#and why in the long run they don't matter

[a-b-riddle]

Part Five

Can't stop thinking about the attempt of reconciliation and reader ain't having it. Our girl is going to be wilddddd y'all. Also goodnight. See y'all tomorrow (maybe)

You call Meredith when you get home.

You. Are. Fuming. She's not sure she can ever remember a time you using so many swear words at one time.

How fucking dare them? Immature? You're the immature one? You were the one trying your best to salvage four failing relationship meanwhile none of those assholes could be bothered to try and keep one. They had one person to manage: you.

"I wanna go out this weekend." "Wear something tight and borderline risk indecent exposure."

"You know what I always say," Meredith begins. "The best way to get over someone-"

"is to get under someone else." You finish. You weren't exactly keen on the idea of bringing someone to your bed just yet, but a little attention would do you some good. "I don't want to fuck someone just yet." You admitted. "I'm more on the getting drunk and making out."

"I didn't know we resorted back secondary school heavy petting?" She teased.

"University, Dear." You corrected. "I didn't peak until after I graduated."

"No." She argued. "You didn't put your books down long enough to realize that boys actually wanted to fuck you." You were glad she couldn't see you roll your eyes. "Saturday work for you? I have a late night Friday and won't be up for it."

"That works."

"Sorry." She apologized. "I plan on getting you absolutely smashed so I need to be ready to play the nanny. I know how you love to get drunk and run off."

It was true. You had always found it hilarious when you were drunk to just run. Quite literally run away. It got to a point during university where Meredith would handcuff you to her so you didn't stray.

"I won't run." Your sober mind promised.

"Uh huh." Meredith's tone told you that she knew that was a load of shit. "I'll text Tabs. Let her know the plan."

The next day at the shop was pretty uneventful. No more unexpected visitors. You still had them all blocked. Not caring if now they decided to offer up some bullshit apology.

Months. This had been a steady decline for six months. A text or a simply sorry won't fix this. You weren't sure anything could.

But it didn't matter. You were done and they obviously were too.

You had picked up enough take out to feed a family, but you didn't plan on making your lunch before work or cooking when you got home. The rest of the week you planned on just going through the motions until you could go out Saturday and hopefully get everything out.

You weren't paying attention as you walked down the hallway to your flat. Fishing in your purse for keys. You were at almost at your door when you saw him.

Sitting next to your door was a familiar face. A face you felt you haven't seen in forever.

“What are you doing here, Kyle?" Your voice was flat as you continued to blindly try and find your keys with one hand. Fuck. You really need to clean out your purse...

“My key wouldn’t work.” He explained. "So I’m out here.”

"I'm aware why you're not in my apartment since I changed the locks," you said, trying to keep your irritation at bay. "What I am asking is why did you come here?"

"You won't return any of our messages."

"You're all blocked, so technically I didn't really get any messages." "Besides, you don't get to complain to me about not responding to texts, Kyle Garrick." Your fingers finally wraps around them. God bless. "If you're here for your things, it'll have to wait. I have to sort through everyone's shit and I don't know whose is whose."

"We need to talk." He explains as you put the key into the lock, opening the door.

"Nah," you say scrunching your nose in that way he used to adore. "I'm good. But you can swing by tomorrow and pick up your things if you'd like." You say before trying to shut the door on him. You were stupid in thinking you could be faster than him.

Dammit.

"I know things haven't been good and I've definitely could have been better,'' he admits. "But can you at least try and let us apologize? Let us try and work it out."

"No." You answered, trying to close the door. Not caring if you had to resort to kicking his shins to get him out.

"Why not?" He countered.

“Maybe because I've already tried, Kyle?” You gave up on trying to shut him out. You were strong, but he didn't have any issues in besting you. “Because I actually tried with you. With all of you. You didn’t need to come here giving me excuses about your life being hectic because I’ve made the excuses for you.” You didn't miss how he practically flinched. He had always blamed his busy life. Family. Work. You stopped caring about whatever excuse he gave you and realized it was just that. An excuse. “I’ve been telling myself for months that everything you guys didn’t do for me wasn’t because you didn’t care about me. It was because of the stress of your deployments is the reason none of you tell me when you get back from until it’s time to fuck. I tell myself it’s because of the fucked up situation of me being with all of you that makes it awkward to meet your families. Families you all have that I now know I’m not worthy of meeting.” He wanted to correct you. You were. You were worthy. He was an idiot. “It’s not that I need your excuses to make me feel like what you did was justified. No matter what it was, it was apparently to you because you did it.”

He took a step back, processing everything you had said. He had been selfish. You were the reliable constant in his life. Someone he believed he never disappointed. Someone he couldn't disappoint no matter how many times he fucked up.

You took the opportunity to slam the door. Quickly turning the lock before he had a chance to open it back up.

God...

That felt good.

You had spent that evening collecting their thing in case Kyle did show back up tomorrow. You wouldn't make their lives easier by sorting all their shit and organizing it. Everything. One box. Let them figure it out. You almost had a mind to add a shirt that you knew didn't belong to any of them just to have them argue over it. Or least make them think there was someone else...

You were almost tempted if not for the premise that you wanted them to realize this was their fault. Their fuck up. But now that you were officially all broken up, you were free game.

[sunnyswide]

Murderer POLY 141 🔪 x Oblivious Female Reader

NSFW/MDNI (sexual activities and sexual themes)

Instead of military.. Why not just a bunch of fucking murders.

To you, it seemed so odd that they would show up at the most convenient of times. Nonetheless, you were mighty grateful for the help. For the quick fix-up on your car. The multitude of groceries you had. The short-lived stalker you never heard from again. The drunken who suddenly approached you late at dusk, but also got taken care of quite swiftly. The fruitful amount of cash that was hidden under piles of junk in the drawer. They were a bit tinted with red… Chalking that up to “Oh I must have put that there” even though you had no recollection.

But to them, it was all fun and games. Who'd be first caught or who'd be the last one standing?

Gaz was just so kind, inviting you to every opportunity for tea or snack breaks. You’re surprised when he tells you he lives at the complete opposite side of town.

“Thats an hour away Gaz! Isn't it exhausting?”

“Not at all, I have work here.”

He lies theough his teeth but hey? Isn't it all lies around here. As long as your adorable mind doesn't realize.. It won't hurt. Just like the many times he takes you to where he resides, eyes staring at the two of you.

Course you’re scared, but he promises it's because they’re not too keen with visitors. Not realizing the multitude of people don't seem to be glaring at you. But at him.

You don't ask questions and go along with it. Letting him lead you to his apartment that seemed to be barely lived in.. But it doesn't matter after he Fucks those pretty thoughts out of your mind. Making you see stars as he finishes inside of you for the third time.

But Price isn't that open. He keeps the conversation entertaining but reveals absolutely nothing about himself as he listens to you talk.

He loves the expressions you make, your lips pouting when you talk about the scary days you had over the week because of some weird stalker.

“I promise! There is someone following me!”

“Then why don’t you let me take you home”

He walks you home every night the two of you go out. The one day he doesn't, you swear you could hear an extra pair of footsteps. Looking around deliriously you opt for a run instead, going through alleyways and shortcuts. Until you accidentally bump into someone, causing you to trip over your feet.

“Gah! Sorry!”

You look up to see Price! He looked shocked at first but soon composed himself, taking your hand in his.

“Dont be sorry”

He smiles gently, kissing the top of your forehead while you burst into soft sobs. You swear you saw something.. Or someone else behind him. On the floor? Maybe it was your imagination..

He takes you home but you beg him to stay the night.

“Can you stay?..”

He holds you tight, pressing his fingers deeper into your hips. This only leads to an excuse to fuck you on his cock as an “apology” for scaring you. He whispers sweet nothings to you as he overstimulates your dripping cunt, making you cockwarm him even after cumming.

But after meeting Ghost and Soap, the perfect self-proclajmed duo, you couldn’t help but find yourself attracted. They were a mix of dark humor and wholesome dad jokes.

They invite you for a quick drink as friends. Friends that sit too close to each other.. Ghost insisting you sit in the middle as Soap drapes an arm around your waist, pouring you more and more Alcohol you didn’t want to drink.

Sooner or later the “fun” was coming to an end as you try to stand up, toppling over Ghost’s lap. They chuckle at your vulnerable state, taking it up as a reason to carry you back home. Of course this attracting other drunken dudes to come up to them asking them where they think they’re going.

“Cmoonnnn, We can all have a piece of that”

Soap smirks.. He was damn happy they even asked.

“Why not gentlemen”

But you didn't see what happened after as Ghost drove you back to his place with Soap after the quick charade. Soap smelled a bit.. Odd.. His hands covered in a.. Red substance.

“Just wine luv”

A few minutes later you sobered up quite quickly, surprised even though you drank so much. But hey no hangover!

And as a thank you they happily ate you out. Getting Fucked by both of them at once felt.. Ruthless. Your clit brimmed with overstimulation as Simon rubbed circles over it and your mouth forced wide open as Soap shoved his shaft deeper and deeper.

You sobbed quietly into the pillow as Soap rammed his Dick into your sopping cunt, relieved for the pounding to stop until Ghost took his time teasing your entrance. Making you gasp..

“Fu..ck.. Wai-wait”

Begging? Uselsss.

He didn't mind you screaming for him to stop. Overestimation turned into torture for your pussy. Brutilized after just one night, you’d had to come back to them for more right?

But it wasn't much of your choice to come back.

[fuckmyskywalker]

𝐇𝐢𝐭𝐦𝐚𝐧!𝐀𝐧𝐚𝐤𝐢𝐧 𝐬𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐬 - 𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐈: 𝐌𝐨𝐭𝐢𝐯𝐞𝐬 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐤𝐬.

Summary: A week of chaos. From the end to the very beginning. You find yourself in the darkness, remembering how the light touched your skin first. When you fly too close to the sun...

CW: 18+. dead dove do not eat, non-con, gun play, knife play, knife riding, death threats, dirty talk, dark content. | word count: 3.3k

a/n: Hope you enjoy it! DNI if you don't like the topics listed and DNI if you are a minor. Happy riding!

Hitman!Anakin series.

"𝘉𝘶𝘵 𝘱𝘭𝘦𝘢𝘴𝘦 𝘨𝘳𝘢𝘯𝘵 𝘮𝘦 𝘫𝘶𝘴𝘵 𝘢 𝘴𝘮𝘢𝘭𝘭 𝘱𝘪𝘦𝘤𝘦 𝘰𝘧 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘭𝘢𝘴𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘮𝘦𝘳𝘤𝘺."

Sunday. 16th.

Comically, he could argue with any soul that crossed the empty streets that life doesn’t have a price. He could laugh at the soft-spoken, naive answer of self-value, laced with the dumb kindness of human nature. Humans are kind by nature, or that’s what idealists say; what— a sane person, he thinks— would say is that humans are selfish by nature, the realistic approach.

Since the start of times, the number two has been sacred. There are two worlds to join in the afterlife: Heaven and hell. Two deities to recognize: God and the Devil. Two spectrums: Good and bad. Two cycles: Day and night… and two options: To kill, or get killed. 

It could also be described as a constant phrase he learned while growing up: “The strong one will eat the weak one”, eight words haunting him like the plague, following him and patting his shoulder at every failure, and congratulating him at every success. Strength equals power, money equals power, intelligence equals power… but can a man have it all without losing his mind? Or perhaps he is just getting philosophical when he shouldn’t. Unlocking the windows with ease as his mind races with the never-ending turmoil of an unfair life, edging him to do unfair jobs, and win dirty money. 

Although Anakin Skywalker has learned that some hot dish soap helps clean the blood stains over dollar signs.

Twisting the knife— an anxious habit— Anakin stands beside your bed, watching your immobile boy. There’s a soft smile plastered on your face, you must be having a nice dream… too bad it won’t last long. Leaning down, the tip of the knife dances over your neck, careful— careful. Not yet. Those aren’t his instructions. Although his boss never specified the in-betweens. 

His lips ghost over the shell of your ear, raising goosebumps in your slumber. Your skin is aware of the intruder, the instincts kicking in. “Hey,” His voice is barely audible, but his warm breath sends a jolt of adrenaline like a lethal injection directly into your veins. “Wake up.”

Your eyes shoot open, body jolting forward only to be pushed back by the knife against your throat and his gloved hand over your face. There’s no need to use brutal force, it’s easy to fuel your fear; blue eyes staring into yours through the holes of the black ski mask. He can tell you are shaking— in fact, he can see it. 

“Don’t move, don’t try to scream. If you do, I’ll slice your throat from ear to ear. Smiley face, that’s why I like to call that,” He chuckles when he sees you shivering. Oh, to be the strong one grants him with a power that makes him feel alive. Who cares about repercussions when simple acts and sighs like your tears make him feel immortal? “Do I make myself clear?”

You nod weakly. Every fiber of your being is yelling at you to run, to push him and throw him everything within your reach but you can’t move. Your body is paralyzed and for the first time in your privileged life, you realize something frightening. When he pulls back and lets go of you, the loud exhale that escapes your lungs pleasures him even further. Good. Everything is going according to plan.

It doesn’t matter how much money you have. You can die just like anyone else. 

