“what if the incest is a metaphor for-” what if the incest is incest? is that really so hard to grasp? that what’s being shown to you is a depiction of one of the most common forms of abuse in the world? you can’t stomach it so you have to cover it up with layers of analysis? i think you’re weak.
incest and enmeshment victims/survivors are treated as such complete laughingstocks nobody takes you seriously or even considers your trauma as *trauma*
Incestgem is a silly term survivors of incestuous abuse coined to describe media that portrays incest in a realistic way, without romanticization. Incestslop is the opposite
How do I submit a potential incestgem?
Send an ask with the name of a piece of media that contains incest, and I’ll create a poll
Is this a fetish?
Nope! A lot of abuse victims become preoccupied with the subject of their abuse, as a symptom of their trauma. I’m one of these people. I think incest is very complex and interesting. It bothers me that it isn’t talked about or portrayed in media in a way that explores that complexity, because incest itself (even if not romanticized) gets a constant disgust reaction from wider audiences
Something that’s important to me is actually exploring a piece of media and not just going with the crowd. A lot of things involving incest can get boiled down to “that thing about incest” or accused of romanticizing it when it isn’t. So if you haven’t consumed a piece of media in these polls, I encourage you to do so and think for yourself
Summary: You're a biology major out on a campout doing some extra research when you discover a circle of downed trees and make the choice to investigate the area further. However, while you're there you see something you could never have imagined when a man's hand shoots straight out of the ground - just like something out of a zombie movie a man crawls out of his grave and walks away. When the urge to follow becomes too much you will soon have your life flipped upside down.
Characters: Dean Winchester, Sam Winchester, Bobby Singer, Castiel, you, and pretty much any SPN character from season 4 on. . .
Warnings: anything that happened in the show will be mentioned or detailed in this series - and then some - including but not limited to: death, hospitalizations, injuries, pain, angst, fluff, smut, bad language, consumption of alcohol. There will be more warnings as chapters are posted I am sure.
Chapter Warning: We take a small detour down memory lane in After School Special mentions of suicide, and Dean making stupid remarks about Cheerleaders (as seen in the show). A brief explanation of reader's past with her family TW: attempted rape, child abuse/ neglect, and then we venture into Sex and Violence - reader goes undercover as a dancer to try and solve the case.
Word Count: 4,990
A/N: Cover image was created by me with a mix of my own photos and some from imdb.
A/N 2: Honestly most of this chapter came at the skilled hands of @deans-baby-momma my amazing Alpha for this fic!!! I was stuck and she asked if she could put something together for me. I truly only wrote about a quarter of this chapter on my own.
Dean admitted to Sam and I that he needed to save people in order to atone for all the torture he doled out in hell and that was why we’d been hunting non-stop for a month.
It was really hard for me to just listen and not try to argue with him but if there was one thing I knew about Dean it was that he wasn’t going to hear what I was saying if I tried to argue that he wasn’t bad or evil so I just listened. I was pretty proud of Sammy for not arguing too much either.
So, we continued through December with some major weirdness – a week of magicians in Sioux City Iowa, followed up by a trip down memory lane at one of the boys’ high schools.
I was unprepared for the feelings it would bring on and the knowledge I’d gain of my soulmate’s family dynamic and past. Dean had told me a few things about his father but I never truly understood how often he and Sam were left to fend for themselves.
As we approached the school for our first day I shuddered, “Eew this brings back memories.”
“What?” Dean asked.
“Yeah, school sucked,” I mumbled.
“You thought school sucked?” he asked, “I would have thought you loved school.”
“Eew no, it was a means to an end. Finish school, get out of town – go somewhere where I wasn’t bullied or anywhere near my family’s gross behavior.”
Dean’s mouth snapped shut – I’d explained in more detail about my situation with my family.
I’d explained to Dean that my mother’s father had groped me and the first time I told her she didn’t believe me. The second and third time I was told to hush, and when he actually tried to get my pants down and I gave him a black eye – rather than kicking him out of our house or calling the police on him, I was shunned and sent to live with my other grandparents for the summer. With explicit orders not to tell them why I’d been sent away.
