#he’s a victim of Boston’s manipulation too? | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

winterscaptain · 4 years

Text

no deal.

Aaron Hotchner x Gender Neutral Reader

a/n: and thus begins the 100 arc! i am so excited to share this with all of you. these are going to include more canon episode moments than my other episode-attached fics because everything builds on itself and the details are key. i promise we’ll still get a lot of added scenes and little changes!

words: 8.4k warnings: canon-typical violence and discussion of violence, language

summary: a case comes back to haunt Aaron in more ways than you can imagine. you’re there to be his shadow, to catch him when he falls.

masterlist | a joyful future masterlist | requests closed!

“Hotch?” You poke your head around the door, and you find him at his desk, in a surprising ensemble of khakis and an earthy quarter zip.

Almost whimsical, for him.

He looks up, his eyes softening for a moment before his brows pull in confusion. “You’re still here?”

You gesture to his desk lamp, the only light on in the entire office. “You are, so I figured…” You shrug. “I dunno. Is everything okay?” He looks exhausted, but it’s bone-deep - nothing sleep can fix.

He shakes his head and sighs.

That’s his tell.

But he says, “Yeah, everything’s fine.”

You don’t believe him.

“Are you sure?” You cross the room and lean on his side of the desk, quickly scanning over the documents you find there. He doesn’t mind your nosiness. He's mostly accustomed to it by now.

Most of it is pretty normal - after-action reports, performance evaluations (it looks like you’re doing well), and task force meeting agendas - but there’s one file that sticks out.

Your brow furrows. “The Boston Reaper?”

He shakes his head again. “I’m just reviewing it for an academy lecture about dormant or otherwise inactive serial killers.”

“Ah, I see.” You know he’s still lying. “Anything I can help with?”

A little half-smile tugs at the corner of his mouth. “No, thank you.” He looks up at you and you offer him a small smile. There are many things at work behind his brown eyes.

He never keeps things from you without reason, so the lying doesn’t bother you so much as the unease radiating off him in waves.

For now, you decide to let it go and pat his shoulder as you stand. “Alright. Walk me out?” It’s a pointed question - you know he won’t leave if left to his own devices.

He’s about to throw you a denial, but the look on your face leaves no room for it. “Yeah. I’ll just be a minute.” He starts packing up, sorting the files into neat little stacks that will be there waiting for him when he gets back tomorrow. The Reaper case, you notice, goes into his briefcase, decisively snapped shut and taken into his hand before you can process much else.

The walk down to the garage is a quiet one. You take the stairs, happy for the excuse to stretch your legs.

You snag the sleeve of his (very soft) quarter zip before he turns toward his car. “Aaron?”

His eyes snap to yours at the use of his first name.

“Just…” you aren’t sure where you’re going with this, but he’s probably used to that by now, too. “Just, erm...Drive safe, please? Get some sleep when you get home?”

He takes a little breath and nods, his gaze softening. He’s quiet as you release his arm, quiet on the walk to his car, quiet (you imagine) as he drives out of the garage.

You watch him until the echo of his tail lights fall out of your sight.

+++

The next morning, JJ trots up the stairs to Hotch’s office and exchanges a few words with him before he flies out of his office and down the stairs.

“Shouldn’t we wait for the official request? We haven’t been invited.” JJ does her best to keep up with him, trotting down the stairs behind him with a file in her hand.

“We will be.”

You look at her with questions in your eyes and she shrugs. Derek, too, looks at her with confusion. Hotch continues toward the doors.

Is he already headed toward the plane?

She throws her hands up. “Well, it looks like we’re going to Boston.”

+++

When all your things are packed and ready, you settle in beside Aaron in your usual place, on the arm of the couch across from the table.

He walks you all through his work from a decade ago as you all review the files in your hands. "The Reaper is driven by a need to dominate, control, and manipulate."

Emily’s the first to speak up. “So then why would he offer a deal that would stop him from doing that?”

“Well, killing gave him power, but after so many, the payoff began to diminish. So he decided to switch tactics. Offering the deal gave him the ultimate power, better even than killing. He manipulated the police into voluntarily surrendering.”

“He even got it in writing,” Reid adds. He’s looking closely at the letter, likely starting the structure of what would become a linguistic profile.

JJ looks up, a little confused. ”He won. Why start killing again?”

“Because the only person who knew he'd won, the person he made the deal with, just died.” Morgan says, closing the file and tossing it on the table in front of him.

That’s an easy train of thought to jump on. “Narcissistic killers need other people to recognize their power.” With a little smile, you remind her, “That's why they contact the media.”

Emily’s next. “So how did he stop for 10 years?

“In Night of the Reaper, the author suggests he had been arrested for an unrelated crime or died.” Reid pulls the book in question from his bag, placing it on the table. “Perhaps he's trying to correct that misconception.”

“Like BTK,” you offer.

You can see Aaron's eyebrows rise for just a moment in your peripheral vision. Good one.

You purposefully bump his shoulder on your way to steal one of Morgan’s snacks. Thanks.

JJ takes the book, thumbing through. “What has he been doing all this time?

“Well,” you say, “I would imagine he was planning what he would do if he started killing again.” You look at Aaron, who nods with his mouth in a thin, grim line.

Morgan opens the file again, running his finger down the metrics as he speaks. “So, from '95 to '98, he shoots, stabs, and bludgeons twenty-one victims - men, women, all ages, all types, no specific victimology or MO.” He looks up at Hotch. “How did you build a profile from that?”

“We didn't. Shaunessy sent us home before we had a chance.” Aaron takes a breath before his next thought. “BTK, the Zodiac, and the Reaper all have similarities. They're all highly intelligent, disciplined, sadistic killers who name themselves in the press.”

“Highly intelligent may be a bit of an understatement,” Reid says. “The Reaper and The Zodiac Killer have never been arrested. And the BTK killer was only caught after twenty-five years because he went to the press to counter a book that said he'd died, moved away, or been locked up, just like this one.”

“Speaking of the media,” JJ notes, “when this gets out, it's going to be a frenzy. If they get wind of this, they're going to be all over the Boston Police.”

Aaron agrees with a brisk nod. “The longer we can float the copycat story, the better chance we'll have of catching him.”

You sit up straighter. “Meaning, if we keep pushing at his ego, he might take another risk?”

“Exactly,” he says. “Rossi, Prentiss, and Morgan, go to the field office, set up shop, go through everything there.” He assigns himself, you, JJ, and Reid to the crime scene.

You’re happy for the chance to keep an eye on him. There’s still something off about this whole thing, and the fingers on his left hand worrying his pen is only the most obvious clue. You reach out for his sleeve across the aisle when the team breaks, tugging a little, just like you did last night.

He looks over at you, almost startled. “Yeah?”

You don’t say anything. Tell me what you need.

“I’m fine. Just want to get on the ground and get to work.”

Bullshit. Your squint says it all.

He sighs and you release his arm. He’ll talk to you when he’s ready.

He always does.

+++

You and JJ stand off Aaron's shoulder as he introduces the three of you to the local police authorities. Hotch is already on edge.

An odd exchange between Hotch and one of the veteran cops leaves you with the entire department at your disposal. How he manages to do that every time is beyond you.

Reid, the case file in his hand, walks you all through the preliminary findings. “Nina Hale, ninteen, and Evan Harvey, twenty-three. Nina's throat was slashed, she was stabbed forty-six times. Evan was bludgeoned and then shot. No shell casings were found.”

“A revolver, maybe?” You ask, in-step with Aaron, whose gears are turning as he examines the inside and outside of the car.

“He preferred revolvers, .44 magnum.” If he weren’t so focused, you were sure he’d be impressed by your observation. “The younger the female victim, the more time he spends with them, usually with a knife.”

You point at one of the photos of the female victim. “Tan line on her wrist. Probably wearing a watch of some sort.”

Aaron’s on the other side of the car now, leaning close to the driver’s side window, looking at a photo of the male victim. “Do we have his wallet?” At your questioning glance, he adds, “The Reaper took items from each victim and placed them on the next, so as to make sure we knew it was him.”

“That’s quite the signature,” you muse, straightening.

One of the crime scene techs hands him the wallet in question. After a quick examination: “No corrective lens requirement.”

Your brow furrows and you look over at him. “The glasses aren't his?”

“He only took glasses from one victim--the ninth.” He looks increasingly agitated as he speaks and the crease in your brow deepens to match his. “We should have found them on the tenth, and we didn't. They were never found.”

How does he know which victim was the ninth? How does he remember?

“What was so special about the ninth victim?”

Aaron levels you with a look that sends cold wriggling up your spine. “He survived.”

Oh.

+++

JJ and Dave take the second car back, intending to make a few stops on their way back to the precinct. You sit shotgun, staring out the window, while Aaron drives. His fingers tap arrythmically on the steering wheel.

He’s restless. Fidgety. It’s weird.

“What are you thinking about over there?” You ask.

He shakes his head, just a little. “It’s not a copycat.”

Your brow furrows. “We knew that, though.”

“Right.”

Oh.

It must be surreal to have a case come back to life like this. “Wasn’t this one of your first cases? You joined the BAU in ‘98, right?”

When I was a sophomore in high school…

Oh, shut up.

You snap back to the audible conversation as he nods. “It was my first case as lead profiler, so I’d been on the team a couple of months. Gideon thought, well...I don’t know what he thought. He gave me point on this one for some reason or another.”

“Look at you, hotshot.” You reach out and shove lightly against his shoulder and you’re rewarded with a huff. “Only on the team a few months and you get assigned your very own case.”

He rolls his eyes. “I did it with you.”

It’s true - he did. Spencer may have saved the day in the end, but you polished, delivered, and implemented the profile throughout the investigation. As scared as you were for the professional leap (and the personal one, given the nature of your teams’ closeness), it paid off.

“That doesn’t count.”

He glances at you before returning his eyes to the road. “Why not?”

You shrug. “We’re kind of…” You clam up, for some reason, a little embarrassed.

Don’t be stupid.

“...I don’t know? Friends?”

You get a real smile from him this time and you match it. “Well, ‘kind-of-I-don’t-know friends’ seems like a stretch, don’t you think?” He looks over at you and holds your gaze a little longer than he should, considering he’s driving a little more than eighty miles per hour.

You’re an idiot, your eyes say, an amused chuff leaving your nose.

His eyebrows bounce before he looks out at the road again. And?

+++

“George Foyet, 28, was the ninth victim and the only one to survive The Reaper.” Aaron passes you files as he speaks, clearly not needing any notes or other aids to regurgitate the details of the case, verbatim.

Dave snorts. “Not for lack of trying.”

Hotch walks you all through the Foyet attack, outlining the oddities and patterns that collectively create The Reaper’s signature. His good mood from the car has either entirely evaporated or been smothered by his focus on the case, leaving him with his normal operational stoicism. “The Reaper always uses some sort of ruse to get close to and spend time with his victims.”

“So, how did Foyet survive?” You ask.

It’s weird he’s not summarizing it for you all, but then again, this case is odd in its obvious, meticulous execution. It’s probably best to let it speak for itself.

Hotch wordlessly starts the recording.

“911. What's your emergency?”

“I just murdered two more.” The voice is distorted, ominous.

“Excuse me, sir, did you say you murdered someone?”

“Victims eight and nine, by a silver Toyota on Riverton past the Tyson Quarry.”

Reid fills you in. “That call was made from a payphone about a mile from the crime scene. EMTs arrived fifteen minutes later. Bertrand was DOA, Foyet barely breathing.”

“So,” you ask, looking over the case. “The Reaper made one of these calls after each of his killings telling the police where to find the bodies?”

Aaron nods. “Until this one, the ninth. If he hadn't made this call, Foyet wouldn't have been found in time. The call saved him.”

You look up from the file. “Can I guess that the Reaper didn't make any 911 calls after this one?”

Aaron’s brows raise for a moment. Exactly.

“There's a reason he left Foyet's glasses at the last crime scene.” Aaron looks grim as he presents the glasses again.

Morgan pulls his phone out of his pocket, likely for access to Penelope. “Foyet could be in danger.”

“Uh, Hotch,” JJ pops her head into the room, looking more than a little confused. “There's a reporter outside insisting on speaking with you.” At Aaron's questioning look, she adds, “Roy Colson. He says he knows you.”

You watch him leave and exchange words with the reporter, your lower lip planted firmly between your teeth. JJ hangs at your side while Derek comes up behind you, putting his hands on your shoulders.

“Is Hotch okay?” He asks. Spencer, Dave, Emily, and JJ also look to you for an answer.

You shake your head the barest amount and when you speak, it’s almost a whisper. “I don’t know.” You clear your throat and try again. “I don’t know.”

+++

Dave peers into the car. “Another couple. Much older this time. One shot and one stabbed.”

“No reason to stop out here.” You’re just off Aaron's shoulder, following the line of his flashlight.

Dave sounds resigned, tired. “His license and registration are out of his wallet.”

You squint. “Looks like he used a cop ruse."

“Good spot, isolated, few drivers.”

Hotch sighs, coming in close to something with his flashlight. “He left Nina Hale's watch."

"Okay," Dave says. "So what'd he take?"

“His wedding ring.” You note the tan line on the man’s fourth finger - a dead giveaway.

Pardon the pun...

A local officer is quick to give you the victim information, approaching Aaron with a file. “Arthur and Diane Lanessa. Weymouth. Married 32 years. They were coming home from the Elks, where they played bingo twice a week.” He looks over at the press, rapidly arriving at the perimeter. “I gotta go make notification.”

You refocus on the crime scene, anticipating Aaron's wandering eyes and shining the light where he needs it most.

“Looks like he went through her purse,” he says.

You hover over his shoulder again. “Any idea what he was looking for?”

Hotch shakes his head, moving on.

A photo falls out of the drop-down mirror during Hotch’s cursory check. It depicts the victims and who you assume are members of their family. In blood, FATE? is scrawled across the front of the photo. Aaron straightens, leaving the car and crossing to Dave. You, of course, follow.

When you both reach Dave, you finally have an opportunity to take a look at the photo. “The question mark is new.”

“It's for us.” Aaron doesn’t need further examination for his assessment. “He's saying it's not fate. He's saying we had ten years to save them and that these latest ones are on us.”

“You got all that from one question mark. That's impressive.” Dave’s compliment is only a little undercut by his sarcasm. You can’t help but agree with the implication.

Aaron sighs, copping to it. “I may know him better than I've let on.”

“What does that mean?” You step closer to him, your brow furrowed.

He levels you with a somewhat guilty look. “It means that there is a profile on The Reaper.”

Dave frowns. “I thought we were called off before we had one.”

“We were. I had just started the profile, and then he stopped killing, so officially we were done. But this case…”

“It stuck with you,” you finish for him. Your brows drop lower over your eyes, finally understanding the stakes at play.

“I kept coming back to it over the years, and I worked on it alone.”

The exhaustion in his voice, gravelly and low, worries you more than you’d like to let on. “So you never shared it with anyone.”

“I know I'm always preaching that profiling is a collaborative effort, but this one wasn't. I don't know, maybe if -” he sighs. “If I was wrong, I was gonna head us in the wrong direction.” The doubt in Aaron's voice breaks your heart a little.

“Now you think you're right.” Dave, of course, has the brief words to coax the thought out of Aaron. You’re thankful he’s here. Between the two of you, you’ll get more out of your unit chief in twenty minutes than anyone else would get in three days.

“The more I see, the more accurate I think it may be.”

“Okay,” you say, “then we need to hear it.”

+++

It’s decided that Aaron will deliver the profile solo, with only a little input from Dave. It’s odd to see him up there all by himself while the rest of you stand off to the side. You’re students just as much as the local police, this time.

