#wendy carr imagine

[6rookie-writer0110]

Stay

Wendy Carr x Female Reader

Summary- Wendy and Reader start to know each other better.

Wendy just broke up with her girlfriend. She knew it was for the best, she really hoped the relationship was going to become serious. Now Wendy is at a different bar drinking and you see her and you went to sit next to her.

”Is everything okay?” You asked.

”As if you care,” Wendy said.

You sighed ”I will leave you alone. Goodnight, Dr. Carr”

You walked away and Wendy watched you walk away. She starts to feel bad and she sighed.

Next day Wendy went to work at Quantico. You are working at your desk and you sit across Holden.

”Y/N, please come to my office now,” Wendy said.

You stand up and followed Wendy to her office. She closed the door and you wait for her to say anything. Wendy turned around now she is facing you.

”Y/N, I apologize for my behavior last night. I shouldn't have spoken to you like that” Wendy said.

”I do care about you. You don't have to tell me about your personal life if you don't want to. But you know I will be there for you” You said.

She nods ”I believe you”

”I will forgive you if you buy me coffee,” You said and she smiled.

”I can do that” Wendy said.

Wendy did buy you coffee and it went well. Since the first day, you met her you developed feelings for her. But she doesn't know that you like women too, you rather keep your sexuality a secret.

After getting breakfast with her, all day you and the others worked hard on cases. You don't notice but Wendy will look at you then look away.

You haven't interviewed a serial killer as Bill and Holden have done before. The boss walked in Gunn

”Wendy, Y/N, and Bill you three will go interview the Co ed Killer,” Gunn said.

”We won't screw up,” Bill said.

”Good,” Gunn said and walked away.

Wendy looks at you.

”Nervous?” Wendy asked.

You lied ”I'm not nervous”

Wendy knows when you are lying, the tone of your voice is a giveaway and you avoid looks. She can sense that you are feeling nervous and a little scared.

Next day

Wendy, You and Bill went to see Ed Kemper. You start to set up the recording system. You three watch him walk inside and the officer takes off the handcuffs. It felt he wouldn't take his eyes off you but you did glare at him. He sat down, Bill introduced the team to Ed.

”Aren’t you too young to be an agent Y/N?” Ed asked.

”I look young but I proved myself that I can be an agent,” You said.

”Interesting,” Ed said.

Wendy asked the first question:

”How did you pick your victims?”

”I would hunt every day. I would watch them and I knew they had to be mine” Ed said.

Ed didn't look away and he kept staring at you. You can feel his eyes on you.

”What did you feel the very moment, when you killed them and had sex with their bodies?” Bill asked.

”It felt good. Knowing they will never leave because of our souls combined into one. You would have been mine Y/N, something about you. I would have kept your body with me” Ed said.

Under the table, Wendy put her hand on your knee for comfort. But you are moving your knee up and down fast.

”What happened if your mother didn't treat you badly?” Bill asked.

Ed didn't look at him.

”Who knows. No women have ever taken the time to get to know me and I didn't know how to speak to women. I have never been on a date” Ed said.

”You can't play God because of what you been through-”

He didn't let you finish your sentence.

”society makes the rules...in order to allow a balance,” Ed said.

”Just because there are rules does not make them always right. What your mother did was abuse Ed, but there are other people who've had abusive parents and were not narcissistic enough to give them the right to play God and kill innocent people” You said.

Ed slams his hand on the table pissed off.

”I would like to go back to my cell,” Ed said.

The officer took him back to his cell and you just walked away from Bill and Wendy.

”Give her space for now,” Bill said.

”I agree,” Wendy said.

You went straight to the hotel, got undressed fast and took a hot shower. An hour later, Wendy is knocking on the door.

”I thought maybe we can go to a bar, just me and you,” Wendy said.

”I will like that. Come in and I will get ready” You said.

Wendy walked into the room, you grabbed your clothes and went to the bathroom to change.

------------

You and Wendy sat at the booth, she is drinking wine and you are drinking whiskey. Wendy put her hand on top of your hand.

”Y/N, whenever you need to talk, I'm here for you,” Wendy said.

”Growing up, my father told me seeking for help it's a sign of weakness. I'm used to bottling up everything” You said.

She held your hand a little tighter.

”Don’t ever think that. You are not weak. I'm not a therapist but I will be there for you when you need someone” Wendy said.

”If you need me too I will be there,” You said.

Since the trip to California, you and Wendy start to get closer. Now at sitting at the bar with her. A guy starts to flirt with you and Wendy watches you see what you will do next.

”Maybe, we can go somewhere to be alone,” He said.

”I’m not interested,” You said.

”Oh playing hard to get, I like that” He smirked.

”You don't get the hint, do you. Maybe, you will like a bullet between your legs?” You said.

He walks away and called you a bitch.

”If he didn't leave after what you said, well he will be insane and we have seen worse,” Wendy said.

”Men are not my type,” You said.

"What can I get you?" flirty Bartender staring at you and your lips. Wendy to sit at the booth and she waits for you.

Wendy noticed that the bartender's eyes are literally eating you she has a small glare behind her wine glass.

You reached for your wallet and pay for the drinks

”Yeah, another round please," You said giving her a generous tip.

”Wait,” She said.

”Yes?” You said.

She wrote down her phone number on a napkin and gave it to you.

You just smile as you quickly bring the drinks.

”Maybe now we can have some privacy and I can actually hear you talk,” You said.

”Whatever you say,” Wendy said without looking at you.

Wendy noticed the phone number because you put it on the table.

Later, you and Wendy left the bar, but you can't walk a straight line.

”Y/N, you are coming home with me,” Wendy said.

Wendy has to help you stand up. She got a cab and you two got inside. While sitting in the back, Wendy put her hand on your knee. She thinks if you like her, you don't move her hand away and if you don't like her then you move away. You put your hand on top of her hand, you or Wendy don't say a word.

Once inside Wendy’s apartment, she took you to her bedroom.

”I will sleep on the couch,” You said.

”No. The couch is very uncomfortable, sleep here and I won't take no for answer” Wendy said.

”I love it when you are sassy,” You said.

You lie down and Wendy couldn't help to smile.

Wendy picked up your foot to take off your shoes. Then you sat up, you looked up at her, then Wendy placed her hand on your cheek and you kissed her hand. You look back at her and she stares into your eyes.

Wendy bends down to kiss you, you gently pulled her closer to you.

Now on the bed, kissing each other.

”Wait wait, I really do like like like you Wendy. I don't want this to be a one night stand or anything” You said.

She kissed you again.

”I really like you too, a lot,” Wendy said.

”We have a problem...” You said.

Wendy sat up and frowns.

”Are you getting sick?” Wendy asked

”No... I’m just feeling really hot at the moment. Who turned on the furnace?” You said.

Wendy giggled.

You wake up and you smell the food, you are definitely feeling hungry. You walked out of her bedroom, you remember some parts of what happened last night. You remember that you kissed her, you don't know if you can kiss her again.

You see Wendy put the food on the table. You walked closer to her, she put your hair behind your ear.

”Thanks for breakfast,” You said.

You and Wendy sat down, start to eat together.

”Y/N, slow down I don't want you to choke. I will make you more” Wendy said.

”I’m really hungry. And the food is good” You said.

Wendy smiled and she starts to drink her coffee.

---------------

You and Wendy are alone, you are mostly at your desk. Wendy walked by and told you to follow her, you did follow her to her office. She is against the desk, she pulled you closer to her.

She wrapped her arms around you and she starts to kiss you. She starts to kiss your jaw and going down to your neck. She did leave a hickey on your neck, then she stopped.

”Come over to my place after work?” Wendy asked.

”Okay. What are we?” You asked.

”I want you to be my girlfriend,” Wendy said.

You smiled at her.

”I like the sound of that,” You said.

You kiss her again.

All-day you tried to hide the hickey on your neck.

”What is that on your neck?” Holden asked.

”It’s nothing,” You said.

”Do you and your boyfriend, want to go on a double date with Debbie and I?” Holden asked.

”Actually, I have plans tonight and I won't make it,” You said.

”Next time then,” Holden said.

You didn't say anything back to him.

After work, before going to Wendy’s place you bought take-out food and wine.

After dinner, you and Wendy cuddle in bed, she has her arms wrapped around you. She kissed your head and you looked at her.

”I had feelings for you since the first day I met you. Right now it feels like a dream and I don't want to wake up” You said.

”It's not a dream. I always liked you, but I didn't know you played for the other team. But what happened at the bar and when we first kissed, I knew I wanted to be with you. Now that we are together, I'm happy” Wendy said.

Wendy kissed you.

[boldlyvoid]

Intro to Criminal Minds: Why They Did It

Criminal Minds x MINDHUNTER AU

Spencer Reid x Margaret Carr (OC)

Part 1: Ed Kemper.

Summary: Spencer is teaching a 7-week seminar on the most interesting criminal cases, explaining their actions to understand why they took place. Only, not everyone in the audience is a student.

warnings: graphic details of a real rape and murder case, like every trigger in the book, applies to this fic so read with caution (if you watch either show you're used to it, however), it's all real and did actually happen and I don't support any of it. strangers to lovers, mutual pining, flirting, fluff, eventual smut, idiots in love, OC is Wendy Carr's daughter, her bio father is Jason Gideon

word count: 3.9K

He'd be lying if he said he wasn't having fun teaching.

He started with guest speaking, moving to special seminars a few times a year. But he wanted something more, settling for a 7-week criminal justice elective of his choosing.

Intro to Criminal Minds: why they did it. Giving Spencer an excuse to share the most intimate facts about serial offenders in a setting where no one could tell him to shut up.

14 students total signed up for the two-hour Seminar, taking place every Thursday at 11 am from September until Halloween. Over the 7 weeks, he would explain the fascinating insights of the most successful killers in the United States. Only asking that his students write about a prolific crime they find interesting by the end of term, for their full grade.

All he wanted was to read about obscure killers from around the world, from the perspective of aspiring profilers.

The first Thursday, he came prepared with his coffee a half hour before the class. He wanted to write the main points on the whiteboard in advance, nice and neatly.

To his surprise, a student was already there waiting for him. "Oh, hello,” he smiled softly.

She was sitting with a book in her hands, she pushed her glasses up her nose to look at him as he walked in. She was older than his typical student, around 35. Probably finishing up a degree or adding something to what she already had.

"Hi," she smiled at him. “Sorry, I’m early, I was visiting my mom at Quantico earlier.” She explained. "I'm not a teacher's pet or anything. Promise, I’m not even a student.”

It made him laugh slightly, correcting him like she read his mind. "It's okay, I'm Doctor Reid," he introduced himself softly.

“Margaret Carr, Peggy is also fine.”

"Pleasure to meet you," he said quickly before focusing his attention on the whiteboard.

He could feel her eyes on him the whole time he wrote, not wanting to turn around and catch her. "That's so interesting," he heard her mumble under her breath.

"Hmm?" He turned around.

"It's just that, everyday occurrences that never phase the regular person somehow cause psychopaths to kill," she read the board back to him.

"I was reading a study a while back about how psycho killers medulla oblongata is approximately 19% smaller than the average human’s. Based on the way they're nurtured as children affects if they grow up to kill. The ones that don't often end up in law enforcement and other positions of power where their psychopathic tendencies can come to play."

He was taken aback for a moment. He had never experienced a student who was like him before. Someone who just pulled facts into conversations like it was nothing.

"I read that as well," he smiled. "It is fascinating. The smallest amount of bullying and abuse from a mother or disappearance of a father figure can set them off."

"Or, on the other hand, there are people like Ted Bundy," she added. "He was well-loved and taken care of, but it went to his head. His god complex and affinity for lying led him to be incredibly charismatic and enabled his killing."

"You're very educated on this already; are you just interested in hearing me speak today?" He asked, not wanting her to leave, finding it interesting that she was there.

"Oh," she blushed. "I was going to talk to you more about it after the seminar actually."

