#the ending his tragic story truly deserved

[dabihawksluvr]

If it was 'healing' any trauma, it's only for the abusers that caused it to begin with. Because every single time I see Endeavor Apologists talk about the Todoroki Family Drama, they defend Endeavor SO hard I wonder if they're the shit inside his own ass.

And I do mean EVERY. Single. Time. That Endeavor is brought up. In any capacity. Or even if he isn't, some little fuck stain will bring him up and shit on others who have any view on the bastard that doesn't make him some radiant god who's shit is speckled gold and should be worshipped like it was holy ground for these gooners.

And I'm not talking about all Endeavor fans, obviously some are chill and very delusionaly sane about this madman. They just happen to like his story and 'character design', but do it in a way where it doesn't shit on other fans who dislike him. Those fans I can tolerate, and to be honest they often make the best Endeavor content (there is at least three creators on TikTok whom I follow that have a 'Good Endeavor' AU and it's heartwarmingly sad to see how his story could've been if it was written better).

But these Endeavor Apologists are the worst in the fandom that I have encountered thus far (though the homophobic IzuOcha shippers are giving them a run for their money). Because not only do they live and breathe Endeavor, they also excuse the abuse he inflicted onto his own wife and kids to the point where they 100% mischaracterize every single family member as the 'abusers' themselves. Which is wild to me, because each family member has their own trauma caused by this half-wit fuckface and it's obvious that people just want an excuse to 'forgive' the man-baby of all his crimes.

And the story agrees with that he should be 'forgiven', which is even WORSE.

Yes, he is a tragic character. I have actually come to enjoy his arc throughout the story, because some Endeavor fans helped me see past the Apologists and actually see the character for who he really is rather than what the gooners sniffing his ass say about him. And I do enjoy seeing these types of stories...but it falls apart when we see his victims never truly get what they deserve in the end, most specifically Shouto. It's not just Endavor's story, but the entire Todoroki Family's. And it just feels like they only focus on Endeavor, making it 'his' journey and everyone else has to pick up the pieces.

But I think the issue is, this is from the viewpoint of Japanese society and their focus on 'family' over the individual. Because every family member did have their own trauma, but in America they would've all 100% split up much sooner than after the 2nd war ended (good on Natsuo and Fuyumi for finally cutting ties but shame on the mom for staying). And though I understand the ultimate fight had to be between Dabi/Touya and the entire family, it just feels...I don't know the right words, it just feels so wrong to me.

Maybe it's my own trauma and experiences with my own mother that make he more sensitive to these topics. But either way, saying that the Todoroki Drama was 'good representation' for abuse victims is so wrong. It's only 'good' for the actual abusers, who will see that drama unfold and be like 'yeah people will forgive me if I hurt them I don't need to change at all' then go online and berate actual victims for not 'fixing' things that same abuser caused them to go through.

But hey, if you wanna fix your own family go ahead. To those of us that can't, maybe actually talk to abuse victims instead of being ignorant and believe in a fantasy resolution to the real problem going on.

My brain won't let me read articles but

Fuck off. MHA doesn't do justice for victims

[inkykeiji]

after chapter 419 all i want to do is finish my flawless!tomura series, purely for my own comfort. i am so, so, so disappointed. like, beyond words disappointed. i can’t even adequately express it—it simply and completely transcends language.

[aroacettorney]

perhaps the reason why aup ended like *that* is because it was not supposed to have a happy ending in the first place, but sayren didnt have the guts to deal with readers' backlash for when they finally kill off the main character so a half baked happy ending is what we get 😔

[yujinmikotoba]

I think one of the reasons why kazuma is a polarising character in some circles is actually because tgaa early on does a great job making him into the exact kind of character he’s there to subvert.

like when you first meet him there are other characters in ace attorney he’s clearly meant to evoke. the mia fey. the gregory edgeworth. he stands by ryunosuke in his first trial, being the tutorial guide, looking cool and put together, always knowing what to do and say and is obviously just so much more experienced than ryunosuke. the fact he dies so early only reinforces this. like the characters in this archetype before him he’s destined to haunt the narrative. the gold standard our protagonist desperately wants to live up to but is now tragically distant from.

him coming back just… shatters all of that. we see him cold and distant, confused and scared. we find out he’s made certain decisions that are ethically dubious at best. you realise that he’s not a mia or a gregory at all in fact he’s more akin to a miles or a franziska, which coincides perfectly with him slipping into the prosecutor role. he’s not ryunosuke’s mentor, he’s his opposition. it’s supposed to be jarring.

but this is because the game wants you start thinking about him beyond that initial impression, and make you question whether he could have ever fit it to begin with.

kazuma is the exact same age as ryunosuke. they were classmates. they wear the same uniform. kazuma may appear to be more put together but their material conditions point to him being in the exact same stage of life as our protagonist who is unsure, inexperienced, and a little bit scatterbrained. the reality is they’re much closer to being equals than one being the veteran and the other a rookie. (in fact there are things ryunosuke excels at where kazuma doesn’t, ryunosuke is canonically a better public speaker than kazuma)

and yet at 23, both we and ryunosuke are under this impression that kazuma had it all figured out, that he could be a guiding light. but that’s not true, he is nowhere near ready for that responsibility. and the ultimate point is that’s okay!

the ending to kazuma’s story is acknowledging that he deserves the space to be able to find himself, to become the person he wants to be and that it’s okay that he isn’t that person yet.

and with all of these revelations his and ryunosuke’s dynamic and friendship is extremely different than it was at the start of the games, in fact it’s arguably completely new, but their friendship is ultimately stronger because of that because they’re finally able to engage as equals and see each other for who they truly are.

[verstappenf1lecccc]

Could you please write something with Fernando and you’re Ayrton Sennas daughter but you where only three when he died. Growing up you didn’t have much to do with Formula 1 until Alain took you to an Price ceremony in the early 2000s where you met an young Fernando you’re pretty sure there is still a picture somewhere. If someone would have told you you would end up marrying an F1 driver let alone that you would have a son you would have told them you’re crazy but the universe had other plans for you and so by the time Fernando finally retires you have a three year old which loves cars over everything with unruly curly hair and an crooked smile and as it is the last race you decide too take him with you too Abu Dhabi he deserves too see his Dad drive atleast once live and so he ends up sitting in the dark green Aston Martin grinning from ear too ear gripping the steering wheel before Fernando picks him up again you’re heart arches you love them so much without Fernando you probably wouldn’t have seen the positive side of everyone all the joy and celebrations and you’re thankful for that.❤️

Racing Through Timeline

this fic made me emotional idk why hope yalls enjoy it

Life has a strange way of unfolding, often in ways that are impossible to predict. You were just three years old when your father, the legendary Ayrton Senna, tragically passed away at Imola. That day, the racing world lost a giant, and so did you—a little girl who would never truly know the father whose name was spoken with reverence, whose legacy became a symbol of passion, talent, and greatness. Ayrton Senna wasn’t just a driver; he was a legend, a man who lived for the thrill of the race, and yet, for you, he was merely a memory—a faint echo in the stories your mother would tell, in the photos, the videos, and the occasional piece of memorabilia. Your father’s world was a place you could never fully grasp, and it wasn’t until later that you began to understand the depth of his impact on the sport and the hearts of those who followed him.

In those early years, Formula 1 felt like a foreign, distant world. The roaring engines, the bright lights, the high-speed cars racing across tracks—it all seemed so far removed from your small, quiet life. Your mother, though always gentle with you, would speak of your father in hushed tones, always reverent, always holding a certain sadness in her voice. She would tell you stories about his passion for racing—how he would approach the track like an artist, crafting perfect lines, how he could feel the rhythm of the car in a way no one else could. But to you, these were just stories, tales from a past you couldn’t truly touch, and as the years passed, the pain of losing him became something you could only feel in the gaps between your mother’s words and the quiet spaces in your life.

But life, as it does, sometimes finds a way to bring the past crashing back into the present. It was Alain Prost, your father’s fiercest rival, who became the person who helped bridge the gap between the man you never knew and the world of racing you would one day come to embrace. Alain wasn’t just a figure from your father’s past—he became a quiet protector, someone who, over the years, guided you through the complexities of your own grief. His affection for you was not loud or extravagant, but steady and unwavering, always there when you needed him. He never pushed you into the racing world, but he always made sure you knew the importance of your father’s legacy.

It was Alain who invited you to a Prize Ceremony in the early 2000s, a grand affair that would forever change the course of your life. You were still a teenager then, unsure of what you were stepping into, but Alain insisted you needed to witness the respect and admiration that your father had earned, to see for yourself the impact he had made on the sport. It was there, in that glittering, surreal world, that you first met Fernando Alonso.

He was young then, still climbing the ranks of Formula 1, but there was something magnetic about him. He spoke about racing with the same fire in his eyes that your father had, the same passion and drive that had defined your father’s career. It wasn’t just his talent that caught your attention; it was the energy he exuded when he talked about the sport. You could feel the same intensity, the same love for the track that you had heard about in your mother’s stories, and for the first time in years, you felt a connection to your father’s world. Fernando didn’t know it then, but his energy, his joy, his spirit, ignited something inside you—a spark that would soon become a fire.

As time passed, you lived your life, far removed from the high-speed, adrenaline-filled world of Formula 1. You followed your own dreams, built your own life, and found a quiet peace in the simplicity of it all. But life, as it often does, has a way of bringing you full circle. Fernando had risen to the top of the sport. He was no longer just a rising star but a champion, someone whose name was known by millions. And then, unexpectedly, your paths crossed again.

When you saw Fernando again, you were both older, different in ways you hadn’t expected. Yet, the connection between you was undeniable. He was no longer just a racer you admired from afar—he was someone who saw you for who you were, who understood the delicate balance between your father’s legacy and your desire to create a life of your own. Your shared passion for racing and the quiet bond between you grew into something far deeper than either of you anticipated. Over time, you found yourself drawn closer to Fernando, not just as a racer, but as a man who was grounded, steady, and full of life. And before you knew it, you had fallen in love with him—not just for his passion for the sport, but for his kindness, his love for life, and the way he made you feel alive in ways you hadn’t felt in years.

Fernando’s proposal was simple, yet profoundly meaningful. One quiet evening, you were sitting on the balcony of your home, the soft hum of the world outside a gentle backdrop. Fernando, ever thoughtful, looked at you with those same eyes that had first captured your attention years ago. He didn’t need grand gestures. There were no cameras, no grand stage—just the two of you. In that moment, he held out a small, simple ring and asked you to marry him. It wasn’t the fireworks of a big public proposal, but it was perfect. It was real, it was intimate, and it was everything you needed. Your heart soared as you realized that this life, the life you’d always dreamed of, was finally falling into place.

The years that followed were filled with quiet moments of joy and profound love. Despite his demanding career, Fernando was always there for you—his presence a steady rock in your life. When you were expecting your son, Fernando became even more attentive, staying by your side through every milestone of your pregnancy. The late-night conversations, the small touches, the way he would softly whisper to your belly, telling your unborn child how much he loved them—it was the kind of love that you had always imagined, but never truly believed you would experience.

When your son was born, it felt like the world had finally aligned. He was the perfect combination of both you and Fernando—a perfect little human, with eyes that shone with the same mischievous sparkle as his father’s. You would spend quiet afternoons watching Fernando hold him, cradling him in his arms as though he was the most precious thing in the world. Those soft moments—when Fernando would softly kiss your son’s forehead, or when he would lay next to you, both of you wrapped in the warmth of your family—were the kind of moments that made every sacrifice, every challenge, worthwhile.

Yet as time moved on, a new chapter began to loom on the horizon—Fernando’s last race. As the years passed, you had known this moment would eventually arrive. The talk of retirement had been subtle, but it was clear. Fernando had achieved everything he had set out to do. But even then, it wasn’t an easy decision. He had dedicated his life to the sport, and stepping away was not something he could do lightly. But then came the moment that changed everything: you kissed him, as you always did, before a race—your touch soft, your love palpable. It was just another pre-race ritual, another tender gesture between two people who had shared so much together. But as you pulled back from that kiss, something shifted in Fernando. A realization took root in him. He knew, at that moment, that his heart was ready to retire. He had made his mark, and now, he was ready to build the next chapter of his life with you and your son. That kiss, that moment, was the milestone that allowed him to finally walk away from the track he had loved so much.

