other man in history, he was gently trying to insinuate himself into your bedroom, and by extension, your bed and more intimate places. 

So you were more than slightly disappointed when he started wishing you a good night. All of the aforementioned disappointment fled your body, though, when he picked up your hand and dropped a kiss to the inside of your left wrist, repeating the action on the right before wordlessly retreating. 

You stared at his back as he walked purposefully down the corridor and into his own room, leaving you to pick up your jaw and retreat to your room to lick your wounds. 

You wished it was him picking you up instead and found your brain imagining just that as your fingers dropped between your thighs that night. 

It became a case tradition for him to tease you like this, kissing your wrist after innocently walking you back to your hotel room. The others thought it chivalrous, almost cute and childlike, a form of courting that graced the good old days. They didn't know he grabbed you by the waist and held you against his hard-on every time you rode an elevator together. They didn't know his tongue darted out a few times to lick your wrist on occasion. They didn't know how you once mentally begged him to bite you there and how you shuddered as he ran his teeth along the vein there. 

Spencer was coming to the crux of his research regarding how far he could push you before you cracked. Only now, it was how far he could get without pushing you against a wall and jumping your bones. 

You knew you were in danger when he offered to escort you home after a case. 

“To walk you to your door, you know? Like always,” he smiled at you, the picture of innocence as you became damp between your thighs. 

“Sure. Yeah, okay, I'll get my keys, let's go.” 

You weren't sure how no one else noticed that Spencer didn't have a car to drive himself home after taking you to yours. You were unsure if they'd connect the dots between him escorting you home and his own apartment being 45 minutes in the opposite direction. 

Luckily for you, you could keep your hands at 2 and 10 the entire journey, away from his grasp. If he'd have touched you right then, you're sure you'd have driven both of you right off the road into a ditch. 

Or a pedestrian. 

The drive was calm, but pulling up forced your heart to your throat and kept it suspended there, almost like it was frozen at gunpoint, a deer in the headlights. 

“We're here.” 

“Great. Let me walk you in.” 

In. You swallowed hard, wishing very much for him to be inside of your apartment. 

“Okay.” 

Stepping into the elevator a few minutes later, he waited mere seconds after the doors began closing to pull you into his personal space. He was hard, he was so hard once again and his cock was now straining against your ass.

“Spencer, we need to talk about t-that,” he stroked your wrist as his hand splayed across your stomach, holding you firmly against him. 

“About what, Y/N?” 

He pulled your arm up almost as if inspecting the wrist for imperfections, and your head melted back into his chest. Why was this elevator so goddamn slow? 

You sprung out quickly when the doors pinged open finally and moved straight towards your door without a glance back, but you felt him close behind you. 

“Y/N, wait for me, wait, I'm sorry,” he called out quietly as you forced your keys into the lock as fast as possible. 

“Y/N, I'm sorry if I stepped over the line, I didn't mean too, please look at me-” 

You got the door open and turned back around to grab a firm hold of his tie and yank him into the apartment behind you. 

“Months. Spencer, you have been edging me for months, and I am sick of it.” You half growled at him, slamming the door behind him and then pushing him up against it. 

“I can feel how hard you are right now. Obviously you want to fuck me, so why aren't you?” 

His face went from shocked to intrigued, then shot straight for mischievous as he cracked a smile, and you felt his hands wrap around your wrists slowly. 

Before you could react, he had your positions swapped, your arms above your head pinned at the wrists and his breath hitting your neck as he answered. 

“I wanted to see how long it would take you to break.” 

Your lips leapt to his, hitting him angrily as you searched for more pleasure in his touch, one leg pushing up to wrap around his waist as his hips settled between yours. 

He met you at your level, giving just as good as he got.   

“Call it scientific curiosity,” he murmured, lips trailing down your neck, but hips pinning you in closer to the wall, keeping you trapped there. He made his way along your shoulders and then pressed light teasing kisses up your arms while rutting his hips into you, dry humping you against the wall as your eyes glazed over in lust. 

“You react when I touch you, you heat up. But it gets worse if I touch you here, right Y/N?” His lips again found your wrist, but this time his teeth grazed across the veins he found there. 

“You get so horny now when I look at you. I can grab your wrist and make you beg for my cock, isn't that right?” His mouth was back by your ear as your legs went limp under you. He still had you caged against your own door, and you had no idea what to say to that. 

Part of you wanted to protest purely because of the rough tone of voice he was using. The other wanted to flood to the floor and tell him yes, beg him to just fuck you and be done with this pure torture. 

“I asked you a question, Y/N. Isn't that right?” 

“Yes, yes, Spencer fuck, I don't care anymore, yes. You can touch me and I'll react to you, please help me.”

“Good girl.” 

He pulled away instantly, but his hands wrapped firmly still around your wrists. Slowly, he pulled you towards him as he slowly walked backwards further into your apartment. You thought for a second about just throwing yourself back into his arms, to close the space he'd created again between the two of you. 

You tried it, lifted your head slightly, begging his lips to return there, but he held firm. Each step was an agony of need, and you fought to hold your tongue, begging yourself not to beg him so pathetically. 

“Such a good girl, I'm holding you by the wrist, and you won't even protest about how slow I'm being.” 

Your mouth fell open as you registered his words. 

“You're being an ass.” 

“What was that? You want me to touch your ass?”

“Spencer!”

“Don't worry, we'll get to that.”

His back finally made contact with your bedroom door, and you stumbled forward into his chest as he kept his grip even still. 

“You're going to listen, right? You're going to listen to me and do what I ask you to do, aren't you?”

You wavered again. He'd been teasing you, but now he was serious, his tone light and his voice soft, but you could feel the strength in his grip. You could feel his arousal at your hip. 

“Yes, Spencer.”

“Good. Get on your knees on the bed. No clothes.”

He released your hands and opened the door for you as you tried your best to walk forward calmly. 

By the time you reached the bed, you'd removed most of your clothes, but you hesitated at the underwear as he watched from behind you. A quick glance over your shoulder saw him palming his cock through his pants, still leaning against the door he'd opened for you. 

He was getting off watching you, and you were frozen in arousal. 

“No clothes, Y/N.” 

“I know.”

“Underwear is clothing.” 

“I know that, too, Spencer.”

“Then take it off.” 

You shot a quick glare over your shoulder as you unclaimed your bra behind your back and threw it to the floor. 

“On my knees, right?” You said, climbing on the bed still clad in your panties. 

“I also said no clothes.” 

“If you're so invested in my state of dress, how about you come and help me rectify it.”

His lips twitched in small annoyance, but he followed the trail of clothes you'd left, ridding himself of his tie, shirt, jacket, and pants along the way. 

He climbed on the bed slowly behind you, not opposite as you'd presumed he would. His hands reached out to touch your back before slowly sliding all the way up to your neck and pushing your upper body down into the sheets. 

You let out a little squeak in shock, but let his hands guide you, feeling especially pliant when he grabbed your hands and crossed them behind your back. 

“Maybe the panties can stay. I'll just decorate them afterwards,” he said, and with that, he pulled your hips up with his free hand  guiding you into the position he wanted you in, and pushed two fingers into you. 

“Fuck, Spencer-” your brain short circuited as he pumped the digits slowly in and out of you, setting an agonizing pace but holding you so tight that.you couldn't even press your cunt back into his fingers. 

“What? What is it, Y/N? Tell me how you feel?” 

“Feel good, so good Spencer, p-please more.” 

He shifted slowly behind you, pulling his fingers out almost completely before pushing them back in, this time with another finger added. He didn't quicken his pace as you assumed he would, but he took his time stretching you out further as you moaned and whined underneath him. 

“More. You wanted more,” he reminded you, and his voice was like a sharp hit straight to your cunt, rough and hot and filling you completely. 

You barely registered the orgasm that flowed over you, your brain replaying his words on a loop as he continued pleasuring you. 

“That's it. That's a good girl. Get my fingers nice and wet.” 

When you finally grounded yourself in the moment again, your cheeks flushed as you realized just how wet you'd gotten. You felt your arousal still dripping down your leg and turned your face further into the sheets to hide your embarrassment. 

He pulled his fingers out of you, though, and with his now free hand he crouched over you and hooked his fingers under your jaw lifting your head and body up, forcing your crotch back into his as your back arched. 

“Don't hide from this. Look how wet you are for me, Y/N. Taste it.” He tapped his fingers against your mouth and you were ashamed at how fast your lips dropped open, tongue falling out to let him wipe his cum stained fingers against your pretty little lips. 

You tasted yourself on his fingers, wrapping your tongue around them and sucking as he dragged his dick across your back, trying to relieve himself in any way he could. 

“Good girl. It's time for one more, Y/N.” 

You released his fingers with a wet pop as he pushed you back into the sheets. Lining himself up, he entered you easily, your cum providing ample lubricant. 

You whined at his first few pumps, certain he was going to continue his torturous pace and leave you begging for more hours into the night. 

Instead, he let himself work you up to it, each thrust gaining in speed and strength until you could hear the slap of your skin against his more vividly than your own heartbeat. 

His cock was thick, filling you perfectly as you lost yourself in the sensations. 

“One day, I'll handcuff you to this bed,” he said, leaning down and whispering in your ear as each part of your body vibrated with lust. 

“I'll tie you down to this bed, and I'll treat you like a princess. I'll eat your cunt for hours until you cum every time my breath hits your cunt, and I'll cover your pretty tits in my seed. I'll let you use my cock as your personal sex toy, and I'll fulfill every single need you have.” 

His hand released your wrists as both of his hands came to wrap around your waist, pushing you deeper into the plush covers and changing the angle of his dick. 

You screamed at the pleasure, forgetting the paper thin walls your apartment boasted. 

“Fuck, Spencer.” 

“And you're going to love every single second because your brain switches off every time I touch your delicate little wrists.”

With that, another wave of pleasure spread through your body, sending prolonged shivers throughout your body. 

You felt him withdraw and heard the sticky mess of him stroking himself behind you until he made good on his promise and sprayed his generous load across your ass and panties before collapsing on the bed next to you. 

The two of you laid there for what felt like hours, sharing nothing but your labored breaths and the space of the bed before he finally rose. 

You tried not to sleep, but your entire body felt stiff from the awkward, if enjoyable, position he'd held you in. 

Your eyes drifted shut, and you just listened to his movements. A creaking floorboard here, a stumble against some furniture there, culminating in some running water and a return to your space. 

“Y/N,” he whispered, cautious to rise you from what he assumed was much needed sleep. 

“Mmmm,” was all you could reply.

“I realize now that I made a pretty big mess, so we need to get you in the bath.” 

“Mmm,” you protested, brows furrowing as you tried to gather your sheets closer around you, cradling yourself in the warmth. 

But doing so only made you more aware of the sticky wet mess around your torso and legs, and you let out a small, frustrated sigh. 

“You're stubborn, you know that, right?” He said, admiration coating his tongue as he lifted you slowly and helped you place your feet on the floor and walk towards your bathroom. 

“Spencer, shouldn't have a bath, too sleepy.” 

“I know, I'm going to stay.”

“In the bath?” 

“In the bath.” 

“Good.”

And it was. You let him lift your legs one by one into the scorching water and melted back into him, your head resting on his shoulder as if it were the most comfortable pillow you'd ever used, and you slept. 