Dean had done amazing at just listening and not just getting angry – although I could tell by his clinched jaw and fists that he was nearing a fit of rage but trying not to scare or upset me.
Now we were heading to a high school in Fairfax, Indiana; it didn’t look anything like my high school but it was still giving me the heebyie jeebies, and that had nothing to do with the possible demon possession.
A few hours into the day a kid grabbed another boy’s hand and shoved it into the food processor in home economics.
“Remind me not to eat anything these kids are cooking,” I joked. Sam glared at me and Dean snickered but schooled his face quickly at the notice of Sam’s disapproval.
The boys were shocked about the possibility of ghost possession but I told them from what I read it was a rare phenomenon but when it does happen it it because of a very angry spirit.
“Whoever is doing this feels they were horribly wronged and they are trying desperately to seek some type of vengeance or retribution. If we don’t stop this it’s only going to get worse. I know there’s no emf in the building so we may need to take into account the entire school grounds,” I pointed out.
“Ok, well I’m ahead of you on that,” Dean grinned, “But how did you find all that about – the uh ghost possession stuff?” he asked.
“I am the computer science student teacher, that meant I could have access to the internet without anyone thinking it was odd.”
“Oh, makes sense,” Dean pulled out a paper, “Anyhow,” he grinned at Sam, “Three of the cheerleaders are legal. Guess which ones.”
Sam huffed, “No.” and shot me a look.
I rolled my eyes but said nothing.
“As far as I could find there was only one death on campus. It was a suicide back in ’98. Some kid named Barry Cook.”
Sam’s demeanor changed, “I knew him. How did he die?”
“He slit his wrists in the girl’s bathroom,” Dean answered.
I patted Sam’s arm, hoping to comfort him a bit; Dean shot me a strange look but Sam started to say something.
“That's where –"
Dean cut him off, “Right where the chick got swirleyed to death, exactly. So, what? This ghost is possessing nerds?”
“And using them to go after bullies, yeah.”
In the end we figured out it was another kid named Dirk and not Barry who was haunting the school.
“So, let me get this right,” I rubbed at my temples for a moment, “You ended up beating up Dirk and he took you for the school bully after that. Dirk was already messed up and needing help with his trauma but because it was the 90s nobody helped the kid?”
Sam shrugged as though I was scolding him.
“Sammy you couldn’t have known what pushed Dirk to be that way, and you and Dean are heros but you boys probably wouldn’t have saved Barry. He had too many other people making him feel bad – at least for a month he had a friend who defended him and it’s not your fault that your dad dragged you two off to another town.”
“See, Sammy,” Dean began.
“And you,” I pointed at Dean, “You were over there making out with chicks in the janitor’s closet? Really?”
“You jealous?” he smirked, “I could take you back and we could go a round or two,” he waggled his eyebrows at me.
“I oughta slap that shit eating grin off your damn pretty face,” I sighed and Sam laughed.
When he finally finished laughing, he looked at me, “Thanks for that. I needed a good laugh after this.”
In Bedford, Iowa a man had killed his wife after coming home from work and once again, the Winchesters and I are trying to figure out why.
Sam and Dean have some internal issues going on between them but have agreed to put it to the side to work the case. I am not privy to whatever was going on so I put all my energy into getting information.
I sit in front of the suspect, Mr. Benson, silently studying the dude that beat his wife with a meat tenderizer, as he answers our questions. Dean had just dropped the bomb that we uncovered that he'd spent $9,000 at a strip club.
“We just wanna know the truth, Mr. Benson,” Sam says.
“Her name was Jasmine.”
“She was a stripper?” Sam probes.
“Dude, her name was Jasmine-” Dean snarks as I mumbled “Duh!” earning a stern look from the younger brother and a smirk from my soulmate.
“And your wife found out?” Sam continues his inquiry.
“No, she never had a clue.”
