#tw mentions of attempted sa

[creepycrawliesanonymous]

"I had the worst dream last night."

The season was beginning to turn. The leaves had turned into an ugly shade of brown and fell off their branches at least a month ago, and were growing soggy in the gutters. You were wearing the warmest jacket you owned, knowing that in the coming months going outside with only the thin layer of flannel would become nearly unbearable. For now, it did just fine.

"Tell me."

Your sandwich had been warm when you left the deli, but the chicken was starting to leave a stale and dry feeling in your mouth. Adam had abandoned his a while ago, wrapping it up to store in his shitty fridge.

"I was in my parents' house, but it was like, around Christmas time so everything was real festive and awful. You were there, but it was you when you had dyed your hair, but also like now? Like your face was how it is now. Scott was there too, but he didn't really do anything, he just sort of stood there."

Thinking about Scott made your skin crawl. The last time you had seen him he was trying to break down your door, screaming at you about some money you owed him. The bad blood between the two of you went way back to when he stabbed Adam with a rusty nail when you were children. He had tried to get you to fuck him in the bathroom at one of his band's gigs, around five years ago. You walked away with bruises on your arm from when he tried to drag you away from the bar, while he stumbled home with bloody nose and scratch marks on his face. He left several voicemails, blaming his actions on the beer, calling you a bitch and a prude and a slut, threatening legal action, and begging for forgiveness.

"Remember when your mom got you that psychiatrist voucher one year?"

Adam's mother had spent many years thinking there was something wrong with her son. For a long time he was too quiet, then he hit middle school and was suddenly too loud. The music he listened to was too loud and angry, and he started painting his nails black and got called slurs a lot at school. Then there was the chain smoking when he got to high school, and the endless stream of girlfriends that he only dated because he knew his parents would hate them and their septum piercings and vocal fry (and in some best case scenarios, they were communists, those were the ones you got on the best with). He was sucking dick on the side as well, but it wasn't like his mother knew that.

"I tried to leave the living room, but every time I walked out the door I would just go back to the place I started. Mom was playing some classical record, and I remembered it because it was the one she would always play when she was trying to lower her blood pressure. She gave me a present to open, but I couldn't find where the wrapping paper ended and she kept getting more and more mad at me for being ungrateful or something. She, like, grew claws and started ripping at the box and inside was a tiny version of me, like if I turned into an action figure. Then you picked me up and left the room. Thanks for that by the way, mom was thrilled."

Sometimes Adam made you want to scream. You had met when he poured a bottle of paint down your arm during kindergarten. You had reached up and grabbed a fistful of his hair, smearing paint on his face, making him howl and getting you both sent to the principal's office. In seventh grade, he had, albeit accidentally, set a piece of your hair on fire playing with a lighter. He sprayed you down with a garden hose, and in a fit of frustration and unresolved anger management issues you had tackled him and rubbed his face in the dirt. But he only got some grass stains on his forehead and the bridge of his nose, while you had to sport an ugly, jagged haircut for months. One time, the month before graduation, he tried to drop out. You two spent an evening yelling at each other, you that if he left now his parents would probably have him sent him to the military or a monastery and he was neither tough nor religious, and him spouting out some concerning things that in your adolescence you elected to ignore. When you had both calmed down, you fell asleep listening to The Pixies, his head on your shoulder, your nose buried in his hair.

"If I found a tiny version of you I would keep you in a jar and get you to run small errands for me. I would never have to sharpen a pencil ever again."

There was a thin layer of grime in the park you two had chosen to eat lunch in. The city was underfunded, so many of the trashcans were overflowing out the top and onto the street and the sidewalk. A stench permeated throughout the air, smelling of pollution and piss and dog shit. It seeped into you if you stayed around long enough. At this point you were blind to it, the stink nestled into your nostrils in a way much too permanent.

"The walls started to break down, and then I was in my apartment, and I think my mom had turned into a giant bird because she had started clawing at all my shit."

When the clouds parted, and the sun shone down just right, you could be fooled into thinking that Adam's eyes had some gold in them.

"What then?"

You took another bite out of your sandwich, your hunger winning out over your distaste for the dried out bread and the cold chicken.

"I woke up."

[tyrianludaship]

yeah i think there's a difference between selfshipping with a antihero/ a antagonist/ a morally grey character, ect; and selfshipping with a rapist or a character who attempted imperialism / genocide. and the fact that i and others need to clarify such, is kind of sad.

Proship / Comship / RPF Do Not Interact Please !

[finleyforevermore]

Hey guys! How've we been since I've been away? Hm? Not good? Yeah, I thought so.

I was AFK (which means Away From Keyboard for those who weren't aware, or didn't think to Google it /nm) because my mom had taken away my phone for a bit but I could still use it to help with my math homework.

I did lurk around Tumblr a bit, and I did "officially" come back online for a bit, but I mostly lurked.

And how delightful it was to see (can not clarify enough how sarcastic this is) that someone I follow but am not moots with decided that March 20th was the day they were doing to commit suicide. They did not succeed. But they sure as hell scared the fuck out of me. Same story I've seen before with my other friends, abusive parental figure, and possibly SA'd like some of my other friends. Lovely.

And then ANOTHER friend as it turns out has an extremely abusive mother and got fucking strangled by aforementioned mother, then said in the posts of a vent post, "something something maybe she should've killed me".

Being technically AFK I had to go on anon for a bit and try my damndest to prove to my friend that their mother is beyond saving, and there's no use seeing her in a positive light, and they by no means deserve what happened to them. I don't know if it worked. If you see this, I'm sorry if I came off as rude. But that really was the straw that broke the camel's back.

I'd been trying to keep together fairly well but I had been thinking of Liam, Nex's death was ruled a suicide (and now his murderers will not be charged), all of my other friends are traumatized and now I've discovered another friend has an abusive parent, and someone tried to fucking kill themselves.

And so, we have this. This song has been my coping mechanism for the past several weeks and what I can best describe as my theme song. Whenever I see something tragic with either my friends or someone else my first thought is the words of this song. Largely because of the themes of getting salvation for the unjust wrongs done upon Sweeney or in this case my friends.

I really don't know why I was blessed to know such wonderful incredible beautiful people only for them to suffer relentlessly and have gallons upon gallons of trauma.

Do bad things happen? Sure. But with my friends it's non-stop. One traumatic event after another after another after another and I'm. Just so done. I'm so sick. And I'm so tired. Of everything. Of all the pain and suffering. Of the fact I can't do anything. Of the fact I feel too much. This probably shouldn't be impacting me so much but for some reason it is.

