#Trafficking/Pimped Out

[msclaritea]

Oscar 2025

Host: “Adam, what are you wearing?”

Adam Sandler: “I like the way I look. Because I’m a good person. I don’t care about what I wear and what I don’t wear.”

Then he stands up, walks in his blue hoodie to hug Timothée Chalamet, who is wearing a yellow COSTUME. "

So, what have I learned from observation of Degenerate Hollywood and its sick traditions?

First off, Timothy Chalamet is most definitely being pimped out, and Kylie Jenner is just another well-paid beard. There is no way in hell that a thirsty little pushover like Chalamet is going to be too intimidating for his people to talk to, as the article, explaining why he lost, implies. He will do anything he is told to, mostly because he really has NO choice. If people go back and look at some of Chalamet's public appearances in recent years, you can see it in his eyes. He catches abuse and what a nice bunch of grown men he hangs out with.

Good old Adam Sandler certainly didn't disappoint. The layers of meaning on him are near genius:

The mocking of tradition and public decorum ala Fetterman and Zelensky; an ongoing attempt to dismantle our societal norms

The Color of the Ukranian flag when paired with Chalamet. Yellow clothing is code for a Trafficked victim

Hood Rat outfit as a shout-out to the recent desperate push of the Music Industry to boost sagging Rap Music sales

Taking center stage as Timothy's Handler or one of his Programmers. The amount of time they've spent together over the years, along with using Chalamet to boost yet another failed project of Sandlers' is a big, red flag

No matter what he does or where he goes, the Academy obviously has Big Ben on the brain, even as they hand out Oscars to former Marvel actors, like cheap candy (shame about Sebastian, tho 😏) They also continue to freeze out and fuck over stronger talent, even at the expense of the increasingly dismal ratings.

Timothy Chalamet's outfit was indeed a subtle throwback to Benedict, playing a Pedophile in Atonement. 'They' nearly always add several meanings into the coding, making it a little more difficult to discern, but as a long time movie buff, this just added to the overall creepiness, for me. I knew there was something familiar about how Timothy was dressed, paired with the Pornstache.

At this point, I really don't think I want to see Benedict get on Oscar. The entire industry and most of the people involved in it are very, very sick. Not one moral man or decent role model is to be found in Hollywood, and that renders it obsolete. For what is there to look up to? Absolutely nothing.

[thewingedwolf]

patron j was already asked to leave bc he was passed out drunk in one of the chairs. as usual he was real polite about it but we were all like j....it's not even 11 yet bud!

[maykitz]

i was reading about that influencer who groomed and trafficked several young women (not andrew tate) and most articles mainly focus on the "exciting" parts of kat torres' fancy lifestyle and the novelty of a beautiful lady pimp, but what stood out to me is that those women very explicitly said that the prostitution laws in texas were a major part of keeping them trafficked. the threat of their own criminalisation and the fact no one could be in any contact with them without risking a felony (letting an 'established prostitute' into your car can be enough) is what prevented them from escaping even after the abuse was so severe the grooming wasn't keeping them at heel anymore. it's been said many times but the way a sex trafficking victim can openly say the state's laws were aiding her trafficker and keeping her in that situation indefinitely if her family's efforts hadn't resulted in being rescued from the outside and it'll still be fully glossed over in all the discourse about the case is nuts. i can't think of a more dire indictment

[swagging-back-to]

ok so thankfully most obgyns do drug tests at least once, and a lot of hospitals drug test the infants when they're born.

[djuvlipen]

i went to a leftist festival last month and there was a panel dedicated to prostitution, why abolition is the only road to go for leftists and how to help and support prostituted women exiting the trade, and i keep thinking about that union organizer who said, "we hear more and more that 'sex work is work', but if that were true, then there'd be professional trainings leading to a qualification for prostitution, then there'd be prostitution diplomas, then high schoolers could send applications to follow those trainings and become prostitutes. but we all know that all these things don't exist, and if they did exist we would all recognize them for what they are: a grooming business encouraging pedophilia and violence against women and girls." and what she said later; "trade unions that argue that 'sex work is work' never engage in legal battles against pimps or brothel owners. they don't even recognize that pimps are the bosses of the prostitution market. "sex workers' trade unions" don't fight pimps because sex workers' unions don't represent the alleged "workers" (prostituted women), they represent the bosses: pimps."

and that made me think of what Kajsa Ekis Ekman said about the trade unions that consider prostitution to be work and prostituted women to be workers: they offer trainings about condom use and spend millions of dollars funding "worker peer education" about "safe sex".

