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this is disgusting
Do people know that rape is illegal? even if it’s a chick who does the rape? it’s a big problem i see on Pinterest. and also sorry- this is very triggering to me because i was raped by a woman and it hurts to see how normalized this shit is, i need comfort and i need this to not be normalized
I'm really getting sick of people acting like women aren't capable of being abusive.
It's a trend, and it's really annoying.
Azula laughing as her brother is mutilated.
Stella treating her daughter like a prop to make her abuse victim more miserable.
Chloe abandoning her friend of 10 years because he asked her to stop being a bully.
I agree people have an annoying habit of treating female characters harsher than male characters because of misogynistic BS. But over correcting like this isn't the solution.
a teenager can abuse a child
its not my definition of abuse that is 'loose'. you're telling me she didnt hurt me. you're telling me, who she hurt, that I'm wrong.
that her hitting me. banging on doors. making me upset and unsafe in my own home. isn't abuse.
it was abuse.
you just don't want to admit it, because then it's your fault.
why didn't you stop her? why didn't you stop her the first time i barricaded a door with my body and she forced it open? why didn't you stop her the first time she yelled at me for no reason? the first time she insulted me? the first time she kicked me out of my own room? why didn't you stop her?
you can't. understand. what she did to me. you can't. why not? why can't you listen to what I'm saying?
you put me in a bedroom with her. then i chose to sleep on the couch instead. for years.
now you wonder why i cant stand her? why i hole myself up in what is finally a safe room? why I insult her?
she. hurt. a. child.
she hurt. her little brother.
i was being bullied in elementary. and she looked me dead in the eye and said only she was allowed to bully me. it wasn't funny. it was never funny. why do you think I'm the problem for hitting back when i was a CHILD? i hit like a girl, don't i? i hit like a weak little girl and i can't punch like a man? she hit me. i had my arm raised over my face and she hit it. like she was going for my head.
and you think she doesn't mean the threats she yells now? you don't think she means that she'll "punch me in the fucking face" when i tell her to stop talking to me like that? you don't think I was, and am, being abused by someone who is nine years older than me? who was present when I was born? there's no excuse. when i was ten, she was nineteen. that's too old to be hitting her little brother over spilled milk.
i'm still not safe here. how do you not see that? mom? dad? you're supposed to protect me.
i guess i see why bubba was the only one who did. because you dont fucking believe me. i wish she was the one you kicked out instead of one of the only people who protected me. i wish you wanted to keep me safe. why can't you believe me.
To me this is how it feels to be specifically a victim of a female abuser.
Their fingers never point at her they’ll point at you
They’ll look at you like a monster
“ a women would never do that”
“Women don’t do that”
“ but ur a guy..women can’t abuse men.”
There’s always this underlying of I don’t believe you because of who ur abuser is and it’s not subtle it’s up and front in the way people talk about female abusers.
Even if they do believe you they’ll find a way to sympathize with her. I’ve seen it many times
I dunno
this is what this drawing is about
Eat and Tear
The instinctual urge to eat has always fascinated me. The lengths people will go to avoid the constant ache of starvation; and the greed one must have to over stuff to the point of sickness.
I have always thought of myself as a charitable person; one of my very few good qualities. So when she asked me for a nibble, why would I turn her down? “It's only a small pinch” I said to myself as her warm teeth sank into my skin, piercing it slightly. I winced but watching her slowly suck on the wound more than made up for it.
Her gentle embrace felt stronger than any tiny bite. Her pleading gaze met me again the next day pulling me onto her lap. How could I say no when I had already fallen into her trap ? She consumed my blood again and again. I could feel myself leaving with every single drop she tenderly lapped up.
The very essence of who I was dripping down my chest. I felt the tears welling up in my eyes, chest tightening. I timorously writhed away from her grip and that's when it happened. Her teeth tore through my skin.
She lunged at me, holding me down as she ravenously scarfed down the flesh she ripped away from me. I had never seen such a primal glow flickering through someone's eyes. She drank and drank until her stomach was over full and visibly disfigured. Forcibly pushing me away and telling me to go.
As much as it scared me I wondered more trying to eschew the pain caused from the scratchy, tightly woven gauze mauling through my open wound.
I went back for more. I’m not sure what led me to stop at her door and listen to her doorbell chime. I knew I was wrong yet I happily made this a routine.
Day after day. Month after month. Year after year. Covered in scars, chunks missing and nothing gained. Just for a little attention. That sweet calm after the storm. That piercing glare turned into a quiet soft touch but I knew when her nails dug in it was time to turn off my brain and let whatever happened happen.
Ya know, you never notice when they go too far. Nothing sounds too obscene when you're already naked and cold covered in warm blood albeit being your own.
When I woke up with a limb mangled off I hardly noticed. She was so kind, so soft, so caring. My world was falling around me and yet I was falling deeper into her gaze.
It was only when my second limb vanished from sight in a drunken rage. I woke up. Unbalanced and deranged I stood up vomiting in pain. “How could you do this?” I shrieked, wallowed and ashamed.
I looked up at her tears mixed with thick blood dripping down my face. She smiled at me, ligaments caught in her teeth. She placed a soft hand on my head as she opened her mouth to speak. I caught that soft gaze in her eye again until her meal of me was vomited back up.
All over me.
As she continued to wrench. I hopped on my feet immediately slipping into a pile of what I think was me ?
I crawled to the phone using my remaining shoulders to type. The last number I knew before this all started. The tears of my sister craved heavy in my chest. She begged me to leave.
I finally agreed. She brought me to safety. I finally felt safe. Eventually it was time for me to stand up on my own. I felt so proud, so victorious like I had finally accomplished something.
That's when I felt the burning hot concrete collide with my head. Viscous blood mixed with grey brain matter pooling under my face. I tried to kneel but soon realized I wasn't going anywhere. Using all the strength I flipped on my back pulling at my once perfectly groomed hair now filled with mats beyond repair.
Now grasping I never thought to untie the binds she carefully wove around my thighs. She promised to protect me. How could I be so dumb. I pray to any god that can hear. Repenting for my sin of gluttony that wasn't only my own.
Then I saw someone I pleaded for help thinking this was my chance; my prayers had been answered. Then I felt a nostalgic, almost comforting tear.
One by one the people gawked, insatiably gnawing away. There wasn’t much left of me now, still they ate.
Funny how once the first bite has been taken everyone wants a taste. Cooking into the concrete, I started to rot. The birds pecked away. Then came the bugs as they wriggled inside. At least they kept me company as the people started to hide. By now I was just as morsel yet there I still laid.
Then I saw her again, that same old smile peering just a couple feet away. Seeing her disfigured body stretched out and covered in sores. I felt so much remorse. I went back. I did this to her. I tried to speak but nothing came out.
Then she walked away.
She had been watching this whole time watching me wither away. I tried to feel angry but there was nothing left.
My body, the one thing I own entirely, has been consumed away. I am now a shred of who I was and what I was meant to be.
It’s not just men; fans do it for horrifically abusive women, too, like Stella from Helluva Boss. So, fans are “equal-opportunity assholes.”
Well, that's a whole separate discussion.
And it's not recent. The idea that women can't be abusive has been around for decades.
Id say women are pedophiles just as much as men but violate their sons and daughters in a way which leaves them psychologically damaged but with no physical evidence of the occurrence, they are pressured into trauma bonding and white knighting their m*thers
lmao i fucking love today.
i found out my abuser is a bandcamp girlie with 1 song that is HOT. ASS. and who posts into the void on threads
no literally their posts get ZERO ENGAGEMENT
i’m so glad i didnt kill myself 🤪😂
