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mr880fan · 9 months

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How Traffickers Recruit Their Victims

Image credit to the original creator Whenever we picture what a trafficking situation involves, there's a stigma that it's done by strangers through kidnapping. That a young girl goes to a foreign country and gets taken. Hollywood and the media certainly give an interesting version of what human trafficking entails. However, these perceptions are untrue. Most cases of human trafficking don't involve kidnappings and aren't done by strangers. Traffickers use nefarious tactics that make their crimes untraceable to the ordinary human eye. Anyone can be a victim of human trafficking, and anyone can be a trafficker. Traffickers get their victims through manipulation. Instead of using violence, they use mind games. In the recruitment phase, traffickers rarely use violence to get a victim. There are a few main recruitment tactics when it comes to trafficking individuals for sexual exploitation or forced labor. Boyfriend This term is exactly how it sounds. A trafficker will appear as whatever that child or adult needs them to be: a friend, parent, girlfriend/boyfriend, or mentor. "Boyfriend" is how a trafficker gains that person's trust, by giving them whatever they need. Money, new clothes, constant attention, flattery, promises of a happy life, the list goes on. Traffickers always target people in vulnerable situations. Children in foster care, a woman who just escaped an abusive boyfriend, drug addicts, or homeless. It's like your vulnerability is an invisible target on your back that abusers and traffickers can find. An example comes from Stop Modern Day Slavery. An interviewee and survivor, Kimberly Blitz, shared how she met some man when she was 14 (after dealing with personal loss and moving to a new city), and that man eventually became her trafficker. Kimberly shared, "I thought things were great between us until our first fight where he ended up hitting me. I remember thinking how wrong it was but at the same time justifying it. The next day he showed up with flowers, crying about how he never meant to hurt me. And then he said the three words I was craving to hear: 'I love you.'" Boyfriend is probably the most common way traffickers recruit their victims. By using psychological and emotional abuse, it makes it seem impossible for their victim to leave, let alone tell their family or law enforcement. By pretending to care or show love, a trafficker gains power over their potential victim, because that person thinks they cannot live or survive without the trafficker. False Advertisements Traffickers will tell people or post online about some well-paying job, travels, or modeling/acting gigs. Traffickers ensure the advertisement looks legitimate, so there is no doubt surrounding your mind. People who are desperate for money or a job will view the advertisement and think it is legit, only to learn the hard way it was a lie. If it involves travels to another country, that person or persons involved will seize documents and essentially hold you captive, forcing you to do horrendous things. Such was the case for Jane Doe, in an article shared by Fight The New Drug. This Jane Doe would become another victim of the GirlsDoPorn organization. She was told that she was auditioning for a fitness modeling job. Instead, she was flown out to San Diego, where she was forced to sign a contract, fed drugs and alcohol, and forced to perform for a porn video. She was raped for six hours. Many other women experienced similar situations from GirlsDoPorn. The GirlsDoPorn founder was wanted by the FBI and was caught in Spain back in December. He is currently being charged with "sex trafficking, production of child pornography, sex trafficking of a minor, and conspiracy to launder monetary instruments." Others involved in the company were caught and charged with sex trafficking. False advertisements are commonly used by traffickers. Familial trafficking This is exactly how it sounds. Many people think human trafficking happens between strangers, but in many cases, traffickers target someone they know personally. According to the U.S. National Human Trafficking Hotline, these are the statistics of people brought into trafficking by someone they knew in 2020: - 42% were brought into trafficking by a member of their own families. (Sex trafficking) - 39% were recruited via an intimate partner or a marriage proposition. (Sex trafficking) - 69% were recruited by a potential or current employer. (Forced labor) - 15% were recruited into trafficking by a member of their own family. (Forced labor) - 5% by an intimate partner or marriage proposition. (Forced labor) Polaris Project shares several stories (which you can read or watch) of survivors of familial trafficking. It's easier for traffickers to target someone they know since they already have that individual's trust and love, which they can manipulate against them. In the story of Sam, he explained the reason he never told anyone of his father trafficking him. "I loved him and I wanted him to be proud of me. I wanted him to love me as unconditionally as I loved him. To get that, it was my job to do what Dad wanted me to do – and not to tell anyone. That was how I would have a father-son relationship." Conclusion Human trafficking doesn't happen in a vacuum. It's not a black-or-white issue. As you can see, it's very easy to be manipulated by people who claim to have your best interests at heart. It's important to be aware of these recruitment tactics, so we can know how to recognize if this is happening and prevent it from happening to ourselves and our loved ones. Source link Read the full article

#how #interest #recruit #their #traffickers #uncategorized #victims

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themovieblogonline · 11 months

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The Kerala Story (2023): An Untold True Story Of Terrorist Conversions

The truth is not delicate, and it does not suffer from denial. The truth only dies when true stories are untold. Bollywood has gone the extra mile to bring before its audiences a true story of the Islamic conversion of innocent Hindu women in India. Titled “The Kerala Story”, this crime-thriller has been produced by Vipul Amrutlal Shah, directed by Sudipto Sen, and co-written by both along with Suryapal Singh. The Kerala Story tells the story of the prevalence of Love Jihad in India. Love Jihad is the concept where women from other religions, especially Hindu women, are lured by “Jihadi” Muslim men through seduction, deception, kidnapping, and marriage to be converted to Islam. The motive of Love Jihad by Muslims is to hook up with non-Muslim women, as many as possible, and reproduce to increase the Muslim community. This movie tells the story of four friends who fell victim to such deception and were converted to Islam in the state of Kerala in India. After their conversion, they were forced to join the notorious terrorist organization named the Islamic State of Iraq and Syria (ISIS). Adah Sharma plays the lead in this film. She plays the role of a Kerala-based Hindu nurse named Shalini Unnikrishnan who was deceived into love by her Muslim boyfriend. Her “so-called” boyfriend was actually a recruiter of the ISIS. She got pregnant with his child, and was made to convert to Islam with a new name “Fatima Ba”. She later married another Muslim man and was brainwashed into joining ISIS in Syria. The Kerala Story (2023) Official Trailer: https://youtu.be/3Jk3vquJDGs The Good: This is an exceptional true story that does not hide anything at all! The best thing about The Kerala Story is that it satisfies the hunger of the Hindu-majority audience in India. If you are Islamophobic, then this film will serve you ample Islamophobia on a plate to satisfy your hunger. As you are aware that the reigning leader of India is a Hindu nationalist, this film does come as a feast for his blind supporters. The Kerala Story depicts the insecurities of people in modern-day India and quenches their thirst for such content. People are very well aware that Love Jihad exists in India. A few months ago, a vicious murder of a Hindu girl by her Muslim boyfriend happened in Delhi, India. The girl was living with her boyfriend and was mercilessly butchered by him. He cut her corpse into small pieces and stored her body parts, organs, and her severed head inside a refrigerator at their home. And if you ask, why he did so? He did it because she was constantly coaxing him to marry her. That was the only reason! So, this is just one case. And not just this one, but Hindu girls have been targeted by Jihadi Muslim men for ages. They have fallen victim to betrayal and rape at the hands of Muslim nationalists. Here I am not talking about all Muslim men. I am referring to those Muslims who practice Love Jihad and spoil the name of the entire Muslim community. In fact, their aim is to target women of other religions and lure them into love, marry them, and convert them to Islam. In The Kerala Story, Shalini did not have “safe sex” with her Muslim boyfriend and as a result, she got pregnant. Her boyfriend then tells her that unless she converts to Islam, he will not marry her. So, Shalini had no other option but to transform herself into “Fatima Ba”, a Muslim woman. But after her conversion, her boyfriend flees! Shalini, who is now “Fatima Ba”, seeks help from a Muslim religious leader. The Muslim religious leader advises her to get married to another Muslim man, now that she has become a Muslim. But wait! She already had pre-marital sex which is considered to be a sin in Islam. So what do you expect her to do next? She has to repent for this sin, right? So now, the Muslim religious leader advises her that she has to go to Syria and join Jihad, ISIS. I have to applaud this. What a trap! But before Shalini went to Syria to join ISIS, she got a call from her friend that her boyfriend who had impregnated her and escaped was actually a recruiter of ISIS. He did this on purpose to make her join the ISIS. He had gone underground and was still in Kerala. He hadn’t run away anywhere. Now he is on his desperate mission of seeking other non-Muslim women, trapping them through his love, and converting them to Islam. https://youtu.be/miBZop2oisQ The Bad: In this movie, Adah Sharma who plays the role of a Hindu nurse named Shalini Unnikrishnan, has been shown getting converted to Islam. And how did she get converted? In her medical college, she was brainwashed that wearing a “hijab”, which Muslim women wear, will save her from getting raped. What bullshit! Now, how can I praise Adah’s acting? I believe that instead of Adah Sharma, if a female puppet was put as the lead of this film, then also this film could have done well. She actually did have nothing to do throughout the film except surrender herself and be preyed upon by Jihadi Muslims. Hindu women in this movie have been portrayed as weak, desperate, and confused and they have been shown to be falling as easy prey to Muslim men. This film actually mocks the Hindu religion and its Gods. Shalini was brainwashed by Jihadi Muslims of ISIS. The "travel bug" inside her urged her to go to Syria along with her new husband in spite of knowing what was going to happen to her. So she did, and finally, she realized the mistake she made! Her phone was taken away from her in the name of the Sharia Law of Islam. I don’t know much about this crap of a "so-called law" but yes, it has been shown in the film that under the Sharia Islamic Law, women are not allowed to keep mobile phones. So, Shalini’s phone was taken away from her, and she was trapped in Syria without any means of communication. Now tell me, why didn’t Shalini know about this Sharia Law before traveling to Syria? That’s why I advise filmmakers in my reviews; please do your homework before making a movie! There is a concept of red flags in any relationship. Some kind of alarm bell always rings whenever things are supposed to go wrong. If you keep ignoring those red flags, you are sure to dig deep into the worst possible situations! Firstly, if a woman’s boyfriend gets her pregnant and runs away, how can she marry a stranger in the very next instant? I would say, the plot of this movie is like a 10-year-old trouser which has been infested with holes! https://youtu.be/ieZyejqOxjs The Verdict: The cinematography by Prasantanu Mohapatra, and the editing by Sanjay Sharma, are both dull. I can show you better productions than this film on YouTube. The Kerala Story will become a box-office hit not because of its viewing experience but because of its emotional impact. The Kerala Story has been surrounded by controversy ever since its trailer came out. The Indian National Congress and the Communist Party of India (Marxist) alleged the film of spreading communal misinformation and propagating the conspiracy theory of Love Jihad. They said that such false propaganda can defame the Kerala state and called for a ban on this film. In fact, this film does promote violence and hate which can affect the mentality of the audiences. It has been stated in the film that 32,000 non-Muslim Indian girls have been converted to Islam and have been buried in the deserts of Syria and Yemen where they had been trained to become dreaded terrorists. I can understand that The Kerala Story depicts the true story of four Indian women who were converted and made to join ISIS, but 32,000?! That’s a huge number! Where’s the evidence of such statistics? In light of the allegations, Vipul Amrutlal Shah responded that they made this film after conducting thorough research, and they have all evidence regarding the matter. Whatever the case is, The Kerala Story is a truly heart-breaking story of four Indian non-Muslim women who were converted to Islam, and made to join ISIS. The filmmakers have claimed that the Indian government, in spite of being aware of everything, did not take any definitive action against such massive international conspiracies led by ISIS groups in India. The communication modes of these women were taken away from them in Syria, their husbands were killed, and they got no help from India. This film highlights the failure of the Indian government in such matters. The Kerala Story shows an organized ISIS recruitment occurring on a large scale in the state of Kerala in India. It is true that ISIS attracts and recruits fundamentalists from all over the world; there’s no doubt about that. But the concept of this “organized recruitment” going on in Kerala has no real evidence and is actually defaming the Kerala state. The Kerala Story does provoke extreme reactions. Some may love this film, and some may hate it. In light of the General Elections to be held in India in 2024, I believe that this is the right time for the ruling party in India, The Bharatiya Janata Party (BJP), to propagate its agenda in the state of Kerala. No doubt, nowadays Prime Minister Narendra Modi can be seen mentioning The Kerala Story in his political campaigns. Read the full article

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placesthatchangedpeople · 2 years

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Nunya B. at Turn-about Ranch

Clearly anyone giving this place high marks has never gone here or is a rich white, attractive kid that got preferential treatment (yes, they treat rich white kids much better), as well as most likely a parent that pushed their kid this program, without really understanding the ramifications of sending a child here. I don't ever want another kid to go through what myself and so many others have gone through. I don't want another kid to suffer from the PTSD I still struggle with 17 years after leaving Burnout Ranch. I can personally attest to witnessing/experiencing verbal, emotional, physical abuse by staff and rape/sexual assault that would go unpunished/unreported due to staff blaming girls/calling them liars. No child deserves this. Around 2003/2004, I witnessed staff member Myron calling a black kid a "n****r" while staff member Carl called the same kid a "tarbaby" while he was forced to do a "desert walk" (walking miles in the desert with a truck driven by staff slowly following him and shouting racial epithets), staff member Wayne smashing a lesbian's head into the wall and calling her a "dyke", director Max taking me out for "private 1 on 1" walks in the desert to press me about my sexual activity while caressing my body to "heal"... Not to mention being so hungry that I stole a box of crackers and was sent back to the first level for simply being hungry. My mail sent to my family was read by my counselor Tina and I was punished just for trying to write to my brother and tell him what I was seeing and experiencing. In regards to my earlier statement, the 2 wealthy white girls were quickly moved into staff member's Connie house and were treated well from the beginning. Not every level 4 girl was moved into Connie's house. Just her "favorites", which were always the same type: rich white girls. The handsome wealthy white males also received preferential treatment, with a tall attractive male being nicknamed "Slick" for his best blonde hairdo and constantly being high fived by staff, while being a minority, gay, or fat made you a constant target towards negative comments and physical abuse and punishment. Reports of sexual assaults and harassment, in addition to rape perpetrated by boys at TAR resulted in staff asking the group of males if they sexually assaulted/raped a female, to which they replied no (of course). Apparently 5 boys that are friends are believed over a girl's accusations and the girl was sent back to the first level. Ex-drill sergeant Connie called her a "slut" and a "liar" for merely being a victim. She was never taken to the local doctor and checked for signs of rape. When the same thing happened to me, I was too afraid to say anything and it continued happening for the rest of my time there. 17 years later, I still suffer from PTSD from being kidnapped in the middle of the night by strangers without knowing who they were or where I was going. I still suffer from flashbacks. All this place did was torture me for 90 days and I'd do anything to keep another kid from experiencing the pain I still feel from this place. Kids having behavioral problems deserve a safe space to heal and figure out what their problems are and how to face them. TAR is the exact opposite of a safe space for children. It's a predatory environment that breeds low self-esteem, low self-worth, encasing it in a bullshit religious agenda and run by frauds. Please do not send a child here. Stop sending your kid away to "deal" with your problem. After TAR, I've gone through years of intense therapy and no therapist has ever said TAR was a good parental choice and how emotionally damaging it is for parents to push their "problem children" into a wilderness program as some answer. No child deserves this. Deal with the problems your parenting has created. Actively deal with the problems your children are facing so your kids know they're not alone. If you send your kids to TAR, you're a horrible person that deserves the karma coming to you for subjecting your child to torment when you're supposed to protect them.

#Turn-about Ranch #Utah #Escalante

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wrestlersownmyheart · 2 years

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Second Chances Ch. 35 (Book 1 In the "Chances" Series) *Samoa Joe X OC*

Pairing: Samoa Joe X Female OC

Summary:

Ella Roberts has led a traumatic life.

She witnessed her parents' murders at the age of eighteen, and narrowly escaped death herself, due to the intervention of Joe Seanoa, a close family friend. After she discovers she was the true target the night her parents were killed, she assumes a new identity and runs away with intentions of protecting her family and loved ones. Years later, she is pursued by a mysterious Ukrainian, and soon finds herself right back in the biggest nightmare of her life. Fate brings her back to Joe, and knowing Ella's still in danger, Joe vows to keep her safe. But can he succeed? Or will the danger that still threatens her freeze any second chance they have at a happily-ever-after?

Disclaimers: I own nothing or anyone associated or affiliated with TNA. I own only the original characters. This is just a fictional story that came from my imagination.

Chapter Content & Trigger Warnings: mention of rape, some violence/abuse toward a female

Chapter Thirty-Five

"Daddy? Please, wake up."

Faintly aware of a girl's voice speaking to him, Joe blinked his eyes against the harsh fluorescent lights of the ICU hospital room and struggled to speak. He took a breath and the pain that greeted him seared through his chest. Groaning, he placed his hand on the source of the pain and gasped as another round of agony flooded through his body. He could feel the familiar lumps of sutures going down his chest in a long straight line.

"I'll get a nurse," he heard Jeff say.

Joe forced his eyes completely open then and managed to croak, "Wait."

Jeff halted and turned back to him. "But you're in pain. You need-"

"No…pain…m-meds yet," Joe whispered, trying to figure out how to speak without hurting himself. "Ella? Was sh-she found?"

"I'm sorry, Joe. She hasn't been found yet," Jeff replied. "The police are baffled as to where Fournier took her."

"He's…different n-now," Joe uttered, trying to get all his thoughts out with minimal words before he fell back asleep.

"They know already, Daddy," the girl's voice spoke again. "I told them."

Joe's dark eyes shifted to who could only be his daughter then, and through all his pain and turmoil, he managed a slight smile.

"My little girl," he whispered, reaching up slowly and cupping the side of her face in his hand.

"You'd be so proud of her," Jeff told him. "She got help for you, aided in the capture of a crooked cop who kidnapped her for Fournier, and she gave a description of Fournier's new appearance to a sketch artist."

Joe shook his head in amazement. "I am proud of you. You have so much of your mother in you."