“See, I can imagine you already know why I am here,” Anakin continues, chuckling when you shake your head. “No? Uh, I thought you’d be smarter. Well, I guess money can’t buy intelligence.”

Your eyes flicker to his wrist, watching him twist the knife. At least he isn’t all over you. How can a human be so calm while toying with another’s future? As if it wasn’t a delicate situation, as if money was everything in the world— pathetic. 

Stuttering, you run toward the only option your brain knows. “I’ll d–double the price. I’ll triple it,” Your legs move, hanging them on the edge of your tall bed. Anakin arches an eyebrow, he could’ve killed you for moving. Yet, he is somewhat interested in your offer. “I can pay much more than whoever hired you.”

“Oh, really?” Anakin laughs. It’s a cold, bitter laugh. There is no humor in it. Only cruelty. “And what makes you think money was the only thing I got paid with?”

“Who hired you?”

He laughs again. It has been seconds since you heard him laugh for the first time and you loathe the sound already. “That’s for me to know and for you to find out, darling. Or maybe I’m lying. Maybe it’s just like the movies and I get a mystery envelope with money and your name. Would that make you feel better?”

He is definitely mocking you, which normally would raise your anger and bring out the worst in you— right now it seems like a bad choice. Anakin can’t blame you for questioning, every victim does, sometimes he grants them their wish— when they aren’t that important— sometimes he just does the job, hoping they die with their doubts as their last thought. Your life's on the line, it must be the first time someone has pierced your little bubble… so yeah, he can’t blame you. 

“Please don’t kill me, I’ll… I’ll do anything.”

There it is. Classic. His favorite words. Anything means anything. Everything is fair in love and war— everything is fair at gunpoint. “Anything?’ He repeats. “It’s not like I haven’t heard that one before.” His sarcastic tone flies over your head. You cannot pay attention to anything else besides the ringing in your eardrums and the palpitations of your heart. 

Anakin finds great joy in fueling the terror in your soul. It is something he wasn’t exactly born with— or at least, during his loneliest nights, buried in alcohol and money, surrounded by his guns and his ghosts. He isn’t afraid of them, they can’t hurt him. 

“Anything,” You confirm, lip wobbling and tears streaming down your cheeks. His task was awfully simple, yet, there is something he must do first now that he sees you more clearly. Anakin doesn't have the pleasure to witness such a pretty downfall often.

In a swift move, Anakin lifts the knife over his head, smirking wider when you raise your hands in a pitiful attempt at self-defense. Expectant, you sob one last time before the pain comes, before the burning sensation of piercing skin and crimson blood. 

Which never arrives. 

The sharp blade pierces through the sheets and the mattress. Ripping the stitches and creating the most awful sound you have ever heard in your life. That could’ve been your face. Did he miss his shot? Is his aim that bad? Your vision is blurry due to the thick coat of tears, crystal clear and salty that trickle down like tiny diamonds. 

“Money is not enough this time, sweetheart,” He coos at you, cupping your cheek and brushing your tears in a fake act of kindness. His pursed lips make your stomach twist. You never thought there’d be fates worse than death… but here you are. “I won’t kill you—” His words make your shoulder fall for a second as a smile dances on your chapped lips like the weak swing of a butterfly’s wings. “Yet.”

“What do you want from me?” You sob, placing your hands on your lap, not sure what to do with them. You are in no position to fight. You are under the mercy of a clear psychopath. Someone without morals, without ethics and values— under the claws of a monster. 

The worst part? You don’t even know who is pulling the strings tied over the monster’s claws. 

“Don’t be sad, sweetheart. I’m sure you will find it amusing— and if you don’t I don’t care,” If you weren’t begging for your life, his voice could’ve been attractive. Even his eyes. His fucking eyes that seem to pierce your soul. “You see that handle?” He points at the knife with his chin. “I want you to lift your cute nightgown and ride it. You can close your eyes and imagine a cock, I’m sure you’ve done it before from what I’ve heard about you. If I like the show, I’ll let you ride my cock— and if I don’t like it. I’ll kill you.”

“You cannot possibly ask me to—”

A small squeal escapes your lips when the muzzle of a gun comes in contact with your temple. The steel is frigid against your burning skin. There are no words left in your throat, if you weren’t terrified you would’ve thrown up. 

“You don’t like to think, you don’t like to listen— I’m starting to believe you are actually stupid, princess. You either fuck that knife or die.” Your whimper. Irritating. Infuriating. Fucking lovely. 

Lifting your hips from the bed, you kneel with the little strength you have left. Anakin never removes the gun from your temple, in reality, he presses it further, watching your skin dent slightly. Lifting your sheer nightgown, you clumsily hook your finger at the waistband of your panties, tugging them down with embarrassment.

“Please don’t make me do this,” You beg, losing balance momentarily as your panties hang from your ankle. 

There is a storm echoing in his laugh. Like pouring rain falling over your heart before it even reaches your ears. “If you don’t do it, I’ll force you. I will enjoy it more… and then you’ll die.”

The flat tip of the blade handle feels like steel against your folds. The touch is feathery light, perhaps unintentionally gentle. You are glad there is a thick leather wrapped around it— otherwise, it might hurt even more. 

Rocking your hips slowly, you close your eyes focusing on anything else. You will not enjoy this. You refuse to give him pleasure. If this is the way you die— at least you want to imagine you put up some kind of fight. Despite your constant thoughts— foolishly thinking your mind is stronger than your body— when the handle comes in contact with your clit, your body instinctively jolts. You stop. You don’t talk. 

You don’t want to die. You don’t want to die, and you don’t want to enjoy it.

“Spread your legs wider and don’t stop moving. Don’t make me go there and open them myself,” His voice is low. “Show me how much you don’t want this.” His voice mixed with the adrenaline brings you to a borderline dizzy state. 

Resuming your movements, you bite the inner part of your cheek, flinching when his free hand cups your breast. “See? Is not that difficult to obey. I know you are so used to getting your way, little princess. But not this time. Not with me.”

His thumb traces your nipple poking through the silk. You hate yourself for this— even more when you find a steady rhythm. Your clit grinds against the flat top and throbs, quickly begging for more. Hooking the barrel underneath the thin straps of your nightgown, Anakin lets them fall, exposing your chest. 

“Don’t come. If you do, your tiny brains will make a bloody mess over your lovely canopy and walls. Now fucking ride it.”

The leather glistens with your arousal. It’s pathetic, humiliating, miserable. When you position yourself above it, when you flex your knees to fit it— that’s when everything you are— breaks. 

The handle stretches your walls in a way that couldn’t be more uncomfortable. Your arousal helps but only much. Unhurriedly, you begin to ride it just like he commanded you to, just like you have to. Your pussy clenches around it, you can’t even fool yourself and think it is a dick. Nothing could help you now. No one can save you now.

“Seems to be you can listen sometimes…” Anakin observes, removing the gun from your skull to press it against the valley of your breasts. “Don’t think I can’t see how wet you are. Are you that deranged you are enjoying this?”

Are you?

Is he?

You just have to do this. Right?

Too many questions, no answers. 

“Faster.”

Increasing your pace, the tears make themselves known again. You are enjoying it. Your walls are dripping, your pussy is begging for more. The slick sticks to the leather like a second layer of shine, the sounds your body is making are against your will— but you can’t stop moving. Anakin breathes loudly, his own excitement evident. You cannot see the outline of his erection underneath his black cargo pants but he feels it, throbbing, leaking, eager to bury itself in you. Hear you sob and feel you clench after every cry.

“So fucking wet,” He mumbles, pressing his lips against your sweaty neck. The soft cotton of his ski mask brushes over your skin, bringing you a nasty comfort. “Remember, if you come… you die.”

The muzzle now dances over your nipple, distracting you from the burn in your lower stomach for a second— when his hand finds your clit. Circling it quickly, roughly, Anakin exhales again right in your ear. 

“I can’t wait to fuck you. I hope you are ready to die while I bury my cock inside you.”

A loud moan, mixed with a throat-ripping wail falls down your lips, body writhing and hips trashing. The handle is as deep as it can go, and before your vision goes white you feel the gun poking underneath your chin. Your hands curl around the hem of the nightgown you are still lifting, almost piercing the expensive and delicate fabric. Your orgasm is strong, it clouds your senses and for a moment the euphoria makes you forget how you just marked your destiny. The handle is sticky just like your thighs. The world is spinning.

Your life is ruined.

Just as your vision goes white, it goes black.

Monday. 10th.

Politics are known to be comparable to walking on thin ice. One false step and you sink— all the way to the cold and lonely bottom. Made only for the ones who can twist and turn others under their will and for those who aren’t scared of the nerve-wracking possibility of being a hero or a villain. 

When your father offers you the vacancy for Campaign Manager you don’t hesitate to take the opportunity. Daddy dearest always serves opportunities such as these on a silver platter. Why would you refuse? Sure, a week before the presidential elections might be signing a death sentence, but why would you care? Even if you fall, your safety net is insured, secured and endorsed. 

“Are you sure you can do this alone?” Natasha Andrews, your father’s assistant lowers her clipboard, focusing her dirty blue eyes on you from beneath her thin-gramme glasses. “We have a week before the election, these last days are crucial.”

“I’ll be fine!” You answer confidently. To have such confidence and naivety that being young gives you. You just feel invincible. “I read some of John’s final projects. A few venues and bookings won’t scare me.”

“I don’t think you are seeing the big picture here,” Natasha calls your name patiently. Removing her glasses, folding them and placing them next to her clipboard, you can already imagine a boring lecture about responsibility. You’ll be fine! “Your father has an image to maintain, a reputation to hold and the statistics are growing in his favor. This last week is to secure the win. Your father chose you for a reason.” Another way to say ‘There are high expectations. You better fulfill them.’

Huffing, you take her words as a weak attempt at an insult. You understand the big picture. You’ve been surrounded by the big picture since you can remember. “Why are you looking at me like that?” 

Natasha runs a hand through her ginger locks, taking a deep breath. She’s too old to deal with all this. “Look. I know you are young and I’m sure you have wonderful ideas for the campaign, but our time is limited. We can only continue with the schedule and hope for the best. If your ideas can be incorporated into the events then you are more than welcome.”

Always used to getting your way, you find baffling how someone who doesn’t know can defy you— or in your eyes, Natasha is doubting your capacities. Standing up, you point at her. Your manicured nail, painted a crimson red holds an almost accusatory tone. You don’t have to prove anything to anyone— not even your father. There is no chance of failure, because when you are young… you are on top of the world.

“No, you look. I know you are worried but I can do this,” You reply, not bothering to hide the patronizing tone in your voice. “My father knows I’m more than capable. You may not know me but you will. If I want to change the date of a venue, or if I want to make a goddamned pool party we will. I know what’s best, I know what will work.”

Natasha raises an eyebrow at your words, her expression hardening slightly. “I never doubted your… abilities, Miss. We have a schedule we must follow. Nothing personal. It is your first day in your position. Can you even name three key supporters of Jonathan's campaign? Have you planned a meeting with potential donors for when your father wins the elections?”

The assistant has a point, but you won’t give up. You will never lose a fight. 

“Easy, everything you say is too easy,” You narrow your eyes, placing both palms on the desk to hide how they shake from frustration. “If I say the word, my father will fire you. It doesn’t matter how long you have been working with him. I’m his daughter.”

That’s your wild card.

And as usual, it works. 

Sighing through gritted teeth, Natasha rubs her temple. How can an educated girl like yourself be such a despicable person? “Go on.” 

The smile that brightens your face beams like flames. Threatening to consume everything on its way. Everything is easy when you have the influence. You were born with it, what’s wrong with using it? “Alright… key supporters….”

The redhead scribbles down as you talk, from all you know she is playing hangman with your face on the stick figure, not that you care, of course. Your mood heightens as she just listens and comments on trivial things such as locations and schemes. You knew it would be easy. You just need people that follow you. 

“We can do the last meet-and-greet at Cafe Serenity. My father invested in the project and the owner owes him that. I’m sure if we present the petition he will accept,” You talk, tangling the wires inside your head. “I can schedule an interview with Channel 7, Global News Network, and Insider Globe, they do most of the coverage during the elections and my father knows the actionist in GNN…”

“The meet-and-greet sounds good. It’s the perfect strategy to calculate the supporters Jonathan has. Plus the media coverage will be wonderful,” Her jaw clenches as she talks, but you are too busy staring at your nails to see the daggers coming from her eyes. “You’ve got a good grasp on this.”

“I know,” You smile, ignoring the fake smile. 

Suddenly, your phone rings. It’s an unknown number. A frown etches on your face as you pick it up. Excusing yourself from the table, Natasha nods, her blue orbs gluing to your back; if looks could kill…

Closing the door of the meeting room behind you, you bring the phone closer to your ear. “Hello? Who is this?” 

Silence.

“Hello?”

A feminine voice breaks the silence. The unknown woman calls your name and your heart stops momentarily. It sounds vaguely familiar, and it carries a heavy accent that you can’t pinpoint from where. 

“Lisseth? Is that you?” Your chirp echoes through the empty hallway. “I can’t believe you are back!”

