#which is maybe about to be Very Much a Problem

[becausebuckley]

michelle's buddie fic recs: week 6!

and what a week it's been... idk about you all, but i'm very much looking forward to all the 8b spec fic after seeing That One Leak...

this is a mix of fics with all ratings, so some include NSFW content. please take a look at both the ratings and the fic tags before reading! some might also contain spoilers for season 8.

if you come across something you like in this list, remember to show some love to the author by leaving kudos and a comment!

a graveyard in blue | moonlightmornings/@moonlight-mornings | 12.9k | GA

After a call goes south because of limited resources and an equipment malfunction, Eddie's brave move to rescue a young girl takes a nasty turn. i love how this captures the energy and vibe of a rescue!! genuinely feels straight out of an episode <3

and i'd do it over and over again | playinginthunderstorms/@playinginthunderstorms | 4.4k | E

Buck and Eddie hook up at the end of "Confessions". oh when i tell you i savoured this one... such a wonderful fic that captures buddie's first time so so perfectly!! i love how their dynamic is written here <3

everything in between | simplyylupin | 2.1k | T

They’re quiet for a moment, mulling over the unsaid, and then Buck’s bringing his phone closer to his face, eyes squinting. “Are you naked?” the absolute codependency of these two <3 so good!!

hot ghost problems | ebjameston/@ebjameston | 40.9k | T

The ghost would prefer to go by Buck, if Eddie wouldn’t mind. this was a reread! i was reminded of the magic system here and revisited it - can confirm that magic and ghosts and all that are so very good here, and i love the diaz siblings!!

i'll tell them put me back in it (and i would do it again) | paleredheadinascifi | 4.8k| T

Eddie doesn't know how to make his listening history private. Buck doesn't know what to do with the words in front of his eyes. Chris cannot believe he has to deal with either of them. the sheer brilliance of this concept... such a lovely look at the buckley-diaz dynamics! i was smiling the whole way through <3

it's golden, like daylight | rarakiplin/@hoediaz | 8.7k | T

“Shut up,” fingers dig into his ribs, “I mean, would you want to? Be married again?” such wonderful firefam dynamics!! i read this last week, i think, and already reread it this past week as well. a new favourite for sure <3

lonely little love dog | littleghost/@ghostlandtoo | 24k | M

When the 118 is closed for reconstruction after an earthquake, Buck is a floater for different stations around the city. He tries not to let it get to him. Much. this is such a fascinating look at buck's character!! and i LOVED the mara scene <3

parabola | semperama/@semperama | 4.6k | T

“Hey, uh. By the way.” Buck’s been thinking about this, and he has to say it now, or it’ll explode out of him at a much worse time, in a much worse way. “Make sure you don’t forget to change your will again.” truly no fic captures the angst with a happy ending tag like this. also this fic is how i learned that there's a special ao3 tag for eddie's will, which sounds about right. anyway, point is, this is wonderful!!

the last shred of truth in the lost myth of true love | lemonzestywrites/@lemonzestywrites | 25.7k | E

After the events of 6x13, Buck is worried he's lost his charm in bed. Eddie eagerly offers his services to prove otherwise. a reread of one of my favourite fics <3 there's something about the intersection of smut and feelings realisation and introspection in this fic that just hits so very hard, it's lovely <3

the whale fall principle | fastcardotmp3/@fastcardotmp3 | 95.5k | M

Daniel Buckley lives, but he’s still deciding what that means. Maddie is having a baby, but it isn’t her husband’s. And Evan knows his purpose. Until he doesn’t anymore. okay so definitely heed the creator chose not to use archive warnings tag here (there are specific warnings in the chapter notes) but holy shit, this fic. genuinely the best buckley sibling dynamics i have read, like, maybe ever. such a wonderful eddie and chimney and everyone, and such gorgeous writing!! if this one sounds up your alley, you're in for a treat <3

to ebb and flow | akapeterman/@akapeterman | 5.1k | GA

buck is sick, eddie is worried, and christopher is an angel. they'll be okay. i've really been vibing with sickfics lately, can you tell? this is another lovely lovely fic, such great hurt/comfort/domestic fluff!!

wait for me to come home | written_promises | 1.9k | GA

Eddie comes back home to LA from Texas to find Buck waiting for him… in his bed. Because he’s been living in Eddie’s home. and eddie's bed is exactly where buck should be<3 so soft and sweet and beautiful!!

we return to each other in waves | cozycatwriter/@leon-trans-kennedy | 3.1k | GA

“Yes I do. Of course I do. You saved Chris and looked after him the best you could during a tsunami-and you’re still recovering from an embolism from having your leg crushed on the job. The least I could do is look after you and let you stay the night. Besides, Chris would want you to stay.” post-tsunami fics my beloveds <3 it genuinely makes me so happy to see new ones pop up, and this is truly an excellent one!! i love the bed-sharing especially!

you need a friendly hand (and i need action) | AmZamReads | 13.1k | E

Eddie picks up pottery as a hobby and accidentally blows up on Instagram for "accidentally" posting thirst traps of him throwing on the wheel. Buck stumbles across the account and immediately becomes obsessed with Eddie's hands, and horny shenanigans ensues. this fic makes me wish i could make pottery. i love eddie's pottery friends!! and a lovely buddie dynamic too <3

[contamination-zone]

I think its fun to write Fresh animalistically, but sometimes it makes me a bit sad cus there are many cute animal things I don't think Fresh would ever do haha.

further yapping under cut

Its like, I think its important to keep in mind real animals, and the reasons they would have certain instincts. Fresh isn't a social animal to me, or at least not a highly social animal. He's something that wouldn't be living in large groups for the vast extant of his existence. most of the time he would be alone, or not seeking out social bonds. So I think most social animal things... he just wouldn't do. So no yawning or rolling over or sneezing during playfights </3

That's not a hard rule though, because, he is also a mimic; he wants individuals of his hosts species to not know he's not one of them, at least, for the most part. So I think if he's in one species for long enough, he'll end up copying them to make sure he fits in. The acts wouldn't be instinctual though, just the fact he Wants to copy them. He would roll over, as a practiced action he is consciously deciding to do, to garner trust.

Social actions he does do instinctively I think, wouldn't be as sophisticated but I think he would have Some. Maybe something similar to things like alligator [or maybe crocodile? I can't remember], where they can tell another individual is going for certain prey, so they go for something else. Fresh can tell Nightmare's gang is off limits because someone else is eating them, and that he can't eat Blue either, because a larger predator has its eyes on them. Things like that.

I also like to take into account inspiration species, like octopus, which I base a lot of other things about Fresh on. They can share dens with other individuals without much problem, but its not really a social thing? more, they don't Mind. So I don't think Fresh Wants to be sleeping next to someone, but he won't get freaked out/be unable to sleep somewhere if he was cuddling with someone :-]

Most importantly, I like to consider the fact that Fresh, as an individual, is Very smart, and while animal instincts are fun and all, many individuals, even animals, have behaviors that are not solely based on instinct. He can have an animalistic world-view and not be an idiot haha.

[essektheylyss]

idk I kind of feel like I'm an idiot bc I actually enjoyed cr 3 from the jump to the end but like the blogs who follow bc I feel they are definitely more articulate and insightful than me are like "the whole thing was meaningless and pointless! matt fumbled everything!" so maybe I'm wrong to have liked it all? I'm not really sure where I'm going with this sorry

I think one thing to keep in mind is that many (and in fact, I would argue, most!) people who are critiquing the story and construction have also generally enjoyed the campaign as a whole! Certainly I don't know anyone who stuck it out through the end who did not overall enjoy watching it, for various reasons; I know there are people who hate watch, which I think is an absurd and honestly really stupid waste of time, but from my experience they are normally making snide and vicious tweet-length posts rather than long considerations of what isn't working for them.

There are also a lot of levels of critique—I've greatly enjoyed a lot of moments in isolation that I simultaneously felt weakened, contradicted, or even actively undermined the structure of the story as a whole, but those moments were still really fun and interesting beats. The Arch Heart's cameo comes to mind, as does, in hindsight, some of the construction of the post-Solstice split, but there are plenty of others of higher or lower impact on the story. In the finale the Raise Dead falls into this place very strongly, so I'm going to talk about it at length for a moment, since it was an absolutely stellar moment for me personally and as such I do think it serves as very illustrative of an example where I simultaneously fucking love a moment while finding it worth significant critique. I think it also touches on the critiques you're referring to, which I would summarize overall as the idea that many of the outcomes feel influenced negatively by pulled punches on the part of the DM rather than a flaw of one player or another. (Also, I want to talk about it cuz I love it. :3) This got very long but I think that to your point, it is worth examining in this amount of depth.

First, the good: it is an absolutely phenomenal culminating point of an arc that was only really concluded in summary; I have, as noted earlier this week, written at length about how Essek is never situated as a protagonist, which is functionally fine and even good. He ends up tied very strongly to Caleb's arc, and moves in the narrative in such a way after 2x97 that allows Caleb to reach a concluding note, and strengthens that narrative. So we only really hear about the outcome of Essek's choices, his inevitable leave from the Dynasty, in the summarization of the campaign 2 epilogue. This is not inherently a problem, because he is not a protagonist. But this moment does functionally create a material representation of that denouement, and in particular the tension between the outcomes of his poor choices and the better—potentially even good!—person he is trying to be as a result of the Nein's influence, which does strengthen his arc in its own right.

This moment also, hilariously, bears out my argument from this post. That the resurrection should only work with this intervention, particularly while the Nein are involved, does follow through on the Nein's general positioning within Exandria. Essek's leave happening without a fight (and, frankly, with only one attempted Counterspell) both makes for a very well-paced moment and also maintains the overall sense of story that the Nein impart when they are on screen; I'm thinking again of how their Ruidus episodes feel, much like their campaign and their post-campaign one-shots, like an intrigue action thriller series, and this fits well in that framing.

So overall, it is a fantastic moment... for the Nein. The Nein are not the protagonists of this story. They exist in the world, and are such active agents that they do continue to develop and exert motion on the narrative into this campaign, and frankly, I think this would have been fine if the party given ownership of this story and campaign did not abdicate their responsibility for it with unfortunate frequency. They do not exert a strong control over their story, which is at odds with the fact that the Nein do, and are present and also involved by the nature of their ending. It completely overshadows Ashton's heroic moment, in that the culminating action beat of this sequence is Essek getting away, which kind of takes the wind out of the sails of the Hells' involvement in the gods' outcome. It doesn't negate it, certainly, but it does refocus the story from them to, for some reason, Essek. So in this sense, it occurs at the expense of the Hells.

I find that while the handwaving of using dunamantic intervention to push Raise Dead beyond its limits (if indeed the reason it didn't originally work was because Ashton's brain was essentially gone) fits fine and even well within the framework of the Nein's story, and an NPC being able to do so without a roll is fine, since NPCs are vehicles the DM uses to guide the story, this is a significant divergence from the overall mechanics of the world at large; even the Nein had to do a full ritual for the resurrection of their tiefling. Matt put those mechanics in place specifically to create narrative meaning behind resurrections, which can feel very unmotivated and like a get out of jail free card in D&D, and while it's been noted that this would've really strained the runtime beyond its existing length, prioritizing it at the cost of, for instance, more truncated end notes for the Nein and Vox would've bolstered the Hells' presence in an ending to their own story that even many of their fans felt was ultimately lacking.

Giving the resurrection full weight would've also given Ashton's sacrifice and the Hells' involvement more narrative weight; the reason the other parties are involved at all is because the Hells were truly running on fumes by that point, but any lack of involvement this created could've been alleviated by having them directly involved through pre-established ritual elements that are not contingent on them having any mechanical offerings. So this moment sits within the context of critique that I agree with: that it felt like a pulled punch that ultimately also served to decenter the Hells within their own narrative, when it could've been used with more deliberate narrative force.

At the same time, I fucking love it, and watched it four times in a row yesterday, because it is so good—and it is, as I described, narratively and thematically coherent in one sense! And I think that is one issue of the campaign: many, many great moments are excellent and coherent in a certain framework but are weaker to varying degrees when considered as one piece of a larger whole. There are so many frameworks at play in this narrative, and not enough direct intervention to manage those as frameworks rather than as a single story, but at the same time, I think those frameworks are far more apparent if you're really looking for them, and that's much more difficult, if not impossible, when you're in the midst of them and telling the story.

I also don't think this means one cannot critique this; in fact, I would say this is more an issue of being a serialized narrative than an improvised one, which is often how critique of it has been pushed back against within the fandom. I was thinking about this as I'm currently in a course on, quite literally, how to critique comics, and we discussed this week how Marjane Satrapi said in an interview after making the film adaptation of Persepolis, which was first a serialized comic, that she ended up preferring the film, and I speculated that was because with a film, one has the ability to make a more cohesive narrative purely by virtue of the fact that with a serialized form, you cannot go back and make retroactive edits when new developments come to light. This is something that long-running comics must constantly navigate (as do many long TV shows), and in extreme circumstances such as decades-old comic franchises, ends up resulting in infinite timelines and hand-waving, which becomes so ridiculous that at this point it's a meme. In that scenario, though, it is not presented as a non-contradictory story, let alone a cohesive one.

Many of the critiques of campaign 3 are operating within the idea that this is presented as one overarching narrative. (And honestly, comics and other narratives that don't utilize that presentation are also still critiqued on that merit by people who greatly enjoy the texts they're critiquing anyway.) Within that context, I feel that the framing of the Raise Dead, as well as much of what would be my critique of the other pieces I referenced (the Arch Heart's cameo and some of the party-split sections) if I was to do the same kind of rundown of those, actively undermine this presentation by introducing and forefronting too many conflicting frameworks that are not interwoven well enough to create a single, cohesive overarching narrative.

This is a very long-winded way to illustrate my point, which is that I would really encourage reading critique not as a lack of enjoyment of the campaign, let alone a suggestion that no one should've enjoyed it (and if you did, then you're not smart enough to know better), but as a way to engage with the text(s) as presented within one framework or another. I think this is sometimes obscured in online fandom spaces, where we're not engaging in critique in as formal of a sense as one would in, say, an academic setting, where the norms generally dictate the framework one is using is explicitly stated if not fully delineated within the critique, but it is, more often than not, still implicitly present within the critique.

And as a final note, I would also really urge everyone reading others' opinions on something they enjoy to resist the urge to elide their own opinions from the conversation, even if you don't feel as articulate or as well-versed in critique. Critique is a trained skill, so it is certainly something one can pick up if they are inclined, and at the same time, someone doing it does not mean they are inherently right—and in fact, with all argumentative writing, it is up to the reader to consider the argument and decide whether or not they agree with it. (You can decide that you disagree with me about the Raise Dead! Just because I wrote a thousand words on it does not inherently make my interpretation truth; it's just an interpretation. You get to say whether or not you think my interpretation makes sense based on the evidence presented.) Even here I'm using the framework of some critique that others have made, but I don't delineate in full myself. In doing do I'm not presuming that you agree, but I am presuming that you've read it and know what I'm referring to. Strictly speaking it's also not even saying that I take that critique as true; it's saying that I feel the conclusions drawn are applicable as a basis for my argument. If you wanted, you could even say that you feel that my argument is irrelevant to you because you don't feel those critiques are true! But you ultimately do have to be the one to decide any of that, which does involve a balance between a confidence in the formation of your own opinions on the text and an openness to entertaining others'.

[kraangdroidz]

I really enjoy looking at Donatello's characterisation - especially the 2012 version of Donnie.

I don't know why, but something specifically about the 2012 iteration of our favourite brothers draws me to them. Maybe it's because I think they have the most interesting and unhealthy brother dynamic to explore out of any version of the Turtles. But just to say right off the bat, I don't agree with the statement that Raphael is abusive toward Mikey in this version. I don't think this to be true at all.

But in the 2012 version of Donnie, I think it's the obsessional aspect of his character that I find interesting. People flame him hard for it - which is very valid - the way he treated April was very creepy, and some of the things he did April had no knowledge of, (Like Donnie taking a photo of her and having it as his laptop wallpaper). But I like doing a little more when it comes to characters' less-than-ideal traits. Yeah, what they're doing is bad, creepy, etc. But why exactly might they be acting that way?

For Donnie, I think his problem is how he looks.

In the 2012 iteration, we never really see the turtles have a strong desire to be human. Mikey sometimes doesn't understand that humans will be scared of him, but he never lashes out and has a big moment like, 'I want to be a human so I can make more friends!' We see Mikey wonder what he'd look like as a human in an episode after Donnie creates retromutagen - with Mikey assuming if he used retromutagen on himself he'd turn human and not back into a regular turtle.

It is played as a joke, though, and he doesn't seem genuinely upset by the fact he's stuck as a turtle, as he is seen smiling after saying he wondered what he'd look like.

Interestingly enough, Donnie is the one to be portrayed as having a negative view attached to being a mutant more than any of his brothers.

Outside of being a mutant, it is implied that Donnie already has a fragile self-image anyway.

Remember the episode Turtle Temper? I think it's the third episode of the first season. But at one point, the other turtles are instructed to shoot arrows at Raph, while Raph has to try and avoid the arrows. Splinter makes it clear, however, that Mikey, Leo, and Donnie are allowed to insult Raphael during the exercise.

I've seen another content creator say that the insults they throw at Raphael could be more them self-projecting views they have on themselves rather than them actually thinking these things about their brother. Leo says, 'And you're always whining, poor me, nobody understands me.'

While this is easily applicable to Raph as an insult from Leo - Leo does have his own fair share of moments where he has gone to Splinter complaining that the others aren't listening to him or respecting him, that they don't understand the burden he has to hold as leader.

Mikey tells Raph he moves like a bloated buffalo - which, although never hinted at in the show, could imply that maybe Mikey is insecure about how much he eats. Maybe his brothers have made comments about his greediness.

Donnie says, 'Oh! You can't keep your back straight during Omote kote Gyaku! And you're ugly!'

I think the first part is interesting as Donnie is the tallest out of his brothers - gangly limbs could mean Donnie has more difficulty knowing how to stand, how to sit, so on so forth. A lot of tall people can feel really awkward as a result of their height.

Donnie most likely is sat over a desk all day, and again, being tall, Donnie has more of a slouched posture out of his brothers. I think it was Karai that also insults Donnie in an episode by calling him scrawny, in which he responds, 'And I'm not scrawny! I'm svelte!' Svelte meaning slender and elegant.

