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homoose · 4 years

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Winning is a Habit

Hi y’all! Okay sooooooooo this is my first time writing fic??????? Like omg please be nice lmao. I don’t have a beta reader, so if you catch any mistakes pls lmk! I saw this challenge and the world is total garbage, so why not write our own realities????? Ok here goes!!!!!!!!!! Written for @veraiconcos fic challenge

Summary: The BAU gets called to investigate two high-profile murders in a college town, only to find that they are part of a much bigger, more complicated picture. No real pairings, although you could make it happen if you want lol ;) This is an idea I’ve seen floating around the fandom for a little while now, and I really wanted to see it fleshed out. Set around season 4 or 5.

Category: some angst, sort of fluff? I wouldn’t say it necessarily qualifies as an AU, but it’s outside of canon.

Warnings/Includes: some brief descriptions of violence/CM type stuff; mentions of rape (no details)

Word count: 6.1k

———

“Stillwater, Oklahoma,” JJ said, navigating the map off screen and pulling up the crime scene photos. “Two college seniors— Tyler Allen and Leon Williams, star football players for Oklahoma State University— both found dead the day before the playoff qualifier.”

“Do we know the cause of death?” Spencer asked, thumbing through the case file.

“The ME report concluded that both boys died of acute alcohol poisoning,” JJ informed them.

Emily looked up from the file. “And the locals don’t think this could just be a case of college kids having a little too much fun?”

“Before a major playoff game? I doubt it.” Derek leaned back in his chair. “Especially considering OSU’s having a record-breaking season. I’d guess the coach had players on a pretty strict lockdown.” He raised his hands and joined them in a steeple over his chest. “Showing up to a game hung-over— particularly one as important as this— would be a major conduct issue.”

“That, and there was a pretty specific message left on both victims,” JJ added, arms crossed and eyebrows lifting into her hairline.

“On them?” Rossi questioned.

JJ motioned with her hand back to the screen. Six sets of eyes moved over the photo; the words “U LOSE” scrawled in ink across the foreheads of the two men.

“Resorting to murder to win a football game?” Emily asked, eyes narrowed.

“And why use the forensic countermeasure of staged alcohol poisoning, only to backtrack and assert it as a murder?” Spencer pondered, pursing his lips.

“Whatever the reason, we’ve got two dead college students and a definite signature. Wheels up in 30,” Hotch told them, closing his case file.

⧭⧭⧭

“No sign of forced entry.” Derek walked through the entry hallway and into the living space. “Doesn’t look like there was any struggle, either.”

Rossi thumbed through the mail on the kitchen counter and peered around the small space. “Everything you’d expect in a boys’ college dorm room: dishes in the sink, generic decor, general mess. Nothing that stands out.”

“Agents, thank you so much for coming.” A tall man in a dark suit stepped across the threshold of the apartment. He stuck out his hand for Rossi to shake. “Steven Barrett, Dean of Students.”

“I’m Supervisory Special Agent David Rossi. This is SSA Derek Morgan.” Derek nodded from his place in the living room.

“I apologize for not meeting you when you arrived. We’re dealing with a grieving campus,” Barrett said, running a hand over his face. “I’m actually on my way to speak to the Board, but I wanted to check in with you before. I’m not sure I can be of much help, but I can try to answer any questions you might have.”

“These boys were seniors, but they still lived on campus. Is that typical?” Rossi asked, gesturing around the apartment.

“Uh, yes, it is for student athletes,” Barrett confirmed with a nod. “OSU teams have demanding, sometimes grueling practice schedules. Being on campus simplifies things, allows students to get to classes and practices, as well as utilize the dining halls.”

“Does this building have security cameras?” Derek raised an eyebrow.

“Yes. All of our buildings do. I’ll let Campus PD know you’ll need access to the footage.” Barrett’s phone buzzed in his pocket. He reached for it and punched the button to answer the call. “Yes. Yes, I—I’m finishing up with the FBI now. I understand. I’m on my way.” He ended the call and pocketed the phone. “I’m sorry to leave you, gentlemen. Our top priority right now is supporting our students and community through this tragedy. Part of that healing process is finding out who did this to Tyler and Leon. So anything else you need, anything at all, please don’t hesitate to let me know.” He turned on his heel and disappeared down the hall.

Derek shook his head. “I’m glad I don’t have to do that job right about now.”

Rossi gave another glance around the nondescript apartment and sighed. “Call Garcia and ask her if she’s found any other cases that could be related. And let’s hope there’s something useful on that security footage.”

⧭⧭⧭

“Based on lividity and rigor mortis, I was able to put the time of death between 8:00 and 10:00pm on Wednesday evening. The blood alcohol content for both boys was over five times the legal limit. I’ve never seen anything like it,” the medical examiner mused.

Emily looked over the bodies, her arms crossed. “Dr. Saraj, about how much would they have to drink for the level to be that high?”

“When drinking, the level of alcohol in our blood reaches a peak before it drops off after the last drink ingested,” Spencer supplied. “In a typical night of drinking, spread over the course of several hours, the average man can have 8-12 drinks without ever reaching lethal levels. But considering each victim weighed around 230 pounds, they’d have had to ingest approximately 180 ounces of beer or 18.75 ounces of liquor to reach a lethal blood alcohol content.”

Dr. Saraj glanced at Spencer before adding, “Look, this is a college town. Kids drink. But... to have had this much alcohol still detectable in their system post-mortem indicates that these boys drank at least the equivalent of a 30 rack, by themselves, in less than an hour.” She flipped up the first page of the report in her hands, eyes scanning the second. “And the toxicology screen also found trace amounts of ketamine.”

Spencer bent over the examining table and adjusted the wrist of one of the boys with a gloved hand. “Doctor, are these ligature marks?”

“Oh, yes,” Dr. Saraj agreed, nodding. “They’re relatively faint, so I almost missed them. But I found similar marks on both boys on the wrists and ankles.”

“So,” Emily said, gesturing with her hands, “the unsub doses them with ketamine to gain control, ties them up, forces them to drink lethal amounts of alcohol, and then— what?” She looked to Spencer. “Waits for them to pass out before removing the restraints and leaving the message?”

Spencer examined the marker scrawls. “Were you able to determine what the message was written with and if it was left pre- or post-mortem?”

“My guess would be it was written with some type of permanent marker, but I can’t say for sure,” Dr. Saraj said. “We’re analyzing the residue now, and I can send the report your way as soon as I have it. As for when it was written, I couldn't tell you.” She shook her head. “The one simple mercy is that these boys would have been out cold for a while before they died.”

⧭⧭⧭

“I’m so sorry. I know how difficult this is. Anything that you can tell us will be helpful in finding the person who did this,” JJ encouraged softly. “Anyone that Tyler might have had an argument with recently or who he mentioned having problems with?”

“No, no. He was—he was just your typical boy,” Mrs. Allen sniffled. “Playing football and hanging out with his friends,” she said, voice hitching. “Oh my god.” She dropped her head into her hands.

“He didn’t have time to have problems,” Mr. Allen asserted. “He spent all his free time on the field. Coach had them out there for two-a-days until classes started. He’s the quarterback. He was leading that team to the first national title since 1945.” He stood to his feet, hands clenched at his sides. “Some lunatic murdered my boy and you’re sitting around talking to us while they’re out there, walking free.”

“Sir, I promise you that we have some of the best agents in the country working on your son’s case,” JJ assured. “But in order to help them do their job, we need to know as much as we can about who Tyler was.”

Across the bullpen, Hotch sat across from Mr. and Mrs. Williams. “Leon was a good boy. Football was his life. He loved being a part of this team. It was the season of a lifetime,” Mr. Williams said.

“We taught him better than to be drinking and carrying on,” Mrs. Williams added.

“Can you think of anything or anyone he might have mentioned recently that was out of the ordinary? Anything that was bothering him or causing him distress?” Hotch questioned.

“He was feeling pressure about the season, but he’s been handling that kind of thing since he was twelve years old.” Mr. Williams shared an almost indiscernible look with his wife. “He got into—into the same kinds of trouble any college kid gets in. Nothing that could have gotten him murdered.”

⧭⧭⧭

“Yeah, baby girl, what d’ya got for me?” Derek held the phone out so that Rossi could listen in as they waited in the OSU security office.

“Well, my handsome knight, I wish I could tell you more but so far, I’m coming up empty with similar cases,” Penelope sighed. “Nothing that matches our alcohol poisoning M.O. or the signature. I just expanded the search to surrounding states, and I’ll let you know if I find anything.”

“Anything on our two victims?” Rossi asked.

“Now that’s where it gets interesting,” Penelope mused, tapping the fluffy end of her pen into the palm of her hand. “There’s nothing. Zilch, nada.”

Rossi narrowed his eyes. “And that’s interesting because...?”

“Come on, sir,” Penelope scoffed. “Two young, athletic, good-looking college football stars and there’s nothing at all? Nothing scandalous on social media. No run-ins with campus PD. Not even a write up from an RA.”

Derek tilted his head in thought. “Hotch and JJ said their conversations with the parents told a similar story.”

