#TW: SA Mention

[buzz-the-cat]

Koko: she’s not toxic in the traditional sense but she grew up as a goomah/comfort woman in the mob and her psyche was irreversibly damaged, she’s a nymphomaniac(permanent), addict(getting clean), violent, cougar; but if she isn’t the best damn tailor this side of where we are she’d be hopeless (think Edna Mode, but with a gun, French, and trying to seduce men at the bar)

tag the oc who's toxic

[ladybracknellssherry]

I see so many posts since the dam broke about NG in which people are lamenting how horrible celebrities and people in power are and asking where we went wrong as a society to let this happen.

The fucked up thing though is that humans have always behaved like this. We just have the internet now.

And please don’t mistake this for resignation or apathy or anything other than disgust.

But I just keep coming back to the point that human beings are capable of truly terrifying, horrible things.

So I feel like we’ve got to remember that most people don’t do terrible things. But we’re all capable of them.

And I don’t fault anyone for being devastated to learn that someone they respected did indeed to terrible things. It would feel wild to call someone foolish or stupid or naïve because their first instinct was to believe that someone is decent. They’re not anything like that other than someone who was lied to.

I actually do think as a society we are in fact getting better about calls for justice in situations like this.

But people who behave like NG…people who do these things…their personalities are a cancer. And we can do what we can to try to prevent things like this from happening. But I don’t think we can stop it all from happening. It’s never going to disappear completely.

But we can continue to listen to victims. And we can continue to be vocal about demanding justice and accountability.

The court of public opinion and the legal system both fail terribly at times, especially in situations like this. Another flaw of human nature, I think.

The “I’ll wait for the legal system to decide” argument isn’t really helpful here. Because SA allegations / abuse are some of the hardest things to prove in a court of law. And there have been legitimate actual cases in which victims have come forward with allegations, there was no evidence to be found/the evidence wasn’t “good enough” and these victims were instead actually CHARGED with filing false reports. So putting all of the onus or faith in the law here just… again… isn’t helpful.

Sometimes the justice can be best served by demanding consequences that aren’t legal punishments. There are petitions to remove NG from his positions as a writer/showrunner in these shows we love.

Sometimes just making sure the word is spread is the push to topple the dominos.

As others have said and continue to say, you can do both terrible and great things. And they don’t cancel each other out. Doing great things doesn’t make the terrible ones any less terrible. Doing terrible things doesn’t make the great things any less great. Two truths can exist at once.

Sure, we can argue that continuing to consume NG’s work is continuing to put money in his pocket. Yeah. But once again, as far as my random internet user opinion.

I experienced some very similar things to what his victims said they experienced in these interviews. And they wrecked my life in no uncertain terms. I’ll never “come back from that” because we don’t. We just keep going forward having to carry that. It doesn’t go away.

But my abusers took so much from me. And the good things I got out of those relationships are made so much more important because of how much suffering they cost.

Sidebar, but that’s something that I see people using in their arguments for why the “abuse” allegations weren’t real or “that bad.” Because the victims went back. Or they continued to stay. Or continued to pursue. Listen. When you go through all of THAT, it is so common to scramble to keep what you perceive are the “good things” you get out of that dynamic/relationship. Or you convince yourself that it’s not as bad as all that. Because, god. “I went through all of that and they STILL LEFT.” “I gave them (they took) all of THAT and I still wasn’t good enough for them.” It’s this survival element where we have to convince ourselves all of that suffering we went through was WORTH IT. Or, the gaslighting gets imbedded and we believe it must have been our fault. “Yes, they treated me badly, but I must have done something to deserve it. They told me it was my fault. Everyone else loves them. I did something wrong.” Yeah. NO.

So if you can separate yourself from that abuser - get far enough away to have the clarity and perspective to finally say “no, that was fucking real what happened. That was abuse. They’re an abuser.” I say, anything “good” you got out of that - take it and fucking run.

NG is a predator at best. And we are all suffering for it. But we got our books and our shows and we found each other in these fandoms. I say take these good things and run. You didn’t cause this. Don’t let him take any more joy from you or anyone else.

