#okay i got an email from a different email address to any of the ones i emailed (lol) but it is from that organisation

[mothdruid]

First Session

synopsis.

your first session at Gym Bloom has come. and the first trainer you get to meet? everyone's favorite and the beloved, Jake S.

pairing.

jake 'hangman' seresin x afab!reader

word count.

4k

warnings.

this is an 18+ work, minors buzz off. smut, protected penetrative sex, vaginal fingering, a sex gym (so maybe paying for sex?), fucking your trainer

author's note.

it's here!! the first gym bloom one-shot! i hope you all love it!

“Wait, so your first session is today?” Steph sounded surprised.

“Yeah,” you pulled a purple sports bra from your dresser, “why?”

“Oh my god, who is your first trainer?”

You rolled your eyes at Steph's eagerness. Ever since getting you to join this gym she has been eager. She wanted to know everything, even though you barely knew yourself. All you knew was that they used sex to workout at this gym. Steph knew that too, she was to one who referred you. Which is how you knew it was safe, referral only. You could only sign up if you got a referral from someone you knew. And from your understanding, not everyone was actually allowed to refer people to sign up. So, you were counting yourself lucky to even be a part of this at all.

“I’m not sure, let me put my bra on and then I’ll look at the email.”

First you tapped your speaker phone on, then wrestled your sports bra on over your head. After checking to make sure that your sports bra and legging combo looked okay, you grabbed your phone. Steph was going on and on about a few different trainers. A Mickey, a Bob, a Nat, and others that you eventually tuned out for now. You went to your starred emails, clicking the one at the very top. You skimmed over the email, eventually finding the name.

“It’s Jake S,” eyeing the rest of the email, confirming the other general information of your session. You squinted as you noticed two lock codes.

“No way! How did you get so lucky?” Steph's tone had you pulling the phone back from you a little farther.

“Steph, calm down.”

“No, you don’t get it. That’s one of Blooms best trainers, a real treat if you ask me, or at least that’s what I’ve heard. I’ve actually never trained with him before.”

Oh?

“Never?” You questioned with a playful tone.

“Never.” Steph sing-songed back to you.

A smirk formed on your face.

“Well, I’ll make sure to update you about it,” you turned your speaker phone off, slipping the phone between your cheek and should as you head to the front door.

“Please do, I will have to know everything about it.”

“Oh, Steph, gross,” you slipped your tennis shoes on, not bothering to untie them first.

“What? I’m a woman, I have needs, and this need just happens to be knowing what Jake’s di-”

“Nope, Nope, I’m hanging up now!” You hung up quickly, not wanting to hear the rest of Steph's words.

After tracking down a baggy zip up hoodie, zipping it up only half way. You found your small side bag, checking to make sure your keys and wallet were in there. After you doubled checked, you grab your keys from your bag and slip your phone in your hoodie pocket. You locked your apartment door then headed down the stairs of your building. The place wasn’t fair from your apartment, maybe a fifteen minute walk on a bad day.

When you got to the building, you double checked the address after not seeing any obvious branding outside. After deciding it was indeed the correct building, you punched in the first code. A delightful chime played, signaling it was the correct code and unlocked. The hallway was short, but you noticed another keypad on the next door. You got another delightful chime after putting in the second code, finally letting you into the gym.

It was a very welcoming space. Bright colors complimented by neutrals to even it all out. There were ellipticals, treadmills, bikes, and many other machines neatly placed throughout the main open area. There were people using the machines, some others were chit chatting happily. There was a section of the gym that had a lot of doors, two closed and three open. You assumed those were the ‘training’ rooms.

“Hello!”

There was a gorgeous woman behind a short counter greeting you. Her skin was tan, dark brown hair pulled into a loose low ponytail. She had a matching pastel pink legging and sports bra set on. Your heart fluttered a little bit when she smiled at you. It was as if an angel was gracing you with their presence.

“Hi,” you awkwardly said.

“Do you have a session today?” She asked.

“Yeah, a two forty-five with Jake S.”

“You must be the new client,” she offered her hand out over the counter, “my name is Natasha. I’m one of the other trainers here.”

“Thank you, I’m glad to meet you,” you shook her hand, trying to match her smile and energy.

“So, I’ll check you in so Jake knows you’re here. For now you can go get a little bit of a warm up on a treadmill or elliptical, whatever you prefer. There are also locker rooms before the Bloom Rooms. Jake will come get you when he is ready.” Natasha smiled, marking something in the computer before looking back up at you.

“Okay, thank you,” you hated how awkward you were being.

“It’s my pleasure,” a sultry tone was laced into her words.

Heat flared in your cheeks. You nodded then turned, briskly walking towards the locker rooms. After entering the female locker room, you quickly placed your bag and hoodie into a locker. You kept your phone in the pocket of your leggings, not wanting to be completely bare without it. You found your way back to a treadmill, starting it up at a low pace. It was maybe five minutes before someone came up next to you, tapping your shoulder to grab your attention.

He looked like a living ken doll. Square jaw, blonde hair, green eyes, and fucking built. If this was the magical Jake S, you now understood what Steph was going on about. His biceps were hard to ignore, every minuscule movement noticeable. The black sleeveless shirt was hugging his torso and abdomen, not leaving anything to the imagination. You stopped your eyes from traveling lower, wanting to leave at least something to the imagination. At least for the time being.

“Nat says you’re my new client.”

A Texan drawl? Could he get anymore intoxicating?

“That’s me,” you hit the stop button, coming to a slow stop.

Jake came around the side to met you when you got off the treadmill. He offered you his hand for the small step down. It was surprising how soft his hand were despite the callous’.

“Let’s get headed to a room, I’ll explain more in there.” Jake said. His hand let go of yours, finding the small of your back as you headed to the room. He directed you into one of the ‘Bloom Rooms’.

The walls were covered in a soft pink color with forest green floral. One wall was an entire mirror, a rail for balance along the entire mirror. There were balance balls, cubes, wedges, a Bosu ball, and many other items along the wall. A nice dresser was along the same wall, a nice vase with flowers sat on top. You watched Jake close the door in the reflection of the mirror.

“So, how does this,” you motioned around the room, “work?”

“Well, I’ll direct you on what to do. Positions, reps, stretches, all the technical stuff.” Jake explained it so plainly, making you wonder if there was a catch.

“What do I do then? Besides listen and get fucked?”

“Oh no, sweetheart. I’m not goin’ to fuck you, you’re goin’ to fuck me.”

A smile was plastered on his face. Heat encapsulated your entire body, every nerve ending on fire from his words. No wonder he was a favorite, especially with this demeanor. You shifted your weight on your feet, crossing your arms before speaking.

“What’s the plan?”

“Well, today is going to be a leg day. You will be riding me in a squat-like position, working your glutes, quads, hamstrings, along with many other muscle groups. Since it’s your first workout here, I won’t make it too intense. But that’ll also depend on how much you can take.”

“How much I can take?” You asked in a surprised tone.

“Yes,” Jake brought a hand to the back of his neck, “everyone is different.” Jake stared at you for a moment, then clapped his hands together and took a few steps forward. “Let’s get started with some stretching.”

Jake strode over towards the wall with many items, retrieving some yoga mats, one for the both of you. You met in the middle of the room, taking the mat from him. You two laid your mats out, leaving a decent space in between them. You watched as Jake toed his shoes off, following suit before sitting on your mat.

“On your back, I’ll help you stretch.”

You nodded, laying on your back and watching Jake move towards you. His green eyes were raking over you, observing all of your movements. Jake had you prop your knees up. The soles of your feet were flat on the mat, Jake’s thumb hooked underneath your knees. His eyes were locked with yours, gaze not wavering.

“Let me know if anything is too much or not okay.”

You nodded.

Jake started to ease your knees towards your chest, folding you in half. You could feel the backs of your thighs and glutes being stretched. Jake’s body was impossibly close to yours already, his crotch was almost pressed to your ass. Heat was radiating from his body, covering yours entirely. Your knees were practically pressed into your chest, cheeks hot, his gaze making you burn.

“Is it okay if I open your legs up?” His grip on the back of your thighs was making it hard to focus.

“I- yeah, that’s okay.”

Jake nodded, hands adjusting to under your knees. His gently eased your legs out, keeping them bent at the knee. You brought a hand up to your mouth, pressing the back of it against your lips. It had become so sensual so quick. His crotch was now unbelievably close to your clothed cunt. All he would have to do is roll his hips and he would be pressing against you.

“I’m goin’ to move one leg up to stretch your calf,” he informed you.

You nodded, relaxing all the muscles in your legs. His right hand moved to the ankle of your left leg, extending it up inch by inch. You could feel all the muscles along the back of your leg stretch. He placed your ankle on his shoulder, keeping your leg propped up. The stretch felt euphoric along the back of your leg. An audible gasp escaped you, catching Jake’s attention.

“Feel good?” His voice had dropped a little this time.

“Yeah,” it almost came out as a whimper.

After a moment with one leg propped up, he switched to your other leg. A thin layer of sweat was already starting to form on you. It was hard to avoid with Jake being this close to you, practically folding you in half with his body. His firm muscles pressing onto your own, his weight barring down on you more and more. Not after long he released both legs, guiding them down on either side of him.

“Let’s get your back next,” he said while moving back to his own mat.

You sat up, following his movements. He got on his hands and knees, pushing his back out then letting it drop into an arch. You mimicked the movements, muscles in your back alternating between taut and loose.

“Nice, right?” Jake looked over at you, a smile on his lips.

“Yeah, never realized what all these motions stretched.” You added.

“Everything stretches something. You’d be surprised at what all sex stretches out,” his smile turned into a cheeky smirk.

“Well,” you hesitated for a moment, “I’m excited I get to find out.”

Jake showed you a few more stretches, legs primarily. Soon the two of you were sat across from each other. You were waiting patiently for what was next to come, a tinge of excitement running through you. Jake leaned back, palms flat on the floor keeping him up right. He had one leg casually stretched out, the other bent close to his body.

“We can start this two different ways. One, we start with a little bit of foreplay and massage work, or two, you take the lead and do whatever you want.”

“What do most people choose?”

Jake gave you this look, one that said ‘really?’. A shrug tugged on your shoulders, not sure why he gave you the look. He let out a noise that sounded like a chuckle mixed with a sigh.

“Are we really gonna play that game?” Jake’s look had a small amount of playful annoyance in his gaze.

“What?” Embarrassment started to creep into you, not sure about the next steps.

Jake’s words weren’t really comforting either. He was nice but there was this bite to him. A playful energy that was hard to read sometimes. You pulled both of your legs closer to you, soles of your feet planted on the floor. Again, you mimicked him.

As you were leaning back onto your palms, Jake was starting to move towards you. He got up on his knees, closing the small space between the two of your mats. It was like watching a cat play with its food. Inch by inch the gap between you closed. Your legs spread open, allowing room for him to move between them. He reached out to your jaw, cupping it while his thumb rubbed a part of your cheek. There was something playful in his green eyes. A smile covered his lips as he leaned in, lips next to your ear.

“This is about you, not anyone else,” the words were hot against your ear lobe.

Without a second thought you grabbed him, hand wrapping around the back of his neck, fingers threading up through his well trimmed hair. Soft lips melded with yours, dancing in synchronicity. A smile formed on his lips as he kissed you, slowly working you down onto your mat. Hands roamed up and down your sides, snaking down to cup your ass. His chest was pressed to yours as his hips started to slowly rock against yours.

“Does this count as a massage?” It was cheeky, but you couldn’t help yourself.

“Full body if you ask me,” Jake nipped at your neck, trailing kisses down your skin.

He pulled back for a moment, hand moving from your ass to your chest. Even though your sports bra was tight, your nipples were starting to become visible through the material. A whimper left you as he started kneading your breast, thumb occasionally coming up to run over your nipple. You arched your back and relaxed, pressing your breast tightly into his hand. You heard a snicker come from Jake.

“What?”

“Most clients aren’t this pliant when they come in.” Jake said, tilting his head as a gesture towards your body.

A moan left you as he rolled your nipple between his thumb and forefinger. A smirk was plastered on his face now. You knew it wasn’t personal, but you took it personally. You hooked a leg around his waist, and put all your weight into it. A huff was all Jake let out as you flipped the two of you. You were straddling his hips now, ass pressing tightly to his crotch.