Raph has also insulted Donnie's looks before in an episode, and again, it is unclear if this is a common occurrence, but knowing 2012 Raph's character, it's probably happened on more than one occasion.

Donnie : And why do you keep grabbing me by the face? What is wrong with my face?!

Raph: Do you want me to list the reasons alphabetically or in descending order of grossness?

So regardless of being mutated or not, it seems Donnie just has a generalised lack of confidence and some issues surrounding how tall he is.

But to his issues regarding being mutated.

Donnie might've previously not had any issues with being a mutant. Before, it might've been just a general lack of confidence, as I have already said. But in society, looks are always seen as a good trait to possess if you want to have any shot at a love life. You need to fit into the beauty standards and be attractive if you want a partner.

Before April, his brothers would've been the only thing to compare himself to. He lived in a home with only mutants for fifteen years of his life - so had normal teenager issues of going through puberty and insecurities. A lot of people can feel odd/uncomfortable and dislike their growth spurts, which is why Donnie's issues at first might seem like normal things for a teenager to worry about. Donnie's biggest issue would've been how scrawny and lanky he saw himself.

But when they meet April, there is a glaring difference.

Suddenly, there is somebody in his life who isn't a mutant like him. It becomes abundantly clear to Donnie that from somebody else's standpoint, their biggest issue with him wouldn't be his tooth gap or his height, but just the plain fact that he's so different. Inhuman. Out of the ordinary. A mutant.

When he's rambling to Timothy (Mutagen Man at this point) about why April might be on a date with some punk kid (Casey) the conclusion he resorts to is, 'Because he's human, that's why.'

At the end of the episode A Foot Too Big, when Donnie apologises to April, he says, 'I'm just... a mutant.' Again, this shows Donnie jumps to the conclusion that this is why April doesn't want to be with him, not his overbearing nature or the fact that she just genuinely might not be interested. The problem in Donnie's mind is that he's mutated.

The fact that Donnie used the word 'just' implies that being a mutant is all that Donnie has boiled himself down to. He thinks that his other traits aren't worthwhile or good - like him being funny, smart, inventive - because he thinks that nobody would pay attention to those aspects of his personality. At the end of the day, he thinks nobody will be able to see him outside of being a monster.

In Fungus Humungous, the hallucination of April that Donnie experiences calls him an 'ugly mutant freak'. It is unlikely April actually thinks this of Donnie, but it's what Donnie thinks she does because it's his biggest fear. I'd like to split Donnie's hallucination into two parts. April insulting Donnie about being a mutant, and Donnie's hallucination of April kissing Casey.

We see April kissing Casey. I think the fact that this part of the hallucination comes second is meant to represent this fear of rejection and insecurity surrounding being a mutant are two sides of the same coin. His fear of April choosing Casey is a by-product of his main insecurity. We are shown April calling Donnie an 'ugly mutant freak' first. Donnie isn't afraid to lose April as a person to Casey. He's afraid of losing his only hope at feeling confident to Casey.

In the first half of the hallucination, it shows that April uses a sharp tongue like a whip.

This tongue is shown to go through Donnie's heart and subsequently breaks it.

"To have a sharp tongue" means to be quick to criticize, speak harshly, or make cutting remarks; essentially, someone who is often unkind or sarcastic with their words.

I think this represents that, over anything, it is April's words that break his heart more than her actions. It is her disgust at him being a mutant that shatters him. It's what makes him crack in the episode. He starts screaming, runs away, and shouts that he, 'doesn't want to hear anymore.' This is Donnie's breaking point. Her sharp tongue and words, over her actions like kissing Casey, that is Donnie's true biggest fear.

Donnie doesn't want to be with April purely because he loves her. To Donnie, it would be more than April simply making a choice on who to partner up with. It would be confirmation for Donnie that the issue all along was because he's a mutant.

The point I'm trying to make is that Donnie is more obsessed with trying to improve his own self-image than he is obsessed with April as a person.

He wants to use April as a means to prove someone could love him despite appearances because, as I said earlier, looks are important to a lot of people. Gaining a romantic partner would most likely grant Donnie the confidence, the consolidation that he 'isn't ugly after all' because someone managed to fall in love with him. That is why he so desperately chases after April.

He chases after the feeling of confidence.

His character kills me.

[cowgirlvi]

ask from 🎃 anon that tumblr wouldn’t let me publish:

Not sure if you like longer asks like this bc I fr just be writing blurbs in your inbox because I refuse to make my own blog for this stuff, but um. Having thoughts about Vi and I need to put them somewhere.

Vi x virgin!reader, except more specifically Vi x virgin!reader who's probably a bit autistic and problem solving is their specialty and they have no idea what they're doing but they have every intention of *figuring it out.* So the first time they touch her, they go slow, real slow; taking mental notes of her reactions. And for a while Vi just assumes they're...bad. Or maybe teasing her? Fingertips catching her clit, and she gasps, maybe even makes a show to try and communicate to stay there, pay attention to that, damn it, and reader who just doesn't. They move on. And this happens over and over, and Vi's getting frustrated, but never seems to get turned off (because she's being very carefully kept aroused), and virgin! reader who is just trying out different paces, techniques, spots, and takes note of every little reaction, but never fucking does anything about it. It has to be on purpose, no way it's not on purpose.

And Vi’ just about to call it quits and put her pants back on. And then reader who decides, they've done enough research now, time to put it into practise. And when they *finally do* commit, it's careful, but confident, and, frankly, much too perfect. Vi wasn't expecting to feel it in her tummy, for her head to spin. But she *does,* because now they're touching her properly, and they're curling their fingers just right (got her to clench the hardest, out of all the techniques they tried), and they're touching her clit exactly how she likes it (made her head roll back and eyes go all fuzzy), and the pace is perfect, and the pressure is perfect, this woman was a virgin, she said? Are we sure?

Vi x virgin!reader who treats her body like a research project and royally pisses her off and then turns around and makes her nut in about two minutes.

IS THIS ANYTHING CHAT IS THIS ANYTHING. Sincerest apologies for writing fanfic in your inbox I just wanna hear your thoughts okay…..it will almost definitely happen again, sorry. Unless you'd prefer I didn't in which case that's cool I won't obviously.

i love this so much!! thank you for the food 🍱 i might add this to my writing list if you don’t mind :D and i’ll link this post of course

[tarotbyjam24]

What are your gifts and abilities?

Likes , reblogs and feedbacks are very much appreciated 💗

Disclaimer: this is general reading . It may or may not resonate . If reading doesn't resonate let it fly and choose another pile or simply there were no messages for you through this reading 😊 Take the reading lightly as nothing's set in stone until you believe so 🕊️

Thankyou for stopping by let's dive in ☄️ Choose the pile you feel most drawn to 🧸

Pick a piles \masterlist

Pile 1 Pile 2

Pile 1

pile 1 : Hi pile 1 , let's see what's there for you through this reading:) you're good at thinking out of box ,you've open mindset ,ready to accept new things , you've broad horizons , you're also good at praying so like in the sense of sprituality you can get your wishes granted by doing prayers . I'm also getting hopohopono prayer . You're also good at fighting be it verbal or physical means you just have a good body built or you could have air signs dominancy in your charts even mercury too . You also have a great gift of instropection which makes you shine among others . I also feel your throat chakra could be very active too if not you should work with that chakra . You also have the ability to come out of the saddest situations . No matter how much hurt you have been you alsways come out through it breaking all the walls and face it all with great responsibility without being embarrassed about your life's situations. I also feel you have an amazing ability of leading things innately . People may also get hypnotize by you when they see you . People may also like to do what you say without questioning it . You have ability of creating a mind map for the things in your brain like those people who will think it all in their brain first from zero to end and then put it down on paper . This is giving solving a biggg equation in your mind and then just writing a single line answer . I feel people may get happy after they see you like you've this vibe to yourself that changes the air of the room you enter in . It's your aura that does it . You're also the one who don't likes to take advice from others and just do whatever their heart truly desires . You don't run from problems . You fight them with the swords in both hands . When life throw lemon at you ,you make lemonade Outta them . That's all pile 1 I hope you enjoyed the reading . Bless you 🍪 see y'a soon🖤

Pile 2

pile 2 : Hi pile 2 ,let's see what's there for you through this reading :) you have this magical ability in yourself through which you can see through dark and be the light for others . You're also kinda magic stick that helps others to find the magic within themselves. I feel you may also have good physique without working out or you may have a strong gut with fast mukbang metabolism. You're the person who likes to be in their world . If you're alone it won't bother you at all but you're most likely to create something when you're alone like you can get mind-blowing ideas when you're in your own world. You're for real super innovative. You're also definition of live more lives dance more dances . You also got thid motherly nature to you regardless of genders .you maybe the mama bear of your friend group . You're also the one who can protect everyone . You're people's rock pile 2 .You're also super passionate. You've this constant fire to move forward in life doesn't matter if people stay with you or not . You're constantly levelling up all 4 seasons but you also take care of yourself which sometimes people forget . You're someone who doesn't get swayed away . You've very strong supportive system build for yourself whether it's you alone or people around . You can also be your strongest support system. It doesn't always need to be people around us . Sometimes they're the one who breaks it . That's all pile 2 I hope you enjoyed the reading . Bless you 🍪 . See y'a soon🖤

I hope you liked the reading . Thank you so much for letting me read for you . Wishing you best ahead . 🎀Bless you and have a nice day🌸🐰

Loads of love , jam\gem

Exchanges : open , collabs for paps : open

[vanillebunny]

Heyyy I saw you’re taking request so here’s a fun one! Can I request a hurt/comfort Thanos x reader post games fic? A soft reunión if you will! Obviously an AU where either the X votes win OR where Thanos actually survives his supposed death and gets out. I’m thinking he and the reader got super close during the games but completed lost track of each other afterwards. And one day they just do happen to reunite ☺️

a/n: hi anon!! thank u so much for requesting!! i keep rewatching squid game js for thanos i have a problem

warnings: light drug use, mentions of addiction, i think thats it but please tell me if i missed something!

you don't know how you got into this mess, how you managed to get into a deal so bad that it put you in deep debt. which brought you here, with all these people. in green tracksuits, all of them reduced to a number rather than a name

'it's okay, i'll play a few games, get my money and finally get back to my life' you think to yourself, fiddling with the sleeves of your jacket as you look around nervously. you don't know what this was, some form of pyramid scheme--gambling den? whatever it was, it didn't exactly bring ease to your mind

you're startled by the sudden sound of someone behind you, tapping your shoulder. you look back and see a man with purple hair, smiling like an idiot. you furrow your eyebrows, who the hell was this guy?

"seniorita excuse me" he says and smirks, "couldn't help but see you over here, all nervous--please, i know i'm too hot to handle but im sure.." he trails off and looks over you once, twice, before looking back at your face, "you can handle it" he says and you raise your eyebrows, repulsed by his actions. you back away

"who the hell are you?" you say, grossed out by this clearly overly confident guy

"im a legend!" he says and makes a little pose with his hands, "thanos." he says and wiggles his fingers, showing off the different colors of each nails

"thanos?" you scoff, "as in...that guy from the movies?" you say and he nods, wiggling his fingers even more to really emphasize the so called infinity stone colored nails

"don't worry seniorita! i have all the power in the world to protect you from these demons!" he says and surrounds you, looking at the people around you exaggeratedly, all of whom don't even spare him a second glance, clearly busy with their own problems

"uh...yeah thanks. im okay" you say and begin to walk away, to the crowd where everyone was listening to the instructions and such.

soon, you were all in the large sandy field, spreading out to begin the game. red light, green light they said. all of this just seemed...too easy. there has to be some catch, there's no way you play some child's game and walk out with billions of won

when you go around and take your place, you can hear running, and you look behind you to see none other than that same purple haired freak that was desperately trying to reach you. you roll your eyes and turn away but he was quick to get beside you

"phew! thought i wasn't gonna get to you in time" he says, as if it you two planned to be playing together or something, "don't worry, we'll play these games together--then you, me, billions of won in our hands. you think our kids would be proud of their appa for protecting their eomma and making sure she wins too?" he says and you just raise a brow, huh?

"who said we're playing together?" you say and begin to move away but to your luck, the game begins, and you have no choice but to stay frozen in place. where, thanos was right beside you, smiling triumphantly at the fact that you were still here

as the game begins, the players all seem to be moving calmly, nobody had lost till now. and it was all very relaxed, huh, maybe this wasn't as bad as you thought

but your relaxation went as quickly as it had come. a woman, not too far ahead of you, had a bee fly on her neck. a man beside her informed her about it and she--like any other person, panicked and moved, making her the first loser.

like in any other game, if someone lost they leave the game. so everyone expected her to just walk out, but as soon as she moved, a loud shot was heard. and you froze, the sight of her, falling to the ground--bullet to her head with blood already beginning to pool, you panicked.

what the hell was this? you knew this wasn't right! you knew there was a catch--but this? your heart raced, barely able to hear anyone with you. you watched helplessly as people began running and screaming, each one who moves an inch dies instantly by the shots firing from the sky.

you ran with every inch of strength you had, and just as the giant robotic doll stopped singing, you stopped. a tear streaming down your cheek, but you were too slow to realize--you were about to fall right when she turns her head.

you closed your eyes, accepting your fate. but somehow, you feel yourself still. you open your eyes, your chest heaving, you look down, seeing a pair of feet right beside you, probably the person holding you up

"don't move...okay? i got you" you hear the person say and you instantly know who it is, the same purple haired weirdo that had been trying to flirt with you earlier. his voice is...different though. it's not as cocky as it was before, you could hear a slight tremor, he's probably just as scared as you are

"th...thank you" you whisper out with tears streaming down your cheeks, the two of you continued on. holding on to each other as the game kept going, as soon as you finally reached the finish line, you hugged him tightly.

"thank you...thank you so much" you cry softly, so grateful. you thought he was just another guy that would probably let you die if it meant he wins, but to your surprise he wasnt.

he was a bit taken back by the sudden hug, but hugged you back. "i told you ill make sure you win too didn't i?" he says and you two pull away, and you smile half heartedly. annoyed by the reminder of his remark earlier, but still grateful. "i think it would be...kind of a bad story if i tell our kids i let their eomma die" he says and you shake your head, annoyed

soon, everyone was sitting in the room silently. not a single person was speaking, everyone was quiet. processing what they had just been through. you could see everyone had splashes of blood on them, probably from the people that have been shot around them. you sat alone, till you see thanos come and sit beside you

he's definitely not as scared as he was before, more hyper and aware of things. you could see him unable to sit still, sitting beside you while singing something to himself. he looks at you and grins, "im a kind man! ill share" he says and opens his cross necklace, which was fully supplied with candy. clearly not just any candy and probably the thing making him so hyper

you raise a brow and shake your head, you've been on that road before, it's what got you here. you'd rather not. "thank you...no. not again..." you mutter the last part to yourself, and he slows down his movements, noticing the distant look on your face.

"you try?" he says and you just nod, more to yourself than him.

"you don't wanna get too hopped up on that stuff...it's..not pretty" you say and he instantly closes his necklace, and kind of...just looks ahead, thinking.

soon, the guards come and everyone panics, some people crying and begging for them to spare their life. but the guards just stand there, trying to explain that that's not what's happening. one of the players, 456, suggests the idea that there should be a vote. you look at thanos for a moment

"are you...staying?" you say and he just nods, "i need to! im a legend yknow, this stuff is easy! can't go without my money" he says and you just look down. but he quiets down, "uh...are you?"

you quickly shake your head, "no--no i just...i want to go home." you say and get up to get in line for the vote, and he just follows you.

you vote for x, and go with the group, people cheering for you. thanos was right after you, and you can see him hesitate for a moment. his friend, can be heard telling him to keep playing. but he glances at you, just for a second, and presses x.

why would he do that? but he was in debt, he needs it way more than you do

after that, you woke up in the street. it was all a quick blur, as soon as the votes were counted up. the x votes more than the o. everything fades and you were alone in the street, tied up loosely with your clothes in a pile beside you. you managed to knaw the rope loose, and untied your legs, getting dressed.

the days went by quickly. you don't know what you were doing, but something just felt...wrong. not the games of course, never that. you'd rather die than play them again...but you die in the games too so its not really a good analogy. but anyway, it was just something. you were back on your own, without anyone, as it always was.

and you never did mind. you were used to it, so why was it...so strange now? so wrong?

you roamed the streets of korea, just lost in a daze, not really wondering where you're going. till you reach the arcade that was in the alley, you walk in and bump into someone

"hey! don't you--" the person's voice quickly came to a halt when they looked at you, you looked at them. it was none other than thanos. thanos! you don't know why, or how--but that feeling you've been going through ever since you managed to get out of the games, it was completely gone now.

the two of you looked at each other for a long time, before he smiles. "seniorita! i thought i'd never see you again!" he smiles and jumps around like an idiot. you should be weirded out, leaving and saying you don't want to see this freak again. but you don't. you stay and actually smile back

"this is great! now i have a partner to play with, les gooo!" he says and drags you along with him into the arcade without even giving you a chance to respond. the two of you had spent that time together, playing games and it was actually fun. for the first time you were...enjoying yourself

soon, you were both some convenience store nearby, eating ramen and laughing about how you both suck so bad at playing.

after a while it had grown quiet, and you wanted to just ask.

"...why did you vote x...when we were in the games?" you say and he just kind of looks away for a moment before looking back at you

"well!" he begins, trying to sound cocky, but you can tell he's just putting up a facade, "can't have the future eomma of my kids get hurt now, can i? to not be able...to go home" he says and just looks down, mixing in his ramen

you just look at him for a moment, its all so quiet. he was a freak, a weirdo when you met him. you said to yourself that this guy was clearly another junkie, some asshole thinking hes a big flirt. but right now...all you saw was just...thanos. hes just thanos.

"thank you thanos..." you say, just looking at him, and he stops mixing and looks at you, his cocky expression fading.

"choi su bong...my name...is choi su bong. thanos is just for...the ones i keep at a distance" he mutters and looks down, his hands--as if trying to reach for his cross necklace again, but you can hear him sigh when he realizes its not there

"did you lose it?" you ask and he shakes his head

"no...im not on that stuff anymore. well im trying at least." he says and you're surprised, you're pretty sure just a few days ago he was offering you a full stock.

