#OR. BLOCKING YOU AND YOU MAKING A NEW ACCOUNT TO ASK ME WHY I BLOCKED YOU.

[laikahh]

im this close to just slamming my head against the wall

[thestarlightsymphony]

when you find out someone who sent a bunch of asks is a big ol' misogynist and anti-strike and you have to decide if it's worth it to repost all your art without having their shitty name attached to any of it

[sizablelad]

some men really do not know how to take no for an answer.

[mostlysignssomeportents]

How I got scammed

If you'd like an essay-formatted version of this post to read or share, here's a link to it on pluralistic.net, my surveillance-free, ad-free, tracker-free blog:

https://pluralistic.net/2024/02/05/cyber-dunning-kruger/#swiss-cheese-security

I wuz robbed.

More specifically, I was tricked by a phone-phisher pretending to be from my bank, and he convinced me to hand over my credit-card number, then did $8,000+ worth of fraud with it before I figured out what happened. And then he tried to do it again, a week later!

Here's what happened. Over the Christmas holiday, I traveled to New Orleans. The day we landed, I hit a Chase ATM in the French Quarter for some cash, but the machine declined the transaction. Later in the day, we passed a little credit-union's ATM and I used that one instead (I bank with a one-branch credit union and generally there's no fee to use another CU's ATM).

A couple days later, I got a call from my credit union. It was a weekend, during the holiday, and the guy who called was obviously working for my little CU's after-hours fraud contractor. I'd dealt with these folks before – they service a ton of little credit unions, and generally the call quality isn't great and the staff will often make mistakes like mispronouncing my credit union's name.

That's what happened here – the guy was on a terrible VOIP line and I had to ask him to readjust his mic before I could even understand him. He mispronounced my bank's name and then asked if I'd attempted to spend $1,000 at an Apple Store in NYC that day. No, I said, and groaned inwardly. What a pain in the ass. Obviously, I'd had my ATM card skimmed – either at the Chase ATM (maybe that was why the transaction failed), or at the other credit union's ATM (it had been a very cheap looking system).

I told the guy to block my card and we started going through the tedious business of running through recent transactions, verifying my identity, and so on. It dragged on and on. These were my last hours in New Orleans, and I'd left my family at home and gone out to see some of the pre-Mardi Gras krewe celebrations and get a muffalata, and I could tell that I was going to run out of time before I finished talking to this guy.

"Look," I said, "you've got all my details, you've frozen the card. I gotta go home and meet my family and head to the airport. I'll call you back on the after-hours number once I'm through security, all right?"

He was frustrated, but that was his problem. I hung up, got my sandwich, went to the airport, and we checked in. It was total chaos: an Alaska Air 737 Max had just lost its door-plug in mid-air and every Max in every airline's fleet had been grounded, so the check in was crammed with people trying to rebook. We got through to the gate and I sat down to call the CU's after-hours line. The person on the other end told me that she could only handle lost and stolen cards, not fraud, and given that I'd already frozen the card, I should just drop by the branch on Monday to get a new card.

We flew home, and later the next day, I logged into my account and made a list of all the fraudulent transactions and printed them out, and on Monday morning, I drove to the bank to deal with all the paperwork. The folks at the CU were even more pissed than I was. The fraud that run up to more than $8,000, and if Visa refused to take it out of the merchants where the card had been used, my little credit union would have to eat the loss.

I agreed and commiserated. I also pointed out that their outsource, after-hours fraud center bore some blame here: I'd canceled the card on Saturday but most of the fraud had taken place on Sunday. Something had gone wrong.

One cool thing about banking at a tiny credit-union is that you end up talking to people who have actual authority, responsibility and agency. It turned out the the woman who was processing my fraud paperwork was a VP, and she decided to look into it. A few minutes later she came back and told me that the fraud center had no record of having called me on Saturday.

"That was the fraudster," she said.

Oh, shit. I frantically rewound my conversation, trying to figure out if this could possibly be true. I hadn't given him anything apart from some very anodyne info, like what city I live in (which is in my Wikipedia entry), my date of birth (ditto), and the last four digits of my card.

Wait a sec.

He hadn't asked for the last four digits. He'd asked for the last seven digits. At the time, I'd found that very frustrating, but now – "The first nine digits are the same for every card you issue, right?" I asked the VP.

I'd given him my entire card number.

Goddammit.

The thing is, I know a lot about fraud. I'm writing an entire series of novels about this kind of scam:

https://us.macmillan.com/books/9781250865878/thebezzle

And most summers, I go to Defcon, and I always go to the "social engineering" competitions where an audience listens as a hacker in a soundproof booth cold-calls merchants (with the owner's permission) and tries to con whoever answers the phone into giving up important information.

But I'd been conned.

Now look, I knew I could be conned. I'd been conned before, 13 years ago, by a Twitter worm that successfully phished out of my password via DM:

https://locusmag.com/2010/05/cory-doctorow-persistence-pays-parasites/

That scam had required a miracle of timing. It started the day before, when I'd reset my phone to factory defaults and reinstalled all my apps. That same day, I'd published two big online features that a lot of people were talking about. The next morning, we were late getting out of the house, so by the time my wife and I dropped the kid at daycare and went to the coffee shop, it had a long line. Rather than wait in line with me, my wife sat down to read a newspaper, and so I pulled out my phone and found a Twitter DM from a friend asking "is this you?" with a URL.

Assuming this was something to do with those articles I'd published the day before, I clicked the link and got prompted for my Twitter login again. This had been happening all day because I'd done that mobile reinstall the day before and all my stored passwords had been wiped. I entered it but the page timed out. By that time, the coffees were ready. We sat and chatted for a bit, then went our own ways.

I was on my way to the office when I checked my phone again. I had a whole string of DMs from other friends. Each one read "is this you?" and had a URL.

Oh, shit, I'd been phished.

If I hadn't reinstalled my mobile OS the day before. If I hadn't published a pair of big articles the day before. If we hadn't been late getting out the door. If we had been a little more late getting out the door (so that I'd have seen the multiple DMs, which would have tipped me off).

There's a name for this in security circles: "Swiss-cheese security." Imagine multiple slices of Swiss cheese all stacked up, the holes in one slice blocked by the slice below it. All the slices move around and every now and again, a hole opens up that goes all the way through the stack. Zap!

The fraudster who tricked me out of my credit card number had Swiss cheese security on his side. Yes, he spoofed my bank's caller ID, but that wouldn't have been enough to fool me if I hadn't been on vacation, having just used a pair of dodgy ATMs, in a hurry and distracted. If the 737 Max disaster hadn't happened that day and I'd had more time at the gate, I'd have called my bank back. If my bank didn't use a slightly crappy outsource/out-of-hours fraud center that I'd already had sub-par experiences with. If, if, if.

The next Friday night, at 5:30PM, the fraudster called me back, pretending to be the bank's after-hours center. He told me my card had been compromised again. But: I hadn't removed my card from my wallet since I'd had it replaced. Also, it was half an hour after the bank closed for the long weekend, a very fraud-friendly time. And when I told him I'd call him back and asked for the after-hours fraud number, he got very threatening and warned me that because I'd now been notified about the fraud that any losses the bank suffered after I hung up the phone without completing the fraud protocol would be billed to me. I hung up on him. He called me back immediately. I hung up on him again and put my phone into do-not-disturb.

The following Tuesday, I called my bank and spoke to their head of risk-management. I went through everything I'd figured out about the fraudsters, and she told me that credit unions across America were being hit by this scam, by fraudsters who somehow knew CU customers' phone numbers and names, and which CU they banked at. This was key: my phone number is a reasonably well-kept secret. You can get it by spending money with Equifax or another nonconsensual doxing giant, but you can't just google it or get it at any of the free services. The fact that the fraudsters knew where I banked, knew my name, and had my phone number had really caused me to let down my guard.

The risk management person and I talked about how the credit union could mitigate this attack: for example, by better-training the after-hours card-loss staff to be on the alert for calls from people who had been contacted about supposed card fraud. We also went through the confusing phone-menu that had funneled me to the wrong department when I called in, and worked through alternate wording for the menu system that would be clearer (this is the best part about banking with a small CU – you can talk directly to the responsible person and have a productive discussion!). I even convinced her to buy a ticket to next summer's Defcon to attend the social engineering competitions.

There's a leak somewhere in the CU systems' supply chain. Maybe it's Zelle, or the small number of corresponding banks that CUs rely on for SWIFT transaction forwarding. Maybe it's even those after-hours fraud/card-loss centers. But all across the USA, CU customers are getting calls with spoofed caller IDs from fraudsters who know their registered phone numbers and where they bank.

I've been mulling this over for most of a month now, and one thing has really been eating at me: the way that AI is going to make this kind of problem much worse.

Not because AI is going to commit fraud, though.

One of the truest things I know about AI is: "we're nowhere near a place where bots can steal your job, we're certainly at the point where your boss can be suckered into firing you and replacing you with a bot that fails at doing your job":

https://pluralistic.net/2024/01/15/passive-income-brainworms/#four-hour-work-week

I trusted this fraudster specifically because I knew that the outsource, out-of-hours contractors my bank uses have crummy headsets, don't know how to pronounce my bank's name, and have long-ass, tedious, and pointless standardized questionnaires they run through when taking fraud reports. All of this created cover for the fraudster, whose plausibility was enhanced by the rough edges in his pitch - they didn't raise red flags.

As this kind of fraud reporting and fraud contacting is increasingly outsourced to AI, bank customers will be conditioned to dealing with semi-automated systems that make stupid mistakes, force you to repeat yourself, ask you questions they should already know the answers to, and so on. In other words, AI will groom bank customers to be phishing victims.

This is a mistake the finance sector keeps making. 15 years ago, Ben Laurie excoriated the UK banks for their "Verified By Visa" system, which validated credit card transactions by taking users to a third party site and requiring them to re-enter parts of their password there:

https://web.archive.org/web/20090331094020/http://www.links.org/?p=591

This is exactly how a phishing attack works. As Laurie pointed out, this was the banks training their customers to be phished.

I came close to getting phished again today, as it happens. I got back from Berlin on Friday and my suitcase was damaged in transit. I've been dealing with the airline, which means I've really been dealing with their third-party, outsource luggage-damage service. They have a terrible website, their emails are incoherent, and they officiously demand the same information over and over again.

This morning, I got a scam email asking me for more information to complete my damaged luggage claim. It was a terrible email, from a noreply@ email address, and it was vague, officious, and dishearteningly bureaucratic. For just a moment, my finger hovered over the phishing link, and then I looked a little closer.

On any other day, it wouldn't have had a chance. Today – right after I had my luggage wrecked, while I'm still jetlagged, and after days of dealing with my airline's terrible outsource partner – it almost worked.

So much fraud is a Swiss-cheese attack, and while companies can't close all the holes, they can stop creating new ones.

Meanwhile, I'll continue to post about it whenever I get scammed. I find the inner workings of scams to be fascinating, and it's also important to remind people that everyone is vulnerable sometimes, and scammers are willing to try endless variations until an attack lands at just the right place, at just the right time, in just the right way. If you think you can't get scammed, that makes you especially vulnerable:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/02/24/passive-income/#swiss-cheese-security

Image: Cryteria (modified) https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:HAL9000.svg

CC BY 3.0 https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by/3.0/deed.en

[artemismoorea03]

DPxDC Prompt: Who's Child Is This?

Inspired by an ICarly Clip. "Mr. Wayne, we have your son here."

Bruce blinked, then checked the number on the phone. It was from the police station. He then looked around the table which had fallen silent when Alfred had brought him the phone.

Dick, Jason, Tim, Duke, and Damian were all accounted for. Even Jon was there so they couldn't have misidentified him as his kid.

"Which one?" Bruce chose to ask.

"Tim Drake."

Bruce looked at Tim specifically as he tilted his head confused. "Are you sure?"

"Oh yeah, Mr. Wayne, we know your boys by now."

"Right... alright, I'll be there in a couple of minutes. Can I ask on why Tim has been taken into custody?"

Tim tilted his head even further while some of the others around the table started chuckling.

"He was found trespassing near the new Axion Labs at the edge of the city. The owner chose not to press charges so we're sending him home in your custody."

"I see, I'll be there soon. Thank you for the call."

"Of course, Mr. Wayne, we'll see you soon."

Bruce ended the call then looked at his kids. "Apparently, Tim has been arrested for trespassing near the Axion Labs construction site."

"And you didn't even invite me?" Dick chuckled at Tim, "We could have had so much fun together."

Tim scrunched his nose at the idea. "No way, that whole area is an OSHA violation. If I went there it wouldn't be out of costume, whoever that kid is was risking his life just walking within a block of it."

"Well, I'm going to go down there and see what 'Tim' was thinking." Bruce got out of his seat, "I'll be back soon."

"New brother?" Cass asked as Damian growled.

"We're going to assume no for now, but we may have another for dinner depending on what's going on."

"I will prepare another seat while you are gone, Master Bruce."

"Thanks, Alfred. I'll be back soon."

-

When Bruce walked into the police station he immediately noticed 'Tim' sitting in front of one of the officers desks. It was a newer officer and it was clear that neither Detective Montoya or Commissioner Gordon were in or somebody would have noticed that this kid definitely wasn't Tim.

Yes, the kid had black hair which was on the shorter side but his hair fell in front of his face more than Tim would wear it, and his eyes were unnaturally blue. He was pale in an old hoodie, blue jeans, and red shoes. The biggest difference though was that this kid looked like he was only pushing 15, not 17. Yes, he looked quite a bit like Tim but anybody who had spent more than five minutes with Tim Drake would know they weren't the same person.

"Mr. Wayne." The officer called as Bruce walked over, looking at the kid.

He was thin and pale, which a tired look on his face. He also shrunk away from Bruce when he walked over.

Bruce knew what a kid in trouble looked like. So he smiled down at the kid. "You know, Tim, when I said you could go to the lab to do your science homework I didn't expect you to go all the way to Axion Labs."

The kid looked at him, surprised then seemed to quickly catch on. "What can I say, I had to see what terrible science looked like. Sorry for making you come down here."

"It's fine, but are you okay?"

"Y-yeah, totally." He said, his hand subconsciously moving to his ribs as though he was hurt.

