~sexual assault mention

[tw: rape/sexual assault mention]

@ everyone, watch Sweet/Vicious!

what’s it about? it’s a show about a rape victim going all vigilante and fighting rapists. there is absolutely no victim blaming and the show never tries to make you sympathise with the rapists or humanize them. a fair warning: there is a lot of heavy content, so it might not be for you if you’re triggered by sexual assault or violence. there is a lot of comic relief though, like… the picture below? it’s jules and ophelia breaking into a musical with a dead body in their trunk (yeah you read that right)

so…. if you want to watch two girls beat up rapists in between developing friendships/relationships and dealing with their problems it’s definitely a show for you listen look at them they’re all so good

check out [this post] if you’re still not sure if you wanna watch it & watch the trailer:

A Place To Call Home pt 3


Pairing: Dylan O'Brien x Reader

Wordcount: 8,711

Warnings: Language, sexual assault, violence, mentions of blood

A/N: I have to give a huge thank you to the amazingly wonderful @writing-obrien for helping to come up with the idea for this part and for proof reading it for me! This part is very very intense and the content is very mature, it’s not all cute and fluffy like the other parts have been. Anyways, I hope you guys like it, let me know what you think! Enjoy! 

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Lionhearted - Part 2 (nessian fic)

Summary: The day of the wedding, Nesta tries to deal with what she saw Cassian doing at the pub the night before. She also has a special gift for Feyre on her wedding day.

Notes: ok I have a list of people to tag: @arielle-reads @bookswillruletheworld @illyrianwings-nightcourt @christina-dh @illyriancrown @sussurrosliterarios (it won’t let me tag you aghhhh!!!)

This was going to be two parts, but now will be at least 3!

Part one : AO3 for comments : rated M : TW for attempted sexual assault mention


The next morning, Nesta’s alarm went off at a highly inconvenient hour, considering the amount of alcohol she had consumed. There was the hotel bar, and then the restaurant, and then the pub… She moaned into her pillow, the throbbing in her head deep and familiar from her college days. It was nothing she couldn’t work off if she could find a bottle of water and some ibuprofen, but… her nostrils flared, thinking back on what she and Cassian had said and done. Putting that conversation behind her would be a different kind of challenge.

There was no way she could face him today, but she would do it, she had to, for Feyre’s sake. She would be in the same room with him, if not interacting directly, and she would just have to deal with his rejection. Or at least, what she assumed was his rejection, given the woman from the night before. Bile rose up in her throat at the thought of her hands on Cassian in that hallway, and she quickly swallowed it down.

She’d had no reason to believe any differently of him, to have had expectations that he might not be the type of guy to do that. But it still hurt to confirm her initial suspicions.

Heaving herself out of bed, Nesta showered, threw on clothing and grabbed her bridesmaid dress and make-up bag. She needed to get to Feyre’s hotel soon, to help her prepare for her wedding. Maybe later, when it was all done and she could leave, she would come back here and try to work out how she felt about Cassian. For now, though, he was just one more person who could threaten her calm exterior, and so needed to be avoided.

When she arrived at Feyre’s hotel room, it was a din; Mor and Elain were circling Feyre, fussing after her hair, her make-up, her dress, calling out orders to some of the other women in the room. Amren sat back, an amused grin on her face, and… was that a glass of red wine in her hand, at this hour? Nesta blinked. Well, she supposed, it was a celebration, and certainly many of the usual social conventions could be suspended for that. However, she suspected that Amren was not one to be concerned about that type of thing no matter the situation, and her estimation of her sister’s friend went up on principle.

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Roses and Revolutionaries pt. 1

Originally posted by true-lexaddict

(A/N) This is the first part of a story I am working on. In this installment, there is a mention of implied sexual assault and violence. Mentions of blood and critical injury are also present.

Part Two

*The new & improved version, Roses and Revolutionaries: Revamped is here, as promised. 

Even as a human Alec could remember his nocturnal tendencies. He remembered creeping out of the simple home he shared with his mother, father, and sister, and making his way through the small village he grew up in. Not even the venom that had scorched his veins could take away his sense of wonder as he stared into the night sky.

But times had changed, and with the endless waves of technology had come an invention that struck a particular nerve inside of him: streetlamps. With his vampirism, he had the gift of near perfect night vision, and while he understood that the tall metal poles that lined the streets provided the humans with protection, he still found himself annoyed at their hazy glow that obscured his view of the night sky as he walked through the streets of Chicago.

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Prompt: Hey! Could you do 12, 33, and 34 with Sonny Carisi from Law and order svu?