You tune into Aaron, whose eyes are bouncing all over the room, from person to person, holding and keeping their attention. His eyes meet yours and you hope the respect and pride overflowing in your chest is visible on your face.

“The Reaper fits a profile we refer to as an omnivore. Unlike most serial killers, an omnivore doesn't target a specific victim type. Although he tends to focus on his younger female victims with his knife, he essentially is a predator who will kill anyone.”

One of the local cops has a decent question (for once). “Why is he so democratic?”

“Because his kills aren't just about his victims. He needs recognition. He needs us to know.”

Dave chimes in. “The symbols, the placement of prior victims' possessions on subsequent victims--it's all for us.”

“Why?”

“Power,” Aaron answers simply. “The Shaunessy letter is the clearest example of this. He manipulated Tom Shaunessy into literally surrendering to him.”

It reminds you of the first time you saw him - alone, in front of a room of people focused only on him. It was one of your first lectures at the academy, your favorite, and the one that inspired you to ask for a placement with the BAU when Jenny told you to take a running leap.

How far you’ve come.

Without permission, your mind wanders to a few things that haven’t changed in the last year and a half. Aaron is still the most handsome man you’ve ever seen - capable, worthy of deep admiration and respect. His voice is the same - demanding respect and carrying the weight of the world in it.

Anything that won’t condemn you to a life of unrealistic expectations of men?

No. Maybe you’re a better shot?

Great. That’s useful.

“Like BTK killer Dennis Rader,” Aaron continues, “The Reaper is extremely disciplined. In his everyday life, this will very likely make him so inflexible, he can't keep close relationships or work closely with others.

“I believe our killer has another interest that may give us the best opportunity to catch him.” You’re glad Dave is there to help, his seasoned expertise coming in handy once again. “The Reaper's last victim was an older woman. He killed her quickly, with a single shot. The prior, younger victim, he spent more time with and stabbed forty-six times.”

Yet another “Why?” from one of the local officers.

Curious group, it seems.

Aaron answers. “He pays special attention to his younger female victims, and his weapon of choice with them is the knife, a substitute instrument for bodily penetration.”

Dave, again, has something else for you all. “The younger the victim, the more time and effort he spends. I think our guy is a hebephile.”

“Hebephile?” Naturally, that particular proclivity is not a familiar one to the layman.

Reid lends an assist. “A hebephile is someone who's attracted to adolescent post-pubescent children. Teenagers.”

“Look for men with access and authority -” Aaron assumes command again, “- high school teachers, counselors, coaches--and anyone who's been charged with sex crimes against teenage girls in the last ten years.” He checks in with you, and you nod. “That's all for now. Thank you.”

+++

You look up as Aaron walks into the room, Derek ready with bad news. “Garcia can’t find George Foyet.” You stand and resume your post as his shadow, beside Emily.

Morgan holds the phone toward Hotch. “I’ve got nothing, sir,” comes Garcia’s voice from the speaker.

“What do you mean?

“I mean, he’s gone. He’s completely off the grid. He’s gone.”

“How is that possible?” You tap Aaron's shoulder with the back of your hand as his tone grows sharper with Penelope.

Be nice.

He shakes you off and you clench your jaw, looking over at Derek as Aaron tries to wiggle more information out of Penelope. It doesn’t work. “Garcia, we don’t have much time.”

“I know, sir.”

You huff. “I mean, how would you even drop off the grid like that? There has to be someone he talked to.”

Aaron wordlessly dials a number, shooting you a somewhat grateful, if not a little rueful, look. “Roy, Aaron Hotchner. I need a favor.”

+++

“That’s him.”

Aaron shuts the back door of the car behind you and out of habit, you take quick stock of him while he does the same for you.

You spot the man you’re looking for skittering across the street and toward the apartment. “George Foyet?” He’s visibly skeptical, and Aaron pulls his credentials. “It’s okay. We're FBI.” He introduces you and Rossi while you flash your credentials for good measure. “I'm Agent Hotchner. We met once before. Do you remember?”

"Yeah, I remember.” He’s agitated, his eyes jumping to every moving person on the near-empty street. “Would you mind if we get off the street, please?

You follow Dave and Aaron into the cramped apartment, noting the clutter and general feeling of paranoia permeating the space. Everything looks rushed - half-lived in and half-finished.

When you reach the kitchen, Foyet collapses into a coughing fit and Dave immediately supplies him with a glass of water.

“Thank you.” He takes another decent gulp. “How'd you guys find me?”

“Roy Colson,” Aaron says. He’s focused on Foyet, but you can tell he’s keyed into the peripherals, just in case.

“Oh.” He seems disappointed, though in what you’re not sure. “Well, is this gonna take long? 'Cause I really can't be late for work.”

“What do you do?” You ask.

“I'm a freelance computer specialist with the city.”

Dave steps forward. “We're sorry to bother you. We'll make it as quick as possible.”

Aaron pulls the evidence bag containing the glasses out of his breast pocket. “This yours?”

“I knew it wasn't a copycat.”

You pull a chair for Foyet as he coughs again, feeling only a little odd about taking care of this man in his own house.

“Thank you.” He takes another sip of water. “I'm sorry.” He pauses, remembering. “I was gonna propose to her that night...At the restaurant, but I got cold feet. The ring was still in my pocket when he approached us. He said he was lost. He had one of those sightseeing booklets. I was looking at it when he stabbed me. Yeah...Perfect timi-”

You interrupt him, attempting to stem his agitation. “Mr. Foyet, you don't need to go through this again.” Nevertheless, he continues, increasingly distraught.

“I couldn't move. I just sat there, bleeding. I watched him kill Mandy. He stabbed her sixty-seven times. Do you know how long it takes to stab somebody sixty-seven times? ...I never found the ring.”

For some reason, your mind drifts to the man beside you, the horrifying thought of seeing him stabbed, the life leaving his body. You shake it off with a little shudder.

Why, brain? Why? That’s a fucking awful thought.

And yet the image sticks with you, forcing you to manually lock it away. Aaron looks at you, almost like he can read your mind.

That’s nightmare fodder.

The smallest flex of his brow asks, Are you okay?

Fine. You offer him a tight twitch of your lips. It’s not a smile, but you’d be thankful for at least a mockery of one right now.

With a little bit of a squint, Aaron turns back to Foyet. “He should have left your glasses on his next victim, but he didn't. He held on to them all this time.”

“What, you think he's got some special interest in me?” He almost laughs. “I've been living with that possibility for the past eleven years.”

“Have you received any strange letters or calls? Hang-ups?” Dave asks.

“I keep residences under different names. I move between them randomly. He likes to get you in the car, so I take the bus. Believe me, I've gone through great lengths to make sure that none of the things you've just mentioned ever happened.”

What a terrifying, sad existence.

Dave offers George his notebook and a pen. “We'll need your other names and residences so we can reach you.”

“We can take you someplace safe until this is over.” Aaron’s brow is knit in concern - it’s a look you’ve seen many times, but it never fails to inspire a little flicker of warmth in your chest.

Quit, would you?

“No. Boston is my home. It's the one thing I promised I would never let him take from me.”

Aaron insists, pushing. “Then we'll protect you here.”

“You can't protect me. Nobody can.” He frantically writes in the notebook for a moment before handing it back to Dave. “Please be careful with this. Please.”

Dave assures him, “It's safe with us.”

“He's just a man, nothing more.” You hope it’s the right thing to say. You feel Aaron take a breath, and you almost feel bad. It’s a line he’s said before, one you borrow when necessary.

Don’t mean to steal his thunder.

Instead of looking at you, he looks at Aaron. “Then why can't you catch him?”

“We will.”

+++

You’re both sitting in Aaron's hotel room, the photos from each of the crime scenes spread out all around you. It’s far later than you’d like, but the time spent is worth it if it gets you one step closer to this sick, scary bastard.

“What was it like? The original case?”

Aaron sighs, pulling a hand down his face. “Frustrating. Exhausting. Like this.” He shakes his head. “Every day was another dead end, and then another pair of bodies every few weeks. Then…they just stopped.” He holds up the note. “Now I know why.”

You tip your head to the side, studying him. “What would you do?”

“What, you mean about the deal?”

“Yeah. What if -”

The phone rings, cutting you off, and you rise to answer. You’re stopped by a hand on your wrist as Aaron passes you and picks it up. “Hotchner.”

You plant yourself back on the bed, legs folded underneath you. It’s probably one of the team, given the hour and -

“Who is this?” His voice is low, almost angry.

You scramble to the edge of the bed, giving Aaron space while remaining completely keyed into him.

“...You think I’d take that?...I’ve misjudged you. I thought you were smarter than this...Then you’ve misjudged me...I don’t make deals.”

Oh my god. It’s The Reaper.

No. It can't be.

You pull out your cell and fire off a text as quickly as you can to Penelope.

3:42am trace call to ah’s room stat

She doesn’t disappoint.

3:42am on it.

“I’m the guy who hunts guys like you..." Aaron laughs, dark and humorless. "You all think that...I’ll see you soon.” He slams the phone down and starts to pace, his hand over his mouth.

“What’s going on?” You stand, stopping him with a hand on his arm. “Hotch. Who was that?”

He stares down the phone like it’s a living thing, but doesn’t breathe a word. After a moment, he jumps back into action, sitting heavily on the bed and going over everything with a renewed, almost frantic, focus.

You watch him for a moment before you pull out your phone. A text message from six hours ago blinks up at you.

Haley Brooks-Hotchner

9:13pm when you get a chance, can you have aaron give me a call? no rush. just school paperwork for j. he’s not picking up his phone. thanks xx

You answer her, praying she didn’t leave her ringer on. The hour alone will reveal the extent of the team’s attention on this case and you can only hope she understands.

3:48am can do. this one’s bad. might be a minute.

Aaron looks up at you, a question in his eyes.

You shake your head with a little smile. It’s nothing.

+++

“Six bodies, not including the driver. He put 'em down with the gun--or more likely guns--and finished them off with his knife.” Dave looks around while Aaron stands stock still near the driver, slumped over the wheel.

The scene inside the bus is macabre - bodies and blood everywhere. The numbers on the window send shivers up your spine.

“There;s Arthur Lanessa's wedding ring.” You peer over Aaron's shoulder. “What'd he take?”

He scoffs. “Does it matter?”

He straightens quickly, shoving past you and getting off the bus. You get out of his way, letting him go with a frown. Dave meets your eyes and tips his head. You follow him out as he goes after Aaron, giving them just a little bit of distance

Dave catches up to him. “Hey. What's goin' on with you?”

Aaron stops in the alley a little ways away from the bus. “He called me tonight and offered me the deal.”

So that’s what happened.

You thought as much, but the thought alone was too much to consider. It’s never been less satisfying to be right.

“What did you say?”

“I hung up on him, and then he does this.” Aaron gestures to the crime scene, NO DEAL staring you all in the face, along with all those numbers.

The idea of The Reaper torturing Aaron like this is horrifying. Plenty of unsubs have made your skin crawl in the past, but this is a new kind of awful. You’ve never seen him like this.

“So, you think this is your fault?”

“It is,” he insists. You’re shocked to see tears in his eyes when he looks back up at Dave. There’s a part of you that wants to reach out, but something keeps you back.

Dave pulls his gun and releases the safety, turning the grip toward Aaron.

What the fuck?

“Well, here, use mine. You convinced me.”

Aaron waves him off with one hand while he pinches the bridge of his nose with the other.

Of all the things you would have thought of at this moment, pulling a gun on SSA Aaron Hotchner wouldn’t have made the list. You watch, ready to jump between them at a moment’s notice. They’ve never gone after each other before, but you’ve seen more worrisome behavior from Aaron in the last forty-eight hours than in the preceding eighteen months.

Even at the height of the divorce proceedings, he was steadier than this.

“No, no, you hung up on him.” Dave pushes the gun at him, trying to wrangle it into Aaron's hand. “You practically killed them yourself. Go ahead, get it over with. Don't worry about us.” He gestures to you and Aaron's eyes flicker to yours. You have no idea what you look like right now. “We'll get this guy without you.”

Dave is a genius.

He blinks, tears wetting his cheeks. It’s certainly one of the more alarming things you’ve ever seen. He’s audibly frustrated, his hand flexing at his side as he talks. “Dave, I had 10 years to do something about it.”

That’s not fair.

When has Aaron ever been fair, or even kind, to himself?

Well, shit.

That’s why you’re here. Do your job.

You step forward, keeping your voice down. Approaching him like a cornered animal seemed the best tactic at the moment. “Shaunessy made the deal. The killing stopped, as promised. He closed the case and sent you away, Hotch.” Your eyes beg for his as you continue. “You moved on. You worked on other cases, active cases. You saved lives in that time. It wasn’t wasted.”

Aaron huffs, clearly frustrated. “But I kept coming back to this one. I kept coming back to this profile.” There’s something desperate in his voice and you know he’s trying to get you to understand something he can’t articulate.

Dave takes over again. “Hey. I was retired. Should I blame myself for every victim who got killed while I was on my book tour? Look, if you want to end up like Shaunessy, like Gideon, blaming yourself for everything, you go ahead.”

Damn. Good point.

Aaron’s eyes meet yours for just a moment before looking away again. You keep your face soft, neutral.

Safe.

“But that voice in your head,” Dave says, “it's not your conscience. It's your ego. This isn't about us, Aaron. It's about the bad guys. That's why we profile them. It's their fault. We're just guys doing a job. And when we stop doing it, someone else will. Trust me. I know.”

Aaron checks in with you for a moment and you nod. It’s okay. You’re okay. We’re okay.

He wipes at his eyes before leveling Dave with something that looks almost like his classic glare, gesturing to the offered gun at his chest. “You can put that away.”

With a cheeky smile, Dave says, “You sure?”

“It's a little dramatic, don't you think?” You ask, stepping up and clapping Dave on the shoulder.

“My wife always said I had a flair for the dramatic.” Dave’s deeply chuffed pleased that he was able to bring Aaron back to his senses. He holsters his weapon, throwing the safety back on.

“Which one?” Aaron asks. You’re relieved to hear a little bit of humor in his voice.

“All of 'em.”

The three of you share a little smile before you walk back to the crime scene.

Aaron’s thanks is so quiet you’re almost certain you made it up.

You’re only sure it happened at all when Dave replies, “Anytime.”

+++

“He knows where Foyet lives. We’ll split up and cover each address. Go.”

You rise and somehow end up with Derek. Though not your intention, it’s probably for the best. For good measure, you take Jameson, a seasoned SWAT agent. The three of you had the biggest of Foyet’s properties on lock.

Derek speeds to the house, flooring it with sirens blaring.

“I’ll take front,” Derek says, nearly shouting over the siren.

You’re locked and loaded, ready to go in your vest as soon as the car stops. “I’ll take the back.” You twist in your seat to look in the back. “Jameson, you good on my six?”

“I’ve gotcha.”

You’re clearing the house, kicking in the back door. There’s a thump behind you and you turn. Before you can do anything, something makes contact with the back of your head, sending you straight to the ground. You hit something else on your way down, and you’re done.

Fuck.

You’re knocked out cold, but come to only a few minutes later. You stumble to your feet as lights and sirens round the corner. Bringing a hand to your head, you feel the blood on your forehead. There’s probably a decent cut near your hairline and when you look down, you find an alarming amount of blood on your vest.

Head wounds bleed. You’re fine.

Oh.

Oh no.

Derek.

You brace yourself on the wall as you rise, checking your service weapon. It’s not in your holster, but you find it nearby on the floor.

Why didn’t he take it?