"why's that?' you ask and he just looks back at you

"it's not pretty" he says, repeating your exact words. "well..still a long way to go but im starting" he says and nods to himself and you just smile

"you can do it...i know you can" you say and--mentally facepalm at what you're about to do, but you don't care that much. you hold up your hands and make the exact same pose he made to you when you were at the games, "you're a legend, thanos! this is easy" you say and he just chuckles at your attempt to imitate him

"yeah well i got you with me seniorita" he says softly, but quickly returns to his cocky expression, "im unstoppable now!"

you don't know what this was exactly. but whatever it is...you were happy with it

[auraee]

This maybe potentially controversial, but I’m choosing not to take part in the Lnd boycott. My reason behind this is as a poc fan of the game with criticisms towards the very same game, whenever someone like me speaks out on this various issues regarding the fandom (the racism and colourism) and the company itself, we get ignored, blown over, pushed aside, told that it’s not that serious, and told that we’re lucky that we even get to PLAY the game.

Lnd is a game that’s accessible to EVERYONE. The very least they could is people of colour to be able to self-insert and immerse themselves fully. And Infold hasn’t even done that fully. It’s not right that you lot tell us that we should consider ourselves “lucky.”

Not only that, but I’ve also noticed the obvious difference in engagement between black/brown content and white content. For a fandom that claims to be lovely and peaceful you can tell there’s distain. We get a fraction of the engagement that white fans get and that much is obvious. With that being said you want us to support you with this boycott? Nope, count me out.

We’ve been pleading to have our, frankly , more serious issues acknowledged for aeons only to receive crumbs and you expect us to bend over backwards and help out? No.

Is the fact that it’s increasingly harder to be f2p? Sure. Is Sylus being tried unfairly? Potentially yes. Is the fact that there’s no option for curly coily hairstyles for poc to use horrible? Obviously. Does it suck that there’s only one body type? Also yes. Is it weird that there’s no diversity amongst the npcs in Lnd’s world? Definitely.

I’ll only consider it fair when ALL issues and acknowledged and acted upon. Not just some, just because it doesn’t affect YOU personally.

Edit- I’d also like to add that the guys who also play the game had a right to want a male MC. Again, they should be able to express themselves and their frustrations, without being told to “stop complaining” or to “not play the game.” The same issue occurs when some problems are acknowledged because it is convenient for a prominent group in the fandom and not everyone else when it should be everyone.

Edit 2 - I've also had another thought. I think the reason why people have been saying Westerners are entitled is because it comes from a mindset of having everything catered to them from baseline. Do you have white skin and straight hair? Well, you can find that in customisations in every game. You've never had to reach out or felt uncomfortable about being unable to express yourself in customisable games. However, if someone with coily hair comes along and asks for options to include them as well, it's now viewed as an entitlement. That we're suddenly demanding too much. I don't think asking a company that makes an obscene amount of money off of their audience and who's catering to the same audience, for additional hairstyles and body sizes. I think it's because those who are in the default category (except for a few) simply can't fathom not being included in things. They literally can't or refuse to even attempt to see things from another's perspective and likely don't care for those who are constantly excluded. Which is why they create excuses for these companies.

[utilitycaster]

Hi! I just wanted to add to what you said about Laudna that her motivation from the beginning of the campaign did not change at all, in that she was ok and totally moved on from her trauma, and was just helping Imogen find out about her powers. I don't recall that Delilah was much of a problem outside of talking in her head sometimes, so getting Delilah out wasn't a character motivation.

There were times were it looked like her character was going somewhere when Marisha talked about Laudna being mentally stunted and Delilah's influence being akin to an addiction, and thought maybe they can address some of that in the campaign, but we had a lot of "woe is me Delilah is making me do things" which is BAD if you address the addiction allegory (still taking into account that Marisha may have misspoken during 4sD about it)

They didn't even deal with Delilah properly, she is still there and can talk with Laudna, and I don't think by the end of the campaign Laudna is in any way more capable of ignoring her as she did the first time they defeated Delilah and she was just a faint wisp, she wasn't in any way actively influencing Laudna back then until Laudna tried to bargain with her for power (i may be paraphrasing or misremembering though it's been a bit)

Saying that Laudna's character feels very fic-y is surprisingly accurate, she feels like someone who would have been sold to One Direction

Sorry for the long ask

OK first off YELLING at the being sold to One Direction but yeah, that's the thing, she feels like this passive self insert who people give things to and like without her like, doing anything other than putting her messy brown hair in a bun on the top of her head.

I think with a lot of my frustrations with various characters, there is frustration on both sides, with Matt and the cast, and Matt bears a LOT of responsibility to be clear because I think in his focus on the core plot above all it shut down player attempts to the point that even stronger players with stronger concepts kind of gave up in the end. But for Laudna, here is the throughline.

Early on she floated the idea of getting rid of Delilah when Imogen was trying to get into the Starpoint Conservatory. This was good! It was introduced as a potential longterm goal of Laudna's! It's just...that never happened. The research was always very moon focused, and when it became clear this wasn't really an academically-inclined group the research took the form of Grim Verity lore dumps, which naturally didn't allow for side research. The gnarlrock fight famously went nowhere because she and Imogen apologized right away, but then, notably, Laudna didn't do anything to get back at Delilah nor did Delilah keep doing anything. Imogen's attempts to work with Delilah failed (this feels like part of the 'No Consequences' rule; Imogen binding herself to Delilah as well or having Delilah take on more of Laudna, something Laura as Imogen actually made steps to pursue, could have been something! I mean I'm team Jiana would have been more interesting, but this could have worked!) and so then the whole probably was kind of put on ice by the Vox Machina-helmed resurrection, and Delilah faded to a nonentity that Laudna didn't have to care about. So she didn't! Until she came back, and then she sort of cared for a bit but Delilah didn't make her do anything and then she came back to Jrusar and instead of leaning into her anger she kissed Imogen and forgot all about it until they went to Whitestone 12 episodes later (still no real consequences of Delilah coming back), she reiterated a connection to Delilah back there and had some scenes with her due to the shard but again, she wasn't really inconvenienced or changed, and then there was one last flare up with the sword and then Essek fixed everything.

Like, this would have been very easy to make compelling by having Delilah actually be a threat. Part of why I don't feel much about Laudna living out her life is that like, Delilah is just sealed away again (and fwiw we gotta at some point talk about how there was a whole setpiece about how Leaving Things Sealed Just Perpetuates A Cycle and then there's at least two sealed evils and one fully unsealed if mortal evil guy hanging out, like, thematic coherence whomst?) and throughout the story Delilah mostly just serves as an intrusive thought who broke something once and hit a couple of dudes. Chetney getting caught by the red moon and attacking people felt more real and he took more responsibility for it. If Delilah had constantly been trying to take over? that would have been interesting. If she hadn't but Laudna was furious that the woman who killed her was using her body and at all times was fighting against it? that would have been interesting. But it was just this vague blurry meh. Delilah is her warlock patron and the reason she's alive, but she can be diminished to basically nothing without any drawbacks, and Laudna sometimes hates her and sometimes wishes to wield her, but that all fizzles out every time. Again: if you wished one of these things were true and mourn the character Laudna could have been - either someone using Delilah's power at the cost of her own will, or someone fighting desperately to reclaim her own body and mind - then I'm right there with you. But as she was in the story? I wish One Direction had taken her away and we'd gotten someone better.

[dramaticallytotal]

The Rise of Team E-Scope Headcanons: Part Eight

Idea Post Part One Last Part

I am skipping the aftermath episodes, but I might do them as a bonus after I finish the finale headcanons.

Slap Slap Revolution:

• Since Team Chris won the last challenge, they are not there in economy class to hear DJ lament about his animal curse, but Team Amazon is. This is where Eva gets worried for DJ and his mental health because the poor boy is distraught. Leshawna did nothing but tell him it was in his head, and it had Eva scowling. She believed it, too, but being friends with Noah, someone whose anxiety could get really bad, she knew it wasn't really helpful to point out the thoughts or beliefs were in their head.

Then she rolled her eyes when he tried to tell her it's wasn't that easy. It had Eva grinding her teeth. It was so disrespectful! Noah's sister, Nadia, was pretty superstitious, but no one in the family made fun of her for it and tried to respect her needs. Eva learned not to be so blunt with her thoughts because of Nadia, and she honestly really loved the woman and her kids.

• Apparently, Bridgette didn't appreciate Leshawna's response either as the girl huffed. "It's not that easy, Leshawna." Now, Eva wasn't very fond of Bridgette, but she appreciated the girl speaking up.

That got Leshawna even more annoyed, and it ended with Bridgette offering to give DJ a tarot reading to maybe help ease his mind, which he appreciated.

• Lindsay would have said something, but her, Katie, and Sadie were making the economy class people some smoothies. Katie even mentioned she would add some protein for Eva.

So it fell to Eva to be on Cody duty, not that she minded. So she had Cody sitting with her and listened to him ramble about some game he and Noah were obsessed with.

Thankfully, Sierra was distracted by Heather, but Eva still had a bad feeling about all that.

• Sierra was still talking about how she became president of her 15th Toal Drama fan club. She also still showed her statistics, which is something she's actually really good at. But instead of the statistics of Team Chris, she pulled out statistics for every team.

• Cody was just happy because Sierra couldn't get close to him, and Team Chris shared the insane amount of candy they got from the last challenge.

• Trent and Justin were the ones who were relaxing on the seat and having some bon bons. Justin didn't indulge in sweets much because of his strict diet, but first class had sugar-free ones and took advantage of the opportunity. Plus, Trent and Owen kept telling him his model diet wasn't the best for him, and technically, he wasn't under contract at the moment so he could indulge here and there.

Noah may not like the guy, but he some of his sisters and cousins had some problems with food for a while, so he knew how hard it could be to allow yourself the simple pleasure of something you crave.

So he made Justin a meal schedule to help him out with it. He would have cheat days or days where he tried something equally healthy but not on his meal plan his agent had him on so he could have some variety.

He got an almost kiss on his cheeks for his efforts, and Justin got a book to his stomach for his.

• Izzy was taking a nap, which was rare, which was why Owen was at the bar having a charcuterie board to himself. He made Noah a plate and pointedly looked at his little buddy until he started picking at it.

• Noah and Alejandro were on a couch sharing the mini charcuterie board Owen made for Noah as they discussed books they both have read and enjoyed. This is all part of Alejandro's plans to get closer to Noah and be his friend. To sus out Team E-Scope, of course! No other reason! He definitely didn't find Noah's company fun and comforting at all!

• Then being dropped from the plane was a stunt but also real as they were actually dropped a short distance into the snow. They were supposed to have their jackets on before they were dropped, but the interns forgot, and Chris is pissed about it. Apparently, it wasn't as accidental or forgetful as they claimed as Chef found out from one of the interns who had been close with Noah that the producers contacted an inside source and had them "forget" the jackets as people liked seeing people in distress.

• Alejandro still caught Leshawna.

• Noah would like to nominate Lindsay for an award with her acting because holy shit! "You must have me confused with someone else. The only guy I was ever into on this show was Tyler. And he's never coming back!"

• Also, he would like to simply cease to exist! Falling into the snow that deep was so awful. Snow got under his shirts and in his pants, thankfully not too far into his shoes, but it was still unpleasant. He was already shivering by the time Eva pulled him out and squished him between Izzy, Owen, and herself.

• But Izzy is an agent of chaos, and after cuddling a little tossed Noah to Alejandro, who was more than happy to help out his very cold friend! His very cold friend who had to stop squirming so he can help him warm up!

• Everyone hated the whisper singing.

• The reason why Lindsay finally "remembered" Tyler is because Chris told her she could before they resumed filming for the song. Yeah, he cut the cameras again so the cast could put on their coats and pulled her aside to say she could remember Tyler again, but to make it seem genuine yet funny. She delivered.

• Chris did this in revenge to the producers and made sure no interns were present when he told her. He was prepared to take out one of the producers' favorite bits. He still fully intended to pay Lindsay the agreed upon money and some bonus for her performance.

• The avalanche was another stunt/real. They were swept away by a snow wave, but it was planned. Noah still did not appreciate it, but it's okay because Alejandro held onto him the entire time, so there was no need to dig him out of the snow.

• While up the mountain, though, Noah broke off to go talk with Izzy, who was coincidentally walking by Leshawna and DJ. They made it look like they were whispering, but of course, Izzy didn't have an inside voice (sarcasm), and she loudly laughed.

"Oh definitely NoNo! It's so obvious! Maybe that's why Heather has been so rude to everyone. She's jealous!"

"Keep it down, Iz! But yeah, that's what I was thinking. Her crush on Alejandro is so obvious they could see it on the Nasa satellites."

"You're soooooo right. I feel bad for Leshawna now."

"Why's that nutso?"

"Well, Alejandro has been paying a lot of attention to her, and Heather likes him, and she's a little cray cray about things she wants. I mean, she has no problem manipulating people like the whole Trent thing, which made Leshawna talk everyone into voting him off. She also has no problem playing tricks and cheating, which we've seen before."

"Thaaaat...is a very well thought out and put point. Well, now I'm a little worried." Noah mumbled before Owen yelled something about food, and suddenly Izzy picked Noah up and carried him up the mountain, knowing fully well they just played Leshawna.

• It's not that they dislike Leshawna. They totally respect her, but at the same time, they need to keep low and go with the flow, and the flow was going against her. They knew that, what with Alejandro always flirting with her and inflating her ego a bit. They feel bad, but this is another elimination that doesn't seem like they had a hand in it at all, and they don't confess to it. Kind of like Harold's.

• When they reached the top and Noah saw the raw meat, he immediately yelled, "Code O!" Which had Eva and Izzy snapping into motion. Everyone was confused until they saw the two full-on tackle Owen to stop him from reaching the piles of raw meat.

This went on Alejandro's, Noah Isn't What He Seems List and his Team E-Scope Is Very Capable List.

• When Chris mentioned the meat grinder, Trent triumphantly held it up as Noah asked him to carry it to the cargo hold as the smaller boy had a feeling they were being called for a challenge. Trent was happy he listened to him.

• Alejandro had Justin on Owen duty to make sure the big guy did not eat their building material. He had Tyler on Izzy duty to make sure she didn't try to jump in the big grinder while Noah, Alejandro, and Trent worked with the electric grinder.

• Eva manned the grinding wheel while Heather was made to fill the grinder from the top, and Courtney tossed her the meat. Eva tossed Cody on top to help Heather because she did not trust Sierra. Gwen and Katie were stuffing the sausage casing while Sierra was building a disturbingly life-size Cody statue out of some of their meat.

• Leshawna took charge as she tended to do and ordered DJ to shovel the meat up, which he was fine doing. Sadie tried to tell Leshawna that she would stuff the casing as she had experience doing that since her uncle is a butcher and she used to be fascinated with his work and he taught her some of it until she lost interest when she was older. But the two still have a tradition of making sausages together for any family events. But Leshawna didn't listen and made Sadie get up on the platform to help shove the meat in the grinder. Bridgette got annoyed that Leshawna wouldn't listen, but they didn't have much time and Lindsay and Bridgette had to do the casing.

• No DJ accidentally throwing a bird into the grinder. DJ got too scared to touch the meat with the bird on top. Leshawna just kept yelling at him to hurry up, but Bridgette snapped back at Leshawna. Sadie had enough and jumped off the platform, and Lindsay snapped, too. Lindsay took charge instead and yelled out her orders but not in an angry way, just an authoritative one. She made DJ man the wheel, Sadie stuff, Leshawna shovel, and Bridgette to make sure the bird got away and not hurt.

• Chris did bring in those deadly goats. The man loves his dangerous animals.

• Team Chris was going down the mountain before everyone because of the electric grinder, so they missed the goat. Team Victory was second, and DJ did still hurt the goat. Team Amazon was last still because of Sierra and meat Cody.

• Eva was pissed and ready to throw Sierra off the mountain, but when Heather told them to jump, she realized what she was doing and said, "Do it." When Cody and Katie looked at her for guidance.

• Alejandro made Owen sit at the front of the sausage to weigh the front down more so they moved faster, and he had Noah sit in front of him. He doesn't know why, but in his head, he justified it with telling himself it was to keep Noah warm and ready for the next challenge. Owen fell off the sausage but held on to the front, which dragged Team Chris faster.

• They, of course, passed first with Alejandro only managing to hit Owen on a ledge once as he wanted to make it seem completely like an accident. When Trent started calling out directions because he thought Alejandro couldn't see where he was steering them, Alejandro had to pretend that to be true and listened to Trent.

• No dumb hat rewards because they honestly made no sense to me. The reward instead was extra training time to learn the Schuhplattler ( known as the slap dance, Schuh means shoe and plattler means slap!). The penalty was still the lederhosen for one person to wear and uncomfortable, not broken in, leather shoes for the rest of the team to wear. Team Victory just had to wear traditional dance shoes. Team Chris got the traditional Tyrolean hats that resembled Cody's penalty outfit.

• Cody was always going to wear the penalty outfit, so no having to try and get Sierra to wear it.

• Eva and Gwen sat out along with Tyler and Noah. Eva was glad Noah sat out because the guy is actually good at dancing and won against Eva and Izzy every time. They are trying to lay low, so it was a good move. Sadie was made to sit out.

• Sierra did sing her song, which disturbed not just Cody but everyone, and Trent did his best to shield the boy as they danced against each other.

• When Heather laughed at Leshawna's dancing and Alejandro started talking to her, Bridgette yelled out for Leshawna to focus. Leshawna ignored her, and Bridgette was so frustrated. That's when Heather noticed her frustration and mocked her for being jealous and started going in on Bridgette being jealous despite having a boyfriend and how it was the end of "stupid Gidgette!"

• Meanwhile, Alejandro continued on his manipulation with Leshawna. To which Justin was the one to point out the pep talk comment. He also threw in how Noah would not appreciate it given, "How smart and capable my little songbird is~."

To which Alejandro fake smiled and explained he was playing an angle but also, "He's not your anything!"

• While Bridgette stewed in her anger, Heather did try to warn Leshawna before the dance challenge started.

It was Leshawna against Owen.

Heather against Trent.