“Okay, I’ll be waiting for you,” he felt a little giddy at the prospect.

"Thanks," she laughed. "Seriously though, I'm a big fan of your teaching style, I saw a few of your classes when my dad was teaching at the academy in 2005. It's a lot easier to remember facts if the lecturer genuinely loves what they're talking about."

"You're going to like this Seminar then. It’s basically just a way for me to get paid while unloading all the random facts I have,” he warned her with a smile.

"I know." She smiled back at him.

The rest of his students filed in slowly. By 11 am, 14 faces were staring back at him.

"Hello," he waved awkwardly. "I'm dr. Spencer Reid. For the last 12 years, I've worked with the FBI's Behavioural Analysis Unit. Catching serial offenders across the country."

He took a deep breath, letting the nerves find their way out of him. "I've been asked time and time again who my favourite serial killer is, which is a peculiar way to phrase the question. It feels morally wrong to have a favourite in the way people do with baseball players.

"I am, however, fascinated with several serial offenders' reasoning and explanation for why they did what they did. Every single killer is different, but it all comes back to 1 thing. Do you know what that is?"

They all shook their heads. “What is your relationship with your parents like?" He asked. 

Everyone in the room reacted; some students sighed, some rolled their eyes as they recalled their parents and childhoods to memory.

"When a person decides to kill, it's often never in the moment. It's in childhood. The majority of serial offender's stories start the same; their mother didn't love them, their father left. Someone at home abused them or put them down repeatedly."

"Thus, causing a hatred so primal to bubble. No matter how hard they try and fight it, the bubble always bursts. They go from fantasizing to killing in retaliation for their abuse, taking the anger out in stages."

He referred to the board. "Every killer has a stressor and a trigger—something that causes the urge to bubble and the event that causes the bubble to rupture.”

"Edmund Kemper is a fascinating example of this. He grew up with a family for the first few years of his life before his father fully abandoned them. His mother handled the situation by turning her anger onto her son; it was his fault his father left, he looked just like him, Ed was just another useless man who would never amount to anything," he emphasized the words. Hoping the class sees the effects words have on children.

"He started by cutting up dolls, stealing his sister's barbies and cutting their heads off. In his mind, he was getting out his anger and hatred for how his mother saw him. She hated men, causing him to mature with a warped idea of what women are truly like."

"His attraction to killing worsened his mother's hatred; she could tell something was wrong with him, that he didn't react to everyday situations the way he should. By the time he was ten, she was locking him in the basement for days on end, telling him he was a monster and her biggest regret."

"The change in her rage amplified his own. He hated hearing her speak. He hated the way she walked around, thinking she was better than him. That just because she was a mother and a working woman, she deserved respect and submissive’s. All he could see was a woman with a big head who needed to be humbled. This is the moment when the psychotic side of his brain blended his hatred of his mother with how good it felt to kill."

"Is that why he, you know?" Peggy cut in, running her finger along her neck as she pretended to cut her head off.

He pressed his lips together in an awkward smile, nodding. "His signature, as it's called, was decapitation. But more specifically necrophiling the severed head of his victims."

The whole class let out a disgusted noise, Peggy and Spencer making eye contact while they shrugged, it wasn't news to them.

"At age ten, he moved from barbies to cats and dogs, never leaving them around for his mother to see. While he hated her, he was also absolutely terrified of her. Breading a special type of killer. When you think of school shooters or preferential predators, what do they have in common?" He asked.

He pointed at a student in the back. "They have a specific type of victim they’re after?"

"Exactly. Most serial offenders want to go after the cause of their pain or attraction. However, Ed wasn't able to kill the source of his rage for a long time. His mother mentally abused him so intensely that he believed she was in control of him and that her opinion of him mattered. He saw her as his God, he loved her, but he also knew that he disappointed her.

"He ran away soon after to find his father. Travelling to California, only to be told he was unwanted there as well. It wasn't just his mother that his father was escaping; it was the fundamental aspect of family that he didn't want. Ed defiantly didn't want to go back to his mother after that, so he moved in with his paternal grandparents."

He kept catching the looks on Peggy's face. She knew the story already, waiting patiently to hear the words he chose to make the horrific acts seem a little more conversational.

"His grandmother was exactly like his mother. If I had to guess, his father most likely had a distaste for his own mother and thus divorced Ed's mom. Only he never grew up to be a killer, just an absent father—his absence doing to Ed what never happened to him."

"Ed killed his grandparents when he was 15. Telling the police and his therapists that they had beaten him constantly, they refused to feed him and called him names. He said he snapped from the trauma; it was self-defence."

Peggy laughed to herself, making him smile softly. "Sending him to a mental hospital instead of a juvenile facility was the worst thing they could've done for him," Spencer added.

"Why?" A student asked.

"Ed is a psychopath." He reminded them. "He doesn't feel empathy the way we do. You can admit that you feel bad for him, yes? If you understand why he killed people, it doesn't make you sick, like him, it makes you human. You see a hurt person hurting others; Ed Kemper sees himself as a new sort of God, choosing who dies, how and when."

"He was brilliant, having the exact IQ as I do," just a humblebrag, "the staff trusted him. He looked like an innocent boy, smart enough to take matters into his own hands for the betterment of his life. They gave him computer privileges, they let him work the front desk and file patient information. Giving him all the resources to learn about who he was inside and how to get away with it perfectly."

"Damn," another kid added. "When did he get out?"

"At 21.” He answered the student quickly. “Ed was interviewed by my mentor Jason Gideon, in the 70s. Where he explained that being locked up during his sexual prime, as well as the access to information, is what truly set him off more than his mother.

"He moved back in with her and his sister when he came out of the institution, immediately returning to the constant ridicule. He went from being told all the time that he was a smart and charming young man, capable of rehabilitation to a useless, no-good son, who would have been better off collecting in a condom or running down her leg."

The whole class laughed, shocked at his repetition of Ed's mother's words.

"He got his licence when he was released. And remember, this was prime time for hitchhiking in California; everyone and their mother walked the roads with a thumb in the air. It was the birth of free love and recreational marijuana usage. It was also the best hunting ground for a learning serial killer."

"He was able to pick women up, but like I said, missing his sexual prime while in an institution made him almost impotent. He didn't know how to speak to women; he had to create a fantasy in his mind every time, one that involved killing, before he could look at a woman."

"How did he get them in his car then?" A voice asked from the back.

"He was 6'9, 300lbs; he looked like a big teddy bear. And his mother was the local college administrative assistant, so the whole town knew him anyway. If Ed offered to give them a ride, it wouldn't be that bad, right?" Peggy turned around to face the class as she explained for Spencer, who just shook his head.

"He only wanted to rape the victims, originally," Spencer added. "But he couldn't. There was no release of the tension. The bubble that had been growing inside him was at its breaking point; he needed to just do it. Get it over with and move on."

"He killed 6 women in succession after that. Gaining the name "The Co-Ed Killer," well before anyone even suspected Ed Kemper," Spencer took a sip of coffee, feeling his throat start to dry as they reached the insane part.

"He was overly friendly with the cops; he wanted to get his record expunged and join the force.” Spencer finally continued. “Being told, "don't worry about your record, worry about your weight.""

"Most killers enjoy wearing a uniform for the power and talking to the police about their cases, in the hopes of gauging how smart they really are—taking pride in the fact that they are getting away with it for so long."

"He watched all the cop shows, and he read all the books. He knew that in order to get away with it, he had to do it where no one could trace it back to him. He knew he had to keep his cool and avoid looking obsessed with the case, but just curious enough to gain insight into how they thought he was doing it. It went on for years, and they had absolutely zero leads, finding headless bodies every few months before they finally received a call." He left them hanging, walking over to his sheet of paper and pretending to read it while they anticipated the catch.

"Ed always knew that he wanted to kill his mother. He just never knew when,” Spencer teased the story along. Noticing as the students fidgeted in their seats as they wondered what happened next.

“In his interview with Gideon, Ed said that he knew she would die 7 days before he killed her. He walked into her room that night to find her reading, with the audacity to ask if he wanted to come in and chat all night. Teasing him for the way he rambled to her. It was the last time she ever did that."

"It's hard to imagine his signature with the fact his second last victim was his mother," Peggy added, cringing at the thought.

"Wait," another student interjected. "Who was his last kill then if he only really wanted to kill her?"

"Remember how I said he lacked empathy?" Spencer asked. "He loved his mother in the same way a prisoner can end up loving their captor."

Peggy nods at the comparison, looking like she's never thought of it that way before, then smiling at him.

"You grow a bond through the trauma and when the only thing you've ever known is violence and hate, you don't know what to do when that's gone, it's hard to cope."

"He said he killed his mother so that she never had to know what he did. She'd never have to sit at his court hearings or be able to tell the media that she always knew he was a killer."

"His last kill was his mother's best friend," He finally answered the question.

"He didn't want his mother to be even more disappointed in him, but he also didn't want his mother's best friend to find her like that and be upset. So the obvious answer to him was to kill her too."

"What the fuck?" He heard a couple of kids say under their breath.

"Yeah," he agreed with an almost chuckle. "This is what I mean by their answers are fascinating. It makes so much sense to them; clearly, if I kill my mother, her friend will be upset, so the best answer would be to put her out of her misery as well. He sees them as objects, like a matching set. One would lose value without the other."

Everyone was silent then. The students took in all the information they had just received, staring up at him with a look of disgust mixed with wonder.

"Any questions?"

Peggy raised her hand for a change; he pointed towards her in approval. "You missed the part where he specifically took the heads from the three women before his mother and brought them back home with him. He buried them in the yard outside her bedroom window, making sure they were always looking up to her."

Spencer was amazed that she knew the details. "Yes, I guess I did."

"I always found that part particularly interesting in this case," Peggy added. "Her opinion mattered so much to him. He knew how much she loved her co-ed's and how they looked up to her so much. They'd be exactly like her. He felt trapped in a town of women who were exactly like his nightmare, and his response was to make them physically look up to her for the rest of her life."

"Exactly." Spencer smiled. "understanding how he sees the situation and how the events played out in his mind is the key in figuring out who he is."

"If you were on the case in '72 when the first victims were discovered, how would you have handled it, Dr. Reid?" A male student in the back asked in the silence between answers, taking his shot before Peggy and Spencer went any further in their discussion.

“That's a hard thing to answer, connecting evidence back then was a lot harder than it is today, if it wasn’t for men like Ed there wouldn’t really be this many answers,” Spencer said honestly.

Another student put her hand up, ��what’s the worst thing he did in your opinion?”

That racked his brain, there was a handful of horrific things he did that were particularly horrific, “probably his mother's entire murder.”

“What did he do?”

Before Spencer could answer he saw Peggy open her mouth and start explaining. “He not only cut off her head and fucked her neck, but he also took her vocal cords out and shoved them down the garbage disposal. And before he called the cops, he cleaned everything up and made her look presentable because he said his mother wouldn’t want guests to see the mess.”

The class all cringed, sinking into their seats with disgust. But that didn’t stop Peggy from explaining it all further.

“He used to go to a bar all the cops went to and he would talk about his case. They would always one-up themselves and say they were close which gave him this false idea that they were on his tail and they’d find his mother soon. But when they didn’t, he called it in from a payphone and said he’d come over and explain it all. And boy did he ever, the cops said he wouldn’t shut up. And then when they put him in the cop car finally, a woman walked past him and he threw up.”

Spencer watched her with awe, the way she could call information to memory like that was beautiful. He listened to her like he’s never heard a fact before, she was so intriguing.

“Thank you for the detail,” he teased her lightly. “Sometimes I get so caught up that the really gross parts get swept aside.”

The class smiled at him, he had gained their trust and attention within only 1 hour of class.

“I know you said you don’t have a favourite,” another student asked from the back. “I agree it’s weird, but who is the one you gravitate towards the most?”