[curly-my-beloved]

Jimmy with his girlfriend who also works on tulpar? It’s 100% abuse 🫶🏻 please I love him

TW: implied SA (coercion). physical, emotional and mental abuse. manipulation. gaslighting. jimmy mouthwashing starter pack.

Jimmy's partner on Tulpar

Jimmy is not abusive all the time. Only when you're doing something he doesn't like.

Don't get me wrong, that is extremely often, but he's very good at gaslighting you into thinking that he's not all that bad.

Hell, he's incredible at making the relationship seem happy. Feel happy. Maybe, in some way, even be happy. For a short while.

In those brief moments, you truly believe he loves you.

And maybe he does. His love is rather twisted and cruel, but it's still love. In his eyes, at least.

He doesn't hit you, before anyone asks. He doesn't. No.

He does, however, often grab and pull you around when nobody's looking.

The most physically violent thing he does is grab you and shove you against a wall. He's got a really strong grip on you, bruising, even.

He doesn't even yell at you, it's more of a furious harsh whisper when he's really mad. But that's only for the extreme situations and only when you're alone.

Usually, he just... gives you silent, somewhat discreet warnings.

If he's holding you in any way, you get a warning squeeze. Otherwise, it's a cold, emotionless glare that sends shivers down your spine.

He doesn't really need to do much to get you to listen. You're used to him being dominant in the relationship, after all.

Yeah... dominant...

Of course, you never really bring up to him if you feel wrong. You're happy, he loves you. He tells you he loves you. He shows you he loves you.

He always assures you about it at night. He loves you, he loves you so much, baby, you drive him mad...

You understand why he gets angry at you sometimes, don't you? He needs you to be only his, to stay with him, to love him, to never, ever leave him...

He's such a poor, wounded soul, you see that, right? You can't leave him. He doesn't mean to hurt you or be a bad boyfriend... you know he means well, right? You know he loves you, right?

And you love him too. You love him so much. It's why you agree to everything. To the pushing and pulling, to the love and hatred...

To the touching. Even if you don't want it. Even if you hate it.

You would never dare tell him to stop.

[fcthots]

“I swear to you, that as long as I’m alive I won’t let a single soul ever harm you.” with protective upset and slightly unhinged jason would be so so good oh my god. like if something bad happens to reader and he has to get violent to defend her… yeah.

-🧸

You were on you way home, out later than you should have been, but your friend needed moral support after a breakup and you lost track of time.

Unfortunately while both you & Jason's apartment and your friend's were just off the edge of crime alley, your friend's apartment was on the opposite end of you and Jason. All of this is to say, unless you wanted to be out after midnight, you had to pass through crime alley after dark. It was just a five minute walk there, when daylight spared you of most of the dangers of Gotham, but it was pitch black now. You should have driven, but at the time it didn’t seem necessary.

Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck.

You walked as fast as possible.

You didn’t even have a purse on you. Your phone was in the leather jacket Jason had bought you as a present and you had 20 dollars stuffed somewhere in your pant pockets.

Were you supposed to turn left here? Yeah, you recognize that streetlamp.

You would call Jason, but your phone is fucking dead and it's not like you were gonna ask your crying friend for a charger. And you didn’t realize how late it had gotten until you stepped outside with no way to get back into your friends apartment.

You were in the home stretch, just in the outskirts of crime alley. Almost freedom.

Never let it be said that you were lucky. All of your luck was used getting your hot ass boyfriend. Luck gone.

The man had a knife and was screaming for your wallet. Your wallet that you did not bring with you.

"Give me the wallet or I'm gonna spill your guts on the fucking ground!"

Just because your boyfriend was scary looking, did not mean you were used to scary men, especially ones that yelled at you. Your hands shook and you weren't sure what to do.

"I don’t have it. All I have is 20 dollars, please."

"That's a fucking lie. I see your jacket. I know that shit is expensive. Lie to me again and I'll slit your throat."

Fuck. If you had to guess, it would be Jason that would find your body. You didn’t want it to be Jason. He wouldn't be able to handle seeing your lifeless eyes. You know what it's like to look into your soulmates lifeless eyes and realize they're gone forever; you were hoping Jason would never have to experience that.