“Okay, but no one is this squeaky clean, particularly not at a Big 12 college. Everyone has some dirt,” Penelope insisted. “I haven’t found it yet, but there’s gotta be something out there. When I have it, you’ll know it!”

“Thanks, Garcia,” Derek drawled.

“Over and out!” Penelope jabbed the button to end the call.

The OSU officer waved them over with his hand. “I’ve got it queued up to 6:24pm. You can see the boys here,” he pointed on the screen at the two victims, “entering the north entrance of the dining hall.”

Derek leaned toward the monitor. “So they leave practice, come through the dining hall for dinner. When do they leave?”

The footage sped up on the screen, then stopped. “Here. 7:01.”

“Rossi, you seeing this?” Derek slid his eyes over.

Rossi nodded. “Is there any way to enhance these frames?”

The officer shrugged his shoulders. “Not on this system. Honestly, the camera quality isn’t great. I’ve been trying to get them to invest in an upgraded OS, but you know—budget woes. Your analyst might be able to do more.”

“It’s not going to matter.” Derek sighed and straightened up. “She’s careful of her angles.”

“I couldn’t find them on any grounds cameras, but they pop back up entering the dorm. Here, at 7:12.”

“All three of them,” Rossi noted. He looked at Derek. “And like you said, she’s discreet.”

“They all go upstairs to the apartment,” the officer continued, “but only the girl leaves. At 8:43.”

⧭⧭⧭

“We have a witness from the cafeteria that confirms that the boys ate with a dark-haired young woman in a red coat,” Hotch said, arms crossed. “But other than those two details, the witness couldn’t recall anything else and said they’d never seen her before.”

“So we’ve got the two victims entering their apartment with an unknown woman. They’re upstairs for an hour and a half before she leaves,” Emily recounted.

Derek stood with his hands on his hips. “And in that time, she manages to dose and gain control of two boys that are more than double her size and funnel a lethal amount of alcohol into them. Now the question is why?”

As the team converged around the conference room table, a uniformed officer entered into the doorway. “Agent Jareau? There’s a possible witness—says she might have some new information.”

JJ nodded to the team and moved to the doorway. A petite young woman stood in the center of the bullpen, wringing her hands. When her eyes landed on JJ, she let her arms fall to her side. As JJ approached, she motioned with her hand for the girl to sit at the closest desk. “Hi, I’m Jennifer. I heard you wanted to speak to someone about this case. Can I have your name?”

The girl nodded. “Um, I’m Cassie. I saw the announcement you made. About the woman in the red coat. I heard you say that she had brown hair. Is that true?”

JJ cocked her head slightly. “Yeah, the witness and security footage we have shows a woman with dark hair walking with Tyler and Leon. Why do you ask?”

Cassie’s eyes darted around the bullpen, and she drew her arms tightly over her chest. “I just— um—well, I—”

“Would it help if we moved somewhere a little quieter?” JJ suggested. When Cassie nodded and stood, JJ placed a gentle hand on her shoulder and directed her toward an empty interview room. Cassie sat in the chair farthest from the door, and JJ sat opposite her. “Is there something you wanted to tell me about the woman? Or is it something else that’s on your mind?”

Cassie let out a long breath. “When I heard that they were dead, I— I was relieved. That sounds awful, but it’s true.”

JJ tread lightly over her next question. “You felt relieved. Why was that?”

Cassie looked directly at JJ. “I’ve been looking over my shoulder everywhere I go for the last seven months. I won’t have to do that anymore.”

“Can you tell me more about what you mean?”

Cassie took a breath and closed her eyes for a long second, before opening them and continuing. “There was a huge party in the spring. I mean, there were, like, hundreds of people there.” Cassie’s eyes went wide. “I never go to parties like that. But it was the end of the year, and my friend—well, I went with my friend. She got invited.”

“Were Tyler and Leon at this party?” JJ asked.

“Everybody was. I mean, everybody who’s somebody at OSU was there. We saw them right away. The whole team was there, but people treated those two like kings.” Cassie looked down at her hands. “We were drinking... a lot. At some point, Laney and I got separated. I tried calling her phone a bunch of times, but the party was really loud. I—I didn’t want to leave without her, but I was getting really messed up. I had a guy friend from one of my classes walk me home.” She swiped at her eye with the back of her hand. “Laney didn’t get back until the morning. Her clothes were all torn up, her hair had... blood in it, and she—she had a bruise under her eye.” She looked up at JJ, eyes shining with tears. “They raped her. I left her behind, and they raped her,” she whispered.

JJ reached across the table for Cassie’s hand. “Cassie, I’m so sorry. What happened to Laney was not your fault, or hers. Do you understand me?” JJ paused before continuing. Cassie looked down. “Do you know if she reported it?”

Cassie nodded. “I’m the one who went with her to the infirmary. They did a kit and confirmed it. When we went to Campus PD, they did nothing. Said Laney was wasted, and there was no one that could back up her story.”

JJ squeezed her hand. “So there was no official report filed?”

Cassie laughed coldly. “Oh, they wrote a report. I think if we ask them to, they have to. But they wouldn’t name Tyler or Leon in it. Said they didn’t want to ‘give legs to any gossip.’”

JJ’s mouth stretched into a thin line. “Where’s Laney now?”

“I don’t know.” Cassie shook her head. “She didn’t come back to OSU this fall. I haven’t really talked to her since—” She looked at JJ. “I can’t get the image of her out of my head. How she looked when she came through the door that morning. What they did to her… I’m not sorry that they’re dead.” Her eyes were shining with rage. “People knew what happened… and no one did anything. And those two were still the kings of campus.”

⧭⧭⧭

The team absorbed the new information quietly. “So Garcia was right. They did have something to hide.” Derek’s phone buzzed. “Speaking of. Hey mama, you’re on speaker.”

“I hope you’re all sitting down,” Penelope warned. “I expanded the parameters of my original VICAP search to include the surrounding states. No hits on suspicious deaths by alcohol poisoning. However, the U LOSE signature? Seven hits across Texas, Arkansas, Missouri, and Kansas.”

“So our unsub’s been traveling across the South—” Emily started.

“Oh, I’m not done,” Penelope continued. “Just to double check, I expanded the search area to the continental US. Our unsub has been busy. Over 30 murders with this signature, all across the country, dating back to March 2007. All different M.O.s: gunshot, stabbing, strangulation, you name it. But all with U LOSE scrawled across their forehead in—get this—liquid eyeliner.”

“Anything tying the victims together, Garcia?” Hotch asked.

“All men, mostly white, but all across different ages, occupations, and marital statuses. At first glance, there’s no real connection,” Penelope answered.

“What about on second glance?” Hotch prompted.

“Way ahead of you, sir. I did a little digging.” Penelope shrugged. “Okay, a lot of digging—most of it legal. Every single one of these victims had at least one sexual assault allegation. Some are official police reports, some are HR complaints, some are sealed court records. But in every case, the victim’s cause of death is directly related to the details of the assault records. Women that were held at knifepoint, their attacker was stabbed to death. If they were choked, he was strangled. If they were held at gunpoint, he died of a gunshot wound. Et cetera, et cetera.” Penelope twirled her pen. “The differing M.O.s combined with the fact that the unsub kept crossing state lines kept local PDs and field offices from making the connection.”

“Garcia, can you search OSU PD records for an incident report?” JJ asked.

Garcia tapped rapidly across her keyboard. “Absolutely, sugar, when would it have been filed?”

“It would’ve been this year, sometime at the end of April or beginning of May,” JJ answered. “The victim would be named as Laney Collins.”

After a few moments, Garcia peered through her green cat-eye glasses at the report. “Mmm, I’ve got one incident report, filed on May 7th. And woof, this report is not much to go on. The responding officer wrote a whopping three sentences. According to him, Laney was incapacitated and thus was not a credible witness.” Garcia twirled her pen. “The alleged attackers, who are not named, denied Laney’s account of what happened. Because there were no other witnesses, Officer Thorough deemed that no further action was necessary.” She jabbed her pen in the direction of the screen. “And this, my friends, is why women don’t bother reporting.”

“Good work, Garcia,” said Hotch.

“There’s one more interesting detail from the report,” Garcia continued. “The dean of students signed off on it.”

“So Barrett knew about this the whole time,” Derek fumed.

“And again, people wonder why women don’t report,” Garcia repeated, ending the call.

“So our unsub is seeking justice for women she believes have been failed by the system. We’re looking for a vigilante, carrying out revenge killings,” Rossi concluded.

Derek nodded. “And she’s organized and efficient; she finished with Tyler and Leon in less than two hours.”

“She’s smart and she blends in, doesn’t draw too much attention to herself,” JJ added.

“She’s meticulous and has at least some knowledge of forensic countermeasures, considering there’s no physical evidence tying her to any of the scenes,” Spencer remarked.

“And she knew enough to keep her face off the security footage,” Emily finished.

“Rossi, Emily, and I will stay here and deliver the profile,” Hotch directed. “JJ, I’d like you to speak to the families again, see if they knew about the rape. Reid, Morgan, talk to Barrett and see what else he might be trying to keep quiet.”

⧭⧭⧭

“Makes you wonder just how many people knew what happened,” Derek considered, closing the car door.

