#di zarah

[velvetcnidarian-gems]

My ocs, Zariah and Xamira c: The colorful outfit Xamira is wearing is based on a 1980s Pop-Art set by Jitrois

[julesnichols]

So now that I can say it since a lot of (most?) people have seen 4.07:

What was the

✨ point ✨

of Zarah and Ben dying for Layton's plot this season when all he had to do was ask nicely and Headwood just handed her back 😐

[grimmshood]

i was drawing cy's family and then it got really scary..... Forbidden lore

[simshousewindsor]

BEGINNING AND END

[Buckingsim Palace 1:53 PM WST]

Prince Louis: "Each day I call on mom in the afternoon, and although she doesn't look quite as bad as the doctors warned me, she'll never again be able to leave her rooms, far less go out in public."

[Kently Estate 8:20 PM WST]

Prince Louis: (writing) It's one of the hardest things I've ever had to endure. When father died, it was sudden. When George died, it was sudden. I'm not sure how much longer she has. The doctors think days. I've lost my father, and my brother, and now my mothers' time has come to an end. The Spare left behind.

- - - - - THE PAST - - - - -

[Buckingsim Palace, March 1940]

Princess Amelia: Why her?

Queen Lara-Leigh: She is the daughter of a King, a princess by birth, and a descendant of Albert I. She's also quite the beauty!

King Edward I: I have not seen her since she was 11, the last time I visited Sulani.

Queen Lara-Leigh: This union will not only strengthen our relationship with Sulani but the Windsor bloodline. She will be the perfect consort for Edward. He will need someone strong.

Queen Lara-Leigh: She also speaks several languages!

King Edward I: Edward has visited Sulani, and they have spent ample time courting.

Princess Amelia: ...here they come.

(Edward and Zarah enter)

[Equerry]: Presenting His Royal Highness The Prince Edward, and Her Highness Princess Zarah of Sulani, Your Majesty's.

Prince Edward: Mother! Father!

Queen Lara-Leigh: (kissing cheek) Hello, darling.

King Edward I: How was the airport?

Prince Edward: There were so many sims waiting.

Queen Lara-Leigh: My, you are a beauty!

Princess Zarah: (curtsy) Your Majesty.

Queen Lara-Leigh: How lovely to finally meet you.

King Edward I: and this is Edwards younger sister, Amelia.

Princess Zarah: (to Amelia) Hello.

Princess Amelia: (smiles)

Queen Lara-Leigh: I hope your journey was well.

Princess Zarah: Yes, ma'am. It was quite smooth.

Queen Lara-Leigh: Peter will show you to your room. I'm sure you'd like to you get settled. Your things should have made their way up to your room by now.

Princess Zarah: (curtsy) Your Majesty.

Queen Lara-Leigh: Zarah, when it's just the close family, there is no need to curtsy. Formalities are not required.

Princess Zarah: Yes, Your Majesty.

- - - - - THE PAST - - - - -

[Buckingsim Palace, March 1940]

Lady Danberry: You look beautiful!

Princess Zarah: Thank you. I'm so nervous! What if I mess up?

Lady Danberry: They're going to love you! You'll meet Prince Edward and walk down the stairs together to the waiting press. They will ask a few questions about the ring, how he proposed, the wedding date, your wedding gown, and of course how soon you'll start having babies!

Both: (laughs)

Lady Danberry: Just be yourself. Windenburg will love you!

Princess Zarah: Will the King and Queen?

Lady Danberry: They already like you! You're an amazing sim, Zarah. You're also about to marry their son, and become the future Queen of Windenburg! And one day, you're also going to give birth to the future King ...or Queen.

(press clamoring)

Lady Danberry: It's time.

Princess Zarah: Okay. Here we go!

- - - - - THE PAST - - - - -

[Buckingsim Palace, 14 December 1962]

King Edward II: (excited) It's a boy! I have a son! The twenty year drought is over.

Princess Amelia: (excited) ...finally an heir! Thank God!

- - - - - THE PAST - - - - -

[Buckingsim Palace, May 1963]

(Queen Zarah enters)

??: (snoring)

King Edward II: (snoring continues)

Prince George: (sleeping)

(Queen Zarah exits)

Queen Zarah: (smiles) Heaven!

Previous | Beginning | Next

[akajustmerry]

I didn't realise you were a snowpiercer fan! I'd love to hear more of your thoughts on the series. I swear hardly anyone watched it which is so sad!

oh man I LOVED snowpiercer. like. truly a show made for me with all my favourite tropes, character types, and genres. but yeah alright quickfire snowpiercer thoughts let's gooo

josie and layton were so fucking boring sorry I know that was the point but I literally was so bored I also hate love triangleish situations where it's a woc vs a white woman so yeah hated that soooo much

literally best chemistry a cast of a drama have ever had. a bottleneck show like that lives and dies on dynamics and the dynamics in this show were all so compelling. til and layton, melanie and ruth, miss audrey and zarah, Alex and wilford, even fucking pike and ruth were crazy compelling. everyone was so compelling. (except, you know)

I really liked how it catered to people who loved the film, but also distinguished itself very clearly in that the visuals and vibe were lifted from the film but the story did its own thing

I fucking love the production design for the garden cart and the night cart and all the carts in the different classes

kinda loved how everytime you'd have a question about how the logistics of the train worked, the show had your back. I never felt watching it that I didnt understand how everything worked.

Loved how it leaned into the body horror with Josie's sub-plot. Insaneeee

Uhhhh the twist of the second train? Blew. My. Mind. to this day it's one of my favourite twists ever it was so well done, and the way that gets built on with the democracy and piracy plot lines is so good

I loved zarah so much. Main character of the show 2 me

I also loved how the show actually deals with what being on a train forever does to people, mentally

Also loved the little references throughout the series to other environmental disaster stories like Day After Tomorrow

loved how at the end of the world there was so many bisexuals and lesbians. amen

Arguably my most unpopular opinion is that Melanie was boring as a main character. The white feminism of her character being pitted against layton's struggle for liberation pisseddddd me off (which I know was the point but still). I liked her more when she left and came back as a more secondary character. though her and Bennet were so hot. why lie

speaking of hot um yeah daveed diggs covered in blood many times. send tweet

and i miss this show every day and I'll never forgive Warner Bros for fucking over everyone in this show the way they did. Hugest irony ever that a show about how fucked up late capitalism is got killed like that 💀

[confuse-the-masses]

After last year’s TLOVM watch party I realized it wasn’t really possible to rewatch the commentary. So this time I went and wrote down as much of the fun extra info as I could so I don’t lose it.

Season 2 Episode 1:

Everyone shut up, Gilmore’s talking

According to Matt, 75,000 - 80,00 people died in the dragon attack

The genasi(?) child that get killed by Raishan is voiced by Sam’s kid

After reading the S2 script, Lance Reddick said he didn’t want to agree to voice Thordak until he know what happened next. So Sam gave him the rundown of what happens

The party was starting to think “well what are we supposed to do now?” Before getting to the chroma conclave in the original campaign.

The orphans are also Sam's kids

Animators rotoscoped 2d animation over the dragons to add details. Specifically, ice on Vorugal 

The first version of Scanlan jumping through the tree he had a tear in his pants, they thought it was too light for the situation and got rid of it.

A transition near the end was originally Scanlan’s pants, which had been patched up flying by, also too light.

Season 2 Episode 2:

"Etherial butt scoops"

All the chatter entering vasslehiem is just the main cast

The law-bearer person who directs them to the slayer’s take was originally Kima’s cousin.

Kash’s “You’re very close to me” was improv

The boar-man in the slayer's take is half Liam’s grunting half Travis’

This was Will’s first time cursing in an animated show

The calamity scene was assigned to one person (they did a great job)

Victor’s fiiiiiine

Season 2 Episode 3:

Dexter, the pink accountant dragon, who flies with a propeller hat. Voiced by Eddie Deezen.

Scanlan’s foot fetish joke was improv.

The episode has next to no musical score, to make it feel strange or unnerving. But swells at the end scene.

Zarah was designed to have very “John Wick” close-quarters combat magic.

When pike gets sucked into the pillar of water Travis always thinks Ashley sounds like an elephant.

Kash’s “‘Cause you fuckin’ should be” was improv.

Matt started crying at the end.

Let me know if I missed anything

[katia-dreamer]

Claws of Guilt

Percy thinks about what he's done (post sunken tomb) content warning for canon-compliant character death

As he works, Percy relives the moment Vex died in his mind. He remembers the sick thud of her body hitting the ground. How small she looked lying there, her face empty and eyes vacant. He recalls the stench of the tomb in his nostrils, the sight of the blood on his hands as he placed the Residuum on her chest. But it had been useless. 

His so-called cleverness had failed him. 

She had trusted him when the darkness was pulling at his soul, and he had repaid her with death. 

Claws of guilt sink into the seams of his chest and rip him open.

She would still be dead if it were not for Kash, Zarah, and Vax. There is no demon or shadow he can blame for that, only his sheer recklessness and egotism. He does not know if he would change anything and knows himself well enough to admit it.  

But he could not have lived with himself if she hadn’t survived. The warmth of Vex’ahlia did not belong in the cold of the grave.

I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m sorry.

He weaves the confession with his sweat, sealing it into the arrow.

[swit-purple]

"Peringatan Buat Jiwa yang Merasa Mulia"

Kehidupan ini adalah sebuah ujian yang sering kali mengaburkan hakikat sebenar kebaikan dan keburukan. Dalam perjalanan kita menuju redha Allah, ada kalanya kita terperangkap dalam perasaan keangkuhan. Kita mungkin merasa diri kita lebih baik, lebih mulia, lebih taat beragama daripada orang lain. Tetapi, hakikatnya, perasaan seperti ini hanya menunjukkan kelemahan hati kita yang masih belum benar-benar memahami erti rendah hati dan tawaduk.

Adakah kita lupa bahawa hanya Allah yang Maha Mengetahui siapa sebenarnya yang lebih mulia di sisi-Nya? Allah berfirman dalam Al-Quran, “Sesungguhnya orang yang paling mulia di antara kamu di sisi Allah ialah orang yang paling bertakwa di antara kamu” (Surah Al-Hujurat, 49:13). Ayat ini menjadi peringatan jelas bahawa takwa, bukanlah perasaan diri lebih baik, yang menentukan kedudukan kita di sisi Allah.