Izzy against Courtney

Bridgette against Justin

Sierra against DJ

Lindsay against Katie

Cody against Alejandro

• Heather, Leshawna, Izzy, Bridgette, Sierra, and Alejandro won the first round. Lindsay and Katie hit each other off the platform at the same time, so neither won. Then, the teams became:

Heather v Leshawna

Izzy v Bridgette

Sierra v Alejandro

• Again, Heather and Leshawna came to a tie, and the trash talking had been building the entire time. Bridgette won against Izzy, well more like Izzy got bored and pretended to fail, but only Eva and Noah saw that. Plus, Izzy didn't want to come across as too capable or like she was serious, so she pretended the light shock got to her, and she slipped off the edge. She had actually calculated when Chris would send the small shocks and made sure she was close to the edge when he next did it, which resulted in her fall. With Izzy falling and Justin's comment about Noah getting to him, Alejandro was doing his best to win but got distracted by hearing Noah's voice.

• Noah was throwing snow at Justin because the model was flirting with him again, and Noah was getting irritated. This situation distracted Alejandro enough for Sierra to knock him off. But to his team, it looked like Sierra got him out because her super strength kicked in when she saw Cody trying to help out Noah. That was a factor, but Alejandro could have dodged if he hadn't been distracted.

• Now is was:

Leshawna v Heather round 3

And

Sierra v Bridgette

• Alejandro still cheered for Leshawna once round 3 began. Which made Bridgette now suspicious because she had been noticing a lot lately and how he no longer complimented her and everything. Not that she wanted him to, but it was weird how he just shut off their communication the way he did.

• So when Heather shouted about Leshawna not being on Alejandro's team and slapped Leshawna. Bridgette yelled her agreement which made Heather mock her for being jealous.

Leshawna hit Heather off, and Bridgette jumped off the platform at the same time as Leshawna because Heather had finally pissed her to the point of snapping. Leshawna did slap Heather, but it wasn't over and over. She did it once and once was enough to snap her out of it because, man, this wasn't her. Bridgette slapped Heather once and yelled at her over all the comments about her and Geoff. She basically went off on how Heather was a sad, lonely, desperate person.

• Sierra won by default.

• No missing tooth, Heather, but she did get slapped on the same side of her face, so it was really red and going to bruise. Plus, she bit the inside of her cheek, so it was going to swell and be swollen for a short time. The bite wasn't super bad, more a nip, but she did still bleed.

• Chris then announced it was a double elimination for Team Victory. It wasn't that hard a decision for them given the growing tension between Leshawna and Bridgette. Plus, the team had gotten tired of Leshawna taking the role of leader and not listening to any of their ideas, suggestions, or input. Lindsay knew how that was, which was why she was confused about why Leshawna acted that way. You would think the girl would remember what happened to Lindsay season two, given the whole cast had a rewatch party a little while after the finale.

• Eliminated: Leshawna and Bridgette.

I think when we get closer to the merge, I won't reveal who gets eliminated as I might want to save that for the actual fic. But if you guys are okay with knowing, I don't mind sharing at all! I just thought maybe you wouldn't want me to spoil that.

Next

[pkg4mumtown]

Scream (‘Til There’s Silence)

Pairing: Ghostface!Hotch x GN!Reader

Rating: Explicit / R

Summary: A serial killer comes to your small town. Will the FBI finally catch him?

Content Warnings: DEAD DOVE: DO NOT EAT, murder, stabbing/knives, manipulation, stalking, sexual content, strong violence, choking, GN!reader (no Y/N, usage of ‘mouse’ as a nickname), strong language, first person POV, Ghostface is his own warning

A/N: HEED ALL WARNINGS!! Keep yourself safe, seriously. Just because I wrote this does not mean I condone any of these actions in real life. This is a work of fiction. Also, if I missed any warnings, please let me know.

Now, POSTING TWO FICS IN ONE WEEKEND?? Who the hell am I? I hope you enjoy this as much as I did writing it. Also, enjoy the art and custom Ghostface costume that Hotchy-boy wears. Also, do not talk to me about plot holes lolll

I made an unsub playlist inspired by some of the Criminal Minds unsubs. I’ve embedded it below. A few in that playlist that gave me vibes for this fic were: Change (in the house of flies), Scream, Possum Kingdom, and Tear You Apart.

Also available on AO3

Aaron POV

Thump.

Thump.

…

Thump.

…

…

Thump.

…

A satisfied hum left Aaron’s throat as the young woman's heart finally stopped beating underneath his hand.

It was his favorite part, feeling the life drain out of their bodies. Choosing who and how each innocent person met their end. It felt different from killing an unsub on the job, which didn’t satisfy him whatsoever. In those cases, he usually preferred the satisfaction of outsmarting them through the legal system. He had only killed a handful of unsubs as Ghostface, ones that were legally elusive to the BAU and needed something more permanent. Still—it wasn’t the same. Sure, he still felt them die but they never fulfilled his prey drive. The terrified screams, the vulnerable situations…no. People like him didn’t do that. They fought back with anger, stoicism, and a little glee. They watched their back, paranoid of the government. They were armed more often than not.

Not satisfying at all.

Only once did he have to kill an unsub as Ghostface to protect his identity, the unsub having profiled him right back with terrifying accuracy. Foyet was able to clock that monster inside of him and despite the expressionless façade he gave the older man, it was jarring. Dare he say he was actually scared for once in his adult life. So, Foyet had to go, simple as that. But he let the older man die with his suspicions confirmed about Aaron. Let him watch the grin that pulled across Aaron's teeth as the knife slid into Foyet's heart with a satisfying grunt. It was poetic, and okay, maybe a little satisfying.

Ghostface had become such a problem that he was made a priority case for the BAU, the file having permanent residence on their desks since the killer—since Aaron—drove Jason Gideon to leave the FBI. Since Ghostface was directly responsible for David Rossi's reinstatement with the FBI. Since SSA Aaron Hotchner was made the golden boy to spearhead the Ghostface investigation. Oh, how giddy it made Aaron to see the rest of the BAU's frustration every time a new case popped up.

Yanking the long hunting knife out of his current victim's body, Aaron squinted underneath his mask for anything he might have missed—a rarity, but he liked to take precautions anyway. He had designed a mask that provided very little in the way of field of view, so he always took extra care with his surroundings. It was entirely his fault for the poor design but he wouldn't be caught dead in that cheap, plastic costume mask. Plus, he enjoyed the design process and threw in a little flair for the dramatic with sharp angles and pointed teeth.

He checked his watch, clasped neatly over a black, stretchy base layer he wore to keep his body hair at bay. It made him sweat like hell underneath the ribbed, long sleeve thermal, tactical pants, and cowl he wore but this was how he lived his life.

The plan was relatively simple each time. Aaron picked a city when they had a stretch of time off, drove there—because planes were obviously out of the question—paid cash for everything, found an easy victim, and terrorized the town for a few days. Usually racking up two to four bodies to get the police on high alert. His team unwound with vacations and family. Aaron? He preferred a different kind of alone time to unwind.

When the BAU was inevitably called in he would terrorize the town a little more in between working the case and find an easy scumbag to pin it on.

It was stupid how easy it all was when citizens and police were desperate to find a killer in a small town. They were willing overlook discrepancies and blame just about any bad guy in the town if they remotely fit the bill. They usually chalked it up to Ghostface copycats and despite the profile saying otherwise—Aaron didn’t mind a damn bit that the murders were blamed on a copycat. Anyone but him was good enough.

They didn’t even have a definitive profile on him, too many theories about whether he worked alone or if these “copycats"—copycats that didn’t exist—were a network of unsubs posing as Ghostface killers. Theories on if the continued murders were because they were catching the wrong people and the real Ghostface wanted recognition. In reality, it was easier for people to believe that one person couldn’t be this demented and bloodthirsty.

This was his last one for this stretch, having terrorized East Liverpool, Ohio enough for the moment. He had to report to work in oh…twenty-seven hours anyway. Roughly six hours to drive back to Virginia with no toll roads—cameras equal bad—time to stash his spare car, clean his equipment, etcetera. It was a full day ordeal.

Checking his secondary phone, one he set up to receive voice-mail from his work phone—which sat lonely in his apartment—showed a lack of incoming messages. He was grateful because it was a pain to locate public Wi-Fi or spoof a location on short notice, especially at 3:00 AM.

Humming to himself, he exited the house. He made sure that the neighbors security system caught a blur of movement as he arranged some staged, bloody equipment as a false disposal site and took off.

Aaron’s actual bloody equipment was wrapped neatly in plastic and stored in an aftermarket storage he created in the car—just in case he was pulled over. When he was safely in his spare car, Aaron still didn’t take his face covering—the one he wore underneath the Ghostface mask—off right away. He was too cautious of cameras despite the small city. He would wait until he was on a dark stretch of highway where he could quickly put some normal clothes on and change his license plate.

It's not until he does just that, that he feels wet, slick mud transfer onto his hands as he takes his boots off. It’s not the texture that makes him curse. It’s not even getting his hand dirty that makes him stop. It’s how high the mud was on his boot and how clear of a print he might have left that makes him overthink and wonder. Wonder where he left it, specifically, and if it would even get noticed.

Aaron quickly shook it off. He’s on a highway and doesn’t need to draw attention to himself.

People were dumb.

He was smart.

It would all work out.

-

It took all of two days for the small town of East Liverpool to get overwhelmed. The East Liverpool Police Department had a whopping twenty patrol officers to cover the nearly ten thousand citizens. Their station was lacking in equipment, forcing them to call in the Columbiana County Sheriff's Department for assistance with the three murders Aaron left behind. CCSD was barely any better in the personnel department.

The BAU was called in by the ELPD Chief, something Aaron expected, though he gave them much less credit and had estimated a day at most. The flight was quicker than the twelve-hour round-trip Aaron subjected himself to.

As soon as they arrived, Aaron was splitting his team up amongst the different crime scenes. He sent Rossi and JJ to the first murder to see if they could get a handle on victimology and patterns. Reid and Morgan went to the second to see what else they could get for their profile and set up a timeline.

Aaron needed to be at the most recent one to see if he really did fuck up. The evidence there was the freshest, so if he needed to fix anything, he would do it here without alerting Prentiss.

Aaron and Emily arrived to the modest, single-story house with police tape blocking off the front lawn. A few citizens were gathered, worried expressions as they murmured amongst each other and stared down the federal agents. Their glares felt like they blamed the agents for the massacre.

Well, that was sort of true.

The scene was quiet, eerily so, except for the murmur of officers and the clicking of cameras. As many Ghostface crime scenes as they’d been do, Emily couldn’t help the breath that left her throat at seeing the blood all over the walls as the victim was chased—hunted—in their own home. The interior was disturbingly pristine with no overturned furniture, no forced entry, nothing impulsive. Just controlled violence.

The body was in no better condition.

Cuts were strewn over the young woman's body, a common torture seen in these murders, with deeper stab wounds, and ending with a final deadly stab to the heart.

One thing that had always helped Aaron was his lack of preference in victimology. Well, maybe “vulnerable" was a preference but he could make just about anyone feel that way with a little bit of effort. The ones that spiraled into madness were extra special to him.

A detective—Hotch presumed—stepped out of a hallway to greet them, accompanied by a crime scene investigator with a camera hanging around their neck.

“Detective Miller,” she introduced herself. “We were both brought in from Columbiana County,” she gestured to the tech.

County or city didn’t matter. In an area like this? Aaron was confident wherever he left his boot print wouldn’t matter.

“Run us through it?” Emily asked.

The detective looked at the forensic investigator, who comically pointed at themselves in question. Another urgent nod from the detective and the nervous investigator finally started speaking.

After introducing themselves, they stuttered before speaking under the heavy gaze of the federal agents. It was irking Aaron that they couldn't get a word out but also gave him more confidence that these departments were not equipped to handle this.

“R-uh-right, so the killer entered here through the side window. We have a couple boot prints on the floor, but they’re too smudged to see much. Looks like the killer ambushed her here in the living room and started slashing. The sprays here and here indicate they were running toward the hallway where the victim fell. They didn’t move from there and the pooling suggests this is where the victim died. No prints or hair here but we did find camera footage from a neighbor across the street showing the killer disposing of evidence in the foliage. I did bag some traces of hair from those clothes that we’re testing now back at the county lab.”

Aaron was surprised. Not necessarily at any of the information because it was pretty spot on but surprised at the accuracy and detail as the forensic investigator continued explaining. The hairs were also not surprising. He planted those himself on the false evidence with short, red hair he snatched from someone in town.

He liked his chances, so far.

“Anything else?”

“Yea, well,” the investigator started and stopped. “Yes, actually. But a thing about the hair we found with those disposed clothes...it felt…I don’t know. Out of place?”

“I told you not to speculate like this,” The detective interrupted sternly.

Aaron cocked his head, intrigued at what the investigator had to say but would wait patiently.

“Sorry, Miller,” they shifted awkwardly.

Hotch nodded along, feigning impartial analysis. Internally, he scrutinized the investigator, watching for any sign that they picked up on anything else that was crucial.

Emily chimed in, “This level of organization is consistent with the other two. It’s almost surgical how controlled the scenes are.”

The investigator’s eyes brightened despite the glare of the detective warning them to back off.

“T-that's what I thought, too,” the investigator blurted out. “I’ve read up on the past cases you worked and I know there’s stuff left behind often but it doesn’t feel…right. The murders are so meticulously planned, with no evidence, and the killer throws stuff in a bush or makes rookie mistakes? We found a boot print on the side of the house and I know some of the ones you’ve caught haven’t even done that. I’ll show you. Follow me and—er—watch your step.”

As everyone stepped outside, two more SUVs rolled up to the house, the rest of the team getting out and walking toward the house. None of them looked like they had anything important to share which pleased Aaron.

“We found a boot print back here in the mud. It was raining early last week, so the ground has been pretty soft,” the investigator guided everyone around to the side the killer entered from.

Aaron suddenly remembered feeling like he had lost his footing climbing in through the window. It was the mud. He hung back in the group following behind Reid.

“Just watch your step he—”

The forensic investigator was cut off as the front of Hotch’s shoe met the instep of Reid's foot as the group turned the corner. Reid stumbled and Hotch did his “best" to grab the back of the younger man's collar to yank him back but wasn’t fast enough. Reid's foot stepped in the mud next to the print, distorting the print near the heel.

“—re…” the investigator sucked their lips in, an awkward smile pulling across their features. “And I thought the city guys were bad.”

Morgan snorted as Reid pulled his foot out of the mud. The rest of the team consisted of varying levels of cringing and head shaking while Aaron did his best to hold in the devious laugh threatening to bubble up.

“Sorry…” Reid mumbled.

“It’s alright, we took the cast yesterday and they’re analyzing the print now. We’re estimating size eleven boots and one-eighty to two hundred pounds.”

Aaron’s elation promptly died. He kept his hands in his pockets, fingers digging into his palm.

Derek stepped forward, frowning. “So, we’re looking at someone fit, strong, tall? Especially if he can get into this window. It’s a bit of a pull up.”

Emily nods. “Clearly trained if we're running with the idea that planting those clothes are forensic counter measures?”

The investigator turned back to the group, “I’m guessing you’ve seen that before?”

The forensic investigator’s eyes fixed mostly on Hotch, who looked calculating but conflicted.

“We have,” Rossi murmured.

Hotch's mouth formed a grim line but not because that theory is absolutely in one of their profiles of Ghostface. No. For the first time, Hotch studied the investigator not just as another mediocre forensic scientist, but as a genuine threat.

-

MC POV

Doing all I could at the underfunded and understaffed ELPD station, I made my way back to the Columbiana County Sheriff’s Station. About half of the BAU joined the twenty-minute drive to the station for a closer look at the findings our lab eventually called about.

The hair didn’t match DNA from any known criminal investigations, bringing us to a dead end right away. All we knew was that the color was a natural red, fairly thin, and that the hair was forcibly yanked versus falling out naturally.

The BAU theorized to no end.

“The hair could have gotten stuck to the mask when he ripped it off?”

“Could have ripped the hair off someone, too.”

I wasn’t satisfied with the dead end and left their conversation in the conference room Sheriff Tanner let them convene in, a step up from the dinky broom closet Chief Banks set up for them at ELPD. I retreated to the lab, moving on to the boot print. The forensics lab was cold, humming with fluorescent lights, the kind that made everything feel clinical and impersonal but I was too focused on my work. It was also empty, many of the other investigators having left for the night with no other evidence to examine in these murders.

That boot print shouldn't have been there.

Everything else was methodically cleaned up—no DNA, no fibers, no obvious traces. But the print was deep in the mud near the side of the house and was hidden enough in the bushes that most would have overlooked it.

I only noticed it by accident, seeing the bushes dented unnaturally as I examined the outside of the house.

We ran the tread pattern through several databases, cross-referencing it against law enforcement, military, and civilian models. Unfortunately, it was a common brand, nothing special or expensive.

But something about it stuck with me. A gut feeling I couldn’t seem to shake despite there being nothing helpful to go off.

This was a mistake.

An actual one. Not whatever cover ups were passing for mistakes in the other cases the FBI worked. The Ghostface murders rarely, if ever, had actual mistakes in the hunt itself. The killer took far too much pride in it to leave mistakes like that.

Then, my phone buzzed and interrupted the eerie silence. I clenched my jaw, worry building up in my throat despite knowing there were officers and agents just outside the doors.

Unknown Number.

I hesitated before answering, not usually one to answer unknown numbers, but something told me it was important.

“Hello?”

Silence.

Then a distorted voice crackled over the line.

“What’s your favorite scary movie?”

I rolled my eyes, how had someone gotten ahold of my number for prank calls?

“I’m hanging up. It’s a crime to prank call police departments,” I sighed, hoping to scare whatever idiot was on the other line.

My thumb hovered over the red circle to end the call, when the voice spoke again.

“You like playing detective, don’t you?” His voice sounding harsher but still robotic like a modulator. “You should be careful. It’s not good to be too smart.”

A cold shiver ran down my spine as his voice vibrated unnaturally.

“Who is this?” I asked dumbly. At this point, I knew full well who it was.

A soft chuckle passed through the receiver.

“Come on, sweetheart, you don’t have to dumb it down that much,” he just about giggled. “I’ve been watching you work. It’s impressive, really.”

The seriousness of the interaction finally dawned on me and I frantically tried to get my desk phone working to have Detective Miller run a trace.

“Ah, ah, none of that.”

“None of what?” I mentally cursed as I typed the wrong extension.

