#everything to make himself look like the poor victim daves the only one who gets between his father to protect his sister their mother is

[wonderfulworldofmichaelford]

Psycho Analysis: Syndrome

(WARNING! This analysis contains SPOILERS!)

In one of the earliest episodes of Psycho Analysis, I discussed the villain of Incredibles II, Evelyn Deavor. Evelyn is just a genuinely awful twist villain for not only being completely obvious, but for having a nonsensical and impersonal motive that makes her look like a vindictive idiot. And while there is so much wrong with her, things I detailed in that review (though probably not quite as well as I would now after doing this for a few years), there is one big issue that holds her back, one that no villain in her shoes could avoid: She’s standing in the shadow of a chubby ginger nerd with a Heat Miser hairdo.

Syndrome (real name Buddy Pine) is really something else when it comes to Pixar villains. While not the first to be genuinely, irredeemably evil—Hopper was already right there—he had a lot of things that the grasshopper lacked. For one, we get to see Syndrome’s backstory and how he ended up becoming the way that he is. But more importantly, Syndrome just has a much more stylish presentation that elevates him to being what I consider Pixar’s very best villain.

Motivation/Goals: Over the course of his many, many evil monologues, Syndrome paints a pretty vivid picture of why he is the way he is. It begins with his initial monologue to Bob, where he recounts the faithful night Bob cruelly rejected him and told him to fly home. Only… there’s one teensy little detail missing from the recap. A very French detail.

Yes, Buddy’s memory proves to be extremely self-serving, as he ignores Bob was at the time dealing with the terrorist and “World’s Greatest Punny Supervillain Name” winner Bomb Voyage to paint himself as a poor, innocent victim of a dismissive and cruel super. Note also how his posture in his version has him with arms wide open as Bob cruelly looks down upon him. All of this goes to show that his big desire for revenge, a core aspect of his motivation, is just completely fabricated by his warped, evil mind. I think he really was just looking for an excuse to go on a killing spree and Bob telling him to stop endangering his own life inadvertently created the world’s first super-school shooter.

Syndrome later elaborates on his evil scheme, because simple revenge isn’t all he’s about (it’s just really nice he gets to take it, that’s all). In another monologue, he details how his murderous robot was meticulously created so that he could fabricate the perfect deadly enemy for him to beat in a staged fight, thus turning himself into a beloved superhero and winning the public’s adoration and respect. With every other hero dead by his hands, he could now soak in all the attention he wanted, and then when he’s old he’d sell off all his tech creating a world where everyone is super (meaning, in his words, that “no one will be”). Syndrome’s initial scheme is very ego-driven and narcissistic, which honestly makes it perfect for a campy supervillain like him.

Of course, he ends up having one more plan when everything else goes awry: Steal Jack-Jack and raise him as his own. This is actually a nice recycling of his cameo from a deleted opening scene for the movie, where he was actually an old enemy who tried to kidnap Violet as a child and who ends up dying in a horrible explosion for trying to fuck with Bob and Helen’s kid (seems they liked that fate for him, because they kept that too). It’s pretty demented as far as a backup plan goes, but it certainly fits him.

Performance: Beloved Kevin Smith collaborator, former Scientologist, and Dave Seville actor Jason Lee is genuinely the perfect sort of guy to voice a villain who comes off as incredibly comedic, but he also gets to show off some really good range when it’s time for Buddy to drop the laughably evil schtick and dip into being a smug, sinister supervillain. All in all, he gives us the exact sort of Silver Age supervillain hamminess to keep you engaged even as he dips deeper and deeper into horrifyingly evil actions.

Final Fate: You’d think that after nearly dying from a bomb getting caught on it as a child, Syndrome would ditch the cape. You’d think that, being a former hero worshiper who absolutely had to know that Edna Mode was the hero designer, he’d be aware of her stance on capes in costume design and would ditch the cape. But no, Syndrome apparently really wanted that classic hero look, and as all truly stylish men must do, he paid the price for looking good. The price in this case is being sucked into a jet turbine where he was shredded into a fine paste before whatever was left violently exploded in a massive fireball, but hey, that's what you get for ignoring Edna's fashion advice.

Best Scene: I think his introductory scene when he fully reveals himself to Bob is, ahem, incredible, especially on repeat viewings. From the chilling moment where he makes Bob aware of his true identity to his warped self-victimizing recap of Bob rejecting him to getting caught monologuing and then tossing Bob away by accident, it takes the nerdy little fanboy from the opening and recontextualizes him as a laughably evil mad scientist who is at the same time an extremely disturbed murderer with a horrifyingly personal vendetta.

Best Quote: Syndrome has some of the best quotes in the movie this side of Edna, and he drops a good 50% of the film’s most iconic and quotable lines. But the one bit of dialogue that sticks out to me personally is the one he drops during his big (re)entrance into the film, where he makes Bob realize who he is by simply saying, “After all… I am your biggest fan.” It’s so simple and bone-chilling and really sets the mood of the film going forward.

Final Thoughts & Score: Syndrome is just really an amalgamation of everything great you could have in a villain in this particular type of movie.

On the superhero movie side, he’s obviously taking a lot of inspiration from envy-driven tech geniuses like Lex Luthor and Dr. Doom. He has a personal grudge against the hero, and is determined to use his technological prowess to outdo them and show the world he’s better than the supermen. Of course, Syndrome takes it to an entirely unhinged level by being an unrepentant serial killer, but he’s very much still in the spirit of those aforementioned supervillains. Much like them, and as previously mentioned, his version of the events that led to his rebirth as a villain are very skewed to paint him more as a victim, with his take being how he was unfairly treated by his idols rather than as some obnoxious nuisance who could have been severely hurt or killed and whose bumbling led to a disastrous chain of events. It seems very much in the same vein as the stories where Doom blames Reed for however badly his face is scarred, or Lex blaming Superman for making him bald. Syndrome just takes these classic comic book tropes and mashes them together into one fantastic package. Now if only he somehow involved super-intelligent gorillas in his plans...

Now let’s look at the James Bond side, because everything from the score to the island lair to the evil henchmen are pure Bond villain territory. Syndrome has Bond Villain Stupidity down to an art form; even when he points out being “caught monologuing,” he still does it multiple times where he otherwise has the titular family dead to rights. He had ample opportunity to kill them several times, only to end up with egg on his face because the heroes managed to use his time gloating to form a real plan of escape. And then there’s his death which, again, is caused because he felt like gloating instead of just fucking leaving. He even has a sexy henchwoman who betrays him for the incredibly sexy Chad of a hero, though Bob doesn’t need her pussy when he has it galore at home. Syndrome wouldn’t feel too out of place going up against Jimmy B, if I’m being honest; nothing Syndrome does is any sillier than Moonraker.

I think what’s truly impressive is just how they managed to balance Syndrome being utterly vile and absolutely hilarious, which is no easy task and can lead to a villain being insufferable rather than entertaining. Syndrome has some great jokes, great body language, and the voice of Jason Lee, a voice that exudes comedic energy in every syllable; he also nonchalantly orders children to be murdered, gambles his henchwoman’s life just to call Bob’s bluff, tries to kidnap a baby, and is basically what would happen if H. H. Holmes had robots. It’s such an amazing combination of traits and it all gels together into one of the best and most fun superhero movie villains ever crafted.

Yeah, that’s right. He’s one of the best superhero movie villains. This man easily clears most of Marvel and DC’s movie villains, and deserves every single point of that 10.5/10 I’m giving him. He’s Pixar’s best villain, and exactly the sort of fun, campy, yet ultimately deadly and threatening bad guy that all superhero movies deserve. Literally no part of The Incredibles is lacking, so why should the villain be any different, right? If only the sequel could have kept up even half the energy… Maybe if they’d given Evelyn Snow Miser’s hair, she’d have been a better villain.

#Psycho Analysis #Syndrome #Jason Lee #Pixar #The Incredibles

[heatobrienswife]

.

#medieval au #ok so I've been thinking more about that au n it mainly revolves around my s/i heat izzy dave n nerugami #dave n my s/i are half siblings in this au same mother different fathers dave being the older sibling #their mother had a one night stand with nerugami whos my s/is bio dad in this au so she's half elf half human dave is full human #their mother isn't a scumbag who just cheats tho her husband daves father is an abusive sack of shit physically mentally emotionally n #verbally he's also unbelievably harsh on dave since he's not only the first born but also his only son oh btw medieval au so first son is #important n shit dave was born pretty sickly so his father laid into him for that he's gotta be a big strong man to take over the family #name ect you get the idea anyway when my s/i was born it was obvious she wasn't his her pointed ears n ruby red n glowing gold eyes #instantly gave that away daves dad went ballistic n was close to just straight up killing her her mother managed to plead n beg him not to #my s/i was allowed to live but he wouldn't have anything to do with her her mother was also basically a prisoner in her own home since she #*couldn't be trusted* dave being a good bit older then my s/i did his best to help his mother raise her the two become super close from #both dave helping to raise her n how he'd protect her from his father as my s/i got older daves father began to pick on her n she became #very defensive n snappy because of it daves father basically trained her to snap back since it fed into his victim image #*look at how nasty this bastard child of my wifes infidelity treats me after i took her in fed her n kept a roof over her head* he twisted #everything to make himself look like the poor victim daves the only one who gets between his father to protect his sister their mother is #to affraid of him to protect her kids she can barely even comfort them while he's still storming round they basically only have eachother #most of the time my s/i does try n help when daves getting a beating but dave pushes her away to stop her getting involved #eventually their parents end up having another child a blonde haired blue eyed perfect little girl it's very obvious from the moment she's #born that she's their parents favourite she's spoilt she's all their father will talk about & she can get away with anything this turns her #into the nastiest brat n only got worse as she grew older #as daves 18th birthday got closer he began secretly saving away as much coin as he could he was gonna leave as soon as he was able to he #was also dead set on taking my s/i with him it's easy for him to pack up what little both of them have n they leave with the coin he's #managed to save he's able to buy a horse n enough food to last them a couple of weeks or so n they flee as far n fast as they can #urjx5hcht i have more but i think I've gone on for way too long >w>;;; #shut up rattie no one gives a shit lol

[hotchley]

when death finally comes

Surprise lovelies!!

I had the sudden urge to kill Hotch, so here we are. I killed him. It’s not happy at all and there is no comfort and I kinda hate it and I’m not sure most of it makes sense, but I wrote it and I am proud of it, so now I’m subjecting all of you to it :)

A special thank you to @whump-town for encouraging my writing and saying that killing Hotch kinda cleans your palate. I will hold onto that information.

Trigger Warnings: major character death, blood, child abuse, implied suicidal thoughts

read on ao3!

In the end, it is not merciful. 

It is not expected or beautiful. 

It is not poetic. Nor is it peaceful. 

It is not what he deserved.

Because what he deserved was old age. 

A hospital, where the lights would convince him of a better future. Where he knew what was coming and could prepare his final words and one last smile, if only to comfort the family that would definitely be stood until the last possible moment.

He deserved a care home, so Jack would not ever have to associate the apartment with the feeling of death. He deserved a care home, because it would imply that Jack was older and had his own family. It would mean that Haley's life could be celebrated with a smile that was more accepting than sad.

He deserved Virginia, the only home he had ever known. Because when Haley exploded into his life in a flurry of costumes and dances that he could never quite master, that place became his home. Her embrace felt like the love he had never received.

And even when her embrace morphed into avoidance and hesitance, she had been home. The only person that could see him human. When she died at the hands of a serial killer, he thought that was it. He thought he would never recover. But he did, and Virginia started to warm again as the team started to find reasons to see him and Jack.

He deserved love, safety. He deserved a long life that he would be proud of. He deserved to see Jack's college graduation, Henry's highschool graduation, Penelope's daughter, Spencer's wedding. He deserved to witness everything that just wouldn't be the same without him before he was laid down to rest one final time. 

He deserved to be held.

He deserved so much more. He always had. But happy endings were not made for people like him. 

They were not made for heroes that could save everyone but themselves because nobody ever taught them how to. They were not made for men that could look everyone but themselves in the eye. They were not made for fathers that wished for their son to be better, without ever realising that they themselves had been better.

They were not made for the terrified little boy that had grown into the scared man. Because that little boy had never been taught what it meant to be happy. That scared man had never understood the difference between safety and joy. 

Mercy did not come for those that had scars that would never quite heal, no matter how much surgery was carried out. It did not come for those that believed the blood of so many innocent people still stained their hands. 

It did not come for people that had been forgiven by everyone but themselves.

What Aaron Michael Hotchner- and god, he still hated his middle name, forever tainted by the memory of his father and all the pain he inflicted on those he was supposed to protect- deserved was peace.

What he got was as far away from that as the universe could manage.

He was still a few years shy of his sixtieth birthday when it happened.

It was a basement in Seattle. Seattle, which he had always loved, with everything he was, until David Rossi came to find a serial killer that would get away and only cause more and more pain after he was found.

It was a basement in Seattle because even after all these years, he was a hero. He had never learnt how to walk away from anyone or anything. He had never stopped believing that good would trump bad, even when the villains and the unsubs just kept winning.

It was dark. Because he hadn't seen the mans' face before he was taken, and they certainly would not risk him seeing it now. Not now they had worked out who it was. The former Agent Aaron Hotchner, who had beaten a man to death with his bare hands. Who had come back from everything the killers he fought had thrown at him. 

Who had stared into the abyss and not even flinched.

It is slow. And painful. And he is aware the whole time that the life is leaving his body, and no matter how hard he tries to fight it, he can't. He is frozen in place, terrified as the scars he tried so hard to never look at are reopened. The blood drips onto the floor beneath him and he feels his eyes flutter shut behind the blindfold.

He was so tired. It would be so easy to give in. But it would've been easy to give in as Foyet plunged the knife in. Too easy to stop fighting as he fell down the stairs after finding Haley. Even easier to resign after Peter Lewis made him watch the family he had always vowed he would die for be murdered right before his eyes.

So he tries not to give in, but eventually, it becomes too difficult and he is forced to let go.

When Aaron Hotchner dies- is brutally murdered for trying to protect a young woman from being mugged- he is alone. He is alone and he's not old enough to get his state pension. The EMTs can't even try and attempt to revive him. His son is unreachable because his phone died whilst out at a party, even though he told his dad he was studying.

Jack never recovers from the guilt that the last thing he said to his dad had been a lie. The team had been on a case. Jack couldn't make the phone call. He hadn't processed it himself. He kept expecting his dad to walk into the apartment and offer to make pancakes or complain about his knees, even though he refused to use the cane.

Jessica lost her brother, and wondered when it would finally be her turn. The only family she had left was her nephew. Everyone else- her mother, her father, her baby sister and her little brother- was gone.

The team couldn't even pretend that his death had been swift and painless. They had seen enough murders and studied enough signatures to know what caused immediate death and what dragged things out. Derek identified the body. It had taken him longer than he cared to admit. Because the body on the ground was not the Aaron he had known.

And they never caught the culprits. Even with their sloppiness and poor skills, the team never managed to find them. It was like they had just vanished into thin air. But none of them ever stopped searching. Their newest profiler- a woman already hardened by life and its horrors- worried that they would all eventually become Jason Gideon. 

Haunted by the one person they should have been there for but failed to save until every victim with soft brown eyes, or messy black hair, or a broken son, or so many different things, started to look like him.

Dave's eulogy was beautiful. Derek's was a testament to the Aaron that had existed before everything fell apart. Jennifer's reminded everyone that he had always been a father, even before Jack was born. Penelope spoke of the side he was so careful with- the one that held onto her presents like they meant everything to him, and in some ways they did. Emily's poked fun at him the way only she could, even though tears were falling onto the paper. Spencer spoke of the trust Aaron had placed in him, and the man he had taught him to be.

Jack couldn't read his. He was so angry. At his father for always needing to be a hero, instead of being a father. At the team for not finding the killers. At the world for leaving him an orphan, even if he was close to college graduation. At George Foyet for not killing them all that fateful day, if only so he would not have to live without his parents.

Aaron Hotchner died, a hero, a father and a friend, without ever realising just how much he was cherished and adored.

It is not what he deserved.

It is nonsense. It is chaos.

It is unexpected and destructive.

In the end, it is cruel.

It always is.

#major character death #tw blood #tw child abuse #tw suicidal thoughts #criminal minds #criminal minds fanfic #aaron hotchner #hurt aaron hotchner #hotch whump #sumayyah writes cm

[quillvine]

Caffeinated

Aaron Hotchner x Gender Neutral Reader

A/N: Here have this monster of a fic. It’s been kicking around in my drafts for so long I had no idea what to do with or how to end it. I hope you guys like it! My requests are still open so don’t be afraid to drop a line :)

Masterlist

You’re awoken by the sound of Aaron’s phone ringing, it's his work tone. It’s too damn early for work especially considering it’s a Saturday. Next to you Hotch presses a quick kiss on your lips before reaching to grab his cell from the nightstand. He answers, rubbing the sleep from his eyes as he listens to whoever’s on the other end. Before he even hangs up you know there's a case.

Aaron turns to you with his usual grim bossman look on his face. It’s a far cry from the cute  sleepy look that you’re used to seeing in the mornings.

“Why don’t you start the coffee? I’ll go call Jessica and check on Jack.” He tells you.

He leans over again to give you another kiss. This time it’s long and slow, his lips molding against yours. Your hands find their way to his messy hair and he shifts to pull you closer to him on the bed. 

All too soon he pulls away and you whine in disappointment, you’re not ready to start the day. Aaron just smiles pulling you up from the bed and pushing you towards the door. He pats your ass gently giving you another kiss before heading down the hall to Jack’s room.

He had food poisoning so you and Aaron had already been up later than usual making sure he was okay. The poor boy was hugging the toilet bowl way past his bedtime. You guys had hoped that you wouldn't get called away during the weekend, but alas the UnSubs of the world had their own agenda.

Flicking the lights on in the kitchen you get the coffee pot going. You also search the pantry for the individually packaged instant oatmeal that you guys keep for the mornings where Jack is running late for school. Neither of you are particularly hungry in the mornings but you figured that instant oatmeal is easy enough to make on the jet. 

Pulling your go bags from under the buffet table in the hallway, you throw the oatmeal cups into your bag and then head back to the kitchen. You pour the hot coffee into travel mugs and then set them next to your go bags.

Heading back up the stairs to the bedroom where you see Aaron buttoning up his work shirt. He gives you a quick smile before grabbing the pair of slacks on the bed.

You walk over to the closest to grab clothes and get changed. After a quick glance at Hotch who is tying the tie you got him for his birthday you settle on a red shirt to match his power tie.

“Jessica is on her way,” He tells you, walking over to where you're standing to give you a kiss on the cheek, “Jack’s okay, he’s still sleeping.”

When Jessica arrives, you thank her for coming on such a late notice and then hurry out the door into the car.

Once you guys hit the highway it seems like whatever early morning energy you had left you. Your body feels limp and your eyes are drooping which really isn’t good considering the fact that you the coffee was supposed to kick in already.

By the time you reach the office you’re feeling a little worse for wear but you have a job to do so you reach into the backseat to grab your go bag. Before you can exit the car Aaron grabs your wrist and pulls you into a slow languid kiss.

“One for the road.” He tells you.

You smile as you exit the car, maybe this morning will get better.

&

It turns out the morning did not get better. The flight was bumpy and filled with turbulence adding a headache on top of your tiredness. By the time you guys get off the jet and to the station you’re really not in a good mood. For some reason the caffeine still has not kicked in and you’re still exhausted. 

It’s six in the morning right now which means it’s still too early for you guys to check into a hotel so you have to leave your bags at the station. As soon as you’ve set your bags down, you’re beelining it to the break room, praying to whatever god is out there for a fresh pot of coffee.

Morgan is there already and smirks when he sees your disgruntled face. You groan internally, the whole team has been eyeing you since you got on the plane, they know how you get when you’re low on sleep. Morgan is the only one brave enough to toe the line with you.

“Oh ho ho, looks like someone woke up on the wrong side of the bed this morning. What happened, Hotch keep you up too late last night?” Morgan as you push past him to the coffee pot.

“He’ll have your head for that.” You grumble.

Morgan just laughs, giving you a teasing smile as he follows you. He actually has the audacity to beat you to the coffee pot and starts pouring himself a cup. You come up next to him and grab a cup of your own, as Morgan pours you a cup you fumble with the cream and sugar passing them to him. He thanks you, adding some to his cup. 

You stir your own coffee as you reach over to pour a cup for Aaron. He probably doesn’t need another cup, if anything he seems to be functioning fine but it’ll save you another trip to the break room if he doesn't drink it. Who cares if it’s cold.

Taking a sip from your cup you find that it is potentially the worst cup of coffee you’ve ever had in your life.

“Ugh, dishwater.” You grouse as you guys walk to the conference room the team has hijacked.