Kicking it under the table, you draw your secondary weapon. The thought of leaning down to reach for the gun on the floor is too much and your only aim is to get to Derek, then Jameson.

Blinking blood out of your eyes, you do your best to clear the rest of the house before finding the mess in the living room and front yard. Without much of a thought, you haul yourself over the broken window sill, getting a nice slice in your arm for your trouble, and land hard at Derek's side. With a groan, you roll over onto your knees, crawling toward your prone teammate.

You look up as headlights hit you, shading your eyes with one of your hands. The other rests on Derek's chest. To your relief, you can feel his breath under his vest. He’s alive. He’s okay.

With the intensity of the lights shining on you, you can’t see Hotch as he lifts you to your feet by your upper arms. He shields you from the light with his body, his brows drawn and concerned. You’re dizzy in the extreme, your right eye almost unable to open with all the blood caked down the side of your face.

He takes you under his arm and brings you to one of the ambulances posted on the street. The paramedic takes your vitals, but Aaron keeps a hold on your other hand. You’re not sure he realizes he’s still got you, but you’re not about to let go.

“What happened?” He asks, quiet and tense.

You shake your head even though it only increases your dizziness. Blinking a couple of times, you answer, “I don’t know. He came out of nowhere. I had the side of the house, Jameson had the back, Morgan the front. We were clearing room by room and he just…” your eyes float to the front of the house, where Emily has Derek with a paramedic. “He appeared and I didn’t have time before he hit me with...Something. I was out before I could blink. I think I hit the table on the way down.”

Hotch sighs and to your dismay, you see the coroner approaching the back of the house with a gurney. Jameson’s dead.

Why aren’t you?

“He didn’t take my service weapon. It’s under the table in the kitchen now, but it was next to me when I came to. I don’t -” you swallow, still dazed. “I don’t know why he left us alive.”

You can see Aaron's teeth grinding as he collects himself. “He’s trying to get in your head. Don’t let him.”

“What, like you?” You know your functioning isn’t at one hundred percent - you’d never make a jab at him like that, even weak as it was, at a moment like this if you were clear-headed.

He sighs as your eyes flutter shut, leaning on the inside of the ambulance. You hear the paramedic tell him you’re concussed and need to be kept awake for the next ten hours. Hotch gets the details on your other injuries before squeezing your hand once and leaving you.

After another few minutes, EMS releases you with a packet of concussion information (which you immediately crumple and shove into a passing crime scene tech’s jacket pocket). Far too quickly, you make your way across the yard and into the house, avoiding Jameson's body and the coroner’s staff.

You find Derek and Emily sitting together on the back of the couch as he, too, is patched up.

“You okay, kid?” He asks.

You nod. “Just concussed, a couple of lacerations. I’m fine. Are you okay?” There’s a compulsion to fuss over him, but you resist.

He nods, bringing a pristine .44 caliber bullet into your eye line. “He left this.”

A shiver runs down your spine. “Sadistic bastard.”

Emily raises her eyebrows and cants her head, agreeing with your brief assessment.

You look outside to where Hotch stands in the middle of the yard, with his arms crossed, looking over the damage to both the house and his team.

Eventually, he returns to the house with Spencer in tow. You follow them, moving slow.

Reid points to evidence as he talks. “Jameson was clearly killed outside. This is someone else. There are signs of a struggle and a lot of blood."

"But no body,” you note.

What the hell happened here?

Reid nods. "Just the drag marks. The human body holds 5 quarts of blood. I'd say there's a little more than half that here. Whoever the bleeder was, they lost too much to survive."

It begs the question, so you ask. "Foyet?”

“It was his worst fear, that the Reaper would come back and finish the job,” Dave says, appearing out of nowhere and leaning on the door jamb to the kitchen.

With a firm conviction, Aaron says, “We offered him protection. He refused. It was his choice.”

+++

JJ’s brow crumples as she looks over the files again. "Why is he so focused on Foyet? What's so special about him?"

Aaron, of course, answers her. "He was his only surviving victim, the only one he couldn't defeat."

“But he's not a threat. Defeating him would be no great accomplishment. There's something there that we're missing.” You thumb through the case again, certain the answers are there for you to find.

JJ’s persistent. “What about the girlfriend, Amanda Bertrand? Wh-what do we know about her?”

“Nineteen. A freshman. She came here from Michigan to go to school. Foyet was a teacher's assistant in one of Amanda's courses.”

“Michigan. Where The Reaper had Shaunessy post the personal ad.”

“That can't be a coincidence.”

“He told us she was the love of his life, that he was gonna propose. But she just got here from Michigan. They only met when the class started.”

“How long had she been in the class?” You ask

There’s an incredulous laugh in Emily’s voice. “Four weeks.”

“So it was either love at first sight or what?”

Derek picks up JJ’s thought. “Foyet was lying?”

“He's a 28-year-old teacher's assistant in freshman classes.” Hotch immediately starts dialing a number, and you’re sure you know which one. As you suspected, he gets Penelope on the phone.

“What are Foyet's aliases?” Quickly, you hand him Dave’s notebook, the rest of your body coiled for action. He bows his body over the phone, rattling off instructions. “I want you to look up in Boston city records Kevin Baskin, Miles Holden, and William Parker. Try the Department of Education.”

“Well played, sir.” You hear her keyboard in the background. “They all work for the Department of Education, they're all substitute teachers, and they all teach computer science.” She pauses. “Oops. Scratch that. They're not all working for the Department of Education.”

“They're not?” Aaron’s head tilts, listening.

“No. William Parker was fired for alleged inappropriate behavior with his female students.”

Something clicks. You watch the gears turn and turn and turn, Aaron’s eyes flickering over the photos, the file, back and forth as he puts pieces together.

“Hotch?” Your hand hovers over his shoulder, but he pays you no mind.

“Roy Colson went to see Foyet.” He begins to stand, his voice rising as he gets farther from the phone. “Garcia, I need you to trace Roy Colson's cell phone. George Foyet is The Reaper.”

Garcia gives you the address and the rest of you chase Aaron out to the car. The headache pushing behind your eyes is the least of your worries. “What? What do you mean George Foyet is the Reaper?” It’s almost comical, the efforts you take to keep pace with him down the stairs and to the car.

Aaron communicates all the details he put together in the conference room, taking you step-by-step through his process. “He stabbed Amanda Bertrand to death, he drove a mile, he called 911, he went back, and he inflicted those wounds on himself.”

You’ve already caught up, the pieces clicking in before he can repeat them. “He knew EMS would get there in time to save him.”

“And between the phone call and the severity of his wounds, we never considered him as a suspect.” There’s frustration in his tone, but you know it goes deeper than that. It’s his pride.

“Hotch, you couldn’t have -”

Derek cuts you off. “Why would he do it?”

“It put him at the core of the investigation. Everything we had came from him.”

Talk about inserting yourself...

Derek is right there with him. “He left his own glasses at the crime scene, he pointed us right back in his direction, and still, we didn't see it.”

Aaron nods, his jaw tighter than you’ve ever seen it.

Don’t blame yourself.

Hotch rolls up to the house, no lights or sirens, and you surround the house, on his six. You quietly breach the back door, clearing the kitchen and the hallway.

“It's over.” Aaron’s tone leaves no room for argument as he levels his gun at Foyet’s head.

There’s a strange smile on Foyet’s face as he speaks. “I'll kill him.”

“You need him to write your story.”

“I'm taking him with me. I'll let him go as soon as I'm safe.”

You step to the side, trying to get a better shot, but Aaron stops you with the smallest turn of his head as Foyet redirects his attention to you.

“I said I'll kill him.”

Aaron pulls his focus again. “You kill him, I kill you.”

“You think I'm afraid to die?”

“You're not afraid.” Aaron sneers. He’s aiming to hurt and it’s a good idea. “You're greedy and narcissistic. You want the recognition that's gonna come from the book that he's gonna write. You want the fame that's gonna come from the media. It's gonna be like Bundy.”

“I'm gonna be bigger than Bundy.”

“Well, you can't enjoy it if you're dead.”

You’ve got him there, Aaron.

“If you know me so well, how come some many had to die to bring you here?”

You can almost feel the lance of shame and guilt that shoots through Aaron. He almost flinches. Between you and Emily, if looks could kill, Foyet would be long dead.

You fucking asshole.

It takes everything in you not to leap on him and pummel him into the floorboards. You’d love nothing more than to wipe that smug grin off his face.

“That's your choice, not mine. You're the serial killer.” To your ears, it sounds like Aaron's convincing himself as much as telling Foyet.

“That's right.” He turns, smirking. "Hello, Derek.”

He drops his gun and Derek pounces on him, restraining him. "Where's my badge?” He jerks Foyet’s head back by the hair. “Where is it, you son of a bitch?”

He doesn’t answer Derek's question, but shifts his icy gaze to you. “How’s your head?” He gives you an imitation of a pout, and anger sears through your chest. “You took quite a spill last night, Agent. Probably had your unit chief very worried.”

You squint at him, but don’t respond. Aaron steps a little to the side and you’re not even sure he realizes it, but he’s made himself a barrier between you and Foyet.

The bastard notices, though, and the corner of his mouth lifts. “I'm gonna be more famous than you even realize.”

The look he gives Hotch makes you shudder.

+++

Only an hour or so after you land back at Quantico, JJ jogs from her office to Hotch’s. Your heart sinks.

That’s never good.

“Foyet escaped.”

You grab the remote and stand from your desk, turning the volume up on the TV.

She chases Hotch down the stairs as he joins the rest of you, surrounding Derek's desk. “Guards found him in his cell vomiting blood and convulsing. They rushed him to the prison hospital.”

“Get me the U.S. Marshals office.” He turns, but she stops him.

“I already called Don Reilly. I offered our assistance. He said they'd call us if they needed it.”

Aaron doesn’t stop moving until he’s at your side. Your search for his eyes and he meets your gaze after a moment.

What do we do?

His jaw clenches. I don’t know. Then, a huff. Fuck.

You shake your head a little. It makes you feel a little dizzy. Fuck, indeed.

“How’s your head?” He asks.

Of all the things to worry about…

“It’s fine. I’m fine.”

Just then, Emily returns, a file in her hand. “The Boston field office just identified documents from Foyet's house. They're schematics for the electrical, heating, and water ducts of the East Woburn Correctional Facility.”

You take it from her, looking it over before looking at Hotch. “He had the schematics. And not just for Woburn. For every jail, prison, and courthouse in Massachusetts.”

“And 10 years to plan,” Dave adds.

"They're gonna find him, right?" Penelope’s voice is small, and you can’t blame her for it. Derek’s at her side, staring at the news footage with a grim look on his face.

Aaron’s eyes are trained on the television when he answers. “No, they're not.”

Derek turns to you before looking at every member of the team individually. “He said he'd be more famous than we knew, and he was right.”

+++

tagging: @arganfics @quillvine @stxrryspencer @agenthotchner @wandaswitxh @hurricanejjareau @ughitsbaby @rousethemouse @criminalsmarts @shrimpyblog @genevievedarcygranger @ssaic-jareau @good-heavens-chris-evans @davidrossi-ismydad @angelsbabey @gublergirls @writefasttalkevenfaster @venusbarnes @hotchsflower @ogmilkis @marvels-agents100 @hotchslatte @risenfox @mrs-dr-reid @captain-christopher-pike @whoreforhotch @pinkdiamond1016 @pan-pride-12 @lee-rin-ah @sunshine-em @word-scribbless @jdougl-love @sageellsworth05 @nohalohoseok @giveusbackourbucky @writerxinthedark @bauslut @dreila03 @forgottenword @aaronhotchnerr @ssa-morgan @buckybau @sana-li @tegggeeee @abschaffer2 @ssacandice-ray @ellyhotchner @lotties-journey-abroad @mrs-joel-pimentel-23-25 @laneygthememequeen @violentvulgarvolatile @mooneylupinblack @ssareidbby @violet-amxthyst @bwbatta @roses-and-grasses @lcvischmitt @capricorngf @missdowntonabbey @averyhotchner @mandylove1000 @garcia-reid-lovechild @cevanswhre @qvid-pro-qvo @jeor @spencers-hoodrat @infinity1321 @zizzlekwum @popped-weasels @evee87 @nuvoleincielo @this-broken-band-girl @reidtomestyles @hotch-meeeeeuppppp @winqhster

#aaron hotchner x reader #hotch x reader #aaron hotchner imagine #criminal minds imagine #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds fanfiction #aaron hotchner #criminal minds #hotch #tali writes fanfiction #tali talks cm #aaron hotchner fanfiction #shut up tali #a joyful future fanfic

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horrorslashergirl · 3 years

Text

Slasher OC: The Shadow

Authors Note: New baby coming through! New baby coming through! Yes, Sir I made another slasher original character, because ideas come and they need to be known.

Full Name: Unknown Nickname: The Shadow, The Lurking One, Salem Age: Late 30s Gender: Male Nationality: American Occupation: Serial Killer, supposed Surgeon/Pathologists Location: USA, Massachusetts, Boston Hair Color/Style: Unknown Eye Color: Unknown Height: 6'5 Body Type: Athletic Languages: English Attire: He wears a pristine black tailored-suit; a black tail-coat with a black button-down, black slacks, and a black vest, the tie a scarlet red. He wears luscious leather Oxfords and black leather gloves along with a black fedora. The last touch is a leather Doctor Plague mask, not one glimpse of skin on display.

Weapons: Shotgun, Throwing Knives, Scalpel, Clamps, Retractors

Biography:

The name was given by authorities of this infamous serial killer as Shadow, which creates havoc in Massachusetts cities, mostly Boston, Salem, and Cambridge. He also received the nickname Salem due to him being more like an urban legend or entity than a human being.

He targeted people at night, most of them being young women, but also adult males or anyone that dares to interfere with his killings. His procedure of murder is so close to perfection that the police investigators suspect him as being a surgeon or pathologist, due to the operating mood to be so precise.

What makes his killings apart from the other serial killers is that he always takes something from his victims; be an eye, a kidney, even the heart, the crime scenes always leave the authorities speechless, the scenes so brutal that they don't let photos be taken to the public eyes.

The authorities had interviewed and questioned over 200 people; surgeons, butchers, criminals in order to find the identity of the serial killer known as Shadow, with no success.

The only one who encountered Shadow and managed to survive was a young college student, named Giulia, who didn't make it out unscarred. She was found by the police half-naked on the streets, running away from the serial killer.

She was found with her hair burned to the scalp by an acidic battery, her canine teeth pulled out, and without nails on her finger.

When questioned by the investigators she made a morbid description of the infamous murderer.

'He is tall and in all black. He doesn't seem human. No human could do this. He pulled all her skin off like she was a rabbit. His voice, makes me wanna throw up, it's so raspy it makes me wanna be deaf so I cannot hear it anymore in my head. What he did to the other girls...I cannot describe. He said that I'm perfect. What was that supposed to mean?'

The events destroyed Giulias's mind and life, now being interned into an Asylum due to severe trauma, leading to aggressive outbursts, nightmares, and constantly hearing his voice.

Personality:

'Shadow', according to the crimes and Guilas vague description, shows characteristics most serial killers have; brutish, sadistic, cruel, aggressive, sneaky.

Despite these negative aspects, he also shows a high superiority on the intellectual level, especially considering that he sends mocking letters to the police, taunting them. This aspect is interesting due to the modern world, he writes classic letters like in the old days. His writing style, very neat and cursive, suggests that he is a highly educated man, especially when he puts in letters quotes from history, literature.