Sering kali, kejahatan bukanlah semata-mata dalam bentuk tindakan buruk seperti mencuri atau menipu. Kejahatan juga boleh datang dalam bentuk perasaan, perasaan yang membuat kita memandang rendah orang lain kerana kita merasa lebih mulia atau lebih baik daripada mereka. Ketika kita yakin bahawa kita lebih layak masuk syurga berbanding orang lain, ketika itu jugalah hati kita mula dihuni sifat takbur yang bisa merosakkan amal baik kita.

Rasulullah SAW pernah bersabda, “Tidak akan masuk syurga orang yang di dalam hatinya ada seberat zarah daripada sifat takbur” (Hadis Riwayat Muslim). Betapa besarnya ancaman ini, sehingga sifat takbur yang sekecil zarah pun mampu menghalang seseorang dari syurga! Maka, apakah yang lebih layak kita lakukan selain sentiasa merendahkan diri dan beristighfar memohon keampunan?

Kita perlu selalu mengingatkan diri bahawa amalan kita yang sedikit ini, walaupun kelihatan banyak dan besar di mata kita, mungkin tiada nilainya di sisi Allah tanpa keikhlasan dan tawaduk. Bahkan, mereka yang kita pandang rendah hari ini mungkin memiliki amalan tersembunyi yang lebih besar nilainya di sisi Allah. Sesungguhnya, Allah Maha Mengetahui segala yang tersembunyi dalam hati setiap insan.

Marilah kita sama-sama membetulkan niat, menjauhi sifat takbur, dan sentiasa merendahkan diri di hadapan Allah. Kita tiada hak untuk menilai siapa yang lebih baik di antara kita, kerana yang lebih penting adalah sejauh mana ketakwaan kita kepada Allah. Semoga kita dijauhkan dari sifat-sifat yang membinasakan dan sentiasa berada dalam rahmat serta petunjuk-Nya.

Hanya dengan ketakwaan, kita akan memperoleh darjat yang tinggi di sisi Allah. Oleh itu, sentiasalah berusaha memperbaiki diri dan berdoa agar kita diberi kekuatan untuk menghindari sifat-sifat yang mendatangkan kebinasaan. Sesungguhnya, segala kebaikan datangnya dari Allah, dan segala kelemahan itu datangnya dari diri kita sendiri. Wallahu a’lam.

___

Jom Join Telegram Channel Ceramah Ustaz dan Ustazah : Klik link dibawah

https://t.me/ceramahustazdanustazah

Atau Channel Whatsapp

https://whatsapp.com/channel/0029Va68JdQ23n3lYszKbO1b

Jom lawat web kami

www.tazkirahustazustazah.com

Semoga Allah merahmati sahabat dunia dan akhirat. Amin ya Allah 😊

[gryfflepuffinthetardis]

Prologue Part Two: May 1-3, 2005— Zoe’s First Case: The Boston Poisoner

Summary: It’s Zoe’s first case with the BAU, going to Boston which she hates more than any other place, stopping a serial poisoner and Zoe shows hints of having a constant darkness looming around her.

Warning: Mentions of Suicide; Blood; Pain; Slight insight in the thinking of a suicidal person; Possibly incorrect pharmacology; Hints at past trauma; Hint at a stalker; Description of COPD; Slight unethical behavior; Possible slight inconsistency at some point I think

"There is nothing more dangerous than a smart woman who is focused and unimpressed."

"Boston's got a serial poisoner." JJ said, Zoe refrained from making a face, she hated Boston more than any other city in the world. She had a guttural instinct to get the hell away from Boston—despite her going to Harvard—thinking about Boston made her want to vomit and she knew why but… it was complicated. Alexander could’ve lost his job if she told and she had no wish to revisit that particular area of Boston sooner than necessary and one day it would be necessary. "There have been twelve bodies in the past six months."

"Twelve bodies? Why is this the first we're hearing about it?" Spencer asked.

"Because up until the last victim they were deemed suicides. The last victim was found with defense wounds before he punched the floorboards until his hands were bloodied and he died." JJ explained.

"Why'd he bloody his hands?" Morgan asked.

"They don't know but he had the same poison that the last eleven victims had so they've deemed all of them as possible murders."

"When do we leave?" Alexander said.

"Wheels up in thirty. Alexander, you help Valdez with her go bag." Hotch said and they all left the father and daughter.

"I know what goes in a go bag, Dad." Zoe said. "This was like a second home to me."

“Zoe. Make sure—” He started to list to his daughter who listened anyways. “Several packs of clothes, your medicine, your guns, your self-defense tools, your stimulation toys, your inhaler…”

“Dad, I don’t need an inhaler.” She sighed, irritatedly.

“You had cardiac asthma. It relieves the acute symptoms!” He said, loudly, speaking over her irritation.

“Dad, I’m a medical doctor. I have an MD attached to my name. I know what an inhaler does to cardiac asthma and it’s not very effective against fluid buildup in the left side of my Frankenstein heart.” Alexander went to protest against this description of her heart but she continued to speak. “And I only had it when I was a baby and toddler. I haven’t needed it in thirteen years. My heart got stronger as I grew.”

“And remember to also bring your notes, bring some of your mum’s books…”

“Dad, please. I’ve been on the jet more times than I stepped into my high school homeroom, and it’s better than when it was road trips.”

She faltered, images flashing back of being in the car with… with Zarah.

“Dad, I’m fine. Go. And don’t tell anyone!” She hissed.

She kept her body language ambiguous, she could feel other members looking at her. Ten minutes in and she had already had an argument with the only co-founder currently not on medical leave, granted Alexander tended to argue with people. It was no secret that he wasn’t as mentally stable as most of the other FBI agents. Alexander had been considered for the Unit Chief when Gideon went on medical leave by the section chief, a haughty, arrogant, and rather unpleasant lady named Erin Strauss who Zoe despised deeply since the Amerithrax case in 2001 when Strauss blamed Alexander Noble, Alex Blake, and some other agent when the wrong suspect was arrested in order to save her career. There had been a huge trial and Zoe, barley two months from escaping an eight-month torture she largely couldn’t remember had to fly from Harvard back to Quantico to vouch for her father some weeks after the ordeal.

The only reason this hadn’t hurt Alexander’s career was the fact that since February of that year, both his children had gone missing and only one showed back up, clearly traumatized from the experience and not the same. Zoe had always been stoic and violent but after she came back, she rarely showed signs of her other personality traits. She had gotten better but now it was happening again with her recent trauma again.

Alex Blake hadn’t been so lucky, she and the other agent had been demoted, their reputation damaged while Strauss’ remained “clean”.

Alexander wasn’t deemed mentally suited for the job. Strauss claimed it had nothing to do with his bipolar disorder even though no one had said anything about that until she brought it up but it was also due to the fact that the BAU was aware that Zoe intended to join and she had helped before as a child. So if that came true, that would be a conflict of interest as anything remotely concerning his daughters, always was.

——————————————————————————————————

Zoe stepped onto the jet, fifteen minutes later, she hadn’t stepped onto this plane since she was found four years ago. Her memory flickered back to the car rides. While the car rides had been longer than the very fast jet, they had been wonderful family moments. Zarah would be reading the books Zelena had left behind while Zoe sometimes would stick her head out of the top of the car so she could feel like she was flying.

“Trouble flying?” Asked a voice and she turned to see Spencer Reid, smiling politely at her.

“No. Just remembering something.” She shook her head and got on board.

——————————————————————————————————

"What I don't understand is why he kept punching the floorboards if the poison was only mildly painful." Morgan said as Zoe stared at the picture of the dead boy with bloodied hands, he was around fifteen or sixteen with red hair.

"Maybe so it would look less like a suicide." Zoe suggested, softly.

"What was that?" Hotch asked her.

All the attention was on Zoe now.

Zoe sat up and explained her theory. "Maybe he was trying to make it look less like a suicide as possible. Maybe he realized that the other eleven weren't suicides either and knew unless he proved otherwise his death would be considered a suicide as well so he went all out. People never listen to words until dramatic actions are taken, then they ask why no one said anything. That's the mindset of most suicidal people. So he had to take dramatic action to prove this wasn't a suicide. He fought his killer, giving himself defensive wounds and then bloodied his fists to prove that he wasn't trying to commit suicide."

"How would you prove it?"

"The poison is relatively painless. At most, it feels like an overdose."

"How do you know that?" Morgan asked.

"I have a degree in toxicology." Zoe said, like it was no big deal, "You would take this if you wanted a relatively painless death, so why put yourself through the pain of punching the floor until your fists split open and the last bit of life drained from you? It's true. People don't listen unless dramatic actions are taken; only then do people start asking questions. Some people don’t listen when suicidal people try to explain things to them but they still ask why they didn’t say something when they were alive. Only in this case, it's to explain why it's not suicide." 

——————————————————————————————————

The Boston police department was familiar with Hotch and Alexander from a case in the late nineties; Zoe, to avoid being recognized had held back.

“You okay?” Spencer asked, noticing Zoe staring at a Wanted poster for the aforementioned serial killer.

“Yeah.” She lied, “Just not a fan of Boston.”

Understatement of the year.

“They never caught him, you know. You know, according to his biography, the reason he stopped killing was because he was either dead or in prison for an unrelated charge” Spencer rambled.

“That’s bullshit.” Zoe said, sharply shook her head.

“What?”

“He’s not dead and he’s not in prison.” She shook her head, still staring at the poster with what Spencer deduced was almost personal distaste, “He’s too methodical for that.” 

“Then why’d he stop killing if he’s not dead?” Spencer asked.

“Maybe someone made a deal with the devil.” She said, darkly.

Spencer was about to ask what she meant when Hotch called them over.

“Valdez. Reid…”

“Please, Zoe.” She said.

“Zoe, you have a degree in toxicology and pharmacology, you check the coroner's reports, Reid, you go with her.” Hotch said and Alexander looked like he wanted to protest but withheld himself from doing so.