So one again, it's prostituted women who are held responsible for the spreading and the prevention of STDs - not the johns, not the pimps. the prostituted women, many of them victims of sex trafficking. "As human trafficking expert Malka Marcovich has pointed out, this means a return to nineteenth-century ideals of hygiene, where the onus was “primarily on the women to take responsibility for the health of ‘the customer’, so diseases would not be spread to their families” (2007, p. 347)."

It's quite obvious to any trade union organizer that prostitution is not work and the sex trade can't be organized as a trade union. a few months ago, the biggest unions in my country (which included the traditional left-wing trade unions as well as students' unions) issued a paper condemning the 'sex work is work' narrative and the pimp lobbies got so mad about that because they know their strategy isn't working because leftists know what left-wing politics look like and they know women's liberation doesn't come from prostitution. Now it's interesting that the biggest voices of the "sex work is work" movement come from the USA, where the anticapitalist left doesn't exist. American liberals love to pass reactionary politics as revolutionary but not because they are stupid in their own country does it mean they should influence the actually left-wing labour movement in other countries, right?

[radfemmauve]

man: i hate women

reasons (probably):

getting rejected by crush

women won't date them

wives are too occupied with housework/children

women are too emotional/entitled/taken by all the chads

men taking on feminine roles like cooking, cleaning, caring for children, housework.

woman: i hate men

reasons:

girls in third word countries are forced to undergo genitalia mutilation

girls and women are pimped out by men to trafficking rings, forced to be assaulted in humiliation rooms and have non consensual deepfake pornography created by them.

nudes leaked by boyfriend can ruin their career

rights to abortion taken away

casual sexual harassment

[gifti3]

this guy is from House of Horrors, which is a vn story in a dress up game

and he needs to be on this list cause hes great

hes the most interesting guy in the story period

i feel like i need to read a bunch of yandere stuff just so i can make a yandere tierlist

anyone have any manhwa or manga recs???

[willoughbysnettles]

a rant about willoughby and ethel

obviously nettles dropped yesterday and its captivating to say the least, but i feel like despite all the traction I've seen about the lyrics, everyone has kind of brushed over the actual concept of the line 'this was all for you'. in all fairness maybe i missed the hype since i've never heard this before its official release/ didnt listen to it on yt/soundcloud (the only unreleased songs i typically listen to are live house in nebraska and punish demo 2, crying during sex and dust bowl- which, by the way, im going to lose my shit when that drops on the new album) but as i was saying all day that line has been on my mind. ALL of it was for him. all of the pain and suffering she went through. being abused, trafficked, abandoned, pimped out, addicted, literally fucking murdered and cannibalised. none of it would've happened if she had willoughby. and yet, she seemingly isnt bitter. theres no sense of resentment only painful pining that almost kills the listener, like in sun bleached flies as she reflects on her life and is reminded of all the trauma she experienced and is still dreaming of their house in nebraska ,even crying out 'oh willoughby' as she lets go of all the suffering she endured. it just completely rips me apart tbh but that is what true true love does to someone. and i am going to be incredibly insufferable on here and irl up until the album release and afterwards cus i got tour tickets mehehhehe

[shrimpybbq]

imagine fans being sad that there’s no more obx actress!reader and drew after outerbanks finishes…until they get casted in a romcom together…👀

ok so I have this thought that maybe after outer banks finishes, the two of them are the ones with the most prolific careers, and they’re both getting roles in really respected films and shows. but forget romcom, bc the pair both get cast in this big new HBO tv show alongside a bunch of other really famous actors. and what do we know about HBO? that they’re getting down and dirty - the show doesn’t shy away from anything. i’m about to create my own entire tv plotline rn.