One of the letters sent to the police:

'Dear Boston Police Sir and Madams,

This morning, I was making coffee and listening to one of the ol' classics of Camille Saint-Saëns - Danse Macabre, when the News started on the television and I was so flattered when I was the main attraction told by the news lady, but I must say that the words used to describe me as a Jack-The-Ripper-Ripoff wasn't very equitable, although he is highly fascinating, I advise keeping insults to yourselves, ignorant rats. I don't have tolerance for uneducated low-lives. Now that this has been clear, how are the investigations been so far? All good? Still, trying to figure little ol' me out? My provenance? Think about me as you describe me; a shadow, meaning that I could be right now listening to you chit-chatting over coffee and cigarettes in your cozy offices. Oh! How's my dear Giulia? I haven't heard from her whereabouts since the tv news about her being locked to the lunatics. Ha! She was the perfect little one until she decided to destroy my recreation room. Rude little wench. Anyway, I do hope you all have a gruesome day with more bodies to come.

Yours Truly, The Shadow

P.S: Detective Donald, I give all my greatest greetings to your wife.'

He has shown to have a God complex, mocking the police every chance he has; cheeky, intelligent and sporting a ghoulish charisma, Shadow basks into the terror he inflicts on others.

According to his letters by the police, Shadow gave some clues to the investigators; he is a bachelor.

'I do get lonely, officers you know? Being a bachelor isn't quite a piece of cake and I must say I'm very picky with women. They all scream when I play with my scalpel down their pretty little necks.'

He also stated that he is quite wealthy.

'Money makes me sick. They all think that if you got the greens you're oh so smart, but their brains are as dead as they will be once I have my hands on them. I do have too much money, sometimes stashes of them on the table by the gramophone.'

Power/Skills: Genius-level intellect Immense wealth stashed (according to his letter) Expertise in psychology and surgery Surgical and medical prowess Evasion Stealth Murderous expertise Skilled usage of weaponry Skill in hand-to-hand combat Knifesmanship Torturous expertise Ruthlessness Fearlessness Psychopathic nature Deception Expert manipulator

Hobbies:

Killing people, operating and torturing them, finally stealing something from their bodies, leaving the bodies to the police to be found.

Listening to music, reading all types of books from history to literature to medical books.

Watching the news about him.

Mocking the police officers and investigators.

Crimes: Serial Homicide Terrorism Torture Stealing Body Parts Brainwashing Mutilations Stalking

Type of Villain: Ingenious Serial Killer

#The Shadow #Original character #Slasher OC #horror character #Salem #The Lurking One #Serial Killer #Doctor Plague Mask

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onisiondrama · 4 years

Photo

(Note: I’m not repeating stories he’s told before and just putting them in parenthesis. I have a lot more videos to go until I’m caught up so that would save me a lot of time. If he gives details I never heard from him before, I will type those.)

[Sorry if this one isn’t coherent. I could not focus on this video for the life of me. It took me three days to get through lol.]

“Don't Trust Anyone” September 23, 2020 - Speaks

Says he wants to make a quick video on why no one should ever trust anyone. [The video is over 40 minutes long 😭]

He wanted to play hero and white knight by giving people he wanted to help things to make their lives better. He’s given thousands of dollars worth of stuff: flat screen TVs, thousand dollar airfares. Males, females, people in their 20′s, 30′s 40′s, etc. People who have met him in person say he’s a generous guy.

Says he gave his mother a quarter of a million dollar house and it destroyed their relationship. He says it showed him the house is more important to her long term. He told her she got the house for free and she said it cost her her relationship with him. He asks why she was letting a house that was given to her for free cost their relationship. He says he offered to buy the house back and she didn’t want to sell it even though it was free. He says he needs a place to film. He says Onision videos aren’t coming back because of his mom.

He doesn’t value his life and he doesn’t have a lot of will to live, that’s why he doesn’t have a filter and tells you how he really is. People play a game to get more respect and money, but he just doesn’t want to exist.

He says there’s at least 10 people he’s given $10,000 of stuff to.

He lived in a laundry room and was on food stamps because his mom was a single mom. He says when people says “it’s only money”, he thinks your a privileged pampered jerk. He says it means a lot to him when someone donates $5 on twitch. He says twitch takes half so he only gets $2.50. [This is really funny when you compare it to the shit he used to say to his fans when he was making over a million a year and the shit he said to them when they wouldn’t pay for the Onision channel when he made it pay to view only.]

He says he gave Cyr food and camera equipment. (Cyr and his gf story.)

Says it’s hard to trust Youtubers because the platform rewards drama. He asks if someone is going to take a DM out of context or lie about wanting to be in a sketch or not. Are you going to pretend to be against something because your afraid of being canceled? He doesn’t want to exist in a world like that.

You invest a lot of time and love in something and it turns around and bites your hand off. People do that because you hurt their feelings.

If you’re not an adult and you’re not blood related to him, he’s a jerk to you so everyone knows he wants nothing to do with you. Besides that he’s nice to pretty much everyone except his mom and an independent voter cousin he has. She stormed off with a red face when he laughed in her face at how stupid she is.

Says his director friend who is very professional and worked with a lot of youtubers said to him, “if only people know you for who you are.” He says he presents himself differently online, using a comedic or acting flair. He did this because he wanted to get the message he’s trying to convey and make an impact. He wants people to feel things when they watch him. The idea of Onision is so big and powerful, it’s impossible to get past the illusion.

He doesn’t feel poly right now. He doesn’t want a relationship outside his husband. It��s too socially complicated to keep two people happy and not jealous. (Chris Rock women try to steal your man quote.) People try to rip apart his 8 year long, successful marriage. He implies Kai stays with him and loves him even when they are at odds, that’s a genuine human being and relationship. Other people pretend to like him. (Moderator said she hated him for a year.)

Says he made a video about cuddlegate and another break up they had with Billie. Says she always visited them, flew out for a week or two weeks. He says it was expensive. He says he asked her if those videos were accurate. She said yes. He says those videos weighed in her favor.

When you sever ties with someone because the person was dangerous to your family, the online community doesn’t care. Certain crimes are acceptable to people online like drug abuse, dealing, lie, fraud.

Describes himself as a goody-two-shoes because he’s a former air force cop. Says people don’t like him because he represents authority, the people who dumped you, your dad, the less hip crowd.

Says Billie admitted she lied on video.

He tries to live in the real world, but he deals with people don’t care about justice or objectivity. They only care about feelings. When all you care about is feelings, then anyone that doesn’t want to be your friend is a monster and a criminal.

When someone blocks him on twitter, he thinks they have the wrong idea about him. He doesn’t hate them and think they’re a terrible person. He’s sure if a person has a coherent, civilized conversation with him, they wouldn’t conclude a lot that’s negative.

Says there’s a lot of cancel culture and #metoo hysteria where people focus on people that hurt their feelings. Says there are a lot of valid #metoo too.

He says talking about women’s rights is compensating and being manipulative. He says someone told him he should do that and he saw it on Amazon’s The Boys. There’s no real consequence. Just social consequence like Johnny Depp’s ex.

People lie and are malicious because he rejected him.

People only care about news about accusations about famous people when people are murdered ever day. You say you’re caring and you just want justice, he can’t help but question your priorities.

Says he was recommended an old update video about himself from Mike who worked with Chris Hansen. He didn’t watch it, he pressed uninterested. Says Mike went to actual court for allegedly groping people.

If Batman was truly against bad people, he would lock up the whole city because bad people are everywhere. They vote, lie, and do things to others constantly based on personal gift. Says he was given an amazing gift to tell the truth. Says it might be the suicidal feelings. He wouldn’t do it, but he would press a button to not exist anymore. He says he doesn’t want to hurt people who care about him. Says it’s contagious sometimes.

Says he’s the giving tree, like the book. Says the tree kept giving and it wasn’t appreciated by the person using it.

Says it’s rare for people to kick him out of their life. (Hannah Minx rejected him story) He says he didn’t blame her and that’s how you handle rejection. You say ok and move on. [lol yeah ok buddy] People don’t give him the same decency.

Says he had a Patreon who donated thousands to him. She had a mental breakdown in front of himself and a few other Patreons during a gathering near Boston. [this is about Dev] She didn't feel like they appreciated her for driving them around, but she was the one that invited them. She’s the reason he doesn’t have meet ups anymore. She was a 30-something woman who lost her mind in front of a bunch of 20-somethings and himself. She burned out the clutch of her car out of rage. She told him she just wanted a clean break after, but he says he didn’t care. He thinks she said that because she didn’t want him to talk about what happened. He says that’s a situation where he’s not negative and appreciates the good things she did, donated thousands to him. He was petrified of her. His two Patreon friends witnessed it and they just wanted water bottles.

He doesn’t think he could have a meaningful relationship now after what he’s been through. Most people he kicked out lost their mind after. Says the ex Patreon didn’t lose their mind after. He says she accused him of sleeping with a 24 / 25-year-old while they were there. They were 40 minutes away from having to leave at the airport. It was 4 am and they were up all night. He was exhausted so he went to lay down in the dark. The two patreons were in the other room. But that women still blindly said they slept together. He doesn’t know who would want to have sex with someone you’re not in a relationship with at 4 am before you leave for the airport.

Someone asked him on Only Fans when he’ll sleep with other people for his pictures. He says he doesn’t know because he has to love someone and be in a relationship with them. He doesn’t want to have a relationship with anyone outside Kai because he’s terrified. Any time he gets close to you people you’re a danger to his family or dishonest.

The cops took Shiloh away when he called them on her and people think she’s some kind of hero. Siren on the rocks. They cry victim and they’re really trying to drown you.

(Skye prenup story)

It’s great he has no friends now. He can deal with loneliness and he has a family. He was giving stuff away and getting little back. He’s finally protecting himself.

Says to make people prove themselves before you let them hurt you. Like getting a tattoo, a spray tan, or dying their hair green. Says don’t actually do that to prove yourself to him. He says that will make you look crazy, he wasn’t being literal.

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captaincvans · 4 years

Text

Chapter Three: Tear Me to Pieces

11/01/19

Pairing: Chris Evans x Reader

Word Count: 2502+

Warnings: Language; Panic Attack; Angst; Angry!Chris; Sad!Chris

Series Masterpost

A/N: I think I’ll stick with posting biweekly (once every two weeks) as it seems to fit my schedule most. It’s been tough trying to fit writing in with my grad school, but I am trying to balance everything! You get an extra long chapter though! I hope you enjoy and pleaseee lemme know what you think! I appreciate every comment, ask about this fic 💕

“I don’t know what to do, mom,” Chris cried on the phone. He was desperate for some answers as the feeling of dread took over his heart. His career and his personal life has what he felt like being destroyed in a matter of weeks, and he was overwhelmed with so many emotions.

“Oh, sweetie. I’m so sorry that you’re going through all of this,” Lisa immediately cooed sympathetically. “Have you been able to see Jenna at all?” With them being so close, it was no surprise that Lisa knew the name of Chris’s therapist back in Boston. Chris had actually gone to a couple of sessions with his father, wanting to mend a few troubles the two had in a safe place.

There was a beat of silence, and he answered with a small, “No.”

“Oh, it’s okay, baby. Do you want me to book you an appointment with her?” Lisa was worried that Chris hadn’t been seeing anyone throughout this whole ordeal. She could tell how overwhelmed he was, and she knew he needed someone more than her at this moment.

“S’okay. I’ll call her tonight.”

Her heart was breaking at the sound of his defeated voice, the 38 year-old sounding more like a child, and it pulled at her heartstring. “Okay. Text me when you’re going. I’ll come by and drop you off. We can make a whole adventure out of it.”

“Okay,” he said quietly, saying goodbye to his mother before ending the call. He made an appointment with Jenna, who scheduled him in for the next day, hearing the gravity of the situation. A text pinged on his phone not long after, his personal assistant, John Diangelo, asking if he can come by. He texted back with a ‘yes’, needing a friend through this all and wanting to inform John of his manager’s crime.

Chris sat on his couch, Dodger in the crate sensing the tension in the house. He sat there, numb and broken. It could’ve been hours and he wouldn’t have realized. The only thing that got him out of his reverie was the knock on the door. With drawn out, sluggish movements, he got to the door, opening to reveal his sympathetic PA.

“How are you holding up, brother?” the Kansas-born man asked with a soft smile.

“I don’t know, John. I really don’t know,” Chris whispered, sitting down on his couch with his head in his hands. “I don’t know what to do.”

“Take it one day at a time. It’s all you can do,” he said, running his hand through his ginger hair. “Has the police found anything?”

“It was Daniel. He’s the one stealing money from me.”

“Holy shit,” John cursed, leaning on the wall behind Chris.

“And while we were talking to him, he said someone else was involved.”

“Who?” John asked urgently, eyes wide in concern and anticipation.

“Y/N.”

“No fucking way,” John muttered, his voice coming out breathier than usual.

Chris shook his head. “I can’t believe this. I just can’t believe this. I was going to propose,” he confessed.

John was at a loss of words, not knowing how to comfort the man. Anything he said would sound ingenuine. “It’ll get better, brother. At least you found out sooner than later.”

“I guess so,” Chris mumbled. He blinked a few times, his red-rimmed eyes hurting with every blink. “I’m gonna go pack up her stuff.”

“Do you need any help?”

“No, it’s alright. I can pack’em myself.”

“Okay. I can take her stuff down once you’re finished with them, and let her know they’re ready for her to pick up if you want?”

“That would be great. Thank you, John.” With robotic movements, Chris went to the bedroom he once shared with the love of his life, and started packing.

Six Months Later

The investigation slowed down a bit as they kept hitting roadblocks with the press. It became a more high profile case, and the attention it received hindered people from doing their job as they were harassed by the press. They were relentless once they caught a whiff of the drama unfolding in Chris’s life. He tried to keep the issue as private as possible, but it was hard to when there were so many moving parts involved- from the fraud investigators, the police officers in charge of his case, and Kevin and his accounting firm that is doing a complete audit of Chris’s finances. There were a lot of people involved, one of the was bound to sell the story to the press.

Captain America Breaks Up with Girlfriend Over Money?

Chris Evan’s Girlfriend a Gold Digger?

Chris Evan Found to Have Fired Manager Over Fraud

Headline after headline, they wrote it all. Rumours and assumptions being thrown around, and articles that were only half truth. With the leaks of the news, there was another investigation launched to find the person who was leaking Chris’s personal information to the public. Chris couldn’t go anywhere without being followed by the press. He hired bodyguards for himself and his family, hating the fact that they were victims to his problems.

It marked the 25th week of the investigation, the end was almost in sight. One of the newly hired fraud investigators was caught selling information to the press, and was quickly fired from the company. Everyone else had to sign a tighter non-disclosure form that was created by Chris’s legal team.

It was a gloomy Friday, the rainy day finally easing up as peak summer hit the town of Massachusetts. Chris just finished his daily morning walk with Dodger, hating the humid rain as much as his little dog did. Scott was staying at his place for a few days, trying to distract him from it all, and trying to pull him back out of his isolation. His usual goofy self was nowhere to be seen as he became paranoid of the next person to take advantage of him. Aside from his family, he’s been ignoring a lot of his friends, and only recently gotten back in touch with them.

Just as he finally cooled down from the AC in his house, his phone rang.

“Hey Jason, what’s up?”

“We got some new information. Do you mind coming by the station?”

Chris sighed, rubbing his forehead. It seems like he couldn’t catch a break with all the information that was hitting him.

“Chris? You okay?”

“Yea, yea. Sorry. Just got distracted for a bit- I can be there in half an hour or so.”

“Alright. See you soon.”

“You good?” Scott asked, entering the kitchen as Chris was finishing up his call. Dodger happily jumped towards him, begging to be given attention which he happily gave.

