#Saam

[moremysteriesthantragedies]

Hi y'all, it's SAAM, or sexual assault awareness month. For all the victims like me who write about their experiences, I just wanna say you're so brave, I love you, and you are seen. It's not easy to write about something so sensitive, but even if it doesn't always feel like it, you're helping other victims feel seen and feel less alone. 💙💙💙

For those who wish they could write about it but struggle, I see you too, and you are loved. Do what's right for you, your mental health should come first. 💙💙💙

[adorekento]

No one noticed — Nanami Kento

warning: mentions of emotional neglect, past toxic relationships, emotional trauma, s*xualized, no detailed explicit content below, but this may be heavy for those processing past hurt. Please, read with care! : )

a/n: this is written in honor of SA Awareness Month — a reminder that love should never feel like a debt. this can be read with any characters you have in mind, I just thought of him when the word love comes to mind <3

art by sogalus

Thinking about Nanami Kento who's literally the first man who ever looked at you like you were human.

Not weak.

Not broken.

Not a thing.

Just... you.

In a way that deserved patience. In a way that was worthy of being held with care.

The kind of love that didn’t make you feel like you were asking for too much by simply existing.

And after everything? That kind of gentleness felt weird.

Unfamiliar.

Uncomfortable, even.

Before him, love was a struggle.

You were always too something... whether it's being too loud, too emotional, too clingy, too expressive, too “dramatic.”

You were always “too much” for people who simply weren’t enough.

They said they cared. But flowers?

“Why spend money on something that’s gonna die in a few days?”

Sure. flowers do die. But so did their affection.

You had lovers who only showed up when it benefited them but is gone when you needed them most.

The ones who called you “hot” “sexy” even “beautiful”

But never “enough.”

You were always pleading for something small: A bit of attention, a text back, a day where you didn’t have to guess if they still wanted you.

You weren’t asking for the world—just a reason to feel like you mattered. You weren’t their person. You were their option.

They liked the way you looked when you dressed up.

But not when you were raw and real and vulnerable.

Not when you cried over dinner on a random Tuesday.

Not when you asked for something that required effort.

You had to ask—If they’d set the controller down for a second. If they'd look at you when you spoke. If they'd hold you without expecting anything in return. If they’d ever love you when there wasn’t anything physical to gain.

Then came him.

And suddenly, love stopped being a transaction.

You didn’t have to chase. Didn’t have to tone yourself down. Didn’t have to beg. Didn't have to be someone else.

He brought flowers—Not just ones from a shop.

He made them.

Folded paper into petals.

Took restaurant napkins, candy wrappers, things others would throw away—and shaped them into reminders that you were cherished.

He held your hand like it was sacred.

Listened to every word—even the ones buried in silence, even the ones that came out between sobs and long pauses.

He didn’t flinch at your darkness. He stayed. Especially on the days when you didn’t feel like you deserved it.

Were you really too much?

Or were you just too real for people who only wanted themselves satisfied?

With him, you weren’t a fantasy. You weren’t a body to touch and leave behind.

You were a human being.

A soul.

A woman.

Someone with feelings.

Someone worthy.

No one noticed.

How you ached to be seen.

How every small rejection left bruises no one could name.

How it wasn’t about lust—it was about being respected.

You didn’t want to be loved in a way that made you feel like you had to undress to earn it. You didn’t want to be touched out of expectation. You didn’t want “spice” to be the only flavor they cared about.

You wanted to be loved in silence.

In stillness.

With clothes on.

With messy hair and morning breath and no pressure to be anything but yourself.

And now, maybe you’ve found that.

Because none of your past lovers ever waited.

No one stood at your door with patience.

They came in like they owned the place, like you were a room they could enter without knocking. Like you were theirs.

But with him?

You felt like you were yours.

Your space.

Your choice.

Your time.

And when you opened the door that day, still in your oversized shirt and sleep clinging to your skin,

You didn’t expect anything.

But there he was.

Not holding beers.

Not cigarettes.

He was holding a bouquet—A large, stunning bundle of your favorite flowers.

Not excuses.

Not the ones people always assumed you liked. Not the basic, generic ones you were told you should love.

But your flower.

The one that felt like you.

Soft, rare, misunderstood, flawless.

He knew. Somehow, he just knew.

“I thought of you and bought these.” He said.

No dramatic speech.

No trying to impress.