I would've been apprehensive posting this because I'm kind of self-conscious about my voice but some of my friends are suffering 24/7 so I think my voice is the last thing I should be worrying about.

Enjoy if you want. Or don't. That's ok too. Love you guys.

@literatureisdying

[eri-pl]

I looked at that "draw your fav in your culture" prompt in my drafts and I would have to do research :( but just think: Melkor&Sauron in a vague XIX century Polish village.

[typical Sauron and Morgoth stuff mentioned, including attitude towards women]

Melkor (I'm using that name because he's shapeshifting) in the classic Polish fairytale devil attire (= looking like a cheap German nobleman in clothing that is for some reason too tight), Sauron looking like a government offcial (ekonom... nie wiem czemu ekonom, nie wiem jak jest po angielsku ekonom), with some papers in hand.

All around them: white-painted wooden houses with thatched roofs, storks, hollyhocks, apple trees, a well in the background, typical rural landscape, a few cats and one dog barking really loud. Probably some chickens or geese.

Melkor is stealing apples from a tree, or stealing a cool piece of embroided clothing that's hanging on the fence or just sitting there looking bored. (Or looking at some village girl who will later, as it always goes, chase him away very effectively) Since we are already booting the setting away, he is limping, but without much scars.

Sauron is knocking at the door and talking with a pair of peasants who own this house, trying to convince them that yes, this paper is necessary to sign, if they don't sign they will be treated as traitors and supporters of uprisings, also at the same time this is nothing big, just the standard survey of fields or whatnot, also yes, they need to sigh in with their own blood. For reasons.

Melkor is not helping, until he comes and starts yelling at them until they completely panic. (Yes, he can canonically do diplomacy, but also I like the stereotype that he gets bored and leaves long talking to his lietuanant)

All this in the style of oil paintings. Or written in Mickiewicz-like poetic style.

That would be so cool.

[elysianholly]

The First

So I’m in Season 3 of my Buffy rewatch and just passed Amends, and holy cow, is this ever an informative episode.

We have the first appearance of The First, who will go dormant again for four years until emerging as the Big Bad in Season 7. The entire conceit of this episode is The First understands Angel’s desires and weaknesses and tries to manipulate those to its own end.

And what is Angel’s desire? Buffy, obviously.

The First knows Angel has the capacity to hurt Buffy. He's done so already, after all. More than anyone else has at this point in the series.

And in fairness to Angel—he is trying very hard in this episode. He’s being tormented by visions of his victims, most prominently the visage of Jenny Calendar. These visions weaken him to the point where he shows up in Buffy’s room specifically to tell her to “stay away from him.” But he can’t stay away from her—even Buffy points out that he’s not making any sense.

And there is Jenny Calendar in the background, saying:

“She wants you to touch her. What are you waiting for?” “She wants you to taste her. Think of the peace. You'll never have to see us again.”

Essentially making the “she was asking for it” case to goad Angel into SAing Buffy. This wouldn’t be nearly as telling on its own, without Angel’s admission at the end of the episode:

Angel: It told me to kill you. You were in the dream. You know. It told me to lose my soul in you and become a monster again. Buffy: I know what it told you. What does it matter? Angel: Because I wanted to! Because I want you so badly! I want to take comfort in you, and I know it'll cost me my soul, and a part of me doesn't care.

Now, it’s important to acknowledge that despite this desire, Angel did not give in. He did not SA Buffy. He did not try to touch her. He chose death instead. It is equally important, however, to acknowledge that the reason he was so tormented in this episode is because The First was appealing to an existing desire that he was trying to suppress, specifically the knowledge that:

He could do this

He has done this

Some part of him still wants to do this

The “Because I wanted to” admission is everything. Without it, The First has no hold on Angel. Remove the Buffy of it all and The First could taunt him with victims past, sure, but its goal was very specific: get Angel to go bad. And failing that, get Angel to remove himself from the equation. I’m sure it would have also accepted “get Angel to violate Buffy and spiral even further” because, as we see at the end, the Powers need him to believe in himself. The best way to get Angel to not believe in himself is to make him responsible for harming Buffy.

Anyway, skip ahead. Like four years ahead.

We have almost the exact same situation. Spike is newly souled and tormented by both his past victims and especially what he did to Buffy. We have The First now appearing AS BUFFY to Spike, Spike incapable of discerning what’s real and what’s not, and confirmation that The First definitely has plans for him. Plans that will position him in opposition to Buffy, weaken her, and essentially kill any chance that she will do exactly what she ends up doing.

It’s also important to note that Spike is much less mentally sound than Angel was when The First starts fucking with him.

So what does The First do? It brainwashes him. It notably does not try to convince Spike that Buffy “wants him to touch her.” It does not play on an existing desire to cause Buffy harm. It does not attempt to appeal to the part of Spike that assaulted Buffy in the bathroom the way it appealed to the part of Angel that spent years happily assaulting women before he was cursed.

And this is important because if that desire existed, there would be literally no reason for The First not to use it. Are we expected to believe The First evolved in the years since it attempted to goad Angel into attacking Buffy because “she was asking for it?" That orchestrating another assault wouldn’t further isolate Spike, if not drive him to do what Angel nearly did and remove himself from the equation entirely? We know from later in the season that The First is fine with Spike killing himself. Hell, we're shown that if The First can't use Spike, it wants him dead and is willing to manipulate others to see that realized.

But The First literally had to brainwash Spike to get him to do anything it wants, and the second it unleashes him on Buffy, he snaps out of it. She brings him back to the light. She says she'll help him.

And The First is noticeably pissed off. This was not what it wanted. Spike under Buffy's care was dangerous to its goal.

So why didn’t it try to manipulate Spike into assaulting Buffy again? Make sure she'd never invite him back inside her home? Why didn't it appeal to his worst urges the way it did Angel?

Angel: Because I wanted to!

Like I said, Amends is an informative episode. It shows us how The First operates (doubled down in S7 with its manipulation of Robin Wood). Even more, how The First interacts with Angel compared to how it interacts with Spike tells us a lot about who these characters are as men, as vampires, and specifically men who have hurt Buffy.

[fanofstuff01]

Can you explain to me what the Gaurdian Angel au is please?

Sure thing! Sorry if it took me a bit long and it’s messy though.

@things-arent-what-they-seem66

So basically, in this universe’s Heaven, there are angels called “Guardian Angels”, both heaven born and winners can apply to the job. Their duty is to rehabilitate and save people who are tend to oof themselves, are hurting themselves or are addicts.