“I’ve met hundreds of serial killers, I’ve read about thousands,” he explained. “I think Ed Kemper is the one I gravitate the most around because he was so willing and open to explaining why he is the way he is. Going as far as to say that the only way they could keep women safe is to give him a lobotomy. He didn’t believe there was any correcting to be done, only removal of the evil within him.”

He heard slight mumbles as everyone took in what he said. “Does anyone here have a killer or a case that interested them in learning more, or just introduced you to the chase of justice?”

Peggy put her hand up, “I personally think BTK is the scariest, most tactical, and just downright evil man to ever exist. He scares me to no end but he’s so interesting to learn about.”

“Ahh,” Spencer agreed. “Too bad you won't be here for week 3. But with that I think I’ll end the class, next week we’ll be discussing the difference between Ted Bundy and Richard Speck.” He nodded lightly, watching the majority of them close their books and had on out.

“I really enjoyed the class,” she said softly. Holding her purse in one hand, a collection of files in the other.

Spencer turned to look at her then, smiling right back. “It was a pleasure to teach alongside you.”

“What do you mean?” She teased, “it’s not like my mom and dad were the ones who did all the interviews."

“Carr,” he repeats her last name. The gears turning in his mind as he brings all the information forth.

“Your mother is Wendy Carr, she was recruited after the BTK case with Bill Tench, she’s who was behind that study you mentioned.”

“I know,” she smiled.

“Who’s your father?”

“Guess,” she looked at him with an unimpressed look on her face, pushing her glasses up slightly.

“You’re kidding? Gideon never said he had a daughter let alone a,” he stops himself before he can embarrass himself any further.

She smiled at the implication of his words, “but he’s told me all about you Dr. Reid, that’s why I'm here.”

“You need help with a case and I’m the only agent in Virginia currently,” he pressed his lips together awkwardly. Knowing it was too good to be true that she would have any interest in him in the slightest.

“No actually, I have a case I’ve been working on privately and I need some help. I asked my dad but he said you’d be able to help me the best. I agree,” she corrected him softly. “I wasn’t kidding when I said I was a big fan of yours. When I would sit in and watch his lectures, before he knew I was his kid, you would always step in at the best parts, adding the smallest details to the story that the average person would forget. It’s magnificent.”

He laughed slightly, tugging at his collar as she complimented him. “Thank you, you’re quite magnificent as well,” he replied with a blush and a smile

She didn’t look like Gideon, probably because she smiled so much. Like sunshine on legs, she beamed, all but blinding him with her smile as she stared at him, “do you want to get lunch and go over this case with me?”

“I’d love to.”

taglist: (message me if you want to be added or removed)

@shemarmooresfedora @spencers-dria @spookyspence @reidsfish @manuosorioh @mochionly @samuel-de-champagne-problems @jswessie187 @k-k0129 @calm-and-doctor @blanchardsbk

[annatorverse]

Anna Torv as Wendy Carr, Mindhunter season 2

[annatorvswife]

lena olin for kappahl, 2018

[blessedarethebinarybreakers]

Hey!! I've been seeing a lot of posts about how the reason we're having a pandemic, wildfires, locust plagues, etc is because God sent it upon is to punish us. Do you think this is true? I keep telling myself that's not something that God would do, but do you think that's true or not?

cw discussions of punishment, abuse, trauma, illness, disaster, death

Hey there, anon. I do my best to make it clear that I may not be right in any of my opinions, my interpretations of scripture or my understanding of the Divine – but every sinew in my being urges me to give you a resounding “No.�� 

I’m gonna talk waaaaaay to long here, but the TL;DR is this: God is not a punishing God; these disasters are not inflicted upon humanity and all Creation by God. Bad things like disease often. just. happen – and are often exacerbated by human sin. Those in power could have done more to keep COVID-19 from spreading, and could be doing more right now to aid those in need – their failure to do so comes from their own free will and greed. Human beings are suffering right now both because suffering just happens and because of human injustice, but not because God brewed up this virus to punish us.

______________

When humans undergo catastrophe and trauma, we seek answers – and we favor answers that offer us some small sense of control over what is happening to us. In her book on Trauma and Recovery, Judith Herman notes how children experiencing abuse will often develop a sense of shame and self-blame as a coping mechanism – if it’s their fault that a loved one is hurting them, if it’s a punishment for their badness, maybe they can eventually stop the harm from happening by changing themselves. Obviously, what is happening is not at all their fault, and this kind of trauma response will be something they have to unlearn for future recovery, but it may help them survive in the meantime. 

In Holy Resilience: The Bible’s Traumatic Origins, David M. Carr argues that many of the biblical authors concluded similarly: that a trauma happening to them or their people – such as the decimation of the Northern Kingdom Israel and the exile of Judah’s people – is their own fault. They have been bad, and God is punishing them for being bad. This understanding of their trauma gives the people some sense of control – if they amend their ways, they will be restored! 

If the fault actually lies with the human beings who violently conquer and exploit, emperors in far-off lands who care nothing for the people of Israel and Judah, well…what hope do the people have of swaying their oppressors? And what hope do they who are so little and fragmented have of forcing those powerful kings to cease their violence?

But, if the person enabling their suffering is actually God, a Being who has expressed deep love for them and established covenant with them time and again? then, there may be something the people can do to end their own suffering.

I respect those who finding meaning and hope in such understandings of trauma. If seeing God’s hand in your suffering helps you get through it, I don’t think I have a right to tell you you’re wrong – unless such understandings lead you to point fingers at others, as when people interpret natural disasters as a divine punishment against LGBT persons and thus lash out against the LGBT community. 

The Bible was written in large part by members of a traumatized people, who often interpreted their suffering as God-caused or God-sanctioned in one way or another. But there are other ways to understand why bad things happen to individuals, to whole communities, or even to the whole world. 

There are a few biblical stories where suffering “just happens,” but I feel like that’s rarer – the one I can think of off the top of my head is from a book that Protestants don’t share with Catholics, the Book of Tobit: the titular character randomly becomes blind because some birds poop in his eyes, not because he did anything wrong or because another person wished him ill. Oh wait, another example is Ruth’s and Naomi’s story – chapter 1 tells us that their loved ones died in a famine, without any “reason” given for why that famine happened. Sometimes bad things…just happen. 

Much more common in scripture are examples of bad things happening because sinful humans make them happen. Joseph of Genesis is beloved by God, yet Joseph’s brothers beat him and sell him into slavery. This trauma is not a punishment inflicted on Joseph by God, but by other people. Same goes for so many other stories of suffering in scripture – Hagar’s story, Tamar’s story, John the Baptist’s story, Jesus’s story……human beings suffer in so many biblical stories not because of their own sin, not because God is punishing or even “testing” them, but because other human beings use their free will to harm them. 

For one of the biggest examples: the Israelite people experience the trauma of enslavement in Egypt – and the authors do not interpret it as a punishment from God! Indeed, Exodus 1 tells us that the people were being blessed with exponential growth of their numbers – and that fruitfulness is what leads to their enslavement, because of human sin and fear. Pharaoh fears their numbers, and hey, he needs people who can build his vast cities anyway, so he subjects the Israelites to slavery that leaves them too exhausted and scattered to fight back.

And, most poignantly in this Exodus story, in the midst of the enslaved people’s anguish, God is said to hear them, to see them, to know intimately what they are going through – to feel their pain with them! “I know their sorrows,” God says in Exodus 3:7 – the Hebrew word for “know” being a word about intimate understanding. 

Thus we can understand God’s place in our suffering not as the place of the judge or punisher, but the place of the one who suffers alongside us. God chooses to know our pain intimately, to enter into our world that is so fraught with suffering, because God’s power is not the power to harm or dominate; God’s power is compassion. 

“God, source of all reality, split the heavens to come to us in a cow shed so that God could be with us. And, as if the ridiculousness of being born in a manger weren’t enough, God dies on a cross – as loathsome, humiliating, cruel, and helpless a death as imaginable – just in case we didn’t get it. As Paul says, nothing can separate us from the love of God. To make sure that we can see that the most abject poverty and homelessness are not enough to separate us from God and that the most severe violence human beings can invent cannot separate us from God – God embodies Godself in precisely these places. These are the places we are most in need of God, and God does not tell us about the divine presence in these places; God enacts this presence as histrionically as possible. It is necessary to do this partly because human beings love gorgeous displays of power and are sorely tempted to imagine God to be just like a monarch or emperor or – best of all – the most powerful sorcerer and sultan in the world. It’s hard to imagine a clearer correction of this view than a birth in a stable and a death on a cross.”- Wendy Farley

All of this is not to say that God’s “okay” with what we are doing to one another and to the earth. God has gifted us with free will so that we cannot be compelled into relationship with Them or with each other; but that gift of free will also means we are free to hurt each other, to choose greed and violence over community and compassion. God does urge us to do better, to be better – and for whatever reason, God does let us face the collective consequences of our sin…for now. But not forever. And not alone. 

I’ll close with one more anecdote from scripture, and then a list of further posts related to this topic.

My pastor Cathy preached on John 11 today, the story of the Raising of Lazarus. In the Gospels we see Jesus go through a lot of the same painful feelings we do – from frustration and anger, exhaustion and hunger, to fear and grief. But the most moving display of emotion for me is when he weeps over Lazarus’ death. 

Lazarus died, not as a punishment for anything he or one of his loved ones did wrong, but just because…death happens. When Jesus finally arrives on the scene, he knows that he’s going to raise Lazarus up. He knows reunion is near. But still, when he sees his dear friends mourning, he joins in – he moans and weeps for the loss and pain they are undergoing. In her sermon, my pastor said of this grief:

“As we see Jesus’s sorrow, may we recognize the regret of God that Creation is in agony. See God seeing us and grieving that the curse still reigns – for now.”

We suffer, and God suffers with us. 

________

Further reading:

“God’s place in grief: not Her will, but Her own broken heart”

“pain is not a lesson”

“this problem will have its place”

My wife and I made a YouTube vid based around a very small example of suffering, which we use to ponder whether things going wrong is a sign God’s cursed us, is punishing us, etc.

So why does God allow suffering to happen, if God’s all powerful and all loving and it’s not a punishment?

When horrible things do happen…is it possible to make something good come out of it?

Check out Kate Bowler’s “Everything Happens” podcast, or her book

[kittensjonsa]

When you watch something (not telling you what it is) and it screams Jonsa and won't let you rest until you let it out.. another sub/Dom jonsa fic with Sansa holding the whip this time.

Summary: Sansa has deep seated issues she needs to work on thanks to a recent trauma from being mugged in an alley. But sometimes, it takes more than just therapy. BDSM-ish.

One-shot, I leave the rest to your imagination because I think.. we all have different versions how this could go.. 💦 and unfortunately, I am not a good enough writer to explore these visions and putting them into words lol.

Safe Word

Dove.

Little bird. Those are the words that spring to mind as Sansa sees the forms before her. It is strange, having to fill out forms and giving strangers a piece of her life before she gives all of herself to another. Well, almost.

He did come highly recommended. Sansa looks out the window from the lounge sofa she finds too comfortable to be filling out forms in.

Also, this is a sex club.

“You will keep my details private, right? I mean, I'm here because.. you know,” Sansa's voice trails off, wondering if she should explain at all. The lady with bright purple hair and blonde streaks looks up from Sansa's forms, only to smile at her, subtly hinting how she has encountered many a red-faced first timers like Sansa. Only thing, this time it's different. I'm different. Not like the rest, Sansa mumbles in a small voice in her mind.

“Miss Stark, I can assure you have our strictest confidence. Besides, your therapist made a call earlier this week to let us know about… your case. Don't worry, she didn't say anything, she just asked for Jon to help you. And that's enough for us to know. And, yes this is only between you and us,” the lady assures, the piercing on her lower lip quivering as she smiles again at Sansa.

Oh right, yes. My case.

Sansa nods and glances at the black tinted glass doors behind the counter. Sansa wonders what awaits her, come the day when it beckons.

“We'll give you a call once we've set up your appointment. You'll hear from us in a few days.”