i have this headcanon that obx actress!reader plays a really challenging role and people are praising her for the portrayal, so for this instance, let’s say it’s something gritty like a crime drama. drew plays an undercover cop going into a gang or trafficking ring and she plays one of the women being trafficked as a prostitute. the director doesn’t shy away from showing a lot, graphic sex scenes and probs scenes with drug use too (similar to euphoria), and people can’t believe just how good both former ‘teen tv show actors’ can act. maybe drew’s character can’t intervene but he’s falling for the poor girl and there’s just so much angst. we’ve seen drew in a romcom but the angst is where it’s at!!!

think undercover cop secretly beating the shit out of the sleazy guys she is supposed to have sex with, maybe they go on the run later in the season. the pair had kinda tame sex scenes together in outer banks but the ones in this new show together are crazy steamy and the people watching are just like “damn….. hot”

fan edits going crazy talking about ultimate enemies to lovers bc he was having to act like a pimp to her too, but now they’re giving each other heart eyes in the hallway. and if in real life, the pair still hadn’t started dating, well they’re literally never escaping the rumours now

also in my made up tv show pedro pascal is her hot nasty pimp and that’s all i’m gonna say about that hehe

actually feel crazy for this but also zero apologies

[brownwomanisland]

*hits feminist blunt*: I hear a liberal feminist take, i turn that shit off.

No I do not want to hear about how empowering it is for a majorly childhood traumatized group of girls to be prostituted women. People love "sex work" takes until you tell them to watch this video about sex trafficking in the Dominican Republic and these parents are pimping out their little girls and boys to these white colonizer rapists. How very empowering that they expressed a desire to find other work to not do it anymore.

Using the language of "sex work" gives rapists impunity to hide behind.

Look at these little girls and boys as their piece of shit parents exploit them and their bodies. No child deserves that.

Title: "Selling sex: underage victims of sex tourists in the Dominican Republic" by Unreported World.

[radfemyjasdottir]

The Truth and My Truth of Sex Trafficking

I’m so so tired of having to explain what sex trafficking actually is. It is not a suburban white woman being kidnapped in a Target parking lot, or little kids in suburban America being randomly taken off the street, zip tied in a van. It’s not what these idiotic Christian right winged vegetables have propagandized and profited off of in media.

What it IS, is teen girls and young women being coerced into doing sex work. It’s prostitutes with pimps, or porn actors with agents. It’s escort and porn agencies reaching out and roping girls in through their social media account messages and forcing them into contracts. It’s boyfriends making their girlfriends have sex with other men for money.

But of course, we don’t focus on that. Instead we blame survivors for being too stupid, or signing up to do it, or it wasn’t really that bad, etc. This is why I hate when women glamorize OF and porn because it’s not glamorous, it’s sex trafficking. It’s rape. The patriarchal media has made it so that sex trafficking isn’t this, but is actually mythical legends that rarely ever happen. That way, women’s bodies can still be used for profit. After all, they’re grown women, even at 18, so who cares right?

I’m so so so tired of having to explain this to people. And I’m tired of being shut down, minimized and having my trauma invalidated.

[cynassa]

we were twenty for such a short time

Nightwing found him. It unnerved him, because he hadn't expected to. Red Hood was sitting on a crumbling ledge, helmet off, cigarette stuck in the corner of his mouth. He didn't look like he was out of his mind, or going to go for a gun or knife.

"Why'd you do it?" Nightwing asked, carefully maneuvering himself out of the way of the heavy-looking desk that could be flung at him.

Red Hood grunted. "Don't suppose you've got antiseptic in there somewhere?"

Nightwing shrugged, letting it ripple all over him, where, it should be eminently clear, there was no place for a first-aid kit.

"Figures," Red Hood muttered.

Nightwing set his hip against the wall, not close enough to get in range of Hood's vicious front kick, but close enough to throw an electrified escrima stick at him if necessary. Black Bat was ten minutes away, as was Robin with the Batmobile. Ideally they would get this sorted before Batman was finished and could become involved. He just had to stall for ten - no, nine minutes now. With an on-edge Hood who had killed - no, executed - executed three people.

Hood nodded at the table.

Nightwing raised an eyebrow.

"Why I did it," Hood said. "Since you asked. I'd offer tea and scones with 'em but whoopsy, seems like I'm all out."

A quick flick of his eyes showed three neat nondescript folders. He'd have to put his back to Hood to read them.

Eight minutes.