Thank you for reading! ✩

[clementinegreye]

false god

spencer reid x fem!bau!reader

summary: it's never a good idea to reminisce about a relationship, especially one that ended with betrayal left you with a permanent scar

word count: 1.2k

warnings: angst, no happy ending, major character injury, talks of general CM related violence and murder (nothing graphic), jeid you squint but its not endorsed lol

a/n: wrote this in an hour when i was feeling sad. its not proof read and i lowkey don't love it but whomp whomp

She always thought that the ground looked so far away just after take-off. Everyone below looked like specs of dirt that you had to really focus on to see. How insignificant everything looked compared to the vastness of the sky above. The illusion of importance shattered by the cover of clouds.

Pulling the blind down she sat back in her seat, headphones drowning out the noise in her head. The jet was silent, too focused in quiet contemplation of the reading material in front of them.

Her body instinctively leaned slightly to the left, seeking the comfort it once found in his embrace. But the illusion was shattered, and she knew that no matter how much she wanted to, she could no longer lean into the familiarity. She pushed her body towards the window, forcing her eyes out to the clouds.

Her thoughts, once filled with his presence, felt unmoored.

Now she could focus wholly on work. But the space that thoughts of him once filled was now left behind and filled with a silence that echoed through her. She was alone with the sky, the clouds, the vast expanse of the world below, and her thoughts.

His scent still lingered, he’d spent so long in the seat next to her that it must have melded with the fabric. A mix of pine and the cold winter morning air. She closed her eyes, a single tear escaping, sliding down her cheek. She was left with nothing but the ghost of his presence, a cruel reminder of what once was.

But now, the seat remained cold and empty. Even the scent of him, hugging her senses, used to be a source of comfort, was now a bitter reminder of the fallout between them. She hugged herself as if trying to fill the void as vast as the sky.

She forced herself to breathe, each inhale a sharp reminder of the love that was no longer hers. But it felt different now, hollow and cold as if the warmth he once provided had faded.

You see, Spencer Reid had broken her heart, and he’d done it easily.

Spencer Reid had chosen to protect someone else over her.

---------------------------------------------------------------------

The takedown was supposed to have been simple.

She turned her head slightly, the dust from the room seemed to have uprooted and created a cloud of mist. Morgan looked like he was running towards her. Why was he running towards her? Why was she on the ground? Why did everything feel so cold? It was the middle of July, she’d been warm in her Kevlar vest. Why were her fingers so so cold?

‘Agent down!’

The words echoed in her ears. It was as if the fog cleared and she tried to sit up, pain lit up her body like electricity before going numb. Suddenly everything seemed so silent. The world shifted, she could feel the cold concrete on her back as clearly as if it were in her bones.

Morgan was fast, it must have only taken him seconds to get to her. Which was odd, she’d been standing next to Spencer, but she couldn’t see him from her line of sight. She tried to force herself up again. only to be met with Morgan’s strong hands pushing on her shoulders.

‘No, don’t move.’ She turned her head to the side and through the haze of what was happening she saw something that made her eyebrows furrow in confusion. Maybe she’d hit her head. She must have hit her head.

Spencer was standing in front of JJ, his whole body poised like a shield protecting her. His arms around her shoulder, her hands gripping the front of his vest. Then the confusion unravelled like a loose thread, tugged on.

Spencer had moved to protect her. He’d left her side to protect JJ from the Unsub’s shooting. He’d actively moved further away from her to go and stand in front of JJ. But he wasn’t in love with JJ. He was supposed to be in love with her, so why had he gone out of his way to protect JJ? Was he in love with JJ?

They’d always been close, she knew that. But this? This felt more than friendship, you don’t dive in front of just a friend instinctively if the supposed love of your life is right there in the line of fire. Surely, your instinct is to follow your heart, is that what Spencer had done? Had he followed the true line of his heart?

She wanted to ask him why. Why he had done this? But her voice had deserted her, her throat drowned in icy silence. She felt the darkness creeping in, wrapping around her like a shroud.

The pain of the betrayal was raw, every nerve in her body seemed to buzz with it. She felt like a marionette whose strings had been cut, left to crumble under the weight of her realisation.

Morgan was next to her, holding her, placing his weight on her torso, he was lit up in a golden halo and his eyes looked like they were gleaming with fear and un-spilt tears.

‘Where’s the damn medic?!’ He shouted backwards in what must have been the general direction of the team.

‘It’s five minutes out.’ The voice was level, in charge. It must have been Hotch, but her eyes were getting too heavy to check.

She wanted to tell Morgan to stop looking so scared, to assure him she'd pull through like always, but the words died in her throat. Her breath hitched as a new wave of pain washed over her.

'Hang on,' Morgan pleaded, 'just hang on.'

She could hear Spencer, his voice sounded panicked, high pitched and his breathing thready. He was muttering something that sounded like an apology and a lot of cursing or praying to God. She couldn’t tell.

She wanted to reach out, to comfort him, but the strength had left her body. The edges of her vision were blurring, and the last thing she heard was Morgan's desperate plea echoing in her fading consciousness.

'Stay with us,' a voice commanded, each word punctuated with a raw desperation. But the darkness was too inviting, too persistent. And as the world around her faded, she couldn't shake off the sinking feeling that something irrevocably had changed.

----------------------------------------------------------------------

The hum of the engine lured her out of her memory. Maybe it was her fault. She’d loved Spencer like it was breathing, had worshipped at the altar of his love, only to find it empty. It was clear he hadn’t done the same, that convenience was simply his reason.

The false god she had created of him had fallen, shattered into pieces. The truth of his mortality, his flawed humanity, had never been so palpable. The feeling was both liberating and terrifying.

She looked out at the sky and the world below, the vast expanse seeming to mirror the emptiness within her. Emptiness echoed in her ears, filling her with a sense of loss that was almost unbearable.

The scar below her left collarbone throbbed beneath her shirt, it could almost be mistaken for heartache.

[heavyhitterheaux]

Church Girl, Don't Hurt Nobody Part 2 (Slight NSFW)

Synopsis: The time has now come for you to confront your mother about your relationship with Jack. Your mind is already made up, and the last thing that you would ever do is ruin your happiness. It doesn't go as planned, and you are left with a lot to think about.

Pairing: Jack Harlow x Reader

Read Part 1 first

Requested by: so many of you lol so I had to run it back

Please Do Not Repost My Content Anywhere

You currently had both of your legs on your boyfriend's shoulders as his face was between your thighs with the sunlight peeking through the floor length windows.

This had been going on for close to a week since you were hiding out from your parents for as long as you could. You knew that you were going to have to face them sooner or later, but later was beginning to sound better and better. 

After Jack had found out from his friends the truth about you as well as your family, he was obviously upset, but could understand from your point of view why you did it once you had explained everything to him and had a few days to think about. He was lowkey still upset about it, but didn’t want to let you see it since now everything was out in the open and he knew your mind was on overdrive. He had lost track of how many times you had cried about it.

You were scared shitless of what was about to happen when you went home and was putting it off for as long as you could. Of course that night even though Jack was clearly upset with you, he wanted for you to stay with him. In the back of his mind, even though he initially said that he was probably going to break up with you because you lied to him, he quickly changed his mind after hearing your explanation and the bottom line was he didn't want to be without you.

Your phone had been going off nonstop since the picture was posted and you hadn’t answered anyone. You were actually surprised that not once did your mother call you and you knew that she was pissed. But at this point, should you even care what she thought about you? Your fate was sealed anyway.

After the picture was posted the two of you were sitting across from each other in silence. You knew he was mad at you and you were trying to create a plan in your head for the both of you to get through this with no harm done, but you were coming up short.

You were always so careful when going out at night and the one time you weren't, someone snapped a photo of you. 

Wanting to give your boyfriend some space (if he was still your boyfriend at that point for that matter since you didn't know) you didn’t even say anything and had gotten up to start making your way to the door but as you went to open it, you saw Jack's hand come from behind you to close it.

"Where are you going?" Jack asked from behind you and when you didn't answer him, he turned you around to face him with tears in your eyes and a trembling lip and knew they were about to fall down. 

"I… just… you're my escape and my peace from everything that goes on around me and it's just why can I never do anything for myself? Why can't I do what I want? I am 27 years old, still sneaking out of my parents house to see my boyfriend. And I'm sorry for dragging you into this. I should have been honest from the beginning and I'm sorry for that.”

"Dragging me into what? I don't regret asking you to be my girlfriend so don't you think that for a second."

He wanted to be with you for the long haul and this was just something that the two of you had to face together. He was going to do his best to protect you to the best of his ability from the world and also your parents.

“Talk to me in a week and we'll see if you feel the same way.”

“The way I feel about you isn't going to go away in a week so I know that my answer is going to be the same.”

“I don't even know where to begin to fix this.”

“Let me ask you this. What exactly needs to be fixed? We're together like we want to be aren’t we? So what's the problem? You know that they already don't approve so fuck it.”

—

"Damn, baby it's like Niagara Falls down here." Jack said as he looked down at his fingers.

"You want a side of eggs with that?"

"HUH?"

"Pussy juice, side of eggs, that's my breakfast." You said while repeating Jack's lyrics to him and giggling. 

All Jack did was smirk and laugh at you.

"Nah, I don't need the eggs. This is enough to get me full." Jack said as he grabbed your legs to pull you towards the end of the bed and you let out a yelp.

Jack then leaned down to kiss you and you immediately wrapped your arms around his neck to pull him closer to give him several more. When he finally pulled away, he began to place kisses all over your face making you laugh.

Next thing you knew, you felt him slide into you and you immediately gasped since you had been caught off guard.

He was going at a slow, even pace taking his time to give you as much pleasure as possible to take your mind off of everything going on around you.

You then wrapped your left leg around him wanting for him to get as deep as he possibly could. 

You were now laying on Jack's chest as his arm was wrapped around you in a comfortable silence and Jack was the one to break it. 

"Baby, as much as I want to, we can't hide out in my condo forever. I have to promote this album and I've already done what I could to push it back for a week to make sure you were okay.”

"I know and I appreciate you for doing that for me because you definitely didn't have to. I'm not okay in the slightest, but I know that I just have to deal.”

"I would do anything for you. You know that. And I'm going to make sure you get to the point where you are okay." Jack replied as he leaned down to kiss your forehead.

"I just… don't want to face them. My mother more than anyone else."

"I don't like how she has it where you're actually scared of her." 

“I… it's not the fact that I'm scared of her. I just know that no matter how perfect I try to be, that it will never please her and that I'm always going to fall short. All of my siblings don't care for me either except my big sister Eden. Because I'm the only one that will somewhat challenge my parents. It's always been this way.”

“Just know that I only want the best for you and want you to be happy. You deserve that and not be stressed out all the time over what someone else might think about you.”

“I know.” You quietly answered, but your mind was still running a mile a minute.

“You think that you'll be okay when I leave later tonight? I'd rather you come with me. I just don't want to leave you here with them.”

“I don't really have a choice. I have to face them sooner or later. Even if I don't want to.”

“Look if anything happens, anything at all. Say the word and I'll come and get you.” Jack said as he moved a curl out of your face and lightly kissed your nose.

“You're going to be busy and the last thing I want to be is a distraction.”

“Baby, I can promise that you won't be. I would rather have you with me instead of people who upset you on a daily basis. Because how is that a good thing? You don't need to be in that type of environment.” Jack replied as he started playing with the bracelet that graced your wrist that he gifted you.

“She's probably never going to let me sing again.” You quietly said as you felt tears prick the corners of your eyes.

“Why do you need her permission to do it? Just because she might not want you to sing there, doesn't mean you have to stop altogether. Still not over how amazing your voice is and how well you hid that from me.”

“Trust me, it wasn't easy.” You said while laughing.

“No more secrets. Promise?”

“Promise.”

After you had helped Jack pack all of his things and the two of you decided to have a quick dinner together, it was time for you to make your way back home as much as you didn't want to while Jack was set to go to New York.

He had given you several kisses, but you were still holding onto him for dear life not wanting to let him go just yet. 

“You know you can come with me. The offer still stands. Because now you are definitely stalling.” He said while looking down at you. Jack knew your mind was made up, but he didn't want you going back there at all. If your mom is as bad as you had told him, he wanted to keep you far away from her. 

“As much as I want to, I have to do this. I don't want to drag it out longer.”

“Tell me when you get there and what happens when you two talk. I just have a strong feeling that you are about to call me in tears and that is the last thing that I want. If I have to protect you from your own family, then so be it.”

“It might go better than we think.” You said trying to reassure him.

“Babe, are you trying to convince me or yourself?”

“Hmm, maybe both? But I promise to call if something happens.”

Wearing one of Jack's hoodies and a pair of your black leggings, it was around 10 at night once you had slipped through the entrance to your part of the house. 

Once in your bedroom, you turned on the light to see your big sister Eden once again staring at you.

“For future reference, if you are trying to hide out with your boyfriend, turn off your location. Even though you only share it with me.”

“You have got to stop sneaking up on me, Eden!”

“Not a chance. I let you have your fun but now I'm about to yell but this is only out of love and concern.”

You simply nodded as you took a seat next to her on your bed.