“That’s better,” Jake quipped, enjoying his view of you on top of him.

Slightly calloused hands traveled your sides, kneading your flesh every now and then. You kept rolling your hips down against his, sighing at the pressure. His dick had started to harden, becoming obvious as it pressed against your ass. As much as you wanted to just fuck, you had to remind yourself of the actual reason you were here.

“So, do I just ride you or..?” It was an honest question.

“Normally, we have a female client get off once prior to a penetrative workout. We like to make sure that they are ready to take whatever the trainer gives them.” Jake raised his eyebrows playfully at the last sentence.

Thumbs hooked into your leggings. You helped him take them off you, removing your underwear in the process too. Jake immediately noticed how wet you were, looking at the wet patch on your panties as he slipped them off you. Those calloused hands pulled you back into his lap, sitting up to meet you. Your hands gripped his shoulders, tugging at the fabric of his workout top. Fingers moved towards your cunt, finding your clit quickly.

It was obvious he did this regularly, knowing almost the exact motions to get you going. The sturdiness of his body kept you up right, his free arm wrapping around your back to keep you close. Wet kisses were littered all over your skin. The fabric of his shirt balled up in your fists. The hot breath on your skin was starting to be overstimulating. It was all so much at once. A hot trainer fingering your while leaving wet trails of saliva on your chest was not what you were completely expecting from today.

Jake changed the motion of his fingers in the slightest, making your body quiver into his. You weren’t sure exactly what he did different, but whatever it was made you feral. Your legs had started shaking, body slumping closer to his. You could feel the curve of his lips, that classic smirk appearing again. Within moments you were coming.

A whine was all you let out. You didn’t even pick up on Jake’s own heavy breathing. The arm around your back tightened, keeping you close to him. He bit back a groan as he felt you quiver against him, his fingers not stopping their motions on your clit. Your hands tugged at his shirt viciously, hips not being able to control themselves. Jake hadn’t expected you to have such an intoxicating effect on him. But he couldn’t get enough, deciding he was in fact going to fuck you himself.

“Jake!”

And with that his fingers were gone.

“Change of plans, I’m gonna fuck you.” Jake pressed a kiss to your cheek.

Jake laid your body down, sitting up for a moment to take his shirt off. You marveled at his body, reaching out to ghost your hand over his abs. He reached in his pocket and grabbed a condom. Your hand trailed down to the top of his shorts and boxers, helping him ease them down. He took them off, haphazardly tossing them somewhere off to the side.

Finally, all the puzzle pieces had snapped into place, showing you the complete picture of why he was one of the most sought after trainers. His cock was fucking gorgeous, just like the rest of him. His dick was already making your cunt yearn, wanting to feel the stretch it was going to give you. He tore the condom packet and rolled it down his length. Even though you knew it was what needed to be done, a part of you wished he could fuck you raw.

Jake’s hands grabbed your legs, placing your ankles on his shoulders, then slowly easing them out. His hands were lightly holding the outside of your thighs, holding them in a wide V shape. The head of his cock prodded your entrance, your cunt clenched with anticipation. A breathy moan left you when he pressed into you. The stretch was everything you were hoping it’d be, maybe even a little bit more.

“You feel better than I anticipated,” Jake’s words were breathy, chest rising and falling with each breath.

All you did was clench around him, watching as he closed his eyes tightly. You felt him pull out, only to push back in with a groan. A moan fell from you as he repeated the action. He found a decent rhythm, nailing into you while keeping your legs in the wide V. Your hands fumbled around your body, grabbing at your sports bra clad chest. The tight material bunched under your grasp. Your finger started to slip under the top of your sports bra, pulling it down to show your tits to Jake.

“Hold your legs still,” Jake commanded.

“Yes sir,” your words slurred with pleasure already.

Jake groaned at the name. His hands moved from your legs and up your body. Calloused hands removed yours then tugged on your sports bra. The material became tight against your skin, straps digging in until they started rolling off your shoulders. Your sports bra was holding your arms next to your body, leaving you restricted. Jake’s hands engulfed your tits as he fucked into you. You planted your hands next to your hips, pushing your tits out for Jake.

The backs and insides of your thighs were starting to burn. Jake’s thrusts were starting to make holding them up hard. Each thrust felt more powerful than the last. Once he found that sensitive spot inside of you, you whined. You tried to close your legs, both of them burning from the position you had held them in. Jake’s hands left your chest, grabbing your legs and forcing them back out into the wide V position.

“Legs out.” Jake commanded.

You hesitantly put your legs back out, holding them in place as they started to shake. With every thrust you felt a surge of pleasure. There was a burning that started to develop in your abdomen, a mixture of pleasure and tightness. You knew that a majority of the burning was because of the ‘workout’ aspect of this situation. Your legs were on fire, all while your nerves were starting to sear themselves with pleasure.

“That’s it, I know you can feel it,” Jake said, wide grin on his face.

One of his hands moved down between your legs, thumb circling your clit. Within the matter of seconds you were coming again, cunt clenched tightly around Jake. Your legs were starting to shake uncontrollably, your body becoming way too sensitive to the pleasure. Jake grabbed your legs quickly, wrapping them around his hips now as he fucked into you. He only lasted a few more thrusts before coming, filling the condom while inside of you.

Heavy breathing filled the room, both of you trying to catch your breath. Jake placed an forearm by your head, balancing himself as he looked at you. There was something soft in his eyes. He reached down and ran his thumb over your cheek. His thumb traveled further, down your neck and eventually his hand cascaded down your neck and chest. His hand stopped over your left tit. Your heart was hammering against your rib cage, Jake feeling it flutter in your chest.

Jake kissed your forehead as he pulled out. A moan leaving you at the sensation, now feeling empty inside. Your legs felt like jello, falling down from around his waist. Jake retracted from your body, stood up and moved towards the trash can in the room. You slowly and awkwardly pulled the straps of your bra up, adjusted them and sat up the best you could. Jake threw the condom away then headed back towards you.

“You good?” Jake asked.

“Yeah,” you grabbed your underwear and leggings.

The both of you got dressed before talking again.

“Sorry, about the change up for the session.” Jake slipped his shirt over his head.

“So, you’re telling me you don’t do that with all of your clients?” You joked, chuckling a little.

Jake smirked, shaking his head no.

“No, only the special clients get that treatment,” Jake held a hand out to you.

“Special? After our first session?” You accepted his hand, standing up with his assistance.

All Jake did was nod, not knowing exactly what to say. The two of you stared at each other for a moment. That soft look in his eyes had spread to the rest of his face. You gave him the same look, understanding that there was just now this unspoken thing between the two of you.

“There’s just something about you,” Jake finally said, “and I hope that the other trainers here get to experience it.”

A heat built up in you from the compliment. It was one of the most special compliments you had ever received.

“Until next time?” God, you were hoping there would be a next time.

Jake nodded with a smile.

“Until next time.”

[teecupangel]

so i have this idea in a Desmond lives au after the solar flare he starts a channel like tasting history with max miller in which he recreates historical dishes that his ancestors used to make with Shaun and Rebecca appearing by tasting what he makes

(The video starts with a man addressing the video in a beautiful clean kitchen)

“So this isn’t my usual content but I’ve got a lot of requests to do a reaction video on this youtube channel called ‘I Am Not My Ancestors’ where he recreates recipes he got from his ancestors. At least, that’s what he claims. A lot of you asked me to check if his recipes are what a household from that time period would make and I asked Desmond, he’s the owner of I’m Not My Ancestor channel if he’s alright with me reacting to them and I received his permission.”

“I’d like to make it clear that he has no hand in any of my reactions. This will be the first time I’m watching the videos I’d be reacting to and there’s no script, we didn’t talk about what I should say or what I shouldn’t say. I can even show you guys his actual reply to my email.”

(The video cuts to some kind of recorder, most probably a phone camera, aimed at the screen of a monitor showing an opened email)

Subject: Re: Requesting permissions to react to your videos

Sender: Desmond M iamnotmyancestor@yahoo.com

yeah go ahead man.

(The video returns to the man in the kitchen)

“So with his permission… let’s check out some of his videos, shall we?”

(The video changed. On the lower left corner is the same man, now wearing earbuds. The rest of the video appears to be a screen recording of the Youtube Channel ‘I Am Not My Ancestors’. The mouse clicks on the Cooking Playlist and clicks a video titled “What an Assassin from 12th Century That Can’t Cook Cooks”)

(The video changes to a normal looking kitchen with a young man. A prominent scar mars his lips and his eyes seemed to glow gold at certain angles although it looked mostly light brown)

“So… I’ve been focusing on Renaissance Italy food for a while now and I thought I’d branch out and make something my other ancestors made. Then I remembered my ancestor from 12th century Syria doesn’t know how to cook.” The man said as he placed his hands on the counter, “But, well, let’s try it anyway.”

(The video continues with the man listening down all the ingredients he’d be using to make what he calls ‘road food’)

(The video is paused and the man on the lower left begins to speak)

“Okay, so this is one of his latest videos and I just want to talk about all the ingredients he’s using for this… ‘road food’. All of these can be bought in Syria and I’ve seen all of them used in different dishes in historical cook books. The more important part is that all of these? Can be found in the wilds during those time and I believe that he’ll tell us that these ingredients are used because they don’t cost any money, only time and a discerning eye. Let’s see if I’m right.”

(The video plays once more)

“You can also change any of the things I listed to whatever wild plants to find on your way. Normally, if your mission takes you to a place that’s more than a day ride away-”

“By horse.” Someone off camera added.

“Yeah, by horse. Thanks, Becs. Anyway, if it’s more than a day ride away, what you usually do is stay in a nearby bureau- hm? Oh, right. A bureau is what the Assassins call their… mini headquarters in other places. So they have their headquarters in Masyaf, Alamut and Ḥalab and they have bureaus on other places as well.”

(The video paused and the man on the lower left speaks once more)

“While I can’t verify his claims, the Nizaris of which the Assassins are from did have strongholds in Masyaf, Alamut and this Ḥalab is more known as Aleppo to many of us. Anyway, let’s continue.”

(The video is played once more)

“But sometimes, you go to a far away place and the supplies they give you is lacking because Al Mualim is a stingy old man who’ll tell you that ‘an Assassin must triumph over’ this kind of bullshit so you learn to live off eating game and grass-”

(The video is paused and the man on the lower left commented)

“I believe this Al Mualim he speaks of is Rashid al-Din Sinan, known as the Old Man of the Mountain. From the way he speaks, it’s either he knows Rashid himself. Or, of course, he has a journal of his ancestor who has certain words to describe Rashid. I’m sure it’s the latter.”

(The video plays once more)

“So this is what Al-”

“Your ancestor.”

(The man on the lower left tilts his head but does not pause the video)

“My ancestor would make during those ‘tiring’ times.”

(The video continues as the man starts to cook, starting from preparing a small game and then… throwing it and all the other ingredients in a pot. The man on the lower left stared at him with an open mouth.)

“Yeah, that’s it. Just wait until the meat is cooked. While you wait, you should patrol the area, check your map, write on your journal… the usual stuff.”

(The video transitions to the same place but the man is now on his phone, seemingly tapping on the screen.)

“Desmond… isn’t it cooked yet?”

“Hm? Oh, yeah. I told you guys this is the easiest shit my ancestors can cook. This is also the only thing Alta-”

“Your ancestor.”

“My ancestor can’t fucked up. Anyway, let’s have Shaun try it out.”

(As the man grabs a bowl and pours the soup in it, a man with glasses stepped to the frame with arms crossed)

“Guys, say hello to Shaun, our resident taste tester and the actual historian in our little group.”

“I’ve been tasting everything you make for these videos. They already know who I am.”

“Yeah, yeah, just taste this.”

(The man with glasses took the bowl and blew his spoon before taking a mouthful. He chewed for a moment before nodding.)

“It’s okay.”

“You're British, of course you think the lack of flavor is okay.”

“Hey.”

“Anyway, the main point of this dish is to sustain us. Good food will always be welcomed but what we need is the nutrients and energy food gives us. After we get to the bureau, we’ll have some actual good food.”