"It's-"

"Tough luck... I guess I could accept other forms of payment."

He bares his teeth in a grin as he sees the look on your face.

"Unless you'd prefer that no one ever finds your body?"

You're really glad you told Jason you loved him before he left for patrol.

The man starts getting closer to you. You can't talk, can't scream, can't think. You were gonna die alone.

You think you mumble out a 'please' before your back hits the wall. His knife was to your throat, but all you could think about was Jason.

There was a bang that you didn’t fully register. Before you could think twice about it, your mugger was on the ground. You didn’t move. You stayed, frozen, silent tears running down your cheeks.

"Shh, it's ok. You're ok. It's me."

You finally focused your eyes and saw the white lenses staring at you, his arms in the air.

You babbled nonsense. You couldn't breathe.

You tried to back away from the man on the floor, but you almost fell. You swore your legs were going to give out. Jason was at your side in less than a second. He lifted you over the bleeding body on the ground, supported your weight as your knees buckled.

He tucked your face into the crook of his neck and you choked on air.

"I've got you. Match my breaths, ok? Good. You're doing great. You're ok, I promise."

All you could manage to get out was his name.

"'M right here. Just breathe. Focus on that for me." His hand cradled the base of your neck.

Eventually you stopped crying. Eventually you could breathe again. Eventually Jason led your face away from his neck to look at you. Your whole body shook. You watched as he drew his hand up to his helmet and heard this hiss and click and he took it off. He took your jaw in one of his hands.

He wiped the splattered blood and tears off your cheeks with a gloved hand, traced the trail of fresh blood and broken skin on your neck from where the knife was pressed against you. “I swear to you, that as long as I’m alive I won’t let a single soul ever harm you.”

You looked into his eyes as they flashed an inhuman green, and you believed him.

Bonus:

"Wait, Jay. Did you just happen to stumble across me?"

"There...may or may not be a tracker in the jacket I bought you... You were in one place for too long."

"I hate that that makes me feel safer."

He smiles apologetically. "I love you."

"I love you too."

[fortheloveofexy]

what breaks my heart most for andrew is that within literal days after he's finally, finally started to trust someone again with slivers of the truth about his childhood, the bandage is brutally ripped off and laid bare for the world to see.

apart from Bee (and perhaps Wymack), Neil is probably the first person since Luthor whom Andrew had even hinted at what went on in the Spear household. Here he was, tentatively feeding out scraps of information, sprinkling breadcrumbs for Neil to follow, only to then have his agency violently ripped away from his grasp. Andrew didn't get to have a choice, not in who knew about his trauma or who saw him at his lowest.

It was bad enough to be violated and retraumatized by Drake yet again, but to have to then submit himself to the scrutiny of the world? To then have the worst things that ever happened to him broadcast on public display? I can think of nothing worse than that.

[massiveladycat]

WARNING: MENTION OF SA AND R*PE PLEASE DO NOT GO ANY FURTHER IF THIS MAY TRIGGER YOU i need people to talk more about "hold them down". it's so messed up and the implications are so scary and oh my gooddd. just listen to it.

my interpretation; we all heard the tiny violin bit at 'share her spoils.' violins are Penelope's instrument and, if you listen closely, you can imagine it's her screaming, and to antinous that's 'music to his ears.' this entire song made me recoil. you can hear the intent in his voice, how he's straight-up honest about wanting to sexually assault penelope because no one can stop him. telemachus can't stop him, and penelope can't, and odysseus is at sea, assumed dead holy hell the duality of jorge. he can make upbeat, happy songs like 'open arms,' he can make upbeat songs with horrifying lyrics such as 'love in paradise,' and he can make songs like this anyways feel free to add your own interpretation but any antinous defender's will not be tolerated

[msanonships]

Channing Tatum & Naomie Ackie as Slater and Frida in Blink Twice (2024) directed by Zoë Kravitz

tw: sexual assault mention

[ How many times has Slater brought Frida to his island? If he thinks of her as his "best friend" that implies he believes he's formed enough of a connection with her over time. We know Slater has killed a lot of people with no remorse. He's a billionaire psychopath who enjoys exerting his power over Frida by continually r*ping and abusing her because he doesn't suffer the consequences. She regains her memory of every single disgusting thing he's done to her. I don't know how she didn't kill him but at least she got what she wanted in the end.]