[periwinkla]

Maya Fey's character is written in such a charmingly, heart wrenchingly subtle way. She has to face all manners of tragedy, but she always has that smile on her face and presses on, feigning happiness and lightheartedness. It's honestly somewhat disturbing. How can someone smile so seemingly easily after such tragedy? Can you imagine going to your sister’s workplace, expecting to spend a quiet evening together, and instead... you see a slumped silhouette against the wall of the window? She spawns the most crazy things out of her mouth just to fill the silence sometimes. Why? Sure, it may be for the game's comic relief… but sometimes it appears a tad forced? Like it’s because she wants to build a relationship with Phoenix - like her sister asked her - and doesn't quite know how to. He’s the only person that can understand what she’s going through. She’s suffering. He’s suffering. So she needs to fill the silence somehow. And she drags him along most times, she is the one that decides they should take Power’s case, after all. After Edgeworth's trial she feels useless (even though she clearly was the reason Phoenix could save him... can you believe she just charged in against Von Karma? that's insane) and goes back home to resume her training so she can help Phoenix again. After Edgeworth's ‘death’, Phoenix didn't keep in touch. Although she didn’t know about Edgeworth, she knew that the whole year had been hard on them both in the first place... so she grew worried, and basically bargained with her client to go and get him and drag him to Kurain. Phoenix can get back into taking cases just because she's there to cheer him up. So she needs to be strong! Even though she's suffering tremendously as well. Mia isn't there anymore and now she also needs to take care of her cousin because apparently she can’t even have her aunt to rely on, because for some reason the universe decided to give her the most complicated family drama imaginable. When they face Franziska? She's awfully perceptive. She's only 18, and instead of being angry at Franziska's behavior, she wonders how she can be so strong? And she seems to admire her? Would a 18 year old accused of murder think that of the accuser? That's frankly baffling. It shows maturity far beyond her age, to think of the true feelings behind people’s behavior despite what it means for her situation. And then she gets kidnapped. And still, she feigns being fine… Then then Hazakura happens. All that and she's still thinking about other people! She tries to protect Godot, even though it's a moot point. She tries to be strong for Pearl - as Edgeworth points out - and she tries so hard to not make everything affect her. She takes everything in stride but also suppresses her feelings. And she's very very good at it, even. She seems fine. Franziska is baffled at her nonchalance, and somehow Edgeworth is the one who needs to explain it, perhaps because they had similar experiences and their tragedy is linked to the same root. Edgeworth tried to repress his feelings as well (although he is, by contrast, very very bad at hiding them) so he knows what he's talking about. I quite like that scene at the end of AA3 because that makes it deliberate on Takumi’'s part that he wanted to write her that way from the start. (it also adds to the development of 3 characters at once: Maya, Miles and Franziska) Her misfortunes don’t end here, either. SOJ happens. Kidnapped again, accused of murder again. People she trusted betray her and she finds it in her heart to forgive them? And now she also has a ton of responsibilities. And she needs to appear even stronger now in front of other people, because they depend on her. She’s still cheerful though. Because she needs to be. She first needs to be strong for Phoenix, then Pearl, then for the whole village of Kurain. And she manages to be, somehow. I love when characters are written this way. Once you have all the pieces together, if you go back and analyze their behavior, it makes the experience so much richer and so much more meaningful.

[scoobydoodean]

Could you elaborate on why you want season 8 Sam to die? It's been years since I watched that season ahah. I don't doubt that he deserves to, but I cannot remember why.

He saw Kevin be kidnapped and abandoned him to a life of torture without so much as telling his mother or another hunter or even the angels who would have had a stake in saving him.

His flashbacks are unbelievably awkward and boring. I'm supposed to care about the trash disposal he fixed while Dean is doing sexually charged battle scenes with Cas and Benny in Purgatory.

He gets together with a woman who accuses him of hitting a dog on purpose and implies that he's a white supremacist.

He tells Amelia he wants to fight for their relationship, but as soon as her ex husband suggests they should let her choose between them, he leaves her in the middle of the night, then after she's moved on, he comes back just to be a homewrecker.

He keeps saying he's going to leave the life as soon as the business with Kevin and the tablet is concluded and Dean needs to "let him go" (???) but also doesn't want Dean to have any friends besides him and demands Dean cut ties with Benny or else (while Dean is telling Sam to go back to Amelia if that's what he wants).

The entirety of "Citizen Fang", from sending a hunter he knows is mentally unstable to "keep an eye" on Benny to going along with Martin beating Dean over the head and chaining him to a radiator to keep him from interfering with the Benny witch hunt to pretending afterward like HE was the victim because Dean sent him a fake text from his ex to prevent Sam from MURDERING SOMEONE. To taking zero accountability for Martin or Elizabeth.

Dean tells Sam that he is suicidal and Sam insists on doing The Trials based on Dean's suicidality and says that he will survive The Trials and renew Dean's hope in living, then within two episodes he pretends that conversation never happened and basically tries to gaslight Dean for the rest of the season into thinking it didn't happen while also getting furious at Dean whenever he gets the slightest feeling that maybe Dean doesn't believe in him.

When Sam is sick, Dean takes care of him, bringing him food, getting his fever down, etc, and is treated like this makes him a piece of shit who doesn't "trust" Sam enough (????). Sam repeatedly projects feelings onto Dean that Dean doesn't even have and ridicules him for thought crimes.

While being furious that maybe Dean doesn't trust Sam more generally to have his back, Sam ignores that he has done everything possible to destroy Dean's trust, from abandoning him, Cas, and Kevin to die and presenting a deeply unfeeling exterior about it, to promising to survive The Trials then almost immediately telling Dean he's going to die and to get over it. He acts entitled to Dean's trust and on top of it, the expectations are one-sided. He is allowed to distrust Dean all day every day but Dean isn't allowed to distrust him ever.

All of this culminates in Sam "confronting" Dean for trusting other people besides Sam, having friends besides Sam who showed more loyalty and care to Dean than Sam has, and telling Dean he's jealous of his other relationships and all but flat out blaming him for the fact that Sam now wants to commit suicide.

In the aftermath he gets mad that Dean convinced him not to commit suicide by telling Sam that he loves him and it's all okay and he's there for him when Sam was literally blaming Dean for his impending suicide. He claims Dean "made him" make the wrong choice because he is incapable of ever taking accountability for anything.

Basically it's the worst things Sam's ever done dialed up to 11 and it doesn't stop the whole season and he is so thoroughly miserable to watch that he's almost unrecognizable to the point I joke about him being a podperson. Also see: #season 8 sam.

[mostlysignssomeportents]

VW wouldn't locate kidnapped child because his mother didn't pay for find-my-car subscription

The masked car-thieves who stole a Volkswagen SUV in Lake County, IL didn’t know that there was a two-year-old child in the back seat — but that’s no excuse. A violent car-theft has the potential to hurt or kill people, after all.

If you’d like an essay-formatted version of this post to read or share, here’s a link to it on pluralistic.net, my surveillance-free, ad-free, tracker-free blog:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/02/28/kinderwagen/#worst-timeline

Likewise, the VW execs who decided to nonconsensually track the location of every driver and sell that data to shady brokers — but to deny car owners access to that data unless they paid for a “find my car” subscription — didn’t foresee that their cheap, bumbling subcontractors would refuse the local sheriff’s pleas to locate the car with the kidnapped toddler.

And yet, here we are. Like most (all?) major car makers, Volkswagen has filled its vehicles with surveillance gear, and has a hot side-hustle as a funnel for the data-brokerage industry.

After the masked man jumped out of a stolen BMW and leapt into the VW SUV to steal it, the child’s mother — who had been occupied bringing her other child inside her home — tried to save her two year old, who was still in the back seat. The thief “battered” her and drove off. She called 911.

The local sheriff called Volkswagen and begged them to track the car. VW refused, citing the fact that the mother had not paid for the $150 find-my-car subscription after the free trial period expired. Eventually, VW relented and called back with the location data — but not until after the stolen car had been found and the child had been retrieved.

Now that this idiotic story is in the news, VW is appropriately contrite. An anonymous company spokesman blamed the incident on “a serious breach” of company policy and threw their subcontractor under the (micro)bus, blaming it on them.

This is truly the worst of all worlds: Volkswagen is a company that has internal capacity to build innovative IT systems. Once upon a time, they had the in-house tech talent to build the “cheat device” behind Dieselgate, the means by which they turned millions of diesel vehicles into rolling gas-chambers, emitting lethal quantities of NOX.

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Volkswagen_emissions_scandal

But on the other hand, VW doesn’t have the internal capacity to operate Car-Net, it’s unimaginatively-named, $150/year location surveillance system. That gets subbed out to a contractor who can’t be relied on to locate a literal kidnapped child.

The IT adventures that car companies get up to give farce a bad name. Ferraris have “anti-tampering” kill-switches that immobilize cars if they suspect a third-party mechanic is working on them. When one of these tripped during a child-seat installation in an underground parking garage, the $500k car locked its transmission and refused to unlock it — and the car was so far underground that its cellular modem couldn’t receive the unlock code, permanently stranding it:

https://pluralistic.net/2020/10/15/expect-the-unexpected/#drm

BMW, meanwhile, is eagerly building out “innovations” like subscription steering-wheel heaters:

https://pluralistic.net/2020/07/02/big-river/#beemers

Big Car has loaded our rides up with so much surveillance gear that they were able to run scare ads opposing Massachusetts’s Right to Repair ballot initiative, warning Bay Staters that if third parties could access the data in their cars, it would lead to their literal murders:

https://pluralistic.net/2020/09/03/rip-david-graeber/#rolling-surveillance-platforms

In short: the automotive sector has filled our cars with surveillance gear, but that data is only reliably available to commercial data-brokers and hackers who breach Big Cars’ massive data repositories. Big Car has the IT capacity to fill our cars with cheat devices — but not the capacity to operate an efficient surveillance system to use in real emergencies. Big Car says that giving you control over your car will result in your murder — but when a child’s life is on the line, they can’t give you access to your own car’s location.

This Thu (Mar 2) I’ll be in Brussels for Antitrust, Regulation and the Political Economy, along with a who’s-who of European and US trustbusters. It’s livestreamed, and both in-person and virtual attendance are free. On Fri (Mar 3), I’ll be in Graz for the Elevate Festival.

Image: Cryteria (modified) https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:HAL9000.svg

CC BY 3.0 https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by/3.0/deed.en

 — 

Upsilon Andromedae (modified) https://www.flickr.com/photos/upsand/212946929/

CC BY 2.0 https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by/2.0/

[Image ID: A blue vintage VW beetle speeds down a highway; a crying baby is pressed against the back driver's-side window. In the sky overhead is the red glaring eye of HAL 9000 from 2001: A Space Odyssey, emblazoned with the VW logo. The eye is projecting a beam of red light that has enveloped the car.]

[pruneunfair]

If I were these villainesses lawyers and if I could convince court they are innocent. (The court in this case is the manhwa community so the guilty/innocent factor will be based on if I can convince the community they did nothing wrong)

Yvonne.

I mean this one would be easy. She was body-napped by a Leila follower so all the crimes would be charged on the follower not Yvonne, and shes been trapped in a mirror anyway so the poor girl has been going through enough. She's got a solid case to prove her innocence.

Rashta

Honestly with how much the fandom is growing to love her she's not as screwed as one might think. If anything she could have rights to sue the Rimwells for years of unpaid labor and wrongfully taking away her child. Still, murder and mutilation are crimes worthy of hating her, not to mention those who think stealing someone's man is somehow worse then that. The best I could give Rashta is probably 5 years with a chance of parole

Rhyse

I feel like we would first have a guaranteed innocent verdict but then someone would reveal evidence that she's the author and we'd be done for 😭 because that's essentially what happened to me when I read the newest chapters of NYTRS. Rhyse is probably gonna get sentenced to 30 years with no parole.

Isabella

I'm gonna look her right in the eyes as I say "you are screwed." Because I don't know how I'm going to convince the community that a pure evil villainess who killed her sisters, one of which was a child, that she is a good person deep down. I can't even say she's a good villain cause that sure as hell isn't true. Sorry Isabella but your gonna get life with no parole.

Diane

I think I could get her out.. maybe worst case scenario she gets 1-3 years since someone will probably point out she kidnapped and beat a maid for supposedly trying to seduce the Emperor. But she did kill said Emperor and redeemed herself plus she kinda drank poison and gave herself a death penalty already so I think she's already dealt her punishment.

Marianne

Normally if we were going by actual morality Marianne would get the lethal injection, but since we are going by fandom laws which are all based on "love" for a character Marianne is probably gonna just get 10 years since she's so well beloved as a villain and character and then the public is gonna get pissed that she got it easy for her long list of charges.

Soleia

Soleia is gonna be the reason the Salem witch trials come back in modern day BUT she has actual black magic so she'd probably never even show up to court but if she did best case scenario she can leave on bail since what she did was for revenge and the people she hurt were willing to drop the charges if she agreed to not relapse, the fandom likes her more then Yerenica so she's almost guaranteed an innocent verdict by fandom law.

Freya

I could probably defend her for wanting to be with Izek so badly since she was trying to escape her toxic family but unfortunately 2/3 community despise her existence and would call for life in prison. If I reallly put in the effort Freya would get 10-15 years with a chance of parole.