“It’s estimated that twenty percent of student victims of sexual assault report it to their university, but less than one percent of assailants receive any type of disciplinary action,” Spencer cited, making his way toward the sidewalk.

Derek shook his head. “And so the victims don’t see the point in reporting it. Your attacker gets to walk around like nothing even happened. Cassie told JJ that she felt like she had a target on her back once they reported Laney’s assault.”

As they walked up the blacktop driveway to the entrance of Barrett’s home, Spencer slowed his steps as he noticed the front door. “Morgan.” He nodded at the door, slightly ajar.

Derek drew his gun and moved ahead of Spencer. He pushed the door slowly open and called out, “Mr. Barrett?” In the foyer were the remnants of a broken vase and a small trail of blood. “Call Hotch, let him know we’ve got trouble here.”

Derek and Spencer worked to quietly clear the rooms, one by one. Derek stopped at the bottom of the stairs and motioned to Spencer. As they started up the stairs, a woman’s voice called out, “Shut up! You had nothing to say before. So now, you’re just going to listen.”

Derek reached the top of the stairs and started down the hallway. He reached the open door where a woman stood, her back to the door. Behind her, Derek could see Barrett, sitting on the floor, blood dripping from a gash on his head. His hands were raised in front of his chest, palms facing out. Derek stopped, his gun trained on the woman, and murmured, “Laney?”

The woman pivoted her body, her short blonde hair whipping around. Derek saw tears in her eyes and a revolver in her hand. “Don’t,” she warned.

“Laney, my name is Derek. I don’t want to hurt you. I just want to talk. I need you to put the gun down.”

“No!” Laney screamed. “You don’t know what he’s done.” She shook the gun in Barrett’s direction, and Barrett closed his eyes.

Derek spoke softly. “I do, Laney. I do know. I know what happened to you. I know that he kept Tyler and Leon’s names off the report. I know that he didn’t help you when you needed it most. I know that he let them get away with--”

“Rape. He let them get away with rape. Because he cares more about reputation and football than what happens to women on his campus. They ruined my life.” Laney turned away from Derek and put both hands on the gun. “They ruined my life, and you did nothing. And then they walked around campus like they were invincible, because you taught them they were.”

Derek moved further into the room, into Laney’s eyesight. Spencer moved into the doorway, covering Derek. “Laney, look at me. I’m putting my gun away.” Derek held his hands up and then moved to holster his gun. “Doing this won’t make the pain go away.”

“How many others? How many other women did he do this to?” Laney let out a painful sob. “If I don’t stop him, it never ends.”

“Listen to me.” Derek took a step closer to her. “Killing him won’t change what happened, Laney. It won’t. Believe me. I know how you feel.”

“People love to say that when they’re trying to shut you up. How could you possibly know how I feel?” Laney spit out.

“Someone hurt me, just like they hurt you. And nobody was there to help me. No one was there to listen.” Laney froze, eyes shifting to meet Derek’s. “I wanted to hurt him, Laney. Wanted to make him feel the same pain I felt. I wanted him to suffer.” He moved another step closer. “I know that those men hurt you, and I know that he let them get away with it. And I am so, so sorry. But you’re stronger than anyone knows, Laney. You are the only person who has the power to help others who didn’t get justice. I have a friend who’s spent her whole life helping survivors, and I know she’d love to talk with you.” He took another step. “You are the only person who can stop it from happening to someone else. You can make sure he’s held accountable for what he’s done. But if you pull that trigger, you can never go back,” Derek warned.

Laney looked at Derek, his hand outstretched, wordlessly asking her to give him the gun. She looked at Barrett, crying and silently begging her to show him the mercy she never got. “I wish I’d been the one to kill them,” she whispered.

The gun dropped out of her hand as Derek stepped forward to catch her. He kicked the gun into the doorway, and Spencer recovered it. “I’ve got you,” Derek said, helping Laney out of the room. “Shh, it’s ok, I’ve got you. I’ve got you.”

Spencer moved to lift Barrett off the ground and helped him into a chair by the window. Out of the corner of his eye, Spencer caught a flash of red below the window. He stumbled over Barrett, nose almost pressed to the glass as he stared out. The woman froze, eyes locked on Spencer’s. His mouth opened slightly as he stared at her, bewildered. By the time his brain caught up, she had already disappeared from view.

Spencer turned and raced down the stairs, clinging to the railing as he nearly missed a step. He burst out the front door into the driveway, sprinting around the side of the house. He heard Derek call his name, saw the other SUVs pulling up, but he kept running. He skidded to a stop at the edge of the backyard, and then spun in a full circle, eyes frantically scanning the perimeter.

Hotch approached from the side of the house, gun drawn. “Reid! Are you all right?”

Spencer took a last look, scanned from east to west. “Yeah, yeah. I just—I thought I saw—I thought I saw something.” He shook his head. “Barrett’s inside. He’s got a head laceration, but he’ll be fine.”

Hotch lowered his gun and nodded. “And Laney’s not our unsub. So we’re back to the beginning.”

⧭⧭⧭

“Strauss is asking us to head back to Quantico.” Hotch pocketed his phone and looked at the team. “We’ll move the cases to our watch list and flag the signature for hits in VICAP. From what we know about the unsub’s behavior, we know she’s no longer in the area.” He gestured to the evidence board. “Our best course of action is to keep the profile in our periphery for now. We can do that from the BAU. It’s late. Go to the hotel, get some rest. We’ll leave first thing in the morning.”

“I’m absolutely starving.” Emily slipped into her jacket and headed for the door. “Anybody want to hit up that 24 hour diner?”

Derek and JJ quickly agreed, following Emily from the conference room. JJ turned back, eyeing Spencer. “You coming, Spence?”

“I’m just really tired.” His voice lilted up, almost a question. “Next time, though.”

JJ gave him a look but didn’t press him. “Have a good night, Spence.”

“Yeah, thanks.” He gathered up the case files, not quite ready to put them away.

⧭⧭⧭

Spencer’s eyelids felt heavy as he walked through the lobby of the hotel. He really was tired. He blamed the exhaustion for what he thought he saw through the window at Barrett’s. His fatigued mind was seeing things that weren’t there. He practically floated into the elevator and up to his room. Sliding the room key through the slot, the door beeped open and Spencer stepped inside. He flicked on the light and dropped his bag on the floor, loosening his tie as he walked toward one of the sling back chairs sat by the window. He paused just before he reached the chair, his gaze lingering over something on the desk. A note hastily scrawled on hotel stationary.

623.

Spencer lifted the note with two careful fingers. “623?” He turned it over, looking for the rest of the message, but the paper was blank other than the number. He lowered the note, and his eyes landed on a small plastic card where the paper had rested on the table. Not just a card. A room key.

⧭⧭⧭

Spencer stared at the door of the room. Room 623. He turned his head and slowly looked up and then down the hallway. He took a breath and raised his hand to the door. He knocked in the familiar rhythm: five knocks, pause, two knocks. He pressed his ear close to the door, listening for any movement inside. When he heard nothing, he knocked again; the same pattern, but a little louder. He listened again. Nothing. Spencer felt a bead of sweat creep down the nape of his neck. He thought about turning around, about walking back down the two flights of stairs to his room and getting into bed.

Instead, he pulled the keycard from his pocket. As he lifted the card with one hand, he used his other to raise the strap on his holster. He held his breath as he swiped the card through the slot and heard the beep of the lock. Drawing his gun from the holster, Spencer slowly turned the handle of the door.

The room was mostly dark. Only the yellow glow of one of the bedside lamps illuminated the space. Spencer stepped into the room and quietly closed the door behind him. Again, his mind said to turn around. Yet his feet carried him further into the room. He could see now that the sling backs were facing toward the window. There were two glasses from the mini bar on the table between them.

“I wasn’t sure you’d come,” a familiar voice mused.

Spencer startled and then swallowed audibly, a cartoon character realizing he’s in serious trouble. He opened his mouth but nothing came out.

“You can put the gun away,” she continued. “Really. Come sit down, Reid.”

Hearing her say his name sucked all the air out of his lungs. He closed the remaining distance between them, staring dumbly at her perched in the armchair. She gave him a small smile, warm despite the nervous energy in the air. “Hey, Reid.”

“Elle.” Spencer sunk into the chair across from her. “I—I thought I was seeing things. Earlier. At Barrett’s.”

She studied him quietly. “This hair is a good look for you.”

“Thanks,” Spencer blushed, smoothing down the hair at the nape of his neck. He quickly dropped his hand. “It was you then.”

“What was me?” Elle asked innocuously.

“You were at Steven Barrett’s house today. In the yard.” Spencer folded his hands to keep from wringing them. “You were wearing a red coat.”

Elle lifted one of the glasses to her lips, taking a sip of the clear liquor, ice cubes rattling. She swallowed and gestured to the other glass. “Have a drink.”

“I, um, I don’t drink anymore.” Elle raised an eyebrow. “A lot has happened since… the last time I saw you.” Spencer smoothed his hands down the tops of his thighs. “You were there today. Elle, did you—are you…” He wasn’t even sure what question to ask.