“Then why'd you kill her?” Sam asks and I'm curious myself.
“For Jasmine. She said we would be together forever. If...if only Vicki was…”
Dean mutters “Muerte” under his breath but we all hear him.
Benson continues, “Afterwards, me and Jasmine were supposed to meet and she never showed. I don't know where she lives, I don't know her last name, I don't even know her real first name! I'm an idiot.”
I start to feel sorry for the man. He killed the love of his life for a stranger!
“And you didn't think to tell this to the cops?” Sam looks at the man incredulously.
“What for?” Benson defends. “The stripper didn't do it, I did it. And I know what I deserve. The judge doesn't give me the death sentence, I'll just do it myself.”
As we walk out of the interrogation room, I feel Dean's hand on the small of my back. I glance over my shoulder and he smiles then winks.
It is determined that Dean and I will stay back and interrogate the other two suspects while Sam goes to the morgue and speaks to the medical examiner.
I listen to these men describe how they murdered their loved ones and emptied their lifetime savings for strippers. I am becoming disgusted with the male specimen of the human race!
On the ride to the hospital, Dean is quiet and I just sit in the passenger seat and stew in my antipathy.
We quickly find the coroner's office and walk in to see a pretty brunette lady sitting behind a desk with Sam in a chair across from her.
Of course Dean turns the charm on thick but the doctor, Dr. Roberts, deflects. She turns back to Sam and continues to answer his questions.
“So, um, can I help you with anything else?”
I have to hold in my giggle as Dean looks totally offended that she didn't swoon at his flirtation. Sure, he’s my soulmate and we are destined to be together but I've come to learn in the time I've been hunting with the boys that Dean is a flirt and as long as it doesn't go further than that then I'm okay.
Sam looks at his notepad. “Uhh, sure, just one more thing. This chemical, this…”
“Oxytocin,” she provides.
Upon hearing that word I grab the files that sit in front of Sam and skim them, the doc shoots me a look but says nothing.
“Oxytocin. What would cause those high levels that you found?”
“Nothing that I've ever seen,” she answers, looking between the three of us.
“OK. That's it. Thanks Doc.”
We exits her office and Dean whisper-yells at Sam
“Dude, you totally C-blocked me!”
I scoff and Sam looks at me. “Dude!” he says to Dean, motioning toward me with his eyes and walking away.
Dean watches his brother and then looks at me. His cheeks blush and he runs a hand over the back of his neck. “Oops?”
I roll my eyes and turn to follow Sam out of the building.
“The doc is right about those levels - I’m not an expert in that area obviously but something isn’t adding up here,” I state as we return to the car. “From what I know it’s not possible for the human body to make that high of a level of oxytocin.”
In the motel room, Sam is at the table with his laptop open, trying to find any more information about what would cause the things going on, Dean is lounging on one of the beds scrolling his phone and I'm trying to talk myself out of the idea that just popped into my head.
‘There's no way I could pull this off,’ I think to myself. ‘I wouldn't even know how to do it.’
But the more I deny it, the more my brain is saying ‘Do it. It’ll help Dean.’ So I grab my bag and tell the guys I'm going to the library up the street.
The inside of The Honey Wagon is not anything like I was expecting. In the daytime, it just looks like any normal bar. The place is lit by ambient bulbs hanging from the tiled ceiling, the tables are situated neatly across the floor with chairs positioned around them, the stage in the center of the left wall extends a quarter of the way into the room and the bar looks like a normal bar with a wall of liquor and spirits shelved behind it. The only difference is the shiny silver pole standing in the center of the stage area.
I cringe internally thinking of being up there, on display for a room full of drunk men. ‘I can't do this,’ I internally remind myself and turn to walk out but I'm stopped by a voice.
“You, looking for work?”
I turn to see a middle-aged white man with a bald head looking at me. He doesn't give off a pervy vibe, or even a monstrous one. He just seems like a guy.
“Uh, yea. I guess so,” I tell him.
“You dance?”
“I can.”