Morgan takes a sip of his own coffee and chuckles.

“Come on now you know that they never have the good stuff in these places.” He tells you as you guys walk into the conference room. “If you want anything other than dishwater you have to be like Pretty Boy and bring a whole pour over set.”

“Reid, I didn’t know you brought your Chemex on cases.” You say as you slide into the seat next to Aaron, giving him his cup of coffee.

He’s helping Spencer get the geographical profile going. There are no actual bodies at the moment, the girls are just missing. So you guys really only have the abduction sites and victimology to go on.

“You know,” Reid says as he looks up from the map. “The Chemex Coffeemaker was invented in 1941. It’s intention was to-”

“Yeah, yeah, we get it. All I know is that the last time we roomed together you woke me up with all that fumbling around.” Rossi complains.

Spencer at least has the decency to look sheepish. He squirms under Dave’s semi-annoyed gaze and turns back to the map. You chuckle at the thought. Only he would have enough coherence in the mornings to meticulously weigh out the ratio of coffee grounds to water.

As you reach out for the victim files you’re startled by Aaron pushing his coffee cup over to you. He takes your hand and squeezes it gently.

“You need it more than I do.” He tells you.

You sigh happily, dishwater or not caffeine is still caffeine. Buzz from the earlier cup starts to thrum pleasantly through your body. Although, you think it’s partly because of the fact that Aaron is being so sweet to you today.

“Are you sure you’re okay?” He asks.

You simply nod and squeeze his hand again. He’s so endearing when he’s worried about you. His big brown puppy dog eyes and the slight wrinkle between his brows makes you want to coo and plant a nice solid kiss on his lips. But the last thing you need is more teasing from Morgan so instead you bring Hotch’s hand to your lips giving his fingers a gentle peck.

He doesn’t look convinced though, still looking at you with a slight frown on his face. As cute as Aaron is when he’s pouty, he has you a little worried. Normally even a quick grab of his hand would warrant a gentle reminder about professionalism. The last thing any of you need are the local police thinking you're a two-bit agent sleeping with your boss for your position. You must be in really bad shape for him to act like this.

“Hotch I’m fine, really. I think it’s just a bad combination of lack of sleep and the turbulence from the plane ride here.” You tell him gently. “I’ll get some sleep when we get to the hotel, promise.”

You give him a small smile and Aaron seems to relax at your words. You scoot closer to him, grabbing the case files that sit on the table. Reid shifts the map a little so you can get a better view. 

As you pour over the files to help with the geographical profile your feet find Aaron’s under the table. You nudge them gently to let him know that really you’re okay and not to worry about you. He nudges your back, as a reminder that he’s here if you need him. You smile setting in for a long day of profiling.

&

You know you promised Aaron that you would try to get some rest in the hotel but the hotel bed is so lumpy and you can’t seem to get comfortable. It’s not like Aaron’s sleeping either, his workaholic ass is still pouring over the case files.

You can tell he’s stressed, this case is weighing on him, you can see it in his eyes. But some of his stress is probably from the fact that he’s worried about you too. You feel so bad, he doesn’t need to worry about you, today was just an off day. He has enough to think about already with Jack and the case and everything else this job is pushing on him.

You yawn stretching languidly under the sheets. Hugging the blankets you turn to look at Hotch. He’s sitting at the desk in the corner of your guys hotel room still dressed in his normal work attire albeit a little disheveled. The crease between his brow is deeper than ever and you can tell that if he stares at those case files any longer he’s going to give himself a killer headache.

Luckily for him you know just how to stave off the impending headache. He could never resist your charms, especially this late at night.

“Aaron…” You croon, “Come to bed, baby. I’m so lonely, why dontcha come and keep me company?”

From his seat at the corner of the hotel room Aaron chuckles.

“Come on now, none of that.” He tells you. “You promised me that you would try and get some sleep.”

“I know, I know, but the bed is so lumpy and uncomfortable and I’m so cold. Why don’t you warm me up?” You purr.

You feel like a sultry young socialite waiting for her lover to come back to bed. The only thing that is missing are the silken sheets and the feather soft mattress.

Aaron sighs and rises from the desk chair. His suit jacket is already flung across the back of the desk chair and his tie is undone. He heads over to the bed with a large grin on his face. You smile back and make grabbing motions with your hands.

The bed dips as he climbs onto to lie next to you. Pulling you into a hug Aaron presses a kiss to the top of your head.

“What am I going to do with you?” He murmurs into your hair.

“Love me.” You say cheekily.

He laughs again and you laugh along with him. Oh god, his laugh is warm and honeyed and it feels like home. You could listen to it for days on end.

Patting his chest gently you say, “Come on baby get changed, you need to get some sleep too.”

Aaron gives you a quick squeeze before climbing out of the bed to change into his pajamas. As he slips out of his shit you purr in appreciation and grin wolfishly at him. He returns your grin as he wiggles out of his work slacks. Once he is fully changed Hotch pounces on top of you wrapping you into his arms. He flips you so you are resting on top of him, your head lying on his chest.

You bite your lip and bat your eyelashes at him. “Oh, so you want me on top tonight huh?”

“Stop it,” Aaron says with a low rumble. “You promised me that you would get some sleep.”

“Technically we would be sleeping together.” You tell him running your hand over his arms.

“Oh, you’re bad.” Aaron tells you as he leans up to nip at your lower lip. “But, you promised me that you’d get some rest, we need you at your best for this case.”

You sigh and roll off of him snuggling back into the blankets. He leans down to tilt your chin up so he can kiss you on your lips. He then reaches over to turn the lights off. With a soft smile you curl into Hotch and he gathers you up into his arms pulling you closer, the both of you settling in for a long night in a lumpy bed.

&

Normally, the sound of the engine is too loud for you to consider sleeping on the jet, but you’ve been running on fumes for the last couple days so you probably could sleep on anything that wasn’t a lumpy hotel bed.

You’re leaning against Aaron, your face planted firmly onto his side. Everyone else is asleep or trying to sleep, your boyfriend is the only one still awake. Honestly that silly stupid man would work himself to death if you and Jack weren’t around.

“Come on Aaron the paperwork can wait,” you tell him, “Why don’t we get some sleep?”

“You can get some sleep, I need to finish my report first.” He says not looking up from his papers.

You sigh and curl into Hotch’s side. It’s a little uncomfortable since he’s still upright and you can feel the movement of his arm as he writes. You focus on his even breathing and strong scent. Slowly, they lull you to sleep and you drift off dreaming of good coffee and nice hotel beds.

When you wake it’s to the sound of laughter. Rubbing your eyes bleary you see Derek and Emily with their go-bags slung around their shoulders. As you look around you see the rest of the team making their way off of the jet.

You look up when you hear a soft thud. Hotch has dropped your go bag next to his on the table. When he sees that you’re awake he leans down to kiss you on the lips.

“Welcome to the land of the waking,” he says with a teasing smile.

“Why didn���t you wake me up?” you ask rubbing your eyes groggily.

“Well, you just looked so cute in my arms I couldn’t bear the thought of waking you up.” He tells you to reach out his hand so he can tug you up.

You sigh a little as you stretch, your back cracking nicely. Reaching out to grab your go-bag you find that Aaron is already holding it with his own bag hanging on his shoulders. You grab his free hand and as you walk off the plane together.

When you get home you thank Jessica for looking after Jack and go upstairs to give the sleeping boy a kiss on his forehead. Collapsing in your nice not-lumpy bed, and drift off into a peaceful sleep. Just before you fall asleep fully you feel Aaron slide into bed next to you cradling you gently.

“I love you.”

“I love you more.”

Tags (lmk if you want to be added or removed): @winterscaptain @yes-sir-hotchner @mrs-joel-pimentel-23-25 @crying-river @genevievedarcygranger @ange-must-die @ogmilkis @saintd0lce

@agenthotchner and @dr-reid-ismyspiritanimal I tagged you guys too, thought you might like it :)

#aaron hotchner x reader #hotch x reader #aaron hotchner #jack hotchner #reader #x reader #Criminal Minds #Criminal Minds Fanfiction #criminal minds x reader #derek morgan #david rossi #spencer reid #emily prentiss

[whump-town]

ajadhkhdh that's okay! The gist of my ask was: what do you think abt Derek and Aaron's (platonic) relationship? I really think it's the most underrated friendship within the core 7. (Then again, I'm generally biased towards the two of them) so I was wondering if you had any headcanons/fic ideas for them specifically? Like after the events of Restoration, or after Hotch reveals thst Emily is not dead, that sort of thing.

I do have an ask for Restoration Hotch and Morgan so I’m going to go ahead and include what I wrote for that plus what I thought of when you asked this^^:

They’re a match made in Adrenaline Crash Hell.

Problems with authority?

Issues trusting men?

Trouble magnets?

It unnerves Haley every time she kisses her husband goodbye knowing she’s sending him out there with his equally as injury-prone partner. She loves Derek Morgan. He’s a doll and she invites him over for dinner all the time (also to occasionally get him to help Aaron do handy-man stuff around the house because she loves her husband but the man doesn’t understand woodwork at all).

They’re an unstoppable pair. 

Hotch is a fantastic sharp-shooter and he makes quick work of tongue-tying any cops that get into their way. Not to mention his legal knowledge gets them one foot in the door and guaranteed loopholes in problems that other pairs can’t solve.

Morgan is a charmer and paired with his good looks, he gains the trust of victims with ease. Not to mention, he’s fast on his feet and a close reader which means he won’t miss a single piece of evidence in a file. He excels in defusing explosives and that’s what sets them apart. 

It’s why Morgan gets sent back to Quantico with fragments of a bomb to put back together when Hotch gets sent to the hospital. 

Morgan stands in the bullpen, numb as he watches over and over as the news plays that scene on repeat. Just as it ends, they play that little clip-- the men wearing FBI kevlar and cops infiltrating the building. The radio static and Gideon’s voice giving the okay to move in. Morgan wonders when he’s going to get the call-- when Gideon’s voice is going to come through his phone and tell him he has to call Haley.

To tell her Hotch is dead…

and Jason Gideon killed him.

He manages to forgive Gideon for making him feel that hopeless. What he can’t forgive is what Gideon does to Hotch.

“The Black Queen--” Hotch informs him, one hand firmly planted on the wall ahead of him and the other tightly gripping a sleek black cane. He’s breathless and struggling to work through the pain that feels like it’s in every nerve of his body. But he’s refused Morgan’s help three times and he won’t cave on that now. 

With a sigh, he forces his body upright. His leg gives and Morgan grabs his shoulders. “Alright, man,” Morgan grunts and he forces Hotch back into the wheelchair the nurse had given them just in case. Good thing too. He lets out a breath of his own, feeling extremely better now that he won’t have to watch Hotch force his body to move in ways that it clearly does not want to.

Morgan pats Hotch’s shoulder, “what were you saying about this Black Queen chick?”

Despite just being taken off of bed rest and only being okayed for short walks this week, Hotch has already hired two new members of the team. Of their team, because as far they know, Jason Gideon will not be returning and Hotch is acting Unit Cheif until they can find somebody better-- which they know is a ploy because no one else can do the job.

Which makes the two of them the only members of the team. 

Living, that is.

Hotch chews on the end of his nails as he informs Morgan about the hacker recently caught in the FBI’s web. It makes him smile, Morgan can appreciate Hotch’s creativity in this new team. He’s good at this.

JJ had been the first person Hotch hired. She’d joined their little force last week as a media liaison and Morgan liked her right off the bat. She’d come to the hospital and Morgan had watched in shock but extreme amusement as she took right to arguing with Hotch. Not in a bad way but more of a “No, sir, you won’t be getting any paperwork until your doctor signs off on it. As that is the requirement you have to meet under federal guidelines and… because I said so.”

Needless to say, they love her. Not many people have the balls to tell Hotch no. It makes her perfect for the job.

She makes their jobs easier and she fully understands that while Hotch and Morgan are not currently physically capable of the job, it is in no way waiting for them to be ready.

There’s a slightly maddened look in Hotch’s eyes as he leans forward and tells Morgan about how much a genius this woman, the Black Queen, is. Then again, the poor man has had nothing to do for weeks and he’s taken this small task and really ran with it. It definitely doesn’t help that he’s desperate need of a hair cut and in pajamas. 

Going to interview Penelope Garcia is the first time Hotch leaves the hospital in months.

He’s promptly taken right back but he’s smiling the whole way.

Their team of four has weekly meetings in the hospital. 

Then Hotch hires Reid.

It’s strange at first but one night, as Morgan’s falling asleep it suddenly occurs to him-- That son of a bitch. Hotch and Morgan both struggle to trust men which has had a lot to do with Hotch’s hires being all women. Then Hotch does hire another “man” and it’s some scrappy-ass runt of a genius-- so, of course, Morgan hadn’t even flinched. He hadn’t even thought twice before taking the kid under his arm.

Of course, Hotch has Reid spending all his time with Gideon but he’s still a part of the team. 

But Hotch heals and returns to active duty. Gideon stays on campus. 

And then it all comes crashing in once again.

Morgan is the one to advocate for Elle. He doesn’t say a word to Hotch-- he doesn’t know why. He just goes straight up to Gideon and tells the man that they can’t pass up on a spunky woman like Elle Greenaway. 

He gets the impression Hotch doesn’t completely support this idea-- not Greenaway, just not the idea that Morgan went to Gideon instead of him.

Their friendship... struggles as Hotch takes on the full responsibilities of Unit Cheif. He’s not as fun and Morgan would prefer hanging out with the kid and Elle, so he does. 

Tobias Hankle forces them to confront that ruined friendship the moment Derek Morgan utters those simple words: “you’re a drill sergeant”.

But they remain one in the same.

“I have and always will entrust you with my life. Can you do the same for me?”

“I love my job, man.” “You love him more.”

“I don’t want you going to see Burford.”

The stand-off between the federal agents standing in the middle of the police station is clear. A battle that goes past wills and the inhibitions of troubled youths. The kind of trouble that runs deeper than still water. Trauma that grown men can’t shake. That these grown men haven’t shaken.

“Hotch, I can do this.”

Maybe, Hotch considers. Maybe Derek can to a certain degree. The way that Hotch handles it after case. The way they all handle it. “Fine,” he relents. He can’t burn the bridge between the two of them over something as stupid as egos and abusers. Not when their pasts intertwine the way they do. Braided. “Fine but I’m coming with you.”

Because if they’re going to do this, they’re going to do it together.

More or less.

There’s no denying how weak his own knees feel as Hotch watches Morgan take Buford’s hand. So, when Morgan looks him dead in the eyes and lies-- and deceives him with the excuse that he’s going to “use the head before we leave” Hotch lets him. It’s the same small infraction he’d need Morgan to allow him. The same infraction Morgan has allowed him.

“Derek? You did a great thing out there.”

The jet has been silent, for the most part. It’s only the right amount of small talk, mangled by Dave’s encouraging words. Mangled by the call.

Hotch recognizes the tone, the far off look in Derek’s eyes as he pulls his phone away from his ear. “What happened?” he can hardly push the question past his lips. Because he already knows the swell of tangled emotions. The way that anger melts into fear and doubt. The way relief wraps its cold fingers around your sternum and burns with the passion of loss. 

Because deep, deep down… Hotch still loved his father. 

“Carl Buford is dead.” 

Bile stings the back of Hotch’s throat but he remains silent and still when Morgan stands. He assumes the other man is feeling the same burning disgust. Anger with himself for being upset. Anger with Buford for making him love him in some twisted way. 

And Morgan can’t find the means to understand it. Hotch loved his abuser because he was his father. Carl was… Carl was nothing and everything and Morgan crawled his way from the muddied pits of hell without Carl and yet--

“Breathe--” he can’t even make it to the bathroom before he sinks to his knees. “It’s alright.” It’s taken Morgan years to get to a place where the presence of another man, hell an older man, doesn’t startle him. Still, sometimes someone steps too close and he flinches or gets frustrated and he can’t even explain why. 

But Hotch surrounds him. He uses his body to block the other’s from Morgan’s direct line of sight and all Morgan knows is the painful throb in his chest and the reassuring hand placed on his back. Morgan finds comfort in that hand. In Hotch who he knows without a shred of doubt not only understands but shares a fraction of his pain. 

“Just breathe, Derek.” 

Hotch looks up, his knees aching from squatting. “Blake, can you grab a water bottle? JJ, can you get me a rag?” He stays right here beside his old friend. So much as changed from those beginning years as two young and dumb agents. 

But they’re still the same broken men. 

“Hotch?”

Hotch shakes his head, “I’m right here, Derek. Always.”

[huntertales]

Part One: Slippery Little Snake. (Dog Dean Afternoon S09E05)

Episode Summary: While investigating two bizarre murders, Y/N and the boys realize there is an eyewitness to both gruesome deaths--a German Shepard. Anxious to find out what monsters they are dealing with, the three look up a spell that can help communicate with the dog. When Dean decides to be the one to perform the spell, he quickly realizes it comes with side effects no one saw coming.  Pairing: Dean Winchester x Reader Word Count: 4,356.

Previous Part | Supernatural Rewrite Masterlist

“Are you sure this is a good idea?”

“Best cure of all.”

You grimaced at the sight of Dean’s infamous hangover cure he swore was the key to getting over the consequences of drinking from the previous night before. You and the boys had given Kevin a chance to cut loose and enjoy himself away from his responsibilities in hopes it might help make the kid feel more refreshed. Only it seemed the opposite reaction happened. Kevin complained of a headache that wouldn’t go away and feeling nauseous to the point he feared he might throw up. You didn’t think he would have taken it so hard, and he was such a lightweight. Luckily through the complaints of an upset stomach and how the room spinned he managed to keep down the food you offered him.

Dean suggested an infamous Winchester speciality that might be able to kick this hangover in its ass, his own words. You watched in disturbance as Kevin drank two glasses of the stuff. The sight made you flashback to your younger pre-hunting days where you were a lightweight compared to the way a Winchester could handle their alcohol. Dean always could drink you under the table, not that you tried to keep up with him when you drank with him. The next morning you suffered the consequences almost exactly like Kevin had. Dean swore the drink he created helped. You swallowed it down and a few minutes later you threw up everything you had drank from the night before, and anything else that hadn’t digested yet. You admitted the stuff made you feel better. But you wouldn’t touch that stuff ever again.

You told Kevin to keep resting up and sleep off the hangover for a little while longer. When you were sure the kid was going to be fine on his own, you and Dean made your way to the war room where Sam had been occupying for a little while. He sat at the table with his laptop open and doing a little bit of research, hopefully accomplishing something better than the fiasco you had endured just a few minutes ago.

“Wow.” Dean’s approaching voice made his brother turn his attention away from the screen for a moment to see the both of you appeared to be beside yourselves in what you just went through. Sam gave you a confused expression, wondering what the problem was. “Kevin. Just poured some buffalo milk down his gob twice.”

“Buffalo milk?” Sam repeated what his brother just said, not exactly sure if he wanted to know where the man managed to get his hands on the suff. You sat on the edge of the table as Dean placed his hands on the back of an empty rolling chair next to his brother and leaned his body forward.

“Yeah, Dean’s infamous hangover cure-all. It’s apparently got everything in it. Except buffalo milk. God, the smell of it alone brought me back to my early twenties.” You mumbled, your nose scrunching up at the past memories you wished stayed buried. “Hopefully it’ll help Kevin from puking anymore of his guts out.”

“How is that kid still recovering from Branson?” Sam had seen his fair share of lightweights in his time, but there might have been nobody who couldn’t tolerate alcohol the way Kevin showed he wasn’t able to. You shrugged your shoulders from the lack of answers. The poor kid was a lost cause. You figured he would have taken the first chance he got to crawl into a bottle in some kind of attempt to bury the trauma that came from the chaos that ensued.

“What can I say? He’s an amateur.” Dean said. You scoffed as your reaction, feeling that was an understatement from the way you left the poor kid. “The slippery nipple shots at the Dolly Parton Dixie Stampede nearly killed the guy.”

“All right. Well, I got something that’s gonna get us back on the road.” Sam offered a change of subject to something he thought his brother might be interested in hearing. The older man took a seat next to him as you leaned over to take a quick peek at the screen, wondering what kind of case it was.

“Great.” You said. “I’ve been itching to stretch my legs and get out there again.”

Dean turned his head to your direction when you voiced your happiness of tagging along. The man was hesitant about letting you back out there after the favor Ezekial had done for him, and the warning of the consequences of furthering his stay. “You sure you’re ready for that?”

You furrowed your brow from his question, “Why would I not be ready for that?”

“Aren’t you kind of running on empty?” Dean asked in concern.