Lucifer is a winner in this, he died with his family (His parents, twin brother and little sister) when he was 14 and they went to Heaven.

Lucifer wanted to make people’s lives better so he applied for this job.

Ona day, at a “To Be Saved” list, he saw his childhood friend, Adam. And chose him.

Speaking of Adam… Let me tell you why he wants to oof himself…

So, he had an abusive relationship with someone named Steve. He was 15, Steve was 17. The relationship caused Adam to fall in depression.

His step mother, Sera didn’t want to find a doctor to help him (because he was just being dramatic and should get up and be a man), but his step sister Emily insisted. So he did went to a doctor. They gave him a medicine to help. (Probably Xanax)

Oh and he had to take Vicodin at one point too, he broke his ribs.

When he finally moved on from Steve, he found another partner, Eve. Their relationship was going well until…

Eve got pregnant when they were both 19.

Thier parents forced them to get married and without knowing what else to do, the couple moved to another statw with their twin boys Cain and Abel. They opened their small farm there and Adam thought they could finally live happily.

But Cain killing Abel ruined his life. They were 14. Cain went to juvie.

Eve blamed Adam for this, saying she did not wanted to see his stupid face ever again. And they got a divorce, with Eve taking almost all the properties they had, leaving Adam with Cain’s custody and a few other things. She sold the properties and moved to another country.

Oh you think these are bad? Wait till you hear the rest.

Sera disowned and refused to help Adam once she heard about this. His sister was in a different country, so it was easier for Sera to tell lies about what Adam actually did. Emily believes her brother deserved it.

Sera’s excuse? Adam was basically a murderer himself. He should’ve raised his kids better and be a father, this was all his fault.

Again without knowing what to do and without anyone, again in deep depression, Adam moved to a small apartment, but he couldn’t pay the rent. He was going to be thrown at the streets until a “superhero” came and “saved his ass”.

His step cousin, Alastor. Who wants him out of the picture so he could get a step closer to inheriting Sera’s properties once she dies.

So he offered Adam a place to stay, one of his apartments. Saying he won’t have to pay the rent until he is stable again. Adam couldn’t be more thankful. He begin working at a supermarket.

But Alastor has other plans.

He brought Adam vicodin and xanax, saying they’d help ease his pain. They did, for a while, but he became addicted, which is exactly what Alastor wants so he can have him under his control. He began sending his friends, The Vees to sell him drugs. They are expensive.

He became addicted to alcohol as well.

The supermarket fired him, saying they couldn’t have an addict as their employee. Adam was left desperate again. His rent was unrealistically high and so were the prize of his drugs. Nowhere else hired him or kept him longer than a month, so he uhh… Began selling… Pictures of himself. Take this as however you want.

Depression and anxiety mixed with a little agoraphobia clinged to him and never left.

He also became some sort of a hermit, never leaving his house for anything other than going to the liquor store, always ordering stuff.

Alastor visits him once every three months to make sure he stays in this state. With abusing and manipulating him psychologically and verbally.

With a life like this, he was obviously in the list.

Now back to Lucifer.

He disguised himself as a human and became Adam’s neighbor. He began bringing him food but Adam didn’t open the door, so he left them and Adam took them. Until one day he finally opened the door and implied to Lucifer that he didn’t want to see him.

So Lucifer began leaving food with notes, inviting him to dinner at his place. One day Adam went to his place, only because he wanted this man to leave him alone.

They slowly became closer and closer, with Lucifer helping him with his depression and anxiety, becoming his friend and slowly making his life better.

And the angel broke the biggest rule they had:

Don’t fall in love or start a relationship with a human.

But he didn’t care. One day, after another one of Al’s visits, Adam cried in his arms, saying he didn’t want to love anymore because he always fucked it up and called himself a fucking up machine.

Lucifer kissed him and confessed to him that night. They started a relationship, the best one Adam had. But…

Lucifer’s ex, a heaven born angel and an exorcist, Lilith noticed their forbidden love.

Lucifer and Lilith broke up because their relationship simply didn’t work. They were both happy it ended. Or so Lucifer thought.

Lilith was furious that Lucifer took a filthy, mentally ill human as his partner while she was there. So she reported this to the authorities.

They told her to take him back to Heaven. So she did. Infront of Adam. He was forced to stay in Heaven until the human died, which was going to take 5 years, and he was also forced to watch him from there. He could only go if his life was in danger in that 5 years.

Lilith mocked him by saying that stupid fucker was going to end up in Hell. (There’s more punishment Lu has but they’re not relevant to the story anyway.)

But what Lilith didn’t knew was…

Lucifer already saved Adam. He was worth Heaven and was going there if he kept himself this way for 5 years.

But he died two years after Lu left instead.

Adam died because:

Emily was returning to visit, and Adam wanted to have a word with her, Lucifer’s love and care had brought back his courage.

But Sera, afraid Emily will turn against her, spread the word that she is a horrible person and her reputation would be fucked up, hired a hitman to kill Adam. And sadly, succeeded.

Lucifer was supposed to prevent this, but Lilith laughed at his face and refused to remove the handcuffs that kept him in Heaven. She instead forced him to watch Adam’s death.

But Adam ascended to Heaven.

Lucifer was the first angel to greet him.

Lilith fell to Hell for messing with Heaven’s plans.

Happy ending.

I hope I covered everything, feel free to ask to me or Things if you have unanswered questions.

[eveanderland34]

massive trigger warning since its now confirmed.. trigger warning: James, Sexual Assault, and talks of possible attempted sa.

I was rereading the "angry father" post, and realized something off about the suits and how they clash.

so me being curious, I look up the colour meaning.

of course, this didn't seem as plausable since, the colour seems not to mean that. sure they talk, but.. then i found out Teal is also the colour for.

sexual assault survivors.

oh god...

now moving on to bob. I noticed his white coat. he doesn't take it off until after confronting James. White is (as we all know) the symbol for purity, which is.. really interesting.

the way the creator used the white in this might symbolize that Bob didn't know about James's actions yet..

Bobs coat is even slightly off, meaning he's slowly becoming aware, since James tried to drink him unconscious. (which is seen via the multiple drinking glasses before this scene.)

yeah...