"Alright then you are grounded."

"What?!" 'Tim' squeaked, "Come on-"

"Nope. You are ground... for... 'til... college."

"FOR 'TIL COLLEGE?!"

"For 'til college!"

The officer cleared his throat then held out a clipboard. "If you sign the red x's you can take your son and leave, Mr. Wayne."

Bruce took the papers, quickly looking over it and signing it. It was strange to see that all of the handwriting on the paperwork was adult writing. Had they even asked this kid his name? Once everything was signed he passed it back over to the officer who nodded.

"Looks good. Thanks Mr. Wayne and you stay out of trouble. The whole city knows your face. You're just lucky Mr. Masters didn't want to press charges."

"Yeah, so lucky." The kid rolled his eyes, then stood up and looked up at Bruce. "Can we go now?"

"Sure thing, chum. Come on." Bruce said, leading the kid out of the station and to the car. The kid seemed hesitant as he looked around, his eyes narrowing when they landed on a gentlemen with silver hair in a ponytail, only when the man smiled at 'Tim' did the kid speak up again.

"Come on, Dad, let's get out of here before the stalkers find us." He said, climbing in the front seat and closing the door, much to the annoyance of the silver haired man.

Bruce climbed in the front seat, buckling in and driving away from the station. "So... 'not Tim' what's your name?"

"Danny. Just Danny... sorry about all of that Mr. Wayne. That guy took one look at me and started calling me 'Tim' and when I tried to explain that I wasn't 'Tim' hey called me a liar. But if I gave them my real name then... somebody else was going to come collect me and I didn't want that. So... I let them call me Tim. I'm sorry, I hope it didn't put you out..."

"Not at all. But... are you okay? Why were you at Axion Labs?"

Danny seemed hesitant, "I... it sounds crazy."

"It's Gotham, kid. Crazy things happen all the time..."

"Right... well um... I-I was kidnapped from my home and taken to Axion Labs. I-I escaped and when I was trying to leave the grounds the police saw me and thought I was trespassing. Since the cops were I decided to play along with it..."

Bruce frowned, "Kidnapped? Is... is there somebody I can call?"

Danny shook his head. "I have an older sister who is probably going crazy looking for me but other than her and a couple of friends there wouldn't be anybody. My parents... they were kind of involved. They... they found out something about me and tried to hurt me, I ran to somebody I knew I couldn't trust because I thought maybe he would get his head out of his ass but I was just being an idiot." Danny hugged himself. "You can drop me off anywhere though, you don't have to bother yourself with me or my shit."

Bruce pulled to a stoplight and reached over to the kid who flinched, Bruce waited until he relaxed before Bruce patted his head. "I'm not going to just leave you on the street. Besides, it's late and by now my butler has already dished you some dinner. So at least for tonight you're welcome to stay with me and my kids. We'll get some food in your belly, make sure you're not wounded, let you call your sister, and find a way to get you home. Sound good?" He asked, moving his hand away.

Danny looked at Bruce, seeming a bit untrusting for a moment before he glanced at something near Bruce and relaxed. There was nothing with Bruce, he wasn't carrying anything, but whatever Danny was seeing was enough to put his mind at ease. "Okay... but if anybody tries anything be warned, I bite."

Bruce chuckled, "So do most of the others. You'll fit right in."

'But just what the hell is going on with this kid? Does it have anything to do with that man outside the police station? I've got to get to the bottom of this before this kid leaves, especially if he's still a target.'

[am-i-the-asshole-official]

I (26, NB) dropped a long-term friend (23, not disclosing gender, I'll call them X) for being a proshipper, and now they're trying to get in the way of my other friendships.

A little more than a month ago, an old friend from when I was an itty bitty teen on the internet (we met when they were 12 and I was 15 or so) messaged me on twitter asking if we could share discord since they're more active on that platform, and they missed hanging out. Ok, no prob!! I missed talking to X and life was going kinda icky for me at the time. We exchanged discords and started talking more frequently, before we would talk through twitter dms maybe one day every few months, and we went from almost no contact to talking every single day. It was like being a teenager again; we still shared similar interests and we really fast clicked over old and new fandoms we were in. We talked about college and how they're starting to get the hang of their new job but needed support, talked about our family lives, etc., and in general I felt really comfortable and happy to be chatting again with someone I've known for so long. We were inseparable for weeks.

However... of course, as adults, and having known each other for YEARS, we started talking about fandom ships and fics we enjoyed. We didn't have the same taste in pairings, but that was okay. Until it wasn't anymore.

I shared my NSFW twitter with them, and they followed me. A few minutes later X told me, "I see you have "proship DNI in your bio, I just want to let you know that I am a pro-ship and enjoy some things in fandom that you might think is gross. I hope that's okay."

I was kind of weirded out, and told them that as long as they didn't like anything that would be criminal in real life, that's fine. They told me they *did* enjoy things in fiction that they "wouldn't condone in reality" and even though they "don't talk about it publicly" they still wanted me to know. For some reason. ?? Even though they KNOW that I have an irl history of abuse as a kid, they still told me this.

I was so fucking uncomfortable and really, really sad, and honestly I felt betrayed? I stepped away from my account for like, an hour before messaging them back and saying I didn't want to continue talking to them anymore. That I didn't know they were that kind of person and I'm not comfortable being their friend. I didn't read their response to me because I soft-blocked them.

While I was getting over that and trying to move on, a few days later I was talking to another mutual friend of ours when they asked if I was still friends with X. I got chills remembering how I broke off with them, and said no, we weren't talking anymore. That they were the kind of person that made me really uneasy and uncomfortable to be around. The mutual friend, I'll call R, said that X was "feeling kind of down about losing a friend recently" and talked about it in a discord server they share. X didn't mention my name but R wondered if it was me who dropped them since I was really touchy about boundaries online. I freaked out a little thinking about them talking about me, and asked what else they said, and R told me "not much, just that they felt sad but it was your choice in the end because you two were different" and I don't know why but it left a bad taste in my mouth. Were they trying to make people seem like I was the bad guy or something?? Idk.

I told R the reason why I stopped talking to X, and that X is a proshipper who likes things like inc*st and rape, and R wasn't as supportive as I thought he would be, saying that he understood how I felt but if X was being honest and open about their interests, it probably meant they trusted me and didn't want to "lie" to me. I don't understand how that's even relevant if X is a fucking proshipper. I don't want their trust in the first place if that's who they really are, and I felt betrayed that someone I knew for so long was hiding that for me until we were bonding again. R basically dropped it there and said "idk then" and I told him I was going to shut off my notifs for a bit. I really don't want to talk with him again right now especially since he didn't seem THAT bothered by X being a proshipper who's into really criminal shit.

Since then, friends of mine who are also friends with R (because he's a friend of X still, for some reason), haven't been replying to me as much anymore and I'm super sensitive to noticing these things, at first I told myself it was nothing, but there's an obvious decrease in our interactions. I can't help but think that X actually said bad stuff about me, and R didn't want me to know, or maybe X convinced R that I was a terrible person or something. I still haven't read X's reply to me because I genuinely do not want to interact with them ever again, but for the past few days I've been so angry and hurt by my other friend's actions that I can't help but want to blame them, since this all started when I left them.

AITA for dropping a friend because their interests made me SEVERELY uncomfortable? I don't know what to do.

What are these acronyms?

[mixtape-timeout]

Hi Stays, this is a post to warn everyone to be wary of a SKZ author here on Stayblr with the username @/gimmeurtmi

I followed them not too long ago, but they suddenly blocked me. I was confused why because I have my age in my account and followed all of their rules. However, I have some reasons to suspect that this user is a Zionist. As you can see I am very Pro-Palestine, it’s in my blog title and bio, and I think this is why they blocked me.

They made a post showing anger about Stays educating Felix on his live about Coca-Cola (For people who don’t know, Coca-Cola is on the BDS boycott list, they support Israel and built an R&D center in occupied Palestinian territory of Atarot) In their post they said it’s “pathetic” for Stays to inform Felix about this and that he wasn’t doing anything wrong. Felix made the effort to read about the issue on his live and chose to apologize to Stay for it, but this user thinks that boycotting a brand tied to a genocidal state is the same as bullying.

((Screenshots are not mine))

They also showed strong support for the new SKZ collab with Charlie Puth. Many Stays are boycotting this collab because Charlie Puth is a raging Zionist, and the track also has an Israeli producer, Johnny Goldstein who is also a proud Zionist. gimmeurtmi even made a whole tag for this collab on their blog to show how much they’re excited for it, even though two Zionists worked on it and will be receiving royalties for it. You can also see the tags in the third post showing them speaking of Tommy Hilfiger, yet another Zionist, in a friendly manner.

Furthermore, I talked to other Stays in the community about this because I don’t want to jump to conclusions and gimmeurtmi blocked other users who are showing support for Palestine, not just me. From reading their posts on their other blog (@/stuckonspidey) you can also see how far their beliefs about this go. That’s not to say them being Jewish means they must be a Zionist, because that’s a completely false idea. There are plenty of Jewish people who are not Zionist and support Palestinian liberation because we recognize that what Palestinians are suffering through is a history repeat of what our people went through. But this added with all the other questionable evidence makes me suspicious that this user is a Zionist, or at least an Israeli sympathizer who treats support for Palestine as an inconvenience.

From these posts on their main blog, you can see them refuse to condemn Israel or even say anything about their crimes when they got asked about it. Instead, they just talk about how this genocide has personally affected them. There are no posts (that I could find) of them showing any sympathy or support for Palestine, all their posts about the subject are just self-victimizing posts about how they feel. Yes, it’s a scary time to be a Jewish person as well, I know this as a person of Jewish ancestry, too. But fighting anti-semitism AND fighting for Palestine can and SHOULD co-exist. It’s a huge red flag that the only thing they have to say about the genocide is how Jewish people are the victims in this. They also made another post where they claim that “Zionist” is just a word people use to be anti-semitic. This is a tale as old as time that Zionists have used to excuse, deny, and even justify Israel’s war crimes. I was once told that a genocide of Palestinians doesn’t exist and is just an “anti-semitic blood libel”. This is the exact same rhetoric that Zionists in my community and Zionist news outlets use (which, I add, almost ALL news outlets are strongly biased to Israel because of America’s ties to it. Israel is heavily backed in support from some of the richest and most powerful countries in the world, it is not the victim and never was).

I am not making this for drama. I made this post just to tell fellow Stays to be cautious of which writers you’re reading from and supporting. If you are against the genocide that has been happening to Palestinians for 75 years now, I suggest not supporting this person’s work, because at best they don’t care about what’s happening in Palestine, and at worst, they actually endorse it. There should be no place in our Stay community for this hateful ideology.

[queenie-the-court-jester]

HII, saw your post on wanting asks, well here 🫶 I love talking so, and specifically on playboy yandere!! I'm a sucker for angst and yanderes falling into insanity honestly, so let me ramble a bit

- imagine if reader graduates highschool and gets an overseas scholarships!! They also convince their family to move together with them so Kameron can't hurt or use them to blackmail reader. So with only a break up text saying like "bye manwhore 😍😍", blocking and deleting all their social media, I wonder how long and how far would he take to get reader back again? Would he inherit his parent's riches, hire some private investigatiors to find reader and find the country they're living in, expand his business over to their country in order to gain power to trap his darling. And I wonder how deranged his reaction would be to reader's text and be like no way, they're joking right, and runs to their house and whatever usual spots they're at normally, and just break down into insanity. would he try to use substitutes for reader to maintain his sanity or go fully devoid of emotions and start working hard to gain power and influence to find reader again!! I'm also curious how he would process his darling leaving him, would he become delusional first, saying they got kidnapped or something, or some ex or fling of his hurt reader, and then proceed to anger, depression, grief and then finally accept the reality!!

Ok that's a lot of rambling 😭😭 hope it's okay. I rlly enjoyed that fic, was rent FREE in my mind for a whole day

you know luci, you just gave me an idea. So have a part TWO of THIS DUMBASS HOE 🤝

Yandere playboy x reader

Tw: mentions of murder, kameron being delulu, yandere and obsessive behavior

💋kameron was having another breakdown. Sobbing pathetically on the floor of your old bedroom. Just how did you run away? And on such short notice too!? Didn't his love mean anything to you!? WHY DID YOU ABANDON HIM?

💋a million thoughts swirled through his head, until he finally got one that just... stuck. He had to get you back. No matter how long it takes. Getting up and dusting himself off, he kicked the front door open and quickly left the empty house

💋it was a shame really. The once sane and popular boy was struggling to keep his image. So he got help. Not professional as in therapists and medication. Just hiring other students to cover for him Incase he slipped up. all while snooping through the head teachers computer to see if they had any notes on where you might have gone. He almost got caught a few times

"shit that was close.. i can't believe these idiots leave their passwords just anywhere"

💋he knew he shouldn't be back at the school, especially since he graduated but he needs all the information he can get. Eventually moving onto private investigators and online stalking through multiple other accounts. He'd try anything just to see what his darling was doing without him. Were you enjoying making him suffer? You're so cruel..

💋hiring other people to befriend you and lower your guard, gathering any Information they can

💋 kameron who spent a while convincing his parents to let him take hold of the company. He had a degree, a bright mind, responsibility. He's perfect for the job! Oh if only they knew where his 60% was going.. funding multiple businesses across the world in exchange for keeping a careful eye. Making him quite the celebrity

💋look darling! He's on the news-! ...oh right you're not here.. one evening, while working in his office, a new secretary comes in to introduce themselves. They look just like you! He could only stare in shock.

"my love..? Is that you!?"

"..who?"

💋turns out it was just a doppelganger. But with enough time he'd delude himself into thinking it was you. Courting them with the same flowers, chocolates and jewelry he'd given you. It worked like a charm! Now you were back In their arms again. They felt whole..

💋he married your lookalike a year later, the poor fool being too naive and oblivious to think. He was happy for awhile.. or until one of his P.I's came in to show him they found you. His reality started to break.

💋no.. how could he do this to you. Replacing you with some cheap street whore. That night, when they went to bed, he gave them a cup of water and smiled sweetly. Watching as their face went red and they started to cough for air after gulping it down. Clawing at the sheets and staring at him with wide fearful eyes. Begging him to help them

"...slut."