Sansa heaves a sigh of relief and manages a polite grin. “Right, thank you. I'll.. wait for your call then, Miss Val,” Sansa addresses her after a quick glance at the name plate. Val nods and waves her goodbye and calls for the next one in line. Sansa gathers herself and leaves, regretting what fresh hell she had gotten herself into.

The hours ticked by at first when Sansa found herself in bed and staring at the ceiling. When sleep finally came, the nightmares took over. Sansa had tried everything from herbs, to tinctures and sleeping aids. None helped, because none of these, not even the anti-anxiety medication gave her the peace that was robbed from her, one fateful night in an alley. There were so many things Sansa realised, in retrospect, how the night could have gone differently. If she had taken the train instead of walking to the bus stop, if she went home on time instead of staying back an hour later, if she hadn't answered that goddamned phone call from her ex. But it only wrecked her inside and turned her stomach into knots every time she walks down that particular memory lane. Six months later, Sansa still finds herself in her nightmares, crawling in that alley, bruised, battered and mugged.

Seeing a therapist was the last resort. Describing and reliving the experience again was painful but gradually it eased, no longer was Sansa sobbing at the end of a session, thanks to Dr Carr, her therapist whom had provided an outlet Sansa didn't know she needed. Slowly, the sessions grew less arduous. The nightmares lessened somewhat though haven't ceased completely. Perhaps it was only thing that caused great concern, seeing what little sleep she'd been getting. Six months since a deep, restful sleep, Sansa recalls.

“There's a deep anger that needs to be resolved. Pure rage that I feel needs to be addressed here, Sansa. As someone, I think, who rarely expresses such an emotion, I can imagine this must be quite difficult for you,” Dr Carr suggests, tapping the end of her pen onto her notepad. Sansa sighed as she brushes off some imaginary fluff from her skirt.

“Might I suggest something? You might think this is quite strange but I feel it can be freeing for you. It's.. an acquired taste and you don't have to if you don't want to but perhaps you may want to consider letting all this anger out? On someone.. who is willing?”

Sansa raises her eyebrow at the 'willing' part. “You mean find someone to beat up?”

A wistful tilt of the head tells Sansa only one thing. “I don't recommend this method to anyone but I feel that you, Sansa, will find that it helps. I'll write down the address so you can decide for yourself. Now, before you say anything, I'd like you to approach this with an open mind. As open as you can possibly be.”

“What is it that you suggest, Dr Carr? I'm all ears.”

An address with a name. Jon Snow. Château Noir. Sansa answers back with a questioning glance. Sounds mysterious. Another therapist? Am I that hopeless?

“He's highly recommended. I heard of him from someone in my circle. He does… very particular work. And he has helped one of my former patients it seems, last I heard. So, moving forward.. I think you might want to try him.”

To do what exactly? This is uncharted territory. Sansa's mind wanders off to the darkest bits she was brave enough to muster.

“He's.. a provider of services for a small part of the community, whom I suppose require an outlet for their.. inclinations.”

Sansa's eyes widens at the statement and Dr Carr quickly adds, “Please, bear in mind that I do not in any way think that you have such inclinations but rather, been pushed against your own free will to a corner you no longer have space to move in. And it is affecting you more than you can cope. Am I right to say that? And I think one of the ways we can break out of that space.. is to face it head on, in a safe and controlled environment. I heard he's very professional. Would you at least think about it?”

Seven o'clock. As always, she is on the dot. Sansa fidgets with her jacket, hoping she was properly dressed for .. her meeting. A good sized room filled with contraptions Sansa thought she'd only seen in movies. The kind with mediaeval torture segments. Sansa quickly realises how this was probably a bad idea. But she had paid for it, that and also not wanting to face a disappointed Dr Carr, after the arrangements she had made.

Together, they both had made good progress; this is just a step further, she thinks. Still, torture devices aside, it was a cozy room otherwise for conversation if nothing happens. If she doesn't want anything to happen, that is. Sansa finds some small comfort how the lighted candles seem to brighten up the otherwise dim room, and a soft scent lingers in the air. Sandalwood? Rose? Sansa tries to guess, occupying herself while waiting.

The door creaks. A head of inky black curls and a boyish smile greets her. Sansa gasps. He isn't at all like how she imagined. And good-looking. Dr Carr didn’t mention that. 

“You must be Sansa Stark. From Dr Carr's office?”

Sansa nods and gingerly reaches out to meet his hand. She quickly looks away, out of courtesy. Perhaps also out of shyness and embarrassment. Quite the impression, and straight to business.

The harness strapped across his broad sinewy shoulders and chest made her jaw drop. And the crotchless leather trousers. Good thing he has briefs on, as Sansa's eyes dart back to the floor.

“Nice to meet you. I'm Jon Snow. And I'll be your sub tonight. At your service, whatever you need.”

Sansa sucks in a deep breath and blinks at the sight before her. All right no conversations then. Willing party. For fuck's sake, get over yourself and get it over with.

“Umm.. okay. Right.. oh, do you have.. a safe word?” Sansa remembers to ask, putting her bag down and removing her stifling jacket. He smiles again, his eyes shining in the poor light of the room. They gleam with anticipation. Somehow, Sansa had a feeling he had been waiting for her arrival, the moment she stepped into his lair. His castle. Strangely, not an ounce of fear filled her body, but something else entirely. Something hot and heady, as her breathing quickens.

“Well, thank you for asking. I do have one. It's.. crow.”

Sansa watches him slide across the room to a standing handle bar that stood chest high. A pair of shackles sit ominously on the handle, waiting to clamp on the next poor soul.

“Okay. But.. hold on. Don't you want to ask me questions? Sorry this is my first time, I don't know how this works,” Sansa apologizes as Jon stands behind the handle bar.

“Ahh, yes of course. But later, if you'd like. Sometimes, thinking about it, hampers.. the process. I know it is your first time. Don't worry, I'll lead you into it. Just.. tell me what you want to do, how do you feel and why you're here. At least that gets the ball rolling, no?”

“Well.. well-I'm here because I need to let some anger out,” Sansa stammers, suddenly feeling very large, self-conscious and awkward.

“Okay.. and why are you angry? Did someone take something from you?” Jon prods, his voice and tone as soothing as Dr Carr's.

“Yes.. yes. And he hurt me... He beat me. He left me for dead in an alley.. I had to crawl home, no one helped me..”

Jon keeps quiet as he watches Sansa, his heart slightly heavy. Poor girl. All the more she needs this, he thinks.

Sansa stops, the rage Dr Carr was talking about had finally reared its head. Ugly and snarling and all Sansa wanted to do was to smash its head in. Indeed, this is exactly what she needs.

“Well then, Mistress. Shall we begin?”

Sansa looks up from the floor and sees Jon already shackled to the handle bar.

And a loosely coiled whip hanging at one end.

---

Note: Dr Wendy Carr is a character who is a psychologist on Mindhunter and I adore her (and aspire to be like her one day). So much so that she deserves a place in my fics lol. Sorry, she's not an oc 😂 if you're wondering.

[maleritualsa]

what is/was wendy's relationship with her parents?

wendy  had,  and  still  has,  a  pretty  standard  relationship  with  both  of  her  parents.    her  father  was  an  attorney  for  hartford  county  with  political  aspirations,  while  her  mother  was  an  english  professor,  and  the  two  were  in  their  early  thirties  when  wendy  was  born.    they  were  respected  members  of  their  community,  and  they  could  count  the  governor  of  connecticut  as  one  of  their  neighbours.    they  worked  long  hours  and  weren’t  incredibly  affectionate  as  parents,  but  wendy  was  always  encouraged  from  a  young  age  to  ask  questions,  exercise  freedom  of  speech,  and  to  think  &  debate  about  topics  when  they  arose.    luncheons  and  parties  were  frequently  hosted  at  the  carr’s,  and  because  she  was  often  allowed  to  attend  them,  a  lot  of  even  her  youthful  years  were  spent  in  and  around  those  adult  /  academic  circles.

that  being  said,  wendy’s  was  a  lonely  childhood.    besides  being  an  only  child,  her  parents  spent  many  hours  working  or  socialising,  and  so  she  had  to  find  ways  to  preoccupy  herself.    she  read  whatever  she  could  get  hands  on,  she  became  an  expert  at  crosswords  and  puzzles,  she  picked  up  the  harp  for  a  few  years  on,and  off    [    she  was  only  adequate,  so  it’s  safe  to  say  that  she  doesn’t  claim  to  play  it.    ]        the  family  periodically  rented  out  the  spare  bedrooms  in  their  house  to  supplement  their  income  and  put  the  rooms  to  use,  so  she  enjoyed  learning  the  odd  story  here  and  there  from  any  especially  genial  lodgers.    in  addition,  the  carr’s  employed  a  woman  as  their  housekeeper-cook,  and  it’s  she  that  wendy  would  associate  a  lot  of  her  formative  memories  to.

wendy  doesn’t  have  a  bad  relationship  with  her  parents,  but  she  doesn’t  have  a  great  one  either.    she  phones  them  every  few  weeks,  and  she  flies  home  for  the  occasional  holiday,  but  that’s  about  it.    they're  both  very  proud  that  wendy  has  gone  on  to  find  success  in  her  chosen  field  of  work,  and  even  more  so  to  learn  of  her  move  to  the  bureau,  but  they  know  nothing  of  substance  about  her  personal  life  beyond  the  fact  that  she  lived  with  a  woman  for  over  ten  years  whilst  in  boston    ––    she  imagines  that  they  suspect,  but  they've  never  asked  so  she's  never  answered.

[tutelele]

i thought maybe i was imagining the change in how holden was written from s1 to s2, but nope. i’ve just rewached the kemper episodes from s1 and the holden ford in those episodes might as well be a completely different character.

s1 holden’s much sharper, more intense, so talented at reading these horrible men his soft spoken boyscout voice is almost sinister. and it’s SO odd, because s2 starts with the new overseer of the behavioral science unit willing to bet everything on holden’s unorthodox “intuition”/genius, to the point where he point blank asks bill to babysit him, but we don’t actually see holden being brilliant in season 2 at any point? he looked bored, lost and his “insights” were of little use. he was dumbed down. 

seriously, watch episodes 9 or 10 from s1 and then follow with s2 ep 5, where he “interviews” mason. quotation marks because that “interview” was mostly just bill x mason talking cliche journeyman shit meant to hark to bill’s own sidestory with his son brian. my point being that holden himself contributes next to zero here and it’s beyond jarring when in direct contrast with eager/ultra intense and incisive s1 holden. 

in conclusion: i understand that holden took a backseat this season so that bill (and to a minor extent dr. carr) could have their time on the spotlight, but like. if this show gets a season 3, could we get s1 holden ford back, please? and maybe get a follow up on his panic attacks? bc neither bill tench or wendy carr are as interesting as season 1 holden, not even close. 

[reids]

Wendy Carr in every episode: Episode 3 (1.03)

“I mean, imagine, like truly imagine what it takes to bludgeon someone to death. The lust for control, the feeling of arousal, the decision to rape the served head of your victim, to humiliate her corpse. How could you possibly get that from an ordinary police report?”

[pendragonfics]

I

Lost Time: Part One | Part Two

Paring: Conner Kent/Reader

Tags: female reader, Poor Reader, high school, Conner Kent has feelings, angst, fluff.

Summary: You're just a poor kid, living out of her parent's caravan in Happy Harbour. Little do you know when a new kid, Conner, arrives at school, your life will never be the same again.

Word Count: 2,531

Current Date: 2018-04-15

Nobody really liked High School. It was, for everyone, an awkward phase in which you were trying to get through unscathed, and you weren’t very good at that. While everyone else was working on being a great cheerleader, a nerdy enough geek, a good jock, or a skilled student. But after school, you didn’t want to burn out in a caravan to be forever forgotten in Happy Harbour, no. You wanted to be an artist, and, while there were the cliques of all sorts, you didn’t fit into the categories.

Thus, you, ________, were a freak.