“Trying. To trace. The call,” he growled. “Maybe I was giving you too much credit. You’re playing dumb a little too well to be acting.”

I stopped pressing buttons, clenching my fist closed.

“We don’t want you getting hurt, do we?”

“Okay,” my throat tightened in fear, my breathing increasing.

I had hoped that the more he talked, the more I might recognize the rhythm of his voice. Unfortunately, it wasn’t recognizable, not to anyone I knew at least. But, the way it spoke—calm, assured, with a hint of humor—it made my stomach turn.

“What do you want?” I finally worked up the nerve to ask.

“I just wanted to say how much I admire your work,” he cooed, voice shifting to another ragged growl in an instant. “But you’re getting a little too…interested…for my taste. Not that I don’t appreciate the enthusiasm, really. It makes me wonder how enthusiastic you are for cock,” he snickered over the line.

All I could do was clench my teeth. Any threat I wanted to throw at him was meaningless, not when he could easily do to me what he did to those innocent people. I made a mental note to keep my gun out and ready at home until this case was solved.

“I’ll see you soon, little mouse.”

Click.

The line went dead.

-

Hours later, I had changed gears again, going over crime scene photos and camera footage from residences. I was waiting on the FBI’s analyst to look over the footage for height estimates. Most of the footage was unusable, but the blurred mask in the corner of the screen was haunting me.  It was like he did it on purpose, got just enough of himself in frame to guide us where to look.

And we were falling for it.

I was startled out of my trance by a hand on my shoulder. Reaching for the wrist quickly, I grabbed ahold and turned my chair in one motion.

Oh.

“Agent Hotchner,” I sighed, gulping and putting a hand over my rapidly beating heart.

“Reflexes are good but you should probably not have both of those in,” he gestured to my earbuds.

“Yeah, um,” I cleared my throat. “Was there something I could help with?”

“Oh, no. We’re going to get some shut eye and come back with fresh eyes,” he leaned his hip against my desk, glancing briefly over the files on my desk. “Long night?”

“Long couple of days actually. Just one murder scene is rough enough on us. But three? Most of the techs that went home today hadn't slept in a couple days.”

“I imagine it would be hard to considering...,” he added.

“Yea,” I glanced at my screen again. “It’s freaky. How do you guys manage?”

“We usually partner up and sleep in shifts,” he sighed. “You shouldn't be here this late, though. Finish it at home.”

“I was probably going to sleep here. Feels safer.”

His head cocked slowly to the side, looking at my expression where I was focused on the screen and not on him, “Did...something happen?” His gaze flickered to the entrance of the lab before looking back at me.

“I just—no—I, uhm,” I stumbled over my words, lying poorly through my teeth.

His gaze was so heavy. Why was it so heavy? Why wouldn’t he look away?

“Come on, I’ll give you a ride.”

I hesitated, but the pinched look on his forehead softened and he let himself smile just the slightest.

Was it stupid considering my thoughts on the killer?

Yes.

Would it be stupid to leave alone?

Also, yes.

Would I hate myself if I fell asleep under my desk?

Most definitely.

I nodded, and picked up the file to look over at home, stuffing my notes underneath all of the official paperwork in the file. I gathered my other belongings and shutdown my computer for the night.

The air outside was crisp and cold. I felt myself looking around wildly at each pitch-black space created by the old street lights and dim glow of the moon. The streets were mostly deserted, the only cars left in the parking lot being the night shift deputies. Even Agent Hotchner’s team was gone.

“Where do they have you holed up?” I asked as I climbed into the SUV.

“Uh, some motel back in East Liverpool.”

I knew the one. There weren’t even many options anyway. One motel there and one bed & breakfast. One hotel across the river (and state lines) and one a half an hour north.

I directed Agent Hotchner where to go, my house being just on the outskirts of East Liverpool. You could say I was a little invested to catch the serial killer based on that fact alone. The leather seats had barely warmed up to my body heat when he spoke again.

“Your talents are wasted here,” he spoke.

If I had a nickel for every time someone complimented my work today...well, I’d have two. And one of those was from a serial killer, so I didn't know if I even wanted the nickel.

“Thank you?”

“Just saying. You’ve caught a lot of details that many small departments miss in cases like this. A lot of them are so eager to see it go away that they don't make conclusions based on the evidence.”

“It’s my job,” I stated simply.

“It is,” he agreed. “But you’re better than your average forensic investigator. Have you ever thought about bigger departments? The Bureau, even? I can pull some strings if you ever wanted to apply.”

“I like helping the communities I grew up in,” I shrugged.

“Shame,” he hummed.

He soon pulled up to my house, following my directions to a T. Agent Hotchner put the car in park but I didn't immediately move to get out. Tapping his fingers against the steering wheel, he looked over at me as I stared out through the windshield.

“I lied earlier,” I finally murmured, glancing at my dark house with only the porch light on.

“About?”

“I think Ghostface called me.”

“What did he say?”

“That he’d ‘see me soon’,” I punctuated with finger quotes and scoffed. “Can you believe that bullshit?” I shook my head, feeling the fear rising like bile.

“He has an obsessive personality. There's been evidence of victims being stalked and called repeatedly. You’ve seen the phone records,” Agent Hotchner shrugged. “So, yea I can believe it.”

I chewed the inside of my cheek and glanced at the house once more. I was being ridiculous.

“Let me walk you up and clear the house,” he nodded his head toward my house.

“It’s fine, that’s not necessary—,” I shook my head and moved to open the door.

“Humor me,” he smirked and shut the car off.

I finally relented and jumped out of the SUV, leading the tall agent to my front door. I hadn’t led a man to my door in ages, but that was beside the point. I unlocked the door and stepped aside, following him into the house and shutting the door behind me. His gun was drawn and his steps made virtually no sound—besides the old wood creaking beneath his weight—as he cleared every inch of my house. Every movement was practiced and deliberate from years of training, each lock, window, and room checked with efficiency.

It was kind of hot.

Which was a big deal for me as I tended to ignore the advances of the cops at the station.

I poured a glass of water as he finished up in my living room, setting the file I brought with me on the counter and my bags on the floor. I heard the back door open, as he presumably checked outside, then closed and locked again.

“You live alone?” his voice was casual, as he came into the kitchen, but the realization of it made me uneasy. “Not even a dog?”

I shrugged.

He stared at me again, a little too long, just like before.

“That’s dangerous.”

I nearly choked on the water I was drinking. Clearly, he thought just about everything I did was dangerous.

The way his voice deepened when his voice lowered in volume and the way he smiled, small and almost imperceptible made my skin tingle. I couldn't tell if it was a bad feeling or a good one and I was just out of practice.

“Well, this area doesn’t normally have trouble like this.”

Silence hung heavy between us as he made no move to announce his exit.

“I’ll stay,” he offered.  “You’ll be safe and you can get some rest.”

“That’s not necessary,” I protested weakly.

“Well, I think it is. He’s threatened all of us at least once.”

I chewed the inside of my cheek, finally nodding, “Okay.”

Agent Hotchner nodded, “Be right back.” He opened the front door quickly and jogged outside and I was compelled to watch is back as he opened the back of the SUV to get his go-bag.

I let out a breath as he came back in safe and sound.

He ditched his bag near the door, finding his way back to me in the kitchen and leaning on the counter.

“Hungry?” he asked.

I shook my head, “Not really.”

“Yeah, me either.”

He looked down in thought, then took a step closer. His eyes darted all over my face, looking for any sign that I would push him away. He stepped closer still, hand reaching out and brushing the wrist of my hand that was propped on the counter while the other held my water. If I had been any weaker, the glass would have probably slipped out of my hand. His touch lingered longer than necessary, the tension growing in the room. His half-lidded expression casted the slightest of shadows over his eyes with his eyelashes.

 Wow, they were pretty.

As if he expected me to drop the glass, he gently took it from my hand with his free hand. His stature, demeanor, presence...it was all overwhelming—commanding, like he could see right through me. The logical part of me screamed that he had no business standing this close and looking at me like that.

This was exactly what you didn't do in a scary movie.

And yet, when he leaned in, my breath hitched.

“You should trust me,” he murmured.

I didn't have the bandwidth to analyze the choice of words.

‘Should.’

Not ‘can’.

‘You should...?’

‘You can...?’

Against my better judgement, when I felt his mouth on mine, I responded by immediately grabbing his lapels and pulling him closer.

-

Aaron POV

Aaron didn’t normally do this: sleep with the object of his obsession. He killed them. That was the whole point.

But, they were so scared.

So alone.

So brilliant.

So willing.

From the second he walked into the lab and to their desk, he fantasized about how easy it would have been to drive his knife into their back. Over. And over. And over.

He saw that spark. The one he saw when his victims were fighting that fear, trying to keep from spiraling out of control. And, oh, how he wanted to make them crack.

With how guarded they were, Aaron was surprised they even told him about the call.  As they did, though, he had to dig his thumbnail into his finger when they called his carefully crafted praise, ‘bullshit’. He would address that later.

He could see the fear in the way they shifted in his car, staring at the dark, empty house. Oh, it made him so excited. So, he played the action hero: clearing the house and making sure there were no cameras, animals, or lovers to get in his way.

No cameras? Check.

No animals? Check.

They tore into his dress shirt, belt, pants, boxers. Oh, that was warm, oh. His fingers gripped the counter tightly, his head thrown back in pleasure.

No lovers? Check. Double—no—triple check, even.

Aaron wasn’t averse to sex by any means. It was the people, the feelings, the time, and the effort that all made him grimace at it. Luckily, it was easy to ignore with his day job.

Pulling their mouth off his cock—why were they so good at that—he practically dragged them over to the bedroom he located earlier and pushed them not-so-gently onto the bed and stripped whatever garments were left.

It was almost cute how they fumbled in their drawer for a condom. Aaron was actually grateful for the precaution, not wanting to leave more DNA here than he needed to and waited impatiently for them to grab everything they needed.

His patience was short-lived.

He was a busy man, after all.

Clenching his jaw, he took the items and unceremoniously dropped them on the bed. Wrapping a large hand around their ankle, he dragged them back down into a laying position and covered their body with his. As calculated and methodical as Aaron was, he was rushing. He had a limited amount of time to put them to sleep, dig through their shit, drop another body, and get back in their bed before it was time to get back to work. If he was lucky, he might get to enjoy another round in the morning.

Pressing into their warm, welcoming body was a struggle of control. He wanted nothing more than to take and take, but he was Aaron Hotchner right now—a simple, sex deprived, busy, stoic, charming government agent. He had to check in, be attentive, and obviously make them cum, too.

Ugh.

So, he slowed down, mindful of his fingers digging bruises into their body. The last thing he needed was them looking at their arm and realizing the prints were the same size as the prints on the victims. It was a long shot, but Aaron had already fucked up with the boot.

He stared at them amidst the thrusting, no longer looking like a staring idiot since they were otherwise preoccupied. The way they moaned his last name, reaching for him and the weight he provided, the way they gripped his hair...it was all so needy. He hated to love it. He'd much prefer to hear them scream. Actually—he could do that part. But he’d enjoy their screams of terror so much more.

Hotchner

Hotchner

Hotch

Hot--

Oh, there was the scream. And it was pretty damn close.

Their neck was tense and long as they came. It was so inviting. It would be so easy to tear into and make a mess. He didn't even let himself bite down and have a taste of their skin, knowing he’d get too carried away. Kissing them was much safer.

He came shortly after with a series of grunts, sighing against their lips. Pressing one last kiss there, he retreated. Aaron was careful to not make a mess as he tied off the condom, wondering how to get this wrapped up and into his bag without suspicion.

“Water?” he asked and they nodded gratefully.

It was a little brave to bring his bag into their house but a little thrill never hurt. Plus, he was prepared. Digging through his bag, he pulled out some over the counter sleeping pills that he’d crushed ages ago.

It should be relatively tasteless, though, tasting the water...

He grimaced.

The chalky pills might actually be an improvement.

Ensuring they dissolved and his DNA was safely stashed away, he drank an untampered glass of water, washed the cup, and brought the other back to the bedroom with a damp paper towel for any messes they might have made together. When he did, they were staring out their bedroom windows through the cracks in the blinds.

“Are you okay?” he asked, snapping them out of their thoughts.

Aaron handed over the glass, eyes widening as they gulped down the entire thing.

That was easy.

“Yea, just thought I saw...something...outside.”

Aaron fought back a snort. The paranoia was setting in, goodie.

“I can do a sweep outside really quickly?” he offered.

“No, no. I think I’m just tired and imagining things,” they settled deeper into the covers.

Wordlessly, he slipped in behind them, wrapping an arm over their waist and brushing his lips over their shoulder, “Just let me know if you need me to make you more tired,” he hummed, smiling as he pressed himself against their back.

They laughed. An honest to God laugh.

Aaron didn't get those much. It was...weird.

The pills set in quickly, but Aaron gave it a good hour to make sure they were in a deeper sleep. The way the front door had creaked loudly when the two of them came in meant he was definitely using the back door he checked.

First, though, he needed to look through their notes. Untangling himself from the bed carefully, he placed a pillow in his place. He started changing, wanting to be ready to dash if he needed to. Dressed, except for his Ghostface mask and cowl, he flipped open the file. He had watched them throw the notes into the file earlier—where were they?

Tucked behind all of the documentation were handwritten notes. He was a little excited to see what they thought. The first thing there made him freeze.

“Possible law enforcement?

·      BAU suggests he understands police procedure.

·      No DNA, no prints, no physical evidence in kill area – knows what we look for.

·      Different states (if the copycats are frames) but consistent method.

·      Aware of local jurisdictions not cooperating but continues with FBI involved? Travels on purpose in car,  ‘05 Honda Accord.

‘05 Honda Accord

·      Located car on residence footage, plates not visible.

·      Tracked to cameras on US-30 E, Pennsylvania State Police combing footage.

Forensic countermeasures

·      Footprints – too careless, actual mistake?

·      Red hair and stashed evidence – too convenient? No matches

·      Why bother misdirecting if no one saw? Panic? Copycats? Framing?”

Finally, Aaron got to the last part of their notes in all caps, circled and underlined.

“Is he inserting himself into investigation??”

Aaron had to resist the urge to crumple the notes and throw the file across the room.

Fucking.

Nosy.

Ass.

Shit.

He had warned them and one chance was all he afforded people; his next phase was set in motion. But first? He had some anger to let out. Shoving the notes back in the folder, he grabbed his mask and cowl and headed to the back door, silently opening it and stepping outside. He fitted the cowl over first, keeping the cold away from his body, then fixed the mask over his balaclava.

Committing the murders when the team was in town was trickier. One, he didn't have his car and would have to hoof it. Two, it was much harder to hide his clothes and make sure no blood was on him when he went back to work in the morning. It was a challenge, but he liked that.

Luckily, he’d done some recon while they were in town and the trek to his next victim wasn't going to be as rough as he expected. His sleeping little mouse’s house wasn’t a far hike from the next victim.

Aaron was extra careful around the mud this time around. He really needed to rethink how narrow the eye slits were in this mask.

 His next victim lived alone, spending his evenings getting shit on in first person shooter video game lobbies. Aaron had briefly watched from the window, wondering how any of that could be appealing when the real thing was so much more fun. Slipping his lock pick set from his pant pocket, he made quick work of the backdoor and slipped side. The light in the office where the resident was playing video games had been on as he was casing around the house, so Aaron was safe for now in the opposite corner of the house.

Aaron’s steps were silent as he swooped around the house, figuring out where to begin his hunt.

Screw it.

He leaned against the counter, feeling over confident in his post-coital haze. He pulled out a burner and dialed the man’s number, which he acquired earlier in the day during interviews.

Aaron could barely hear the phone ring over the man’s shouting at the game. He sighed as the call rang out and called again.

“What the fuck!?” Aaron heard from the room, followed by a clatter.

The bastard threw the fucking phone.

Aaron’s head hung in discontent.

Unbelievable.

No one answered their phones these days.

He was still too pissed at the notes he read to be patient and try something else. This one was going to be bloody.

Making his way over to the room, he leaned against the threshold, arms folded as the man was hyper focused on the screen. He hadn’t seen a webcam through the window, so nothing would be live streamed—he wasn’t a monster. With the shouting clearer now, he was talking to someone, though, Aaron couldn’t be sure how many people as he squinted through the mask at the screen.

At least the headphones had a visible microphone and were hardwired to the computer. That made his job a little easier.

Not bothering to take out his knife yet, Aaron stalked toward his victim, standing behind them and watching the screen flash. Did this guy have zero self-awareness?

Reaching forward and grabbing low on the wire, Aaron gave it a hard pull. The wire gave way, whether it ripped out of the ports or broke the wires itself didn’t matter to Aaron. The chair spun; his victim startled with hands ready to fly.

The fight left his body immediately. Flight wasn’t even an option as the man stared at the menacing figure in front of him. No, freeze took hold.

“It’s rude not to answer someone’s phone call,” Aaron sneered through the modulator in his mask.

He grabbed the man by the throat, pushing him back on the chair so roughly that both man and chair flipped back onto the floor. That seemed to knock some evolution into the man and—surprise, surprise—flight kicked in.

The whimpering man scrambled to get up to his feet while Aaron watched the pathetic attempt but the arms of the chair slowed his escape down.

Sighing, Aaron stepped forward, pressing the front half of his boot onto the man's trachea and kneeling down to the ground.

“You’re not making this fun for me.”

He only received gurgling in response.

“Does it help if I show you this?” Aaron unsheathed the knife strapped to his chest under the cowl that draped across his body.

The man’s movements became more frantic form both the pressure on his throat and the sight of the sharp knife.

“Then get to running,” he growled, taking his boot off the man’s neck and watching him scramble to his feet.

The man was halfway to standing, ready to take off into a run with his weight poised on his front leg. Aaron might like the hunt but it wasn’t supposed to be fair. He kicked in the side of the man’s knee, hearing a sickening crack and pop followed by screaming.

“Fuck you! You sick fuck!” he screamed.

“Aww,” Aaron cooed. “You’re making me blush.”

The man hobbled out of the room, propping himself up on the hallway walls as Aaron strolled after him. He made a beeline for the front door, making Aaron chuckle through the modulator. Aaron hopped over the sofa that the man had to hobble around, making it to the door first and stalking toward him head on.

“Wrong way, peanut. It’s like you’re not even trying.”