——————————————————————————————————

"Are you okay?" Spencer asked Zoe during the cab ride. She looked at him from her six-minute stare out the window. "I know I don't really know you and something tells me you're..." He changed his wording, "Something tells me that that's not going to change soon and not because Garcia tried to snoop in your file and couldn't find anything."

"I'm fine, Reid." She said, "Just... the last time I was in Boston... wasn't exactly a positive experience."

"When was this?" Spencer asked.

"Oh, about eight weeks during January and February in 1998."

"This didn't by any chance happen to be during..."

"Oh, about." Zoe cut him off.

"Yeah, how old were you then?"

"Twelve." She said.

She considered telling him what else happened but due to circumstances she held back. She would surely be questioned about what she saw and why she never said anything. It was too risky, it’d get her dad in trouble and could get people killed.

——————————————————————————————————

The coroner showed them the body of the last victim.

"Richie Rousseau, age seventeen. Shame. Kid had four-point-zero GPA, full-ride scholarship to Harvard. He had an IQ of 165."

"Impressive." Zoe said, "did you determine what drugs were in his system?"

"Toxicology report should be back within the hour."

Zoe examined the broken fists of the dead teenager with a gentle and professional touch. "Wow. He shattered his bones. His bone must've fractured at least a full minute before he died. He kept on punching. And I thought I was persistent.”

"Could he have been hallucinating?" Spencer asked.

"They emailed me the toxicology report but the network is down. We're waiting for the computer specialist."

"Well, I have a degree in computer science, I could take a look.”

"No need. He's here." The coroner said, waving the specialist in which neither young genius paid much attention to.

"You have a toxicology degree, a pharmacology degree, and a computer science degree along with the degrees needed to become a profiler?" Spencer asked.

"Yeah, I have twenty-four degrees." She said as if this were perfectly normal.

The former twelve-year-old high school graduate's jaw dropped. "No way. You're only nineteen years, six months, and one day old."

Zoe quirked an eyebrow at him.

"I, uh, I... I time things. I didn't mean for that to come off as creepy but Garcia did send me a few things about you like that your birthday is on Halloween. My birthday's that month too. The twelfth. How do you have so many, by the way?" Spencer rambled, awkwardly.

Zoe just smiled at him, finding his quirk of rambling rather endearing, she was always happy to meet another social outcast or at least someone who felt like one.

"I, uh, I started college classes when I was five. A… the daughter of a family friend helped." She shrugged. "I'm a bit of a genius, in everything except math really."

"You don't like math?" Spencer said as if he couldn't understand that. Statistics were his life.

"I despise math, but I was apparently qualified to be a genius in most types of intelligence." She said, rolling her eyes, she would rather be tortured than do math.

"Did you ever take an IQ test?" Spencer asked, he wouldn't be surprised if she was as smart as he was at the very least.

Zoe's eyes went past Spencer and to the specialist—a guy in his late thirties who looked familiar.

She walked past Spencer and to him, "Hi. I'm sorry but you look really familiar."

His eyes went to her and she resisted the urge to shiver. She didn’t know why but…

"Oh, I think we met once or twice, little one."

This time she did shiver as a voice that haunted her dreams came back to her. "Pequeño".

"I don't..." She started when she spotted a horrible scar peeking out from under his collar and it clicked. She refrained from having her body language change.

"You know, I think we have..." She looked at the nametag, "Kevin Baskin." 

"There you go, the network should be up and running." The man told the coroner and went to leave, giving Zoe a knowing smile that unnerved her. It wasn't one she'd expect from him, it had more confidence and arrogance to it, like how some people (usually feminists) metaphorize the big bad wolf's relationship towards Little Red Riding Hood. "Have a nice day, Zoe." He said in an undertone.

"How'd he know your..." Spencer started.

"Are these the tox reports? Do you have any for any of the other victims?" Zoe cut him off.

"The drugs were all the same." The coroner said, handing over the report.

Zoe raised her eyebrows at the paper, "Alright. Wow. That's a lot. Uh..."

Zoe fumbled with the pockets of her black leather duster coat and pulled out a small notebook and reached into her satchel, searching for something before pulling out a steel pen with a sort of handle before she started writing down all the drug names, ignoring the odd look from the coroner and the scrutinizing look from Spencer.

"Are you neurodivergent?" Spencer asked bluntly once they left.

Zoe looked at him with a deadpan look and asked, "Are you?"

——————————————————————————————————

"Did you determine what kind of drugs poisoned the victims?" Hotch asked once they returned and Zoe immediately flopped into an office chair with wheels.

"Yeah, but to my knowledge no drug has all these effects. There's Benzodiazepine which is in anxiety pills like Xanax which explains why only the last victim died in stress, I looked into Richie, the last victim's medical history, he had severe anxiety and insomnia and he may have built up a tolerance for it which is why he freaked out. There's both fluticasone and beclomethasone, both of which belong in the Corticosteroids class of drugs or more simply Inhaled Steroids, this mostly causes hoarseness of the voice and possibly even voice loss, making it a bit difficult to scream for help. Ketamine..." Everyone had noticed how she had started with a chain fidget thing.

Morgan looked at Spencer, still skeptical of Zoe who pursed his lips.

"Why does that sound familiar?" Morgan asked.

"Because it's a date rape drug. Most likely in this, it's used to weaken and/or disorientate the victims so they can't run off for help.” Zoe responded “And... cyanide."

"But then Richie wouldn't have time to bloody his fists like that."

"It's... it's a different kind of cyanide I've ever seen. It's slow-acting but painful. No single drug has these effects and there's only evidence of one pill being taken.”

"So the UnSub has been making their own drug out of other drugs." Hotch summed up.

"Yeah, basically..." Zoe said and she took the notebook from Spencer who was accidently reading the profile she wrote.

——————————————————————————————————

They had mapped out the locations the victims were last seen before being found dead and where they had gone missing but there was no apparent connection other than "random spots in Boston."

Zoe had been paired up with Hotch, Spencer, and Morgan. With Hotch, it was a time that could only be described as "deadpan". He often had to remind her to be professional due to her impulsiveness and natural instinct to rebel.

She conflicted the most with Morgan, who had trust issues with even those he’s worked with for years. Despite working with Alexander for six years, he only knew that Alexander had two grown up daughters and there was a situation with them four years ago, where they went missing but only one came back just a month or two before Morgan joined the BAU.

Morgan though he had to admit he liked her. She was observant, quirky, sarcastic, funny, and highly intelligent. She had a tendency for rebellion which he had to warn her against. They had similarities in their background too, what with being born the child of law enforcement, Zoe claiming that most of her family were law enforcement but she didn't specify which parent was in law enforcement and what kind of law enforcement or that most of the other half of her family were criminals. She too had a parent die when she was young, all she said was her mother had been murdered when shew as a baby. Little did they know, they had even more similarities in their childhood trauma-wise than they thought, both determined to never let the team ever know and pretend it never happened.

She got along the most with Spencer which was an unusual occurrence to both of them, due to their neurodivergence, socially awkward antisocial introvertedness, rather geeky interests like science or science fiction or even philosophy, and their high genius-level. Their personalities clashed at the same time, Spencer was shy and never spoke up when he was interrupted (which was a common occurrence), he was also quite modest with his intelligence, his showing off being more habitual and accidental than on purpose, he was obedient and followed the rules. He was often serious, seldomly making jokes, and quite kind to everyone, even those who were being rude to them.

Zoe, while being shy and having insecurities of her own, she masked it with sarcasm, smiles, jokes, and false apathy, she snarked when people interrupted her which was often since she was short, young, and a girl. Zoe often showed off her superior intelligence (occasionally after playing dumb) to embarrass those she felt deserved it but she was clearly also modest with it as she didn’t boast or show off about it for no reason, she seemed to be allergic to obedience and rebellion seemed to run through her veins but Spencer could see she was kind to those who were kind, she was empathetic, especially to those she could see were struggling or in pain or hiding something.

It became clear to Morgan and Spencer that had ADHD—hence her constant need to be doing something and difficulty at paying attention and focusing—and having Cyclothymia Bipolar which was essentially a mild version of Bipolar disorder.

Alexander walked into the evidence room where Zoe was putting copies of the profile into a box to transport them.

"What are you doing?" Alexander asked, handing his daughter a highly caffeinated hot chocolate with extra chocolate and her pill bottles for her ADHD, Cyclothymia, PTSD, anxiety, and depression.

"I thought we could visit Tom Shaunessy, you remember him?"

"Do I remember him? You're joking right?" Alexander asked his daughter, sarcastically.

"He retired in 2000 but you know, we're not Hotch." Zoe said.

——————————————————————————————————

The father/daughter duo knocked on Shaunessy's house door and a woman opened it.

"Hello, may I help you?"

"Hi, I'm an old colleague of Tom Shaunessy and I was wondering if we could use his help on this new case."

"What are your names?"

"I'm Special Agent Alexander Noble and this is Special Agent Doctor Zoe Valdez." 

"Oh, yes. He's mentioned you two a few times."

"How is Shaunessy?" Alexander asked as they were let inside.

Zoe heard a soft sound behind her and trained to always be on high alert, Zoe glanced behind her at a bush that was moving slightly. It could've just been the wind but she could swear she saw a dark mass moving behind the bush before it stilled.

Uneasily, she tore her eyes away and she went inside.

"His health started to worsened at the end of 1998, he had to retire in 2000, since then it's been steadily getting worse." Shaunessy's nurse explained.

"What is it?" Zoe asked.

"COPD."

COPD was short for Chronic obstructive pulmonary disease; it was a chronic inflammatory lung disease that obstructed airflow from the lungs.

People diagnosed with this may be able to live up to ten or even twenty years after the diagnosis, but that was only with mild COPD and if well managed. Zoe knew that Shaunessy had had a fit at work in 2000 which resulted in him collapsing and being rushed the the hospital and being diagnosed. She didn't think he would make it twenty years after diagnosis as much as she hoped so.

"Oh." Zoe said.

Alexander and Zoe entered his room to see Tom Shaunessy, an elderly man in around his late sixties to early seventies. The room was decorated with awards that had been presented to him—a Service award in 1996, newspaper clippings of his cases, and an Outstanding Service Award.

"Detective Tom." Zoe greeted.

