#if you actually ANALYZED his actions

[mvt-confessions]

I love the direction popcross is taking Arava in and I still like her more than Clayton. last night's episode proves she is an overall better and more complex character than he is.

With how she has gone from maleficent evil to an anti-hero primarily after her own survival.

-

[twentyfivemiceinatrenchcoat]

one thing i really wish people wouldn’t forget when it comes to suguru’s character is that his core desire is just to have a family. not in a nuclear family way, but in a “i want a place where i belong / i want to protect the ones i love” way…… literally everything else is just an extension of that desire. a means to meet that end. he broke down after being forced to realize that staying with his family meant having to watch them die, so he left and made a new one. and he got stronger. and his core wish was always, always always to create a world where he’d finally be able to protect them :(((((((((

[lunar-wandering]

do y'all think Macaque is falling back into the role that Azure and the others put on him by remaining on the outskirts of the group because he thinks his input/presence is unwanted (and yeah his presence isn't really wanted by MK and the others BUT. something about the fact Macaque is placing himself at the edge of the group, the edge that Azure and the others pushed him to, doesn't really sit well)

[beemovieerotica]

i don't really want to see this retconning of neil gaiman's writing where people are re-analyzing stories like "look...you can see the message under the surface...showing how he was actually abusive IRL...it's all there..."

idk maybe we should just listen to people when they speak up and say they were abused and try to foster a culture of respecting victims and actually enforcing justice against perpetrators instead of doing this weird fucking da vinci code-esque picking apart of his stories. stories which everyone was fine with for decades!! because we understand that the content that people write and produce does not have a 1 to 1 correlation with their real world actions!!!

i fully support people who cannot engage with his work anymore and i do think that because he's a still-living person it's imperative to not give this guy another cent, but we cannot pretend that everyone was just "too dumb" to see the secret clues and turn this into another case of "what you write is what you endorse." plenty of dogshit people write good stories. plenty of good people write dark stories. that's all.

[goorgeousz]

luther | aaron hotchner

after hours au

luther | aaron hotchner 

after hous au

pairing: aaron hotchner x bau!female!reader

summary: during a case you realize hotch knows you more than you imagined.

content/tw: sexism (from a captain), mentions of killing and torture, reader not liking to be vulnerable,  reader flirting with hotch, hotch being protective (<3), deep subjects, fluff!!

word count: 2.8k

a/n: my requests are open! Not only for this au, and not only for hotch! i really liked how this one turned out, hope you enjoy it too <3

this is a part of a little series! you can read it as standalones but if you want some background, this is part 1 and part 2.

after hours masterlist

main masterlist

“JJ and Morgan, go to Ashley’s parent’s house. Reid and Rossi, check with the coroner. The rest come with me to the PD” Hotch announced, still on the plane after debriefing the case. The team agreed and went back to individually analyzing the case files.

A few months passed since you joined the BAU, and you already felt like you had always been there. The team was great and you bonded almost immediately.

At first, Hotch didn’t trust you fully. Not that he thought you were unqualified — he would never accept anyone but the best on his team —, but after what happened between you, he felt like he had to be even more careful. Not just because of you, but because of him too. All of his decisions — always made after a lot of pondering — had to be rethought at least twice. He feared somehow mistreating you, or even the opposite. He was scared of letting himself treat you differently because of what happened. To end up ruining your career, and obviously his too.

It only took him one case. Less than that, actually. At the very first time you worked together, on a kidnapping case in a small town in Nevada, he realized just how professional you truly were. He obviously read your resume — very obsessively so — but seeing you in action in person was a whole other story. Despite your playful and flirtatious demeanor, you didn’t let your emotions and personal beliefs influence your job — at least for the most part. On the contrary, you used them as a mechanism to improve yourself and your skills

You were tougher than you appeared to be — never being underdressed, always with at least one red item on display. You fought tooth and nail for the team, believing truly that everything worked out in the end. You were kind, respectful, thoughtful and appreciative with everyone who crossed paths with you, what made you the perfect partner to help him deal with the public.

“Agent Hotchner?” one of the officers approached him as soon as the team arrived at the station.

“Exactly.” he shook the man’s hand, introducing you and Emily right after.

“Let me take you to the conference room, your team can stay there” he said kindly, guiding you through the bullpen.

…

Later that morning, while Emily was discussing strategies with the rest of the team, you and Hotch went to the captain’s office, who had just returned from a press conference with the public to discuss the case.

“Sir” Hotch said as soon as he stepped into the office, introducing himself and you shortly after. The captain glanced at you up and down, and winked knowingly at Hotch.

“Atta boy.” he smiled, nodding approvingly and smiling like they knew something you didn’t.

Aaron's reaction to this was the same reaction he had for everything: stoically ignoring the teasing.

“She’s extremely qualified, indeed.” he said, trying to end the subject. But before he could managed to explain his thoughts on the case, the captain interrupted him.

“And quite a view, if you know what I mean.” he winked. You were about to snap at him, but Hotch was faster.

“Graduated in forensic psychology, major in communication and experienced in sex crimes. Given the case we’re currently working on, I really don’t see anyone more qualified.” he took the lead, slightly puffing his chest and holding his chin high, proudly standing up for his team members — especially for you.

The captain just laughed, raising both hands in mock surrender “You guys can’t take a little compliment. I wonder why most agents in the sex crimes division are women.” at that you finally break.

“Take a wild guess, smarty as—” you snapped, not even bothering to mask the poison in your voice.

“Agent.” Hotch interrupted. If you didn’t know him, you would’ve missed the way the corner of his lips twitching just slightly. “Anyways, the case.” He said, finally beginning the explanation about what the team had figured out until then, questioning him about the conduct of the investigation of previous murders.

…

Moments later, the meeting with the captain going smoothly from that — without any other uncomfortable situations, for the most part —, you stopped by at the break room to grab a coffee before meeting the rest of the team. 

“What a gentleman” you murmured, ironically.

“I’m sorry about him” Hotch stated, his voice gentle and apologetic, staring deeply at your eyes, so intensely it made your legs wobbly.

“Don’t be” you waved him off “But if you really want me to feel better, you should get on your knees and beg nicely. I like my man a little submissive.” You teased, winking.

He sighed, his posture not even flinching besides the very tip of his ears, that blushed adorably.

“You can’t flirt with me every time I say something that makes you uncomfortable just to make me drop it” he said, giving you a pointed look.

“I’m looking forward to see how you plan on stopping me, sir” you blinked innocently, walking past him to the conference room to gather with the rest of the team.

…

The entire team sits at the conference room, scattered across the table are notepads, case files, pictures of the victims and delivery. Hotch, JJ and Rossi were discussing suspects and family interviews. Emily and Morgan are trying to replay the unsub’s steps. You and Spencer are silently sitting across each other, rereading some files between bites.

The profile you gave to the officers repeater inside your head: ‘our unsub is a male in his middle to late twenties. He’s acting guided by his hatred towards women. He chooses his victims based on their similarities to the person object of his hate. Which means they are all a representation of who this person is to him. He’s escalating and getting more confident, which probably means it’s a matter of time until he decides to go for the main victim, the one he truly hates…’

But something didn’t sit right with you.

“There’s something wrong.” you stated, deep in thought, interrupting the team’s conversation.

“Yeah, definitely” Spencer agreed with you, raising his eyes off of the file and looking at you quizzically.

“What do you have in mind?” Emily asked, her elbows resting on the table to pay full attention to the two of you.

“Alright, look.” you started, finishing the last bite of your sandwich and throwing out the empty wrapping. Hotch silently offered you some napkins, which you accepted and used without even acknowledging it, way too focused on your train of thought “The bodies were disposed without much of a thought, not one signature or M.O, which could mean the killing wasn’t part of the plan. The bruises in their bodies show overkill, which indicates that he knew the victims and had a personal problem with them. But we haven’t found any connection between the victims.”

“The only thing in common between the four women was their personality.” Spencer continued “All of them, Ashley, Laura, Riley, and Kendall were considered angelic. Their friends and families, to describe them, used terms amongst “saint-like” “too good to be true” “kind soul”. They all engaged in charity events, were outstanding academically and considered role models inside to family and neighborhood settings.

“But just under the curtain they weren’t so perfect. Ashley was into shoplifting for fun, Laura was on drugs, Riley cheated on her boyfriend and Kendall paid other students to do her school projects. That’s probably how he chose his victims.” Morgan realized.

“Exactly. We profiled the unsub acted guided for his hatred towards women in general. But what if we got it wrong?” you suggested.

“So you don’t think they hated the victims?” Hotch asked, crossing his arms and furrowing his eyebrows in confusion. “Yes and no.” you started “I don’t think that he hated them at first. The opposite actually, I think he loved them. He saw them not as the personification of his hatred, but as his loved one. He saw them and thought they were perfect, kind, educated, reserved, probably the same way he felt towards someone in particular, the true object of his fantasies. He thought he found substitutes on the victims, but it turned out they weren’t as perfect as he thought. That’s when it turned to hate.” you explained.

“Wait a second.” Spencer dialed a number on his phone, turning the call on speaker and placing it on the center of the desk.

“Yes, my beautiful genius and friend, how can I help you?”

“Garcia, I need you to find men in their mid twenties that live somewhere in the comfort zone I sent you earlier.” he asked.

“I need more than that, handsome. I got 107.” 

“Eliminate the ones who work full time jobs.” Rossi suggested.

“Now we’re getting somewhere. But still, 80.”

“Eliminate the ones in relationships, or that have been in relationships in the last two years.” Hotch said, leaning closer to the phone.

“Yes, sir! Down to 43.”

“Garcia, how many of them lost a female figure in the last 3 years? Maybe a mother, a grandmother, a sister…” JJ asked.

“Only 6!”

“Send their information, please.”

“Coming, give me a moment.” she said, turning off the call without waiting for an answer.

…

“Ok, we can rule out the first one. He lost his grandmother last year, but lost contact with her 10 years ago” Rossi commented, analysing the files Garcia sent you.

“And the second one too. He lost his mother but she had drinking problems, so it doesn’t fit our profile.” Hotch said, his eyes entirely focused on the papers before him.

“Hey, guys” Emily started “Look at this one. Daniel Scott, 26, had a twin sister, Linda Scott. At school she was the prom queen, graduated with honor in Havard, straight A’s student, was very active member of the city church and engaged frequently on charity events. Died in a car crash in november, 2 years ago.

“Right when the killing started” Spencer agreed, his eyes wide open.

“We got him.” you said, the whole team standing up and getting ready to follow the address Garcia sent to your phones.

…

Hours had passed since the arrest. With the case wrapped up, the night grew late and the team gathered in silence in the jet on their way home, all of them deep in sleep.

All of them, except for you and Hotch.

You wouldn’t be able to sleep anyway. After cases like that, you hardly could, with the adrenaline still high on your blood from the pressure you were under just a few hours ago. The quiet humming of the jet blended with Rossi’s snores and the music coming from Derek’s headphones – you swear to god that man’s going to end up deaf –, you stood up from your seat in front of Spencer, who laid splayed out on the empty seats, and went to the little kitchenette at the very front of the jet.