Elle ran her fingertip around the rim of her glass. She was quiet for a long time. Spencer fidgeted in his seat, but stayed quiet, waiting. Elle set the glass down.

“Do you remember that night in Dayton? In the hotel room?” Spencer looked at her pointedly. Elle let out a laugh. “Sorry, I forgot who I’m talking to; of course you remember.” Their eyes met. Spencer felt she was looking right through him. “You told me that I’d won. That because Garner was dead, and I was alive, I won.”

“Elle—” Spencer started.

“You asked, Reid. This is my answer.” She screwed the cap off the bottle of gin. Pouring the remainder of the bottle into her glass, she continued, “It took time, but I started to feel safe in my own home again. I could close my eyes without seeing his face. I could take a shower without bringing my gun.” She downed the rest of her glass. “When I killed Lee, I gave that same freedom back to the women he’d raped. They could exist in the world knowing that he would never hurt them, ever again.” She smiled ruefully. “And it felt… good. It felt right. And after years of having watched people be destroyed by monsters… I don’t know. It was just something I had to do. To bring that freedom and that safety back to other women who had been hurt and broken and alone. To destroy their monsters.” Elle looked at him then, eyes shining with unshed tears. “I don’t expect you to understand or approve. But the answer to your question is yes.”

Spencer took a breath and asked, “Why’d you put the key in my room? You could have just… disappeared.”

Elle shook her head. “I chose this. I knew what I was doing and what it would mean. Most of the time, I’m fine, great even. Because being able to give these women justice is the greatest gift. But with this work, you can’t really keep anybody close. No holidays or birthdays. No dates or girls nights.” She shrugged. “I guess I just wanted to see what would happen. What the boy genius would do.”

“I don’t know what to do,” Spencer admitted.

“Well, that’s a first.” Elle smiled, but Spencer could see apprehension in the rigidness of her shoulders, in the slight bouncing of her leg.

“I should probably arrest you,” he considered.

Her leg stopped. “You probably should.”

Spencer looked down at his hands. He ran his fingers up to the crook of his elbow, ghosting over the scars there. His mind raced from memory to memory: Elle on the train car; Tobias Hankle standing over him; Elle in the hospital bed; the needle in his arm; Elle in the hotel in Dayton; the click of an empty chamber.

“Elle, I’m sorry. I’m sorry for telling you that you’d won.” She was motionless, staring at him. He continued, “I didn’t know. I didn’t know what it was like. To be consumed and overcome by a memory.” Now it was Spencer’s eyes that shone with tears. “I didn’t know that the trauma could… fester in your brain like an infection that you can’t get rid of. I don’t know if winning is even possible after something like that.” He rubbed his hand under his eye and cleared his throat. “It was an awful thing to say. And I’m sorry.”

Elle tipped her head back, trying to keep the tears from spilling over. “All’s forgiven.”

Spencer reached out and gently grabbed Elle’s hand. “I’ve been so tired recently. I thought I saw something through the window at Steven Barrett’s house. But when I did a perimeter check, I didn’t find anything.” Elle dropped her head back down and turned to look at him. “We’re headed back to Quantico in the morning. We’ll, um, be keeping tabs on VICAP hits on the signature.” Spencer gave her hand one soft squeeze before standing. He let a small, bittersweet smile move over his face.

He made it to the door before he heard her voice again.

“If I asked you to stay, would you say yes?”

Spencer swiveled back to look at her, the door just barely open. Elle’s arms were crossed over her chest. Her eyes were dark and wide and full of storms. “Just for a little while longer?”

Spencer turned and moved his eyes up the length of the doorway, considering. He heard Elle let out a breath. His own breath stuttered. He closed the door softly. He put his hands in his pockets and turned back to her. “I’ve got a little while.”

#vicficwriterchallenge #criminal minds #tw rape #criminal minds fanfiction #aaron hotchner #david rossi #derek morgan #spencer reid #jennifer jareau #emily prentiss #penelope garcia #elle greenaway #homoose writes

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elsaclack · 5 years

Text

2019 writing meme

bc why not

i was tagged by @startofamoment and @disruptedvice!!! thanks guys i appreciate it lmao

things i’m for sure going to write:

the remaining six chapters of the royalty au i started in november of last year!! all of which have been outlined!!! and i’ll post a snippet of what i have written of chapter 5 below the cut!!

the remaining peraltiago kiss prompts in my inbox

the remaining starmora kiss prompt in my inbox

rewriting the enemies to friends to lovers in one night at a wedding oneshot that i stupidly forgot to cross-post before i deleted the original elsaclack

a groundhog day soulmate au wherein two soulmates relive the same day over and over and over again until they fall in love

things i’m very likely going to write:

a soulmate au in which a person’s soulmate appears to them 5 times throughout their life before they meet and helps them make 5 major life decisions that leads them both to their first irl meeting

an organized crime au wherein jake and amy are both independent con artists whose paths consistently cross, giving way to an extremely competitive (and flirty) kind of co-existence. at least that’s how jake sees it, up until he screws amy out of a $100,000 score - that’s when he finds out amy isn’t an independent con artist, but rather a worker bee for an extremely pissed-off mob boss who now wants them both dead. featuring a tech-savvy (and weapons-savvy) rosa and hitman charles

a set it up au wherein jake is on desk duty working as holt’s assistant for the foreseeable future and amy is kevin’s TA

a sound of music au that includes SEVEN of the peraltiago babies flying around fanon lmao

things i’d like to write at some point:

the proposal au that has literally been like 2-3 years in the making

a blatant and full-fledged hunger games au

ANYWAYS i also have like 342983649278 half-written and abandoned one-off wips in my docs that i might borrow from or finish at some point or another but i’m trying to not set myself up for failure by adding them to this list lmao. i’ll grab a few snippets from some of those just to throw them out there in the universe as an apology for being so inactive lately!!

i’m not sure who all has been tagged yet so forgive me if you’ve been tagged: @philtstone @johnny-and-dora @taxicabsandcupcakes @the-pontiac-bandit @johnnydora @snlsamberg @bklyn-ninenine and @proofthatihaveaheart!!!

no pressure tho obviously like please feel free to ignore!!!

ANYWAYS!!!!!

******ALL OF THESE ARE SUBJECT TO CHANGE BEFORE PUBLISHING (WHERE APPLICABLE LMAO)******

you’re a king and i’m a lionheart ch. 5 preview:

It’s been precisely three weeks and five days since that secret, blessed afternoon in the library with Amy, and each day that has passed has been another stone tied around his ankles. He looks up for the first time since sitting down some twenty minutes earlier - she’s grimacing at him through the mirror, a deep valley of concern creasing the space between her brows, and as he shoots her a grimace of his own she catches her lower lip between her teeth and sets about nibbling. “It sucks,” she finally says.

“Well, yeah,” he leans back in his seat, until his shoulders brush against the warm, soft plane of her stomach, hidden beneath her uniform. “Most of this shit does.”

She grimaces again and reaches up, hands sliding over his shoulders to gently squeeze. “I wish I could say it’ll be over soon, but…”

“We both know it’d be a lie.”

“I may have a silver lining,” she kneads the pads of her thumbs into the knotted sinews of muscle lining his shoulder and his head drops forward automatically. “I’ll be there through the whole thing and I can probably get you out early.”

He groans appreciatively - both at her reminder and at the perfect warmth and pressure she’s applying to his shoulders and neck. “You’re an angel, you know?”

She huffs out a quiet laugh above him - and it’s the first time he’s heard it here, between the two of them, in a long time.

Three weeks and five days, to be exact.

a random neighbors au:

“So,” he says as he wriggles his key into the lock on his mailbox. From the corner of his eye he sees her head turned toward him, frozen in the act of rifling through her mail. “Are you a magician?”

He turns toward her to find her staring at him like he’s just beamed down from outer space, and for half a second he almost bails. Her brow is furrowed and the corners of her mouth are pulled down. “What?” she asks.

“Are you a magician?” he repeats. He waits until she’s blinked twice, before adding “‘cause when I look at you, everyone else disappears.”

The silence that follows rings just long enough for him to regret approximately eighty-seven percent of his collective life choices. She arches a brow and turns a little more fully toward him, but otherwise remains motionless until he forces himself to swallow thickly.

“That’s what you’re gonna go with?” she finally asks, and even though the vast majority of her demeanor is now overflowing with derision, he’s certain there’s a spark of amusement in her eyes. “Of all the cheesy pickup lines in the world, you’re going with...magician. You can’t honestly tell me you thought that would work.”

He can feel his face flooding with heat, embarrassment like static prickling up his spine to the back of his neck. She’s still staring at him expectantly, her mail now apparently forgotten as she lowers her hands to her hips, and when he tries to swallow it’s like the Sahara in his throat. “Uh,” he coughs a bit awkwardly, letting his keys hang from the lock so he can properly rub the back of his neck. “I just thought - since we’re the only ones in here -”

“No, I got that part,” she interrupts, a smile beginning to form in the curves of her face. “That was the only slightly redeemable part of...whatever that was supposed to be. But tacking it on to calling me a magician is definitely not achieving what you’re trying to achieve here.”