“Don’t come near me or I swear I’ll kill you.”

“You can lie to yourself but don’t lie to me.”

“I wish I couldn’t feel a damn thing.”

Pairing: Sonny Carisi/Reader.

Requested: Yes.

Triggers: Mentioned sexual assault.

“What? You passed?” Y/N exclaimed, smiling at Sonny. “Yeah, I did. I’m your Sarge now.” He smirked, chuckling softly.“Oh, is that so?” Y/N laughed gently, shaking her head softly.“Once a spot opens, that is.” He told her. “You wanna come in for a drink?” Y/N offered, smiling at him.“Eh, sure. Why not.” Y/N stuck her key in the door and pushed it open. Shutting it behind him, Sonny turned on the light, only for them to be met with two unknown men.

Y/N and Sonny both pulled out their guns in a hearbeat.“Guns, on the ground.” One of the men demanded, causing Y/N to glance at her partner. The offenders were wearing vests, and the detectives were not. Swallowing harshly, Y/N nodded.“Come on, Sonny. Let’s listen to them.” They bouth unloaded their guns and kicked them over to the perps.

“So, you guys cops or somethin’?” One of the men asked.“Or something.” Sonny remarked,“I wasn’t talking to you. I was talking to the babe.” THe man snapped.“Detectives. We’re detectives.” Smirking softly, the man walked a bit closer.“So that means you’ve got money. Where?” Y/N glanced over at Carisi.“Don’t look at him, look at me!” He slowly began to approach her.“Don’t come near me or I swear I’ll kill you.” The man chuckled and put his filthy hands on Y/N’s chin, forcing her to look at him. “I love a woman that takes charge.” He growled, sticking his tongue down her throat.“Hey! Stop it!” Sonny yelled at him.

The man pulled away and clocked Sonny in the face with the bottom of his gun. “Come on, doll.” The man grabbed her wrist and pulled her towards the bedroom. The next few minutes were full of Y/N’s cries and screams, while Sonny stood with the other perp, feeling completely powerless.

After a good hour, Y/N and the man walked out of the bathroom. mascara trailed down her cheeks, along with bruises scattering across her soft skin. Her shirt was torn along with her pants. She was shaking as she met her eyes with Carisi’s. “You okay?” He asked her, clearly upset.“Of course she’s fine. Now where’s the cash at?” He demanded. “I told you, I don’t have any.” She growled through gritted teeth.

The lead to a slap across the face. Carisi flinched at the sound. Sirens wailed in the distance. “Our people are here. I’d give you a good 3 minutes to get out of here before they have the place surrounded.” Sonny informed them.

Over an hour had passed and the house was surrounded. “Look, guys. Just let my partner here go.. Okay? All you need is me.” Y/N tried pleading. She slowly began backing up towards the window.“We can be a modern Bonnie and Clyde. On the run from the law. Doesn’t that sound fun, guys?”

Within seconds, snipers had a shot and took both of them out. Y/N slowly sunk to the ground, breathing heavily. Sonny ran over to her, wrapping his arms around her body. “It’s alright, they’re dead now.” He whispered softly.

Over the next few hours, Y/N was hospitalized and had a few tests ran. Knocking on the door, Y/N looked up to be met with Carisi.“You okay, Y/N?” Slowly she nodded. “Yeah. I’m fine.” Sonny looked at her sadly.
“You can lie to yourself but don’t lie to me.” Let out a sad laugh.“Honestly? I wish I couldn’t feel a damn thing.” Tears slowly cascaded down her cheeks, before her body erupted in sobs. All night, Sonny stayed by her side.

My Fear of Men Keeps Me from Trying to Educate Men, but Things are Too Desperate Now

TW: Sexual assault mention

Waking up with a man over you trying to put himself inside you after your first date at 18 and assuming this is what it’s like.

Standing in front of a judge as you file a restraining order at 20, and feeling a new kind of grown up and alone.

Being pushed against a wall by a drunk stranger walking back to your apartment after a police protest, knowing there is no one who will save you if you can’t get away.

That first breath in your apartment when you get home at 2am alone.

Justifying your clothing as you tell your roommate about the man taking pictures up your sundress on a muggy June day.

Keeping quiet or only shouting online—having male family members who love you dress you down when you try to express your frustrations.

Frantically making Planned Parenthood appointments for before the New Year to get the things you might need.


All these moment define me and my body like the dying stars of any galaxy, tiny little points in the maze of my mind, informing my decisions and boiling down to the map that tells me, it is too dangerous to try to express these things to men.