Aaron was enjoying the moment of hopelessness on his face. Doing his best to turn and run, the man made a very slow break for the back door.

Aaron checked his watch.

He hummed sadly, not having enough time to play anymore. He grabbed the collar of the man’s shirt, shoving him roughly to the floor.

“Sorry I can’t play longer,” Aaron sighed sadly, stepping over and straddling the man’s ribcage as he groaned on the floor.

To prevent the man from grabbing Aaron's weapons, he slid up to his upper chest, stapling the man’s biceps to the floor with his knees. Between the pathetic sobbing, screaming, and effort, the man was struggling to breathe even more now.

Aaron trailed the tip of his knife down the man’s forehead, to his nose.

“I want you to pick a number between one and...twenty.”

“W-wh-y?” came a strangled sob.

“Because I fucking ask you to,” he snapped. “Maybe you’ll get lucky.”

That little sliver of hope glimmered in his eyes for a second, quieting his sobs briefly.

“Uh-uhm.”

“I don’t have all night,” he pressed the tip harder into the sensitive flesh of his nose.

“Twelve! Twelve…please,” the man wailed again. “Please don’t kill me.”

“Wow,” Aaron breathed. He pinched the man’s cheek with a gloved hand, “You’re so brave. You won twelve stab wounds…are you ready?”

“N-no-no—" his screams filled the living room as the knife slid into the muscle of the man’s shoulder.

“Count with me,” Aaron requested. “One, two, three, four, five, six—look, we’re half way done—seven, eight—no, no, no nine not ten—mhm good boy, now ten, eleven…”

The blood was pooling rapidly and as excited as it made him, Aaron took precautions to be covered in as little of it as possible. He had his knee and shin across the man’s stomach with his other leg planted out far for stability, just beyond the edge of the pooled blood.

Aaron pressed the tip of the knife where he knew the man’s heart to be underneath the shirt. Slowly but surely, Aaron put pressure down, “Twelve.”

The life finally faded from the man’s eyes. Aaron stayed there, staring at the widening pool of blood. He was still angry. If he bothered to profile himself right now it would be the irritability and anger that made him play with his food a little more than usual. He felt the need to take control again after feeling derailed by those notes—how, when did they find so much and would they even be able to scrounge up evidence for some of those claims? Either way, making the hunt more fun reinforced his need to dominate every situation blah, blah, BLAH.

Aaron continued staring.

The blood was inviting.

He wasn’t stupid enough to write with it, though he’d love to write that cute little investigator a letter in blood. Describe how good they felt on his cock. He was right about them being enthusiastic after all, he laughed to himself.

It was tempting but no.

He grunted as he heaved himself up, careful to not step in blood. As far as blood went—he looked down at himself—he didn’t do too badly.

Pleased with himself, he gingerly exited the house, careful of what blood he did have on him and stripped the outer layers off, mainly his heavy cowl, mask, and gloves which he doubled up with rubber gloves underneath. He stuffed them into a clean plastic bag he’d brought with him and took off into the dark.

Entering his little mouse's surprisingly quiet back door, he carefully stripped the rest of his clothing, leaving the door unlocked. It was all intentional, aiming to imply Ghostface broke in—because he did.  Once his balaclava came off, he could breathe clearly again.

He’d memorized some of the squeaky floorboards on his clearing of the house and used that knowledge to make his way over to his bag and stashed his gear. Peeking in to make sure they were still asleep, Aaron checked himself in the bathroom for any blood and was happy to find none.

The body odor?

Well, a little hand soap would have to do.

Coming back out of the bathroom, he spotted their gun on the nightstand.

Naughty little mouse.

He grabbed a couple tissues and picked it up, ejecting the magazine, clearing the chamber, and unloading all of the bullets. He snapped the magazine back in with a sharp click and placed it back. They weren’t a cop; they didn't carry the gun out with them but he didn't need any surprises the next time he paid them a little visit.

Aaron gingerly climbed back into bed, feeling the steady rise and fall of the breathing next to him.

-

MC POV

The morning light filtered through the blinds in thin, slanted lines, cutting across the disheveled sheets. My body ached—not entirely unpleasantly—but there was a strange heaviness to my movements and an unease that gnawed at the edges of my mind and woke me up.

I didn’t actually want to open my eyes. Not because of what might lie beyond my eyelids, but because they felt so damn heavy. My head and arms did, too.

For a few moments, I let myself exist in that haze, the warmth of another body beside me was unfamiliar but not unwelcome. Then, reality began to settle in. It wasn’t just a body.

SSA Aaron Hotchner was in my bed.

I slept with the lead agent working this case. With a literal serial killer on the loose. Was I stupid?

For the millionth time, this was how people died in scary movies.

Finally opening my eyes, I was startled at how close his face was. His breathing was slow and even, his bare chest rising and falling rhythmically. In the dim light, he looked almost peaceful—normal, even—from the robotic stoicism he held in the field. But something in my gut screamed that something was wrong.

I shifted to sit up, nearly jumping out of my skin when his eyes shot open. He stared at me, almost as equally confused as I had been from the looks of it.

Fragments of last night flickered in my mind: the ride home, the way he insisted on checking the house, the way his gaze lingered too long. The way his touch had burned—slow and deliberate.

“You’re up early,” he commented, looking at the clock over my shoulder.

It was barely 6:00 AM.

“Yea, I don’t know. I just felt weird,” I furrowed my brows. “I just feel so heavy.”

He stared at me for a beat before his features grew mirthful, “Last night took a lot out of you?”

My face heated up, “Shut up.”

I turned over, facing away from him. He hummed behind me, shuffling closer. His hand drew a wide path over my hip, rising higher until he could pinch my nipple. My hips involuntarily pressed back against him.

He laughed softly, pressing his nose against my ear, “We have some time to kill.”

I ignored the poor choice of words and chewed my lip, finally nodding, “Yea, okay.”

“Stay there,” he rolled away to find the drawer I’d rifled in the night before.  

I shivered as the cool air made its way under the blankets, but I didn’t have to wait long before his warm skin was pressed up against me again.

The slicked-up condom was as cold as the air above the covers, making me jump as he prodded around.

Stars, he hit the lottery when they were handing out dicks.

My mouth dropped open as he fully seated himself, the fullness forcing out a gasp from my throat. He controlled the pace with a firm grasp on my hip and used his other arm to wind under my head, grasp my jaw and force my face to look at him. My mouth was all too willing to open for him and the way his hand engulfed my jaw made my brain buzz with excitement. He was just so large.

The hand on my hip slipped low, working its way between my legs until it landed on my heated, sensitive flesh. I could feel his mouth spread into a satisfied smile as I practically moaned into his mouth. He moved his hand in time with his hips, stroking faster until I was shaking in his arms.

“Sh-fuck,” I felt the pleasure building.

I was so close.

“Ho-otch-chn…” I moaned.

“Aaron,” he corrected.

“Aaron, please.”

That seemed to shift another gear for him, his movements rougher, his teeth scraping my skin.

“That’s it,” he grunted. “Come on my cock. Need to feel you.”

Holy hell, the mouth on this man when he wasn’t buttoned up tight.

And just like that, my orgasm hit me hard. My loud moans breaking the silence of the early morning. His hand didn’t let up, making me grasp at his forearm to get him to stop as overstimulation set in.

He didn’t stop.

His teeth scraped my neck this time and I wondered if he’d finally do it—sink his teeth into my neck as he came. I could feel him holding it back, not wanting to ask and not wanting to just spring it on me. He didn’t, and I was only mildly disappointed. He buried his face into my neck, moaning loudly as he finally came.

We lay there, not moving except for our heavy breathing making our chests expand rapidly. Aaron’s tongue laved over my sweaty skin, pressing a kiss, and then another.

Do it.

Do it.

With one more kiss there, he pulled away with a soft groan.

“Mind if I use your shower?” he asked, groaning as he stretched.

“Go ahead, I’ll get some coffee started.”

Aaron smiled gratefully and went to grab his bag, bringing it into the bathroom with him and closing the door.

I pushed myself up to sit upright on my bed—which was a total mess that I wasn't looking forward to cleaning. My limbs still felt heavy and yeah, maybe he was right and I was just out of practice. I stood and stretched, pulling on underwear and a t-shirt from the floor while I waited for my turn.

I padded over to the kitchen, my feet softly scraping the old wood. I doubled my usual coffee routine and looked out into the living room from the kitchen as I leaned back against the counter. My eyes drifted over the counters, seeing the glass he washed last night—very considerate—before landing on the file I brought with me. Some of the pages were sticking out. I didn’t think I threw it there so casually that papers fell out—well I did end up in bed with a federal agent so anything was game at this point.

It was my notes that made me freeze when I opened the folder. I distinctly remember putting them in the back before leaving the station with Aaron. The paper was haphazardly shoved back in, crinkled deeply in some parts where it looked like someone was holding it tightly.

What the fuck?

I hadn't realized how long I stood there looking at it when Aaron emerged from my bedroom in a black polo and dark jeans. It was a far cry from the suit he showed up in but I’m sure suits weren't exactly space savers. I wasn't complaining either, the way the sleeves clung to his biceps and contrasted with his pale skin made my mind race. His hair was still damp, flopping innocently onto his forehead.

“What?” he stared at me with a half-smile.

Ripping my eyes off the way the polo stretched across his chest, I shook my head, “Uh, did you go through the file last night?”

“No, why?”

“Because I know where I put these when we left the station,” I gestured to the notes. “And now they’re in a different spot.”

His smile was gone, replaced by a pinched expression. His eyes darted around the room, hand automatically flying to his hip.  Silently holding out a hand to me to tell me to stay put, he made his way to the living room taking overly cautious steps. It was unlikely that Ghostface would be out in broad daylight but everyone was on edge already.

“I locked this before...well, you know,” he was stopped at the back door, both locks undone.

My heart dropped into my stomach.

Ghostface been in my house.

I was frozen. I hadn’t heard a thing. How could I be so stupid?

“I-uh,” I wrung my fingers together, suddenly terrified. “I’m gonna get ready, coffee’s almost ready.”

The shock settling in was distracting. Ghostface knew my suspicions now and if they were anywhere near true, I was in deep, deep shit.

I made my shower quick and was putting on my shoes when our phones rang at the same time.

Damn. That can’t be good.

“Hotchner. Okay, be there in a bit.”

My conversation went mostly the same. The coffee was packed in to-go cups and only upon stepping through my front door did I realize I didn't have my car or my spare kit.

“Oh, fuck me,” I groaned.

Aaron made a noise of amusement from his throat.

“Not a word,” I grumbled. “My car with my spare kit is at the station. Those fucking oafs are going to ruin my crime scene.”

“It’s okay, we have lights,” Aaron grinned as we got in the SUV and flipped the lights and sirens on, letting us speed up the road to retrieve my kit, then back down into the residential area for the crime scene.

We arrived at the same time as the rest of the BAU. I had a one-track mind to catch this fucker and ditched Aaron, grabbing my kit and racing to the house. Detective Miller was already inside, along with a few other officers which made my eye twitch.

“Can you get them out?” I asked her, gesturing to the cops who were standing around. “Who found him?”

“His online friends called the station, I guess he was playing some video game with them and his microphone got disconnected. He wasn't answering his phone and he never logged off the game. I guess he’d told them there was a serial killer so they were worried. Rightfully so, too. ELPD did a welfare check and saw him through the window. Back door was unlocked so, looks like he came in through there.”

Marking what I immediately saw, I squinted at the body. I snapped pictures of the deep stab wounds, the way his knee was caved in at the wrong angle, and zooming in on his neck.

“Look at this,” I tilted his head up. “He was stepping on his neck. That’s not just playing with his food. He’s mad.”

Fuck. I had to tell her.

“I think I know why, too,” I continued.

Detective Miller looked at me quizzically.

“My back door was unlocked, too. We—I had locked everything before I went to bed.”

“We?”

“I.”

She looked at me pointedly, “We?” Her body leaned to look around me at where the BAU was talking outside, “Which one was it? The old one? I know you prefer salt over pepper.”

“Oh, fuck off, Miller.”

She laughed, making eye contact with Aaron by chance as he glanced inside through the open front door.

“No...” she gasped. “The Neo looking, mother fucker? Come on. He’s weird.”

“He’s not weird. The kid is weird.”

“No, he’s cute.”

I stared at her, gesturing to the body on the floor to remind her of why we were here.

“Did he at least have a big—”

“Yes.”

“You do know this means your place is a crime scene now,” she scribbled notes on her notepad.

“There was nothing of use, I looked. He went through my notes and left. I’ll document it.”

“Deal,” she sighed. “Struggle started over here,” she cocked her head toward the hallway.

Walking into the small office, I got an overview of the scene, moving to the desk first. The computer was still on, the game having disconnected from the servers for inactivity. The entire computer tower was skewed from the headphones being ripped out so violently, that one of the wires had ripped off of the jack. Pictures of the computer and chair were snapped, then Miller directed me to the phone across the room.

“Dent in the wall here and the phone over here,” she commented.

Once I took the pictures, I clicked open the phone. It was locked but I could see the recent notifications. Several Discord notifications from the guy’s gaming friends and two missed calls from an Unknown Number.

“Maybe he tried to call 911 and Ghostface chucked the phone?” Miller suggested.

“One sec,” I grabbed the phone and unlocked it with the body on the floor of the living room. “Sorry, buddy.”

The phone immediately opened to Discord, not the phone keypad. I scrolled through the recent calls and only saw the two missed calls from the unknown number, nothing outgoing or incoming after that. Making my way back to Detective Miller, I sighed.

“But, we know he calls his victims to taunt them. What if the guy didn’t answer and it made him mad? That coupled with the notes? Guy is sitting here, playing. The phone keeps going off and he throws it because, I don’t know he's frustrated with the game?”

“It’s a theory. Got everything? I’ll call them inside.”

“Yea, let me check the back really quick.”

I went out through the back door, photographing scratches where the lock was picked and looking around for anything out of place. Anymore boot prints, blood, anything.  Looking out into the lawn I saw one of the ELPD officers reaching for a plastic bag.

“Stop! Stop, stop, stop!” I shouted but he had already grabbed it and stood.

I heard a commotion behind me, several footsteps hurriedly rushing out the back door.

The officer looked at me cluelessly, “What?”

“Are you being serious right now? You’re not wearing gloves!”

“Just trash, I mean...” he shrugged, thrusting the bag toward me.

I need a vacation.

“It’s an active crime scene, Christ.” I pulled an evidence bag out, shoving the plastic bag inside and grumbling to myself.

“Everything okay?” Aaron and a few of the agents had rushed out of the house with guns drawn.

“Sorry,” I sealed the evidence bag, writing on the outside. “Going to have to eliminate his prints now,” I commented, annoyed.

“You found that here?” he questioned.

“He did, yea. Then, grabbed it without gloves,” I shook my head. “Might take you up on that FBI offer.”

I heard him laugh softly next to me.

“Want me to—” Aaron offered his hand to hold the bag as I couched down.

“I got it,” I cut him off clutching the evidence bag like a lifeline, I photographed the area around where I saw the officer pick it up but nothing stood out.

“I want to hear your thoughts on this come on,” he indicated his head back inside.

“So, I know he likes to taunt people, but I thought the phone was strange,” I said as they followed me to the office, stepping carefully around the mess.  “He called the guy twice, neither call was answered, and the phone ends up thrown over here.”

“So, maybe he was trying to call the cops when he saw him?” the blonde one, JJ, I think answered.

“Maybe, but he had headphones on and was playing this video game. I find it hard to believe he heard much of anything. He was playing with other people, who said he just cut off—and look, the cords were yanked out of the computer. I don’t think he had time to call.”

“So, the unsub gets mad that he's not answering, then,” the older agent, Rossi, chimes in.

“Video games, particularly first-person shooters like this one, have been shown to increase aggression, especially when players experience frustration or failure. Studies suggest that competitive gaming can elevate cortisol and adrenaline levels, leading to heightened emotional responses. If the victim was fully immersed in the game, already experiencing stress, and then received repeated phone calls, it’s plausible that he reacted impulsively—throwing the phone out of frustration rather than fear.”

I blinked at the information that fell out of Dr. Reid’s mouth but eventually nodded, agreeing wholeheartedly.

"And that would explain why he didn’t bother to check who was calling. He wasn’t worried about being watched—he was just annoyed,” Emily agreed.

“Which pissed off the killer,” Morgan ran a thumb along his facial hair.

The only one who hadn’t spoken at this point was Aaron.

“It’s possible. Repeated interruptions, especially in the middle of a game, could have made him dismissive of the calls instead of suspicious. The unsub might have expected a different reaction—fear or immediate compliance—but instead, they were ignored. That could have triggered an escalation,” Reid continued.

“Which lines up with the scene. The killer physically yanked the cords out—cut him off from the game entirely. If he was already feeling slighted by being ignored it could have been a way to force the victim’s attention back on him,” I turned around, pointing back to the living room. “I have more for you.”

I led them out of the office and to the body.

“This guy was mad, like he was being mean...” I started, stopping and cringing at myself. “...okay murder is mean but he was meaner than the other three.” I crouched, mindful of the blood, “This here looks ante-mortem, he was stepping on the victim’s throat for an extended period causing this bruising. And then this bruising here is also ante-mortem,” I pushed up the sleeves of the victim’s t-shirt. “I was going to say he held the victim’s arms down with his hands but he has one on each arm and it's not tactically sound to have both hands occupied. I’m thinking he was kneeling on the guy's arms and he was sitting on his chest. I don’t know if the twelve stab wounds has any significance to you guys but each murder had a different count, so I don’t have anything there. But, his knee is shredded, look at the angle. No wonder he didn't get very far.”

“Didn’t we interview him yesterday?” JJ tilted her head to get a better look at his face.

“Mm,” Detective Miller located his wallet, “Tommy Crites?”

“We did,” Prentiss nodded. “Maybe he knew something?”

“Why do you say he was being “mean”?” Rossi asked curiously.

“Well, ripping the cords out and making the guy pay attention was easy, right? He could have killed him there in the chair. The guy has to get out of the chair or off the floor and the killer is just standing there watching him struggle? He was taunting him, playing with him.”

“He wanted to be in control,” Aaron finally spoke up.

“Yea. So, he takes back control,” I paused taking a breath. “And I think it was because he saw some of my notes. I think he broke into my house last night and didn't like what he saw.”