Miracle smiled through tears and squeezed her father's hand. "I love you, Daddy."

"I love you too, baby," Joe returned. "And I promise you, your mother will be found—whether I find her or the cops find her. But she will come home to us."

Miracle's eyes lit up with horror. "Daddy, no! Please, let the police do their jobs. Let them find her," she pleaded, already in a panic. "I don't want you to get hurt again! What if-"

Shhh, baby," Joe shushed her gently. "I'll be fine once I heal up and get out of here," he told her. "And if Ella told you much about me, you have to know that I'm not the type to sit around waiting. I take matters into my own hands—especially where my loved ones are concerned."

Miracle managed a sad smile. "Yes, that's the impression I had of you when Mama talked about you." She pleaded with her eyes, "Just please be careful. I can't lose you both. I can't-" She halted her words before she could finish them. Covering her mouth in shock, she realized for the first time that she thought her mother was long gone—dead. A sob tore from her throat and Jeff placed a hand on her back.

"It'll be okay, darlin'," he drawled. "Don't lose hope or faith."

Joe reached out and pulled Miracle closer to the bed. Sliding down the bed's railing he tugged on her hand and urged her to sit on the side of the bed.

"Don't give up, baby," Joe whispered, staring into her eyes. "I'm not sure how just yet, but your mother will come back to us. I know it, okay?"

At her nod, he added, "You're not going to lose either one of us, I promise. Understand?"

Again, she nodded.

"Okay, now give me a hug," he said softly with a slight smile. "I've never even gotten to hold my little girl."

"But I don't want to hurt you," she protested.

He tapped her chin playfully with his knuckle. "I'll hurt worse if you don't hug me," he insisted.

A tear fell down her cheek as she slowly leaned forward and hugged him as much as the bed would allow. She felt his arms close around her and she turned her face to kiss her father's cheek.

"I love you, little one," he said softly.

"I love you, too," she whispered in return.

Having stayed back a ways to give them some time together, Jeff stepped forward and spoke softly.

"I think it's time for that nurse, Joe," he said. "You need some rest if you want to heal quicker."

Miracle pulled out of Joe's embrace then. "Yeah, Daddy. You need to sleep and heal." She paused and swallowed hard. "Mom needs you," she added, afraid of what could happen. But, she knew he needed the incentive of saving Ella to motivate him to get well.

Joe nodded his agreement as Jeff pushed a red nurse's "Call" button on a remote next to Joe's bed. Only seconds later, a nurse spoke over the intercom speaker. "How can I help you?"

"Joe is awake now," Jeff answered.

"All right, Mr. Jarrett. I'll send Dr. Coden to his room."

Minutes later, the nurse came in to check Joe's vitals and shortly after, Dr. Coden entered the room.

Joe was checked over to make sure he wasn't developing signs of infection and then at the doctor's orders, the nurse injected Joe's IV with a heavy painkiller.

Only a few moments later, Joe slowly sank into oblivion.

}i{}i{}i{}i{

Officer Steven McCarthy had sat in the interrogation room for over an hour, being grilled by a couple of his co-workers. Nervously, he ran his fingers over his short curly hair.

"I didn't do it," he cried. "I'd never hurt anyone maliciously—especially not a child!"

"You did it," Detective Nate White insisted. "We have enough evidence to charge you with the kidnapping and assault of twelve-year-old Miracle Kalani Jones."

"NO," McCarthy slammed his fist down on the table's surface. "My job is to protect people—not hurt them! Why would I do this? You guys know me! You know I'd never do something like this!"

"Steve, it's over," Detective Frank Kinkaid said softly. "The girl recognized you in a lineup. She even recalled the name on your name tag for crying out loud. We collected a blood sample from the dashboard of your patrol car—and surprise, surprise—it matches Miracle's DNA."

"You don't understand," McCarthy began.

"Then make us understand," shouted Detective White. "We'd sure like to understand!"

Detective Kinkaid looked at his partner, silently telling him to lighten up. He had a feeling there was more to the story.

"Tell us what happened," Kinkaid said to McCarthy, his green eyes softening. "Tell us why you did this."

McCarthy swallowed hard and fought the urge to throw up.

"I was kidnapped earlier yesterday—by a group of men…" He hedged, hesitant to give the name of a man who sent chills of fear down his spine. "I was taken to an abandoned warehouse and shown photos of a woman and a little girl."

"Where was the warehouse," Detective White asked.

"I don't know," McCarthy answered. "I was knocked out and some kind of cloth bag was over my head when I came to."

"You said you were shown photos of a woman and child. Go from there."

"The man told me the woman's photos were of an Ella Roberts, but that she went by the name of 'Claire Jones'. He said the photos of the girl was Ella's daughter—Miracle Jones. He said he needed Ella Roberts—and he knew how to get her." McCarthy swallowed hard again. "He told me that's where I factored in. He informed me that he'd not selected me at random. He knew all about me. He knew about my wife dying of a brain tumor. He knew my daughter, Whitney, had inherited the cancer gene from my wife—she's now been diagnosed with a tumor as well. So, he told me he'd give Whitney a violent end if I didn't cooperate." McCarthy's eyes filled with tears then, "He told me she'd die slowly if I didn't kidnap Miracle Jones. My daughter is scared enough of this disease she has—She's my little girl…the last link I have to my wife. I had to do what I could to protect her."

"So if all you had to do was kidnap Miracle, why the assault," demanded Detective White. "She is just a girl too! You scared her out of her mind. She may never trust authorities now because of what you've done."

"Easy, White," Kinkaid said, "Give him a chance to answer." His gaze shifted over to McCarthy then. "Why did you hurt her? You were stronger than she is by far. She was no threat to you."

"She sort of was," McCarthy answered. She began to struggle in the car when she figured out what was happening. She started banging on the window in an attempt to escape. I thought she'd either break the window out and jump for it, or she'd start hitting me and cause me to crash. Either way, I would've failed the mission—and Whitney would die."

"How do you know this man would follow up on his threat?"

"Anyone crazy enough to kidnap a cop and blackmail him is crazy enough to hold true to his threat. Plus, there was just something about him. He had an insane look through the eyes—very cold and unfeeling and empty. I don't think he has a soul."

"Okay. McCarthy," Detective White said, "It's the moment of truth. What's his name?"

The truth was, they already got the name from Miracle. But they wanted some added proof from McCarthy.

He paled, and hesitated before responding. "I want protection for me and Whitney. I won't name any names otherwise."

"You'll have it," Detective Kinkaid said. "Just so you know—we already have the guy's real name as well as his alias. Miracle gave them to us. But it will be added evidence against this psycho."

"I want immunity," McCarthy added, knowing his rights. "And I want to go into protective custody along with Whitney. Please."

They could see the desperation in McCarthy's eyes.

"Done," Kinkaid said.

"The name he gave me was Viktor Dankevych."

The detectives checked their notes to make sure of what Miracle told them.

"Okay, this will take a little time. We need Whitney's doctor's name so we can fax them and obtain either medical records or a note stating Whitney was indeed diagnosed with cancer."

"Why," McCarthy asked.

"Because if you're lying about this, you could very well be lying about what happened with Miracle. If that's the case, we'll have to investigate you further."

"I'm not worried about that," McCarthy responded. "It's true. You'll find out. And Whitney's primary doctor's name is Dr. Hugh Hodges at Seattle Medical Clinic."

Kinkaid nodded as he wrote down the name of the doctor and healthcare facility, "Okay, we'll have to get the note or records from the doctor first, of course. When we receive that and can verify what you've said, we'll fax the D.A. about your immunity. Then we'll go from there."

McCarthy slumped in his chair then as if the only thing keeping him upright left him. The detectives were unable to determine if it was from relief or added stress.

We'll soon find out, Detective Kinkaid thought.

"Is the girl—Miracle—is she okay," McCarthy asked, looking disgusted with himself.

"Physically, she'll be fine. Mentally…well, that's another story. This Viktor Dankevych guy…his name is actually Jacques Fournier. He's a very bad guy. He succeeded in kidnapping Miracle's mother. He also shot her father in the chest. He very nearly died," Detective White informed him. "And you do know Fournier planned to kill Miracle, don't you?"

McCarthy paled again. "My God. No, I didn't know. He just told me he needed her as bait."

"He lied," White told him matter-of-factly. "Or rather, he left out some of the truth."

"Oh, my God," McCarthy said again. He held his head in his hands and rocked backward and forward in his chair. "How could I do that? How could I have helped him like that?"

"Easy there, Steven," Detective Kinkaid said softly. "If you're telling the truth, you didn't know his real plan. Now, I can't say what you did was okay, but I can understand the panic you felt."

"She's just a little girl…"

"She'll be okay," Kinkaid told him. "We need to talk further and see if Fournier messed up and exposed something he hadn't meant to—something that could help locate Miracle's mother."

McCarthy nodded shakily. "Can you bring my daughter here?"

"Yes, of course," Kinkaid answered. "I'll get an officer to-"

"No," McCarthy interrupted. "You. Please. I trust you. A regular officer can be bought or threatened into submission. I was. Please, promise me you'll be the one to bring her here, Frank."

The detective nodded, "I promise. I'll go for her right now." He turned to Detective White, "Could you handle getting the doctor's records or note? I can probably be back before you receive them, and then I could handle the immunity request fax."

"Sure," White answered. "His demeanor had softened drastically over the past few minutes. "Come on, Steven. Let's get you into a cell. I'll let you know when Whitney arrives."

McCarthy nodded absentmindedly as he was led to an empty cell.

Please, God, watch over my baby and get her here safely, he prayed silently. Please, don't let her have to pay for what I've done.

}i{}i{}i{}i{

Ella lay on her bed and watched numbly as Fournier finished buttoning his shirt. A tear fell from her unblinking eye as she re-lived the horror of the past forty-eight hours. She'd already lost count of how many times he'd used her body.

I wish I could die.

Fournier turned to face her and ignored the sheer anguish on her face. "I'll be back in an hour or two."

Ella's eyes burned with more tears. "I'm going to kill you, somehow."

Her threat struck a nerve and he shot over to her, grabbing her hair and slapping her across her sore face. "You WILL respect me! Or I'll-"

"What," Ella demanded. "Kill me? Go ahead! My life's over anyway! And I'd rather die than get pregnant by you!"

This earned her another slap.

Now enraged, Ella took advantage of the fact he'd uncuffed her wrists from the bed railing. She lunged forward and raked her nails down his face.

"KILL ME," she screamed, digging her nails into the fleshy parts of his cheeks.

Fury brewed in the icy depths of Fournier's blue eyes. He grabbed her wrists and, shoving her back down on the bed, pinned them above her head. "NO," he growled in her face. "I told you—you need to be broken and I know just how to do it! The next time, you're going to be a little more…demonstrative."

Ella froze and horror registered in her eyes.

"That's right," Fournier continued, enjoying her reaction. "You're going to seduce me."

"You're crazy," Ella said, a hint of a tremor in her voice. "I'll never…EVER do that!"

Fournier chuckled and the sound sent a shiver of fear down her spine. "Yes, you will. And do you know how I know," he asked rhetorically. "Because of your daughter," he answered.

Ella's eyes widened. "What do you mean? You already have me. She has nothing to do with this!"

"Oh, but she does," Fournier went on. "She wasn't supposed to happen in the first place. You were to give me a child, not Seanoa! So, if you don't do exactly as I ask, I'll bring young Miracle here and kill her slowly and painfully—right before your eyes. Does my request sound doable now?"

Ella couldn't speak for the urge to vomit.

"Answer me. Now."

She gave a slight nod and then succumbed to the need of emptying her stomach. She ran for her bathroom and melted into the floor as dry heave after dry heave racked her body. Moments later, she weakly stood to her feet and rinsed her mouth out at the lavatory. Her gaze rose to the mirror above the sink and she made eye-contact with her reflection as she heard the clank of her cell door shutting and locking.

"Glass," she whispered, touching the mirror. "The idiot left me with glass." She smiled despite her turmoil. "Joe, I'll see you soon, lo'u alofa," she murmured. Miracle is with Uncle Jeff, I'm sure of it. He and Aunt Nina will take good care of her, and that's all I can ask for. God be with my baby, she prayed silently. Then, drawing her fist back, she punched the mirror with all her might. It shattered into the sink below and Ella quickly snatched up a shard of the glass.

"ELLA?"

She took a glance out of her bathroom and saw Fournier looking through the bars at her, so she grinned at him with defiance on her face.

"You can't hurt me anymore."

Fournier was struggling to pull his keys out of his pocket as Ella stabbed her wrist and pulled the sharp piece of mirror up the length of her forearm. Gasping and crying out at the pain, she forced herself to ignore the frightening sight of so much blood pouring down her arm. She refocused and did the same to her other wrist.

Within seconds she was sinking to the floor as blood pooled around her. She made an attempt to slash her throat then. However, Fournier was kneeling beside her a second later, and pulled the shard out of her hand before she could make more than a small, harmless cut. He frantically pulled off his shirt and began ripping it into large strips, then pulled out his cell phone to make a call.

Ella was vaguely aware of him talking to someone as her vision blurred and her breathing slowed.

"I need your surgical team here in five minutes," Fournier said as he ripped his shirt into a couple more thick strips. He paused as the doctor he was speaking with protested. "No arguments! Get here with your team in five minutes or your whole family is DEAD—wiped out completely! Come here with the equipment you need for repairing slit wrists. They're slit the length of her forearm. Save her, or I'll kill you all." He disconnected the call and began tying the shirt pieces around her forearms as a makeshift tourniquet.

He was shocked to hear her chuckle.

"You're not going to be able to save me," she smiled up at him. "You can't have me anymore. I'm going to be with Joe. Forever. And there's nothing you can do about it." She spat in his face then, enunciating her sheer disdain for him.

Her vision blurred some more and grew progressively worse as her chest grew heavy. Taking a breath became impossible.

Everything faded to black then and her body went limp.

#samoa joe #samoa joe fan fic #samoa joe imagine #samoa joe x oc #samoa joe fanfiction

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stupid-sloot-headcanons · 2 years

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hey, if you take requets at the moment, I'd love to hear some of your thoughts on Aizawa. In my head I imagine him to be a total creep (i mean, look at that grin) and super manipulative with his partner, isolating them and breaking them down until they're completely dependant on him with nowhere to run. Making them feel like they're just too stupid/weak/incompetent/young to do anything, but also treating them like they're unbelievably precious and made of glass. Unless they disobey of course, though any injuries are really just your fault since you're so fragile. Your bones to easy to break, your face so pretty when you cry and your body just so irresistible. Those are just some of my thoughts, I'd love for you to expand on them or just tell me how you see him! (with female partner and as dark as possible if u can pls <3)

He knows just how dangerous the world can be, and he doesn't want his Darling anywhere near that. It's best for everyone if she just stayed with him, in his home and only going out when he's there to keep an eye on them.

It's easy for him to knock her out with a pill slipped into her drink one night on a date, and when she wakes up he's already gotten her stuff moved in. He's got his bindings around her wrists and legs, and he only thinks about removing them AFTER explaining why he took her and the new rules she needs to follow.

If she resists or tries to escape, it's nothing that can't be solved with isolation or bending them over his knee. Since she's tied up, she's got no choice but to take it and then be comforted with a much softer hand to their ass.

It's so nice to have her to crawl in bed with at the end of the day. He kicks off his shoes, locks his door, and (if he has the energy) strips before crawling in bed to touch and fondle while he sleepily rubs his cock against them. And in the morning, he'll show his appreciation by waking them up with head and fingering them.

Will scare her by talking about the criminals and danger he deals with at work, and remind her of how lucky she is that he's taking care of her. If he wasn't around, she'd be such an easy target. Does she really wish she was on her own, top stupid and naive and a perfect little thing to pull into an alley?

He'll do this while degrading her during sex, too. He'll be fingering her or fucking her while forcing her to suck his fingers. "Submissive, aren't you? This is why you need to be here with me. A girl like you would just wind up getting kidnapped and forced to be a rape toy for a bunch of villains and lowlives. Would you want that? Getting passed around, having your cute little holes stuffed and feeling their hands all over you? They won't be nearly as gentle as I can be. They know you're too spineless and easy to manipulate into accepting any abuse they give you."

Loves how dominant he his over her and how she squirms and squeals and pouts. He wants to tie her wrists and shove his cock down her throat, make her spread her legs while she's getting fingered in his lap, cockwarm her for hours and spank her when she wiggles around too much, lick and suck and pinch that cute little clit that's stiff all because of him...

If she really pissed him off, he'll throw her into a cage with barely any room to sit or lie down and take her out to spank her, fuck her, and toss her back in. Good girls get treated well; ungrateful brats get treated like the unruly bitches they are. He'll bend her over and tie her arms behind her back while he rails into her, slapping her cunt and overstimming her until she soaks the floor underneath her.

#tw: noncon #tw: dubcon #fem darling #.aizawa #yandere aizawa #.myshit #yandere bnha #.bnha

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autumnsart22 · 3 years

Text

Kidnapped: Feitan x fem reader💀

Little angsty fic for my torture gremlin 🤪

Tags: Brief description of torture, mentions of sex and violence, almost rape scene (not with Fei)

You didn’t think you had ever hated anyone more than Feitan Portor. He was cruel, arrogant, and selfish, taking every opportunity to humiliate you and get on your nerves. Unfortunately, he knew exactly what to do to piss you off, and there had been more than one occasion when your arguing had gotten you two in very tight spots during missions.

It didn’t always used to be that way. When you had first joined the Phantom Troupe, you had actually been pretty good friends with him, closer than most of the other Troupe members. But over time he had become cold and cruel, turning his back on you and becoming your tormentor instead.

Which was why you were pissed off at Chrollo for pairing you up with Feitan for the next mission, but the Troupe leader insisted that you worked well together when you weren’t constantly arguing...which was rare. And unfortunately, this was going to be a big heist.