Trying to make as little noise as possible, you made some brewed coffee, the strong scent and the heat warming up your hands immediately. You insisted that the coffee you stored – at the jet, at least – was a little bit better than the one you kept at the bureau – which was straight garbage, in your opinion – and you and Rossi compromised to always keep the cabinets filled with good branded coffee. And a few candy bars and crackers. The good one, obviously.

Hotch thought it was unnecessary, but you changed his mind – by that you mean ‘made him lose his patience and give up fighting, letting you do whatever you wanted as long as he didn’t get bothered by it’ – explaining how changing to a better coffee, something you consumed multiple times a day, would improve your health and performance on the field. Also how having candy bars and good chocolate stored on the jet would help your bodies relax to not associating the jet rides only with the disturbing cases you worked on, but also with good and delicious snacks to warm your heart and soul – with those exact words. Spencer even hopped in, adding some scientific facts and research about how to improve work morale and how improving productivity was directly connected with the quality of the work environment, which honestly sealed the deal for you. 

You got two cups filled to the brim with freshly brewed coffee and a few mini chocolate bars and walked quietly between your teammates, settling on the seat across from Hotch, who stared daggers to the paperwork in front of him.

“What did the poor paper do to you? Glaring at it like it’s our unsub.” you teased, placing one of the cups and three flavoured chocolates in front of him. Just then he raised his head up at you, blinking his eyes as if to adjust his eyes, which were already hurting because of the tiny little letters he head to read and reread.

“Thank you” he said, quietly. He leaned back on the seat, watching fondly you sitting in front of him, curling up against the window and covering yourself with a cheetah printed furry blanket, that you also insisted on leaving on the jet to make the place more comfortable and cozy. “This coffee is actually really good.” “You’re welcome” you winked, smirking smugly from above your own cup. He rolled his eyes, his barely-there smile making an appearance.

“Good job today.” he recognized, and before you could make a joke about how much he was praising you in the spare of 2 minutes, he asked “How did you notice?” genuinely interested, like he always did. And it made your heartbeat quicken, every. single. time.

“I can’t explain it. I just felt something was off. It didn’t add up, you know? We didn’t have any connections between the victims, so it could only be him. From that point it wasn’t hard to come to the conclusion about how he really felt. This kind of behaviour is really common in men.” you shrugged and he frowned, silently asking for you to elaborate. So you did. “It’s the same old patriarchy. The woman is raised to be the perfect housewife, her whole life just waiting for her husband to come. If she’s not chast, virgin, submissive, she’s not marriage material. Therefore, useless. And when the woman doesn’t attend to that�� requirements, if you will, she turns from the object of his desires to the victim of hatred, disgust. I just applied that thesis to the profile we already had and changed what it didn’t fit. 

“Very impressive.” he praised. “There’s a really good article about that. Spencer and I were discussing it a few weeks ago. If you want to, I can send it to you.” you offered, starting to actually feel shy under his attentive gaze and admiration. And to the annoyingly but persistent desire you felt under your skin every time you had any deeper interaction with him, like a little personal reminder about what you couldn’t have.

“I would love to.” “Sure.” you agreed, giving him a small smile. You sip on your coffee, grabbing the mug tightly with both hands to keep them warm.

For a few minutes you stayed like this, in a comfortable silence. You gazed at the stars shining on the dark night and him writing on the reports, stopping just to sip at his own coffee and eat the chocolates.

You felt his gaze shifter to you again, almost like your body had a motion sensor that alarmed you every time he looked at you. You stared at each other, and before you could blush or make a little joke to ease up the tension, he started to speak.

“I’m sorry for that capitan.” you grimaced with the topic. It happened three days ago, you were over it. Just as you were going to flirt with him – by saying something incredibly unhinged and inappropriate until he got so uncomfortable he had to change subject, exactly like he accused you of doing – he raised a hand, stopping you. “You don’t have to say anything. Just… I’m sorry.”

You relaxed back on your seat, shifting slightly and turning your gaze back to the widow. Hotch knew you too well. Well enough to understand that situations like this made you feel uncomfortable. You were one of the most emotionally intelligent people he’d ever met. You were strong, kind, giving, and never afraid to show your true emotions. You just didn’t like to feel weak. You dealt with victims every day, all different kinds. And although you know deep in your heart that there was nothing wrong with it, you hated feeling like one.

But as much as Hotch knew you, you knew him too. Well enough to know that he didn’t feel like that was a weakness whatsoever. He felt sorry for you, yes, but he didn’t pity you. He knows you. He sees you. And you were so beyond grateful for it.

“Yeah. Me too.”

[ms-demeanor]

Hey friend! So while I'm incredibly skeptical, I'm not strictly against alternative medicine, like you are. I saw you mention reiki, and thought you might geek out on this article like I did:

https://web.archive.org/web/20200308195914/https://www.theatlantic.com/magazine/archive/2020/04/reiki-cant-possibly-work-so-why-does-it/606808/

It's called "Reiki Can't Possibly Work. So Why Does It?" and I highly encourage reading the whole thing. It first of all thoroughly debunks a lot of the claims reiki practitioners make but it also details all of the studies that have proven its effectiveness and provides what I find a pretty compelling explanation: that much of modern western medicine is stressful and traumatizing. Of course laying in a quiet room with the lights dimmed while a kind person sits with you and wishes for you to be well is effective. It reduces stress and all of the negative biological processes it triggers, which promotes healing.

The article mentions that for years we didn't understand the mechanism by which acetaminophen worked - we just knew it did. I knew a man who was really into "chakra therapy" in the 90s where he had a set of colored sunglasses that, supposedly, would rebalance one's out-of-whack chakras through light therapy. He found that attending to his throat chakra, yellow, helped him sleep better. Years later, formal studies found that yellow lenses filter blue light and can help regulate circadian rhythms.

When I was really little, my uncle sold magnet therapy products (which claimed to promote circulation?? I think??). I had a huge meltdown at a family reunion and no one could get me to calm down. My uncle put a blanket full of magnets on top of me, and I immediately relaxed. Imagine my surprise hearing that story for the first time as an adult who now uses a weighted blanket for stress.

I agree that people need to be really careful about these practices, about getting scammed, and especially about herbal supplements that can have dangerous interactions. I also think there's an extent to which you can analyze the risks and benefits and say, "Okay, I have no idea why this works but it does and there's no major downsides."

Hey so I get a bit heated in this response but I want you to know that I approached this ask in good faith because I know you and I know that we have a lot of the same values and interests and this touched a nerve that was not at all your fault and once I get past the direct response to the article I think I come off a little less. Um. Like the aggression there is not directed at you, it's directed at the article and at one person mentioned in the article specifically who is part of why my reaction to the article is so not good. But I promise after the last bullet point I come off as less reactive, I think. (I'm also publishing this publicly because I think it may be helpful for people to see how CAM stuff often gets away with a veneer of skepticism-that-isn't-actually-skepticism - the article claims to be skeptical but then makes a ton of assumptions and cites some truly mind-bogglingly bad sources that a lot of people won't recognize as bad if they don't have a hair trigger trained by far too much time on the bad CAM parts of the internet).

I've actually read that article a few time times, and would like to do a quick rundown on why I find it unconvincing:

She doesn't cite any decent studies on reiki; one that she does cite is just a self-reported questionnaire response from 23 people in 2002.

While we don't know the exact mechanism of action for acetaminophen, we do know that it does work - it measurably reduces fever and in double blinded RCTs produces reproduceable results in reducing certain kinds of pain. The Science Based Medicine authors cited in the article who called for an end to studies on reiki did so both because there is no plausible mechanism of action for reiki (specifically as energy work, not as 'being in a room with a patient person who listens to you') and because there is no good evidence that it works. (And they wrote a follow-up to the Atlantic article; I like SBM but it's quite sneery, as are most of their write-ups of reiki). When Kisner asks "why should this be different?" when comparing reiki and acetaminophen, the answer is: because there is not only no plausible way that reiki *could* work, there is not any good evidence we have that it works better than placebo.

"Various non-Western practices have become popular complements to conventional medicine in the past few decades, chief among them yoga, meditation, and acupuncture, all of which have been the subject of rigorous scientific studies that have established and explained their effectiveness." This one sentence needs probably twenty or so links in response, suffice it to say that western medicine has emphatically not established and explained the effectiveness of AT LEAST acupuncture and the casually credulous way Kisner accepts that acupuncture is effective (effective FOR WHAT?) throws some serious doubt on her ability to assess these kinds of things.

The title of the article is "Reiki can't possibly work, so why does it?" and that's probably the Atlantic's fault more than Jordan Kisner's fault, but she doesn't ever demonstrate that it works. She says she got a buzzy feeling after her training, she says that patients at the VA were asking for reiki as treatment for pain and sleep disorders, she says that people remembered "healing touches" from parents and loved ones and that the same mechanism might be what makes reiki 'work.' She says that reiki "has been shown by various studies that pass evidentiary muster to help patients in a variety of ways when used as a complementary practice" and the two studies that she includes that weren't just a questionnaire were 1) a non-blinded study of heart rate variability post heart attack where the reiki arm involved continuous interaction with a trained nurse and the other two arms involved resting quietly or classical music (so relaxation as a result of additional focused attention by attentive medical professionals could account for this? Why was the control for this study not having a med student sit and hold the patient's hand?) and 2) a study of patients who sought out reiki who were surveyed after treatment and noted improvement on one of twenty mental or physical markers (this study is like, GOLD for an example of a bad study; no control, self-selected participants who believe in the efficacy of the intervention, exceptionally broad criteria for a positive result - I find it really really really challenging to grant any credence to someone who confidently cited this as an example of reiki "working")

Near the end of the article she says "At the same time, this recalled the most cutting-edge, Harvard-stamped science I’d read in my research: Ted Kaptchuk’s finding that the placebo effect is a real, measurable, biological healing response to “an act of caring.” - if she read any of Ted Kaptchuk's research she didn't link to it; what she did link to was a 2018 New York Times profile of him and Kathryn Hall, researchers at Harvard's Placebo Studies and the Therapeutic Encounter program. Being any flavor of journalist and citing Ted Kaptchuk as your source for cutting-edge, institutionally-backed science is disqualifying.

I now need to do some yelling about Ted Kaptchuk.

For clarity: I have as much medical training as Kathryn Hall and Ted Kaptchuk, which is to say: None.

Hall is a microbiologist with a PhD in Public Health, so she at least a background in science. Kaptchuk is an acupuncturist with a BA in East Asian studies and a doctorate in Chinese medicine - notably NOT a medical degree; he was forced to stop calling himself a doctor and had papers retracted after enough people questioned whether the school he claimed he attended even existed and the documents he presented to claim that he was an "OMD" were conclusively translated and did not have any indication that the granted a medical degree of any kind - Science Based Medicine was involved in investigating this because they've been comprehensively anti-quack forever and Ted Kaptchuk has been a quack forever (after recieving confirmation from the government of Macau that Kaptchuk's alma mater was not a medical degree granting institution SBM STILL gave him the benefit of the doubt and had people translate his documentation for final confirmation).