"As I live and breathe, little Zoe." He smiled, his hand shook as he gripped his can. Zoe could feel his overly sympathetic look that made Zoe feel like a victim—she hated that feeling, she trained her whole life to not feel that feeling.

"I told you..." She deflected, "smoking kills. COPD's most common cause is cigarette smoking and the risk increases with the amount and duration of smoking. Passive smoking or breathing in secondhand smoke can also contribute."

"Still as smart as you were." Shaunessy said. “What are you two doing here?”

“There’s a poisoner in Boston.” Zoe said

They showed him the files and everything they figured out as they consulted the retired detective but eventually they had to leave, Zoe felt like something was just on the tip of her tongue but she couldn't figure out what it was, she was distracted in the car from her father's theorizing but an absent-minded recognition that she didn't fully process was that the taxi driver had been the same every time she took a cab.

——————————————————————————————————

Zoe looked over the files while she messed with an ADHD fidget hand massage ball.

She dropped her head on the table in frustrated laughter, "I had graduated from the best colleges in the world with Master degrees before I even started having my monthlies and wearing bras and I can't figure this out..." She picked her head up and slumped back in her seat. "I blame Boston. It's distracting me too much." Then she grabbed a chocolate from the L.A. Burdick Chocolates that Alexander had bought and Spencer and Zoe had eaten the majority off.

"What's wrong with Boston?" Spencer asked.

"Boston's shit!" Alexander said, walking past them.

Then her comment before that came back to her. Colleges.

She rifled through the files of the victims, the youngest victims from fourteen to eighteen, all had high GPAs, most had full-ride scholarships. The young adults from ages eighteen to early twenties went to the best schools. Zoe knew, she had graduated from the majority of them. The older ones had graduated from them too. 

"It's... it's about intelligence." She realized.

"What?" Spencer asked.

"Look. Richie had a full ride to Harvard," She rattled off the rest of the colleges of the other victim.

"The UnSub wants to be clever. Prove that he's cleverer than them."

"I'll run this by Hotch." Spencer said and went off to give a longer explanation of this to their Unit Chief.

She watered the chocolate down with her highly-caffeinated Mexican hot chocolate, letting the hot cinnamony beverage burn her mouth as she thought, the world melting around her as she got lost in her thoughts.

The killer likely interacted with all of the victims but it's likely the UnSub was someone no one would've noticed. They had found footage of them all getting into taxis but none where they were seen afterwards... the taxi driver... of course, no one pays attention to taxi drivers. Her phone beeped and she checked it to see a message.

Unknown Number: He said you'd be the one to figure it out. That you were smarter than everyone else. I'd like to meet face-to-face and see it for myself.

Her eyes darted about the station, no one was paying attention to her, so she stood up and walked to the window, moving the blinds with her fingers to see a taxi in front of the station.

She texted back: Who's he?

She got a call instead...

Her eyes flicked up to the rest of the police station and she answered. "Hello, taxi driver from hell?" She quipped.

"He said you were a snarker too."

"Who is he?" She repeated her text.

"You know who."

She clenched her jaw. "Yeah, so he's still alive? Not in prison or dead?" Her tone had a sardonic mocking bite to it.

"You know he's too good not to."

"I wouldn’t use the word ‘good’.” She growled. “What's to stop me from telling everyone here that you're the killer?"

"I can drive off, you can't see me, you don't know my taxi number and I'll kill more people. Maybe I'll sneak some poison into the coffee your team loves so much."

She turned looking at her team, fear mingling in her eyes.

"Don't you dare touch them." She growled.

"Then come out, little one."

Her nose scrunched up at the nickname and her eye twitched. He hung up and she looked at the team and she made a call to Quantico as she collected her things, casually, stoic even to a profiler.

"The All-Knowing Penelope here." Garcia quipped.

"Garcia, I need a favor but don't tell the others yet." She said as she picked up Spencer’s rather nineties-like phone. Her phone had protection, she was a talented hacker with secrets that she didn’t want people to know but Spencer wasn’t. His phone was easier to track.

"Why?"

"Because I'm about to be the killer's next victim. They can follow me, this is the only way he'll confess, if he’s bragging about his plan to his next victim to show how much smarter he is than me. I need you to tell them in a few minutes and to track Spencer’s phone which I just stole."

"What are you going to do? He'll kill you." Penelope panicked.

"No, he wants to be smart. He thinks I won't be able to figure out his trick. He thinks I want to prove I'm smarter. I just need to stall while he confesses." Zoe said, "If I fail... I'm going to send you a picture of either a license or an ID."

"Wait, Zoe..."

"Goodbye Garcia." Zoe said and hung up.

She started to leave, "Zoe, where are you going?" Alexander asked, concern for his daughter.

"Going out for a bit of air. I'll be fine." She lied, her tone steady as can be. That what happens when you’re the daughter to two of the young co-founder/profilers of the BAU and are raised by one of them and the others—Alexander Noble, Jason Gideon, David Rossi, and to a less extent, Max Ryan. (And David Rossi, practically being compulsively unable to take a break from the life, read criminal profiles to her instead of bedtime stories, and then she begged the others to do it—only Gideon refused). She was able to profile since she was a toddler and knew how to keep from people knowing she was lying.

She arrived outside and got into the taxi, seeing the man.

"Hello, Zoe."

"Serial Killer." She addressed in an almost pleasant greeting tone as she brought up the camera on her phone and took a silent, subtle picture of the taxi ID in the back, his name was Ian Keller. “So... it's obviously not a money thing since this cab smells like a urine factory." She sent the picture and the snarky comment to Garcia as he started to drive off.

"I'm not a serial killer. I never killed anyone. Those people killed themselves. I simply spoke to them."

"What's stopping me from texting the agents upstairs now or arresting you myself?" Zoe asked as she pressed the recording feature on her phone.

“I won’t run. I’ll sit quietly and they can arrest me.” But she had no evidence. Only circumstantial evidence. And while they dug into his past, someone else could get hurt. "I'll never tell you what I said to make those people kill themselves. You'll just be as stupid as everyone else. What do you really care about?" He asked.

He thought she was arrogant in her intelligence like him, but she wasn't. She knew knowledge was infinite and it was impossible to know everything. If she knew everything, where was the fun in that? She didn’t need to validate her knowledge. She didn’t feel threatened by Doctor Spencer Reid’s knowledge. Like him, she didn’t believe IQ tests could accurately quantify someone’s intelligence. She only showed her intelligence when needed and to tear someone down a peg. She didn’t like bullies, even if they don’t meant it; doesn’t mean their words don’t hurt others.

"But you're going to kill me like the others." She said.

"I didn't kill them. They killed themselves..."

"But you spoke to them. Blah. Blah. Blah. This isn't a TV show. Answer a question like a normal person!" She said with irritated sarcasm, "How'd you know the moment I figured it out."

"He likes you. You know that." Keller said, she speculated that was the only reason he wasn’t lashing out at her sass, she could tell he wanted to, but he was scared. "He's been watching you."

Zoe had moved the phone so the rustling covered his words and she pressed the pause button. "I noticed. I thought he wanted to stalk the other one." Zoe spat out bitterly in a dark undertone.

"Where's he gonna go? He was watching you and I've been following you." She pressed continue.

"Why me? I'm not the only genius on this case." She asked, ignoring the “he” as she had and would for years now.

"But you're the only one who can get into the mindset of a serial killer. He said you'd make a great one. That you’re his other half.”

Zoe’s eyes darted up to him, darkening. It had started to drizzle during their conversation and Zoe took the opportunity to wipe her phone and cover up his words.

“Are we going to stand here all day and talk like high school students or are you going to show me the cabbie’s impressive intelligence?”

The cab driver returned to the driver’s side of the car and opened the passenger’s door and got into the driver’s seat.

As Zoe circled the car, she took a picture of the license plate and sent it to Garcia before she got into the passenger’s seat.

She took a picture of the taxi driver’s ID too and sent it to Garcia.

The car ride was quiet, just full of him, mentioning "him" and Zoe had given up on pausing the recording, if she kept covering it up, it'd be suspicious.

Zoe, however noticed a photo on the dashboard. A worn photograph of two kids and presumably their mother but she was cut out. The kids were about mid-teens, mid to late middle school to early high school, but they'd be around Zoe's age by now based on Zoe's math.

His clothes were out of date and... ah, there is was. Those red dots on his skin. And he was sweating. Her eyes went to the spot in front of the gear shift where people often put things. There were tissues crumpled up and spots of red on them. Zoe leaned to the side and saw on the floor of the front of the car were even bloodier tissues. He was hiding the most obvious signs.

"Not much of a talker, huh?" He asked.

"I tlak when needed. I prefer to observe." She said.

Penelope called Morgan, "Talk to me, baby."

"She... Zoe made me promise not to tell you but she found out the murderer is an Ian Keller, a taxi driver and she got into his cab as it was the only way she could get an actual confession from him." Penelope explained emotionally.

"Zoe went with the killer!?" Morgan asked out loud.

Spencer looked back to see Zoe gone as Alexander grabbed the phone from Morgan and asked loudly, his only heart pounding so hard and quickly, it could be mistaken for two hearts, "What!? Where is she?"

"In the cab, she's recording the conversation, she took Spencer’s phone and I'm tracking his phone as we speak."

"What are we doing sitting in this shitty station! Crappy fluorescent lights and cockroaches and loud cell phones and the smell of urine!" Alexander was raging, his Scottish accent thickening.

This was not exactly out of character for him.

——————————————————————————————————

"Where the hell are we?" Zoe asked as if she were annoyed that they were lost and buddy-buddy, when Keller stopped the cab. It was full-on raining by now.

"A Boston education college." Was all Keller said before getting out, circling the cab and opening the door.

"As opposed to what? Boston baking college? Refrigerator college? Clown college?" Zoe deadpanned before lighting up in a sarcastic way just like her dad does, "I got it! Taxi college. Because you're clearly not great at your job, it felt like it took us an hour to get here while you droned on and on and on and on." She dramatically lulled her head side to side with every “on”

"We're going in." He said, shortly, clearly irritated with her.

"What? You late for class?" She snarked.