It was okay, back in freshmen year. But now as a junior, the end in reach, you felt like all the eyes in the school were always on you and your binder full of doodles. It wasn’t helpful, either, that you had a habit of being a little flustered around the popular crowd; it wasn’t your fault you were shy. It made for many pranks, and no matter what you did, they never lessened off.

You were staying in after school, waiting for the photography club to meet on the school athletic field. They usually started at four thirty, but for some reason, the cheer squad were on the track. Sitting in the bleachers, drawing pad in hand, you worked a little sketch of the people you saw. While you usually drew faces in profile, it was a little harder to the side, and so removed. You tried to get a good sketch of Wendy Harris, but it just wasn’t working for you. After a few tries, you took your eraser to the page.

But that’s when you hear a thwomp! and suddenly the boy who had been accompanying the recruit to the Bumblebees has fallen from the bottom step to the bleachers, and face first to the ground. He’s wearing a black tee, jeans, and army boots, and with a face full of dirt and messed-up hair, you pause, breath held.

You sit there, frozen where you’ve sat upon the bleachers, watching as the cheerleaders laugh at him, calling him names. It’s then when something in your chest tightens, and your breath comes out slowly, lips ajar. Oh no, you think, he’s cute.

Later, when the cheer team have cleared the area, and the photography club gather around with their gear that you catch up with a fellow stranger to the common ground of friends and the game of popularity. Marvin White. But when you mention the guy to him, he shrugs, pulling the strap of his camera around his neck.

“Uh, I don’t know, ________,” he says, taking the lens cap off, “He and his friend Megan started today. They’re in our year.”

From your backpack, you took out your little flip phone, and opened the camera function. “Cool, White. Does he have a name, or just Megan…?” you ask.

He shrugs. “I don’t know, Cameron? Conner? Why do you care, ________?”

“I don’t know, Marvin.” you shake your head, and before you go off to meet with the club leader, you turn to him, and whisper, “Just don’t tell anyone, okay? Or I’ll do something drastic.”

“Who knew freak wallflowers could be so scary?” Marvin grins, going to ruffle your hair. At the last minute, you shift away, and instead, he laces an arm around your shoulder as if you’re old friends. “Okay, ________,” he promises, “your secret’s safe with me.”

---

While you don’t mind history class, Mr. Carr doesn’t like it when people draw in the margins of his pop quiz papers. Which makes it your least-liked class of all. Too many times have you argued with him about it, too many times have you gotten detention for it, and too many times have your fellow classmates snickered behind your back about it. So today, instead of doodling to your imagination’s content upon the page, you take a biro to your skin.

“Ahem, ________,” Mr. Carr intones, narrowing his eyes at you. “If you were paying attention, you’d know that you’re paired with Mr. Kent for the group assignment.” He looks between you, and Conner, who sits three rows behind you, and groans. “Now, as everyone else had done, Miss ________, move beside your partner.”

There are giggles from classmates, and quietly with a roaring heat across your face and neck, you pack up your things into your arms and lug in three rows behind to Conner. He gives you a small nod, and wordlessly, passes a sheet of paper with the word assignment brief written in a computerised font.

“I’m ________,” you tell him quietly.

The whispers increase, as does the shade of embarrassment upon your face. In daydreams, you had thought of any other scenario than this to introducing yourself. Where you’d appear to be a cool kid. Maybe slightly popular. Edgy? No, that wasn’t you. You were just…you. ________ ________, the kid whose parents on welfare couldn’t afford to buy you shoes in fourth grade, ________, who had outdated textbooks and reused everything.

He gives you a small smile. “I’m Conner.” He says, and looking past you, glares at a bully, “Are they bothering you?”

You shake your head, not wanting to cause a scene. “Please, let’s just – uh, focus on the assignment.” You read over the typeface, and say, “It says it’s for out of classroom time. Maybe we could meet at your place –,”

Conner shakes his head. “Can’t. My – uh, family don’t like friends over.”

You nod understandingly. “Yeah, same. Maybe we could meet at the library?” you suggest, and add quickly, “Are you free Saturday, after the football game?”

“Sure,” He says, making a note of it, just as the bell rings. “See you Saturday, ________.”

But, you did not see him Saturday. The other days of the week dragged on and on, your classes a hellish nightmare to get through, and yet, when Saturday arrived, and you waited for two hours after the football game out the front of the public library until the librarians came out and told you it was time to leave, you couldn’t help yourself. Deflated, in both expectation and pride, you made the walk home from the library to the caravan park, knowing what rumours would be made by Monday.

You kicked a rock as you walked, hands in your pockets, head low. You’d thought Conner Kent was different than the other kids. That he was an outcast, like you.

You were wrong.

---

Come Monday, you barely find the energy to pull yourself out of bed, but you do. It might be halfway through the first term, sure, but if there was one thing about you, it was that you weren’t a quitter. And so, you hitched a ride into town with your neighbour, Bob, and strode into the gates of the school like you had nothing to lose. You walked into homeroom, and then into first period history, and kept your eyes ahead when he entered the room.

“________,” he says, walking by your desk. Your eyes are to your page, where your pen, instead of drawing the doodle of the day, is taking notes from your textbook. “Hey, ________, I’m sorry about what happened. I had a family thing come up.”

“A family thing?” you glance to Conner, unsure. “So, you weren’t doing it to make fun of me?” you ask, having to get it out in the air.

He shakes his head. “We had a…reunion. In Metropolis. They’re big into last minute stuff, and I didn’t have your phone number to text –,”

You nod. “I get it.”

Conner frowns. “You’re not mad, are you? I get it, if you are.”

You hesitate, taking a breath, and then, instead of using the words you had intended with that breath, you breathe out. “I –,”

“Mr. Kent, Miss ________,” Mr. Carr enunciates your names as if you’re in trouble. You can just hear him tearing off a detention slip already, and you sit further in your chair. But instead, he says, “…talking about the group assignment?”

Conner nods, arms crossed. “Yes sir,” he declares.

Mr. Carr smiles, turning to the blackboard with a thin stick of chalk. “Don’t chat too long, class is about to start.” He glances over his shoulder to you, and adds, “It’s good to see you’re participating, ________,” he says, kindly. “If you keep this up, you’re on track for a B!”

Before he leaves to his desk, Conner passes you a folded note.

In block letters, you read, LET ME MAKE IT UP TO YOU. CAFETERIA, LUNCH. MY TABLE.

When lunch rolls around, you’re hesitant; last time there was an invitation to sit with people, it ended with your food through your hair, your sketchbook stolen, and humiliation. But tray in hand, you see Conner at the back of the room, sitting with a girl with red hair. She looks a bit like the reruns of your Mom’s favourite show, Hello, Megan! – in fact, come to think of it, she’s the new cheerleader. Before you can turn away and walk to your usual lunchtime haunt, they see you, and wave.

“Hey, ________,” Conner calls out.

Megan waves. “Oh, you’re ________? Conner’s told me so much about you!” She grins, waving you over to sit opposite her. “I’m Megan Morse.” She introduces. You frown, thinking back to when Marvin said they were friends. She’s literally the American dream girl, and here you are, wearing dorky second-hand clothes. “I better catch up with Wendy, we’ve got cheer practice this afternoon.” She gives you both a wide smile, and ruffles Conner’s hair. “Don’t wait up, I’ll get Uncle John to get me.”

Once Megan’s gone to the cheerleader’s table, you take the assignment brief from your bag. “I was thinking of splitting the work sort of fifty-fifty…” you begin, pointing out your notes. “…that way we get more covered. Is that okay?”

He nods. “Sure.”

---

Five years pass like agony. But the real pain is that in your entire body – you can’t quite remember what made you come back to your hometown but laying in the rubble of what used to be the third floor of the old steel factory, you’re trying not to cry. Your leg trapped, fire breaking out somewhere nearby you know this is the end. You came from a home of nothing, and just like any other background character, would always go back to nothing. In the morning, the papers would report you along with the others who had been in the building’s hourly tour as numbers dead, and not names.

“There’s still more people in there!”

Your breathing quickens, blinking. There’s people looking for survivors? Of course, there are. You live in a world with Batman, and Green Arrow, and the rest of the Justice League. You go to shout, to alert the person looking for you to your location, but your throat is dry, and all that comes out is a squawk. You almost expect it to be someone from the fire department, but, when you feel a pressure releasing from your leg, it’s not a firefighter.

“Conner?” you say, bleary.

You get a look at the person scooping you into his arms; he has the same dark hair, the same face. Except, you notice, before your eyes grow heavy, he’s wearing an S on his chest like the Blue Boy-Scout of Metropolis.

“Hold on, ________,” your hero says, moving to escape the crumbling building.

“Superboy,” you whisper, trying to stay awake. “Thank y-you.” But it’s no use, and, it’s all dark.

When you come to, you’re not in your dingy hotel room, or in afterlife. It looks like a government facility, or something underground hollowed out to be a place habitable by humans. It’s a bedroom, you come to realise; you’re on a bed, wearing a black t-shirt that isn’t yours.

You blink.

“Hello…?” you call out.

It’s then you remember the accident. You’ve been spending your days interning for the Daily Planet newspaper, trying to chase stories to keep the rent paid and your electricity on. It’s not easy living on it, but when you pieced together a mystery that lead back home to Happy Harbour’s own old steel works factory, you thought you had the gold. Not a death wish. There had been a flash of light, and a laugh, and diving out of the way, you had narrowly escaped a bomb – just not the rubble.

“Hello?” you call out again. You go to move off the bed, but it’s then you realise your leg that had been trapped is discoloured with an array of bruises. “Ah,” you groan.

The door opens.

You thought it had been a dream, but no, it’s real – it’s Conner Kent, the boy you had a crush on in junior year of high school, and senior year too. He’s wearing the same shirt he wore when you saw him in the steel works building, and a soft frown.

“What are you doing up? You need rest.” He says.

You harrumph. “Still blunt as always, Conner.” You note, obeying his instruction. Not that you could do anything else. “So…have you always been a superhero?” you ask.

“Yes,” He nods sharply, and, taking a seat beside the bed, adds, “Can I get you anything?”

“Answers? Glass of water?” You shrug. “You were the only friend I really had, you know. They called me a freak.”

“They called me a freak too,” Conner ruminates, and gesturing to the side table, you see a mug of water. “But I am, I’m an experiment made from Superman’s DNA.” He gives you a wan smile, and says, “I haven’t seen you since graduation, what are you up to?”

“Not superhero stuff,” you reply.

He raises a brow.

“I’m a junior reporter for the Daily Planet,” you explain. “…but mostly a gopher. I thought if I chased the story, I’d get the attention I deserved in my workplace.”

Conner frowns, “It’s never that easy.” He blinks, “what about your art? You used to have a doodle pad, didn’t you?”

“No, I don’t really draw much these days. I’m a people-watcher.” You say, sipping your water. Your eyes widen, realising your notebook is nowhere to be seen. You run a hand into your hairline, defeated. “Oh no, my notebook!”

He shifts where he sits, pulling out a familiar faux leather-bound A5 notebook. “I checked out your notes, ________.” He turns the pages and shows you what he’s been looking at. You feel a blush take over your face – it’s a sketch of Superboy, from the first time you saw him on the TV nightly news. Conner flips more pages, more pictures of himself. “You’re really good, ________,” he says, voice small.

“Thank you, Conner,” you whisper.

A beat passes between the two of you, and he asks, “uh, could I take you out for lunch sometime? To make up for you being hurt.”

You giggle at the absurdity, “But – but you saved me!” you protest. “You don’t have to make up anything to me!”

He shrugs, “How about for lost time?” He says, getting out of his seat, to sit beside you on the bed.

“Sounds great, Superboy.”

[6rookie-writer0110]

You are not alone, you have me

Wendy Carr x Female Reader

Request - Reader has a bad day at work / or the family situation happened. The reader goes for a run or gym then showers and comes late at night in bed, Wendy was in bed but awake all night

You moved away from your family when you came out of the closet. But it didn't go well, they disowned you. Since that night, you haven't spoken to them in years.