He is also an author on of one of my most beloathed ever studies, which showed that sham acupuncture, placebo, and albuterol all produced the same effect on patient-reported well-being, coming to the conclusion that patient reports can be unreliable and that "placebo effects can be clinically meaningful and can rival the effects of active medication in patients with asthma." That fucking line, that stupid goddamned line, gets cited in every piece of woo bullshit about how acupuncture or chiropractic or some scam-ass diet all work, I've run into this study while looking through at least twenty bibliographies and it is one of the biggest, reddest flags that whoever is writing the paper you're reading is full up on some bullshit. Because, see, the paper found that "placebo effects can be clinically meaningful and can rival the effects of active medication in patients with asthma" in terms of *patient-reported* markers, but the fucking study found that only albuterol produced an actual effect in lung function. Here's the sentence BEFORE the one that gets cited all the time: "Although albuterol, but not the two placebo interventions, improved FEV1 [forced expiratory volume in one second - the measure for lung function used in the study and used to diagnose asthma] in these patients with asthma, albuterol provided no incremental benefit with respect to the self-reported outcomes." It doesn't matter if the patient *feels* better if they can't actually breathe! It doesn't fucking matter - feeling better but still having poor breathing leaves you more vulnerable to dying of a fucking asthma attack! I hate this goddamned study so fucking much and it's used all the time to claim that placebo can be just as effective as medicine for making people FEEL better but, like, they're still sick even if they feel better! I HAVE HAD PEOPLE CITE THIS STUPID FUCKING STUDY TO ME AS EVIDENCE THAT I DON'T CARE ENOUGH ABOUT TREATING MY FUCKING ASTHMA BECAUSE I DON'T GET ACUPUNCTURE TO TREAT MY FUCKING ASTHMA. If sham acupuncture makes you feel better when you've got the flu but doesn't lower your fever or make you less contagious, you shouldn't act like you don't have a fever or aren't contagious this study makes me INSANE.

Okay done yelling.

I think this look at placebo in the midst of her article about reiki is really interesting because it's very common for CAM practitioners to claim that it's as effective as placebo - which just means that it's not effective. This is a great explanation from The Skeptic on why placebo isn't and can't be what Kaptchuk, Hall, and the like claim. It's also interesting to me that Kisner didn't choose to link to a 2011 New Yorker profile of Kaptchuk that is somewhat less rosy about his placebo studies and includes this absolutely crushing statement: "the placebo effect doesn’t appear to work with Alzheimer’s patients. Trivers suggests that this is because most people who have Alzheimer’s disease are unable to anticipate the future and are therefore unable to prepare for it."

But to the actual point of the ask: I honestly think it's fascinating how much CAM success probably rides on "well did you listen to the patient and pay attention to what was wrong with them and sympathize with them and help them lay out plan that made them feel like they had some agency in this exceptionally frustrating situation (chronic illness, newly diagnosed issue, totally undiagnosed issue) that they're dealing with?"

I know part of why people with chronic illnesses turn to CAM is because they're ignored and dismissed by allopathic practitioners who are largely looking for horses, not zebras - this is one of the reasons that I'm really big on reminding people that (at least in the US) DOs are fully licensed physicians who use a holistic and patient-centered approach so if you are someone with a chronic illness who has had trouble getting diagnosed or had trouble getting doctors to believe you, swapping your MD for a DO as a primary care physician might be really, really helpful to you.

But the flip side of that is that is that I worry deeply about the question of where harm starts; the example with your uncle is really great because you do have a solid instance of something working but for totally the wrong reason (pressure being the mechanism that actually helped, versus magnets being the reason given by the person who did the treatment). Some of this stuff has very little likelihood of causing direct harm, but has the distinct possibility of having indirect harms, which people in the anti-CAM space generally divide into two categories, treatment delay and unnecessary costs (opportunity costs, monetary costs, wasted effort, etc.)

I'm going to step outside of your specific example and look at magnet therapy generally, which really is a spectacular thing to focus on because it honestly doesn't have any direct harms; nobody is allergic to magnets, the kinds of magnets used aren't strong enough to interfere with medical devices, it's even safer than the whole "well herbalism is sometimes just a cup of tea" thing because there are "safe" teas that can do real harm to large populations! But simply being around magnets is not going to hurt anyone (unless they're swallowed; nobody swallow magnets please).

One of the things that I think goes under-discussed when talking about placebo and CAM is that the people trying the alternative solutions desperately WANT the alternative medicine to work (I suspect that this is why the self-selected study of reiki patients has such a significant finding). They are pulling for it; they may be looking at it as a last resort, or they may be hoping that it will work to avoid a treatment that is more frightening, expensive, or inaccessible. I think this actually contributes a lot to the delay of care that we see with CAM.

The absolute worst case harm I can imagine from magnetic therapy is delaying treatment. Let's suppose we've got a diabetic patient with gradually increasing peripheral neuropathy; they have reacted poorly to gabapentin in the past and are looking for something more natural, and they hear from their chiropractor that magnet therapy can be used to treat neuropathy. They buy some compression socks with "magnetic and earthing properties" and sleep in the socks. Whether through the compression controlling some edema or through the simple desire for the socks to work, they feel some relief from the nerve pain they were experiencing and decide that this is a success. The socks work! They continue wearing the socks with occasional pain, but less than before. However, because they are focused on the lack of pain, they don't notice that it's accompanied by increasing numbness. The numbness significantly increases their risk of injury to their feet, which significantly increases their risk of amputation.

It probably sounds like catastrophizing to say "using magnets could lead to amputation" but honestly I don't think it's that far out of the realm of possibility (every time I post on this topic I get flooded with the saddest stories in the world about people whose loved ones died because of delayed treatment for cancer or heart disease).

The second category of harm is cost, which is honestly pretty minimal with magnet therapy, as long as you aren't spending $1049 on a magnetic mat

or paying a chiropractor to give you magnetic treatments. For some other medically harmless treatments like reiki, cost is the thing that I worry about - while I was looking up information related to the article I found that people are charging anywhere from $60 to $225 a session, and selling multi-session packages for thousands of dollars - and if someone thinks that something works, even if it only works by being in a soothing space where someone cares about you - they'll pay for it.

I'm aware that all of this is also extra complicated because of the cost and lack of access to allopathic medicine - a chiropractor broke my spine because I could pay her $60 per appointment but I couldn't pay $125 to see an MD when I didn't have insurance. People who are sick are going to look for treatment; people who have been denied treatment or dismissed by doctors are going to look for alternative treatments.

But man, I really wish I'd spent that sixty bucks on half of a doctor's appointment because the chiropractor didn't know about the benign tumor that I had that weakened the structure of that particular bone when she did her adjustment; it also didn't make the pain go away, it made a different pain start and get worse because it turns out I was having debilitating muscle spasms that then had a bone injury added in on top.

(Chiropractic, for the record, goes with chelation therapy and many many many many cases of herbalism where it's NOT just cost or delay; people claim these treatments are harmless and they are not. They can do tremendous harm).

But yeah I'm not going to deny at all that all of this would be a hell of a lot better if people (especially marginalized people) didn't have to jump through hoops to prove to a doctor that something is wrong with them, and didn't have to do so in an appointment that attempts to cram whole person care down into fifteen minutes, and didn't have the possibility of bankrupting you. Interacting with allopathic medicine is a nightmare and I totally understand why people want to look outside of it for treatment.

I've just heard too many horror stories and seen too much predatory CAM to cut much of it any slack.

At the end of the SBM response to the Atlantic article, the author (I can't remember if it's Gorski or Novella) makes the point that reiki is a spiritual practice, and that we've known for a long time that spiritual practices can improve a person's well-being in a number of ways; they can reduce anxiety, they can provide community, they can give people a space to feel and express emotions that they certainly aren't going to be able to process in a doctor's office. Spiritual practices can be wonderful, and we know there are a lot of people who they can help. But they aren't medicine, and attempting to replace medicine with them (which I don't think that most reiki practitioners are trying to do, to be fair, but which Ted Kaptchuk DEFINITELY is in trying to 'harness the power of placebo') is a disservice to people who need an inhaler instead of acupuncture.

Also, and I know this was not your point but I have to bring it up because people ask about it whenever discussions of placebo come up:

The placebo effect is not treatment. The placebo effect, whether achieved through deception or when someone says loud and clear "this is a sugar pill" does not improve an illness, but it may improve how a patient *feels* about an illness. In some cases, this may as well be the same thing - if you're dealing with muscle pain because you're stressed and no matter what you do it doesn't go away because your shoulders are always up around your ears and you're grinding your teeth and you're sleeping poorly, then literally just talking to someone who is in an office and says "this is a sugar pill, go ahead and take it" may make your muscle pain feel better, but it isn't going to reduce your stress and it isn't going to last, and if your muscle pain is because you're feeling angina as a result of a partially blocked artery then it SURE AS FUCK is not going to make you better and may mask symptoms that were a warning sign of a much more serious problem. People who are sick deserve actual treatment, and placebo is not treatment, which is part of why Ted Kaptchuk makes me want to tear my hair out.

[cheralith]

feat. michael kaiser || cw: ever so slightly suggestive

i'd like to think kaiser just doesn't say anything flat out to you and just instead does the entire concept and actions of dating without a confession.

he doesn't slap a proper label on it not because he thinks he doesn't need to, but because the thought just never crosses his mind.

like, he would just start acting very boyfriend-ish gradually until the behavior becomes so normal that you don't even blink twice when he kisses you as a hello or holds you hand whilst walking. the way you and him synchronize against each other during sex just feels so fitting that you don't have the urge to seek out anyone else.

he doesn't say anything because he just automatically assumes that you're his by default, that there's this silent agreement between you and him that you're each other's heart.

it isn't until your friend tells you that she's got a blind date that she thinks is absolutely perfect for you that you take a step back and actually analyze your relationship with him before saying yes. what exactly were you and him? were you guys a couple? or was this just something that you and him were easing into for a little too long?

so when you meet kaiser at the three michelin star restaurant he's got a reservation for you two, you ask what exactly were you to him. kaiser blankly looks up from scanning the menu and raises a brow. isn't the answer obvious?

almost dumbly, as if it's the most evident thing in the world, he simply says,

"mine."

[midnightshindig]

could we get hc’s/a drabble for a reader who’s cecil’s daughter x rex? keep up the great work 🙏

Rex Splode X Cecil’s Daughter! Reader

(Omggg I love this request, thank you sm!!!)

You worked closely with your father, partly because you were the best supervillain profiler in the world and partly because he loved you dearly

After the life he’s lived, Cecil knew the safest place was with him and Donald at HQ.

But you couldn’t just stand around and look pretty, no no, he insisted you learned a trade

and I mean hey, you get good at what comes easy, right?

so you ended up being the top profiler for the GPA, figuring out a villains motive and analyzing the best course of action from hundreds of thousands of miles away, with only information gleaned from surveillance drones and the Guardian of the Globes’ radio comms descriptions

This is how you met Rex

Like your father, you were efficient to a fault

like your father, you made few mistakes and took pride in your work

Unlike your father, you sounded cute as hell

and Rex noticed.

it started off innocent enough, with him being the most descriptive of the Guardians when it came to villain descriptions:

”OH MY GOD FUCKING SHIT HES GOT A GUN OEJABTBNWNT-“

”Uhhhh temperament? Well shit Y/n he’s got a temper he’s TRYING TO MURDER ME AGRHAHR-“

“No I have no idea what her agenda is- but she kicks like a fu-cking mule and I can’t get her to back off of me!”

mostly just whining. Actually, almost exclusively whining.