When Fernando’s last race arrived, the emotions were overwhelming—not just for him, but for you too. As you stood in the stands, watching him in his final race, you couldn’t help but feel a strange mix of pride, sadness, and nostalgia. Every lap felt like a piece of his soul was being left behind on that track. You remembered your father’s legacy—how you had wished you could have been there for his last race. But now, you were witnessing Fernando’s final lap. There was something incredibly emotional about seeing him finish, knowing that this would be the last time you would see him race at the highest level.

You watched him cross the finish line, and it was as though time stood still. The roar of the crowd, the flashing lights, the cheers—it was all distant. All you could focus on was Fernando’s face, the quiet reflection in his eyes, the understanding that this was the end of one era and the beginning of another. You could feel your heart swell with both love and a deep sense of loss. You had witnessed something monumental, not just as his wife, but as someone who had walked alongside him through the highs and lows of his career.

As you held your son in your arms, the tears welled up. You thought of your father’s own last race and wished, just once, you could have been there to see it. But now, as you looked at your husband, your son nestled between the two of you, you realized that you had witnessed something even more precious—a man who had lived his dream, who had dedicated everything to the sport he loved, and who now stood beside his family, ready for the next chapter. You smiled through your tears, knowing that the legacy of racing would always be a part of your life, but that this was just the beginning of something even more beautiful. Fernando was no longer just a racer; he was your partner, the father of your child, and the man who would shape the future in ways that racing never could.

As the sun set on the horizon, casting a golden glow over the racetrack, you felt a sense of peace wash over you. You had always known that the world of racing was unpredictable, filled with highs and lows, victories and losses. But now, looking at Fernando, you realized that what truly mattered was not the wins or the trophies. It was the quiet moments like this, the ones spent together, the ones that would shape the family you were building.

Fernando gently kissed the top of your son’s head, his eyes soft with love. “He’s going to grow up knowing what it means to chase your dreams, just like his mom and dad,” he said, his voice steady but filled with emotion.

You nodded, feeling a swell of pride. “He’s already learning from the best,” you whispered.

As the three of you stood there, the world of racing slipping away in the background, you knew that this was only the beginning. The track may have been where Fernando had earned his name, but now it was at home, in your hearts, where the real legacy would live on.

And as your son grew, you hoped he would always carry the lessons of passion, perseverance, and love. You and Fernando would teach him to dream big, to face challenges head-on, and to never forget the importance of family. The racing world might have given Fernando his start, but it was his love for you and your son that would propel him forward in ways the racetrack never could. The future was unwritten, and together, you were ready to write it.

[lilislegacy]

The way haters just boil Annabeth's character to just insulting Percy and not seeing theres more to her really shows how much they dont get her. Honestly Percy would hate them for this...

thanks for the ask @emilia9622!

agreed completely. like if you want to dislike a character, go for it. but don’t lie to yourself. don’t base it all off of one thing or flaw and make it 100x bigger than it is.

for instance, i don’t like luke. but it’s for a multitude of reasons. he knowingly betrayed all his friends several times, fought a deadly war against them, and intentionally poisoned the camp. he was percy’s first friend at camp and was a mentor to him, but had no issues lying to him and deceiving him. he literally was fine with the idea of 12 year old little percy being dragged down to tartarus. he also let annabeth be kidnapped and forced to hold up the world. when he finally saw thalia alive, he fought her and tried to harm her. yes i know that there is very complex trauma and history that led to all his actions, and i really do feel so bad for him, but i can’t respect someone who betrays his close friends like that. no matter what. i could go on and on, and don’t get me started about him having romantic feelings for annabeth… UGH. but that said, i understand why people love his character. he’s complex and has a lot of really good history. he also has a wonderful, yet tragic, redemption at the end. he really deserved better. i don’t have love for him, but his character deserves love. i’m happy that there are people to love him so that i don’t have to, because i have personal reasons for not liking him. i think luke is an amazingly well written character and i think rick wrote him beautifully. the truth is, besides the singular part where he admitted he had feelings for annabeth, i wouldn’t change anything about him or his story. so personally, i don’t like him, but i think he’s a great character and objectively, i can see why people love him.

it’s okay to dislike a character. but don’t pick their biggest flaws, strip away all the good parts of the character, and fool yourself into believing that’s all they are. (and then continue to go on tumblr and scream about how toxic and terrible the character is 🙄)

this is what “people can’t handle complex characters” actually means. people often throw that phrase around. people say that about readers not liking jason all the time, but the truth is, people are fully entitled to not like jason. it doesn’t make sense to me, because i LOVE jason. he’s my cutie patootie. but the people who dislike him simply don’t like him. they don’t usually make him out to be someone he’s not, they just don’t like him for who he is. they often just don’t find him interesting enough to break down the more complex parts of his character. it breaks my heart, and i don’t understand, but that’s okay. they just don’t like him. there’s nothing else to it. most annabeth haters, however, make her out to be someone she’s not and then proceed to hate on that one self-generated version of her. it’s so toxic. THAT is not being able to handle a complex character

no, annabeth is not perfect. if she was, she would be unrealistic, and people would hate her for that too. yes, she has excessive pride. she tends to think herself above others, and yes that even includes percy at times. but you know what? she admitted to having that issue all the way back in book 2. she was literally 13 when she explained to percy what hubris is and how it’s her biggest downfall. she’s a self aware queen. she knows it’s an issue and she works hard to correct it in little ways and make sure the people around her, especially percy, know she values them and their opinions. anyone who read the heroes of olympus series unbiased and got to read her POV knows that annabeth holds percy in the highest regard. she respects the hell out of him. even though sometimes she says things that aren’t nice, she doesn’t truly feel that way and always corrects it in some way. she’s not selfish, she’s just tragically intelligent, and it naturally gives her a bit of a complex. it wouldn’t make sense if it didn’t.

and i love her for it. the fact that she has a real flaw that can affect relationships, but that she is self aware of and actively works on, makes her legit one of my favorite characters ever. she’s SO realistic.

but people take that one flaw and make it her whole character. they call her cold and harsh, when in reality she’s one of the most warm and sensitive people in the series. she takes care of her friends. she’s strong and she’s often the leader, but it’s because she’s so loving and kind all the time. she works hard and looks out for everyone. she makes friends fast for a reason. she’s a wonderful person. she’s so, so sweet, and it breaks my heart that people choose to take that away from her.

anyway, sorry i just word vomited so much. basically i agree 100%.

[alwaysakin]

The Vampire Diaries Universe Fic Recs

Once again putting my unhealthy amount of fanfic knowledge to good use. Here's my list (non-exhaustive) of the best vampire diaries & originals fanfics. Includes Klaroline, Bamon, Kolvina, and more.

Bamon Fics

Before I Take My Flesh Away by Orig1n - the fic where Bonnie and Damon are comically bonded, and she hops around in his timeline pre (and during) the series. Tragically unfinished, but completely incredible! Kudos for developing Stefan and Damon as brothers and making me not hate Lily Salvatore. Also love the Arthurian lore.

if you love me (don't let go) by sarcastic_fina - this is a heartbreaking deconstruction of Bonnie and her victim mentality, and shows the strength of not only her romantic relationship with Damon, but her friendships with Caroline, Matt, and Tyler. So sad, but so good!

Bloodstone by cactusfinch - Bonnie time travels to 1864 (with all the problems entailed). Her relationship with Damon is done well here, and her friendship (sort of!) with Katherine is fun as hell.

rest for the wicked (hope for the weary) by castelia - Damon and Bonnie go on a road trip together after the prison word. I am a sucker for mutual pining, and this fic does it so well!

Fifty-Five Years by turningofflights - written from Elena's perspective, after she reads Bonnie's diary entries and learns how Bonnie and Damon fell in love. A bittersweet, believable love story for Bonnie and Damon.

Other Bonnie Bennett Ship Fics

The Edge of Night by Szajnie - a crossover between season 3 of the Originals and season 7 of the Vampire Diaries, where Bonnie goes to New Orleans. She's absolutely in her element here as the most powerful New Orleans witch, takes the supernatural world by storm, and everyone has a happier ending because of it (including her!). Absolutely love her friendships with Davina, Vincent, and Freya, and shout-out for being the only fic to make me care about Cami! Truly, this is great. The NOLA gang is the family Bonnie deserves, and the Bonnie/Klaus is so believable.

Kai Parket Screwed Us (Until Bonnie Bennett Screwed Him) by hysteriaww - exactly what it sounds like. Bonnie shows up to help Josie and Lizzie deal with the prison world and her and Kai's insane relationship weirds everyone out. Deals with the Gemini Coven in a really interesting way. Hilarious, and with mild Damon and Alaric bashing. BonKai.

Season One, Epsidoes One-Three by BorgiaBabe - a rewrite of the first three episodes of TVD with Bonnie as a proper main character. Her love interest is a softer Kai, and it's great! Bonnie really deserves better.

the night light hits off, turning kisses to bites by donutworry - an insane, dark, twisted Bonnie and Kai romance, where they're the only ones in the prison world from the start. I absolutely love the Gemini Coven lore in this fic.

Klaroline Fics

Make them bow by for_darkness_shows_the_stars - Klaus appears in season 1 of the vampire diaries. it's Klaroline, but still super gen, and all the characters get their own compelling arcs in it. Especially love the way Elena and Stefan are written.

One of A Kind, Two of a Kind, or the Three Musketeers by Phandancee74 - Caroline is an ancient nymph who was erased from memory by Malivore. She still helps the Mystic Falls gang out (and her relationship with Bonnie is great)! The Klaus/Caroline is angsty and lovely.

Calling on a Friend by Phandancee74 - 5 year old Josie gets Klaus's number. Shenanigans ensue. Short and cute as hell.

Sanctuary in their Hearts by thatsanotherlovestory - Caroline leaves before the season 8 wedding, and heads to New Orleans with Klaus. A fun story, but still so sad Bonnie didn't get her happy ending in it. The twins are so cute in this.

Let's do the Time Loop again! by kcatdino - on the night of the sacrifice, both Klaus and Caroline get stuck in a time loop. It's so funny to watch them get more and more deranged.

sweet present of the present by VintageLilac - it's Caroline, not Rebekah, who raises Hope while New Orleans is at war. I absolutely love Katherine in this fic, and though Hayley gets the short end of the stick it's written quite well.

The Wolf by Yokan - a witch version of Caroline is the one pregnant with Klaus's baby in the originals. And while season 1 doesn't change a lot because of it, the later one's definitely do! I love the Klaus and Caroline relationship, and Caroline & Elijah friendship.

Elena Gilbert-Centric Fic

The stars were brightly shining by adlyb - a fic where Elena is pregnant with Klaus's baby. It's so hard to describe! A little twisted, a little sweet, and a thorough depiction of Elena's mental state.

The Forgotten by MissNMikaelson - Elena time travels and gets dropped in the middle of Klaus and Kol's war in New Orleans, circa 1914. The flashback scenes in the fic are great! Eventual Kol/Elena.

blame it on the stardust by allwritenow - the fic that looks into if Elena's doppelganger nature affected her more. And a truly beautiful Caroline, Bonnie, and Elena friendship.

Off by a Single Degree by Tarroko - when Elena's phone dies, Damon walks her home and never compels away her memories, and her parents never die. This softer, sweeter Elena is so believable, and I love the way canon immediately shifts. Amazing development of her parents, Anna, and Enzo. Delena.

Katherine Pierce Centric Fic

afflictions eclipsed by glory by passionesque - in 1864, right after the fire in Mystic Falls, Elijah finds Katherine. They team up together against Klaus. This deals with Katherine's trauma and cunning so well! A slow build to Elijah/Katherine, involving him acknowledging his faults.

General Mystic Falls Gang Fics

in another life (i would let you go) by sarcastic_fina - Elena wakes up in a world where she isn't the doppelganger and no one knows her. An interesting deconstruction of the affects she's had on her friends.. Manages to be both Elena-bashing and sympathetic at the same time. Minor Steroline and Bamon.

Originals Family Feels

It All Comes Crumbling Down by AlwaysAkin - can I do a self-rec? I'm doing a self-rec. Hope is born a century earlier, and grows up in New Orleans with the Mikaelsons. I'm particularly proud of my Hope-Marcel bond and young!Hope voice in this one.

A Twist Through Time by fandom_lover_101 - Hope is sent back in time to the Vampire Diaries season 3. She messes everything up. Absolutely love the slow Hope & Klaus relationship built here, and her friendship with Elena is cute too. Minor Klaroline, Delena, and Handon.