“Now you know you can tell me anything and I will never hold it against you. Being in this family is hard enough and you are my baby sister. If you would have come to me, I would have helped you to tell them.”

“I… so many times I wanted to. But I was just scared. He's really important to me and I didn't want anyone or anything to ruin it. Not that I think you would, but everyone else. What did they say when they found out?”

“That was the first time I actually heard your mother cuss if that explains anything. And she was on Google looking him up for about two hours.”  Eden replied and you couldn't help but to laugh.

“And dad?”

“He simply shrugged and said if she's happy, then I'm fine with it.”

“I figured that he would be the one to say that.”

“And she was also upset that you have been M.I.A. obviously.”

“Why does she need to know my every move? She needs to get over herself.”

“You let me know when that happens. Anyway, tell me EVERYTHING. He's really cute and I'm definitely not surprised you two are together. A good match if I do say so myself.”

“Well we met at Taylor's birthday party a while ago and we've been talking ever since. It was only recently that he asked me to be his girlfriend. I've already met his parents and his brother and I absolutely adore them. His friends I only met at the album release party, but so far so good. He's funny, sweet, caring, always putting my feelings into consideration and I just love being around him. I know that you and dad would like him. I really don't care about anyone else.”

“And you shouldn't. He makes you happy and that's the important part and all that matters. As long as he is treating you right, we won't have a problem. Now did you even tell him about…?”

“No, he didn't know and I believe his friends told him and explained it to him which he was mad about and I can understand that. I wasn't honest and I should have been. He forgave me and we're just moving forward. I told him everything including how I know she hates me.”

“I can only imagine the look on his face. And I don't think she hates you. She hates that she can't control you.”

“Yeah, and then the picture didn't help.”

“Did anyone else know about you two? Perhaps, Tania?” Eden asked while eyeing you.

“Yes and she was sworn to secrecy. Just her and no one else.”

“Soooo, when can I meet him?”

“Well he's going to be busy promoting his album, but I'm sure if I bring it up he'll make time for it. I talk to him about you all the time.”

“I don't think I've ever seen you this happy and I hope the two of you stay together for the long haul.”

As Jack was sitting on the plane and playing with his phone, Urban came and sat next to him and simply eyed him.

“Uh, Urb? Can I help you?” Jack asked as he laughed. 

“Are you and Y/N okay? Did she talk to her parents yet?”

“We're fine but not yet. She said she would tell me when it happened. I already told her that I feel like she's going to call me in tears. I wanted her to come with me but she said that she just wanted to get it over with.”

“I hope she'll be okay. It seems like she's never been able to do what she wants.”

“She hasn't. But Neelam told us both not to say anything about it for now hoping that it would eventually blow over. The last thing I wanted to do was leave her in Louisville, but her mind was made up.”

“If her mother is as bad as she claims her to be, I know that this conversation that they are supposed to have is not going to go over well.”

“I'm literally just waiting for her to call me.”

“I wonder what they'll even say to her, I mean she's a whole adult.”

“And from the way that she talks about her, that clearly doesn't matter. She still looks at her like she's a little kid and it doesn't help that she's the youngest either.” Jack replied while shaking his head.

“I know she means a lot to you from the way that you talk about her.”

“She does, I'm just trying to let her see that it's okay to do what makes you happy and to not care what anyone else thinks about it.”

—

You and Eden hid out in your room until the next morning when you figured that it was time to face her. After taking a shower, you slipped on a yellow sundress along with white wedge sandals and straightened your hair. It was time for breakfast, so you started making your way towards the dining room. 

Once you entered the room, all eyes were on you as you took your respective seat in between Eden and Grace. Eden sent you a soft smile while Grace rolled her eyes at you. Matthew and Malachi simply exchanged glances with each other along with their spouses as your mother was burning a hole into you with her gaze. Your dad was simply reading his morning paper as he always did and sent you a small smile. You knew when it came down to it, the only people that you could truly count on in your family was your dad and Eden.

As the breakfast spread was placed on the table, your mother was the first to speak.

“Y/N, you have some nerve showing back up here like you didn't do anything.”

“I haven't done anything wrong and the last time I checked, I lived here.” You responded while piling your plate high with eggs, hash browns, and fruit.

“You call a night on the town with a well known rapper nothing? Where people saw the two of you together?”

“Adalaide….” Your father said to your mother in a warning tone, but she simply brushed him off.

“When you leave this house, you are representing this family, and so far this week, you have been nothing but an embarrassment.”

“That's your opinion and you're entitled to it. I am a grown woman who can do anything she wants and I don't need your approval. I have been under your thumb since the day I was born and have been in control of how I dress, who I talk to, my hair, my makeup, and my career path. It's time that I take control of my life without having you criticizing me.”

"No daughter of mine is going to serve the Lord and then be spreading her legs wide open for her rapper boyfriend. And don't even lie and say that you haven't. You look like the type to give it up to any man who ever glanced your way. And of course you think he loves you because he's told you exactly what you want to hear!" 

“MOM!” Eden exclaimed while looking at her in disbelief but all she did was take a sip of her tea.

"You don't even know him!"

"I know enough and I don't care to have you in my sight any longer. It's clear that you have chosen him over your family. So do me a favor and get out. Leave your house key on the table in the foyer. If he loves you so much as you claim he does, go live with him. And I for damn sure better not see you at my church singing for the Lord on Sunday."

“Adalaide, that's enough! If that's who she loves, who are we to stop it? We want all of our children happy and he obviously makes her happy." Your dad said while shaking his head at her.

“Then she can go and be happy with him and not be under my roof taking up space.”

“Now that's taking it a little too far.” You heard Grace say which you were surprised by.

“She's literally not hurting anyone and always did what you wanted her to do. Why are you ruining the one thing she's done for herself?” Your oldest brother Malachi asked and she rolled her eyes.

“What I said still stands. I want her out and if all of you have a problem with it, you can go and follow her. You better be out of my house by midnight and don't bother showing your face here or at church ever again. As far as I'm concerned, I only have two daughters now.”

A collective gasp was heard at the table, and all you could do was laugh to yourself before saying anything.

“Y/N, don't you get up from this table. You are a part of this family as much as anyone else.”

“It's okay, dad. Trust me, it is. I know how she feels about me.”

“This is entirely uncalled for.” Matthew said while looking at your mother who waa unfazed. You simply turned towards her before speaking.

“Keep in mind what you just told me and don't you dare crawl back to me later and try to apologize. If you want me out, fine. The next time I see you will be at your fucking funeral and not a moment sooner. I'll prove to you that I never needed someone like you in my life to begin with.”

“Y/N!” Grace called after you as you pushed yourself away from the table and made your way into the direction of your room.

You held your head high and was determined not to let the tears fall. You finally stood up to her and didn't regret saying what was on your mind.

Grabbing your phone, you facetimed Jack who immediately answered and could tell that something was wrong from the look on your face.

“Baby….”

“She literally just disowned me.”

[stickyspeckledlight]

VERY short drabble based on @harmonysanreads recent brainrot-quick thought whatever you call it post, of sunday singing lullabies

you used to think sunday to be a kind man, but recently, he's revealed his true colors; which leaves you here, tossing and turning.

at his betrayal and from your stress and hate, you transmitted your unbridled rage toward him. from one halovian to another, nothing so out of the ordinary (though, the brutality of those emotions was another matter entirely).

perhaps sunday wasn't completely shaken (for how else could he have remained as head of the Oak Family?), but it certainly had an effect. he didn't notice that one of his lapels fell slightly askew for three minutes, in fact. it was a sweet victory, but if you bite the hand that feeds you, why should you expect to have kept eating from it?

it must've been hours ago, but those waves of emotions he sent to you still run through you. you can't decipher them, when you're so overwhelmed---

love, obsession, love, hate, hate, hate, hate, hate, love, worship, my dove my creed---

you scream into your pillow. your migraine may have degraded into a headache, and the agony may not be so intense, but its still the same flavor. it's acrid and cracking on your tongue. every time you think you've spat it out or rinsed it out, it grows back into an arid patch on your tongue.

you can't sleep. you want to sleep for a reprieve, yet if you do...

what else would sunday send to you, in your dreams?

"you're awake," the door opens, greeting you with that awful voice, "at this hour?" there is a particularly way sunday speaks, when he thinks you unruly, but not enough to properly punish. it's infantilizing, chiding, antagonizing, yet also warm. it reminds you of a mother, one who couldn't bear to let her children go, to let them step out of the lines she set. "i understand that you are still in the process of transitioning, but bear in mind that you---"

"what makes you think I can even relax, after that?" you hiss, "that...that..." you take a sharp inhale when a pang of agony hits.

sunday hums dismissively. "merely the consequences of your actions. do not worry. so long as you don't step out of line, I will ensure you only the best, as a valued member of the Family...and a 'dove.'"

you hiss with frustration. your mind is far too occupied trying to not collapse and break down, and there's no retort you can offer sunday. you close your eyes, and wrap your blankets tighter, till you are trapped in a coil.

the bed dips, and a glove hand runs through your hair. you know who it belongs to, but the touch is warm, kind, and you can fool yourself into thinking it to be loving. it is a relief from the weight of the past hours.

and comes a calm, harmonious, melodious hum. you nearly jolt from as the agonizing weight in your mind gets replaced with the kind warmth of a fire, the sweetness of soulglad, and the security you find within sunday's arms---huh? wha---the softness of sunday's lips, the beauty of his smile, his enthralling gaze, his downy feathers which accompany wonderfully silken hair.

gloved fingers encourage your eyes to shut, and you abide, wrapped in this soothing, blissful melody, and let yourself be carried away into a dream.

[sinful-mind-joyful-thoughts]

𝙎𝙦𝙪𝙞𝙧𝙢 | sᴏᴜᴘ

Read part one here - Squirm...

screencaps and gifs : @din-jarring they are amazing, literally brainwashes me every single time she posts, love you pook 🫶🏻

Pairing: dark!Raider!Joel Miller x dark!Raider!Tommy Miller x dark!Raider!Tess Servopoulos x fem!reader

Warnings/tags: MDNI 18+, DEAD DOVE DO NOT EAT, BLOOD, VIRGIN READER, UNprotected sex wrap it before you tap it kids,food, hunger, kidnapping, degradation, praise, mean!Joel, toxic!Joel, mean people, toxic people, fear, waterboarding (with soup), choking, gagging, talks of sex, talks of anal sex, voyeurism, being held down, ripping off clothes, groping, kissing, spanking, crying, begging, masturbation M and F, Death threats, Guns, Gun insertion (mouth and vaginal), stripping, cum, cum description, hand jobs, blowjobs, orgasm,cum play kinda, THIS IS A WORK OF FICTION, YOU ARE RESPONSIBLE FOR THE CONTENT YOU CONSUME

Summary: Caught and brought to a new place you meet new faces and feelings.

WC: 4.2K

A/n : Sorry, I was a little late to post pt 2, but enjoy 🫶🏻

He had brought you to a house that barely felt like a home, its cold and unwelcoming atmosphere, a stark contrast to any sense of familiarity. The faces inside offered no solace, just a chilling reminder of your isolation from the man who had violated you. You pushed away thoughts of the horrifying event, trying to focus instead on the bowl of soup before you. Hunger gnawed at your insides, but the thought of not nourishing yourself felt like a silent protest against your dire circumstances.

Seated beside you was the man who had taken you, his presence a constant source of discomfort and fear. It struck you suddenly that you didn't even know his name, adding to the weight of your unease. To your left sat a woman with long brown hair, older than you and marked by scars. You stole glances around the table, avoiding prolonged eye contact with anyone. In the midst of the bustling room, a man's striking resemblance to your captor left you feeling unnerved. You resisted the urge to dwell on the chilling familiarity, instead turning your attention elsewhere.

As you sat there, wrestling with your own inner turmoil, your captor's impatience grew palpable. "What's the matter with you? Why aren't you eating?" he demanded, his voice sharp with irritation.

You flinched at his tone, feeling his eyes bore into you with an intensity that sent a shiver down your spine. "I-I'm not hungry," you stammered, your voice barely above a whisper.

"Not hungry?" he repeated, his voice rising with anger. Without warning, he reached out and grabbed a handful of your hair, yanking your head back roughly.

Pain shot through you, and you couldn't suppress a gasp of pain as tears pricked at the corners of your eyes. "Joel, calm down," the woman beside you interjected, her voice firm but gentle. "You don't want to scare the girl too badly."

Joel's grip on your hair loosened slightly, but his anger still simmered beneath the surface. "Fine," he growled, releasing you with a shove that sent you reeling. "But don't think you can defy me and get away with it."

You swallowed hard, trying to steady your trembling hands as you reached for the spoon, your appetite vanishing in the face of Joel's wrath. It was just another reminder of the power he held over you, a reminder that escape seemed increasingly impossible.

Joel's anger seemed to intensify with each passing moment, his frustration boiling over as he glared at you. "Eat!" he barked, his voice echoing through the room.

Trembling, you forced yourself to take a spoonful of the bitter soup, struggling to swallow it down past the lump in your throat. The taste was nauseating, but you dared not refuse, knowing the consequences would be dire.