You built up a rapport over time, like audio pen pals, or a really shitty podcast for the other to listen to.

eventually, you started chatting over comms even outside of missions.

”heyyyy y/n, are you online?”

”Yes Rex, you know I stay on during the day. Is there a threat?”

”Naw I just thought you’d want to hear me drink sixteen beers in five minutes”

”why would I want to-“

the sound of chugging and metal being crushed, followed by the horrific noises of a newly emptied stomach followed suite.

Your father didn’t approve, not because of intermingling work and pleasure, he knew the best source for companionship is within the industry

bit Rex?

*glances over at Rex trying to drink a beer immediately after throwing up sixteen beers*

are you trying to send him into an early retirement?

but he’s your dad and ultimately he figures you could do Rex some good

so at the Guardians Christmas party, he introduces you:

”Uhm, I’d like you all to meet Y/n, she’s the chief profiler you’ve been communicating with for the last few months. She is also my daughter, but I trust you will respect her as the professional she is.”

Rex is on you immediately

Cecil is regretting all his life choices

he should’ve gotten you a puppy and Rex a tomagatchi. Or actually nothing because he doesn’t care about Rex.

buuuuut he cares about you, and what kind of father would he be if he didn’t try and facilitate you being happy?

so you and Rex meet in person for the first time, and he’s a mess.

”Heyyyyy hot stuff, we gotta get you a video camera or something because god damn!”

you raise an eyebrow with a smile, and take a long, agonizingly quiet sip from your drink.

before spitting it into the cup

he can’t help but laugh when he realizes what’s happen

”Oh yeah! I spiked the punch, it’s so highschool Cecil didn’t think I’d actually do it!”

”Jesus Christ- what the fuck did you spike it *with*?” You ask indignantly, your mouth burning

His Face is smug as ever “Everclear”

After everyone (including you and Rex) get belligerently drunk, Cecil cancels workplace parties.

It brings good things, however, breaking the ice for future in-person hangouts

he may not be able to fly you around the world like Mark, but he can treat you to a pretty impressive firework show whenever you want

the first time he does this is the time he asks you out.

You’re on the mountain outside the base, and he says he’s got “something special to show you”

Please don’t throw up sixteen beers again please please please-

A mirage of colors and shapes flash across the sky

He looks back at you after finishing, the last firework delayed enough to erupt into a burst of pinks and reds when he asks you

”Uhm- I know it’s super unprofessional and your dad will totally kick my ass if I mess this up, but would you wanna go on a date sometime?”

Your profiling skills didn’t pick THAT up

You blink. Hard.

”like. With you?”

he furrows his brow in embarrassed anger and takes a few huffy breaths, folding his arms

”Uh. Yeah. With me!” He frowns even more, his anger breaking to reveal a glimmer of anxiety

this boy is so nervous please just answer him

and do you do, standing up from your perch on the snowy mountainside and putting your gloved hands in his

”Yeah- I mean- that’s agreeable to me if it’s agreeable to you.”

somewhere like hundreds of miles away, Cecil sighs in relief for the first time in decades.

so you and Rex start dating!

he’s a bit of a gym rat, and most of your interaction is still over comms, since he’s so busy saving the world and stuff

wow your boyfriend is so cool!

but you also carve out time to show Rex the cool stuff your dad has taken you to see over the years.

its a little weird for Rex

”Yeah- this is my dads favorite painting- and this is where we go to get ice cream- and-“

Rex isn’t sure he knows how to interact with Cecil after learning his favorite broadway musical. Or that he has one at all.

Cecil isn’t sure how to react when your bedroom cork board is no longer sparse, but filled with Polaroids and photo strips of you and his employee slash superhero lackey. Kissing. Eugh.

Rex values your skills, and often makes a game out of people watching with you

”The guy with the huge dick energy, in the green hoodie.”

”Mmmm…. Kelptomaniac with a fent problem, looks like he has early onset arthritis and an iron deficiency. Most likely to rob a combination grocery store and pharmacy.”

”that’s brutal! Okay what about the girl with the huge… um… tank top. Striped, by that statue!”

”Developed quickly, has crow feet and probably did ballet as a child, but stopped around middle school. Her hair looks natural but is dyed, likely from ginger to brown based on the undertones. She has a twitch in her arm and a shakiness in her eyes, probably low blood sugar. Hence-“ you gestured to the ice cream cart next to her “Why she’s in line. Like we should be, cmon!”

you pull him over and get ice cream, he gets rocky road every time, and always insists on getting a bite of whatever you got

Bonus:

Rex and Cecil are both relatively bad at the traditional family dynamic

but Rex wants to”meet the parents” like he never could with Eve for obvious reasons

so you bring him to hq for the Superbowl

Every year you, Cecil, and Donald stream the Super Bowl on a side screen while carrying out your regular duties, along with a cheap plastic football shaped bowl of potato chips, Donald’s favorite, and a smaller bowl of peanut m&ms, Cecil’s favorite.

Rex studies really hard on the Eagles and the Chiefs

only to realize nobody except Donald actually gives a shit how the game plays out

rex scores MAJOR brownie points with Donald though

and since he’s like basically an uncle to you, he counts it as a win

cecil thinks he’s lame

”if you put this much effort into training as you do trying to impress me via an archaic bid to my masculinity, the world might actually be a safe place.”

ouch.

Rex eats all the peanut m&Ms in revenge

[dana-chan-the-control-brain]

TADC: Thoughts on Jax in Episode 2

Thoughts on Jax after Amazing Digital Circus Episode 2 Dropped.

Massive spoilers below the cut. Just watch the ep before you read.

Amazing Digital Circus had an amazing second episode as we're introduced more to what the adventures are like, and what NPCs are like and ofc the existential horror of being a living AI only created for a source of entertainment.

Also, I love the dream sequence at the beginning, because we actually get some deeper insight into Pomni's thoughts on Ragatha. Feeling like her helpfulness is the guise of like "man, you're not cut out for this like the rest of us" which is typically something a lot of people who have been bullied in highschool perceive genuine acts of kindness and engagement. (which I kind of suspect Pomni might have been, or at least, been a shut-in and didn't have a lot of friends in her human life. )

Jax wasn't really the main focus of the episode, but it wasn't really until the end of the episode I understood his behavior and what this episode is foreshadowing overall.

Since while Jax isn't the focus emotionally, he is definitely the plot device to push things forward. And I mean, a plot device in a very active and quite literal way. He's the one that causes Pomni to clip out of the map, takes advantage of everyone and is just... genuinely an unpleasant person.

I actually really like this.

As, I know the first episode in the digital circus, many people (me included) could perceive or analyze Jax's actions as someone who is "helping" in a roundabout asshole way. Episode Two has none of that here. He just wants Bloodshed, And I love that we're getting additional context on his character.

It's hard to tell how much fan reception Gooseworx saw of episode one before episode two hit production, so I don't know how much of the fandom perception of Jax had an influence on the writing process, but I can't deny that might have been a factor in assuring us "no he's not secretly helpful, he's just an asshole" But I'm just going to assume that this has been part of his characterization from the start and it becomes way more clear as the episode goes on.

But there was something in his behavior throughout this whole episode that seemed off to me. Like Jax was taking up a majority of the B-plot, while Pomni had the A-plot. So I was wondering why Jax seemed to be the protagonist with the B-plot when Pomni was the A-plot when they seemed to be so disconnected with eachother in motivations and telling us things about the characters.

But then it hit me when the episode ended and the two plots merged together.

"who... knows... what could happen..."

And then it hit me.

Pomni finds comfort in an NPC who is going through a similar experience to her and can emphasize, despite their being other humans who have gone through the same thing, due to her self-admitting to being a loner in her human life. Well, she didn't admit it outright, but from how she perceives Ragatha's kindness as an act, or patronizing, it seems like she doesn't have a lot of friends...

Meanwhile... Jax... He treats the adventure like a videogame. Why shouldn't he? He's trapped in a videogame, right? But it really goes beyond that.

The fellow humans that Jax is trapped with, he treats THEM like they're NPCs, while Pomni treats the NPC like they're human.

Jax says to Gangle "Aren't you supposed to be the suggestible one?" Which you wouldn't typically wouldn't say to a person, right? That's something you would say more about a character that you maxed out the dialogue trees in.

He calls Pomni "His Bridge" even.

They're his objects. His tools, his own npcs he's exhausted the dialogue options on.

Jax dehumanizes the players in a way that Pomni humanizes the NPCS.

These are two opposite ends of the spectrum but what really sold it for me was Jax's reaction to the funeral.

And Jax is the one member out of the cast who doesn't even show up to the funeral. (aside from Caine and Bubble but they are AI.)

He does NOT want to think about the Players as real people. And showing that opposite perspective compared to Pomni I think is much as important going forward.

Jax was the plot catalyst of this entire episode, and served the thematic theme of the episode quite well, even if it didn't look like it on first glance.

I absolutely loved this episode and I can't wait for more.

Also... Poor Pomni can't have shit in Detroit

[calmlb]

It’s been clear that the Tanizakis aren’t siblings from the very beginning

here’s some evidence now that it’s been confirmed canon…

everyone who’s read irl Tanizaki’s book knew that Junichiro & Naomi weren’t siblings as soon as they introduced themselves

BUT just because the Tanizakis aren’t siblings doesn’t mean you can’t feel uncomfortable about them. if you feel uncomfortable, GOOD. that’s exactly what they want

the Tanizakis, Mori— they all use these disturbing ruses to disarm or distract people in order to protect themselves, or to accomplish their goals. this is a writing device that asagiri commonly employs as a way to parallel the irl literature (it’s actually ingenious)

there are 4 main indicators that have always made it clear to me that Junichiro & Naomi are not siblings:

1. most obviously— their character designs. Harukawa is extremely intentional with character designs, & she very intentionally made Naomi & Junichiro look nothing alike

their eye shapes are purposely different

their color palettes are contrasting

even their differing styles of clothing have meaning

this was all done so that the audience could PLAINLY see that they’re not related— so that WE know that they’re lying when they say they ARE related

2. how the people around them respond to their act.

the general reaction is “don’t question it”— which is exactly what they want. “be distracted by how uncomfortable you feel so that you look away from what we’re hiding” (this is likely a protective measure)

3. most importantly, this is meant to parallel irl Tanizaki’s book “Naomi,” where the main character Joji picks up Naomi to raise her into his ideal woman, but since she's so young (& a minor) they call each other cousins (Joji makes no sexual advances on young Naomi btw)

however, his plan backfires because when Naomi gets older & they get married, she flips the script on him & manipulates HIM so that he's under her thumb (which is why bsd Tanizaki is at a domineering Naomi's mercy). Joji let her have her way because of his masochistic tendencies

4. lastly is the emphasis that Asagiri and the Tanizakis themselves put on calling each other siblings.

over & over, it’s “my brother this” & “my sister that”

like they’re desperately trying to convince us that it’s true (“don’t let your lying eyes deceive you”)

here are just a few of many examples from the light novels…

again, if you’ve read “Naomi” you knew that Junichiro & Naomi weren’t siblings as soon as they introduced themselves

just like if you’ve read irl Mori’s works, it’s clear that bsd Mori isn’t a pedophile

just like if you’ve read No Longer Human you know that Dazai’s an unreliable narrator. he makes you think he’s a bad person bc he believes he’s a bad person, but those around him see him differently (btw this doesn’t mean he’s never done anything “bad,” though bsd isn’t about morality— but that’s another discussion)

anyway, i’m so excited for the Tanizakis backstory to be revealed so that we can better understand why they use this defense!!

also let this be a reminder to READ THE LITERATURE if you’re able to!! even reading synopses & analyses of the coordinating books makes bsd make much more sense 🥹

reminder that this how you’re supposed to react while reading bsd:

also, if you’re interested in a post explaining how Mori isn’t a pedo, i wrote this analysis on twt. OR you can read this document that one of my moots sent me (remember: analyzing a character does NOT mean you condone any actions they may or may not commit!)