💋 burrying the body in his backyard, he paid people with underground connections to cover for him while he was away. Claiming they suddenly vanished, having run away with a small fortune. How idiotic are people, to actually believe him..

💋kameron disguised himself and went straight for the country you decided to flee too. 5 years apart from you.. he had no idea how he managed to live so long without his beloved, but it was all worth it. Because now you'll be back where you belong. In his arms.

💋you were busy working at your job, running a small business was no joke but atleast the people in the area were friendly. So you didn't notice the suited figure Infront of your cash register

"thank you, please come again-"

💋you froze, looking up at the terrifyingly familiar face. He stared back at you with only glee and love

"hello my darling~ you've been on a naughty streak for a while Haven't you? That's okay, I'll just set you straight when we go back home."

💋big burly men all blocked you from escaping by guarding the doors. Dragging all the other customers out so you both could have your moment. Now you could never leaver leave him. Ever.

[coulsonlives]

PSA: CAT MEDICAL BILL SCAM

Please signal boost this if possible to inform your followers about these scams.

Earlier today, I got a message from the account nicole-loves-king, where they asked me to signal boost a post because their cat needed medical help. Here's the ask:

(And you can see the post in question here)

I looked at this post and was immediately put off because they were asking for people to send things through 'friends and family', which if you aren't aware, is a very insecure way to send someone funds using paypal, because you don't have the protections you would get if you used 'goods and services'. So scammers can make off w your money really easily.

I looked at their blog and scrolled down to the end, and I realized their blog was made today! And, all their posts (there weren't many posts to begin with lol) were of trending topics. I noted puss in boots, and welcome to nightvale among others. This is probably how they found me, because I reblogged some of that stuff recently.

Here's the time stamp from their oldest post (notice it says the time, not the date, which means the post was from today):

In their ask, they also tell you to answer privately. Hm, that seems sus. Why would someone not want you to publish a request for help?

So I have a policy where I don't signal boost posts from brand new blogs because, yknow, they could be scams. I posted this, and the scam account blocked me. They also blocked my friend when they replied to their ask and said their blog looked suspicious. I did some more digging, and I found a comment from someone that confirmed my suspicions:

This is in fact a scam!

@nicstonka is almost identical to the above account (nicole-loves-king). Look at the avatar, the pictures, and the paypal address, both accounts even have 'nic' (as in 'nicole') in the name. The only thing that is extremely different is the name of the cat! Yet both blogs also have the name of the cat in their url ('king' and 'tonka'). That should also be a red flag, because usually someone isn't gonna have the name of their pet in their url, only a few posts, and a signal boost for that exact (fake) pet.

Here's a side by side:

Looks at those paypal accounts: nbrunelle519, and nbrunelle391. Nope definitely not a scam /s

And the cat pictures side by side:

Tumblr's "scam" tag is actually full of these reports now, which you can see here. Or if there's nothing there anymore, click here and here for images.

And links to some older PSAs about other cat scams: 1 2 3

So if you see any blogs like this, where all they have is trending posts, it seems like they've copied and pasted an ask to you, or if they're asking you to send things via friends and family, vet them so so so carefully, because chances are you're walking into a scam. Don't just repost things without carefully checking! If you aren't in a position to check carefully, better safe than sorry: don't repost it! Don't let these scams spread.

Pro tip: If a blog is dash only, so you can't view their archive to see when their first post was made, and you're on desktop, you can just open the blog in its dashboard view, then click 'end' on your keyboard over and over until all their posts are loaded. Usually if it's a spam blog, you'll only need to click 'end' 5-6 times, sometimes a bit more, since they only post just enough times to give the appearance they're active, then there's absolutely nothing after that.

If you want more proof someone is a scammer, you can look at the currency they use their post (or the currency shown in the vet bill), then hover over the paypal link and inspect the part of the url that says 'country.x=AA'. The 'AA' is the abbreviation for the country your money is going to! If that country doesn't match the country of the currency shown in the post, it's a scam! Example: someone's post says '$' for USD/CAD dollars, but the country in their paypal link is 'PH', which stands for Philippines, where they use Philippine pesos, not dollars!

Also keep in mind that these are not bots! There is a real person behind these accounts. They have replied to people who wanted to confirm they were real, but their intentions are still to scam you, they just know it looks better if they reply.

Stay safe!!

Edit:

Updating this post to announce the scammer's made more blogs, and they're probably gonna keep doing it! Here's the list so far. This isn't up to date btw, go to @scamarchive and check their pinned post for the most recent detected blogs

turncoatrune, starlightdisc, xxmy, wxnt, eeyore-pg, coatedpeanbean, starrypanelstars, panelstars, scyllostyle, the-nonbinary-witch, aash-aash, leechness, ash-aahs, commandobutch, lovely-pages, pagefive-to-six, reconnecteed, five-and-fourty, stepsapphic, farmer-butch0, health-pages, turnersapphic, lxve, march-pls-be-good, emberful, imse7en, kassidymaygemz, kassidymaydream, dreamingkassidy, kasdream, live-march, confusedskulll, march-lives, criticaltuesday, quicksilvah, wrldy, quicksilveey, the-stucked-pan, flurrbum, o345, nxce, thls, hokkairi, sykdykee, furrtasticbu, bumfurry, supsense, wickdart, the90sbest

Keep in mind you may not receive an ask like the above ones. You may get something simpler like this, instead:

Most of these are cats, but there's been dogs and even people too.

If you wanna get even more info on all these accounts, there's an archive of this scammer's pinned posts and asks here, so you can see at a glance how similar they all are. You can also see a comprehensive list of scammer red flags specifically for tumblr here!

And lastly, you can report the scams using 'report something else' > 'unlawful uses or content' > 'phishing'

[ncteez]

✤ Losing It. (masterpost) ✤ // HIATUS

A series of having virginities given to you. Sometimes they throw said virginity at you with full force, other times, they lovingly hold your hand, bat their lashes, and say some of the dumbest shit you’ve ever heard a man say in regards to getting laid for the first time.  ✤ or the one where you go through a list of the seventeen members and learn how they'd lose their virginity to you.

COMPLETED CHAPTERS ― 1/13

SERIES STATUS: actively writing as of march of 2024!

NOTE― All chapters can be read stand alone and do not tie into the others. Each reader and storyline is different! 

SERIES WARNING―There are a variety of different scenarios here involving both very normal and loving sex, to some stories that may contain: sub/dom dynamics, religion kink, obsession, desperate behavior, and purchasing of sex work.

If any of these things make you uncomfortable, I urge you to scroll on and not put yourself in a position of discomfort. I did not write these fics to harm anyone. 

✤ this series is afab!reader. ✤ Warnings, tags, word counts, etc. can be found attached to each chapter. ✤ Disclaimer: some storylines and member order may be prone to change upon writing them. ✤ TAG LIST OPEN!! send me an ask off anon to be on the tag list for this series. you will be tagged for every chapter, not just the specific members you choose.

✤ Chapter One: Cherry Boy[l.c.]

A new relationship is always difficult to navigate, for Chan, it appears to be even more difficult. For you? You’re just left confused as to why your new boyfriend of a month and a half hasn’t made a move on you despite your very obvious attempts to invite him into your personal space. 

You soon realize that your boyfriend is a virgin, and that’s why he’s always running away with his hands covering his bits, even through a simple goodnight kiss. 

STATUS ― virginity loss: success WORD COUNT ― 10k

✤ Chapter Two: Thirst Trappers LIE. [k.sy.]

You find your very innocent best friend’s secret thirst trap account. To your surprise, the “I’m not ready yet” Soonyoung, who literally sleeps with at least seven different plushies, consistently swings his dick at onlookers online. Grey sweatpants, no boxers, thigh flexing, moaning and whimpering audios. 

Maybe he’s not so innocent after all. 

And just maybe you’re right about that, because what he meant by “I’m not ready to have sex yet” really just meant “please have practice sex with me because four thousand people are trying to pull up and i don’t want to be bad at it but i didn’t know how to ask you.” 

STATUS ― v card is actively blocking and reporting everyone who sends a dm EST WORD COUNT ― 5k+

✤ Chapter Three: Scoring One. [s.c.]

The second best hockey player on campus has a secret. Not that he cheats on his exams, or that he had a crush on the lunch lady growing up, it’s that he’s shamefully a virgin, despite his jersey sporting the big bold numbers of a six and a nine.

Thankfully, Soonyoung found out about his dirty little secret and provides him with a number and a promise that the girl on the other line has a thing for desperate dudes. What he didn’t know? He was just about to pay not only the number one party girl on campus to take care of his little issue, but his own little sister’s best friend.

STATUS ― v card is currently tucked in his pocket behind a picture of his little sister. CONTEXT NOTE― this fic does not include an age gap of more than two years. EST WORD COUNT ― 5k+

✤ Chapter Four: One unsolicited dick pic later. [l.sm.]

Never mind why he hasn’t managed to get laid, it’s not like he hasn’t laid in his room for years at night wondering the exact same thing. The current issue is the fact that his friends keep watching porn on the loudspeakers in the living room, he’s drunk, and he got the sudden confidence to send you a dick pic after not speaking to you since he wished you a happy birthday last year.

What he didn’t know though, is that you’ve had a crush on him since that time in third grade he punched Seungkwan for cheating off of his spelling test.

STATUS ― v card is currently sitting in your inbox unread alongside his raging hard-on. EST WORD COUNT ― 5k+

✤ Chapter Five: LOST DOG: FOUND [k.m.]

Mingyu had the chance to lose his virginity right around the time all of his friends did but, well, there were some mishaps. Unfortunately, years later, he is still lying about the loss of it and pretends that he definitely has sex on the regular. He probably would too, if it weren’t for the fact that he’s grown incredibly insecure about his body and what it actually means to sleep with someone.  

Now though, the 26 year old man lives on the floor above you and is known as the pet-sitter of the building. Which is kind of great because it’s far too expensive to board your dog for weekend trips every month. You approach him for the first time with the offer of a hundred bucks to watch your dog, and of course he accepts. 

The issue upon returning home? He lost your 70 pound dog. Like, the whole thing, he lost it. 

STATUS ― v card being handed to you with the leash your dog was supposed to be on. EST WORD COUNT ― 5k+

✤ Chapter Six: LOSER. [j.ww.]

After adding some anonymous dude you found on your city’s subreddit looking for gaming friends, you find yourself confused when he suddenly ghosts you after trying to hold a non-gaming conversation.

Through his friends, you learn that he got cold feet because he’s never been with a woman before, and you decide that you’re just gonna have to show him that a man and a woman can be friends without the assumption that either of you want to fuck each other.

Except, maybe you’re not the best example to prove that, because now you can’t stop flirting with him. Now, you’re growing fond of the way he gets all flustered and turned on at the slightest implication of meeting face to face.

STATUS ― v card is hidden deep within his steam library EST WORD COUNT ― 5k+

✤ Chapter Seven: ISO: Anyone who wants me. [c.v.]

Vernon has never had a girlfriend and he wants one bad. Badder than bad. His group of friends get fed up with his consistent eye-rolls involving couples in public, them when they talk about their girlfriends or hook-ups, and ultimately decide to hold an auction at a campus-wide party.

He was feeling pretty ashamed about being announced as a virgin in need of some love, but the laughing didn’t bother him nearly as much when people actually start a bidding war. 

Apparently, these auctions happen once every few years  and it’s like, a whole thing or whatever. He just happened to be the lucky guy who suddenly has girls lining up for him with cash in hand. And you just happen to be the lucky girl to show him a good time.

STATUS ― v card is currently taped to his forehead EST WORD COUNT ― 5k+

✤ Chapter Eight: To whom it may concern, My desk is sturdy. [l.jh]

The worst thing about spending the night at work to reach deadlines is the fact that the new intern likes to hang out with him. Or rather, distract him. It's insane, really, how he's always about doing things by the book. His whole life revolved around rules and regulations, until he met you. He wanted to wait until marriage, and marriage was not in his books anytime soon. So, with all the stress on his back and you sitting across from him trying to get him to live a little, he decides to live a little too much.

STATUS ― v card framed on his office desk EST WORD COUNT ― 5k+

✤ Chapter Nine: How to be forgiven when you're (not) sorry. [h.j.]

Faith should be put into God, not the priest that consistently finds himself wanting to lead a pretty woman further from the union of God. He’s managed to hold off for most of his life from doing that, but all good things come to an end, he supposes. 

Marrying two sophisticated and loving members of the church was the easiest part of his night. The hardest part was pretending that their distant relative didn’t show up in inappropriate attire, with an even more inappropriate need to flirt with a celibate priest. For both him and his God, he finds himself praying more for his sanity than for the happy marriage of the two he just joined together. 

STATUS ― v card being used as a bookmark for his bible CONTEXT NOTE― this chapter contains inaccurate depictions of religious duties, sinning, blasphemy, questioning of god, and over all a blatant religion kink from yours truly. EST WORD COUNT ― 5k+

✤ Chapter Ten: Paying it forward. [y.jh]

CAMPUS NEWS: RICH NEW STUDENT LOOKING FOR LEGS TO SPREAD.

Being born into a rich family is great and all, sure, when the family isn’t so strict that Jeonghan wasn’t even allowed to close his own bedroom door growing up. Dating was off the table for him too, junk food, trash tv, and even choosing his own career path wasn't something he got to experience in life...yet.

Thankfully, those strict reigns loosened when he got into a college far, far away from home. Now? Jeonghan is out for blood, and by blood, he means he is out to experience all those first-times he missed throughout his teen years. First up on the to-do list: get laid.

STATUS ― brought his v card but forgot his wallet EST WORD COUNT ― 5k+

✤ Chapter Eleven: Friend Circles & Circle Jerks [b.sk.]

Seungkwan had his whole life planned out from the age of five. First, he would finish pre-school and get his diploma to become a doctor, mostly so he could buy a big mansion to live in with his family. Then, he would ask you, the neighbor kid next door, to marry him so that the two of you could stay up past seven in the evening. 

Well, it’s safe to say that the now twenty five year old Seungkwan did not become a doctor, nor did he ask you to marry him. To put it simply, you friend zoned him before he ever got the chance to tell you that he’s wanted to kiss you since he learned what kissing was. Still, he sticks around, picking up your little broken heart pieces from the ex that just dumped you. His hopes are high that, maybe, you’ll take notice of how he’s saved himself for you, and that maybe you’d really give him a chance. 