Tonight you would be infiltrating the underground auction in Yorknew city to steal all the goods up for auction. It was a large job, especially facing off against all the mafia bosses, and you had to look the part in order to blend in. You were done up in a pretty red dress, your hair swept up to reveal crystal earrings and your lightly done makeup. Honestly, you were kind of feeling yourself, which was unusual because you didn’t usually care about how you looked.

Feitan walked silently beside you as you made your way from the Troupe’s hideout in the direction of where you would be entering the auction. He was dressed up as well, wearing a black tuxedo and missing the usual bandana over his face, which you knew made him uncomfortable being so exposed. You might have tried to be nice if he’d not given you a once over when he saw you, a sneer pulling up his face as he scoffed. So instead of politely ignoring him, you grinned coldly and said, “You look like shit.”

“You look like whore.”

Your hands curled into fists, but you managed to not punch him. You did look slightly whory, but that was the point. You wanted to tempt all the big business men into spilling their riches into your waiting palms, even if it meant flashing a bit of bare leg and cleavage. The little gremlin didn’t have to point it out though.

It was easy getting inside the auction, and soon you and Feitan were mingling with the guests as you waited for the event to begin. Feitan scanned the room with narrowed eyes, searching for our main target among the many rich mafia bosses throughout the area: Teika Rubin.

As the son of one of the largest syndicate bosses in Yorknew city, Teika was set to inherit almost 20 million Jenny once he took over the business. He was at the auction in place of his father, and he currently held a diamond worth at least 5 million Jenny--more if you sold it right--in order to sell to a private buyer. It was your job to get him alone so that you could steal it.

“He there,” Feitan murmured, his hair brushing your ear as he gestured towards the back of the room. He was right; at the center of an excessive number of bodyguards was Teika himself.

He was young, maybe around twenty four, but you could tell by his eyes that his age didn’t mean inexperienced. You honestly had expected a pampered rich boy, but this was different. Cruel, smug, and powerful. And, if the way his eyes scanned the room with careful observation skills was any tell, smart. Not a good combination. Your mission may have been a bit harder than you expected, but there was no way you were going to tell Feitan that.

“I’ll get him alone, but make sure you follow us.”

You didn’t wait for a response as you slid away into the crowd.

It ended up going exactly as you wanted. You spilled a drink on yourself and one of his guards, and like the charming person he was, Teika offered you a change of clothes. It only took a few sultry looks and suggestive words before he had you pinned up against the wall of one of the private rooms, shoving your dress up as he checked the clock.

“I think I have enough time,” he said, smiling slightly. “Don’t worry, I’ll pay you well for this.”

What had Feitan called you? A whore? You pushed that thought violently from your head as Teika started to kiss down your neck.

You shuddered, clenching your teeth as he slid his hands along your thighs, your dress riding up almost to your hips. You were willing to do whatever it took to succeed in this mission and not let the rest of the Troupe down, but it was hard to force down your disgust and fear.

Even if you wanted to escape, you weren’t sure you’d be able to. You didn’t have any weapons on you, and your Nen wasn’t exactly a combat tool. You were able to see the near future of yourself and people you loved if they were in life threatening danger, but although the power had gotten you out of many tight spots, it had holes. For example, if your opponent was just aiming to injure rather than kill, then you were completely in the dark.

Plus, Teika was powerful. You didn’t know what his Nen power was exactly, but Chrollo had confirmed that he could be considered around the same level as a Phantom Troupe member in terms of combat ability.

Please, Feitan, hurry.

The syndicate heir held your throat tightly as he went to tug your dress from your shoulders, and a small whimper of panic escaped your throat.

And then Teika was being thrown across the room, slamming into the wall as you slid to the floor, gasping for air. Feitan stood over you, his eyes blank as he surveyed your rumbled hair and the way your dress had ridden up.

“Let’s go,” he snapped, and you straightened your shoulders, snatching the knife he tossed you out of the air.

Teika was quick to give up the jewel in his possession when he realized that all of his guards were dead, but he didn’t seem very upset about it. In fact, the manic look in his eye was almost gleeful as he watched you exit the room with Feitan.

“Phantom Troupe,” you heard him mutter as the door clicked shut, and you set about locking him in there.

“Why don’t we just kill him?” You asked, but Feitan didn’t even look at you.

“Take too long,” he finally grunted.

It was true. You could already hear the sound of gunshots coming from the main auction hall where Shizuku and Franklin were taking care of the rest of the mafia bosses, and soon the entire place would be swarmed with law enforcement and other mafia members. A fight between Feitan and Teika would be so destructive and long that it would cause more harm than good.

“Thanks for coming in time,” you said as you walked side by side towards the back of the building where you were going to meet the other Troupe members.

Feitan snorted. “Seemed like fun.”

Your mouth fell open, and you gaped at him. “I was just doing my part.”

“All you good for anyway,” he muttered, and you froze.

“What?”

Feitan crossed his arms, turning to you. “You useless.”

“Y-you-” You were struggling to speak. You were used to petty insults, but this was different. He was dead serious. So you said the first thing that came to mind. “You’re just jealous.”

Instantly, Feitan’s eyes flashed and turned lethal. “Jealous? Of what? You nothing but a burden to the Troupe with your arrogance and annoying personality. You weak, and the only thing you can do is…” His eyes trailed significantly down your short dress.

You thought such things on the daily, but hearing them from him in particular made it worse. Tears filled your eyes unprompted, but you weren’t going to cry. Instead, you straightened your shoulders and turned your back on him, walking away without another word. You weren’t sure you could forgive him this time.

------

3 hours later:

“Where Y/n?” Phinks glared at Feitan as he met him outside of the auction hall, but Feitan only shrugged. “Is she ok?” He pushed, and the short Troupe member flipped him off.

“She left.” He finally said.

Feitan hadn’t been able to get your hurt expression out of his head, the tears shimmering in your eyes. He had never seen you cry before, or at least not because of him. He had gone too far.

He had just been so enraged, seeing you pushed up against the wall by someone who wasn’t him. And then you had let out the sexiest sound he had ever heard, as if you were enjoying yourself, and he had lost it. He hadn’t meant to take it out on you--he never did. But that’s always what seemed to happen.

“What did you do?” Phinks said in annoyance. Phinks and Shalnark had been trying to get Feitan to confess to liking you for years, and had eventually resorted to getting him blackout drunk. Shalnark had pretended to boast about seducing you, and Feitan had gone nuts. That was all the confirmation they needed.

Since then, they had both tried to get him to confess to you, or at least not act like he hated you. But the issue was, Feitan wasn’t going to be weak over some girl. He wouldn’t allow you to take priority over the other good things in life, like torture, murder, and stealing. Caring about someone meant putting yourself at risk for them, and Feitan wasn’t willing to make that sacrifice, not even for you.

But damn, that dress. He had had to talk himself out of dragging you back inside and forcing you to change, so that no other person except for him would ever get to see you in it. Perhaps his feelings were purely physical; that would be perfectly normal. But it didn’t explain why he wanted to be with you all the time, or why he enjoyed how red your face got when you were pissed at him, or why he loved watching you get all animated while telling a story, even as he pretended not to listen.

But this time he could tell that he had gone too far, and you weren’t going to forgive him easily. Shit. He hated the idea of apologizing, but he hated the idea of you ignoring him even more. Maybe this one time he would put his pride aside…

Feitan began to walk a little faster as they approached the Troupe’s hideout, but he froze as they entered the abandoned building.

There was blood everywhere. It covered the floors and was splattered along the walls, as if a major fight had gone down. In the center of the gore was a black screen.

Machi emerged from behind some of the rubble, her eyes dark as she approached. “I just got back, but it looks like this was the work of one of the syndicates. I don’t know how they found our hideout though, or why they’d come when it was empty.”

“Where’s Y/n.” Feitan’s voice was soft, fury dripping from every word. Maybe she hadn’t come back to the hideout. Maybe she would be walking through the doors soon with Chrollo, and Feitan could apologize.

As if in response to his question, the black screen flickered, and footage of a grey, concrete room appeared. In front of the camera was a familiar young man, and Feitan’s mind went blank.

“I’m assuming that you’ve returned to your base by now,” Teika Rubin grinned, adjusting the camera. “I hope so, because this is live footage and you’ll miss the show!”

The rest of the Troupe members had gathered around the screen at the center of the room, silently assessing as Teika stepped back...to reveal you.

You were tied to a chair and blindfolded, but you wrenched violently on the bonds holding you. “You disgusting shithead,” you snarled, and Teika backhanded you across the face.

Feitan couldn’t move, couldn’t breathe.

Teika continued lightly, “As you can see, I have your lovely member here with me, and we’re going to be spending some quality time together. If you want her back, you will return my money.”

“How did they get her?” Nobunaga growled, fists clenching.

“They must have some sort of tracking Nen user. Or--”

“Does it matter?” Feitan interrupted. “We go--”

He froze as he watched Teika pick up a knife and drench it in a familiar amber liquid. It was an extremely rare mix that Feitan had used on a number of occasions with tricky patients, and it always got them talking almost instantly. The pain from a single drop was almost enough to knock someone unconscious. Feitan had tried a bit on himself once out of curiosity, and even he had been surprised at how awful the experience was.

Teika was smiling sadistically as he lifted your arm, pressing the knife against the skin of your wrist and sliding upward. Your scream was almost enough to make Feitan throw up as he watched you jerking against the hold of the chair.

The short Troupe member had fantasized about hurting you a number of times, especially after Machi had accidentally let it slip about your masochist preferences. He had barely been able to keep his hand out of his pants for weeks after that, getting turned on every time he saw you. The number of times he had stood in front of your door in the middle of the night, wondering if he should just give in and fuck you, was almost ridiculous. But tying you to the bed, choking you until you cried, or whipping you until you were cumming everywhere was different from this.

Feitan was literally shaking with fury, and he didn’t say a single word as he strode away, your screams still echoing behind him.

“Where are you going?” Shalnark asked, but Feitan didn’t turn.

“I get her back. Kill them.”

No one stopped him.

It didn’t take him long to track down where you were being kept. Chrollo had been keeping track of all the main syndicate bases, so it was just a matter of narrowing down which one the doomed heir would be using. The entire search took less than an hour, and then Feitan was headed down the hall, killing everyone in sight as he looked for you in the rooms.

Teika was still talking to the camera when Feitan slammed into him--clearly he hadn’t expected to be found so easily. You were slumped in your chair, unconscious, and your arm was a bloody mess.

Feitan was so angry that his Nen came almost instantly. “Pain packer,” he hissed, wrapping himself and you in powerful armour to protect against his attack. “Rising sun.”

The room erupted.

-----

You woke as Feitan carried you through the molten hell that used to be the syndicate compound. All around you, you could hear the screams as people burned to death, but all you felt was a nice pleasant heat.

“Fei?” You murmured, and you felt his arms tighten around you.

“Here.”

“I’m surprised you came,” you managed.

“Tch.” He paused, and then he muttered, “I always come for you.”

It wasn’t an apology, but you knew this was as close to one as he could handle. You relaxed against his chest. “Ok.”

You closed your eyes, but you heard him from above you as he said, “Don’t walk away again.”

It may have sounded blank and cold as always, but you could see the panic in his eyes at seeing you wounded. And by the heat of the sun around us, he had been utterly enraged that you’d been kidnapped.

Perhaps you could forgive him after all.

#feitan #feitan portor #Hunter X Hunter #xreader #fanfiction #fandom #fanfic #anime #angst

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lupin72 · 3 years

Text

What could have been

Anon asked for a fic where ‘Lucy figured out that she was about to be drugged and arrests Caleb and comes to work traumatised that she would have been kidnapped or something and Tim noticed that’. I changed the details a bit but I hope you like it!

Lucy sat in her favorite bar, with an attractive man in front of her, conversation flowing well as they waited to be served. And yet she couldn’t relax. It had been a while since she had found herself on a date. Lucy told herself that was why she had a feeling of unease when she regarded the man before her. Caleb was nice, friendly and he seemed to like her. A lot, if him showing up at the precinct was anything to go by. She had no reason for fear or tension, no reason to doubt his intentions at all. And yet she couldn’t get the voice in the back of her mind to shut up.

Even before she was an officer, Lucy had always been careful on nights out. Her parents had experience with enough patients to feel that it was important to drill into Lucy that she should never leave a drink unattended, never drink anything unless she had seen the bar staff pour it and to always let someone know where she was going. They were rules she had followed throughout her life. She didn’t know how many times such choices could have saved her life.

But this was different, Lucy reminded herself. She was on a date. They were supposed to be alone. But she hadn’t told Jackson where she was going.

The thought struck a pang of panic inside her and Lucy reached for her phone. As she did so, she heard Caleb order his drink and ask her what she wanted. Lucy looked up and tried to mask her uncertainty with a smile and ordered a glass of the house red. She wasn’t fussy after a day like she had had.

That was what it was, she told herself. Leftover unease from being around a serial killer all day. There was nothing wrong with Caleb. Lucy noticed the man in question was frowning at her and realized how silly she must have looked urgently trying to dig her phone out of her pocket.

“I’m not doing that bad am I?” Caleb asked, raising an eyebrow in a way that shouldn’t have been as endearing as it was. “Trying to call for help already?”

Lucy laughed, hoping it didn’t sound as forced as it felt, “Not at all. I just realised I never told my flat mate where I was going.”

“Oh,” Caleb paused, “it’s alright, I’m a gentleman, I’ll have you home by ten, promise.”

Lucy frowned. Her hands froze. Was that a red flag?

She shook herself, cursing her overactive mind and placed her hands back on the bar. She was a full grown woman, she didn’t need anyone’s permission and, despite the fact Caleb was obviously joking, she didn’t like the insinuation that she was acting like a child who was out after curfew.

Thankfully, their drinks arrived and prevented any award silence.

But then the world seemed to slow down. Caleb reached out to pay for their drinks and then smoothly grabbed both their glasses, pushing Lucy’s towards her and dragging his towards himself. It had looked causal, and it was all over in a second, but the movement of his hand had caught Lucy’s eye. There had been no need for him to touch her glass, no need for him to slide it toward her when it was already in comfortable reaching distance. And, had she imagined it, or had he spent a bit too long searching for his wallet? Long enough perhaps to lift something else along with it?

The voice, the feeling of unease, was suddenly too much and Lucy felt herself standing.

Caleb looked shocked.

“I’m sorry,” Lucy apologized, grabbing her jacket and moving away. “I’m not feeling too great tonight. I’ve had a bit of a terrible shift and I should have cancelled sooner. This wasn’t fair on you. You seem like a really nice guy, but I don’t think I can do this. I’m sorry-”

She turned to leave when she felt Caleb grab her arm. Tight.

“Wait.” His smile no longer reached his eyes and Lucy detected a hint of anger in his gaze. “Can’t we just have this one drink? I know I’m not the most attractive guy and I think I might have come across a bit strong when I showed up at your work, but I do really like you Lucy.”

Lucy paused, regarding his demeanor. There was something about the desperation in his tone that she didn’t like. Her gaze flicked back to their glasses on the bar behind them.

The date was over anyway. There was nothing more to lose. Lucy squared her shoulders and said, “If I asked you to down my drink would you do it?”

Caleb looked taken aback. “What?”

“If I asked you to drink it, would you do it?”

The anger on his face grew to the point he looked enraged.

“I thought so.” Lucy broke free of his grip and turned for the door.

Thankfully, a group of girls stumbled into the bar just as Lucy reached the entrance. One stopped and pulled the door back open for her, smiling as Lucy passed through. With a sigh of relief Lucy noticed that their uber driver was still waiting by the door and, upon the driver’s request, jumped in their car.

Lucy never got much sleep. She had tossed and turned for hours thinking about what could have happened. She knew in her heart that Caleb had been attempting to spike her. Should she have told the barman? Hell, should she have arrested him? No, she once again reminded herself. Her evidence was based on a hunch, on suspicion and nothing more. Still, pushing herself from the bed, she decided she would call her mother later to thank her for her annoying persistence in reminding her to be safe growing up. For now, she had to get to work.

Lucy bumped into Tim just as she was entering the bullpen. “Told you to unwind last night Chen, not stay up the whole night, you look like you haven’t slept at all.”

It was disguised as a reprimand, but Lucy could tell that it came from a place of concern. “Had a rough night,” she replied. “I’ll tell you about it in the shop if you promise not to boast.”

Lucy knew that promise wouldn’t be kept. Tim had sensed something was wrong with Caleb. He had made all those jibes about the photos and tried to steal Caleb’s number from Lucy’s hand. But even if she did have to listen to him boast, part of her also wanted some reassurance that she had done the right thing. Caleb, after all, might have been innocent. It could all have been in her head.

They were in the shop for two minutes before Tim spoke, “So, Boot what did you want to tell me? I’m ready to gloat.”

Lucy explained what had happened on the date, her words tumbling into each other at such a speed that she wasn’t sure Tim would know what she was saying at all. Thankfully, he seemed to follow well enough and he didn’t interrupt.

“I knew there was something wrong with that guy,” Tim said when she was finished. Lucy rolled her eyes at that predictably being his first take away.

“Are you alright?”

The look of concern on his face took Lucy by surprise.

“Yes sir,” she answered.

“You did the right thing. Even if he was innocent it’s better to be safe than sorry. And with this new serial killer on the lose too, you can never be too sure.”

Lucy hadn’t thought about it that way. What were the odds that the new killer would target her? She knew that the number of men that turned to date rape drugs was scarcely high enough in the city of LA that it was extremely unlikely to be related at all.

Still, the thought was enough to send her head spinning.

“Don’t go there Chen,” Tim interrupted her spiral, bringing her back to the present. “You were switched on enough to notice what he was playing at. Not many would have. It shows you have good instincts.”

Just as Lucy was about to point out that Tim had just given her a compliment, he froze.

“Fire!”