"Not much of a reader, me," Nightwing drawled. "Why don't you give me the Sparknotes version?"

Hood snorted. He finally lit the cigarette. "Cappello's wife begged me to," he said.

Nightwing tensed.

"Had a porn ring, she said. He's a cop though, so she couldn't get away. Then her girl got old enough to contribute and she just wanted him dead," he said, sounding... exhausted. "Watson was a pimp too. The women told me that he was okay for a bit and then he got greedy and things got worse. Tried putting the fear of Hood into him at first but he'd heard that I was with the Bats, so he just beat them to shut them up after I left. Had some Family connections too, FBI fuckers wouldn't touch him."

He stopped, took a puff at his cigarette.

Seven minutes

Dick was abruptly tired. The Rogues were one thing. But this. These horrors of America's crime capital were unending. A man could die trying to hold them up.

"And Stewart? He was in jail," Dick said.

Jason smoked his cigarette slowly. It was a Marlboro Red Long. Still the same cigarette.

Six minutes

"Stewart, Danny M.," Jason said. "He'd been in juvie, you know? Got off after three months on 'count of good behavior. Kept the connections though. Plenty of connections in his jail too, enough to keep his little racket in the juvies running. And who cares if some street rat with a record goes missing from time to time. Mayor probably called it housekeeping when he took the money from him."

"And so it's got to be you who actually cleans house instead?" Dick asked, wishing he could throw his sticks at Jason, wishing he could put them down and- and?

"Who else do they got?" Jason asked, squinting at Dick. "I tried doing it the other way for a bit, y'know," he said, almost sympathetically.

"Right," Dick said. "For all of five minutes."

Five minutes

Jason shrugged. "Bit more'n that. But yeah, people would come to me and beg me to help them, rescue them, and I'd get these fuckers sent to places that would -- like, pedos don't last long in jail, y'get me? Or sometimes I'd just bribe the jail catering to give them something. But then people stopped being afraid of me, and it all got worse. Twice the effort for less than half the results. I didn't have any control over the trades here anymore, arms trafficking had gone up, they'd started human trafficking again."

Jason had just been killing people anyway. Of course he had.

"You thought that was the other way? Bribing other people to kill..." Dick wanted to bash his face in. "You thought that was right?"

"I'm not the one who does the right thing," Jason said. "That's on you, Big Bird. I'm just the one filling in the gaps the light doesn't reach."

"That's an easy fucking excuse," Dick bit out.

Four minutes

"All these people suffering, and I was sitting with my thumbs up my ass because I wanted a family, while they were losing theirs, how was that right?" Jason continued, like he hadn't heard Dick. "I'd been brought back to do one job, and I couldn't do it, because I was desperate to--" there was a tear at the end of one eye.

"That's not-" Dick gasped, "this isn't what you were brought back for! That's not true."

Jason shook his head. "You don't know that. You don't know how I was brought back."

"Neither do you!" Dick snarled at this nonsense, now wishing he really had just bashed his head in.

"Nah, but I know what it was for," Jason said, oddly peaceable. "I know what I gotta do, and then I can die."

"You can still stop," Dick pleaded, afraid suddenly, of something he couldn't name.

Three minutes

"Nah," Jason said, sad but placid. "There ain't no way but this for me anymore. Sorry, Big Bird. I'll miss you though. I'll miss most of you, I think."

"And now I've got to bring you in," Dick said, voice cracking. "Did you think of that? That now I've got to-"

"Can't let you do that, 'm afraid, still got a job to do," Jason said, half-smile on his face, turning to him finally, pushing off the ledge and moving forward, dropping the cigarette on the table.

Two minutes

Dick squeezed his sticks but didn't raise them. Jason moved swiftly, grabbing his face roughly and leaning down - because he was taller now, because he wasn't the little wing yearning to reach five foot, because he had died - to roughly kiss Dick's forehead. "Take care of yourself, Robin," he whispered and then shoved Dick back.

Dick had tensed in preparation but was still shoved back by Jason's sheer strength. By the time he leapt forward, Jason had thrown himself out of the window. The red Bat wasn't on his armor anymore.

Dick glanced out of the window just long enough to see Jason tumbling into a red moving truck. Then he sensed something and abruptly looked up to see the cigarette had lit up the files unnaturally well, as if they already had a flammable coating. This seemed to trigger some other mechanism, and the building slowly started going down - making a groaning noise as if in warning.