“Yeah, but the last three nights straight, I had eight hours of shut-eye. And for a hunter, that’s like twenty.” You tried to talk the man into letting you do your damn job without restrictions. You looked over at Sam to see the young man was hesitant himself about giving you the chance to tag along on a hunt. You rolled your eyes from the way they were acting. “Trust me, guys. I feel good.”

“Well, that’s great and all, but you’re still recovering from the trials. I think you ought to pace yourself, you know? And the sooner you heal…” Dean reminded you of a little fact he thought slipped your mind. You crossed your arms over your chest at the flimsy excuse he thought was going to work on you. When he trailed off and fell silent for a moment, you raised your brow in curiosity as to what he was going to say next. “Sam and I just want you back to your old self.”

“I am, guys. I know my body better than anyone else. Not to mention the fact that Kevin’s back on the heaven spell. Crowley’s locked up. We should be out there doing what we do best.” You said. The boys thought otherwise from their unspoken actions that said more than they were willing to admit. You rolled your eyes in annoyance as Dean leaned back in his seat and kicked up one of his legs to the table. The man tried to get a word into the argument, but you stopped him before he could. “Sammy, what’s this case you got for us?”

“Uh, a taxidermist named Max Alexander mysteriously crushed to death. Nearly every joint in his body dislocated, every bone broken.” Sam read off the gory details that caught his attention in the first place. “Poor guy is a human pretzel.”

“Tell me, Dean, what’s got that kind of strength?” You asked him, curious to see what his response was going to be since he had so much to say just a minute ago.

“A demonic luchador?” Dean made little effort into trying to make an education assumption to what might be the cause behind the out of ordinary death.

“Shop’s a couple hours away in Enid, Oklahoma.” Sam said. “We should at least check it out.”

“Unless the boss man thinks there’s some reason we shouldn’t.” You directed your gaze back over to the older Winchester to hear what he had to say. A smile crept to the edges of your lips from the way he fell silent. The response to his defeat. You slid off the table and back to your feet to get started on the packing that was ahead of you. Before you did, you wanted to make one thing clear. “Don’t forget the fact that I kicked your ass just the other day. And I’ll gladly do it again.”

You went on your way from stating the small fact you thought was enough proof to get you back on hunting without them worrying about your health. Dean let out a heavy sigh and ran a hand down his face from your ever growing stubborn behavior. “I swear, I don’t even know why I even bother with her.”

+ + +

You and the boys arrived in Oklahoma a few hours later, the first stop on your list was checking out the crime scene that was still crawling with cops. The first suspicious thing you noticed before even walking into the building was the threat painted on the front entrance of Max Alexander’s taxidermy business. “Die Scum” was written in all capital letters. Whoever painted the threat wanted to get their message across loud as possible. And someone made sure to keep to the painted words. You wondered if it was done by the same person. A few monsters liked to taunt their victims before going in for the thrill of the kill.

Sam noticed something in the letter M that was worth pointing out. You noticed it was an upside down triangle with what appeared to be a paw print. He snapped a quick picture with his phone for future research and headed inside with the rest of you. Taxidermy was something you didn’t give much of a second thought about. However when you stepped into Max’s business, you found yourself surrounded by endless animals of all sorts, all dead and stuffed for display. Animals’ heads mounted to the wall, birds frozen in mid flight, wild cats bearing their sharp fangs appearing as if they were ready to attack. There was some sort of strange craft to stuffing a dead animal and making it look realistic.

“Well, the creep factor just skyrocketed.” Dean mumbled, eyeing the dozens of dead animals surrounding him.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa.” A sheriff stopped the three of you, not sure who you were. 

“How are you? I’m Special Agent Chaplin.” You introduced yourself to him, flashing your fake FBI badge to the man. “These are my partners Agent Michaels and DeVille.”

“The body’s already been to the morgue. Just wrapping it up with Dave Stephens. He’s the one who discovered the boy.” The sheriff explained. You looked over to see an older man leaning against the register, still distraught from the events he thought would have never happened in a million years. “Such a shame. I used to go hunting with Max. He was a real good egg.”

“Sorry for your loss.” Dean gave his condolences to the officer. “You mind showing my partner around? Agent Chaplin and I have a couple of questions for Mr. Stephens.”

The sheriff nodded his head and gestured for Sam to follow him into the next room where the murder took place. You and Dean approached the older man, figuring he might know a thing or two that might be helpful in discovering if this case might be worth your while.

“Dave Stephens?” You asked. You and Dean flashed your badges once again at the man, “My partner and I have got a couple of questions for you if that’s all right.”

“I’ll tell you whatever you need to know.” Dave responded without an ounce of hesitation. “Max was a real pal.”

“Hunting buddy?” You wondered. You smiled ever so slightly when you saw his expression immediately change into surprise from how you were able to answer correctly in one guess. You had a feeling it was a common hobby among the locals from the sight of this place. “So, about what time did you discover the body?”

“About nine A.M.—my usual pickup time.” Dave answered. “I come in every Wednesday and Sundays to collect the entrails.”

You furrowed your brow from the terminology. “The entrails?”

“The animal organs. After Max would dig them out and work his magic.” Dave said. “He was a real artist, you know?”

You discovered what kind of magic Max was able to do with the creatures he was given. You found your attention lingering away from the conversation for a moment when you spotted Sam exploring the man's collection. You quickly bit your bottom lip to keep a smile from spreading across your lips at the little creature he was holding that appeared to be dressed as a character from Game of Thrones. Sam amused himself from the expression that crossed his face. Dean found it nothing more than bizarre as to why a grown man would waste his time putting so much effort into such a thing.

“Strange thing is, though,” The both of you quickly turned your full attention back to Dave to hear what else he had to say, pretending as if you were distracted by something childish. “bins were empty this morning.”

“Why is that strange?” Dean asked.

“Well, because it’s a Sunday. Weekend hunts are pretty much a given in this neck of the woods, so they’re usually chock-full of guts.” Dave explained as to why it was out of the ordinary for him.

“Any chance Max could have cleaned them out himself?” You wondered.

“No. It’s a biohazard. You can’t just throw the stuff out.” Dave said. You were learning all sorts of things about animal organs today, more than you ever wanted in your entire life. “You gotta burn it.”

“Huh. The more you know.” You gave him a polite smile from his explanation you could have gone without. You looked over to the sheriff when he approached the three of you again. “Is there anything else missing from the shop?”

“No.” The sheriff said. “The register was full, and the safe was intact. And all of Max’s trophies were still on the walls.”

“And was there anybody else here when you showed up?” Dean asked. 

“No one. No, other than the Colonel.” Dave chuckled and looked over his shoulder to Max’s pet. You felt a smile stretch across your lips at the sight of a German Shepard. 

Sam finished up his search around the crime scene and headed back over to you and his brother. You smiled at the sheriff and Dave, excusing yourself and walking over to another part of the shop where there was nobody else around to have a private conversation of your own to discuss what you found. You had a feeling this was going to be a worthwhile case after all. Everything was adding up with unusual circumstances.

“Okay, so,” You stood with your back to the crime scene, catching up with the younger man about everything you were able to learn in the short time. “We’ve got a thief who’s jonesing for animal parts, we’ve got a pagan symbol, and we’ve got a human pretzel.”

“Yeah, it all sounds very witch-y, but I wasn’t able to find a hex bag.” Sam said, putting a hole in his own theory to what might be to blame for the taxidermist’s death.

“All right, well, let’s keep digging. But not here.” Dean suggested. He didn’t move right away. You noticed his eyes wandered up to a part of the shop that kept his attention. You followed his gaze to see the man was staring at a stuffed owl hanging up on a high shelf, its yellow eyes fixated on the huner in a way that made him uncomfortable. “I don’t like the way that one’s looking at me.”

You stifled a laugh from his paranoid behavior and softly nudged him in the arm to get moving. The three of you still needed to get settled into a motel and started on research to figure out what was the cause of Max Alexander’s death. You took one more curious glance at the owl before heading out the front door.

+ + +

“Okay, that symbol in the graffiti, it’s…not wiccan. It’s copywritten.” Sam worked right away on trying to figure out what the strange symbol you had seen back at the crime scene. The search took little effort into finding its source. You walked over to the man, dropping the shirt you pulled out from your bag you pulled out to change into and out of your fed clothes. He held out his laptop for Dean to take so the both of you could take a look at the homepage for yourselves. “Local animal rights group, Enid’s answer to PETA.”

“S.N.A.R.T.?” Dean read off the animal rights’ group and its terrible name they thought was a good idea. It stood for Showing No Animal Rough Treatment. You didn’t know if you should laugh or at least give them credit for trying to be original. “You gotta be kidding me.”

“Well, it makes sense that an animals-rights group would have an axe to grind with a taxidermist.” Sam said.

“Why?” Dean asked, not seeing the connection between the two. “The animals’ already dead.”

“Yeah, but hunters are what keep them in business.” You added on. “Now the question is, are those bleeding hearts actually witches or just hippies?”

Dean glanced up from the laptop screen and to you, proposing a question. “What’s the difference?”

+ + +

The difference between the two that one was capable of murder. You took doubt in the fact that a group of animal rights activists would go far as committing murder. But when you added the element of witchcraft that’s when the lines between right and wrong started to grow blurry. You and the boys decided to speak to a couple of the members after tracking them down to a vegan bakery called Gentle Earth. Business was booming with customers enjoying a plant-based meal inside and passing by a couple of women walking out with a cup of all organic and overly expensive coffee, ethically sourced you guessed.

“Always knew I’d find the source of all evil at a vegan bakery.” Dean muttered. The man felt out of his element from the people he was surrounded by.

Sam sniffed the air, finding an odor he couldn’t place his finger on. “What’s that smell?”

“Patchouli. Yeah, mixed with depression from meat deprivation.” Dean said. You rolled your eyes from the way he was acting in such an immature fashion. His strong beliefs were radical as those who thought eating animal products were cruel and unusual. The man drew your attention to the front counter when he spotted the owners waiting on a few customers. He was quick to point out a fashion accessory that was a bit odd from the setting that didn’t require them. “Hey. You know who wears sunglasses inside? Blind people. And douchebags.”

You let out a quiet sigh and shook your head from the way he was acting, heading up to the counter to have a discussion with the owners. “Olivia and Dylan Camrose?” You asked the couple. Olivia nodded and smiled. “You two are members of S.N.A.R.T, correct?”

“Founders and co-presidents, actually.” Olivia corrected you about the role they played in the activist group. She playfully bumped shoulders with her husband, both of them sharing matching smiles from the hard work they loved doing. Olivia reached out and grabbed a brochure that was kept near a display of their desserts, presuming all of you were curious for being part of a good cause. “Can we interest you in some literature?”

You politely shook your head. “Or a flaxseed scone?” Dylan asked. You looked down at the pastry that appeared to be tasty at first glance, until you heard the lack of ingredients that made it vegan. “It’s wheat-free, gluten-free, sugar-free, and surprisingly moist.”

“Let me stop you right there.” Dean was quick to end this conversation before he could get roped any further into this hippie lifestyle he wanted nothing to do with. He pulled out his badge to flash it at the couple and got to the reason why you were here in the first place. “We’re here to investigate the death of Max Alexander, a local taxidermist.”

Olivia placed the brochure to the counter, her body growing stiff at the unexpected news. “He’s…dead?”

“You knew him?” You asked.

“Ish. Um…” She glanced over to her husband before finishing her response. “small town.”

“Well, he was murdered last night, and a S.N.A.R.T. logo was found at the crime scene.” Sam informed the couple. All though their eyes were covered with a pair of dark shades, the man could see the couples’ body language change in a way that made him suspicious. “You two wouldn’t have to know anything about that, would you?”

The couple thought it would be best for everyone to move this conversation somewhere else. All of you moved to an empty table in the middle of the bakery to hear their side of the story and fill in the gaps of that night.

“His business is funded by hunters. And you know how hunters are.” Dylan immediately lost you from the point he was trying to make. He was more than happy to elaborate on his view of them. “They’re selfish dicks who define themselves by what they kill.”

You had to admit you were a little offended by their presumption, despite the type of hunters who they were talking about was the complete opposite of what you did. “And as animal advocates, we couldn’t stand for that.” Olivia added on.

“So, you killed him?” Sam questioned the couple. 

“Of course not.” Olivia said. She was awfully quick to shoot down the accusation that was simply false. “S.N.A.R.T. doesn’t tolerate violence.”

“Huh. This is coming from a couple who spray-paints death threats.” Dean said, bringing up the red flag that seemed out of character for someone who advocated for the complete opposite for animals lives.

“It was a scare tactic.”Dylan defended himself. “We just wanted to spook him.”

“Turns out we were the ones who got spooked.” Olivia admitted. You wondered exactly what she meant by that, causing her to elaborate even further on her story. She passed a glance over at her husband, who nodded his head, feeling it was the right thing to do in order to set the record straight. “Well, last night, when we were tagging the joint, we heard this noise.”

“A hissing noise.” Dylan added.

“It freaked us out, so we ran into the alley.” Olivia continued on.

“But someone attacked us.”

“Sprayed us in the eyes with mace.”

“And it's not like we could go to the cops.”

“So, now we look like total douchebags because we have to wear our sunglasses inside.” Olivia gave the reason why the couple was forced to wear the dark shades indoors, making them feel exactly like what Dean had said earlier. You didn’t even bother looking over at the older man to see his smug smile at his judgement that turned out to be right.

The couple took off their sunglasses to show the damage that had been done to them from the surprise pepper spray attack. You winced at the scarring around their eyes that sure didn’t look like it was caused by something like pepper spray. It almost appeared to be acid burns from the extent of the physical damages. Dean subtly wagged his index finger, signaling for them to put the shades back on after finding the burns a little too uncomfortable to keep staring at.

+ + +

You did a little research of your own after you made it back to the motel and changed out of your fed clothes for some jeans and a shirt. Something about the burn like wounds the couple had gotten didn’t seem to add up. And you were right about your suspicions.

“Necrosis?” Dean read off the medical term you discovered, wondering what it meant.

“Premature death of tissues—that’s why their eyes were all messed up.” You said. “And it’s not caused by mace.”

“All right.” Dean twisted off the cap to his beer and tossed it to the sink. He leaned over your shoulder and placed a hand on the table to steady himself in doing so. He read off the medical information about black eyes from the page you pulled up. "What causes it?"

“Right here.” You placed a finger on the screen and began to read off something from the paragraph that might explain the reason behind the couples’ painful looking burns. “‘Blunt force, radiation, venom.’”

“As in ‘snake’?” Dean guessed from the sounds of it.

“The taxidermist was constricted. Olivia and Dylan heard hissing, and they were sprayed in the eyes. By venom. Sounds snake-y to me. I say if it does turn out to be that, we should skin it and turn it into a fabulous pair of boots.” You suggested. Dean chuckled at your joke, taking a seat from across from you at the table. “Bet S.N.A.R.T would love that.”

“Okay, so…what are we talking here,” Dean said, deciding to get serious for a moment to try and figure out what you might be hunting. “Some sort of freaky-ass snake monster?”

“Maybe.” You mumbled. You fell silent for a moment trying to figure out how all of this added up to make proper sense with what knowledge you had about the reptilians. “The weird thing is snakes either envenomate or constrict. No snake does both.”

“Correction,” Dean said. “freaky-ass mega-snake monster.”

You quietly chuckled to yourself before throwing out your best guess as to what it might be. “It could be a vetala.”

“Yeah, but they’re not afraid to sink their fangs in. Taxidermist was bite free. It doesn’t really fit the profile.” Dean reminded you about the small detail. You nodded your head. A sigh fell from your lips at the lack of leads you had at the moment. Dean came to your rescue of adding another pair of hands to the night of research ahead for you and Sam. “Call Kevin. Have him look some stuff up.”

You shut your laptop and reached for your phone when you decided to do just that. It wouldn’t hurt to have an extra set of hands on the case while you figured out what you were hunting. You just hoped the poor kid still wasn’t feeling hungover. The internet only had so much information at your fingertips, the Men of Letters’ library would hopefully have the answers you were looking for. You needed to find out and quick, before another life could be taken. 

[Next Part]

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#huntertales update #supernatural #reader insert #supernatural imagine #supernatural fanfic #supernatural reader insert #supernatural x reader #spn #spn imagine #spn fanfic #spn reader insert #spn x reader #dean winchester imagine #dean winchester x reader #dean x reader #sam winchester imagine #sam winchester x reader #sam x reader #dog dean afternoon #dog dean afternoon: part one #(y/n)

[purrfectstrangers]

One of these days you'll have to make a proper account, Gamzanon~ Or just eat mine~ ♡

Running commentary will be in brackets~

Favorite Preds Per Caste ~ Lowbloods

Consider this my Valentines Day special. Alternia is filled with predators of all shapes and sizes. Today we'll be listing all of them. All preds from all castes listed from most favorite to least.

With special exception to Wanshi, Tirona, Karako, the Soleil Twins, and Amisia. Most people on this list will be aged up, but these characters are literally toddlers. No amount of aging up will make including them not feel creepy. Keep kids out of vore. [Damn right. I knew you were a decent sort]

And, finally, this will be divided into three parts. Lowbloods, Midbloods, and Highbloods. Here's part one.

With that out of the way, let's get on with the show~

Red Bloods

Karkat Vantas [♡♡♡♡]

Starting out strong with everyone's favorite cantankerous carnivore. 

He's easily a top ten pred. His layered personality means you can make him into whatever kind of pred you want him to be. He can smugly trash talk a pleading prey like no other or fret over over a willing meal just as well as any jade blood. He's often underestimated by his friends, which makes him ideal for snacking on smug Serkets or devouring delicious Daves. Plus, a God-Tier getting digested by a lowly mortal is A+ material and Karkat lends himself especially well to that. With an appetite to match his anger, Karkat gives a whole new definition to the term "hangry".

"I WASN'T KIDDING WHEN I SAID I WAS YOUR GOD."

[It helps of course that I find Karkat so fucking hot. Padding out his ass after weiggling enough yo make his cherry red bulge shoot hands free is perfect, especially if you work him into a tizzy with some teasing from inside~]

Kankri Vantas

Kankri's a particularly condescending carnivore and I think that works wonders.

His stuck up self righteous attitude makes him magnificent at smugly putting prey in their place and the fact that no one takes him seriously makes him ideal for taking down apex predators. You know damn well he's got a speech prepared about why you should be prey. Unlike Karkat, he isn't quite as versatile and his celibacy makes it hard to contrive alternative vore scenarios for him. That said, he's still a smug snake who'd be more than happy to swallow you whole and lecture you about his #predrights as you digest.

[Maybe the mun is just a slut, but being reduced to prey for Kankri and told I'm nothing but food, like a lower class built to digest for him is... so fucking good... #predrights]

The Signless

He who fights monsters risks becoming one himself. Nevermind what happens to he who eats them...

Yeah, poor Signless kinda finds himself falling in last here. Not his fault. The Voracious Vantases are stiff competition. Having said that, he works fantastically for one scenario in particular. Corruption. The image of this perfect paragon who only ate people as a last resort slowly decending into a sadistic predator who gleefully churns up the Condescension is just beautiful. You can do a lot with a corrupted Signless. He just can't quite match his counterparts in the realm of berating those in his belly. Still, this predatory preacher is more than happy to continue spreading his message. All trolls are equal... equally delicious~

Rust Bloods

Aradia Megido

Oh, hell yes. Whether it's the cold cruelty of Aradiabot or the playful predation of her God-Tier counterpart, Aradia is a goldmine for gluttonous scenarios.

Her adventurous attitude lends her well to any kind of vore you can think of and her powers give her all the time in the world to act out your fantasies. The worst I can say about her is that she's more teasing than she is sadistic, but that's hardly a problem given everything she can do to you. A gluttonous goddess with an adventurous appetite, Aradia will always gobble you up with a grin~

[Aradia strikes me as a well of alternative vore potential, especially with how kinky her ancestor is. With her eager attitude she could make you happy to vanish from under her~]

Xefros Tritoh

You know what I love? Shy, spineless preds embracing their predatory nature. And Xefros is perfect for that. He'd go from eating people to protect Joey to eating people because he was feeling peckish. It all culminates in him digesting Dammek while Joey rubs his gut. Looks like bad moirails make great meals. You want a good pred? X gon give it to ya.

[Preds with loyal gut rubbers are the best, especially if said gut rubber gets off on feeling prey get softer. Some Pale pailing while Xefros' gut is still squiming wouldn't go amiss]

Diemen Xicali [♡♡♡♡]

This pudgy little pred hits a lot of good notes for me. Awkward, polite, and utterly gluttonous all in one. I can easily see this boy stuffing his face with hotdogs while already having a squirming gut nearly twice his size. Underestimated preds are my jam and I guarantee no one would see it coming if this guy gobbled someone up. Not to mention, his hotdog motif lends itself well to vore. Food transformation and cock vore scenarios practically write themselves. Around him, everyone's just another oblong meat product.

