hysterectomy should be an informed consent procedure full stop. it should be illegal to deny someone a hysterectomy based on their age or based on them not having kids or based on their spouse/partner not signing off on it. anyone over 18 should be allowed to make that decision.
well 🧍♀️ as a reminder this blog is NOT a safe space for trump supporters but it IS a safe place for women, queers, trans ppl, people of color, undocumented people, and any marginalized group.
I need a badge that says "Nothing happened, I'm just disabled" to wear when I use my braces or other disability aids. Maybe abled people would stop asking me about it then.
That scene in season 16 where Emily says “I’m giving him what he wants, Mommy” is all fun and games bc Prentiss calling herself mommy is just… so on the nose. But it’s also so much deeper than that.
When she was fairly new to the team, she was almost always the one they would use if someone had to seduce/attract an unsub. Even when she didn’t want to (in ‘52 Pickup’ when the boys all look at her expectantly and she says ‘oh, this is really gonna suck’). She didn’t want to do it but she knew their best chance of catching the guy was if she used herself as bait. She even puts herself in danger in that one bar scene in a different episode. Basically, the team expected her to use her looks and flirt with dangerous men.
Then, flashback to her days as Lauren Reynolds… I don’t even need to get into all of that because we all know how much that cost her mentally and psychologically. And then you have Derek essentially slutshaming her for it, even though the team expects that of her when it’s to their benefit.
Even if you want to take it further, when she was 15 she felt she had to sleep with someone to feel accepted, again using her body as a tool to please others. It’s something she’s been taught to do from a very young age, and was consistently reinforced throughout her career.
So yeah, I get why it felt like the natural next step during that interrogation. Without even thinking about it that hard she just starts unbuttoning her blouse and making herself more attractive to get information out of the suspect. I honestly think Douglas Bailey was the first man to ever tell her not to do it.
Yesterday the 12th of May was Fibromyalgia awareness day. I'm a little late uploading it, but spreading awareness is being done nonetheless. Lots of love for my chronic pain people!! <3
summary: Emily struggles to come to terms with her sexuality and goes to Tara for help after a disastrous hookup
genre: hurt/comfort
cw: internalized homophobia, comp het (compulsory heterosexuality), implied/referenced sexual assault (NOTHING HAPPENS it's just assumed that it did), religious trauma, religious guilt, mentions of pregnancy, mentions of abortion, using sex as a coping mechanism, unhealthy relationships to sex, Jemily mentions, coming out, unrequited love (or at least it's believed to be)
wordcount: 1.9k
Emily sits on the corner of the bed and sighs as she pulls her pants back on. Her whole body feels wrong and she wants to leave. She looks over at the door to the ensuite bathroom and listens to the sound of the shower running. She shouldn’t leave while he’s still in the shower. That would be cruel. It’s not like he was bad or did anything she didn’t want, it just didn’t feel right.
She picks her bra off the floor and looks around for the first time as she clasps it behind her back. The whole room is painfully male. She hates it. And she hates that she hates it.
Emily closes her eyes and runs her fingers through her hair to detangle it as best as possible. Her chest feels tight and she leans forward, burying her face in her hands and tucking her head between her knees. The sound of the shower feels like it’s drilling into her skull and the smell of sex that surrounds her makes her feel sick.
She presses her hand over her mouth and chokes on a small sob. She needs to leave, she needs to get out of here. She lifts her head and takes a deep breath before picking up her shirt and pulling it over her head. She then grabs her purse from where she’d discarded it in the corner of the room and pulls out her phone.
An idea strikes her and she slips her phone into her pocket before knocking on the bathroom door. “Jackson?” Emily calls out, keeping her voice steady with practiced ease despite feeling like she’s about to implode.
The water shuts off. “Yeah?” he calls back.
Emily squeezes her eyes shut for a moment before speaking. “I’m so sorry. I have to go. I just got a call from work.”
“Yeah, yeah, you should go,” Jackson says sounding surprisingly okay at the thought of her leaving. “Go kick some ass.”