Sumin

I already know I'm gonna be stressing as her lawyer. She murdered her mother in-law and even before that she did that she was still mean to the FL and thats a cardinal sin in the manhwa world to be mean to the FL. She's got a backstory sure but it's extremely contrived and dumb and even if it wasn't she still had a multitude of other friends and help from others so there's really no excuse. I might love her craziness but I don't think I'm gonna talk her out of life in prison with no parole.

Cosette

Another easy innocent. She is possessed by a demon who used her body to break havoc on the world so Cosette herself is in the clear and ready to go, and if we go by the novel, Cosette is dead.. gonna be real hard to charge a dead girl for Ragibachs crimes.

Mielle

Definitely gonna fail her and at best she's gonna get 35 years for arranging Aria to be executed for basically no good reason, pushing her father down the stairs and in general being a horrible person with a superiority complex, not like she's even gonna see the light again after 35 years cause we all know Aria isn't gonna let that slide.

Dodolea

I'm not even gonna try. I'm just gonna take the money and let herself get the electric chair cause even though I like white lotuses. Dodolea is the rare case where I actually hate a character and my only good thoughts about her is that she's a fantastic villainess.

[klebolddeath]

The case of Carlos Eduardo Robledo Puch, the "Angel of Death"

Carlos Eduardo Robledo Puch, born in Buenos Aires on January 19, 1951, is an Argentine serial killer who was sentenced to life imprisonment for ten qualified homicides, one simple homicide, one attempted homicide, seventeen robberies, two kidnappings and two thefts, becoming one of the biggest criminals in the history of Argentina.

Crimes:

On March 15, 1971, Robledo Puch and his accomplice named Ibáñez entered the Enamour nightclub, taking 350,000 Argentine pesos.

Before fleeing, Carlos murdered the owner and the night watchman of the place by shooting them with a .32 caliber Ruby pistol while they were sleeping.

On May 3, 1971, at four in the morning, Robledo Puch and Jorge Ibáñez entered one of the rooms of a Mercedes-Benz auto parts store and found a couple with a newborn baby.

Carlos shot the man and wounded the woman in the same way. Ibáñez tried to abuse the woman (she survived and testified in a trial).

Before fleeing and stealing 400,000 Argentine pesos, Robledo Puch shot the baby's crib, who managed to stay alive (the authorities did not discover if he wanted to miss or if he really missed).

On March 24, they murdered the night watchman of a supermarket.

In June, Carlos executed two young women on the road who had been victims of abuse by Ibáñez in the back seat of the car they were using.

On August 5, in a dubious manner, Ibáñez died in a car accident and Robledo Puch, who came out unharmed, escaped.

On November 15, together with a new accomplice named Hector Somoza, they assaulted a supermarket in Boulogne, riddling the watchman with a .32 caliber pistol obtained from a gun shop.

On November 17, they broke into a car dealership and murdered the caretaker, a week later they did the same at another dealership in Martinez, subduing the watchman, taking his keys and stealing 1,000,000 Argentine pesos.

Robledo Puch killed him with a shot to the head.

Arrest, conviction and requests:

On February 3, 1972, Robledo Puch and Somoza entered a hardware store in Carupá and murdered the guard and tried to open a safe with the keys.

Carlos shot Hector dead and burned his face and fingerprints with a blowtorch to make the police's job more difficult, and fled with the stolen goods.

He was arrested on February 4, 1972, when his identity card was found in Somoza's pants pocket.

At that time, he had just turned 20.

On November 27, 1980, Carlos Eduardo Robledo Puch was sentenced to life imprisonment for an indeterminate period, the maximum sentence in Argentina.

In the San Isidro court of appeals he said: "This was a Roman circus and a farce. I am condemned and prejudged in advance."

Carlos is currently still deprived of his freedom in a ward in Sierra Chica.

Since July 2000 he can request conditional release.

On May 27, 2008, Robledo Puch requested parole but was denied because he had not improved positively in any of the sociological aspects necessary to live in freedom.

On August 31, 2011 and October 39, 2013, he was again denied parole.

In November 2013, he asked for his sentence to be reviewed or to be executed by lethal injection, but this was not possible because the death penalty cannot be applied in Argentina.

On March 27, 2015, the Supreme Court of Justice of the Nation rejected an appeal filed by Robledo Puch against the aforementioned sentence that denied him parole.

He was also denied parole in 2016 when he threatened to kill then-President Cristina Fernández de Kirchner.

On May 10, 2016, after 44 years in prison, Robledo Puch left the Sierra Chica prison for a day. He was taken by the San Isidro Forensic Consultancy to undergo a series of medical tests due to his deteriorating health.

Nicknames and Movies:

He was nicknamed by several Argentine journalists as the Black Angel or the Angel of Death, due to the crudeness with which he committed the crimes at such a young age.

On August 9, 2018, the film El Ángel was released in Argentina, based on his criminal story, directed by Luis Ortega and starring Lorenzo Ferro.

That's all, sorry if the translation is not exact and thanks for reading ;)

[blushweddinggowns]

Eddie didn’t even remember falling asleep. One second he was cradling the love of his life and the next his phone was blaring by his ear, forcing his eyes open.

That wasn’t even right, it was too loud to be his phone. It was two loud shrieking noises, bad enough to wake them both up. Steve blinked up at him, seemingly just as confused on how they’d gotten here as Eddie was.

Emotional exhaustion was a hell of a drug.

He didn’t know how long they were asleep for when he grabbed his phone, sleepily answering, “Hello?”

“Where the hell have you been?!” Chrissy’s voice greeted him, “I have been hiding in a damn airport bathroom for forty minutes! Like three people have already recognized me and I swear to God, if you aren’t here before that catches on-”

Fuck, “Shit, I’m so sorry, I’m on the way. Forty minutes, tops.”

“That doesn’t answer where you’ve been.”

Eddie glanced over at Steve, watching as he answered his own phone, “Steve came by and we talked.”

“He did?” Chrissy asked, on the edge of hopeful, “What did he say?”

“Well-”

“You SAID you would call me if it worked out! And did you call? No! You didn’t! Nancy and I are literally circling his apartment building because for all I know he could have killed you-”

Eddie watched, amused as Steve scrambled to take his phone off speaker. He tried to calm her down, “Robin, I’m fine. I’m sorry, we just got distracted.”

Eddie could still hear her yelling on the other end, muffled but still clear enough, “And how the hell would I know you’re fine? You had one job Steven, one!”

“Eddie? You there?” Chrissy voice asked, one more added to the madness, “Don’t leave me on a cliffhanger here! What happened?”

But Eddie’s mind was already wandering. As much as he loved Chrissy, leaving Steve here wasn’t high on his list of priorities. There was still a lot to talk about and shoving his best friend into his face after they just made up probably wasn’t a great call. But Robin was right outside.

His mind settled on an idea, it was a little out there but Eddie was selfish enough to try. Besides, if Chrissy hated it he could just take Steve along. He was going to meet her eventually anyway.

“I’ll tell you everything,” Eddie reassured, still half-listening to Steve’s conversation, “But things are still kind of fresh. How would you feel about someone else picking you up from the airport?”

“Who?”

“Steve’s sister?” Eddie tried, fully ready for her to call him crazy. He’d have to give her that one. He did technically make her fly all the way out here just to try and ditch her at the airport.

But Chrissy didn’t sound very put out. If anything she sounded curious, “Wait, you mean the girl from the pictures?”

Eddie narrowed his eyes at the plural, “I only sent you one picture.”

The silence that followed told him everything he needed to know, “Have you been stalking this girl’s instagram?”

“I-no? Wait a sec, I’m not the one on trial here! Don’t interrogate me!”

Eddie rolled his eyes, but he’d give it to her, “But you’re open to the idea?”

“If you can guarantee I won’t be kidnapped and murdered maybe.”

“Fair enough,” Eddie said, turning to nudge Steve, “Hey baby, can you ask Robin a weird question?”

“Eddie wants to know if you’ll pick up Chrissy Cunningham from the airport,” Steve immediately asked. Evidently, Eddie hadn’t been the only one eavesdropping, “As long as you promise not to kidnap and/or murder her. But I’m going to add drooling too. Neither of you can make her uncomfortable, got it?”

It was kind of impressive how easily Steve turned that conversation around, like he knew exactly what Robin was going to say. Probably because he did.

“Oh my god, oh my god, oh my god, yes! We’ll do it!” Eddie heard from the other line, from what sounded like two separate voices, “But can you warn her we’re fans? We can only act so normal for so long. But we can keep a secret! We won’t like expose her or anything!”

Steve rolled his eyes, “All you have to do is drive her to her hotel. You can handle it for that long.”

“I’m paying for your hotel by the way,” Eddie said on his end, “And warning her and her girlfriend are both fans.”

“Damn right you’re paying for it,” Chrissy agreed, “I still have your credit card from the last time you were here. And uh, you said they’re both fans? Nancy too?”

Eddie paused, “Just how deep into the cyberstalking hole did you go with these people?”

“J-Just give me her number! I’ll let you know when I get there. Then you owe me every detail the second you are officially back together.”

Eddie bit his tongue, as he glanced over at Steve. He was running a hand through his hair, trying and failing to calm down the still screeching duo. Yeah, he was going to take one more day with him.

“I will,” Eddie promised, “When we figure it all out you’re the first stop. We’re coming straight to you, okay?”

“Good,” Chrissy said, appeased, “Enjoy him alone while you can.”

“I will. Thank you, Chrissy,” Eddie said, completely sincere, “For coming all the way out here for my dumbass. I love you, dude. See you soon.”

“Love you too.”

He hung up around the same time Steve did.

“I feel like we just started something,” Steve yawned as he laid right back down, “But I don’t know what.”

From the latest chapter of this fic

[sugar-coated-prat-dragon]

Title: The knights were NOT anti-magic extremists

I’m really tired of the fandom acting like the knights of the round table were sadistic murders, when it came to magic and sorcerers. 😬 🚫

So I’m going to write out all the times (that I can remember off the top of my head), where they went up against magic users and how they reacted.

Most of the knights of the round table, never showed any malice towards magic users who weren't dangerous and they certainly didn't go out of their way to harm any of them.

In fact, the only real time the knights ever go after a magic user in such a way is when they go after Dragoon, (who they plan to arrest) and even then, only because the kingdom believes him to have been responsible for killing Uther.

- Gwaine initially raised his sword to Grettir, but only when he thought he wasn't going to allow them to cross the bridge and showed no further anger towards him, once he was told his sword would be returned to him.

- Leon is awed by the Druids for having saved him when he was on the verge of death. He shows no malice towards them.

- Gwaine kills Orn (Alator’s bodyguard/minion). Which he does because they have kidnapped Gaius, held him prisoner and tortured him.

- Elyan hugged the spirit of a little boy because he thought he might be cold and tried to comfort him.

- Gwaine didn't move to attack the Diamair, despite it clearly being a magical creature.

- The knights only go after Finna, because they believe her to be a dangerous sorcereress (given the way Helva was attacked and only a few people managed to escape with their lives).

LEON There's a dangerous sorceress at large, Merlin. Plus a bunch of Saxons. This is not the place to be alone.

ARTHUR Send out a second patrol. Seal off the Ford at Greinten and alert the border garrisons.

They must be found and brought to trial.

- The knights only pursue Kara originally, because she was spotted near the area where Saxon's raided wagons of weapons headed to Camelot.

And then of course, Kara seals her fate later by trying to stab their king and refusing to repent her crime, even after they show her mercy. ⚔️

- Admittedly, the knights did go on the hunt to find and destiny Aithusa's egg.

However, I think it's important to remember their kingdom was ravaged by a dragon, only a few short years before and many of their people died.

They also had no way of knowing Merlin was a dragon lord, who had the power to control the dragon and keep it away from the kingdom.

So honestly, that's a very valid and understandable fear.

- In the Disir episode: The knights try to apprehend the sorcerer, Osgar (as is their job).

They only go after him with more force once one their knights, Sir Ranulf, is killed in the process.

Leon: They were trying to apprehend him when he used his powers to escape. I am sorry to report... Sir Ranulf was mortally wounded.

So yes, the knights aren't going out their way to pull masks over their heads, to hide their identity and then free sorcerers.

But the knights are also not shown to have any actual grievances against magic users or go out their way to attack them.

The only time the knights have been shown to attack sorcerers, is when they were a threat (or to arrest Dragoon, who they believed killed the former king).

So (excluding Leon), I don’t think it's out of character to believe the knights might initially fear Arthur's reaction to finding out Merlin had magic, or thinking they might have to step in to protect him.