“You mind being ogled? Cheered on? Hearing men yelling vulgar obscenities toward ya?”
I lied. The very thought makes me want to puke, or throw a punch. “I grew up with brothers. I've heard shit you wouldn't believe.”
The man laughs and smiles at me. “You'll fit right in then, darling. But don't worry. Nothing happens that you don't want. I have security in place for my girls. I'm Sal,” he introduces himself with a hand held out.
I shake it and give a fake name. “Selena.”
“Well, Selena. The show doesn't start for a couple hours. How ‘bout I team you up with one of the other girls and she'll give you the lay of the land.”
He turns and calls out, “Belle, this is Selena. Show her around and help her figure out her look.”
Belle smiles at him and then turns to me. “Come on. We'll go in back and find you a costume and I'll do your makeup.”
I take a look in the mirror in awe. Belle has completely transformed the nerdy biology major into someone I did not recognize.
My brown hair that's cut in a pixie is styled in a way I'd never thought of doing. It's actually pretty cute and I think I could recreate it with the correct tools. My face is painted to where it looks like I don't have any makeup on at all except for the smoky eyeshadow and dark eyeliner that extends past my eye into a sharp wing and my lashes are as fake as this whole ordeal.
Belle had told me since I couldn't see very far in front of me without my glasses that I would make a good lusty librarian so she suited me up in a tight A-line skirt and a white blouse buttoned closed. Underneath it is what she said “would get guys wanting to read more”.
The black lace open cup bra holds my boobs up to look at least two cups fuller, the thong is lace but with a piece of fabric on the front to keep it modest and the thigh highs are topped with the same delicate lace. Black heels finish out the look and make my legs look like they go on for miles.
I have never felt sexier in my life!
Belle saddles up behind me and meets my eyes in the mirror. “You're going to drive the men insane. They'll all be vying for a chance to seduce and defile the sweet, reserved librarian. And then when they really see what you got under there…oh boy, you are surely going to make bank tonight!”
She smiles as she wraps her arms around my waist. “I can't wait to watch the carnage.”
“I'm not sure I can do this,” I tell her.
“Sure you can Sugar,” she says with a wink. “Just think of the one you want most and pretend you're dancing just for them.”
My mind immediately goes to Dean and I imagine the look on his face if he could see me. I just hope and pray it would be desire and not mortification.
I glance at my phone hidden in my street clothes and see a bunch of missed calls from both Winchesters and a list of text messages from the oldest. They'll probably get pissed at what I'm doing, but I have to help!
When the other dancers and I exit out into the little area behind the stage to await our turn, I can see through the opening in the curtain.
The bar is dimmed with multi-colored LED neon lights and the place is packed. My anxiety starts to build and I try to breathe through it.
My slot is the third one so I watch as Blaze does her routine and then Darcy, who seems to be a bit raunchier than Blaze and the men are eating it up.
The music dies down and the sounds in the bar floats through the air: glasses clinking, men talking and laughing and the hum of the air conditioner.
“Next up tonight is our newest lusty librarian, Lena,” the announcer says through the speakers. “During the day she can be found amongst stacks of books or behind a desk gazing at the computer screen. But tonight? Tonight she's gonna weave you a story with her body. One I'm sure will interest and entertain. Welcome Lena!”
The first few notes of Britney Spears “I'm A Slave for You” pierce the air and Belle urges me toward the stage.
“Knock ‘em dead!”
As the last notes die out, I hurriedly gather the clothes I had removed and rushed off the stage. I had bills hanging from every inch of fabric that covered my body.
But I felt good. Great, even! I had survived through my first -and hopefully- last striptease. My cheeks were burning with the stretch of my smile.
Belle met me backstage and pulled me to her. “You did it! I knew you could! You looked like a fucking pro out there.”
“Thanks,” I say, gathering the bills into a wad. I was already in my head, thinking about the boys and I not having to hustle pool or con at a card game to afford to eat and stay at a nicer hotel than the ones we usually do.
As soon as I’m dressed, I sneak out the back door and head back to the motel.