“What did you write?” Rossi asked.

I paused, surrounded by the very people I was accusing.

“That he might be law enforcement and inserting himself into the investigation.”

The BAU looked at each other grimly.

“So, he sees your notes, gets pissed off that you’re getting too close, and comes here to blow off steam,” Morgan murmured.

“We’ve all been threatened by him, welcome to the club,” Reid smiled sadly.

We leave the body to the county coroner and begin to leave, immediately met with several media vans outside. The reporters are being held back by a few deputies but could easily overwhelm them if given the chance.

“Who called the media?” I looked over at Detective Miller.

“Don’t look at me,” she glared, looking pissed at their presence.

Questions were immediately bombarding us as we tried to leave:

“Is the BAU any closer to identifying the suspect?”

“Is it true that the killer has been targeting people at random, or is there a pattern to the victims?”

“Some sources claim the killer has made direct contact with law enforcement. Are you in communication with him?”

"Do you believe he’s local to the area? Could he be someone within the police force?”

I almost stopped walking at that. Aaron shifted next to me, looking for who asked that question, his expression cold and unreadable.

“We can’t comment on that,” he answered.

“Then, should we be looking for a 6-foot, red-haired male, 180 pounds, with size 11 feet?”

Everything stopped there.

The words slammed into me like a physical blow. That information hadn’t been released to the public. I hadn't even mentioned the height that the BAU’s analyst had managed to figure out from the video footage in the notes.

My stomach twisted as I finally located the reporter in the crowd and snapped toward him, my voice sharp, “Who told you that?”

The reporter just laughed, shrugging. “Can’t reveal sources, you know how it is.”

Before I could stop myself, my hand shot out, grabbing the front of the reporter’s shirt and yanking him closer.

I was furious and practically shaking, “Who. Told. You?”

The cameras flashed more frequently at the scene. The reporter looked startled, but also amused.

“Touchy, aren’t we?”

A firm hand clamped down on my shoulder. Glancing over my shoulder, I saw that it was Aaron’s hand.

“Let him go.”

For a beat, I didn’t move and my grip tightened. Then, I realized how bad it had to look and shoved the reporter back, storming off toward the SUV.

From then, the station was a madhouse.

The tip lines were ringing off the charts. The town had gone feral in a matter of hours after learning about the description.

Someone—an anonymous “inside source”—had leaked that the partial evidence suggested a red-haired suspect, male, with an approximate height and shoe size matching a partial tread found at the scene.

The result was pure, unfiltered chaos.

Every red-haired man within a thirty-mile radius was getting side-eyed. People were calling in tips over neighbors they’d known for years. People called to tell on their male friends who recently changed hair colors from red to something else. The worst one was a young man who worked at a family-owned auto shop in East Liverpool getting the shit beaten out of him by some overzealous vigilantes because his hair was lightened by chlorine and the sun from his time on the high school swim team.

The kicker was that it was all bullshit.

I knew it and the FBI knew it, but there was nothing we could do to calm the panic. The shoe print had been a lucky find, but something about the way the case was unfolding reeked of misdirection and I couldn’t help but think that the killer released the information, further supporting my theory that he was working on the inside. The evidence was just too convenient—just enough to keep people focused on the wrong thing.

The plastic bag at the scene was a dead end, too, forensically. The only prints we managed to pull were the cop’s and he was far too stupid to be our killer. The killer must have had several bags and dropped one in his haste to protect the evidence from us.

I was hesitant to start picking out who it could be. One, it could piss Ghostface off even more. Two, accusing the wrong law enforcement officer is a surefire way for me to get fired. Three, based on just this case alone, I was absolutely certain it was the real killer and not some knock off. Which, four, meant that he wouldn’t be from here with all the traveling he did and the fact that neither the East Liverpool Police Department nor Columbiana County Sheriff’s Department had any recent transfers. He couldn’t insert himself through local channels—so that only left federal.

And ‘federal’ was a scary word. Connections were everything and I had zero, except maybe Aaron but he could very well be on the suspect list, too.

My own weakness for dick was apparently shooting me in the foot.

If I had to make a list, Prentiss and JJ were not on it. Not because they were women—I'm an equal opportunity accuser—but because of the height and weight. Rossi was on the shorter, older, and therefore potentially weaker end, still possible but not in my top three. No, my top three would be Morgan, Reid, and, unfortunately, Aaron. All three fit the height requirements though Reid was maybe on the lighter side of the three. All three men were also highly intelligent with in depth knowledge of law enforcement tactics and forensics.

All that to say: I really should not have slept with Aaron.

I was pulled out of my thoughts when Sheriff Tanner barged in to the lab, which was a rare occurrence when he had several detectives to do that for him.

“I need all the reports you have on the evidence from these Ghostface murders,” he barked, ‘Ghostface’ leaving his lips with a scowl.

“Yes, sir, but the hair—”

“I asked you for the reports, not your opinion.”

“But, Sheriff, it’s not--"

“ELPD has ten thousand frightened citizens blowing up their god damn phones and ours. I’m done with Miller entertaining your conspiracies. If you still want a job after all of this, shut up and give me the reports.”

I begrudgingly handed him the reports, following him as he stormed back out into the main bullpen. The BAU was lined up in front of the press just finishing up their interview, trying to ease the public about what had been fed to them.

The Sheriff was on his way to tell them to go to hell and follow the evidence.

I stormed into the media briefing behind the Sheriff, cutting through the sea of reporters.  The consequences of my actions were the least of my worries when compared to a serial killer.

“Sheriff, this entire investigation is a cover-up!”

The bullpen went dead silent, the only sounds being the rapid clicking of cameras. Video cameras snapped toward me, away from the federal agents they had been focused on.

Aaron, stood among the BAU and other law enforcement officials. He barely twitched at my exclamation but his eyes locked onto me with an unreadable expression.

I was already putting my foot in my mouth, so I kept going.

“You’re looking for the wrong person. The real killer is someone in law enforcement, and you all are wasting time hunting some imaginary suspect instead of looking deeper!”

At that, the reporters started whispering, murmuring. Sheriff Tanner’s face turned an ugly shade of red.

Aaron, though, Aaron didn’t look angry.

He looked amused.

Like he was enjoying this.

-

Aaron POV

Oh, his brilliant, little mouse. His brilliant, stupid, little mouse.

It wasn’t enough that they read his beautiful kills like a book, dissecting every piece and fucking up every ounce of his enjoyment. Then, they had to go and do it in public when he had specifically told them not to.

He was lucky that the plastic bag didn’t have any forensics on it. That was mistake number two of East Liverpool, Ohio and he wondered if he wasn’t as sharp as he used to be or if his infatuation with this smart, insignificant, funny, irritating, fool was messing up his game.

They were gone by the time the team had decided to call it a night—Sheriff Tanner having told them to pack their shit and get out—which worked out in his favor. Aaron snuck out of his motel room late that night, when he was sure the rest of the team was asleep. He’d slipped Rossi some of the same sleeping pills, ensuring he’d be asleep for the rest of the night. Not like he needed to worry about Ghostface trying to kill him, Aaron laughed to himself.

Aaron stepped out into the dark, melting into the shadows of the barely lit town. It would have taken him close to an hour to walk to their house, which he cut down to about twenty-five minutes by running the couple of miles. He took off his cowl to be a little more aerodynamic so he wasn't weighed down by the wind resistance, and shoved it in his backpack. The backpack he carried made the feat a little more challenging, but it was all for a good cause.

His cause.

As he approached, he slowed down, blending into the bushes that separated the investigator’s house from the one next to it. He pulled out his burner, seeing them through the blinds just enough to see that they were distraught. Their knees were pulled up to their chest, head heavy in their hands. Smiling to himself, he found their number, double checked his modulator, and made the call.

At first, he was sure they wouldn't answer. But then they lifted their head up a little, peering down next to them on the bed.

Stupid blinds, he cursed to himself.

“You really don’t know when to quit, do you?” Aaron asked with a disappointed edge to his voice. “That was a cute stunt.”

“Not when some asshole is threatening my town, no, I really don’t.”

“I thought I told you to keep your mouth shut.”

“Doesn’t mean I had to listen. Why don’t you come shut it yourself?” they responded, irritated and coarse.

Oh, his mouse. His brave, little mouse.

“Answer me this,” they spoke again. “Why haven’t you killed the feds following you? Surely, they pose a bigger threat?”

“I’m not bulletproof, baby. And I’m not stupid enough to poke a hornet’s nest.”

“Hmm,” they hummed over the phone. “See you soon?”

“See you soon,” he practically giggled.

He watched the bedroom light flick off.

His mouse wanted to play?

Oh, he would play.

Aaron hugged as close to the house as possible, already at a disadvantage since the outside was now illuminated by the moon while the inside of the house was pitch black. Was it too obvious to use the back door again? Yes, but he would have a more silent entrance that way.

Unlocking the door with his lock pick set, he let the door swing open, waiting—listening—before making his first step over the threshold. He dropped the backpack near the back door to be more mobile.

Where, oh, where could they be?

They wouldn't hide or cower, no, his mouse was pissed, so Aaron needed to be ready for a fight. He tip-toed gently around the house, mostly remembering where the creaks were except for a couple. With his hand gripping the handle of his knife—where it sat strapped to his chest—he started passing the kitchen, free arm reaching out to push open the bedroom door.

Before he could step toward the bedroom, two arms wrapped around his leg from behind, emanating from the kitchen floor.

Like an actual little mouse, oh, sweetheart.

One arm wrapped around the outside of his ankle, the other wrapping through his legs and on his quad. Feeling a strong push on the back of his hamstring and a yank on his ankle, he was soon careening down to the ground face first. Aaron had to let go of the knife handle to brace his fall with both hands, stuck in a sprinter’s stance. They still kept a hold of his leg, trying to drive him onto his hip, but his foot was able to twist free. It took him two tries to yank his foot back to him enough to donkey kick back, landing directly into their chest if the resulting wheeze was anything to go by.

“Not bad,” Aaron consolidated his limbs, standing back up and trying to anticipate their next move in the dark.

A punch barely grazed the edge of his mask. Reaching out, he grabbed the forearm of that arm, pushing it away from him so they were turned around—back against his chest. From there, it was easy to entrap both of their arms with his and lift them, dragging them to the bedroom.

“Oopsie,” he laughed in their ear. He flicked the light on with his elbow, glancing around and spotting their cellphone set up suspiciously. “Sweetheart—tsk—filming me? Really? I didn’t consent to that...”

“Fuck you,” they spat back.

Aaron laughed, the modulator making it all the more terrifying. Been there, done that.

Throwing them on the bed, he straddled their hips and reached over on the nightstand for their phone.

Pause.

Delete.

To add insult to injury, he snapped the phone in half and tossed it across the room.

“You won't be needing that.”

He was so preoccupied with the phone that he missed their hand travelling under their pillow until a pistol was pointed in his face.

“Oh,” he taunted. “And what are you going to do with that?”

“You said it yourself. You’re not bulletproof.”

“You’re right,” he wiggled, making himself comfortable in their lap. “Come on, then,” he urged, pressing the forehead of the mask against the end of the gun. “You feel that power? It feels good, doesn't it?”

Their hands shook from the adrenaline and fear.

“Are you like me?” he grinned under the mask. “Are you going to get off after you pull that trigger?”

They readjusted their grip on the gun, their sweaty hands making it slippery.

“Do it, Mouse,” he pressed harder. “Do it, don’t be a little bit—”

Squeeze.

Click.

The shock on their face was priceless.

“Performance anxiety is super common, baby, don't worry,” Aaron teased, prying the empty gun from their hands and tossing it to the floor. “You should always check your chamber before starting a fight.”

To avoid any more surprises, Aaron turned them on their side and zip tied their hands behind their back, laying them back down on top of their hands. He enjoyed the way they struggled as he shimmied his way up their chest.

“Just kill me, you coward,” they spat, still struggling. “Hiding behind a mask,” they scoffed.

He leaned down, keeping his weight balanced by framing their head with his hands on each side as he brought the mask to their cheek, “Oh, I’m not here to kill you. You’re far too smart, I need you.”

“I’m not helping you.”

“Frankly, I don’t need your permission for that.”

He gripped a fistful of their t-shirt, hooking his fingers into the collar and pulling the fabric across the centerline of their neck so it pulled taught against their carotid artery. With his free hand, he made a fist and pressed it slowly into the other artery. He kept his face close, hovering just above theirs as they worked to loosen their hands to no avail.

There was silence between them, just the sound of struggling.

“Which one of you is it, huh?” they laughed, smiling through it all. Their consciousness was struggling to hold on as the blood was slowly cut off from their brain. “Is that you, Aaron? Gained my trust by being a knight in shining armor and fucking me?”

Aaron just stared, clenching his jaw tightly.

He hated them.

“Or sweet little Dr. Reid? Pretending to fumble and mess up the crime scene?”

He cocked his head to the side, pressing harder with his fist.

He loved their brain.

“Or Morgan? So, charming, strong, and witty.”

He was stronger. He was better. He was smarter.

He could see them fading away. It was relaxing, watching them fight it. If the shirt had been any thicker, they would likely be asleep already but he had to hold this one a little longer.

Aaron got sloppy, leaning too far into them to see their teeth scrape the edge of the mask and bite down. He felt a tug and yanked back, the mask staying and his head exposed. This was why he wore the balaclava. But it didn't matter.

Recognition gleamed in their eyes as they met his rich, honey, brown eyes, darkened from the shadow he was casting over them.

They opened their mouth to say something but it was too late. Their eyes shut and their body went limp.

-

MC POV

My eyes blinked open slowly, the blinds drawn tight in my room. My head and body felt heavy and I wondered how long I’d been out. Waking up after being choked was usually fairly quick, unless it's so long that brain damage or death happens. But, I was very alive.

Aaron.

Fucking. Aaron.

Then, I remembered how I felt after waking up the other morning after we slept together. I felt just like this.

Had he drugged me?

Feeling around for my phone, I realized it had been destroyed last night but my alarm clock blinked at me.

 10:42 AM.

Brief panic set in before I realized I didn't have anywhere to go. No words needed to be said as Sheriff Tanner basically fired me yesterday—’pack your shit’ was explicit enough.

I needed to go, I needed to explain to the Sheriff—to Miller—about yesterday. Trying to sit up was a feat as my body protested. My chest and neck throbbed and I was sure I had a fist sized bruise on one side of my neck. I had to catch myself several times as I looked for clothes, barely managing to get pants on when my front door was kicked open with such force that pieces of the threshold went flying.

Fight? Flight? Freeze? I couldn't do any of it. The room was still spinning, making me feel nauseous as I finally successfully buttoned my pants after attempting for the fourth time.  When I was able to focus on the commotion around me, I couldn’t process much of the screamed orders at me, but I focused in on several guns pointed my way.

Morgan. Prentiss. Aaron.

They were all in the front, sights trained on me with unwavering focus.

My eyes locked onto Aaron’s.

“Oh, this is rich,” I laughed, not able to do much besides stumble and barely catch myself.

Aaron holstered his gun, giving the everyone a command to search the house as he pressed me up against a wall and cuffed me.

“Ow, that hurts,” I winced uncomfortably.

“You think Tommy Crites thought that when you stabbed him twelve times? What about Carolyn Turner when you stabbed her six times—” he snarled.

Bastard.

“Oh, what a load of shit,” I spat. “I’m the wrong shoe size—the wrong, everything!”

“But you’re just the person to be able to fabricate that,” he chuckled.

“I can't fabricate video footage, asshat.”

I could hear the police and agents tearing apart my house like rabid animals. Papers were falling to the floor; evidence bags being filled with things I’d never seen before. I watched, craning my neck as a knife was pulled out from under my sink, bloody and dark clothing from under my floorboards and—

The realization crashed over me as Morgan pulled muddy boots out from under my bed.

Aaron was framing me.

He squeezed my wrists tighter, daring me to say something.

“Are you kidding me? Those aren't even my size,” I struggled against Aaron’s firm grip.

Morgan peeked inside the boots, seeing padding stuffed into the toes to mitigate the wrong size. His glare was almost as deadly as Aaron’s as he left the room to log the evidence.

“You’re sick,” I whispered harshly to Aaron under my breath.

“Maybe,” he leaned in laughing softly, his warm breath ghosting over my ear. “It really is a shame you couldn’t keep your mouth shut when I told you to,” he said, sounding regretful. “I really do like you.”

“I’m going to nail you for this—”

He shoved me harder against the wall, making me wince as the wall bit into my brow and cheekbone, “You’re going away for four murders. You’re not getting me for shit.”

The cuffs bit into my wrists as he pulled me off the wall and led me outside. Reporters were shouting over each other, cameras flashing like strobes but the noise barely registered. My mind was racing, trying to find a way out—any way out. I looked around for a familiar face.

Miller.

Miller, please.

She refused to even look my way.

Aaron matched my wobbly steps, following at a measured pace. His presence was so heavy at my back. How could I have let this happen?

Just as we reached a patrol car, he leaned in again. His voice was low and calm, with such malice behind it that it sent another wave of nausea through me.

“You’ll call me,” he stated.

I jerked against his grip.

“Like hell I will.”

He only chuckled, like I was telling him a god damn joke.

“You will. When you get tired of rotting in a cell. When you realize no one else can help you—you'll call me.”

I forced myself to meet his gaze over my shoulder, challenging his domineering stance.

“I’d be happy to reopen an investigation,” he continued, feigning nonchalance. “Get you exonerated. Clear your name,” he paused, his voice shifting. Almost affectionately he cooed in my ear, the venom so much more pronounced without the robotic tin of the modulator, “But you’ll owe me.”

His words settled over me like poison.

“You’d work for me,” he murmured, tilting his head. “You’d go where I tell you. Do what I tell you.”

I swallowed hard, my jaw clenched and tense.

“You’d be free,” he promised, eyes shimmering with something dark. “And I’ll own you,” he smiled sweetly. Aaron opened the car door, hand on my head as he guided me in roughly. “Plus,” he pouted, mouth so close that I felt his lips skim my ear as he bent over and looked at me through the still open door, “you’ll miss me so much, little mouse, I just know it.”

He slammed the door shut.

I barely registered the car starting. I didn't even register Detective Miller getting in the front passenger seat, flipping down the visor and looking at me through the mirror.

All I could hear was his voice echoing in my head.

-

Aaron POV

Aaron watched the patrol car drive away.