STATUS ― v card hidden behind his friendzone card EST WORD COUNT ― 5k+

✤ Chapter Twelve: 48 Missed Calls. [w.jh.]

Junhui dated you for three weeks in highschool. However, It was a simple act of curiosity between the two of you and it ended fairly quickly due to, well, being teenagers. 

That’s how it was for you, at least. For Junhui? Maybe it was puberty, or maybe it’s just the puppy love he had for you but, he really couldn’t just let you go. He has brushed off any other person who offers interest towards him for years now because of you. You’re the only person he wants, and despite this obsession he has, you still manage to not notice it. 

Which is why he still holds the title of your best friend. A very, very, protective best friend. 

STATUS ― v card stuck in limbo just like his obsession with you CONTEXT NOTE― this chapter deals with instances of manipulation, obsession, and over all our boy here has some strange ass vibes (this chapter is not in any way dubcon or noncon). please be aware of this. EST WORD COUNT ― 5k+

✤ Chapter Thirteen: Probably (not) a bad idea. [x.mh.]

When Minghao couldn't get a girlfriend throughout his younger years, his focus landed on none other than the world wide web. There, is where he decided how he intends to lose his virginity.  Several years and a very large porn addiction later, some lucky woman on one of the four different BSDM sites he signed up for will have the privilege of taking his virginity in more ways than one. He just knows he’s going to love every smothered, painful, wet, insulting second of it. 

STATUS ― v card is being used as a pickup line CONTEXT NOTE― this chapter has sub/dom dynamics in where minghao is an alt submissive man. there is ass-play in this. p.s.  it is not the greatest idea to lose your virginity to a stranger, especially if that stranger is found on a bdsm site. lower your moral standards for this one.  EST WORD COUNT ― 5k+

✤tag list: @aaniag @kissesfrmwonwoo @youronceupontequilas @kwanisms @sisterofsomeone @wonrangwoo @yawnkive @5xiang @mingyuonthemoon @listxn @sebongica @yawnkive @nishloves @sisterofsomeone @thepoopdokyeomtouched @ghostlycrystobalove @shiningnono @tomodachiii @porridgesblog @cheolctrl @notevenheretbh1 @jungkkoo @4cheezflatbred  @duchesskaren @flwrshwa @sexygrass @doljjongsmom @kpopcrazed @baalkoo @seonghwasprincess @pandoora-the-pink-goth @introdarling @ingloriousbasterdss @horanghaezone @starquokka @imprettyweird @kyeomray @skzoo-keeper this is for tracking purposes, if you are on this list, you will be tagged to all fics in this series unless you state clearly that you would not like to be tagged in fics that contain darker content.

[becausegoodheroesdeservekidneys]

I'm an A-Level student and so many of my classmates use ChatGPT for essays in Law and RS and stuff - like, they sound proud of themselves, as if they're cheating the system and being clever? Just makes me feel very bleak. What are we doing man

Well, the unfortunate news for them is that they are going to struggle if they make it to uni.

This is the big problem with AI - it cannot analyse a single thing. If I were to say to you "What are the features Tumblr users would most want and why?", you are a human being with a brain and experiences and decision-making skills, and you could probably sit and come up with an answer. You would base that answer on things you personally find lacking, or want to see; you would also base it in things you have seen others bemoaning on the site.

For example, I reckon I'd say something like:

The permanent ability to boop people with a cat paw, which is implemented as opt-in. Also customisable, so you can choose whether you want a random cat paw to appear on your screen each time it happens to you. Also a different animation for super boop/evil boop, and maybe more boop options than those two, and maybe also different paw colours.

Actual enforcement of hate speech rules. We all agree to them when we join, so it's perfectly legal to delete someone for spouting Nazi shit AND YET.

No more banning or censoring queer folks' accounts

More ability to adjust the interface for disabled bloggers, e.g. colour and contrast, font, layout, switching off moving GIFs or other animations by default, etc.

Tag editing, it's frustrating having to delete whole tags.

Tag memory! Where have my tags gone??? For a year now I have slightly better luck on desktop, but for the most part, which of my tags are remembered by autofill and which are never, ever offered to me has been wholly divorced from how often I've used them. And my tags are often lengthy and odd, so it's become much harder to use mobile.

No data scraping. This is the anti-cap site thank you. Also on that note, get rid of the For You section and any other algorithmic tracking, because it's just as likely to show you a Nazi blog as an anti-Nazi one as long as you have spent any time at all discussing Nazism.

Better blocking ability, on that note.

Better search function

I could go on, but you get the idea. That's analysis that I've done, based on discussions I have seen and taken part in, and my own experiences.

I just asked ChatGPT. Here's what it had to say:

"Tumblr users have diverse preferences, but there are several features that many users would likely appreciate: 1. Improved Content Discovery: Tumblr is known for its vast array of content, so improving content discovery mechanisms such as personalized recommendations, trending topics, and enhanced search functionality can help users find more of the content they enjoy. 2. Enhanced Customization Options: Tumblr users value the ability to customize their blogs extensively. Providing more themes, layout options, and customization tools can empower users to express themselves creatively and make their blogs unique. 3. Integration of Multimedia Formats: Tumblr is a platform where users share various types of multimedia content, including images, GIFs, videos, and audio. Enhancing support for different media formats, improving media upload and management features, and optimizing the viewing experience can enhance user engagement. 4. Improved Mobile Experience: Many Tumblr users access the platform via mobile devices. Therefore, optimizing the mobile app for better performance, usability, and feature parity with the desktop version can greatly enhance the user experience. 5. Community Engagement Features: Tumblr has a vibrant community, so features that facilitate interaction among users, such as improved messaging, reblogging, tagging, and commenting functionalities, can foster a sense of community and increase user engagement. 6. Content Moderation Tools: Given the diverse content on Tumblr, providing users with robust content moderation tools, including options for filtering, blocking, and reporting inappropriate content, can help ensure a safer and more enjoyable experience for all users. 7. Monetization Options for Creators: Many Tumblr users are content creators who would appreciate opportunities to monetize their content. Introducing features such as ad revenue sharing, subscription-based content, or integrated e-commerce capabilities can incentivize creators to produce high-quality content and invest more in their Tumblr presence. 8. Accessibility Features: Improving accessibility features such as alt text support for images, screen reader compatibility, and customizable text sizes and color schemes can make Tumblr more inclusive and accessible to users with disabilities. 9. Privacy and Security Enhancements: Enhancing privacy controls, data protection measures, and account security features can help users feel more confident and secure when using the platform, which is especially important given concerns about online privacy and security. 10. API and Third-Party Integration: Opening up Tumblr's API and allowing for easier integration with third-party services and apps can encourage innovation and development within the Tumblr ecosystem, providing users with more options and flexibility in how they use the platform. Overall, focusing on improving content discovery, customization options, community engagement, and user safety while also providing opportunities for creators to monetize their content can help Tumblr retain and attract users in a competitive social media landscape."

It's possible that feels alright, on first glance. But take a closer look.

Every point made is vague, and disconnected from any real life examples. In the very first point, it thinks we want better search functions (yes!) but also more algorithmic recommendations (no!). It wants us to have personalised recommendations AND better security, in fact, which are incompatible - but an LLM doesn't and can't know that. Monetisation of the platform is something that has historically faced appalling backlash from users, and this thing is suggesting ad revenue sharing and subscription services.

Because, its suggestions are generic suggestions. These are not Tumblr-specific. No mention of queerphobia, no mention of Nazis, and absolutely zero understanding of what the specific users on this site actually want.

... all of which is to say...

It's what is academically known as descriptive work. It lays out some facts, but there's no depth, no analysis, no interpretation of those facts at all. Why would we want third party integration? What apps are we calling for? Give examples. Would that aid ad-blocking? Search functions? In that case, wouldn't third-party integration be tackling the symptoms and not the cause? Shouldn't we work better ad-blocking and search functions into Tumblr at a base level?

And in school - even up to A Level - that's okay. You won't get top marks for that, because it's all too vague and too descriptive, but it's fine. School-level assignments tend to be more broad and less applied, too, which LLMs fare better with.

But in university, you start with descriptive facts, and then you are expected to analyse. If you cannot analyse, you run a very real risk of failing. Which means if you've spent your GCSEs and A Levels not bothering to learn those analytical skills and letting ChatGPT do the work for you, you are going to face an extremely uphill struggle when the expectations of study increase.

So, to round off, try not to get too discouraged. You know you aren't doing it, which means you are the one actually learning and developing and growing. Others will learn eventually, and probably more painfully. You do you!

[cosmiiwrites]

Omg can you please do an Alastor x reader (gn + platonic)

Basically where readers ex won’t leave them alone (always stalking their socials and goes around asking for them) so Alastor steps up and helped the reader. Would be greatly appreciated 😭🙏

·˚ ༘₊· ͟͟͞͞꒰➳ ex’s and oh’s

·:¨༺ platonic!alastor x reader ༻¨:·

⋆.ೃ࿔*:･ summary: in which alastor puts your obsessive ex back in line cw: cussing, violence, obsessive behaviors a/n: JSBNJDHS THANK YOU FOR 120 FOLLOWERS OH MY GOSH??? also i hope this is good, i dont usually write for alastor😭 you frowned at your phone, a notification from no other than your ex being the cause. "thought running off to some shitty hotel would keep me away from you?" the message read. it was the third time you'd had to delete one of their comments. honestly, it was getting tiring. you'd moved on weeks ago! every time you'd block their account, they'd just make a new one. you sighed, deciding that putting down your phone would be the best option. your peace lasted about five minutes before charlie called you downstairs. "uhm, [name]? there's someone down here who'd like to meet you..." she said, suspicion evident in her voice.

you made your way to the railing of the stairs, before stopping abruptly. your ex was right outside the hotel doors, looking in every direction frantically. hoping to catch sight of you. "why is-" charlie pulled you aside before they noticed you. "we tried sending them away," she sighed, "but they wouldn't budge!" "charlie, it's alright." you reassured. "just tell them i'm not here." she gave a curt thumbs-up before retreating downstairs.

———————————————————————

“of course they’re here, the little shit’s probably just hiding,” your ex spat. they’d been arguing with charlie for the past half hour trying to get to you. alastor’s smile grew irritated at the sight.

“well-“ “i’ll handle this one, my dear.” alastor interrupted. charlie gave him a nervous nod before letting him drag your ex by the collar.

the hallway lights flickered as alastor forced your ex into a corner. “what the fuck do you think your doing?” the smaller demon protested.

“you’ve been causing disturbances in my hotel. i can’t allow that.” alastor snarled, voice dripping with poison.

your ex scoffed. a mistake. “the fuck are you gonna do about i-“ they were cut off by a hand to their throat. with alastor’s free hand, he grabbed your ex’s arm, locking them in place.

“here’s whats going to happen.” alastor deadpanned. the lights were flickering more fervently now. “you are going to leave this hotel without any complaints.” his antlers grew as he continued, eyes darkening. “and if i catch you bothering my dear friend [name] again,” alastor leaned into the trembling demon’s ear. “i’ll rip your insides out and broadcast your screams for all of hell to hear. you’ll set a prime example of what happens to pathetic wretches who dare cross my path. do you understand?”

your ex’s lack of response displeased alastor. alastor’s nails dug deep into the demon’s arm, drawing blood and emitting a loud cry from your ex. “i said, do you understand?” he repeated darkly.

“yes, yes—fuck! get off of me!” the demon cried, hand clawing around their neck in hopes to loosen alastor’s grip. which was unsuccessful. “glad we both can settle on an agreement.” the lights went back to normal, and alastor went back to his usual calm and collected demeanor. he discarded his hands from your ex and wiped them on his coat.

your ex flew out the hotel doors in less than 30 seconds.

———————————————————————

few hours later

“hey, charlie, how’d you get my ex to leave?” you questioned. “yeah, that bitch was NOT going nowhere,” angel chimed, eyes still glued to his phone. “how’d you even survive dating a fool like them?” you sighed at his comment. “well, they’re an ex for a reason…”

“but back to the main question. how DID you get them to leave?” charlie gave you a nervous smile. “well…”

“i handled them myself.” alastor quipped. “it was quite easy, might i add.” his grin sharpened, as if he was proud himself. he was, and for good reason! angel cocked a brow. “yeahh, we’re never seein’ them again, are we?”

[saikira999]

headcanons for how Idia and Malleus play Minecraft?

~ Headcanons for twst characters playing Minecraft.

I was a little late, but here are the headcannons! :D

Also, a little friendly reminder that English is not My native language and if you find errors in the text, please write to me about it.

Another parts about :

Azul and Lilia!

Riddle and Leona!

Jade and Floyd!

[Idia]

1) Absolute pro.

2) During the entire game, big bro has already set up His own server with tens of hundreds of buildings, houses and cities, on which all of Ignihyde plays...

But for you, beginners, He will of course make a new one.

3) Lives not in an ordinary house, but in a secret underground complex with hundreds of traps, secrets and secret passages. The entire dungeon is arranged quite professionally and beautifully, in a black and blue palette, using wool, clay, stone and several types of thin blocks and half-blocks, steps and other things. Instead of ordinary torches, he uses blue torches with soul fire.

4) He doesn’t trust his account to anyone except Ortho, but he tries to make sure that his beloved younger brother doesn’t waste any important resources or do anything unnecessary.

5) His favorite and least favorite location is Nether.

6) His base is guarded by three dogs with blue collars.

7) The same walking guide that explains to everyone and everything how to play and answers all kinds of questions.

8) The bro on the server has absolute power... After all, he is the admin here and the main expert in cheat codes.

9) Despite the fact that he feels much more confident in the square world, he still does not like to interact with other players and prefers to play alone. If there are too many players on the server, He either rushes to retire, or barely uses the microphone and hangs around somewhere in the corners.

He is most comfortable playing with Lilia, Ortho, Azul and possibly Yuu.

10) Keeps a joke counter when someone compares His hair to the blue soul fire (137)...

11) Loves block art and other buildings like statues of favorite anime characters.