The knights trying to instinctively protect Merlin, doesn't mean that Arthur is evil or unreasonable.

It simply means that they recognize the kings authority in that moment, (since magic is against the law of the kingdom) and they would likely be able to visibly see that Merlin was afraid.

That makes them protective friends.

Something that I think even Arthur would appreciate afterward.

He cares deeply about Merlin and would be grateful the knights had the backbone to try to protect him.

[lampochkaart]

You know, I think Maki actually does feel guilty about Kokichi's death.

Yes, by Ch.5 she absolutely hated him, but it was understandable. He declared himself the mastermind — person who supposedly kidnapped and forced everyone to kill each other. He took Kaito — the most important person for Maki in this game — hostage. He mocked Gonta after his death. He told everyone that he enjoyed their suffering, laughing like madman. Throughout all the game, he accused and insulted Maki of being an assasin. And finally, the last straw was the fake memories that he also helped Junko start wars and cause destruction. This all led to her snapping and trying to kill him.

And Maki never enjoyed killing. She was forced to become an assasin and only stayed for the safety and wellbeing of children in the orphanage she grew up in. She really wanted to prove to the group that she could be trusted. She even told this to Kokichi after the 3rd trial.

Yes, at the end of the fifth trial she told Kaito that he shouldn't have agreed to Kokichi's plan and it would have been better for Ouma to just die. But at that moment she was desperate, hurt and scared that Kaito would be executed. Naturally she would be mad at Kokichi.

But in Chapter 6, she was the one who volunteered to search Kokichi's room to find any clues that could help end the game. If she didn't care at all, she would not have offered to search there. I think part of her also wanted to find some kind of confirmation that he really was an asshole who absolutely deserved to die. Or, on the contrary, confirmation that he really did try to help them. Just anything to form her own final opinion about him.

And also that moment during the Final Trial when Tsumugi, the real Mastermind, revealed that those memories that finally pushed her to try to kill him weren't real. Maki sounds shocked and horrified at that. Because those memories were the reason that pushed her to try to murder him. And if they were fake, that means she did all that for nothing. She broke her unspoken promise to Kaito, and that resulted in Momota and Ouma both dying. And all of it was because of a lie.

It feels to me that she does feel guilty for both Kaito's death and Kokichi's death, because it was her actions that partially led to everything ending that way. I think no matter how she feels about Kokichi, she regrets what she did.

[demon-prosecutor-milesedgeworth]

Playing through Ace Attorney for the first time and I'm on the second game and I'm just deeply in love with how things that are essentially just gameplay features impact and interact with the world of the game. I'm not sure if this makes sense but like:

Mia Fey is, in terms of game play, basically just the tutorial. She's there to show the player how the game works and what buttons to press and give hints when the case gets complicated, but the decision to have her

A. become the next murder victim that Phoenix must investigate

B. continuing to show up as a sort of "hint" system in court, but also being a major part of the story (namely in Farewell, My Turnabout where she's the way to interact with Maya while she's kidnapped, and also her being tied to the concept of spirit mediums in general which are so important in a lot of the cases)

is like, SO GOOD because it just the world of the game feel so much more alive than just the gameplay functions that specific things are tied to.

The same thing is true for the magatama, in that, like, not only can the player see the chains and locks that appear, but it's made very clear that Phoenix himself is seeing the exact same thing and comments on it often. It's not just a gameplay feature for the benefit of the player, it's something that exists and is talked about in the world.

I feel like the way the tutorial works in the second game also fits into this category, because rather than just suck it up and go through the gameplay again for anyone that hadn't played the first game, they decided Phoenix had to be *hit on the head with a fire extinguisher* and lose all of his memories, and rather than tell anyone, realize he's a lawyer and then without even being fully aware of what his name is, still wins a trial.

This is such a long post already, but the writing of the games also seem so aware of what makes the game function well and then how to twist that to its advantage to make the game more interesting. Like, of course, starting out, Phoenix has to win all of his cases. All of his clients have to be found 'Not Guilty', or else the game wouldn't be satisfying, but then you reach the Matt Engarde, and Phoenix's belief in his client's innocence becomes a defining character trait instead of just something that is necessary for the game to function properly. All of his other clients have been innocent, so when the setup with Matt looks the same, of course he believes it.

Can you tell I like these games? I really like these games.

[matan4il]

Update post:

Today marks 123 days since Hamas launched the war in Gaza with its massacre of Israeli civilians.

There were two terrorist attacks today in Israel, both stopped before anyone was injured. The first entails Palestinians from the West Bank shooting at a home in kibbutz Meirav in the Gilboa mountains (where the Israelite king Shaul and his sons died 3,000 years ago), the house was damaged, but no person was hurt. This kibbutz was attacked several times along 2023. The second was in the city of Shchem (you might know it as Nablus, the Arab mispronunciation of the Greek word 'Neapolis,' because Arabic doesn't have the sound 'p'), I'm attaching the pic of the gun and knife which were found on the terrorist after he was neutralized. I found reports about them on two Israeli websites (Ha'aretz and Now14), but both are in Hebrew. The latter also mentions a rock throwing terror attack earlier today, against the car of a woman named Rachel Yaniv. Her brothers, Halel and Yagel Yaniv, were murdered by Palestinian terrorists almost a year ago.

We got the info today on an Iranian attempt on the lives of Jewish leaders in Stockholm, that was stopped in 2021. These terrorists, believed to be linked to the IRGC, infiltrated Sweden under the guise of Afghan refugees, and were deported (rather than put on trial) in 2022. This is a small reminder that the Islamist axis led by Iran, and which includes the terrorist organizations it funds (including Hamas, Hezbollah and the Houthis), as well as countries that chose to align themselves with Iran against the west, such as Qatar, is not anti-Zionist, it IS antisemitic.

In an Israeli TV interview conducted in Arabic, an Israeli journalist asked the right hand man of Palestinian Authority's president Mahmoud Abbas, whether he's willing to denounce the Oct 7 massacre. He didn't. Instead, he insisted that the occupation is the source of all this violence (even though terrorist attacks against Jews in Israel by Arabs predate both the war in 1967, which used to be defined as the start of "the occupation," and the establishment of the State of Israel in 1948), and that as long as the occupation continues, so will such acts [as the Oct 7 massacre].

As part of the campaign against the antisemitism and bias at the BBC, an employee who called the Jews Nazis, and denied the Holocaust, has finally been fired.

Israel's most popular sketch comedy show decided to tackle UNRWA with this funny short vid:

In the segment where the UNRWA teacher shows how he teaches biology, history and English using Hitler's Mein Kampf, on the left side of the wall behind the "teacher" you can see the lyrics of a song titled Fedayeen (a term used for Egypt-funded Palestinian terrorists who attacked Israelis in the 1950's), and the pics of two Hamas leaders who are heading the war in Gaza now, Yahya Sinwar and Mohammed Deif ('deif' is a nickname, his real name is Mohammed al-Masri, a last name that literally means "the Egyptian," so guess where his family is originally from).

Jewish singer Montana Tucker proved she's the bravest artist from among countless performers who attended the biggest American entertainment award shows recently, as she wore an enlarged version of the yellow ribbon to bring the Israeli hostages back home to the Grammys. She didn't just speak up for her people, she made sure everyone would hear her. She's been regularly speaking up for Israelis and Jews since Oct 7.

The ceremony also included a nice gesture to the over 400 people in Israel who were either murdered at or kidnapped from the Nova music festival on Oct 7. Taylor Swift broke yet another music industry record, so this is a good time to remind everyone that there are several Hamas leaders who are each individually richer than her. It pays more to kill Jews, than to be one of the most successful musicians ever (her net worth is estimated at about 1 billion dollars).

This is 19 years old Idan Alexander.

His mom Yael recounted how cool he was in every given situation, and how proud his family was of him, when he told them that he intends to leave New Jersey and make Alyiah. Moving to Israel of course meant he'd have to serve in the army, too. On Oct 7, Yael got to talk to him, and hear that he has seen some horrible things already. She knew something was off, because unlike his usual behavior, he sounded stressed. Idan was kidnapped by Hamas, and it took 6 days before the family even learned whether he's alive or dead. He's been in captivity for 4 months now.

(for all of my updates and ask replies regarding Israel, click here)

[lucifer-is-a-bag-of-dicks]

continuation of this story that is still as yet untitled but has been labeled as #FreeRei in my notes app

The fact that Rei had nothing in the way of backpacks, bags, or even a purse due to her seemingly permanent residency at the hospital was both a blessing and a curse.

Navigating the ledge and tree back down to the ground with his mother in tow was a harrowing enough task without luggage complicating matters, though not quite as difficult as Dabi had assumed because apparently his mother was nimble as all hell.

"The hospital offers pilates classes." she told him as he helped her cross from the ledge to a large sturdy branch of the tree. "I go every day, I thought it would be smart to stay in good shape in case I got the chance to escape." she giggled airily. "I guess my instincts were right."

However she now had nothing to her name but the clothes on her back, meaning Dabi was going to have to steal her a bunch of new clothes and shit while trying to lay low and not draw attention to himself because he just kidnapped the number 1 hero's wife.

This is the stupidest thing you've ever done you soft piece of shit, she says a few nice words and you melt into a fucking puddle, pathetic.

Rei left the lump of pillows she had stashed under her bedcovers in place so Dabi knew they had at least until morning before she would be reported missing, enough time to drop into a 24hr corner store and grab a few essentials.

He zipped his collar up over his chin and pulled on his black cloth facemask and hood before going into the thankfully empty store, he wasn't sure if having a gently smiling older woman on his arm made him seem more or less suspicious with his face as hidden as it was. Though in the end it mattered little as long as he wasn't recognised as Dabi, Rei having last been seen with a mysterious masked figure wouldn't be very useful information to anyone trying to find her, but Rei being seen with a member of the League of Villains could cause trouble.

Especially since they had The World's Most Obvious Spy in their midst.

Keeping the bird around had seemed like a good idea at the time, they always knew where the Commission's eyes were, and could feed him information as tainted as what he gave to them, and seeing as he hadn't ratted out their location (after a few trial runs at various decrepit fake bases) his goal seemed to amount to more than simply capturing the League.

But Dabi couldn't guarantee the Commission wouldn't cut their losses on the whole infiltration thing if they found out the League was harbouring someone of such a high profile, there was every chance raising the stakes this way could jeopardise their tentative safety with their hero mole. He was going to have to keep Hawks at arm's length for a while.

"What colour?" he asked Rei as she browsed the shelves for a toothbrush, almost giddy in excitement over something as simple as shopping for toiletries.

"Colour?" Rei asked, peering at the boxes in Dabi's hand.

"White hair's too eye catching and recognisable, if you want to go out in public you'll have to hide it." He held up the two boxes. "Red or black? Forget about blonde or brown, the cheap stuff doesn't set well in our hair."

Rei tapped on the box of black dye. "This one, so we match!" she smiled.

Dabi felt a sudden flood of something warm in his chest before mentally slapping himself and putting the red dye back.

Keep it together for fuck's sake you're a god damn villain, you have literally murdered people.

He smoothly slipped a couple of chocolate bars into his pockets and some wrapped sandwiches into his coat before heading to the counter with the hair dye, a toothbrush, and a packet of cheap medical face masks.

Rei grabbed at the items. "Oh can I buy them? Please?"

Her childlike wonder and excitement pulled at something in Dabi's chest, once upon a time it was him tugging at her sleeve and asking to pay for their groceries like a grown up. He could feel heat gathering beneath his skin.

Fuck he stole so much from us.

Dabi may have risen from the grave to a life of chronic pain in a fragile immunocompromised body that was kept alive by virtue of artificial quirk induced fevers and spite, but it was a price paid for the freedom his death had granted him. Rei was not awarded that luxury, fit and healthy she may be but her life had been reduced to barely more than a small box for over a decade, Dabi didn't know how it hadn't driven her even more batshit insane than Endeavor had.

Well, she did run off with a wanted criminal, maybe them docs didn't fix her up as well as they thought they did.

"I... yeah, yeah sure." he passed her the items and the last of the money in his pocket. "I need to make a call, meet me outside alright? Don't take too long."

Shiggy was gonna fucking dust him if he showed up with a stranger out of the blue, he was going to have to call ahead with some warning.

Shit, he really hadn't thought this through, at all, the League's base was the only safe place he could possibly take Rei and it was filled with unhinged lunatics that would probably scare the poor woman to death.