“Yea. Jason just said they have more information and needed me to come down.”

“Want me to come with you?”

He gave a non-committal shrug.

“Alright. Lemme just get changed, and we can go.”

The two brothers met up with Jason and Diana Bass, she was in charge of the whole investigation and was working closely with Jason to finish everything in a timely matter. They walked to a small meeting room, both brothers refusing any refreshments as the tension built in the room.

“While we were investigation Y/N, we found something else,” Jason said, his eyebrows pulled together anxiously.

“What is it?”

“We investigated all of Y/N’s accounts, and we did not find any extra deposits. Instead, we found monthly withdrawals. We followed the money, and it was going to an account created by John Diangelo, your personal assistant.”

“Fuck! Him too?” Scott growled, putting a hand on his brother’s shoulder for solidarity.

Dianna nodded sympathetically. “Unfortunately, he seemed to be the mastermind of the whole operation. We went through his files and exchanges with Ms. L/N to see what the relationship was as we thought she was sending him the money she took from you to put in an offshore account like with Daniel, but there were only brief communication from prior years, most of them regarding your schedules. There were no indications that they talked beyond your schedule. We did, however, find a letter addressed to Ms. L/N in his computer about the terms your relationship with her.”

Chris tilted his head in confusion. “What terms?”

“In this letter, it said that in the case that you broke up with her for reasons that are unequivocally her fault, she will be forced to pay back the material cost of your relationship. Any time you paid for her, whether it was dinner or anniversary gifts, she must pay it back 100%. And as far as she knows, your separation was caused because you were “unhappy with her” as she quoted in our interrogation so she paid the cost.”

“What the fuck? We never had such agreements! That’s ridiculous- I would never make her do such things.” Chris was pissed, even more so than his staff stealing money, they were blackmailing people too. He thought they were pretty messed up to think of such things. Even in previous relationships where his girlfriend had cheated on him, lied to him, and manipulated him, he would never think to have them pay back.

“Ms. L/N confirmed that she had signed that agreement somewhere in the two-year make of your relationship. It was given to her by Mr. Diangelo privately in which he requested her utmost discretion, and it also had your signature.”

“What?! No- No- I never signed anything like that!”

“We sent the letter to your legal team, but we can almost confirm that Mr. Diangelo had forged your signature in that letter as your letter was on the file and there was no evidence of an original physical copy. Regardless, it is not a binding contract as it never went through any of your lawyers.”

“Unfortunately, Y/N doesn’t know that,” Jason continued. “She thought she did have to pay everything back, and we are trying to gather more information as we speak, but I’m guessing there are no merit to the numbers he pulled.”

“That’s fucking messed up!” Chris growled, one his hand resting on his hip and the other rubbing his chin anxiously.

“We cannot disclose the amount Ms. L/N paid Mr. Diangelo, but are working to finish up the investigation so the money can be returned to her.”

“So she wasn’t working with Daniel and John?” Chris confirmed, not knowing whether he preferred knowing the truth or not.

“We cannot draw any conclusions at this time,” Diana stated.

“Fuck,” he muttered under his breath, the guilt starting to bubble in his stomach. “ Okay…” Chris shook hands with Diana before she parted ways. He then turned to Jason, “Was she involved at all?”

“Chris,” Jason said in a warning tone.

“Please- I- I just gotta know.”

“I just know from the financial side of things, and there was nothing to indicate that she was involved, Chris. She could’ve had the money transferred to another account or something, but so far nothing’s come up except for her payments to John.”

“Ho-How much did she pay?”

Jason sighed, shaking his head. “Chris, I can’t tell you that.”

“Please- Please just give me an approximate- I just need to know-”

“She paid 3⁄4 of it, including the damage fee. She said she wanted to get rid of the debt as soon as possible so you didn’t have to worry about it.”

“How much?”

“Chris-”

“How much?!” Chris all but yelled, standing up from his chair and knocking it over in the process. His chest was heaving, and his fist shaking as his eyes glossed with tears.

“The number he gave her was close to $40 000 that she had to pay in the span of five years, and in the event that she couldn’t pay the monthly installments, she would have to pay an interest of 10%- not to mention the damage fee that he included of $10 000.”

It was at that moment, Chris knew she was never involved. He felt like a huge fog has lifted from his brain, as if he finally cleared his brain after a bad hangover. The past few months felt like a nightmare, but it was then that he realized, this was his reality. His manager and personal assistant tricked him, manipulated him, stole from him, and he believed them when they said that his girlfriend was a part of it all. Even if she was, the way he treated her that night. Chris felt like a monster, a stranger living in his own skin. Looking back, he can’t even recognize himself, the words he said, the things he called her. They were unforgivable. “Jesus Christ, Jason. I-I-I fucked up. She wasn’t even at fault, and I blamed her.”

“We don’t know that, Chris. For all we know she could still have some part in this.”

Chris ignored him, shaking his head. He knew, and deep down he’s always known that she was never a part of this all. “Is she still here? Can I see her?” He looked around, desperate to see a glimpse of the woman he thought he would be his fiancee by now.

“She left already, said she needed to get to work.”

Scott peered at his brother from the corner of his eyes, looking more worried as Chris’s breathing got uneven. “Hey, hey, hey. C’mon-” He sat him down again, gently easing him into another chair. “C’mon, Chris. You gotta breathe.”

“She didn’t do anything wrong,” Chris cried repeatedly, face turning red at his inability to breathe. “She didn’t do anything wrong.”

“I’ll get him some water,” Jason said, giving his friend some space.

“She wasn’t- She wasn’t- She didn’t do anything wrong, Scotty.”

“Shh, shh. It’s okay. We don’t know that.”

“I said so many awful things to her.” Chris cried, his hand covering his mouth as bile crawled up his throat. “Oh God, I think I’m going to be sick.”

Scott saw how pale Chris had gotten, turning around to grab the small garbage can and put it below the leaning man just as Chris coughed up bile.

“The- The baby!” Chris exclaimed, inadvertently knocking the paper cup from Jason’s hand as his hand grabbed his friend’s sleeve. “Was she- How’s the baby? Did you see her bump? Does she look healthy?”

Jason didn’t know how to answer that question. Before this whole ordeal, he has only seen Y/N through pictures from the press, and never met her in person. Either way, there was no way she was pregnant when he met her. “She- She didn’t look that pregnant?” Jason said uneasily, not knowing how to break the news.

“Wh-What?” Chris said to himself, shaking his head. “No… Please, God no… No, no, no... ” He shrunk back on the couch, whimpering how stupid he was, and rubbing his chest as if it could appease the weight on his heart as he realized his mistake.

<-- (Chapter 2) (Chapter 4) -->

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#chris evans x reader #chris x reader #steve rogers x reader #chris evans #chris evans fanfiction #Chris Evans fandom #chris evans oneshot #josephine writes #steve rogers #marvel #marvel fics #marvel oneshot #marvel fanfiction

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truecrimesposts · 4 years

Text

JOLLY JANE - Jane Toppan.

Jane Toppan, or as she would come to be known later in life, 'Jolly Jane', was a Massachusettes serial killer who was active during the late 1800s. To this day it is not known for certain exactly how many victims Jane claimed during her lifetime, but Jane would claim that is was at least 30 victims, with some more sensationalising reports claiming the number to be closer to 100.

Jane was actuary born as Honora Kelley, in Boston in 1854 (or 1857 according to some reports) to Irish immigrants Peter and Bridgette Kelley, though there is little to no information about the family, largely due to their immigrant status. She would come to be known by her family by the nickname of Nora, and she was the youngest of at least three girls, with a sister, Delia, who was two years older, and another older sister called Nellie. Other reports claim that she may have had more siblings than this, but I couldn't find any information about this. When Jane was a few years old, her mother grew sick with a brutal case of tuberculosis, leaving their father to raise the girls. Their father was a tailor, and an aggressive alcoholic who was believed by all those who new him to suffer from some kind of mental illness, which would leave to violent and angry outbursts. This trait would come to earn him a less than kindly nickname 'Kelley the Crack' meaning that he was 'cracked in the head'. It's widely accepted that Jane's early years were extremely miserable, and her and her sister Delia were taken away from the home at the ages of 6 and 8, and sent to the Boston Female Asylum in order to protect them from their increasingly abusive father. I tried to find out what happened to their older sister Nellie, but all I could find for sure was that she was not brought into the orphanage with her siblings because she was too old. It is rumoured that Nellie had actually taken after her father and struggled with mental illness herself until she was eventually committed to an asylum herself. It is also not known for sure what happened to their father, however there was an urban legend that claimed that he actually suffered a severe a severe psychotic break and tried to sew his own eyelids closed.

The Boston Female Asylum, despite the name, was not actually an asylum but an orphanage that had been founded back in 1799 by Hannah Stillman, wife of Revered Samuel Stillman, long before state care for children was invented, and this was actually the first charity set up by women in Boston. Back then it was simply down to the charity of the genourous to provide this kind of home for children, and those running this orphanage were generous enough to provide a home for around 100 girls at the time that Jane and Delia arrived. Jane found a home after around two years in the home, moving in with the Toppan family in 1962. According to reports, Delia was not so lucky and after leaving the orphanage it is rumoured that Delia turned to prostitution in order to survive.

When Jane was placed with the Toppan family, she was not formally adopted, and in fact, she never would be, though this family would be the ones to change her name to Jane, and refer to her as Jane Toppan. Despite being given their name, she would never truly be accepted by the matriarch of the family, due to Ann Toppan's hatred for the Irish. This was also why Jane's name was changed, and using Jane's dark hair and olive skin to her advantage, Ann spread rumours that Jane was Italian rather than admitting the girls Irish roots. However these beliefs didn't spread to her new sister Elizabeth, who was extremely fond of Jane, despite them not being treated equally within the home. Ann Toppan sent Jane to school, where she flourished academically, she was a very bright girl, but was hated by pretty much all of her schoolmates. Jane became known in school for lying about her family, being a snith, blaming other classmates for her own bad behavior and spreading vicious lies and rumours about anyone who would cross her, traits which would continue throughout her life.

Jane was given freedom from the home, along with $50 in cash on her 18th birthday, however she made the decision to stay in the home, working for them as a live in servant for over a decade. During the 70s Ann Toppan passed away and Elizabeth married Deacon Oramel Brigham. Jane was also reportedly engaged at some point during this time, however he left her for another woman, leaving Jane working for her Foster sister the way up to 1885. At this point, Jane decided that she wanted a new challenge and to stand on her own two feet, so she decided, instead of working one of the few menial jobs available to women, she applied to nursing school, and in 1887 she was accepted to Cambridge Hospital in Boston.

Jane used her time in school to reinvent herself, having learnt from her previous schooling how not to behave if you want to make friends. The change in Jane and how she treated people was so drastic at this time that she actually earnt herself the nickname of Jolly Jane. She was working 12 hour days, 7 days a week, getting only two weeks off a year, but she loved it. Her stoicism and bubbly personality earnt her many friends, however her manipulative traits hadn't disappeared. The nurse was still prone to spreading gossip and integrating herself with authority, but she was much alter now. Apparently on at least two occasions during her training Jane's rumours actually cost the nurses their place at the school. She also apparently started committing petty thefts, but nothing ever came of this.

The patients coming through the hospital loved Jane, they found her bright and chatty and genuinely just believed her to be a lovely and bright woman. However it would later be discovered that her relationship with her patients at this time were unusual at best, it became known that Jane had actually been falsifying the medical records of her favourite patients in order to ensure they stayed longer than originally needed. It is also believed that it was around this time that she began given these patients the wrong medication for the same reason, but nobody suspected her of this at the time. The patients that Jane did not care about however, where the elderly, her callous views of them, likely triggered by her uneasy relationship with her elderly foster mother, was that there was 'no use' in keeping them alive. No one at this time could have imagined that she was being serious, but it's hard not to wonder what would have happened if these comments had been taken seriously.

According to Jane, she killed over a dozen people during her time as a student nurse, reportedly using her patients as test subjects by giving her patients varying degrees in order to see the effect which it would have one them. This gradually worsened to the point where Jane would sit and watch her parents suffer, gaining sexual pleasure from this. She even described her feelings while watching her first murder victim die as 'ecstasy'. As is often the case for murderers that operate in hosptials, especially at this time, no one saw her victims death as suspicious, allowing her the freedom to escalate her crimes. As she gained more pharmacological knowledge, she changed her drugs of choice from opiates to a mixture of Atropine 9 and Morphine, since they were much harder to notice. The effects of the drugs counteracted each other in a way that would allow the poisons to go completely unnoticed. By this point she was using her patients as props to improve her own reputation, by nursing her victims back to health when nobody else could.

The reputation that she had built for herself during her training would actually be enough to allow the killer to get a job at Massachusettes General Hospital, and be immediately be put on fast track for promotion once she received her official license. It was once she began working at the hospital that issues would begin to arise for Jane. She quickly got a reputation for taking credit for other people's actions, something which went unnoticed at her previous job, and she also got caught out several times for tampering with medical records, but it was simply put down to incompetence and not malice. However even though the rest of her bad behaviour was being noticed finally, this did not extend to her crimes. Jane was still secretly torturing and killing her patients.

One of her patients survived an attack by Jane, and would reveal in the future, exactly what she remembered. Amelia Phinney recalled being wracked with brutal convulsions when Jane Toppan, her nurse, actually climbed into bed with her, stroking her hair and kissing her cheek and telling her that it would all be okay soon. Amelia recalled that the only reason that she got out of this situation alive was that Jane had been interrupted before giving her a fatal dose. Amelia didn't come forward until after Jane's arrest, since she woke up under the belief that it was nothing more than a dream, and didn't realise otherwise until after Jane's story was revealed.

Despite her difficult relationship with the nurses at her hospital, she managed to grow quite friendly with the doctors at the hospital, mostly due to the fact that she was very intelligent and was technically very good at her job when she was actually doing it. However after being suspected of stealing petty cash from coworkers and patients, and of stealing a nurses diamond ring, she was dismissed from her position in 1890, after she passed her exam, but before receiving her official license.

After working as a private nurse for a short period, Jane decided to return to the much more lenient Cambridge Hospital in an attempt to finally get her license, however Jane's arrogance would get in the way. After an attempt to poison a trainee nurse, Mattie Davis, who will pop up again later on in the story was detected, an investigation was carried out which discovered the large number of patients with similar symptoms that had died while under her care had died. This was once again put down to incompetence and not malice, and Jane was somehow not reported to the police, but was instead fired and blacklisted from hospital work.

With hospital work no longer an option for the serial killer, Jane went back into private nursing, a job which paid far better, but lacked a consistent wage. Working privately also allowed Jane to do pretty much whatever she wanted, since there was no one keeping an eye on her, and no one to report to. Over the next few years Jane would actually go on to become one of the most successful private nurses in Boston.

Israel and Lovey Dunham were an elderly couple whom Jane was boarding with in Wendell Street Cambridge in 1895. Israel was old, and was growing weaker and weaker by the day and Jane, who we know to have very callous opinions of the elderly, decided that the man was 'too old' that he was 'feeble and fussy', and after a short consideration, Jane killed the defenceless man, using her medical training to make it seem as though he had simply had a heart attack. Jane then led his widow Lovey mourn his death for two long years while still living in the home before deciding to also kill the elderly woman. One by one, Jane began killing her way through her elderly patients not seeing 'much point in keeping old people alive'. After killing one of her patients, the family contacted a doctor in town, claiming that they believed Jane to have stolen some clothes from their grandmother's home after her death, but the doctor defended Jane, claiming that she was 'One of the finest women and best nurses that he knew'.