[Real talk, I just love chubby guys~ He can turn me anyto anything after sliding his hotdog between my buns~]

Marsti Houtek

Another favorite of mine: indifferent preds. These preds couldn't care less about who you are. If they're hungry, that's it. You're gone. Quite a few heckling highbloods learned this about Marsti the hard way. I love the image of her casually going back to scrubbing the floor after eating someone, casually cleaning up whatever she belches out like it's another piece of garbage. Her tight suit would beautifully show off every little bulge as her meal struggles and squirms. It's only after she's done that she sits back to enjoy her meal. She likely became a more active predator thanks to the influence of a certain gluttonous goldblooded girlfriend. What can she say? She loves to break down trash.

Fozzer Velyes

Whether he's a carnivorous comrade or an imperial predator, this burgundy has quite the appetite. He's outside digging holes and sweating up a storm all night, he's going to be hungry pretty often. I like to imagine all the ghosts he doesn't believe in are the ghosts of his former prey, which honestly just adds insult to injury. They had to listen to his cheerfully jingoistic rants for hours as they digested only for him to not even acknowledge them after the fact. He's a deliciously sadistic pred without even trying to be. This ravenous rust has certainly seized the means of predation.

Damara Megido & The Handmaiden

I'm putting these two in the same spot because, well, they just don't do much for me. I don't find their design that attractive, the whole sadistic dom thing is done better by loads of other preds and the whole Japanese Waifu stick is frankly a bit oversaturated. They just don't appeal to me.

Bronze Blood

Tavros Nitram

Rare opinion but... Tavros is wholesale one if my favorite Homestuck Preds. He is the absolute king of getting corrupted into a domineering predator. After everything he's been through, he deserves to cut loose. Let him feast to his heart's content as his prey wallows in the humiliation of getting eaten by Tavros of all trolls. And don't even get me started on revenge vore. Anyone can become a great pred. That's something the Serkets learned the hard way~

[Apologetic preds are pretty great too, like "sorry but you were so good... guess I'm gonna keep you, sorry" while they churn and digest, having to think about being pudge on his ass forever~]

The Summoner

Oh, hell yes. This experienced pred is an outright cassanova. He's got enough skill to swallow up soldiers mid fight and enough charm to talk their comrades into joining them. Take Rufioh's chick magnet charm and temper it with some maturity and experience and you've got the Summoner. He's added dozens to his thighs already and he'd be happy to invite you to join them.

[Especially with how tall adult trolls get. Color me needy for some size difference, especially when I stand exactly bulge height. Worm it down my throat to work up an appetite~]

Chixie Roixmr

On the topic of revenge vore. Chixie is great for this, whether it be eating Zebruh or eating those highblood knock-offs who stole her set. If you're lucky, you might even see her on stage with a huge gut. Granted, those loud belches tend to interrupt her flow. On stage or off, The Mask gives a whole new meaning to the term "Eat the Rich".

Skylla Koriga

She's a dominant pred if there ever was one. You don't get thighs like that without a balanced diet and her scrappy older sister attitude lends her well to all sorts of voracious scenarios. You can easily picture her eating up willing prey or devouring thugs who think they can steal her lusus.

[That country girl aesthetic fits well with lewd gassy moments while the prey is gurgling insude her. She probably revels in it, and having her belch in my face would be such an instant game over for me...]

Rufioh Nitram

Rufioh can easily be talked into being a pred in bed. I mean, the guy has dated Damara and Horuss, he's used to weird kinks. Ask him to eat you and his response will be "Sure, doll." He'd quickly develop a fondness for predation, especially after a few partners "accidentally" pad out his thighs. With any luck, you'll be one of them~

Vikare Ratite

This guy would be positively giddy to have you gurgling in his gut. His perpetually optimistic attitude would have him gushing over you as gurgle in his guts, his rambling string of compliments only interrupted by an occasional crass belch. Only problem is prying him away from his flying fantasies. He's liable to have his head in the clouds more often then he has you in his guts.

Dammek

I mean... we know practically nothing about this guy. Everything we do know comes from second hand sources so.... yeah. At least the Ancestors have Mindfang's journal to go off of. Can't make any calls until we actually meet the man.

Gold Bloods

Folykl Darane [♡♡♡♡]

Predation isn't just a dietary choice for this one. Until she met Kuprum, she had to eat people to survive. She needs her energy and she's likely to taunt whatever poor shmuck she has to get it from. Kuprum would totally endorse Folykl's predatory habits and I can easily imagine him lowering a struggling prey into her jaws with telekinesis, mocking her victim all the while. Nothing personal. She needs her energy. But that doesn't mean she's going to be very nice about. Her casual cruelty lets her edge out some fairly stiff competition. Golds are easily my second favorite caste for preds overall. And this gremlin is the most gluttonous gold blood of them all.

[Real talk, Folykl can own me x///x A dirty, sweaty, crass girl who will insult me as likely as fuck me with that coiling, golden bulge? Hell maybe both at the same time if I'm especially lucky. Gassy from all that junk food, and lets you stew with it while she idly jacks off in the middle of the living room, blowing a load all over the floor... Then just laying back in her sweaty after glow.]

Zebede Tongva

In a caste filled with cynical assholes, Zebede stands out for his unwavering optimism. What makes him stand out as a pred is the side that affability hides. His pudge already gives him away as an experienced pred but that just makes him seem friendly. Of course, that same friendliness lets him lure prey back to his hive. Not to imply that it's an act, mind you. He's just as happy to meet you as he is to eat you. His enthusiasm is contagious even as he's happly melting you into padding and that's what sets him above so many other preds. He's a great friend to have, but be careful when he invites you over. You might just find out why he lives alone~

[*claps my hands in time* Chub-by boys are too good! I feel like he remembers every inch on his body as a troll, and still squishes them lovingly from time to time. He'll introduce you to every single one, mashing your face into his warm gut, his plump thighs, and his generous ass over the course of ages. He'd want to to stay forever, and after sweaty, heavy sex, getting ground into his mattress and learning to love his curves like he does, he adds you to them, to be with him forever~]

Azdaja Knelax

He's the self proclaimed prince of all predators and he does his best to live up to that. His pride makes him great for demeaning his prey and his sheer raw power means that there are few prey he can't handle. He's eaten plenty of prey over the course of his career. He claims he's eaten over 9000! Whether that's true or not... well, how about you stick around and find out. You can count his prey after you've joined them on his thighs.

The Psiioniic

How do you become the most powerful Psionic of all time? By eating lots and lots of prey. This carnivorous Captor was eager to eat any troll who got too close to the Signless and he was strong enough to keep anyone from really stopping him. He's one of the most powerful preds to ever walk on Alternia and he's got the thighs to prove it. His cynical Captor attitude makes him great. But the idea of him getting revenge on the Condescension and gobbling her up? That makes him gold.

Cirava Hermod

Lazily hedonistic and casually cruel, Hermod has all their bases covered. Whether they're churning up fans on stream or spitefully digesting smug highbloods, Cirava is all too happy to enjoy their position as a predator. If you're lucky, you might hear their prey screaming as they incorporate their gurgles and burps into their track. It results in some surprisingly good music and a lot of unsurprisingly good vore scenarios. You'd be hard pressed to not end up in this nonbinary's belly.

[They strike me as a loose lover. Let's get high and what happens happens! They'll take or give, and probably adore scents and tastes, in their hazy state, after a 69 session, or after returning your oral favors, the munchies kick in. With you digesting, they just don't get the struggling. "You loved my body right, I mean you even licked... there... You should totally be part of it lmao~"]

Sollux Captor

Casual preds are seriously underrated and this Captor is the king of that court. He's powerful enough to nonchalantly ragdoll you into his maw and he'd have no problem trash talking some digesting prey while playing video games. That's not even getting into his dual bulges. It's hard to compete with the image of him sucking two prey into his cocks at once. That's all just when he's being casual. He's an even better pred when he's feeling spiteful. There's a good reason he has the nickname Carnivorous Captor.

Kuprum Maxlol

This future battery is just as mean as his moirail, with a hunger that fits. A battery has to make sure it's fully charged after all and there's no better source of energy than people. The problem is that that's really all he brings to the table here. Sure, he's mean, but so are most over gluttonous goldbloods and he's just as likely to feed a prey to his moirail as he is too eat them himself. In which case, might as well go with the moirail, because she's one of the best preds out there. He's still powerful, mean, kinky little gremlin who makes for a great predator. He's just got too much competition in this caste. Still, all good battery's need recharging. You just might find yourself in this battery's belly.

[Like his friendsim entry, he works best with Folykl. Think hedonistic orgies with those two greasy trolls zapping anyone between them into an orgasmic haze. Spitroasting would be like acting as a copper wire from your prostate to your tongue, and after they bust their respective nuts, you're all salty and tenderized, blissed out from the electric rut they were in. A perfect snack~]

Mituna Captor

Oh, Mituna. Poor, poor Mituna. There's nothing really wrong with him as a pred. His attitude is great, the way he flip flops between nice and mean can lead to a lot of fun banter and situations, but he just doesn't have anything that makes him stand out. His best strength would be accidental vore, which can be really fun, but he doesn't have much else going for him. I was debating even putting him in this list, given his heady injury, but he has shown he's perfectly capable of saying no when something makes him uncomfortable. He's cognizant and capable of consent, but he's still not much to write home about. Every other goldblood has him beat out in terms of pred potential. Sorry Mituna. Maybe you'll find your sentient meals someday

#anonymous #ooc #// vore #//digestion #gamzanon #submission

[tessatechaitea]

Cerebus #11 (1979)

The only weapon you need to provoke a police officer to violence is scorn.

Sorry! The above caption had nothing to do with The Cockroach's first appearance in Cerebus and everything to do with how the Omaha Police arrested peaceful protesters by claiming that they're purpose was to "attack and/or provoke police officers to violence." Also, you can tell they're already spinning and lying by adding the "and/or" so they can imply that the protesters are planning on attacking police. And, well, even if they weren't (and they did say "or"!), their other main plan was to provoke them. But of course everybody whose ability to perceive reality isn't clouded by their incessant need to defend police no matter what understands that police will abuse their power at the drop of an eye roll. They believe any slight disrespect is an excuse for a violent rebuttal. They force physical violence on people whom they have no reason to arrest simply so the person can struggle against the assault, as any normal person would do, and then claim resisting. Police should be confronted by scorn and disrespect at every turn. Only when they learn not to instantly resort to violence and threats will they deserve to not be. Welcome to my comic book and/or police review blog! Deni's "A Note from the Publisher" continues on a theme that I hadn't noticed until just now: every new issue of Cerebus now seems to be a landmark issue! It's an interesting self-promotion take that I have to admit I'd never thought of trying. "Every new Eee! Tess Ate Chai Tea review is a landmark review!" You know what else is a landmark? Places & Predators, my Cribbage-based Roller Playing Game! You don't even really need any friends to play it. Just read it like a book and enjoy it! Or play it like a Fighting Fantasy Adventure Book! Use some online Cribbage app! Figure out how to use the crib in ways the online app definitely won't let you! Oh, the reason this is a landmark issue is because more letters came in than normal! It's a hit! Deni also reveals that she'll be making the Cerebus plush toys that were advertised in previous issues and at half the price! So kudos for stealing that job from the person who originally made them! It probably wasn't anything so dramatic but what fun is going through your life defaulting to the best, most optimistic possibility in every given situation? Have some fun! Act paranoid! Purposefully misunderstand your father and scream in his face! Kick a dog! Sorry! I got carried away! I would never kick a dog unless it was attacking me. But even then, I'd be wishing I was kicking the owner who let it go off leash. The dog doesn't deserve my epic self defense tactics in its soft face. But the owner certainly does!

The basics on the origin of The Cockroach.

I didn't realize Dave came up with The Cockroach because it was gross and disgusting. I just thought it was a more clever version of a bat, keeping to the shadows, hiding, surviving, a constant annoyance to poor people. In any case, The Cockroach is the greatest parody of The Batman, hands down. Because The Batman has become such a parody of himself time and time again, you just need an absolutely Batshit insane version of him. I don't do segues so Cerebus has come to Beduin to sell the Black Blossom Lotus. Just look at all the continuity Dave Sim is giving his readers! I wonder how many comic book fans would list "continuity" as their number one favorite thing about comic books? Like, are there people who would list that above great writing or terrific art? Judging by how terrible a lot of mainstream comic books are and how rabid many of the fans, I'd suspect it was a fairly high number. Maybe 65 out of 100, Bob. Change that card! The Merchant Cerebus deals with is a kook who might just have a super secret identity. It's weird to think of the Roach as being capable of actually living an independent life! I suppose he's just barely hanging onto his sanity at this point (and, of course, only during the day). But then he comes into the mystical aura of strangeness that aardvarks apparently exude out of their buttholes and he just loses it completely. He becomes less a merchant slash superhero and more a superhero slash zombie cosplayer. Also he becomes one of the greatest characters ever created! There are like four of them in the entirety of Cerebus! The exclamation point is because I think that's an incredibly high number and not because I think it's an incredibly low number. Most comic book's protagonists never quite make it to the greatest ever! Plus I'd probably give Cerebus more than four but a lot of them are just really good parodies, satires, and slightly-off representations of characters and people who already existed. The merchant buys the Black Blossom Lotus from Cerebus for 100 gold pieces and then promptly drops it out of the window and into the Feld River.

Not only does Dave Sim come up with a bunch of memorable plots across three hundred issues, he also comes up with a lot of good Dungeons & Dragons campaign ideas.

The Merchant pays Cerebus a sack of gold and gets ready for bed as Cerebus begins to leave. Before Cerebus can even exit the hallway outside the merchant's bedroom door, Cerebus begins to hear loud ranting coming from the other side. It's a lot of hissing and threats of murder. Against his better judgment, Cerebus decides to see what's happening and gets his first look at the guy who will be a huge headache to him for the next two hundred issues or so.

One thing I like about Dave Sim is how honest he is when recounting where he came up with or stole his ideas. He gives plenty of credit for the Cockroach and his hissing to Marshall Rogers and Jules Feiffer. It's admirable because a lot of people would just figure, "It might make me look less of an artist and who's going to know anyway?!"

Just a few days ago, my old elementary school friend who was blown up in Iraq and then became a comedian playing to Christians and patriots (which I mention so you'll understand how, as a wounded veteran, he'll never be criticized by his audience and he'll never really grow as a comedian) posted a Tik Tok on Facebook that was just a film of a television set capturing the "Masked Debate" bit on Last Week Tonight with John Oliver. The clip only shows all the clips of news readers saying "masked debate" and none of Oliver's or the show's set-up. He then watermarked it with his Tik Tok name. Now all of those naive followers who can only seem to reply to his posts with the laugh/cry emoji probably think he wrote it. Better yet, they're probably mostly Trump followers who would never admit to finding that libjerk Oliver or his show funny. What's even better is that the Tik Tok has some quote along top that's watermarked with somebody else's Tik Tok name! So it looks like Bob doubly stole the bit. Man, I wish I'd joined the army and gotten blown up and then found Christ and developed an audience of uncritical naive yahoos who would wildly applaud everything I wrote! Why didn't I join the army?! Oh, that's right. Because I believed I had a future right out of high school. Well, I guess Bob is having the last laugh now! Cerebus follows Cockroach across the rooftops to find out what's going on. He eventually witnesses the Cockroach confront a man in an alley, accuse him of killing his parents, knock him out, and steal his gold. The gold part of the night helps Cerebus to ignore all of the other confusing stuff. The Cockroach doesn't gloat for long. He's off to find another victim! Cerebus witnesses him mug another guy whom he also accuses of killing his parents. He also admits to doing this for thirty years. So now Cerebus thinks the guy is crazy but also crazy rich. At the end of the night, the Cockroach returns home and drops the gold purses into a secret panel in the wall. He falls asleep, wakes up, and, when he sees Cerebus, acts as if Cerebus were just leaving. So Cerebus realizes that the merchant doesn't have any idea what the Cockroach is doing. Which means Cerebus is going to recover those gold purses before the Cockroach comes back! At the moment, Cerebus doesn't realize that he's going to be finding thirty years worth of gold purses in the merchant's walls. Can you imagine how boring the last two hundred and eighty-nine issues of Cerebus would have been if Cerebus managed to steal all of the Roach's gold?! I'm sure some of you are thinking, "It wouldn't have been any worse than the last hundred issues we did get!" Also, can you imagine how fat Cerebus would have gotten drinking tons of ale and eating loads of rich foods? I'm laughing so much just trying to picture it! Ha ha!

Eight feet of gold would make Cerebus fatter than a domesticated raccoon!

In the end, Cerebus only makes it away with three sacks of gold. But in the process, he manages to completely screw up the Roach/Merchant equilibrium that's lasted for thirty years. In trying to exploit the man's mental illness so that he'd help Cerebus move the gold, Cerebus drags the Roach personality into the daylight. From here on out, the Roach will simply be a pawn of others, susceptible to almost any second-rate demagogue (although most of the people who subsequently control the Roach are of the first rate variety). The Aardvark Comment section was two pages this issue and had this letter that I don't think was being sarcastic?

I guess I also wouldn't necessarily consider a chainmail bikini as "a disgusting costume." He's probably thinking about Power Girl.

Also, and I admit it might have been a joke, but Dave Sim reveals that Ronald Reagan is Cerebus' father. That, um, makes sense! Cerebus #11 Rating: A. I almost gave it a B+ for variety but then I remembered I just read the first appearance of the Roach. I also forgot that my ratings don't actually mean anything.

#Cerebus #Dave Sim

[lucarioisinthevoid]

Oh god, PLEASE DO. Henry leaned over, interested. "... I am so happy that whoever this person is, they seem to have no interest in me and my narrative purpose. If I would have been added to this, I would have probably been drained of most of my will to live." Bemused he shook his head. "... Marion should have a “hiding” form where he is but a little doll from the price corner. I am not sure why he would turn into the terrifying beast he is usually, but... huh. Perhaps he is some eldritch beast that roped Jeremy into helping him regaining his old form, gifting him powers in return." ... Henry? "Hm?" Do you watch magical girl anime? "What. NO." The man was appalled. "I simply am bored and have a vague knowledge of most tropes." Yeah, sure. We believe you. "... anyhow. I think it only makes sense that the Mike, Jeremy and Simon turn out to be the villains. It would be canonical accurate. Also, all things considering, one of them befriended an eldritch beast, one is INHABITED by an eldritch beast and one a loveless machine perfectly capable and willing to cover up crimes." ‘Canonically accurate’. Totally. But oh god, Matt and Ronaldo as guides? No sir, they stay away from this mess. They probably work with them and are their very ignorant co-workers. Except they know exactly what’s going on and refuse to care. Might go as far as to say “woooow, man these not-at-all masked heroes are the best, I sure wonder who they are.” Putting on glittery and fancy clothing is as effective as a mask in these types of anime. OH SPEAKING OFF, CONSIDER- They all still work together. All of the boys. And Ronaldo and Matt are the only ones knowing about it, but everyone else IS actually such an idiot that they don’t recognize each other as arch-enemies. That sounds pretty on-brand for these fools. Nemo is going to be a HACKERMAN. Because that is what he wishes to be at heart. Going to be the mysterious helper who sends them all emails at the same time, giving them all a big S H O O K. He’s the second’s arcs villain, as he threatens to unveil their secret identity, before switching sides when it turns out he just wants to part of the heroes. Deern is the sage librarian/professor, who helps them research ancient artifacts to UNCOVER THE PROPHECY! Meanwhile Old Sport and Dave are trying to merge the spirit world with the real one, to essentially eradicate death. Perhaps Dave even is trying to get Henry back like that. MAYBE. THE PLOT IS STILL IN DEVELOPMENT, RIGHT? Anon, you’re so welcome to hop back on and give out more ideas, I love this. Anyways, they realize vengeful spirits too, on accident, and maybe they take on the form of animals, staying with the Fnaf theme. Looking like monstrous humanoid creatures, depending on how aware they are. Hell, maybe Marion was a gatekeeper. Or maybe he is lying because he doesn’t want to go back. We will never know. OR WILL WE? WILL I WRITE A WAY TOO LONG FANFICTION FOR THIS TOO!?? HMMMMM? Anyways, Mike is color coded blue and uses fire powers, which makes him subject to endless ridicule from Old Sport. Phone Guy is in red and probably uses sound as his weapon. I think that fits him well! And Jeremy might use light! To make himself invisible, but also to distract/blind the enemy. Visual illusions! Old Sport uses electricity, in all his orange glory. Going to have a GREAT time! Dave though is probably a straight up necromancer, able to not only summon the spirits to help them fight and powering them up, but also partially transform in one (Guess which animal for he has. Guess.) However, that comes at the price of him temporarily losing his mind if he goes too far/takes in too much damage without stopping. Supremely powerful, but OS worries about him. The past part is probably though their interaction during battles. Dave is going to be rather upset while Mike throws around his fire spirals. “DUDE. YOU’RE DESTROYIN’ SOMEONE’S HOUSE. PROPERTY DAMAGE, BUDDY, GEEZ, WHAT DID THEY EVER DO TO YOU? THERE COULD BE CHILDREN IN THERE!” “OH SHUT UP, I HAVE ANGER ISSUES!” Dave dodges another beam of fire. “EVER TRIED THERAPY FOR THAT ONE!?” “THERAPY IS FOR PUSSIES!” “NO, IT GENUINELY IS HELPFUL!” Jeremy chimes in. “I know I don’t a-agree often with Dave, but he’s right, you know-?” “YOU’RE A TRAITOR JEREMY! A FUCKING TRAITOR!” Phone Guy goes out of battle stance to rub his dial. “LANGUAGE Mike. CHILDREN ARE WATCHING!” “FUCK THE CHILDREN!” Old Sport going to zap him. “JESUS CHRIST YOU’RE FUCKED UP, DUDE! LIKE GENUINELY, THAT’S AN EVIL THING TO SAY. I MEAN, I AGREE, WHO CARES ABOUT KIDS DYING, BUT STILL, THAT’S OUR STICK!” “W-why is everyone screaming?” Jeremy cries. “BECAUSE WE’RE AT LIKE 60 FEET OVER THE GROUND AND THE WIND IS LOUD AS SHIT. PLUS ATTACKS MAKE NOISE YOU KNOW?” “F-fair enough…” The Orange Guy pulls the focus back on the fight. “ANYWAYS, I GOTTA DESTROY A HOUSE NOW. BECAUSE OF YOU, MIKE. BECAUSE YOU DID IT FIRST AND I CAN’T LIVE WITH THE FACT THAT YOU’RE MORE EVIL THAN ME. A HOUSE WILL BE DESTROYED, A FAMILY WILL GO HOMELESS, ALL BECAUSE YOU CAN’T AIM OR TAKE RESPONSIBILITY.” “WHAT THE FUCK, DON’T DO THAT!” Ah yes. The first Magical Girl show rated M. Oh wait, I almost forgot Madoka Magica exi- Wait. WHAT DO YOU MEAN IT’S RATED 13+ DIDN’T EVERYONE SAY IT’S SUPER- You know what, forget it. THIS ANIME IS GOING TO BE RATED E FOR EVERYONE! EVERYONE DESERVES TO LEARN MORE SWEAR WORDS! >Okay, spoilers now for that Madoka Anime, because I read a bit up on it and have FEELINGS.