[luluscandystore]

my sister isnt a pedophile but she is a predetor. yet nobody listens to me. ever. she beat the shit out of me and made me strip and "wrestle" her. im not going to keep quiet or shut up about what I went through anymore. Yes, I am going to manifest she touches me and tries to r@pe me and gets caught by my mom while its happening. maybe you find that offensive. i dont care anymore because this is the only way I can get he locked up and out of my fucking house. She is 22 years old. I am 16 the sexual abuse and physical abuse happened when I was 10. I didn't even understand what she did back then but I do now. She isn't attracted to me (i think), but she likes to have power over me. just because she didn't touch me innapropriately doesnt mean it wasnt sexual abuse. she was 16. the same age I am. she knew better. yet nobody listens to me. I'm not posting this on my vent sideblog because this isnt just a vent. I want people to know what happened to me and I'm going to fight for justice even if I have to relive it and be taken advantage of all over again.

I tried to take my own life as a cry for help but still she lives with me and is treated the same. she gave me edibles when I was 14 and I have to take medication now because of how badly i got addicted to it. she has ruined my fucking life. and I am not taking this anymore. I know just posting this wont get her kicked out but I feel the safest on this app and I want people to know what i went through. any and all support you have makes me feel appreciated and I appreciate you. If you read all of this, thank you.

[aleielle-of-roshar]

Omfg you’e supposed to be a therapist, im not a fucking toddler, I’m plenty old enough to be traumatized by a fucking murder attempt and sa by that asshole last year, I shouldn’t fucking move on when that fucker is on the news being praised as a fucking ‘wonderful man’

I’m allowed to be angry, just because I’m autistic and technically fem looking doesn’t mean I’m ‘being dramatic’, a year isn’t too long to be traumatized- I’m been diagnosed with c-ptsd for fucks’ sake

Sorry, might delete this later, just changing meds and so fucking unstable rn /srs

[gladosluver]

i think about that scene with mikan and ryota in the despair arc way too much and scream about it.

/ mentions of s/a & attempted rap3

it's so sad to see him be brave and step up to help kyoko because she was in the same position he was when mikan assaulted him. + the fact he doesn't usually try to stand up for himself until later episodes, and sticks to defending others instead

maybe im digging too far into this, but the way this is a reoccuring thing in the series (appearing twice in dr3 future/the comic anthology) is a bit disturbing. it seems that whenever mitarai is brought up, something about s/a is sure to follow, like his trauma is being downplayed for the sake of some joke/bit.

i cant help but think the two references in the future arc were written in just to be funny. like "haha, stupid mitarai, thats not sexual harassment!!" this is further influenced by how the other characters react, brushing it off and moving on (as well as kizakura, quite literally, defending himself in anime terms)

i dont want to get too deep into dark stuff here, so if i continue this it'll be via a reblog from my other account that i've kept secret until right now

[astralisbelle]

Silk For Armor 2 - An Offer He Cannot Refuse

Silk For Armor Masterlist tags: dancer!reader, singer!reader, reader has backstory, s3 not canon, diverges around TBOBF, half fix-it fic, half super self-indulgence, original locations and lore, eventual reveal of reader backstory, angst, fluff, hurt/comfort, eventual smut

chapter summary: The Mandalorian receives a strange request. He begins to suspect that there is more to this job and dancer than meets the eye. WARNINGS: attempted assault, attempted SA, coercion, major violence

note: WHEW It's been a while since I uploaded. I'm so excited to share this very long chapter with you all but PLEASE PLEASE mind the warnings. Thanks!!

“Kidnap me.”

The Mandalorian jerks himself back, startled by the bold request. The wording also throws him off, but that’s the least of his worries right now. “E...Excuse me?”

“Kidnap me!” she echoes. “Please. You have to take me away and take me away soon.” She clasps her hands in front of her chest, a burning desperation in her eyes.

“Why?”

“Kaslur. He’s… getting impatient.”

“Impatient for what?” She drags her gaze away, looking at the floor. Din’s eyes widen behind his visor. “What… is going to happen to you?”

She shakes her head. “I’m not entirely sure, but Kaslur has been begging me to quit dancing to go live with him. We’ve been playing this game for years, but the fuse is wearing thin.” As the realization sinks in for him, he thinks about how a girl like her has little options in a place like this. No one can help her. No one would, lest they wanted to incur the wrath of a crime lord, himself included.

“And if I do? He’d come after me. Might even chase you to the ends of the galaxy.”

The dancer pouts. “I… I-I’ll help you. Or, when you take me back home, I’ll make sure you’re properly compensated.”

“Home?” He thought someone like her was out of place here. “And where is home?”

She straightens her posture. “...I will tell you if you agree to this.”

“Now’s not the time to be keeping secrets.”

“If you knew my secrets, then you’d know why I keep them.”

He stares at her, scrutinizes every bit of her. How confusing this dancer is… She carries herself with a certain grace that only performers of her caliber are capable of. Her manner of speaking is eloquent. Yet, there is a certain spark in her eyes that wouldn’t be found on anyone else on this planet, not after its corruption takes hold. Beneath the humble clothes, behind the extensive makeup and costumes, there is someone who clearly needs his help.

“...I don’t know,” he says with a sigh. “I can’t make any guarantees.”

“In that case, I’ll sweeten the deal.” She smiles with confidence. “Let me help you on this job that Kaslur has for you.”

“And how would you help?” She doesn’t look like a fighter, but this girl is full of surprises.

“First of all, you’re new to this planet, aren’t you? Tebin Ramm operates a certain way and I can help you navigate through the channels. Second of all.” She glances around. “You need a place to stay the night where you can actually get some sleep, right? Unfortunately, most of these hotels charge by the hour if you understand my meaning.” He nods. “I have a flat above the theater. It’s… cozy. And since it’s my place, it’s technically protected.”

Din holds up his hand. “Won’t Kaslur object?”

“What he doesn’t know won’t hurt him.” She reaches into a pocket and pulls out something small, popping off the cap and twisting the bottom. Before he asks what it is, she presses the red wax to her lips and applies it, bringing out the color of her skin. Then, she rubs some of it on her fingers. “Give me your arm.”

“W-Why?”

“You just walked into a working hotel. It’d be strange if you didn’t come out with marks.” She holds out her hand. “C’mon, it washes off easy with just some water and it’ll cover our tracks.” Mostly hers, he’s guessing. With a sigh, he gives her his arm. The dancer smudges the cosmetic onto his beskar then makes another smear on his chest. “And now…” She steps forward. “For the final touches.” She closes her eyes and plants a quick kiss on his chest armor, leaving a red mark. Din is about to stumble back, but she leans up on the tips of her toes and catches him, kissing the bottom of his visor.

“H-Hey!” He lifts a hand to wipe it off, but she shouts.