[falling-star-cygnus]

i couldn’t resist the pull of a new indie animated cartoon, life is hard and i am but a weak soul

✨Ramshackle✨ by Zeddyzi -> why it’s amazing and why you should watch it :D

she’s a mood fr

No.1: Vinnie is usually the first to panic

while none of trio are 'in charge' -nor should they be- Vinnie does take the lead more often than Skipp or Stone do {these two also tend to look at her before taking action, which is actually adorable} so it's pretty cool to see she's not oblivious to dangerous situations like her archetype tends to lean into -> also Stone's totally contemplating breaking the window to get away from the pageant zombies

No.2: Stone is super protective, despite acting like he's not

but he does it in a way that doesn’t come across as thinking the other two are incapable, it’s more like: you totally could’ve dealt with that, but im right here so you don’t have to

No.3: Skipp isn’t helpless, nor is he treated as such

this is really awesome bc trios typically have that one character that’s really bright and bubbly but that’s also often infantilised by both their peers and the fandom -> Vinnie and Stone are totally confident in his feral capabilities though, and apart from briefly scolding him when it was necessary- they don’t treat Skipp like a child {which is an extremely refreshing change of pace}

No.4: ✨FOUND FAMILY✨

you got the black cat, doberman, and orange cat all in one with these silly guys! + stone's small smile when they fist bump, my heart!

No.5: The black cat is a softie

surprising absolutely no one, Stone has a hard time saying no to his family. that's not to say he can't express a boundary, like how he feels about physical touch, but he does let Vinnie and Skipp cling to him for brief intervals -> he also is already accepting that Maggot's going to be a fixture from as soon as the other two are leaving the alley way

all in all, this pilot does a mind-blowing job of portraying archetypes in a new and refreshing way that doesn't feel forced -> the animation style is beautiful, the characters are multifaceted and complex and it walks the line between silly and badass perfectly

definitely go watch the pilot on youtube!

and if you enjoyed this, let me know if there are other things you want me to analyze or give my thoughts on :D

[avelera]

Analysis: Why Jayce broke up with Mel in Arcane 2.08

Since the finale episodes of Arcane dropped this morning, I've been going back and re-watching some of my favorite scenes, and I was struck by Jayce breaking up with Mel.

First of all, yeah, he clearly does break up with her, though I missed how formally he does so on my first watch-through. He does it in the Council chamber, just before Viktor attacks. But since they get interrupted, he finishes breaking up with her (after checking in with her) on the balcony later.

But what really struck me about the breakup wasn't in those scenes, but actually back in 2.07, when Jayce is alone in cavern in the darkest timeline. I definitely didn't catch on the first viewing that this is where he chose to break up with her.

In the background, you can hear Jayce in the depths of his despair and solitude starts going over in his mind all the steps that led him to where he is.

Here are some of the quotes he hears:

"I never asked for this!" - Himself to Viktor, trying to justify his actions up to that point just before Viktor leaves him.

"This research is everything, my whole life," a quote from one of his first conversations with Viktor but, more importantly, it establishes Jayce's entire raison d'etre up to that point. Hextech research was his life.

"He was my mentor, Mel, and I betrayed him," obviously is Jayce discussing the coup d'etat against Heimerdinger he orchestrated to save Viktor, but it was with Mel's assistance and urging.

"You must destroy it. It corrupts. Consumes." A quote from Heimerdinger, warning against Hextech. Which must feel especially prescient now that Jayce is stuff in the evil bombed-out future where Hextech destroyed the world.

"I was trying to create magic." Jayce to the Council to defend his Hextech research and save himself from banishment, but, he only mentioned magic at Mel's goading, which I would guess he's beginning to recognize now for what it was in retrospect.

"It's your time now, Jayce." Mel, part of her goading of Jayce into advancing Hextech research and his political career.

"Perhaps it's time for the era of magic." Mel's words on the night she saw Hextech for the first time, after helping Jayce and Viktor break into Heimerdinger's lab.

"You must destroy it." Heimerdinger about the Hexcore, again, probably feeling pretty prescient right now with Jayce literally in the pit of despair in a the evil Hextech future.

Finally, while looking out over the fire while clearly going nearly insane from the isolation, Jayce begins to hallucinate seeing Mel. But then, her image in the fire gives way to Viktor's.

The decision has been made there. It's not just Jayce reflecting on his two closest loved ones (as I thought the first time), rather, it is the moment Jayce makes his decision: he is picking Viktor over Mel. He has decided that the reason he is here in this terrible place is because of Mel, not Viktor. He is choosing his partner, going back to what they had before she became involved in their life. His new course is set.

Now, I want to preface the next part by saying I love Mel, she's a fascinating character, and though I ship Jayvik I also ship/shipped MelJayVik, so this isn't coming from a place of bias. I'm just analyzing the material when I say these flashbacks were Jayce rearranging the narrative in his head and realizing Mel's been manipulating and goading him in his pursuit of Hextech.

Given where he is when this is happening: starving, freezing, in pain, alone for weeks if not months in a stone box, slowly going insane, surrounded by the burnt corpses of people destroyed by Hextech, I'd say... yeah. His need for someone to blame is pretty understandable. He even starts whispering, "No!" in a panic at the memories in response to what she says in his mind.

So when we get to the Council chamber in the main timeline in 2.08, I'd argue that Jayce is spoiling for a fight. He's had months of agony to decide things are over with Mel and that he's angry at her. He wants to blame her for what happened to Viktor, for what happened to him, and he's in pain and he wants to lash out. The relationship is definitely over.

But then Mel is in pain too. And Viktor shows up, with his own autonomy, showing that they all had their shitty parts to play in this drama.

The attack by Viktor adds another element, Jayce was probably also mourning that he had to shoot Viktor at that point, another thing that was painful and made him want to lash out and blame others for this horrible place he's in emotionally and the horrific place he's been in physically until recently.

It's only after Viktor's attack though that Jayce realizes that this situation is complex, it's not all Mel's fault. It would be easier to just pin all the blame on Mel and make Jayce and Viktor her victims, but Viktor shows to him that he has his own agency and Jayce needs to be clear-eyed going forward about who he is saving, because it's not "Mel's victim". Viktor is his own person.

Jayce also remembers some of the care he once had for Mel when he catches her before she falls (in a tender moment I mistook for a full reconciliation between them the first time but no, it's just him remembering he cares for her wellbeing). Jayce can't trust her anymore, after realizing just how adept she was at manipulating him without his realizing, but he does still care for her as a person. And he's cooled off enough to address the pain she is clearly carrying.

(I admit, I do love this moment of him calling himself an ass, because I adore Jayce but it's a lovely beat of self awareness and really shows his growth as a person that he can say this to someone that just hours before he was squaring up to fight against and blame for all his misfortunes.)

But anyway, the moments you really see that it's over between Mel and Jayce:

When he doesn't explain to her what happened to him. That's not for her to know anymore. He's decided that they're not together or intimate anymore. And he's probably still hurting from realizing how she's used what he told her in the past to encourage/manipulate him to her own ends and therefore wary of sharing. This is also a reason for the breakup: he can't share the immense pain he's been in because he can't trust her anymore, and he knows it. It's over.

In the scene on the balcony when he turns away from her instead of towards her before offering his advice. Jayce is very touchy-feely, he always offers physical comfort to his loved ones. But there, he deliberately turns away instead of taking her in his arms and comforting her. Again: it's over between them. But he still respects her. So he reminds her of how indomitable she is, along with offering the slight backhanded compliment born of his distrust for her: she's never the passenger, she is always the one in control. He knows, because he's realized she used to control him.

I've mentioned in other meta that this season deals in a lot of comeuppance for events in S1, and this is arguably Mel's. She'll be ok, she's got magical sun powers and she's the head of a powerful house now. But she doesn't get to keep Jayce in her life as her lover anymore after what she did, because she did manipulate him, even if she had good intentions mixed with the self-interested ones.

The trust is simply gone now. But he cares for her and wishes her well, so, I'd argue they parted on as good of terms as could be done.

[sp1d3rzz]

PLS DO MORE PERVERT!MIDORIYA 🙏🙏

Pervert!Midoryia

pt.2

pt.1 here pt.3 here

WARNING !! : Pervy drawings and fantasized descriptions, and mention of a boner. Let me know if I missed anything.

Summary : Bullying Midoriya was meant for fun, purely to keep you entertained. That is until he begins to fantasize about your actions.

A/N : Thank u so much for the req anon (о´∀`о) Keep sending in requests my loves !

It's horrible of him, and he knows that. To obsess and fetish over the one thing in his life that keeps him on a constant edge. His bully.

When you first began to pick on Midoriya, he figures that he'll just keep a safe distance. He doesn't bother you, and you don't bother him.

But once it becomes a daily game of cat and mouse, he realizes there must really be no escape to this. And he especially realizes that when he begins to fantasize about all you do to him.

The way his name sounds coming out of your mouth gets him hot all over. Immediate goosebumps that become easily noticeable if you pay attention.

Or when you throw an insult at him to hurt his feelings and ruin his self esteem, but it only gives him a boner because he likes the feeling of you putting him where he belongs.

You don't even notice till the day you snag his journal.

"What's the deal with this notebook of yours, huh?" your arms reach over from behind him and snatch the burnt, rusted notebook. You can tell he's had this for awhile.

Caught off guard, he quick fwips! around to grab it back. "Wait! Don't-" his face falls when he sees the spine bend open as your eyes scan over a page.

His cheeks gets red to the point his freckles are barely visible, and he scrambles to stand from his seat and take back his journal.

Though you quickly stop him with a hand to his chest to push him back down. "So defensive." You huff with a shake of your head.

You flip through a couple more pages as Midoriya stares at you in horror. He really hopes you dont get to the one page, he'd die if anyone were to see it.

His heart is racing, and his hands are trembling, anxious to know what you might do. Maybe you'll throw his book away? Maybe slap him and tell the whole class about his dirty secret?

The world is against him, because as soon as he thinks that, he sees your grin curve into a face of disgust.

Your eyes widen as you now go over every page more carefully, taking your time to actually analyze it. And he swears he's going to dig his own grave if you continue.

But when you slowly close the journal, and clear your throat with a flushed face, he gets confused. Why aren't you mad at him?

"Dork.." you mumble before shoving the notebook into his face and walking away.

Your friends follow behind you, asking why you let him off so easy this time. Though a small, 'felt nice today' leaves your lips so they quit pestering you.

But what they don't know is how Midoriya has written pages and pages all filled with you and your information. From the sketches of you when you don't notice he's there, to anatomy practice of your naked body he had imagined.