Speaking of it, a downright Madoka Magica style AU would be fun too! Dave and Old Sport as transformed witches, due to their personal issues, Mike, Phoney and Jeremy on their way there and Henry as a cute lil kitty-cat- “I swear to everything that is holy, that all that awaits you in your future is PAIN.” You WOULD take a cute little form to trick everyone. “… well, I suppose, but I despise the genre. I would not wish to participate in it.” Not even to prevent the heat death of the universe? “… fine, yes I would. But please, can you not be ORIGINAL? Cheap rip offs make for empty stories. Not to mention, you never even consumed the series, how are you supposed to pick up on the reasons for the appeal it had? You will butcher it.” … I butchered DSAF and had a pretty fun run with it. Also, it makes a lot of sense! Consider. Marion is your oldest victim. First trying to kill the main group, to prevent them to become like him. He fully has shed his human form in his onsetting insanity. Old Sport, Dave and the spirits also lose more and more features, growing colorful colors and gain more and more resistances to damage. And now let’s look at our boys. They too lost features, Mike turning grey, both Simon and Jeremy actually lacking a face. It would flow pretty nicely! Also, and seeing as I’m a pushover, I wouldn’t mind to make the effects of it reversible- “… and allow the universe to perish due to the heat death?” … fuck. Henry the immortal catboy makes lovely boys suffer and is justified in doing so. AGAIN. We will never escape this cycle, will we? “Never call me that again.” Yeah, honestly I feel a lot of shame for calling you justified. It won’t happen again. “I wish to be gone from this world.” Congratulation! You are already gone from any and all worlds! I’m glad you’re happy now! The poor Pink Guy smashed his head on the table, causing his lizard to climb on him instantly. At least that was something nobody could take from him.

#the Group #henry miller

[fantroll-purgatory]

@itoshiki​

hello! im submitting my sort-of-trollsona-but-not-really. I made him I guess more Alternian and he’s highly personal 2 me but that shouldn’t discourage you! I’m stuck at some parts because I just recently got back into homestuck and I’d like advice from someone who knows their stuff. IT’S SO LONG IM SO SORRY… Thank you so much if you do review it tho!

Hey no worries. Thanks for your patience!

Hell yeah hell yeah ceruleanbloods with Eye Stuff.

World: Alternia, maybe an AU? I’m unsure. But he’s Alternian.

Name: Sancti Serpus

“Sancti” comes from “Saint” and his belief that he can do no wrong, as well as how he believes that his experiments benefit troll society. “Serpus” comes from “Serpent” and his personality being sly and manipulative, could be described as a snake by others in the way he is first nice to his friends but backstabs them later, as well as his lusus being a two-headed Titanoboa (prehistoric Boa).

I understand the reasoning behind the first name! If you want something that plays a little more into the archetypal Mad Scientist “I will become a GOD AHAHAHAHA” vibe then I suggest Apoteu from the Greek apotheoun, meaning “to make a god of.” Still fits his beliefs about himself and how he benefits society…but there is such a thing a vengeful, malevolent god.

I like the serpent theme, especially given the Rod of Asclepius/Caduceus confusion, given that the former is about medicine and the latter about commerce. Plus snake oil salesman as duplicitous people claiming they have a cure when they’re really just selling you whatever they could dig up. Serpus is a little too obvious as a snake troll though, so maybe we abstract that a bit. A slightly silly one would be Davdav, since the longest-living two-headed snake is named Double Dave after its discoverer.

Apoteu Davdav. It has the opposite of a nice ring to it, but I like it because it sounds kind of mad sciencey.

Age: 7.5 Sweeps (16 Human Years)

Theme/Story: His theme is sort of Mad Scientist vibes. He dabbles in forensic pathology, chemistry (even though he often explodes things), troll biology/genes and psychology. Those are his main 5 branches because he’s not very good at math so his knowledge of physics is limited.

fugidghiuuaehiu Bad At Math Science Gang RISE UP

He was hatched and went through The Brooding Caverns. He decided to settle on a Hive in the outskirts of a city, in a suburban area with only a few highblooded neighbors. However, his lusus was very, very hard to feed for the two heads would often argue with and attack each other. His lusus would feed on anyone who visited or came too close, by asphyxiating them. It also neglected him and didn’t pay attention to him for it was too busy fighting with itself. He eventually learned to sedate his lusus through aromatherapy, with chemicals he himself created in his lab. He lives on a huge castle-like hive near a forest where he gets the material for his experiments and corpses to analyze. He has a bunch of body parts in flasks and bottles.

He is a very strange troll, but he doesn’t want to be. Due to his upbringing and his lusus eating whoever came over. He often saw culling, death and destruction near him, which caused him to have a morbid fixation on death and a desire to better troll society through science, influenced by his ancestor Discordi Discipla (he’s a WIP). However, he has fallen victim to his own mental deterioration and apathy as he spent more time around the dead (and undead). This mental deterioration was exacerbated when a presumed dead corpse came to life in his lab and attacked him, causing him blindness in his right eye. He’s somewhat afraid of being culled for his blindness, but knows that it’s not likely, due to his highblood status.

This is pretty good and comprehensive!

Due to his childhood where he didn’t have control over what his lusus did, he now wants to have control over everything in his life. This makes him a very controlling and manipulative person, bent on doing anything to get his way even if it means experimenting on his lowblooded friends. He doesn’t necessarily like hurting others and doesn’t mean to, Alternian society and his own visions of violence has just made him apathetic. This apathy as well as his low self-worth stemming from his neglect has made him have tons of unhealthy relationships, as well as has made him a perfectionist and narcissist. Despite his supposed belief that the end justifies the means and he’s going to make troll society better, he doubts himself and has an inferiority complex.

His mental deterioration has made him a very unstable troll to be around. He’s still a good troll at heart, however the odds are in disfavor due to his blood color causing him to look down on others lower on the hemospectrum and his own childhood. He does things mainly on impulse and suffers from strange hallucinations and visions of the future ever since he was blinded on his right eye. He’s learned to cope with them and they don’t necessarily harm him, but they do cause him significant distress.

He also has a lot of scars from laboratory incidents, and his neighbors hate him.

fjiodshfuo yeah if my neighbor kept making ungodly noises and murdering people with abandon I may also have a beef with them.

Review Goals: General Overview please! Strife Specibus:

Chemicalkind. He carries around various noxious chemicals to use as he pleases, but sometimes they irritate his eyes when he uses them. He can handle it almost all of the time though. He throws them in bottles and that’s how he fights.

I know I *just* suggested this for my most recent review but bottlekind fits here too because if he runs out of chemicals he can just break a bottle off on a nearby surface and stab someone with the broken glass it’s fun it’s easy it’s free.

Fetch Modus:  I kind of took the idea from a mspa fetch modus entry, since I’m bad at coming up with fetch moduses. It’s unoriginal I know, but I genuinely couldn’t think of anything.

Periodic Table Modus.

It requires Sancti to remember his elements, as he needs to remember them for when he’s working and therefore it helps him but also inconveniences him as he can forget them.

This is how it works:

When an item is captchalogued, a quick calculation is checked to see the size of that item. If it is lower than 190x190, the size of the item is totalled and placed on a slot on the fetch modus that corresponds to the periodic table number. 

For example, an item that is 4 in by 2 in would total to 6, and be in the position of Carbon on the table.

Sancti would then have to open the periodic table modus, which would open as an actual metaphysical table, and retrieve the item.

It is blank, with 118 spaces.

This fetch modus is a little confusing to me as well, and your poor math challenged troll likely also finds it difficult.

…but I think I have an idea that keeps with the spirit *and* the confusion while generating some good old Modus Shenanigans. What about an ORBITAL MODUS, with items filling in in each new category as an electron shell would? All items in the outermost shell would be immediately accessible, with deeply nested items remaining inaccessible until the outer shells were emptied.

Like this. Which is perfect for your chemist troll.

Blood Color: Ceruleanblood/Cobaltblood.

Lunar Sway: Derse, because he is dissatisfied with himself.

Derse and Prospit assignations don’t necessarily have to do with how one feelings about *themselves!* Karkat is Prospit and Nepeta is Derse, which reflects the fact that Karkat has accepted the hemospectrum as the way things have to be despite the horrors it inflicts on him, while Nepeta is extremely happy to be herself, but constantly snipes Equius for kowtowing to the hemospectrum. Even Equius is a Dersite, since he doesn’t agree with the hemospectrum so much as develop a really disturbing fixation over the following and subversion of it.

Given that your troll actively uses the hemospectrum to his advantage and delights in doing so, I’d argue he’s a Prospitan!  Title: I’m unsure if I want to make them a sylph of light or a sylph of space, I’m actually not sure at all what they should be.

Between forensic pathology and genetics and chemistry and being attacked by a zombie and feeling he knows best he’s actually coming off VERY much as a Life player to me. Since you’re bouncing between two Sylph classpects I’m happy to keep that title as long as we acknowledge he’s not currently very good at it :P.

Symbol and Meaning: The symbol for purification by burning. He’s my first troll in the session I want to make. It kind of has the meaning of spiritual cleansing or purifying something that is not pure. In this case I think it relates to Sancti’s personal growth that will happen through the session, reflecting how he has to better himself through painful events.

If we go by the EZ, his sign would be Scorsci, Sign of the Fixer. Which is certainly what he sees himself as! I’ll see if I can play with the symbol you gave him and incorporate the Scorpio M into it.

Handle: gravesideAnopsia

Anopsia is a defect in the visual field or blindness, and graveside refers to how he got his blindness.

We definitely see trolls with retroactively foreshadowy trolltags, but I can’t think of a reason for him to have picked Anopsia before his blinding. What about gravesideConjunct, since he sees himself as the connective tissue between the dead and the living? Which can become retroactively ironic when his eye putrifies after it comes into contact with necrotic tissue, which is basically an extreme version of conjunctivitis.

Quirk: ~~( he types…. zzz….. taking… his time…. with words… and….types in caps when he…..wants to zzz…. ASSERT HIS POINT….)~~

Love this quirk he’s a sleeby boy.

He either keysmashes to laugh as “eoeoeoe” “sksksks” or simply laughs like “haha” or “hehe”. He also uses the following emoji    :)-< and (－‸ლ)

Special Abilities: None, unless you count his visions of the future. But he wasn’t born with psychic abilities.

Idk that he even needs visions of the future tbh. Injury does not always confer abilities in troll society.

Lusus/Guardian: A 2-headed Titanoboa (think of a huuuuuge prehistoric Boa, even bigger than an Anaconda). He considers himself to have two dads as the two heads have separate brains. He calls them “my snake dads”. Him and his lusus have a better relationship now that his lusus is sedated, and he often cuddles with his lusus in between their two heads and feeds them the corpses after he’s done analyzing them. However, their relationship used to be negative and neglectful, as explained above.

Omg yes I love his dads.

Interests: Apart from the sciences listed on his theme, he also enjoys the arts and painting with blood of the corpses he studies, as well as making artistic murals outside to the annoyance of his neighbors. He likes cosmic horror books, doomsday devices and machinery, bodily modification, philosophers, and in his spare game he will play puzzle and roleplaying games (but not FLARPing, he’s bad at it). He thinks about hunting the undead sometimes, and likes horror movies, making friends regardless of their dead or alive status, scaring his neighbors, horror movies, and mindless antics.

Appearance: His hair is very straight, but it tends to get messy. Also the string on one of his horns is a string that got stuck on his horn and it’s hard to remove now.

usghiuserg good. I’m gonna see what I can do to his sprite to convey the “straight but messy” vibe more.

Personality: 

He’s VERY creative, more than analytical, which is an oddity for a scientist, others may think of him as a “creative genius” but he rejects the title of being a mad scientist. He wants to be positively known. He also always tries to finish things and has a general curious personality. He’s always seeking knowledge, and often tires himself out from working too much on his experiments, which causes him to enter a cycle of all nighters vs heavy sleeping. He’s a very heavy sleeper, often taking naps throughout the day. He procrastinates on mundane tasks that don’t relate to his interests or experiments. However, he drinks a lot of caffeinated beverages when he needs to work in order to keep himself awake essentially starting an all nighter cycle.

Depending on the circumstances, he can be very friendly and charming, or quite the opposite. It all depends. He likes to crack morbid jokes that make nobody laugh, and is quite disorganized as well as silly. He cares for his moirail (wip) and matesprit (wip) the most, and even though he sometimes snaps at them, he never wants to lose them.

Land: Land of Dreams and Angels, but depending on the classpect you assign him I will change it.

*Hopes and Dreams plays in the background*

What if he’s Land of Regrowth and Thaw, with the grass being fed by the remains of former consorts and the rest slowly unfreezing from ice as his journey continues? Works with his work with dead bodies and also gives us the vegetation associated with Life.

I also have his introduction written out but idk if I should include it. Here it is:

Your name is SANCTI SERPUS and you’d rather be sleeping, or dead.

You love everything relating to THE SCIENCES, but you are not very good at MATH, or keeping organized. However, you are still considered a “CREATIVE GENIUS”. You love anything that STIMULATES YOUR GRUBBY BRAIN -  such as PSYCHOLOGY, FORENSICS and TROLL BIOLOGY. You do many EXPERIMENTS, most of which involve using troll parts in jars, to create true ABOMINATIONS; and one which sadly took your right eye’s vision and has had you in fear of being CULLED. However, you reject the idea of being a “MAD SCIENTIST”.

In a weird fashion, you also highly enjoy THE ARTS, and paint the walls of your GINORMOUS HIVE and other places with objectively “pretty good” PICTURES made from the BLOOD of the corpses you work with, to the annoyance of your neighbors. You also have a slight interest in BODILY MODIFICATION, in an effort to withdraw attention from your accident, as well as an interest in COSMIC HORROR BOOKS, as any good scientist should have. Another interest of yours is VIDEO GAMES, especially ROLE PLAYING and PUZZLE games, and when you’re not working, you spend your time playing them. You’ve even attempted to CODE your own game, and FAILED.  However, you are not a very good FLARPER.

Despite this, all your work leaves you tired, which means you are a HEAVY SLEEPER and tend to procrastinate even the most MUNDANE TASKS that are not related to your interests. On the days that you are energized from drinking CAFFEINATED BEVERAGES, you like to go outside at night and collect all sorts of RANDOM KNICK-KNACKS, which may include CORPSES and FOSSILS to analyze. This has attracted the attention of your neighbors and BEST FRIENDS, who call you an UNHINGED TOTAL MANIAC. You don’t understand why, until you take off your lab coat to reveal an alarming amount of new scars from LABORATORY INCIDENTS. You really are kind of an ODDBALL. 

This is such a frickin MOOD. Let’s go to the redesign, though I don’t have much!

Horns - you said he got string tangled in his horns but those horns are shaped in a way that makes it pretty easy to untangle stuff! I gave him horns that are Klein-bottle inspired, though it’s obviously impossible for horns to actually grow into a Klein bottle shape. Now THAT’S a mess I wouldn’t wanna tangle with!

Hair - I absolutely ripped a fan-troll template to shreds and put it back together again for this hair, but I think this conveys “basically straight but mussed up” with a little more shape than the original.

Face - I adjusted the proportions and replaced the eyebrows with just the piercings because it was looking a little busy.

Shirt - Again it looked a little busy with the jacket with symbols on both flaps and the pendant in the middle, so I gave him a mad scientist jacket edited from John’s.

Symbol - I tried to find a happy medium between the radial symmetry of the original symbol and the Scorsci M with the arrows.

That’s pretty much it! Hope this helped!

-TR

#ceruleanblood #cobaltblood #submission #itoshiki #review #tr review #sancti #serpus #sancti serpus #apoteu #davdav #apoteu davdav #redesign

[jolly-loui-s]

The irony of roleplaying as a wizard chpater 1 by Jolly Loui S

Fandom: Homestuck

Pairing: Davekat Dave x Karkat

words (chapters 1/?): 1732 words

If you liked this work please drop a kudo on archiveofourown in the link below:

 https://archiveofourown.org/works/16975734/chapters/39898338

Reader stop what you are doing and be Dave =>

Your name is Dave strider, and you are taking a stroll. The destination in mind of the stroll it to particularly wondering because you are only wandering. The only special thing about this situation was that this stroll was taking place inside of a facility on a meteor in the middle of space, and you were barefoot. Why Dave was barefoot? even he didn’t know. Sometimes shoes seemed so pointless. “Thank you kindly narration, be free my sweaty feet from you pointless shoe prison” Dave muttered to himself because narration isn’t a thing you can talk to. Who needed shoes when you had the soft comfort of your meaty toes. Dave continued to peacefully stroll ahead on his walk to nowhere in particular and started remembering all those countless times he had fallen victim to the mighty Lego blocks every time again and again back in Striderbro’s apartment days. Dave knew that bro leaving Lego’s around the apartment on random occasions had just been one of his many methods to prepare Dave for anything and absolutely everything. A lesson to always wear shoes, or it was just bro being bro at cleaning, why the guy played with Lego’s at such an age? Dave didn't know, but it wasn't like Lego’s where specifically for children anyway. Dave shivered at the thought of the pain, those damm colorful blocks had been such a pain in the ass, literally even sometimes. Well, at least Lego’s probably didn’t exist anymore with the whole earth being gone and stuff. All of a sudden without warning disrupted from his choo-choo train of thoughts, Dave felt a pang of pain run through the bottom of one of his feet and proceeded to make a womanly yelp which he would later deny, because Striders don’t yelp. He held his foot in pain and was surprised to see blood dripping from it, trying to bring his foot closer to his face to investigate the so said object that was now stuck in his feet.

But because of the idiot he was, trying to shove one’s foot into their face while still standing being a bad idea, Dave lost his balance after wobbling around and tried to direct his fall to his side as he had learned was the best way to fall and not break an arm, only… it never came. Instead Dave felt his face swimming into the texture of very suspicious fluffy wool and realized he had somehow managed to direct his fall towards something else than the floor. Just his luck the door had opened in that same moment when Dave was about to fall taking the person that had appeared from the other side of the door with him. Making his fall very... surprisingly soft-and fluffy actually! And that was when Dave found out he had just caused his own utter demise when he realized why the person, he had fallen onto was so fluffy, because there was only one person that could be. Fluffy sweater all year long summer or winter Karkat Vantass. Which made Dave wonder if seasons were even a thing on Alternia or not? He decided that was another conversation for another time. There were other subjects like a very pissed of looking Karkat who looked like he was about to start another long as rant when Dave finely met his stare still lying on top of the dude and of course all Dave could think of was wink at the motherfucker which only worsened the never ending angry looking furrow of the guys eyebrows.