A brief, nervous laugh escapes his chest on an exhale, and this woman is still staring at him - though her amusement is far more pronounced now. In fact, he’d go so far as to say she looks mirthful in the way she appraises him from head to toe. “That definitely wasn’t my best,” he admits, reaching up for his keys, pleased to find his hands steadier than he expected them to be. “Can I get a do-over? And...maybe your number, while I’m at it?”

Her answering laugh is bright and loud and it simmers in his veins; it seems to catch her off-guard as it does him. She shakes her head and lifts her mail to her chest again, almost like she’s trying to put a barrier between them. “That was a little better,” she admits through a smile, “but still not great. Do any of those ever work for you?”

“Sometimes,” he nods, finally getting his mailbox door open just to find two overdue bills and a copy of Busty Ladies magazine inside. He stares for a beat, and then closes the door. “No mail for the falcon today.” he says cheerfully.

“The falcon?” she repeats - and all the derision from before is back.

“Oh, yeah, my - my gym buddies call me ‘the falcon,’ y’know, ‘cause - ‘cause I’m so badass.”

She stares, mouth just slightly agape, and he regrets ninety-three percent of his collective life-choices. “Wow,” she finally manages, backing a pace toward the door, and then another. “Well, uh, it was...interesting meeting you, Mr. The Falcon.”

He laughs, and she grins, and then she’s backing away earnestly and he’s left with the feeling of grasping at straws. “Ja- uh, it’s actually Jacob.”

“Jacob.” she repeats.

And he panics. “I don’t know why I said that, no one actually calls me Jacob. I mean, it’s my real name, it’s my - my full name, or proper name, or whatever. But my mom is the only one who calls me that and she only does it when I’m in trouble.” She’s almost to the doorway now, looking at him the way he suspects she looks at people who try to corner her in bodegas to passionately warn her of a looming apocalypse, and she’s about to disappear. “It’s Jake.”

She pauses just beside the doorway, head cocked just slightly to the left, and unreadable expression on her face. “Hi, Jake. You’re really weird.”

the hunger games au:

“What do you mean?” Jake asks. Santiago shifts, eyes darting to the right toward the end of the table, suddenly looking like a cornered animal. “Your game ended four years ago -”

She makes a noise, a loud “tch” sound between her teeth, and he falls silent. “I left the arena four years ago,” she says slowly. She’s still gripping her empty glass tightly, like it’s the only solid thing in the room. “But I’m still playing the games. The games are never over. They drag you back every year so you have a front row seat, they make you...talk to people,” she seems to have a hard time forcing the words out of her throat, which strikes Jake as a very Diaz-like thing to do. “It’s just...it’s never over. Never.”

The train passes into a tunnel, and suddenly the entire dining cart is thrown into an eerie, rapidly flashing orange light. The shadows cross Santiago’s face quickly, and she suddenly seems much older than she did before. She leans forward across the table toward him, and when her mouth opens, he catches the slightest smell of whiskey on her breath.

“Trust me, Peralta,” she whispers. “There’s only one loser in the games. And that’s the last one standing. The games only end when you do.”

“I don’t want to die.” he says, in a voice that is not his own, too dark and tense and quiet. “I don’t want to, I don’t want to...how, how do I...please, Santiago,” he finishes in a whisper, “help me.”

The tunnel ends, and the cart is once again bathed in the soft yellow light from the lamp on the side table behind her. He sees her swallow thickly, her fingers bone white for how hard they’re curled around her glass. She chews the inside of her cheek and casts a glance out the window toward that cluster of glittering lights in the distance growing steadily closer, before she returns to his face. “I-I can’t -” she rasps, pauses, clears her throat, and starts again. “I can’t...guarantee anything. You know that, don’t you? There’s nothing guaranteed about any of this, okay?”

His fingers and toes are numb and his heart feels like the flutter of a hummingbird’s wings against his breast as he nods. He grips the edges of the nearest plate and pulls it closer, until the edge digs into his chest.

“Okay,” she whispers, “I’ll help you.” Her right hand drifts to the deep divot in the tabletop from where Rosa’s knife had landed hours earlier, fingertips tracing and catching on the scar.

His chest quakes with a shaky exhale. Relief floods through his veins, hot and strong, and his whole body sags in heedy relief. “Thank you, God, thank you Santiago -”

She taps the bottom of her glass against the table loudly, cutting him off, and then turns her head up toward the ceiling. “Amy.” She says after a moment.

“I’m...what?”

She drops her chin again, and when her eyes find his he’s suddenly violently transported back in time to that moment in the Market four years previously, hours before her reaping, the last time he saw her eyes so clear and bright and present. “It’s Amy,” she says, “you can call me Amy.”

a sound of music au:

Mrs. Simms and Maria both start toward the staircase, a tense silence lingering behind them. Neither Jake nor Captain Santiago move until they hear a door click shut upstairs; the moment the silence descends again, Captain Santiago releases a breath and drops her head.

Somehow, her posture is still ramrod straight.

“I apologize, Mr. Peralta,” she says as she turns toward him, and suddenly Jake is aware of the deep crescents carved into the skin beneath her eyes and the weary way her shoulders curve inward beneath the padding in her suit jacket. “My priorities have just changed. I’m afraid I can’t focus on whatever it is you’re here to do -”

“Assist in the process of recovering from your injury,” he recites quietly.

She blinks, and then shakes her head slightly. “Right. Yes. That. I’m afraid I can’t do that until I find a replacement for my children’s nanny. I think it would be best if you just returned to the hospital for now.”

She starts toward the door, clearly expecting him to follow, but his feet remain planted on the floor. Her gait is uneven - he can see the slight limp on her left side, perhaps a tender knee or hip - and that same strange feeling from the day before is overwhelming in the cavern of his chest once again. “What if I stepped in as a nanny?” he hears himself ask.

Captain Santiago freezes in place, and then slowly turns back to face him, trepidation written as clear as day across her face. “You’re aware of the fact that there are seven of them, correct?”

He nods.

Her brow furrows. “You would be able to properly carry out your duties as a nurse in addition to nannying my children?”

He shrugs. “I don’t imagine the recovery process would be too extensive, since it seems like it’s only your left knee?” He raises his brows and glances at the knee in question.

A look of surprise flashes across her face. “Very observant,” she says, and he gets the feeling that it’s mostly to herself. He doesn’t respond; for a long moment they merely stand staring at each other. “Alright,” she finally says, “I’m willing to give this a try. But the moment the nursing process interferes with my children and their schedule, it’s over, and you will return to the hospital at once. Am I understood?”

He has to resist the urge to salute. “Absolutely, ma’am.” he says instead.

a the good place au (where jake and amy knew each other through competing precincts in the nypd and “hated” each other in life and therefore immediately recognize each other in the after-life):

The Architect takes him to his new home - something tailored specifically for this Other Jake’s tastes, something straight out of his personal nightmares - and he’s really starting to think that he’s going to get away with this. The Architect is showing him the television system and he’s watching point-of-view clips of advocacy works in Uganda and there are fifteen framed paintings of clowns in the corner and someone is knocking on his new front door.

And when the front door opens to reveal the person on the other side, all his hopes of staying are dashed.

Of all the people in the entire universe who could have been assigned to this afterlife neighborhood with him, of all the people in history who could have knocked on his front door, it just had to be Amy freaking Santiago.

She does, for whatever reason, wait to question him until after The Architect is gone.

Jake stalls as long as he can closing that front door, taking care to examine the knob - this big round thing that looks to be artificially rusted, how lame - and when he finally, slowly turns on the spot, she’s standing several paces ahead of him with her arms crossed tight over her chest and her foot tapping impatiently.

And suddenly he realizes that she’s wearing a pantsuit in the afterlife.

“So -”

“Don’t.” she snaps, and he drops his gaze to his feet with a nod. “I don’t know what’s going on or why you’re here, but there’s clearly been a mistake.”

“I could be in The Good Place -” he says indignantly.

“Did you even know you while you were alive? You were the most arrogant, pompous, self-centered and conceited human being I’ve ever met in my life!”

“Oh, please, Santiago. Just because I had a little bit of confidence -”

“I wasn’t finished.” she interrupts sharply, and he rocks backwards to his heels, feeling the door’s cool surface brushing against his shoulders. “All you ever cared about was looking cool and being the best. That’s not confidence, it’s arrogance.”

The all-too-familiar urge to argue with her bubbles up like bitter bile in his throat, but after a moment he feels himself deflating, the fight leaving him all at once. “You’re right,” he shrugs, and if he’s not mistaken there’s surprise cracking through that steely expression on her face. “I mean, the guy - The Architect? - he got my name right, but...that’s it. Those -” he gestures to the television, where the memories are still soundlessly playing on the screen “- are definitely not my memories. He mentioned that I was some kind of death-row lawyer and human rights advocate?”

Amy snorts - clearly in disbelief - but Jake smiles tentatively all the same. “Yeah, that’s obviously incorrect.”

“Here’s the real kicker, though - he said I was also a volunteer firefighter. Can you imagine?”

She pulls a face, laughs a more genuine laugh - and the defensiveness in her eyes diminishes half a degree. And later (much later) he’ll pinpoint this as the moment that hope sparked back to life inside his chest.