He didn’t need to explain.

You felt it.

You didn’t reach for the flowers.

You didn’t need to.

You reached for him.

Wrapped your arms around him like your body knew something your heart wanted that mouth couldn't utter.

And he hugged you back like he always did—with his whole being.

With a kind of stillness that felt like safety.

With a kind of warmth that whispered, “this is love, not lust.”

You’d been touched before.

You’d been held.

But never like this.

...

..

.

To anyone reading this, please note that your body is not an invitation.

Your silence is not consent.

You are not hard to love.

You are not and never too much.

You deserve the love that sees you, hears you, honors you.

Not one that only reaches for you when it’s convenient.

This month, and every month—

Speak up.

Be loud.

You don’t owe your body for love.

You never have.

You never will.

© [ adorekento ] do not steal, repost, or translate my work.

[pointandshooter]

The Kogod Courtyard, Smithsonian American Art Museum

Washington, DC

[slythgeek]

Last time I was in Washington, I walked over a mile to go see HER again.

J. William Fosdick, Adoration of St. Joan of Arc, 1896, fire etched wood relief, three panels, each: 109 3⁄4 x 49 1⁄2 in. (278.8 x 125.7 cm.), Smithsonian American Art Museum, Gift of William T. Evans, 1910.9.8

[tired-reader-writer]

ArSen 138 Live-reaction (kinda)

Zandeh being in denial at first (“this isn't my father” + “my father would never do this”)

I think Kharlan said “Zandeh, my son, do you mean to defy me?” but I haven't confirmed the kanji so

Hilmes going “get your shit together, Zandeh! do you want to die here?”

He called Kharlan “a ghost to fool us” I think but I'm not sure

He def said “I'll handle this/put an end to this” tho

OHHHH KHARLAN ABOUT TO SPILL THE TRUTH?!

HE DID, OUCH

Zandeh is so shocked and confused

Hilmes shouting, telling Zandeh not to listen :(

“What runs within you is the cursed blood of the Parsian royal family. What rightful king?”

OUCH

THE LITTLE MOHAWK GUY GOING “ummmm are we sure there wasn't some mistake here? his highness Hilmes? son of Gotarzes?? no wayyyyy” 😭

Is it just me or is Kharlan still speaking in polite/deferential speech towards Hilmes? Am I imagining things?

“Worry not, Your Highness Hilmes, for I will shoulder every tainted work [for the Parsian royal family(?)]”

The crying panel with “I will kill both you and my son, and then die once again”

Man. The anguish. I'm not intelligent enough for a meta rn but somehow it feels fitting that he wants to “do the dirty work” again to set things right, if that makes sense

The page with Kharlan standing where he used to pass by gossipping Lusitanians when he was alive...

OH GOD THE MOVEMENTS ARE SO INHUMAN EW EW EW EW

MY BOY DIDN'T GET STABBED HE JUST GOT HIS JAW JABBED

I have never sighed in so much relief...

“Are you still fighting for this pathetic false king, Zandeh?”

HE'S CRYING

HE'S TALKING ABOUT HOW HILMES FORGAVE HIM AND HOW HE PRAISED HIM AND HOW HE SHOWED HIS FACE AND HOW HE FACED HIS FEARS TO BECOME A STRONGER KING AAAAAAAA

Earlier, Kharlan asked why Zandeh swung his sword, AND THIS IS THE ANSWER ZANDEH GAVE. FOR HILMES. HE SWINGS HIS SWORD FOR HILMES.

He asks for forgiveness from his father. (He will stand for Hilmes still.)

@innerchorus you could (and should) probably write an entire essay on Hilmes' expressions that followed Zandeh's speech 🤭

Hilmes telling Zandeh to leave...

I think he's trying to spare Zandeh from the fate of having to kill his own father...

Yep. He also says Zandeh must not want to see Hilmes cut Kharlan down either.

He's basically saying he'll handle this. (“for Zandeh” is left unsaid but we can infer, right?)

“Yes. My blood is cursed. Finally it's out. Now I can do all the dirty, tainted work myself!”

BASICALLY THROWING KHARLAN'S WORDS BACK AT HIM

“Go, Zandeh. No more following me.”