One minute

Dick unhooked his grapple and dived out, landing lightly on the Batmobile as the building slowly but surely came crashing down, so thoroughly destroyed that there was no way anything could be rebuilt again.

I give you back 1948.   

I give you all the years from then

to the coming one. Give me back the moon   

with its frail light falling across a face.

Give me back my young brother, hard

and furious, with wide shoulders and a curse   

for God and burning eyes that look upon   

all creation and say, You can have it.

[a-griffin-in-the-sky]

My first apartment was next to a street men joked about, because it was known for sex trafficked women. I had to walk to the bus stop in 30-degree weather, passing women standing out there in their underwear.

Two motels nearby, trucks parked out front I knew exactly what was happening. I saw it. It was horrifying. And the fact that men can see that and still laugh? That’s what’s truly sick

The only thing people should be joking about on that street is the guy who climbed the Krispy Kreme sign butt naked.

“lI want every pimp, john, and loverboy to know I hope one day another Wuornos finds you.l, you deserve no peace.

I’m glad I’m off that street now, in a better place with good family and roommates. But those women are still there. Just because I don’t see it anymore doesn’t mean it isn’t still happening. It never stopped it’s just out of sight

So when I say support sex workers, I mean it. We need to help them, i mean really help them,in whatever way we can.

Support doesn’t mean paying for the right to rape someone without resistance. Real support means fighting for their safety, freedom, and humanity.

I’ve seen a YouTube channel run by a man who films these women standing on the street and exploits them online for views. The comments are disgusting and dehumanizing.

And if you know that street, then you know what I’m talking about. You’ve seen it and It’s not a rumor or a punchline men make it out to be, it’s real. And the women out there deserve more than our silence.

Question for radfems:

Is there a street like this where you live?

If so, how do you feel about it,

How do the men in your community talk about it?

[beardedhotchner]

El Tango De Roxanne

(Part 1 of Spencer Reid x Prostitute!Reader)

Part 2

A/N: You all voted. And I provide. This is Part One of the series! Not alot of Spencer interaction for this first chapter. But i promise its leading somewhere!! I hope you enjoy, Amia xxx

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Prostitute!Reader

Summary: Songfic inspired by El Tango de Roxanne - Reader is a prostitute and worries her pimp will kill Spencer if he knows they've fallen in love. Reader has to push Spencer away, but he's too busy getting upset that she might be having sex with someone other than him.

T/W: Prostitution, trafficking (?), physical abuse, sexual abuse, reclamation of Reader's body(she reclaims herself and her wants),

Background: Spencer and Reader met in a elevator in a hotel the team were staying in. He didn't realise she was a hooker until after but he never made her feel bad about it. She felt seen for once in her life. Spencer began to pay for evenings with her, just talking at first, then Reader asks to go further, wanting something for the first time in her life. They began to date, their meetings still hiding under payments from Spencer.

Getting the short text was standard by now, no frills or faff, you should know that.

Saint Marcus, 103, morning.

It wasn't very difficult to decode. Hotel Saint Marcus. Room 103. You'd be there all night till tomorrow morning. Must be someone important if they could afford all night with you. That wasn't a brag. Just that you knew you were a more highclass type of prostitute. No alleyway blow jobs. No standing on a corner of a rough street waiting for anyone to pull up next to you.

No. You had matured from that. When you were barely 16, it was different. Business men and governers weren't willing to be seen with a young girl. But now? At 25, they couldn't care less. Old enough that it wasn't multiple felons if we were caught, young enough to have that innocence they all craved.

Even if they could barely hold on for a few minutes whilst with you, they were more than happy to pay the full time, buying your silence. You almost felt sorry for them. Almost.

Pulling up to the hotel in your pimp's car, he shot you a veiled threat, again like always. Reginald (aka Reggie, to the younger girls, and Reg, to you, "his favourite girl") was a tall, dark, and handsome man. Impatient. Messy. Not in his appearance but more the way he handles things. Quick. Impulsive. But calculated. Over the years, under his "care," you had noticed his pattern. He acts aloof, makes you trust his intentions. You keep on his good side, you only see that. You stray, or you make too many easy mistakes? Or god forbid, a client refuses to pay? Reg doesn't let that stand. That's when the fire comes out, that dark side he hides so well with well timed jokes and his handsome face.