Always & Tomorrow by Viretta - another tragically unfinished fic. Set after Hope jumps into Malivore in Legacies, it involves the dead Mikaelsons being resurrected, and the kids from the Salvatore School travelling to New Orleans (with a newly activated tribrid Hope). This is a Mikaelson family story in the bloodiest, best way. Has Handon and Klaroline in addition to the canon originals couples.

if no one in the entire world cared about you (did you really exist at all?) by nevermore_evermore - Elijah is erased from the minds of everyone he loves. Kol is (eventually) there to help him through it. An interesting take on Elijah's place in the family.

A Million Mistakes by mon-amour-eternel - a fic where Caroline is also an original, and her and Klaus are Marcel's parents. Sadly unfinished, especially considering the rarity of Marcel-centric fic!

But Stand Brave, Life-Liver by crownjrose - A Hayley-centric fic! Her foster parents come to New Orleans and see the way her life turned out. Interesting closure for Hayley, and a sweet Klaus/Hayley relationship.

Kolvina Fic

(finally) you and me are the lucky ones by yorkes - a long one-shot where Kol and Davina are soulmates. It's cute as hell! And Kol and Davina really grow into each other in this one.

The Vixen and the Fox by BlueBooThalassophile - be warned, this read is long as hell. But it's also great. Davina time travels to the Vampire Diaries season 4, gets involved in the fight against Silas, and everything goes sideways immediately. Love Davina's friendship with Hayley and bond with Marcel in this one. Every character in both shows appears in this one.

[rhymeswithchronic]

*shimmies up to the mic*

*gently taps on it*

*clears throat*

Episode 6 just solidified PvP Civ as being better then Parkour Civ

*runs away as fast as possible*

OKAY LISTEN I will literally commit war crimes for EMF, my scrungly, and Parkour God Evbo, but to be perfectly honest most of the things that make the characters so lovable is headcanon or fanon. Parkour Civ is loved for the story, the light hearted nature and humor, ~the yaoi potential~ and the messages

Episode 6 alone has just solidified almost the entire cast of PvP Civ as individual, thought out characters. Really, the only one in ParkCiv with that kind of thought was Seawatt, with his tragic motivations followed by his death.

Parrot and Tabi have become SO MUCH MORE interesting because of the reveals, and I think Tabi has just immediately become one of my favorites because she’s just so INTERESTING. Someone who is so determined to reach a goal that she doesn’t care if she kills people in her way, but who also consciously *did not permanently kill Evbo despite having the ability to do so*. There’s still SOMETHING there that caused her to use the axe instead of the Eternal Sword, and THAT is the part of her that I think is truly her.

She was talking to someone towards the beginning (our great Parkour Villain himself can’t wait for PvP Villain ClownPierce) but there was something off about their conversation. Clown suggests that she shouldn’t be the one to do this because she’s younger and she “doesn’t deserve to die yet”. Something about their plan does not end well for the one who has to carry it out. Tabi is doing something and possibly sacrificing herself in the process.

Now here’s the thing: Why did she kill Evbo at all?

It could be for the reason that is presented to us. Because she doesn’t care about him. Because he was a tool she used to get what she needed and she didn’t care what had to happen to him for her to get there. She only brought up the literal torture he suffered FOR HER as a way to manipulate him further into following her orders, and now he’s just an obstacle

But that *doesn’t make sense*

If he was just an obstacle, WHY did she let him respawn? We can assume she didn’t know that Prince Zam was waiting since if she wanted Evbo to be killed and not respawn, she easily could’ve done that herself. But she DIDNT. She actively chose to use her axe on him and let him respawn. She has to know that Evbo is going to come after her. She has to know that Evbos continued existence, especially as a Natural Born Sword, is detrimental to their plan. She knows this and she chose to use her axe anyway

That leaves us with the other possible reason:

Tabi did it to SAVE Evbo

Hear me out on this. Talking about her discussion with Clown, here’s how it goes:

“Let me be the one to do it. You have a longer life that I do, and you don’t deserve to die yet.”

“We’re all gonna die if we don’t get that sword, and you know I’m the only one good enough to get it.”

Clown suggests here that somehow, this plan will end up with someone dying. He is offering himself because she “has a longer life”, which could mean he’s older and has lower durability than her, or something else entirely, but that’s up in the air.

Tabi is SMART. She knows exactly what she’s doing and why. She knows that there’s a solid chance that she will die, but she’s willing to risk that for immortality. “We’re all gonna die”? Because of the other kingdoms?

Whatever it is, whatever she meant, she did not want Evbo as a part of this. She told him to move first. Attacking was not her first priority. She didn’t want to kill him, but she knew one thing:

Evbo could not go with her.

If she stayed true to her word, if she left together with Evbo, she knew he would want to stay with her. He would stay by her side no matter what. And she just couldn’t bare the idea of leading Evbo to his own death from their plan. Maybe she was hoping giving her the time to flee would allow the Diamond Swords to convince Evbo to not leave at all. Not like it would take much convincing (in her eyes) since he was already attached. Inside of the civilization is the safest place for someone as trusting and naive as him. She wanted to keep him safe, and if he came with her, the same thing that would kill her would end up killing him.

Tabi killed Evbo to save him I rest my case

[hoe4hotchner]

Chapter 10 - Cold pursuit

Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x figure skater (fem)!Reader

Summary: The story follows you a figure skater training for nationals and Aaron Hotchner as your lives intertwine during an investigation into the abductions of young athletic women, including the your close friend, Leah. As the BAU delves deeper into the case, you find yourself captivated by Hotch’s quiet strength and protective presence. When Leah’s body is tragically discovered at the rink, the tension escalates, surrounding you in an atmosphere of fear and uncertainty.

Word count: 10k

Warnings: Alcohol mentioned, celebration dinner, doubts, detailed evidence run down and analysis, theres a bunch of children present in the last scene of this chapter.

A/N: Honestly, everyone should blame the outdoor skating rink opening in my city for me taking so long to editing this…. I've had it written for 2 weeks now, but only just finished editing it Wednesday and meant to post it last night (but I went skating instead). Oops…… but on the bright side the rink is open.

Masterlist

The restaurant buzzed with a low hum of conversation, punctuated by occasional bursts of laughter and the soft clink of silverware against plates or glasses pushed together in a toast. The air in the restaurant was rich with the scent of freshly baked bread and hearty, savory dishes. It wasn’t the fanciest spot in town — no glittering chandeliers or pristine white tablecloths — but it had a charm of its own — and you liked it. The warm lighting, the rustic wooden tables, and the soft murmur of diners gave it a cozy, inviting atmosphere.

The team had insisted on taking you out to dinner after the competition, their excitement contagious. At first, you’d protested — wanting nothing more than to crawl into bed — you'd voiced your concerns about pulling everyone away from the case, the weight of the unsub running freely around gnawing at the back of your mind. But your objections had barely left your lips before JJ placed a firm yet comforting hand on your shoulder, her grin both gentle and determined.

“This is non-negotiable,” she said, her tone brooking no argument. “You just won sectionals, and we’re going to celebrate. Even if it’s only for a couple of hours, you deserve this.”

Her words left you momentarily speechless, and before you knew it, you were swept up in their plans. Rossi had already called ahead to secure a table, likely pulling a little on his "do you even know who I am" author personality to get the best table in house. Garcia was already promising an entire evening of laughs and stories to distract you from the case.

Now, sitting at the table surrounded by your newly found friends, you found yourself relaxing for the first time in what felt like weeks — truly relaxing. Rossi had ordered a bottle of wine for the table, and while you’d politely declined, you couldn’t help but smile at the way he took charge, pouring glasses with ease. Laughter echoed from Morgan and Garcia at one end of the table, while Spencer leaned in to explain something to JJ with his usual enthusiasm, his hands gesturing animatedly.

Despite your initial reservations, you felt a spark of gratitude rising within you, thankful for this moment.

Hotch, seated at the head of the table, seemed content to observe the conversation. When your eyes met his across the table, he offered you one of his rare smiles — small but unmistakably genuine.

“You’ve earned this,” he mouthed, although his words came out in silence, it was like you were pitched in on a station only you could hear.

Heat rose to your cheeks, creeping up your neck as you ducked your head, pretending to focus on the condensation trickling down the side of your water glass. “Thank you,” you mouthed back, the words feeling far too small for the significance of his support. Still, the warmth in his gaze remained as he kept staring at you for a moment longer.

As the evening wore on, the conversation ebbed and flowed, drifting from the competition to lighthearted topics that had nothing to do with cases or stress. Morgan eventually stood, raising his glass, his grin wide and full of love for his family before him.

“To the champion of sectionals!” he declared, his voice cutting through the din with ease. “And to predicting you’ll be kicking ass and taking names at regionals in a few weeks!”

The team erupted into cheers, glasses lifting high in unison as laughter rippled through the group. The celebratory clinks of glass against glass echoed as a joyful punctuation to his toast.

You couldn’t help but laugh, the sound bubbling up naturally. It felt freeing to laugh like this again, to let go. It was like a fresh breath of air after being submerged a little too long.

Even as the team’s laughter and cheerful banter filled the air, you still couldn’t entirely shake the weight of what had unfolded earlier. The tension, the chaos, the unsettling fragments — it all clung to the corners of your mind like a shadow refusing to be cast out. Every so often, your gaze drifted to the table, the fork idly turning over a stray piece of lettuce on your plate, as your thoughts circled back to the competition.

Across the table, Hotch’s sharp eyes caught your brief distraction. His perceptiveness was something you’d come to expect. However, it still surprised you how easily he could read even the faintest flicker of unease. He leaned forward slightly, the low hum of his voice cutting through the surrounding noise.

“It’s okay to enjoy this moment,” he said, his tone even and grounding, like a steady hand reaching out to tether you to the present. “I've learned that the hard way. We’ll deal with everything else tomorrow.”

The sincerity in his words, coupled with the unspoken permission they offered, settled over you. You lifted your gaze to meet his, finding reassurance. A small, genuine smile curved your lips as you nodded.

He was right, of course. Tomorrow would bring the chaos of the case and all the challenges waiting to be unraveled. But for tonight, you allowed yourself to lean into the moment.

As the plates were cleared away and the steady buzz of the conversation through the restaurant softened, Rossi pushed back his chair and rose to his feet. With the ease of a man accustomed to commanding attention at a celebration, he lifted his glass, the flickering candlelight casting warm shadows up at his features. His eyes swept over the table, taking in each member of the team until they landed on you, his expression was a blend of pride and warmth.

“To victories,” Rossi began, his voice effortlessly cut through the murmur in the restaurant. “Not just the one on the ice tonight — though that alone warrants its own round of applause.”

The team erupted into cheers and claps, their joy infectious as they turned to you with bright smiles. You ducked your head, a flush warming your cheeks as their enthusiasm washed over you.

Rossi held up a hand drawing the team's attention back to him. His tone deepened the words carrying a weight that settled over the table. “But also,” he continued, “to resilience. To all of us — because no matter what’s thrown our way, we endure. And we’ll keep doing it, together.”

There was a moment of silence, heavy with meaning giving each member enough time to reflect a little over all the good they'd done together before the clinking of glasses broke it. The sound echoed around the table, accompanied by murmured agreements and the gentle exchange of smiles. You lifted your glass, your throat tightening as Rossi’s words settled over you.

Hotch remained seated, his glass untouched. He didn’t raise it or join in the clinking, but his presence was no less commanding. His voice cut through the celebratory noise with ease as he turned his attention to you.

“Congratulations,” he said, the simplicity of the word carrying a weight that struck deeper than anything else.

You looked up, meeting his gaze, and for a fleeting moment, the mask he always wore cracked just enough to reveal — was it pure joy you were sensing?

For a moment, the quiet conversations, the clinking of glasses, and the occasional burst of laughter faded into the background. All you could focus on was him. The soft light caught the subtle lines of his face, and in his eyes, there was a flicker of something you couldn’t quite name.

The moment was fleeting, but it clung to you.

“Thank you,” you murmured, your voice barely audible above the surrounding noise. But he heard you.

The faintest twitch of his lips hinted at a smile as his gaze held yours. It was as though he wanted to say more, but before either of you could dwell on the moment, Morgan’s voice cut through, his teasing tone breaking the spell.

“Alright, alright,” Morgan called out, tapping his fork against his glass with an exaggerated gesture. “Enough of the serious stuff! Let’s focus on what’s really important — dessert. I saw cheesecake on the menu, and I’m not leaving without it.”