The top to bottom pages filled with filthy theories on what you might taste like, how you prefer sex, and the toys you may use.

The most noticeable thing was a drawing of you at an angle behind his head. Mouth agape with eyes teary and stained with mascara. He had you on his lap, green hair tangled from your hand clenching it.

One things for sure, you'll never see that nerd the same again.

[nonbayanary]

Fucking ABSOLUTELY

I really love when Hiruma pulls these sorts of stunts where he does something nice but makes it a double wammy of being an opportunist punk LMAO

[samsno1]

Dream Of Me

Sam Winchester x F!Reader

i was going to do this fic much, much longer, it would have a whole plot and all but i am so exhausted i wasn't feeling it so have this short horny ass one-shot because i was ovulating while writing this lol

Summary: You quite literally got into Sam's head...

Warnings: SMUTish, m. masturbation, use of y/n, descriptions of nudity, *almost* cunnilingus (read it so you will understand lmao), kissing, nipple sucking, marking (?), english is not my first language

You can learn how to change "Y/N" for your actual name here

Read it on AO3

Read Part Two

WC: 2.3k

enjoy!

Sam kissed you deeply, his lips dragging against yours eagerly. His big hands grabbed at your hips, blunt nails digging into your skin through your clothes. His tongue sinfully entered your mouth, exploring the warmth and groaning at your taste.

Your hands wrapped themselves behind his neck, fingers brushing through his long locks, lightly tugging at each lap of his tongue through your lips. He slowly walked you back, your knees hitting the edge of the mattress and Sam gently held your upper back to place you softly over the covers, mouths never leaving each other. His long hair tickled your cheeks, his nose bumped into yours. His desire was almost palpable as his kisses became more and more desperate, his hands clawing at your back as one of his knees supported his weight between your thighs. His long torso angled itself in an arch to keep his assault on your mouth.

When he finally pulls away, a whine escapes your throat, your raw lips begging for more as your eyes watch his flushed face. He panted above you as he straightened up, his arms crossing to grab at the hem of his shirt and pull it off, the collar of the clothing lifting his hair and then making it bounce back in place perfectly, a stupid grin on his face – a sinful, I know you like what you see grin – as he catches your beautiful eyes analyzing every bit of exposed skin.

He places both his hands on each side of your head, his hair framing his face, a little curtain to hide the absolutely hungry look on his eyes.

“Like what you see, pretty girl?” He questions and you nod in affirmation. He dips down again to attack your neck with open mouthed kisses and bites, making you whine and mewl on his ears and your hands reach for his back, your nails digging into the flesh. His hands drag down your front, bumping against your hard nipples and going low enough so that he can drag your shirt up, his obnoxiously long fingers brushing against your hot skin and throwing even more wood in the fire that was in your belly.

He pulls away momentarily and you lift your arms above your head so that he can take the shirt off for you, the clothing blocking the stunning view of an aroused Sam Winchester for a few seconds as it goes through your head. When he finally throws the shirt away on the ground he practically pouts when he sees the bra covering your breasts and sensually – slowly – trails his hands to your back, leaving yet another mind blowing kiss on your lips, humming, fucking humming in delight, just for being able to do this to you.

He unclasps the undergarment, and you feel him smile against your lips as if he was saying finally I can really see you. As he takes yet another article of clothing off of you he really eyes you down – I mean really. He registers every curve, every scar and every single particle of your skin, his lust-blown eyes eating you alive right then and there, your chest going up and down with deep breaths, your abused mouth half open, your hands splayed beside your head – everything.

He takes a single hand to caress over your skin, starting low at your neck and slowly coming down at the valley of your breasts, down your belly until he’s below your belly button then his other hand joins the action, one on each side of you, dragging up your waist and feeling around your ribs until they finally grab at each boob, squeezing. You groan and grab at both his wrists to keep him there, the little stimulation you got better than anything. He hums above you, his head dipping down to leave feather-light kisses over your collarbones.

“So pretty” He murmurs against your skin “So, so beautiful for me Y/N”

You sigh as he massages your breasts, his mouth dragging down to one of your nipples, wrapping around it and hollowing his cheeks, sucking on your skin and circling his tongue around your tit. You arch your back, a low moan rippling through your throat as you roll your hips, trying to find any kind of friction for the ache between your thighs.

“Sam…” You plead, grabbing at his hair to tug. He groans at your action, biting lightly on your nipple and you shriek. He lifts his head up, chuckling lowly, evil even, a smug smirk on his face, his dimples making him look even prettier above you. He lets your breasts go and smashes his mouth to yours again, swallowing your complaints.

His hands hold you at your belt loop and he bumps his crotch against yours and oh my god. You let out a cry, breaking the connection, and hide your head in his shoulder, your mouth kissing below his ear lobe as you whisper to him:

“Please, please, please, do something, Sam” You beg and he hushes you, one of his hands going towards your lower back to hug your naked tummy against his defined body. He squeezes your skin, wanting to mold into you and turn you inside out.

“Shh, beautiful, I’m gonna take care of you” He says, kissing your neck and unbuttoning your tight jeans with one hand. Excitement runs through his veins, his mouth still marking your skin.

His hand finally manages to unzip your pants and he flattens his palm against your lower belly to drag his fingers below the waistband of your panties. He swipes one teasing middle finger between your folds making you buck against his hand and let out a cry of desperation. He brings his finger out, making you groan in complaint until he lifts his head up, grabs your chin and makes you stare at him in the eyes.

When he’s sure you’re looking, he inserts his slick soaked finger into his mouth and sucks on it, pleasurable noises coming out of his throat as he savors your taste on his tongue, his eyes closing in bliss. The sight is beyond unholy, the action making your cunt clench into nothing, your glossy eyes couldn’t look away and Sam was taking advantage of that. Nothing you’ve ever experienced with anyone before made you feel so needy for someone's mouth between your thighs, eating you out with all their want, need, for you, nose deep into your pussy. Sam did that.

He takes his finger out of his mouth with a pop, licking his lips with his tongue and he opens his eyes to look at you and you are, for sure, looking at him, completely hypnotized by his spell. He grins and dips his head close to your ear, his hot breath sending goosebumps all over your body.

“I’m going to eat you out until you’re begging me to stop, until you’re physically unable to take anything anymore” He whispers and bites at your earlobe and jesus fucking christ where did this man get this mouth. You let out a shaky breath at his words, the fantasy making you squeeze your legs together.

“Please, please, please” You beg as Sam starts kissing down your body, open mouthed kisses left and right. His mouth bit and sucked at points he learned made you tingly inside and your hips roll below him. When he gets to the waistband of your pants he hooks two fingers of each hand through it to drag both your underwear and your jeans down your legs. It felt cold for about three seconds until the sight of Sam looking up at your face through his long lashes, eyes filled with lust, burned you from the inside out.

Once you were completely bare under him he left kisses in each of your inner thighs, his calloused hands kneading on the skin. You look down again, his hair brushes your legs, his mouth so close, so, so close that you could feel his breath against your soaked cunt. He couldn’t take his eyes off of you and you felt like the last woman on earth, wondering how this man could be so perfect, inside and outside. He finally starts to approach your folds, his mouth slowly opening to wrap around your clit and…and…

“Sammy wake up!” Sam’s shaken awake by a hand on his arm and takes a deep breath in. He rubs his eyes, trying to adjust to the light that got turned on by whoever disturbed his sleep – his very good and desirable sleep. His blurred vision starts to focus on the figure besides his bed. Dean towers over Sam in his robe, an unfazed look on his face and a cup of coffee in his hand that isn’t holding his arm.

“Dean?” He questions, voice hoarse from sleep, as he sits up on the bed, the covers falling from his chest to pool around his hips, still hiding his legs below it. Dean drops his hand from his upper arm “What time is it?”

“About 10AM” He says “We might’ve found a case, we need your help with research” He affirmed and Sam nodded. Oh my god. You. How was he going to face you? How was he going to be able to concentrate on your explanation of the case to him when he just fantasized about his mouth between your legs eating you – scratch that – almost eating you out? I’m screwed. “Clean up and meet me and Y/N at the library” Dean says finally, snapping him out of his thoughts and giving him a slap on his back, to which Sam groaned in annoyance. He leaves the room soon after, closing the door behind him.

He lets out a shaky breath, his hands supporting his upper body against the mattress. Just now did he notice the blood pulsing between his legs and the way he seemed hotter than usual. He rubbed both hands over his face, get it together, God damn it. He threw his legs off the side of the bed and stood up, making a beeline to the bathroom. He needed a cold shower, an ice bath, drown in the lakes of Alaska, anything to cool his body and his thoughts.

Every time he blinked there you were, his disheveled hair and lust blown pupils looking up at you. It had been some time since he started developing a crush on the huntress, your kind and caring – but at the same time firm and assertive – personality got him hooked pretty quick and your smartness always impressed him. Dean often made fun of you for being sort of a nerd – in his words – but that just made you even more desirable for him. And, of course, you looked incredible. Your killer body and beautiful features made you look amazing even when you were covered in monster guts.

Peeling off his clothes and turning the water to the coldest setting definitely helped. But, his boner was still there. He cursed to himself and hesitantly wrapped a hand around his cock, eyes closing and teeth digging into his lips to hold back any noise. He started rubbing slowly, up and down, visions of you on his head, beneath him, hair messed up by his hands and skin marked by his mouth and teeth. He wondered how your pussy would taste on his tongue, which noises you would make when he finally brought you over that edge just with his mouth. Then with his fingers. Then…

He quickened his movements, his chest going up and down quickly with deep breaths. Sam should feel bad for touching himself to the thought of you, he should feel bad for dreaming of you that way but he just couldn’t. The images of you flashing into his mind were making him feel thoroughly euphoric, his heartbeat could be felt in his ears and he couldn’t stop himself from imagining your cries of pleasure as he pumped into you or the different positions he could put you in. Fucking you against the shower wall or over the map table.

His drenched hair fell besides his face, the cold water running down his head and back as he slightly hunched over. One of his hands supported his weight against the wall while the other grasped tightly at his shaft. He thought about you moaning his name, much like you did in the dream, and how it sounded so sweet yet so arousing. 

His breathing was shallow, his hands were shaking and with a sigh of your name he finally came. He was in bliss, the orgasm hitting him like a truck. He pressed his forearm against the wall in a horizontal position and rested his head over it, his softening dick still in his hand. He opened his eyes, the sound of the water falling to the ground finally being processed by his brain again.

Jesus Christ.

The guilt suddenly hit him and he shook his head, partially in disbelief at what his body and mind made him feel. And do. Even if his body calmed down, his brain still had that dream practically memorized. He sighed, cleaning himself up all over again, the mess he made going down the drain, hiding the evidence. He got out of the shower, toweling his hair and drying his face.

He stood in front of the mirror and looked at his reflection. His cheeks were still flushed but, besides that, nothing could give anything away. He breathed out a chuckle.

“God damn it” He whispered to himself as he proceeded to dry the rest of his body with a different towel than the one he used in his hair, then wrapping that towel around his hips and going back to his room to change into different clothes. Today was going to be a long day.