"Don't fuck it up, Angel." Reg says, his eyes meeting yours in the mirror. Shiver going down your spine, the girl next to you stares at him wide eyed. You didn't need to reply, but you did, showing her she didnt need to be scared. It was something he liked about you: your brazen attitude. It was also something he despised, too. But for now, he was in a good mood, easy smile on his face.

"Of course, Reg. Can't expect nothin' less from your angel." You took the young girls hand, both of you blowing a kiss to Reggie. Letting his security guard open the door, you step out delicately with the grace of years practising behind you. Callie, the young girl now beside you, was less graceful. New to the job, she wouldn't usually be given a client like this. However, arriving together made her less noticeable. Similar in looks, you could pass as sisters, so Reg decided for her to come with you. Gave you both a backstory without having to think too hard.

You approached the desk with confidence. Callie in a soft mini skirt and blazer, lined with big clunky jewellery, trembled softly. You speak loud and clear, your tailored little black dress and your designer bags adding to the look you tried to project. No, of course you weren't whores. You belonged here. "Hello. Two rooms were booked for us. Both under Ms Vivaldi. 103 and 106."

The receptionist nods, sliding two keys to you, "103 and 106..." She began to rattle off the complimentary activities and things in the hotel, "....free continental breakfast and a swim up bar in our main outside pool." Only the last two piqued your interest, making a short note of them in case your client was a heavy sleeper. That way, you could sneak out to breakfast and for a swim before Reg come to get you both.

Callie shook in the elevator ride, her voice hushed and scared, "What do I do? I'm so used to the corner." She was a liability. And you knew it. Reggie was testing your loyalty. Would you choose a fellow whore or the man that protects you? You know what he wants you to choose, that's why your voice is kind but steady.

"Stop it." You raise an eyebrow at her, giving her a moment to slow her breathing before continuing, "He'll be expecting you to do well. So do it. Hold your head up high. It's the same here as if it was a motel, babe." You gave her hand a small squeeze, youre voice dropping to a whisper, "Reg is good at this. He'll give you an easy start." She nods, but you can tell she doesn't believe you. It's too late though. The doors open and you're at our floor. "You're okay." You mutter. You walk together down the hall, finding your rooms with ease.

Waiting until Callie is at her door, you smile softly before you both step into your rooms. You look around the room, seeing no sign of life. No bags. No shoes. The bathroom door is open and you can see there's no one there... As if by magic you're phone goes off with a text.

How's a night off sound? X

You chuckle as you realise what has happened. Your incredibly sexy and smart boyfriend has booked you for the night. Although, technically he was miles away from you doing his job, Spencer Reid had made sure you didn't spend your usual date night in someone else's arms.

You're son of a bitch. X

You love me for it. X

For a man usually so incredible with words, when it came to you, he got tongue tied. Even just over text, the man was crazy about you. And you, him.

You had tried to keep to your rules. You dont kiss on the lips, too intimate. You dont take any drugs, food or drink they offer you, easiest way to be trafficked or worse... You don't fall for clients, too messy. You don't let them buy you gifts, they think you owe them or they own you. You kept to your rules. They made it possible to do this job. And after 9 years, it was impossible to not have some form of emotional protection for yourself.

But Spencer.... Spencer tore it all down. He buys you things he spots. Anything that reminds him of you, and he never expected anything back. You had let Spencer buy you dinner, make you drinks. He would never drug you, so you trusted him. Falling for him... now, that started slowly. Loving him felt as natural as the rain. Light drips when you met and just talked for hours in hotel rooms just like this. Then the drips got heavier, you kissed him, properly, like no other man. You were caught in a beautiful storm when you first slept together. The swirling of emotions like wind. Your raindrops falling around you both, encasing you in.

He was the thunder. You were the lightening. It didn't matter how far apart you were. Coming back together was always just as intense.

Envelope is on the pillow. X

You find it straight away, a chunky envelope filled with cash, paying for your company tonight. Even if he wasn't actually here. You smiled softly, typing out your reply.