Lucy jumped, her hand automatically going to her weapon, whilst she scanned the horizon.

“That house is on fire, what do we do Officer Chen?”

Lucy quickly looked to the house Tim had gestured to and found no sign of smoke or flames. She realized immediately what he was doing, and her heart swelled in response, even if it had just stopped beating seconds before.

Lucy rattled off the protocol as Tim drove on, her nightmare of a night long forgotten.

An hour later a call came in from Grey directly. A rare occurrence so that they both knew immediately that something was seriously wrong. Tim drove them to the address in a tense silence.

They joined a swarm of vehicles pulling up outside an abandoned farmhouse out in the middle of nowhere. In sync, they climbed out of the car and turned to where Grey stood at the porch, towering over the crowd of officers.

“Rosalind’s partner has struck again,” Grey announced. “A video was sent to the precinct half an hour ago of a woman in a barrel, we presume she is underground. Detectives were able to track the signal here. From the footage we believe this to be a recovery. I want you all to spread out, we’ve got dogs and metal detectors on hand. Let’s bring this girl home to her family and with any luck we will find something to put the bastard who did this behind bars.”

With sharp orders from the detectives, they broke out into their routine search formation: a line forming a grid that seemed far too small to cover the vast desert plane surrounding them. Lucy’s stomach churned as she walked in line next to Tim, a sniffer dog team to her other side. What sort of end the woman must have met? Alone, underground, in a barrel in this heat? It didn’t bare thinking about.

After almost an hour of nothing, the dog to Lucy’s right gave a loud bark and began clawing at the ground. The handler gave a shout and within minutes a flurry of officers began to dig. Dirt flew carelessly around them as they shoveled it clear. The only sound panting and the scraping of the sand. And then they hit metal.

The barrel exposed; they removed the lid. The sight that met them made more than one officer gasp, including Lucy.

They had found her.

Tim pulled the young woman up and laid her body out.

Grey was right. She was already gone.

She looked young, a few years younger than Lucy. Her long dark hair covered half of her face and Tim carefully pulled it back to lay her more peacefully on the sand.

Lucy jumped. The sight of the young woman’s face sent her stumbling backwards. Her hand flew to her mouth to try to stop the feeling of nausea that had overtaken her.

Tim, seemingly the only officer to notice, spun to face Lucy and immediately rose to his feet when he saw the look on her face.

“Chen?” He said, in the same soft tone he had used with her in the shop earlier, a tone she had heard him use so rarely. Lucy felt him reach out and clasp her elbow when she still didn’t respond.

“She was there,” Lucy stammered, forcing the words out between her loud gasping breaths, “She was there, at the bar…last night.” Lucy recognized the victim as the young woman who had held the door open for her.

It was clear the second Tim realized what she was saying. His other hand rose to catch her by the shoulder. “Chen are you telling me that-?”

“It’s Caleb. It has to be.”

They were gathering an audience from their fellow officers, both those who had helped to dig and those that were only now just reaching the scene. Lucy barely noticed them. All she could see was Tim. The fear in his eyes, his strong hands the only reason she hadn’t fallen to the floor.

Lucy choked, unable to hold back her tears any longer, they began to slip down her cheek. The terrible realization hitting them both.

“It should have been me.”

Hope you enjoyed reading this! A reminder that I am still open for prompts!

#chenford #the rookie #tim bradford #lucy chen

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rainy-day-gracie · 4 years

Text

Old Friends 6

Warning: Torture and attempted rape, take care of yourselves if you have problems reading!

Fluff/Angst

I also used google translate for Russian since I do not speak Russian, if you can imagine.

Reader gets kidnapped, and the team fears it may be too late.

Enjoy! Chapter 6: We were all eating lunch in the break room when Morgan looked at me with a smile.

“YLN, you knew Spencer pretty well in college, yes?”

“Um, yeah. I would say so.” I said with a giggle.

“Got any stories?”

Spencer groaned. “No, please.”

I laughed. “Um, well... Spencer would always correct the professor. No matter what. On one class day, the professor couldn’t take it anymore. She said ‘Mr. Reid, if you cannot handle a small mistake in my grammar, then you can teach the class!’ And guess what he did?”

“Teach the class?” Morgan was almost dying of laughter.

“Bingo. So a tall, lanky sixteen year old stood by the board and taught everyone for 45 minutes until the class ended. And not only that, he also said ‘Actually Professor, it’s Dr. Reid.”

“I can’t say this story surprises me,” JJ said in between giggles.

“She was teaching the lesson incorrectly! I was doing her a favor,” Spencer exclaimed.

“Whatever you say, pretty boy,” Morgan teased.

My phone buzzed, and my heart started pounding when I saw the caller.

“Um, I have to go really fast... it’s um... I gotta go.” I quickly got up from the table and stood by myself in the bullpen.

“Barry, why are you calling me?” I asked. “I’m not on the surveillance job anymore.”

“We need you right now.” Barry’s deep voice sounded distressed. “Lia and Frankie are dead, and Gretchen just went missing.”

The breath caught in my throat. “Is there the same signature?”

“They were both branded as victims of the Russian Mob in New York City.”

“Do we know where the lap dogs are? If anyone knows what happened to Lia and Frankie, it’s those thugs.”

“We know where they’re holed up, a run down apartment on Lower East side.” Barry paused. “No one knows these guys better than you, YFN. We need you to work your magic. And YFN?”

“Yes?”

“Bring your team. We need all the help we can get.” Barry hung up, and my chest started tightening.

I looked up the stairs. “Hotch!”

---

“Are you sure your former team leader is alright with you bringing us in?” Hotch eyed me questioningly. “You said your old assignment was codeword-classified.”

“It was, but after the new circumstances, Barry gave me the green light to bring you guys in. If you want to,” I added. “I know it’s not a formal case, but I’m going to work it on my own either way. I’m by no means demanding your help.”

“We’ll help you,” Hotch reassured. “We are a family, and you are a part of that family.”

---

“Five years ago, when I had just turned 24, I was assigned a CIA job to conduct surveillance on members of the Russian Mob.” The team stared at me, completely dumbstruck. “I lived and worked from a small, run down apartment down the hall from a foxhole for the Russian Mob. I recorded, analyzed, and reported all their movements.”

Morgan furrowed his eyebrows. “For how long?”

“Three and a half years. These thugs that I lived down the hall from were involved in anything from small drug deals to human trafficking to illegal weapons distribution.” I remembered the small apartment that smelled of stale beer. “No one knows these guys better than I do.”

“Why were you taken off the job?” JJ asked.

“I wasn’t taken off the job. I requested a transfer six months before I left the surveillance apartment. My friend, Lia Morales... she took over the assignment after I left.” I paused for a moment. “She was tortured, murdered and dumped in the Lower East side three weeks ago. My other team member, Frank Castellan, was murdered in the exact same fashion one week ago. Gretchen Ryan, the only other one that knew about the operation bedsides Barry and I, went missing yesterday.”

“Do we have jurisdiction?” Spencer asked.

“Yes, they were federal agents and we are a branch of the Bureau. Let’s take a trip to New York City.” Hotch grabbed the case file and hurried out the door. “Wheels up in 30.”

“We’re meeting my former team leader, Barry Lesley, at the field office.” I called out as I followed closely behind Hotch.

---

Barry looked exactly the same as he did five years ago. Tall, bald, bulging muscles and a large sense of superiority. He went straight into business as he’s always done.

“No time for introductions, YLN I want you positioned nearby the new foxhole for surveillance.” I tried to ignore the way my heart sank at the thought of going back to a tiny apartment like the one I stayed in for three and a half years. “I want the rest of the team focusing on our known group of thugs that do the Mob’s dirty work here at the field office. Everyone got it?”

Everyone got it, but I could see on a few faces looks of irritation and confusion. They weren’t used to Barry’s take charge action, even compared to Hotch.

As we were getting supplies for the surveillance house, Hotch approached me. “YLN, I want you to take someone with you to the surveillance house. If they’re targeting your old team, that means you’re on the list too.”

“Hotch, I left the team before the assignment was blown. They don’t know about me.” I explained.

“Even so, take someone with you.”

I looked up at Spencer. “Wanna join me?”

“Of course. Anything.”

---

The new apartment I’m staying in was even smaller than the last one. The recording gear was scattered on the bed, ready for use.

“So, this was your life for three and a half years?” Spencer asked me.

I let out a bitter laugh as we set up the audio. “Yeah, the only thing that kept me here so long was that I knew I was saving lives.”

“How did you stay sane?”

The question surprised me, then I realized it actually was valid. How did I stay sane? “I didn’t focus on myself. All of my attention was on the people down the hall. Whenever I would hear them talk about ‘packages’ I knew I had to warn somebody.”

Spencer furrowed his eyebrows. “Sounds lonely.”

“You have no idea.”

The recorder picked something up. They were speaking in Russian. “Kogda nam ponadobitsya sleduyuschiy pikap?” When are we needed for the next pick up?

“That’s Tevon. He’s almost 30 and he was once on trial for a possible gang related double homicide in Russia six years ago,” I explained to Spencer.

“pozzhe segodnya vecherom boss khochet, chtoby my vzyali dopolnitel'noye vremya s novym paketom.” Later tonight. The boss wants us to take extra time with the new package.

“That’s Eugene. He’s the oldest, and seems to call a lot of the shots in the foxhole. The Boss we haven’t gotten to yet, so we don’t know who he is, but something strange happened a few months before I left the assignment.”

“What happened?”

“Someone shot the old Boss in the head and took his role. By the way these thugs talk about him, they like this new boss a lot better.”

One of the guys got a phone call. “Kakaya? O chem ty govorish'?” What? What are you talking about? “Federaly? Ostavaytes' na linii.” The feds? Hold on.

“This is not good,” I whispered.

All of a sudden the surveillance audio cut out. “Has that ever happened before?” Spencer asked.

“No, never.”

Spencer raced towards the door, and right when he was in front of it, the door opened, and a fist collided with Spencer’s face.

I reached for my gun, but then I remembered that I didn’t bring it. This surveillance job was only supposed to be undercover, so why would I need a weapon?

They knocked Spencer to the ground, and looked over at me. “Tak chto eto krasivaya devushka, kotoraya smotrit na nas.” So this is the pretty girl that’s been watching us. By the voice I could tell it was Eugene.

The three men rushed at me, and I felt one of them jam a needle in my neck before my knees buckled.

---

The first thing I felt was the pain in my arms when I woke up. They were chained above my head, and by the numbness, have been there for a while.

The darkness of the chamber I was in still seemed to cast shadows across the faces of my captors. The biggest, Eugene, was sitting in an old wooden chair, watching me with a smile. The youngest, Igor, was asleep on an old ratty couch in the corner. Tevon was nowhere to be found.

“Hey Boss, she’s awake.” Eugene called out in English.

“Good. Now we can get started.”

The voice made me catch my breath in my throat. It didn’t have any kind of Russian accent, but that wasn’t the first thing I noticed.

A fistful of my hair was yanked backwards, and with my head tilted back, I could see into the eyes of the Boss.

Barry.

“You son of a bitch.” I whispered. “You killed Gretchen, didn’t you?”

With his other hand, he traced a line down the center of my throat.

“Yes I did. Are you going to be a good girl for me, YFN?” He whispered, his breath hot in my ear.

When I didn’t answer, he let go of my hair and fully faced me.

His knuckles collided with my jaw, and he leaned in close to my face once I recovered. “Answer the question. Are you going to be a good girl?”

I licked the blood off my lip and spat in his face. “Never.”

Barry just gave me a sick smile, and wiped the blood and saliva off his cheek. “Good. This will be a lot more fun then.”

---

Spencer’s POV

How could she be gone? She was right there and then she wasn’t. I started panicking as the team arrived at the apartment.

“Reid, how many guys were there?” Hotch asked.

“Three guys, one named Eugene, one named Tevon, and I don’t know the last one.”

“I’ll call Garcia to dig up dirt on these guys.” Morgan grabbed his phone and took a few steps away.

“How could they know we were here? Nobody knew about this assignment except for us and-“ Spencer stopped. “Barry Lesley. Where is he?”

Prentiss’s jaw drops. “He said he was going to meet with some contacts a few hours ago but he never came back.”

“We have to find him.” Hotch seemed to age almost ten years older in this moment.

“And when we do, we’ll make him pay for messing with our family.” Rossi added.

---

Reader’s POV

They didn’t even ask me any questions. Barry and Eugene hit me with relentless force for what seemed to be no reason at all.

“Do you want some more?” Barry screamed in my face. Tears dripped down my cheeks and I could feel my broken ribs, but not once did I beg them to stop.

“I’ve figured you out, Barry.” My hoarse voice croaked. “Before I left the assignment, they were looking to me to replace you, weren’t they? You were going to be either demoted or fired, so when I quit the assignment, you got to stay.”

“Shut up!” Barry shouted, and he landed a firm punch to my stomach.

I gasped for air as I continued. “But you never... forgot that a 27 year old woman... was about to take... your job. That’s the reason you... became the Boss... so you could feel any sense of power... that I had taken away from you.”

Barry didn’t raise his fist like I thought he would. Instead he snapped one of his fingers, and Igor handed him a serrated knife. “Maybe you’re profiling me... but that won’t do you any good here.” He didn’t smile, he just walked forward slowly.

Suddenly my arms, which had long gone numb, were yanked upwards. I was pulled off my knees to where I could barely touch the ground with my toes.

Barry wrapped his free hand behind me on my lower back. “You’re going to love this... profiler.”

---

Spencer’s POV

Spencer had never heard Garcia type so fast as she did right now.

“Okay, so the Russian thugs don’t own any property in the US, but Barry Lesley definitely does. He comes from an old New York money family, so he has four properties littered all around the state.”

“Narrow that down to isolated buildings.” Hotch called out to the phone. Spencer was starting to panic. He didn’t even get to tell her...

“Two properties.”

“Barry knows the geographic profile of the comfort zone. If he took YFN to one of those properties, it would be out of his comfort zone as a forensic countermeasure.” Spencer thought about YFN alone in a dirty basement somewhere. “What properties are outside of the comfort zone?”

“Oh my god, there’s only one! Sending it to your phones now. Please go save our friend!”

---

Reader’s POV

The knife was so, so much worse than fists.

Barry had ripped off my shirt, leaving me in my bra and pants. He trailed the knife along my stomach, leaving a line of blood behind.

The sticky feel of blood on my skin made me want to pass out. Barry suddenly pressed the knife down harder, making me scream. When he pulled away, he had a smile.

“Please...” I whispered without thinking.

“What was that?”

My eyesight was blurred in my tears. “Nothing… it was nothing.”

He laughed, and reached for his belt buckle. “I’ve been thinking about this for years.”

I squeezed my eyes shut as he lowered his pants and stalked towards me. I bit my lip as he hooked his fingers into my waistband and pulled them downwards. I did anything I could to take myself out of this moment.

“Have you seen the article explaining how Pi could be a rational number?” Spencer’s wide eyes looked so excited. “It’s totally preposterous, but still an interesting article.”

Rough hands gripping my hips.

“YFN, what did you want to be growing up? I wanted to be a cowboy at first, but then after everything with my mom, I decided I wanted to cure schizophrenia instead.”

Hot breath in my ear. The rancid smell of cigarettes.

“I love you, YFN. I want you to be more than just my friend.”

The maniacal laughter echoing in the dark basement.

“Hey, um, sorry for the late call. I just wanted to let you know that I’m... struggling. Without you. A case... was more difficult than usual. I’m afraid that I’ll be hooked on something forever, and I can’t walk away from it.”

People shouting upstairs. A door being kicked in. The sound of a gunshot.

“You’re the strongest person I’ve ever met.”

A knife being plunged into my stomach. Another gunshot.

“I need a medic in here!” I was let down to the ground, rolling on my back.

Familiar coffee brown eyes looked down at me and warm hands covered the wound on my stomach.

“Spencer...can’t breathe...” I coughed, blood spilling over my chin.

“Hey, I’ve got you.”

---

When I woke up, I could feel the pain that flooded my body. I could feel every broken rib and the deep stab wound in my stomach. I was alone in an unfamiliar room, and my heart started pounding in my chest.

Are you going to be a good little girl?

“Stop,” I whispered, squeezing my eyes shut again.

This will be a lot more fun then.

“Shut up,” I said louder.

That won’t do you any good here.

“I said, shut up!” The words ripped from my mouth, along with other shouts and screams. I could still hear him, his hot breath whispering in my ear. All I could think of was the feeling of his knuckles against my jaw, his rough hands gripping my hips. And all I knew was that I had to get out of here.

And then I was running, more like stumbling, into the bright hallway as people in scrubs and coats tried to catch me from falling.

A man appeared in front of me in a dark red cardigan and black tie. He was saying something. I stopped running, and sank against the wall. The man’s voice seemed to be underwater.

“Remember that time in college? We were seventeen and I was too afraid to talk to you?” Spencer. He had knelt down in front of me, his hands cradling my head.

“... I got two cups of coffee from the coffee shop... and placed one in front of you in the library.” My voice didn’t sound like mine, as if it was coming from someone else. “I had said...’Coffee is a language in itself.’ You said ‘Jackie Chan.’”

“You don’t have to fight anymore, YFN.” Spencer let go of my face and held my hands.

Cold chains tugging my wrists above my head. I could see the bruises the metal cuffs left.

I didn’t realize I had started shouting and fighting again until a needle was in my arm, and I could feel someone catch me as I fell.

---

I woke up in a foggy state of mind. Dimmed fluorescent lights hurt my eyes, and I didn’t feel any pain. A beeping noise filled my ears.

The warm hand covering mine kept me from panicking.

“Hey.” Spencer’s eyes were puffy, and his dark bags sinked downwards.

“Is this a hospital?” I croaked out softly.

“Yes,” Spencer said. “You held on.”

��“Where’s the team?”

“In the waiting room. Do you want to see them?”