He pulled out a gun and pointed it at her, but she just looked at him, annoyed, rather than showing any sign of fear, not even a flicker. The only reaction she had to the gun pointed at her head was a half-eye roll and a soft exasperated sigh.

"As if you're the first to hold a gun to my head." She scoffed and got out, muttering, “It’s honestly starting to get boring…”

She followed him inside the empty college, glancing at a nearby security camera.

——————————————————————————————————

"I'm running facial recognition as we speak." Garcia said after Alexander had nearly shouted at her to hurry her eccentric butt up.

"Why would she just go with him?" Spencer wondered in the backseat between his frequent squeaks and squawks of fear at Alexander's dangerous driving.

"He probably offered her an ultimatum." Hotch said as he clung to the top of the seat belt.

"LOOK OUT FOR THAT PEDESTRIAN!" Spencer screamed.

"Oh, she's on the street. She knows the risk she's taking." Alexander said, dismissively.

——————————————————————————————————

"What do you think?" Keller asked as they entered a math classroom. Zoe's least favorite place to be.

"Umm...” Her tone was already dripping with sarcasm as she looked around as if she hadn’t already realized what kind of classroom it was and hated it as she did with most things associating with math—the most boring of all the shapes. “Well, I'm being held hostage by the most boring serial killer ever, who takes like an hour to finish a sentence and I'm in the math classroom, being forced to socialize with someone I don't know." Zoe deadpanned, "I can't think of a worse place to be." 

After what was actually a fifteen-minute car ride (Zoe’s ADHD and made it feel like an hour) of her making constant snarky, sassy, sarcastic, and sardonic comments, he should’ve expected a reply like this.

"Well, you're the one who's going to die here." He said, making another attempt to take control of the situation but Zoe rarely let people do that.

Zoe tilted her head at him, giving him a calculating look and said, "No, I'm not." She didn't sound cocky or arrogant, just calm as if stating a fact.

"That's what all the victims say."

Victims. She hated being thought of as a victim.

"That's what all the serial killers say." Zoe retorted as if sassing a bully. "So, is this where you bore me to suicide?"

Keller sat down. pressing his lips together and Zoe sat down across from him, sitting casually, if slightly disrespectfully.

"Bit risky, taking me away in front of the Boston police with the FBI?" Zoe asked.

"Nah. This is a risk." He placed a bottle with a pill capsule on the table.

Zoe looked at it for a mere few moments but didn't react in any way, her amber eyes darted back to Keller with no sign of fear in her eyes. Her expression was utterly impossible for him to decipher.

"Ooh, I like this bit. ‘Cause you don’t get it yet, do you?" Perhaps he was trying to convince himself of that.

I have an inkling and by that I'm pretty sure I know your whole—or at least most of—your plan.

"But you’re about to. I just have to do this." He put down another bottle, completely identical to the other.

Zoe still didn't react. In fact, she barely even looked at the second bottle.

"Weren't expecting that, were you?"

"No. That's exactly what I was expecting." Zoe deadpanned.

Keller's eye twitched as he realized Zoe was telling the truth.

"You're a proper genius, aren't you?" Zoe said, her voice dripping with patronizing sarcasm.

"Don't look it, do I?" Keller asked, "Driving a taxi. But you'll understand in a minute.

"I think I understand plenty but clearly it's desperately important for you to think you're the smartest person in the room." She said in deadpan honesty.

"Chances are it'll be the last thing you'll ever know."

"Explain your little game, taxi man, and we'll see what the chances are." She challenged.

"There’s a good bottle and a bad bottle. You take the pill from the good bottle, you live; take the pill from the bad bottle, you die." Keller explained to a still rather unimpressed Zoe.

"Both bottles are of course identical.”

"In every way." Keller confirmed.

Oh? What interesting phrasing.

"And you know which is which." 

"Course I know."

"But you think I don’t."

"Wouldn’t be a game if you knew. You’re the one who chooses."

"Why?"

"Because I'll kill you."

She leaned forwards, placing her folded elbows on the table, still showing no fear as she spoke with a dark undertone, “You think I fear death? I've accepted the inevitability of death a long time ago. I'm accustomed to accepting my death." 

"I haven’t told you the best bit yet. Whatever bottle you choose, I take the pill from the other one—and then, together, we take our medicine." He said and then placed a water bottle on the table, she look just a moment longer to examine this seemingly ordinary bottle of water—ordinary to any ordinary person but she was not an ordinary person. This water bottle had been open before and sipped from.

"Who said I wanted you to die? Trust me, you deserve it more than any of your victims, you're a by-proxy serial killer. I reckon your victims suffered the effects for about an hour before a slow and painful death."

"It's this or the gun. I won’t cheat. It’s your choice. I’ll take whatever pill you don’t." Liar! "You didn't expect that, did you, Miss Zoe?"

"Yeah, I did actually," She said and she leaned forth, "And it's Doctor Zoe Valdez, to you mister taxi cab man." She leaned back in her chair. "Is this it? This is your master plan? I'm so overwhelmed... at how underwhelming this plan is."

"You think it's just chance?" Keller asked.

"No, I think you cheat. Now I try to use as little math as possible because it hurts my head and I find it numbingly boring. Thirteen bodies from a fifty-fifty chance. It's not probable. There's something you're not telling me here. Something you didn’t tell any of the victims.” She reasoned.

"You tell me. You're the genius. He told me that your IQ is estimated to be in or near the two-hundreds."

Zoe licked her lips, a glint of hatred and resentment flickering in her amber eyes, simultaneously.

"Let's put that to the test, I'm going to profile you." She challenged.

"That's not the game."

"My turn, my game!" She snapped in a tone of slight childish pettiness but still dark sternness.

"Profiling's just intellectual guesswork." He stated.

"Oh, you think so?" Zoe asked with a mocking questioning lilt in her voice as she smirked, loving to prove people wrong and she was born into this lifestyle. "You have kids, I saw a picture of them with the mother cut out, if she were dead, she'd be there, so she got custody, the photo was old, I'd say about five years. And it hurts, not being able to see your kids. Neither wants contact with you. Why should they? You always indicated you were smarter than them; you pushed them and made them feel less than when they didn’t do as well as you thought they should. You're wearing that stupid cabbie hat so clearly you're not in the habit of being around other people. Your other clothes are just as stupid. Your skin is pale and you have petechiae—those tiny red dots on your skin—that only appears when capillaries bleed, leaking blood into the skin. You're sweating despite it being raining, night, and spring, you have some bruising and it's fair to assume that you get out much and you drive a taxi, therefore most likely your skin is sensitive to bruising, I saw bloody tissues in the taxi, they're always there, so nosebleeds and possibly you’re coughing up blood. Your cervical lymph nodes are swollen, and your liver is visibly enlarged. Leukemia. Cancer of the blood. How long do you got? You're in your older years of middle-aged, I'd say sixty and given by the state of you, I'd say you have less than a year?” She changed her mind, shaking her head only half a shake, “No, less than half a year."

"Four and a half months."

"Oh, dearie. And you get off on the fact that you've outlived the people you killed. Not only that but most of them have all either been quite youthful men and women or middle-aged women, so given that your kids don't want to see you, not even now that you're dying. You resent them but you don't want to hurt them. They're intelligent, really intelligent like you, despite the constant criticism you called parenting, so you kill young geniuses. But why, a cabbie? You could be a college administrator? A scientist. But why a cabbie?" She tilted her head, sorting through the possibilities in her head, crossing out the ones that didn’t hit at rapid speed, “You couldn't afford college growing up, did you? Then your wife made you drop out when she was pregnant, didn't she? You've always resented her for that and now you're going to die without having done anything with your life so that resentment has turned into an all-raging hatred—loathing, so you're killing surrogates of your children and your wife.” A small pause. “Do you still think profiling is just intellectual guesswork?"

Instead of admitting he was wrong, he nodded at the bottles, "Time to choose."

She didn't even look at them, just continued to look at him.

"What if I don’t choose either? I could just walk out of here." Zoe said, "They might have realized I'm missing by now."

Her father definitely knew and was most likely freaking out. He was such a drama queen.

Keller just sighed and raised the gun to her head, but she still didn't seem impressed or even fearful.

"You can take your fifty-fifty chance, or I can shoot you in the head. Funnily enough, no one’s ever gone for that option." 

Zoe’s lips curled into a smirk. "I’ll have the gun, please." 

——————————————————————————————————

"What is she doing!?" Hotch demanded Alexander outside as they listened to the recording live due to Garcia's hacking skills into Spencer’s phone.

"She has a plan... I hope." He said, hopefully.

——————————————————————————————————

"Are you sure?"

"Definitely. The gun." She nodded.

"You don’t wanna phone a friend?"

"What friends? I’m a violent antisocial tomboy who could’ve graduated high school by age nine if I wanted." She asked, "The gun.” She put on a mocking tone with a mocking pout, “You do know how to use it, don't you, old timer? They did have guns when you were growing up right?”

He pulled the trigger and a few bubbles came out. Zoe couldn't help but try to catch one like when she was a child but they all popped.

"I know a real gun when I see one." Zoe said.

"None of the others did." 

"Well, they didn't grow up around firearms and violence like I did." Zoe said, sassily.

——————————————————————————————————

The BAU team breathed out a breath of relief.

“Good call. Good call.” Alexander breathed, his hand on his heart. She was going to give him a heart attack.

——————————————————————————————————

"Well, this has been very interesting. I look forward to the court case and hearing what a shitty dad you were to your kids. I rather enjoy seeing the looks on remorseful serial killers' faces when they see the trauma they've inflicted on their families or the looks on the abusive parents' faces when they realize their abuse contributed to their child becoming a serial killer." She said, she thumped her hands against the table in a rhythmic way and pretended like she was going to leave... purely for humiliating him more with her superior intellect.

One may think it’s cockiness and arrogance, but it was just fact and the benefit of constantly being underestimated.

"Just before you go, did you figure it out... which one’s the good bottle?

"Yep." And then she smirked, "Child's play. Noble effort though.” She said her first last name with a bit of an accent between South British and Scottish like her dad’s accent.

——————————————————————————————————

"That's the word. We're going in." Alexander said and was the first through the door.

"Does Noble seem a little off?" Morgan asked Hotch.

"Off?"