Although she had been married to a complete monster for half her life, and had enough guts to escape with a villain at the first opportunity. Maybe she wasn't any more frail than she was sane.

Maybe he broke you but he broke me too, yet here I am, parading around in this shattered husk, pretending I belong anywhere but six feet under.

Dabi had worked hard to maintain his mysterious image, the man with no name or past, a ghost in the system. It was necessary, a requirement for his master plan to have any kind of satisfying impact. He'd maintained the act for this long by keeping people at arm's length, trust no one and no one can betray you.

All of that would come crashing down if his mother spent any more than five fucking minutes with Himiko Toga.

The last thing he wanted was to drag his entire lifetime's worth of baggage into the League's hideout in one condensed human sized package, but he'd already started digging this hole, there wasn't anywhere left to go but down.

He opened his phone and scrolled down to 'Crusty Bitch' in his contacts before pressing call.

"Do you have any fucking idea what time it is?" Shigaraki's groggy voice poured through the phone like sand through an hourglass, grainy and impatient.

"I need a favour." Dabi said, his voice a careful mask of apathy.

"...Holy fuck you must be in real deep shit if you're asking me for a favour." Shigaraki said, the venom in his voice leeching away in his surprise. "The fuck have you gotten yourself into?"

"Aw you almost sound worried about me, that's adorable." Dabi smirked.

"Fuck you. I'm hanging up, sort out your own mess." Shigaraki snapped, all venom returning in an instant.

"Wait shit hold on, I'm-" Dabi ran a nervous hand through his hair as he watched his mother chat idly with the cashier through the store window. "I'm bringing a... friend... to the base, they need a safe place to crash and I need everyone to not ask questions."

"...You're fucking joking right? We're not a hotel Dabi, you can't just-"

"Please."

The phone fell dead silent for an agonising moment, Dabi's head fell back as he squeezed his eyes closed in silent prayer to whatever god might listen.

"Okay, you can bring them to the base, but you're going to tell me exactly what the fuck is going on. If I don't like their story I'm dusting this friend of yours where they stand, got it?"

Dabi let out a relieved breath he hadn't realised he was holding. The threat was an empty one, or at least it would be when Shigaraki discovered that Dabi's 'friend' was just an innocent civilian woman escaping a domestic abuser. The man was deranged but even he had some sympathy for those let down and left behind by hero society, it was why he tolerated the absolute lunacy of the dysfunctional codependent family he'd managed to form around himself.

"Got it, see you in an hour, and..." Dabi paused and rubbed at his eyes, suddenly feeling very tired. "And thank you, I owe you one."

"Ugh, don't thank me, you'll give me hives."

part 3 ~

[a-star-that-burns-brightly]

I've been trying to find the right way to word this for a few days, but it's a really big pet peeve of mine when discussions of Fuuta and Kotoko and them as a duo that's narratively foiling is watered down to just their crime and comparing which of their murders are more justifiable, which usually leads to the same conclusion of "Kotoko is more right and completely justified in her murder, Fuuta was wrong and bad for his murder, #girlboss #slayhimqueen". And to put it bluntly, I find this conclusion to not only be lacking in nuance, but does a massive disservice to not only 0310 as a duo, but them as respective characters as well, and is missing a huge piece of why they are so fascinating The thing about this argument is that, to an extent, it's right. Kotoko killed an adult man who kidnapped and abused a child with the intent to kill her, and that child is now saved thanks to Kotoko. Fuuta helped lead a harassment campaign against a middle school girl who did barely anything to deserve it (not that anyone deserves to be harassed, but you get what I'm saying), and it led to that girl committing suicide. When you look at their murders side-by-side from that description alone, Kotoko's does seem like the more virtuous murder compared to Mr. Twitter User over here. But that is exactly the point. There is a very good post by @weather-cluddy and very good discussion below it detailing what I'm about to talk about, but to put it shortly: Fuuta is portrayed as a lot more physically violent and unsympathetic than Kotoko is in their MVs. Both are portrayed as physically violent, but the way it is framed through their lense and portrayed to the audience differs from the other. Fuuta is not just portrayed as violent and brutish, he is portrayed as pathetic. Kotoko is not just portrayed as violent and brutish, she is portrayed as cool while doing it (which I mean, she is cool, but that's not the point. Well it is the point but-) Fuuta's violence is aimed towards an innocent child, so it's deemed as repulsive and unjustified. Kotoko's violence is aimed towards a child kidnapper so it's deemed as justified and girlboss. Fuuta is portrayed as a wannabe hero, Kotoko is portrayed as the long-awaited hero. I could go on, but I think you get my point. Fuuta is portrayed in a much worse and harder to sympathize with light than Kotoko is, which also highlights how they themselves feel about their murders (Fuuta's guilt and Kotoko's elation). There is a very big reason as for why Fuuta was not forgiven in Trial 1 meanwhile Kotoko was the most forgiven. Because Fuuta's murder is generally thought to be worse. But here's the kicker: I think people are missing the point by putting focus onto which murder is 'worse', because that's not what makes them so comparable. What makes them comparable is the fact that they share a mindset. A mindset of vigilante justice, of a hero complex, of eliminating the bad people in the world in a faux revolution. And that mindset is exactly the one that got them into this place in the first place. And that's why it irks me when people put so much focus into deciding which murder is worse / who is more unjustified, especially since the majority of people I see this from are Kotoko fans. Your girl is literally doing the same thing you're criticizing Fuuta for in this very prison, and you aren't giving her the same amount of flack for it !!! Like- I don't know. I think putting Kotoko on a pedestal of being "morally better" than Fuuta is not only a really boring way to see things, but it misses a big piece of their characters and why they're so often paired up in the first place.

[fortheloveofwonderland]

No Distance Left to Run | Part 4 | S.R

Previous Part | Next Part

Chapter Summary - As you prepare to return to the BAU you find yourself hot water and this time Spencer might not be able to save you. As the BAU work to find you, your secrets come to light.

A/N - some canon elements of Date Night used but I mostly rewrote it.

Pairing - Spencer Reid / BAU Fem! Reader

Category - friends to lovers | mutual pining | angst with happy ending | smut minors DNI

Warnings - spoilers for 14.15 Truth or Dare and for 15.06 Date Night, abusive relationship, kidnapping, guns, hostage situations, Cat Adams, panic attacks, tears, swearing.

WC - 9.1k

Part 4 - Dominoes

Present Day

After fifteen days off work, you were more than ready to get back to the BAU tomorrow. 

You loved the extra time you got to spend with your children but it was anything but a relaxing vacation time. 

Between meeting with lawyers in regards to your marriage and your husband who remained in jail pending trial, and trying to be super mom, you were more drained than you would be from a normal case load. 

It had been nearly three weeks since Jared’s arrest and two weeks since the hostage situation in which you’d confessed your love for your best friend. Your best friend who hadn’t once tried to contact you since Rossi’s wedding.

You’d told him you needed time apart but Spencer was stubborn and you were sure he would try to call, maybe even show up at the house, but he never did. 

You’d missed him, missed how things used to be. For the past seven months since Varnville things hadn’t been the same between you. 

They’d just started to get better, the iciness starting to thaw when you’d made your confession. Time had begun to heal the wounds you caused Spencer by falling into bed with him and you’d been amicable again, friendly even. 

Right before you’d been called out to LA where two murders had been committed in two days with similar MO’s, the case which would lead to you being held hostage, you’d been having a game of poker as a team. 

“You guys, you should have seen Reid. He shot a one hundred.” Luke spoke as he and Spencer entered the round table room. The rest of you gasped and made appreciative sounds. “Yeah, he qualified to shoot a possum.” 

���That’s like a perfect score. What, like, two hundred agents have made the wall of glory?” Matt sounded rightfully impressed.

“He hit everything, I mean at one point I thought he must have two guns.” Luke shook his head as he slid into one of the vacant chairs. 

“Maybe I did.” Spencer smiled knowingly, sitting in the space opposite you. 

You looked at him with curiosity and he simply smiled at you. 

You’d gone two days without a case which was a nice reprieve but it left you all a little on edge. You’d worked your way through a backlog of reports until Garcia suggested a round of poker with jelly beans for chips. 

Rossi was the only one not in attendance as he was helping Krystall with last minute wedding preparations. 

The game began, slowly one by one the team members folded, finally leaving only you, Spencer and Luke still in. 

You glanced at your cards before placing them back face down on the table. You cupped your pile of jelly beans you’d procured and pushed them all to the centre of the table, looking Spencer dead in the eye. 

“Do you think the lady is bluffing?” Luke looked between the two of you. 

“I know the lady is bluffing because she has a tell.” He gave you that knowing smile once more. 

“No I don’t.” You shook your head but Spencer continued to smile and pushed his own pile of candy towards the centre. 

“I’m gonna go all in.” He sat back in his chair. 

“Oh I like it.” Luke smirked. “Live by the sword, die by the sword. I call.” 

“Alright, lets see ‘em.” Tara encouraged.

Luke turned his card over and placed them on the table top. 

“Three of a kind, king high.”

“Perfectly respectable but not getting it done.” Tara shook her head. 

Spencer opened his hand, placing his cards down with a smug smile gracing his lips. 

“Pair of kings, pair of sevens. Oh I’m sorry, uh, three sevens.” His smile grew. 

“Oh, a full boat from the sassy Doctor Reid.” Tara chuckled. 

Spencer focused on you, his smile in full bloom. You felt your own tugging at your lips as you placed your own cards down for them to see. 

A four, five, six, seven and eight of spades. Spencer's face fell, his smile vanishing in an instant. 

“A straight flush, that has to hurt.” Tara chuckled. 

“I think Doctor Reid is speechless.” Matt laughed too. 

You shrugged, reaching out to collect your winnings. 

“Guess I’m a better liar than you thought.”

Spencer had continued to stare at you in disbelief until Emily announced you had a case which was taking you to LA. At that moment, high from your win, you never could have foreseen where that case would lead. 

Unpredictability was unfortunately a part of life. Thirteen years ago you never would have anticipated the nice man you met in a bar on your birthday would go on to abuse you. 

Fifteen years ago when you’d first been introduced to the dorky Doctor Spencer Reid, you had no way to know you would still harbour feelings for him all these years later. 

“Yo, pretty boy?” 

“Huh?” 

“Let’s not make the new girl feel uncomfortable on her very first day.” 

“I wasn’t…I wasn’t…” 

“Don’t mind him, he doesn’t get out much.” 

“Everyone this is our new agent Y/N Y/L/N, please can you all make her feel welcome. Not too welcome though, ok, Reid?” 

“Got it.”

He’d changed so much since then, it was only really now you realised that. When you saw someone every day it was hard to notice those little changes they went through until you took a step back and saw how big those changes really were.

You’d both gone from being in your early twenties, innocent and green to now somehow circling forty, much less naive than you had been back then. A whole lifetime had passed in those years. You’d gotten married, had two children and you and Spencer had both suffered your share of trauma. 

You and Spencer were long overdue for a painful conversation. It would make or break your relationship, it would dictate where the two of your futures were headed and if they were entwined with one another's. 

It was only a matter of time before he would ask you again, and you had to decide if you were willing to be honest with him or lie to him. 

“Y/N?” He rolled his lip between his teeth. “Truth or dare?” 

You sucked in a breath, closing your eyes for a fraction of a second before opening them and looking at him again.

“Truth.” You croaked. 

“Did you mean it?” 

Your eyes flit down to your bracelet, eyeing the inscription for a moment or two before you looked back at Spencer. There was a simple answer and a complicated one, neither of which you wanted to get into right now.

“Spencer I-”

What had you planned on saying before Adie interrupted you? You weren’t even sure of that yourself. Because you had meant it, but being in love with Spencer Reid was far too complicated for words. 

You wanted to keep those thoughts at bay, at least for one more day. You had one last day off work before you had to see Spencer again and you needed to not burden yourself with any unnecessary stress.

You dropped the kids at school before running some errands. You did the grocery shopping for the week, knowing it was likely you would be pulled in on a case once you went back and wouldn’t have time to do it otherwise. 

You’d arranged for your cousin Olivia to sit the kids while you worked, after explaining to her why Jared suddenly wasn’t around. She was more than happy to stay at the house with your children while you were off fighting crime. 

You picked up extra ice cream and a bottle of nice wine for Olivia as a thank you, dropped off your dry cleaning and drove back home where you planned to clean the house until it was time to pick your kids up from school. 