(The video pauses and changes to only show the man in the beautiful kitchen)

“Okay, so let’s talk about the recipe itself…”

(The video continues as the man list down all the ingredients and where they have appeared in historical books, referencing other recipes similar to the recipe that the video used)

“I think I should watch more videos, maybe one of his Renaissance Italy videos because it seems like this ancestor of his is quite… the ‘frugal’ and practical kind. Let me know in the comments which videos you’d like me to watch nex-

(The video stops and the laptop closes)

“Desmond, he called Altaïr frugal and practical.”

“Not because he wanted to. What do you think he did when he was traveling with Maria? That man tried out every food he saw.”

(is this in the same universe as #Da Vinci's secret lover Not-Salai? Maybe? Maybe not? idk)

[dr-spencer-reids-queen]

Outfoxed: Final Part

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Female!Reader

Word Count: ~2.4k

Summary: Derek has had enough and decides now is the time to work bringing you home. The team is working on two cases and stretching their agents thin but they'll do anything to bring you back into Spencer's arms.

Warnings: canon violence, canon language, canon talk of death, methods of kill

Season Five Masterlist

Author’s Note: I know I'm going to piss some people off with the way I wrote the trial and the gathering of evidence but remember, this is fiction and it's my story. I'm making it easy and convenient. I know this isn't how trials work.

I do not own anything from Criminal Minds. All credit goes to their respective owners. If there are any warnings that exceed the normal death/kills from the show, I will list them.

x

"This unsub is armed and suffering a major psychological break, and she will not hesitate to kill again. She's white and in her twenties. We believe she came to the US a few years ago. She's likely on foot. She could be Eastern European. She may speak little to no English."

"If you manage to apprehend or corner her, do not underestimate this woman. She will try to fight her way out. The Downeys live less than a mile from the Foresters which means she's somewhere in this area."

"Every media outlet is being informed of the clear and present danger to the public," JJ says.

"Thank you," Rossi concludes the meeting just as Penelope calls. He takes this to the conference room so she can be on speakerphone. "Hey, Garcia."

"Okay, I really might have got something. All of these photos, every one of them, were uploaded to a user website called Photobug. It's an app where people can upload photos and videos, email, and webcam chats. Every one of these families extensively used this site for months, even years."

"All these family photos were printed by Photobug?"

"Yes."

"Isn't it protected?"

"Not from the people who run it. It's a great way for military families to keep in touch and a perfect way to target a family without anybody's knowledge."

"They outsource work to people all over the country. So, I took your profile, hacked into their employee database, and came up with this list of potentials. One of which is a match that screams homicidal bitch. Her name's Miranda Dracar. She was an orphan, born in Sarajevo in 1982. She was adopted by a family in Srebrenica. The address is being sent now."

"Let's go," Rossi says.

Rossi, JJ, and Anne find her apartment easily but luck has it, she's not there. However, pictures of Miranda's victims are posted all over her walls.

"All three families are on here," JJ says.

"Look at this." Anne points out a picture of another military man. "Do you think this is her next victim? His name is Sergeant Eric Young."

"JJ, call your contact."

JJ takes out her phone and calls someone she knows will be able to help in figuring out who this man's family is.

"Hi, this is Jennifer Jareau with the FBI. Sir, I'm gonna need access to every piece of data on US Marine Sergeant Young. It may save his family."

Rossi calls Hotch and Emily to let them know of their progress, and Hotch is more concerned the longer they talk to Karl about the murders.

"I don't think this woman has anything to do with Karl," Hotch says once he gets off the phone.

"I encouraged him. Ohh. I flirted with him," Emily cringes. "I made it personal. Getting intimate with a killer is so different."

"It's what we do."

"Yeah, but there's no fixing how I feel right now, is there?"

"No, but it helped the case. You did what you had to do."

"Agent Hotchner," Karl says from the room knowing he can hear him. "Before you go, there's one final thing I'd like to share with you."

"Let's get this over with," Emily sighs.

Both of them walk back into the room and Karl smirks at them.

"You think you found my admirer? A woman?"

"No, we found the killer," Emily corrects.

"With my help, of course."

"Your admirer is exactly like everyone who contacts you--lost."

"My love, your guy is far from lost."

"Okay, we're done here," Hotch declares.

"So is he." Karl holds up a note he's been keeping secret. "Look at what I have done. It's quite brilliant, you know?"

"We will find whoever sent you that."

"No, Agent Hotchner, I rather think he's already found you."

Hotch can't deny the dread he's feeling from his words. Emily and Hotch's phone rings but only the former grabs her phone to check. They found the unsub. She fought hard to escape but was eventually shot by her own gun. Something snaps in Hotch and he starts going through every file Karl has, anything that will help him get the answers he needs.

"Hotch. Hotch!" Emily urges.

"I can't believe you can't see what he's doing," Karl laughs.

"What is going on?"

"He's torturing him."

"Who?"

"It's great to see you squirm, Agent Hotchner."

Hotch looks at Emily with fear in his eyes. "Foyet."

"He knew you'd come," Karl laughs.

This all comes down to Foyet, and Hotch knows if he is going to get his ass, he's gonna need you to come back. After the incident with Big Sue, Ashley has been left alone. Big Sue hasn't gone after anyone since she was kicked out of her own gang for not being tough enough. One of them tried inducing you but you politely declined.

You and Ashley are in the rec room playing a game of chess. She doesn't know how to play but you've been teaching her.

"I used to know how to play well when I was a kid but got out of it as I grew up. My boyfriend retaught me."

You smile at the memories of you two going against each other.

"He sounds sweet."

"He is. He keeps trying to visit me here. It breaks my heart every time I deny him."

"Why do you?"

"He has this beautiful mind that remembers everything he sees and reads. He can't forget. I don't want him to remember me this way. I can't look in his eyes and see this version of myself. Maybe that makes me selfish."

"No, I get it. I'd hate for my parents to see me like this. They've tried visiting but I told them after the first one I don't want them here. They write every day, though."

"That's nice," you smile.

"Y/N!" You look to your right and see a guard coming for you. "Trial time. We have a spare change of clothes in your cell for you."

"Thank you," you say and get up.

"Give 'em hell," Ashley grins.

"Keep your head up, Ash. Remember what we talked about." She nods. "If I am found innocent and I don't return, just know I'm going to do whatever it takes to get you out of here."

"Go, you have court," she smiles with tears in her eyes.

"I promise, Ashley. I'll get you out of here."

After getting changed into more professional clothing, you're escorted to Arlington General District Court. You're nervous since you've seen the evidence they have on you. It's going to be tough to prove your case but you're going to use everything you've got to persuade the judge. You sit next to your lawyer after the judge has sat down. You look at the jury and quickly read each and every one.

Bored. Scared. Excited. Nervous. If you act right and give them the truth, you believe they will side with you. Most juries are unanimous so it could be a long decision process if not everyone is on your side.

"This is the case of the Commonwealth of Virginia v Y/N. Ms. Y/N, how do you plead?" the judge asks.

"Not guilty, Your Honor."

"Present your case."

The prosecutor stands up since he is allowed to go first. He walks in front of the jury and begins his statement.

"Ladies and gentlemen, do not let looks fool you. What you see as a friendly woman is a stone-cold killer." You fight the urge to roll your eyes. "She murdered seven men in cold blood, and here is the evidence to prove it. On every single victim are her prints and her hair. On every single murder weapon are her prints. I have the results back from the lab here. I have a witness statement made by a man named Frank Livingston that explicitly saw her commit the crimes."

"Is your witness here today?" the judge asks.

The prosecutor becomes clammy and clears his throat nervously.

"No, Your Honor."

"Why not?"

"I was unable to locate Frank to be subpoenaed."

"Objection. That's hearsay, Your Honor," Steve interjects. "How can we accept that statement from the person if that person isn't here?"

"I will allow lab results submitted into evidence but not that witness statement. If your witness isn't able to show up, the statement is voided."

"Yes, Your Honor."

He finishes his opening statement about how you're such a bad person before taking a seat at the desk. Steven stands up and does the talking for you, trying to make it clear to the jury that you're innocent.

"Ladies and Gentlemen of the jury, I'd like to introduce you to Y/N. She is an FBI profiler for the BAU right here in Virginia. She started in the police force before moving up quickly to where she is now. She's aided hundreds of cases and given justice to those who were seeking it." Your lawyer holds up a file that has pieces of paper sticking out of it. "In here, I have letters from victims and their families thanking her for what she's done for them." You had no idea he did that for you. "The crimes she's accused of just isn't who she is. She helps instead of taking what she vowed to protect. The crimes in question occurred at night, the same nights she was safe in bed with her boyfriend. I have credit card statements that have already been submitted into evidence that show she is nowhere near the crimes when they were occurring." Steve goes on to talk about you in such a high tone, presenting everything he has that is in your favor. "Your Honor, if I may."

"Yes."

Steve walks all the evidence that's in your favor (it's not much) over to the judge who accepts it. Once they get the evidence out of the way, they'll go over the witnesses' statements before getting into their closing arguments. Steve doesn't have much in terms of evidence for you but the prosecuting attorney has plenty to put you away for a very long time.

Before he has a chance to end this part of the trial, the double doors into the courtroom are opened, and you look behind you to see your entire team file in. They all give you encouraging smiles until you see Spencer walk in. You briefly make eye contact with him before turning around to face the judge.

"Your Honor, if I may, I have more evidence to present."

"What is it?"

Steve walks over to Derek who hands him a file of more evidence in your favor. He looks through the file before taking out the ME reports that Derek had rushed. There is a TV in the corner of the room that can be used to show evidence, and he points to it.

"I'd like to request the use of the TV as I have video files to show as evidence."

The judge motions to the bailiff to roll the TV over to Steve so he can use it. You had no idea this was even happening. You knew they were working it but you didn't know they collected all this evidence... whatever it may be. You fight the urge to look back at them. You can feel his eyes on you.

"Your Honor and the jury, may I present to you, a video--CCTV footage of Y/N." He plugs the USB into the TV where the video of you walking into the hotel plays. He then shows the video of you in the gas station. It's grainy but it's clearly you." You get tears when you see the video of you and Spencer walking into the lobby holding hands. You miss that. "I have two of the four autopsies that were released for victims Juan Lopez and John Dimateo. The medical examiner put their deaths on the night that Y/N and her team checked into the hotel. They were dead a week before being found by police. She was on a case a few days prior to them being discovered, and I have the proof submitted by her Unit Chief."

The next video he shows is too dark to make anything out, but it's clear there is a man stabbing another man. You can't see any defining features on the man, but it's clear that the person on the video doesn't have your build. The crime scene photos of Chase Williams are also submitted side by side to show that it's the same alley he got stabbed in.

"Victims four and five, Eric Price and Jeffrey Rideback, as per the medical examiner report, have injuries that are too old to be when they say they died. They were dead long before they were ever found, and according to the ME report, two weeks. Two weeks before they were found, Y/N and her boyfriend Spencer Reid were out of town, and I have credit card statements and videos to prove it. Finally, video footage taken by a neighbor's camera pointed right at Y/N's apartment doors."

He plays the video that shows a man leaving your apartment with your hairbrush and two of the murder weapons in hand. You frown when you see the man's legs. It's a weird thing to think about but you've seen those legs before. You always knew that you knew the person who murdered the seven men because who else would hold a strong enough grudge against you than a person who knows you? Still, you can't put a name to it but if you had to guess, it's Frank Livingston. Why else would he lie about seeing you murder a man?

"This video shows a man leaving her apartment with two of the seven murder weapons and with a hairbrush that is used to leave behind her DNA on the victims. Victims she never knew or never had contact with. Ladies and gentlemen, Your Honor, Y/N is framed for murder and doing time for something she didn't do."

Steven does a good job, you have to admit. They just have a lot to speculate as soon as the day is over, and they come to a decision fairly quickly. That can be good or bad, depending on how you look at it. Either they find you so guilty that they didn't want to debate long or they weren't fooled and decided you were innocent. Either way, you're sitting on the edge of your seat when they return.

"We the jury find Y/N on account of murder innocent of all charges."

You don't care what they say afterward. All you care about is that they find you innocent. You're free to go. You don't have to go back to that hellhole of a prison. You hate leaving Ashley behind but you're going to do good by her and get her out of there as soon as you can. You walk over to your team who is cheering for your release, and the first person you run to is Spencer. He pushes aside the last two months of you not wanting to see him and accepts you into his arms, and you cry from how happy you are.