Emily opens her eyes and pinches the bridge of her nose. “I will. I’ll call you,” she lies.
“Yeah! Yeah! Just lock the door on the way out, you can do it from the inside.” There’s silence for a moment before the shower turns back on. Almost immediately, Emily rushes out of the room and out of Jackson’s apartment, making sure to lock the door.
She takes the stairs instead of the elevator, unable to stand the thought of standing still for a moment longer than necessary. After five floors she makes it to the basement level parking lot and she thanks her past self for not drinking because her car is here and that means she can leave now.
Emily unlocks her car and throws her purse into the passenger seat not caring that it immediately slides to the floor. She climbs inside and closes the door behind her before slamming the heels of her palms against the steering wheel.
“Fuck!” she cries, curling her hands into her hair. She feels like she’s about to explode. Everything is so wrong and she doesn’t know how to fix it. Sex with Jackson was supposed to fix it but that just made it worse and now she feels gross and dirty through no fault of his. A strangled scream tears its way up her throat. Why does she have to be like this? Why can’t she just be normal? Why can’t she just have sex with men and enjoy it?
Tears pool in her eyes and Emily angrily swipes them away. She needs to leave, to get far away from this stupid apartment complex. She starts the car and it takes nearly all of her self-control not to tear out of the parking lot. She’s already distracted, adding speeding on top of that would be a recipe for disaster. She needs to talk to someone. She wants to talk to JJ but she won’t understand and Will and the boys will be there and she just can’t.
Emily parks along the edge of the road and pulls out her phone, opening her texts with Tara. She stares at the screen for a moment before typing, “Can I come over?” and hitting send. Emily closes her eyes and tries to calm herself while she waits for Tara’s reply. Her hands squeeze a white-knuckled grip on her steering wheel and each breath rattles in her chest.
Her phone buzzes in her hand and she looks down.
“Come on over.”
Emily shuts her phone off and drops it into the cup holder between the seats. She wipes away the tears that had managed to fall and, checking to see if the road is clear, does a U-turn and drives toward Tara’s house.
The turmoil Emily is experiencing makes the drive feel simultaneously seconds and hours long. She turns onto Tara’s street and parks along the curb in front of her house. She leaves her purse in the car, only grabbing her phone and keys, before climbing out and walking up the steps to Tara’s front door, locking her car behind her.
The closer she gets to the door the more panicked and ashamed she feels and by the time she knocks, she’s barely holding it together. The door swings open and Tara takes in her appearance with wide eyes and clear concern. Emily opens her mouth to speak but all that comes out is a choked sob. Tara pulls her into a hug and Emily nearly collapses in her arms.
They stand there for a while, Emily sobbing into Tara’s shoulder, as they stand on the threshold of her house. Eventually, Emily’s crying subsides and Tara leads her inside with a hand around her waist, closing the door behind them. Tara guides Emily into the living room and onto the couch, keeping her arm around her.
Emily leans forward to rest her head in her hands and Tara pulls her hand away to brush Emily’s hair to the side and tug on the collar of her shirt. “Emily,” Tara says softly. “Did someone—”
Emily shakes her head, recognizing the voice Tara uses when speaking to victims and realizing that there must be a hickey on her neck. That combined with the state she’s in: it’s only natural Tara assumed something had happened. “No. It was–it was consensual. It just–“ her voice breaks.
Tara doesn’t speak, waiting silently for Emily to continue.
“It just felt wrong,” Emily whispers. She keeps her head bowed, too ashamed to look up at her friend. “How did you do it?”
“I’m afraid I don’t understand what you mean,” Tara says kindly.
Emily uncovers her face and sits back against the couch, chewing on one of her nails. The tightness in her chest is still there and she doesn’t know how to say it. She doesn’t know how to ask the question she so desperately needs to ask without sounding offensive.
“You can speak your mind, Emily,” Tara says.
Emily chuckles. Thank God for profilers.
She pinches the bridge of her nose with her free hand. “How did you let yourself be with a woman?” she whispers.
Tara is silent for a moment. “I don’t know how to answer that question.”