But your mother called and you are in shock, you didn't know how to feel. But you try not to get your hopes.

All-day, working at Quantico in the basement. You couldn't focus that you wrote information on the paperwork. Your girlfriend Wendy noticed your mistakes and called you into her office. You closed the door and sat down on the couch with her.

”What is going on? Don't lie saying you are fine. Your paperwork is completely wrong that I had to fix it” Wendy said.

She put her hand on top of your hand.

”I have a lot on my mind. I'm not ready to talk about it right now” You said.

”Okay. When you are ready to tell me, I will be here” Wendy said

You nod. Wendy put her hand on your cheek and she starts to kiss you.

You moved in with Wendy two months ago. You both were ready for the next step, you both want the same thing in the relationship.

You didn't tell her about your mom calling you, because you want to handle the situation first.

After work, you went to meet your parents at a restaurant. They didn't hug you, all of you just sat down.

”So, tell me why you and dad called me,” You said.

”Y/N, we called because we found a great guy for you. You just haven't found the right guy, that's why you say that you are a lesbian. It's not true. He has a great job, has a respectful man and he is handsome” Your mom said.

”We also found a great place, that will cure you of the sin. It's a camp for people like you, they do shock therapy and we feel that will help you” Your mom said.

”Stop, just stop. I really thought you two changed but I was wrong. I am in love with a woman and I only want her. Don't call me again ever, I don't want anything to do with you and mom” You said.

You stood up.

”You bring shame to our family,” Your dad said.

You gave him the finger and walked away. You got in the car and drove home. Once you got home, you started to cry and Wendy isn't home yet. You changed clothes and you went jogging. Wendy arrived home and waits for you.

It's getting late and Wendy is starting to get worried. She changed clothes, ate something while working on some papers. She kept looking at the time and it's really late.

It's almost two am and you walked into the apartment. You grabbed your clothes and went to take a shower and Wendy is in bed. You walked into the bedroom and she glares at you.

”Where the hell you have been?” Wendy asked.

”I’m sorry I didn't leave a note of where I was. I came home and went for a jog” You said.

You got in bed and your back is facing her. Wendy can see something is wrong, you don't blame her being angry. She starts to hear you cry

”Y/N look at me please,” Wendy said.

You turned around and she wipes your tears away.

”What happened?” Wendy said.

”I went to meet my parents. I really thought they would change but I was wrong, very wrong. They told me, they found a great guy and they want to send me to a camp where they cure gay people like me. So, I told them I am in love with a woman and I only want her” You said.

”I love you, Y/N. They are wrong about everything and you don't need to be cured of anything. I'm glad they are not in your life anymore. Now you can live the life you want” Wendy said.

”Please don't leave me. Even when I mess up, please don't leave-”

Wendy pulled you into a hug and you cry on her chest. All night, Wendy held you and she kissed your head.

You fell asleep and she still didn't let go.

----------

You wake up and you smell the food coming from the kitchen. You sat down and Wendy put the plate in the front of you. She sat down and you start to eat.

”How are you feeling?” Wendy asked.

”Meh,” You said.

”I know you will be okay. Don't stress about them anymore. We have each other and I'm not going anywhere, I promise” Wendy said.

”I promise too,” You said and gave her a small smile.

”Bill invited us to his cookout and I think we should go,” Wendy said.

”Sure. It sucks that we can't act like a couple in public” You said.

”It’s the 70s and I don't think they are ready for it,” Wendy said.

You nod.

-------------

You and Wendy arrived at the cookout. Nancy and Bill did the cookout, hoping that Brian will come out of his shell and play with the other kids.

Bill walked towards you and gave you a beer. Wendy is talking to Nancy.

”What's wrong, kid,” Bill said and he drinks his beer.

”I don't want to bother you with my problems,” You said.

”Trouble in Paradise with Wendy?” Bill asked in a low voice that only you can hear.

”H-how” You stuttered.

”I saw you and Wendy kiss in the office. Remember, that day I talked really loud with Holden talking about Manson” Bill said.

You start to remember now.

”I remember. You are okay with it?” You said.

”Yeah, I'm okay you dating Wendy. Y/N, I'm not those idiots that preach fear and lies. She makes you happy, that's good enough for me” Bill said.

He drinks more of his beer and he is a cigarette. You smiled and you are happy he supports the relationship. Then you told him about your parents.

”Forget about them. You have me and Nancy, don't worry about people who don't care about your happiness” Bill said.

”You are great guy,” You said.

Brian is playing alone in the swings and you sat next to him.

”You have something in your ear,” You said.

Brian didn't say anything but he touched his ear.

”Let me get it,” You said.

Bill and Nancy watch you spend time with Brian. Wendy is watching too and she is curious about what you are doing.

You did the coin trick and he gave you a small smile.

”If I show you, promise you won't tell?” You said.

He nods and he is smiling. Step by step, you showed him the coin trick.

It's time to eat, Brian showed the trick to Bill and Nancy. Then they saw Brian give you a high five, Bill and Nancy smiled.

”Looks like you made a new friend,” Wendy said.

”Yeah. We magic buddies” You said.

Brian nods. Everyone is having a good time, you and Wendy got to know Nancy more. You told Wendy about the support from Bill and she is happy.

Before you and Wendy left, Brian gave you something. You opened it and start to read it.

”His birthday is coming up, next weekend,” Nancy said.

Brian gave you a birthday invention card.

”We will come,” Wendy said.

”Yeah, we won't miss the party,” You said.

Brian hugged you then let's go of you.

----------

While Bill and Nancy are setting up for the party, you and Wendy took Brian out for ice cream. He is getting better with the coin trick.

”Later, I will show you another magic trick with cards,” You said.

He smiled and he starts to eat his ice cream.

”Since when you got into magic?” Wendy asked.

”In high school, my friend was into magic and he would show me how to do it,” You said.

”You are the first person I ever met that is into magic,” Wendy said.

You winked at her and she smiled.

Later, you and Wendy bought him toys and magic playset. Later, went home and the party started for Brian.

But he only wanted to play with you, so you can teach him more magic tricks. So, you taught him more magic tricks. Bill hugged you tight

”Whats for the hug for?” You asked.

”Brian is coming out of his shell a little bit and that is process. Thank you, Y/N” Bill said.

”He is a nice kid. If you need a babysitter will be glad to do it” You said.

”Good to know,” Bill said.

During the party, you started to show magic tricks to the kids. But only will show Brian how to do it.

After the party, Brian grabbed your hand and dragged you to his bedroom. He starts to show you his toys, you sat on the floor. You start to play with him, Bill and Nancy watch him and you. They smile and they see how happy you make Brian.

Later you and Wendy went home.

You are lying on your side and Wendy is holding you.

”How are you feeling?” Wendy asked.

”I'm feeling better, my parents are not in my life anymore. I have you. I'm happy with you” You said.

Wendy lies on top of you and you have your arms around her.

”I’m happy with you too. The cat came back and we will keep her” Wendy said.

”You really want to keep the cat?” You asked.

”Why not? Or you don't like cats?” Wendy asked.

”i guess we can keep the cat. So, what's the cat’s name?” You asked.

Wendy gave you a peck on the lips.

”Her name is Dawn,” Wendy said.

”Cute name,” You said and Wendy smiled.

You and Wendy stayed up half of the night talking then fell asleep. She fell asleep on you and you played with her hair before falling asleep.

[boldlyvoid]

Intro to Criminal Minds: Why They Did It

Criminal Minds x Mindhunter AU

Spencer Reid x Peggy Carr (OC) Part 2: The Case

Summary: Spencer is teaching a 7-week seminar on the most interesting criminal cases, explaining their actions to understand why they took place. Only, not everyone in the audience is a student.

warnings: strangers to lovers, mutual pining, slow burn! flirting, fluff, eventual smut, idiots in love, OC is Wendy Carr and Jason Gideon's biological daughter. mentions of rape and murder (typical canon violence)

word count: 2.2K

ao3

P1

He’s not expecting her to roll out a full map after the waitress clears the food from their table. They’ve been in the booth for barely 20 minutes. Having mindless conversations about their day and small get to know each other questions while they ate.

“So, I brought all this to my dad,” she explained, dropping 33 files on the table as well as 2 spiral notebooks and a handful of pens. “He thinks I have a case, but he’s refusing to look at the evidence because he’s still triggered by it, which I get, but he said you’d be the best at helping me because I really just need a geo-profile consult.”

“How is he doing?”

She’s been waiting for him to ask but she still didn’t know how to answer, no matter how much time she had to prep, “uh, he’s good. He talks about you every time I see him, how often do you talk?”

“We haven’t talked since he almost died, 6 years ago now… yes, it was in 2015,” Spencer says it like it’s nothing serious.

“Oh,” she’s confused about it all. Her father talks about him more than anyone else, always remembering a case or a conversation that he just had to tell her about.

Spencer was his buddy in her eyes. “Here I was thinking he liked you more than me like you’re his favourite kid.”

“I’m not his kid,” his eyes widen at the insinuation that they’re somehow siblings in any sense.

It makes her laugh, she knows he’s interested in her a small amount. She was hoping he would, she’s heard so many wonderful things about him and she remembers just how cute he was back in 2005. Now he’s a man and a mighty fine one at that…

“I take it you’re an only child?” He changes the subject, “you can’t handle the idea of your father having relationships with people your age when you hardly know him?”

“How about you tell me who you think I am and I’ll tell you where you went wrong?” She challenges him rather than answering, she knows he’s good but she wants to see it in action.

Spencer raised his brow, “if I get it right, you’re paying for lunch.”

“Deal.”

He opens her notebook and takes a look at her notes, flipping through the pages reading the words just as fast as her father said he could. It was incomprehensible, but he didn’t read far… he keeps going back to her drawings, studying the pressure and how her mind worked.

“Your mom travelled a lot when you were a kid, and you always went with her. I’m thinking you have a few degrees, at least 3…” he pauses to watch her microexpressions, trailing her skin with his eyes as he looks for anything out of the ordinary. “There’s a doctorate in there but you hate being called Dr. Carr because that’s your mother’s name and it reminds you too much of people asking about her instead of how you’re doing.”

It cuts deep, but he hits the nail on the head and she just blinks. The simplest microexpression that shows him he got it right, his smile is awkward and he’s sorry for it.

“You were homeschooled so you don’t trust people very easily. You have issues with your father that you can’t place because you still don’t think you know him well enough to really have an opinion, and you’re jealous of me because you wish you knew how he brags about you when you’re not around, but he doesn’t talk about you because you told him not to.”

“I specifically told him I wanted to be left out of his life to stay safe, so it’s really my fault that he can’t brag about me. But I still wish someone would,” she admits with a soft smile. “And I think it’s not really jealousy. I’m not jealous of how he brags about his time with you. If anything, I really admire you now.”

He blushes a little, “alright, your turn.”

“You’ve never had a girlfriend before have you?” She calls him out right away. “You can’t take a compliment seriously because no one has loved you deep enough yet for you to believe them. I already know about your parents, I know that you’re scared of forgetting and that’s why you won't stop learning. I think you probably have a bucket list, you’re desperate for something exciting to happen and that’s why you like me already.”

He blinks right back, “touché.”

“I’ll still buy your lunch,” she smiled, and he smiled right back. “And I do have 3 degrees.”

“I do too.”

“I know,” she reminded him. “You’ve been working on that 4th one for the last 16 years.”

“I haven’t had the time.”

She shakes her head as she laughs, teasing him as if she’s better than him because she knows he finds her interesting already, “I had my Ph.D. by 17, as well 2 masters by the time I was 21.”

“3 Ph.D.’s by 22,” he bragged right back.

It had suddenly become a staring contest, “when exactly did your dad walk out on you?”

“I was 10.” Spencer answers. “When was the last time your mom said she was proud of you?”

“Oh, we're going that far, I see,” she laughed, hurt just a little that he dug that deep, “what happened to yours recently?”