A/N: Notes and reblogs encourage me to keep writing, feedback makes those writings better. Thank you for reading, Xoxo

Read Part Two

[cherienymphe]

Teenage Dirtbag XII

JJ Maybank x Reader x Rafe Cameron

Warnings: mentions of NON-CON, mentions of DUB-CON, abusive relationship, domestic violence, violence (+ gun violence), gun kink, dacryphilia, attempted murder, blood, public sex, jealousy, manipulation, infidelity, underage drinking, drug use, canon ages, kook!reader

➥ banner by @vase-of-lilies | ➥ divider by @firefly-graphics

➥ series masterlist

summary: You’re charmingly spoiled. You’re too kind for your own good. You’re the princess of Figure 8 …and you’re way out of JJ Maybank’s league, but when he realizes that Rafe Cameron’s pride and joy is actually a bruised and battered damsel, he’s determined to save you.

Your rescue just comes with a price.

⭑

When you woke up, you were alone.

Even if you didn’t remember how drunk you’d gotten the night before, everything about the way your head pounded and the tightness in your throat told you so. Sunlight was bleeding through your curtains, but it wasn’t the kind of brightness associated with the afternoon, so you knew it was still morning. You were slow in sitting up, holding the sheet to you as you glanced around, your gaze briefly landing on the familiar fabric on the floor.

You stared at it for too long, raising your hand to press to your forehead in both disbelief and horror. A strange range of emotions were all fighting for dominance within you, and you forced yourself to close your eyes in order to calm down. Taking a deep breath, you tried to ignore the feeling of dried bodily fluids between your thighs…but it was hard. You could feel a familiar sting behind your eyes.

You’d cheated on Rafe.

Sure, you’d been doing that for some time, now, but last night you’d really cheated on him. You didn’t know why a few kisses and some touching didn’t make it feel as real to you when it most definitely should have, but last night was a point of no return. Last night was a line you weren’t even sure you’d wanted to cross. Your stomach turned, and you swallowed it down.

You and JJ had sex.

Right here…in your bedroom.

There was a part of you that wondered if you could even call it that. You’d been so drunk, and while things were still a little fuzzy, you knew for a fact that you’d been so unsure. JJ hadn’t seemed to care, but JJ wasn’t like Rafe. Surely, if you’d tried harder to stop him, he would’ve stopped…right…? You did want to be with JJ, that was no secret, but maybe the events of the previous night showed you that you weren’t as conflicted as you’d thought. After all…

You could’ve protested more.

…but you didn’t.

Your mind was going a mile a minute, and after briefly dropping your face into your hands, you threw the covers back. You weren’t in the right headspace to analyze anyone’s actions and motives, pushing yourself to your feet to seek out a much-needed shower. You grimaced at the sight of your clothes on the floor, forcing yourself not to think about that, right now.

You were thankful that your perusal in the mirror brought up no unwanted marks, and that allowed you to rest easier. The warm spray of the shower did help with the hangover and fatigue, but it did nothing for the heaviness in your chest. Pressing your wet hands to your face, you allowed yourself to remember the way JJ held you—how gentle he was in doing so. You couldn’t recall the last time you felt like that.

You swallowed down a sob at the memories of his lips pressing kisses all over your face as he laid you down on your bed. By that point, you’d forgotten why it was a bad idea, wrapping your arms around JJ and lifting your hips to meet his. The alcoholic fog made it hard to decipher how long he’d slowly thrust into you against your sheets, but it was long enough to make you shudder just thinking about it.

…but it was wrong.

It was so wrong, and not just because of Rafe, but because you hadn’t even wanted to in the beginning. You wondered if that even mattered at this point. You wanted JJ. You’d wanted to know what it felt like to be with him and be with someone who made you feel safe. Even if you hadn’t been quite ready yet, did it matter? Whether it was last night or two months from now…did it matter?

Telling yourself that you couldn’t stay in the shower forever, you turned the water off.

Rafe was the last person you expected to see when you finally opened the door.

You actually froze at the sight of him, tightening the towel around you just as he sat on the edge of your bed. The sight of him there…sitting where you and JJ were only hours ago…it made your stomach turn. He looked better than you felt, dirty blond strands freshly washed and the short sleeves of his white polo stretching against his skin. You surmised that it was a warmer day outside.

“I’m surprised you even made it upstairs last night,” was his pleasant greeting.

Finally telling yourself to move, you made to pick up your dress…and underwear.

“I managed,” was all you said, moving to put the dirty clothes in the hamper.

There was no way Rafe could know, but part of you felt like he could just sense it. Rafe had this way about him that made him seem larger than life, like he had abilities and senses the rest of you—namely you—didn’t. As you looked at him, you couldn’t stop your eyes from watering, recalling the feel of JJ shuddering against you as he came, his blue eyes staring into yours. The tears spilled over before you could stop them, and you watched the way Rafe’s lips curved.

“I take it you remember last night…and how shitty you were being.”

You wiped your face, looking away from your boyfriend, remembering something else entirely. Yes, you were shitty, but not for the reasons he thought. When you heard him stand, you pressed your hand to your face, and you didn’t protest when Rafe gently pulled you closer, wrapping his arms around you. Rafe shushed you, slowly rocking you, but there was nothing comforting about it.

“You know I hate it when you drink like that,” he murmured into your hair. “You know I hate how…fussy you get.”

You nodded, your mind preoccupied with the sweet nothings JJ had whispered into your ear instead.

“…and then I have to be the bad guy when you start embarrassing yourself.”

You recalled the sigh you’d let out when JJ pulled out of you, conflicted between wanting him to leave as soon as possible and pulling you against him again. You remembered his hand on your face and his lips on yours after he’d gotten dressed, telling you he wished he didn’t have to go. You could still remember his fingers against your lips as you’d drunkenly kissed them, vision blurring and room tilting. You didn’t remember him leaving…only closing your eyes.

When you pulled back to look at Rafe, the expectant glint in his gaze was evident, and before where it would’ve made you bristle… Now, it only made your heart sink. You looked over his face, telling yourself that Rafe was a thousand times worse to you than you could ever be to him, and yet, that did nothing to ease your guilt. He was still your boyfriend…and you’d had sex with someone else.

You’d made love to someone else.

“I’m sorry,” you quietly told him.

Even though the apology wasn’t for what he thought it was…it was genuine.

You ignored another call from a familiar face, swallowing down the bad taste it left in your mouth. You felt all kinds of horrible for ignoring the blond for literal weeks—especially after having sex with him—but you needed time to think. About Rafe, about JJ, about that night… Your feelings about said night were still so complicated and confusing, and you still didn’t know if you liked the way JJ handled things—and if you did, was it because you were drunk?

You chewed on your fingernails, telling yourself that JJ wasn’t Rafe.

You’d experienced rape many times, and that night with JJ wasn’t quite the same.

So, why did you still feel weird about it?

“We could go to the beach…”

You were pulled from your thoughts by another blonde teenager, Sarah’s budding smile filling your vision when you refocused on her. She sat back down before you on the couch, handing you a glass of lemonade as she gave you a hopeful look. You swallowed a sigh, knowing that if you agreed, her friends would show up somehow…and you weren’t quite ready to face JJ just yet.

You knew that he was still periodically sleeping at the pool house, catching glimpses of him through the window sometimes while everyone else slept. You didn’t need to be a genius to know that he was waiting and hoping you’d come see him, whether to talk or repeat what had been done that night. You had too many things to sort through—your confusion, your guilt, your feelings for him.

You didn’t know how to feel about JJ, right now, and that worried you.

“I better not…”

As your voice trailed off, you watched her face fall. You knew what she was thinking about before she even voiced it.

“I really am sorry about what happened at John B.’s,” she sheepishly told you. “Nothing went as planned.”

“Sarah, it’s fine-.”

“It’s really not though,” she sighed. “I…”

She shook her head, rolling her eyes towards the ceiling.

“I hate how Rafe treats you,” she forced out, voice cracking. “He behaves like you belong to him.”

Your gaze fell to your lap at that.

“He treats you like you’re his fucking property, and…”

Her expression was a mix of confusion and disgust when you looked up again.

“I just don’t understand why you stay,” she spat, scoffing to herself. “Sure, you love him, but…”

She shifted on the couch, giving you her full attention.

“Does he love you? Do you like being treated like this?”

“Sarah-.”

“I don’t care if I’m overstepping, help me understand,” she cut you off, looking between your eyes. “Why do you stay? Why do you put up with it?”

You were trying not to let her words anger you—after all, how could she know—but it was hard when she looked at you like you were some foolish and dick-struck girl she just didn’t get.  Swallowing down all the things you wanted to say, you merely shook your head.

“You wouldn’t get it.”

“You’re right,” she fired back. “I don’t get it.”

Your jaw clenched.

“I don’t get why you let him talk to you any kind of way. I don’t get why you blindly follow him around and do what he says! I don’t get why I’m trying so hard to help you have some kind of life outside of my brother when you don’t even seem to want that,” she said, face pinched in confusion. “My friends like you, and…if you asked them, they’d probably consider you their friend too.”

You looked away at that.

“They ask about you and they worry about you— because they see it too! —but you seem so,” she dragged the word out. “…happy to revolve your entire life around Rafe.”

You blinked back tears, struggling to handle the range of emotions her rightful frustration brought on. Sarah didn’t know the truth, so you couldn’t fault her for feeling disturbed by your dynamic with her brother, but that didn’t make it sting any less. Especially so since it seemed like everyone only saw you as the girlfriend that obeyed Rafe like a well-trained dog.

You would love to have friends outside of Rafe and his friends. You would love to be able to go anywhere you wanted without your phone and car being tracked. It would be nice to tell your boyfriend you were going to hang out with Sarah or whoever without it being some big thing that needed approval and a million questions about who else would be there—if any guys would be there. You would kill for a normal relationship with a normal boyfriend that didn’t put the fear of God into you, but that wasn’t the hand you were dealt.

“What do you want me to say, Sarah?” you eventually sighed.

You could see the way her face fell as she studied yours, and you didn’t miss the guilty look to cross her eyes. She touched her forehead, huffing.

“Nothing, I guess,” she quietly answered. “I’m sorry, okay? I just… I just think you could do better.”

You didn’t know how to respond to that, so you only nodded, ignoring her soft sigh as you stood. When she said your name, you didn’t acknowledge it, only throwing her a small smile.

“You should go to the beach, anyway, Sarah,” you told her. “Your friends always look for any excuse to get in the water.”

You forced yourself to go upstairs, hating how right everything Sarah said was and how awful it made you feel.

When Rafe finally returned hours later, you weren’t in the most contagious of moods, wrapped up in his bed and still thinking about things that made your chest sting. Sarah’s words only served as a reminder as to how trapped you truly were, and that in turn made you feel less crappy about what you’d done with JJ.

It wasn’t like you could actually leave Rafe…

JJ was right when he’d called your relationship a hostage situation. With that being said, you couldn’t let go of that part of you that recognized Rafe as your boyfriend and recognized what you were doing with JJ as cheating. As awful as he was…Rafe was still your boyfriend, and while his jealousy got the better of him more often than not, you both knew that deep down, Rafe would never in a million years expect you to cheat on him.

Maybe that had more to do with control than trust though…

Rafe wouldn’t expect it because of his ego…not because he loved you. Besides, many would argue that he’d betrayed you first and a million times over. Crossing boundaries and breaking trust was a betrayal, and Rafe had done that the night you’d turned nineteen, slapping you at your own birthday party, and all he’d done since then was continue to betray you.