Emily sighs. “I think I’m gay.” She opens her eyes and looks over to Tara to gauge her reaction. She knows she’ll be fine with it, she has a girlfriend for Christ’s sake. But this is the first time Emily’s ever said those words out loud and she’s terrified.
Tara nods and smiles softly at her but doesn’t speak and Emily knows she can tell that she hasn’t finished saying everything she needs to.
“I’ve tried so hard not to be,” Emily admits. “I’ve had boyfriends, I’ve had sex with men.” She lets out a pained laugh. “I’ve even gotten knocked up. Did you know that, Tara? When I was fifteen and living in Italy, I dated a boy I didn’t like because I wanted to fit in and stop thinking about a girl. And we had sex that I wanted but didn’t like and he got me pregnant. My friend helped me get an abortion. All that because I didn’t want to acknowledge the fact that I liked a girl. And–and I’m doing the same thing now! I went to a bar and went home with this guy to have sex that I wanted but didn’t like, all because I want to stop thinking about a girl. Like maybe if I let enough men fuck me I’ll stop liking women. I–I know that’s not how that works and I know being gay isn’t something that needs to be fixed but I feel like I need to be.”
“Emily,” Tara says gently. “There is nothing wrong with you.”
Emily sighs. “I know that, Tara.”
“I know you know that, but I think you need to hear it. There is nothing wrong with you for liking women. I know it’s hard and it will take time but you are going to have to accept the fact that you’re gay. You can’t keep doing what you’ve been doing. It’s not healthy. And it’s not fair to yourself or to the men you’ve having sex with.”
Emily nods, leaning forward to rest her elbows on her knees. “I know it’s not. It’s just my whole life I’ve been thinking that maybe this guy, maybe this time it won’t feel wrong. Maybe this time I won’t feel gross and–and—“
She shakes her head, unsure of how to finish.
“I know there won’t ever be a ‘this guy’ or a ‘this time’. It won’t ever feel right with a man. But that scares me, Tara. I don’t know why it scares me but it does.”
“Because it’s a scary thing. Realizing and accepting a part of yourself you tried to push away is scary and it’s hard. Especially if you’ve spent a good portion of your life hearing that that part of you was wrong like I suspect you have.”
Emily nods. “Catholic guilt,” she whispers.
“Catholic guilt,” Tara echos. “I don’t know if you still believe in God, Emily, but in case you need to hear it: you wouldn’t be gay if it wasn’t God’s intention. He made you exactly the way you’re supposed to be.”
A violent sob forces itself from Emily’s chest and she can feel her whole body shaking with the force of her crying as Tara pulls her against her chest. Emily doesn’t know if she believes in a God anymore either but knowing He doesn’t hate her fills her with relief.
Emily doesn’t know how long she and Tara stay like that, holding each other close as Tara runs her hands through her hair. But eventually, Emily’s sobs subside into sniffles.
“It’s JJ, isn’t it,” Tara asks softly.
Emily stiffens and sits up. Tara’s hand falls into her lap.
“What?”
“The woman you’re trying not to think about. It’s JJ, isn’t it.”
Emily opens and closes her mouth before slowly nodding.
Tara looks across the room to a photo of her and her girlfriend. “It’s a beautiful thing, loving a woman. Don’t you think?”
Tara looks back over to Emily, who is still looking at the photo.
Eventually, Emily nods.
__________________
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Summary: Because that's what love is, isn't it? Wanting the best for someone, even if it means letting them go. Even if it means watching from the sidelines, heart in pieces, as they find happiness with someone else.
Genre: Angst
Pairing: Emily Prentiss x Reader ; Emily Prentiss x Jennifer Jareau
Warnings: none (no dialogues?)
Word count: 600+
A/N:
Just a short piece I wrote to let the angst out and get me to write something.
All likes, reblogs, and comments are encouraged and welcome! <3
AO3
You’ve been in love with Emily Prentiss for as long as you can remember. You don’t know when exactly the feelings started but at this point, it felt like it’s always been there creeping in and wanting to claw its way out.