You're finally home.

x

Follow my library blog @aqueenslibrary​​​​​​ where I reblog all my stories, so you can put notifications on there without the extra stuff :)

[silhouetteonpaper]

The Right Path

Summary: When a new opportunity is handed to you, the decision between Avenging or choosing a new path weighs on you. But there’s a matter even more pressing than what you want; what will the team think? Wanda Maximoff x Reader WC: 1,711 Warnings: None

The Right Path

The email sitting unread at the top of your inbox makes your heart skip a beat. You’ve been waiting months to hear back from the one college you applied to, and finally the answer that decides your future sits waiting to be opened.

New Status Changes To Your New York City College Application, the subject line reads. Holding your breath, you click it. Your lungs burn as the email’s contents forces you to log into the college portal to see the application’s status. The formal letter opens, your eyes scanning the message. Many applicants this year… wanting students that excel… we are pleased to accept your application!

You nearly fall off of your desk chair at the sight of getting accepted into your dream school. Studying your favorite subjects, making new friends, adventuring into the city as a student, it all filled you with excitement.

As much as you love being an Avenger, you’re one of the youngest and have been longing for that last taste of adolescence. You’ve always wanted to go to college, but it was hard to say if that’d ever be a possibility. After finishing high school you took a year off and became an Avenger full time, but you never felt like it was the right life for you.

Sure you’re a great asset to the team, but you have no doubt they can handle themselves if you decide to take a different path. At least you hope, now dreading the idea of telling them you got into your dream school.

What if they force you to stay on the team? What if they don’t think it’s safe to go back to school? A cascade of anxiety spins in your mind, making you suddenly doubt your own choices. But there’s no time to worry as Tony calls an important meeting, leaving you to shut your computer and head to the conference room.

The soft smiles of your friends greet you as you sit in one of the various office chairs around the large table. Caught in between Natasha and Wanda, you turn your attention to Tony at the head of the room.

You can feel Wanda’s eyes burning into you, making you shift in your seat as her gaze seems fixated on your expression. Trying to hide any of your previous worried thoughts, you fully focus in on the meeting.

Tony drones on about mission reports, the usual debrief banter, eventually moving onto future planning. “Captain, you’re still good for that July mission down east? We’ll get you a place with a pool and everything,” Tony teases, soon turning his attention to you. “And I have you down for an international stakeout in August, are you free for that?”

You freeze, knowing college would start in August. Now’s your chance to tell everyone, but for some reason you just can’t do it. Your mouth opens, but the wrong words come out. “Yeah, sounds good,” Is all you can manage to say. Dammit.

Wanda’s eyes continue to stick to you until she’s addressed, leaving you to sink a little further into your chair. You just made a huge mistake: committing to a government level mission when you’d rather go to college. There’s no turning back now.

As the meeting comes to a close you’re quick to stand and head towards the door, but not before a certain strawberry blonde gets in your way. “Everything okay?” Wanda questions after stepping in front of you. Trying to make the best eye contact possible, you nod.

“Everything’s great.” You lie, offering a smile and praying she isn’t reading your mind. Wanda returns the nod slowly, stepping aside to let you go. Exhaling with relief, you move on with your day and hope things work themselves out.

A few days pass and you’re back in the conference room, ready to give a presentation on your specific findings and analysis from a past mission. After plugging in your laptop to the large screen and pulling up your slide deck, you’re ready to begin.

“Alright, so in Prague we found the same toxins used in that unknown chemical compound from the lab in Austria,” You explain to the group. “We know they have to be linked not only from their similar structures, but also from the clues leading the two organizations together.”

You tap to the next slide, a few diagrams of similar chemical compounds now displaying. “The isotopes here have similarities in their parent isotope when we put the two side by-“ Your explanation is cut short by a ding. Quickly looking up to the corner of your screen, you see a new email notification has come through. Once again forgetting to put your computer on Do Not Disturb, the entire room can see the subject line.

Make A Decision On Your NYCC Application is splayed in large letters. You quickly clear your throat and move on, continuing from where you left off in hopes no one noticed. “It’s interesting to see how these two structures could be so similarly multi-faceted when created under different organizations,” You move on to the next slide.

Suddenly, a voice interrupts before you can continue. “What’s interesting is New York City College sending you emails about an application,” Tony comments. The entire group’s attention is now solely focused on the email, the isotopes no longer of any interest.

You exchange a glance with your laptop, sighing as you realize there’s no way out of this. “I got accepted.” You state blatantly, an unimpressed expression on your face. Your nerves turn to confusion when the entire team lights up with joy.

“That's amazing!” Wanda exclaims with raised eyebrows. Everyone adds in a few words of celebration before their further questioning. “Why aren’t you excited?” She inquiries.

You take a deep breath, now fully pulling yourself out of presentation mode. “I am, but I don’t know if I’m going to go,” you say admittedly. It feels wrong to leave the Avengers, especially after all they’ve done for you. But college is your dream, is there a right choice here?

“Why wouldn’t you? That’s an incredible opportunity,” Wanda expresses. You furrow your brows in confusion. She isn’t mad? Now looking across the table, you see that none of the Avengers are. Do they know I’d have to choose school over Avenging? You ask yourself, a bit surprised to see their eagerness over the news.

“I… I’ll have to leave the team if I choose to go,” You explain with a concerned expression. Those seated around the table exchange knowing looks, a few more obvious with their smiling faces.

“If it’s what you want,” Wanda shrugs, “you should go for it.” You look back to the floor, trying to process their reaction. No one is mad, no one is making a decision for you, it’s fully up to you. And if you had to pick between the two, you know exactly which one you’d choose.

“I really want to go to college. But… you guys aren’t disappointed?” You ask, just in case they were hiding some deep disagreement for the path you wanted to take. A few of the heroes shook their heads.

“Not at all. If anything I’m proud of you for choosing the right path for yourself.” Wanda comments. She can still sense your weariness though, and offers a few more words of consolation, “You’re an amazing addition to the team, so I’ll be sad to see you go. But I know you’ll do great things out there in the world.”

You smile while meeting her gaze, her words instilling some confidence in you. “I know it’s not as cool as saving the world… but yeah, I think college will be great for me.” You add while the entire team nods in agreement. Although it wasn’t clear at first, you’re now sure this decision is the right one.

August quickly approaches, and luckily a team of SHIELD agents happily takes over your assigned mission. None of the Avengers wanted to miss the special day: your move into college.

A few duffel bags full of your belongings are piled into the back of the SUV parked out front of your dorm building. Sam and Steve run back and forth, hauling your bags up and down the stairwell to your new room. Steve even sports a blue NYCC baseball cap as his way of showing school spirit.

The room isn’t anything special, just an average college dorm that lacks interior design. Tony’s unimpressed, but he’s not the one who has to live here. You don’t mind, already eager to unpack your belongings and settle in.

“You know, you can still stay at the compound if you want. I can have you driven to class every single day,” Tony offers as he swipes his finger across the dusty desk. You shake your head with a chuckle, perfectly content in this new space.

“Thanks, Tony. But this is where I want to be,” You respond with an affirming smile. Steve slaps Tony on the back playfully, placing his blue NYCC cap onto the billionaire's head. The team takes turns saying their goodbyes, soon leaving only you and Wanda to part ways. She looks at you with pride, but also with sadness.

“Are you crying?” You ask as her teary eyes become more clear. She laughs and tries to blink them away, but there’s no use as full tears begin to shed. Wanda moves forward to hug you, the embrace lasting for quite some time.

“You’re going to do great. And if you ever need anything, don’t hesitate to call, alright?” She voices as you both pull from the hug. You nod, now matching her teary eyes. You’re confident in her words, this is what you’ve dreamed of and it’s finally coming true.

As Wanda exits the room along with the rest of the team, you can’t help but let a few tears fall. You know you’ll miss them, but more than that you know this will be the best experience of your life. 

So as you watch the SUV pull out of the parking lot with one less passenger, your heart soars knowing a team of mighty heroes will always be there to support every path you choose to take in life.

[ryutarotakedown]

okay, miscellaneous things from tmagp 010:

[ERROR] is very likely a new character, and specifically this person from the magnus protocol casting call:

Mysterious and hostile, speaks with a raspy but ethereal quality. Whoever [REDACTED] once was is long dead. Literally. Created from someone on the point of death in the hopes of gaining supernatural powers, [REDACTED] was initially dormant, so much so that it was overlooked and left trapped and forgotten for twenty years. Now it has been released and is building an identity for itself at the expense of its victims.

this role has no attributes specified (the way most have "female," "british accent" etc.) other than 18+. it's supposed to be raspy and mysterious

"but jules," you say, "what about the cast list that had jonathan sims, alexander j newall, and tim fearon as [ERROR]s?" yeah i don't know what's up with that either. maybe an amalgamation of them? maybe an amalgamation of more archivists from different times or universes?

but in any case, i suspect that personality-wise this is going to be an entirely new character and i for one am Excited.

-

oh nigel :( as goose from the SR server pointed out, he got a mention on the bonzoland ARG site! wonder what happened there...

(October 31st 1998) – Mr Bonzo’s Special Spooktacular will no longer feature Nigel Dickerson.

alice <3

worm tracks. hmm. tim found an arch made of worms in the tunnels back in season 1 of the magnus archives and said that the stone inside the doorway had gone weirdly wavy, which i always took to be a failed attempt at a corruption ritual. hmmmm.

it is definitely very weird that alice and sam found mulch in the filing cabinets when red canary has this to say back in Episode One:

Big surprise was no old papers. I mean, they’d be mulch by now, obviously, but all the old filing cabinets were still rusting in place, and there was clearly what used to be a massive library or archive or something in the first basement layer. Was really expecting a bunch of paper pulp, but there wasn’t really any. Maybe that’s why it was listed as “cleared”?

also weird that neither of them flagged this as weird in the first place.

bonzo is delightful, obviously. i was wondering if there's a parallel between "jon" emailing sam with a "name and address" and gwen giving mr bonzo a name and address in her envelope…

[keymintt]

Not sure if this has been asked before but, how did you start doing professional work for traffic cabinets? Was there some sort of job fair or exhibit that you advertised your art at and the city decides "this guy is really good, let's get his art in public"?

OKAY so the thing with public art is it's all local and every city kinda does it differently, but so far in my career all of the public art stuff i've done has been application-based

this got long so i'll go into details about what the searching/application process looks like under the cut but tldr: a big part of finding work like this is knowing where to look for local opportunities and submitting applications

generally the cities/towns/whatever will put out a call for artists (also sometimes called a request for qualifications or RFQ) that's basically like "hey we need some artists to do this, this is how much we'll pay you and the details for the project" and from there they'll link a form (or sometimes give you an email address) to apply to where you submit stuff like your contact info, resume/portfolio, sometimes references, and usually a letter of interest on the project

because i submit applications to things pretty regularly, i'm usually good about keeping track of what i use to apply to things—this includes what i've written for applications and stuff like image descriptions—so when I apply to new things it's a lot of copypasting and editing things to explain how i'm a fit for the specific project yadda yadda it's cover letters. it's basically cover letters. pain and agony

in terms of finding the applications, i'm signed up for several local newsletters and arts organizations, but i also check sites like the az commission of the arts (bc i'm az-based) for their updated list of opportunities pretty regularly, as well as searching for stuff like [city] arts and culture and poking around the .gov sites to see if they have an arts opportunities page. in all honesty a pretty big component of finding this work is knowing where to look, and unfortunately if you're doing public art a) it's not always listed on social media b) the best places to look/start are local, and that differs for everyone so i can't say like "oh look here and you'll find something"

once you apply it usually takes awhile to hear back (they usually give you a timeline on the initial application of how long it takes to review all the applications), but i've found people in these fields are good about letting you know when you didn't get something so you can move on with your life lol. atm i'm waiting to hear back from....over five things so i'm kind of always doing this "applying to projects while i'm working on other projects" song and dance which is honestly just...kind of the freelance artist experience?

i feel the need to mention that public art stuff like this consists of about...2/5 of my yearly income...? i'm not solely making a living off of doing these things bc i also usually have teaching and ttrpg illustration stuff in the mix BUT there are artists who can and do make a living off public art and murals and whatnot. i simply cannot resist the urge to stick my finger into any pie i'm even remotely qualified for

working with public art stuff is also that same thing with a lot of fields where once you get some sort of experience, it's easier to get more jobs, BUT as an artist your portfolio can do a lot of speaking for you, even if you don't have experience with public art specifically. take my traffic boxes for example: i've done three of them now and have a fourth lined up, i know that if there's an application for one i have the exact experience they're looking for and will in all likelihood be one of the selected artists at this point. however with my very first one, i obviously didn't have a traffic box in my portfolio so i included a digitally illustrated city banner i designed, several other digital illustrations of mine (bc they wanted a digital artist), and a mural i had painted on a 3d object (to demonstrate i could design with 3d forms in mind), and together these things all helped my credibility as someone who could do this project. as much as i loathe writing letters of interest these are also good places to elaborate on how your portfolio can connect to the project

also with public art starting local is also your best bet at first (not to say you can't land other opportunities right off the bat though), bc people like their artists to know the local scene. i have the experience to back me up more nowadays, but when i was first applying to things you bet your ass i was all like 'i love it here and want to give art back to my local community bc i'm an artist and i'm fresh out of college yaaaaayyyy' you don't have to mean this when you say it, but they don't have to know

thank you for the ask !! and best of luck with any of your potential artistic endeavors (to anyone reading this)!! feel free to ask any more questions, i'm happy to elaborate on anythin btw for anyone :>

[tzuyuscloud]

Virtual Reality- (Smau)

＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚ ＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚ ＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚

01. Guess who’s going to Seoul?

you jolted from fear as your character crouched around in the dark, your heart rate was high indicating that the monster was near you. Deciding to take a run for it, you sprinted towards the exit, your palms were filled with sweat as you could hear your character’s breathing increase dramatically as the music got louder.