When the bed sank underneath his weight, you closed your eyes at the feel of his fingers on your face.

“I ran into Sarah on the way in…”

He continued when you didn’t respond.

“She told me to check on you…said she probably said some things she shouldn’t have.”

You squeezed your eyes tighter, and when you didn’t deny that, you heard him mumble something under his breath. It was about her, no doubt.

“Was it about me?” he wondered, voice dropping.

Licking your lips, you found your voice.

“Rafe, I don’t want to talk about this…”

“Don’t let Sarah get into your head…” he drawled. “She’s a bitch, alright?”

You were pushing yourself to sit up before he could even finish, frowning at him.

“Don’t call her that,” you argued. “She’s your sister.”

“…and she’s a bitch,” Rafe repeated, lowering his head so that his eyes were level with yours. “She hates that you’re with me, so I can only imagine what she was saying.”

“Nothing that wasn’t true,” you whispered.

Rafe didn’t respond to that, but the way he blinked at you told you that maybe you shouldn’t have said it. You couldn’t hold back your tears as you stared at him, and he just watched you wipe your face.

“My life revolves around you, Rafe,” you quietly cried. “Will it ever not?”

By the way he rolled his eyes, you could see that he didn’t want to have this conversation.

“I don’t have any friends-.”

“You have my friends,” he interrupted, and you shook your head.

“Your friends. What about friends of my own?”

More tears spilled over when Rafe stood, and you frowned at him.

“I do everything you ask,” you whispered. “I’ve cut people out of my life, I wait on you, I dedicate just about every minute of every waking moment to you. When will it end? When will you let me have something like a life?”

You were unsurprised when Rafe’s hand found its way to your jaw, fingers firmly pressing into your skin and making you wince. His face was so close to yours, and you reached up to rest your hand on his wrist. At the feel, Rafe only tightened his hold, and more tears spilled over. Your boyfriend’s breathing was even as he looked between your eyes.

“Did you forget that it was only less than two months ago that I was racing down the streets of Kildare County to pick you up from The Cut?” his tone was sharp. “Hmm?”

He continued when you blinked.

“Or what about when you talked to JJ before that behind my back?”

The mention of the other blond had you squeezing your eyes shut.

“You make it sound like…”

“I don’t care why you did it,” Rafe spat. “Point is, you did.”

He shook your face, making you peel your eyes open. Rafe’s face was even save for the clench of his jaw as he stared you down. Suddenly he looked over you, face softening just a tad, and a smirk danced along his pink lips.

“Is it that time of the month?” he chuckled when you jerked your face out of his grip. “Is that where this is coming from?”

“Fuck you,” you breathed, and he paused.

You watched him touch his tongue to his lip.

“…or maybe that’s it,” he whispered. “Maybe you need me to fuck this attitude out of you, and you just don’t know how to say it.”

When you moved to get up, Rafe stopped you, hands tight on your arms.

“No,” he dragged out. “Don’t get up…”

You jerked away when he leaned in to kiss you.

“You’ve been moody for weeks, ever since you got drunk that night and made a fool out of yourself…”

He was rough in pushing you down.

“My dad’s had me so tied up with family business stuff… I’ve been neglecting you, huh?”

“Don’t touch me,” you spat, harshly shoving his chest. “I’m not in the mood.”

“Yeah, okay,” the blond chuckled, and it was genuine. “If I relied on you being in the mood, I’d never get any.”

You struggled with his hands as they pulled at your shirt, and eventually you gave up, striking him clear across the face. The slap was loud, and your hand stung, evidence of just how hard you’d hit him. You could tell it shocked Rafe too, and your lips parted, silence descending over the two of you. You reacted before he did, using his momentary shock to climb off of the bed.

You were already in the hall when you heard his door swing open, banging against the wall.

“What the hell is your problem?”

His voice was loud, and that was all the confirmation you needed that you were alone in the house.

“I told you I’m not in the mood,” your voice shook, and rightfully so.

You winced when Rafe caught your arm, yanking you back and making you face him. There was a deep frown between his brows as he stared you down, and you swallowed at the redness you saw on his cheek.

“Am I supposed to care about that or something?” his tone was clipped as he looked between your eyes. “You think I give a fuck? You think I won’t fuck you right here in this hallway?”

“Rafe, I’m serious,” you bit out, fighting to push at his chest.

“What is your problem?” he repeated his earlier question. “Did Sarah put some ideas into your head or what?”

You winced when his other hand roughly grabbed your neck, and you grabbed that arm too.

“Have I ever cared if you’re in the mood? No? So, why would I now?” he wondered. “…and more importantly, why would you think I would?”

“Rafe, please,” you begged when he leaned in, turning your face away.

When his lips touched the corner of your mouth, you hit him again.

He hit you harder.

Your face was on fire when you landed on the floor, eyes watering. You bit back a sob, covering your face as you heard Rafe sniff above you.

“I’m a guy, baby,” was all he said. “I promise you, I can hit you ten times harder.”

Your breathing was uneven, and when you refused to move, your boyfriend huffed.

“Get up,” he quietly told you. “Get the fuck up.”

His hand was under your arm, yanking you to your feet.

“I don’t know what’s gotten into you today–fuck, I don’t know if it’s something Sarah said, but cut it out,” he sneered, shaking you. “I’m not in the mood to deal with your bullshit.”

“Oh, when you’re not in the mood to deal with my ‘bullshit’, I have to shut up, but when I’m not in the mood to fuck you, I should lie there and take it anyway, right?”

Rafe reared back a bit, looking down his nose at you, and the way he studied you made your heart skip a beat. You winced as his hand tightened, and you hated the way his lip twitched. There was a glint in his eye that made you nervous, and you watched him slowly smile. Letting you go, both of his hands started to gently drag up and down your arms.

“I think you’ve been hanging around Sarah too much,” he told you, an amused lilt to his tone. “We both know things go so much smoother with us when you know your place.”

You pulled your lip between your teeth, tearfully blinking at him.

“I’m not leaving you, Rafe,” you whispered. “You have made it abundantly clear that I am never leaving you, so why can’t you give me something to work with here?”

Rafe tilted his head at you, a frown on his face as he reached up to gently touch your own face.

“You can leave,” he said to you, making you roll your eyes. “Baby, you can leave me anytime you want…”

You didn’t look at him, refusing to dignify this farce. His fingers were gentle on your skin as he trailed them down your jaw and neck, and you shuddered, tears kissing your eyes at the way he was toying with you.

“So long as you know what’ll happen if you do…”

You didn’t say anything, and the tension in the air shifted when he spoke again, tone venomous.

“You want to leave me, you go right ahead, but don’t think I won’t smile in your daddy’s face after wringing your neck,” he sneered. “Don’t tell me you’re never leaving me like that’s supposed to be some comfort to me or some bargaining chip.”

He took your face into his hands, making you look at him.

“I know you’re never leaving me,” he calmly said. “It’s not something I worry about, so there’s no need to reassure me. I don’t need it.”

“I could,” you choked out.

That bloodthirsty glint in his eye came and went, and Rafe smiled again.

“Okay… Let’s say, for argument’s sake, you do leave me… Who in this town would touch you with a ten-foot pole?” he shrugged. “You’re mine.”

You licked your lips.

“Kildare isn’t the only place in the world,” you whispered.

“You’d have to get off the island first,” Rafe bit out, visage void of all humor, now.

His nostrils flared as he looked between your eyes, his blue gaze cold, and you took a step back when he moved forward. The look on his face was unreadable, and you struggled to figure out what he was thinking.

“Is that what this is about? You’re thinking about leaving me?”

“No.”

You denied that before he’d even finished talking, heart skipping a beat.

It was your boyfriend’s quiet moments that you found unpredictable. When he was irritated and loud and pacing like a bull, you knew what to expect and how to handle him. In the moments where most of that was going on inside of his head, you didn’t always know how to proceed or how to prepare yourself.

“I just feel like if I say I’m not in the mood, it shouldn’t become a big thing,” you tearfully continued.

“…and why should I care if you’re not in the mood?” he wondered, leaning in. “Why should that matter to me…?”

You took a deep breath, voice shaky.

“…because I’m your girlfriend.”

“…and as my girlfriend you don’t think it’s your duty to fulfill your part in this relationship?”

You crossed your arms over your chest.

“I spoil you, I buy you flowers and gifts, I take you out to places some people on this island will never see,” he said. “So many girls want what you have, and you can’t even put a smile on your face and fuck me when I want you to?”

“They wouldn’t want what I have if they knew you were a violent piece of shit,” you spat, tears in your eyes.

Rafe’s expression shifted at that, and although you couldn’t name it, you knew you didn’t like it. You watched him glance away, jaw ticking as he slowly nodded. When his eyes met yours again, you braced yourself. You were prepared for a slap.

Not a punch.

Your scream bounced off of the walls as you covered your face, and if it weren’t for Rafe, you would’ve collapsed right there. His arms were tight around you as you held your nose, blood seeping between your fingers as you squeezed your eyes shut. Your whole face hurt, but your nose especially, and if all the blood didn’t make it obvious, the God-awful pain did.

It was broken.

You couldn’t stop crying, the most gut-wrenching choking noises escaping your throat, your sobs coming out too fast for your body to handle. Rafe was moving—walking you somewhere—but you were too preoccupied with the pain in your face and the blood on your arms to concern yourself with it.

Until there was air beneath your feet.

It was too late for you to grab the railing, the blood on your hands making it impossible to slow your descent down the stairs. Each step was like a hit to your arm or your leg or your side, and even throwing your hands out before you didn’t help much. When you landed at the very bottom—right onto your knee—you didn’t register the pain at first. There was too much pain—mostly in your face—to take note of the one that was prominent alongside your nose.

When you did, you gasped, keeling over and holding your knee to your chest.

Your other hand was still holding your nose, and you were growing lightheaded at both the sight of blood and the feeling of the loss of blood. Your mind was going a mile a minute, and the sharp pain in your knee had you momentarily forgetting about your nose. When you tried to move your leg, you cried out, and you only pulled your gaze away when you heard Rafe walking down the stairs.

Through tearful eyes, you watched him steadily take out his phone. His face was as calm as ever when he finally joined you on the first floor, and you flinched when he reached for you, hand coming to rest on the top of your head as he made you lean your cheek against his leg.

You squeezed your eyes shut as the operator’s voice traveled from the phone.

“Yeah, um…my girlfriend… She just…she just tripped down the stairs,” he breathed. “I think she’ll be fine, but she’s bleeding a lot, and I think she hurt her knee.”

You shook against him as he gave her his address, and when he hung up, you avoided his gaze when he slowly knelt before you. Against your will, he pulled your hand away, and you flinched again when he tried to wipe some of the blood off of your face. Rafe’s voice was soft as he shushed you, but it only made you cry harder.

When he didn’t say anything, you knew that he was waiting for you to look at him, and when you did, he took a deep breath. His blue eyes stared into your own.

“How’s that for a violent piece of shit?”

With a screaming leg, and a face that felt like it was on fire, you had no choice but to let him pull you against him. His arm curled around you as he rested his chin on top of your head, hand playing with your hair while you both waited for the ambulance.