I shook my head no. “My brain feels like it’s full of cotton balls... and my throat hurts.”

Spencer gave me a sad smile. “Just get some rest.”

“Is that because I was screaming so much?”

He didn’t answer.

“Answer me, Spencer.”

His eyes looked down at the floor. “Yeah... you were really scared when you first woke up.”

That’s when I remembered everything. “Please don’t leave.”

“I wouldn’t dream of it, my dear.” Spencer gave me a weak smile.

That was a line from one of my favorite books. “You’re cute,” I mumbled as I closed my eyes and drifted off.

“You’re beautiful.”

---

The team came and saw me after I woke up again. Hotch, Rossi, Morgan, Prentiss, JJ, even Garcia flew in from Quantico. And of course Spencer. “Thank you... for saving me.”

“Don’t mention it. You’ve saved the day so many times you finally let us have a turn.” Rossi had a twinkle in his eyes that I could swear looked like tears.

Hotch cleared his throat. “You’re going to be on medical leave for a while, but the doctor said no lasting damage had been done.”

At least not physically. I could tell that’s what everyone was thinking. My eyes found Spencer’s.

“Um, we’ll leave you two alone.” Morgan said, and the team shuffled out, leaving me with Spencer.

“How long have I been here?” I asked.

“We found you yesterday, so you’ve been unconscious for about 24 hours.” He walked forward and stood by my bedside table.

“How bad is it?” I whispered.

He seemed reluctant to tell me. “YFN-“

“Tell me.”

He took a deep breath. “Four broken ribs, a collapsed lung, dozens of small wounds all over your body... and a deep stab wound to the stomach.”

“Did he-”

“No. He didn’t.”

I looked at Spencer with sad eyes. “But he tried to.”

We were quiet for a while, and Spencer sat at the edge of my bed.

“I trusted him.” I finally said. “I trusted him and he...” he killed three of my friends to get to me.

“It’s okay to cry.” Spencer said softly. But I couldn’t.

“Spencer,” I started. “I don’t think I’m going to be the same person I was going into this case.”

“I know. And I’ll be here with you every step of the way.”

I closed my eyes. “I’m so tired...”

“Go to sleep. You’ve earned it.”

@itsarayofsunshine @thesailbells @squirrellover1967 @thesailbells @softpeteparker

#spencer reid #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid angst #spencer reid x reader #criminal minds #dr spencer reid

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mazzy-moon · 3 years

Text

A Lone Butterfly - Chapter 15

Title of Chapter: Gone

Word Count: 1.6k

Warnings/Tags: Mentions of sex trafficking/kidnapping/abuse , Mentions of rape, Mild violence

Pairing: Javier Peña (Narcos) x Isabel Cotrille (OFC)

Summary: Isabel and Javier's time together is cut short when the cartel finds their hiding place.

Notes: This chapter ends kind of abruptly. I will post chapter 16 as soon as possible. :)

Read it on ao3

I wake to a low hum of noise echoing in the distance. Once my eyes are open, though, it's gone. I dismiss it as being in my head and settle back down into the pillow.

Javier's leg is draped over me, and my back is tucked into his chest. I can tell he's in a deep sleep from the sound of his breaths. I slowly pry my way out of his grasp, desperate for water, untangling myself carefully so as not to wake him.

As I lift up off the bed, a slight soreness in the space between my thighs sends vivid images of what took place only a matter of hours ago. Heat rushes to my cheeks, but I ignore it, tiptoeing to my suitcase. I pull on a tank and some sweats before making my way to the kitchen.

The sound comes back then, a low rumbling. Barely there, but there's no mistaking it. I peer out the kitchen window, but can barely make out the line of the trees in the darkness. Standing in the unlit kitchen, I force myself to remain still. The rumbling continues, but I can't hear anything else.

Seconds later, a shattering of glass sounds from the back of the house. I call out for Javier, and he comes running out from the bedroom, barely clothed and with his gun in hand.

"Isabel," he exclaims, panicked.

Before I can warn him, a figure appears directly behind him and knocks him out with the butt of a gun. He's falls to the ground before he has a chance to utter another word. I call out for him, all while knowing there's no way he can hear me.

Stunned, I look up to face the attacker. I can't make out his features in the dark.

"Hey there, chiquita, it's been too long," the figure states, as if we know each other.

I dive for a knife from the counter adjacent to me. Despite my effort at speed, he grabs me before I have a chance to get to it. Without thinking I thrust my knee up between his legs. He doubles over in pain and I take my chance, running to Javier's limp body to pry the gun from his hand. I quickly turn and face the attacker, gun aimed and ready. He slowly places his own gun back into his belt and holds his hands up in surrender. I consider shooting him right then, but something stops me.

"Do you really know how to use that thing? You're nothing more than a girl."

Terrified and angry, I spit the words at him. "Last time I checked, the gun doesn't care who's behind it."

"Alright, alright. But listen to me- I think you'll find what I have to say very interesting."

"Doubtful."

He continues anyway. "I work for the Bogotá cartel. You know the one. You spent some time with us last year."

"What is it you want with me?" I ask, my voice low and trembling.

"Me? I don't want anything with you. I don't know why my boss is so obsessed with getting you back, it's only caused problems for us."

"Then why come here?"

"Dante made a promise to your father right before he killed him. He promised your father that his daughter would make him a lot of money as a sort of... repayment for killing his brother years ago. Dante doesn't like to break a promise."

I stare at him in horror.

"We would've taken you in Oregon, but couldn't risk getting caught with you at the border. So... we killed your friend instead. After that, we made sure Matías was caught. He was the only one you would remember seeing, and we knew you'd be forced to come back here to identify him. He wasn't exactly happy about that, but what choice did he have?"

"I won't let you take me."

"Oh, I think you will."

"Why are you so sure I won't just shoot you right here?" I raise my voice at him.

"You won't do that. Because if you try to, I'll put a bullet in your boyfriend's brain. I'm faster than you, chiquita. Of that you can be sure. Unless you come with me, he's dead."

All my plans of shooting the man in front of me disappear. I can't risk Javier's life. I won't. I could try and outrun him, but even if I could where would I go? We're in the middle of nowhere, and I didn't remember seeing even one house the way up here. There's no option left for me.

Slowly, I put the gun down.

"Smart girl."

The man grabs me, shoving me outside. Once we near the river bank, I realize what the noise I heard earlier was. A small boat sits on the water, waiting for us. There's another man already in the boat, and then another comes from around the side of the house. Once we're inside, one of them ties a blind fold over my eyes.

We travel on the water for forever. Once we stop, I'm guided into a vehicle. No one says anything. I think of Javier back at the cabin. Has he woken up yet? Will he be able to find me? I don't dare let myself hope. I think on the night before, the moments Javier and I shared. It seems like a dream now.

The vehicle comes to an abrupt stop and I'm pushed out. I hear a door open. They don't take the blind fold off of me until I'm inside. The place reminds me of the building with the cement room I was kept in before, but it's clearly more run down than that one was. We walk down a long hallway until we reach a wide set of doors. They open and I'm pushed through.

A huge table is the only thing taking up space in the room. Chairs are placed all around it. At the very end sits an older man, probably ten to fifteen years older than Javier. I know he's in charge from the way the other men are acting around him. This, I assume, is Dante. I push down my fear, trying to keep a brave face.

I'm shoved into a chair while Dante leers at me from across the table.

"Hello, Isabel. Nice to see you once again. Such a lovely face."

The tone of his voice make my skin crawl.

He waits for me to speak, carefully assessing me. I stare him down and give him the dirtiest look I can summon.

"What? You're shy? You were so feisty before, never kept quiet. That's why we kept having to drug you." He tilts his head, trying to figure me out, but I refuse to let him see how his words affect me.

"You won't get away with this," I say through my teeth. "Javier will find me."

Dante laughs, the lines around his eyes creasing. "No. He won't. No one knows where you are. We are very good at keeping our business secretive. Why do think Santiago's little task force still hasn't been able to track us down?"

Doubt starts to trickle in, but I can't lose hope. Even if Javier doesn't find me, I will find a way out. I have to.

Dante senses where my thoughts are headed. "And if you're thinking about escaping, Isabel, I would advise otherwise. You see, if you try anything, it won't be you who suffers. No, instead we will hurt Sasha."

The name conjures up a whisper of a memory from the far reaches of my mind. "Who's Sasha?"

"You don't remember? You two were so close at the beginning. She begged us to stop when we beat you. It got annoying after a while so we separated you from her."

I think of the crying girl I remember hearing all those months ago. Sasha. The name is slightly familiar to me now. If Dante was to be believed, this woman cared for me. I would have to figure out a way to escape without getting her hurt... or worse.

"I had such big plans for you at the beginning, Isabel. You were going to make me a lot of money. You see, in the past I was always a little repulsed at the thought of selling women for money, but that was before I found out just how profitable it could be."

"Why me?"

"There are many reasons you were the perfect target. For one, I knew I wouldn't have to worry about your father, since I had already taken care of him. And what better way to send a message to the DEA than to take the daughter of the man who killed my brother. It wasn't like you were difficult to get to. My men found you within a day and started tracking your movements until the perfect opportunity arose."

"But why continue to come after me? You've got more than enough girls to make you money." I needed an answer to the question. It didn't make sense why they would risk so much for me.

"It's true, we've more than compensated for your loss. But for whatever reason, I just couldn't let you go. You captivated me, and I admit, I became a little obsessed."

"I'm flattered," I say sarcastically.

"If anything you should be grateful. I've decided to keep you for myself. None of the other girls have that privilege,” he state as if I should feel honored. “Which reminds me, I want to apologize for what Matías did to you. I gave him strict orders to save you for the clients, but he couldn’t help himself.”

Suddenly, I feel sick. I was already aware of the fact that I had been raped, but the affirmation stings.

There is no way I'm letting this man get anywhere near me. I need to come up with a plan of some sort.

Just then, I hear the doors open and relief surges through me as I see Sanz walk into the room.

#javier pena #javier pena fic #javier pena fanfiction #javi #pedro pascal #pedro pascal fic #pedro pascal fanfiction #narcos #narcos fanfiction #a lone butterfly series #javier peña

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ourladytamara · 3 years

Text

Rich Bitch Mindbreak Monday

Tamara 5/31/2021 - @_ourladytamara

cw: kidnapping, cnc, forced intox, implied snuff, knifeplay, mindbreak, capitalism, female-gender POV character

The ringing in your ears was hardly the worst of it. Every bone in your body ached profusely, digging into your equally-sore flesh like jagged knives. Colors spun. Light came in sparks and flashes, your head pounding with every single one. Were you dead?

No, that’d be far too good for you. The memories began flooding back like a burst dam. You…You were coming home from the office after another day of shareholder meetings. Normally you were so confident, the gates around your community keeping you safe like a mother’s embrace – that was, until you noticed the white van out front, without a parking pass. Whoever it was, they were already inside – you opened the front door to a mouthful of chloroform-soaked cotton.

Oh, fuck. Oh God. Was this really happening?

A creak from above. Your vision, still mixing like oil paint, strains on the noise. You’re in a basement – a dingy, dust-covered one at that. It’s a far cry from your typical luxuriant accomodation, cobwebs, dust, rust and all. Wooden creaking alerts you to someone climbing down the stairs.

“Oh, good! Look who’s awake!” calls a woman’s voice from around the corner, tone mocking and saccharine. “Here I was, thinking I accidentally made my job easier. So sorry – for you, at least.”

You snap like a dry twig. Tears come easily, a well of guilt bubbling up inside your soul. Something inside you had always anticipated this fate – that deep, dark crevice of your psyche, screaming, shouting, begging you to pick another path. You ignored it, plastered over it with luxury and convenience.

The woman steps down onto the bottom rung of stairs and finally into your field of view. She’s completely dressed in full-body black clothing; black boots, black jeans, a black turtleneck which fades into black gloves and a black, concealing balaclava. Two piercing eyes stared back at her from beneath the wool mask, and in the woman’s hand, she clutched a stack of… magazines?

She tosses them on the floor before you and steps forward. Jesus, she’s tall – easily a head and a half over you, assuming you were standing. She reeks of bleach and sour sweat. With a chuckle, she tosses the magazines onto the floor in front of you.

“World’s Wealthiest Woman!” they declare. “Youngest CEO!” “Changing the World with New Distribution Methods!” All of them were about you – your life, your successes, your rising, carried by little other than your personal grit, determination, and a small loan of two million from your parents. Synapses connected and fired like synchronized artillery, pounding your psyche into the trench mud.

“Look familiar, eh? You gave plenty of interviews, darling – it wasn’t hard to track you down.” coos the woman. “There weren’t many gated communities on Mercer Island to pick from, after all. I’m Artemis, by the way – I’d say you can call me Artie, but you’re not going to be calling me much of anything, are you?”

A gloved hand brushes a strand of blonde hair out of your face, strands of it sticking to your tear-soaked cheeks. She slaps you.

“Stupid cunt made all her precious money without bothering to think about her role in the world – that describes you, doesn’t it?”

You begin to speak but are suddenly made aware of the ball gag between your numb lips. All that escapes are sputters and drool.

“That’s what I thought, bitch. No, you’ve said more than enough, as these delightful little publications would demonstrate; if anyone was interested in what you had to say you wouldn’t have to go to your favorite little cocksucking journo friends for attention.”

Something snaps. None of this was supposed to happen – you had two dogs and a horse to take care of back home! It wasn’t fair! You were being targeted for your wealth, your power – something like resentment began to overpower the fear. An angry gaze into your balaclava-clad captor’s eyes would show that you meant business.

Instead, it showed defiance, and evidently she didn’t cotton to defiance. Another slap across your face, harsher this time; still reeling from it, she procures a switchblade from her hip and extends the blade. She presses it up to your chest, slicing through your blouse and snapping your bra almost instantly.

“Heh. Of course you’ve had work done,” she mocks, prodding at the implant scars beneath each breast, “fucking whore. So typical; all of you rich bitches are the same.”

You thrash against your bindings, desperate for any kind of leverage – all you had to do was get out of the chair, past Artemis, up the stairs… and…

You weren’t going anywhere.

“Calm down. Jesus, for all your money, you’re writhing like someone who’s never been hate-raped before! That’s kind of sad, don’t you think?”

A coy hand against your face makes the tears flow even easier. “Awww, you cry so pretty! I’d almost say you’re guilty of something, wouldn’t you?

You shiver and avert your eyes. Artemis drops another magazine on the floor – the title reads “CEO Exposed in Labor Abuse Scandal.”

You knew the article immediately. People in your latest fulfillment center had complained of abusive overseers, long hours, illegally-low wages and illegally-long hours. This wasn’t random – this was revenge. It rips into your very soul. Why did you do what you did? Why were you okay with what you knew was going on? Doubt, guilt – they had always been beside you and yet never burned like this.

“Of course, as I’m sure you’re aware, you were basically untouchable. Legally, emotionally – and as you thought, physically. Women like me exist to fix that.”

She grabs you by the breast and gives a cordial squeeze before locking another hand down on your neck. You wish you could explain – wish you could explain yourself, explain your latest mindfulness initiatives on the warehouse floor and everything else you wish would wash the guilt away.

Something told you she wasn’t going to listen, though.

She squeezes your throat tightly and jerks your head to the side, panning your vision towards a small wooden crate on the floor beside you. Air holes are punched into the sides – there’s… something inside. You gasp – Artemis laughs, letting go of your throat and approaching it.

“Now, now, I can tell you’re already desperate for a way out of this – but you’re in luck, honey!” she says, tapping the top of the wooden box. Dull thumping responds from within. “Because a woman like you deserves a proper, satisfying reward.”

She unfastens a metallic combination lock and flips the lid open. Immediately pops out a woman, totally nude; her body is shaking, beet-red and covered in sweat. Dangling between her modestly-sized thighs, however, is a truly-monstrous cock; it’s violently engorged, throbbing visibly with every beat of the woman’s clearly-frenzied heart. She moves as if to lunge at you, but Artemis’s hand on the nape of her neck keeps her standing.

“Recognize her?” she asks, gesturing for you to look at the other woman. Thoughts run through your mind. A colleague? No – an old friend, perhaps, but still you recall nothing.

“This is the woman who you made work overtime last week. Remember? You hired her. Surely, her face must be familiar.”

She’s drooling and cockeyed. You start to hyperventilate just looking at her.

“She was at the warehouse until one AM. A vagrant mugged her for her shoes on the walk home because of your refusal to invest in a security station. Look at her face.”

Still no recollection. She’s practically foaming at the mouth, staring and panting back at you. Your stomach does a somersault.

“That didn’t sit right with me, though – so I scooped her up a few days before you. It wasn’t hard, given the part of town you made her live in. She’s been here for a week, now – and I’ve made sure she spends every waking moment in a PCP-induced delirium.”

Your eyes go wide. The other woman’s cock throbs as Artie rubs a hand down her breast. You didn’t deserve this. No one deserves this – and yet the naggling pang in the back of your lizard mind is screaming otherwise.

“That’s enough talk, though – go on, girl, show your boss-lady how much you appreciate her.”

Artemis lets go of the woman’s neck. The basement walls stifle your screams.

#subscriber stories

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salty-lesbians · 4 years

Note

funny how women of all colours, time ages, and beliefs/religions can relate to eachother on the pains of womanhood yet transwomen only relate to eachother by being in elevated drag and wanting creepily in a biffaloo bill way to have a female body.

Literally! They pick groups of women they believe will 'relate' to them more and run with it. They believe black women and women with pcos/infertile women should relate to them more but no.

I have pcos and I have more in common with a black woman than I do a 'transbian', even if our lived experiences are different our sex connects us in a way that males won't ever understand. I would feel safer in a bathroom/change room full of black and/or infertile woman than I would with one single male.

Even gay men don't understand my experiences on the basis of sexuality as much as as other women do on the basis of sex.