“holy fuck!!” you jumped out of the chair as a jump-scare popped out leaving the screen black with big red letters that read, ‘game over.’

You clutched your oversized shirt as you tried to gain life after the graphics of the scare, “fuckk bro that was wild” you laughed to yourself. Looking around remembering that you were at the gaming cafe and not your own cozy bedroom with your own PC because your mother took it away from you for “excessive use”

“Would you like a refill?” one of the workers came up to you, quickly shaking your head no you packed your stuff up and logged out of the computer. Forgetting you had your phone on dnd for hours, you were surprised to see a few messages from your worried mother.

You mentally groaned swiping through the rest of the notifications when your eyes landed on a dm from the popular esports team Tokki.

“Oh my gosh, is this a scam??” you voiced your thoughts aloud. Nothing else ran through your mind but the message as you made your way home

-

The moment you entered the house you were face to face with your mother who was not happy at all but you on the other hand, could not stop cheesing.

“Mom mom mom I know I shouldn’t have been gaming but just listen hear me out.” You sat her down while holding her hands in yours.

“What is it you’re scaring me” her brows furrowed and you could tell she was worried.

“what if I join a professional gaming team?” you mumbled knowing she wouldn’t let you. Its not like you need her permission anyways you are 18 but then again you always sought validation since you were a kid. You clenched your teeth as your mind quickly filled with negative thoughts of different ways she could say no.

‘Professional gaming isn’t real’

‘They’re scamming you into giving them money’

‘No, you are going to law school and that is final.’

You felt tears building up as your mind flooded with these negative thoughts, overwhelming yourself.

“What team is it?” you lifted your head up, staring into your mother’s soft eyes as she had a small smile on her face. “Im willing to let you try it out, but I will need to know who is the head of this team, where you’re sleeping, who is all there, I need numbers, emails and addresses so that I know my baby will be okay” she gasped as you jumped up off the couch doing spins around the coffee table.

Summary: You were scouted to be on a pro esports team when you started to find yourself falling for the leader, Minji as well as Hanni. Leaving you in difficult situations that eventually effect your performances. As Minji starts being harder on you, you can’t help but lean on Hanni for support, but deep down you wonder if any of them feel the same way you feel for them.

＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚ ＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚ ＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚

masterlist | masterlist | next

@yeonmis @slowlyturninggay291 @haerout @dmndtears

tags

[bonzos-number-1-fan]

TMAGP 8 Thoughts: Older Friends

Plenty of things to talk about here but very little reason for a preamble, so spoilers for episode 8 and TMA below the cut.

Okay, so first things first this one launches straight into the case. As incidents go this isn't particularly strange but does emphasise some reoccurring themes we've seen in prior statements. Notably there is a much bigger prevalence on altered spaces, and manifestations that don't neatly fit into Smirke's 14. As I may have mentioned in these posts before it seems like the Fears, or Fear equivalents, in TMP are much more capable of altering the physical world here. The current idea is that its because they're the TMA Fears in some capacity and the successful completion of "The Magnus Archives" dragged them into the physical reality of TMA and even though they were ejected from it they've maintained some capacity to influence the mundane world. Although it will be interesting to see if there emerges a clear separation between what's a manifestation of TMP's native entities (if they exist), and what's a manifestation of the TMA fears. With last episodes Hilltop escapade it's fairly hard to argue that they're not around in some form.

Alice and Gwen hate each other. More at eleven.

Okay, so this next bit will be the thing for this episode. Sam and Celia go visit Gerry to have a chat about the Magnus Institute. This isn't super surprising all in all. I've been expecting it for a few episodes. Gerry was in the same database Sam was that we got in the ARG. So the cameo is fun but not super important as far as new information goes from my PoV. Gerry does seem a lot more chipper this time around so that's always nice.

What I wasn't expecting, and what I doubt any one else was expecting, is a cameo from Gertrude. Her appearance is also much more interesting narratively. We don't know how close these universes really are to each other. Do alternate versions of the same character end up in similar places? Do they pursue similar goals? Because just from this episode, and some light conjecture about the nature of the multiverse, it's very plausible that Gertrude burned down the Institute in this universe. Gertrude and Gerry ended up close in TMA and have ended up close in TMP too. While she wasn't exactly parental in TMA she did at least get him away from his family there. It's not too much of an assumption to make that something similar has happened here. Connect that to the psychological testing the Institute was doing on children, and specifically Gerry, and it's not a big leap to assume that's why the Institute burned down. Different reasoning for it happening but the same cogs in the same machine. What's more interesting here than just that idea that she did the same thing in both universes is that this time she was successful. The reason she failed last time, Elias/Jonah, might not have been in play this time around.

It's also important to note that this could very well be the name and address Sam got emailed to him via John last episode.

The other big thing here is Georgie getting mentioned, specifically in context to her podcast, and more specifically in context to Celia's research into alternate dimensions and time travel. Because there are a few distinct possibilities here. However, I think the most likely one is that Georgie and Celia are both from TMA's universe and that they've gone through together for the same purposes. But it's hard to say too too much about it as of yet given how it's all left off. I think the stuff with the podcast and the like is probably part of establishing themselves in this universe rather than Celia looking into TMP Georgie and then guesting on the podcast. Who knows though.

DPHW Theory: 3366 is a pretty normal DPHW for this sort of thing. You've got some spooky cannibal types but they're more remarkable for what they're not than what they are and what they're not is normal.

CAT#R# Theory: CAT2RBC doesn't really mean anything more than any of the others. But at this point I do feel there should be enough to make a few stabs at what these things could mean. I haven't as of yet sat down to theorycraft so no new updates in this post but if I come up with something I'll post it in the next one, or in a standalone post if it's very compelling.

Header talk: Architecture (liminal) -/- hunger isn't super interesting on its own IMO. What is interesting is how it makes zero references to any of the monsters in this one. The incident is classified solely in respect to its architecture and not what inhabited said architecture. The mention of hunger is interesting to me, personally, because I've seen a few assertions that Hunger/Hunger is the more likely pick for the H in DPHW. I didn't think it tracked well before this but with hunger being used as a crosslink I think it's even less likely now.

This episode shows the limitations of the OIAR's methodology really well. The header is Architecture (liminal) -/- hunger, and doesn't mention anything about the uncannybals (like uncanny, i.e. the valley but they eat people). There are seemingly two distinct things, connected via a hunger, were happening here but you can only file it under one and we know that the section and subsection you choose dictates the DPHW so the spooky monsters don't appear to be a factor here at all which is why it's got a lower DP than you'd normally expect.

[lyon-amore]

With you until the end of the world Chapter 4

Chapter 3

*Angel POV*

I've become Jake's connection to the outside. It doesn't bother me since that way I can find out if there is news that my parents might be looking for me. It's been a month and there's still no one talking about a girl who ran off with a mystery guy. I walk the streets to go to the studio. From time to time I stop by so they can see that I use it, I stay for a few minutes and I leave. I haven't told Jake that I sent a letter to my parents, saying that I'm fine. Of course, I don’t put the address where we stayed. I have thought that every end of the month I will write to them and put different addresses. I don't want them to worry about me and look for me. I also don't go into details about who I'm with. Maybe the only one who knows is my mother? She always knew what was wrong with me and I told her but I didn't say many things. I didn't want to talk about Jake, just say that there was a boy I liked.

Okay, this might be the second thing I've kept from Jake. I also enter my mail, but disconnected. I have read the messages that my friends have sent me, wondering why I don’t answer my phone. Because I haven't told them anything. Lian asked me the day I left why I hadn't gone to work, later she found out from my parents that I had left, she wrote to me asking why I didn't tell her anything, since she was my best friend. The more I go up, the more messages I see that from when they found out. Most of the messages are from Jessy, Dan and Lilly. Jessy who has been writing more as if she were telling me how her day to day is going and that in the end she has decided to move, she’s looking for a apartment in Colville. It seems that texting me serves as therapy for her. Lilly texts me disappointed that I didn't tell her I was running away with Jake. Rather, she's mad at both of us for not telling her what we were planning to do. Dan writes to me worried that something might happen to me as I run away, if I might get in trouble with the law for being with Jake or if they might want to kill me because of him. I'd love to write back and tell them I'm fine, but they've already risked too much because of us. I decide to archive the emails so I can read them later.

I stand looking at the televisions in a store. They still talk about what happened in Duskwood and how the FBI showed up looking for a criminal. I see that they also name me quickly and I cover myself better. I want them to forget about this topic once and for all.    "Isn't Hannah Donfort the sister of that girl who made that video accusing two people of kidnapping her?" I hear a girl ask another.    "Yeah, what happened to her?" the other asks.     I walk away from there, continuing my way to the study. There are still “I am Jake” graffiti on some streets or some Nymos eyes. Where I lived, they gave my father and the other policemen headaches. Teenagers were the ones who painted the most. Then, after my article, it got a little worse. More overtime for my father.

I enter the building and go up to the studio, inserting the key to gain access. I lower my hood as I look inside. It's sparsely furnished and the blinds are down, it's only lit by the light from the computer. I check that everything is working fine and take out my phone to text Jake. ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Angel

The computer is in perfect condition

Function correctly, as always

-----Jake has connected-----

Jake

Perfect.

Any problem upon arrival?

Angel

All good

No one following me, sir!

Jake

Do not call me sir.

I feel older.

Angel

Well, you're older than me 😝

Jake

Fine.

Well, being older than I am, you know that you must obey me, right?

Maybe tonight I can find a place for you to obey.

Angel 😳

Jake ;)

Be careful when you come back.

Make sure no one follows you.

Angel

OK

Something special to eat?

Jake

Hmm… Choose you today.

Angel

Well…

You? 😏

Jake

Ha ha.

Sorry to disappoint you, but I will be with the computer for a bit.

Angel

I know

I fancy something Italian

How about?

Jake

Of course:)

Angel

So, see you 😊

Jake

I will be waiting, angel.

-----Jake has disconnected----- ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

I put my phone away and pull up my hood. I'm not disappointed not to have intimate moments with Jake, honestly. Maybe at first we were a little…needy of each other, but now we just joke about these things on the phone. Also, it's not just about us having sex, for me, the fact that he caresses my hair when he is working on the computer or that we talk about the things we like being in the same room, without interruptions, is what I like the most. When I go to sleep, he stays next to me with his laptop, stroking my cheek gently, whispering how much he loves me as I drift off to sleep. I feel so complete with him.

I want that the day he is free; I can present him to my parents, that they see that he is someone special to me. Maybe at first my father wouldn't like it, but when he saw that they have the same taste in movies or a strong sense of justice, perhaps he likes him better, or also, the one who sees that he respects his daughter like no one has ever done before. I want that future for both of us.