You parked on the drive and exited the car, going over to the house and opening the door before getting the bags out of the trunk so you didn’t have to try and wrestle it open with your hands full.

Heading back to your SUV, you felt the hairs on the back of your neck stand to attention. You slowed your steps, honing your senses onto your surroundings. Something felt off, but you didn’t know why. But your instincts were telling you something was amiss. 

Your hand instinctively went to your firearm but of course it wasn’t there, it was tucked away in the safe in the house. 

You cautiously continued back to the car, eyes rapidly searching the street, your front yard and the front yards of your neighbours houses. You kept your footsteps soft and quiet so you could pick up on any little noise. 

You reached the SUV and popped the trunk, feeling your nerves start to fade a little. You were paranoid, that’s all it was. You tried to shake it off but you couldn’t quite let it go, the hairs on your neck refusing to go down. 

You collected up the paper bags in your arms, cradling them on one hip so you could close the trunk with the other. You turned and tried to rebalance the bags but found yourself looking down the barrel of a revolver. 

You fumbled with the bags and dropped them all on the ground, partially conscious of hearing the wine bottle smash as it hit the concrete. You swallowed, trying to focus yourself on the long dark hair of the woman pointing the gun at you. 

“What do you want?” You croaked. “I have money, I have connections. I’m an FBI Agent, you don’t want to do this.” 

“Oh, I know exactly who you are.” The woman chuckled. “Jared says hello.” 

You whimpered, taking a step back to your car but then you were taking a blow to the head from the muzzle of the gun and soon the world went dark.

Life was certainly unpredictable. 

***

When Penelope Garcia initially received the call from a friendly woman named Linda at the Hyde-Addison Elementary School, she was confused to say the least. Her confusion turned into panic when Linda informed her that two students, Adleine and Finley Haines had not been collected from school.

Linda, the school’s administrator had tried calling their mother several times when she didn’t come to pick up her kids but kept getting her voicemail. The school had been informed that Jared Haines was not reachable at present.

The school required pre-approval for anyone to collect kids from the school who weren’t the children’s legal carers. As godparents to Adie and Fin, Penelope and Spencer along with your cousin Olivia were the only people pre-approved.

Garcia had been the first person called and she’d been sitting at her desk in her bat cave when she’d received the call. The rest of the team were in the bullpen working on paperwork as they didn’t have an active case. 

Before Penelope allowed herself to spiral into fear, she called Olivia and asked if she could pick the kids up from school, trying not to say too much to alarm the young girl. Penelope needed to be at the BAU, because she knew if you hadn’t picked up the kids, there was a sinister reason for it. 

She tried to remain calm while she headed through to the bullpen, head down and focused solely on Emily Prentiss’ office. She knocked on the door but didn’t wait for an answer before she tottered inside.

“We’ve got a case?” Emily looked up from her paperwork.

“Uh, yes and no.” Garcia closed the door behind her. “I just had an interesting call from Hyde-Addison.”

Emily’s eyebrows furrowed as she turned that name over in her head a few times. 

“Adie and Fin’s school?” 

“Yes.”

Emily’s back straightened in her chair, knowing whatever Garcia was going to say wouldn’t be good.

“Should I be worried?” The raven haired Unit Chief’s heart was already pounding.

“Maybe,” Garcia nodded. “Y/N wasn’t there to collect the kids today. She would never forget to pick the kids up. I’ve called Liv, she’s going to get them. But I think something has happened to Y/N.” 

“Why didn’t they call Jared?” Emily narrowed her eyes on the blonde. 

“I…uh, it's complicated?” 

“Has something happened between them? She didn’t really give me much detail of why she needed time off.” 

“I think that’s going to be a story I can only tell once.”

Emily was out of her seat and heading to the door before Penelope even finished her sentence. She swung the door open so forcefully it caused all the agents in the bullpen to look up at her.

Garcia pushed open Rossi’s door, motioning him out. The old man got up from his desk and padded outside. 

“What’s going on?” He spoke, looking between Emily and Garcia. 

“A bad one?” JJ spoke up from her desk. 

Emily let out a shaky breath, ready to deliver the news to her waiting team and wishing things like this didn’t always fall on her shoulders. 

“Garcia received a call just now from Adeline and Finley’s school when Y/N failed to show up to collect them.” Emily spoke, trying to keep her voice measured. 

Spencer immediately shot out of his chair, glaring at Emily.

“What?” His face was drained of colour. “Why?”

“We don’t know, that’s what we need to find out.” Emily nodded sternly.

“Why did they call you?” Luke asked, directing his question to Garcia. “Where’s their dad?”

Penelope looked at Spencer, her expression pleading him to help her. She didn’t want to have to relay this story for you, not that Spencer did either. He huffed out a breath and slowly headed up the stairs to join Garcia, Emily and Rossi while they all looked at him in slight confusion.

“A few weeks ago Penelope discovered that Jared Haines had been arrested.” Spencer began, his voice cracking as he spoke. “For a domestic disturbance turned attempted murder.” 

The rest of the team gasped at his words, exchanging looks and silently asking each other if anyone knew. Penelope was on her phone, tapping at the keys.

“He was abusing her?” Emily looked at Spencer, her expression one of sorrow.

“For a long time.” He nodded sadly. “I knew he was hurting her, I tried to help her but she refused me every time. Adeline called the cops when Jared got hold of Y/N’s gun. He shot the wall, not Y/N. When DC Metro showed up, he had his hand around her throat.” 

“Jeez,” Rossi shook his head. “That poor girl.” 

“I had no idea.” JJ pouted, her eyes filling with tears.

“You think this has something to do with him?” Luke asked, his nostrils flared in anger.

“He’s still in jail, I just checked.” Garcia waved her phone. 

“What is this about then?” Tara frowned. “Do we really think something has happened to her?”

“She would never leave the kids like that. No way.” Spencer shook his head. 

“This might not be a case, there may be a reasonable explanation.” Emily didn’t look as though she believed that herself. 

“Can I go and check on her?” Spencer begged. 

“Ok.” Emily nodded. “You have your car?” 

“No,” he raked his fingers through his hair. 

“I’ll take you kid,” Rossi nodded at him. 

“I’ll try and ping her cell phone.” Garcia hurriedly started back towards the stairs, Rossi and Spencer in tow. 

“Just in case something has happened, tell Y/N’s cousin to keep the kids away from her house.” Emily instructed. 

“Aye aye boss.” Penelope spoke as she carried on walking. 

Spencer was soon over taking her, walking as fast as he could towards the elevators while Rossi struggled to keep up. 

He was blinded by his emotions and he knew it. And he also knew if anything had happened to you he would never be the same. 

***

“Why are you doing this?” You asked once you finally came to, tied to a chair in a nondescript room. 

The dark haired woman sat on an old desk, twirling her revolver in her hand. 

“I already told you, for your husband.” She clucked.

“I don’t buy it.” You shook your hazy head. “He’s too controlling to let someone else do his dirty work.” 

“But he’s in prison, so he can’t do his own dirty work.” 

“Fine, let’s pretend I believe you. How do you know my husband?” You sighed. 

“We were lovers.” She smirked dangerously at you but you simply rolled your eyes. 

“Sweetheart, we both know that’s not true. My husband is forty two years old, you can’t be more than late twenties. We’ve been together for thirteen years, so if you’re telling me you were together before I met him, that would have made you, at most, sixteen years old. I highly doubt that he would have dated a sixteen year old when he was almost thirty.” You argued. 

“Who said it was before you met him?” 

“So you’re proposing that my husband cheated on me with you?” You cocked an eyebrow at her. “Ok, let’s say that happened. Why would you be willing to do his dirty work for him? What is he offering you in return for killing me? Let me guess, with me dead he has no one to testify against him and he goes free? And then what? The two of you run off into the sunset together with two kids?” 

You saw something flicker in her eyes. 

“Something like that.” She shrugged. 

You knew what you’d seen. She hadn’t given your kids a second thought. You decided to take a leaf from Spencer’s book. When he’d faced off with Cat Adams after prison he’d tricked her by giving the wrong name of Morgan’s son, proving she didn’t know as much about him as she thought.

“You think you’re equipped to look after Sammy and Kylie?” You scoffed. 

“I can be surprisingly maternal.” She smirked at you.

That cleared that up. This was most certainly not about Jared. If she was really his lover or whatever she claimed to be, surely she would know about his kids and this woman certainly did not. 

It was a small victory, but a victory nonetheless. 

“Where are my kids now?” You asked. 

“How should I know? I’m not interested in them, I’m interested in you.” The woman pushed herself up from the desk suddenly and you held your breath as she came closer to you. It was then you noticed the camera set up on a table top tripod, pointing your way.

She came behind you and you flinched when she wrapped her arm around your neck, gun dangling by your chest.

“Say cheese,” the woman chirruped, seconds before a camera flash went off.

***

Upon arrival at 184 Calvert Street it was immediately clear there had been a struggle. 

Several bags of groceries were on the drive, a smashed bottle of wine, cracked eggs and a partially split box of cereal. Your car was unlocked and your front door was wide open. 

Spencer drew his weapon, as did Rossi, as they headed towards the house. Without a word, Spencer took the ground floor and Rossi the first. A few minutes later Rossi called out, “clear.” 

“Clear here too.” Spencer holstered his weapon.

Nothing in the house appeared to be out of place, it looked the same as it usually did. He moved some books aside on the bookshelf to reveal the safe hidden behind. He heard Rossi’s footsteps on the stairs as he input the code.

He popped the safe door and reached inside, locating your gun with ease. He turned and held it up to Rossi who was looking at him with a frown. 

“You know her combination?” The older man asked. 

“It’s Adie’s birthday.” Spencer shrugged. “Makes sense she wouldn’t have had her gun, she wasn’t working.”

He put the firearm back in the safe as the two of them headed back outside. 

“It looks like she opened the door before getting the groceries. She had a lot to carry and I guess she figured it was easier to open the door first.” Rossi mused.

“She gets the door open, heads back to the car and grabs the bags, but someone waits until after she’s got them and closes the trunk to strike.” Spencer added. “There’s no other signs of a struggle or a fight. She’s startled and drops the bags and then what?”

“First blush? If it were me, a gun in my face would startle me enough to drop my bags.” Rossi speculated. 

Spencer roughly rubbed his palm across his jaw, shaking his head.

“This can’t be happening, Rossi. Not after everything she’s been through.” 

“Kid, take a breath.” Rossi put his hand on Spencer’s shoulder. “What’s going on here?”

“Clearly someone has stalked her, learnt her patterns and-”

“Not what I mean.” Rossi cut him off. 

“I can’t let anything else bad happen to her, Dave. Not after I sat by for years and did nothing while her jerk husband beat her.” Spencer spat. 

“Reid, you can’t blame yourself for that.”

“Yet I do.” 

“We’re going to get to the bottom of this and we’re gonna find her.” Rossi looked determined. “And when we do, maybe the two of you will finally stop playing this exhausting little game and finally admit you’re crazy about each other.” 

Rossi strolled away towards his car and Spencer watched him go. He couldn’t help the dry chuckle that left his lips at the old man’s words.

If only you knew, Rossi. If only you knew.

***

Two Weeks Ago

“Garcia, any luck with Judge Hamilton?” Spencer leant forward in the chair, speaking into the car’s microphone while you drove. 

Judge Melissa Hamilton was one of the people who the team suspected might be their unsub, Casey Allen Pinkner’s next target. But so far Garcia hadn’t been able to get hold of her. 

“No, we’ve reached everyone else involved she won’t pick up. I’ve pinged her phone, you guys are close.” Garcia informed you both. 

“She’s gotta be his end game, he knows we’re onto him and time is limited.” You huffed, continuing down the street and keeping your eyes peeled for Melissa Hamilton’s car.

“During sentencing she wanted to throw the book at him, she said that he needed to take responsibility for his actions.” Spencer spoke.

“That would have incensed him.” You sighed.

“Oh! she just pulled over.” Garcia’s voice came through the speakers again. 

You and Spencer both glanced around the busy LA street. Up ahead Spencer noticed a car stopped, frowning he leant further forward. 

“That’s her, that’s Judge Hamilton. Turn around.” He quickly told you. 

He held on tight while you made a sharp and somewhat precarious U-turn in the middle of a busy intersection. As you closed in on the vehicle it started moving again. 