[crowleys-curl]

PSA - #neil gaiman

Almost a month has passed now since the airing of Neil Gaiman’s alleged sexual abuse of two young women (I use that caveat to protect not him, but myself), and apparently now a third has come forward. Am I surprised? No. After all, where there’s smoke there’s usually fire, right? What I am is weary. Because this type of behaviour is of course not new – the powerful (and most often men) using their power and prestige to manipulate those who look up to them for their own pleasure, and perhaps as a salve to their own insecurities – about getting older, or about how great a maker they really are, when they look into their secret souls. Ok, so I guess I'm angry, too.

I haven’t written here about this before. I tend to worry about saying the wrong things, which I know is something I need to work on. But seeing so many fellow fans continue to tag their creative fandom content with the #neilgaiman tag makes me sad. I don’t want to miss out on having season 3 of Good Omens produced, but I think all of us who consume this media have a responsibility to not cover over these ugly truths. Even if you don’t feel comfortable speaking up, you can make small gestures, like not posting your fandom content with Neil’s tag – that way, the voices speaking up (whatever their angle – that’s what free speech is about, after all) will be better heard. And those fans who aren’t yet aware, since mainstream media seem disinterested at best at this point, might become better informed. Or at least aware.

Losing respect for someone you once looked up to in any way is a grieving process, and we all deserve the opportunity to undergo that. For me, Good Omens was my introduction to Neil Gaiman’s work (and Terry’s, too). But more so, I was inspired by his advice about writing; the small encouragements, the idea that even if you could sometimes only pen 50 words a day you could still write a book. And while I may no longer look at him with respect or for creative guidance, I refuse to let go of the renewed loved for writing and image making I’ve found since that last episode of season 2 grabbed me by the metaphorical lapels and changed me forever.

I love this fandom. A little part of my soul has found a home here with you all. I will continue to create and add to the world of Good Omens that belongs to all of us. And to believe the victims.

[amaliazeichnerin]

About the Neil Gaiman allegations, again

August 14, 2024 Apparently, a PR firm Neil Gaiman hired is trying to drown out the allegations of SA online by using KI bots that praise his works. (Source: https://bsky.app/profile/monicabyrne13.bsky.social/post/3kznypm4x6g2u )

If you want to stay informed what is going on with this matter, here are two online spaces to go, besides Tumblr:

https://www.reddit.com/r/neilgaimanuncovered/new/ and a round-up with timeline: https://muccamukk.dreamwidth.org/16789

Both can be viewed without registration on the sites.

[sfaira]

Okay I know I am so far behind on Dracula Daily, still chipping away at October 3rd but...

I didn't expect to be so viscerally terrified by this story. We have so many dracula adaptations in pop culture and yet I feel that never before now was it made clear to me how Dracula is very clearly a sexual predator. He's a literal predator of course and an epitome of evil, but how Mina describes having to agree to blood drinking under threat? This is how SA victims often have to act.

I cannot get over the fact Bram Stoker wrote these scenes with full understanding what he's doing and our perception of a vampire, and Dracula himself is of a misunderstood mysterious animalistic romance partner for Mina? I need an adaptation that breaks up with that. One that makes him a creepy, toxic and dangerous creature that makes your skin crawl.

[sleepyicon]

are we gonna talk about robby lowkey getting SA’D….

[retromotherfuckers]

Violet Eyes, Red

Pairing:

rhysand x reader (pretty sure it's gender neutral - there might be a "she" i missed while referring to you from the original draft bc second person pov is not how i write)

Summary:

you and your mate reunite after feyre defeats amarantha and this is the fallout of what the bitch did to him.

Warnings:

aftermath of SA - i can't really tell if it's graphic which tells me it is, loose description of a panic attack, PTSD, please let me know if I missed anything. guys, please, if these topics are triggering for you, don't read this fic. i am not responsible for your media consumption, but i also don't want to throw you headfirst into your trauma.