12) Usually, he plays with a ton of shaders, mods and other additions, but since not all dorms are equipped with powerful hardware, like in Ignihyde, bro have to play with a minimum amount of additional details.

13) Knows all the cool bugs, recipes, theories and locations of Minecraft.

14) In one of the secret rooms he built a cemetery for His pets.

15) Of all the players, he comes to the server most often, and could have reached the dragon in one day, if not for Ortho’s gentle reminder that on a joint server you need to play TOGETHER.

16) His main fear is if His mother somehow logs onto the server.

17) Always swears at updates.

18) Sometimes he seriously thinks about buying the rights to the game...

19) Minecraft is my life!

20) MINECRAAAAAAAAAFT

(Insert audio from that screaming russian schoolboy meme)

[Malleus]

1) He doesn’t know what Minecraft is and when Yuu and Idia invite him to play (Invitation???? He’ll definitely join!), he asks Lilia what “Minecraft” is and what spell can He use to get into this mysterious world?

2) When he sits down at the computer for the first time, he falls into a crisis and looks at the square icon for a long time (3 hours), in sincere bewilderment.

Then he decides to try to figure it out on his own... And accidentally blows up the computer.

(Poor Lilia.)

4) FINALLY having figured out the controls on the phone (Still poor Lilia), he came onto the server and falls into a new crisis and shock from the appearance of the game...

"This is definitely... It will be interesting..."

5) Absolute noob. Bro sometimes even forgets that his character is weak and mortal. Several times, He simply walks into lava, forgets to eat, or swims in the water for a long time and is genuinely perplexed as to why his character is dying.

6) Tsunotaro's house is a simple wooden box made of dark oak logs, vines and flowers. There is no floor - only fragrant green grass. The windows are also missing and replaced with fences. Right at the doorstep is a garden with flowers, and on the roof there will be creepy, crooked figures made of blocks and half-blocks of stone and basalt (Gargoyles were planned).

Perhaps He will try in the future to rebuild the house into something more gothic, but Tsunotaro like architect, is like a Grim like nutritionist... Yuu is His most frequent guest and Draconia, according to all the rules of etiquette, tries to feed the visitor and force him to stay as a guest with Him, like a decent owner.... Oh, Yuu invites Him to visit...?

...He will definitely come and build Yuu a crooked gargoyle as a sign of gratitude... And I hope that a human child will be smart enough not to destroy His building...

.......No, I'm serious. Don't.

7) He doesn’t understand anything and either follows other players 24/7 or gets lost and Idia eventually finds him a couple hundred chunks away from the spawn location, trying to make friends with the bat.

8) Griefers? Who is this? Is there such a crazy person who would try to break down His house...?

9) Oddly enough, his main occupation is taming everyone he can. Cats? Parrots? Dogs? A whole farm with a variety of livestock from small to large? Two little slimes? Strange guy with white eyes behind the tree? Yuu? He will take care of everyone.... Rest assured)

+ Animals in this game do not age and cannot die unless you put them in danger, or play it safe and give them name tags....

10) The same guy whose game constantly crashes for some reason or whose microphone crashes.

11) Belongs to the type of people who can simply take and give another player either a beautiful, freshly picked flower, or incredibly rare and expensive armor or weapons, with several layers of enchantment, which He obtained from an unknown place and in an unknown way.

12) For a reason unknown to anyone, all mobs such as monsters, villagers and pillagers, except animals and children, bypass him.

13) Loves to wander through abandoned villages and mines.

14) In PVP he is not particularly smart and sticks with more neutral and calm players and rarely gets into fights with anyone... If at all anyone wants to fight with Him.

15) He dreams of building a GIANT Gargoyle, but so far, all he gets is another crooked, creepy pile of stones, only of larger sizes.

16) When he learns that the goal of the game is to kill the dragon and take It's egg, his reaction is literally: ....Mother?🤨

17) He doesn’t want to fight with His relative, and when Idia kills the dragon, he bursts into His room with lightning and thunder in order to interrogate the corpse of Gloomurai, which did not survive several heart attacks.

18) Tsunotaro took the egg for Himself and built a kind of temple for It (Surrounded by gargoyles, of course), and sincerely waited for it to hatch, until Lilia, who came to the rescue, said that this was not possible in the game.

19) Conclusion: One was disappointed because He could not atone for the brutally murdered dragon mother and raise Her child, and the second, although He laughed amicably, still grabbed a couple of Vietnamese (Briar Valley) flashbacks.

(Poor Malleus and Lilia)

20) Later, scared to death, Idia will install a mod especially for Tsunotaro that allows him to hatch and tame a dragon from the egg he received in The End 😊

(Poor Idia)

That's it! I am waiting for your new requests :3

Reblog Me, please? <:]

[hollyseb]

BARTENDER (PART 2)

You need to make ends meet. How far are you willing to go?

Mob! Bucky x reader

Part 1 can be found here: https://www.tumblr.com/hollyseb/737816177450041344/bartender-part-1

AN; thank you for all the love on part 1!

Warnings: drinking, gun violence, references to the mob, blood, MINORS DNI

Summary; bartending for an elite club to make ends meet. you don’t realise you’ve stumbled into the lair of Bucky Barnes.

He paid for my fee? What the fuck?

Now you knew something was up. First the staring, and now this. Your head was reeling with questions as you made your way inside your apartment, gently closing the door. He is just taking care of one of his employees.

Slipping into your pajamas and flicking the kettle on, you decided to attempt to unwind from your night. Everything was fine until this man decided to act all unpredictable.

Unbeknownst to you, Bucky couldn’t be any more pleased that you had accepted a ride from one of his drivers. You hadn’t questioned how the driver had started heading in the direction of your apartment block before you had revealed your address. He hoped you were flattered by the lift.

He wasn’t used to this. To pursuing his women. Most would flock to him, laying down at his feet. Providing nothing but a quick, cheap fuck.

When Bucky had left the club, he instantly headed to his office, shaking Steve off when he suggested he should head home.

“Steve, just leave me”, Bucky sighed as Steve reluctantly let his friend out of his grip. He could see the blaze in Bucky’s eyes, the focus in his upper body. There was no stopping him when he was like this, this drive was how he had risen through the ranks of the mob so ruthlessly.

Bucky sat in his office chair. He’d received your name and address from Sam, and Steve had found your social media sites. He grinned when he told his driver your address, having to hold himself back from scoping out the apartment block, but his grin grew even more when he opened your social media accounts. A couple pictures of you smiling with Nat, one from your graduation, and none with a boyfriend. He wasn’t expecting that.

You were so different. He found himself wondering about you, pondering your past and how you’d come to work at one of his clubs. He wondered if you knew what you were getting yourself in for, the people you were working for. Part of him wanted to tell you to run while you could, to turn your back and never return, but another part of him felt glad. Signing the contract to bartend his club was the perfect entanglement of your lives. He always got what he wanted.

When you arrived at the club the next night, he made sure to request you to serve his drinks.

When Nat told you the news, that he wanted you to deliver his drinks, you felt your face scrunch. Why me? You didn’t want a repeat of yesterday's events, so you told Nat to help you reapply your lipgloss, and attempt to give you some form of a pep talk before you grabbed the tray of five straight whiskeys.

“He wouldn’t ask you to serve his drinks if he didn’t think you were a good server. Now pucker your lips-” Nat explained absentmindedly.

“It’s just so weird. I mean, it was so awkward yesterday”

“Maybe he likes that?” You giggled. No way. Nevertheless, you appreciated Nat’s efforts to calm your nerves.

She continued, “well I know plenty of women would pay to serve him so…”, she elbowed you, referencing his good looks.

“Nat. That just makes it worse! He’s hot and he knows it, and he knows I know it-“, you rambled.

“And maybe he finds you hot”, you couldn't help but roll your eyes at that, as your best friend handed the tray of drinks to you.

Deep breath. He’s just a man. You’ve got this.

Heading up the stairs to the secluded room again, you felt a little shaky. As you drew the curtain back, the same silence fell over the room. It was all the same men from last night, the tall blond one, the dark skinned one, one sitting in a red suit and the long haired brunette.

You spoke first. Surprising yourself at that. “H-hello. I just wanted to thank you for the ride home last night… and also I have five whiskeys.”

The man at the head of the table let out an exhale, shaking his hair away from his face, “it was no problem honey. There will be one waiting outside for you tonight too.”

You were taken aback. A small, but grateful smile gracing your face. Bucky couldn’t take his eyes off of you.

“That’s… really kind of you, thank you. I’ll find a way to pay you back.”

“Ah-ah-ah”, Bucky tsked, standing up from his chair. God, he is massive. So tall. So broad. Your head craned to look up at him. Your stomach was flipping at his comment, “you won’t pay me back for anything”, he grabbed the tray from your hands, fingers brushing yours.

You sent him a smile, opening your mouth to wish him a thank you before leaving. You left the room with your hands shaking.

Bucky was obsessed with the way he made you nervous, and the way your dress cinched your waist. He saw everything. The way your hands shook when he brushed your fingers, the way your eyes lit up when you took in his build, and the way your cheeks flushed when he let his eyes roam your figure. He felt his cock grow hard when he saw that you didn’t spare a glance to any of the other men in the room, just him. You were his. Whether you knew it or not.

You let elation carry you through the rest of the night. You spent the next few hours behind the bar, your eyes trailing to the curtained room far more often than you liked. With watching Nat flirt with the regulars, and poke you in the ribs occasionally, you felt yourself relax into your role.

That was until you heard a popping sound. Repeatedly. And then screaming.

You were paralysed. Deafened by the noise, and then the sight of masked men enclosing the club, shoving guests down, smashing glasses, and shooting their guns into the air.

Panic seized you, gripping you by the throat. Nat pulled you onto the ground harshly, your chin smacking the cold floor behind the bar.

“Just be quiet. It’s okay. They’ll be here for boss, not us”, Nat explained frantically, as if she’d experienced this before. You couldn’t breath, just wheezing in manufactured gasps, eyes wide.

“N-Nat. I’m so scared”, you felt tears pooling in your eyes as the club quietened. You could hear footsteps. Quick ones. People were leaving. You assured yourself that maybe they weren’t trying to hurt anyone.

You could hear the men approaching the bar. Oh my god, this is it. You squeezed your eyes shut, desperate to stop the scene unfolding before you.

Your whole body seizing up as you felt a hand grab your upper arm, pulling you up, holding your body against theirs. You couldn’t see who it was, and your thoughts ran at a hundred miles-per-hour. As the figure pulled you to your feet, you looked across the bar, Bucky’s associates restraining the men. Sam kicked the gun from one's hand, then pushed him into the ground. Steve had the other backed into a corner, repeatedly pounding him in the jaw.

“Shh, shh, shh. I’ve got you. Let’s go. Come on.” The voice in your ear soothed you. You recognised it as Bucky’s. He brushed your hair from your face and wiped the tears from your cheeks with his rough hand. You could hear him yell something to Steve about grabbing Nat, but the pounding in your ears began to drown him out. He was practically walking for you, your feet barely scraping the floor.

He led you to the car parked outside the back of the club. Sitting you down and pulling the seat belt across your body. He was drinking you in. Looking at your red eyes and swollen lips.

“I am so sorry, honey. I have a… couple of enemies in the city. That will never, ever happen again”, he faltered over his words, carefully picking them.

You were shell shocked. Only able to nod in a fake understanding. What the fuck had you gotten yourself into?

“Look, let me take you home”, Bucky brushed a strand of disturbed hair behind your ear, his thumb running across your bottom lip. God you look gorgeous. He was obsessed with your swollen lips and the way you were clinging to him as if he was the weight holding you to reality. He hated the situation, the imposing mob hydra infiltrating his club at a poor attempt to establish fear, but god you looked insane.

He grabbed your hand, rubbing his thumb over your palm. He tried to explain, briefly, the situation. He ran a company which focused on the safety of citizens in the city. Some tried to breach that. To bring drugs, disorder and chaos in the city as a quick way to make money. You didn’t need to know all the details, he thought. He knew he was omitting information, making himself out to be the good guy. He’d done things he was ashamed of. Wronged good people. Eliminated the competition. Acted ruthlessly to own the city. But you didn't need to know that.

He was drunk on the way you were shaking in his arms. The power that he had to comfort you. He couldn’t help but smile. An open fire by the enemy mob has done nothing but bring me closer to what I want.

Bucky helped you get out of the car, walking you up to your apartment. Even after everything you’d witnessed, your boss helping you up the stairs to your flat brought you to reality. You didn’t question how he knew which floor and door to stop at.

“I-thank you for walking me back but, you should go now”, you couldn’t meet his eyes. The events of the night were catching up on you. You wanted to call Nat and lay in bed.

The tall man made you look at him, picking up your chin with his forefinger. He turned his head slightly as you locked eyes with him. You were just so gorgeous. He wanted to kiss you. But not like this. Not when you were this shocked. He wanted to make it special. Rose petals and champagne. Not like this. So he made a point to look at your chin, bloodied from hitting the ground earlier.

“At least let me clean this up”, god he was so convincing. You opened your door and let him follow you in. You grabbed your first aid kit from your bathroom, telling him to make himself comfortable.

You let him wipe your chin, and gently place a plaster over it. His free hand rubbing circles into your shoulder and the nape of your neck. It was close, sensual even. He felt his cock still at the way you closed your eyes and let your head tilt back when his thumb hit your sensitive spot. He wanted you like this all the time. Relaxed, open, and submissive. You allowed yourself to bask in his touch, and the comfort it brought. You deserve this after the day you’ve had.

“Please, come into my office tomorrow, I can’t have you coming back into work in this state. I need you to feel completely comfortable”, Bucky practically demanded. He wanted to take care of you so badly.

You breathed a sigh of relief. You could confide in him. You could ease yourself back into the club. Unaware of the undertones of comfortable.

“T-thank you Bucky. I’ll be there.” You dropped your eyes and thanked him for the care. He ran his hands down your arms before retreating towards the door. You needed this job, and you needed the money. This situation can’t change that.

You slipped into bed, questioning what exactly you would be doing with your boss tomorrow.

Meanwhile Bucky headed back to the club. There were two masked men in his basement he needed to deal with.