You were hot on its tail, Spencer keeping a close eye on the sedan weaving in and out of traffic. Suddenly a tanker pulled out of a side road and Hamilton’s car came to an abrupt stop before they collided.

You pulled in behind it as the doors were opening on the other vehicle. Casey Allen Pinkner slid out of the back seat and instantly fired his gun in Spencer’s direction. Spencer was quick to duck behind the open door and narrowly avoided the bullet that hit the side of the SUV. 

You drew your own weapon but didn’t return fire given the amount of people on the street. Instead the two of you hurried after where he ran off with Judge Hamilton in tow. He’d run inside a jewellery store and you both followed him in, weapons pointed in his direction. 

“Everybody out!” Spencer yelled as he entered, waving the customers towards the door. 

Pinkner aimed his gun at the ceiling and pulled the trigger, making the store clerk who he held by the shoulder scream.

“Go, get out.” You motioned to the other customers before turning to Pinkner. “FBI!” 

“Put them down.” Pinkner growled. “On the ground.” 

You and Spencer exchanged a look, lowering your gun just a little. 

“It’s ok,” Spencer whispered, lowering his also and tossing it on the floor before you followed suit.

Pinkner made the clerk close the shutters while he had Hamilton force you and Spencer to the floor and tape your wrists behind your back. She was shaking as she taped up Spencer’s arms. 

“Don’t worry, it's going to be ok.” He whispered to her. 

What ensued was the two of you sitting back and witnessing Pinkner try and force Hamiliton to play his sick game of truth or dare whilst threatening if she didn’t play, he would kill her daughter. 

His dare for Hamilton entailed her shooting Spencer. But to his credit, Spencer didn’t even flinch with the gun pointing at him.

“Casey…” You spoke up, sensing the judge’s hesitancy whilst trying to push yourself to your feet.. “Uh, if Melissa won’t play, I will. Truth or dare? That’s your game right? I’ll play.” 

“Casey, I know what it's like, to be wrongly accused, sent to prison for a crime you didn’t commit.” Spencer spoke now, obviously trying to buy you all some time. 

“Yeah right, you went to jail?” Pinkner scoffed but Spencer simply nodded. “Yeah, I’d like to see that pretty boy.” 

Meanwhile behind his back Spencer had located a shard of glass from a broken display. He had it between his fingers as he attempted to cut through his tape. It was tricky at this angle and could feel the glass cutting into his palm but he powered through. 

“Ok, agent…” Casey turned to you with the gun, trailing off when he realised he didn’t know your name. 

“Y/L/N.”

“Agent Y/L/N, truth or dare?” He spat. 

“Truth.” You sucked in a breath. 

“If I think you’re lying, or stretching the truth in the slightest, I’ll kill him.” He turned the gun on Spencer briefly before pointing it back at you. “You ever shoot anybody before?” 

“Yes I have.” You nodded. 

“You enjoy it?” Pinkner smirked at you. 

“No.”

“LIAR!” He yelled, turning the gun back to Spencer and pulling the trigger.

You screamed at the sound, your heart instantly pounding. But soon enough you realised the bullet hadn’t hit him, not quite. 

“No, no I’m not lying!” You were quick to say, tears now flooding your vision. “The people I shot, I had no choice. But I did not enjoy it, I didn’t. You asked, and I told the truth ok? So, uh, now it's my turn? That’s how this game’s played. We take turns. Truth or dare?”

You tried to keep your tears at bay but if he shot at Spencer like that again they would certainly fall. You glanced at him, he looked a little shell shocked from the ordeal, no doubt he’d heard the bullet whirring past his head. But at least he was unscathed. 

“Truth.” Casey replied and you looked back at him. 

“What’s it going to take for all of us to walk out of here alive? For this to end peacefully?” You pleaded with him. 

“I ain’t going back to prison. My turn. Truth or dare?” 

“Truth.” You clenched your jaw. 

In your peripheral vision you could see Spencer moving ever so slightly. Hopefully you were buying you both enough time for him to come up with a way out of here. 

“I want you to say something you’re afraid to say. That you’d never tell anybody and you better make it good because if it's not it's gonna be the last thing you ever say. What’s it gonna be?” Pinkner spat, proffering the gun closer to you. 

“There are only four people I trust in this world.” You swallowed. 

“Boring.” Pinkner turned and quickly fired a bullet into Judge Hamilton's leg. She screamed and fell to the floor. “Next.” 

Your heart was thumping against your chest. You knew you had to say something good and this was certainly something you didn’t want to say. 

“My, uh…my husband…he uh…he hits me. He’s abusive.” You choked as tears started streaming down your face. 

“Wrong. Come on, you can do better than that.” Pinkner scoffed. 

“Casey,” Spencer spoke now, the pain in his voice evident. 

He’d know about what Jared did to you but you’d never said it out loud in quite as many words. He hated the way he felt so powerless against what your husband had done to you. 

“Shut up!” Casey screamed at him, grabbing you by the shoulder and forcing you back to the floor. 

“Ok, ok.” You cried. 

“Last chance. Something you would never say aloud, not even to your partner here. Your deepest, darkest secret. Impress me or I kill him.” He turned the gun back on Spencer. 

You looked at your best friend through watery eyes. There was only one thing left to say. A secret you never thought you’d say out loud, especially to Spencer. 

But it would certainly be enough to get Casey’s attention and with any luck it would save your lives. 

“Come on!” Casey screamed.

You kept your eyes on Spencer, tears getting heavier. His brow furrowed at you, sensing the weight of what you were about to say. 

“Spence, uh…” you swallowed. “I have always loved you. I was too scared to say it before... and now things are just really too complicated to say it now. I'm sorry, but you should know.”

The look that washed over him could only be described as pure heart break as the world seemed to freeze around you. He’d wanted to hear those words for so many years but not here, not like this. 

For five seconds the two of you stared at each other, five gut wrenching, life altering seconds. This was going to change everything, life would never be the same again. 

***

Present Day

Upon receiving the email from the anonymous server, things started to make a little more sense. 

It didn’t make the situation any less terrifying, but it did at least point the team in the right direction.

Your phone had been found in a dumpster a few blocks from your house and hadn’t rendered anything useful. It was the email that had landed in Garcia’s inbox a few minutes after Spencer and Rossi returned from your home which was interesting. 

It was a photograph of you with your abductor's arm around your shoulder. The woman next to you wasn’t trying to obscure her face telling the team she wasn’t scared of being identified. You had dried blood on the side of your face but other than that you looked to be unscathed. 

But the most alarming part was the demand in the email. 

Release Catherine Adams in twenty four hours. 

And that was how Spencer found himself behind the glass in the little room next to the interrogation room in which Cat Adams currently occupied. 

“You sure you can do this?” JJ was at his side, much like she had been last time he’d had to face off with his nemesis. 

“I don’t have a choice, Jennifer.” He wouldn’t look at her, keeping his eyes on Cat in her bright orange jumpsuit. “She’s made it personal. Again. If I don’t go in there she’s going to have Y/N killed.” 

“I’ll be right here.” JJ tried to calm him. 

“I don’t need you to wait for me. This is something I need to do alone. Go and help the team.” He didn’t look at her as he headed for the door and violently swung it open. 

He slammed it behind him, glaring manically at Cat. 

She was relaxed back in the chair, arms folded across her chest, jumpsuit sleeves rolled up to her elbows. Her dark hair was stringy and lifeless, tied back off of her face. 

Those infectious eyes he remembered having so much spark when they played their little game in the restaurant, even after his release from prison with his hand around her throat, were dull like someone had switched a light off. 

He’d seen that look mirrored on his own eyes when he was incarcerated. Day by day prison stripped him of life, and his eyes had slowly lost their sparkle. 

She’d been inside much longer than him, he wasn’t exactly surprised to see the effects she wore. But even when she looked at him they remained dark and cold. 

He could see the resignation. She’d given up. It happened in prison, when you stopped believing there was a way out. He’d reached that point too, he’d gotten himself into solitary for his own protection, but he’d been so sure he’d die there. 

She stared at him, waiting for him to speak. If he didn’t know any better he would have been sure she didn’t have anything to do with this. She didn’t seem as though she had the energy for these kinds of games anymore. 

“Where is she?” He spat at her, not wanting to waste any time. 

“Because I’m going to make it that easy on you?” Cat scoffed, lifeless eyes rolling in her head. 

“The demand of releasing you from prison is never going to happen, so why don’t we save ourselves both some time and tell me what this is really about.” He moved closer to the metal table but didn’t sit down. 

“You haven’t heard,” her lips turned up at the corner. 

“Heard?” He cocked an eyebrow at her. 

“I stopped fighting. The state versus Catherine Adams.” She unfolded her arms, exhaled heavily. 

“You’ve grown a conscience? Unlikely.” He rolled his eyes. 

“I’m bored.” She huffed. “Death has got to be more interesting.” 

“Why am I here, Cat? And where is Y/N?” He tried to keep his voice levelled but he knew it was only a matter of time before he lost his cool. “I’m not playing your games this time, tell me where she is.” 

“You know that’s not how this works, Spencie.” She offered him a sweet smile. Her eyes were still void of emotion. 

“Tell me what you want.” He folded his arms across his chest. 

“My final request,” she sat back in her chair leisurely. “Before I’m put to death. I want to go on a date. With you.” 

Spencer felt his stomach turn violently. Of course there was always something. But she did really think she would get her own way, be released from prison so he could take her out? 

He supposed having an FBI Agent kidnapped was one way to ensure she got what she wanted. 

He unfolded his arms before kneeling in front of her. He moved close to her ear. 

“The only date I will be there for is the one where they stick a needle in your vein.” He spat before pushing himself back up. 

“I hear you have a thing for damaged women, I thought I was just your type.” She smirked wildly at him. 

His teeth ground together furiously, but he tried not to let her see he was coming unravelled. He couldn’t give anything away. She was the master of reading people, him specifically. In another life she would have made a great profiler. 

“I have no idea what you mean.” He sucked in a breath, desperate not to let her see she’d hit a nerve. 

Cat chuckled, an evil and maniacal sound that made Spencer’s stomach lurch. 

“After all this time? Always.” She quoted with a wide smile on her face. 

Spencer’s nostrils flared and he felt his heart leap into his throat. 

How did she know about that? How could she possibly know? 

The only conceivable way would be from your bracelet. The bracelet you’d handed him back at Rossi’s wedding which he’d come to discover when he got home he no longer had in his possession. 

He’d assumed it had fallen out of his pocket, even called the venue the next day but as of yet no one had found it. Even if he’d lost it, it was out of the question that she could have gotten her hands on it. 

“Did you hear me?” Cat spoke again, snapping him out of his thoughts. 

“Yes.” He nodded.

“You’re going to take me on a date or I will have her killed.” She spoke in a sickly sweet tone that made Spencer want to throw up. “I want to look pretty! I wanna have fun! And I won’t even get physical. Unless you want me to.” 

He felt dizzy out of nowhere, his vision starting to blur. The walls of the interrogation room seemed like they were getting closer. He suddenly felt as though he couldn’t breath, like a heavy weight was pressing down on his chest. 

I’m having a panic attack. 

Before he could let Cat see his devolution, he threw open the door and fled the small room. He crossed the corridor in two strides, letting himself into a disused office. 

He fought to loosen his tie which felt like it was strangling him. He managed to get it over his head and tossed it aside while trying to focus on his breathing. 

A large scream ripped through him, involuntarily erupting from his throat and he reached out and swiped a pile of books and papers off the desk in his rage. 

He collapsed to the floor soon after that, hot tears streaming down his face. He sobbed loudly, not caring if anyone was to hear him. He didn’t even care if Cat heard him, even though that was unlikely through the reinforced glass.

He’d had so many emotions pent up for so many years and it was finally all coming to surface. Cat having you kidnapped was the straw that broke the camel's back. The thin piece of thread holding him together all these years snapped. 

You’d told him you loved him and he hadn’t said it back. What if he never got to say it back? You were finally free of the clutches of your abusive husband but now you might die because of Cat’s vendetta against him. 

He’d allow himself this moment. One moment in which he crumbled. Then he would push it all down and focus everything he had on finding you. 

And if he didn’t find you? That didn’t bear thinking about it. 

***

Hours ticked by. Slow, painful hours. There was something familiar about this room but you couldn’t quite place it, couldn’t quite see the bigger picture. 