As the man who resembled your captor, Joel, leaned in closer, a chill ran down your spine. His eyes bore into yours, filled with an intensity that made your blood run cold. "Who are you?" he demanded, his voice sharp and demanding.

Panic surged within you as you struggled to find the right words. You glanced around the table, seeking a lifeline, but found only unfamiliar faces staring back at you. Joel's twin sat across from you, watching the tense exchange with keen interest.

He noticed your fear. "I'm Tommy. What's your name?"

Feeling the weight of Joel's wrath bearing down on you, you stammered out a response, your voice barely above a whisper. "I-I'm..." After Joel yelled at you, you gave him your name, hoping to appease him in some way.

Joel's eyes narrowed as he watched you, a dangerous glint in his gaze. "It's not hard to behave, is it?" he sneered, his voice dripping with disdain. "Now eat your soup and stay quiet."

His words sent a shiver down your spine, and you obediently brought the spoon to your lips, forcing yourself to swallow another mouthful of the bitter concoction. Each swallow felt like a battle against the rising tide of fear and revulsion.

As you struggled to maintain your composure under Tommy's scrutiny, a sudden text message from the woman beside you caught you off guard. "What's your plan for her?" it read, and before you could react, Joel shot you a smirk.

"Well, Tess..." he drawled, leaning back in his chair. "I fucked her in the van, and the damn thing bled so much she was probably a virgin. But you see, she's real tight in the pussy. I wonder how tight she is in the ass.”

The crude words sent a wave of horror coursing through you, and you felt your heart pound in your chest. The laughter that erupted from the rest of the table only added to your sense of dread.

"NO!" you cried out, unable to contain your fear and revulsion any longer.

Ignoring your protest, Joel turned to his men with a dismissive wave of his hand. "Leave. All of you, except Tommy and Tess," he commanded, his voice cold and commanding.

The men exchanged glances before filing out of the room, leaving you alone with Joel, Tommy, and Tess. The tension in the air was palpable, and you had a nagging feeling that something bad was about to happen.

With a cruel grin, Joel grabbed your arm roughly, his grip like a vise as he forced the bowl of soup to your lips. "Drink it," he growled, his breath hot against your face.

You recoiled, the bitter taste of the soup making you gag, but Joel's grip only tightened, his fingers digging into your flesh painfully. "I said drink!" he hissed, his voice dripping with malice.

Tears welled in your eyes as you choked down the revolting liquid, each swallow feeling like a betrayal of your own dignity. Joel's laughter echoed in your ears, mocking your suffering.

He didn't stop, continuously pouring the soup into your mouth, the liquid spilling down your chin and soaking your clothes. You coughed and sputtered, struggling to breathe as he relentlessly forced you to consume it.

When the bowl was finally empty, Joel shoved you roughly onto the table, your ass in the air, the dried remnants of his cum and your blood staining your dress and leg from the van. You struggled against him, but his strength was overpowering, pinning you down with ease.

"Look at her," he sneered, his hand gripping your hair as he forced your head up. "A pathetic little whore, just begging for it."

You whimpered, the humiliation and shame crushing down on you like a weight, suffocating you. You felt dirty, violated, and utterly helpless in the face of Joel's cruelty. All you could do was pray for it to be over soon, to escape this nightmare and find some semblance of peace.

"Tommy, Tess," Joel's voice sliced through the air, authoritative and unyielding. "Hold her down."

Tommy hesitated, his expression conflicted as he glanced between you and Joel. "Joel, come on, man. This ain't right," he protested, his voice tinged with uncertainty.

Tess scoffed at his hesitation. "Oh, please, Tommy. It didn't work on the last girl Joel brought home. What makes you think it'll work on this one?" she interjected, her tone dripping with sarcasm.

Tommy's jaw tensed at Tess's words, a flicker of frustration crossing his features. "Yeah, well, no shit it won't work now," he muttered under his breath, his bitterness palpable.

With a resigned sigh, he reluctantly reached out to hold your arms down, his touch firm and unyielding. Despite his initial resistance, there was a chilling resolve in his eyes, a silent acknowledgment of the brutality of their actions.

You instinctively tried to wriggle free from their tight grip, but their hold was unyielding, suffocating in its grasp. Joel's hand trailed between your thighs, his touch invasive and mocking. "Did I forget to rip these?" he jeered, his words dripping with contempt. "Or did you put them back on so you could save all my cum that was dripping out of your pretty pussy?" With a swift tug, he tore at your panties, the fabric ripping with a sound that echoed through the room.

Your breath caught in your throat as Joel's lips trailed from your calf to your lower back, his touch igniting a firestorm of revulsion and fear within you. His hand slid up your dress, each movement leaving a trail of dread in its wake.

Before you could protest, his palm connected with your exposed flesh, the sharp sting of his slap reverberating through your body. "You need to learn, sweetheart," he growled, his voice dripping with malice. "What I say goes."

As the sting of his slap lingered on your skin, Joel's grip tightened, his dominance palpable in the air. "Count them," he commanded, his voice cold and commanding. "For every spank, I'll give you a rule to remember."

You swallowed hard, the weight of his words sinking in as fear coursed through your veins.

"One," you gasped, your voice barely above a whisper, as the second spank landed with brutal force.

"Rule number one," Joel's voice cut through the air like a knife, his tone chillingly calm. "You belong to me now. Your body, your mind, everything. Remember, sweet pea, I control whether you live or die."

"Two," you whimpered, each strike sending waves of pain through your trembling body. Fear gripped you tightly, knowing that Joel held the power to end your life in an instant. But in that moment of terror, a glimmer of relief washed over you as you realized he spared your life.

"Rule number two," Joel's voice was a sinister whisper, his breath hot against your ear. "You speak when spoken to. Your voice is mine to command."

The relentless rhythm of his slaps echoed in the room, each strike sending shockwaves of agony through your body.

"Three," you gasped, tears stinging your eyes as the onslaught continued.

"Rule number three," Joel's words were a cruel taunt, his laughter mingling with your cries. "Your desires mean nothing. Your only purpose is to obey."

The sound of his hand meeting your skin became a symphony of pain, drowning out any semblance of resistance.

"Four," you choked out, your voice trembling with each syllable.

"Rule number four," Joel's voice dripped with malice, his grip tightening as he relished in your suffering. "You forget who you were. There is only me, and there is only now."

The world around you seemed to blur as his assault persisted, each strike eroding away at your sense of self.

"Five," you managed to gasp out, the agony threatening to consume you entirely.

"Rule number five," Joel's words were a final decree, his dominance unyielding. "You will learn to love the pain. It's the only thing you'll ever know."

The onslaught of blows came faster now, each strike landing with brutal precision, leaving your flesh ablaze with searing agony. You squirmed helplessly against the iron grip of Tommy and Tess, your cries stifled by the relentless assault.

Joel's laughter cut through the air like a knife, mocking your pain as tears streamed down your cheeks, mingling with the sweat and blood that trickled down your back.

"There's a good girl," he taunted, his voice dripping with sadistic pleasure. "Let it out. Let me hear you scream."

With each strike, your resolve crumbled, your spirit shattered by the merciless brutality of his punishment. You cried out in anguish, the pain consuming you whole as Joel's cruel laughter echoed in your ears, a haunting reminder of your helplessness in the face of his relentless dominance.

As the onslaught of blows began to slow, Joel's strikes became more calculated, each one landing with precision on your already battered flesh. The pain was excruciating, every impact sending waves of agony coursing through your body.

"Enough," Joel commanded, his voice cold and commanding. "Let her go."

Tommy and Tess released their grip on you, allowing you to slump forward, your body trembling with pain and exhaustion. Joel pulled you into his lap, his jeans rubbing against your raw, beaten skin, sending fresh waves of discomfort radiating through you.

"Good girl," he murmured, his tone disturbingly gentle compared to moments before. "You're learning. Remember, what I say goes. Always."

Joel's gaze shifted to Tommy as you squirmed uncomfortably in his lap, desperately seeking a spot that wasn't ablaze with pain. "Tommy, fetch my pistol," he commanded, his voice cold and authoritative.

Tess and Tommy exchanged shocked glances. "Joel? Before we've even gotten a turn?" Tess protested, her voice tinged with apprehension. Fear clenched at your heart at the mention of the pistol. You didn't want to die.

"I didn't say to shoot her, goddamn it, y'all are sensitive," Joel snapped, his frustration evident in his tone. He sighed heavily before continuing, "Just get comfortable, and you," he grabbed your face roughly, forcing you to meet his gaze, "it's not supposed to be comfortable. Now stay still."

Tommy hurried off to retrieve the pistol, while Tess positioned themselves in front of Joel's chair, obediently following his orders to watch. You sat still, trying to suppress the sobs threatening to escape as you braced yourself for whatever came next. As Tommy handed the pistol off to Joel and positioned himself next to Tess.

Joel's laughter filled the room as he accepted the pistol from Tommy, his eyes dancing with sadistic amusement. With a menacing smirk, he pressed the cold metal barrel against the neckline of your dress, causing your breath to hitch in terror. The fabric stretched under the pressure before snapping back into place, sending a shiver of fear coursing through you.

Glancing between Tommy and Tess, Joel's expression dared them to act. After a tense moment, Tess stepped forward, her hands confident as she reached for the hem of your dress. With a swift motion, she began to peel the fabric away, revealing the vulnerable skin beneath.

Meanwhile, Joel moved behind you, his fingers deftly unhooking your bra with practiced ease. As the garment fell away, leaving you exposed and vulnerable, Joel's gaze hardened. "No touching," he commanded, his voice laced with a dangerous edge. "She hasn't had my dick in her ass yet, so there's no point in sharing yet. Just watch."

Turning his attention back to you, Joel's eyes bore into yours with an intensity that made your blood run cold. "Give them a show," he ordered, his tone dripping with malice. With a cruel grin, he began to trace the path of the gun along your skin, sending shivers of fear down your spine.

With every inch of exposed skin, Joel's sadistic grin widened. He traced the contours of your body with the cold metal of the pistol, his touch sending shivers down your spine. "Such a pretty little thing," he taunted, his voice dripping with malice. "All naked and vulnerable."

As he continued to torment you with the gun, his words grew more depraved. "Bet you're wondering what I'm gonna do with this," he mused, his tone filled with sickening excitement. "Maybe I'll use it to fuck you in the ass."

Your heart hammered in your chest as you braced yourself for whatever twisted game Joel had in store. The weight of the pistol against your skin felt like a ticking time bomb, each moment dragging out the agony of anticipation.

"Maybe I'll use it here," Joel's voice dripped with malice as he suddenly pressed the cold, hard barrel of the gun into your mouth. The metallic taste was overwhelming as you complied with his command, the weight of the weapon heavy on your tongue. Your cheeks burned with embarrassment, and a rush of adrenaline flooded your veins.

Glancing over at Tess and Tommy, Joel's eyes gleamed with sadistic pleasure at their reactions. Tommy's hands were shamelessly buried in his pants, indulging in his own depravity, while Tess, stripped down to her bra, caressed her breasts with a sickeningly soft touch.

Returning his gaze to you, Joel's grip on your neck tightened, forcing you to look upwards. Your throat constricted around the gun barrel as he pushed it deeper, eliciting a gag reflex. His laughter echoed through the room, a chilling soundtrack to your degradation. "Come on, take it. Come on," he taunted, his voice laced with perverse excitement.

With a cruel twist, Joel abruptly removed the gun from your mouth, leaving you gasping and coughing for air. The taste of metal lingered on your tongue as you struggled to regain your composure, tears stinging your eyes from the violent intrusion.

Ignoring your distress, Joel's eyes glittered with amusement as he admired the effect of his torment. "Pathetic," he spat, his tone dripping with disdain. "You can't even handle a little gun in your mouth."

Joel roughly turned your head to face Tess and Tommy, positioning you back-to-back with him, creating an unsettling image of depravity. Tess had her hands buried in her pants, mirroring Tommy's lewd actions. Meanwhile, Joel's touch grew more invasive as he groped your body with the cold metal of the gun, each touch sending a shiver of revulsion down your spine.

"You like that, huh?" Joel taunted, his voice dripping with contempt as he pressed the gun teasingly close to your trembling body. "Bet you've never had anything like this before."

You squirmed uncomfortably under his touch, feeling exposed and vulnerable as he continued to taunt and degrade you in front of Tess and Tommy. The weight of their lecherous gazes only added to your sense of shame and helplessness.

Joel's grip tightened around the gun as he abruptly thrust the cold metal barrel into your pussy without warning, causing you to gasp in shock and pain. The sensation was overwhelming—a mix of burning agony and icy coldness that made your entire body tense with discomfort.

Despite the searing pain that coursed through your body, there was a perverse and unsettling sensation that accompanied Joel's crude violation. It was as though amidst the agony, there lingered a twisted form of pleasure—a dark and forbidden allure that sent conflicting waves of desire and revulsion washing over you.

As the cold metal of the gun's barrel plunged into you with each merciless thrust, there was an undeniable arousal that stirred within you, mingling with the anguish and fear that consumed your senses. It was a sickening realization, one that filled you with shame and self-loathing even as your body betrayed you with its traitorous response.