“HERE I WAS ACTYALLY FUCKING CONCERNED FOR A SECOND FOR A FRIENDS POTENIAL WELL BEING,” Karkat started to say as was dramatically flailing around his arms on the ground “LOOK AT ME! HURRYING MY ASS OVER TO INVESTIAGE A PECUALIAR ASS SCREAM OF THE OTHER SIDE OF THE DOOR WHILE I WAS JUST MINDING MY GODDAMM OWN BUISNES BUT NO, IT SEEMS LIKE THE HEAVNES HAVE BETRAYED ME ONCE AGAIN BY DOOMING MY DAY WITH ANOTER DOSE OF UNWANTED STRIDER PRESSENCE” “hey” Dave interrupted feeling slightly bemused while feigning hurt in his voice. “This holy Strider presence is a blessing and you know it, come on bro you can’t denying it. My cool kid strider ass just dropping in like the divine gift I am ready to be caught like a princes by my knight is shining armor is the most divine blessing you will ever get” Karkat grunted and continued to yell frustrated as he tried to wriggle free from Dave’s weight on top of him which just humored Dave even more. Karkat yelled colorfully as he held onto Dave’s back tightly in the motion of struggle. Amongst the struggle Dave’s face found itself very flatly squashed like a pancake underneath Karkat’s sweater with Karkat still trying to fidget loose from Dave’s strong hold on his back. Dave felt himself being suffocated, his laughter from before drowning away as he struggled for breath. Dave Strider, dead by sweater. Dave could already see Rose knitting those ironic sweaters for his corpse party. Karkat saw the opportunity when Dave’s hold on him started to grow slack and didn’t hesitate to turn the tables, because Karkat was now the one sitting on top of the other. Dave grasped a quick breath but soon found himself distracted as his hands appeared to be immobilized by the guy on top of him. Karkat’s face was right in front of his very close actually. As if he was on one of the first-row seats at the cinema looking at the premiere of Sir Karkat Vantass the movie. It didn’t take long for Karkat to remove his arms, both boys faces inched closer in utter silence. Dave’s hands very slowly found its way towards Karkat cheeks. they had passed the time that was appropriate to let go, so they continued to look at each other like that for a while. It was probably a shorter amount of time than what it felt like but still, it almost felt like eternity while staring at those strange alien black and yellow eyes. Sometimes, Dave would forget the fact that they weren’t the same species. And for some reason it made Dave tense up slightly, when he started to notice the obvious difference in appearance between the two them. Like Karkat’s sharp teeth that could probably tear trough raw meat if he wanted to or his sharp claws which were dug deeply into Dave’s back. Another thing Dave suddenly felt hyper aware of was Karkat’s hot breath on his face along with the feeling of Karkat speeding heartbeat trough his chest.

“Dave…umm” Karkat said “your foot is bleeding” a very poor attempt at starting a conversating but Dave was thankful none the less. Dave’s state of mind now probably wouldn’t even have been able to form more than two syllables at least. Even if some miracle happened and Dave managed to form a word it would have probably been something stupid anyway which he would have regretted later. So, he really was glad Karkat decided to speak first. Which gave Dave the opportunity to nod in a cool manner, because as a Striders nodding in a cool manner was never a thing he could fail at. After another few mortifying seconds of silence Karkat finely got the clue that Dave wouldn’t be opening his mouth in remark anytime soon. A wobbly pair of hands which rested on Dave’s chest pushed against him with the utmost care, not breaking eye contact Karkat pushed himself away from Dave space until both of his feet were standing on the floor. Dave only bothered to change his stance to a sitting position very aware of the sudden absence of warmth on his body.

“I..I t-think I should go now, I mean like yeah-h” Karkat said his breath hitching at the last words while he awkwardly pointed to the door. Dave nodded again coolly because, still that was all he could do, and withing a flash of second Karkat was gone. The mechanical door opened and closed behind him, Karkat’s back was the last thing Dave saw until everything that had just happened dawned unto him. The places that Karkat had touched before suddenly felt on like they were on fire and Dave couldn’t help but touch his face, which felt unbelievably warm from embarrassment. “What the hell just happened” Dave said to particularly no-one because there was no-one around just the feeling that he had to muter those particular words to himself. They had just been goofing around, it wasn’t anything new, really. They had wrestled before but never, never had been stuck staring at each other like that. So close, their faces had been so close to each other Dave thought. Just a few inches more and their lips would have touched. Just a few inches and Dave and Karkat would have… no no! Dave didn’t even allow himself to think the word. Dave his face was stuck in shock, but Karkat’s face just then it had been so... vulnerable, precious? Dave couldn’t come up with any words to describe it. He had never felt this way before once in his life and he didn’t know what it was. There was only one emotion he was having right now that he recognized and that was fear. Striders didn’t feel fear, so Dave knew he had to keep it that way while feeling Bro’s gaze of disproval flash before his memories. Whatever these strange emotions had been he wouldn’t allow himself to feel them again. Or would he? Maybe he should talk to Rose, it wasn’t like he wanted to, but it resulted to be the best thing to do most of the times. He trusts Rose, technically being siblings was one of the reasons, but it still made him feel uncomfortable to talk to her about things like feelings and emotions. Dave stood up, still feeling confused, only to his déjà vu almost fall over once again. He had totally forgotten about what had started the whole instance in the first place. Finally managing to look at his foot clearly now and not like some wobbling idiot the object that was stuck in his foot was now clear to his eyes to see.

Dave_EXE_STOPPED_WORKING

It was a piece of Lego’s.

link to chapter 2:

https://jolly-loui-s.tumblr.com/post/190382520016/the-irony-of-roleplaying-as-a-wizard-chapter-2-by

#davekat #fanfic #fanfiction #homestuck #dave #dave strider #karkat #karkat vantas #archive of our own #art #fanart #digital art #story

[cannabisrefugee-esq]

(via The Welfare Gnome! It's Like a Sock Gnome Except This One Can Actually Kill You. Ft. Joker (Again))

The Welfare Gnome!  It’s Like a Sock Gnome Except This One Can Actually Kill You.  Ft. Joker (Again)

Cannabis Refugee, Esq.

Advertising / Media / Cultural Conversation

Capitalistic Patriarchal Medicine

Crohn's Disease Stories

Euthanasia / Suicide

Law / Legal / Benefits

December 20, 2019

According to the internet, a “sock gnome” is a mythical creature that pilfers socks.  Presumably it lives in or around the dryer where you put an even number of socks in and get an odd number out.  Sometimes it gets tricksy and spits out an even number but the pairs don’t match (meaning it’s pilfered one from more than one pair) but the usual evidence that you’ve had a sock pilfered by a gnome is that there is one left over that doesn’t have a mate and the missing sock never reappears ever.  This is a real thing (if not a real gnome) and everyone knows what this means.

Well, there appears to be a similar creature that lives at Social Services and pilfers sick and poor people’s applications for welfare benefits.  Or something, idk.  I assume these creatures are related but maybe not since this gnome doesn’t play games: it’s goal seems to be to drive you insane before it literally kills you.  I wrote here before about an application for benefits that went missing, along with a half a dozen other boondoggles that have wasted my spoons and left me scrambling to repeat some administrative process I was barely able to complete survive the first time.

Because while a sick person’s literal inability to jump through bureaucratic hoops is actually the best evidence that someone is extremely ill, someone has decided that only those who are well enough to sing for their supper (or pursue benefits) deserve to eat, as it were.  The first application that went missing was for food stamps, while today I found out that my application to get on a 4 month waitlist to see a doctor went missing 2 months ago and has not been since heard from: although my disability advocate hand-delivered it, the application was never received.

I didn’t know it had never been received since I was instructed to wait for 2-3 months for a phonecall from them whereupon they would then tell me that I had to wait another 4 months to see a provider.  Now I get to start the whole process over again.  Of course, the clock starts, again, from zero: 2-3 months for the application to be processed and another 4 months before I will be seen. And as both Crohn’s disease and high functioning Autism are untreatable and incurable, the only reason I’m even trying to get in to see a doctor is that I need up to date records of medical compliance (not actual therapeutic medical care since none exists) to support my claims for disability.  As if sick people have the time and energy for that.

Just “apply for benefits” then keep applying indefinitely or forever!   Just get showered, dressed, don’t eat or drink anything though because Crohn’s, get somehow transported across town, pretend to act human for a several hours while you are being humiliated, interrogated, starved and otherwise tortured in public, then somehow get a ride back home.  And do all of that without “acting” sick.  Easy peasy.

And truly, bureaucratic incompetence (or a welfare or Social Services gnome) isn’t even worth writing about and I wouldn’t bother writing about it except that it had an unsettling effect on me: I literally wondered, if only for a second, if I had hallucinated the whole thing and therefore wondered if my new disability advocate who had hand-delivered the applications himself, Dave, was even real.  Jesus Christ that was disturbing.  Around Halloween of this year, Dave had helped me complete numerous applications, some online, while he mailed some hardcopies out of town and hand-delivered the rest; the 2 applications that were both hand-delivered were supposedly never received.  One would be understandable, if not acceptable, but both of them?  I was shook.

Very shortly thereafter I realized that the only proof I even have that Dave came to pick me up several times, completed applications for/with me and took me home again is that one application we did online was actually received and has his name and information on it.  Much to my chagrin, they initially returned that “online” application to me in hardcopy to review, sign and return (WTF) but as it turns out, that bit of bureaucratic fuckery actually saved me from something awful — a literal break from reality — and was the only proof I had that Dave and our interactions were even real.  Also, my old disability advocate told me about Dave in front of another person and they both remember it.  (!)  So yeah, I’m legit losing my mind by now but at least I’m not delusional (that I know of). Everything about this is fucking terrifying.

Wait.  Is Dave even real?  Let’s review.

  At some point, I know my readers are going to get sick to death of hearing about this shit and I wouldn’t blame them.  Hearing about how the system truly victimizes people is unpleasant and predictably leaves those who don’t have to deal with it (yet) with the strong impression that disenfranchised people are “victims” experiencing “victimization” which is always, always read as a character flaw, or it is eventually, especially if it goes on for a long time and it often almost always does.  And this material is about as appealing to read as…idk, a book of vintage recipes where the first and second ingredients in every dish are Jello and fake mayonnaise?  Maybe.  There’s a trainwreck quality that’s hard to look away from, it’s interesting (at first) to see how all the various parts fit together (or ultimately don’t) and I suppose it’s possible to have compassion for the vintage cooks who were trying so, so hard to be resourceful and whatnot.

But eventually that person’s judgement will probably come into question and the blame will fall squarely on them if they consistently choose to participate in such insanity, in that case, preparing and serving Spaghetti-Os and sliced hot dogs suspended in savory Jello, or a canned ambrosia Yule log.  (I just watched a video of someone making a canned ambrosia Yule log from a vintage recipe, you can watch that here). Or in the case of a vulnerable person seeking benefits, choosing to consistently be relieved of their dignity and even being (seemingly) willingly neglected and abused.  The comparison is kind of a reach but what I’m getting at here is that it’s not pretty.  The things I discuss on this blog aren’t pretty.

So do I have an actual point?  Actually I have 2.  The first point I will make via another anecdote and is something I learned as a young attorney who was becoming seriously ill: I had been seeing a chiropractor/nutritionist for months to attempt to treat what was becoming unbearable chronic pain and GI issues when my health insurance company started denying his claims.  The “doctor” wasn’t being paid but I was still in disabling pain and his treatments were working.  Kind of. Until they stopped. We had to have “the discussion” which drew out our competing interests: my interest in continuing treatment without a lapse versus his interest in being consistently paid.  (Really, this is where the myth of the compassionate Western healer is always undone: the issue of money.  But that’s a post for another day.)  This discussion is never pleasant and as I learned, is absolutely meant to be ugly.

As a seasoned provider with decades of experience in the insurance game, the “doctor” calmly explained to me that part of the game is to pit the doctor and patient against each other so that they can’t provide a united front against the real enemy: the insurance company.  The goal is to have the doctor and patient part ways angry so that there is no reason to pursue an appeal and the treatment — whether it’s medically necessary or not — simply ends.  From the insurance company’s perspective, the problem (of exposure to liability) just goes away: if the doctor and patient part ways it doesn’t have to expend resources reviewing appeals and no further claims will be made, their exposure drops to zero, and they win.

Get it?  Bad guys 1, good guys 0.  And this, I think, is the dynamic playing out when people get fed up (and fired up) with hearing about what sick and disabled people go through — regular, relatively powerless people blaming and judging other regular, relatively powerless people for being “victims” instead of providing a unified front against our common enemy.  In this case, against our corporate and governmental overlords who spend billions if not trillions annually on “corporate welfare” and destructive black budget programs while reducing, eliminating or otherwise making inaccessible benefits that real people need to live in this shithole they created, not us.  And Big Medicine torturing sick people and deliberately (or leastwise predictably) making us worse.

We all have a choice, don’t we, to pick the correct side and to not fall into this deliberate trap set by the elite, to not go against our own interests, to decline the invitation to support our oppressors while undermining ourselves and our ilk, our own people.  Choose correctly.  It matters.

My second point is this.  I can only speak for myself when I say that I absolutely never wanted to be a “victim” and I spent my entire life and literally everything I had to try to ensure that didn’t happen.  I have written about that before if anyone wants to revisit that part of my journey, but what I haven’t directly said is this: once I had exhausted every resource I had accumulated over a lifetime (which wasn’t much), after I had asked everyone I knew for help and they all declined, after I had failed to cure myself of an incurable disease, I knew what was coming for me because I had spent my entire life trying to avoid it.

My experience as a benefits attorney only underscored what I already knew, which is that there is nothing there to catch most people when they fall, and there is no bottom to the abuse and neglect one will suffer, and literally endless opportunities to be victimized, once anyone, especially an unresourced, unsupported female, is no longer able to control her outcomes and sick women can no longer reliably control their outcomes.  I knew the benefits system would be inaccessible or inadequate, I knew I would be abused and neglected by doctors if I let them, I knew I could end up sick and homeless at the same time, I knew I could end up sick and homeless and raped and pregnant at the same time if there was nothing I could do to stop it, and I knew that once I got sick there was, in fact, little or nothing I could do to stop it.  I knew there would be no end to my suffering as a sick woman under capitalism and patriarchy.

I saw this coming a mile out, and to avoid that outcome I knew I didn’t want and knew I couldn’t handle (and shouldn’t be expected to) and to fulfill a lifelong promise I had made to myself to never “allow” myself to be victimized in this way, I attempted suicide.  4 times.   Four fucking times I took action against myself that was so incompatible with life that by all rights I should have died at least once if not every time but I didn’t die.  Each time I woke to this nightmare that won’t end and I had to go on, dealing with the same shit and with the same hideous constraints only even more sick and even more traumatized than I was before if that was even possible.  And it is possible, isn’t it — it is bottomless.  There is no end, there is absolutely no end to how bad this can and will get for me and for everyone in my position.

And to be clear, I started this blog after what ended up being my final (well, most recent) suicide attempt which was 2 years ago by now.  Get it?  Every single post on this blog was written after that and therefore was very nearly not written at all.  What I am documenting here, I think, is a fairly common experience that is almost always lost to time and tragedy: what it’s actually like to be this seriously, hopelessly ill, how “the system” works against sick people and sick women at every turn, and what it really looks like to have no options.  And while this surely happens all the time, every force in the universe, it seems, is working against most people actually knowing about it.  In fact, the most relateable thing I’ve ever read, the only thing that I have ever seen address these points and describe an experience nearly identical to my own was left behind by an activist/writer/seriously chronically ill woman in a suicide note.  I wrote about that woman, Anne Örtegren, and her suicide note here.  

In my own case, and this is the only reason you are hearing about it, I happened to be a seasoned researcher and writer with a specialized interest in dissecting the insane system of patriarchy, I had a preexisting platform on which to advertise this project and an audience that was open to hearing about it, and despite my best intentions and efforts, and those of everyone and everything else for that matter, where those intentions and efforts were not compatible with life, my life, I didn’t fucking die.  Not yet anyway.  I suspect that many women who experience what I and Anne Örtegren and others have experienced go down for the third and final time before anyone even hears them scream.  And if any of this sounds a little crazy to you, that’s only because it is.  It is completely, completely insane.

#joker #christmas #xmas #friends #family

[hotchley]

heyy sumayyah! firstly: i'm so sorry you got hate asks >:( some people really can't be nice... that sucks. i'm back with my hc to (maybe, hopefully) distract you/cheer you up!! just saying, it's LONG and it's kind of angsty in the beginning lmao sorry oops, but it gets a little better towards the end!! i promise!!

tw mentions of (bad) eating habits, very briefly implied abuse/domestic violence and alcoholism, brief mention of almost-fainting!!

so my own horrible eating habits got me thinking of Hotch who already doesn’t eat that much because of how he was raised (on his father’s bad days, his mother wouldn’t even be able to get up to make food and his father would be batshit drunk anyway, so no one made food and there’s nothing at home, and Hotch is too young and doesn’t know how to cook for himself, and that just carried its way into adulthood even after he learnt to cook (for Sean, because Sean is a growing boy and still has to eat and he would do anything to make sure Sean grows up happy) and even after he gets together with Haley, who always has to check in on him to make sure he's eating properly)

like, man would throw himself into his work, sometimes not on purpose but because he just was so intent on finishing just one more document, and time just slipped by and when he looks up again it’s 8pm, the bullpen’s almost empty, and then he realises that he actually hasn’t ate anything since he had his morning coffee. and after especially bad cases (Vincent Perrotta, Carl Buford, Tobias Hankel, that case on the pig farm, Foyet, etc.) he just, avoids food on purpose, distracting himself by finishing all the paperwork he has, even if they’re not urgent, sometimes even completing the team’s paperwork (as much as he can) just because he feels like he’s failed them. the team doesn't deserve to be bogged down by all these bureaucratic issues but he does, because what good is his role as their unit chief if he can’t even shield them from the evil out there, if he has to send his team into the abyss every single time and every time someone else gets more injured/fractured, and the least he could do is to help out the team with what he’s best with, right? all those behind-the-scenes, messy, cutthroat politics, because it’s okay if he takes the brunt of the scrutiny of the brass and if he could he would not even let the team relive what they’ve been through because they don’t deserve that, they don’t deserve having to recount their traumatic experience in a bloody report that will eventually just be filed and chucked aside but will leave emotional and mental scars on his agents that will never be erased.

or sometimes he’s just stressed out and anxious and food just really doesn’t go well with his stomach, and he opts to skip meals entirely - he drinks coffee only because he still needs to keep awake, to make sure he’s paying full attention on all these cases and victims and his team who deserve his 120%, and because his stomach’s been conditioned to accept coffee no matter what (over 10 years of being in the BAU after over another 5? years as a prosecutor, where he drank coffee like his life depended on it). and sure, he’s lost weight, his ribs slightly showing when he raises his hands to reach for things/take off his sweaters, sure he’s looked a little more gaunt and tired as the years go by, sure he’s had some almost fainting spells in his office after a long day without food, where his vision just blacks out for 5 seconds after he stands up and he has to clutch onto the edge of his desk to stabilize himself, but it's okay to him, because he must be the strong, stoic, reliable leader for his team and he can’t faint in his office, not when the blinds are open and the team can look in and when he knows that Derek, Emily and Spencer are all looking in concerned because he hasn’t left his office all day

and i’m just also thinking about how the team would just, do their best to feed him??? like, when they stop for gas on long road trips to/back from cases, he always doesn’t buy anything besides a coffee (black, as usual, with just a dash of sugar and cream on good days) for himself, but then JJ passes him an unopened nutri bar which she claimed she bought earlier for herself but now 'doesn’t feel like eating anymore', Dave silently hands over a cookie (chocolate chip, his favourite) and stares at him with his eyebrows raised until Aaron accepts the cookie and actually eats it, Derek slips a wrap into his hands somehow and offers to drive because 'Hotch, you gotta finish your wrap', Spencer casually asks Hotch if he can help him finish off this sandwich which he bought but cannot finish, and Hotch looks down and sees a perfectly fine egg and ham sandwich which hasn’t even been bitten into, but Spencer’s looking at him with those eyes (he thinks of Jack and how strikingly alike his sons they are) so he takes the sandwich and eats it, Emily openly challenges him and says ‘here’s the bag of chips i owe you, you better finish it all because i took the trouble of actually getting them or else’ and he goes along with it because he’s learnt that arguing with her is sometimes equivalent to arguing with Penelope, and that mostly ends up with him going along with both their ‘suggestions’ in the end anyway, and on the rare cases where Penelope goes with the team out into the field, she always packs homemade cookies and cupcakes that are so wonderfully bright and colourful, like everything about her, and when she gets to him with those sparkling hopeful eyes and says ‘I made these myself, come on, have a taste and let me know what you think?’, Hotch can’t help but accept it because he doesn’t ever want to disappoint Penelope and make her sad, because her bubbly and innocent demeanour reminds him of Jack and he would never do anything to kill that bright light that is Penelope

aND I’m getting some big emotions. imagine all the subtle (& not so subtle) things the team does just to make sure he eats (regularly) which may include and are not limited to: inviting themselves over to Hotch’s house for homecooked meals (Spencer, Derek), inviting him & Jack out on outings or playdates which most often than not end with them at restaurants where Hotch eats because Jack needs a good role model on healthy eating behaviours and he’s got to be that for Jack (Derek, Emily, JJ), or just showing up at his house/office to leave him baked goods/cooked meals that were always somehow ‘extras’ or ‘leftovers’ (JJ, Penelope, Rossi, Spencer) i'm sorry this got so long!! it was written a little over a month ago when i was procrastinating on my literature essay in the middle of the night, so i got a little angsty LOL. i hope this distracts you somewhat from the horrible ask you got! take care of yourself! sending love and hugs <33

🌙

Putting my answer below the keep reading for scrolling x

Aww thank you for sending it!! When I saw I had an ask, I really thought it was you, and then it was that stupid anon and I was like: Oh okay then... I have to go eat dinner so....