The table erupted in laughter, the lighthearted energy spreading like a wave and pulling you back into the present. You smiled, grateful for the shift in mood, even as a small part of you held onto that of the unspoken connection you felt between you and Hotch.

As the evening wound down, the dessert plates were cleared, and conversations turned to lighter topics, the check was settled. Chairs scraped against the floor as everyone began gathering their things.

Hotch stood, his tone heavy but still firm enough to carry authority. “Tonight might be for celebration,” he said, his gaze sweeping across the table, lingering on each of you in turn. “But tomorrow, we’re back to the grind. Everyone get some rest. We’ll need it.”

His words were met with a mix of groans and chuckles. The case loomed over them, but for tonight, they had carved out this small moment of peace together — a reminder of the strength they found in each other. As you followed the team out of the restaurant, you couldn’t help but glance back at Hotch, who lingered at the door, his expression thoughtful, as though the moment between you had stayed with him, too.

Tomorrow loomed large in everyone’s mind. For you, it signified the beginning of an intense new chapter — weeks of brutal training as you started preparing for the regional championship. Tonight’s victory was just a stepping stone, a moment of triumph that already felt distant under the weight of what lay ahead. The road to regionals stretched long and unforgiving, paved with endless hours of practice, aching muscles, and the relentless pursuit of perfection. You had to beat Natalia — even if it would be the death of you

For the team, the shadow cast over the celebration wasn’t just tomorrow’s responsibilities but the events of the day itself. The CD, the disruption during the competition, and the potential dangers tied to it hung in the air, thinly strung together. While laughter and lighthearted toasts filled the space, each agent carried their share of the unease, their minds churning over the implications of what they had seen and what it meant for the days to come.

The next morning arrived with the relentless inevitability of a ticking timebomb, the warm afterglow of celebration giving way to the sharp, cold focus the case needed. At the BAU, the team reconvened, their moods subdued, maybe due to a hint of a hangover, although the weight of the investigation now took center stage and filled their minds.

In her brightly lit lair, Garcia sat at her station, the soft hum of computer screens and the rhythmic click of her keyboard filled the room. Her fingers flew across the keys with precision, her movements almost hypnotic. Multi-monitor screens surrounded her, bathing her in a glow of cold, digital light. Each screen displayed a different piece of the puzzle: lines of code racing across one monitor, a serial number database running cross-references on another, and a frozen frame of the video file at the center of it all.

The CD lay nearby, its reflective surface glinting under the dimmed overhead lights, as it lay on her desk it looked like a harmless object, but reality was that it carried an unsettling importance. It was more than just evidence — it was a breadcrumb, a breadcrumb Garcia was dangerously close to deciphering, potentially leading to someone or at least a direction. Garcia had already traced the faint serial number etched along the edge of the disk. Cross-referencing sales records and supplier logs, she narrowed down its origins to a single store in the D.C. area.

But that clue wasn’t enough. Not for her. She leaned in closer to her screens, her eyes flicking between metadata timestamps and software watermarks embedded in the video file itself. The metadata provided a chunk of information, revealing the date and time the disk had been burned. It pointed to the program used to create it, offering a glimpse into the unsub’s methods. Yet, as Garcia delved deeper, something unusual caught her attention.

Her fingers stilled for just a fraction of a second before resuming their pace. A small discrepancy in the timestamp — a detail so minute most wouldn’t have noticed — jumped out at her. It suggested tampering, a deliberate attempt to obscure the file's true origin. She wasn’t sure if it was just a delay or if it indeed was tampering, but she would get back to that later.

“Oh, you sneaky little…” she muttered, her tone a mix of frustration and admiration for the unsub’s craftiness. Her brow furrowed as she flagged the anomaly for further analysis.

She adjusted her headset, muttering softly to herself as she combed through every byte of data.

Every so often, Garcia’s eyes flicked toward one of the frozen frames highlighted on her side monitor. The still images — grainy shots of an empty rink, its edges shrouded in shadows — offered little at first glance. However, to her trained eye, the subtle details began to take shape. The camera angle, the faint reflection of banners and flags against the ice, and the placement of the shadows all hinted at where the footage had been recorded. They had all been there, just later in the day. She opened a mapping tool on her other screen, overlaying a diagram of the rink’s layout.

“Let’s see,” she murmured, zooming in on a specific section of the map, cross-referencing with promo pictures and surveillance from the competition. With a few calculations, she triangulated the possible vantage points where the camera could have been placed during the recording. It wasn’t definitive yet, but it was a start — and hopefully, she could get access to surveillance from earlier in the day if she knew which camera could've captured the unsub filming his gloating video.

Her main monitor flashed as another search result loaded, confirming her earlier findings about the disk’s origin. The CD had been sold at a local chain electronics store. It wasn’t a smoking gun, but it was a solid lead that she knew Hotch would want to check out.

Garcia leaned back in her chair, running a hand through her hair. The task was starting to press against her shoulders, but her gut told her to keep going, that she was closing in on something significant. The pieces were aligning, slowly revealing the completed picture.

Reaching for her notebook, she jotted down the critical details — timestamps, store locations, and potential camera placements. Her handwriting was quick one only she could decipher as she rushed to gather more information.

A glimmer of pride crossed her face as she clicked through the windows on her screen one last time. Despite the gravity of the situation, she thrived in moments like these. The team depended on her ability to turn the digital ether into leads, and she wouldn’t let them down — especially not when it came to you.

Standing up, Garcia grabbed her notebook and adjusted her headset. “Alright, time to give the boss man the scoop,” she muttered with a small grin.

As she glanced back at her screens, her eyes caught the timestamp anomaly once again — the fraction-of-a-second delay between the burning software’s internal clock and the recorded file. It was deliberate, she was sure of it now. Whoever had created this disk had gone to great lengths to cover their tracks.

“That’s not amateur work,” she said softly, turning back to her monitors.

“Crafty little hacker, aren’t you?” Garcia muttered under her breath, her fingers moving with ease over the keyboard as she navigated through the labyrinth of digital breadcrumbs he had laid out for her.

Her determination bore fruit as a line of metadata caught her attention. It revealed a clue about the software used to edit and burn the file — an obscure program known only within niche tech circles, lucky for her, he hadn't managed to delete the full watermark from the file. It was a faint, almost imperceptible watermark lingering in the corner of the footage. Zooming in and adjusting the file's contrast, she enhanced the image. The watermark appeared to be an alphanumeric string, subtle enough that an untrained eye would miss it entirely.

This wasn’t something an average consumer would stumble upon during a scroll through the web. No, this was the work of someone with both access to specialized tools and the expertise to wield them.

“Well, well, well. What do we have here?” she murmured. Garcia leaned in closer, her gaze narrowing as she traced the software’s digital footprint. It was a small lead, but it would narrow the suspect pool significantly once Hotch had a list of who had bought the same brand of disk at that specific store. Whoever created this disk wasn’t just tech-savvy; they were likely indulged in the hacker community too.

The realization hit like a spark igniting a fuse. She too could potentially know this guy — she hoped not.

The disk wasn’t finished giving up its secrets. Curious, Garcia ran an analysis on the unused storage of the CD — space often left blank or filled with meaningless data. What she found wasn’t random. Her tools flagged encrypted data hidden in the remaining sectors of the disk.

Her heart raced. “Encrypted, huh? Oh, sweetie, you have no idea who you’re up against,” Garcia said with a smirk, already queuing up her decryption programs.

The process would take time, and there was no guarantee it would yield immediate results.

Garcia sat back in her chair, biting the end of her pen as she pieced together the — hopefully last — implications.

Its maker had underestimated her. Each inconsistency was a thread waiting to be unraveled, and she intended to tug at every single one until the truth came tumbling out. A small smile played on her lips as she straightened in her chair, her hands already poised to dive deeper into the mystery. “You can try to hide,” she whispered, “but you can’t outsmart me.”

With a deep breath, she grabbed her notebook once again, jotting down a few more details:

Store location identified

Timestamps = deliberate manipulation

Software hints at a skilled hacker

Embedded watermark, potential clue to video origin

Encrypted data in unused disk storage, likely containing additional information

“This isn’t just a breadcrumb trail,” she said under her breath. “This is a whole bakery.”

As her decryption programs worked in the background, Garcia stood, grabbing her notes. Whatever was on that disk wasn’t just about the video.

She adjusted her glasses and headed toward Hotch’s office. This was bigger than she’d initially thought, and the team needed to know, now.

Garcia pushed back from her desk, the wheels of her chair squeaking faintly as she grabbed her tablet and her notebook. The findings were fresh, and her mind raced with how to frame the data for maximum impact. Normally, she’d package her brilliance with a touch of flair, but there was no time for dramatics now.

She slipped her heels back on — bright purple, of course — and set off toward Hotch’s office with purpose. Her usual confident strut was replaced by a hurried waddle as she navigated the maze of desks, her heels clicking sharply against the floor. Agents and analysts turned to watch her pass, her determined energy cutting through the hum of the bullpen.

By the time she reached Hotch’s door, her cheeks were flushed, both from the brisk pace and the adrenaline of her findings. Without waiting for an invitation, she knocked lightly and poked her head in, her eyes already locking onto Hotch.

“Got something,” she announced breathlessly, stepping fully inside.

Hotch, seated behind his desk, looked up from a stack of files. His expression was calm, but the slight lift of his brow indicated curiosity. Garcia rarely burst in without good reason at this hour of the day.

She took a moment to collect herself, standing straight and smoothing her skirt. “You’re going to want to hear this,” she said, her voice steadier now, though still brimming with urgency.

Garcia settled into the chair across from Hotch’s desk, balancing her tablet on one knee while flipping through her notes. The hum of her tablet filled the brief silence as she pulled up the files she needed, her fingers dancing across the screen.

“Okay,” she began. “Here’s the rundown.”

She started with the serial number analysis, explaining how it had led her to identify the store that sold the disk. She detailed the discrepancy in the batch number.

“The disk wasn’t just bought off the shelf and used,” she said, tapping the tablet for emphasis. “It was tampered with once bought, Hotch. Someone knew what they were doing, and they wanted this to look as normal as possible, but— ” she paused for dramatic effect, “—Miss Garcia can sniff out forgery like nobody’s business.”

Hotch didn’t interrupt, his gaze fixed on her as she continued.

She pivoted to the video analysis, describing the faint watermark she’d uncovered. “It’s subtle, barely there, but I think it could be a lead—it's a signature from the software used. I’ll dig deeper into that.”

Her voice softened slightly as she reached the final point: the encrypted data hidden in the disk’s unused space. “Whoever made this disk wasn’t just leaving breadcrumbs — they buried an entire loaf. There’s encrypted data sitting on the disk, separate from the video file. I’ll need more time to crack it, but... it feels intentional. Like a trap or a potential new message.”

Hotch leaned back in his chair, his hands steepled as he absorbed the information. His expression was unreadable.

“Good work,” he said after a moment. “Follow up on the watermark if you can and get back to me once you have a lead on that data. Whatever this is, we need every detail.”

Garcia nodded, her initial tension easing slightly at his reassurance. “I’ll get right on it. I just... I wanted you to know where we’re at.”

“You’re invaluable to this team,” Hotch said, meeting her gaze. “We wouldn’t have gotten this far without you.”

The weight of his words settled over her, and she straightened her posture, ready to tackle the next phase of the investigation.

Hotch stepped out of his office, his stride purposeful as he moved toward the conference room. His sharp tone cut through the bustling bullpen as he called out, "Team, conference room. Now."

The agents exchanged brief glances before gathering their materials and heading toward the glass-walled space.

Once inside, Hotch stood at the head of the table, hands resting firmly on its edge. Behind him, a digital display showed a split screen: a map of the sectionals venue and a paused frame from the video on the CD.

"We're going to dissect the events from the competition," he began, his voice steady and commanding. "It's crucial we find every anomaly, no matter how small. But first Garcia has some findings for us."

The conference room was quiet as the team sat around the table, all eyes on Garcia. She clicked through her slides with haste, the soft hum of her laptop’s fan the only sound.

"Alright, gather 'round, kiddos," Garcia began, her voice bright despite the intensity of the situation. "Here’s the tea on the disk. You’re going to want to take notes."

She tapped a key, and the first slide appeared on the screen. "First thing's first, the serial number on the disk. I ran it through multiple databases. The number was linked to a batch of discs sold exclusively at a specific electronics store — one in the D.C area." She clicked through to the store’s profile on the screen. "Now, here's the kicker: the purchase logs I can get access to for that batch don't show the time stamps from when it was bought, we'll have to get the footage and logs from them."