Each jagged edge of the gun's barrel seemed to ignite a primal fire within you, awakening sensations that you had never dared to acknowledge before. Despite the brutality of Joel's actions, there was a part of you that craved the twisted pleasure that he elicited—a part of you that hungered for the forbidden ecstasy that danced on the edge of pain.

Amidst the torment, your body pulsed with unfamiliar sensations, a tumultuous symphony of pleasure and agony that left you trembling on the edge of surrender. Every gasp and moan that escaped your lips was a testament to your body's betrayal, succumbing to Joel's relentless domination.

As the gun's barrel thrust into you, each movement ignited a storm of conflicting emotions within you. Pleasure and pain intertwined, blurring the lines between ecstasy and despair. It was a descent into madness, a journey into the depths of your darkest desires, where every sensation threatened to consume you whole.

As the pressure of Joel's grip on your face intensified, his fingers digging into your cheeks, you felt a surge of panic rising within you. You desperately tried to look away, to escape the lewd scene unfolding before your eyes, but Joel's iron grip held you in place.

Tommy and Tess, lost in their own world of ecstasy, moved with a frenzied urgency, their bodies writhing in pleasure. Their hands roamed feverishly over their skin, eliciting moans of delight that filled the room. The air crackled with anticipation, heavy with the heady scent of arousal.

Meanwhile, Joel's touch on your clit sent bolts of electricity coursing through your body, each stroke igniting a firestorm of sensation. You gasped for air, your body trembling with a mixture of pleasure and pain.

"You enjoying this, huh?" Joel's voice dripped with sadistic amusement, his words laced with cruelty. "Such a filthy little slut, aren't you?"

Your heart raced as Joel's fingers continued their relentless assault, pushing you closer and closer to the edge. Just when you thought you couldn't take any more, he thrusts the cold metal barrel of the gun into you with a force that stole your breath away.

"Please...stop," you gasped, your voice strained with desperation. "I feel...I'm gonna pee."

The sensation was overpowering, a torrent of pleasure flooding your senses, leaving you gasping for air. You cried out, a primal sound of ecstasy mingling with the moans of Tommy and Tess, who watched on as if entranced.

Joel chuckled darkly, his eyes alight with sadistic glee. "You're not gonna pee, sweetheart," he taunted, his voice dripping with malice. "You're gonna cum."

Tommy leaned in closer, his eyes glazed with lust as he watched your writhing form. "Damn, she's really getting into it," he remarked, his voice barely above a whisper.

Tess nodded in agreement, her fingers tracing lazy circles over her own body as she watched the spectacle unfold. "She's a natural," she murmured, her voice tinged with envy.

Meanwhile, Joel's grip tightened on your body, his touch both rough and possessive as he continued to manipulate your pleasure. "That's it," he coaxed, his tone sickeningly sweet. "Give in to it. Let it consume you."

As the waves of ecstasy crashed over you, you felt a sense of shame wash over you. But amidst the shame, there was also a strange sense of liberation, a feeling of being utterly and completely consumed by the moment.

The room fell silent, save for the soft, rhythmic grunts of pleasure emanating from Tommy's direction. In the shelter of Joel's arms, you watched as Tommy's release painted his shirt, his outstretched hand halted by Joel's stern intervention. With a deft motion, Joel retrieved the pistol from its slick haven within your body, aiming it unwaveringly at Tommy's head.

"I said no touching," Joel's voice was a low growl, his eyes flashing with dangerous intent. Tess's moans were abruptly cut short as she, too, succumbed to her climax. Joel rolled his eyes in exasperation, his patience wearing thin. "Both of you...leave. NOW!"

As Tommy and Tess hurriedly obeyed, Joel's demeanor shifted, his hand gentle as it patted your head. It was a startling contrast to the violence moments ago. "You see, if you follow my rules, I protect you," he explained, his tone almost soothing. But as he gestured with the gun beneath your chin, the underlying threat was impossible to ignore, casting a stark shadow over his words.

"Now, it's time for you to show your gratitude," Joel's voice was cold, his eyes boring into yours with a predatory gleam. "You owe me, and you're going to thank me properly."

His demand hung in the air, heavy with implication. You felt a chill run down your spine as you realized the extent of his control over you. With trembling hands, you struggled to find the words to comply with his twisted request, knowing that defiance would only invite further punishment.

He guided you to the table, settling you onto the worn wood surface. The ache from the red marks on your ass made you flinch, but Joel silenced you with a gesture. "Shh..." His finger pressed gently against your lips. "I'm going to show you how to please me. Watch closely and learn.”

Joel unfastened his belt and let his pants drop to the floor, revealing his nakedness. He then took your hand and spat into it. "Make sure there's some wetness. If it's dry, it won't feel good," he instructed, his voice low and commanding. Guiding your hand with his, he began to stroke up and down his impressive length. His cock was large, the weight of it filling your hand as you struggled to wrap your fingers around it. "See, it's so simple," he grunted softly as he moved your hand along his shaft.

As you followed Joel's lead, your hand moved rhythmically along his length, slick with saliva and your own nervous sweat. His breath hitched with each stroke, his eyes darkening with lust as he watched your tentative movements. You focused intently on his reactions, trying to gauge what pleased him, all the while feeling a mix of revulsion and fear churn in the pit of your stomach.

Despite the discomfort and fear that pulsed through you, there was a strange sense of power in the act, a twisted form of control that you wielded over him. You couldn't deny the rush of adrenaline that surged through you as you brought him closer and closer to the edge, each stroke of your hand pushing him towards release.

And then, with a guttural groan, Joel's body tensed, his breath coming in ragged gasps as he reached the peak of his pleasure. Hot streams of cum erupted from him, coating your hand and spilling onto the floor below. As he finally released, you felt a sickening mixture of relief and disgust wash over you, knowing that you had played a part in satisfying his twisted desires once again.

[blackbird-brewster]

Meta: Jemily Queerbaiting

With the huge influx of posts saying 'Jemily is gonna be canon', I really appreciated seeing this post because OP was completely correct. I didn't want to write an entire dissertation as a reply, so I'm making my own post with my personal opinion on this. (All sources are noted in footnotes)

Before I began this rant, for anyone who thinks this is anti-Jemily. It is not. I have shipped Jemily for 18 friggin years and that's never going to change. This post is specifically my thoughts about queer baiting.

First off, I need to note that the showrunners (and the cast members who use social media) KNOW what a huge queer following this show has and that's why we got pansexual Tara Lewis in S16 [1]. Which, in itself, was SOOOOOOO important!!! Our first canonically queer main in SIXTEEN seasons was a middle-aged Black woman!!! That's phenomenal. (The fact it was horrible rep, because they instantly ruined her relationships once her queerness served it's plot point is a whole other post entirely)

In my opinion, the 'big Jemily moment' Paget posted about on Twitter [2] (and AJ hinted at during a recent IG live) is simply queerbaiting to get people to watch S17. I know a lot of you are newer to the fandom and I love your enthusiasm, I really do, ship and let ship, but listen, let's be real, Jemily is not going to be made canon. The showrunners aren't going to suddenly say (after 17 seasons) 'Surprise, Jemily is endgame'. This show has never cared about queer rep and now that CBS/Paramount have already ticked their queer rep box with Tara, they won't be in any rush to add any other characters to it.

Please buckle in, I've got a lot of thoughts on this matter --

What is Queerbaiting?

If you aren't aware of what queerbaiting is, here's a good definition:

Historically, queerbaiting has carried two meanings: the first is an act of aggressive heterosexuality to shut down queer subtext on screen while still teasing and catering to the queer audience in advertising, public relations, and fan engagement strategies; the second is an existing homoerotic tension between two characters played up on screen while met with derision by the professionals behind the scenes. [3]

The Medium article quoted here is from 2017, a time when parasocial relationships were really starting to take over social media. In 2024, actors are now only a mention or tag away online, they have direct conversations with fans, and this process has allowed for an even deeper form of queerbaiting.

Oftentimes online, actors are asked directly about certain ships and while some ignore these questions (usually to avoid breaking their contracts or other repercussions), others (looking at you, Paget) choose to instead tease fans about queer ships. She's done this for years upon years and if I've learned anything in the past twenty-years of existing in fandom spaces it's this -- don't hold your breath. In it's original meaning, for something to be deemed as queerbaiting there had to be malicious, or at least, purposeful intent to string queer fans along by teasing them with suggestive content about the ship in question, while knowing this ship will never come to fruition in canon.

The thing to remember is, Paget and AJ aren't the only ones who know about Jemily shippers -- the network and showrunners are well aware of this ship too. When networks/showrunners figure out they have a strong sapphic fanbase, they love to use that to their advantage to get more viewers and higher ratings. Queerbaiting is a goldmine to keep fans watching long running shows, look at Rizzoli and Isles, Supergirl, and OUAT for examples of this.

Jemily and Queerbaiting:

Ever since Emily joined the BAU in S2 (2006), there have always been fans who ship JJ/Emily (shoutout to the old LJ forums!). Way before celebs were just a tweet away from fans, back when all our fics began with disclaimers so we wouldn't get sued by networks, we went to great lengths to keep our fanworks far removed from actors/showrunners attention.

As far as Jemily goes, this reply from Paget in a 2009 interview with TVGuide.com [4] (which has now been deleted from their site unfortunately, but there are quotes on Tumblr still [4.a]) confirmed some fans' worst fear -- the actors had found our fanworks online.

TVGuide.com: Of course, a band of fans want her to hook up with Hotch.

Brewster: I know! I didn't realize that fans make these videos on YouTube? A.J. Cook sent me a hilarious one that made it look like Prentiss and J.J. were having a secret lesbian affair. You know, when Hotch was blown up in the SUV, we shot this scene where he's in the hospital and I'm standing next to him, looking at his bleeding ear. Our director came in and said, "Paget, you're looking at Hotch like you're in love with him. It looks really weird." So now, every day, Thomas [Gibson] and I flutter our eyelids at each other.

This was the first time I recall anyone acknowledging Jemily shippers publicly and at the time (Jan 2009), the show was still in Season Four (just before CBS fired both AJ and Paget [5]). Paget genuinely said it's 'hilarious' that fans shipped JJ/Emily. Even now, I'll see people say 'We know Paget and AJ have seen Jemily fanvids, so they obviously ship it too' -- but those same people rarely acknowledge the full context of the original answer. Paget not only thought JJ/Emily were 'hilarious', but then she doubled down and turned her reply back to how she and Thomas liked to play up the chemistry between Emily/Hotch.

While no one can say for sure which video it was that AJ sent Paget, just knowing they were watching JJ/Emily fanvids sent a bit of a shockwave through the femslash side of the fandom. To some it felt like an invasion of privacy, fanworks are by fans for fans -- knowing the cast were poking around in fandom spaces added an extra layer of worry around what we fans were posting online. Fifteen years ago, it used to be quite taboo for actors to outwardly discuss shipping or other fanon for whatever show they were in, and we fans were usually comfortably removed from the actors altogether.

Of course, now it's the norm for fans and actors/showrunners to co-exist online and interact with one another. This connection has opened new ways for shows to queerbait their fans. Pretty much every show has some form of social media account now and there is no doubt that the people running those accounts keep up with the most popular ships and hashtags. Not to mention that actors are constantly barraged with questions about whether they ship their character with x,y,z, or whether they think a ship should be made canon, etc. These interactions only serve to benefit the shows themselves, because whether the conversation is for or against a certain ship, it's all just free publicity (Why do you think CM now has a TikTok account?)

Every time AJ or Paget say anything about Jemily, the queer side of the fandom loses their minds. But this has been going on for YEARS now and every single time, it turns out to be nothing but social media hype and queerbaiting. Remember this AJ post? [6] Or what about the notorious reply by Paget to a fan, where she talks about how she and AJ held hands under the table 'for the shippers' [7] I've seen this cycle over and over again, so perhaps I am cynical, but I'm not getting my hopes up that Jemily will ever seriously be canon.

It's widely known now, after both Kirsten [8] and Paget [9] have talked about it, that there was an early idea where Prentiss was supposed to be queer, but that was ultimately scraped before it ever made it on screen. For context, please remember, this show has been airing for nearly twenty years. It began in 2005, during the highly conservative Bush administration. Queer people didn't have rights in the US, we couldn't get married, we were rarely protected under discrimination laws, and we could even be fired for simply being queer (in some states). Diverse queer representation on screen was extremely limited to things like 'The L Word' and 'Queer as Folk' (both aired on Showtime, so they were behind a paywall. And as far as tLw goes, that show was extremely male-gaze focused and is horrible in nearly all regards if you try to rewatch it now). As far as prime time shows went, queer rep was even more rare. Which is why Emily wasn't queer from the get-go.

Yes, things have changed since 2006 in terms of queer rep on TV. We have a myriad of queer identities represented in TV and film nowadays, which is why I think it's so easy for newer fans to say 'lf she was supposed to be gay anyway, they should just make Emily queer in canon!' I know this is what fuels most fans' demands for Emily being confirmed queer, and I get it, I DO. I would be all for it! However, I do not, in one hundred years, actually believe that is going to happen after they already canonically queer confirmed Tara in S16. The fact we even got ONE queer character is ground-breaking for this show.