Next part here! https://www.tumblr.com/hollyseb/738091620032987136/the-bartender-part-3

TAGLIST

@melsunshine @scott-loki-barnes

[lis-likes-fics]

Love Letters

Pairings: Aaron Hotchner x Reader Word Count: 8.1k words Warnings: Murder, torture, depictions of mental illness, typical Criminal Minds content... A/N: Collabed with a couple friends about the serial killer. Guys, this was hard. Spent sooo much time building this character and then didn't even end up using all of the stuff we came up with. But it was fun and I enjoyed this and I hope you do too! Special thanks to the ones who helped me plan, @the-nerdy-goddess and @thecreature-bug and my beta reader @killerqueen-ofwillowgreen!

A knock on your classroom door has you turning your head, and you smile at the sight of the math teacher one door down.

You know why she's here, sneaking a “meeting” before all the kids get here for homeroom. You roll your eyes, scooting back in your rolling chair and crossing your arms.

“So how was the date Saturday?” Esther asks, raising a teasing brow as she walks further into the room, taking a seat right on the side of your desk. “You get lucky?”

You scoff. “I wish. The guy was boring. It was a total snooze fest.” You pick up a paper from your grading stack, marking another consecutive one hundred on little Amelia's test. “I told him I was a teacher and he told me how he had a crush on his teacher from the eighth grade.”

“Blergh,” she groans, making a face. “Was he a gentleman, at least?”

“I wish, part two. He didn't pull a chair, he didn't open a door.”

She shakes her head in disappointment and pats your back. “Your gentleman is coming to you soon. You deserve it.” She reaches over, picking up your necklace and running her thumb over the F before dropping it back down. “And I like that necklace.”

You laugh sarcastically at her, jutting your chin out toward the mirroring E around her own neck. All the fifth grade teachers wear one, a gift from Sarah’s—the science teacher’s—birthday party. “I like yours.”

She brushes the golden charm on her dark chest with a smile. She scoots off your desk. “Hey, if you're looking for another date, I might have a guy.” She winks at you, and you almost throw a pencil at her.

“Don't you have a class to teach?”

“Eventually,” she shrugs. “Small accident a few blocks away, traffic’s backed up. Buses are late–”

“–and most of your class rides the bus.” You nod, “Yeah.”

She walks to the door, patting the frame twice. “But I'll leave you be. I have copies to print.”

You shoo her away. “Goodbye.”

She winks at you again, clicking her tongue. “See you.”

~

The elevator doors close as David steps in next to Aaron. After a quick once-over, he smiles. “You look tired. Jack?”

Aaron shakes his head as he glances at his shoes, “No. Jack's fine.”

“Oh,” Dave raises his brows. “Did Aaron Hotchner have a date?”

He chuckles, amused by the assumption. “Me?”

He shrugs. “Good to have a little hope.”

Another rare chuckle passes his lips as he shakes his head again. His voice is low and soft with his amusement. “Yeah, I had a date. With a wrench and a kitchen sink.”

He hums, tilting his head from side to side as if weighing the options. “A date is a date. At least you can fix the sink.”

“Alright,” he mumbles lightheartedly.

Dave pushes the doors open as they enter the round table room, watching as the rest of the team slowly makes their way. When everyone is present and accounted for, he begins.

“What have we got, Garcia?”

Penelope sets her coffee cup down, making a face. “Oh, my little ducklings, nothing good.” The screen turns on and presents a round of crime scene photos, multiple women covered in uniform cuts all matching the other perfectly, besides the differences in the letters adorning their chests. It's graphic and strange.

Garcia avoids looking with everything she has. “Some hikers at the New River Gorge Bridge in West Virginia were going about their business when they found five perfectly marked graves lined up in a row.” The presses a button and said graves are shown before and after they were dug up. When Garcia says perfect, she means perfect. The graves are perfect rectangles, all the same size and depth and almost as though someone used a ruler to make sure the lines were straight.

“The bodies found were Madeline Johnsons, Beatrice Cabrera, Clara Warner, Dakota Platt,” one more press reveals a woman with dark skin now pale with death, “and our latest victim, Esther Cooke.”

The team flips through the files they were given, analyzing the information as it comes. “All were found covered in multiple incisions all over the body, and letters carved on their chests.” She makes a face. “I don't know how much you guys gate papercuts, but I know that if I got as many as our victims here, I'd be forever emotionally ruined.”

Reid's analytical eyes take in the sight of the bodies. “It's almost reminiscent of Lingchi, translated to ‘slow slicing’ or ‘death by a thousand cuts’. It was a form of torture and execution used in China around the 10th century until the early 20th century.” He talks a mile a minute, squinting his eyes at the photos as he does.

Prentiss shrugs, “Well, one papercut is bad enough, I could never do a thousand.”

JJ brings her drink to her lips. “I couldn't do ten.” They chuckle to each other.

Morgan juts his neck toward his files. “How did they die? The wounds are made for bloodletting.”

Garcia groans lightly. “So not glad you asked. Their throats were slashed, two incisions made at each side of the neck to cut the jugulars.” She adjusts her glasses, glancing at her tablet. “Autopsy reports say very slowly and with a very sharp knife. Like the unsub was trying very hard to keep steady. They also found traces of chemicals used in disinfectant in the wounds.”

Prentiss' brows knit together. “Why not just cut it clean across?”

“Well, look, there are 26 cuts in total on all the bodies, including the one at the neck,” Reid points out. “The incisions were very specific.”

“‘Course it was, look at that pattern,” Morgan says.

Each limb has a total of six equal cuts along the top of them, with the last two finishing off at the neck. It's too specific.

“All of the letters on their chests match the beginning of their names, except for Madeline. She has an A,” Garcia explains. “Madeline's family said she went by Addy.”

“Then the letters carved into them match the first letter of their names,” JJ says. “Maybe he's trying to go through the alphabet.”

“Matches the cuts,” Rossi shrugs. “There are 26 cuts, 26 letters of the alphabet.”

“Who died first and who was last?” Hotch asks, not looking up from his screen.

“They were killed and buried in alphabetical order, sir.”

A few members of the team nod, their theory supported. Reid clasps his hands. “Paired with the perfection of the graves, the specificity of the incisions, the disinfectant, we could be dealing with someone struggling with high level obsessive compulsive disorder.”

They agree.

“But how is he targeting his victims, other than by their names?” Prentiss wonders, “I mean, how does he figure out what their names are in the first place?”

Rossi sighs, “I guess that's what we have to find out.”

Hotch looks up at his team, his stern gaze glancing among them. “Based on the timeline of these kills, we hopefully have about a week before he strikes again. Let's not give him time. Wheels up in thirty.”

~

You look up at the gentle knock on your door interrupting your silent lunch break. You clear your throat, dropping your hand from your necklace as you lay eyes on Principal Luis.

“Hey,” she greets softly. “You doing okay?”

You nod, offering a half-hearted grin. You've had to smile at your kids all day today, despite the grief, and you were really depending on your break to wind down from it. “Considering.”

“You think you could talk? There are some FBI agents here with a few questions about Esther.”

You sniff, furrowing your brows. “FBI?” For you? You supposed that makes sense. You were close enough…

Two agents walk into the room, their professional blacks offset by the colorful parade that is your classroom. It looks strange, almost silly. You stand to greet them.

The woman offers a smile, a kind face to ease any worries you may have. The man is a little more stern, but there's a gentleness you admire hidden beneath.

“Hello, Ms. Hughes,” he greets. “I'm Agent Aaron Hotchner, this is Agent Jennifer Jareau. We're with the FBI.”

“You can call me JJ,” she says as she reaches a hand out toward you. You take it. “We're here with a few questions about Esther Cooke.”

You try not to look too miserable.

Agent Hotchner’s voice is soft as he speaks to you. “The principal said you and Ms. Cooke were close?”

You nod, crossing your arms. The classrooms are always cold. It's felt a little colder lately.

“She worked right next door,” you try not to stutter. “We were the closest in our department. I'm holding conferences tomorrow with parents about taking some of her kids into my homeroom until we find a…a replacement.”

Noticing your disquiet, JJ speaks up. “Was there anything going on in Ms. Cooke’s life? Anything out of the ordinary?”

Thinking, you shake your head. “Not really.” You shrug, “It was school, home, and not much else. The occasional night out with me, we are–” you clear your throat, “we were both single.”

Agent Hotchner adds in, “We're there any strange absences or even a trip she was going on?”

Again, you think. But nothing really comes up until– “She mentioned that she went on this tour thing with her parents last weekend, local. Some sort of…hiking thing? It's usually for tourists but they won free tickets.” Then you back track, “Is that the kind of thing you're looking for?”

JJ glances at Agent Hotchner. You're not sure what that means. “It could be.”

“When was the last time you saw her?” he asks.

You shrug. “Monday…before she went home. She didn't show up Tuesday or Wednesday, I figured she just got sick or something…forgot to tell me.” You rub your cheek with your sleeve. “I thought it was weird ‘cause she didn't call in or anything. I had to request a sub for her.”

Agent Hotchner nods. “Thank you for your help.”

“Of course. Anything.”

He dug in the inside pocket of his suit. “Call us if you have anything else. Here's my card.”

You reach out to take it, your fingers brushing. It was a comforting feeling. “Thank you.” The words are gentle as they leave you. You shake out of your slight daze, “Uh, here's mine if you have any other questions for me.”

You go behind your desk, grabbing a sticky note shaped like a koala and the first pen you see (which ends up being the brightest green marker you own)... The kids love the colors.

When Agent Hotchner takes it, he almost grins. You recognize the hidden amusement in some of the kids you teach. The ones that are harder to get to open up, even at this age. It's a little sad. Those kids happen to be some of the sweetest you know.

The sight of him in a sophisticated suit with all his professionalism, holding a cutesy koala sticky note is almost comical. He nods his thanks, and then turns to JJ.

They both begin to make their exit when you stop them. “Hey.” They turn. “Did anyone find her necklace?”

“Necklace?” JJ furrows her brow.

You nod. “All the fifth grade teachers have necklaces with our letters on them. Just like this.” You pick up the little charm around your neck for them to examine. “Except she had an E.” You let it drop, scratch the back of your neck as you hum. “Her parents said they never found it when they…”

The thought of saying “dug her up” out loud was haunting, and you already felt that shrinking feeling in your gut.

JJ redirects. “Would she normally take it off?”

You shake your head quickly. “Not Esther. She loves–” you sigh, annoyed now that you keep making the mistake of present tense. As an English teacher, it hurts more somehow. “She loved that necklace. We all do. We wear it nearly every day. Especially now.”

Agent Hotchner nods again, a really gentle movement that you honestly appreciate. “We'll keep an eye out,” he says. “Thank you for your time.”

You nod back at him, offering what smile you can. “Thanks.”

They leave and you check the time. You'd have to get your kids from lunch soon.

~

“Did she have anything?” Morgan wonders as Hotch and JJ return.

JJ’s teasing brows bounce. “Other than Hotch’s number? A bit.”

Rossi smirks, leaning across the table. “Did you find something special with our Ms. Hughes?” He puts emphasis on the title so Hotch is fully aware of her marital status.

“Let's focus, please.”

Hotch doesn't seem particularly annoyed, but there is a case at hand and he wants it solved as fast as possible.

Besides, it would be unprofessional to call her like this…asking her on a date after questioning her about her recently deceased.

The team giggles quietly amongst themselves. Children. But they do focus in as Morgan's phone rings as a signal to their resident oracle.

“Talk to me, babygirl.”

“I ran those credit card records like Hotch asked,” she starts. “All of which come up with very different results with no special link but one: three of the five all purchased hiking tickets for a guided trail a few days before they went missing. But they're very popular trails, tourists and families go all the time.”

“Hiking trail?”

“Is that significant?”

JJ looks around at the group. “Ms. Hughes said Esther Cooke’s parents won free tickets. They just went last weekend.”

“That would explain why it doesn't show up on the credit card records,” she says. The clack of her keyboard fills the space before she's speaking again. “Oh, yes, I see. The reservation is written in her mother's name.”

Reid looks up from the board where he worked on his geographical profile. “Clara loved out of state,” he says, “she was visiting. That could be how he found out about her.”

Rossi agrees. “So he's choosing most of his victims at the trail. Maybe he's a guide?”

JJ shrugs, “But how is he picking his victims?” She walks over to the pictures of all the victims hung up, their differences glaring as she shakes her head. “He's compulsive, he can't do it at random.”

“I don't think it is,” Hotch says. Eyes fall on him, urging clarification. “Ms. Hughes said something that stuck out to me. Esther Cooke always wore a necklace with the first letter of her name on it, but it was missing from the crime scene.”

The wheels turn in Reid’s head as he breaks away from his map. He picks up the crime scene photos, sorting through them to compare them to the headshots of the victims lining another board. “We might have something,” he mumbles. He picks up the first victim’s pictures. “Here, you can see Madeline wore a necklace with her nickname, Addy, on it. But at the burial site, it's missing.”

Prentiss catches on, picking another. A quick examination has her nodding along. “And look here. Clara had one, too. Hers is just a C.”

Rossi’s heavy brows furrow. “So you think he's targeting these women based on their necklaces?”

Reid words fly from his mouth as he speaks. “If he's killing them, burying them, and carving their letters all in alphabetical order, that could be his trigger—seeing the letters already in place and feeling the need to make it permanent, perfect.”

Morgan picks up Esther's picture, nodding. “We ready to give the profile?”

“I think so. Garcia,” her attention is lightning quick at the sound of her name, just like her wit, “get me a list of everyone who went on those trails and every guide who has led the ones our victims participated in.”

“That list is going to be longer than the Nile, but like Neith, I shall be victorious,” she declares.

Prentiss adds in. “Go ahead and narrow that down to white males who live in the area.”

“That helps.”

“Thank you, babygirl.”

“Happy to help, my salacious little snack.” She smacks the “ck”. He can hear the smirk in her voice. “I'll have that list in a jiffy.” Morgan chuckles as the call ends.

~

You plaster a grin on your face as you welcome in the next pair. It's been a long day already. The children have been a little fussy, others just sad, about the changes going on during class. The parents you've seen already have been awkward, annoyed, or (on the better occasion) nice, and you're ready to go home.

Just a few more meetings, then you can go home.