I was taught different ways to avoid rape/kidnapping as a kid, walk in the middle of the street in dark, quiet roads. Yell fire, don't go anywhere alone, how to hide a weapon, always watch your drink, if it's been out of your sight then it's no longer yours. My dad would regularly tell me men were animals with only sex on the mind and that's all they'd ever want me for, essentially not to trust them.

I tried to hide my growing breasts as adults and students alike would comment on them, at 11 I was already a C cup and being asked why I didn't wear a bra, for some reason 'they're uncomfortable' wasn't good enough. Kids I never even really spoke to would talk to me just to ask why I wasn't wearing one. I didn't have friends in one school I went to because people believed I stuffed my shirt

I got my period at 10 at my friends house. I remember her mum setting up a little blackboard and teaching me what a period was, I thought it was exciting in all honesty. I quickly learnt from peers at school that it was something to be ashamed of or embarrassed by.

I had grown men hit on me more at 12 than I do now at 21, I was regualrly cat called but told that it wasn't offensive when it offended me, that it was just a compliment even though I didn't like it, in fact I hated it. I remember at 13 my friend telling a car full of men in their 20's to fuck off, we both kept looking over our shoulder for a while after that.

I had a kid in my year level who I thought was a friend ask me for nudes when I was 12 and I said no, he kept pressuring me and eventually after countless "no's" he gave up. It was humiliating. I felt so ashamed and disgusted by it, when I told my mum she told me that's just what boys do and not to worry about it, even when I said it made me upset she told me it nothing to be upset over. My best friend slammed him against a wall the next day and told him to never ask me something like that again or she'd kick his ass. (The same friend who screamed at the car of men)

I was bullied for not shaving, (only by boys mind you), some of who had more body hair than me. I didn't understand why my body hair was disgusting and made me a "gorilla" while theirs didn't, theirs wasn't even mentioned. I've been likened to a monkey countless times, jokingly a lot by my parents but the fact my brother isn't doesn't go unnoticed. I cannot shave consistently, even if I wanted to, as I often get infections. Instead of respecting my decision to not shave I'm given alternatives like laser hair removal.

I learnt after my first relationship that men, even your friends, didn't respect you like they respected eachother. A friend of mine dated my ex shortly after we broke up and he asked his friend if he was uncomfortable with it considering he had a crush on her. I didn't hear anything about it until they were already dating. I wasn't asked if I was alright with him talking about it until he'd been talking about it for a good 20 minutes. All in all not a horrible story but it showed me that his other friends comfort and feelings were evidently more important that mine due to the "bro code".

I had grown men talk to me online when I was 16, when I was severely depressed. One kept trying to sext me even after I told him it made me uncomfortable. I sent him a (sfw) selfie and he told me he 'loved the schoolgirl look' I was in school, it wasn't simply just 'a look' and he knew that. I had another man in my town get angry when I didn't want to go to his house alone 20 minutes after meeting him, he knew he was my only way home. I still think about what could have happened had I gone there.

I was well on my way to becoming a "sub" and getting involved in bdsm because of porn. It was so normalised to watch it that I didn't even realise that I was addicted, I didn't know you could get addicted! I believed I'd be some man's sub because that's what everyone's into right? At the time I thought I was bi and I believed to be with someome I had to either be a sub or dom and I couldn't be a 'dom' because I didn't like the idea of hurting someone, I didn't consider why it was ok for someone to like hurting me though. I would probably be in that kind of relationship had it not been for the radfem community and @radicallyaligned specifically bravely talking about her experiences. I was never really given the sex talk, I learnt everything from the internet which is so harmful for young girls.

I grew up interested in crime shows which means I grew up hearing about women being raped, trafficked and murdered. Even as a kid I understood they were targeted for being women, then I got older and I learnt about what the women before me endured and what the women worldwide continue to endure and I know they were and are targeted for their sex.

Those were my experiences but they're experiences I know many other women relate to, experiences I've been able to talk about with other women. This is how we're raised and taught to accept as normal. Trans women slap on she/her pronouns, some make up and a dress, they put on the chains we're forced to wear and think they understand any of that. It's quite frankly insulting.

#radical feminism #radfem #radical feminst #radfems interact #radical feminist community #radfems please interact #terfs please interact #terf #terfs do interact #terfs do touch #this turned into a bit of a rant #I'm not sorry though #hopefully this is coherent #ok to reblog btw

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thorne93 · 4 years

Text

Inside the Criminal Mind (Part 19)

Prompt: You’re married to Dr. Spencer Reid of the BAU, and are a distinguished doctor yourself on the team. You’re sent down to Miami, Florida for teaching and as a side request from the FBI, to investigate a string of missing persons. When you think you’ve figured out who the unsub is, your life becomes more complicated than you ever could’ve imagined.

Word Count: 2043

Warnings: (throughout the fic –>) death, blood, gore, killings, language, disturbing mental notions, mentions of rapes/murder/etc (You know, Dexter and Criminal Minds related business)

Notes: Thank you so much to @arrow-guy, @carryonmyswansong, and @mrs-dragneel-stark-solo - without each of you, I couldn’t have finished, written, or properly navigated this story. Each of you helped me fish out details that were incredibly important to me. Beta’d by @carryonmyswansong and @mrs-dragneel-stark-solo… Aesthetic by @mrs-dragneel-stark-solo

This is a crossover of Criminal Minds x Dexter. First time writing Dexter.

Also, the timeline is after Season 1 of Dexter, but during season 14-ish of Criminal minds into Season 15. Enjoy!!!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“What the hell is wrong with you?” he demanded as soon as you met at the apartment. “Killing? Really?”

“I don’t know what you want me to say,” you softly said.

“Are you at least a little remorseful?” he asked.

“Is that really what you want to know? My level of guilt? Is that what’s going to make this feel better?”

“Maybe, I don’t know! All I know is the woman I love is a serial killer, and a federal agent and I don’t know how to process this!” he shouted, his eyes wild with anger.

You just sat there quietly while Spencer paced in front of you. You had no idea what to say or do at this point. The truth was out, what more did he want from you?

“How did you even decide you wanted to do it?”

“When I realized it was Dexter, and who his victims were… I realized I wasn’t entirely unhappy with it. Then I remembered how much anger I had for Rochester getting let out and all the other dozens of bastards that were found innocent, or evidence was lost, and I just got so mad that… that I thought he could teach me.”

He stopped pacing to sit in front of you on the coffee table. “Has he brainwashed or manipulated you in any way?”

“No. I did this on my own. I found out he was the killer, and confronted him.”

“And you’re just okay with this? You’re his… student?”

“I like to think I’m his friend. He was very helpful and supportive when you were missing.”

“Oh for fucks’s sakes that right.You brought him to the office. Jesus, you had a serial killer in the building. And you’re calling him your friend? What the hell happened to you down here?”

“You getting targeted by one too many unsubs,” you said in a low voice, solemn lacing every word as you stared at him. “Spencer, I may be a killer, but I still love you with every atom of my body. You’ve been kidnapped, tortured, shot, forced to take drugs, and abused by so many unsubs, I just can’t stand it any more. I wanted some justice for those bastards who did things to you. Tell me you haven’t wanted to kill people before, some of our worst unsubs. Foyett, Scratch, Cat?”

“Wanting to and acting on it are two different things, Y/N! We don’t chase fantasies, we hunt people who actually act on them!” he cried out, his face getting red. “If you didn’t feel bad for what you did, you’d be a lot more defensive right now. Which means you know what you’re doing is wrong.”

“Well which is it? Am I a cold-blooded psychopath, or am I a misguided agent, someone who lost their way, like Elle?” you demanded.

“That all depends on how you felt when you killed them,” he stated coolly.

“What do you want me to say? What? That it didn’t feel good? That it didn’t feel like some sort of accomplishment or victory getting some of these people off the streets? Do you want me to tell you that I feel guilty?”

“Do you?” he asked, accusation in his tone.

“Not particularly no. All I did was skip some bullshit and red tape. You know what it’s like to work in this job. You know how god damn hard it is to watch a killer go free after we put in hours and effort to get them off the streets, they sit on a stand, lie, take plea deals and they’re out in five, ten years, doing it all over again. All the red tape, all the laws, all the restrictions, and for what? So someone can go out and murder a little girl again? So someone can brutally torture a family before slaughtering it? Sorry if I don’t particularly feel any remorse for stopping them, for good.”

“Tell me what you felt when you killed them,” he demanded, almost as if it were a plea.

You threw your hands out to the side, a gesture of giving up. “I...I felt relief, knowing they wouldn’t hurt anyone else, alright? It didn’t feel satisfactory, it didn’t feel sexual, it didn’t feel euphoric. I don’t get high doing it like Dexter does, okay? I just do it as a means to an end. I just do it because the way the FBI works is too damn long with no guarantee, so I took matters into my own hands. I did what every agent dreams of doing.”

Spencer eyed you up and down for a moment, and you couldn’t quite tell what he was thinking. Perhaps he was about to turn you in. Maybe he was rethinking the marriage. Maybe he was finally understanding you.

“Are you worried that maybe getting inside killer’s heads that now maybe they’ve gotten into mine?”

“No, I don’t. You’re smarter than that.”

“Then profile me, Spence.”

He made an anguished, frustrated expression. “Y/N, don’t do this. We’re better than this.”

“No, I want you to do it. What do you see when you look at me? An unsub, or your wife?”

He took a few steps towards you. “I see both, don’t you get that? That’s why this is so hard for me. I understand where you’re coming from, I do, but I can’t justify what you’ve done. As much as I may love you, I can’t pretend this is okay.”

You nodded, your chest getting tighter as you started to feel colder. “I understand that. You do what you have to do, I won’t stand in your way. I never have.”

“But you aren’t going after the people who hurt me,” he noted after a moment of quiet. “You said you were doing this because of the things that happened to me, but you aren’t killing them.”

“You’re right. I’m going after surrogates. You know who I kill?”

“Does it matter?”

“To me it does… Spence, I kill animal abusers. People who use animals for personal gain. People who run unsanitary farms. People who hurt an innocent creature. I honestly do try to do this to uphold the oath we took. I know it’s messy, I know it’s not the way you’d do it, or anyone should do it, but life was starting to feel a little… pointless. I felt like, what’s the point in doing the investigating, going through red tape, following protocol, if all it gets us is a guilty man back out on the streets? I’m not saying we deserve forgiveness or a pass. I’m just hoping you can understand why I did it. I did it for people like you who are just doing their job and wind up victims to sadistic, cruel people.”

He sat there and his eyes drifted down to the floor.

“I watched you turn into a shell of a man in prison thanks to some psycho with a vendetta, and even worse, you came pretty close to becoming what I am.”

He nodded for a moment. “I...That was--”

“I’m not faulting you, Spence,” you assured, putting your hand on his knee. You were thrilled when he didn’t cringe away from you.

“No, I mean, I’m not any better. I laced those men’s drugs with poison. I wanted them to die. I saw them kill Luis and I guess I snapped…I had no excuse to do that.”

You bobbed your head. “Do you see now, how I can do what I did?”

“I don’t know. It’s such a big leap. I mean, I killed because they murdered my friend. You don’t even know these people.”

“I don’t have to know them to know their victims didn’t deserve it.”

“This goes against everything I stand for as an agent, and worst of all, you’re doing it. If you were anyone else, I would’ve called this in by now. But it’s you and I can’t… can’t watch you go through what I did.”

You bit your lip. “I’ll respect any decision you make. If I’m being honest, I told you the truth because having you believe I was unfaithful and losing you that way would hurt a hell of a lot worse. At least this way, I hope somewhere you can find it in you to see where I’m coming from. After eight years of dealing with lost battles, almost losing you, and watching the injustice in this world, that’s where I stand. But if you left me because of a lie, a lie that could never, ever be true, I couldn’t live with myself. You knowing I am faithful to you, that I love you, means more to me than anything else. I hope you can see that.”

“I do. I know the toll this job takes.”

You nodded. “If you can think of it like dilaudid, it’s kind of like that. It’s really an addiction for Dexter, not so much for me, but it is… a bit of a stress relief, to know those people won’t be hurting anyone any more.”

For a moment you two sat there in quietness. The silence killed you, and while the next words out of your mouth were agonizing, you felt they needed to be said, for his peace of mind.

“I understand if you don't love or trust me any more. If you want a divorce while you decide, I would understand. It would kill me, but I would. I just hope you know I honestly did this all to protect other people."

He peered at you, something… kind deep within his gaze.

“Right now… I don’t know what I want. I don’t want to make any rash decisions. Like I said, I’ve tried to murder people too, so I can’t exactly play the superiority card right now. Let me just think on it. I’m going to go back home to D.C. while I figure out what I want to do. You can wrap up your semester here, and then by the time you get home, I’ll let you know what I decide.”

You nodded, your chest tightening. This was it, wasn’t it? He was going to go home, file for divorce, and send you and Dexter off to a maximum security prison.

“What about us in the meantime? Should I not call you or…?”

“I’d rather you didn’t. I don’t want my decision to be made by any emotional attachments.”

“Understood,” you said, fighting the lump in your throat.

“Could you do me a favor though?”

“Anything.”

“Don’t… kill any more?”

“I won’t,” you promised quickly.

He nodded and stood up from the coffee table.

“Are you going to stay here?” you asked as you stood, hugging yourself. This was so god damn painful. Watching your husband treat you like a criminal. No touching, hugging, kissing. No kind or sweet words. No nicknames. Just cold, calculated interviews.

“I’ll be at a hotel, and I’ll leave in the morning.”

“You could always stay here,” you offered.

“I don’t think I can do that,” he said solemnly. “I… I can’t be in the same room with the woman I love, and the woman who kills.”

All you did was nod.

He didn’t do anything but bob his head once, then he ducked out of your apartment.

You stayed awake all night that night, not a minute went by that you weren’t crying. Not because of losing your freedom, or losing your job, or damning Dexter, or failing at just keeping a secret. You could live with all that - but losing your marriage, Spencer… That was the kicker.

The horrible part was that it was worth it though. To know those animals got out safely from those dog fighting rings. To know that those innocent people at that chef’s restaurant weren’t going to suffer any more. As much as it ached, down to your very bones to lose the one man you’d ever loved, the one man who was perfect in your eyes, at the end of the day, people and animals needed saving, and you did that. You gave them that justice.

Now, you had two weeks to live the rest of your life. You wondered what you would do with it.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Tagging:

Forever Tag:

@essie1876

@magpiegirl80

@letsgetfuckingsuperwholocked

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@marvel-imagines-yes-please

@superwholocked527

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#inside the criminal mind #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid fic #spencer reid #dexter #dexter morgan #dexter morgan fic #dexter fic

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themysteryofwriting · 4 years

Note

for your bthb, how about logan as "the collector"?

@badthingshappenbingo

The Collector (Sanders sides fic)

Word Count: 3003

TW: Kidnapping, Taxidermy on a person, blunt force trauma, character death, implied use of a date rape drug, major character death

Everyone collected things. Some people collect stuffed animals, other people collect pins, and even others collect stamps. So why was Logan so different just because he collected people.

He had collected quite a few people throughout the years. There was Patton, who had been there the longest. He was a sweet guy. Always cheerful, even now, trying to keep the others upbeat and happy. Patton had been here since Logan’s senior year of college. They had met at a small cafe. Patton trusted way too easily. It wasn’t hard to get that ball of sunshine to come with him.

The twins came about a year after Patton. He saw them during a show he went to and knew he just had to have them. The twins being Roman and Remus of course. Named after the Roman legend and just exquisite in every way. They took a bit more planning to get then Patton. Which was no surprise considering Patton had literally walked with him until Logan had decided they were close enough for him to drug him. But nevertheless, the twins were added to the Collection. It was such a shame he couldn’t talk to them anymore, but they had made their choice. If they had listened, then Logan wouldn’t have to have gone to such extreme measures.

A little bit after that, and before the twins made their massive mistake came Dee. He was a shy boy, who didn’t trust many people. He also had a burn on the right side of his face. He had actually met him before the twins, but it took nearly a year for Dee to trust him enough for him to get him. He had only been with them a few weeks before the incident with the twins. But it was clear after that that neither Dee nor Patton would be trying anything.

And his most recent edition, at least until today, going only a few months back. He had met him on the way to work and got the same feeling that he had gotten for the twins. He just had to have Virgil. Virgil took a little bit longer to get but he was with them now.

And today, Logan had found a new target. He would have probably passed right by her if he hadn’t noticed the missing posters she was putting up. They were missing posters for Virgil. He had seen them around here and there and had tried taking them down without arousing any suspicion. He didn’t realize who had been putting them up though. Before doing anything, he had to find out more about her. He picked up one of the flyers she had and walked over to her. “I think you dropped this.”

“Oh thank you,” she said, smiling take the flyer. “Sorry, I’m probably dropping them everywhere.”

“No, it’s fine,” Logan said with a smile. “Do you mind if I ask who that is?”

The girl shook her head. “He’s my older brother, Virgil. He went missing a few months back. Everyone else seems to think he’s run away, but I know my brother better than that. We’re really close, he wouldn’t have left without telling me.”

Interesting. Virgil hadn’t said anything about a sister. And she would be both a good addition to his Collection and a good way to keep Virgil in line. “...You know what I think he looks familiar.”

“Really,” Virgil’s sister asked hopefully. “Do you know where you could have seen him? Was it recently?”

“....You’re really worried about him, aren’t you?”

“Yeah, he’s my older brother, we’ve always protected each other….,” Virgil’s sister winced as she realized something, “I’m sorry, I realized I forgot to ask for your time.”

Logan smiled softly at her. “Logan Berry,” he said introducing himself, using a fake last name just in case she decided to do some research.

“It’s nice to meet you, Logan,” she said, smiling up at him, giving off the same energy as Patton, “My name’s Rachel.”

“Why don’t we go to the cafe so we can talk this out.”