#tag game #sorry this got long #anyways thank you again for tagging me #and i'm excited about all the awesome fics coming down the pike from everyone!!!#em speaks #b99 #jake x amy #my b99 fics #sorta

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ettawritesnstudies · 2 years

Note

Hey! Hope you're pulling through (saw your rough sleep schedule in that one post 😬)! 19 and 24 for the music ask game if you'd like!

I am hanging in there, unfortunately this isn't anything particularly new but we're almost to the end of the semester so the accumulated exhaustion is getting to me at an inconvenient time lmao. God only knows why they're assigning more exams less than 2 weeks before finals week. Thanks for the nice ask!

19. A song or album from the 2000s (OK TECHNICALLY some of these are from 2010 but still)

I think this has to be my childhood hyperfixation, Owl City, so I'll drop a few of my favorite songs!

The Real World - this is one of the songs that inspired my anthology (collection?) of short stories that's going to become The Real World Sequence. They're a bunch of magical realism/science fiction vignettes, including "Matter" which is out to my mailing list

Alligator Sky (or without the rap if that's your thing) - I really love the music video for this one and it also contributed to The Real World Sequence

Galaxies - same vibes (flash warning for this lyric video)

Plant Life - the imagery is just really fun and I like plants a lot ok?

Everything from the Sky Sailing Project

(also his scores but that's waaay after 2000)

24. Do you play any instruments?

Yes! I took piano lessons from our church organist for like 10 years (8ish - until I graduated high school), so I'm pretty good at reading advanced sheet music and can figure out most classical music with enough practice. I'm absolute trash at improv or memorization though so I'm not particularly fun to listen to, unless you happen to like Bach or Debussy. I like the technical pieces that require me to focus on hitting every note, or emotional pieces that let me to lean into certain phrases and play with the pace. it's a fun challenge! I also can't play by ear, so I need sheet music to do anything which isn't very impressive :/

I've been trying to teach myself guitar for a few years now, and I've got most of the basic chords and a few bars down, but don't practice as regularly as I should. I've learned a bunch of songs off the free ultimate guitar site from either the tab or chords and messing around with my own approximations of the strumming patterns, but the limiting factor here is that guitar is mostly accompaniment for lyrics, and I am not the best singer. My voice is ok for lullabies and showers but that's about it.

I also tried to teach myself the hammered dulcimer when I built one that one time, but it could only play in the key of D and my bridges were all screwed up and my hammers needed better padding, and it's too bulky to carry anywhere, so that died pretty quickly but I got a very tinny Concerning Hobbits out of it once! :P

music asks game

#I will try to reblog and add the video if I can #ask answered #I love music but I've accepted its something I'm not very talented in despite a lot of training and passion for it #I can't really compose music either #brain keeps giving me existing melodies slkfjdf

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bestdjkit · 4 years

Text

EDM Twitter Sounds Off On Pioneer DJ’s New CDJ-3000

The Pioneer CDJ-3000s have arrived, but the timing couldn’t be more off.

Pioneer DJ’s latest evolution in its industry-standard CDJ series — the CDJ-3000 — is attractive for sure, with its robust new design which includes a 9-inch touch screen, 8 Hot Cue buttons, Touch Cue, Stacked/3Band Waveforms, and all-new jog wheelLCD screens. However, all of these features are completely unnecessary with the live music industry on hold and DJs everywhere out of jobs.

Weâre not here to slam Pioneer, because the CDJ-3000 does seem to be, undoubtedly, its most advanced multi-player to date with industrial-grade MPU, two processors for enhanced performance, and a plethora of improved/advanced features. Not to mention, it links up to six players through Pioneerâs DJM-V10. But, again, what DJ or club has the cash flow for one of these right now, let alone four or six?

One single CDJ-3000 could be yours for approximately $2,299.

Pioneer boasts â When youâre performing, you need to know the decks can make your creative vision a reality and handle everything you throw at them. Weâve designed the CDJ-3000 to do that and more.

That all sounds greatâ¦ really. Just check back with us when shows are back up and running and paychecks are in the mail.

See the official introduction video here via Pioneer and scroll down for EDM reacts.

EDM Reacts to Pioneer CDJ-3000

Pioneer announced a brand new cdj for the futureâ¦ pic.twitter.com/4UlHLdizr7

â MZITV SEPT 19-20 (@Mat_Zo) September 10, 2020

Cdj3000. Perfect time to release that. Im sure every club and dj is going to cop those

â ANTISERUM (@Antiserum) September 10, 2020

cdj3000 supports the weight of two skrillxes instead of one

â TELL ME OUT NOW (@crankdat) September 10, 2020

THIS JUST HAPPENED WHILE TESTING THE FEEL KOPLO REMIX OF HUSH ON OUR NEW PIONEERS. WE ARE STILL FLABBERGESTED. WHAT A TIME TO BE ALIVE. pic.twitter.com/Ele5crYcgp

â YELLOW CLAW (@YELLOWCLAW) September 11, 2020

whatâs with the CDJ 3000 lmao

â MADGRRL

(@MADGRRLmusic) September 11, 2020

thank god the CDJ 3000s have a big ass screen. my shitty eyes thank you. â n

â HI IâM GHOST (@hiimghostsound) September 11, 2020

Canât wait to put the new CDJ 3000 in my ass

â LIL TEXAS (@LILTEXAS) September 10, 2020

$2300 for one CDJâ¦ for the price of two of those I could build an epic rig for a completely live synth set.

â ÉÉnÅ§lÉy ÄÉan

ÉlÉcÅ§ro housÉ 2020 (@MrBentleyDean) September 10, 2020

Pioneer is fucking crazy for thinking any club or venue can afford to upgrade their entire CDJ setup in the current economy

â ODEA (@ODEAmusic) September 11, 2020

This article was first published on Your EDM. Source: EDM Twitter Sounds Off On Pioneer DJâs New CDJ-3000

from Best DJ Kit https://www.youredm.com/2020/09/11/edm-reacts-pioneer-dj-cdj-3000/

0 notes

kevindurkiin · 4 years

Text

EDM Twitter Sounds Off On Pioneer DJ’s New CDJ-3000

The Pioneer CDJ-3000s have arrived, but the timing couldn’t be more off.

Pioneer DJ’s latest evolution in its industry-standard CDJ series — the CDJ-3000 — is attractive for sure, with its robust new design which includes a 9-inch touch screen, 8 Hot Cue buttons, Touch Cue, Stacked/3Band Waveforms, and all-new jog wheel LCD screens. However, all of these features are completely unnecessary with the live music industry on hold and DJs everywhere out of jobs.

We’re not here to slam Pioneer, because the CDJ-3000 does seem to be, undoubtedly, its most advanced multi-player to date with industrial-grade MPU, two processors for enhanced performance, and a plethora of improved/advanced features. Not to mention, it links up to six players through Pioneer’s DJM-V10. But, again, what DJ or club has the cash flow for one of these right now, let alone four or six?

One single CDJ-3000 could be yours for approximately $2,299.

Pioneer boasts — When you’re performing, you need to know the decks can make your creative vision a reality and handle everything you throw at them. We’ve designed the CDJ-3000 to do that and more.

That all sounds great… really. Just check back with us when shows are back up and running and paychecks are in the mail.

See the official introduction video here via Pioneer and scroll down for EDM reacts.

EDM Reacts to Pioneer CDJ-3000

Pioneer announced a brand new cdj for the future… pic.twitter.com/4UlHLdizr7

— MZITV SEPT 19-20 (@Mat_Zo) September 10, 2020

Cdj3000. Perfect time to release that. Im sure every club and dj is going to cop those

— ANTISERUM (@Antiserum) September 10, 2020

cdj3000 supports the weight of two skrillxes instead of one

— TELL ME OUT NOW (@crankdat) September 10, 2020

THIS JUST HAPPENED WHILE TESTING THE FEEL KOPLO REMIX OF HUSH ON OUR NEW PIONEERS. WE ARE STILL FLABBERGESTED. WHAT A TIME TO BE ALIVE. pic.twitter.com/Ele5crYcgp

— YELLOW CLAW (@YELLOWCLAW) September 11, 2020

what’s with the CDJ 3000 lmao

— MADGRRL

(@MADGRRLmusic) September 11, 2020

thank god the CDJ 3000s have a big ass screen. my shitty eyes thank you. – n

— HI I’M GHOST (@hiimghostsound) September 11, 2020

Can’t wait to put the new CDJ 3000 in my ass

— LIL TEXAS (@LILTEXAS) September 10, 2020

$2300 for one CDJ… for the price of two of those I could build an epic rig for a completely live synth set.

— Ƀɇnŧlɇy Đɇan

ɇlɇcŧro housɇ 2020 (@MrBentleyDean) September 10, 2020

Pioneer is fucking crazy for thinking any club or venue can afford to upgrade their entire CDJ setup in the current economy

— ODEA (@ODEAmusic) September 11, 2020

This article was first published on Your EDM. Source: EDM Twitter Sounds Off On Pioneer DJ’s New CDJ-3000

EDM Twitter Sounds Off On Pioneer DJ’s New CDJ-3000 published first on https://soundwizreview.tumblr.com/

0 notes

bluebuzzmusic · 4 years

Text

EDM Twitter Sounds Off On Pioneer DJ’s New CDJ-3000

The Pioneer CDJ-3000s have arrived, but the timing couldn’t be more off.