That's so sweet, Spence. When do you think you'll be home? X

You didn't live with Spencer, as much as he wanted you too. You couldn't risk it. It was much easier to keep your crappy rundown apartment that Reg found for you. You couldn't afford to move in with Spencer and contribute meaningfully. Not that Spence would ever care. That man would bend heaven and earth for you.

If it was his choice, you'd be at his apartment, his little housewife. No soliciting, no clients, no worries. He would take care of you. You wanted that. You did. But you couldn't risk his safety... Reg wouldn't give you up easily, and if Spencer bought you from him, bought your freedom... it would just feel like history repeating itself. From one owner to another.

Soon, my love. We wrapped up the case tonight, we're on the jet, about an hour away from landing. X

You felt your inside go gooey at his use of the petname and couldn't help the blush spreading across your face. Finally kicking off your heels and sitting down on the plush bed, you peeled off your dress, chucking it to the floor.

Does that mean you might have time to meet me here? Take advantage of your nude girlfriend in a big hotel room? X

You knew Spencer was blushing at his phone, even when you couldn't see him. You loed to tease him. But disappointment fills your stomach when his next message appears on screen.

Not tonight, love. As much as I would love to, I've gotta deal with paperwork before I get to go home. I'm sorry. X

Okay. No problem. X

You were upset, but not at Spencer. More yourself for getting your hopes up. However you now had an entire night to yourself. So hopefully you'll get some rest and maybe sneak in a swim tommorow morning before breakfast. Then you and Callie would be out of here in the back of Reg's car.

You tucked yourself away in the sheets on the bed, sighing as the soft mattress enveloped you.

I miss you. Let me know you landed safe. I'm going sleep now. X

I miss you more. Sleep tight. I'll let you know when I'm back at home too. X

You're awoken by loud banging on your hotel door. Wrapping a sheet around yourself, you check the peephole before opening the door. Callie stood there, with tears streaked down her face, Reginald behind her, his grip on her arm sure to leave bruises.

"Bastard tried to strangle her to death and leave without paying." Reg shoves her forward by her arm. "Calm her down." He didn't need to say much more. He trusted you to make sure she wasn't going to freak out and run to the police. Him and "his men" would be out looking for the punk that thought he could do this to one of Reggie's Girls. You were quickly to catch Callie, holding her up with one arm, the other holding up your sheet. Reg chucked you his credit card, barking an order to eat something, before turning on his heel and stalking down the hall. He wasn't stupid, he only trusted two people other than himself with his card. You and his favourite person, his daughter, Lexi. You only got trusted with it because every opportunity he gave you to run, you stayed. Most girls would see an out and try to escape. You didn't, you were smarter than that. Any chance for escape was always a test of loyalty. Reg liked that you weren't the type to run, that why you were his Angel. And the other girls were just that: other girls.

Shutting the door behind Reg and his security, you pulled Callie to your now messy bed, "Let me see?" you ask gently, reaching to guide her hands away from her neck. She nods, her hands finding yours. Your hands were delicate, moving her head side to side as you checked over her skin. Red marks on her neck, sure to bruise up soon. Small red lines from strained blood vessels in her face. Red eyes. Scratch marks on her neck as if she's clawed at her clients. No. Her attacker's hands.

You order you both some food using the small hotel phone. Once you're done, you hear her ask, "Is he mad at me?" Her voice was tiny, her eyes wide... almost innocent but marred with the same haunted look you girls all do. Her hands still cling to your left, your right holding her cheek.

"No. He's not mad at you." You weren't lying. Not this time. Reggie wouldn't take this out on Callie, he'd be annoyed but not mad. "He's pissed off that someone hurt you and ran off without paying. He's not mad at you. But..." You paused, you liked Callie. So you wanted to help her react to Reg right. To make him see her as more than a warm body, like he did with you. "When he comes back, look at the ground by his feet. Don't cry but look sad. Bite your lip and apologise. Say 'I'm sorry this happened to you, sir.' Even though this isn't your fault. Reg will... well he'll prefer it if you look upset, like you're mad at yourself for disappointing him." Callie nods, from what you can tell, she takes it on board. She knows you rarely give advice on Reggie's mannerisms.