Even though Jake hasn't told me anything about his past yet, it's like he's still afraid to tell me anything about his life for fear someone might take it from me by force. I hope that some day he will tell me something about his life, some detail. No one would ever get information out of Jake from me. I choose death rather than betray him.

*Jake POV*

I keep an eye on the data from the rental agency to know when people will come to look at the apartment. We have been here for a month with no problems and that relieves me, but I am sure we will have to leave eventually. You can never stay in one place for too long, so I have made a plan in case we have to leave.

I avoid thinking that I use her to monitor the computer. I think I like it better think that I do not keep her in here bored while I work on the computer. And according to her, she wants to know if there is talk of her disappearance, if her parents have caused a scandal to look for her. I do not know whether to care about jer words, I do not want to look like a kidnapper again. She told me not to worry about it, that she had made it very clear in writing that it was her decision.

While I am creating another surveillance program to detect any suspicious activity around me, I receive a notification that I have been named in his social network, again, posting a picture of me. I hacked his account to delete the post. I know he is been looking for me for a long time, but he does not know that he could risk being hunted down.    “Sorry buddy, but I can not let you put yourself in danger.” I mutter, heading back to the computer.     I make a small noise, complaining. I get a message. It is assumed that he would not have to send me one again if it was not that I did it. And I was not thinking about doing it again either, he already risked enough when I asked him to put the Nymos sticker on. But there have been so many messages that I have had enough. ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Comet

Hey

Uh…

I know that I have sent you many messages

That I risk getting in touch with you again, but…

I don't know anything about you Jake 😔 and that worries me ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

I just hope he is talking meanwhile diverting his IP to another. ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Nymos

Comet, do not text me again.

Comet

Jake!

Do you know how many messages I have sent you?!

When I found out that the FBI was in Duskwood, I was worried!

Nymos

You risk writing to me.

Stop doing it or we will both be in trouble.

Comet I don’t care

Nymos

You can get your father in trouble.

Comet

He don't know nothing, he's busy keeping tabs on the people you messed with 😑

And enough of both of you treating me like a child when I'm an adult!

Just tell me if you're in trouble and I'll deflect any signals

Nymos I already have it under control. Do not worry.

And I do not treat you like a child, I just do not want to get my little brother in trouble. :)

Comet

Always with that habit of not worrying others when we already are 😠

And what about her? Don't worry about how I am for you?

Nymos

Angel is fine, do not worry about her.

Comet

Angel?

Who is Angel?

Wait… 😱 OH!

YOU ARE

SHE

WHAT?!

SHE RUN AWAY WITH YOU?!

Nymos

It was her decision.

Comet

I see that friends don’t enter the sack of the privileged 😒

Nymos

I could not make her see reason.

But I take good care of her.

I will not let anything bad happen to her.

Comet

Hmm…

If you trust her…

Nymos

I trust her.

Comet

Alright, alright

Just be careful…

Nymos

Henry, she is trustworthy.

Comet

But do you know that her father is a cop?

I wouldn’t trust her 😐

Nymos

She has always shown me that I can trust her.

She would have given me away long ago.

Comet

But this time you’re with her, it’s different 😰

Don’t let it give you away

-----Comet has disconnected----- ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

I pinch the bridge of my nose as I sigh. I have known Henry since he was a child, I myself helped him find a home and a father, we taught him everything we knew about security and hacking. He admired me and continues to admire me, to the point that when I contacted him again for help, he would not stop talking and asking me where I had been. Very persistent, if I dare say. I told him about her and he was even glad that I cared for someone as much as I ever had before. Now his attitude towards her has changed, as if she is dangerous. I have to assume it was the FBI news that made him change his mind. It is not yet known who warned them.

But I know my angel was not.

I hear the door and let out a small laugh. She still has trouble using the lock picks. I get up from the ground and go to open the door, then lean against the frame with a smile. She looks at me with a frown, picks in hand.    "I almost had it." she replies, putting them in his pants pocket.    “You have to avoid leaving marks on the lock” I lean forward, approaching her face “, if you see that you cannot, leave it.”    “ 'If you see that you can't, leave it' “ she imitates me entering the house.     I stop her by placing a hand on her waist, turning her around. I place my hand on her chin and approach her lips.    "Are not you forgetting something?" I ask, whispering.     I go to kiss her and she places a bag in front of me.    "The food." She replies with a mischievous smile.     I roll my eyes and pick up the bag. It is she who kisses me, to later let out a laugh.    "I told you, I was hungry for you." She chuckles, wrapping her arms around my neck.    "You are going to drive me crazy, angel." I caress her lips, seeing a shy smile.    Her cheeks turn red and I feel her skin warm. I kiss her forehead and hear her sigh. She hugs me resting her head on my body.    “I'm home.” she says, and I hear happiness in her voice.    "Yes, you are." I reply, kissing her head.

   We sit on the ground. I take care of the program and she eats, watching what I do.    "Here." She tells me, approaching the pasta. I open my mouth and let him feed me. If it weren't for her, I would forget the most important needs in a human being.     She then gets upset that she does not deserve to be called an angel.    "Any news of your escape?" I ask after finishing swallowing the food.   “No, it seems that my parents have understood the letter I left them correctly” she answers after she has finished swallowing “, besides, I told them that it wouldn't be forever.”     I nod understanding her words. She can come back without problems whenever she wants, I do not keep her by my side.    “What are you doing now?” she asks, dragging herself over to me, setting the food container aside.    "I am trying to create a better surveillance program around us" I answer without taking my eyes off the screen “, I want to collect the information of the people around us and know if any of them could be an undercover agent if I look at their messages.”    "Won't it be dangerous?" She does not sound worried, more curious.     I look at her raising an eyebrow.    "Do not you know who you are talking to?"     She looks me up and down, cocking her head. She raises her hand to her face and dabs with her finger.    “Well, no, I don't know” I take her by the wrist and attract her to me, beginning to tickle her “No! Stop!” She exclaimed between laughs.    “I am going to make you remember who you are talking to, angel.” I tell her, laying her down.    "Wasn't it that you had to work?" She smiled as she caressed my face.    "I can take a break."     She bites her lip and pulls her to me. Before I can kiss her, I hear the notification that he is put up another post again. I quickly part ways, deleting all information and photo from that post. Just about, if I am a second later… I raise my hands to my head, taking a deep breath. When will he give up?    "What's wrong, Jake?" She asks me worried.    "It is nothing" I reply, taking her hand and kissing it “. Do not worry, why do not you listen to some music while I work?”     I move a little and let her settle in with me. I start stroking her hair slowly, trying to make her forget what happened. But she did not make it.    “Are you sure you're okay?”     I lower my head to look at her and smile.    “Yes angel, I'm fine.” I kiss her forehead and she nods.     The less information she know about my past, the better. It would be risking too much.

Chapter 5 

[kulekrizpy]

finally seeing progress in my depression after more than a decade has me a little dazed. i have been depressed for half my life or longer

but it also has me feeling so good about how relieved i am and how much energy i'm beginning to have that i'm getting ... excited about things again? like i can imagine my future because i can believe i will continue to have energy

this has been a series of realizing i have ADHD, going into therapy because i could tell something was very wrong, beginning to poke out my boundaries and learning to honor them, truly accepting that i don't know my brain as well as i thought i did and forgiving myself for that, getting medication, and finally getting exercise and sun consistently.

it has been less than a month since i started walking and i'm seeing a huge uptick in energy. i'm getting stronger and i WANT to feel stronger. because i want to be more active and not hurt myself doing it

the walks get a little longer, i get so much peace from being in nature. there's comfort and perspective in there that has me accepting my mortality in a way that was terrifying to me before. and it relaxes my anxiety so much

i couldn't even think as clearly as i am now. i was expending so much energy worrying! about a social fuckup, about losing my friends, despair about the world's state, money... i recognized and let go of people who didn't respect me. and now i don't have to worry about that. i have better things to do. i can say "no" without deliberating on it now. i can finally trust myself. i spent a long time sorting thru my feelings and how they aligned with reality, and now i know how to take a step back and assess. and all the extra energy goes to the things i actually have to do!

i don't care as much what others think now. perhaps it was from relying too much on others to fulfill my happiness. now that i've figured out ways to create my own happiness i have so much hope. i can enjoy being by myself because i'm learning how to appreciate doing all the small things. and i'm giving myself permission to be flexible. it was too overwhelming before to think beyond the plan i was fixating on

i know why it took me so long to get here. i had plenty of reasons to be fucked up, things that happened to me that i had no control over plus my brain chemistry and my inability to handle school. i had control issues that i worked hard not to put on other people and they got internalized as rigidity and self blame

at the point i was at, it even scared me to be wrong. but being wrong is okay. because you can't grow if you don't learn lessons thru your life. being wrong means you've learned something. does the shame of being wrong really supersede not having to deal with the problem in the future?

i also realized i need to work around my ADHD. give myself permission to do things differently so i could get started instead of being overwhelmed by the whole task

i just couldn't keep going the way i had been. it was untenable.

now i can find the root problems. for example:

i need to apply to jobs but i've been putting it off. why?

if i look in my email i'll see all the other things i have to deal with. anxiety-inducing

i'm not sure i have the energy to sort the emails AND look at jobs

solutions:

i have to look at some point. it probably won't be as bad as i'm worrying it will

if the whole task is too much energy i can break it up. better to get something done in two days than never. once i start i may want to finish too!

so, to address both of those things, today i'm gonna to make a folder and filter for the job emails so they are all in one place. tomorrow i'll be able to open the folder without looking at any other emails and just get started :)

now that i have a way to handle my basic tasks and the knowledge that i even CAN feel good and have the energy i need (something i think i had given up on long ago), i can see a future. i can see my way there. i don't have to be blinded and completely sapped by a single big task. i don't have to give other people a majority of my energy. i just needed to focus on me and take care of my body to give me the energy to Live. it's truly baffling to me. i wonder how much the medication is helping me... either way, i am an animal! i am connected to the earth!

now i know how to give my children the tools to get around this. and the level of responsibility i want to give them to feel in control of their own lives and actions. the flexibility to work around problems instead of trying to drill thru them. and i have the energy to want them. i can work my way there. i'm excited for it someday

but for now, i just have to keep doing the little things. keep rerouting my thinking and going outside

[my-castles-crumbling]

Hi Cas. First of all, that anon that wrote you to help me was really helpful. (Genuinely- please tell them I say thank you, or something)

I looked up basically every I could- I also took my dads phone and checked his email.

I’ve reached the conclusion that it’s unlikely i’ll be physically harmed while i’m there, though it will be bad for my mental health… obviously. They did sign something but it wasn’t too weird. And not really signed? Just like an email. They do have to sign something when they drop me off though.

And there’s 2 different addresses. One is the one on insta, and the other (on the email) is a little further away. 

I also borrowed my sisters lock for my suitcase. It has a four number code to open it. That way it’ll deter staff and other kids from getting in my stuff. 

I had thought about putting records in a file somewhere and deleting them from my phone. I worry about getting other kids in footage, and then it spiralling though. 

I mean- okay so there’s something I haven’t told you. 

I’m adopted. 

Where I live is poor- and when a girl going off to university got pregnant, she gave me up. She left me at the hospital. I actually tried to look her up last year… she overdosed.

Anyway, I grew up in a foster house, and when I turned 8, I got adopted. It was pretty rare to get adopted that old, especially where I live. People want babies. 

 My sister isn’t biologically related to me. She was adopted when she was 4 by them. None of us are biologically related. But she’s my sister. 

If it wasn’t for my parents, I would be on the bad side of the neighbourhood. I wouldn’t go to the posh kid school, I wouldn’t be looking at university in the future, I wouldn’t have everything i’ve got. And i’m lucky to have it all. 

And I can’t go back to the same social services that finally found somewhere to dump me- and tell them i’m just not happy with the family i’m with. Especially since i’d been content with it for so long.

They’ve never hit me- they’ve paid for my clothes and paid for my clubs and gave me my own room. 

I was so lucky. And I’ve always been stuck between rich kids who don’t get the life I used to have, or un-adopted kids who go on and on about how lucky I am.

And until everything happened- until I was 15- they were great. I love my dad, he doesn’t realise what’s wrong with what he’s doing. 

He genuinely think it’s best for me if i’m in an environment that discourages this side of me- so that I can live a better life.

And he tried, he tried to do research for me- to find out how i was feeling, to understand me, but my mother shut him down. 