“Don’t! Not until you get to my place.”

Din groans, his hand finding it hard to leave all those marks in place. “I look ridiculous.”

“So does everyone else on this forsaken planet.” She glances back at a clock on the stand. “We’re almost out of time. You leave first. Tell no one I was here. When Kaslur’s men have ditched the front door, just enter the theater and I’ll take you to my place.” With that, she pulls the hood of her cloak over her head. “I’ll go now. You wait ten minutes, then go back to the theater.”

“...Fine.”

Din can’t remember the last time someone got that close to him and lived. The last — and only — person to touch his face was Grogu. Each time he thinks of his companion, his heart yearns. Though, he is thankful that Grogu does not have to see any of this planet. As he walks back to the theater, escorts and bystanders call out the marks, flushing red to his cheeks. This better work as an alibi.

He returns to the theater, finding that it has emptied itself of gangsters for the time being. Workers wipe down the tables and stage and when the last of them has gone, the dancer reappears. She takes him around the back and up the stairs into a loft that overlooks the entire red-light district. It’s a humble apartment, but it is kept tidy and clean. “Are you hungry?” she asks, putting her cloak on a coat rack.

“I am. But I cannot eat with you.”

“I know.” She points to a covered plate on the counter. “I warmed up some soup for you. I’m going to change, so I’ll close the door. Knock when it’s okay to come out?”

This girl… she has everything so perfectly planned out. From the meeting, to taking him in, right down to his food. Din stares at her for a moment. Who is this woman? And what is she doing in a shithole like this?

“...Sure,” he replies. He watches her go into the bedroom and waits a few seconds to confirm that she is gone before walking over to the covered plate. Sitting at the counter, he hesitates, but he takes off his helmet finally and sets it next to him. Steam touches his face from the noodle soup, its salty scent wetting his tongue. He isn’t polite about practically inhaling it, shoving large wads of noodle and beef into his mouth and swallowing the broth. Din eats fast, as usual. When he finishes and cleans his face, he puts his helmet back on and puts the dishes in the sink, noting its cleanliness as well. He wanders to the room and knocks.

“Come in!”

Come in? That throws him off. He opens the door and walks in. There is a single, rickety bed inside the room along with at least two different dressers. Various dancing costumes hang about with special accessories. Her room is a flourish of color that distracts him momentarily from the sight. She reaches for the top of one of her dressers to place a jewelry box back in place, her short robe showing off those shapely legs that he spotted earlier. When Din catches himself staring, he mentally berates himself and looks away. “How was dinner?” she asks, turning back around.

“D-Delicious. Thank you.”

She nods, her hands resting on her hips. “Alright, well, I know this is kind of a mess.” She laughs, looking around her room. “But, I made the bed for you. Talk to you tomorrow.” Just before she can leave, Din holds out his arm, blocking her from the door.

“I’m sleeping in here?”

“Yes, but don’t worry, I have a couch.” She tries to go; he stops her again, this time by holding her arm. The dancer tenses.

“You’re going through an awful lot of trouble for me.”

She lifts her chin. “Because I hope that you’ll do the same for me.” Kidnap me. “It’ll be dawn soon, Mandalorian. Please, get some rest. The sooner we find Kaslur’s man, the sooner we can both get off this awful planet.”

“I haven’t entirely agreed to take you.”

She grins. “Then I have a whole day to convince you.” She lifts her hand, thumb swiping some lipstick off his helmet. Shit, he forgot that was there. “Red’s a good color on you.” He lets her go immediately and she leaves the bedroom all to him. Now, Din is alone with her bed and her army of costumes surrounding him. As he removes his armor to clean off the makeup, he takes in the sight of every piece. Some outfits are… more revealing than others. He recognizes the one she wore earlier and then his eyes wander to some of the accessories: fans, feathers, all sorts of fun things. Din wonders how she uses them.

Just before he settles into bed, he has half a mind to look around. This woman is more than dancer, that much he can surmise, but to what extent? He’s curious, but he knows better than to violate her privacy, especially when she has been so considerate of his. When he settles into bed, her scent assaults him: clean and flowery. It oddly calms him and lulls him to sleep fast.

“So, who is the unlucky fellow?” she asks, sitting at the counter and eating a piece of bread. Din remains standing and slides the puck towards her, turning it on. Her brows lift in recognition of the Weequay. “Huh, that’s Mazarg Eq.”

“You know him?”

“Used to be an enforcer for Kaslur a few years back. Last I heard, Kaslur caught him in one of the spice dens, getting high on the boss’s supply. He’s not dead? That’s… lucky?”

“Kaslur mentioned something about him having a necklace.”

“A necklace?” She strokes her chin. “Don’t know anything about that. But, if I were Eq, I’d likely still be hooked on spice. Unfortunately. But I can’t get high at any of the dens that are supplied by Kaslur. So… I’d have to go to a rival’s supplied den. You know, for sanctuary.” Din slowly turns his head so the T of his visor faces her directly, as if asking how in the hell she ascertained that. The dancer shrugs. “That’s just the way things are around here.”

“...It would make sense. Also, if that’s true, then that’s the reason why Kaslur can’t send any of his own men. He’d start a turf war.” Din stands up, swiping the puck off the table and sliding it into his belt. “Would you know where these rival dens are?”

“I would.” She stands too, grabbing her cloak. “It’s not gonna be pretty.”

Once again, she is correct. Din’s throat tightens as she leads him through the district. Nearly everyone he sees is either stumbling, passed out, or expelling some body fluid in some way right in the street. No one seems to care. But, when he comes in, shiny expensive beskar on his chest, the junkies take notice. They lick their chapped lips, gaze with blood-shot eyes and fantasize about how much spice they can get with just a scrap of his armor.

Din is ready for someone to try to take it, but he hopes his imposing walk will hold them off.

He glances towards the dancer, her hood up as she stays close to him. “You being spotted here won’t be a problem, will it?” he asks.

“Technically, no. I’m not affiliated with anyone. That being said…” She scans the area. “I’d rather Kaslur not find out I was here.” She taps his shoulder. “In here.” He follows her into an alleyway with a single door, a faded neon sign blinking on and off above it. As soon as the door slides open, the foul stench of spice assaults his senses, even behind his helmet.

Smoke fills the den and makes it so hard to see that Din adjusts his visor to seek out heat instead. He sees red and orange shapes lounging on couches, taking long drags from pipes, and draping on other people. He prays that Eq is here, because he doesn’t want to comb through another one of these.

A Twi’lek man approaches them. “You gotta pay up before you take a seat.”