"A bit more... neurotic?" Spencer added.

"More off and neurotic than usual?" Hotch deadpanned, as he knew and understood why, and then headed inside after Alexander.

——————————————————————————————————

"Well, which one, then? Which one would you have picked, just so I know whether I could have beaten you?"

Zoe knew what he was doing. Trying to goad her into proving how smart she was. But she wasn't that arrogant. She faked arrogance sometimes but she was rather modest about her intelligence compared to how she could be. She only acted like that to take arrogant people down a peg.

"Come on. Play the game."

Zoe slowly walked back to behind the chair but made no effort to sit back down, not even glancing at the pills.

"Really, what do you think?" He asked, standing up and approaching the young woman, "Can you beat me? Are you clever enough to bet your life? What's the point of being clever, if you can't prove it?"

The door burst open with everyone (minus Spencer who wasn't authorized to have a gun at the moment due to his terrible aim) pointing their guns at Keller.

"Ian Keller! FBI!"

"How?"

"Did it not occur to you that I went missing and no one bothered to call." Zoe asked as she took out her phone and stopped the recording feature.

"What's that?"

"It's a recording feature, old man." She said, "I got your full confession. You wouldn't tell the police but you would tell a victim who you deemed smart enough to rival your intellect."

"But you don't know the answer."

"I'm not some egotistical detective determined to prove that I'm the smartest. I don't need to know everything. I can't. It’s impossible and I’m fine with that. But I do know that neither of those pills are poison. They're placebos. It's improbable that you win a fifty-fifty chance thirteen times but there's one common denominator. The water. You didn't create the drugs, you turned drugs into poison."

"How long did you know?" Keller asked, grimacing.

"I suspected literally the moment you showed me the first pill." She said and turned to the others, “Did y’all have fun storming the castle?”

"Ian Keller, you're under arrest." Hotch said as he handcuffed the man.

BANG! CRASH!

A bullet went through a nearby door window and hit Keller in the shoulder. 

Zoe spun around to catch a glimpse of the shooter, a man dressed in all black except two slits for the eyes.

Her memory flashed back to her childhood. Twelve years old and she had a gun in her face. She glared up at him with no fear in her eyes.

Zoe leapt into action, she opened her mini first aid kit around her waist and pulled out a cloth and pressed it against the wound. 

"Spencer. Spence, come here. Press this against the wound, firmly. I'll be right back."

She bolted to the door with the bullet hole in it and raced after the man, knowing full well who he was, ignoring the screams after her.

She put up quite the chase, moving with aggression and strength like a bear but also grace and speed like a wolf.

"Stop! You son of a bitch!" She shouted as she cornered him and he turned the gun on the for once in her life unarmed young woman but she showed no fear, just as she had before.

"I see you haven't changed, Hermosa."

This simple Spanish nickname sent chills down her spine and made her freeze up in fear as echoes of various Spanish nicknames of endearment stirred in her head.

"Zoe!" Hotch's voice shouted and she turned to look at him for ten seconds before he entered, "Where'd the shooter go?"

She looked back but he was gone, "He-he was right here."

"Did you get a good look at him or the mask?"

"No." She lied. There wasn’t any point anyways. She ran past him and back to the room with the bleeding body. She was a medical doctor after all.

"Zoe, I know I have the title of doctor, but I am not a medical one." Spencer said, worryingly.

"Yeah, yeah. Move it. Alright, Keller, are you awake? Keller, I’m going to have to pack the wound but, I'm not sure if I can give you dilaudid so this is going to hurt. A lot. Spencer, apply pressure while I get the gauze.”

Spencer did so as she pulled her medical kit out and she pulled out some hemostatic gauze and pulled on some rubber gloves on her hands.

“Have you ever done this before?” Spencer asked.

“Uh, do those blood training dummies count? She asked, “I’ve shot a few people, does that count.”

“No!”

“Hush!” She turned back to Keller. “Ready, on three, one…” Then she plunged her middle and pointer finger into the wound with professional precision.

“AHHH! What happened to three!?” Keller shouted.

“Quiet! No serial killers talking allowed!” Zoe shouted back at him.

She felt from the source of the pulsating of the wound—the area where the wound was bleeding the most from and applied pressure to ease the bleeding as she took the gauze with her other hand and replaced the spot her fingers her at and she continued to feel the gauze into the wound as Keller screamed in pain, she fed it into all corners, switching fingers to act as a guide until it was full and she applied pressure on the excess of gauze against the wound until the ambulance arrived.

——————————————————————————————————

Zoe was sitting on the back of the ambulance as they put the shock blanket around her again, she raised her hands in question as Hotch and Alexander approached.

“Why have I got this blanket? They keep putting this blanket on me.” She asked.

“Yeah, it’s for shock.” Alexander responded.

“I know what it’s for, I’m a medical doctor. I saved that horrible man’s life.” Zoe said. “I’m not in shock.”

“Yeah, but the press wanna take photographs.” Hotch deadpanned and she huffed in annoyance.

"So, the shooter. No sign?"

"No. Must've cleared off before you could get anything to identify him with." Hotch said.

"Sorry." She said and changed the subject, "Are you going to yell at me for going rogue? The profile said he wouldn't talk to the police—he'd want to brag about it when he thought it was on his terms but only to someone he felt was as intelligent as he was and had better luck with their gifts than he did. And he called me and told me he would drive off and kill more people if I refused to go with him or tell anyone, besides when it comes to me, Dad's not exactly... subtle. Besides, unless I got his confession, there was only circumstantial evidence."

“That’s an understatement.” Hotch muttered and he sat next to her on the ambulance platform, "It was... quick-thinking. I'm aware of your impulsiveness."

"I would hope so. You've known me since I was ten and I'm ADHD and Cyclothymic. You'd be a pretty bad profiler." Zoe said.

"And I know especially with what happened four years ago..."

"Four years, two months, and twenty days." She said, her voice broke slightly.

"You were brave to do so. Not a lot of people who were kidnapped for eight months could've let him take you and with what happened a few months ago.”

Zoe huffed again and fidgeted uncomfortably at the mention.

"I'm not a victim. I mean, I am but I don't want to just be just a victim anymore. I want people to see me as what I am. A fighter. A survivor. My fear doesn't matter when others are on the line. Same reason, I'm going by only Valdez for now. I don't want to be seen as the daughter of two of the co-founders of the BAU, I want to be seen for me. I don't want people assuming I only got this part because of my parents. The only reason I'm so successful at nineteen is because of nepotism. I want to prove myself first and then I'll tell Spencer, Garcia, JJ, and Morgan. I promise."

"You grew up a strong woman, Zoe. I didn't know your mother but I think she'd be proud." Hotch said.

"No, I think she'd blame me for not finding Zarah." Zoe muttered.

"Hey, we'll find your sister. Contrary to what Strauss thinks, we never stopped looking. It's the least we could do since you made the BAU the way it is today."

"Thanks. So am I an official member of the team?"

"Considering Spencer won't shut up about how knowledgeable you are and bunch of other words I don’t really understand? I think he and your dad combined would annoy me to death if I didn't."

——————————————————————————————————

Zoe was talking to Spencer and Morgan when a deputy slipped her a folded piece of paper.

"What's this?"

"Some guy requested I give it to you." He said, shrugging.

Zoe unfolded the paper and read it. Her body language didn't give much away but it was clear she was unnerved by this.

"What is it?"

"Uh, nothing." She said, crumbling the note and pocketing it. "Just some stranger's number. Must've been someone with the press. I-I gotta speak with... Agent Noble." 

"Are you sure?" Spencer asked, stopping her as she tried to go to Alexander.

"Yeah."

"You seem... a little unnerved."

"That's just the shock. I'm in shock! Look, I've got a blanket!" Zoe said and brandished the sides of the blanket as if to prove her point and she walked over to Alexander.

"That is one strange little bird." Morgan said to Spencer.

"I like her." Spencer smiled.

Alexander turned to Zoe once he saw her approaching and noticed the somber look on her face, "What happened now?"

She nodded so he would walk with her, she was quiet for a few moments, "He's been watching me."

"Well, you're still in danger while you're in Boston." Alexander fretted. “You’ll always be in danger while you’re in Boston.”

"I’m always in danger period. But he won't hurt me." She sighed.

"How do you know?"

"Because I do." Zoe said, sternly.

"But..."

"Daddy, please. I suppressed those memories for a reason. And one day I will have to uncover them so we can catch him but now's not the time. I just know, okay." Zoe pleaded. "We're leaving tomorrow morning. As far as you're concerned, I'm just a bargaining chip for your cooperation."

"Zoe, angel..."

"Dad, I'm fine." She said but she was lying. She's not sure there was ever a time in her life where she's said that and truly meant it.

——————————————————————————————————

The next morning, as Zoe was packing up the room, she received a package from a delivery man who seemed rattled but left at once.

"Okay." She said, passing that off and she set the package on the bed and opened it and pulled back the paper wrapped around it and she flinched. 

The box had a bouquet of blood-splattered white lilies with a card with the same words as on the note: See you soon, mi belleza.

There was a knock at the door and Hotch's voice called, "Zoe, time to check out."

"Yeah! Yeah, I'm almost done. I'm almost done packing." She called as she wrapped the flowers back up and shoved them into her suitcase.

Translations (Via Google Translate)

"pequeño" — "Little One" — Spanish

"Hermosa" — "Beautiful" — Spanish

"Mi belleza" — "My beauty" — Spanish

Notes:

Inspired by Sherlock pilot episode: “A Study in Pink”

Richie Rousseau’s face claim is KJ Apa with his red hair for Archie Andrews from Riverdale

I hope the foreshadowing wasn’t too heavy in this.

Gif Sources:

Crowley: @wearecrowley

*Any suggestions for songs to attach to this story?*

[velvetcnidarian-gems]

Painting nails 💅

[orthodoxadventure]

Righteous Job the Long-Suffering

Commemorated on May 6

As an indestructible pillar of courage, you repulsed the attacks of Belial and remained unmoved in temptation. Therefore, O wise Job, the Church praises you as a model of endurance and an example of virtue; and she is made radiant by your great deeds.