She paused for effect, allowing the information to settle in the room.

"This batch was bought in bulk, way under normal quantity for a store like that. It wasn’t one random buyer — it was someone who knew exactly what they were after."

A few murmurs went through the team, and Hotch’s expression remained focused, his gaze fixed on Garcia as she moved on to the next part of her analysis.

"Now, about the video file," Garcia continued, clicking to the next slide. "I ran a full metadata scan, and let me tell you — it’s like this file had a hidden life of its own." She brought up the details on the screen. "First off, the timestamp doesn’t match what was originally logged on the disk. There’s a slight discrepancy — like someone fiddled with the time and date. It looks like it was altered after it was originally created, meaning this wasn’t just a copy-and-paste job. Someone went in and manually adjusted it to make it look like the footage was recorded on a different date. When in reality it was most likely filmed yesterday morning before the competition."

She clicked through a few more details, tapping a button to reveal the software data. "And that’s not all. The software used to burn the CD wasn’t the usual consumer-grade stuff. We’re talking about something a little more specialized. It’s a higher-end program, one often used by professionals and mainly hackers."

A murmur ran through the room, and Rossi leaned forward, clearly impressed. "Not something most amateurs would have access to."

"Exactly," Garcia confirmed. "And then I found something even more interesting: an encrypted file embedded in the unused space on the disk. It’s hidden, like someone didn’t want us to see it, but I’m already starting to break it down. There’s a chance it holds more information — likely some kind of communication or possibly even the unsub’s confession. If I get a few more hours, I think I can get it open."

Garcia paused for a moment, glancing up at Hotch. "But no promises. I’m working on it, though."

"Okay, so here’s where it gets... super creepy," Garcia added, her fingers briefly hovering over the keys as she recalled the findings. "When I scrubbed through the video, I found a faint watermark embedded into the footage. It’s barely noticeable, but it’s there, and it’s something I’ve never seen before. I ran it through a couple of image recognition programs, but nothing came up. We might be dealing with a custom watermark that’s not public."

She turned to face the team, her face illuminated by the monitor. "That watermark could be a clue — like a signature, we just haven't noticed it yet at the previous crime scenes cause it's so well hidden."

Hotch’s brow furrowed, and he exchanged a brief glance with Rossi. "It’s a lead, no doubt," Hotch remarked. "But we’re still no closer to identifying the unsub."

She glanced up from her screen, locking eyes with Hotch. "If I get another few hours, I can probably get into that encryption, but I’m not making any promises."

Hotch’s gaze remained steady. "Keep working on it, Garcia. We need all the information we can get."

Garcia’s fingers stopped moving, and she folded her arms, looking more serious than usual. "To sum it all up, this wasn’t just some spur-of-the-moment purchase, nor is the disk an accidental clue. Someone knew exactly what they were doing. They took steps to ensure we wouldn’t trace them, but they made one crucial mistake—they underestimated us."

"I’ll keep digging into the encrypted data, but I have a feeling this isn’t going to be the last time we’re dealing with a tech-savvy unsub. He's playing a game with us."

Hotch gave a small nod, his expression unreadable. "Good work, Garcia. Keep us posted."

As Garcia clicked her mouse to close the presentation, the team sat in silence for a moment. The unsub had left behind more than just evidence — they’d left a challenge. But Garcia, as always, was ready to rise to it.

The room was quiet for a moment longer before Hotch broke the silence. "Alright, let’s move on. We’ve got a lead now, but we need to be prepared for anything. Let's do the rundown of sectionals"

Morgan leaned back in his chair, his gaze fixed on the display. "We know the unsub had access to the venue, but do we have any indication of when the disk was planted?"

Garcia, seated toward the end of the table, chimed in. "Based on the timestamp from the surveillance footage I analyzed, whoever planted it had to have done so an hour before the first crew member signed in."

JJ frowned, her arms crossed. "What about security at the venue? Any gaps?"

Rossi nodded. "There were at least two points where the cameras had blind spots. If the unsub was familiar with the layout, they could have moved unnoticed."

Hotch moved to the screen, pointing to a highlighted area on the map. "Here and here — both blind spots. We need to dig into who had access to the venue during that window."

Prentiss leaned forward. "Do we have any connections between those who had access and our victim yet? Someone who could’ve been lurking close enough to make a move?"

"Not yet," Hotch replied, his tone clipped but composed. "But that's our next focus. Garcia’s findings have given us a lead, and we’re going to pursue it."

The team continued to exchange observations, noting peculiarities in the footage and comparing it to witness statements. Though much remained unknown, their collective focus began to narrow in on a clearer picture of the unsub’s method and intent.

By the time Hotch concluded the meeting, the air in the room felt heavier. "Morgan, Prentiss, I want you reviewing those blind spots. Rossi and I will follow up on Garcia’s lead at the store. The rest of you, focus on tightening the timeline. We need to figure out exactly when and how this disk made it into the venue."

As the meeting wrapped up, the team shifted to their respective tasks. Reid, however, remained seated for a moment longer, his brow furrowed as he absorbed the information that had been shared. His mind was always working, piecing together the puzzle that was the unsub. Finally, he broke the silence, speaking more to himself than to anyone else.

"You know," Reid began, pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose, "if we look closely at the unsub's method, we might start seeing a pattern in their behavior. It's more than just a crime of opportunity or a random act of violence."

Hotch, who had been reviewing some files, paused and looked up at Reid. "Go on, Spencer," he prompted.

Reid leaned forward, his hands moving as he spoke, fingers lightly tapping the table as he gathered his thoughts. "First, let's consider the choice of victim. We know the unsub chose Leah specifically, someone who was a competitor. But not just any competitor — she was highly skilled, one of the top-ranked in the competition. Then he moved to Branson to single out (Y/N), then a rising star, and now his focus is completely on (Y/N). There's a deep psychological motivation behind singling out someone with such a public profile. This suggests a need for power and control." Reid’s voice was measured as he connected the dots.

"Right," Prentiss said, nodding in agreement. "The victims had to have been an intentional target, someone the unsub knew would attract attention."

"Exactly," Reid continued, his eyes now scanning the screen displaying images of the sectionals competition. "In a case like this, the unsub likely sees themselves as someone who competes with their victim, whether it's for attention, recognition, or perhaps even validation. The disk it’s a form of control. A way for the unsub to leave their mark. It's symbolic. The way they inserted the disk into the system — it’s a way of sabotaging the event from the inside, making their presence known but in a covert way."

Garcia nodded. "So, you're saying the unsub wants to be seen, but from the shadows?"

"Yes," Reid replied, his voice growing more animated. "They want to shape things — and especially the investigation — from behind the scenes, like a puppeteer."

Rossi leaned in slightly, intrigued by the direction Reid was taking. "But what about the attack on Leah? The violence... that’s not subtle at all."

Reid’s eyes darkened slightly as he shifted gears. "That’s where the psychological profile gets more complicated. The unsub’s need for control could have escalated into violence, especially if they felt their plan was being threatened or if Leah, in their eyes, represented a challenge to their self-worth." He paused, thinking it through. "It’s possible the violence wasn’t the plan at all — at first. But when they saw her as an obstacle, they acted out of anger or desperation."

He rubbed his chin as he processed the implications of his theory. "We’re dealing with someone who is probably not entirely comfortable with direct confrontation. That’s why the CD was their preferred method — something passive. But Leah’s defiance, or maybe just her proximity, pushed them over the edge."

"Do you think the unsub has done this before?" Hotch asked, referring to other cases that could be unsolved if they went looking.

Reid’s eyes flickered toward Hotch. "I think this is someone who has a history of unresolved issues. Maybe not in a traditional criminal sense, but they might have a pattern of seeking control in different ways throughout their life. Perhaps they’re someone who has been overlooked, ignored, or ridiculed. This isn’t the first time they’ve sought recognition, but it’s the first time they’ve acted on it this violently. They might even have a history of stalking or watching others from a distance, wanting to feel the power of watching without being seen."

"So, they’re not just trying to make a statement — they’re trying to be something," JJ said, her voice quiet but thoughtful. "They want to feel significant, even if it's only in their own mind."

"Exactly," Reid affirmed. "And it’s possible the unsub sees their actions as justified. They might believe they’re teaching a lesson — showing the world, or at least their victim, that they matter. In their mind, the murder of Leah could be framed as a necessary step in their quest for recognition. They could rationalize that the chaos they’ve created is something that had to happen for their greater purpose to be achieved."

It was unsettling, the way he dissected the unsub’s psychology with such clarity. But as always, it offered them a glimpse into the mind they were hunting.

"Reid," Hotch said after a long pause, his voice steady. "What would the next step in tracking down someone like this be?"

Reid glanced around the table, meeting each agent’s gaze. "We need to look at the unsub’s past once we get a name."

"Alright," Hotch said, rising from his seat. "Let’s get to work. The sooner we know who we’re dealing with, the sooner we can stop this from happening again."

The team was buzzing with new energy as they wrapped up their meeting. Hotch didn’t waste time. He motioned for Rossi to follow him as they made their way to the SUV in the underground garage. There was no time to sit on their hands; they needed answers, and they needed them fast. The store where the disk had been purchased was the next logical step to take.

The sun was already starting to set when Hotch and Rossi arrived at the electronics store. The fluorescent lights inside flickered slightly as they approached the entrance, and the evening rush had begun — if you could even call it that. The few people inside were strolling through the aisles, glancing at products, while a few employees stocked shelves. The store was busy, but it was quiet in the way retail spaces often are just before closing time.

As Hotch and Rossi entered, the smell of freshly printed sales flyers filled the air, the manager, a woman in her late forties with dark hair and glasses, glanced up from her register, her eyes flickered to their outstreched badges, then narrowed slightly. She seemed like she had seen her fair share of customers over the years but her eyes sharpened when she saw the agents approach. Hotch’s presence was always commanding, and Rossi’s easygoing demeanor, while calming, held an air of authority that made people take notice.

"Can I help you?" she asked, her voice polite but cautious.

"We’re investigating a case," Hotch began, his tone all business. "We need to see the purchase log for a specific item. It’s a batch of disks — make and model: CD-RW 700MB, brand name Verbatim. We have reason to believe it was bought here recently."

The manager’s gaze faltered for just a moment, and she folded her arms. "I’m afraid I can’t just hand out our purchase logs," she said with an edge of defensiveness. "We have strict privacy policies here. I’ll need to consult with corporate before I can release any information."

Rossi, sensing the hesitation, stepped forward with a warm, disarming smile, his tone smooth and persuasive. "I understand your position, ma’am, and I’m sure corporate’s policies are in place for good reason. But we don’t have the luxury of time. We’re trying to prevent a very serious situation, and the information you have could be critical."

He paused, letting his words settle. The manager looked like she was weighing the situation, her fingers tapping nervously on the counter. She was clearly uncomfortable, caught between corporate policy and the urgent need of the agents standing in front of her.

Hotch didn’t give her time to second-guess. His voice was calm but commanding, cutting through the moment of hesitation like a sharp knife. "The information we’re asking for could help save lives. You don’t want to be the one who holds it back when it matters most."

There was a brief silence as the manager looked between them. Hotch’s authority was noticeable even in the stillness of the store atmosphere, and Rossi’s quiet insistence added a layer of pressure.

The manager glanced at the counter, then back at them. "I... I still need to check with corporate. I can’t just—"

Rossi leaned in, his demeanor shifting from charm to subtle persuasion. "Look, I’m sure this isn’t easy, but we’re talking about a potential crime. We’ve been given clearance to get the information we need. All we’re asking for is the log for that specific disk. It’ll take minutes. I promise you, you’re doing the right thing."

The manager hesitated, visibly torn, her hands now pressed flat against the counter. But there was something in Rossi’s delivery — his tone, his expression — that nudged her into compliance. With a resigned sigh, she relented, her shoulders slumping slightly.

"Alright," she said, voice quieter now. "I’ll get the log. But I still have to consult with corporate. I’ll pull it up, but you won’t get it until I’ve gotten their approval."

Hotch nodded once, his expression unchanged, but the relief in the air was almost tangible. "Thank you. And we’ll also need to see the security footage from the day the disk was purchased."

The manager’s eyes flickered with uncertainty, but she didn’t argue. "I’ll get that too. It’ll take a minute."

As she turned to retrieve the logs, Hotch and Rossi exchanged a brief look. Rossi gave a slight nod, his smile returning, this time with a touch of approval. It hadn’t been easy, but they’d broken through.