Dean's POV
As Sam does his research about what could be going on with this case I decide to pull my phone out and check a few things myself, like the background of this establishment, The Honey Wagon.
Bingo! There is a website and it has photos of some of the entertainment, half-naked girls posed in sultry, seductive positions. Unfortunately there were no names for any of them but I was enjoying the view.
Y/N gets up from her spot on the bed and says she's going to the library down the street.
“Want me to go with you?” I ask, tearing my eyes from my phone to look up at her.
“No, I'm just going to see if I can find anything to help. I have my knife if anyone approaches me.”
That was over an hour ago. Sam and I have both tried calling her and I’ve sent a few texts but realize she's probably turned her phone off since she's in a library.
We head out to the strip club to do a little recon and see if we can at least talk to the three ladies in question.
“I'm looking for three girls. Jasmine, Aurora and Ariel.”
The manager is a balding, older guy who just exudes skeeviness. “You seriously think those names mean anything to me?”
I begin to give the descriptions from our suspects. “One's a redhead about 5'9". The other one's Asian, about…”
The manager cuts me off. “You, have any idea how many girls I deal with? Fake names, fake hair, fake…” he trails off but it's obvious what he is insinuating.
“You gotta have some sort of paperwork. Check stubs. Some way to keep track of the strippers,” I practically beg. I don't need this to be a dead end.
He scoffs at my pleas. “Please, exotic dancers. Independent contractors working for cash. I stay out of their hair, they stay out of what little I have left.”
I cannot believe the nerve of this guy. “Three of your customers murdered their wives. You don't think that that's weird?”
“Yeah. I think that's super-friggin' weird. But you know what it ain't? My problem.”
I'm a hair's breadth away from punching this asshat but he is called to the bar so he turns and leaves. I look over and see Sammy heading back my way.
I glance at the stage and quickly admire the rack on the dancer.
“Any luck?” Sam asks, pulling my attention away from the large breasts.
“No. You?”
“A little. I just talked to Bobby, we officially have a theory.”
“What's that?” My eyes quickly dart back toward the stage to see the large breasted woman - now totally nude. Any other time, I'd be saddling up at the edge of the stage with a stack of bills but right now, I just admire her and turn my attention back to the case.
‘What is wrong with me?!’
“Siren,” Sam answers.
“Like the Greek myth siren, the Odyssey?” Sam gives me a surprised look. “Hey, I read!”
“Yeah, actually. But the siren's not actually a myth-” he explains further. “-it's more of a beautiful creature that preys on men enticing them with their siren song.”
I make a joke about some enticing songs from the 90s but Sam doesn’t seem to get it as he proceeds to explain the lore on sirens.
“Sounds like Adam and his buddies,” I admit
“Yeah.” he agrees. “If you were a siren in '09 looking to ruin a bunch of morons, where would you set up shop?”
“So whatever floats the guy's boat, that's what they look like?”
“Yeah. You see, sirens can read minds. They see what you want most and then they can kinda, like, cloak themselves. You know, like an illusion.”
“So it could all be the same chick? Morphing into, uh, to different dream girls?” I ask, getting miffed that this was turning to a more complex case.
“Yeah, actually. Probably. Sirens are usually pretty solitary.”
I ask about how to kill it and Sam tells me Bobby is working on it as we walk toward the door. The announcer begins introducing another girl on to the stage. “Next up tonight is our newest lusty librarian, Lena. During the day she can be found amongst stacks of books or behind a desk gazing at the computer screen. But tonight? Tonight she's gonna weave you a story with her body. One I'm sure will interest and entertain. Welcome Lena!”
I am tempted to turn and look to see just how lusty the librarian is but my mind goes to Y/N, wondering where she is and why she hasn’t answered my calls or texts.
I drove toward the library only to find it empty except for the clerk, we figured Y/N had already gone back to the room.
But when we get back, Sam and I are both surprised to find the room emptyt. I pull my phone out to text her once again when Sam says he is going to go look for her.