“Alzheimer’s.”

“I’m really sorry, I knew about the schizophrenia already because of the fisher king case, that one is the one that still has my dad all fucked up,” she can’t help but rant as she apologizes, placing her hands on his in the centre of the table and he interlocks their fingers like they’ve known each other for years.

“Boston?” He asks her, changing the topic back to getting to know each other without letting go of her hands.

She nods, “Vegas?”

“You knew that already,” he catches her.

“Maybe so,” she blushes at the embarrassment of him picking up on her crush.

“How’d he describe me at chess?” There’s a cockiness behind it that she admires, smiling in response she just shakes her head.

“I don’t play chess, but he says that other than Agent Prentiss, you’re the only person who has come close to beating him.”

“Prentiss?” He looks almost offended at the fact he didn’t know that story.

“You were asleep on the jet, it was right after the trip to Azkaban,” she reminds him.

“Azkaban?” He repeats. “You mean Guantanamo?”

She’s only slightly embarrassed by the slip-up, blushing a deep red as she presses her lips together and squeezes his hand. “My mom calls it Azkaban, she hates it. If it wasn’t for the BAU, she would have never joined the bureau or the government in any way, she’s against the criminal justice system too, so…”

“She’s a woman of science and empathy, I’ve never met her, but I’ve read all her work.”

“So have I,” she’s full of butterflies for some reason as she thinks about him knowing everything that she does, she’s suddenly excited at the prospect of future conversations with him like this isn’t a one-time thing.

He’s still holding her hands over the map, both of them leaning in slightly as they kept talking, it felt overly intimate for a discussion of a case— and they haven’t even started yet.

She takes her hands out of his grip and flattens them over the map, “so I found a pattern, I was asked to look into the rape and murder of a friends sister, and now I’ve found 32 matching cases all over America going in alphabetical order by state, 2 a year since 2005.”

“Are you serious?”

She nods softly, “I’m a private investigator. I hated the academy and simply being in the BAU almost killed both of my parents so I’m not really fond of it, but I need help.”

“How did VICAP not pick this up?” Spencer’s still caught up on the fact this has been happening during his entire career and he had no way of helping. It was very clear by the look on his face.

“Because they’re college-age women getting raped in their dorms, 1 in each state, and men don’t care enough to dig a little deeper when it’s just a little girl who was probably asking for it anyway, right?”

He looks furious, but with her… not at her.

Not like most men, that’s actually exactly what any other guy would have said to her. ‘Not most men,’ they only said that if they were offended; when they knew that they were the exact type of man she was referring to.

He started opening case files then, flipping through everything as she watched carefully, “he always does it the exact same way. It’s every March and November between the 6th and 12th, he’s gotten to the O’s, which means the next hit should be in Oklahoma in exactly 2 months' time.”

“Has there been evidence?” Spencer asks, avoiding eye contact as he both listens and absorbs.

“1 footprint and some random fingerprints at the first few, other than that it’s like he was never there,” she sighs. “This is where I need your help; I’m unsure if he’s attacking randomly or if it’s planned ahead of time, so I brought the map to see if you can make any connection.”

“Alright,” he closes the folder and hands them to her so he can get a better look at everything. “I’m going to need the exact address of each one.”

“I have 32 mini maps,” she says, opening her book bag and handing him yet another folder.

“I’ve noticed they’re in every capital, and it’s always on the east side of the city,” she adds as he spreads them out on the table.

He takes his phone out of his pocket and turns on the flash, turning it face down and holding the sheets of paper over it, “If you look at them over each other, there might be a pattern. We should call my friend Penelope, she’ll be able to digitally do this and find something.”

“Okay,” Peggy nods along, “I really need to know within the week because I’m moving to Oklahoma.”

“What?” He looks overly worried.

“He’s interested in college-age brunettes,” she points at herself. “I’m going to rent an apartment with a sliding door in the kill zone, and I’m going to wait it out. I’ll make sure everyone knows I live alone, I won't make friends, I’ll keep the windows open when I go to the store, I’ll make myself a victim.”

“No, we can get the bureau to send in a team, you don’t need to be in harm's way,” he protests, “I won’t help if I know you’re throwing yourself in the middle of all this. I refuse.”

There’s an underlying panic that she doesn’t quite understand. He’s almost shaking as he thinks about her playing the victim, they stare back and forth at each other softly, eyes flickering over the other’s expression as he also reads her.

“Fine,” she agrees, finally. “But if you’re getting the team involved, I want to be able to have some say in the investigation. I don’t want to be kicked out for just being a PI.”

“On one condition,” Spencer smirks. “You have to teach the BTK seminar with me.”

“Deal,” she smiled. “But I have some conditions too.”

“Anything?”

He was going to regret that.

“We can’t sleep together until we catch the guy— don’t look at me like that!” she catches the way his jaw drops and his eyes glisten.

He’s in complete shock, trying to say words and failing miserably as she stares at him knowingly. “I only said that because I need rules for myself too. We can’t care more about each other than the victims. Solve the case with me and then I’ll have a crush on you, okay?”

“Okay,” he finally finds the words to agree. “Was it that obvious?”

“We held hands for 5 minutes, I’ve thought you were cute since you were 23 and that seminar was a; 'my horse is bigger than your horse' flirting match,” she calls it all out, “I’m just as into you as you are into me already, if not more so because I know way too much about you thanks to my dad and uncle Rossi.”

“Dave knew about you too?” He’s more upset than she expected.

She nods, “yeah, so that I’d be taken care of if anything happened to my dad.”

He is a little upset and she can’t figure out why from what she knows already, “why?”

“You’re so interesting, you and I could have been friends for the last 15 years and things could have been so interesting but you were a secret,” he whispers.

“I was right wasn’t I?”

He nods again, “Gideon doesn’t know about Maeve, but I had a girlfriend who died in front of me before I could tell her I loved her and it broke me.”

Everything makes sense now. The stares, the stuttering, the defensiveness at the idea of her being in harm's way after only knowing her for a few hours. He was desperately looking for someone like himself to prove that he wasn’t going to be alone forever, and he wanted that to be found in her.

“Solve the case with me, then you can learn what it’s like to love someone who loves you back.”

taglist:

@g0lden-cth @doctorspenceryeet @samuel-de-champagne-problems @reiding-recs @ssavanessa22 @spookyspence @shemarmooresfedora @spencers-dria@reidsfish @manuosorioh @mochionly @jswessie187 @k-k0129 @calm-and-doctor @blanchardsbk

[emcon-imagines]

comfort character tag

rules: post your top 5 comfort characters

I was tagged by @lxncelot -- tysm for tagging me because weirdly enough I was thinking about making a post about comfort characters the other day?! anyways

Olivia Benson (Law and Order: SVU)

it probably says a lot about me that I have this show on literally any time I’m chilling or need some calm (I know, it’s ironic that my safe show is SVU). Like Miss Benson makes me feel so safe? I really can’t say it any other way like she just shows up on screen and I’m like “ah yes everything will be ok” and like oh to have that warmth and comfort in real life 🥺

Wanda Maximoff (MCU)

this one is really no surprise here folks like we all saw this one coming. yes she did kidnap an entire town but I love her and she’s nice. another character I would feel so safe around and again?! the warmth?! the love?! incredible.10/10 would hang out with.

The entire AOS crew (Agents of SHIELD)

i really couldn’t pick just one because each of them has a quality that makes them a comfort character for me and it’s the team as a whole that is so safe and warm, starting with the season 1 Bus Crew. like ugh to do cool hacks and have cool powers with Skye/Daisy, hanging with Fitzsimmons, clowning on Ward? what would i give to train under May? don’t even get me started on Coulson!!! yes I’ve done way too much thinking on this like I think I’d want to join the crew around S1E7/8? and just VIBE (until the HYDRA uprising). yeah sprinkle in some cool powers and May as an s/o and I’d be set.

Wendy Carr (Mindhunter)

I have almost no words it’s just like... she,,, I don’t even know what it is. she’s a lesbian and she’s in charge what more can I say.

Jessica Jones (Jessica Jones)

another character that I would ironically feel so safe with akdjfhadjkfh and also the way she/the show handles trauma? like wow yeah

I’m tagging @moonlit-imagines​ @wittybrity​ and @thereagles​​!

[vivi-tran]

Problematic Disclaimers

I am incredibly biased towards David Fincher’s work, and that in itself comes with a few other more specific disclaimers we’ll get into later on in this review.

This is a largely historical piece, taking place during the 1970s-80s. If you’re looking for groundbreaking representation for POC/LGBT+/female characters, you may be disappointed.

This show famously deals with the analyses of behavioral science, specifically in dealing with serial killers. This kind of subject matter can be tricky: it’s one thing to be intellectually fascinated by the psychological aspects of these cases, and another thing entirely to sympathize or rationalize these murderers. Mindhunter, of course, makes this type of tightrope act the centerpiece of their story. However, real life serial killers are depicted and dramatized in the show. This could ultimately play into the kind of dangerous romanticizations the show attempts to subvert.

I encourage audiences who correctly assess the character of Holden (Jonathon Groff) as a pretentious shithead to watch till the end.

You could probably make the argument that this series is riddled with ableism. Given, again, the historical background of these analyses, however, mental illness is not something assumed to be well understood in this context. But how we should approach mental illness in storytelling such as this is not my area of expertise, and I am open to anyone bridging that gap for me if I’m being too tone deaf in that respect.

Trigger Warnings

The only instance of gore that you see actually happen in real time is in the first scene of the first episode.

This show is about researching serial killers. There is blunt and often irreverent discussion about murder, gore, torture, masturbation, incest, pedophilia, and sexual violence. 

Even protagonists who are regarded as the “good guys” in this show are expected to put on a front in order to coax information out of their serial killer interviewees. Lewd, inappropriate, and disrespectful language is used in these contexts.

Some nudity and sex scenes. 

Drawings and photography of violent images from serial killers’ case files are shown.

Final Verdict: I loved this show.

As to be expected with a story of this subject matter, there’s a lot of ground to cover with disclaimers and triggers. This is exactly the kind of taboo audiences love to indulge in at a distance, telling each other that it’s the psychology of examining a serial murderer that makes these sorts of films and shows so exciting. But these dark and horrendous accounts, interesting as they may be to so many viewers, have to come with a certain amount of responsibility.

This is something I realized with a cold flush while in vacation in Los Angeles, perusing the Museum of Death. I examined a series of figurines modeled after a number of real life serial killers such as Charles Manson and John Wayne Gacy. I tried to imagine what kind of mindset drives a person to buy these kinds of collectibles, much less manufacture them for purchase. 

Putting such a far distance from these murderers and placing our attractions in the same realm as a hobby takes away from the true horror of what these criminals have done. There’s a line between wanting to learn more and becoming part of a subculture that turns monsters into celebrities. 

Luckily for us, that is exactly what Mindhunter addresses.

The story begins with bright-eyed bushy-tailed young FBI agent, Holden Ford. Ford, initially specializing in hostage negotiation, is discouraged by a recent failed case. Behavioral science calls to him, and in pursuing this trade he joins forces with FBI agent Bill Tench (Holt McCallany) and psychologist Wendy Carr (Anna Torv). Together they pioneer a new wave of behavioral science methods in order to better understand the way these murderers think, and, ideally, find them before they can take any more victims.

As I said before, engrossment in this field of study is, as I have come to recognize it, not uncommon. The rise of a show like Criminal Minds, a prime time television series dedicated to the analysis and capture of fictional serial killers, is a strong indication of this. Most of us would find it difficult to wrap our heads around the idea of somebody with such perverse and twisted desires to be as mundane as you or me. We form this distance maybe to avoid the other side of this obsession that the living can afford: that it could have been us. Because it is far easier to gawk at a monstrous form of evil, than to imagine ourselves as their victim.

Mindhunter attacks this line of thinking at its origins and its source. Based on a book by the same name that details the true events of real FBI investigations, the show uses fictional stand-ins to perhaps convey more dramatic representation of these ideas. But I haven’t read the book, so this is just speculation. 