For several years, Jane had been going on holidays to a rented cottage in Cape Cod, which was actually owned by Mattie Davis and her husband, and in August of 1899, Jane decided to extend the invite to her Foster sister Elizabeth. Elizabeth was apparently very excited to see her sister, she was still very fond of Jane, and couldn't wait to spend time with her, but what she didn't know was that Jane had nothing but hate in her heart for Elizabeth. Elizabeth had done nothing to cause this, but Ann Toppan parenting had twisted Jane's mind against Elizabeth, and it had left Jane wanting revenge.

Within days of her arrival in Cape Cod, Elizabeth's husband Oramel received a telegraph from Jane, claiming that Elizabeth had fallen seriously ill. When Oramel finally got to Cape Cod, Elizabeth was in a coma, after suffering a suspected apoplectic stroke, according to the doctor that was called. Tragically, Elizabeth would never recover and she passed away the morning after Oramel arrived.

Not long after her sisters funeral, which she attended despite being the person who killed the innocent woman, Jane decided that it was time to push forward with a scheme which she had been planning for quite some time. The Matron of St John's Theological School at Cambridge, Myra Connors, had been a friend of Jane's for several years now, or at least that was what Myra Connor believed. However, Jane was no friend to Myra, she simply had a plan. Jane wanted Myras job and the apartment, maidservant and regular paycheck that came with it and so, as she had so many times before, poisoned and killed the woman who thought she was her friend. Jane made this murder look like a case of peritonitis that took a tragic turn. At the funeral Jane managed to manipulate her way into the job, but she wouldn't manage to keep it for very long. Jane was not used to being in a position of management, and she had a very lenient attitude towards finances, which would lead to her being asked to resign after just one year.

Jane decided to get away for a while to help soothe her injured ego, so she returned to Mattie and Alden Davis' holiday cottage despite the fact that this was where she had murdered her own frosted sister not too long ago. The kindly couple always gave her a good rate and hadn't charged her for her stay after Elizabeth's death in 1899, and gave her an extension in 1900 since she didn't have enough money to pay it. However when she returned returned to the cottage and left without paying once again again, Mattie took it upon her self to pay the killer a visit in order to confront her in person.

When Mattie went to visit Jane, she was boarding with a new couple, Melvin and Eliza Beedle, she had already poisoned the couple once before, but only enough to make them belive thst they had food poisoning. On Matties arrival Jane poured the woman a glass of water which she laced with morphene, causing Mattie to 'take over poorly'. The Beedle let Mattie rest in one of the homes empty rooms, which allowed Jane to easily top up the dosage without being seen, sending her into a coma. Mattie was diabetic, and when the doctor arrived, Jane told him that Mattie had simply eaten a piece of cake on arrival and that is why she was so unwell. The doctor had no reason to not believe the well known and pretty well respected nurse, and he left Mattie in Jane's care, which would prove to be a tragic and fatal mistake. Jane toyed with Mattie for a week, varying her doses and bringing her in and out of her coma and allowing her moments of panic stricken lucidity, before growing bored and giving the poor woman a fatal dose.

After Matties death, her two daughters, Genevieve and Minnie decided to stay with their grandfather while they came to terms with their grief, and the sweet natured girls made the poor decision to incite Jane to stay with them a while, since they knew and trusted her. For a while, Jane kept herself amused by starting small fires around their their home, and pinning them on a stranger that she had invented, that she claimed to have seen 'skulking about' the property. However, this petty arson wouldn't be enough for her for long. Genevieve had been struggling with her mother's death, she seemed to have not been coping as well as the other members of her family and Jane used this to her advantage. Using her skull for spreading rumours, Jane told Minnie, Matties other daughter, that she had seen her sister sat staring at a tin of arsenic, and suggested that they keep an eye on her, just in case. Jane would go on to poison Genevieve with arsenic, leading her family to believe that she committed suicide.

The use of arsenic in this case was quite an unusual tactic for Jane, heavy metal poisons like arsenic were far too easy to detect for her to normally risk using it, however this time she had built up a story thst would allow her to get away with it. At this time suicides didn't tend to be investigated due to the stigma that surrounded them. Her official cause of death was written as heart disease, but this would not be enough for 'Jolly Jane'. Two weeks after Genevieves death, Jane poisoned her father, Alden, with her usual combination of poisons. His cause of death was officially recorded as grief, and still feeling far too comfortable due to the lack of information, Jane still wasn't done with the family. When Jane gave Minnie her first dose of morphene, it left Minnie unable to swallow, but, determined to finish what she had started she delivered the fatal dose via enema. The doctors were baffled and after struggling to associate her death with anything else, they listed her cause of death as 'exhaustion'.

This string of unexplained deaths within such a short period of time naturally garnered a lot of attention, with several newspapers writing papers about the unusual situation, but people somehow still didn't suspect that the family had been murdered. That is, people other than Minnie's father in law, Captain Paul Gibbs, and Doctor Ira Cushing, who had seen Alden the day before he died. The two men got together and decided that something had to be done about Jane and her suspicious behaviour, and they know who they wanted to contact.

Leonard Wood was the US military governed of Cuba at the time, and he had studied medicine and spent time as a surgeon in the military before joking the officer corps instead. He worked with Tessy Roosevelt to form the famous 'rough riders' that fought in the Spanish - American war, and while Teddy got all the glory for this, it had been at his family home on Cape Cod in 1901, he was payed a visit by family friend Captain Paul Gibbs, and he was asked to use his medical connections and his power to kick start an investigation.

While this investigation was taking place, Jane decided to pay a visit to Revered Oramel Brigham, her sisters widower, welcomed Jane into his home with open arms, but tragically things went off the rails during her short stay. Jane murdered Oramel sister and also proceeded to poison Oramel. Jane nursed Oramel back to health, apparently in an attempt to 'win his affection', however when she was rejected, she calibrated the perfect amount of morphine and took an overdose which, while not fatal, did land her in the hospital. The investigating officer didn't want to let Jane out of his sight so he feigned an illness to be admitted to the hospital alongside her.

Once she discharged she moved onto yet another one of her friends, this time decided to pay a visit to an old friend named Sarah Nichols, however a few weeks after her arrival, Jane was arrested by the police. Luckily for Sarah the police had exhumed the body of Minnie Gibbs and an autopsy finally found evidence of poison.

Jane was actually originally only arrested for Minnie's murder, but as newspapers delved into her background they quickly discovered that this murder was just the start, and they quickly began to push forth rumours about Jane, most of which were untrue.

While the newspapers were free to make whatever judgements they wanted about Jane, the court case would not go quite so smoothly for a few reasons. The first issue faced by the prosecution was the recent death of the Davis families Doctor, since it meant that Jane could make claims about their health without anyone to claim otherwise. And the second issue was that the prosecution were operating under the assumption that Jane had poisoned Minnie with arsenic, however that wasn't the case. The traces of arsenic found on Minnie's body was actually from the embalming fluid that had been used.

It was an interview with Captain Paul Gibbs that would give prosecutors and police the lead they needed. A reporter from the Boston Journal asked Captain Paul for his thoughts kn the arsenic found in the two woman's bodies, he was quick to reveal his surprise. He told the paper "I didn't think Jennie Toppan would use anything as easily detected as arsenic." He knew Jane quite well, and knew how well educated she was, and that she was a much more skilled pharmacologist than people wanted to admit. When asked what he believed that she would have used, and having knowledge on the topic himself, he actually suggested, if you'd believe it, a mixture of morphine and atropine, which as we know was what she had used for the vast majority of her crimes. He also revealed that Jane had owed the family money and that $500 had gone missing from Aldens pocket after his death.

Newspapers dove deep into the past of Jane Toppan, finding out all about her petty thefts and the mysterious deaths, especially thst of Myra Connors. However it was Jeanette Snow, Jane's biological cousin who would give investigators their next big break. Jeanette told them all they wanted to know about Jane's young childhood, especially about 'Kelley the Crack', Jane's father, and Nellie's admittance to an asylum also. Jeanette's information changed the public perception once again, with Jane Toppan no longer seen as an opportunistic poisoned, but as dangerously insane.

Jane's wealthy patients began writing letters in an attempt to help her and for a while it seemed like it might have helped, however this wouldn't last for long. Taking the advice of Captain Paul Gibbs, there was an inquest into Minnie's death where they discovered that she had not been poisoned with arsenic but with morphine and atropine. Investigators had been looking through Jane's finances to find evidence of her purchasing arsenic, and failing to find anything, however, now they were looking into morphine instead they found proof of purchase after purchase of morphine and they finally had the evidence that they needed to take the serial killer to court.

The date was set for Jane's trials, but it did not happen yet. Fred Bixby, Jane's attorney, and the DA agreed to appoint a panel of psychiatrists to examine Jennys mental state and see if she was fit to stand trial. In March of 1902 Dr Henry Stedman, Dr George Jelly and Dr Hosea Quinby began their examination.

While Jane was initially very distrusting of the three doctors, it didn't take long for her chatty personality and her arrogance to show, and she began to open up. The doctors picked up very rapidly on her addiction to lying, but they pushed through, and despite having previously pled guilty, Jane Toppan confessed. The doctors had no idea how twisted Jan was, they were shocked as she discussed, calmly and coldly, thst she had a habit of climbing into bed with her victims, and the sexual thrill that she gained from their death. They had never experienced anything like this before, especially not from a woman. The doctors unanimously declared the serial killer as 'morally insane' which was the term used for psychopathy at the time, and said that she was unfit to stand trial and that she would never recover from her illness.

This was the first time in American history that a serial killer was actually being prosecuted as a serial killer, but the trial was little more than a formality, and a worry free Jane chatted and laughed with her lawyer for the one day that the trial lasted. During the trial Dr Stedman was asked what reason Jane had given for poisoning Minnie Gibbs, to which he simply replied, 'To cause death'. Jane was sentenced to a lifetime in a mental institution the same day.

It wasn't until after the trial took place that it was revealed that Jane had actually confessed to her attorney 6 months earlier when he first began to defend her, and she confessed to more than the 11 murders tbT the police had been investigating. Jane told him that she had been killing for 14 years, and that she had killed at least 31 people. The press went completely wild and every newspaper was reporting all they could about Jolly Jane Toppan.

Jane was sent to Taunton State Hospital, and for the first few years she really enjoyed her stay, and got along really well with all of the doctors and nurses that worked there, but she began to spiral. Jane was diagnosed with Manic Depression and she began to think about using her old name again and becoming a nun. By 1904 she had grown more and more paranoid to the point where she refused to eat anything because, ironically, she believed it to all be poisoned, after 34 years of struggling with worsening mental health issues and paranoia, Jane Toppan died in Taunton in 1938.at 81 years old.

#crime / law / justice #major crimes #murder #murderer #true crime #true facts #murderpedia #Jane Toppan #Jolly Jane #serial killer #american crime

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alexthepartyman · 4 years

Text

Fine Line

Chapter Five: I know you were way too bright for me.

“Yet teh first victim wasn’t eviscerated,” Spencer remarks. Derek looks over his shoulder at us. “And the unsub seems to have used a different weapon at each crime scene.”

“Two different MOs.”

“Two different killers?”

“Or one very psychotic individual,” Uncle Jason remarks, turning the team’s attention to us.

“What happened to you?”

“I got a list of things I want to try before it’s too late.”

“And orthopedic surgery’s one of them??” Elle asks.

“No, skydiving. Apparently, it’s all about the landing.”

‘I’m still pissed at him for it because he didn’t take me.”

“Not in your state are you leaving Virginia,” Aaron cuts me off. “And besides, you’re not old enough to do that. How long on the crutches, Jason?”

“Just a couple of days.”

“So you can’t go out into the field?”

“Not on crutches, no.”

“Don’t worry, I’ll find a way to be helpful here. Got a blitz attack. No effort to remove the body, clean up evidence.”

“Sounds really disorganised.”

“With organised killers, we see a pattern, we’re able to predict their behaviour, but with psychotic killers, they’re guided by a given delusion.”

“Okay, but until we understand the nature of the delusion, we can’t predict his next move.”

“And that’s nearly impossible to do.”

“Actually, I think we might have a clue.”

“Alright, throw it at me,” I offer, walking myself over to stand between him and Derek.

“These rings at the crime scene might be some kind of signature?” He asks, pointing at them for me.

“Maybe.”

“I can work this angle. I’ll see if there’s any significance to the patters.”

“Psychotic killers are normally not that difficult to catch because they don’t try to hide.”

“Does that make your job easier?” JJ asks.

“Oh, no. Cause until we do locate him, he’ll keep doing that.”

“Jamie, you’ll be staying here with Jason and Penelope. Please do try to focus on your schoolwork and not the case.” I nod at Aaron. “Wheels up in thirty.”

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

“Working from the assumption that the rings are a signature…”

“SIr, I could help you get some of these books back to your -”

“Exploring their symbolic significance? Just exploring...I have nothing.”

“That seems like a specific pattern, though. Here, Penelope, give me something. Maybe if you were in your office, Uncle Jason, you’d have more room to spread out and get a fresh perspective...do you think? Maybe? No?” Uncle Jason stares at me. “Why are you looking at me like that?”

“I need to focus on the manner in which Annie Stuart was killed. Anything that might have been done to her postmortem. Get this stuff out of here. Sorry.”

“Jason, this isn’t your…” My voice trails off as he approaches the central desk and hands me a few papers. “Well, at least you apologised.”

“Where’s the, uh, blueprints of the house?”

“Oh, they’re right here on the screen-”

“I don’t want the blueprints on the screen. I want something I can hold onto.” I sit in front of the screen with the blueprint and start sketching out the floor plans.

“Here you go.”

“It’s hot in here. Can you fix the AC? How do you breathe in here? Can you try to make it a little cooler in here?” I grimace at the sight of the chaos unfolding in front of me, the two talking over each other.

“Uh, yeah. It’s pretty cold, but-”

“Do you have the autopsy reports?”

“I’m gonna have the sheriff from Harringtonville fax it over as soon as they come in.”

“Can I have another cup of coffee, if you would?”

“That, I can do, hang on. You want your usual black?” I ask.

“Yeah. They’re right here.”

“Got it. I’ll get the coffee.”

“Thank you.” I scoff as Penelope walks away, letting go of my grips and throwing my hands up in frustration.

“You’re welcome.”

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

“Chicken broccoli?” Jason asks.

“It’s not that I don’t want to, it’s just…”

“What’s that?”

“Oh, it’s autopsy reports.” I look to them from my homework and sigh. “Annie Stuart’s body was, um...I can’t say it.”

“Missing her liver and stomach.”

“I know that this may seem like a small, dark hole, but it’s my office, and I like to keep it sort of cleanish. Why are you doing that again?”

“What is he doing?”

“Putting his food all over the blueprint.”

“There’s a reason.”

“He’s taking the blood and organs from the bodies and putting them in cylindrical containers. It’s andropothogy.”

“It’s what?”

“Anthonro what what?”

“You don’t want to know.”

“I’m a big girl. I can take it.”

“Literal Greek translation is man eating...guy’s a cannibal.” I put my earbuds in and turn up the music. This is the part where I drop out of the conversation.

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

“HE TOOK THE HEART?! HOTCH?!” Jason yells, coming back into Penelope’s cage.

“Yes.”

“The heart has always had incredible symbolic significance. I mean, aside from just banal romantic associations. The Egyptians left the heart in mummies because they believed the organ ensured eternal life.”

“Something I read...ow! Ow!”

“Jesus Christ, Jason!” I yell out, ripping out my earbuds and spinning the chair to face him.