“Well I need to finish putting up these posters first,” Rachel said, “Someone keeps tearing these down, I’m free tomorrow afternoon though. Maybe around 2ish?”

Logan nodded. “Then we can talk then.”

Rachel nodded. “See you then,” she said before heading off.

“Rachel Bosque,” Logan muttered, knowing her last name because of his research on Virgil. He grinned a bit. She would be an excellent addition to his Collection. He abandoned his original plan of what he was going to do and head home.

“I’m home~,” Logan called out as he walked inside the house. If you could even call it a house with how gigantic it was.

Before going to work, he went to check on the rest of his Collection. Dee and Patton both glanced up and clearly knew what the look on his face was.

Virgil, like he had been the past couple months, was sulking in the corner, glaring at Logan.

“You’re back early Lolo,” Patton said with a smile that wasn’t entirely real.

Dee just sat next to Patton, already scared for the newcomer. He knew by now that Logan wouldn’t hurt him if he didn’t mess up, but he was still quiet.

Logan nodded, smiling a bit. “I think I found a good addition to the Collection.”

Virgil’s eyes widened in disbelief, where Patton and Dee nodded, having recognized the look on Logan’s face.

“Who is it,” Patton asked.

“You never told me you had a sister Virgil.”

That made Virgil growl. “Leave her the fuck alone. She has nothing to do with this!”

“Ah don’t be like that Virgil, you know I’m not going to hurt her. Besides, don’t you want to see your sister again?”

“I don’t want you to have anything to do with her.”

Logan tsked. “Now Virgil, I don’t want to have to punish you again.”

Virgil flinched slightly before going quiet, he was still glaring at Logan though.

Logan smiled and hummed before going to do research on Rachel. He hummed a bit as he did so, wondering how he hadn’t come across her before. If he hadn’t already known that they were related, he might assume they were dating with the number of her photos Virgil was in. It seemed like she worked in a theatre, working on props and stuff like that if the theatre’s page was any accurate. The more he read, the more he was certain she would be a perfect fit for his Collection. If his interaction with her earlier was any indication, she would be easy to grab. He could probably slip something into her drink when she went to the bathroom and simple as that he would have her.

Noticing the time, Logan got food for himself and his Collection before planning everything for tomorrow. He would have her before dinner time tomorrow, he just knew it. After he finished getting everything together he headed to bed so he would be refreshed for their meeting tomorrow.

Upon waking up, Logan did his normal routine for himself and his Collection before double and triple-checking that he had everything he would need. After being sure, he headed out to the cafe that they had planned to meet. He didn’t have to wait long, as Rachel showed up soon after he did.

“Hey Logan, you weren’t waiting long were you?”

“Not at all, should I order us drinks?”

“Sounds great,” Rachel beamed putting her stuff down. “I’ll go to the bathroom while you’re doing that. Get me a hot chocolate, I’m not really one for caffeine.”

Logan nodded, ordering the drinks as she headed to the bathroom, slipping something into Rachel’s while no one else was looking before heading back to their table and putting their drinks down.

Rachel soon came out. “So do you know where you might have seen him?”

“Well I’m going to have to think about,” Logan said as he watched Rachel take a sip of her cocoa and started a mental timer. “I think it was about a month ago.”

“You saw him a month ago,” Rachel asked, a little too excited, “That’s so much sooner than anyone else has seen him!”

Logan smiled a bit. “Well let me see if I can remember where.”

Logan kept listing places, with Rachel scribbling them down until he noticed Rachel struggling to keep focus.

“Hey you don’t look so good, maybe you should head home.

Rachel nodded, starting to stand up before she stumbled again. “....I don’t think I’ll make it home,” she muttered, her words slurring.

“Well then I can take you home,” Logan hummed, “What’s your address?”

Rachel muttered something incoherent as Logan started ‘taking her home’. Of course, that wasn’t necessarily her home. Before too much longer she fell unconscious and Logan picked her up, a little surprised with how light she was, as he started walking home.

It didn’t take too long for them to get back and quickly injected her with the tracker he injected all of them with and quickly set that so he’d be alerted if she tried to leave or anything like that. As soon as that was set up he brought her to the others.

“What did you do to her,” Virgil practically shouted upon seeing Rachel.

“Oh calm down Virgil, it was only something to keep her unconscious a bit. She’ll wake up soon.” Logan put her down on one of the beds and as soon as Logan stepped away, Virgil ran up to her to make sure she was okay.

“I’ll come back to check on you later,” Logan said with a smile as he left. Virgil just growled at Logan, trying to protect his sister. Logan just smiled, needing to get everything else ready for when she woke up. Well, technically most of it would be coming tomorrow but he still needed to get it ready. He wanted his Collection to be happy after all. He kept an eye on the time for when he knew Rachel would be waking up.

Once the time approached, he got up and headed back over. Sure enough, Rachel was starting to stir. Virgil started glaring at Logan as he showed up, to which Logan only responded with a smile.

“...Virge,” Rachel asked quietly, starting to sit up. It was almost like if she was afraid if she spoke louder he’d be gone.

And just like that, Virgil turned away from Logan to pay attention to his sister. “I’m right here Ray, I’m so sorry.”

Rachel practically tackle hugged Virgil and sniffled a bit. “You’re okay, you’re really okay.”

“Depends what you mean by okay,” Virgil muttered, glaring a bit at Logan again.

Rachel noticed and finally got a good look at their surroundings. He watched as her eyes glanced around the room, which he made sure had things for all of them to do, before her eyes landed on him and she realized what happened. “...Logan you….drugged me?”

“I’m sorry, but I needed to grab you quickly, and besides, now you’re reunited with Virgil,” Logan said.

Logan could practically see the moment she realized. “You….you were the one who took him.”

“He was just a perfect addition to my collection, just like you.”

Virgil clung tighter to his sister as Logan said that.

“Now I’m sure the others can explain everything to you, but the most important thing. As long as you listen to me, you won’t get hurt.” Upon saying that, Logan walked away, hearing Patton starting to explain everything to Rachel.

And with that Logan went back to his normal schedule….at least for the next 3 weeks. Once Rachel had been there for three weeks, just when Logan was about to go to bed, he got an alert.

He glanced over to see who it was. It looked like it was Virgil and Rachel. Logan sighed and got up to check on the situation. Fortunately, they weren’t anywhere close to the door so Logan headed to a good place to meet up with them, hoping the situation was like he thought it was.

Soon enough, they showed up, Virgil all but pulling his sister along. Rachel glanced around looking scared and actually freezing upon seeing Logan standing there.

Virgil growled upon seeing Logan. “I’m not going to let you keep us here.”

“Did Patton and Dee never tell you about the twins?”

“The twins,” Rachel asked quietly.

“They are part of Collection too, but they tried to escape, and...let’s just say they’re not with everyone else.”

Virgil realized the implication and pulled Rachel behind him, protecting her.

“Now you have two options. You two can either go back to the others and have a small punishment in the morning, or you can fight me and lose, and find out firsthand what exactly happened to the twins.”

“Virge I-,” Rachel said, clearly terrified.

“Well I choose option 3, I knock you out and get my sister and me out of here,” Virgil’s voice softened before speaking to Rachel. “Don’t worry Ray, I got this.”

Logan just smirked, prepared to fight.

Rachel nodded slightly and stepped back, not wanting to get caught up in the fight.

“Let’s do this,” Virgil growled, immediately lunging at Logan.

Logan sighed and literally just stepped to the side and avoided him. “You know you’re going to have to try harder than that,” he said with a scoff.

Virgil just growled again and changed into a fighting stance before going into attack.

Logan easily fought back. He was almost a little bored with how easy this was. “I’ll give you one last chance to go back to the others, Virgil.”

“Fuck no,” Virgil hissed, still trying, and failing, to knock Logan out. Not that knocking him out would have stopped him anyways with the chips in their arms.

“So be it,” Logan sighed grabbing an encyclopedia from the desk and while Virgil was distracted, he swung with all his might, making sure to hit him in the temples.

Logan smiled a bit as Virgil crumpled to the ground and he checked for a pulse. Had to make sure he was dead first after all. First, he held his hand up to Virgil’s nose and mouth. No breathing. Good. Logan then checked for a pulse and smirked. Just one last check. He grabbed a penlight from his desk and shined it in Virgil’s eyes. No reaction from either pupil. Perfect he was dead in every way that mattered.

Upon hearing a sob from the doorway to the room, Logan remembered Virgil wasn’t the only one there besides him. He got up and Rachel flinched and stumbled back. “P-please I-I'll go b-back. I-i don’t w-want to d-die.”

Logan only smiled, leaning down to Rachel’s height and caressing her cheek. “Oh I know, you were just following your brother’s terrible decisions, weren’t you?”

Rachel nodded, possibly from fear, but to Logan that didn’t matter.

“Let’s take you back Rachel,” Logan said with a smile, trying to hide Virgil’s body from her. It didn’t matter that she had tried to leave as well., she needed time to process before seeing that.

Rachel nodded softly, letting Logan lead her back. Logan smiled a bit as she was brought back to the others.

“Rachel,” Patton asked, shooting up in worry, “Oh thank goodness you’re okay! Wait...where’s Virgil?”

That one question and Rachel broke down in a sob.

“Patton, you can make the next couple of meals,” Logan said, “I’m going to up late tonight with a project.”

Both Patton and Dee paled slightly upon hearing that. “Alright Lolo,” Patton said, moving to comfort Rachel.

And with that Logan set off to get to work. He needed to at least get the basic stuff down today before the body started rotting. He picked up Virgil’s body and brought it over to the same place he had worked on the twins’ bodies and quickly got to work. Once he had finished the basic work, gotten rid of everything he didn’t need, and preserved the skin so it wouldn’t dry out, Logan headed to the bed for the night.

It took about a month to finally finish, with breaks to get the stuff he needed to get done and to check on the rest of his collection. Once done, he moved it to the same place as the twins.

He figured Rachel would want to see what happened so he came to get her.

“Lolo please,” Patton said, knowing what Logan had planned, after all, he had shown the two of them after he finished with the twins, “No one deserves to see that.”

“Just consider this….a punishment for trying to escape.”

Patton nodded and turned to Rachel, who was hiding a bit behind Patton. It seemed like she was a little scared of him now. Not that he could blame her.

“Logan’s not going to hurt you, he’s just going to show you something. And we’ll be right here when you get back,” Patton told Rachel softly.

Rachel nodded, mutely getting up and following Logan.

Logan smiled a bit as he led her to the room. “I just thought you’d like to see what became of Virgil.”

Rachel glanced up at him in confusion as they arrived at the room and Logan gestured inside. He let Rachel walk inside first and waited until he heard her drop to the ground before following her in.

Rachel had dropped to her knees and was just staring up at the taxidermy of Virgil Logan had worked so hard on.

“You don’t have to worry about any of this as long as you don’t try to escape again,” Logan said, “And listen to what I say.”

Rachel nodded mutely.

Logan smiled and brought him back to the others.

Most people collected objects, but Logan collected people. So what if that made him different. It’s not like he was doing anything wrong as long as he kept them happy.

#bad things happen bingo #the collective #virgil sanders #logan sanders #mentioned creatitwins #unsympathetic logan #patton sanders #dee sanders #human au #rachel oc #sanders sides #kidnapping #taxidermy #taxidermy on a human #implied use of date rape drug #angst #all the angst #major character death #the collector

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pynkhues · 4 years

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Since you're a writer, I'm hoping you can shed some light on this. IMO the writers were chasing viewers in S2 and trying not to get canceled. Personally, I hate when writers toy with their audience, it means they don't have a clear picture of their characters and narrative. How do you feel about writers making it up as they go?

Ah, this post got really long, anon! Since you asked me as a writer, I’m answering as one (I hope you don’t mind! I also hope this doesnt come out as too Creative Writing 101 for people either. This is just lessons I’ve learned and use in my own practice, so I’m applying them here.)

(Also I have drawn horrible diagrams on my very pink notebook paper - I am so sorry, haha)

So first thing’s first - no. I don’t think the writers were chasing viewers (at least not beyond the way any writer is wanting an audience), and I don’t think they were making it up as they go really, but I can understand why you would think that way!

It won’t be a surprise to anyone that I love this show a lot, but coming from it as both a writer and editor - this show does have narrative problems, and the biggest ones, particularly in s2, are in execution, escalation and pacing.

I think heading into the season they had certain character arcs they wanted to follow which married well with the story they wanted to tell. In particular, I actually think the writers have a very strong handle on the girls (I will say that I’ve had a few asks telling me Beth’s characterisation is all over the place, which I’m curious about, just because I personally find her very consistent, and when I’ve asked for clarification, I’ve never gotten any reply, so ¯\_(ツ)_/¯)

I mean, look at their s2 arcs on paper, right?

Ruby tries to negotiate Stan’s lowered opinion of her after the reveal of what she’s done, then has to negotiate him telling her to turn Beth and Annie in. She manages the situation painfully but pulls them through and they’re close again as Ruby navigates the increasingly lower depths of their crime life. When Stan acts to save Beth for Ruby and is arrested, it only escalates – the case on him driving Ruby to extremes to try and save him, including robbing a Quick Cash and using counterfeit money to bribe a lawyer. On top of that, she’s being targeted by an FBI agent who’s after her best friend who she gives up and then saves and then who tries to sacrifice herself for them. Ruby finishes the season the most morally compromised she’s ever been.

Annie gets back together with her ex only to find out that he’s gotten his not-quite-separated-wife pregnant. She splits up with him, but is heartbroken and it’s only amplified by the fact that they’ve been given a job by their Crime Boss to murder a man who tried to rape her but who’s grandmother she has a relationship with. Her sister can’t kill him, and Annie doesn’t get the chance as MP beats her to it. Upon disposing of the body though she endures a whole lot of pain as a result of both her ex’s new family and knowing she’s robbed a woman of her own. Annie goes on a guilt tour – tells her son, helps Marion, helps Nancy only to eventually find an absolver of her guilt in Noah, who builds her up and tells her she’s more than what life has given her. She lets herself have it for a while, before realising he’s FBI and there to trap her, and Annie tries to use him only to realise she can’t, and she finishes the season in a lot more hurt than she started it.

Beth struggles with guilt after getting Dean shot, gets the job to kill Boomer from Rio, can’t do it, gets support and encouragement from him (in various states of animosity), but in the end doesn’t have to find out if she can do it because MP does it instead. She’s rewarded by Rio in a way she probably never has been by anyone, her husband further subjugates her, so she has sex with Rio, starts to entertain a future with him, but he undermines her, so she seizes control from him. They work together. Dean forces her to break up with him due to jealousy, she struggles, goes back, but Rio’s stung, so unhelpful, and they play a little cat and mouse before he bails then kidnaps her and she shoots him.

With the exception of that very last sentence, I think all of those are narratively really strong pathways to have explored. Like I said above though, the issue is in execution, escalation and pacing.

But to talk about those things, I think I probably need to talk about story.

SO!

Stories have a shape.

Kurt Vonnegut talks extensively about this, and while he’ll talk about a few different types of story shapes, they really all boil down to this bad boy here:

Look at this guy.

What a beautiful thing.

He’s a story.

It doesn’t matter if you’re reading Dr Seuss or Charles Dickens, when you read a story – when you strip away its words and its characters and its settings – this is what it looks like.

Or, well.

Not quite.

Really, it’s this guy:

But we’ll talk about him in a sec.

Right now, let’s talk about that first little inch:

The Beginning

The fact that stories have a beginning is not a surprise to anyone. Stories need them. In some ways, they’re the most important part of your story. After all, the job of the beginning is to set up the world your protagonist is about to leave behind. That is essential in grounding a reader / viewer – orienting them to the world that they’re in, and getting them invested in the story you’re about to tell, if not the protagonist.

Lord of the Rings, Harry Potter, Star Wars, Game of Thrones are all excellent example of this (and frequently used in teaching) because in each of these cases it’s literal. Frodo leaves Bag End, Harry leave Privet Drive, Luke leaves Tatooine, the Starks leave Winterfell. There is a literal departure from the world before the crux of the story, and that departure is what signifies the start of the ‘hero journey’ aka the main part of your narrative.

Of course, it’s not always literal – in fact, it’s usually not. Usually that world is symbolic – it’s the single, uncertain world before the Bingley’s buy the house next door in Pride and Prejudice or the dry domestic sphere of Breaking Bad before Walt decides to make meth. It’s a marked shift, whether that’s internal or external.

In Good Girls, it’s internal.

The beginning is actually pretty perfect. The world it sets up that we’re about to (try to) depart is one of struggle and invisibility.

Beth’s in a loveless marriage promptly discovering that her husband is not only cheating but about to leave them destitute, Ruby’s getting ignored by the healthcare system and can’t afford to pay for her daughter’s wellbeing, and Annie is in a dead end job about to lose custody of her child.

Writing-wise – as a beginning, I honestly think 1.01 is close to perfect.

It sets up who these characters are, their personal conflicts, and the story world they share together, and the worlds they have on their own i.e. Ruby at the hospital and the diner, Annie at Fine and Frugal, Beth with Dean and Boland Motors.

Then:

BOOM

Inciting Incident.

The inciting incident is also often called The Point of No Return.

When I’m teaching, I personally like to call it the “You’re a wizard!” moment.

It’s when something happens that means everything set up in the beginning will be changed forever. It’s Romeo meeting Juliet, it’s Katniss volunteering for Prim, it’s Frodo deciding to take the ring to Mordor, it’s Jaimie pushing a child out a window, it’s Beth – deciding to take her little sister’s joke seriously and rob a grocery store.

(Again, I like to use Harry Potter because it’s literal – there is no return for Harry after hearing Hagrid tell him he’s a wizard. Everything is changed forever).

Inciting incidents are probably the most singularly important narrative moment, because they’re what everything else tumbles out of. Pretty much everything that happens in the story should be a direct or indirect result of the inciting incident. The inciting incident is ultimately the key of the story and what should unlock the overall arc.