The manager returned with the purchase log and a USB drive containing the security footage. She placed them both on the counter, looking like she had just given up a piece of herself, and handed them over wordlessly.

Hotch took the items, his fingers brushing the USB drive, and nodded his thanks. "We appreciate your cooperation."

Rossi gave her a reassuring smile. "You did the right thing. Thanks for your help."

The manager gave a stiff nod but didn’t speak. With the files in hand, the two agents turned and walked out of the store, their steps quick but measured.

As the door closed behind them, Hotch pocketed the USB drive, his thoughts already moving to the next step as he walked out towards the SUV. They had what they needed — at least for now — and Garcia would have her hands full with the information. The pieces were starting to fall into place, but the puzzle wasn’t finished yet.

Without hesitation, Rossi followed, throwing a polite “Thanks for your help” toward the shopkeeper before he stepped outside and caught up to Hotch, both of them moving swiftly toward the waiting SUV parked just outside.

As they reached the vehicle, Hotch immediately pulled out his phone, dialing Garcia’s number as he slid into the driver's seat.

The grainy video played on the screen as they plugged it into a table back in the car, showing the dimly lit aisle of the electronics store. The figure in question moved quickly, deliberately, their face obscured by a hoodie and a low-brimmed hat. Their posture was tense, as if they knew exactly where they were going, not interested in drawing attention but also not doing much to conceal themselves. It was as if they were trying to blend in just enough to get the job done, but not so much that they were hard to notice.

Rossi frowned. "Damn, he’s good. We might not get a solid ID on him from this footage."

Hotch narrowed his eyes, the figure’s movements dancing on the screen. The timestamps from the footage matched the day the disk was purchased, but it didn’t reveal much else. Whoever this was, they were careful — wearing a hoodie, possibly to mask their features, not to mention the hat. But the footage wasn’t useless. They had something.

“Let's pull up the purchase logs,” Hotch said, allowing Garcia to access the tablet and data remotely. She quickly transferred the document to her own screen.

The log was brief but revealing — a list of items purchased with a timestamp matching the one from the video. Garcia zoomed in on the entry. A name appeared on the screen.

"Eric Collins' name is registered on the credit card used to purchase the disk," Garcia read aloud, her voice steady. "Purchased a batch of Verbatim CD-RWs on the same day, at the exact same time."

Hotch’s jaw tightened at the name. The coincidence was too strong to ignore. His mind raced, calculating the possibilities, but something in his gut told him this was more than just a random pop-up of a name. He ran a hand over his face.

Eric Collins.

It was the kind of coincidence Hotch didn’t believe in. No, it didn’t feel random. Not when the pieces were aligned like this. The more Hotch thought about it, the more he couldn’t shake the nagging feeling that Collins was involved — if not the unsub, then definitely involved in some way. But the hesitation remained — without concrete evidence linking him to the crimes, Hotch couldn’t make that conclusion yet.

His eyes flicked to Rossi, who was watching him carefully, waiting for some sign.

"That's him," Rossi said quietly, as though reading Hotch's thoughts. "The timing, the purchase, the footage — it fits."

Hotch inhaled sharply, his fingers brushing the side of his neck as he glanced at the screen again. Eric Collins might not be their unsub, but with everything aligning so neatly, it was hard not to think he was. The coincidence was just too strong. The pieces were starting to fall into place. “Let’s not jump to conclusions,” Hotch muttered, but his voice lacked its usual conviction. “We need more.”

Rossi’s expression softened. "I know. But this is a damn good lead, Aaron."

Hotch’s gaze lingered on the name, his finger hovering over the mouse, almost ready to click on the next step of their investigation. The hesitation lasted only a moment, but it felt like an eternity. The thought of potentially jumping to conclusions weighed heavily on him. Still, there was no denying the gut feeling — Eric Collins was their unsub, or at least, someone deeply connected to the case.

With a deep breath, Hotch finally spoke, his voice steady but filled with the resolve of someone who had seen too many pieces fall into place too perfectly for it to be just coincidence.

“Start running a background on Collins,” he ordered Garcia. “I want everything. Personal history, financials, anything that can tell us where he’s been, what he’s done, and what connects him to the victims.”

He turned toward Rossi, his expression hardening. "Let’s move, Rossi. We’re not letting him slip through the cracks."

Hotch’s movements were quick, almost mechanical, as he turned the SUV away from the store.

“Let’s go,” Hotch said, his tone clipped, efficient. He threw a quick glance at Rossi, his hands clasped together in his lap as he stared out the windshield.

“I don’t like the feeling of this,” Hotch murmured, more to himself than to Rossi, his eyes flicking back to the road. “Collins is tied to something bigger. He’s too perfect a lead.”

Rossi leaned back in the seat, exhaling slowly. “Yeah, well, when things line up this cleanly, it’s always hard to ignore. But we need more before we jump to conclusions. You said it yourself.”

Hotch didn’t respond immediately. His grip on the steering wheel tightened as he processed everything that had happened so far. The name, the footage, the purchase log and the fact that you were acquainted with him — there was too much connecting Collins to the case for Hotch to just let it go.

As they sped away from the store, Hotch kept his focus ahead, his thoughts already racing ahead to the next steps. They had a name, but now they needed to turn that name into something concrete.

The hunt was far from over.

The cool, crisp air of the rink surrounds you as your skates cut through the ice in smooth, familiar motions. The slicing of your blades in the vast empty arena is calming, the rhythmic sound almost meditative. Your mind, still preoccupied with the chaos of the last few days, begins to clear with every lap you complete.

You've been pushing yourself hard today, preparing for the regional championships. Today, it's about reclaiming some peace, some control as you train, perfecting your routine, practicing new elements — hoping that it'll be enough to pull ahead and beat Natalia — but you know she's doing the same, her coach most likely pushing her harder than ever.

As you round the corner near the boards, your attention shifted to the entrance to the ice. There's a familiar figure standing on the other side of the boards. You almost don't recognize him at first, lost in the quiet concentration of your training — plus he let his beard grow since last you saw him — but when he waves at you, you can’t help but smile.

It’s Luke, a friend from your early skating days — you had met him since the first day your parents had put you in skating classes, his had originally put him in "learn how to skate" with the intent to move him to hockey once knowing the basics. However, he’d always been one of the best on the ice, moving through the ranks and milestones quickly before an injury forced him to retire early. You hadn't seen him in a while, especially with everything going on.

You push your skates towards him, the smooth glide making it easy to close the distance. As you get closer, your eyes catch something unusual — small, brightly-colored figures dotting behind him. They couldn’t be more than five years old. At first, you're confused, but then it clicks: Luke had transitioned to coaching younger skaters after his injury, though in the frenzy of the case, you’d forgotten about it.

Luke greets you with the same warm, enthusiastic tone you remember so well. "Hey! Congrats again on the win. You really killed it out there."

You laugh softly, grateful for the normalcy of the moment. The weight of the past few days has been heavy, and seeing him was a welcome distraction. You lean over the boards and hug him tightly, the kids behind him fidgeting, wobbling a little on their skates — one is even trying to adjust their helmet straps — but they don’t interrupt.

When you pull away, he looks at you with a softer expression. He lowers his voice, careful not to let the kids hear — they didn't deserve to be indulged in the terrifying things going on in the community, it would likely lead them away from the ice before finding their passion. “You okay?” he asks, his tone genuine and filled with concern. “I heard about what happened. Just wanted to make sure you’re alright.”

The words settle in, but you manage to nod reassuringly. "Yeah," you say, forcing a smile. "I'm good. It’s just been a lot, but I’m managing. Thanks for checking in, though."

His eyes linger on you for a moment, searching for any sign of vulnerability, but he doesn’t press. Instead, his excitement returns in full force. He claps his hands together, a playful grin on his face. "Well, we were just coming over to ask if we could skate a little with you," he says in an exaggerated sing-song voice, directing the words toward the kids, who immediately perk up at the mention of getting on the ice and skating with you.

The little ones, barely able to stay still, look up at you with wide, eager eyes, their faces lighting up as they begin to shuffle in place. Their tiny gloved hands clasp together in excitement, some of them bouncing on the balls of their feet — the ones in hockey skates careful not to lose their balance. Others simply gaze at you with innocent puppy-dog eyes, pleading for your attention, excited to be able to move around on the ice with an adult on skates. Although Luke was always standing on the ice while the kids skated, he never wore skates, his ankle too weak after the injury, threatening to sprain — or even worse, break again if he wore skates.

It’s hard not to smile at their enthusiasm. You glance back at Luke, raising an eyebrow playfully. “Well, I suppose I could make an exception for you guys,” you say with a teasing tone, your heart warming at the sight of their excitement. “But you’ll have to keep up.”

Without another word, you walk over to the gate, the sound of your skates clicking lightly against the ice. You pull it open, the heavy metal gate creaking as you do. “Alright, come on then,” you say, motioning for the kids to follow. "But no funny business. You’re going to have to work hard to keep up with me.”

The kids cheer in unison, their voices high-pitched and full of joy as they rush past Luke, tumbling onto the ice. They’re wobbly at first, you hold your hand outstretched, ready to catch them if they start to fall, their small legs unsteady, but they’re determined, their faces lit up with the thrill of being on the ice. You can’t help but laugh, the simple joy of the moment settling over you like a blanket. It feels so light, so easy—like it should be.

You're immediately drawn back to your first skating lesson, remembering the same feeling of gilding so freely — even though you too had been wobbly and a little too tense in your body language.

Luke steps aside, watching as the kids swarm around you, their tiny hands reaching out as they try to skate in your direction. “Thanks,” he says, his voice quieter this time, his eyes filled with gratitude as he watches the kids trying their best. “They’ll never forget getting to skate with a champion.”

You look over at him, your smile softening. It’s not often you get a break from everything, and seeing the kids so excited, so full of life, reminds you of why you love this sport. It’s not just about competition or winning. It’s about the simple joy that comes with skating — freedom, movement, and a grounding connection to the ice.

You glide effortlessly across the ice, your legs moving in smooth, controlled swizzles. The little ones are laughing behind you, their tiny skates struggling to keep up as they try their best to mimic your movements. Their legs wobble, their feet slipping slightly as they chase after you, but they don’t give up. You can feel the thrill of their enthusiasm, the innocent determination in their bright eyes, and it makes your heart swell with affection.

"That's some great lemons, Mary!" You hear Luke yell across the ice. You turn your head, catching a glimpse at who you assume to be Mary, watching as she mimics your swizzles as perfectly as a wobbly five-year-old can.

You laugh softly, slowing down just enough to make it fun for them. One little boy tumbles and giggles, his arms flailing as he struggles to stay upright, but he’s quick to get back up, undeterred by the fall. Their excitement is contagious, and for a moment, you forget about everything else — the case, the pressure, the weight of the past few days. This, right here, is the pure joy of skating.

You pause for a moment, letting them chase you, zooming around the ice in circles. The sound of their laughter fills the rink, and you can’t help but smile. It’s a simple moment, but it feels like everything you need right now—light, carefree, and filled with innocence.

As you take a breath, resting against the boards for a quick break, you watch them from the sidelines. The kids zoom around, their movements are erratic but full of life, and you can’t help but feel proud of them. They’re so small, yet their passion for skating is bigger than anything you’ve seen in a while. You see a few of them glance over at you, their wide eyes filled with awe as they continue to move across the ice with whatever grace they can muster.

It’s then that you feel a small tug at your sleeve. You turn, surprised to see one of the girls, a little thing with a wide smile and cheeks rosy from the cold, standing beside you. Her skates are a bit too big for her, but she’s making it work, her arms outstretched for balance. You recognized her as Mary.

She looks up at you, her eyes shining with something that makes your heart skip a beat. “Do you think I’ll ever get to look like an ice princess like you?” she asks, clearly referring to the Disney movie, however, you feel a sense of pride as she mentioned you, her voice issoft and full of wonder.

The question catches you off guard, and for a moment, all you can do is look at her, her innocent gaze full of hope. She’s so young, yet there’s something in the way she asks that makes it feel like the most important thing in the world.

Your heart melts a little as you smile, brushing a lock of hair behind her ear. “You already are an ice princess,” you tell her gently. “It’s not about how you look or how many tricks you can perform. It’s about how you feel when you're on the ice, and how you move. You have the magic inside you already. You just have to let it shine.”

Her face lights up, and she gives you a shy little grin before skating off, wobbling slightly as she goes. You watch her go, your heart full. There’s something so pure about these kids, so full of possibility. It tugs at something deep inside you, a reminder of why you fell in love with skating in the first place.