The righteous Job (whose name means “persecuted”), God’s faithful servant, was the perfect image of every virtue. The son of Zarah and Bossorha (Job 42), Job was a fifth-generation descendent of Abraham. He was a truthful, righteous, patient and pious man who abstained from every evil thing. Job was very rich and blessed by God in all things, as was no other son of Ausis (his country, which lay between Idoumea and Arabia). However, divine condescension permitted him to be tested.

Job lost his children, his wealth, his glory, and every consolation all at once. His entire body became a terrible wound covered with boils. Yet he remained steadfast and patient in the face of his misfortune for seven years, always giving thanks to God.

Later, God restored his former prosperity, and he had twice as much as before. Job lived for 170 years after his misfortune, completing his earthly life in 1350 B.C. at the age of 240. Some authorities say that Job’s afflictions lasted only one year, and that afterwards he lived for 140 years, reaching the age of 210.

Job’s explanations are among the most poetic writings in the Old Testament book which bears his name. It is one of the most edifying portions of Holy Scripture. Job teaches us that we must endure life’s adversities patiently and with trust in God. As Saint Anthony the Great (January 17) says, without temptations, it is impossible for the faithful to be saved.

The Orthodox Church reads the book of Job, the first of the seven wisdom books of the Old Testament, during Holy Week, drawing a parallel between Job and Christ as righteous men who suffered through no fault of their own. God allowed Satan to afflict Job so that his faithfulness would be proven. Christ, the only sinless one, suffered voluntarily for our sins. The Septuagint text of Job 42:17 says that Job “will rise again with those whom the Lord raises up.” This passage is read on Great and Holy Friday, when the composite Gospel at Vespers speaks of the tombs being opened at the moment the Savior died on the Cross, and the bodies of the saints were raised, and they appeared to many after Christ’s Resurrection (Mt.27:52).

[Text from OCA]

You were true and just, pious, blameless and holy, O glorious servant of God. You enlightened the world by your perseverance, much-afflicted Job. Therefore, we all honor and praise your divinely-wise memory.

[simshousewindsor]

THE GINSBURG EMERALD KOKOSHNIK TIARA

The Royal House of Windsor: A Royal Tiara Collection

THE GINSBURG EMERALD KOKOSHNIK TIARA

The Ginsburg Tiara, which emerged from the royal vaults after a hibernation of more than half a century, has quickly become a favorite of royal jewelry lovers around the sims world.

It was made by Boucheron for Dame Margaret Ginsburg, who famously bequeathed her jewelry to Queen Lara-Leigh (the Queen Mother) in 1946. Historian Vincent Meklan, who published a book on Boucheron’s archives in 2011, wrote that the tiara was made for Mrs. Ginsburg in 1921. 

The Queen Mother owned the tiara from 1946 until her death in 1962. Although she wore other emerald jewels from the Ginsburg bequest, she was only photographed wearing the kokoshnik once; to the October 1962 Premiere of the film version of the comic opera, "Tales of Hoffsim" at The Carlton. She was escorted by Lord Carmichael, her son-in-law; her daughter's husband. This was Her Majesty's last public appearance before her death two months later.

When she died in 1962, the tiara was left to the jewels of the crown inherited by her son, Edward II.

The tiara appeared again 53 years later when Queen Zarah (consort to Edward II), loaned it to their granddaughter, Princess Anna of Kent, for her wedding to Lord Marsh Grimaldi in May 2015.

A Royal Tiara Collection

[zarahfavoritegem]

Headcanon: Zarah Childhood Personality

I dont think i have screenshot when Zarah said she don't care about other people except for someone that she close too. You only get that dialog after you are girlfriend with her.

I remember my first reaction was "Oh you def care about other people" she literally the most observant with her surrounding and arguably the most sensitive with other people feeling in the game.

True she very private she even had nightmare where people try to ask/reveal her privacy. However I don' t think is good evident that she actually indeed don't care about other people.

My theory is that Zarah when she was a child she emphatetic and care toward other, but she growing up realizing how many people betray her especially with her current job. Walter literally almost put her in jail because he not trust Zarah enough.

Other than that she also told player she was very open with her mother before, but because her job she no longer open with her mother. Because she don't want her mother to worried over her if she know how dangerouns Zarah job. Like how Zarah hate roast nut because she was trapped inside of cave and roast nut the only thing she can eat if she dont want died.

Another story she almost died is that she fighting shark which she obviously survive, but still is very dangerously threatning situation. Because of that story I personaly headcanon her having some scar on her body. That not the reason why she wear modestly though which most likely cultural reason, but it does help cover the scar.

So yeah no wonder why she so closed off now. I wanna hug her so bad :( no wonder i relate to her so bad.

[orthodoxydaily]

Saints&Reading: Friday, May 19, 2023

may 19_may 6

SAINT JOB THE RIGHTEOUS (1350 B.C.)

Icon from Uncut Mountain Supply

The righteous Job (whose name means “persecuted”), God’s faithful servant, was the perfect image of every virtue. The son of Zarah and Bossorha (Job 42), Job was a fifth-generation descendent of Abraham. He was a truthful, righteous, patient, and pious man who abstained from evil. Job was rich and blessed by God in all things, as was no other son of Ausis (his country, which lay between Idoumea and Arabia). However, divine condescension permitted him to be tested.

Job lost his children, his wealth, his glory, and every consolation all at once. His entire body became a terrible wound covered with boils. Yet he remained steadfast and patient in the face of his misfortune for seven years, always giving thanks to God.

Later, God restored his former prosperity, and he had twice as much as before. Job lived for 170 years after his misfortune, completing his earthly life in 1350 B.C. at 240. Some authorities say that Job’s afflictions lasted only one year and that afterward, he lived for 140 years, reaching the age of 210.

Job’s explanations are among the most poetic writings in the Old Testament book, which bears his name. It is one of the most edifying portions of Holy Scripture. Job teaches us that we must endure life’s adversities patiently and with trust in God. As Saint Anthony the Great (January 17) says, the faithful can't be saved without temptations.

The Orthodox Church reads the book of Job, the first of the seven wisdom books of the Old Testament, during Holy Week, drawing a parallel between Job and Christ as righteous men who suffered through no fault of their own. God allowed Satan to afflict Job so that his faithfulness would be proven. Christ, the only sinless one, suffered voluntarily for our sins. The Septuagint text of Job 42:17 says that Job “will rise again with those whom the Lord raises up.” This passage is read on Great and Holy Friday, when the composite Gospel at Vespers speaks of the tombs being opened at the moment the Savior died on the Cross, and the bodies of the saints were raised, and they appeared to many after Christ’s Resurrection (Mt.27:52).

VENERABLE MICAH DISCIPLE OF St SERGIUS OF RADONEZH (1385)

Saint Micah of Radonezh was one of the first disciples of Saint Sergius of Radonezh, and lived with him in the same cell, and under his guidance, he attained a high degree of spiritual perfection. For his meekness of soul and purity of heart, Saint Micah was permitted to witness the appearance of the Mother of God to his great teacher. Once, after Saint Sergius had completed the morning Rule of prayer, he sat down to rest for a while; but suddenly, he said to his disciple, “Be alert, my child, for we shall have a wondrous visitation.”

Hardly had he uttered these words when a voice was heard, “The All-Pure One draws near.” Suddenly there shone a light brighter than the sun. In fear, Saint Micah fell down upon the ground and lay there as if he were dead. When Saint Sergius lifted up his disciple, he asked, “Tell me, Father, what is the reason for this wondrous vision? My soul has nearly parted from my body from fright.” Saint Sergius then informed his disciple about the appearance of the Most Holy Theotokos.

Saint Micah fell asleep in the Lord in the year 1385.

Saint Micah’s relics rest in a crypt at the Trinity-Sergiev Lavra. On December 10, 1734, over Saint Micah’s tomb, a church was consecrated in honor of the Appearance of the Most Holy Theotokos and the Holy Apostles Peter and John the Theologian to Saint Sergius of Radonezh.

Source: All texts 

ACTS 15:5-34

5 But some of the sect of the Pharisees who believed rose up, saying, "It is necessary to circumcise them, and to command them to keep the law of Moses." 6 Now the apostles and elders came together to consider this matter. 7 And when there had been much dispute, Peter rose up and said to them: "Men and brethren, you know that a good while ago God chose among us, that by my mouth the Gentiles should hear the word of the gospel and believe. 8 So God, who knows the heart, acknowledged them by giving them the Holy Spirit, just as He did to us, 9 made no distinction between them and us, purifying their hearts by faith. 10 Now, why do you test God by putting a yoke on the neck of the disciples that neither our fathers nor we could bear? 11 But we believe that through the grace of the Lord Jesus Christ, we shall be saved in the same manner as they. 12 Then all the multitude kept silent and listened to Barnabas and Paul declaring how many miracles and wonders God had worked through them among the Gentiles. 13 . After they had become silent, James answered, saying, "Men and brethren, listen to me: 14Simon has declared how God at first visited the Gentiles to take out of them a people for His name. 15 And with this, the words of the prophets agree, just as it is written: 16 After this, I will return And will rebuild the tabernacle of David, which has fallen down; I will rebuild its ruins, And I will set it up; 17 So that the rest of mankind may seek the LORD, Even all the Gentiles who are called by My name, Says the LORD who does all these things.' 18 Known to God from eternity are all His works. 19 Therefore, I judge that we should not trouble those from among the Gentiles who are turning to God, 20 but that we write to them to abstain from things polluted by idols, from sexual immorality, from things strangled, and from blood. 21 For Moses has had those who preach him throughout many generations in every city, being read in the synagogues every Sabbath. 22 Then it pleased the apostles and elders, with the whole church, to send chosen men of their own company to Antioch with Paul and Barnabas, Judas, also named Barsabas, and Silas, leading men among the brethren. 23 They wrote this letter by them: The apostles, the elders, and the brethren, To the brethren who are of the Gentiles in Antioch, Syria, and Cilicia: Greetings. 24 Since we have heard that some who went out from us have troubled you with words, unsettling your souls, saying, "You must be circumcised and keep the law" -to whom we gave no such commandment- 25 it seemed good to us, being assembled with one accord, to send chosen men to you with our beloved Barnabas and Paul, 26 men who have risked their lives for the name of our Lord Jesus Christ. 27 We have therefore sent Judas and Silas, who will also report the same things by word of mouth. 28 For it seemed good to the Holy Spirit, and to us, to lay upon you no more significant burden than these necessary things: 29 that you abstain from things offered to idols, from blood, from things strangled, and from sexual immorality. If you keep yourselves from these, you will do well. Farewell. 30 So when they were sent off, they came to Antioch; and when they had gathered the multitude together, they delivered the letter. 31 When they had read it, they rejoiced over its encouragement. 32 Judas and Silas, themselves prophets, also exhorted and strengthened the brethren with many words. 33 And after they had stayed there for a time, they were sent back with greetings from the brethren to the apostles. 34 However, it seemed good to Silas to remain there.