“Hello,” you greet. “Thank you for coming in.”

Ms. Tucker smiles gently, doing her best to be kind. She's one of the more patient parents. Her husband on the other hand… You've never been able to describe him as patient.

“Could we make this quick?” Mr. Tucker asks, checking his watch. He blinks harshly once, twice, three times, before looking back up at you. “I've got an appointment in an hour and…thirteen minutes.”

“Don't be rude, Larry,” his ex-wife insists, rolling her eyes as they take a seat in the chairs set in front of your desk. You sit as well, mentally bracing yourself for his meeting.

“Well, she's bringing us in here to tell us our kid isn't doing well in school. How do you want me to behave?” Another tight blink follows as he whispers under his breath, “Behave, behave.”

Ideally, these meetings should take no more than maybe five minutes. But parents make that difficult sometimes.

“Maybe if you spent more time with Peter, he wouldn't be having trouble,” she insists.

The animosity coming off the two of them is creating an environment that makes you want to kick them out of your room and do what you want. But you can't.

He scoffs. “Spend more ti–”

“Actually…”

They turn back to you then, remembering you're there as they close their mouths and listen. “We're not here to talk about his behavior. Peter has been wonderful in class.”

You grab Peter's file. It's just a stack of papers with Esther's old notes for him and his grades. You clear your throat quietly. “As you may know, the teacher next door to me just passed, and we are rearranging her classes until we can find a suitable replacement because we are short staffed.”

You hate saying “replacement”. These meetings have been hard enough simply because she's gone, but being the one of the people already working to replace her has been mentally taxing.

You pull your necklace from inside your shirt, sighing as you look up at them, toying with the charm.

You don't catch it. The movement is so slight and the whisper is so gentle that the moment goes completely over your head as Mr. Tucker's eyes lock on your charm. Under his breath falls a small, “F…F, F.”

“This conference was just to ask about whether or not it would be alright to transfer Peter into my class,” you continue, grasping the top pages out of the file. “Otherwise, his behavior has been fine. He's a smart boy with good grades. Ms. Cooke’s notes do say that he has a bit of trouble mixing with classes though, and he can be a little distracted. Another reason he would switch, he needs the extra social help.”

Ms. Tucker leans in slightly. “You said he has trouble mixing in?”

You nod, tilting your head as you remember Peter's behavior during your classes. “He's a little lonely.”

Mr. Tucker murmurs under his breath, holding onto the words. “Lonely.” His brows twitch. “Lonely…lonely.” You know they're tics, so you try not to make it obvious that you've caught it.

“He got along well with the teachers, but he's closed off to the other students. She saw that a couple of other kids picked on him, but they were little things that we were able to solve fairly quickly.” You sigh, thinking for a moment. You have to choose the right words, or this will end in an argument. “I would recommend trying to get him into things outside of school. A sport or a club, just something to get him to interact with more kids.”

Ms. Tucker is all ears as you speak, taking in what she can as she contemplates a solution. Her ex-husband seems a little out of focus, however. He watches you, his eyes taking you in, in a way that makes you uncomfortable.

“It also helps when the parents are on the same page,” you push through, ignoring the crawling in your skin and focusing on this child and his needs. “I realize you went through a divorce recently, which can be tough on your son. I know it's not my business to manage your relationship, but for the sake of your son, it's important not to be hostile in front of him. It could force him into thinking he has to choose a side, which can lead to negative effects on his mental health.”

She nods, soaking it in. “We can talk about it. You have our permission to take him in.”

“Yes.” Mr. Tucker nods. You watch his head dip three times. “Yes, yes.”

You sigh internally, glad the meeting is coming to a close. “Thank you,” you smile. “Did you have any questions for me?”

He replies, smiling as well. “No. Thank you.”

“Alright,” you close Peter's file, “then we should be good.”

“Thank you,” Ms. Tucker says. She reaches a hand out to shake your hand, and you take it. Her ex-husband does the same, though he lingers a little longer than you appreciate.

“Of course.”

They leave. You take a moment to breathe before you welcome in the next parents. And two meetings later, you've wrapped everything up. After clearing your desk, you snatch your things and head straight for the door.

You're happy to know it's not too late when you step out of the building. The sun is still up, but the moon is beginning to show with the coming evening. As you make your way to your car in the relatively lonely parking lot, it blinks when you unlock the doors.

You open the back door to throw your things inside, slamming it shut and opening the front in one movement.

You don't hear the footsteps behind you over the sound of your relief about the end of your day. So when something comes down hard at the back of your head, your pain and surprise is interrupted by the sudden darkness that overcomes you.

~

“You're on speaker.”

Garcia’s voice arises from Morgan's voice like the oracle she is. “Then I shall speak my prophecy for all to hear. I narrowed that list down significantly to the tour guides that lead the trails all of the victims went on—except the one who didn't. Speaking of, it turns out that our odd one out, Dakota Platt, put in an application to work as a guide but was denied. Anyway, I came up with three matches.”

Rossi hums. “Narrow the list to anyone recently going through a major change. A divorce, potential job loss, something like that.”

The sound of Garcia’s keyboard is heard over the phone, her voice coming a second later. “That takes one out. There's Perry Williams, he's just suffered a loss in the family—his mother died of lung cancer four months ago, around when the killings started. Then there's one other, Laurence Tucker, who just went through a divorce around a year ago. He's fighting a custody battle with his wife, started a couple weeks before the estimated time of the first murder.”

“Can you take a look at their medical histories?” Prentiss requests.

“Tucker has diagnosed OCD. He stopped taking his meds at the same time as the divorce.”

JJ is already on her feet as she slips her phone in her pocket. “That's our guy.” The rest of the team follow suit.

“I've just sent his home address to your phones.”

Hotch is packing his things as he speaks. “Garcia, go through his history. There may be something to suggest where he may be taking his victims to torture them. He can't be taking them home.”

Morgan raises the phone to his mouth. “Thanks, hot stuff.”

“Anything for you. Garcia out.”

~

“Clear.”

At the sound of the last check, Hotch lowers his gun as he sighs. “Hotch.” He looks over to see Reid peeking his head out of a room down the hall. He follows him, walking inside and following his gaze down to Reid’s hand, where he's holding a necklace he's pulled from a dark box on the dresser.

There are four necklaces neatly arranged within it, the fifth in Reid’s hand. An E for Esther.

His phone rings. “Yes, Garcia?”

She speaks quickly. “Our guy grew up in the area and attended a schoolhouse when he was little that was shut down years ago for unusual practices with the students. Reports found that the teachers there used to discipline ‘bad kids’—and by bad, I'm not talking just behavior, these are kids with diagnosed Autism, ADHD, OCD, the whole alphabet. Oh…maybe that wasn't the best word.”

“How were they disciplined?” Reid asks, pulling her back on track.

“Oh, right! The teachers used to slap hands with rulers and spank these children, sometimes with paddles. Sometimes kids would come home with big red letters drawn on their chests or clothes when they received failing grades as a way to shame them into passing.” She hums, “I'm guessing that's where the signature comes from.”

Reid sets the necklace down, “Is the building still up?”

“Like I said, it was shut down years ago. It was marked for demolition, but they never got around to it. The building still very much exists, and it's covered in wooden boards and caution tape.”

Hotch nods. “Send us the address. This could be where he's killing them.”

“Already done,” she says. “Also, fun fact. I learned that Tucker's son attends the school Esther Cooke taught at. Apparently, he was one of her students.”

A chill ran down Hotch’s spine as he thought about that. Scrambling in his jacket, he pulls out the koala sticky note in the inside pocket. “Garcia, I need you to give me another address.”

Reid’s brow furrows at his sudden haste. “What's wrong?”

“Ms. Hughes held conferences today for the parents of children Esther Cooke taught.”

Reid walks after him as Garcia retrieves the address. “So?”

“She wears an F.”

~

Your bleary eyes are so dazed and heavy. Mixed with the pain, it was hard to keep your head up and your eyes open. The letters lining the top of the walls, the alphabet which wraps around the room, fly around your head. It mixes with the chairs and desks, arranged so neatly around the room, lining the walls like the letters do. There's chalk and pencils and paper, all old and run down but set so neatly. The chaos and the tidiness is maddening.

It really hurts. Your arms and legs are covered in cuts, slow and methodical and painful. Your limbs shake with exhaustion, sweat sticks to your forehead and you feel heavy and sick. He'd removed your necklace. It's sitting on the desk where he keeps the rest of his supplies. You want it back.

His disorder is evident, and it bleeds over you with a glaring taunt. Every time he cuts you, he measures it with a ruler, and then you're thrown through the added torture of him disinfecting the wound each time. He counts it each time. He chants under his breath every time he cuts you, every time you talk, every time he blinks.

You just want to go home.

“Mr. Tucker, please,” you beg for the hundredth time, your plea falling on deaf ears.

He shakes his head, his ruler in the middle of your thigh. You want to move it. If he can't make a precise cut, he won't cut. But you don't have the strength. It's taking a lot to keep your head up.

“Hush,” he urges absentmindedly. “Hush, hush.” He adjusts the glasses on the bridge of his nose, careful not to use his hands.

“Why are you doing this?”

His attention is razor sharp as he measures. “I have to.”

It’s the most answer he's given you so far. Maybe if you just keep him talking, you'll be able to talk him out of it. You keep your voice gentle, trying not to sound as pained as you are. “Why?” you ask, though your voice wavers. “What did I do? What did Esther do?”

The name seems to spark something as he nods three times. “E, E, E.”

Your brow furrows. “Is this because of our necklaces?”

He shakes his head this time. Three times. “You won't understand.”

You sigh heavily. “Then help me understand.”

“You won't, you won't.” He picks up the knife, and you flinch away from him. “You won't.”

You keep trying. “You just have to talk to me,” you give him the best smile you can. “You can talk to me, Larry.” If you say his name, maybe you'll appeal to him. You can make it personal. You have to try something.

He mutters under his breath, as though he's thinking. “Talk, talk…talk.”

You nod, speaking slowly. “Yes. Just put the knife down, and we can talk.”

A scream tears through your throat as he drags the sharp blade across your thigh. It burns and it sears and tears stream down your cheeks at the feeling.

“19, 19, 19.”

You don't know what number he's going to, but you're scared for what he'll do when he finishes counting.

You struggle around the lump in your throat to speak, forcing out a breath to try and level yourself. “Is this about your OCD?” He glances up at you, but he doesn't give it too much thought. “I recognize it. Peter has early signs.”

“Peter,” he mumbles, finally taking pause to think. He hums and blinks.

“Yes, Peter,” you urge. “Your son. If you keep going, you could hurt him.” It's hard to see past your tears, but you keep going anyway. “When you get caught, and you will get caught, Peter will be taken away from you forever. He'd never forgive you.”

“Forgive me,” he huffs, shaking his head and rubbing his face. He grips his ruler in one hand. “Forgive me, forgive me.” He presses the ruler to the other leg, “Stop talking.”

You try to squirm, “Larry– Ah!” You purse your lips to stifle your shout, squeezing your eyes shut and clenching your fists.

“20, 20, 20.”

A round of sobs rack through you. You can't hide the pain anymore. It's so evident, and it's so intense. You can't breathe. You hiss as the disinfectant stings.

“Please,” you cry. “Please, just tell me why.”

He shakes his head. He's upset now, you can see it in the crease of his brow, in the excessive head shakes, in the way he rubs his face so roughly. “They said I have to.”

“Who?”

“My teachers.” He looks around the room, and his eyes fall on the alphabet lining the walls.

You follow his gaze. The schoolhouse actually makes sense now. You thought he'd chosen it because it was abandoned…

“I can't do the alphabet. I have to do the alphabet, alphabet.” He says it like he's reciting something, like he's punishing himself.

Your breath is heavy, you blink rapidly, trying to see past your tear-filled eyes. “Your teachers made you do this?”

God, sometimes you hate teachers.

He rubs at his eyes, sighing heavily. “A, A, A,” he begins, speaking quickly and almost like he's struggling to speak. It reminds you of memorization methods. Sometimes you suggest it to students who have trouble remembering vocab—write it down over and over until you remember. Maybe that's why he's doing it? “B, B, B. C, C, C. D, D, D. E, E, E. F.”

He opens his eyes and points his knife at you. “F. F.”

The fear flares within you again. You try not to turn to a blubbering mess. You can't communicate with him if you can't speak properly. “Is that what you're doing?”

He moves to your arm. You try to pull at the duct tape he's got wrapped securely around your hands. You've been trapped here so long, your hands are numb, your wrists are bruising.

“Have to get to Z, Z, Z.”

You almost shout it when he presses the ruler to your arm. “Listen, listen, listen!” you say it in a rush, so, so scared. He actually stops. “Okay, they said to say it three times, right? You have to write it three times?”

The number triggers his tic. “Three, Three, three.” It's honestly becoming annoying. It's insistent and repetitive and it feels almost invasive. But you have to be patient or he'll just kill you faster.

“You don't have to do this.” Your face is itchy from the tears drying and re-wetting, but you can't scratch. “You're gonna be okay.”

He's not listening anymore. “Behave,” he warns, holding the knife to your face. “Behave.” He shakes his head. “Behave.”

He's stopped listening. Despite your screams, he measures and cuts and cleans and measures and cuts and cleans, repeating each number as he comes to it with calculated method.

You clench your fists as the knife digs into your thigh again. You're surprised you can get your broken cries out as you struggle to breathe.

He stands up, taking large steps back to look at his work. You suppose he's almost done, and that terrifies you.

You think about your students, the little kids in your classroom who have already lost one teacher and are now going to lose a second. All those good kids are going through so much already. They all loved Esther. You know they all loved you. You have a wall of art, holiday cards, and plenty of hugged legs to show for it.

You don't want to lose them. You don't want them to lose you.

In a last ditch effort to dissuade him from his pursuits, you shake your head and sigh heavily. “Please.”

He comes closer to you, squinting his eyes to try to ease you. “Shh, shh, shh,” he says. “Just close your eyes. It'll be over soon, soon, soon.”

He presses the ruler to your neck, and you don't have the strength to fight it. It inspires more tears as you shake your head weakly. “Please, please, please.” You chant it, closing your eyes shut. You brace for the end…

Both of you jump when the loudest crash resonates within the room. Wood splinters and heavy boots stomp against the floor. Startled, he staggers back. You open your eyes, lights flashing as the room crowds with armoured people.