Pioneer DJ’s latest evolution in its industry-standard CDJ series — the CDJ-3000 — is attractive for sure, with its robust new design which includes a 9-inch touch screen, 8 Hot Cue buttons, Touch Cue, Stacked/3Band Waveforms, and all-new jog wheel LCD screens. However, all of these features are completely unnecessary with the live music industry on hold and DJs everywhere out of jobs.

One single CDJ-3000 could be yours for approximately $2,299.

That all sounds great… really. Just check back with us when shows are back up and running and paychecks are in the mail.

See the official introduction video here via Pioneer and scroll down for EDM reacts.

EDM Reacts to Pioneer CDJ-3000

Pioneer announced a brand new cdj for the future… pic.twitter.com/4UlHLdizr7

— MZITV SEPT 19-20 (@Mat_Zo) September 10, 2020

Cdj3000. Perfect time to release that. Im sure every club and dj is going to cop those

— ANTISERUM (@Antiserum) September 10, 2020

cdj3000 supports the weight of two skrillxes instead of one

— TELL ME OUT NOW (@crankdat) September 10, 2020

THIS JUST HAPPENED WHILE TESTING THE FEEL KOPLO REMIX OF HUSH ON OUR NEW PIONEERS. WE ARE STILL FLABBERGESTED. WHAT A TIME TO BE ALIVE. pic.twitter.com/Ele5crYcgp

— YELLOW CLAW (@YELLOWCLAW) September 11, 2020

what’s with the CDJ 3000 lmao

— MADGRRL

(@MADGRRLmusic) September 11, 2020

thank god the CDJ 3000s have a big ass screen. my shitty eyes thank you. – n

— HI I’M GHOST (@hiimghostsound) September 11, 2020

Can’t wait to put the new CDJ 3000 in my ass

— LIL TEXAS (@LILTEXAS) September 10, 2020

$2300 for one CDJ… for the price of two of those I could build an epic rig for a completely live synth set.

— Ƀɇnŧlɇy Đɇan

ɇlɇcŧro housɇ 2020 (@MrBentleyDean) September 10, 2020

Pioneer is fucking crazy for thinking any club or venue can afford to upgrade their entire CDJ setup in the current economy

— ODEA (@ODEAmusic) September 11, 2020

This article was first published on Your EDM. Source: EDM Twitter Sounds Off On Pioneer DJ’s New CDJ-3000

source https://www.youredm.com/2020/09/11/edm-reacts-pioneer-dj-cdj-3000/

#edm #music #music production #music news #edm news

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yoshesqueblr · 7 years

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Bayonetta Retrospective: An Update On The Lack Of Updates

I started my latest youtube series almost a year ago, with the intention of revisiting my favourite game with an updated lens. Things have been going slow on the updates lately, and I feel like I need to provide an explanation for a couple of things.

1. The missing updates

I know that people watching my latest series will be very confused at this. About a month ago I made the first four updates of this series private, never again intended to be viewable on my channel. There are many reasons for this, but the main one is that my co-commentator and I had a massive falling out, and I have no wish to be associated with him in any way any more. The finer details of this falling out are already known to anybody who follows me on twitter, but to my larger audience on youtube, they will have little to no clue about this. I will cover the details of this later in this update, but suffice to say those videos will never be coming back.

2. The co-commentator change

Save for a few viewers, I don’t believe there was much surprise at me changing commentators in this series. I originally had every intention of finishing the series with no changes in commentator, but external events prevented that from happening. Again, this is related to the aforementioned falling out I had with my old co-commentator.

It is highly likely that the series will be completed with the current commentator, assuming that they agree to it.

3. The lack of updates

The reasons for a lack of updates has been twofold; the major one being the falling out I had with my co-commentator, and the other being health-related. I have been in and out of hospital regularly since the beginning of this year, and this has obviously been disruptive to any update schedule I might have had.

Things are on the mend now, so look forward to sporadic updates again soon.

4. The falling out

I’m not sure where to begin with this. I have extensively documented the events over the last six months on my twitter. However, twitter is not the best platform for following a story spread over numerous tweets, so I’ll document the details here for posterity.

My old co-commentator and I were dating, from February 2016 to January 2017. I’ll henceforth refer to him as my ex to make things easier. We bonded over our appreciation of shared hobbies and simply became good friends, which then progressed to a relationship. This was a long distance relationship.

Obviously, things did not work out between us, and we broke up mutually in January 2017, towards the end of my stay with him. This was when I had gone over to see him in his country. When we broke up, I told him that we could probably still be friends, but that I would need some space before that could happen, and that I would contact him whenever I was ready for that day. We parted on amicable terms, considering the nature of our breakup.

I could go into detail about the breakup but it’s not really important to the story. Just know that it was very traumatic for me and involved approximately a week of being trapped with someone who I did not want to be around. I think a lot of people can empathise with the concept of grinning and bearing it for the sake of keeping things civil, and in my case, where I was very ill, in a foreign country and was staying with someone who, on one occasion, forced sexual favours out of me.

You may understand then that telling him that we could still be friends was a white lie, and most definitely a foolish move on my part. Throughout our relationship I picked up many clashing personality traits that I did not find palatable and did not want in a friendship. However, throughout my dating history I have always broken up with people more or less on friendly terms, and thus see no issue with extending a possibility of friendship, even if I have little to no intention of following through. Telling him that lie was, as far as I was concerned, standard operating procedure for a mutual breakup, and more than he deserved, in retrospect.

So to recap:

He and I had a pretty epic breakup

I lied to him and told him that friendship could still be on the table

However, I wanted space before that could happen

When I returned home, he contacted me immediately, wanting to know how I was. While this was technically a breach of our agreement, I let this slide as I was obviously very sick when I left, and I could understand that he just wanted to know what was wrong with me. I let him know what I felt comfortable with, and reminded him that I needed to be left alone.

It’s at this point that the dynamic between us started to change. Even though I had made it clear that I wanted to be left alone, he decided that that meant he could still talk to me like he used to. Over the course of a month he contacted me non stop, wanting to know how I was, trying to engage in a conversation with me. This was in spite of the prior agreement we had, on top of never getting a meaningful response from me, other than to remind him that I did not want to talk to him.

This was across many different email accounts, as well as texting my phone, and essentially using any shared media between us to try to get a message to me. Examples of this include changing the name of a shared youtube playlist, or editing a shared google document. I started to block his attempts at contact, including making my twitter account private. I also began to vent about it indirectly.

It was clear to me that at this point that he was harassing me; he knew that I did not want to be contacted by him and yet was trying to contact me however he could. I confronted him via email, telling him that he had ruined any chance of being friends again by repeatedly ignoring my simple request, and to stop harassing or contacting me. After this he seemed to understand, and sent me a last email, telling me to contact him whenever I was ready. This was in February. All’s well that ends well, right?

let’s play a game and count the number of times he says this

btw, that pet name? I told him when we broke up he couldn’t call me that any more. He still uses it every time he contacts me.

Well, as you might be expecting, he didn’t stop contacting me. He felt the need to contact me on skype a few times, and less than three weeks after that “last” email, he sent me another email. It was a “monthly mail checkup”. I was at the end of my rope at this point and was beyond treating him nicely. I essentially told him to fuck off. He seemed under the impression that he had to actively try to win me back, “[b]ecause we both know that you will never come back to me from your own volition and I’m the one who has to shake you up.” (direct quote).

At this point, I just stopped replying. It was obvious he was never going to give up on me and normally the best thing to do in this instance is to lay low and ignore all attempts at contact. At this point I made my twitter private and blocked his account. I’m mentioning twitter because this whole mess contains a hefty dose of twitter drama and is important to some of the later details.

I will make it clear that I was not talking about this harassment from him during this time. To my followers on twitter, everything was normal (sans a distinct lack of updates for the series)

About a month after the last point of contact, I felt that I needed to explain to my followers what was happening with the retrospective; it had been three months since the last update and I had zero intention of working with my ex ever again. I made my twitter account public and explained that the series was on hold, because my ex had been harassing me, and pinned this tweet to my profile. You will notice that there is no direct reference to his harassment in that tweet, only in a reply.

I suppose it shouldn’t have surprised me to receive an email from him after that. The subject?

yeah, not threatening at all

In it, he said that I was lying about/fabricating the harassment accusation, and essentially broke up with me (again? yeah, that confused me too). I tried to explain to him how exactly he was harassing me, but he absolutely refused to see his actions as anything other than a friend reaching out. Repeatedly. Despite knowing that he had been blocked. And knowing that I didn’t want contact with him.

lol memes. “last time I’ll contact you” part two

We exchanged a lot of emails, because he tried to get me to agree to a conversation on skype and I refused. For some reason he thought an IM conversation would be less impulsive than one done via email? Yeah, he wasn’t making much sense to me either. Ultimately, it ended up with him thinking that things were on the mend and trying to give me an ultimatum (reply to me by this time otherwise we’re over). Because I hadn’t already made that clear enough for him?