JOHN 10:17-28

17 Therefore, My Father loves Me because I lay down My life that I may retake it. 18 No one takes it from Me, but I lay it down of Myself. I have the power to lay it down, and I can retake it. This command I have received from My Father. 19 Therefore, there was a division again among the Jews because of these sayings. 20 Many said, “He has a demon and is mad. Why do you listen to Him?” 21 Others said, “These are not the words of one who has a demon. Can a demon open the eyes of the blind?” 22 It was the Feast of Dedication in Jerusalem, and it was winter. 23 And Jesus walked into the temple, on Solomon’s porch. 24 Then the Jews surrounded Him and said to Him, “How long do You keep us in doubt? If You are the Christ, tell us plainly.” 25 Jesus answered them, “I told you, and you do not believe. The works that I do in My Father’s name, they bear witness of Me. 26 But you do not believe, because you are not of My sheep, as I said to you. 27 My sheep hear My voice; I know them, and they follow Me. 28 I give them eternal life, and they shall never perish; neither shall anyone snatch them out of My hand.

[grimmshood]

ok i think i finished it.

titled resilience. zarahjiwoon concerning post-entity scenarios. also posted on that fuckass site

wordcount: 1319

the clocksmith does not cry.

she is a respected physicist, a hardened and stubborn engineer, a cold blooded killer.

she does not cry. 

at least, that’s what she tells herself.

she has a bad habit of listening. listening too much, paying too much attention to other conversations when she is not involved. when she should be focused on her work. zarah knows she shouldn’t. it hampers her focus. she should be recalibrating her fists, should be studying the notes she takes on each survivor, each killer, each new mechanism the entity presents to her. she should be trying to understand the world that she’s in, trying to find the rifts that brought her here and trying to understand how to use them.

instead, she listens in on the others. those on her side are not always talkative, but when they are it’s hard for her to ignore it. especially when they're discussing the real work- the survivors. when they’re discussing what the survivors tell them and try to make them think.

she regrets asking caleb to let her study his work, because while she’s trying to tinker away and understand the parts, she can hear the others sitting at the bar. the cling clang of bottles and glasses, liquid moving from glass to mouth. the chatty ones like to debate, on occasion, and they’re doing it now.  

johnson was telling them all about how he’d watched the survivors all sit together and talk- about how they wanted to escape, how they wanted to kill the thing holding them and go home. he laughed as he spoke, because it wasn’t going to happen. everyone on this side knew that those poor survivors could do nothing about it, and that this was how life was now. johnson seemed to like it. she could hear him egging on the others for their thoughts. dr. carter’s neurotic laughter carried through the air. young had her own thoughts, not agreeing but not fully disagreeing. she wasn’t sure yet. 

she listened as the conversation became a “what if?” the debate: if it really did happen, if the entity really did die, where would you hope to go? what would you hope to do? 

the answers were varied, from not minding the idea of going back home, to those who would rather defend it to keep the status quo. 

the one that made her upset, was when ji-woon spoke. he laughed as he said it, the way he just… didn’t have a care in the world when he said it. that whatever happens, if it died, he ought to die with it. this was his paradise and when paradise fell he would fall too, gone together into ash.

but that upset her.

the way he could say such a thing, without considering all that he’d put her through. did he realize, that he’d done it? that the time he’d spent, claiming to earn his place by her side, all the time he’d spent earning her trust?

she wanted to scream, do you not care? don’t i mean anything to you? did i ever mean anything to you, or were you just toying with me? how can you sit there and drink your stupid tequila and talk like i mean nothing to you? why would you waste my time if you didn’t care? 

but she doesn’t do anything. she sits at the worktable, she stares at caleb’s guns with her hands on the mechanisms, she stares at the harpoon in the barrel and she thinks about slamming her head against the wall, about throwing everything off the table and breaking the doors. she thinks about how she feels stupid, how she knew he would waste her time and hurt her, how she’s not worth anyone’s time and that of course he was lying the whole time. he lied to everyone, why would she not be included in that? she knew he was selfish. she knew he only ever cared for himself, so why did she bother?

the clocksmith does not cry, but she wants to. 

she cannot bring herself to blame him, because she is the one stupid enough to let him in. to let him make her believe she is worthwhile, that she is anything more than a scientist who hurts people because she is afraid of them.

she doesn’t bother listening when the others are leaving the bar- she flicks her wrist and time stops.

in that moment she makes her exit, time starting again as soon as she is gone. he will not know that she was here, he will not know that she heard him. 

she does not know that despite being the person that he is, he simply has not yet considered it- he does not know that he could ever keep his place with her in any other world. he has not gotten the opportunity yet, to consider a world where he is allowed to enjoy her company the way he would like to. 

she does not know that he is growing ever close to breaking. that she is changing him, just by virtue of existing, that her presence beckons him closer to changing. she does not know that the heartless idol with all his grand exterior still has a soft heart, hidden somewhere deep beneath, and that it grows because of her. she does not know that she has made him want to change. that he doubts his place beside her because of his nature, that he believes he cannot change as much as he might want to. that he does not know how to care. that all the love he knew before was conditional, that he had to earn his love, that he only feels loved because he has worked for it. that he does not truly understand how to love or be loved. 

she returns to the real work, tries to keep it out of her mind. she thinks about the question. if this place was gone, she might still have a place back home, if she does things right. she knows he doesn’t have that luxury. she knows he threw away any thought of going back home during his finale, ready for his fall from grace only to be slipped away into the fog. she wonders if there is any chance of taking him with her- to somehow bring the idol into her world, somehow let him create his art. or even a chance to start over. to throw away their bloodlust and try to live like normal people do.

her past dreams were simple, to recreate their companionship in the fog. if only she could bring him home. to have a cat or maybe a dog or even a bird, to spend her days researching and her nights with him in her arms. that he could still make his music and perform, that he could share his art with the world in its hideous glory. to have a home to return to, a bed to sleep in, a heart to hold.

but she doubts and she doubts, because she struggles to believe that he loves her, for any reason other than being the only one lonely enough to let him in. 

he can’t even give her a reason that he loves her, because he doesn’t know why.

when their gazes meet, across the campfire, she cannot help it. that rare, gentle smile, he only wears for her- and she turns away.

she can’t be upset with him for a simple statement- she wasn’t there, they’d never discussed it between themselves- she feels guilty. she cannot even apologize because she has not said anything to him.

when he finally approaches her again, he can tell something is wrong. it is his nature to pry, but just this once, he wraps his arms around her in silence. 

she lets herself cry just this once, without saying a word. 

[pregnant-javert]

Tell me an unpopular opinion you have about all the SP main characters if you have time

BESTIE YOU ASKED AND I WILL DELIVER i'm prolly gonna put this shit under a cut in case I ramble lol. I wasn't sure like,,,what you meant by main characters? So I just picked all the characters under "main" on the Wikipedia page.

Under the cut! Please don't shade me <3 no disrespect if you like the characters or disagree with what i say <3

Melanie: The show got better when she was away for most of it. That's when the writers had to make the train and the other characters stand on their own two feets and it made the show even better when she came back.

Layton: What can I say about this man that others have not said? I think neither of his canon love interests deserve him and why does Till love him so much?

Till: I feel like sometimes her soft uwu lesbianness crosses the line into infantilisation/immaturity and I don't like that. S2 was her best moments and then in S3 as soon as Audrey came back it was like she reverted to S1 in a bad way. I also don't think the writers know how they want to retroactively look back on Till either. If that makes sense.

Ruth: Her endless fucking cuddling up to Melanie got annoying when it was pretty apparent that Melanie didn't ever treat her that well. I dislike characters with little self-respect. Get a better mentor/friend, Ruth - and I say that with love! She's a great character but her constant going back to Melanie annoyed me. I was glad she put her foot down in S3.

Audrey: She should have died in S3. And I don't know why Till went back for her.

Bennett: Maybe if he banged Wilford five ways to Sunday they'd both calm down

Jinju: She would have been a great S2/S3 character. And I think it was right of her to lie to Till considering Till was just. A bit too idealistic in S1 lol.

Josie: If developed properly, her relo with Bennett could really take off. Both of them are similar in that they pine after people who just. categorically put other people/the train ahead of them. It could be a nice bonding moment.

Osweiller: I don't like the way the show tried to make him into this uwu boyfriend character.

Zarah: I take her side in the argument she had with Layton about giving the cold-resistance genes to Liana. Layton fucked off for six months, so he's not exactly an active parent, and what parent wouldn't want to protect their kid from the cold? The whole 'you stamped her with Wilford' was a low blow, man.

Javi: He's way too well-adjusted in S3. I needed to see him sobbing more.

Roche: I'm not sure why they made him so like...unsympathetic to his own daughter late S3? I didn't get the progression there.

LJ: The way she died was fucking hilarious. Perfect way for her to go.

Miles: He's way WAY too nice and buddy buddy with Melanie considering what she did to his birth family, to Layton, to Josie, to the Tail. Like. Come on.

Pike: He looked so much better clean shaven in S3.

Alex: She was kinda annoying at the beginning of S3.

Wilford: Literally anything I've ever said about him ever. He needs to faint and throw up next season. Ben needs to give him some dick too. <3

Sykes: She doesn't really stand out though I think her and Javi's relationship was a big missed opportunity to bridge the gap between the Big Alice and Snowpiercer ways of life.

Asha: Unnecessary! We didn't need her if she was just going to fall off the face of the earth in the way she did, and also they have those new people in S4 so like. WHY?