As the little girl re-joins the others, your eyes follow her for a moment, a soft smile lingering on your lips. You can’t help but feel a warmth inside, a kind of peace that had been absent for far too long. For a moment, all the complications of life seem to fade away, and you're simply here, with the kids who look up to you like you're something magical. You quickly glance towards Luke on the opposite side, noting to yourself to ask him about co-coaching with him during a few lessons once everything is over. When you finally can relax.

Hotch stood just outside the rink, looking through a window, the door slightly ajar for him to enter if he wanted to, his gaze fixed on you. He had come to deliver news about Eric Collins, but as soon as he stepped into the cold air of the rink, he hesitated. There was something about the sight before him that made him pause.

Through the glass, he watched you move with ease, guiding a group of children across the ice. His eyes narrowed slightly as he noticed the kids chasing after you, laughing, their faces flushed with excitement. They stumbled and fell, but you were patient, and gentle — giving them space to grow into their own skates while also subtly encouraging them when they fell behind. He figured you must be a natural with kids, though he didn’t know why it surprised him.

He watched as you slowed down a little, allowing the children to catch up to you. You glided backward effortlessly, a picture of grace, and for a moment, Hotch found himself captivated by the scene. There was a sense of peace in it.

His eyes shifted to Luke, who was clearly in charge, coaching the little ones with enthusiasm. Hotch hadn’t realized Luke was there at first, not even knowing who he was. However, he felt a surge of something rise within him, not sure what it meant.

The children looked up at you with awe, and you returned their admiration with kindness. It was the same warmth he had seen when his team interacted with Jack, a genuine affection Hotch didn’t see often in others. He smiled to himself, a soft, almost imperceptible expression, as the scene unfolded in front of him.

When a little girl tugged at your sleeve, Hotch leaned in slightly, his interest piqued. He watched as you bent down, your expression warm and patient as the girl asked her question.

Hotch remained silent in the doorway, hidden in the shadows, as you reassured the little girl. “You already are an ice princess,” he could barely hear you as you answered her question with a smile that seemed to melt his own reserved nature, though he would never admit it. You didn’t just give her a standard answer; you gave her something real. The kind of encouragement that could change a child’s perspective, the kind of encouragement that Hotch knew Jack would respond to.

He watched as the little girl skated away, her face lighting up with excitement and pride, and a small chuckle escaped him before he could stop it.

He should tell you about Eric Collins — he needed to. But something about the moment, something about seeing you so effortlessly bring joy to these kids, made him hesitate. There was a reassurance in watching you, a sense that even in the midst of everything else, there were moments like this, moments of simple happiness.

Hotch leaned against the doorframe, taking one last glance at you, his gaze lingering for a moment before he pushed himself off the frame. The case still loomed large, but for just a second, he allowed himself to remain where he was, watching you and the children on the ice. He could have easily walked away, but the moment felt important — something he hadn’t realized he needed to witness until now.

With a soft exhale, Hotch stepped back into the shadows, deciding to let you finish your moment with the kids before he interrupted. The weight of the case would still be there when he told you about Eric Collins. For now, he could afford a little more time to watch you.

Tag list: @love4lando @therealbaberuthless @crazyunsexycool @pear-1206 @bookworm124 @itsmytimetoodream @c-losur3 @lumestar @evvy96 @booknerd2004 @werebearcocoon @sreidahotchnergirl @jazzimac1967 @gamingfeline @soyobi-wankenobi @meg-black @maxinehufflepuffprincess @iyskgd

[tairona-is-taken]

Completely devastated (in the best of ways) by Sol's death in The Acolyte. I mean, yes, this man done fucked up, but his ultimate end was just SO tragic and SO far beyond what he deserved and it just hurts so bad, it's amazing. He gets slowly and mercilessly murdered by Osha, the person he loves more than anything, AND she never finds out the full truth about why he killed her mother, AND Vernestra then throws him under the bus and pins all the murders committed by Mae and Qimir on him instead. Just ... oof. It's absolutely a fate worse than death, the fact that he's also shamed and disgraced on top of everything else. And he deserves some shame and disgrace -- and if he had lived, he should've been held accountable for how he contributed to the Brendok disaster -- but the fact that he will now be remembered as basically a mass murderer is truly unjust.

One of the worst things about it, for me, is the fact that I'm pretty sure Vernestra knows Sol didn't kill Indara, Torbin, and Kelnacca or the Jedi on Khofar, and is instead using him as a scapegoat to hide the fact that her own student (Qimir) turned evil and is running around wreaking havoc.

Now granted, The Acolyte excels at complicated, nuanced characters, so I'm trying to give Vernestra the benefit of the doubt and I'm assuming she has some bigger goal in mind rather than just covering her own tail. Maybe she made Sol the scapegoat to try to get the Senate off the Jedi Order's back? I don't know.

But if we do get a season 2, I really hope part of it will be dedicated to clearing Sol's name posthumously and to Osha learning the full truth. I don't think this will necessarily lead to her forgiving him, but I just want her to know the full complexity of what happened on Brendok so badly.

And again, this is not meant as a criticism of Sol's arc. His story is going to haunt me for a long time and I love that it will.

[ranna-alga]

I cannot stop thinking about Arthur and Mary and how truly tragic their love story is.

We know that a big reason why they couldn't be together was due to unfair circumstances. Despite Mary seeming internally conflicted about it all, it seemed like, at first, neither of them were willing to integrate themselves into each other's lifestyles and the consequences of that (Mary leaving her family behind and Arthur deserting the outlaw lifestyle), or at least in the first mission with Mary. But on the second? Mary takes back her word, almost impulsively, and says she is willing to run away with Arthur if it means they can be together. Despite the love and loyalty she has for her family (which mirrors Arthur's for the gang), she knows her family life will only continue to make her depressed, and being with Arthur makes her realise what she actually wants out of life.

And based on the implications of Arthur's words ("I want to. More than anything, I want to."), he may also be willing to even abandon the outlaw lifestyle. But he knows he likely can't. The one thing he fears the most is for the woman he loves more than anything else in the world is to be subjected to the violence that he is all too familiar with; he can deal with it if it's inflicted on himself as someone who grew up in such an environment, but Mary? He wouldn't forgive himself if something happened to her, especially when he likely already has an extreme amount of personal guilt for the deaths of Eliza and (especially) little Isaac, how he wasn't able to protect them.

But even at that, he promises to try. He's just as willing. He's willing to protect and look after her. He says they both need money, and he's willing to get it himself if it means they can abandon everything they once knew and start a new life on some newly-bought land. And what's so particularly painful is that you can just see the disappointment behind Mary's eyes at the mention of money... How, no matter what, money is always at the forefront of his mind, even if it seems valid on Arthur's end.

When she said "I'll write to you.", it seemed as if there was some hope left to be had on Arthur's end because at least they both have a chance now, right? But in my opinion, I feel like Mary was already mentally writing the final letter in her mind at that moment, and the time gap between that scene to the moment Arthur receives said letter was Mary desperately trying to put those thoughts into words on paper.

How must she have been feeling upon hearing about Arthur's death?

Imagine the life they could have had if things worked out. If they managed to run away and be happy together. Would their home be similar to John and Abigail's in the Epilogue? Would Arthur and Mary get married? What if they had children and Arthur got a second chance at being a father again, this time not being absent and being there every day, looking after his beautiful family with the woman he loves the most..?

Arthur deserved that life. Both him and Mary. And I think that's what made John and Abigail's ending in the Epilogue so much more impactful. Arthur may have died and Mary may have been elsewhere, but they lived vicariously through John and Abigail by living the lives they themselves deserved but couldn't have.

Hear that noise? That's the sound of my heart breaking.

[unsweetingtea]

The Sonic Movie 3 trailer came out and it is awesome!

I know it came out a week or so ago and I might be late into talking about it but rest assured I watched it 30 minutes after it came out.

I decided to start talking about it now because I want to put in my two cents about a certain topic.

At some point in the trailer we get this image of Tom:

He’s screaming “Sonic!!” and then it immediately flashes to this image of Shadow:

There is also this interaction with Sonic and Shadow:

“What did you do?”

“What I had to.”

First of all, f🤬cking aura Shadow, holy sh💩t. That “what I had to” sent shivers to me timbers.

Second of all, why I’m making this post:

This has led people to believe that Shadow might harm Tom in some way or even killing him.

And I don’t think that is true.

Do I think that they might tussle around? Yeah. Do I think Shadow will straight up assassinate him? Hell no!

CONTINUE UNDER THE CUT ⬇️

Now, I have seen people believe it and draw it but more as like a “this is a cool alternative but I don’t actually think it would happen”, but then there are others who genuinely believe that Shadow is going to kill Tom.

While there is nothing wrong with believing that, it raises a problem for Shadow’s overall character.

We all know Shadow is just misunderstood. Especially from Sonic, Knuckles, and Tails. Keep in mind that they are working with the very people that killed Maria—a little girl, Shadow’s best friend, and they have no idea 😀

I feel like if Sonic finds out about it, then there will definitely be conversations yet to happen, and not very friendly ones.

I kinda think this might be an image of Sonic looking around the Ark. Maybe this is when he finds out? However, that is not something I can really prove:

One thing I will say: even though if we were in Shadow’s position and we might try to kill humanity too, I think we should all acknowledge that even though we can understand him it doesn’t mean we should agree with the path he has walked down on.

Anyway, Shadow = misunderstood. Got it. That is all a story for another time, I’m still here for something else.

I think we can all agree that Shadow has been through a lot, and I think some of the games do him justice for the way he makes up for his actions; finding out who is he is and honoring Maria’s wish, sacrificing himself and falling down to earth, going against Black Doom’s wishes, fighting Memphis, saving Sonic (multiple times), him and Team Dark, the Archie comics, and more.

We’re gonna ignore the Boom!Shadow for this one boys. He’s irrelevant. (lol)

While Shadow and Sonic aren’t friends or enemies, they’re by each others side to do the right thing. All Shadow wanted to do was the right thing and at the time he believed it was killing humanity.

I think what I’m trying to say is that Shadow has done some villainy sh💩t under the influence of what people showed him back to the accident of the Ark. However, he is not a bad guy and he doesn’t deserve to be the bad guy.

If they do this, if Shadow kills Tom, he will be an irredeemable monster to Sonic and even to me, and Shadow doesn’t deserve that treatment.

I don’t want to look at Movie!Shadow knowing that he killed an amazing character and the father to Sonic.

I also want to say, that when Sonic is talking to Shadow and asks him what he did, he sounds mad but he doesn’t sound mad enough to the point of Tom’s death kind of mad. Sonic would be f🤬cking furious. He would fr say “screw the power of friendship I’m about to END this B🐶TCH”.

I can’t say for certain that Tom isn’t going to die, but I really don’t think and want to believe that Shadow is going to be the one to kill Tom.

Like I said before, it’s tragic for what happened to him but we shouldn’t justify the path he’s walking on. Killing Tom is no excuse either.

I just don’t want to be disappointed. I have been looking forward for this movie for too long. I really just want Shadow to be the sweet little anti-hero he truly is.

While I’m here, I wanna circle back around to Tom screaming Sonic’s name. First of all, Tom is in a G.U.N uniform. Either he’s going in disguise or maybe the commander guy whose name I don’t care to remember gave him a position in the G.U.N forces.

In the first Sonic Movie, Maddie did say that there has been a Wachowski serving and protecting for 50 years. The same amount of time Shadow was in a coma. Maybe the commander recognizes Tom’s last name and offers him a position.

Maybe Sonic and co. find out about what they did to Maria and the Ark, and when confronting G.U.N, G.U.N decides to turn on them. Maybe that’s why Tom was screaming Sonic’s name, because he was about to get hurt. Remember, even though Sonic saved the world in the 1st movie, in the 2nd movie G.U.N still believed they would be a threat. Maybe G.U.N is using them in hopes they won’t find out about what happened 50 years ago. They’d be perfect against Shadow, they’re the same species! (Kinda…)

If G.U.N can’t defeat Shadow, maybe another powerful being can.

Anyway, those were my two cents.

Don’t take this post too personally please, if you wanna believe Shadow kills Tom, then by all means go off! I just wanted to show my perspective of things and how I see Shadow as a person.

Remember, opinions are opinions and we shouldn’t devalue anyone’s just because we don’t agree.