“We’re not here for spice,” she says. “We’re looking for Mazarg Eq.”

The Twi’lek flashes a look at the Mandalorian then back at the dancer. “And who is looking for him?”

“A friend,” she responds. She tilts her head up, giving the Twi’lek a glimpse of her face. “I know how this works.” She folds her hands together in front of her. “We need an address. How much?”

He grins. “...How about some of that beskar?”

Din leers at him. “Try again.”

She steps forward. “You deal with me, not the Mandalorian.”

“I don’t know what you can offer me, sweetheart.”

The dancer closes the gap between them, leaning in. “Tell you what.” She holds him close. “If you stop by…” She whispers, giggling and drawing shapes on his chest. The Twi’lek’s eyes bulge as she sweet talks him, ending her offer with a kiss on his cheek. She steps back with a polite smile. Without another moment to lose, the Twi’lek blurts out an address that Din commits to memory.

“Thanks… sweetheart.” She blows him a kiss. “Tomorrow right, remember.”

And with that, they leave. Once they’re out of the den, Din turns to her. “What did you offer that man?”

“You don’t want to know.”

“...You’re not seriously going to do it.”

She laughs. “We’ll be on a Razor Crest tomorrow night already in Hyperspace. C’mon, let’s go find our guy!”

One of the benefits of his helmet is being able to scope and scan any person of his choosing with discretion. Din sneaks in a few glances at the dancer as she walks with her hands behind her back. She hums, reminding him of the powerful vocals she displayed the other night. She is remarkably odd in a place like this. She is so… normal. Her demeanor, her manner of speaking doesn’t fit in with the rest of the people on Tebin Ramm.

Din wants to ask about her, but he isn’t curious enough to actually open his mouth. In fact, he knows it’s for the better. He’ll get her off this planet and drop her somewhere and that will be the end of that. Everyone that entered his late Razor Crest had their own stories — some he knew, some he didn’t, but most of the time, he didn’t care what they were. The dancer will simply be the girl that helped him get his ship.

Daylight does not last long on Tebin Ramm and the veil of space is nearly done creeping over their heads. Not that anyone can see any of the stars through the pollution. They wander further from the city’s center, finding crumbling buildings and tiny shacks for housing. The air is deathly still, but the stench of bodily fluids and trash wrinkle their noses. She pulls the collar of her cloak up to cover up her lower face.

“Stay close,” Din says, his hand hovering over his blaster, ready to draw.

“You don’t have to tell me twice.” She walks closer, their shoulders brushing against each other. They close in on the address given to them, standing before a tall building with cracks along its walls and broken signage. “He must be squatting here.”

“C’mon.” This shouldn’t be hard. When he first began bounty hunting, Din felt pity for the easy targets. That changed when every target became easy. They entered and went up the stairs, passing by bodies (asleep or dead?) sprawled on the floors and against the walls. He feels her hand cling to his cape. Din doesn’t wait anymore and he draws his blaster as they creep towards the marked door. “Stay here,” he says to her at the end of the hall. She nods.

The Mandalorian takes a few hunkering footsteps towards the door. Before he knocks, he gives it a nudge to see if it’s open. It is. He inhales fast and kicks it open, brandishing his blaster. On the floor, a Weequay yelps in surprise and stares at the tall mass of silver beskar in front of him. He scrambles backwards until he hits the wall. “Mazarg Eq?”

“Wh-who’s askin’?” The Mandalorian says nothing. Instead, he pulls out the puck and clicks the button, showing Eq’s face. “Aw shit… who hired you?” he asks between hyperventilating breaths.

“None of your concern.”

“It was that fucking prick Kaslur, wasn’t it?” he asks, voice panicked. “Shit, sending a fucking Mandalorian after me.”

Din continues, voice cool and collected. “You’ve got a necklace. Or did you hock that for spice?”

Eq laughs, body trembling. “Oh, that’s what you’re after! Look, if I hand it over, will you leave me alone?”

Din’s pulled this trick before. “Where is it?” Eq wobbles as he crawls a few feet away to where Din sees a crowbar. He’s ready for Eq to swing it at him, but to his surprise, the Weequay uses it on the floor instead, prying open the floorboards. Inside a secret compartment are a few credit chits, a handful of spice bags, and a black box. Eq crawls back to the Mandalorian, presenting the box to him. “Take it. If it gets Kaslur off my back, just take it!”

He holsters the blaster, giving the Weequay a false sense of security. Din takes the box and opens it. His brows furrow at the contents. It doesn’t look like a necklace, it looks like a small, metal collar with a small crystal charm. Kaslur described it as having the finest jewels… was that a lie? He goes to the door-frame and beckons the dancer over. “Necklace.”

She takes the box and looks down, peering at it. “Really? This? But it’s so… simple…” Shrugging, she closes the box. “Get Eq. We’re almost done. You go to Kaslur, I go home and grab my things.”

“You think it’ll be that easy?”

“Been thinking about it the entire way.” She smiles and steps back. “Do your thing.” Once she is a safe enough distance away, Din looks back inside.

“So… is that it? You said you’d leave me alone, right?”

The Mandalorian stalks forward. “Never did.”

Din drags Eq’s unconscious body through the halls and down the stairs. Kaslur would give him more credits if he brought him in alive, and fuel isn’t any cheaper these days. The dancer carries the black box for him for now, but something in his gut tells him that there is more to that “necklace.” He can’t worry now.

Soon, he tells himself. Soon, a new Razor Crest. Soon, off this awful planet.

The dancer opens the door to the outside and freezes. She gasps, finding a crescent of mobsters surrounding the exit. Din keeps a calm head, already running his eyes over their blasters and conjuring strategies if they cannot talk their way out of this. But then he sees Kaslur there in the center, tall and wide. He claps slowly, an unfriendly grin on his face. “Well done, Mandalorian. Well done. Though, you can’t take all the credit for this job, can you?” His eyes gloss over to the dancer’s, an uneasy stillness within them. All Kaslur has to do is gesture with his head and two mobsters dart forward. One yanks the black box away from her while the other grabs her arm.

“Hey!”

“Stop!” says Din. “Don’t punish her. I’m the one that needed her help.”

“Punish? My precious doll?” The mobster drags her over to Kaslur. “She helped you. Which meant she helped me.” He turns to her, stroking her cheek. “And I know the perfect reward. Mando, hand over Eq.” The Mandalorian hesitates, eyes flicking towards her. She nods. He steps forward and shoves the Weequay forward who barely registers what is going on. Another two thugs hold him up by his arms while Kaslur opens the black box. “Don’t you love it?” he says, presenting it to her.