Ohh... his childhood... the poor kid would've been so much smaller, but so determined to do everything for Sean because that's his little brother and he loves him more than anything... I love Haley though <3

He would so do that though. He would tell himself he could eat once he's done something- which is really unhealthy, if you're reading this do not ever withhold food, if you're feeling hungry just eat something it doesn't matter what it is because something will always, always be healthier than nothing- and then he would pick something else up and the cycle would repeat...

He would convince himself the coffee is enough, that there's nothing wrong with his habits because he's never done anything different, but he would know deep down that it's not right. But he still wouldn't eat anything because he knows it'll make him naesous either way.

The worst part is what are the team meant to do in that situation? They can't force him to eat... as much as they may want to, they can't...

YES! The team would have a tally chart of who last had to make Hotch eat, so they would have a rota, and occasionally (all the time actually) they would deviate from said rota and then they would all look at each other and then laugh because eh, it's fine!

That ending was so cute, I love them <3

Noo!! Don't be sorry it go so long, I love it so much!! I might have to work it into a fic... wait... one of them may have referenced JJ giving him in a sandwich, unless that was only in my head lol

#tw eating habits #tw implied abuse #tw alcoholism #tw almost fainting #🌙anon #people talk to me

[youcantundothepast]

javid headcanons

hey so I haven’t updated in forever (I have reasons just not good ones ngl) (also I’ve been absent on all of my blogs so don’t think y’all are special ;))

but for now here are some wholesome Javid (modern) headcanons that aren’t really supposed to be anything in particular they’re just kind of cute

they skip around from high school to married life and everything in between

also this is so long because I love imagining my two pure boys in love

tw: idk why but there’s more cussing than usual (but I wouldn’t consider it excessive)

———————

- okay so first off, Davey is a mess

- like how does one date??? like he can barely stand his own life how can he share it with someone else????

- especially someone so perfect nice like Jack

- but this isn’t Jack’s first rodeo and God bless him he just smiles when Davey’s awkward and will kiss his cheek or something and Davey will never be sure how he landed someone so nice perfect

- they don’t like the hassle of splitting the bill on dates so they alternate on who pays for the date

- Davey brought Jack sunflowers once for his designated date day and on Jack’s next designated date day, Davey received a painting of said flowers

- as they continuously date, though, they begin learning each other’s favorite flowers

- like Jack loves stargazer lilies but Davey can’t have lilies because of Sarah’s cat, Cheerio (never forget Cheerio)

- Davey favorite flowers are baby’s breath

- on prom night, Sarah and Katherine surprise the two with matching stargazer/baby’s breath boutonniere and they just go soft

- OKAY BUT DAVEY GETS SO SAD AT THE END OF PROM NIGHT BECAUSE HE’LL HAVE TO THROW IT AWAY BECAUSE CHEERIO GETS INTO EVERYTHING SO HE JUST THROWS IT IN THE TRASH AND THEN ON HIS

- AND JACK’S WEDDING DAY, JACK SURPRISES HIM BY SHOWING THE TWO MATCHING BOUTONNIERES now pressed and dead BUT HE CAN’T HELP BUT BE SPEECHLESS BY HIS NOW HUSBAND AND AHHHH

- “wait... oh my God I kissed you that night after you went dumpster diving!”

- also real quick, Sarah is Davey’s “best man” and he’s all like Sarah, you can wear a dress, you don’t have to wear a suit like Jack’s best man (Crutchie)

- and Sarah just glared and is like “bitch don’t take this from me”

- she was the best looking in the wedding photos rocking her amazing suit btw

- but back to when they’re just bfs

- when they first start being together Davey isn’t really sure what to think because they’re more than friends, but is it right to say Jack’s his boyfriend yet? (they hadn’t even had their first kiss yet)

- so he goes for a few weeks with them just have a few dates (are they dates though???) until Jack calls him his boyfriend in front of the other newsies (because he can register Davey’s apprehensiveness so he makes the first move)

- and Davey is just like ???!!?!!

- “you- you just called me the-the” and he can’t even register at the moment because the heart eyes are strong

- and Jack is just grinning and is just like “yeah, I just called you the b word. That’s okay with you right?”

- And Davey could just melt into a puddle and is internally like “HOLY SHIT WTF WHAT IS GOING ON I AM GOING TO IMPLODE BEFORE I DESERVE THIS NERD” but he just holds Jack’s hand and kisses the top of it and is like “yeah, I consider you my b word too”

- then Race says whispers “my bitch” to Spot and ruins the whole moment

(okay that sounded so awkward with the whole b word thing but I really wanted to make that joke because I love that meme(?) so allow me)

- their first kiss took a lot of time to build up to, but they both wanted to make sure it’d be perfect so it was on their last day of Junior year and they just spend thirty seconds afterwards just staring into each other’s eyes with their foreheads touching while holding the other’s hands

- Katherine takes a picture of the “first kiss aftermath” posts it to instagram (with their permission) with the caption “FINALLY!!!” with a billion heart emojis

- everyone who didn’t know the two were together scream in the comments

- Jack has to make a follow up post of Davey kissing his cheek and him winking with a huge smile of his face with the caption “my boyfriend ❤️”

- Race, ofc, comments “I thought he was your bitch”

- they’re not really into PDA except simple hand holding and small pecks on lips/face every so often

- Jack’s favorite sign of affection is rubbing his thumb along the top of Davey’s hand especially when Davey gets really anxious because it helps him calm down and remember to breathe

- Davey loves to run his hands through Jack’s hair because it is so soft and sometimes Jack won’t cut it for a while and it’ll curl at the ends and Davey loves playing with them

- they usually only do this though when in private or around close friends because they feel like they’re shoving their relationship down people’s throats with obvious actions

- sometimes someone like Finch will fake gag and Katherine will punch him and he won’t do it again because damn Katherine punches hard

- Jack’s favorite dates are when they just order take out and sit on the couch all night to watch movies

- Jack has made Davey’s watch Brother Bear probably 300 times, but while Jack loves every second of the movie, Davey just smiles and powers through

- it is a good movie though (go watch it if you haven’t you are going to cry your eyes out)

- Davey likes to watch the action movies and superhero movies like Marvel

- (they totally went to see Infinity War and Davey was so broken after like he just stayed in bed cuddling with Jack for hours balling his eyes out)

- (then they went to see Ant-man and the Wasp and the cycle repeated)

- Davey’s favorite dates though are packing some sandwiches and apples/chips and just going to the park and having a picnic or going stargazing

- in NYC, they don’t see many stars so for Davey’s birthday, Jack picked him up in the middle of the night once and drove them to the middle of nowhere to stargaze

- for Jack’s birthday, Davey wants to do something special, but isn’t really sure what to do until Sarah gives him an idea

- it’s Jack’s 18th birthday so he gets a big box and fills it up with “18 things I love about you” and Jack cries reading the little notes Davey writes

- it’s things like a box of new color pencils with a note saying “you add so much color to the lives of everyone you meet” and also a fidget spinner with a note taped on saying “once start something, you won’t quit until it’s finished. but you also get annoying pretty quick ;)” so it’s just a bunch of useless junk but the sentiment and thoughtfulness of it is what makes it special

- did I say Jack cried? I meant to say Jack BAWLED

- like some of the little tear marks never came out of the pieces of paper

- when they decide they want to get married, they just kind of propose to each other

- like one night they are just like “hey, here’s a wild idea, but I love you like a lot and want to spend the rest of my days with you so let’s get married”

- and a month later, they surprise each other with rings so they both have engagement rings

- (low key inspired by AKB/Scott Bixby because that shit is adorable)

- but every relationship has to have some turbulence but it took me a while to come up with something because I don’t want these boys to be mad at each other :(

- so first off, they don’t argue long about the stupid stuff because they realized early that none of that is worth it because they make each other happy and that’s rare to come by these days

- but there are some persistent things they argue about ike Davey never taking care of himself (especially during their college days)

- poor boy doesn’t get enough sleep :(

- Jack’s hamartia is the fact that he can’t stand injustice/assholes

- so he’s often come home with a bloody lip or black eye

- Davey understands, but he wishes Jack wouldn’t get himself hurt so much

- (so they basically both have the same problem they just experience it in different ways)

- it’s when Jack calls Davey from jail when they have a big fight

tw: vague attempted sexual assault

- “A bar fight? What the hell, Jack?!”

- it was the worse Davey had ever seen him with his jaw swollen and bruises littering his whole body

- “Not my fault that motherfucker-“

- “You can’t just fight anyone who is rude or is racist! I hate people like that too, but you can’t punch them a few times and expect them to change in an instant. Some fights you just shouldn’t pick!”

- Jack had never seen Davey so mad so he takes a deep breath and reaches through the bars of the holding cell and grabs Davey’s shoulder calmly

- “Dave... the drink was drugged. I saw the guy put somethin in the woman’s drink when I was passin by the bar. I warned her, but then he came up and started makin a scene. Started making him the victim. He practically demanded that I let him take the girl home as if I could give him permission. Poor girl was so shocked and scared, and he wasn’t backin off. It was just me and him for a while and then his buddies showed up. Some other people tried to help me, and then the cops showed up. Fuckers pinned it all on me and I was in here before I could even let a word out.”

- Davey is speechless by Jack’s story and he was pretty sure he fell in love all over again

- “I jus hope that girl’s okay. She was cryin when I was being put into car in handcuffs. The other guy was only brought in for questioning. Said I was the one who started it and they believed me, saying only kids my age would start trouble like that. Apparently he’s a mechanic at the building down the road. Probably gives these cops discounts or somethin. It’s a load of shit if you ask me.”

- “I know, Jack. Let’s just get you out of here so you can heal up. Knowing you, you’ll probably have another black eye soon enough. Have to heal this one up so you don’t keep the next one waiting.”

- when they’re in their car, Davey reaches across and kisses his swollen jaw

- “I’m sorry about yelling at you, I didn’t know. You’re an amazing person, I should’ve known you wouldn’t just get in a random fight.”

tw over

- ahhh they’re so in love!!!!

- the best thing though is that they’re each other’s support systems

- like every night they go to bed and just cuddle and whenever one has had a bad day, the other will just open their arms and hug them and kiss them for as long as they need

- there’s just so much reassurance and small little compliments between the two

- a lot of stuff has happened during their lives and sometimes it just catches up to them, but the other is always there to catch him

- it’s just full of all-rounded, pure-hearted goodness

#newsies #javid #newsies headcanons #newsies writing #newsies modern au

[renascencebent-blog]

==> Tavros: Get Challenged

Warnings:  Gore, violence, death, child death Word count: 1965

He was at his rally, smiling and talking warmly to the familiar reporters he saw every time. They knew him, deep down, and he knew them. They’ve been at this for nine years, they had his numbers, they could get him in ways no others could. His wings shifting idly as he laughs when a child shows him their special toy of him, explaining how the horns were changed to make his own super cool superhero. Hugged the teary eyes of the teenagers who were left without families because of their choices to support him.

This was live. This was given. The world was watching. The world was judging.

The eyes of millions burned into his back, yet he thought nothing of it. Mind silent and drowning out the drabble of the bronzes. Of the meaningless white noise. Tavros has a burning, saddening, skill of easily being able to ignore the woes of others… Yet, here is where he simply walks and offers help, support, love, hugs, a fatherly gesture, sweet forehead kisses… Here is where he let go of being and simply WAS.

He was meant to be here.

As he walked, the start of conversation needing to end to get to the real meat of the rally, his stride had a purpose. He needed to get home, grab his things, head south… Kiss his husband and kids… That meant nothing as his wings flared with pride, head held up, chin out, and smile that of a cunning charmer. He could talk, he could sing, he could act the part of the pied piper leading the mice of these humans and trolls to a future he so wanted. It’s not about him though, it’s about them. So he needed to focus on that. He needed to focus on the others. He needed to lead the people, to support the people, care for the people.

He needed to be a leader he was never meant to be.

Tavros’ voice was loud, certain. If his younger self could see him now, he’d laugh! That couldn’t be Tavros Nitram, up there, making a difference, preaching, teaching, guiding. It just couldn’t be. But here he was. A voice a messenger, hands the speaker. Eyes? Tender embraces.

He was a protector. He was a speaker. He was a fighter.

As he spoke, pride soared through him. A light with his own words as a fire burns his eyes a sizzling amber. Stars forming with each powerful paragraph. Wings unfurling until finally, he was at full size, a looming figurehead above those that followed him, as they cheered and laughed, whooping, hollering, or even booing. But FUCK those booers. The power oozing from him was something he only feels when bringing those around him together. He feels this power only when grounding a small community together.

Pause.

Tavros was stuck. Instincts warning him of a challenger, a threat. He was still on live television, he was still being watched… He was still he was still he was still--

“Hey! Old timer!”

He’s a child.

“You’re time is up, you pathetic excuse of a troll.”

This… Is a child.

Said child? Publicly spat on his face. Bronze oozing down a slowly brimming rage of bronze. His eyes, while to the soul, rang of no emotion. This emptiness something only his dear friends would notice in the shift. Wings flare, spreading and making a show of being BIGGER. Of being BETTER. HE was the hivemind, not this… CHILD. How DARE someone so young DARE challenge him. His smile, friendly as ever, did not falter as the child continued to throw profanities at him. Swearing, threatening, jabbing.

Tavros didn’t even blink.

It was… Funny.

Turning, calmly, Tavros turns to the speaker. Gingerly, ever so carefully, he grabs it. Voice, once of honey, oozed with an unknown venom and salt. “Please… Pardon me, people. I must deal with a challenger to my hivemind. I apologize ahead of time should this result in something gory or dangerous. I advise those in the front to carefully take a step or five back and to be ready for anything.

“To those watching, if you have children, please do not allow them to watch this until I speak to you again. This is not something I take lightly. For those curious, I will answer questions afterwards, but to be brief--” A slash, and he’s in the air, microphone still in his hand as he glared daggers at the child. “--it’s an action trolls take to become the head of their respective… Hues.”

That was all he cared to give. Dropping the microphone into the crowd as anger boiled and hardened his weakened body. He was not ready to fight.

He’s still broken. He’s falling apart. This is the FOURTH ONE.

Yet… He stood, or, well, flew in this case, above the assaulting bronze. Hatred, a vile and all-consuming feeling, surged through him from the lesser bronze. The feeling was almost devastating itself. The tiny troll--no older than 15.--stood before him. Stitched, scarred, ripped, hurt…

Broken.

Blood was splattered.

Tavros would treat this child as he did with the adults. Like threats. His foot shattered this poor younglings face. Sending him spiralling away as he is backlashed with true, uncontrolled, violence. Tavros had the beautiful gift of… Wings. This child still hasn’t pupated into his, yet he truly rang with the potential to have been the next in line for the hive mind… A shame he seems he won’t survive to get there.

‘Why do you hate me?’ ‘You won’t let me defend myself!’ ‘Or are you refusing to meet in the middle?’ ‘It’s suffocating!’ ‘And you think the mind will be better?’

He didn’t answer. A rage filled scream threw him at the much more agile adult. Pity rang from the older trolls pusher at how… Destroyed the little one seemed. A hardened shell that shouldn’t be so empty of hope. Of life. Of the will to live. Yes… Humans did this. Humans hurt him…

Another stab at him, he let it hit. To see if it would bring anything from the boy. To see if perhaps a victory would get him… Living. Breath again… Yet, nothing happened. His eyes rang red, fangs flaring and the itch of murder tainting his actions. He wanted blood. He wanted death.

He wanted to get Tavros’ head. What a shame…

With a sigh, Tavros smiles devilishly. All casualness in his body twisting to take these weak attempts into an actual fight. ‘You could have been great little one… Bow or die.’

He did not bow.

‘Tell me your name.’ A beat. ‘Veitan Faqsir’

A hand lashed out, snagging his wrist. He was good with a knife, he was fast, agile, knew where to aim for a good quick kill. He was aiming for soft, silent, quick. He wanted this fast. He wanted he wanted he wanted….

‘A shame you must die…’

Snarling, Tavros bent the wrist back until it snapped. The knife making an almost lullaby of a sound compared to the hushed whispers of the hive. Friendly smiles turn into bared fangs and a hunger for blood. Wings hummed loudly as he quickly turned and flung the young child, hissing and chittering in dominance, hunger for victory as he watched the boy clamber back up. What a weak thing, barely able to--

Bronze oozed from Tavros’ shoulder as a knife found itself embedded in the flesh. This caught him truly by surprise, visible by the tentative touch to the wound. The shock of his overly familiar hue staining his neon red shirt causing a fresh wave of anger flow through. Bronzes in the crowd are heard starting to snarl as well, demanding for the offender to bow before the hive leader. Some of them moving to the front of the hoard of people to get a better look, to reach for their leader…

Only to be silenced with a sweep of his hand.

‘I will beat you clown lover.’ ‘No you won’t. Now bow.’ ‘No.’ His voice was stern. The flicker of the hive changing before it stopped once more on Tavros. ‘It’s the time of change.’

He ran. Almost gliding over the wooden podium beneath the two, another knife making itself home in Tav’s side before he could leave the range. The kid was good for being one handed right now… That was pointless. Tavros was going to win from the start of this. This child was put at a loss as soon as they stood up to challenge before their molt. Against someone who HAS molted. His voice was drowned by the reality. He’d have to kill on live television.

His reputation? Soiled. He’s spent YEARS making it. He’s spent AGES building himself up to be a pacifist. Everything, all his progress, would be lost if this goes out. Aged, tired eyes flick to the camera, flick back to the offender who was burning holes into his chest through absolute spite and anger alone. He wouldn’t stop.

He won’t bow.

Finally, after a long pause, Tavros settles himself down. It’s time to actually be the leader. It was with easy, bated breath, that the elder bronze waited. Wings folded, draping like a cape behind his aching body. Eyes ready, waiting. Would the child fall for it? As he sits there, bleeding and staining his HUSBANDS shirt--Dave is gonna have his head…--would he take the bait? Or would he be smart and choose to wait?

… Why are they never smart?

The little boy rushed him, knife at his gut… Only it never found it’s victim, for Tavros had trained for this on Alternia. He wanted to be a Cavalreaper, this was part of his training until… Vriska ruined that option. His feet made not a sound as his wings gently tapped the little boy's shoulder, eyes like blades as Tavros smirks cockily at his future victim, almost enjoying the sudden wash of fear he felt through the child into the hivemind. The widening of his grey eyes, the shrinking of his pupils in terror… His pusher skipped a beat in true, absolute, uncontainable bliss before he’s behind the child. Hand making itself at home in the raven locks. Another hand locking onto his PATHETIC excuse of horns. A maniacs smile settled on his otherwise calm, but angry, features, a searing bliss ringing as the child once more screamed he would not bow and give in.

The child dared Tavros to kill him. Told him he’s too weak. He’s a pathetic waste. A monster for thinking trolls can change. Yelling about how he’s on the WRONG SIDE--

He screamed.

Tavros removed his horn--with force mind you. The smile now was gone and oozing into something angrier. More twisted. Still, he wouldn’t bow. Hissing, wanting this to end, Tav flew up just enough to raise him from the ground by his hair alone. Tears flew from the boys face. Yet still, he challenged Tavros. Still told him he couldn’t do it.