Word Count:

2,140

A/N:

literally broke my own damn heart with this one. rhys' trauma is so ignored and that needed to be rectified. rhys might be my second favorite bat boy, but he's still a lil baby who needs to be protected

The human girl had beaten her - the woman of his nightmares - once and for all. At the first moment he could, Rhysand winnowed. After fifty years, he knew there was only one place he could go. After all, it was the last Sunday of the month, and that Sunday was the day he and his mate reserved just for themselves. The High Lord and Lady would not conduct any business on that day.

You'd spend most of your day on the balcony. You'd serenade him with the piano. You'd fly around Velaris - creating patterns in the air. You'd cradle each other in your arms. He'd sketch out a new drawing - trying and failing, in his opinion, to encapsulate your true beauty.

One day, he broke that promise, that vow you had made, and went to what he thought was a simple trade meeting. That morning was the last day he saw you, and he still couldn't live with himself.

Those memories alone kept him breathing at times. When Amarantha stole his bed, his body, his hope.

Then the human girl showed up, and he tried to help her. Wanted to give her what she needed to beat the beast he didn't think he'd ever escape. But he had lost the will to pray for it. To the cauldron, to the Mother Above. Despite his pessimism, she persevered. The girl had won. And then he was free.

He was on the balcony before he could even think about it. After a quick glance around, he realized it was empty. At first, he felt a pulse of disappointment, but with the realization of how long it'd been, he breathed deeply. How could he expect you to keep up the tradition? Fifty years of solitude on those Sundays would have made him mad if your roles were reversed.

At the thought, he allowed himself to feel the mating bond. It had gone cold the moment he winnowed away all those years ago, but now it was as beautiful as he remembered. The pull of another person at the end of a tether, forever binding them in the purest forms of fate.

But he heard your thoughts, and he almost broke down in sobs at the sound of your voice in his head. Please come home, my love. I don't know how to do this anymore. Please. The last word, you were begging. Your inner voice, the one he had to get used to living without, was broken. Pleading for him to return - despite everything you'd probably heard.

And with that, he took action, winnowing to every room in the house so he would find you as soon as possible. He knew you were close; your scent wasn't stale. It was fresh, clinging to every piece of furniture you owned together.

It was the last room he checked, his office, where he found you. You sat in his desk chair; the leather more worn than he remembered. But the sight of you stopped him from rushing to you. Nursing a bottle of wine, you slouched on your elbows, hands in your hair, as more thoughts streamed through the bond.

I'm losing myself, Rhys. I don't know how much more of this I can take. I can't let myself believe you won't come back because that- that will ruin me. What she's doing to you, what she's making you do. I don't even know a fraction of it, but I can't stop it. I- I can't protect you. And I hate myself for it. 

He was watching you as you sent the words down the bond, the bond that had been desolate for half a century. You run your hands down your face, not looking up from your wine, the third of many you planned to drown in.

Just get through it. Please just- just survive. Do what you have to do to come home. I'll be here. I love you. My mate.

You'd only allowed yourself to talk to him once a month. Initially, you would try to send him something every day. Thoughts, images, songs you'd learned, prayers for him. You never heard anything back, and it slowly started eating away at you. It shattered your hope every time you didn't get a response.

You'd heard the rumors, Amarantha's whore, he'd been called. Every time you heard it, it ate away at you more and more. As if he would choose that - choose to warm the bed of another when you were waiting for him at home. You knew him better than that, and you winced at the thought. He wouldn't choose it, but would she force him? Was she that much of a monster? 

You had to shake that thought away for the thousandth time that night, downing the rest of the glass. As you reach for the bottle, nearly empty at that point, a hand wraps around your wrist. The touch is gentle but firm - stopping you from drinking more, but not rough enough to hurt. Instead of startling at it, the wine slows your instincts. You can only stare. The tattoos on the dorsal side interweave into vines under the sleeve. Vines you know, vines that you've held, vines that have and will continue to have free rein of your body.

Faster than you thought you were capable of, your eyes flew to its owner's eyes. Violet. The most ravishing violet. Violet you'd feared you were forgetting.