Of course, there is no answer so I end the call and sit down at the table. I'm worried about her. She got dragged into this life -this dangerous, terrible life- because of me.
Y/N was a biology major who got tangled up in the fate of having me as a soulmate. What the hell did she do in a previous life to deserve that?
I'm pulled from my self-deprecation by a phone ringing. I look over to see Sam has left it behind.
The number on the display isn't any I recognize so I ignore it. The device stops ringing and then almost begins ringing again. I reach out to grab it when the motel door opens. It’s Y/N.
“Where the hell’ve you been?”
End Dean’s POV
“Where the hell’ve you been?” Dean demands.
“Uh….” I stammer, trying to remember what I told them. “Library?” I didn't mean it to come out as a question.
“Is the library in a dead zone?” he inquires. “I've called and texted a bunch of times. We went by there and it was empty so I ask again where the hell have you been?”
I open my mouth to answer but he cuts me off.
“What's up with the hair and makeup? You didn't look like that when you left.”
‘Shit!’ I think to myself. ‘Might as well come clean.’
The door opens again and Sam walks in. “She wasn’- oh, there you are,” he smiles. “Um, am I interrupting?”
“Yea. Ms. Biology major-turned hunter-turned my soulmate was just about to tell me where she has been, because it sure as hell wasn't the library!”
I can't help but wince at the anger in his tone.
“I was doing my own research,” I tell them. “I went to the strip club.”
“We just came from there?” Sam says confused. “We didn't see you.”
“I was backstage.”
“What were you- oh, you went undercover?” Sam smirks and shakes his head.
“Undercover?” Dean asks, looking baffled. “As what?”
Sam and I both look at him astonishingly, surprised he hasn't caught on yet.
“As a dancer, Dean-” I answer. “-I thought I could go and get a look from the inside.”
“What! You danced?” A smirk crosses his face.”I didn't know you had it in you.”
I laugh out loud. “Oh believe me, I don't. That was the most excruciating five minutes of my life! Being up there on display….”
“Wait,” Dean says, holding up a hand. There is a look in his eyes that I just can't figure out. “How displayed? How much did you show?”
Sam’s just smirking as he looks between the two of us now.
Ah, jealousy. That's the look!
“Not everything,” I say, consoling him. “Just enough to make this.” I pull the wad of cash from my pocket.
“Do I get to see you dance?” Dean asks as Sam's phone rings, bringing everyone's attention to it.
Sam answers, “Agent Stiles.”
Dean and I watch on as Sam listens to the voice on the other end. “I understand. I'll be right over. Thanks.”
The younger brother ends the call and announces, “There's been another murder.” He looks between Dean and I and, after Dean's request registers, decides to go to the murder scene alone, leaving us alone.
“What was your schtick?” Dean asks. “Your act?”
“Lena, the lusty librarian,” I tell him with a laugh. His eyes widen and his mouth drops open. “What?!”
“As we left there today, I heard your entrance. Damn, I wish we had stayed now.”
“So?” Dean asks as he steps closer. “You gonna dance for me?”
I feel my face flush and shake my head. “You do not need to see that train wreck.”
“Sure I d-” Dean is interrupted this time by my phone.
“Hello? Yeah sure. I guess so. Okay, I'll be there shortly.”
I end the call and tell Dean that I have to go work another shift because one of the girls is a no-show.
“Belle didn't show up so they're down a girl. Maybe you can talk Sam into coming to the club later?”
“Even if he says no, I'll be there,” he says as he kisses me on the cheek. “Be careful.”
“I will!” I say and then head out the door to go back to the club.
No one knows why Belle didn't show up for her shift. She was last seen speaking with a customer and then they both seemed to disappear.
I am on stage dancing with other girls when I see Dean and someone who isn't Sam sitting at the right edge of the stage. He seems to be enjoying a drink with his new friend so I dance closer to that side.
I know I won’t actually hear the conversation over the thump of the music but I am hoping that I can at least figure out who this guy is. It isn't usual for Dean to open up to strangers, especially while on a case.