She bites her bottom lip. “It… is very lovely.”

“I know it’s simple. But I went through a lot of trouble to acquire this for you, darling. You want to see what it does?” She remains silent, eyes flashing to the Mandalorian. Kaslur takes the choker and walks up to the moaning, half-awake Eq and clips it around his neck. “Hm. It doesn’t look as great on him as it will on you, my dearest. But you see, this collar is made of kyber crystal.” Her eyes widen and her skin pales. Kyber? Din thinks. “And I have its sister right here.” Kaslur presents a small bracelet around his fat wrist. “And with a touch of a button… it can do this.” He presses it.

It happens in the matter of seconds. Eq’s head falls clean off and topples to the ground as the inside of the choker fills with a hazy white light. It too falls to the ground, having cleanly sliced the flesh it wrapped around. She lets out a horrified shriek and Din knows that he cannot let this go on a second longer. He brandishes his blaster but gets more than a few barrels pointing at him. As if that would stop him.

“I’m sorry, darling,” says Kaslur. “I didn’t mean to frighten you. But we could have prevented this.” He holds her head, not caring that she is the one having panicking breaths now. “I’m tired of waiting. You’re coming with me.” She shakes her head with a whimper that he shushes. “Don’t worry, love. I won’t press the button if you do as I say.”

“Not happening,” says Din behind gritted teeth. “Step away.”

Kaslur lifts his head. “Look around you, Mando. It’s five against one.”

“I like those odds.”

He laughs. “Of course you would, you fucking Mandalorian.” Kaslur stands up straight, his hand falling on her shoulder. “’Course if you did, then there’s no way you’re leaving here alive, much less on a Razor Crest. That was the deal, wasn’t it?” He snaps his fingers and a gangster brings him a comm device. With a few button clicks, it displays a hologram of a Razor Crest. “Walk away now and I transfer all ownership of this ship to you. My men will let you ride off into Hyperspace.”

Din freezes. The Razor Crest was the only reason he came to this planet in the first place. He needs it. It’s right there in front of him; the hard work is done already. But then his brown eyes flash back towards her.

She breaks the uncomfortable silence. “Just go, Mando,” she tells him. “Go. Take it.”

“I-I…”

“Go.” She forces a smile, tears welling in her eyes. “One of us should get off this awful planet.” And just like that, Din watches the tears streak down her cheek as she gives up her dream. His hand shakes as he lowers his blaster as the weight sits uncomfortably on his chest and shoulders. Someone walks over to grab the choker off the ground, placing it back in the box.

“I’ll get that nice and cleaned up for you,” says Kaslur. He presses a few buttons more before the hologram disappears. “Alright, she’s all yours. Congratulations.”

Din wants to punch him right in the teeth. He stands still as a statue as the mobsters move out, dragging along the dancer. She does not resist, she doesn’t even falter in that smile. One of us should get off this awful planet.

Most bounties leave a somewhat bitter taste in his mouth, but only one made him feel vile and wretched. Now, that number is two.

Din starts in the direction of where he can pick up the Razor Crest. Kaslur’s men greet him with ease and show it to him. They go over the details, but honestly, Din cannot concentrate on them. With every explanation, every demonstration, he sees her face. He sees her smile as the tears stain her cheeks. He hears the horrified scream she let out when they saw the collar.

And he imagines it on her neck. Always present, always a threat. He imagines a broken smile on her lips as she does everything Kaslur asks of her, too afraid to refuse.

The men leave him alone in the Razor Crest. He sits in the pilot’s seat and thanks to muscle memory is able to power it on and go through the motions. Good, he succeeded, he has a home for the time being. Yet, any thought of celebration is rebuked with disgust.

And her smile.

He knows what he has to do.

Never before had a choker had a more apt name. The dancer sits at the end of the fancy table in Kaslur’s dining room in his penthouse overlooking the city. Across from her, he tears at his food, getting juices stained on his chin and shirt. Her body trembles and she stares at her untouched plate. The thought of swallowing against the choker vanishes her appetite. “I’ve already sent for your things,” he tells her, startling her. “No more dancing for ungrateful twigs.”

She keeps her hands on her lap. “Am I… never to dance again?”

Kaslur laughs. “No, my dear. You will simply dance for me. And only for me.” His voice lowers to a certain register that makes her skin crawl. “And this time, darling, everything is going to come off.”

“E...Everything?”

Kaslur wipes his lips with a napkin. “Come, I’ll show you your room.”

With wobbling knees, she stands and follows him. Kaslur takes her hand and leads her through the large space of his penthouse, opening the door to an ornate bedroom. The windows are ceiling to floor and the bed is large with plush pillows and a canopy. He shoves her inside and closes the door.

Oh no.

“I’ve been dreaming about this day for years,” he starts. “The day I finally claim you… how should I do it? Should I make you dance for me? Or sing? How you seduced me every night with your voice, your body…” He creeps closer to her as she steps back. “I don’t know where you come from, my love, but I know a one-of-a-kind woman, especially on this shithole of a planet.”

She gulps. She feels the choker around her.

“Haha… I digress. So I was thinking, how do I want this night to go? Then, I realized… it doesn’t matter.” He laughs. “You’ll do every single one. Tomorrow, you’ll dance. The day after, you’ll sing. On day three, I want you crawling to me, offering your body.” Kaslur shoves her onto the bed. She tries leaving, but he rests a knee on her legs. “For every fucking year you made me wait for this, you’re gonna do everything I want, understand?”

“P-Please—”

Kaslur grabs the fabric of her dress and tears it off with a loud rip, making her scream. “And don’t give me that look! You’re gonna enjoy every second of it.” He seizes her breast, twisting the flesh and making her whimper in pain. “If you don’t, if you’re not enjoying it, there’ll be consequences.” He groans. “Fuck, your body is so beautiful.”

She shuts her eyes. She wills time to turn faster. How foolish she was to think that she could escape this place, escape him. More tears well up in the corner of her eyes, but she is afraid of crying. His hand curls around her neck as he tears away more of the fabric. She thought she heard the sound of a door sliding open, but Kaslur does nothing about it. He forces his hand between her legs and she is about to cry out.

Something knocks Kaslur to the side. In a flash of activity, she sees a blur of silver and sees Kaslur tumble to the floor. A blade of pure black light materializes and stabs right through Kaslur, choking him and expiring his life. The dancer sits up, her eyes taking in the sight of the Mandalorian sheathing his weapon and standing over him. He turns his visor towards her before quickly looking away from her state of undress. “I-I’m sorry. I wasn’t here in time.”