With a new urgency, you pulled yourself to your feet, your hands flying up to his face without thinking. One on his cheek, the other on his neck, pushing, pulling, grabbing, unsure if it was your mind playing tricks on you.

In your desperate touch, you missed the way he flinched.

His hands. Mother Above, his beautiful hands were on your neck too, placed at the sides. When your mind would play you for a fool, it would never let you touch him, let alone allow him to reach you. But there he was, and you could feel him. You tugged at the bond, finally noticing it was warm and delicate and sweet and serene and everything you wished you knew how to describe. 

He breathed your name, barely a whisper. "I'm home, my darling. I'm home."

"You're here." The words barely escaped you, and you couldn't stop the tears. He didn't hesitate a moment, pulling you in for a frustratingly rare and fierce embrace. You clung to each other for dear life, tighter and tighter and tighter, like he'd disappear if you let him go. Frankly, you weren't convinced he wouldn't. "You're really here."

You stood like that for a while, holding each other, when he ultimately pulled away first. "Rh-Rhys, don't go-"

"I'm not," he promised, his voice raw, kissing your forehead. He took in every inch of your face. "I just wanted to look at you. My mate."

Since Rhys had been freed by the human girl, nothing had been normal. Not that you expected it to be, but you didn't anticipate just how awful a recovery for him would be. He couldn't share your bed, and you didn't mean that in a sexual manner. He couldn't sleep with anyone else in his room - if he had even been sleeping at all. He could barely stand to be touched. You knew he wanted to be able to let you, but every time you seemed to blink, he would flinch.

You had suspicions about what went on under the mountain, but you had no idea it would be so evil.

He stood before a cabinet, staring blankly into it, lost in a memory - a memory he'd been refusing to share. You understood why, but something in you told you that you needed to see. Not just for curiosity's sake but to know how to help him. Even if it was past your pay grade.

"Rhys," You called quietly for the second time. You didn't want to touch him, shock him back to reality. The fear of that setting him off more held you back. With a harsh and sudden breath, he fearfully glanced at you and around the room, forgetting where he was for a moment. "You're at home, Rhys. You came home."

"I'm sorry," He rasped, ignoring your words. His hands pulled at his hair, and you were nervous he'd start ripping it out. He backed away from you, so far away he was caught by the wall. "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry."

Your own formed at the sight of his tears, but you couldn't conjure up what he'd have to apologize for. "It's okay, honey, you're safe. It's okay."

"I didn't- I didn't want it. I swear on my life, I didn't want to."

You shook your head, not understanding. But you knew asking what he was apologizing for was the wrong thing to do. You could see it, the shame, the regret, the blame. "I know you didn't."

He squeezed his eyes shut, buried his face in his hands, and sank to the floor. He kept murmuring apologies, pleading for your forgiveness. "I betrayed you, you have to- you have to leave me."

His words shocked you, and now you were the one that flinched. "Rhysand, look at me." He visibly shrunk at the command, pulling his hands away from his face. "As far as I'm concerned, anything that happened...there...is the furthest thing from your fault. I know there are things you can't tell me, and that's okay. I'll be here when you're ready-"

"I can't!" He bellowed. "You'll never forgive-"

"Show me the memory." You demanded, your voice quiet but assertive. But you wouldn't push too hard if he was adamant about keeping you out. You knew. You knew. Based on the way he had been acting, what had happened. But you also knew he needed to show you. So someone, fucking someone, would tell him it was out of his control. He couldn't govern everything, even if he was the High Lord of the Night Court. The words hurt as they left your lips. "Because I can promise you that I will."

You weren't a daemati, but you could see him battling with himself. Debating, if showing you what really happened, would bury him deeper under the surface or pull him back up for air.

Eventually, he released a rare sob and a barely audible "Okay."

He showed you the first time, how he just laid there like a statue as her hands took everything for herself. Then, the fifth time, when she started demanding he respond, pretend he wanted it. Then, the eleventh time, when his body started reacting. Then, by the next time, he had stopped keeping count.

He showed you, whether he meant to or not, how he prayed for it to end, prayed for someone to rescue him.

How he had been praying for you.