The room was small, barely larger than your en-suite bathroom at home. The walls were painted white, chipped and peeling at the corners. 

The floor was damp and dusty, clearly having gone unused for years. The table in the corner which your kidnapped sat on was more like a counter than an actual table. 

Behind the counter was a set of thick red velvet curtains which were moth eared and mouldy. You swore you could see a sliver of light behind the thick fabric but maybe that was just wishful thinking. 

A window maybe? 

There was one door, to the left of the counter but it didn’t offer any clues. 

Debris was littered on the floor, torn sheets of paper for which you couldn’t quite piece together to work out what was on them. Small brown beads of something scattered between the paper but you couldn’t ascertain what they were. 

You probably had a concussion. If the blow to the head hadn’t done it you were sure the fall to the ground after you’d been rendered unconscious had. Your brain was foggy, you knew you were missing something right in front of you but you couldn’t work out what. 

The woman didn’t speak much, she mostly sat in silence on her cell phone. None of this made sense. Surely if she’d kidnapped you she wanted something from you? But she was yet to make any demands. 

By now you were sure the team must be looking for you. When you failed to pick up the kids from school either Liv, Penelope or Spencer would have been called. By now they must realise something had happened to you. 

The profiler in you couldn’t stop trying to run through it all in your head despite how much it hurt to do so. 

If this was somehow about Jared, even though you doubted that, where would their paths have crossed? Jared liked to drink, he frequented a lot of bars in the district. She could have been a bartender that he spilled his life to over one too many beers. 

But if that were true wouldn’t she know your kids names? 

She could have gotten hold of your FBI file. It would tell her your husband's name and the fact you had two kids but not their names. But that would open up the very real and very terrifying idea she was working for someone on the inside. 

She could have simply stalked you. If she’d been following you she would know about your husband, your kids, but not necessarily their names. 

But then it just came back to the why. Why was she doing this? Who had she taken that photo for? What did she want from you? 

You swallowed, your mouth was so dry and your throat was scratchy. You wiggled a little against your binds, this whole being held hostage thing was becoming too much of a regular occurance. 

“Look, seeing as we’re going to be here a while, why don’t you tell me what this is about.” You barely recognised your own voice.

The woman’s eyes snapped away from her phone and she looked at you, regarding you curiously. She put down the device and pushed herself to her feet. 

She had a slightly crazed smile on her lips as she approached you. There was something vaguely familiar about her, like you’d seen her somewhere before. Had you noticed her watching you? Somewhere in the deep recesses of your mind did you recognise her? 

“You need to see what he’s really like.” She told you, rummaging around in her pocket. 

“Jared? I already know what he’s really like.” You scoffed, with a frown. 

“Not Jared.” She chucked, fishing something out of her pocket and holding it up in front of your eyes. 

Your poor and tired eyes took a moment to focus on the silver item dangling from her fingers. But when you did, you felt your whole world stop turning. 

***

Spencer collected himself, pushed down his emotions and washed his face so the team wouldn’t know he’d been crying. When he walked into the round table room, all eyes were on him.

“How did it go, kid?” Rossi asked.

“About as well as you would expect.” He croaked. 

“We’ve run the woman through facial recognition but so far we haven’t got anything.” Garcia told him sadly. 

“I’ve seen her before.” Spencer focused on the photograph of you and your captor on the big screen. “I know I have, I just can’t figure out where.” 

“It makes sense for her to use a partner again, but her victimology is off. Cat is a black widow, she targets abusive men who remind her of her father.” JJ spoke now. 

“Could this be about Jared? Maybe she thinks in some kind of warped way, she’s saving Y/N?” Luke frowned as he spoke. 

“She doesn’t need saving, he’s already in jail.” Emily shook her head. 

“It’s not about Jared.” Spencer heaved a sigh. “I know exactly what this is about. This is about me.” 

“Well yeah it’s always been about you. But with Cat there is always the presenting agenda and the hidden one. If she sticks to pattern this isn’t just about going on a date with Spence.” JJ shook her head. 

So she was listening, at least to part of it. 

“No, this is about me. Me and Y/N.” Spencer closed his eyes, his gut churning. 

“What do you mean?” Tara asked with a hint of confusion in her tone. 

He opened his eyes again and looked at her, trying to find some kind of solace in her soft brown eyes. This was the last thing he wanted to open about right now but it was inevitable he would have to. 

If this was really about you and him, the team needed all the facts. 

“A few weeks ago on the case in LA, the guy who liked to play truth or dare. When he held us hostage, Y/N agreed to play.” Spencer looked away from Tara, focused his vision on your image on the big screen. 

“Ok?” Rossi frowned. 

“What does that have to do with anything? I read your report.” Emily frowned too. 

“I left something out of my report. Something she said that I didn’t think was pertinent. Not to the case anyway.” 

“But you think it’s relevant now?” Matt gave him an equally confused look. 

“I think somehow, and I don’t know how, Cat found out. Or she guessed, maybe, I’m not sure. But I think it’s why she took Y/N and how I know this about me and nothing else.” Spencer raked his fingers through his hair, a similar dizziness to that he’d experienced in the interrogation room washing over him. 

He needed to get this out before he had another panic attack. 

“Are you gonna tell us what she said or do we have to drag it out of you?” Luke was the one to ask. 

“She said…” he closed his eyes, taking himself back to the jewellery store. “Spence, uh…I have always loved you. I was too scared to say it before... and now things are just really too complicated to say it now. I'm sorry, but you should know.”

He kept his eyes closed as he quoted you verbatim. He could feel all the eyes of his team members on him, watching, waiting. 

When he opened his eyes he looked straight back at your photograph. There were a couple of exchanged glances but to their credit they didn’t seem all that surprised. 

“But you said it yourself, you left that out of the report.” Emily’s brows furrowed. 

“And the security camera from the store didn’t have audio. So even if she has someone on the inside working for her again, how would she know about that?” JJ looked at him quizzically.

“I have no idea.” He shrugged. 

“Did you tell anyone about it? Anyone at all?” Tara asked now.

“No,” Spencer shook his head. 

“Then how can this be about that?” Garcia questioned him. 

“I don’t know!” He sounded exasperated. “But I’m sure that it is, I know that it is.” 

“You’re sure you didn’t tell anyone?” JJ spoke calmly. “Even if it doesn’t seem relevant. Are you sure you didn’t-”

“Shit,” he cut her off. “I did tell someone.” 

“Who?” Emily was quick to ask. 

He looked from your photograph to his Unit Chief. 

“Max. I told Max.” 

“I’ve been in love with her for so long it’s just become a part of who I am.” He confessed. “I never let myself get close to anyone on the off chance she might have one day decided she felt the same. Just before I met you we…we, uh, slept together and she just up and left while I was asleep and never mentioned it again. It told me everything I needed to know, and so I made the decision to finally move on. I opened myself up to being with someone else and there you were. 

I really like you Max, I think we could have had something really amazing. But I can’t lie to you and tell you that I’m not always going to have feelings for Y/N, because at this point I’m sure they will never go away. And that’s not fair on you.” 

“No, it's not.” She shook her head. 

“I got held hostage yesterday, Y/N and I did.” He sighed, scratching at the back of his neck. “The unsub liked to play truth or dare. He had a gun pointed at her and made her confess to a secret she would never admit outloud.” 

Max narrowed her eyes on him, despite not being a profiler she could easily read between the lines.

“She told you she has feelings for you?” 

“She did.” Spencer nodded. “I still don’t know if she meant it or not, or if she was just trying to shock the guy.”

“You think she could be a part of this?” Luke leaned forward on the table. 

“No, no way.” Spencer shook his head frantically. 

“How can you be so sure? You only dated a few months, did you really know her?” JJ sounded somewhat accusatory. 

“I knew her.” He spat at his friend. “There is no way she is part of this.”

“Ok, ok kid calm down.” Rossi held his hands up. “If Max isn’t a part of this, we have to assume this woman who’s holding Y/N hostage overheard what you said to her. Where were you when you talked to Max?” 

Spencer’s eyes snapped onto the older man, frantic and wild. His heart pounded in his chest as his blood turned to ice. 

“At your wedding.” Spencer croaked. “I told Max that at your wedding.” 

In his peripheral vision he noticed someone pass by, dressed in a caterer's uniform. He waited for them to leave before he spoke again.

His eyes quickly found the image on the screen again only this time he didn’t look at you, he looked at the woman with her arm around your neck. 

“Fuck,” Spencer choked on his breath. “She was there! She was dressed as a freaking caterer!” 

All eyes turned to the screen while the others tried to deduce if they recognised her. 

“You’re sure?” Luke was the one to ask. 

“Yes.” Spencer nodded defiantly. “I saw her throughout the day, didn’t really pay her much attention. But she was there when I was talking to Max. I saw her. I thought she walked off but it’s safe to say I wasn’t exactly focused on her. She could have just been out of view, listening while I told Max what happened.” 

“Her name is Juliette Weaver.” Penelope suddenly looked up from her laptop. “I just got over the prison visitor records. She’s visited Cat five times in the last two weeks. And before that, she was an inmate at the same correctional facility. She was released a little over a month ago.” 

“Ok, I’ll bite. If this woman was really at my wedding, watching you and listening to your conversations, I’m still not sure what Cat has to gain by kidnapping Y/N.” Rossi pulled a face. 

“She got back at me for arresting her by having me arrested.” Spencer started to pace as he let the thoughts flow. “Then we destroyed her relationship with Lindsey, exposed her affair with Wilkins, to the one person who ever loved her. We proved playing the game with me was more important than being faithful to Lindsey.” 

“So you think she wants to kill Y/N, take away the one person who loves you just like you did to her?” JJ mused. 

Spencer suddenly stopped pacing, eyes landed on JJ. 

“No,” he shook his head. “She doesn’t want her dead.” 

“So what does she want?” Matt frowned. 

“Last time she wanted to prove that we’re the same. Me and Cat. This time she wants to prove I’m like him.” 

“Him?” Garcia questioned. 

“Jared.” Spencer exhaled. “At the wedding you told me how Y/N had been found with Jared’s hand around her throat. I bet Juliette overhead that too.” 

“So?” Garcia shrugged. 

“She was found being strangled, just like when I had Cat up against the wall in the interrogation room by her throat.” Spencer clenched his jaw. 

He saw some confused eyes, the whole team had not been privy to that part of his encounter with Cat. Emily hadn’t let the others see the video footage, thinking the fewer people knew of it the better. 

“Cat wants to prove to Y/N that I am no better than her husband. She doesn’t want to kill her, it would be too easy. It would be worse for me for Y/N to live and never be able to look at me the same.” Spencer’s whole body deflated. 

“Or let you live knowing you couldn’t save her.” Luke spoke, his tone morose. 

“Either way we need to find her.” Emily turned stern. “And the best way to do that would be…”

“No,” Spencer shook his head, whining. “Please? There must be another way.” 

“If we give her what she wants she could slip up. We can profile what she says on the date. She’d be out of her comfort zone.” Emily shrugged as if there was no other way. 

Maybe there wasn’t. 

“Fucking hell,” Spencer groaned, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Fine.” 

“Alvez and Simmons, you'll go with them.” Emily instructed. “Garcia, see if you can find any more on Juliette Weaver.”

Soon the five of them, Spencer, Luke, Matt, Emily and Garcia exited the room, the others staying behind to continue pursuing other leads. As they passed by Emily’s office, the Unit Chief spoke again. 

“Reid, a word?” 

Spencer halted in his tracks, inhaling deeply before slowly following her into her office. 

She closed the door behind him, moved over to her desk which she leant back against.

“You sure you can do this?” She folded her arms across her chest. 

Spencer took a beat, thought about that question for a moment or two before he responded with a simple, “no.” 

“If there was another way…”

“I know.” He nodded stiffly. “I just need a minute to compose myself. If I have to see Cat right now I will undoubtedly kill her.” 

The gumption to his tone frightened Emily for a second. She knew he wasn’t exaggerating, he would most certainly kill her. 

“If you kill her we may never find Y/N. Just try and remember that.” Emily spoke softly, trying to calm him.

“If we don’t find her,” he clenched his jaw. “If she dies, I will murder Cat Adams with my bare hands. And rest assured I will sleep well afterwards.” 

With that he turned and forced the door open, fleeing the room before Emily could even so much as blink. 

And she knew more than ever that they had to bring you back unharmed, or she would inevitably lose two members from her team. 

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