"Thank you," She smiles softly at you, squeezing your hands before she let's go. You pull on some clean underwear and a dress from your bag, you know Reg likes. Dropping the sheet back on the bed, you pull the dress on, fixing your hair and doing your makeup. Callie realises your idea, and follows suit, covering the marks up as best she can with your help. You hold the door open as a bellboy brings in your breakfast. As soon as he leaves, you both dig in. "This better?" She asks, moving her head so you can inspect her neck.

"Perfect. Reg will want us to pack up and be ready to leave." Callie nods, eating quickly. She wasn't used to such treatment from Reggie. She was used to being dumped on a street corner.

You were once like her, then you started learning his patterns: knowing who he trusts, what he loves, what to avoid. His favourite color is red. So you wear his favourite red dress to calm him down. You curl your hair the way he likes, subtle makeup, not too heavy. You know he notices when he steps back into the room, his hand finds a place on your hip. You hand him your envelope and Reg nods, he doesn't bother counting it. Just pulls out a chunk and hands it too you. It's more than you're usual cut and he smirks at your reaction. "Reg, I can't-"

He cuts you off with a flick of his hand, turning to Callie, "Bastard was found. Got the money back. He got a beating for hurting one of my girls." He hand goes to cup her face and you see her look to the floor, following your earlier instructions.

"I'm sorry this happened to you, sir." Reg nods, taking her obedience as a good sign. His eyes look to you and he knows you've taken Callie under your wing. A small smirk plays at his lips, his arm goes around Callie, a gesture he usually saves for you. You smile at him warmly, as if thanking him. He squeezes Callies hip gently, urging her to walk with him. You nod to her when her eyes find you.

Reg leads you both out of the hotel and if by some kind of divine intervention, several SUVs and police cars wait for you in the street. Callie reaches for you and you two cower away from the masses as Reg is forced into cuffs. Several of his team sit in the back of cop cars and Callie trembles next to you. And as if your morning couldn't get any worse, before Reg is out of earshot, your name is called out from a crowd of agents in vests.

Several pairs of eyes turn to you: first, Reg's harsh ones, Callie's full of betrayal, the confused agents crowding around what you can now see is Spencer Reid. You're almost horrified as you realise.

Your boyfriend has just arrested your pimp.

Fuck.

[calsyee]

okay but how has no one pointed out the obvious lie in armand's little diatribe about all the coven members he's had sex with, yet?

like, book!armand was an abuse victim trafficked into sex work. he is obviously used to his sexuality and his beauty being used to hurt and degrade him — and that the label of "wh*re" can be worn like armor if he tries to jump in front of people's assumptions.

armand has spent the entire show so far playing and performing for daniel, but the second daniel edges toward mocking armand's sexual history, armand reacts by leaning into what he thinks daniel will perceive him as — he plays the whore again, his very first role.

like it's even evident in the way he builds up the diatribe, starting with fucking a white man, then being bisexual, and then finishing with the incestuous threesome — he's trying to make himself seem more terrible so that it hurts less when daniel is inevitably disgusted with him.

so yeah, I genuinely don't think armand's had sex with any of these people. not even santiago.

(Also, the interplay of Armand, the ex-sex-worker, in love with Louis, the ex-pimp, is sosososo interesting to me, but I don't know if I have the knowledge base to discuss it appropriately.)

[radfemmauve]

im going to be real because this has bothering me for a while

but i was going through some my followers post out of curiosity and found this:

s tier victim blaming right here.

women HAVE been fighting for liberation for thousands and thousands of years. but because of men/the patriarchy and the fact that so many horrific, ruthless men have been in places in power and forbid women from doing anything under threats of being exiled (because if she HAD power she couldn't influence others) or death (self explanatory.)

women in the past didn't have access to abortion healthcare and were forced to take care of other men. they were seen as lesser then and were kept in the house by abusive husbands. but that didn't stop them from ever trying for themselves and other women from where they were.

so shut up. stop victim blaming women who either faced death, or full on banishment or didn't have a voice because of the violence men have imposed upon us. we HAVE BEEN FIGHTING FOR LIBERATION. for thousands and thousands of years and now that we finally have the voice to do so we spread our influence to other people.

i had to block that follower because what the fuck. it's like saying a pimped woman is as bad as her trafficker.