When it comes to a series – whether that be a TV series, movie series or book series, each individual instalment (see: season of a show) should have its own inciting incident which – preferably – builds off the one established in the first instalment.

The Hunger Games does this really well. Katniss and Peeta being brought back into the games in Catching Fire is both an imitation inciting incident which allows the author to explore the story world further in an exciting way, and also an inciting incident that’s directly borne out of the first book / film – aka Katniss pissed enough people off during the first games that they’re going to try and kill her for real this time, which in turn gives us the opportunity to explore Katniss’ trauma, the ramifications of her actions in the first book on the broader story world, and to generate a new, compelling chapter based off of both.

Good Girls has a terrific inciting incident in s1 – which is Beth realising she’s about to lose everything.

That is our narrative point of no return.

And it works on a lot of levels – it establishes Beth as the driving engine of the story, fuelled by the chorus motivations of Annie and Ruby, rounding off both their collective and individual stakes, it sets us up for a strong narrative spine and solid characterisations.

Good Girls actually also has a terrific inciting incident in s2, which operates strongly on its own while also building firmly off the character arcs of s1.

The s2 inciting incident is Rio showing up on that park bench with Marcus, a gun and an order.

The story pivots here – giving Rio a lot of narrative thrust (get your minds out of the gutter kids), and making him a sort of secondary story engine. The core engine is still Beth, but her life is different now. She’s been traumatised and she’s exhausted, but Rio revealing his son to the girls (and tying their motivations up together in a neat little package) while forcing her to act, re-establishes her as the person who’s decisions are going to be the driving force of the narrative.

Ruby and Annie are, of course, story engines in their own right too, but they fall into line behind Beth usually, and their narrative push is actually usually away from the story throughline, but we’ll talk about that in a sec.

Rising Tension / The Middle

Okay, this is where things get a little tricky.

Do you remember this guy?

When we talk about stories, rising tension / the middle is the big guy. It’s the bulk of your narrative. It’s Where Things Happen. It’s where all the ugly stuff set up in your beginning and exploded by your inciting incident just - - grows a life of it’s own.

Or - -

Well.

Maybe not.

Forget about this guy.

Rising tension is this:

Rising tension is a series of ‘mini climaxes’ on the way to the main climax that raises the stakes, lets you know characters better, and pushes your characters onwards to the main climax.

Each of these little climaxes should be followed by a ‘narrative rest’. (that’s the dip after each spike)

Which - - I don’t know, might sound weird? I know when I started writing I was like ?? but it’s true! The closer you get to a big narrative climax, the more important rests are! Rests are – I personally think – one of the most important components of storytelling, because they re-ground an audience, remind them of what’s at stake, before thrusting everyone back into danger.

Again, Harry Potter is a gift in this sense because this is all really clearly paced out. Think about the first instalment – Harry Potter and the Philosopher’s / Sorcerer’s Stone.

Harry and Ron save Hermione and Ron from the troll!!!

Then they become friends and enjoy school and quidditch.

Harry loses control of his broom during a quidditch game!!!!

He’s okay and then it’s Christmas and Harry gets the invisibility cloak and feels connected to his parents for perhaps the first time in his life.

Harry, Hermione and Ron go through the trapdoor to get the philosopher’s stone!!!

And - - okay, you get the point.

Each mini climax ups the stakes, but we feel those stakes upped because of the time we spend with characters during the ‘narrative rest’. For instance, while Harry and Ron saving Hermione from the troll might have sparked an interest in her, it’s the narrative rest scenes between that and her setting Snape on fire during the quidditch game that makes us invest in her as a character.

This is where things get a bit hairy with Good Girls. Good Girls does a tremendous job of giving us both great climaxes and wonderful moments of narrative rest. The issue, for me at least, is that it’s not always the best at balancing them. When I talk about escalation and pacing, this is a big part of what I mean.

Remember how I said this was the shape of a story?

Well, I think Good Girls s2 looked more like this:

We had a lot of solid movement in the first half of the season that sort of flattened out into a lower stakes, more meandering middle (which gave us 2.08 through 2.12). Which - -

Look.

The story changed gear, and it didn’t work.

Think of it this way:

2.01 – mostly character-based fallout from s1 + inciting incident of Rio handing them the gun

2.02 – almost entirely rising tension culminating with the girls bribing Boomer and Beth lying to Rio

2.03 – which thrusts us straight back into rising tension with the girls trying to kill Boomer and ‘succeeding’ via Mary Pat

2.04 – which gives us a very satisfying narrative rest as we explore Rio and Beth’s relationship outside of an overall narrative thrust – he gives her a key, she shies away from him, only to fall entirely back into him culminating in sex which itself brings about a new climax (no pun intended!) in the scene with Beth, Rio and Dean at the dealership. It’s also a strong character episode in closing certain plot threads – ending Annie and Greg’s relationship + ending Ruby lying to Stan about what they’re doing – while establishing major new threads – i.e. really colliding Turner and Mary Pat.

2.05 – and after the rest, we’re back to almost entirely satisfying rising tension! Building off of the threat of finding Boomer’s body and the new tensions that Rio and Beth’s intimacy brings.

2.06 – a mix episode! Very much building to the strong climax of Beth seizing power, but also an episode that plays around with character, has a lot of strong ‘rest’ moments i.e. the girls sorting pills and talking which gives us a lot of information as to state of minds, etc.

2.07 – again, very strong mixed episode which is focused on one single, extreme climax – Jane being missing, but building a very character-centric episode around it. Also introduces Noah though? Which is a mistake. He should have been introduced - I think, in 2.05, but that feels like a whole other post.

2.08 – narratively speaking the same as 2.07 in the sense of a single climax (the girls failing to get the money back / the Beth-Ruby confrontation), but has the added bonus of flashbacks.

2.09 – we have a slight narrative thrust with the robbery of the Quick Cash but it proves very quickly to be low stakes. This is an alllll emotional stakes episode, which means narrative tension is slowing.

2.10 – again, a character-focused, narrative rest episode devoted to Beth struggling with getting square. A few small climaxes – Annie and Ruby in Canada and Turner at the dealership being the big ones, but both quickly prove toothless. The heft / strength of the episode again is in character moments, not narrative thrust. Again - slowing it down.

2.11 – oh, what do we have here? Another character-focused, narrative rest episode? I love this episode – it’s one of my favourites of the show, but it’s intensely character focused. Very much centred in waving away the smoke around both Noah and Rio for Annie and Beth respectively. No dramatic climaxes. Slowing the story down even further.

2.12 – another narrative rest episode. A lot of slow exposition of Mary Pat and Jeff, which is good to know, but I’d argue placed badly in the season. This season’s already been slowing down despite the narrative timeline tightening, but this episode only further pushes on the brakes for Dean’s new job, Beth and Dean’s divorce, Beth and Rio’s break up. Two very small climaxes - the lawyer telling Ruby he knows about the money and the Boomer reveal but - in the context of the season - actually pretty low stakes. Again. Slowing down the narrative.

2.13 – A BIG CLIMAX EPISODE WHAT IS GOING ON???

What I’m saying in this is that the pacing in the back half of the season was, to me at least, fundamentally off. They hadn’t steered a strong enough narrative spine to take us through the season, and got heavily invested in character moments and not-entirely-thought-out-fallout in the back half of the season – it didn’t understand it’s own narrative thrust well enough to get us through. It also established a certain pacing with us in the first half of the season and shifted gears halfway through.

You can’t have your first three or six episodes be high-stakes-high-action, and then make the back end of your season same-stakes-low-action and top it all off with an explosive, poorly built-up finale in the way that they did.

There wasn’t enough thrust to push us through to the scene in Rio’s loft – neither narratively or in a character sense, and as a result, those last few episodes fall apart. Even beyond that though, the season escalated quickly then - - didn’t really know what to do with those escalations? It plateaued, which is indicative of bad pacing across the season.

I actually do think it’d be a relatively easy fix? I’d bring the Noah arc forwards and actually fiddle with the Beth and Rio break ups - get one even closer the tinale and make it more painful. Make it a climax in itself.

But anyway, haha:

The Resolution

All stories have a resolution too of course.

The resolution can be 30 seconds or 30 minutes – it’s a time to tie up loose ends and to reassure your audience that the journey they’ve been on is worthwhile.

(After all – you’ll notice the story diagram is not symmetrical – we never finish where we began).

I’m not going to talk too much about resolutions because at the end of the day – resolutions should fall fairly naturally out of your beginning, your inciting incident, your rising tension. It should tumble out like the double wedding at the end of Pride and Prejudice, but I will say that the s2 resolution was...err, not good. In no small part because it didn’t fall out of what we’d been told all season. They’d established a certain throughline and then taken it back, and that was nagl to be honest.

On the plus side though - it wasn’t a finale, so I have my fingers crossed they can fix it!

But yes, back to your ask, anon.

No, I don’t think that the writers were pandering. I think they went in with a sketched outline and that they probably got lost in the back end of the season and weren’t quite sure how to drum up the final act, which meant that final act didn’t work.

Ah, this post got so long! I hope it wasn’t boring or too self-indulgent or silly, and that you got something out of it! I am, of course, always happy to answer writing questions, and I hope you liked reading my story ramblings ;-)

#writing posts #gg season 2 #welcome to my ama

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elegantfilmphotographyfantasykid · 4 years

Text

Just Lost is All

Warnings: ⚠MENTIONS OF KIDNAPPING, RAPE, STARVATION, AND ABUSE⚠I type how I like so their are bouta be lots of mistakes, maybe some smut, ABO, Alpha! Bucky x Omega!chubby! Reader

(Reader is female, I'm not great at writing for male readers just yet AND SHORT BECAUSE IT GOES WITH THE STORY I'M SORRY )

Y/h your height

Y/w your weight

Are you ready kids, I have never written anything like this to be honest.

The last few days had been hard for (y/n), her and the Avengers just came back from a long, rough mission. (Y/n) was undercover at one of the biggest human trafficking headquarters in the U.S. but it wasn't just any humans it was young Omega's. The group would snatch Omega's 15-18 years old, off the streets, out of their bedrooms, anywhere they could find them. Then the young defenseless boys and girls would be brought to the warehouse where they were shackled to walls, they were starved, raped, beaten, and abused at the hands of vicious Alphas. After the kidnappers had their fun they would take the broken teens out onto a stage and sell them to the highest bidder, at this point their souls had broken and they had no hope of rescue so they just went with it, hoping not to get beat as often if they behaved.

This is where (y/n) came in, she was 22 years old and (y/h), the young girl was a bit on the heavier side at (y/w) lbs, but the most important part; she was an omega. She looked young enough to be a target for the beast that called themselves men.... So Tony put a tracker on her and sent her out by the most frequent kidnapping point. Steve put up a helluva argument, (y/n) was the only Omega on the Avengers, that of course made everyone slightly over protective of her. But she was willing to do whatever it took if it meant saving other young Omega's from that hell. As she left to hit the streets she took a look at everyones faces, hoping to keep them in her mind in case she started losing hope, her eyes scanned across each and everyone of them sorrow filled everyone's faces until her eyes landed on the last person, the one she cared for most, Bucky. Her face fell as she realized he wasn't even looking towards her he was in a chair, reading a book that he had picked up on the way to the safe house, he looked indifferent to the fact that she was leaving so she took a deep breathe breathing in and relishing his scent, before turning on her heel and walking out.

She walked down a dark street pulling her arms into her hoodie as she went acting as care free as she could in this moment, her (y/h/c) flowing in the wind as she went, it was quite chilly and she was thankful she wore thick pants when a strong gust of wind hit her. After the wind died down she heard footsteps behind her, she had to make this seem believable so she quickened her step as if to get away from what she knew would be pain. The steps behind her sped up as well and when she looked up from the ground there was a tall figure in front of her. She stopped, looking behind her seeing a large man walking briskly towards her. (Y/n) felt trapped like an animal being stalked by a preditor and having nowhere to run. She looked at the other figure as he began to advance on her as well, her head was spinning and she turned a 360° looking for some kind of escape. Then she felt strong fingers wrap tightly around her arm, she tried to push them off tried to fight the grip but the man just tightened his hold on her. She looked around trying to locate the second attacker but before she could get a glimpse of him there was a cloth with a horrid smell pressed to her mouth and nose, soon her vision grew blurry and her body became weak, she let herself collapse and felt hands pick her up before she completely lost sight of reality and fell unconscious.

When she awoke she was sitting on the floor her arms suspended above her shackled to the wall, she yanked against the binds doing her best to stand trying her hardest to break free. She searched the dim room her eyes searching for anything, the only light came from what she assumed was the door. Her fear was taking over and she felt like a wild animal trapped in a cage trying to break free. A shrill scream left her lips as she fought against the chains. She finally wore herself out, her legs becoming weak and her head spinning. She slid down the wall slowly some of her hope draining. As her butt hit the floor she heard footsteps coming and she cringed as she realized she had brought attention to herself.

Not soon after her first noticing the footsteps did they stop outside of the door to her cell, her body shook with fear and her eyes darted needing an escape. She knew this is where she needed to be if she wanted to help the other Omegas, but she was seriously starting to regret this. The door Swung open making her jump a whimper of fear leaving her lips. She kept her eyes on the floor not willing to look her captor in the face though she could feel the way he walked and held himself he was an alpha. You sniffed the air indescretly making sure to remember his scent. A surprised look crossed your face when he finally spoke.

"Well doll, I never expected them to pick up someone of your size,” she looked up, she could tell that accent from anywhere it was one of her favorites, it was a Birmingham accent. When she looked to his face she seen a thick wiry mustache his hair was red and his jaw sharp. A shiver ran down her spine as his eyes looked at her as an object, not a person.

"Well sir I never expected anyone to be able to pick me up but here we are, " She bit the words out through clenched teeth a false confidence coursing through her, though if she was wearing boots she would surely be shaking in them. She was actually quite confident at times but she wanted him to think she would be easy to break and from the look on his face, he was falling for it. He had a cocky smile and strutted towards her.

“Id watch myself if I were you, see the fact of the matter is one of us is chained and helpless.” She growled under her breath his words making her feel all the more weak, she knew she had to do the best she could to stay safe so she allowed her head to bow as a sign of submission towards the tall Alpha. A shiver coursed through her as she could practically feel his filthy gaze undressing her. He moved closer resembling a predator stalking its prey and she could do nothing more than release a pitiful whimper. She let out a shaky breath as she felt his own fan across the top of her head, he was uncomfortably close at this point.

She took a risky glance at him and immediately regret it, his eyes were all black, indicating that his wolf had taken control. Once she looked she couldn't look away, her eyes followed him as he reached into his pocket pulling out a key and unlocking her wrist. As soon as they were free she clutched them to her chest a dull ache ran the length of her arms. The man who towered over her smiled sadistically grabbing one of her ankles and yanking her towards him. He used so much force she fell onto her back her head banging against the hard cement. She tried to scramble back up into a sitting position, but before she could get anywhere he flipped her onto her stomach.

***** RAPE SCENE PLEASE DO NOT READ THESE FEW PARAGRAPHS IF THIS WILL TRIGGER YOU*********

She shook uncontrollably as she heard him undo his jeans, her hands clawed at the floor under her trying to pull herself away to no use, one of his hands rested on her hip hindering her escape and the other began to rip her bottoms off, tears slid down her cheeks as she felt the cold air hit her bare skin. The only way to escape now was to retreat to the back of her mind until it was over. She mentally scolded herself for thinking this would in any way be a good idea, she knew she shouldn't be part of the avengers, she couldn't fight, she wasn't as smart as Tony or Bruce, the only reason they kept her around was because they pitied her. She was the only omega in the past fifteen training classes the Avengers have held for new agents and they seen how far behind she was so they took her under their wing. As she came to this conclusion she felt pressure against her entrance, then white hot pain coursed through her shooting up through her abdominal region and straight to her chest.

The myths always said that for an omega to lose their virginity while in distress caused horrible pain, she never thought they were true, she always thought it was just some old story from way long ago. But now she believed more than ever as her hand clutched at her chest and she screamed, the man gave her no time to adjust as he continued to force himself into her with fast painful thrust. Sobs were wracking through her at this point and he seemed satisfied with the pain he had inflicted.

“I love it when they scream,” his voice was in (y/n)’s ear and she jumped not realizing how close he really was. Not soon after they began his thrust became sloppy and he wrapped his hands around her neck pulling her up so her back was pressed to his chest, her face became red as he added pressure to her neck, his thrust finally slowing until he pulled out and removed a hand from her neck to rub himself off releasing on her back. He released his hold on her and she fell to the floor sobbing, he stood slowly adjusting his clothing and walking towards the door, when he got close to the door he spun on his heel.

********RAPE SCENE OVER*********

“Whore,” he spit at her disgust lacing his tone. Before she could register what he had done he left slamming the metal door shut behind him not even bothering with shackling her back up. That's where he made his second mistake, (y/n) pulled her pants back on and stood shakily her privates ached and she just wanted to lay there in a ball and hide from the world. But she knew that the other omegas here needed her. Limping her way slowly towards the door she reached into her bra and pulled out a lock pick, good thing they didn't search for anything on her. Chubby fingers made quick work of what seemed to be a cheap lock and she pictured the blueprints of the building in her head, she had been over them for what seemed like a million times and she tiptoed the way to the back entrance praying to the Moon Goddess that her team was there like they had planned. She had a few moments where she thought she would be caught but she hid just in time.

Finally making it to the door she cracked it slowly, but before she could even try to find her teams scent the door was nearly ripped off its hinges. She was quickly pulled into someone's arms and she instantly felt a wave of calmness wash over her. She looked up to see who it could be ………

#ABO #alpha #omega #alpha bucky barnes #omega reader #sad #angst #(y/n)#reader insert #avengers #pt1 #bucky x reader #plus size #plus sized reader #chubby reader

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