Take care! 🫶🏻

[metamorphesque]

I saw you mentioned being a theatre lover as well. What are the best plays you've seen? (I'm also into theater I hope to do it at uni)

At first, I told myself I’d mention only one play… but that one play led to another… and then it became three. So, here are three of my favorite plays. All of them were performed at the Drama Theater named after H. Ghaplanyan.

“Great Silence” («Մեծ լռություն») – written by P. Zeytuntsyan (one of Armenia's most influential modern dramatists), directed by A. Khandikyan.

This play explores the lives and tragic fates of the Armenian poets Daniel Varujan and Ruben Sevak, both of whom were victims of the Armenian Genocide in 1915. It’s a deeply moving and heartbreaking piece, and the phenomenal performances of the actors elevate it into an emotionally and intellectually profound experience for the audience. I particularly want to highlight Artashes Mkhitaryan, who portrays Daniel Varujan. His subtle expressions—a flicker of hope, quiet despair in his eyes or the strength he conveys in silence—serve as windows into Varujan’s internal struggle. Varujan’s words in the play are not merely lines; they are the voice of an Armenian poet whose heart bled for his homeland. The entire play is performed in Western Armenian, as both Daniel and Ruben were Western Armenian writers. Artashes’ mastery of the language and his delivery of Varujan’s poetry are especially moving. His recitations make each word feel deliberate, delivered with the weight it deserves. His ability to bring poetry to life on stage shows his deep understanding of the significance behind each letter, word and pause.

It brings me great joy to think that I will see this play again at the end of September.

2. “The Parisian Verdict” («Փարիզյան դատավճիռ») – written by P. Zeytuntsyan, directed by A. Khandikyan.

A truly heartbreaking piece! The play revolves around the trial of four ASALA (Armenian Secret Army for the Liberation of Armenia) members who participated in the Van Operation in 1981. During this incident, ASALA members occupied the Turkish consulate in Paris to draw attention to the Armenian cause and Turkey’s continued denial of the Armenian Genocide. The four demanded recognition of the genocide and the release of Armenian political prisoners. This operation thrust the issue of the Armenian Genocide into the international spotlight. (I promise to tell you more about ASALA in the near future.)

What makes this play even more special is that two of the Van Operation members actually live in Armenia. After each performance, they go on stage and stand alongside the actors. I’ve had the opportunity (and mustered the courage) to approach them, express my admiration for their sacrifice and exchange a few words. I can’t even begin to describe what it feels like to shake hands and speak with someone who has been your hero since childhood.

3. “Eternal Return” («Անվերջ Վերադարձ») – a theatrical fantasy based on Paruyr Sevak’s poetry, directed by A. Khandikyan.

Every phrase, every word in this play feels so relevant and relatable that it’s as if it were written yesterday. The story centers on the poet’s struggle against falsehood, time and the world. It’s one of those pieces you need to watch multiple times to fully grasp its depth. Perfectly written and perfectly performed—absolutely marvelous!

PS. Good luck with your acting classes!

[raviolism9]

Ok hi I am QUITE LITERALLY coming back from the dead just to rant & post about Mischa F**king Bachinski bc I have nowhere else and I NEED somebody to talk to about this. This is my roman empire & RtC has taken over my life 😔

So for all the RtC fans, we all know Jane's story was the saddest, obviously. But nobody talks about how ACTUALLY TRAGIC MISCHA'S LIFE & DEATH WAS. Had an amazing life in Ukraine, & BAM. His mom died of uranium exposure, so she set him up for adoption, thinking she was protecting him. Instead, he was forced to move to Canada, TO A CITY NAMED AFTER THE VERY THING THAT KILLED HIS MOTHER, with some of the actually most neglectful & abusive parents known to man. They practically shoved him into their basement & only left him food there, not even interacting with him, and when he did get out, his "new parents" would weep & shoo him away like an insect.

Because of this, AND FOR GOOD REASON, he became pissed at people & with life, and was dubbed the "angriest boy in town," when in reality he just had a sh**ty life & was just acting out because of his horrible neglect. And the one thing that kept him happy in his life, his online girlfriend Talia, might've not even been real (just an fyi, I hate the catfishing theory, but unfortunately it is a very likely possibility ☹️) . The one thing that made him passionate & brought him joy & meaning in his life wasn't even guaranteed to happen or even be true.

And the worst part? When he died on the Cyclone? If Talia is real (which I HC she was), she probably thought she got ghosted by a man that would go to the ends of the earth for her. He would kill & die for this woman, and she might've never even learned what happened to him after the accident, and thought that he never loved her at all, when she was actually the only person that he truly cared about. He cared to the point where even in the afterlife, he was haunted by her projections, always chasing her but never being able to be in the image's grasp, even when it shines onto his own heart.

Not only that, but he was also forced to make a choice between never knowing what kind of a future they would've had, or risking seeing it, & either mourning after witnessing the beautiful life they could've had together, or having his heart shattered after seeing that his Talia was just a fraud from the start.

Mischa was 17. He did not deserve the life he had because holy sh*t he is genuinely one of the most depressing characters I can name after thinking about it this much. Like Jane Doe is insanely tragic yes but NO ONE TALKS ABOUT THIS 😭

(also side note, as a Slavic person, Talia (as in the song) singlehandedly has the best Ukranian rep I have ever seen in ANY modern media. Hats off to the musicians & choreographers; it's clear you did your research 👏👏👏)

[unsoundedcomic]

For all her dissaproval of 'The Man' writing the importance of cruelty into 'The Story', the Lady (and btw you too Ashley 😁) took some serious notes from his textbook. I mean, I really feel for Prakhuta here: all that pain, all that suffering, all that enduring, all for nothing..? He's truly one of your most tragic characters. Born into an abused, enslaved people. Tortured by Delicieu for years, abandoned by his only friend, maimed and banished by his own kin, haunted by the pure pain and horrorside of the Khert, and now failing in the one task that could've made all that suffering atleast have a purpose. A good cause. A true ending. I know he's also a homicidal maniac, but his journey mirrors that of Duane's in so many ways that it is extra sad to me that there seems to be no sympathy or understanding for him in your readership. I mean, with the way Delicieu 'bound' a human soul unto him, can Prakhuta even make or recall happy memories? Is cackling in the proximity of promised relief and being privey to some of the Lady's plans, the only respite he gets/deserves?

Oh, there are readers who have sympathy for Prakhuta. They've been in my inbox all day! :)

I don't think anything redeems suffering and I don't think anyone fundamentally deserves anything. In the words of Ssael, good men keep no accounts. It's better to live day by day, for the sake of others, and not obsess over all the wrongs done to you and by you. Because nothing can undo them. They and everything else remain suspended forever in time. The only way is forward, and we are all going to the same place.

It's not all that different in Kasslyne. There is no redemption. There is only Today and, if you're very lucky, Tomorrow.

Prakhuta lived a life full of suffering and torment, and there is nothing that can undo that fact. Yerta could appear and open her motherly arms and embrace him and he still would have lived a life full of suffering and torment. If Knock had not been there for Ana in the end, what would have changed? Nothing, really, except the reader would have missed out on that brief burst of catharsis as our pattern-seeking brains recognised the bookend of a narrative arc. But Ana still suffered horribly, and she still was dead, and not one jot of that was undone by a hug from Knock.

Anyway, I know I probably sound very grim, but I do like to keep it real. If you see a Prakhuta or an Ana, and you feel you can do something for them, do it. Redemption's for stories, and sometimes not even then~

[krizariel]

Oh don't tell me... you are f*cking my ex?!

(crack, not-fic, jaytim with past timsteph) Talking with friends about how a friend - who was into jaytim and was a tim fan before he was even registered in my radar - unintentionally got me into jaytim; but then he moved on pretty much as I came in and now he has to put up with me and my never-ending duck giggling butt emojis. Or how he eloquently put it: "I'm literally like a tragic dramatic irony mythical Greek MC, just a plaything of fate" Anyway, I remembered this vague idea and then this took shape:

No-capes AU in which Tim was never adopted by Bruce, but the rest (including Steph and Jason) were. Jason is very protective of his family, especially his sisters. And yes, Steph is a gremlin and gets in trouble more often than not, but damn it no one messes with his sister.

Tim and Steph started dating during mid-school; Tim tends to be asked out more often than not and he has trouble saying no. Often times he does not feel truly attracted to anyone; but he does not want to be seen as uptight or impolite or worse... questioned. He often accepts his dates until eventually they get bored of him. Steph was a change of pace of him and at some point he genuinely was feeling attraction to her; but maybe not to the extent she deserved. She asked him out and was always the one initiating anything, and he'd often go along with it. She was amazing, full of life, funny and so pretty; Tim didn't know what exactly she saw in him. However, she'd quickly notice his lack of enthusiasm/interest and often they'd fight. Why say yes when you aren't truly into it? They were on and off for a year until they broke things off for real. Jason of course hated Tim's guts; be that way whatever, but making his sister cry and mistreating her was a different story. After breaking up, Tim tried to reach out to Steph later, to try and explain himself better and be honest with her. She deserved that much. Except Jason found him before Tim could reach his sister; punched him hard enough to send him off-balance, grabbed him and pushed him against the wall to make it very clear he should not get near his sister again or else... (and Tim was scared to shit because danger danger but also creepily turned on when Jason grabbed him and raised him off the floor so easily. He needs to consult a therapist as to why Jason threatening turned him on and somehow that started his bi awakening) Eventually Steph and Tim moved on with their lives, continue dating other people, and given that they still have friends they reconnect, reminiscence of the past and talk it out. They also eventually come out and bond over both being bi. Fast forward years later, neither Tim or Jason had seen each other again; but Tim stays in touch with Steph. Tim is a well known editor at a big publisher and Jay is an aspiring book writer. Steph had given Tim her brother's original novel draft and he actually loved it. Steph: So, remember my brother Jason? Tim: Your hot brother who kicked my ass in front of half the school hates my guts? how could I forget. Steph: Yeah! He is the one who wrote this fabulous piece. Think you can help him? Tim *internally trying not to scream because what are the odds*: ...Sure. If he agrees to meet, I have time tomorrow. But you better be there, in case he remembers he told me not to get near you. I fear for my life. Steph: Don't be dramatic, he probably doesn't even remember you.

---- Steph: Sooo... I have a friend who is an editor at X publisher. He read your work and loved it. He actually thinks it has high chances to be published. Jason: Really? Steph: Yeah! Told him we could meet with him tomorrow for coffee and go over the details. Jason: Wait who is this friend? Do I know him? Steph: Well... remember this boyfriend I had back in mid-school... Jason, as he stops what he is doing, turns to Steph and glares: The one I hit and pushed against the wall and told to never get near you ever again? That one? Steph: Yes! Jason: Wait, he got actually near you again? *starts cracking knuckles* Steph: Yes, but not that way! I wouldn't take that human disaster for a ride and I'd pity anyone who'd date him. Plus I'm perfect with Cass, thank you very much. But we made peace long time ago and we've been good friends since. I'm sure he doesn't hold grudges, after all he knows the work is yours and had no trouble! It's been years, we have all grown up and moved on.

Jason: Fine. ---- The meeting was awkward at the beginning (especially due to Jason's perpetual scowl) but Tim is clearly very professional and jumps right into business. They exchange contact information. It's clear Tim genuinely likes Jason's work. He puts a lot of effort in navigating Jason through the process, giving detailed comments/notes and Jason is happy to see someone catching on the little details and talk excitedly about them. May not be much but internally he is preening. They start meeting often for coffee, at first they'd talk more about work rather than chitchat and then their meetings started evolving into less work and more random talk, getting to know each other. Sometimes they don't finish talking about the book because they got too distracted. Tim opens up about his teen years, how he was (and still is) too dumb for relationships. He didn't know better but as he matured he learned to accept himself. Jason realizes Tim wasn't that bad of a guy as he thought; just someone making mistakes, learning and growing.

Tim finds he hasn't enjoyed someone's company in a while. He has dated guys before and has matured enough to be better and accept what he wants. But as years went by he poured himself into work and has been so busy, he doesn't exactly have lasting relationships so he stopped altogether. This time around, he feels like he genuinely is giving his all. He decides that he will see that Jason's book becomes a reality because Jason is talented, he is amazing and deserves this. And then, he will gather the courage and ask him out. Jason is also troubled because he is developing a fat crush on his sister's ex and he did NOT see that coming.

The day Jason's book is finally out, they celebrate and Tim asks Jason out on a date. ----

Later: Steph: SMH I can't believe you! Jason: ... it's your fault