I mentioned in the disclaimers that our supposed hero of this tale, Holden Ford, explicitly presents himself as an utter jackass. Nothing drives the point home harder than Ford’s development which sees his confident rise and his perplexing downfall. Like many rookies in your stereotypical crime story, Ford wants results. He wants to make a difference, and he wants to see the fruits of his efforts now. He thinks that by acting on instinct and asserting himself, he can change everything around him to his favor. This kind of brazen naivety is nothing new and also not inherently wrong. It’s Ford’s intentions, however, that complicate things.

“Why are you here, Holden?” “I don’t know.”

What starts out as a justified practice meant to stop serial killers in their tracks becomes a battle of the minds where Holden Ford manages to put himself on top time and time again. And yet, even after outmaneuvering and coercing valuable information out of several different murderers, Ford’s life crumbles around him. His long-term girlfriend leaves him, he is formally reprimanded by his superiors for his actions, he confronts the consequences to his impulsiveness, and a tell-tale press release puts an almost complete halt to his investigations. 

The first season ends as Holden Ford hits rock bottom. We realize, seeing him fall this far from grace, that by jumping through all these intellectual hoops in order to get the information he so desperately craves, Ford has played right into the hands of some of the most notorious serial killers in history. He’s in too deep. In his hubris, he placed himself so far above these murderers in his own mind because he believes what he is doing is for the sake of justice, that he actually sunk down to their level.

It probably isn’t too difficult to see this progression throughout the first season. We, as the audience, start out rooting for Ford. Yes! We should study these serial killers and put clearer terms to their behavior in order to catch these criminals early on in the game. Horrid as their crimes are, they are actual human beings and as such we need to understand what went wrong as well as when and where. And then Ford’s behavior becomes deplorable, cringey both in and out of interviews. The show poses the question: is it worth it to stoop so low so as to gather this information?

And in reverberating response, the show also answers in the same breath: no.

In some instances, we are drawn to resent characters like Tench and Carr when their bureaucracy stands in the way of Ford’s justice. But, ultimately, Ford becomes unhinged as he learns that by trying to locomotive his way into success, he has shrunk that distance I had previously stressed and learns he has never been fully in control. 

The moral comes effortlessly enough. And while he isn’t the sole director or writer for Mindhunter, we see this kind of thing a lot in David Fincher’s work: well-intentioned men being crushed by a weight they did not take the time to fully grasp in scope, all under the guise of something thrilling and grisly. Fincher’s most famous work, Fight Club, is perhaps one of the most widely misinterpreted pieces of film in cinematic history thanks to every knee-jerk reaction-having male who came out of those theaters wanting to start their own fight club or project mayhem. Fincher himself has advised his own daughter from associating with young men who romanticize the movie. Fincher takes on these topics all the time. I’m having trouble finding the interview that cites this, and I’ll update this post if I find it, but there has been a point in his career where Fincher has been accused of producing torture porn. But this brings me to the meat of what I love about this series.

Mindhunter is told masterfully. The most disturbing and action-packed part of the show is at the very beginning of the first episode when Holden Ford is trying to talk down a man at the forefront of a hostage situation. But, even then, the way the situation is presented is crude and somewhat sad - you immediately understand there is an inherent problem with how criminals with complex mental faculties are treated and handled from this opening scene. After that? The most unnerving images are shown in photographs and drawings, but never played out for the audience. In fact, when was the last time you saw Fincher play out half the gore he alludes to in his films aside from Fight Club? And thus we can be certain this show was not made for the serial killers, but for us. This is a cautionary tale. There’s no reason to show the whole terrible ordeal - just the effects.

At no point did I feel this series was dragging on either. You forget that what you’re watching is mostly comprised of dialogue. There’s no compulsion to show exploitive material. The characters and their responses compel the story forward. You don’t need a SWAT team to break down an unsub’s door and catch the perpetrator mid-dynamic-action. You’re already amongst some of the most ruthless real-life villains in our country’s history. Anything more than that would be jarring. This is not a show for the serial killers. This is a show for how we react to such a tragic brand of evil, or how we should react. It needs to be said because it’s important that we tell the difference.

In the disclaimers, I also mentioned there being little to no ample representation for POC/LGBT+/female characters. While I don’t necessarily retract that statement, I do need to point out that we are given two supporting female characters in the series who play a significant role in both the story and Holden Ford’s life. The first we see is Debbie (Hannah Gross), Ford’s long term girlfriend. Debbie is a smart, independent woman who is able to banter intellectually with Ford and initially finds his thirst for knowledge to be charming. Gross does a wonderful job with this character, but I felt she wasn’t fully done the justice she deserved, especially when she abruptly displayed disloyalty that was never actually addressed in one of the episodes. Had it not been for this scene, it wouldn’t be as obvious that she was probably just a placeholder made to show all the aspects in which Ford’s life was falling apart. 

More prominent than Debbie is Wendy Carr, a well-established psychologist as well as a lesbian. Carr is perhaps the better-written of the two female figures, being decisively driven by her own moral compass and toting the kind of calculating patience that Ford could have afforded to learn from. Torv plays the kind of character we never question, that we trust, that we know is making the most diplomatic calls possible. And even here, I am left wanting more out of her story, out of where she found herself towards the end of the first season other than just a ghost of Ford’s consequences.

Maybe it is for personal reasons that I felt the need to praise this show for distinguishing the difference between feeding a killer’s ego and not losing sight of what is truly important under these investigations. Maybe I am just a fanatic for whatever Fincher touches. And to be sure, it certainly does have his trademark cinematic touch - from seamless and compelling editing to the intense portraits of its characters. But, in any case, this show far exceeded my expectations in its mindful storytelling and is an important piece in a society obsessed with the grotesque.

[itsallforyoudemon]

Wendy O. Williams (1984). Produced by Gene Simmons for Man of a Thousand Faces, Inc. Featuring Special Guest: Ace Frehley, Paul Stanley and Eric Carr. ...Not only is it cool to hear very early versions of "It's My Life" and "Thief In The Night", its super strange to imagine Gene working with Ace at this point. You have to imagine (in 1984), with the revolving door of guitarist at the time, Gene surely entertained extending the 'olive branch'? Oh, to be a fly on the wall...

[marjaystuff]

Part II of the Interview with John Douglas by Elise Cooper

Mindhunter, a bestselling book and now a Netflix original series, take people behind the scenes of some of the most gruesome and challenging cases.  FBI profilers gather up crime scene evidence to help predict the type of personality who commits serial murders.  Through interviews with some of the most ghastly killers such as Charles Manson, Edmund Kemper, and the Son of Sam, to mention a few, Douglas determines their motives, attempting to figure out why they did what they did and why in such a particular manner.  

Elise Cooper:  The Netflix show has Dr. Wendy Carr as a consultant, was she based on anyone?

John Douglas:  She did not exist, but was based upon Dr. Anne Burgess, who is more of an academic type.  She came down to meet with another agent that was investigating rape.  After she heard about what we were doing she wanted to learn more about how we looked at a crime scene and the way a victim was attacked.  Unlike in the show, she was never a member of the Behavioral Science Unit.  She had a completely different profession than the character in the show.  She was actually a forensic nurse who did co-author some books with me.

EC:  Did you actually have trouble with the FBI accepting the unit as shown in the show where you were displaced to the basement?

JD:  Yes, it is correct.  We had pull back on what we could possibly learn from interviewing serial killers. Even when we started to teach profiling we got resistance and there was an attitude of ‘what is this BS?’

EC:  What about the ways the killers were portrayed in the show?

JD:  It is amazing how the casting had them look so much like the killers.  Maybe the time line was different but the conversations were accurate.  For example, Richard Speck who killed eight student nurses did throw a live bird into the fan, but it happened before we got to the prison.  I did open the interview with him using street language, which had him open up because he thought I was as crazy as he was.  

EC:  The show mentions Lawrence Bittaker. Can you tell us about him?

JD:  He met Roy Norris while serving time together and discovered their mutual interest in dominating and hunting young women.  After being paroled in 1979 they kidnapped, raped, and tortured five girls.  They bought a van, nicknamed it, ‘Murder Mac,’ insulated its interior, and then went on the hunt, videotaping what they did. Bittaker’s nickname became ‘Pliers Bittaker.’ After they were caught I interviewed Bittaker with a female agent, Mary Ellen O’Toole.  Interestingly, he would never look at her when she asked a question.  

EC:  You mention in the book that Charles Manson was also paroled?

JD:  In his young adult life he committed a series of robberies, forgeries, pimpings, and assaults.  He was paroled in 1967 after serving for some of these offenses.  I do not think of him as a routine serial killer.  I was interested in finding out how someone could become this satanic messiah.  He found lost souls and was able to institute a highly structured delusional system that left him in complete control of their minds and bodies by using sleep deprivation, sex, food, and drugs. People forget he was not even at the Sharon Tate murders because he was afraid it would violate his parole. He spoke of ‘Helter Skelter’ from the Beatles White Album, having a vision of the coming apocalypse and race war that would leave him in control.  

EC:  He just died, but do you think he ever should have been paroled?

JD:  No.  The biggest threat would have been from the misguided losers who would gravitate to him and proclaim him their G-d and leader. When I think of Manson and his flock of wandering inadequate followers I immediately visualize the violent crimes they perpetrated against innocent people. The crime scenes were horrific and it’s difficult to imagine what was going through the victims’ minds, as they each knew they were going to die a violent death. Imagine Sharon Tate, eight months pregnant and begging for her life and that of her unborn child. So why do any of them deserve parole when they initially received the death penalty but unfortunately a Supreme Court ruling changed their death sentence to life imprisonment. Therefore, life imprisonment means just that. No parole. No matter how much they conformed to prison rules and were considered model inmates and “found religion”.  Manson and his followers will all again meet one day in hell.

EC: Can you please explain the book quote, ‘I can speak for myself, I would much rather have on my conscience keeping a killer in jail who might or might not kill again if sprung, than the death of an innocent man, woman, or child as a result of the release of that killer?’

JD:  Many thought that the rapist or killer would burn out and they would just stop.  They ignored that these were actually crimes of power and manipulation.  I remember a guy in California who chopped the arms off of a young girl and went to prison.  After a number of years he was thought to have been rehabilitated and was released.  He then goes to Florida where he brutally kills a woman.  Eventually, I started to go before Parole Boards telling them ‘all you have done is incarcerated a body, but what you haven’t taken away from them is what is going on in their minds.’ They remember and fantasize about the crime.  I tell them they have no business making decisions regarding probation or parole if they have not looked deeply at the crime scene photographs, the victim, circumstances of the case, police reports, and the autopsy.

EC:  Edward Kemper, known as the Coed Killer, also received a type of parole.  Please discuss his case.

JD:  He killed his grandparents and was committed to the Atascadero State Hospital for the criminally insane.  Let out in 1969 this six foot nine, 300-pound man started preying on coeds in 1972.  He killed them, carried the bodies back to his mother’s house, had sex with them, and buried them face-up in the yard.  Eventually he called the police and confessed to the murders.  He was convicted on eight counts of first-degree murder. I was struck by his intelligence, a 145 IQ, how huge he was, and the amount of hostility he had built up in him.  He was not cocky, remorseful, and was cool and soft-spoken. BTW:  The hospital scene is not true and I never felt intimidated by him.

EC:  What do you want the viewers and readers to understand?

JD:  I hope the public realizes we cannot catch all the perpetrators.  As profilers we provide clues.  We cannot apply the same method to every case.  Certain cases are easier to solve than others.  For example a rape case with a surviving victim can provide us with verbal, physical, and sexual evidence.  I also do not think law enforcement should rely on polygraphs. Dennis Rader, the BTK Strangler; Gary Ridgeway, the Green River Killer; and Robert Hanssen, someone in the FBI’s leadership who spied for the Russians, all passed the polygraph. After that they were not considered persons of interest for some time.

THANK YOU!!