It's also worth noting, that in the time between Paget's departure in 2012 and her return in 2016, she became very active on Twitter. This was when more and more fans began asking her about Jemily and after Kirsten's AfterEllen interview, fans also pushed for Paget to address the possibility of Emily being gay. 'Pushed' is actually an understatement for some of the outright harassment she would receive. (AJ received some of this harassment too, but less so because she doesn't use social media ass often) Back then, neither of them replied to these things directly. Yet, no matter what either woman posted, the replies were full of Jemily stans begging for her acknowledgement. (Did you know 'stan' is literally a term coined for stalker fans?) I remember one time AJ's friend was missing and she posted info on her IG about it, you know what the replies were? People asking her about Jemily. It was genuinely sickening.

Within this context, it was no surprise to fans when Emily came back in S12 , she and JJ's friendship was seemingly erased. The two women were rarely on screen together in the late seasons, plus the writers saw fit to even give Emily not only one (Mark in London, but two, on-screen boyfriends for the first time in the entire series. I personally do not think these changes to Emily's character were coincidence, I saw the hellscape of what people would say to AJ and Paget online and I fully believe that upon Paget's return to the show, the showrunners purposely tried to distance JJ and Emily to dissuade the more abusive side of the fanbase.

Can I prove that, no. But it is the only reason I can think of as to why Emily S12+ seemingly didn't care about JJ anymore, despite their deep and meaningful friendship. I mean, they both CROSSED THE WORLD to go rescue each other in prior canon -- but when Emily comes back, they acted like they barely knew each other. This was even more prevalent in S16, when JJ's main storylines all revolved around Will, and Emily barely looked at JJ in the entirety of ten episodes. (Remember how Prentiss didn't even hug JJ after bomb, but she did go hug Luke?)

So, do Paget and AJ earnestly ship Jemily, or are they continuing the long tradition of queerbaiting us? Who fucking knows, not me. But based on the history of this fandom, I think I can make a safe bet. (Interestingly, if you search all of Paget's twitter for the word 'Jemily' [10] she only has 3 direct tweets mentioning the ship. I don't think it's a coincidence that two are within the past few months since they started filming S17 (the other one was a RT of Kirsten (who tagged something Jemily)

This is all to say --

Just because Paget and AJ have publicly talked about Jemily,, this doesn't mean it's ever going to happen on screen. And you know what, THAT'S OKAY!! There has been this constant outcry (after Tara became queer confirmed) of 'Do Emily next' or 'Why wasn't it Emily with a girlfriend!?' and 'Jemily needs to be canon in S17!' -- as if people believe their ships aren't worth anything unless they are canon.

That couldn't be further from the truth! Fandom is built on headcanons and fan interpretations and rare pairs and all types of shippers. Your ship does NOT need to be canon for you to enjoy it. I will ship Jemily forever, no matter what. I don't think there will be some magical queer plot in S17, at best, we might actually get to see Emily/JJ on screen together again and after the train wreck that was S16 -- I'll take whatever I can get.

And hey -- if I am completely wrong, if Erica Messer pulls a Korrasami out of her hat, I will be ecstatic. I will be happy to be proved wrong, but at the same time, I'm not going to lose sleep over it and I'm DEFINITELY not going to go hound the actors about it on social media.

Sources:

[1] 2022 Digital Spy article about the importance of Tara's coming out

[2] 04/18/24 Paget Tweet

[3] 2017 Queerbaiting article from medium.com

[4] 2009 Broken TVGuide link

[4.a] Tumblr quote from the above TVGuide Interview

[5] 2010 Kirsten interview screenrant.com

[6] 2019 AJ Instagram Post

[7] 2020 Paget video on Twitter (via @karasluthqr)

[8] 2015 Kirsten interview AfterEllen.com

[9] 2016 Paget Interview CriminalMindsFans.com

[10] @PagetPaget search 'Jemily'

[strawberrylesbiana]

Cloudy days clear nights

summary: When you grow up in a home where your parents are emotionally absent it affects your life, when your mother wasn't prepared to be a mother and throws all the traumas and insecurities she had at you it's not easy, a father who doesn't know how to apologize and lives drunk and has aggressive tendencies isn't easy to deal with, and reader relapses on a bad day that leaves you stuck in thought and she doesn't tell Natash, leaving her worried.

warnins: angst with happy ending , angst to fluff, use of Y/N sometimes, suicidal thoughts, mention of self-harm and scars from self-harm, Be careful if this triggers you, don't read if you know you can't deal with triggers, you are not alone and don't be ashamed to ask for help.

All the ghosts of the past follow me to this day, they all live in my mind and make me tremble like a child, today in particular was a difficult day, one of those reminiscent of school days.

The day had started well but the mission had gone wrong which had resulted in intrusive thoughts questioning whether she was really worthy of being there with the Avengers, then there was the meeting with Tony where he made a point of reminding her of the mistakes she had made.

At lunchtime there was the problem with the rain and the first phone call from her mother, the more the phone rang the more her appetite went away, there was no putting off the call for long.

The unpleasant voice came from the other end of the phone, things like "why are you still working there?" "you've been in newspapers all over the world, do you know how hard it is to have a daughter who doesn't do anything useful?" "did you really try to do something? of course not, you've always been worthless".

the voice yelled and screamed for a few minutes before hanging up, before Y/N could say anything or defend herself her mother's voice didn't stop and when it did it was because she hung up the phone.

To make matters worse, for the rest of the day her girlfriend, Natasha, was stuck at work until later, when Y/N was lying on her bed staring at the ceiling, she spiraled into a spiral of negative thinking.

she saw herself in high school again, being bullied by her classmates, she saw herself at that time taking out all the anger she felt on herself, she saw herself as the useless girl she had felt all day.

Y/N didn't know when she started crying but she felt the tears dripping from her eyes. She went into the bathroom and looked at herself in the mirror, her hair messy with tears and her eyes red.

-How could Natasha like someone like me? - she asked herself, she had scars all over her thigh and wrist, she wasn't even that pretty.

-"Maybe I should just disappear... she wouldn't even notice," she muttered to her reflection in the mirror and sat down on the bathroom floor.

When the redhead returned home in the early hours of the morning, she felt a strange air hanging over the apartment. She walked into the kitchen, where the lights were off and a cold plate was on the sink.-Baby? - Natasha called out as she walked to her room. The light in the bathroom at the end of the corridor was on, which made her follow her there.

-"Honey, are you all right? It's me," Natasha said, trying to open the door and failing. "Honey, open the door," she said in a tone where she was almost begging her girlfriend to open the door.

The lack of response worried Natasha, who began to try to force her way into the bathroom. When the door opened, Natasha almost fell into the bathroom. She saw her girlfriend lying in the bathtub crying.

-Bear?- she said, running over to her girlfriend in the bath and kneeling down outside the bath - Look at me, darling, are you all right? What happened? - she says worriedly, putting her hand on Y/N's cheek.

The woman in the bathtub looks at the redhead and tears fall more than before -You shouldn't see me like this - she says as she looks away from her girlfriend.

-"Sweetheart," the redhead says as she steps into the empty bathtub and pulls her girlfriend onto her lap, "talk to me," she says as she strokes her girlfriend's hair. It took a while for Y/N to finally talk, she looked at Natasha and felt like crying even more.

-Today was so stressful...I made a mistake during the mission and Tony wouldn't let me forget it, so my mom called me...and - Y/N stuttered through her tears - I feel so useless, like I don't deserve this life - Y/N's comment made Natasha's heart sink, the redhead continued stroking the woman's hair in her lap and kissed her forehead.

-"Sweetheart, mistakes happen, life isn't easy but we can't let mistakes consume us, you fought to be here and you deserve all of this, I love you so much," she said, wiping away her girlfriend's tears, "come on, let's go to bed, so I can hug you properly," Natasha said, getting up and helping her girlfriend up too, she held her girlfriend close as they walked to the bed.

-Thank you Tasha - Y/N says as she looks at her girlfriend changing to lie down next to her.

-Thanks for what? - the redhead says, looking at the girl sitting on the bed.

-"For taking care of me...not letting me give up." The girl on the bed says looking at her scarred left arm, Natasha walks over to her and sits down next to her, taking her hand and intertwining their fingers.

-Thank you for what? - the redhead said looking at the girl sitting on the bed.

-For taking care of me...don't let me give up - The girl on the bed said looking at her scarred left arm, Natasha walked over to her and sat down next to her, taking her hand and intertwining their fingers.

-"Honey, you're my girlfriend and I love you more than anything, I'm not going to let you just fall apart, how many times have you helped me, huh? we're a couple, in good times and bad," Natasha says as she pulls the girl close and kisses the scars on her arm. "Those scars just show how strong you are, baby," Natasha says, looking into the eyes of Y/N, who was almost falling asleep in her arms.

-I love you Natasha.

-I love you too Y/N.

[petalsscribbles]

7. memories

Since his injury, Yn gets to stay at home. He could also work from the comfort of their bedroom but Jay, being the overprotective husband he is, won't let him. He even went as far as threatening to confiscate his laptop if he doesn't rest properly.

"I'm home." He calls, getting a hum as a response. After shrugging off his coat and kicking off his shoes, Jay enters their living room. Yn is seated on the floor, laser focused on making a braclet out of colorful beads, shapes and letters sprawled out on the coffee table in front of him.

Jay throws loosens his tie before sitting on the sofa right behind Yn, feet planted on each side of his body.

"What are you making?" He asks softly, leaning in beside Yn's left ear.

"I think you mean what I'm trying to make." Yn answers with a hint of defeat in his voice.

"Then what are you trying to make, dear?" He rephrases.

"A bracelet."

"For me?"

"No, but I could make you one if you want." Yn offers. Jay hums in agreement.

"If it won't be too much trouble." He adds before wrapping his arms around Yn's shoulders. One hand raises to move few strands of his husband's hair to check the stiched wound, even though he doesn't know the first thing about surgery.

"How's your head? Does it hurt?"

Yn leans back with a sigh.

"Of course it doesn't. It never hurt all that much in the first place."

Jay's eyes wander back to the unfinished accessory. It's simple, switching several colours in a nice pattern.

"Do you like it?" Yn asks, bringing it closer.

"Yeah. It reminds me of the key chain you made me before I flew to America."

Several years ago...

Jongseong's shoes feel like they're made out of lead as he follows their butler. He doesn't want to leave. Not at all. And so far away at that.

Maybe if it weren't for certain someone, he would welcome a change of scenery, a break from his overbearing father, an escape from the cold, loveless mansion he calls home.

But there is certain someone. And for that certain someone, he'd bear with his father's nags and slept in his bed that's way too big for a teenage boy.

But it doesn't matter what he wants, what and who he loves. As long as his name is Park Jongseong, he doesn't have a choice.

He's about to get into the shiny black Mercedes when someone calls his name. It's the reason the short walk from his room to the street outside felt like torture.

"Yn, what are you doing here?" He asks as the boy catches his breath.

"Here." He says and hands him a key chain. It's made out of beads, with a little star at the end with the letter J drawn on it. "I made this for you."

"Why?" Is all Jay can punch out of his chest as he examines it.

"So you don't forget me too quickly." Yn tries to joke, but there is a tinge of sadness in his words.

"I don't know what to say." He states honestly.

"You can start by thank you."

"Young master, we have to go." The servant says, but Jay pays him no mind.

Say it. Beg me to stay. Ask me to run away with you. Tell me you can hide me in your cellar. Just say anything so I don't have to go.

"Have a safe flight." Is what Yn says, and it might just be the cruelest words Jongseong's ever heard.

Present day...

"You remember that?" Yn asks, slightly surprised. Jay just reaches into his pocket, fishing out his keys and presenting them to Yn.

The key chain is stil attached, although the star has a few scratches and the letter is almost completely faded.

Yn takes the keys and runs his thumb along his gift.

"Why do you still have this?"

"Because it's cute." He lies.

a/n: is this cute? Is this sad? I dunno you tell me.

taglist OPEN comment/ send ask to be added

@starchasing-cryptid @onementally-unstabel-kid @nootnootpinguuu @kkurbys @gnusihcom @silkentides @monstaxpuppy @bubblztaro @lavanderxamour @zzzavid @thishastwentyletters @dkmyman @tarotarosung @darlingzsworld @moonslie04

prev masterlist next

[psyphigirl]

Trial Run

Content Warning for death feedism straying closer to abuse rather than a mutual relationship.

How was that? Nice?

No ... ? Oh. I spent a long time making that slop for you to enjoy. The least you could do is pretend to be appreciative of everything I do for you.

I know it makes you sick and eating so much is painful, I'm tired of hearing you compain. Your ailments don't have to be my problem. It's hardly my fault I had to fatten you into immobility. You were constantly trying to fucking escape!

Enough with the waterworks. Don't you think I know you well enough by now to tell when you're faking? Yeah that's right, dry your eyes.

Oh, what's that? Something's the matter? Let me guess: Tight chest? Probably a heart attack, then. But you aren't worried about a silly little mid-week heart attack. You've survived heart attacks before.

Unless ... Maybe there was a little extra sugar in today's slop. Maybe some extra lard, too. Or maybe, just maybe, there was a little dose of levalbuterol.