But I stand here in November 2016 with my face of pain but also privilege, with a voice that feels hoarse but teaches children every day, my blood boiling and ready to burst.

And what hurts the deepest is knowing that this pain is felt by so many, such a heavy gravity dragging us down. Some of us can feel buoyant in safe spaces, but what does that mean if not everyone had access to them?

If we need safe spaces because our country, our world is not safe? So we have corners to hide in?


A big fault of mine, I think, is that I’m a better learner and teacher than I am a creator; I feel all this and can see how it unfolds, show you the ways.

I am very effective at language, but not using it to drive anything forward.

That’s not enough anymore.


One thing I know when my body circles back to those safe spaces is I feel loved, but heavy and unproductive. And I think this is the thing—the are so contained. Little loving black holes.

It hurts to try to spread things out. I know. Almost more to be faced with indifference than with vitriol.

Let me list some out for you:

  • Mutual friends telling me there are two sides to every story when I tell them how he laid hands on me
  • Feeling the need to describe exactly what I was wearing to be taken seriously
  • Only being able to squeeze out ‘What if she actually was just upset’ when my old white male professor said that female students use their sexuality to get their way by coming into his office in short skirts and crying
    • How he responded, ‘they probably are,’ and laughing
  • Sitting across you in that courtroom close enough to hear you whisper you like my hair cut and that you thought this was the best date we ever had
  • Men saying they’re indifferent to Trump getting elected, because things are terrible either way

And I run to my safe places, where I’m swaddled like the breakable thing I am. Where I swaddle back.

Not everyone is so lucky.


Coming from a liberal loving family has helped more than I can say, and the privilege of being a cis, highly educated, and white is enormous.

The day of the election I posted a facebook status that asked anyone who was voting Trump to unfriend me. It saw some vitriol from a few white male relatives, but mostly support.

I felt angry but not in danger.

That night Trump became the president elect and so many of our ornamental bubbles broke.

And it became clearer that saying, don’t talk to me if you think this way, might have felt the easiest and safest for me, but it was not for everyone.


I remember two things clearly: the two of you sitting in that courtroom with me, ready to bear witness and our cigarette after, and how months before a man I wish I could have fallen in love with gently asked me if my abuser had ever laid hands on me, after seeing how very angry he could be.

I’m sorry I was under appreciative.

I’m sorry I lied to you.

Thank you for showing me it can be safe,


Right now I want to make my mouth a megaphone.

I want to broadcast everything someone feels and make the work know it’s valid.

I had 8 year olds crying to me and asking if they and their parents would be sent back to Mexico, terrified that the children who were absent were already gone.

I’m going to fight and figure out how I can.


It’s the last part that’s hard.

But here is what I am going to try:

  • Donate when I can donate
  • Protest when I can protest
  • Share when it is time to share
  • Listen when it is time to listen
  • Teach when it is time to teach
    • Even when it hurts.


That last one is going to be so hard. Show me you can listen. Especially if you are a man. I am going to try to do the same.

If I do not try to come from a place from understanding why should I expect you?

Have the strength to try when it is time to try. And understand when it is not that time, and it is not safe.

Stay receptive when those in pain say, this is how you can help me.


Broadcast when it is time to broadcast for others.

It takes a lot of memories to make a galaxy.

It takes a lot of galaxies to make a universe.

I am still who I am today with all my synapses.

Let’s make tomorrow better.

Explosions are painful but the growth they make is so beautiful.

Carmen E. Brady is a writer, artist, and teacher living is Northern California.

i have a couple of very presumptuous messages in my inbox right now that i don’t care to personally respond to, and this is a topic i really do not want to talk about publically at all because it’s vile, so i’m putting it behind a read more,

tw: shmorky, pedophillia mention, sexual assault mention

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Favourite Ace/Aro-friendly TV-Series: Witnesses (Les Témoins)

A French crime series/neo-noir drama. It´s set in a small town in northern France, where dead bodies are being removed from the graveyard and displayed in model homes. When a photo of the former chief of police is found in one of those houses, he is forced to return to his job and investigate the case together with a younger, female colleague.

How ace-friendly is the series?

Completely safe to watch, EVEN IF YOU´RE SEX-REPULSED!
(crimes like sexual assault are mentioned in conversations, though, but since it´s a police-procedural, that´s to be expected)

How aro-friendly is the series?

There are no unnecessary romantic subplots and there´s also no romance between the two main characters. Of course romantic relationships are mentioned in passing, but none of them are a big part of the series.

(Only refers to series 1; series 2 is not out yet)