I can’t explain it but I remember back when I was eight- not perfectly but I do- and I know I won’t end up somewhere better even if I report them. 

I’ll just be yanked out of school- one of the few places there are people who get me. And i’ll be back, there. 

Plus it’ll be complicated since my sister isn’t biologically related to me, if I went to stay with her. She probably have to get some sort of license I think- and that’d take FOREVER, especially since she’s single, broke and going to uni. 

It’s a mess basically. 

I can’t leave. I have to wait it out. 

I worked so fucking hard to fit into a family that wasn’t mine, ever since I was eight and I met them, ever since I realise it was a way out. They’re still my best way out of the life I was born into. 

At the end of the day, I know my situation sucks but it sucks way less than other people I know. And I don’t think i’m in any physical danger, so i guess it’ll have to be a lot therapy later (haha) 

I hated the camp. And if this years one is actively worse than last year then maybe i’ll figure something out- i have a lot of friends at school that hate the way i’m being treated. 

But I hate asking for handouts. And I guess some fucking stupid part of me still feels hope that my parents will change their ways and understand me- or at least try. 

I wish my dad had tried a little harder, he has a lot of empathy for people, I think he might’ve changed his views if he had the chance. But he sort of did have the chance and he’s just letting my mother send me away anyway so- nvm I guess 

(And maybe if that therapist/nearly therapist friend of the other anon has any advice for like- not hating yourself for being queer after these camps then… Maybe i don’t know, you could send it my way or something? Or any other advice? I just- the people there always have the worst stories and are so depressed and being around that attitude all the time sucks. Plus a lot of them are always like “oh you’re lucky this is the worst place you’ve been sent”. I came home and really kind of hated myself for a while. And none of my friends are queer really, and the few that are don’t go to church, so they don’t really get how it feels).

Hi hon!

Okay I’m hoping the other anon sees this but if they don’t message me in a day or two I’ll @ them- just trying to preserve their anonymity as well.

I’m glad it seems like you’re at least physically safe and I’m always here for you to talk to. But I don’t want to address one thing that you said a few times. You kept saying like “it could be worse, it could be worse” but that’s not fair. Don’t compare your trauma to others. You are going through some horrible shit, and it’s okay to acknowledge that, you know? You don’t have to say it’s better/worse than someone else. Either way, YOU DONT DESERVE THIS.

I’m sending so much love and I’m thinking of you!

[specialagentlokitty]

Mr Evershed x Student!reader - make it home

Part five:

The next day rolled around and Mr Evershed walked out of his office to Loraine and Mrs Carp who were stood at the reception desk waiting for him.

“Any sign of them?”

Loraine shook her head.

“Nothing, no calls, texts or emails.”

“Nothing?”

“No news articles about a teen boy being found dead if that’s what you mean.” Mrs Carp said.

“Seriously?” He asked sharply.

“Come on you can’t tell me it’s not true. There’s no way that boy survived a wound like that. They’re probably burying his body as we speak.” She shrugged.

“Right just go. I’m done talking to you.”

“Say whatever you want Martin you know it’s true, just like they did to their parents.”

“Sue!” He yelled.

She left and he sighed, running a hand down his face as he turned to the receptionist.

“You don’t think it’s true do you?” She asked.

He looked at her.

“That Jordan you know.. died?” She whispered.

“I hope not. Do you have their address on file?”

“Oh yeah sure hold on.”

She gave it to him and looked at him in confusion as he walked to his office, grabbed his keys and jacket and walked back out.

“You’re in charge Loraine!”

As he drove he couldn’t help but wonder if he was doing the right thing. Should he go? Should he leave you guys alone?

As he got closer to the address he noticed how the homes grew further and further apart until he arrived at one on a lonely street, covered in vibes and leaves.

He parked his car outside and slowly got up, only to see the door was already open and Ryan was stood there.

He looked exhausted and he was dressed in his uniform from yesterday.

“Didn’t know schools did house calls.” Ryan said.

Mr Evershed walked over to the door and stood in front of him.

“We make exceptions.” He said.

Ryan gestured for him to come in and closed the door behind them both, leading the headteacher through the house and into a room at the back of the house.

“Are you alright Ryan?”

“Yeah I’m fine.”

“And Jordan?”

“Ask him for yourself.”

Ryan pointed to the sofa.

Jordan was laid on the sofa with a drink in his hand, his other hand resting over his side.

Mr Evershed walked over and sat on the coffee table in front of him.

“How’re you doing Jordan?” He asked.

Jordan looked across and set his drink in the floor, slowly sitting up with a small groan as he looked at Mr Evershed.

“As good as I can be I guess. Healing alright though if that’s what you want to know.”

“Did you go to the hospital?”

“Nah, Ryan fixed me up.”

Jordan lifted his shirt showing his teacher the bandage wrapped around his side before dropping his shirt again.

“Are you ever going to go to the hospital?” He asked.

“I’ve had worse. From (Y/N) actually, they were a mean kid to me you know.”

Mr Evershed smile a little and Jordan gave him a little grin.

The teacher began to look around the room, taking everything in, it was pretty clean consider three teenagers lived here.

“Where is (Y/N)?” He asked.

“Garden, I’ll take you.”

Jordan stood up with a groan and started to lead Mr Evershed to the back door where he pointed to a bench that was overlooking the forest behind the house.

“They sit there when they need to clear their head or think about something.” Jordan explained.

“They’ve been sat there pretty much all night.” Ryan said.

Mr Evershed nodded and opened the door, stepping out he closed it behind him and slowly walked over.

The closer he got the more he noticed about the garden, but what stuck out the most was the two headstones on the other side of the fence.

He walked over and sat next to you on the bench, staring out into the forest with you.

“It’s peaceful.” He said.

“Family owned house, built years ago.” You replied.

“It’s nice, different.”

You flicked your eyes to him before you went staring at the forest again.

“Why’re you here?” You asked.

“I was concerned about you all, and I wanted to make sure Jordan was okay. The police have been in contact and said they’re pressing charges against the group for trespassing.”

“There’ll be more. Always is.”

“More what?” He asked.

You looked at him.

“People like him. People after us.”

He nodded his head.

“Why not move house? Move town?” He asked.

“They always find us eventually, there’s no use running now.”

“There is if it means protecting yourselves, keeping you all safe.”

You sighed and let out a small scoff as you stared at your hands before balling them into fists.

“It’ll never be safe. Not for us.”

“Why?”

“You don’t need to know.”

“As your teacher I think I do, if it means I can somehow help keep you safe.”

You didn’t reply and he sighed, looking back out at the forest.

His gaze was fixated on the two headstones, he tried reading the words but from this distance he couldn’t make them out.

You stood up and walked over to them, turning your head towards him and he got up and walked over, crouching next to you.

Reaching out, you brushed your hand over one before moving over to the next.

“I saw you looking at them. You want to who’s they are. They’re not the real graves, just ones we put here as a way to be able to remember them I suppose.”

He looked at the stones.

(M/N) (L/N). Loving mother and cherished leader.

(F/N) (L/N). Loving father and mentor.

“We know people say we killed our parents, most believe it’s true because they try sneaking into the house and see these.”

“What happened to them.”

You didn’t say anything, you stood up and started to walk away and he followed you.

“You guys can’t keep living here alone.” Mr Evershed called.

“We can. Social won’t take us, they tried and we ran away back here, they eventually gave up and just left us. They give us money every week and we live off our parents savings.”

“And how much do you have left?”

“Enough to get by if that’s what you’re worried about.”

He sighed, jogging over to catch up to you and he placed his hand over the door handle to stop you from going inside.

You turned to him and he dropped his hand.

“I’m worried about all of this, people coming after you, the accusations about you three. You all living alone barely scraping by, it’s not good.”

“We’ll survive.” You replied.

He sighed and reached into his jacket pocket, pulling out an envelope he handed it over to you.

“It’s enough there for two weeks. You come back to me when it runs out okay? If you need anything you find me.” He said softly.

“I can’t accept your money.” You handed it back.

“It’s from the school. They have an emergency fund for things like this. Just take it.”

You listened to his heart, you knew his was lying but you didn’t tell him that, you simply nodded and headed inside, setting it on the counter as you stood in front of your brothers.

Mr Evershed looked at the three of you.

At first he saw three dangerous teenagers with not a care in the world.

Now he saw three broken teenagers who were just fighting against everything and everyone just for the right to live and it broke his heart.

“You two need to come back to school tomorrow. Jordan come back on Monday, take the time to rest and get better.”

You all just have him a nod and he walked to the door with the three of you behind him.

“And I mean it, if you need anything you find me got it? I don’t care what for, come find me?”

With that he got in his care and left, looking through his rear view mirror he saw the three of you standing there and then the door closed.

Everyone had it wrong about you three, you were nothing like they said, but he couldn’t let you guys do this alone, and he was going to help somehow

[thecupcakewritesmorethings]

Asa Emory/The Collector Escapes Arkin: The Good(?) Ending

Okay, let’s get it straight. Asa Emory is 100% a villain. While it’s true, he suffered a horrible, traumatic event at the hands of his father: he has committed a near innumerable amount of atrocities. Asa Emory is, in my opinion, the rare case of the slasher who is unsympathetic. He has delved too deeply with his dark passenger, and he is neigh redeemable.

So it begs the question… Can he even get a good ending?

I don’t think so. At least, not in the traditional sense… But there is a “best” ending. Here is my shot at it. Spoilers, I guess, for The Collection.

 You were once one of Asa Emory’s students. Specifically, you were in his class a few years prior, while you were working on your Batchelor’s degree in life sciences, like many others. Asa, in a way, didn’t think you different from any of the other bright-eyed future zoologists in his classrooms. You did your work, you came to class.

You were smart.

In fact, he found you a bit of a smart-ass.

There had been two or three times where he had shot you down in class for accidentally misnaming or mispronouncing something in his class. He had a reputation as a tough teacher to keep up… However, while most would cower to get things wrong in front of him- you took it in stride. You came to his office when your grade would inevitably dip in your lab reports.

There was no reason for your grade to falter, by the way, your reports were amongst the best of his class that year. One might even say he frequently would use them later as examples of “good” citation. The reason why your grades dipped? Curiosity. The need to lord his power over you like a god.

He’d bump your lab report grades up the more frequently you’d spend time doing “extra credit”, of course. This was simply his way of feeling in control at the time.

Of course, at the time Asa Emory hadn’t taken the plunge into becoming the Collector yet. In hindsight, you were perfect, however, as a potential victim. You were smart, hardworking, unique, even among all the other try-hards of your class. Perfect. It was a bit foolish, but he enjoyed thinking about you as the “one who got away” from time to time.

Of course, thankfully for you, you managed to get out of his sphere of direct influence before he went off the deep-end and met one of his idols (cough cough, JESSE, cough cough). However, you would pop back into his life once more to seek his advice on your Master’s Thesis. Still going for a masters in Zoology with a specialty in Entomology?

He scoffed when you asked for his opinion on the various auditory noises of the common jumping spider family. Internally he was pleased as punch. He… It’d been a while since he had been remembered as someone happily. Most people who take his classes bemoan his existence.

You were either very good at hiding it, or… You genuinely valued his opinion and experiences as an entomologist. Honestly, he couldn’t tell which he preferred. It was so simple when people didn’t like him…

Then again, you exchanged email addresses with each other. Personal email addresses.

He gave you a half-hearted joke about keeping your enemies closer. Now you were a competitor in the field… You laughed. It… Did things to him.

Asa wound up texting the only other person in the world who may hope to understand him, at that moment, how he may feel. His friend and idol responded only with;

“Ask them out, don’t bring the ropes out till the third date.”

“That’s a bad idea.”

“No it’s not. I’m trying to get you laid.”

There is a surprisingly sincere text that follows shortly thereafter.

“We’re difficult people to get along with. We’re not normal. Sometimes you need something normal to encourage you not to do dumb shit.”

“Introducing a person into my life, and an alumnus from my school, seems like the worst case. It’s not like you have something ‘normal’, either.”

“Speak for yourself. I got a spouse, a mortgage, and shitty in-laws like most married men. :)”

Asa was stunned.

“Also, counter-point. I never said that they were *normal*.”