It takes her a second to process what has happened. When she realizes that she was rescued, that she didn’t have to endure what she braced herself for, she chokes out a sob. She lunges forward and hugs the Mandalorian despite her nakedness. He lifts his hands before looking around the room, finding nothing. With a sigh, he takes off his cape and wraps it around her shoulders. “We don’t have a lot of time. We have to go now. I’m sorry.”

“We...We’re going?”

“Yes.” He steps back, away from her. “I’m getting you off this planet.”

“I’m…” Elation fills her expression. “Wait.” She leans down and grabs the bracelet from Kaslur’s wrist. With bated breath, she clicks the other button and just prays in that split second she doesn’t die. Then the collar falls from her neck. The relief almost brings her to tears. With that, she takes the cape and holds it around her torso. Then, she gives one last look at Kaslur's corpse. With a rare scowl, she kicks his head. “Okay, let’s go.” She turns away, her expression softening.

“Do as I say,” he says. “This will be rough.”

“Okay.” She follows him. “Thank you, Mando. Thank you…!”

[sysventing]

Tw sa, toxic relationships, animal death, sh, attempted murder

We had our syscovery in May and I've been frontlocked ever since. It's been 6 months and I've only left front once, for an hour, while I slept, with 🏀's help. I have no clue if that'll ever happen again and I'm so exhausted.

When we had our syscovery, I was 3 years into a relationship with an extremely abusive narcissist who is absolutely unwilling to work on himself. He takes comfort in things getting worse and I had to embrace getting worse in order to survive there. Genuinely.

I would listen to No Children to cope and I wanted to die every single day. I started self harming again and I haven't been able to stop. I moved back in with my parents and thankfully, things have been better, but it's... Still different.

My parents don't really get it. They're trying, but I can't help but wish I could be the little girl I know they wanted.

My cat died in early May, so I had to grapple with this on my own. I've had him since I was like 14 and I genuinely was trying to stay alive so he wouldn't be alone. I ended up stuffing it down since I was trying my best to survive.

I'm genuinely convinced my ex was going to kill me when I escaped. There were signs I don't wanna disclose.

I'm trying to get back to my old life, but so much has changed and I'm exhausted. I am so, so exhausted. Anyone I talk to can see it and I have no friends. Not really. I have no one I can talk to and I can't... Act okay long enough to establish a friendship. No one wants me.

Even my own headmates avoid me because I'm so obviously unstable. I feel so fucking alone and I find myself hoping to go dormant.

To make matters worse, my in system partner has... Sexually assaulted me three times now. I know it's something trauma related, I don't get why he does it but I know he's not *heartless*. I love him. I really do, but I can't take it. I can't take it on top of everything else.

I'm tired and I really want to die.

- 🖤

.

[mybelovedstarlings]

On the recent S-Classes chapter;

I find it really interesting that the manhwa artists skipped Riette's attempt at sexually assaulting Yoojin.

It's not necessarily surprising, considering that there were probably some guidelines the artists had to follow, they probably didn't want to mess up their target audience and all.

And the novel's narrative played it off too, making it seem like a lighthearted game when it clearly WASN'T.

But it shaped my view of Riette's character and the way she was written for the rest of the series. Even hundreds of chapters later, when she seemed to be completely forgiven by everyone in the cast, I still remembered what she'd tried to do to Yoojin.

She didn't succeed, fortunately, but it was still there. It really solidified that Riette was willing to do whatever it took to get what she wanted.

Her abuse of Noah, trying to sa Yoojin, all of that was AWFUL. It's just very frustrating to me that the manhwa (and narrative in general) played it off so lightly.

So what if Riette spent jail time? She hurt people.

And it's completely nonexistent in the manhwa, which changes a lot of things for her character and how people view her.

[curtwilde]

Vivek Agnihotri made terrible joke on rape

For him rape is fine as long as it's not Kashmiri or Bangladeshi Hindu women getting raped because he can't make a sanghi propaganda movie and money out of it.

I hope he chokes and dies.

[traumastories]

TW: CSA, SA, Eating disorder, Knives, Suicide attempts

When I was 19 I was SA'd, not much happened but the remarks about my body and the touches really shook me to the core. I managed to escape because I had a pocket knife that startled the predator. I felt fucking gross and still kind of do even after all these years and because of that I started hating the way I looked and avoiding people and I fell into a deep depression that I never had the proper means to address and developed an eating disorder that 10 years later is still ongoing and shows no signs of improving. I have tried to commit a couple times, almost succeeded once, but nobody even knows about it because I guess it wasn't my time and I was able to play it off as an accident out of shame. It wasn't the only instance of sexual harassment I had to endure, either. It has happened several times and I don't even think I'm good-looking or attractive or whatever. I think I just look like an easy target and it fucks me up real bad. I don't know what to do. I'm almost 30 and I can't see myself in a relationship or even trusting someone enough to try it out. I had to deal with SA as a kid as well, but at the time it was just weird and I didn't think much of it because it wasn't, painful, if that even makes sense. But looking back it left a scar and that's the reason I always got paranoid going out at night alone and started carrying a knife.

This is something nobody knows and I'm not really ready to talk about but I needed to say it somehow because it's always there when someone shows interest in me for whatever reason. Thanks for this blog.

.

[user-needs-new-hyperfixation]

TWs: mention of rape and of conception occurring through rape. Mention of suicide attempt. Yeah...this is a dark post. It's about That Volume of TGCF, that tends to happen.

(This isn't some kind of statement on pregnancies conceived via rape or what the mother should choose in that scenario, or some suggestion that that baby would be healing or a comfort. Obviously, while there are no doubt exceptions, that is very often not the case. And all pregnant people need to have all the options readily and safely available to them. I am just pondering a fictional scenario here.)

So I was reading this great thread, and feeling kinda relieved that I wasn't the only one who felt like the altar stabbing scene was some kind of allegorical gang rape. Not just the cruelty and the violation itself, but something about the way Xie Lian acts in the aftermath, numb and lashing out by turns, read very much like scenes of someone processing sexual assault often do.

And then I think of Rouye, whose evolution towards being a spiritual device started during that horror. Who is born of all that agony and rage and pain and defeat, but who is itself innocent and childlike. Is...is Rouye metaphorically Xie Lian's child, conceived in the rape, the birth triggered by the stress of his suicide attempt, who somehow nonetheless becomes a comfort to him?