With the confirmation of your theory, you squeezed your eyes shut, trying and failing to hold back the tears. The angry tears, wishing you could've been the one to rip her throat out. Tears that enraged you because that was not Tamlin's kill. Furious tears because that wasn't even your kill. Devastating tears because your mate not only had to play a character for so long, but he had to endure being called her whore. Like he had any fucking say. 

Overwhelming tears because your mate was in pain and there was shit all you could do about it.

"Can I touch you?" The question shocks him, but he nods without thinking, confused at the request. You slowly lift your hands to his cheeks, brushing away his tears with your thumbs. "There is nothing for me to forgive you for. I know you didn't want to do any of it."

"But I-"

"Bodies respond to stimulation whether it's wanted or not. It's how we work." You explained slowly and carefully, keeping direct eye contact. "You forget, sweetheart. I can hear your thoughts when you show me a memory."

"I've-" His voice caught, putting his hands on your wrists, rubbing them up and down your arms until they got hot. "I've been so scared. That it's still happening. That all of this is going to go away, that she's not really gone, that I'm not really here, and this is just another tactic-"

You shake your head, finally pulling yourself together to say what you've wanted to say for weeks. "I swear on my life that I will never let anyone hurt you like that again. I will spend eternity protecting you from her and anyone like her. And if you forget that this is real, just ask me. I'll tell you."

His eyes darted between yours, furiously blinking. Violet eyes, red. Pleading craving begging praying.

"Is it?"

[fortheloveofexy]

spending my saturday in pain and misery, hbu?

[numbmontezuma]

There's something about the way some people swear up and down to defend curly's mistakes in mouthwashing and end up mirroring how curly defends jimmy's mistakes in the story.

That's how pervasive rape culture is and how you can even engage in it without even feeling it.

[elviraaxen]

Sometimes I'm like "my interest in storytelling and attention to detail isn't that out of the ordinary I think I classify as a pretty average viewer and I'm not so pretentious" and then people say that the SA subplot in mouthwashing was so subtle that people missed it in the first one or two playthroughs and I'm like oh ok I am in fact insufferable nevermind.

[mayapapaya33]

It makes me really sad that everyone agrees with Percy either explicitly or implicitly when he says that Orthax is his fault and that he's a bad person who made a bad choice, when from what I understand of Percy's own account, he was taken advantage of in his sleep by a demon in his most vulnerable, desperate hour. His family was brutally murdered in front of him, he was tortured, he escaped into a frigid river, then homeless and hungry, he was sleeping in the streets, having horrific nightmares, and a demon traipsed through his brain, posing as a dream, to offer him revenge. He thought it was a dream! He didn't even remember it properly until the black smoke started pouring off of him. I feel like things you agree to IN A DREAM should NOT be legally binding!!!

In TLOVM Orthax says that Percy summoned him with his pain and his anger. That's NOT the same thing as ACTUALLY summoning a demon with intent!!! He didn't draw any glyphs or use any components to do a ritual, he was literally just suffering so intensely that it was like a catnip beacon to a demon.

It affects the rest of his life, every major decision he ever makes. He decided to sign the contract in the Hells to spare anyone else because he felt he was already damned, his soul tarnished, and he deserved his fate. That it wasn't worth risking anyone else's soul and he was the most expendable one. He thought he was fundamentally flawed or weak because the demon chose him, he somehow let the demon into him or attracted it to him. His conversation with the Matron of Ravens broke my heart. "Did it choose me because I was broken, or did it break me?"

Maybe if someone had sat down with him and talked with him about it, he would be able to let go of some of that guilt. But no one ever did. They agreed with him and the demon that he was responsible. They all forgave him and love him of course, but that's different from thinking it was never his fault in the first place. The personal responsibility aspect is the sticking point here. He's made poor decisions of course, And I don't think this would excuse him from the consequences of his inventions, the Pepperbox and Bad News are still his, but I am specifically talking about the demon deal that happened in his dream that led him on the path of Vengeance in the first place.

Not to mention the symbolism of Percy literally being taken advantage of in his sleep then victim blamed about it for the rest of his life. Idk, it just rubs me the wrong way, maybe I'm overthinking it, I just feel bad for him. Someone give that boy a hug!