That stuck with him… Longer than it should. He mulled over his friend and mentor’s advice. Observed it from multiple angles, gave time to watch it grow and sprout ideas… As a scientist should. In that time you and Asa had grown distant. Distant enough that your messages became short enough for text messages, so your numbers had been exchanged.

Though, the possibility that you were… “Abnormal” crossed his mind from time to time. You left the city to take on an internship at a Zoo a few hours away, but came by frequently throughout the year to visit family. He bemoaned Thanksgiving, though, your arrival to his home always made things seem as though the world didn’t stop in it’s tracks to stare at him for a day.

Then he met Arkin… Then the Hotel went pear-shaped…

Now here is where things deviate.

Asa Emory knows it is a foolish idea to return home to his house. However, he is not about to explain to you, who is currently asleep in his guest bedroom, why he refuses to come home while you have a guest. Not because he doesn’t wish to, mind you, more so because he cannot find what he deems to be a good enough excuse.

He spends all night patching himself up. He waits till about eight in the morning before returning (when he usually returns from his morning run) to enter his home. The house is silent, pristine, and just as he left it the night before. Clearly, you have not woken up. He sets his keys down and idly shuffles through some junk mail that has been sitting in his mailbox since yesterday. He makes his way upstairs to rest an hour or so just… To recollect himself when the radio goes off downstairs. A sinking feeling arrives in his gut. He pulls out his pocket knife and walks back downstairs to the radio, flips it off once more and proceeds to do a five-point room scan.

It's Arkin.

Arkin pulls the gun on him, explains that he intends to torture him just as he did his own victims. He stuffs Asa Emory into his own case and most certainly breaks a few fingers on his left hand in doing so. In that moment Asa forgot you were there at all, but he certainly remembers when he hears something shatter. Then the sound of rapid footsteps, then the dull sound of something hitting the floor.

Moments pass as he wiggles against the box, and a few seconds later he is freed.

There you stand, looking down at him with something between horror and intrigue. You tilt your head, observing him before you reach in to grab his right hand to hoist him up. He stands wobbily to see Arkin with something thin and tight around his neck.

“… I can…”  The word explain falls silent. Instead his face curls into a snarl. “… He’s. Mine.”

It sounds… Childish. Like you had taken his toy away from him, not like you had just saved his life. Which, you absolutely have him dead to rights. He’d probably be in Arkin’s car right now on his way to god knows where.

Finally, you narrow your eyes at him. “Do you remember the first day I came to talk to you about my failing lab report grades?”

He doesn’t answer. His eyes widen as he hisses at you.

“You had me feeding your specimen. At first I thought it was rather cruel of you to do it, but you told me I needed to learn how to be better at exposing myself to a feeding. Passively, I asked you, ‘which roaches you think suffer more; the ones you feed to the widow specimens, or the trap door spiders?’”

He remembered this conversation, of course he had. You had been nervous to say the least. You had clearly arrived hoping to discuss your grade and go, but it was nearing Autumn break. Professor Emory wasn’t feeling particularly charitable, so he made you work for the grade you should have gotten in the first place. He had handed you a Tupperware container of German cockroaches and a metal pair of forceps and told you to feed his specimen.

“Do you remember what you said?” Your head gave an inquisitive tilt.

“… A funnel web spider is… infinitely worse than a trap door spider.”

“Do you remember why you said that?”

Oh. Did his heart just skip a beat?

“… Because trap door spiders act on impulse, but a funnel web will wait until you get close…”

How dare your smart-assery be endearing in a time like this? Damn you. Thank you?

Out of respect for your mentor, you let Arkin fall into his hands before he is too far gone. However, you cannot say for sure what he did with the ex-convict. You never ask, and Asa never really choses to tell you. A part of him realizes he may not need to, now.

What you do know is that Asa has most of his necessities packed up by lunch-time. His hand is bandaged up, and you spend the better part of that Autumn day driving back towards your home town while he feverishly clicks away on his flip-phone messaging someone.

All he knows is that you’re just as he had described. You’re smart, a wise-ass… But you’re crafty, clever. Beneath your innocent façade belied something in the funnel. Something hungry, and placative lurking deep within that most would never get the fortune to live through seeing. Something he could respect.

There is a deeper sense of camaraderie between the two of you from that day. Turns out you were the SIXTH Entomologist on Arkin’s list.

Still. Asa is in deep shit, despite the newfound… Addiction the pair of you share. It’s only a matter of time before they find Arkin, or Arkin’s trail, and a simple side-step before they find yours. He texts his friend once more for some help.

“Only if you can admit I was right.”

“Perhaps you were.”

“So. I get to be best man at the wedding right?”

“No.”

“Maid of honor?”

“Chromeskull.”

“You’re right. I’m saving your ass. I want to be the BEST HONOR.”

[tellthemeerkatsitsfine]

I've started to write a couple of posts about more substantive things in the Robins/James radio show I've been listening to, posts that talk about the actual quality of the content and the comedy, but I can't think of how to say what I want to in those, so in the mean time, I'd like to instead make a post about this thing John Robins tends to do that keeps me awake at night. It's not important or relevant to the comedy, really. But it does stick in my brain and I'd like to get rid of it, please.

Okay, a big part of John Robins' "thing" as a comedian is talking candidly about shame and regret and generally feeling like an idiot, in ways that range from lighthearted to harrowing. He can be very relatable in talking about feeling ridiculous amounts of guilt over things that objectively weren't all that bad, but you look back at yourself after and wonder what the fuck you were thinking, especially if you happen to be a person who finds things scary when you're sober but who also likes to get drunk a lot and when you're drunk these things seem less scary (and by "these things" I don't mean, like, drunk driving, I mean like talking to someone you don't know well) and then you get sober and look at what you did and absolutely hate yourself for it. The previous sentence would have worked fine if written in the first or the third person so I split the difference and went with second, it's fine, I'm not projecting too hard on to someone's comedy material or anything.

So John Robins can get harrowingly relatable in stories like that, carefully written ones woven into his polished award-winning stand-up hours, and that's great. But every once in a while, on his radio show, he'll drop in a story on the subject that hasn't been carefully polished or planned, it's not stand-up material, it's just sort of casually mentioned and somehow the casual nature of telling it makes it even worse. Forget Peep Show or The Office or Partridge or whatever other cringe comedy is out there - I have never cringed so fucking hard in second-hand horror as when John Robins drops some little story of a time he got drunk and talked too much and too sincerely about something that's way too emotionally important to him to someone whose response is anywhere from vaguely baffled to actively put off by his enthusiasm.

I mean, the first one was rough, but Jesus Christ, that second story. How the fuck do you sleep at night? If I did that I'd never sleep again, it would keep me awake every day forever. At least now, while I am lying awake at night feeling like an idiot for every time I have expressed too much of my disproportionate enthusiasm to people, I can tell myself, at least I didn't email it to any comedians I'm a fan of (I mean I mostly haven't, one time I said something to Mark Watson in a Twitter message when he'd solicited Twitter messages about his mailing address, and I used Twitter for the first time ever to send the requisite mailing address information but I also used the opportunity to add a couple of sentences about how amazing a comedian I thought he was right from the beginning of his career, I then could not look at the website Twitter or at myself in the mirror for about a year, there's also the time I met Josie Long and the time I met Grace Petrie and both times I was genuinely incoherent, but so incoherent that it almost worked in my favour, I probably said something embarrassing but luckily I don't think I of them understood most of what I was saying, aside from getting that I was very excited to meet them, oh also there was the time I emailed Stuart Goldsmith and then I couldn't listen to the Comedian's Comedian podcast for months because it would remind me of what I'd done).

And they're little things, mostly, the stories in those Robins clips. Not as important as the ones that become his stand-up stories. More everyday, but that might be what makes them worse, the way horror hits harder if you can inject it into the mundane. Jesus. We all do this, right? Try to keep a lid on how disproportionately deeply things emotionally affect us and hate ourselves for it every time we lift that lid, especially if there was alcohol involved? Relatable comedy. Comedy-horror.

[shadowfoxsilver]

This is a scam ask

“Hi there! I know that this is really out of the blue but im asking for a favor or some help w/ my cats current medical needs. Please if you have an extra time to boost/share it for us so that we could get some traction or it could reach more people, it would definitely help a ton! I understand if its not okay, Im so sorry for taking some of your time and I wish you to be safe and healthy always, xx.(Please considering answering my ask privately or probably hit me a msg if its fine! 😭🙏”

If you received this ask from nicstonka or nicole-loves-king , it is unfortunately a scammer going under two different accounts but are both the same Nicole Brunelle who previously was known as baconelle and vaneshys and is currently refusing to take down their scam post even after the real owner was shown to not run the account.

Many users aren’t looking up the ask or username, and are failing to realize it’s a scam. Please, understand the scammer doesn’t own Tonka OR King. Any update they give you is stolen from the original post or made up on the spot.

This is the scammers email linked to their address. It is/was publicly viewable and they did this to hide their name but I know what it leads you to. It’s in their other scam post. They don’t want to look like their existing account but kept the same icon and theme.

This is one person using two accounts to scam people. Their caught out and trying to hide their other account by deleting its bio but still spamming asks to share their scam post. They got greedy and figured since their other account is still running they’ll just slide over to a new account while running the other.

nicstonka is a scammer. Their name is stolen from an innocent Facebook user whose pet Bacon was also used in scam posts. This user doesn’t own any animal they post and they will not send their money to the real owner.

[weirdhasanxiety]

So. Hey, I’m back, just not with a drawing as per usual, apologies.

A warning to artists doing comms:

TL;DR: When doing comms, check email addresses, don’t forward any money before you’ve received any(or just don’t forward any at all), and ask for details of your commission to the commissioner.

I got scammed out of 200 USD on Instagram the other day.

I usually don’t do comms(because online money exchange is risky and I’m just not familiar with it), but a guy called Fred James(likely a randomly generated name) messaged me asking if I would be willing to do a drawing of his kid’s dog for 300USD.

I had some time, the guy’s dog was cute, and even after me saying ‘no, you don’t need to pay, I’ll just doodle something up for you’ multiple times he insisted, and me being the pushover I am I said ‘okay, I’ll open a PayPal’.

I did that, and he said he’d sent the 300 over. Then an email popped up, saying that for ‘verification’ the guy needed to send an additional 200 over and I needed to refund it to get my 300, and I actually did it.

I was panicking about this over on discord, and another artist who did comms pointed out that this might be a scam, and I double checked the email addresses. One from PayPal saying that I’d added a card to my PayPal, and the other saying that I needed to give the guy 200.

They were different(though very similar). It was a fucking scam.

I was angry, and I felt guilty over it for days.

Another email from the same fake address came the day after asking me to send an additional 300 over. I forwarded it to PayPal’s phishing address, deleted it and the other two fake emails, and just went to crochet to try and feel better about this whole shitshow.

I really hate how this guy took advantage of my unfamiliarity with commissions and PayPal, and because of this I doubt I’ll be doing any comms in the future, and my relatives(and my parents) have told me to take all my art off the internet, stop using social media and just… stop. With online art.

As seen with this post, I’m not going to do that, because I like sharing my art with people, and I’m not doing it for profit, anyways. I got greedy this time. I’ll not make that mistake again.

In hindsight, all the hints were there. When I asked the guy about what style he wanted, he didn’t answer. When I asked what his son’s name was, he didn’t answer. When I refused payment, he insisted, and he told me to give my name despite it being not necessary for PayPal transactions.

The fake emails he sent me had my name, and I know I’d given him my email as well, which is why the emails had my name and looked so official.

The emails’s images were all missing, too, and the copyright thing at the bottom said 20xx-2022. That’s another thing I missed.

I’m putting this out there, because I’ve checked my message requests on Insta, and there were two more people there asking ‘Do you do commissions?’, the exact same thing the scam guy asked me.

There’s nothing wrong with doing commissions. You do art for someone, you get paid, and that’s great!

But please, be careful. Check the addresses of your emails. Ask for commission details. Don’t send money to anyone before checking if it is legit.

(Unrelated to my particular case, but according to some friends, a lot of comm artists receive a percentage after doing the sketch, and the rest after they finish the final piece, to avoid getting scammed)

That’s all, I guess. And I did an initial doodle of the dog, too.

And to think I was so excited. I’m going to be terrified of doing comms, now, fuck.

Fuck you, scammers. Fuck you for taking advantage of us.

And fuck myself for not being careful enough.