He's telling Zandeh to go serve Arslan instead, saying that if it's Arslan then he'll surely spare Zandeh's life and forgive him :(

AND TELL IRINA I'M SORRY FOR NOT LETTING HER SEE THE CONTINUATION OF THE PARSIAN ROYAL LINE AUGHHHH

Zandeh protests but Hilmes INSISTS. He's putting his life on the line for his puppy man 😭😭😭😭😭

Zandeh crying harder aaaaa

SAAM IS HERE lemme look at his dialogue

“Go tell that to the princess yourself, Your Highness 😑” KSBRODHDIDDBDIDHDKDJEHS

“hey bitch this ain't what you said. you said you and I were gonna have a good long talk when you got back so why you with his highness instead of ME. ASSHOLE.”

[jadeseadragon]

Thomas Hart Benton, Wheat, 1967, oil on wood, 20 x 21 in. (50.8 x 53.3 cm), Smithsonian American Art Museum.

[rawreflectionsblog]

“Innocent until proven guilty’ only seems to apply to men.

Survivors are guilty the moment they speak.”

- Raw Reflections

[mandragoreos]

Something I realized about Anya is that her text is a teal color, teal is the same color of the ribbons for Sexual Assault Awareness Month and—I just find that really neat and nice

[istandonsnowpiles]

Rouse by Alison Saar

[pointandshooter]

photo: David Castenson

[theaskew]

Carlos Almaraz (Mexican-American 1941-1989, lived and worked in Los Angeles), Night Magic (Blue Jester), 1988. Oil on canvas, 54 x 54 in. | 137.2 x 137.2 cm. (Source: SAAM, Smithsonian American Art Museum, Washington)

[tired-reader-writer]

136 Live-reaction

I wonder if Kharlan will bring this up to Hilmes as well...

OH THAT'S CREEPY AS FUCK

The undead marzban are so unnatural and creepy ohhhh my fucking god

ZARAVANT'S HORSE I LOVE YOU I LOVE YOU

If you guys will remember, during the Turanian invasion arc, Zaravant fell off his horse after getting hit by Jimsa's poison darts, but the horse must've circled around back to Zaravant. AND. When he was being carted away to be healed, this same horse was trying to stay with him all throughout, even though a soldier was trying his damnest to pull it in another direction!

Good horse!

YEOWCH CAN YOU NOT TWIST LIKE THAT.

Also, wonder if there's any significance to zeroing in on Kishward's expression here 🤔

This was a funny bit. I'm surprised they managed to incorporate this aspect of Tus into the manga at all! I thought it was forever gonna stay only in novel territory. (Also was it his friends' sisters in the novel and daughters in the manga or am I misremembering?)

I also think there's something to be said about how all three are his lawful wives instead of one being the main wife and the others concubines? As it tends to be with nobility? That's interesting.

Coming again into the whole “atone for your sins” thing started by Manuchuhr! Also Garshasp is hitting where it hurts, OOF. I think “usurper king” here refers to Hilmes? The dramatic irony of the label Hilmes repeatedly referred to Andragoras with, being turned around and applied to him.

[caspontaneous]

April 24th

Most people aren't aware that April is dedicated to sexual assault awareness. If you feel like you've gone through this please know that you absolutely did not deserve that, everyone deserves to feel as though they have the right to say no. COCSA, cyber flashing, indecent exposure, and csa are all types of sexual violence. SV and SA are things that affect numerous people well into adulthood. Please never put yourself in a dangerous situation and always remember that you have the right to say no.

On April 24th and all women (stay safe regardless of gender) should attempt to refrain from going anywhere

History of Sexual Assault Awareness Month | National Sexual Violence Resource Center (NSVRC)

Sexual Assault Awareness Month (SAAM) (nsvrc.org)

[shefightsforall]

April is Sexual Assault Awareness Month.

This is a time to listen, support, and stand with survivors.

Sexual violence is not just a statistic. It’s a reality that too many people endure, often in silence, out of fear, shame, or disbelief that they will be heard. But their voices matter. Their stories deserve to be acknowledged, and their healing deserves to be supported.

It is never the victim’s fault. No one deserves to be hurt, and no one should suffer in silence. If you are a survivor, you are not alone. You are believed. You are supported. You are seen.

This month and every month, we need to stand with survivors and work toward a world free from sexual violence.

[rockystar-art]

What if I made more ocs? What if they were stupidly in love? What if it was a fake dating au? Then what?

[misakicosplay23]

April is SA Awareness Month.

Here's my story.