Maybe it was the first time you saw her, confident and determined, stepping into a room like she owned it. Or maybe it was the countless nights you spent together, poring over case files and talking about everything and nothing.
But as much as you love Emily, you've always known it was a losing game.
Emily is strong, intelligent, and beautiful. And she's kind. It's that kindness that drew you in, even as it made your heart ache. She sees the best in people, even when they can't see it themselves. And she never hesitates to stand up for what's right because who is she if not for the principles and values she held dear? Watching her in action is like watching a force of nature. She's breathtaking and unstoppable.
But there's something else. Something that makes your love for her even more painful. And it's the way she looks at JJ.
You've seen the way Emily's eyes light up when JJ walks into the room. It's a subtle thing, barely noticeable unless you're looking for it. And you are. You've been looking at it for years. It's in the way Emily's smile softens, the way her voice lowers when she talks to JJ, the way she’s laser focused on everything she says, the way she can't help but glance in JJ's direction, even when she's supposed to be concentrating on something else.
And JJ, god, JJ. She's everything Emily deserves. Strong, caring, brilliant. They've been through so much together, and their bond is unbreakable. No one can come between them. It's clear that Emily loves her, even if she hasn't admitted it to JJ - or herself - yet. You see the way they gravitate towards each other, the unspoken understanding between them. It hurts, but you can't help but admire it too. They're perfect together in a way that you and Emily could never be.
So, you watch. You watch as Emily falls deeper in love with JJ every day. You watch as they share some laughs, quiet moments, small touches that mean everything. You watch as JJ leans on Emily when things get tough, and Emily is always there to catch her. It's like a knife twisting in your heart, but you can't look away. You can't stop loving Emily, even though you know you should.
It's a quiet kind of agony, loving someone who will never love you back. But you've made your peace with it. You tell yourself that you don't need Emily to love you. You just want her to be happy. And if JJ is the one who can give her that, then you'll step aside. You'll smile and pretend that everything is fine, that you’re not breaking apart inside every time you see them together, that you’re not longing for Emily’s attention and love, that you’re not wishing to be JJ every single day.
Because that's what love is, isn't it? Wanting the best for someone, even if it means letting them go. Even if it means watching from the sidelines, heart in pieces, as they find happiness with someone else.
So, you'll keep working in the BAU, helping the team solve cases, being Emily’s colleague and friend, and pretending that your shattered heart isn't calling for her name. You'll keep loving Emily from afar, knowing that your love is a losing game.
Because no matter how hard you try to stop, you don’t know how else to be in this world if not always wishing for a future with her.
i wanna extend a lil’ token of support to questioning/closeted people… it is impossibly brave to explore who you are and to become comfortable within that skin. no matter what, you’re supported. one day, the clouds will clear~
When the only place in which you’re openly gay is anonymously on the internet, it can be really easy to forget how much shame you still have about who you are. Usually I feel so proud about who I am, and thinking about girls and future girlfriends makes me giddy. I can see posts about pride and and people dancing with pride flags and feel such a strong and loving connection to that. I forget that I’m ashamed. I tried to say the words “I’m gay” out loud for the first time yesterday, and I couldn’t do it. I wasn’t even saying it to anyone else, I was completely alone. I opened my mouth several times, but nothing would come out. I just physically couldn’t do it, and it made me realize just how not ready I am for people to know.
to closeted girls, to lesbians that are not out, to questioning wlw, this is for you
i love you. you are so strong.
what you’re feeling is scary, and it feels dangerous. you might feel wrong or bad. you’re probably lonely and maybe confused. it’s okay to feel that way. but it isn’t true.
your feelings for girls, the way you look at them and the things you think about them are good and healthy and kind and pure! there is absolutely nothing wrong with you. the way you feel about girls is something to be celebrated!
know that you are not alone. there are so many of us, everywhere, and we always have been, and we always will be here ready to welcome you. you can be safe here. you can be out, in as small or large of a way as you want, here.
janainaart
jacobvanloon
origamiaround
jbbartram-illu