“Sorry, I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay. Give me the book. The big one. Right there.”

“Okay. Could you get the book, please Penelope, yes I can, here you are. Thank you.”

“Where’s the crime scene photos?”

“Crime scene photos…”

“Does that body look like an angel?”

“Not to me.”

“Scan this in. Send it to them. There was, there was an article by a Cambridge professor. Seems that all the organs the unsub’s taken...stomach, liver, now the heart, they were thought to be the seat of the soul, at one time or another.” I groan and start lightly banging my wrists against my forehead and rocking back and forth.

“Hey, hey, hey, don’t do that, okay? Here’s a slinky,” Penelope gently tells me, placing a metal slinky toy in my hands. My fingers start to manipulate it, exploring every inch of the toy.

“Then he drinks their blood?”

“So when this man drinks his victims’ blood…”

“He believes he’s encountering the divine.”

“Wait a minute, none of this explains why he took the kid.”

“The unsub made the victim into an angel. Maybe the kid’s a messionic figure.”

“Let’s just hope he doesn’t feel the need to sacrifice him.”

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

“Hey, Garcia. Talk to me.”

“Okay, so I got ahold of Eddy’s roommate in college, who describes Eddy as having an overprotective mom.”

“How overprotective?”

“She called him, like, three times a day. And get this. One time, she went up to Boston to break him up with a girlfriend she didn’t like.”

“Wow.”

“Yeah, it seems like Eddy’s entire college experience was some sort of post-adolescent rebellion. He partied like an eighties clubber. He suffered a delusional break due to methamphetamine consumption.”

“Wow. That is partying like an eighties clubber.”

“Right. So then, he was admitted to a mental health facility in Botson,checked himself out a week ago, and found his way home.”

“What was his major?”

“Comparative religion,” I answer. “No idea what that is.”

“Thanks. How is it having Gideon around?”

“Uh, you can have him back whenever you’d like.” Penelope hangs up. “How do you deal with him?”

“You get used to it. By the way, could I have access to your computers for research purposes?”

“It depends on what you are researching, because if you think you can research Peyton again, I am not allowed to let you do that. Oh, and no snooping through case files again.”

“Literally nobody ever told me that my brother went to college, and I can’t figure out why Boston of all places.”

“He went to Harvard.”

“Doesn’t make sense from what I’ve heard about him. Literally the last time I saw him...fuck, that was when Eddie graduated high school. And I was eight. And we went to Peyton.”

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

“Hey! You guys are back!”

“Hey, sweetheart.”

“Don’t sweetheart me. I may not be a Supervisory Speical Agent, but that does not make me a maid.”

“What do you mean?”

“What do I mean?” Penelope and Aaron head up the stairs, her carrying a tote of Jason’s things. “This is the third box of crap that Gideon left in my office. There’s at least two more, and everything smells like soy sauce!-”

“I’ll take care of it,” Aaron quietly offers, taking the box from her.

“Was he that bad?” Derek asks me.

“Frustrating, yes. I can’t confirm or deny the soy sauce, though. Hey, can I annoy you guys until Aaron takes me home? Penelope’s probably sick of me.” Derek chuckles.

“Of course, kid. You gotta tell us what’s been new with your friends, though.”

#criminal minds fanfiction #adoptedbydavidrossi #fine line

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gadgetgirl71 · 4 years

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Amazon First Reads for June 2020

I know I say this every single month, but I can’t get over how quickly the last month has gone. Meaning that for Amazon Prime Members we get to choose which Amazon First Read were going to download for free. Again this month as most months there are eight books to choose from.

This months choices are:

Suspense

The Bone Jar by S W Kane, Pages: 328, Publication Date: 1 July 2020

Synopsis: Two murders. An abandoned asylum. Will a mysterious former patient help untangle the dark truth?

The body of an elderly woman has been found in the bowels of a derelict asylum on the banks of the Thames. As Detective Lew Kirby and his partner begin their investigation, another body is discovered in the river nearby. How are the two murders connected?

Before long, the secrets of Blackwater Asylum begin to reveal themselves. There are rumours about underground bunkers and secret rooms, unspeakable psychological experimentation, and a dark force that haunts the ruins, trying to pull back in all those who attempt to escape. Urban explorer Connie Darke, whose sister died in a freak accident at the asylum, is determined to help Lew expose its grisly past. Meanwhile Lew discovers a devastating family secret that threatens to turn his life upside down.

As his world crumbles around him, Lew must put the pieces of the puzzle together to keep the killer from striking again. Only an eccentric former patient really knows the truth—but will he reveal it to Lew before it’s too late?

Contemporary Fiction

Someone Else’s Secret by Julia Spiro, Pages: 363, Publication Date: 1 July 2020

Synopsis: Here’s the thing about secrets: they change shape over time, become blurry with memory, until the truth is nearly lost.

2009. Lindsey and Georgie have high hopes for their summer on Martha’s Vineyard. In the wake of the recession, ambitious college graduate Lindsey accepts a job as a nanny for an influential family who may help her land a position in Boston’s exclusive art world. Georgie, the eldest child in that family, is nearly fifteen and eager to find herself, dreaming of independence and yearning for first love.

Over the course of that formative summer, the two young women develop a close bond. Then, one night by the lighthouse, a shocking act occurs that ensnares them both in the throes of a terrible secret. Their budding friendship is shattered, and neither one can speak of what happened that night for ten long years.

Until now. Lindsey and Georgie must confront the past after all this time. Their quest for justice will require costly sacrifices, but it also might give them the closure they need to move on. All they know for sure is that when the truth is revealed, their lives will be forever changed once again.

From a fresh voice in fiction, this poignant and timely novel explores the strength and nuance of female friendship, the cost of ambition, and the courage it takes to speak the truth.

Mystery

Never Look Back by Mary Burton, Pages: 332, Publication Date: 1 July 2020

Synopsis: Expect the unexpected in this gritty, tense, and page-turning mystery from New York Times bestselling author Mary Burton.

After multiple women go missing, Agent Melina Shepard of the Tennessee Bureau of Investigation makes the impulsive decision to go undercover as a prostitute. While working the street, she narrowly avoids becoming a serial killer’s latest victim; as much as it pains her to admit, she needs backup.

Enter lone wolf FBI agent Jerrod Ramsey. Stonewalled by a lack of leads, he and Melina investigate a scene where a little girl has been found abandoned in a crashed vehicle. They open the trunk to reveal a horror show and quickly realise they’re dealing with two serial killers with very different MOs. The whole situation brings back memories for Melina—why does this particular case feel so connected to her painful past?

Before time runs out, Melina must catch not one but two serial killers, both ready to claim another victim—and both with their sights set on her.

Thriller

Find Me by Anne Frasier, Pages: 286, Publication Date: 1 July 2020

Synopsis: A bone-chilling family history is unearthed in a heart-stopping thriller by New York Times bestselling author Anne Frasier.

Convicted serial killer Benjamin Fisher has finally offered to lead San Bernardino detective Daniel Ellis to the isolated graves of his victims. One catch: he’ll only do it if FBI profiler Reni Fisher, his estranged daughter, accompanies them. As hard as it is to exhume her traumatic childhood, Reni can’t say no. She still feels complicit in her father’s crimes.

Perfect to play a lost little girl, Reni was the bait to lure unsuspecting women to their deaths. It’s time for closure. For her. For the families. And for Daniel. He shares Reni’s obsession with the past. Ever since he was a boy, he’s been convinced that his mother was one of Fisher’s victims.

Thirty years of bad memories are flooding back. A master manipulator has gained their trust. For Reni and Daniel, this isn’t the end of a nightmare. It’s only the beginning.

Book Club Fiction

The Lending Library by Aliza Fogelson, Pages: 295, Publication Date: 1 July 2020

Synopsis: For fans of Jane Green and Loretta Nyhan, a heartwarming debut novel about a daydreamer who gives her town, and herself, an amazing gift: a lending library in her sun-room.

When the Chatsworth library closes indefinitely, Dodie Fairisle loses her sanctuary. How is a small-town art teacher supposed to cope without the never-ending life advice and enjoyment that books give her? Well, when she’s as resourceful and generous as Dodie, she turns her sun-room into her very own little lending library.

At first just a hobby, this lit lovers’ haven opens up her world in incredible ways. She knows books are powerful, and soon enough they help her forge friendships between her zany neighbours—and attract an exciting new romance.

But when the chance to adopt an orphaned child brings Dodie’s secret dream of motherhood within reach, everything else suddenly seems less important. Finding herself at a crossroads, Dodie must figure out what it means to live a full, happy life. If only there were a book that could tell her what to do…

Historical Fiction

Opium and Absinthe by Lydia Kang, Pages: 379, Publication Date: 1 July 2020

Synopsis: From the bestselling author of A Beautiful Poison comes another spellbinding historical novel full of intrigue, occult mystery, and unexpected twists.

New York City, 1899. Tillie Pembroke’s sister lies dead, her body drained of blood and with two puncture wounds on her neck. Bram Stoker’s new novel, Dracula, has just been published, and Tillie’s imagination leaps to the impossible: the murderer is a vampire. But it can’t be—can it?

A ravenous reader and researcher, Tillie has something of an addiction to truth, and she won’t rest until she unravels the mystery of her sister’s death. Unfortunately, Tillie’s addicted to more than just truth; to ease the pain from a recent injury, she’s taking more and more laudanum…and some in her immediate circle are happy to keep her well supplied.

Tillie can’t bring herself to believe vampires exist. But with the hysteria surrounding her sister’s death, the continued vampiric slayings, and the opium swirling through her body, it’s becoming increasingly difficult for a girl who relies on facts and figures to know what’s real—or whether she can trust those closest to her.

Epic Fantasy

Scarlet Odyssey by C T Rwizi, Pages: 534, Publication Date: 1 July 2020

Synopsis: Magic is women’s work; war is men’s. But in the coming battle, none of that will matter.

Men do not become mystics. They become warriors. But eighteen-year-old Salo has never been good at conforming to his tribe’s expectations. For as long as he can remember, he has loved books and magic in a culture where such things are considered unmanly. Despite it being sacrilege, Salo has worked on a magical device in secret that will awaken his latent magical powers. And when his village is attacked by a cruel enchantress, Salo knows that it is time to take action.

Salo’s queen is surprisingly accepting of his desire to be a mystic, but she will not allow him to stay in the tribe. Instead, she sends Salo on a quest. The quest will take him thousands of miles north to the Jungle City, the political heart of the continent. There he must gather information on a growing threat to his tribe.

On the way to the city, he is joined by three fellow outcasts: a shunned female warrior, a mysterious nomad, and a deadly assassin. But they’re being hunted by the same enchantress who attacked Salo’s village. She may hold the key to Salo’s awakening—and his redemption.

Children’s Picture Book

Kat and Juju by Kataneh Vahdani, Pages: 40, Publication Date: 1 July 2020

Synopsis: An unlikely duo star in a charming story about being different, finding courage, and the importance of friendship in the first book in a new series from an award-winning animation director.

Kat likes doing things her very own way, but sometimes she doubts herself. So when a bird named Juju arrives, Kat hopes he’ll be the best friend she’s always wanted. He’s outgoing and silly and doesn’t worry about what others think—the opposite of who she is. Bit by bit, with Juju’s help, Kat discovers her strength, and how to have a friend and be one—while still being true to herself.

*** Which book will you choose? I chose “Opium and Absinthe” as soon as I saw the cover I knew that was this book I had to choose. Let me know which book you choose. ***

#amazonfirstreads #amazonkindle #amazonprimemembers #bookclubfiction #books #childrenspicturebooks #contemporary fiction #epicfantasy #goodreads #HistoricalFiction #Kindle #Kindlebooks #mystery #suspense #thriller

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robertdowneyjjr · 5 years

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mean girls au👀

HAHAH omg okay here goes!!

tony’s been home schooled all his life. he learns really quickly and his knowledge is super advanced, and schools have suggested to his parents that they put him in a fast track program, but maria doesn’t want tony to be bullied for being smarter than kids older than him. so home school it is.

then tony hits 16 and he’s being pressured to go to MIT early, but he doesn’t want to just yet. he hasn’t learned how to socialize properly. he doesn’t really have friends. how is he supposed to survive in college without these basic skills??

so he tells his parents he wants to go to a regular high school and make friends with kids his age and also graduate at 18 like normal students. it takes a bit of time to convince them, but eventually his parents cave in.

high school is fucking scary. tony gets lost on the first day, but luckily he’s in the same homeroom as james rhodes and pepper potts who take it upon themselves to give tony the tour of their school and basically take care of him.

they’re out by the field when tony gets his first glance at the plastics. leader of the pack is loki, vindictive and manipulative, does whatever he wants and gets away with it. everyone is terrified of him and he basks in it.

loki tried to ruin pepper’s life because he was threatened by how smart she is.

natasha is loki’s bff but also kind of despises him at the same time. her hair is so big because it’s full of secrets.

loki’s brother thor hangs out with them too. it’s not necessarily that he’s a mean person. he plays dumb a lot because people expect him to be the stupid brother, and it gets him places so he’s like, eh why not. and he kinda hangs around to keep an eye on loki.

as tony’s making his way through the cafeteria to pepper and rhodey, loki spots him and immediately asks tony to sit with them at lunch after clint asked tony if he wanted him to butter his muffin. nat throws her fork at clint for not calling her back. loki tells clint to go shave his back.

pepper wants tony to take this opportunity to get back at loki for trying to get her expelled from school during their freshmen year. tony agrees because he thinks this is how people makes friends in high school. rhodey’s exasperated because he doesn’t want to be involved in this, but who else is going to watch out for them and pick up the pieces when this all goes to shit.

anyway tony’s favorite class is calculus with mr. banner. it’s the one he does the best in (although to be fair he does well in every single class), and it’s also where he meets dreamy senior student, captain of the swim team, steve rogers.

steve is super into tony!! tony is super into steve!! but loki does not like that. he dated steve super briefly for like two weeks a year ago, told him he was too boring and dumped him, and now has an on-off thing with fandral. but you know what!! loki now decides he loves steve and steve’s hair looks sexy pushed back.

anyway, tony’s sad and decides okay he’s gonna ruin loki’s life. that bitch. he’s gonna make loki’s face smell like feet.

shit goes down!!!

principal fury did not leave the south side for this and also has been personally victimized by loki odinson.

anyway loki gets run over by a bus. yikes!! but he’s fine. he still makes it to the spring formal and fandral is his date.

oh also, phil coulson keeps trying to get tony to join the mathletes, which he finally does as penance for being dumb and getting caught up in high school drama.

(mr. banner forgives tony for the mean things he wrote in the burn book and also writes an amazing recommendation for his college apps the next year.)

tony wins the crown at the spring formal and makes an emotional speech, even though they don’t actually do speeches for this kinda stuff. he makes up with pepper and rhodey after their falling out amidst all the Drama. tony and steve finally dance and make out.

clint and nat get back together. thor’s just having a good time and trying to show people how he can fit his whole fist in his mouth.

the next year, steve goes off to boston for college. he and tony do long distance and it’s fine. tony goes to MIT the year after anyway.

pepper starts dating coulson and it’s kinda weird but kinda works.

loki joins the lacrosse team and his wily ways gets them to the national tournament.

nat joins a new clique that comprises of other awesome badass girls sharon carter and maria hill. she’s still dating clint.

thor predicts the weather for the school news program.

rhodey’s just really glad all the drama is over.

send me an au and i’ll give you headcanons

#lol this got so long omg #stevetony #stevetony mean girls au #headcanon things #kay writes things #infinitony #ask

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wistfulcynic · 5 years

Text

Another Brick In The Wall, Chapter 12

a/n: This one is short and sweet, just a little bit of fluff and plot development. It was going to be longer, but I decided to split it and I think you’ll understand why...