I happily ignored him and he sent a final parting shot of an email, which I guess was supposed to be scathing but simply came across as aiming in the wrong direction completely. So in case you’ve lost track, he’d broken up/cut ties with me twice by now. I thought things were finally over and blocked him on everything else I could think of and made my twitter private again.

“im cutting ties with you for real this time” part three

Again, on my twitter, I made no direct reference to what had been happening to me.

Not nine days later, he sent me an email from a blocked address. With a quote from a Jackie Chan movie (lmao). I ignored it. A week after that, another email, from two blocked email addresses. A week after that, another email, from six addresses. To top it off, he used a throwaway twitter account to tell me to check my spam.

Oh boy, this one was the doozy. He called me emotionally abusive and all other manner of nasty things, including that I deserved to get sick because it was payback for all the awful things I had done to him. You know, just normal standard stuff you say to a good friend.

To say that email upset me is an understatement. I stayed up all night wondering whether I had truly been abusive to him. After talking about it with friends and strangers (Something Awful link), I came to the conclusion that he was just trying to hurt me to get me to reply to him, and whether it was true or not, what he was doing was much worse. I doubt he’s had the same level of self-reflection on his behaviour.

It was at this point I started looking into legal options, with very little promising results. I started keeping a log of his attempts at contacting me though, in case it ever because useful.

Five days after that abusive email, on the day Bayonetta was released on PC, he sent me another email. He also sent me a question on my (now deactivated) ask.fm account, telling me to check my spam. At no point did he make reference to the abusive shit he hurled at me, he just acted like everything was normal.

In the hours leading up to Bayonetta being released on Steam, I streamed some Angel Slayer because I was hella excited, man! Guess who pops up in the stream chat? Guess who got blocked? Guess who created another account and tried to engage in a conversation with me? Guess who got IP banned? Yeah, shit’s crazy. At this point I start making direct reference to his harassment on twitter.

all in one day. not harassment!

Let’s pause for a moment and take in the view:

From the time I came back from visiting him, he refused to stop contacting me, despite being told multiple times to do so

He sent me an abusive email

He was aware that he was blocked and circumvented it by creating many different accounts

not harassment tho

Two weeks after he sent that nasty tirade, he sent another email, saying that he was ashamed that he had sent it to me, and that he just wanted to be friends again. Not a single apology for what he had sent, but he just expected that things would be okay after that, because HE wanted things to be okay, forget about anything I wanted or said to him.

gonna keep harassing you until you do what I want, not harassment tho

It’s as though he’d heard of the adage that ‘time heals all wounds’ and thinks that two weeks is enough to get over getting an abusive spiel sent to you.

I suspect he started escalating his attempt to talk to me because it was the days leading up to his birthday. He tried asking, pleading, bribing me to talk to him again. I ignored all of it. On top of that he recruited people who he knew who followed me on twitter/had me as an IM friend to tell me to check my emails.

guess who later went and copypasted my conversation with him and gave it to my harasser

Things kept escalating. He remembered my brother’s name and ran a search for him on skype. Because I had stupidly blocked my ex, but not removed him from my friends list, he was able to find the one that was indeed related to me. My ex contacted my brother, on skype, as well as facebook. To this day, I have no idea how he found my brother’s facebook, although it’s not exactly locked down due to the nature of my brother’s work.

pictures make this wall of text less intimidating, right?

My brother told me that my ex had contacted him. Yeah, I freaked out. It was clear to me that my ex had no boundaries and I feared what he would do next. I vented about it on my twitter, which was still locked down to the public at this point.

I won’t lie, I was pretty scared by this point. If he felt that contacting my brother, who he had had no contact with prior to this, was perfectly fine, what was stopping him from trying to come to Australia to find me? What other information did he keep/remember about me? I went through my computer and accounts and increased the security for everything. I also tried to get an outside perspective on the situation as a sanity check.

So I hope you can understand why I was freaking out. A few days after, he left a comment on one of my videos, once again telling me to just look at my brother’s skype messages, it was so easy. Because looking at other people’s private messages is totally acceptable behaviour to this guy.

Not only that, despite me locking down my twitter account he still saw my “meltdown”. Either someone was leaking my tweets or he was following me under another dummy account. Nowhere was safe.

add another to the ‘I won’t contact you again after this message’ counter

Be aware that this mentality of my ex’s is what drives a large part of his behaviour; he considers things that are boundary breaking to a lot of people perfectly normal and acceptable.

An aside, when I was visiting him in January, he snooped through my external hard drive and deleted files of himself that I had saved. Things like photos of him and screenshots. I discovered that he had done this in late March, long after we broke up. Chances are high he snooped through the contents of my laptop as well. I remember the realisation that he had gone through my things and feeling sick to my stomach, because it was such a massive breach of trust. It painted his actions since that meeting in an even worse light, because he knew that he had done this and yet was still seeking a friendship with me.

So yeah, he stalked my brother, something that he doesn’t deny either, although he won’t call it stalking. A few days after that he sent me another email. He had composed a song for me. He also openly acknowledged that he knew it would probably upset me. Whether he meant the contents of the song, or the fact that he had yet again contacted me, I wasn’t sure, but I sure as hell did not listen to that song.

openly acknowledging that it’s going to upset me doesn’t make it any better fyi

This coincides with him uploading a mariachi cover of a Witcher 3 song to his channel. It was hard to tell at this point but you could almost read a coded message in the song title.

very apt, tbqh

I could cover all the detail about him contacting me (there’s a lot of youtube comments), but this is already long enough and I can summarise easily: I was venting to my twitter about the deluded guy harassing me and he was continuing to try to contact me. He even tried to blackmail me, because whew boy, he had decided to tell all of cgg (cuhrayzee games general, used to be a 4chan /vg/ board, now exclusively on discord) about his relationship with me. Bless them, they tried to help him work through it, but they kind of missed the mark when it came to owning up to his behaviour.

I ignored all of this, but it came to a head when he decided to post a PSA about me. Yes, a Public Service Announcement about me, where he told every single excruciating detail about the relationship, as well as tried to justify his harassing behaviour.

I found this out when I was browsing 4chan, a few days after he had posted it. I never read the contents but I knew that he was telling a very skewed version of events. I emailed the website admins to get the PSA removed, because hey, it was just another venue for my ex to harass me, now by blackmailing me by spreading my personal life details to the internet.

Throughout this time, I had not really addressed the issue on my youtube channel. I had been uploading episodes again with a new commentator since April, and while there were some people who missed my old commentator, I did not acknowledge the questions at all. Well, after the PSA got released somebody decided to comment on one of these threads, saying that the reason my ex was no longer on episodes was because we had broken up and I had handled the breakup badly. Which is a pretty laughable interpretation of the events.

I took this opportunity to address the issues head on, and posted the following comments:

I also detailed roughly what had been happening on my twitter account.

Well, a few days after that, my ex found the comments I had made, and replied to it, using yet another youtube account. Unfortunately (or perhaps, fortunately), the OP deleted their comment before I could screenshot the entirety of my ex’s replies, but the gist of it was basically a mix of justification of the stalking of my brother and an attempt at another ultimatum (with yes, yet another promise that this would be the last time he would contact me).

ah yes, my infamous disingenuous harassment flag powers

Anyway, drama aside, I got the PSA removed. My ex found out (through a lovely person who used to follow me on twitter and now does not), and posted the PSA again. I reported it again and it was removed. You would think at this point he would think, ‘huh, I wonder why they’re removing it if there’s nothing wrong with what I wrote,’ but self-reflection does not become this exceptional person.

guess whose exes were all “crazy”? this is in no way a red flag or indicative of a larger issue

After I got the PSA removed a second time, he made his twitter account private, and posted yet another PSA on a different website. It was up for a few days before I found out, because my ex made his twitter public again and I was on the lookout for crazy stuff from him. Once again, I got the offending item removed by the website admins.

third time’s a charm

The fact that he was posting very personal, private information about my life seemed to escape him, and he posted the PSA a fourth time, this time with redacted information. Redacted information like, my online handle, my age, my country of residence. Information that people already know. But not all the unnecessary information about my personal relationship with him.

“no good reason” nuh-uh

I had a pretty epic meltdown on twitter, I will admit it. Lovely people like the ones picture below jumped in on the fray as well.

fresh hot takes from twitter dot com

All in all, I got the PSA removed again, hopefully for the final time. But not before dissecting his warped way of thinking. I thought it was finally over.

Haha no why would you think that. It’s my birthday next week and my ex wanted to wish me a happy birthday, but he decided against sending it close to the date of my birthday, because he knew that it would upset me. Also, he’s still waiting to be friends with me again, but he sure as hell won’t be apologising or anything for his behaviour.

pure logical being, right here, as he likes to call himself

TL;DR: MikeKob is a crazy, deluded, harassing and stalking piece of shit. To put it mildly.

3. The lack of updates (cont)

So, if you read all of that, you might understand why I haven’t had the motivation to continue the series lately. I’m planning to get back into it though, a large part of why I was putting this update off is because the audio recording is almost 2 hours long or something.

#retrospective #bayonetta #update #blog #mikekob #mike kob

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