Would they call him? Maybe not today. Maybe not even this year or the next.

But Aaron was a patient man and he always got what he wanted.

-

Some extra art:

[angelsdean]

hot take maybe but actually i do expect my mom to comfort me and make me an ice cream sundae when i’m sad even when i get to 40 and she’s 70. my grandma does that for her still. it’s not. limiting her. it’s not saying she only has to be my mommy. i have taken care of her too. it’s saying we love each other and want to take care of each other. mary struggling to be able to interact with grown up sam and dean was very very valid and understandable and i love her for it. she also could’ve maybe tried a little more anyway. they could’ve lent on each other. idk.

Yea i've said before that I think it's a bit outrageous the way people seem to think someone stops being a parent once their child reaches adulthood. Maybe it's a cultural thing, I don't know, but the whole idea of "once your kid turns 18 they're out the door and not your problem anymore" is so deeply flawed IMO. But yea I focus more on "debunking" the claim that Dean expects some sort of motherly coddling / babying from Mary because that seems to be the deancrit take I see the most with regards to this arc / the "i'm not just a mom" scene.

But for sure many people seem to have some weird ideas IMO about what it means to be a parent. Like I think you can feel for Mary and understand that parents can and are more than just parents, but also understand that they will never stop BEING a parent either. Their kids will always be their kids. It's why people always say being a parent is a full time job, not something to go into lightly, that you should be sure you actually want kids and understand that having them is a lifelong commitment etc etc. And having kids makes them become your priority, even when you want to be selfish you always have to try to put them first. Obviously that lessens as they grow up but like, if your adult child were injured or had some kind of health issue / challenges as a parent it's still your job to be there for them, to support them, to care for them. That doesn't just end at 18. It's why *I* know that even though I like the idea of kids I probably never will have any because it's so much responsibility and because those kids are always always going to come first, forever! That's kind of part of the parental "contract" IMO. And even when they're adults, a parent should still be the one person in the world your kid can turn to, rely on, seek comfort in.

And I understand these expectations are complicated in this particular narrative by the fact that Mary died young and is not equipped to be a mother to adults. I think that's such a delicious component that I wish they leaned into more. She is grieving her babies. She is allowed to feel those feelings and feel confused and unsure and struggle with accepting this new dynamic with her children. But a big part of Mary's arc in s12, which culminates in 12x22 with "I need you to see me" is that she is the one stuck in the past, needing to accept her reality and "SEE" her children for who they are now. That's what the arc is moving towards, that acceptance. And after s12 we see her and Dean have a better relationship. We see her still getting to be Mary the person AND Mary the "mom." She hunts, she comes and goes, but she's someone Dean can talk to, share a meal with, spend time together. It's what he always wanted most. He tells her in 14x11 that "just knowing you're around, that you're alive has meant everything to me."

Anyways, I won't ramble about all that again because I've made a bunch of posts about it already. But yes, I think it's normal for Dean (and Sam) to want Mary to comfort them, do nice things for them, the way any parent or really a family member in general might do. They are not asking for kisses on their boo-boos and getting tucked into bed with a bedtime story, which is how a lot of deancrit posts read. What they want is some sort of familial reciprocal care. Like the way Dean spends quality time with those he loves. The way he baked a cake for Jack. Cooks for his family. The way he gives people gifts. The way he fixes Cas's truck. The way he calls to check in on people. He doesn't do these things out of some obligation or playing some "role", he does them because he cares. Because he loves his family, and that's just what family does for each other.

Someone in my tags last night said it very well that what Dean really wanted was just, another family member, to spend time with, to share their joys and burdens with. Someone like Bobby, that he could turn to if he needed. Bobby was a parent figure but he wasn't "parenting" them, y'know? He was someone Dean could lean on, but he didn't expect Bobby to shoulder all his burdens. And I think that's what Dean wants most. Just someone he can lean on and rely on, since he's been having to be the strong one for everyone his whole life.

[doveywovy]

happy bday izuna <3 the poll winner at this point in time is "au where he almost dies gone wrong gone sexual" so here y'all go!

--

tobiizu au in which izuna and tobirama are both full time youtubers, but of very different categories. Izuna is part of the Uchiha content juggernauts- currently specializing in 'annoying guy/fake prank' type of videos for his audience of tweens. Tobirama does science content, extremely long videos deconstructing concepts, some real Nerd Shit.

Izuna, for the views, starts up a beef with Tobirama. Tobirama hates him for his content and his extremely annoying fans who keep sending him death-threats so he goes along with the beef immediately.

they shoot nasty back-and-forth comments and digs for a full year until izuna starts pushing for the ultimate youtuber beef conclusion- a physical fight. Tobirama agrees, the day is set, and they both show up for the smackdown.

What izuna is unaware of, because Tobiramas videos are exclusively voiceover + presentation style, is that Tobirama has been doing mixed martial arts since he was a kid. He actually competed (and won!) in some tournaments during college. Izuna becomes aware of this very fast, because he shows up and instead of the average-schmoe he was expecting, there's a 6'5 muscular face-tattooed freak of nature politely standing around waiting for the match to start.

Izuna is in shape, but he's in like... e-boy shape. He's got a six-pack for doing silly dances. He's 5 foot 7. Tobirama is going to snap him like a twig.

If it was anyone else, Izuna would call off the match and accept the hit to his reputation. Unfortunately, his reputation was not actually his main reason for doing this. Izuna has developed something of a fixation on Tobirama from his videos (his voice + sense of humor + general personality shining through in his 4 hour long videos that izuna has been using as ASMR for over a year). He concocted this elaborate scheme in an effort to meet tobirama in person and get some kind of physical contact.

so he's not going to back down. thats his parasocial-boyfriend and if the only way he's going to get tobiramas hands on him is if it happens while tobirama is throttling him in the ring then that's just how hes going to go out.

Tobirama somewhat admires his suicidal determination (unaware of whats motivating it) and does try to not kill him in the ring with mixed success. He could just call it off but he doesn't do that because he's petty.

The match ends when Tobirama puts izuna in a choke out & izuna, upon waking up, realizes that if he tries to get up from the mat his boner's going to be extremely noticeable. so instead he concedes the match and keeps laying there until the problem goes away, except of course laying face-down and refusing to get up is making everybody really nervous about what could possibly be wrong with him. He's responding fine so it seems like maybe hes just....throwing a tantrum about losing?

Eventually Tobirama gets annoyed enough that he drags Izuna upright one-handed, which does not help The Problem at all, much less hiding it.

They start dating like an hour later to madara's complete despair.

[elbiotipo]

do you think a hypothetical highly developed alien species, i.e. sapient, would have a body form much different from that of a human, beyond things such as taxonomic classification? the human body is essentially purpose-made to function as the best possible instrument of labor, with dextrous hands, an upright posture, long maneuverable limbs, etc. as labor is what seperates us from animals and what allows our life.

I've had this debate, I think that's an anthropocentric argument. Let's revise what are considered some of the "smartest" animals, in terms of problem solving, sociality, abstract thought, etc:

Primates, which are 99% identical to us

Cetaceans (dolphins, orcas, whales)

Corvids

Parrots

Octopuses

I'm missing more than a few, but notice that besides primates, which are basically us, they all have radically different body plans. Birds and octopuses do have dextrous appendages and use them to solve problems and use tools, but as you can see the difference between each and also primates is colossal. Cetaceans don't even have manipulators, yet they display very complex social behavior and problem solving, and have what some people have called a proto-language and "culture" (controversial but more here)

It's questionable that it was labor, or the use of tools on itself, that made us humans. What makes us human is perhaps one of the hottest topics to debate, but from the time I studied anthropology, it is not any anatomical feature, it seems to be abstract thought and culture. Abstract thought, as my professor put it, is the ability to imagine and concieve of something that doesn't exist yet (or cannot exist, or cannot be seen materially, like ideas) and managing to create it in real life, to take it out your mind so to speak and change the material world. Culture is the ability to transfer ideas from generation to generation through social learning. Many animals have social learning, but few (except maybe, maybe, cetaceans and corvids) have culture. I think this is key, for example octopuses are very smart, and they do have social skills, but they don't transfer any of those skills to the next generation or to their fellows, they don't really have a society*. Humans do; every single human being is shaped by culture, shares it and changes it and modifies it.

It was once thought that humans first evolved abstract thought and that "forced us" to become upright and use tools, now we know this isn't the case. Australopithecus already had upright bipedal posture, free hands for tool use, and it was probably pretty smart, yet it would have remained simply a bipedal ape if not by the development of abstract thought and culture. It's not like other animals don't have similar things, it's that humans are so incredibly defined by it that it makes our way of life unique.

With regards to alien life, well, we've seen incredibly complex behavior arise in animals as different as mollusks and vertebrates. I believe that alien life will look indeed, very, very alien, especially since the development of our own multicellular life was very bumpy and strange. But you know what's interesting? I believe that while we would have many differences between us and any alien civilization, we would be able to communicate and understand each other, to which degree I cannot say. Because, if what I say is true, and abstract thought and culture, mediated by language, are what create social animals capable of society and 'civilization', it means that there is a language that can be translated, and if that is the case, we can talk with them. About what? I cannot say.

(unless, like Lynn Marguillis has done a decent case for, the nervous system has its origin on modified microtubules, which are the result of endosymbiosis, and so it's a unique thing to animals and probably to Earth itself... then again, even slime molds, which are fungi, are able to display behavior similar to nervous systems, so I don't think this is a limitation)

*well, there's Octopolis and Octlantis, but that's more of individuals living together rather than a social group

[mint-in-the-moonlight]

putting the poly back in polytheism

something that I've noticed in neo-pagan/polytheist spaces is this focus on one or a few deities. while this is a valid approach and seems to be working amazingly for many people, i wanted to write a short defence of a different form of polytheism that, while maybe less visible on social media, is equally viable.

the poly in polytheism necessitates the belief in multiple gods however modern forms of worship take many different forms on top of that. from my years being in pagan spaces on social media I have noticed that to many, being a polytheist means worshipping one or a handful of gods and having very close relationships with them. which deities someone chooses to have this kind of relationship with stems from multiple possible sources, for example, personal interest, the deity's domain being somehow related to a person's life or an inexplicable draw to them.

to me, this seems to be the dominant view on social media of the form that neo-paganism takes, however, after years of exploring my spirituality and practice, I have come to the conclusion that this is not how I want to worship. I am writing this post for more people like me, who are interested in exploring this often less mainstream approach.

an ancient template

reading about Ancient Greek and Roman civilisations I was always struck by the number of minor deities with hyper-specific domains and associations. as a modern pagan, I could not understand the appeal of worshipping such a deity, ie. using so much time and resources to build a relationship for only a handful of niche issues that you could approach them with.

but as I kept reading and exploring, I realised that I was approaching polytheism completely differently than the ancients did. they truly did live in a world full of gods and they did not require a relationship built over days, if not weeks or more, to approach a deity and ask for their aid.

as long as you followed the rules of reciprocity, you could approach any deity that was relevant to your situation because they were the best equipped to help you with your problem. now this is not true for all of the population all the time, there were definitely also for example, people devoted to one deity, but from my understanding, this seemed to be the general form that polytheism took in those ancient civilisations.

the influence of monotheism

I think another feature of online neo-paganism is this expansion of the major deities' domains which then removes the need to worship the smaller deities. now, don't get me wrong, I'm all for expanding the domains of deities, especially if this is done from a revivalist perspective in order to modernise them for the contemporary worshipper. but sometimes I feel like completely unrelated domains are added for the sake of convenience more than anything else, ie. so that someone can keep worshipping the same deity(ies) without approaching others.

this, in my opinion, goes against one of the core aspects of polytheism which is the idea that different gods rule over different domains and have power over them. following this idea, it would make very little sense to pray to Neptune during air travel as he has no influence over the skies. yet, I sometimes see the deities be treated more like monotheistic gods which are all-powerful and can influence anything in the world.

if this is your view of how the gods work, that's fine, but I feel like sometimes people accept it without questioning it much or thinking about their view of theology at all. after mulling this idea over for some time, I realised it made much more sense to approach those specific deities, even if they are much less known or minor because this fits into my beliefs about polytheism much better.

a poly-practice

so, how would a poly-polytheistic practice look like in the modern day? well, there are many ways to go about it but I will just share bits from my own experience.

what I have ended up doing is focusing on different deities as they become relevant in my life - I focused on worshipping Janus at the beginning of the year while also taking the time to pray to Fortuna in moment when I needed her aid. I then did some extra reading on Jupiter, but didn't forget to thank Mars every time I went to the gym. I no longer felt the pressure to have some sort of special "connection" to every deity or "feel their presence", just trusting that they are there and then catching glimpses of divinity in my daily life.

looking into which Roman festivals I wanted to celebrate also opened my perspectives to more deities I would not have otherwise worshipped on my own. like this, I feel like I am building an arsenal of deities I can turn to when I need and of course, it is also vital to remember that I can call on multiple ones at the same time, just like the Romans saw the gods aiding one another in their tasks.

I only have one altar, which is practical and thus quite minimalistic, but there is space for my prayer notebook as well as other supplies that I need for my rituals.

conclusion

of course, this kind of practice results in a much more "impersonal" relationship with the gods, but I never really felt the need to communicate with them directly or things like that, so it fits me well. I find comfort in imagining a world full of gods, who may only know me in passing but who look out for me nevertheless.

in the end, the goal of this post is not to change anyone's mind about how they worship, but to present an alternate perspective which you can learn from but also completely disregard. in the end I am just happy that you were interested enough to reach until the end of this post. thank you for reading!!

[fall0utmind]

my only thought about Alex was that Marс (probably as always) downplays the scale of his problems after their divorce and Alex can only believe him. Although it's unlikely, he knows Marс like hell, so it's possible they don't live together for some reason. Which adds to Mark's loneliness and his pain, because even Alex can't be around and feels like that, because I don't believe Alex would be cut off from this situation, they love each other too much. As for the "He passes out very publically after a race" , well, that should be a big boom. Perhaps Valentino (as I understand you stick to the canon version until 2018) will be shocked. Yeah! It wasn't all a hoax, and Marc really loved him all the time. Mental crisis and horror, grandpa is almost going crazy (this time for real). And it's probably during this period that Marc feels so bad that only Valentino can help him (the effects of pills and lack of heat can probably be so bad that he ends up in the hospital). Well, shaky attempts at a truce will begin. Alex and his family will probably fight with Vale (metaphorically, although a real fight would be funny, for example, if Vale didn't come out as a winner, because he feels guilty anyway) You didn't mention Luka, but maybe he and Peссo will even try to do something before the big bang happens, but Marс probably won't believe them and won't listen to them. So then they will have a very strong influence on Valentino in his search for redemption, including from the position that you are our alpha and you have failed us.

Hello, what a bunch of fab ideas. Where do I even start!!

Okay, yes, I love the idea with Alex. I think it's also super important that Alex is a beta. It means he doesn't understand the draw to Vale or the need to do xyz. Alex kinda just assumes that he just doesn't understand. And yes, potentially, in this universe, they don't live together. I can imagine marc being very reluctant for help and playing down his issues. So he wouldn't want Alex there all the time, seeing his pain and discomfort. Obviously, that means he's more separated from Alex, which inevitably makes it WORSE. OUCH. So marc hasn't cut Alex out in the same way as everyobe else cause hes still pack, but there's more distance.

Okay I have so many ideas about the passing out post race.

2025 championship, marc is racing pecco for the title. I can't decide whether I want it to be set in Valencia, last race vibes, or if I just want Marc to clean sweep it and wrap up the championship earlier than that?

Either way, marc crosses the line, and his body just gives up. The whole race has been hell. He's overheating, sweating buckets, and there's blood dripping down his chin. He thinks it's from his nose. He's dizzy. He might throw up.

The bike feels wild underneath him, the engine hot. The world is beginning to feel fuzzy around the edges. He tires to act normal, to celebrate, but he's so, so tired.

He tries to pull the bike to a stop to celebrate with the fans. His muscles are weak, and they slide. He just about control it, laughing it off. When marc eventually stops, his legs are shaking, and he goes to stand, but he can't weigh barely. The whole world is spinning now, nausea churning in his gut. He needs to take his helmet off, gasping for air, hands scrabbling for the clips. His hands are shaking too much. Probably for the best, people would freak out about the blood.

Hes on the floor now, how did he end up on the floor. People are shouting, screaming for medical - cheers of celebration turned to horror. Marc thinks it might be a dream. The officials stand over him, he can see their mouths moving but can't discern the words.

Alex's gead comes into view, and marc tries to reach out, but his hands feel like lead. He just wants to sleep. He's safe now. Alex is here, so he lets go.

**

In the garage, people are watching on in horror. Valentino looks like his world has just been turned upside down. Imagine the carnage. Alex pulls up by where Marc collapsed, then pecco.

Alex is shouting, concern on his face. Pecco is similarly tense, freezing when he sees Marc motionless. It's horrifying.

They pull marcs helmet off, and there's blood. Why is there blood. Cue very dramatic vale. He's having a breakdown. He's an idiot. The guilt is incredible. He did this double points because not only is there the human guikt but also, he hurt an omega!!! His omega!!! And he caused all the pain! When he should have been protecting marc.

Anyways, they take him to the hospital like you said, because it's bad. It's really bad. It's defo a case of only vale can help. He needs a pack. Hence, I get an opportunity to write more vr46 x marc bonding scenes. Which is my fave. I might talk about the dynamics there in another post, if people want??

Marcs family are madddd! Remember, marc has been completely rejecting his omega. He goes home for xmas (pre reconcilliation) and refuses to nest. Only sits on the edge of his mother's. Won't scent with anyone, has practically forgotten how to. Can you imagine the pain. The horror. (They don't know about the things Vale said. Just assumes it's marc isolating himself or getting upset - genders dysphoria). So when they find out that Marc had been kicked out of the pack... well, they aren't happy.

Omg yes, luca and pecco. They are incredibly suspicious of what's happening with marc. Especially when pecco and marc become teammates. And Marc never being in the pack room. But marc is avoiding them like no tomorrow, because it hurts!!! So yes I think they're mad at vale too.

I also, as a side note, think the whole grid and vr46 pack would love having a marc pack. And older pack omega? Someone to guide and provide love and calm and balance to the pack??? Absolutely amazing.

Thank you for this ask!!!!