Dean sees me and his face completely morphs into stunned awe and appreciation but his new friend quickly takes the attention away. I'm a mixture of confidence but confusion.
Confident that Dean had seemed to admire and desire me but confused that he let this newcomer draw him away. I danced seductively and as gracefully as I could back to my spot.
The other dancers and I were on the last few steps of our routine when I saw Dean and the man leave abruptly.
It is almost 2 am before my shift is over and I can get out of the club to head back to the motel.
I was not prepared for what I found when I got there though.
The first thing I notice is the door to our room is laying on the floor in the hallway, splintered from the doorframe, the emergency axe missing from the recess in the wall, drops of blood smeared into the carpet and no sign of either Winchester.
I begin freaking out and grab my phone to call Dean. If he doesn't answer, I'll try Sam but I'm hoping that it doesn't come to that!
By the time the sun was fully awake and warming the air, the siren's body had been disposed of and I was leaning against the Impala between the boys listening to Bobby berate them for not being diligent and checking in to the ‘agent’ who happened to be the siren.
‘Agent Nick Munroe’ had been a siren and had worked his siren song on Sam and Dean, had them fighting for his brotherly devotion before Bobby showed up to save the day.
“You know, those sirens are nasty things. That it got to you, that's no reason to feel bad,” Bobby says before he gets in his car and drives away.
“You gonna say goodbye to Cara?” Dean asks Sam.
“Nah, not interested. I mean, what's the point, ya know?”
“Well, look at you,” Dean exclaims, proud. “Love 'em and leave 'em.”
I turn my head and squint up at Sam. “Middle of Basic Instinct and you bang Sharon Stone? Are you insane?”
Sam scoffs as he looks at you then Dean and sighs. “You two are a match made in Heaven!”
Dean smiles proudly at me, slings his arm around my shoulders, pulling me to him before kissing my temple.
transphobic parents are nearly always incestuous. feeling ownership over the identity and body of their child is by definition emotional/covert incest.
projecting an image of what your child should be and choosing their life for them against their will is incestuous
making unwanted (or even wanted) comments about their primary and secondary characteristics & claiming that they are ruining their body is incestuous
the plight of the transsexual and the incested are link
Term coined by my twitter mutual (not cult leader) ophie. the way *I* would personally define it is recognizing
1. incestuous abuse is a very *Normal* thing that happens much much much more often than you would be led to believe.
2. incest is not *gross*. the repulsed attitude we hold against it does nothing but protect perpetrators and silence/blame victims. incest is a horrifying form of abuse that mentally scars its victims, often permanently; incest is Not a kink or a fetish.
3. incest is never consensual. it always involves one party coercing the other and the erosion of barriers that ought to exist between family members. this is also not always done purposefully.
4. incest is not just rape. emotional and covert incest are also incest and still scar victims.
5. incest is an arm of the patriarchy. it’s not cool, or radical, or queer for fathers to rape their daughters or mothers to treat their sons like their emotionally supportive best friends or parents to groom their children into cousin marriages. incest is a *Very* conservative practice and it often enforces the hierarchy that exists in patriarchal society.
being a transgender victim of incestuous abuse is rather isolating. we’re rarely talked about outside of the occasional transphobic accusation/joke that trans people only exist due to being molested. the mention of the word incest in trans spaces is always erotic siscon roleplay. i don’t think i’ve found any studies or texts that discuss or even vaguely gesture to the existence of our perspective
i will say i am very glad to have found a community, as small as it is, of people with similar experiences. it does soften the blow somewhat
im really curious, why do you view mariko as an incest victim?
mariko’s mom reminds me a lot of my relationship with my own mother (one scene felt like something straight out of junior year of high school) buttttttttt quick few bullet points:
Mariko says that her mom is her only friend
Mariko’s mom very clearly has an unhealthy attachment to her due to her husband leaving
You don’t get BPD at 16 without something wrong happening. (Fun fact! There’s a massive overlap of people with BPD also being incest victims)