Summary: Emma Swan, sheriff’s daughter, mayor’s niece, quarterback’s girlfriend, is the undisputed princess of Storybrooke High. She is smart and confident and used to getting what she wants. What she wants is Killian Jones, the new boy in school. But Killian is not easily manipulated, and reluctant to allow the dark secrets in his past to touch the girl he is rapidly falling in love with. Rating: T Read it on AO3: Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 | Chapter 5 | Chapter 6 | Chapter 7 | Chapter 8 | Chapter 9 | Chapter 10 | Chapter 11 | Chapter 12

Tags for: @darkcolinodonorgasm @jennjenn615 @hollyethecurious @resident-of-storybrooke @kmomof4 @bonbonpirate

Chapter 12:

“Swan, I have somthing to discuss with you,” said Killian one lunchtime at the beginning of April. They were sitting outside, enjoying an early spring day that was both bright and warm; fortunately so, as neither of them was quite ready to return to the library at lunch. Emma still turned pink whenever she saw Miss French, and frankly the quiet and solitude there offered too much temptation to repeat the activities that had embarrassed them in front of her in the first place. Better to stay away from the library, and out in public.

“That sounds ominous,” Emma replied.

“I hope not, but it is serious. You remember I told you that I had a provisional place to study at Oxford, that I could start there next year if I got high enough AP scores?”

“Yeah,” she replied, ignoring the twist in her belly at the thought of him being so far away. They could survive a few years long-distance, she knew, she had complete faith in the strength of their relationship, but that didn’t mean she was looking forward to it. An ocean between them meant months of not seeing Killian except for his face on a screen, months of not being able to touch or hold or kiss him. As happy as they had been together over the past few weeks, that future separation loomed large and depressing.

“Well, a few months ago Miss French suggested that maybe I might be able to stay here, in the US I mean, for university. ‘College,’ I suppose I should call it.”

“Really?”

“Yeah. She contacted the Oxford tutor I’d been planning to work with, and he contacted a colleage of his at Harvard, and well, the gist of the tale is that they’ve offered me the same deal. Get the AP scores and I can start there next year.”

“At Harvard?”

“Yeah.”

“Thats— that’s fantastic!” Emma threw her arms around them, oblivious to the other students in the yard, overwhelmed by the relief and happiness surging through her.

“I’m pleased with it.” Killian smiled, returning her hug and kissing her temple as she snuggled against him, her head on his shoulder. “There is a condition, though,” he continued, “and that is for me to return to Oxford for any graduate degrees, which honestly would be my preference regardless. Oxford is really the best place to study languages on an advanced level. But the more I think about it the more I realise I’d quite like to go to an American college. At British universities you focus only on your chosen subject, but I’d like the chance to explore some other subjects besides languages.” He thought for a moment. “My maths and physics classes here have been really interesting, maybe I’ll try engineering. Or architecture. Having a hand in building something would be amazing.”

His eyes were bright with enthusiasm, his expression open and eager, and as she listened to him she felt a rush of pure love. He was such a nerd. Oh, he hid it well behind his smart mouth and occasionally almost Brontë-level moodiness, but underneath all that he was passionately devoted to his interests, and in the end wasn’t that what made a nerd?

“Did I tell you I got into Columbia?” she asked casually.

“Architecture might be something I could— wait, what?”

She grinned at his delighted expression. “Got the email last week. Off the wait list and in. Mom’s thrilled, of course, and taking all the credit. Says I’m a ‘legacy.’”

“That’s nonsense, love it was all you. You’re brilliant, and amazing.” His voice brimmed with pride.

Emma resisted the urge to point out that if anyone was brilliant and amazing it was the seventeen year old who’d secured a special deal to go to Harvard. But that would only embarrass him, and there were more important matters to discuss. “You know what this means, right?” she said eagerly. “With me in New York and you in Boston we’ll only be a few hours away on the train. We could see each other every few weeks.”

“I’ll confess that this was not a minor factor in my decision to stay here for school,” he replied. “The idea of being an ocean away from you was not one I cared to contemplate.”

“Me neither. Oh, this is incredible, babe, I’m so happy.”

“As am I, love.”

And she could see that he meant it. Although his dark cloud still sometimes fell, although the shadows occasionally still lurked behind his eyes, he was happy. They were happy, together. And she wanted more people to have a chance at what they had.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Emma Swan had always known, somewhere in the recesses of her mind, that she had what any objective observer would consider a charmed life. She had been raised by loving parents in a town where everyone knew her and cared for her, and she had grown up smart and athletic, confident and charming, pretty and popular. The circumstances of her life combined with her natural gifts had always reliably ensured that she didn’t have to work too hard for anything, and that the work she did do produced satisfactory results. She had good grades, tons of friends, and had never failed at anything she’d tried to do.

Not that she didn’t also have her flaws. As much as she was kind, considerate, and determined, she was also complacent, shielded by privilege, stubborn, and self-satisfied in the way that only a pretty, pampered girl can be. As a result she had never really examined anything about herself or her life, never questioned her place in the world or challenged the expectations placed on her. She had led her clique, become a cheerleader, dated Neal, all because everyone else seemed to expect it, and she’d had no reason to object. She’d had no reason to ask herself if those things were actually what she wanted or simply what other people wanted for her, figuring that it didn’t really matter, everything would work out in the end. Why wouldn’t it? She was Emma Swan, after all. Things always worked out for her.

All that had changed when she’d met Killian. For the first time in her life Emma had wanted something she couldn’t have, for the first time she had found herself truly empathising with another person, putting herself in his shoes, feeling the pain that he felt. She had made the decision to put his needs first, the hardest decision of her young life, and that had changed her. Killian had changed her. By not obediently falling into line, by making her work for his trust and friendship, by calling her out for what she was and making her see that there were things in this world that didn’t simply fall into her lap because she was Emma Swan, Killian had challenged her preconceptions, broadened her horizons and made her take a hard look herself and her life, for the very first time.

She wasn’t entirely sure she liked what she saw. It astonished her now to think, for instance, about how she’d allowed Neal to treat her, how she’d just accepted his microaggressions and petty digs like they were something normal and to be expected. She had buried her reservations, her distaste, her outright dislike of him, because of what other people had thought. Because the head cheerleader dated the quarterback, that was just how things were done, and the lack of chemistry, common interests, even basic compatibility between herself and Neal made no difference. She had come to realise, slowly and painfully, that many of things she’d thought she wanted, the things that had always come so easily to her, were perhaps not what she really wanted at all. That perhaps the things she really wanted would be harder to obtain. Like Killian. Like the future she was beginning to envision with him.

The one thing that Emma had always known was what she wanted to do with her life was to help people, to find something she could do that would make other people’s lives better. Like her father the law enforcer, like her mother the teacher. They were leaders and guides and she admired them, wanted to be like them. But she saw now through her newly opened eyes that if she wanted to make a real difference she couldn’t live the rest of her life in a small town surrounded by people who were basically just like her. Killian had made her see that there was a great wide world beyond Storybrooke, a world full of people whose lives and experiences she couldn’t even begin to fathom. If she wanted to help them she would need to understand them, and to understand them she would need to meet them, to see firsthand what they were dealing with.

Her parents expected her to follow the same path they had taken. And she intended to, if not quite in the way they anticipated.

“Forensic psychology,” she said firmly, ignoring her mother’s worried brow and her father’s stern concern. “That’s what I want to do. I want to help victims of crimes, help people who suffered trauma to get their lives back, like Dr Hopper did with Killian. I’ve been thinking about it for a long time but now I’m sure. That’s what I’m going to study.”

“But that’s… that’s years of school, isn’t it?” said Snow. “That’s advanced degrees.”

“You have a master’s degree, Mom!”

“Which I did online from home after working for several years! You’re talking about a PhD, that’s at least an eight year commitment before you can even get started! Do you really want to be away from Storybrooke for eight years?”

“Yeah,” said Emma, bracing herself. “About that.”

“About what?” asked Snow, in a voice that suggested she already knew.

“I don’t think I’ll be coming back to live in Storybrooke anytime soon.”

Snow closed her eyes and sighed. Somehow she’d known this was coming.

“If I want to really help people I have to live somewhere where people need help,” said Emma. “And no offense, Dad, but SB isn’t exactly a hotbed of violent crime.”

“Violent crime,” echoed Snow faintly. David remained silent, his arms crossed over his chest.

“Plus, Killian wants to be a linguist, and that’s not really an in-demand job here either.”

“Is Killian behind this decision, then?” asked Snow sharply.

“Well, he is, but probably not in the way you think. He’d be happy to live anywhere I wanted. If I wanted to stay here he would find something to do.”

“Well, then, I don’t see any reason—”

“But that’s not what I want, Mom! I don’t want to hold Killian back, I don’t want to hold myself back. And I don’t want to live forever in the small town I grew up in.”

“But— you never said before—”

“I never actually thought about it before. But now I have and I know what I want. I want to see how other people live, and I want to learn about other ways of thinking. I don’t just want to be complacent in my little box of other people’s expectations. I want to challenge myself and find out what I’m really made of.”

“Oh, Emma,” Snow sighed, recognising the stubborn set of her daughter’s jaw and realising that all her plans for Emma’s life were about to go up in smoke. “David, talk to her!”

David had sat silently throughout the discussion, and he considered his words carefully now before he spoke. “I’m proud of you, Emma,” he said finally.

“David!”

“You know that I will always support any decision you make,” David continued, placing a calming hand on Snow’s knee. “We’ve tried to raise you to make good ones, and I trust your judgement. But I admit I never expected you to make a decision like this, and I could not be more proud. You’ve chosen a path that will be hard, harder than many alternative paths you could have gone for. But I think it will be a rewarding, and more importantly a worthwhile one.”

“But David, everything we’ve worked to give her!” cried Snow.

“We worked to give her everything we could so that she would have the freedom to live her life as she wished to,” said David. “That’s what she intends to do. We have to respect her choices, Snow.”

Emma rose from where she had been curled up in an armchair and sat on her father’s lap, something she hadn’t done in years. Wrapping her arms around his neck, she squeezed him tightly and buried her face in his shoulder.

“Thank you, Daddy,” she whispered.

David squeezed her back. “I love you, Duckling,” he replied, turning his head to shoot his wife a significant look. “Snow?”

“Oh, you know I love you both,” said Snow, shifting on the sofa so she could embrace both husband and daughter. “I’d just hoped— But never mind, Emma, if this is your decision and you’re happy with it then I am happy for you.”

Emma and David each put an arm around her, and the three of them sat that way for a long time, thinking about the future.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

One sunny afternoon in early May Killian and Emma were walking from Granny’s to the school to pick up Emma’s car which they’d left in the school lot after fencing club, preferring to walk to Granny’s and back in the warm sunshine. They walked arm-in-arm, their custom now, their strides perfectly matched and the silence between them easy and comfortable. Killian loved their comfortable silences; although when necessary he could talk with the best of them, he was not a person who was naturally inclined to a lot of noise and chatter. He preferred quiet more often than not, and always needed some peace after spending time in a noisy environment, even one he enjoyed like a concert or open mic, or a rowdy family dinner of the sort he and Emma seemed to find themselves at every weekend these days. He loved that they could just be together, just enjoy each other’s company without needing to fill the silence with talk. Her presence calmed his often turbulent mind, made him feel grounded and happy, and even better, content. He didn’t think he’d ever known simple contentment before in all his life and he treasured it.

Yet that afternoon the silence would have to be broken.

“Swan,” he said.

“Hmmm?” Emma was clearly still caught up in whatever thoughts she’d been thinking before he spoke.

“What are you thinking about?” He was suddenly curious to know what had put that little smile on her face, and what he had to say could wait.

“Just thinking about this summer. School’s going to be over soon. Do you think you’ll get a job?”

“I have one already. I’m going to be helping Liam with some work at the docks, and also it seems I’ll be tutoring your cousin Henry in maths.”

“Yeah, he told me. Would you call that a real job, though?”

“It’s real pay, Swan. Quite a bit of it, actually, your aunt is very determined for him to succeed. And hark at you, daughter of a teacher, thinking tutoring’s not a real job! What would your mother say?”

“Ha ha. I just meant it can’t be many hours.”

“Three per week, which I suppose isn’t many as far as jobs go but is at least two and a half more than Henry would prefer.”

“He’s such a smart kid, but hopeless at math. He’ll keep you on your toes.”

“I’ll be prepared. I assume you’re asking me about this because you have a job of your own?”

“Yeah, I’m going to be working at the ice cream shop. They have extended summer hours and they get really busy. And my dad says I can shadow one of his deputies a couple of days a week. He says if I’m going to be working with law enforcers, even as a psychologist, I should know what they do from the ground up.”

“That sounds like a solid plan.”

“And it will leave plenty of time for us to do stuff together,” she said, pulling her arm from his so she could wrap it around his waist and lean her head on his shoulder. He draped his own arm around her waist, his hand casually on her hip, brushing a kiss over her hair as they continued to walk, their movements so in sync that their pace never faltered. Killian smiled to himself. As wonderful as the comfortable silence was, the casual intimacy might be even better. That he could touch her freely and she him was one of the great joys of his life.

“I very much look forward to hearing about these summer activities that I can tell you’re planning, love, but I have a more immediate concern that we need to discuss.”

“Oh? And what’s that?”

“You have to promise not to laugh.”

She was indignant. “Killian Jones, when have I ever laughed at you?”

“You laugh at me all the time!”

“I laugh with you, which is not the same. You can’t blame me for laughing when you’re trying to be funny!”

“All right, I suppose that’s fair. But this time—”

“I promise not to laugh, Killian.”

He nodded. “Good. Well. Okay.” He drew a deep breath. “God, I feel like a right git asking this, these are words that I never in all my life thought I’d need to say, but… well, um…”

“Spit it out, Jones, I’m losing my will to live here,” teased Emma, burying her grin in his shoulder. She was pretty sure she knew what was coming, and despite her promise was very tempted to laugh at him. After all his snarky comments about American high school clichés he was finally being forced to eat his words.

“Are you really going to make me say it, Swan?”

“I absolutely am, and also I have no idea what you’re talking about. Did you have something you wanted to ask me?”

He groaned, and she swallowed a giggle.

“Fine,” he grumbled, “though I think that if you really loved me you wouldn’t put me through this.”

“Love is pain, babe, isn’t that what Fergie sang?”

“Another right git, so the quote seems apt. Okay, look. Emma. Will you— oh, God, I absolutely cannot say it!”

“Yes you can, and you’d better or I’ll go with someone else! Surely you don’t think you’re the only one who’s asked me. Or hasn’t asked me, in your case.”

“Someone’s asked you to the prom behind my back?” he snarled, bristling in indignation. “Who? Tell me so I can flatten the bastard.”

“Asked me to the what now?” She blinked at him, eyes wide and innocent.

The look on his face was priceless. “Bloody hell, I walked right into that one, didn’t I?”

“For a smart guy you are so dumb sometimes. Just ask me, it’s not like you don’t know the answer.”

He shot her a smirk that was second cousin to a leer. “I would never consider you a foregone conclusion, my darling.”

“Just ask me, Killian!”

“Argh! Fine! Emma, will you go to the prom with me?”

“Yes, of course I will. I thought you’d never ask. Like, literally, never.”

Further notes: Yes, we will see them go to the ball prom. Naturally.

#cs au ff #high school au #teenage captain swan #daddy charming #David being a real dad is my new favourite thing #another brick in the wall #profdanglaisstuff

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