Ooooh ... That got your attention, didn't it? That's right. A beta agonist. The perfect thing to give to someone who suffers from reccurent heart attacks. I'm a little disappointed you knew what that was, to be honest. If you remember your time as a pharmasist it means I've failed to strip you of your personality and memories. No matter. I've learned from my mistakes.

Haha, now you don't fancy your odds! Now you don't think you'll make it through. Now you're scared.

I bet you wished you hadn't left me everything you own in your will. It was such a turn on for you to do so, too. At least, it was until I made you too big for the front door. All that money ... such an incentive for me to ... How should I put it ... Cash in? And move on to the next unsuspecting sow.

Hello? Still with us? Vision fading? Vignette growing around the edges of your vision?

Let me just lie you back down on the bed. There you are. If you're experiencing loss of vision you're sure to soon become too lightheaded to stay upright.

Woah ... I can actually hear your heart beating from your bedside. You're little heart is actually beating out of your chest and you're still lucid. How about that.

Don't give me that look. I won't leave you. I won't risk you pulling ofd yet another miraculous revival only for me to be halfway across the country, thinking the job is finished, and not being by your side to feed you some more slop.

I know you know you were only a trial run. But I did love our time together. Why don't you sleep now? There there. You won't have to deal with me much longer ...

[pencilpat]

In Any Form You Take - dukeceit

Scar positivity, mostly made for the purpose of comforting myself, but I wanted to share it as well. I hardly see media involving people with scars as gnarly as mine, so hopefully this can bring others comfort as well. The title is a reference to this song.

Read on Ao3 here

[Content warning for implied past self harm and current body image issues.]

Remus sits splayed out on its bed, trying to act like it isn't waiting for something. Janus has, for the first time in the months they've been dating, agreed to stay the night in its room. He disappeared into the bathroom to change almost 30 minutes ago, and Remus would be lying if it said it wasn't worried. It turns over to look at the ceiling, making bored popping noises with its lips.

It doesn't blame Janus for any nervousness there may be, Janus hasn't been naked around... well, any of the sides for as long as it can remember. Remus can't place when it happened, but as Thomas grew up and Janus became more engrossed in his role, he started to cover up everything. Literally and metaphorically. Long sleeves and even gloves, at one point when they were a teen he even had a half mask on his face before everyone discovered his snake-like features.

Remus knows Janus must be getting into pyjamas, and the sound of shuffling indicates it doesn't have to speculate for very much longer. Janus cracks open the door slightly, just enough to see his face, his long hair down and swaying by his chin. "Remus?"

"Yeah, Janus? Everything okay in there?"

"Yes. I'm okay. I- I just need you to not act weird, okay? Can you promise?"

Remus sits up cross-legged, face scrunched up in confusion. It chuckles slightly, rolling its eyes. "All I ever do is act weird, but I can tone it down for ya."

"Remus, I'm serious."

It takes pause, blinking and tilting its head to the side softly. Janus's tone of voice is heavily somber and almost nervous, and it's not one that Remus hears often. "Uh, okay. I promise, no weirdness."

Janus takes in a deep breath, and the door opens. His hand falls from the knob and holds his own wrist anxiously, eyes refusing to make contact with a nervous attempt at a coy smile filling his features. "I- I know it's a lot, feel free to stare and ogle as long as you'd like." Janus's biting sarcasm feels completely toothless, and he can't quite make himself look at Remus's face. So, when its suddenly right in front of him, he startles and gasps quietly. But as he's pulling away, Remus is reaching towards him.

"Stare and act weird at you about this? What? Why would I be that mean?" Remus lets its hand hover between them as it waits for a sign that it's okay to touch. It tries not to look outwardly fascinated by the scars that cover its boyfriend's arms almost entirely, all thick and bumpy in varying shades of purple and white. Old, but definitely some nasty keloids.

"Remus you've done meaner things in your sleep, don't play with me." Janus laughs and it comes out strained. Cringing at himself, he barely feels present all of a sudden. Like he's floating. Dizzy, lightheaded. "I know you've seen scars before, though you only seem to have them for a short time when you do get them, but they... stayed on me." Janus rubs his own arm, horrifically textured no matter what he does, breathing out shakily. Remus is observing him silently, and Remus is never silent. It makes him terrified. "Sorry, I know they're gross, this was probably overstepping. It was wrong to assume you'd be okay with it, I can go back to my own-"

Remus's hands close the gap, and rests right there, directly touching his scars. "Nah, you assumed right, I don't mind one bit!" It smiles, sharp teeth gleaming at him. "The shit you've seen me touch and you thought I'd find you gross? Jan, that's so unintelligent that I barely recognize you." Janus is frozen in place, his eyes watching Remus's face as it touches his arm, running its hands over even the ones Janus won't let himself touch. A gentle smile fills its face, and it leans in to plant a kiss on Janus's cheek. "Certainly adds a bit of dramatic flair to one's body, huh?"

Janus feels tears in his eyes, glancing to the side as Remus kisses his scales. He can't seem to make words come out of his mouth, because if they did it would just be bashful apologies and humiliated proclamations of how ugly he is.

"Did someone tell you you were gross?" Remus asks, bizarrely quiet and soft compared to its usual self.

"God no, I'd rather die than show any of the others this. No, I did all the name calling myself, thank you very much."

Remus's arms wrap around him in a hug, gripping him tightly. "Well then tell that asshole to shut up for once, why don't you?" It buries its face into Janus's shoulder. "I will hunt down and eat anyone who ever says those things to you, and that includes you yourself!"

"Remus..." Janus can't help a light, comforted chuckle at the expression of violence. "You won't be eating anyone, down boy," he jokes, laughing even as he's sniffling.

Remus pulls back, gazing at him fondly. "You're really pretty, Janus. Scars included." Its eyes darken playfully. "And when I see a pretty boy I want him in my bed!" Remus suddenly swoops Janus up over its shoulder like a sack, making the smaller side yelp and cling to it upside down. Without time to adjust he's chucked haphazardly into a pile of pillows, wheezing out a laugh and covering his face.

"My god, you're so dumb. Fine then, bed me Mr. Duke," Janus dramatically throws a hand against his forehead and lays back as though on a fainting couch.

Remus cackles and throws itself on the pillows right beside him. "No offense, babe, but I'm exhausted and I'd rather just cuddle and feel up your sick ass battle wounds, if you'd let me. I can even scream dramatically and act like I stepped in horse shit if that'll validate your self flagellation!"

"Oh, how caring and noble an offer," Janus quips, rolling his eyes and cuddling against Remus's chest. They both laugh, and then go quiet, staring across at each other.

"Love you," Remus offers up.

"Love you too," Janus accepts, the room darkening as Remus wills it to and settling them into darkness for sleep.

[feelinungry]

and i will always, always, be defending the "plot-holes" that are not actually plot-holes at all. i've seen people on facebook complain so many times about the ending of the game - about the siege of talmberg to be more exact.

"just attack it", "just take it down", "why doesn't divish just do it", "ohh his wife he can't even fuck! nobody gives a damn", "henry doesn't even really care for radzig at this point" etc.

and i have to go back to that one solitary thing this game literally cannot exist without: love. it's the main aspect, it's the pillars the story stands on, it's everything.

medieval movies and books like to picture the old times ala skyrim: "my son was very young when he died. but he did so while doing his duty. he fell for skyrim! he fell for the empire! i do not mourn for i am proud!"

"oh, i loved my father more than anything. but he is gone now. that is life."

it is. but. hear me out. people back then - were actually just like people now. we break down when we lose someone we adore, cherish, love, protect. no matter how stoic we may be, we don't take it lightly, do we?

so, if you think about it, is it a plot-hole, when divish refuses to attack his castle because

it's his home and he loves it

his wife is in there

his friend is also in there?

robard would not attack if it were divish in there. radzig would not attack if it were henry in there. hans would not attack if it were hanush in there. istvan would not attack if it were erik in there. captain bernard would not attack if it were hans in there.

it all comes back to love. and wanting people you care about safe.

martin running back to certain death because his wife is in the village when the cumans attack.

both parents worrying about nothing but their beloved son even while they are being brutally murdered.

everyone on talmberg willing to lock henry up just to keep him away from skalitz (for reasons yet unknown).

theresa making a last stand for someone just as lost as her.

the understanding he's met with when henry comes and admits his failure to radzig, the fact that he went against direct order. (nothing, absolutely nothing else but radzig being in debt to martin, or radzig being someone close to henry, could explain the understanding, the acceptance, and the outcome of the whole situation. how do you think henry - who is just a young man, not a hero, not a dragonborn, not a chosen one - would get away with all this?)

henry backed out of the night raid on talmberg because hans was wounded and wouldn't survive long enough for the mission to succeed.

hans (in one of the outcomes) carried him out on his back, saving his fat ass. no time for glory, no time for saving the hostages when it's suddenly your best friend who is on the ground and bleeding out. he might have succeeded with the mission. yet he didn't hesitate when suddenly it was him who was put in the shoes of those who just wanted to keep their loved ones safe. it was stephanie for divish (he approved the raid). it was radzig for henry (he was the one who went first and most willingly). and it was henry for hans (who immediately backed out on henry's behalf). all those actions were based on love.

would you attack talmberg, knowing there was someone you loved? someone you wanted to know better, someone you wanted to learn how to love, someone who could have been much closer if he only tried? someone you only just met?

the whole story starts with love, continues with love, ends with love. it is everywhere you look and you don't even have to romance anyone to see it, to feel it. it is in the npcs' lives, it's the motivation behind so many actions. it's in henry's decisions. in your decisions.

because, don't you just love this game?

[spotlightlowlife]

A step not forward but to the side.

First off, this family time tale is a nice idea.

Shorts is a good idea too. Filling in gaps without having to commit to a story, but that's also the issue and has been for a long while.

Though it's nice to have the sisters enjoy a day together, we gloss over what little we were offered in the first place.

Millie

The Millie episode in season one had the family be tough farm folk who were open about their disappointment at Millie's choice of partner and lifestyle, which truly didn't have to take away from Millie but it did because that was all their entire yet breif content and throughout these scenes, as is now usual, Millie had zero to say on the matter. It was up to Moxxie to find an excuse to finally stand up to the parents after making all the effort, though the impression of bridges burning thankfully wasn't there, Millie still had nothing to contribute.

Fast forward to this short and Millie has nothing to say on any matter. Moxxie not getting a mention doesn't make it more of a Millie story when Millie yet again has no argument for her frowned upon choices even when they're bought to her attention...

Why couldn't she defend her job?

Why couldn't she defend her choice to move?

Also for us...

Why didn't we learn why Millie moved to the city and why this particular place?

Did she leave home abruptly and why?

Did she always give the impression of wanting to be elsewhere?

When did Millie discover she loved spar days, shopping and clubs and why don't we know these things?

Dispite her lack of anything to say, I was impressed by Millie not feeling guilty about leaving the farm, but again this could be yet another example of nothing to say (if only at atleast one of the 'also for us' questions had been addressed)?

Sally

BS on Sally running that place alone, this is yet another example of pushing blame onto someone else to make a character seem nicer and more innocent, this show has a history of doing this, Stolas is sad because of Stella and (somehow) to a lesser extent Paimon being one example but there's one better. What we saw was a close knit family who were united in their bafflement at Millie's choices yet happy to see her, Sally was the only one who's judgment come across as fairly harmless teasing in the two lines she got, but now their parents are useless, the brothers are of little help, nobody else was around and Sally is sad because of this. It's reminiscent of Ozzie and Fizz exuding confidence, a love for lust and enjoyment at grudges (was the Fizzbot programmed to pick on Blitzø), the same two who happily mocked Millie, Moxxie and Blitzø, now push the blame for their unhappiness and work choices onto Mammon just as we meet him.

We really could have dwelled more on how much they miss one another and how much they have in common.

Sally coming across as a fish out of water didn't work neither, she dressed similar to Millie in the first place and again after the out of place dress scene that didn't even fit this series (maybe Hazbin), she never come across as rough and unglamorous.

Lastly Moxxie

Moxxie silently slipping past them unnoticed, apparently happy that his wife is happy to me isn't sweet, it's like he can't be comfortable in his home when Millie has her known to be hostile towards him for no good reason family over, that even so much as a greeting before leaving them alone ruins things. Had Millie and Sally been asleep this would have been exactly what was intended, sweet.

Has anything improved?

A side step this was.

[neil-gaiman]

How do you cope with seeing negative reviews about your work? I've always dreamed of publishing a novel, but I'm very afraid of seeing criticism online if I did.

You cope. You might cope by not reading them, or by not going online, or by deciding that different people have different tastes and it's a good thing that not everyone likes the same things because otherwise there would be no room in the world for those of us who make things that aren't intended for everyone. But however you do it, you cope.

[countess-of-edessa]

men who go "fuck!" and stalk around in disappointment at gender reveals where it is revealed they are having (another) daughter, in front of his already existing daughters and pregnant wife, i hope your wife leaves you and gets a hot millionaire second husband and they have a bunch of sons together and all of your disappointingly female daughters call him dad ♥️