Fine.

Landing, for fear didn’t work, the elder bronze snarls, but whispers a wish for him to pass on to something beautiful… Before his fist hit the back of the boys head, launching him forward. Without his horn, he stumbled, balance lost, and turned…

And was met with Tavros’ hand through his chest. Well… His brass knuckles to be exact.

Fear… True… Uncontrollable… Fear…

Then? Nothing.

Turning, he grabbed one of the other microphones and smiled. Even as his face and hands were dressed in the blood of his kin. Even as his eyes visible watered, and lips shook, he smiled.

“I’ll be answering what just happened now…”

His words fall like he does… Tears painting the screens as he cries. Why must he have been so young?

#event #tavros #gore #violence #death #child death

[stargleeksil-blog]

Criminal Minds S06E21 “The Stranger” review - or more aptly named, funny and twisted in the same episode? Hells yes, we’re back on track XD I love this!

Episode 21 – The Stranger

Hey everyone! So last time was uberly weird, and depressing and emotional ... I need a reprieve, so let’s hope this has slightly more humoristic scenes with my three faves (Derek, Spence and Penelope) and more Rossi sarcasm, because I need it direly.

Let’s see what happens.

“Unnecessary. There’s too much blood and gore and ew.”

And that is why me and her are so perfect for each other.

“Garcia, it’s a slasher film. How do you do a slasher film without violence?”

“You imply it.”

XD

“Baby the movie is called Slice 6. What were you expecting?”

“A refreshing beverage with a twist of comedy.”

“I’m gonna have nightmares for a week.”

“With everything that we do and see on a daily basis, that got to you?”

“Listen, newb, you may be all Sigourney Weaver ass-kicking tough, which is awesome, but the mystical mavens of innocence like myself jump at things that go bump in the night.”

So I don’t need to even comment on this, because the dialogue does it for me XD

“Why are you worried? I’m sure that Morgan will protect you.”

“As long as he’s not jumping out of his chair like a prepubescent schoolgirl.”

WHAT?!

“The only reason I jumped is ‘cause you guys woke me up.”

“How could you sleep during that?”

“Easy. You drag me out after a 12-hour workday … for what?”

“You telling me that girl didn’t know the unsub was waiting for her upstairs?”

“Come on.”

Oh my tough puppy.

“Villain.”

“What?”

“In movies, unsubs are called villains.”

“My bad.”

I LOVE THIS SHOW SO FUCKING MUCH!

“Still, it’s totally unrealistic. No one should be walking through ha dark alley by themselves at night.”

“Ahem, hello.”

“Ah. No one should be walking through a dark alley without a Derek Morgan by their side.”

Oh lordy, this show is awesome.

“What we didn’t see coming is the Slicer’s brother was in the closet.”

“Frightening.”

Ah, the sarcastic Rossi.

“He betrayal consumed him and he sent his brother to his own private hell.”

Oh my god, just look at him so happily describing a horror movie. I balk at those.

“Speaking of horror …”

“What’s Strauss doing here?”

“Whatever it is, I cast my vote on ‘no good’.”

I love my goddess XD

“I left them on your desk last night.”

“This really isn’t the time for another evaluation.”

So Strauss is being the regular bitch and trying to get Aaron to do an evaluation on himself? And to have everyone take it again? I’m going to smack this bitch.

So three girls in college, who look eerily alike, were murdered ... yikes.

“As it stands right now, I’m coming up empty.”

“Their apartments were spread throughout the city, so … no fingerprints at the crime scene.”

“The unsub uses gloves.”

“He’s organized.”

“Forced entry at all the apartments. Back door, patio door, living room window.”

“The homes were wrecked.”

“Clear evidence of a struggle.”

“He’s creating a scene.”

“He wants to inflict fear not only in his victim but in whomever finds the body.”

“Could be a message to the local PD. ‘Look what I can do’.”

“He’s killed three women in under a week. San Diego PD wants us on the scene as soon as possible.”

Stephen King: “Sometimes human places create inhuman monsters.”

Dang, Mr. King, just dang.

“Our unsubs has a type and a temper.”

Yeah, he’s angry at brunettes. Seriously creepy (I’m brunette :O)

“Amber was getting ready for her bath. It would have been an easy target for a sexual assault, but none came.”

“That’s highly unusual for this kind of unsub.”

“You know, extreme violence in physical aggression is in its nature sexual.”

Again with the hot people talking about sex.

“That’s true, but as a substitution for the sex act.”

“This guy could be impotent. He can’t perform, so that’s why he goes all out for the kill.”

Again with the sweet ‘innocent’ people talking about sex.

“If he’s targeting female college students, we need to make sure that campus officials are informed if they haven’t been already.”

“We also can’t rule out other students and faculty.”

Insert Reid’s immense knowledge about San Diego college layout ... that’s a lot.

“Each girl lived off-campus and was attacked in their apartment.”

“That’s pretty high-risk.”

“Less risky if he’s stalking them in advance, running layouts and routines.”

“Between classes and part-time jobs, they’d be home sporadically at best.”

“Which tells us they’re not victims of opportunity. He targets them, then stalks them to know where they live and when they’re gonna be home.”

“Morgan, you and Reid go to the last victim’s apartment. Seaver, interview the roommate. Dave and I will go to the medical examiner’s.”

“Well, there’s no secure parking.”

“I rode a bike when I was in college.”

“That’s ‘cause you weren’t old enough to drive, Einstein.”

Oh my god, the Reid-Morgan bromance teasing is back. I love those two so fucking much.

“I could drive. It’s just the government wouldn’t issue me a license until I was fourteen.”

Oh, schooled!

“A lot of places for the unsub to hide out here.”

“Yeah, he could have easily grabbed her when she passed through here.”

“Yet she made it all the way to her apartment.”

“Where she should feel safe, but then he took that from her.”

“The number of stab wounds increases with each victim, yes?”

“Did the strike indicate any medical knowledge on the part of the unsub?”

“He hadn’t built his confidence yet.”

“He’s improving quickly.”

“He made the struggle last longer because he wanted her to suffer.”

“So now he’s starting to enjoy it.”

And I’m about to upchuck the strawberries and banana

“I’m Agent Derek Morgan. This is Dr. Spencer Reid.”

“He jimmied the lock on the window.”

“I guess he needed the privacy to complete the torture.”

“Well, most sadists like to kill on their own turf. This guy didn’t risk taking her to a secondary location.”

“Maybe something happened which makes the location of the kill significant. Look.”

“That’s something new.”

What is?

“He’s smearing the blood on the walls, exhibiting more control and rage over his victims, taking pleasure in the kill.”

Ew!

“It looks like he’s taking his anger out on women who represent someone he knows.”

“Yeah, like Edmund Kemper. He most likely can’t confront his true target yet, so he’s going after women who look like her until he can build up the confidence to complete his endgame.”

“So she wasn’t into the college scene.”

“Academically or for money?”

“Do you know where she heard about the part-time work?”

Craigslist ... yikes.

“The first victim, Monica Shanley’s, BFF reported that they were talking on the phone and hung up just before Monice stepped inside her apartment.”

“What does that get us?”

Phone time with the sexy goddess?

“Well, some neighbors heard loud screaming coming from Monica’s apartment at 11:12 pm.”

“At 11:15 they called 911.”

“11:26 cops arrived.”

“He’s able to strike, kill, and get out in less than 14 minutes?”

That’s one fast sicko.

“How’d it go?”

“According to her roommate, Amber worked odd jobs to make ends meet.”

“Could be where she met with the unsub. Garcia, get us a list of jobs that Amber worked the last few months, and look for personal checks she might have deposited as under-the-table payments.”

Oh, you smart Italian stallion.

“Copy that.”

“The unsub stalks his victims. He knows their routine.”

“He could attack them anytime they’re alone, even in their cars, but he chooses to attack them in their homes.”

“And waits for them to bolt the doors before he strikes.”

“He wants them to feel safe before he takes that away from them.”

“It’s about making them feel powerless in their own personal space.”

“So it’s physical and psychological torture.”

No shit.

So he killed a babysitter. Yikes. Poor baby.

“We profiled that he gets off by striking inside the victims’ homes. Why did he kill her here?”

“That’s a big change in MO.”

“Maybe Laurie had a roommate, so the unsub figured he’d have more time on the job.”

“Did he hurt the child?”

Thankfully, no.

“I’ll talk to them. You two go in.”

“Mr. and Mrs. Jenkins, I’m David Rossi with the FBI. Do you mind if I ask you some questions?”

“And how did you meet her?”

Again with the fucking Craigslist.

“How many people did you interview?”

“Did she talk about any boyfriends or say anything that may have raised an alarm?”

“And how long ago was that?”

So she had a boyfriend up till a month ago. Yikes.

“With an infant in the room, Laurie would have been at her most vulnerable.”

“Look at this.”

“He felt compelled to organize the supplies.”

“Look.”

Now, if it weren’t for the blood, I would have so many images of Daddy!Derek.

“Do you think the unsub fed the kid?”

“Then he stabs Laurie, so the kid probably starts crying.”

“Maybe he gave the kid the bottle in order to keep him quiet.”

“We might be looking for someone with a deep-rooted abandonment issue.”

“One who identifies with the child.”

“Or maybe the baby crying interfered with his enjoyment of watching the babysitter bleed out?”

“Well, either way, caring for the child would be psychological torture for Laurie.”

“Reid. Look at that.”

“She’s got several missed calls and a few texts from social networking sites.”

“‘What’s with the photo? Halloween isn’t for months’.”

“Speak, boy wonder, behold my might.”

XD

“Garcia, the latest victim Laurie Burgin was writing something on the internet last night. Can you figure out what it was?”

“Yeah. I was just tweeting myself. Uno momento.”

She tweets? Damn. I love this woman.

“Oh, God. Reid.”

“She managed to take a picture of the unsub before she died.”

Oh shit.

“Can’t really make it out.”

“I can tell you more. Laurie’s account was active two hours after that photo was posted.”

“And continued posting status updates after she died.”

Shit. That dude is fucking sick.

“‘Feeling faint at heart.’”

“‘All alone and too scared to cry.’”

“All right, this isn’t good. He’s mocking his victims now.”

“He sat here tweeting while Laurie bled to death.”

“All right, baby girl, listen. I need you to go through Laurie’s accounts. See who was following her and see who was messaging back.”

“On it.”

“All right, let’s get out of here, let’s get back to Hotch.”

“We got a photo and we got a profile.”

“Thank you, Garcia.”

“We’re looking for a while male in his early 20s.”

“And because he’s stalking his victims, we believe that he either works out of his house or a part-time job.”

“This unsub strikes in the home rather than the outside where he could more easily abduct his victims.”

“Now, this tells us that his social skills are most likely lacking and he may not have the confidence to talk to women.”

“His confidence with killing, however, is growing. He’s gone from hesitant strikes in the victim’s home to painting the walls with blood.”

“Our unsub is developing a taste for the kill. And his victims share similar features and backgrounds.”

“And we believe that they represent someone whom the unsub thinks has wronged him and he’s taking out his rage on them.”

“Because the unsub shows signs of one neat aspect and started killing suddenly and effectively with no break, we believe he was recently incarcerated or institutionalized.”

“Look at men who got out a month or so ago. Their records will show a history of violence, anger toward women and/or symbols of authority.”

“We need to warn all young women to be hypervigilant, especially in their online acquaintances, but also with service workers, maintenance staff, and deliverymen.”

Hey! Assholes, don’t make fun of my superheroes!

“No, but tell them to double-check IDs, call dispatch before they let anybody inside.”“Panic is inevitable, but we still need to keep everyone informed. Uniformed officers are posting warnings across campuses.”

“Now, since the Jenkins family found Laurie online, we believe the unsub may be using similar methods …”

“Profiles, job postings, anything that gives a little too much information that the unsub could use to hunt his victims.”

“And time’s not on our side. We think that he’s already got his next victim in his sights.”

“The account tracks back to an email address he created yesterday morning, IP address leads to a public terminal. That’s where the trail ends.”

“What about the Jenkins house?”

“He was tweeting with her prior to the assault.”

“The unsub hacked into the Jenkins’ Wi-Fi network.”

“Pretty smart for a guy who’s been locked up.”

“Yeah, he has gotten good at covering his tracks. How are you doing on a list of criminal records and releases?”

“Oh, right, that. Okay. I searched local college students, which is a lot, and I’m a masochist, so I went ahead and included military personnel because San Diego has a big naval and marine presence.”

“Combine those with those two pools and he’s swimming in criminal infractions.”

“All right, filter out sexual assault and lewd behavior.”

“Filtering at the speed of light, sir.”

Someone give her writers all the awards.

“And what about background financials on the victims? Is there any evidence of jobs being performed under the table?”

“Actually, in all cases there were personal checks deposited from several accounts, most under $100.”

So babysitting isn’t that financially beneficial.

“All right, send a list of account holders, and, Seaver, when you get them, start making phone calls.”

“What am I looking for?”

Another brain? Because you’re looking at babysitters, activate those neurons.

“Any victims who might have worked as babysitters.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

Shit. Fucking Strauss is sticking her nose in everything. Fuck.

“We’ve delivered the profile and the locals are canvassing the area. Did you call for a field update?”

“How’s that?”

Wait. So now he has to run an assessment on himself? Isn’t that against protocol?

“My orders were to assess the team.”

“Is that an order?”

“Ma’am, with all due respect, we’ve got four women dead and we’ll probably have another one by the morning.”

“She’s relentless.”

“Tell me about it.”

“Did he get another babysitter?”

You bet your ass he did.

“Who’s that?”

“They were locked in here all night?”

“I’ll meet you guys inside.”

So he locked the mom and the baby in the beddroom while he killed the babysitter and daddy? Fuck.

And now he’s just the cutest little puppy thing ever comforting that lady and being the most amazing hunky thing ever.

“Hello, Amy. My name’s Derek Morgan. I’m with the FBI. I understand you’ve been through a great ordeal. I’d just like to ask you a few questions if that’s okay.”

Oh my cutie polite puppy.

“Did you happen to see the man who came in your home?”

“It’s okay. Take your time.”

“Did you hear anything while you were locked inside?”

“Jake suffered multiple stab wounds to the chest and abdomen. The sitter, Lily, got the brunt of it.”

“She could be the one he’s been after all along.”

Wasn’t that the whole point of this? He hates brunette babysitters?

“I don’t know. This guy’s meticulous. He plans everything out.”

“Then why didn’t he know the Ellisons were returning?”

“I think he did. I mean, the unsub was watching the house. He knew that they came home, but he just didn’t care. He adapted.”

“He went after the biggest threat first. He eliminated Jake in order to gain control over Lily and Amy.”

“There are two initial points of attack, one in the hallway outside the nursery and the other one here. Yet, both bodies ended up together.”

“Look at the way they’re posed, directly looking at each other.”

“He wanted them to watch each other die.”

“I think it’s more than that. This change in behavior could be the piece that we’re missing.”

“This guy knew the Ellisons were home, but he struck anyway. He could have taken out the entire family, but he chose to spare the mother and the child. Why?”

“With the Jenkins, the unsub actually fed the baby. Here, he spared the mother and locked her in a room with her son. It’s likely he’s protecting the children.”

“The addition of Jake Ellison caused the unsub to change his methodology.”

“For the first time he posed the bodies, and he’s also sexually violated one of the victims.”

“Okay, we have a father posed to look at a dying babysitter and a mother and child protected upstairs. That’s a pretty clear message.”

“Garcia, search for local women who died in their early 30s and they’re survived by a husband and at least one son. Go back 10-15 years. Cross that with new marriage licenses filled by surviving husbands.”

“The unsub’s always been troubled, Garcia, so look for youthful offenders who would have fit into the sociopathic triad.”

“Okay, I’ve got a few.”

“What about …”

“Here’s one. Greg Phinney, Chula Vista.”

“He was put into juvie when he was thirteen for … threatening his stepmom with a knife.”

“What do we know about the stepmother?”

“Kate Jones, aka the second Mrs. Phinney. Married Greg’s father a year after Greg’s mother was killed in a car accident. Greg was 11 at the time.”

“Mr. Phinney died four weeks ago.”

“Is there any evidence that Kate worked in the Phinney home before the mother’s death?”

“Oh, the plot solidifies. Kate cited additional income as caregiver on her tax returns when she was a college student. Payments trace back to the Phinneys.”

“Kate filed numerous reports against Greg for violent behavior, experimentation on animals. Greg’s father finally put the kibosh on things when he was seventeen, had him institutionalized.”

“Greg was released two weeks ago.”

“Just before the killings started.”

“Garcia,  where’s Greg Phinney now?”

“Yeah, that’s a good question. Oh, dear …”

What?

“Greg Phinney, FBI. Open the door!”

“He’s not in here.”

Captain Hot and OBvious.

“The bedroom’s clear.”

“Baby girl, can you tell me why Greg Phinney’s laptop has an employee login screen?”

“Well, lover, I have been doing some digging.”

“Did you know that he’s been working part-time as a data entry clerk at the San Diego Register?”

“If he was in an institution, where did he get the time to find a job?”

“Uh, he didn’t even have to look. This job is part of his work-release program. And twenty hours of internet privileges will go a long way.”

“That’s how he finds his victims. He browses the classifieds. Did he have access tos the customers’ personal information?”

“Oh, honey, he entered it.”

“That must be Kate Phinney.”

“Well, he’s obviously built up the confidence to confront her.”

“Garcia.’

“Reading your mind. Calling the others.”

I love those two.

“Greg’s not at home, so he’s probably already at Karen’s house.”

“Kate’s the object of his hostility. He’s gonna take his time.”

“Let’s light ‘em up. I’m sure he knows we’re coming.”

“Dave, take some uniforms and find the back door. I’m gonna try to get inside and talk to him.”

“You think that’s gonna work?”

“I don’t think Kate gets out of this any other way.”

Oh boy, what are they gonna do now?

“Greg Phinney, this is Agent Aaron Hotchner. I need to talk to you about your demands so you can let Kate go.”

So he’s a serial killer without demands? Well, that’s weird.

Wait. He’s blaming Kate in all of this? Why?

“What has she done?”

“Greg, I think this has more to do with your dad than it is about Kate.”

“Your dad put you away.”

“Greg, I need to ask you a very important question. Do you want to live?”

Well, that’s seriously worrying.

“I think you do. And if so, you need to let me in the house. Otherwise I can’t guarantee that you’re gonna walk out of there.”

“Seaver, I want you to come in with me. Leave your firearm here.”

“Be compassionate and sympathetic to him. Let him tell you how Kate betrayed him and how much you understand his devastation.”

Heh, he’s pissed he brought in Seaver. But he can smooth his way into anything, can’t you, Hotch?

“I know, but I thought if we talked inside we could work this out ourselves.”

“No guns.”

No guns? Have you lost your marbles?

“As long as you’ve got a gun, if one of the agents outside has a clear shot, he’ll take it.”

Sneaky Rossi.

“I don’t have a line of sight.”

“Tell me what you want Greg.”

“Don’t you really want Kate to apologize for making your dad forget your mom?”

“Unless the next words out of your mouth are ‘I’m sorry’, I don’t want to hear anything else from you.”

WHOA!

“I understand, Greg. I do.”

“She took care of you. You trusted her. And then she betrayed you as soon as your mother was gone.”

Spider-Rossi! (Flexibility and stuff)

“It must have crushed you when Kate married your dad.”

“How did it make you feel, Greg?”

“You felt betrayed, didn’t you, Greg?”

“Ask her the question, Greg. Go ahead. Ask her.”

Wait. So this whole fucking thing was about him being in love with his babysitter-turned-stepmom? WHAT THE ACTUAL FUCK?

No. Fucking. Way!

“Bring in backup.”

“No. I had to be aggressive towards you in order to gain Greg’s trust. None of this is your fault.”

Aw, that’s nice of you, b;ondie.

“Greg has always been troubled. Losing his mother and then his father made him even more unstable. Sometimes we do everything right and we still lose. Greg was a sociopath and there’s nothing you could have done to change that.”

“Good work, agent.”

“Hey. Nice job, kid.”

I love Rossi so fucking much!

Adrienne Rich: “Every journey into the past is complicated by delusions, false memories, false namings of real events.”

What the fuck does that even mean?

“Why, uh, why the interest in the well-being of my team?”

“What kind of concerns?”

“What’s going on?”

So Erin has problems and she needs to go away? Finally.

Heyo! So this episode had everything! Humor, sarecasm, banter, cutie patooties making me smile, and then that whole bit iwth the unsub being a total nutcase. Just what the Dr. Spencer Reid ordered XD I have faith in this show again XD

Alrighty, I gotta go finish up the reviews for this season and get cracking on seven (holy shit, where has time gone?)

Thank you so much for the ever-surprising support!

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