“Laurence Tucker, drop the knife.”

You know that voice. You recognize it. It's hard to see past the lights and the tears in your eyes. You know him.

“Can't! Can't. Can't, I have to finish. I have to finish. I have to finish.”

He's panicking. Too many things happening at once, everything out of order, everything out of control. He grips the knife tighter, looking between you and the cops in the room.

Someone else, their voice louder and less patient, shouts. “Drop the knife now!”

“Behave, behave. Behave!”

Someone else's voice, softer and somehow understanding, speaks. Though the voices are beginning to blur. “We know what your teachers did to you,” he bids. “We know how they hurt you.”

They hurt him.

He shakes his alphabet, losing it over the chaos. His frustration is palpable. Every time they speak, he gets more and more angry. “Can't do the alphabet. I have to do the alphabet. I'm supposed to do the alphabet!”

“Larry,” you speak, your voice hoarse from overuse. You catch your breath, keeping your voice level. Like you're talking to one of your students. He's scared, he's angry. He needs patience. “Larry, look at me.”

You can practically feel the concern of the agents rolling off of them. They don't want you misspeaking and making him more upset than he already is.

But he looks at you, and he seems to respond to the softness because his furrowed brows shift very slightly, his anger turns to some semblance of fear.

Although it hurts, you try to smile. It's taking so much to lift your head, even more to get the words out without the heaviness of your rising fear and exhaustion.

“They were bad teachers.” He rubs his face, but you press on, speaking slowly. “They weren't supposed to hurt you. Teachers are supposed to help. They were wrong.”

He closes his eyes. “They were wrong,” he whispers, like he's trying to convince himself. “They were wrong, wrong.”

The desperation seeps in. “Let me help you,” you whisper. “Let them help you.”

“Help me,” he mutters, his voice as quiet as yours. “Help me, help me.”

The first voice, the one you know, he speaks again, patient but still an order. “Drop the knife, and we can help you.”

“Help me,” he whispers. Slowly, he moves as he contemplates the words. “Help me.” They raise their guns in alarm, but he keeps crouching until he's finally kneeling on the floor. He grips the knife. “Help me.”

“Just breathe, Larry,” you huff. The spark of adrenaline you'd gotten from your rescue is wearing off again. You feel like you might pass out. “It'll be okay,” you mutter. “It's going to be okay, it'll be okay.”

He stares at the floor, thinking. “Okay…okay,” he drops the knife, and it clatters to the floor. “Okay.”

They make quick work of cuffing him, forcing his hands behind his back as the metal clinks against itself.

An agent immediately rushes to you, and you immediately recognize him, just as you had his voice. Agent Hotchner kneels before you, carefully removing the duct tape around your wrists and ankles. “Are you alright?” His voice is so soft and gentle. You lean into it as your eyelids become heavier and heavier.

“I think I'm gonna pass out.”

Your voice is scratchy when you speak. He looks you over, and his hand comes to press against your cheek. It's oddly intimate, though you know it's for comfort. You lean into the warmth. It's helping.

“No, you won't,” he says as he removes the tape wrapped around your middle. “I've got you.” He glances behind him, throwing his demand over his shoulder. “Get me a medic.”

He turns back to you. “Can you stand?”

You want to say yes, but you genuinely don't think so. You shake your head, “I don't know.”

“Do you want me to help you stand?”

You nod, the movement choppy. “Yeah.”

“Okay,” he says. He wraps his arm under yours, lifting you slowly, carefully, like you're fragile and precious. “Can you tell me your name?”

Your words are sticky and slow. You genuinely think you're going to pass out. “You know my name.”

“Yes, I do.” He nods, and when you glance up at him, he's giving you the gentlest smile, and you feel like everything is going to be okay. “Can you make sure I have it right?”

You hum. “Fawn Hughes.”

You're so discombobulated that you don't even give him your birth name, instead the one granted to you since you were little.

“Fawn,” he mutters. “Is that your nickname?”

You nod, slowly, and hum.

“It's nice.”

The both of you make your way as he helps you hobble out of the schoolhouse and into the evening air, past golden hour where pinks and purples coat the sky. It goes a little faster when the medic finally arrives. They help you onto a stretcher, and Agent Hotchner apologizes every time you whine at the pain.

When you're settled, he gives you a gentle nod. You grab his hand before he can turn to leave, hoping he doesn't notice the way you wince and knowing he does. “Thank you,” you mutter.

He sighs gently. “Don't thank me.”

“Thank you,” you say again, a little more insistent this time. You swallow thickly, the falling adrenaline increasing the solemnity as your exhaustion begins to crash down on you in waves. You're surprised when you feel a tear slip down the side of your face, disappearing into your hairline. You'd cried so much already, you weren't aware you still could. “He was going to kill me. If you hadn't come through, I'd be dead. So thank you.”

He looks down at you, nodding gently, the movement almost imperceptible. “You're welcome.” He glances at the medic, and then toward the ambulance waiting for you. “They'll take care of you.”

You didn't want to ask, but the need is too strong. You're so scared, and he's the only one here you truly trust. Besides the fact that he'd come to your rescue, you don't necessarily know why.

“Can you please stay?”

He thinks for a moment. Really, he should be here helping the rest of the team. But as he looks over, locking eyes with Rossi talking with Prentiss, he looks between the two of you and sends him a nod.

Agent Hotchner turns back to you and nods. “Yes.”

You want to thank him again, but you know he'll just tell you not to. As they load you into the ambulance, he holds your hand, and you lay back and answer the medics questions.

~

“Mom, I'm fine.”

You sigh, as your mother's worried voice rises from the other end of your phone. “You were kidnapped and tor—Shit!—tortured by a deranged serial killer. I have a right to be worried.”

“Well, you don't have to be. I'm okay. See?” You show her the bandages wrapped around your arms. “Patched up and healthy. Doctors say I should be out of here tomorrow morning.”

“We'll be there by then.”

“You don't have to come down.”

“Hush. We're coming down, and you can't stop us. I love you, and we'll see you in the morning.”

She hangs up before you can respond. You shake your head and sigh, setting your phone down. At least you know she was worried about you.

You glance up when you hear a knock at your door. “Come in.”

The door opens as Hotch steps inside. His face is gentle, though without a smile. You miss it in a way as you offer your own.

“How are you feeling?” he asks, his voice just as soft.

You take in a breath. “Okay,” you say. “Considering.” You motion to your phone on the bedside table. “Got off the phone with my mom, she's…already on her way from out of state.”

He closes the door gently behind him, sitting on the chair beside your bed. “She's worried about you.”

You nod. “Yeah, I know.” You sigh, glancing over at him. His eyes are on you. Your lip twitches, fighting a bigger smile. You clear your throat. “Doctor said I'll scar, but…the knife was so sharp and steady enough that they should scar fine… They're discharging me in the morning.”

“That's good.”

“Yeah.”

Honestly, the quiet is nice. You look at him, at the features of his face, the softness mixed with his professionalism looks good on him.

“We retrieved this from the schoolhouse,” he says, reaching into the inside pocket of his suit. He hands you a necklace, your necklace. You smile gently, reaching out for it as he places it in your palm.

You're going to have trouble wearing it for a while, but it's nice to have it back. You look up at him thankfully.

“We also found this at Tucker's house.”

He hands you a second necklace. It's identical to your own, except this one has an E…for Esther.

You swallow the rising lump in your throat. Your smile aches as you breathe through the tears threatening to well in your eyes. You look up at him, your smile trembling as you hold back tears you've already shed. “Thank you.” He nods, smiling very briefly. “I'll, uh…I'll get it back to her family.”

“I'm glad I could help.”

Another comfortable silence falls over you. You tilt your head as you look up at him, wrapping the necklace around your fingers as you think. Something's on his mind.

“What is it?” you mutter.

He contemplates for a moment before he speaks. “Can I ask you something?”

“Yeah.”

“How did you manage to talk him down so well? You seemed so…calm.”

You look down at Esther's necklace, thinking for a moment as you shrug. You speak slowly, clearing your throat as you rub the thumb of your free hand along the white bandage on your forearm.

“He told me his teachers made him do it.” You close your eyes and take a steadying breath, the events of the night before too fresh to ignore. “That agent…said his teachers hurt him, so I treated it like an abusive parent situation. He just needed someone to be on his side.”

You hate that it had to be you, but at least you understand why he did what he did. You almost hate that you understand. “He was hurt as a kid. That kid needs to know he's not alone.”

Hotch thinks about that, nodding gently. “You're a wonderful teacher.”

His words are genuine. It warms you and puts you back at ease. “Thanks.” You smile at him, his little one reflecting back at you. “I guess I'll just have to figure out what to do with myself until they let me go back to my kids.”

A tiny chuckle escapes him. It's a good sound for him. “I think the children will be fine.” You chuckle as well, the sound of his laugh a contagious thing that you can't help.

He glances over his shoulder, out of the open blinds of your room to see Rossi standing in the hall. Hotch’s smile simmers down as they make eye contact. He nods, standing to his feet with a sigh.

“I have to go,” he says, almost regretfully. “Get well soon.”

You turn your palm up as it rests in your lap, wanting to reach for him but not wanting to seem desperate. “Thank you.”

“You don't have to thank me, Ms. Hughes.”

After a moment, Hotch turns toward the door, placing his hand on the handle. “Agent Hotchner?” you call timidly, your heart thumping in your chest and your palms clammy. He pauses on his way to the door, turning back to you with a gentle look.

You clear your throat, dipping your head and trying not to seem as nervous as you feel. You almost died. If that didn't tell you how short life is, you don't know what will. Asking wouldn't hurt.

“I know you're probably busy and all, but…” you lick your bottom lip, summoning the courage to look him in the eyes as you smile nervously. “Would you like to go to dinner with me sometime?” You think for a moment, “I'll stop thanking you so much if you do.”

Since meeting this man, the smile he gives you is the largest you've seen on him. It summons your own beaming grin as he looks at you with cheeks you swear are tinted pink. He chuckles gently, taking a couple slow steps to you as he nods. “I would love to.” All the weight of your worries lift from your shoulders with a sigh. “Please, call me Aaron.”

Your cheeks warm at his gentle affection. You have to clear your throat to speak. “Okay, Aaron,” you say. “But only if you call me Fawn.”

Another tiny chuckle comes out of him. “Where did Fawn come from?”

It’s a genuine question, an innocent curiosity you're happy to sate. “I used to be obsessed with deer as a kid. The nickname stuck,” you say with a shrug. “Some people think it's stupid, though. You can call me by my–”

His interruption isn't rude. In fact, you have to fight the urge to hide your face away as he says next, “I'm looking forward to that dinner, Fawn.”

You smile. “I'll hold you to that.”

Aaron gives you one last smile, saying a soft goodbye as he leaves the room to join Rossi, who gives him the biggest smirk he's ever witnessed.

As David opens his mouth to say something, Aaron stops him immediately with a raised hand and an annoyed grin on his face. “Don't.”

David raises his hands in defense, walking silently next to Aaron to join the team.

Criminal Minds taglist: @queermaxwooo @mdanon027 @lilianhallee @hpstuff244444 @thegr8estpuff @niktwazny303 @bubbles2300

[am-i-the-asshole-official]

AITA for telling my her ex I read her poetry?

I (F19) dated my ex (F18, Lacy) for about 9 months. I broke up with her because she had a lot of issues I just didn't know how to deal with and I also fell in love with my best friend (NB19, Alex, he/his pronouns), so I decided it was the best course of action. I broke up with Lacy on January of 2023 and started dating Alex in February.

Around this time, I found an Instagram account that posted poetry. There was nothing that could identify the author, but the poetry was really good so I started to follow them. With time, however, the poems started to look... familiar. Not the writing style, but some situations on them, for example: one of them said something like "your brother's night sky truck that took us to the stars" (my older brother has a dark blue truck he would lend me so I could take Lacy on dates) and another said "that old guitar you had that you never learned to play like you played me" (I have an old guitar I inherited from my father and I indeed never learned how to play it). These are only two examples, but I found many others that convinced me that account belonged to Lacy.

I know I should have left it alone the second I realized the account belonged to her, but it was so flattering to see she wrote all of that about me. I didn't tell anyone, not my friends or Alex, but I kept following the account and reading Lacy's poetry. I think my feelings for her started to rekindle after that, because no one ever wrote about me like that and, as months passed, she kept writing about me. She never got over me.

My relationship with Alex also started to have problems during this time. He got a job at an ice cream parlour and he started a D&D campain with his friends, which means we started to spend less and less time together. He didn't seem to be as interested in me as he was during our first months of relationship, and I feel like he's taking me for granted. Lately, more specifically since December, we started to fight a lot over small things too.

We went to a New Year's party one of our friends was hosting and Lacy was there too. That enough was reason for Alex to start complaining, since he has a lot of feelings of jealousy regarding her. We ended up having a fight because he thought I knew she'd be there, which I didn't, and he went to stay with our friends, avoiding me the whole night.

It was New Year's eve and I had just fought with my partner, who was monopolizing all of our friends and leaving me by myself, so I started to drink. I know that wasn't a good idea, but I was angry and frustrated and I thought that would help. It didn't, I just got super drunk.

Since my filter disappears when I'm drunk, I went after Lacy and told her her poetry was really good. At first she was confused, so I said I found her poetry account and her poems were amazing, and I was flattered she still thought about me like that, because I didn't think anyone else ever saw me in such a beautiful way.

After that, the panic in her eyes became clear. She started to cry, not full on sobbing but some tears rolled down her face and she didn't answer me, just left. Alex saw the interaction and came to ask me what happened. I ended up telling him about Lacy's poetry account, we fought again and I decided to go home. In that same night, I searched for the poetry account and it was deleted.

This whole situation didn't leave my head since it happened and I don't know what to think. Alex has also been avoiding me and I don't understand why everyone seems to be against me. Lacy blocked me everywhere and I'm beginning to think leaving her for Alex was a huge mistake. It was also never my intention to make Lacy feel like she had to delete her account.

AITA for telling her I knew about the poetry account?

What are these acronyms?