#tw ipv

[sapphicseymour]

thank you divorce for saving my life and that of my family

[shifuaang]

tw: intimate partner violence, complicated feelings and emotions under the cut

One of my favorite ATLA cosplayers posted a video about NATLA cautioning people not to watch and listed a couple of main reasons to avoid the show, one of them being that Aang chokes Azula during the Crystal Catacombs battle.

Now, I know that Netflix!Aang is not my Aang (see here for how they completely butchered his character in season 1). But I still have a very hard time hearing about and watching any version of my comfort character/my favorite character of all time committing an act of violence that was inflicted on me by my abuser.

Having your main character who is a pacificist choke someone is an absolutely wild choice, regardless of him being in the Avatar State when it happened. Even if this act wasn't completely and utterly antithetical to Aang as a character, I don't know why Netflix would ever choreograph a male protagonist choking a female character given the statistics on IPV and strangulation on top of the fact that Gordon Cormier is a person of color who is already having to navigate weird, racist comments and internet vitriol from people who can't separate the person from their role.

There is a lot of violence in the original series, but it was extremely well-choreographed to toe the line and not dip into controversial territory. And the fact that it was animated allows much more suspension of disbelief in characters being thrown around and falling and getting hit with objects, etc. without getting seriously hurt. The same thing cannot be done in live action without it being altered significantly, and adding more physical violence to the show feels ignorant at best.

I hate everything about NATLA and wish it didn't exist and wish I didn't watch that scene, but I am not trying to be a hater without being informed. Please be warned that the scene is going around social media and is hard to avoid, even if you simply search 'Aang' on TikTok and Instagram.

[garnetmoonwolf]

I hate how men refuse to understand women’s trauma. I made a comment about how painful it was as a woman to watch Daenerys’ character be killed by a man while in an intimate embrace and that be portrayed as sympathetic and tragic for him because every woman I know has experienced some form of intimate partner violence or other gendered violence. I acknowledged in that comment that I know the show made her evil and made him “have to do it” (which was a CHOICE on the writers part not something that was forced on them) but that it’s painful because Daenerys was such a powerful, important character to so many women and to watch her be reduced to a victim of intimate partner violence and for the man who did it to get away with it hits very specific wounds for women. More women than not have been harmed by men in an intimate context and most of them got away with it, most of them blamed the woman and called her crazy. It doesn’t matter that the narrative the show chose to create internally justified it, it’s that intimate partner violence is the ending they chose and justified for a character who represented empowerment for women.

And then a man crawled into my replies as they do and was like “It’s not just women that were upset by it, men were too!” then wrote a whole bunch of bullshit completely missing what I said and going “Yeah, it sucks they didn’t write it better but it was the right ending cause she was a crazy bitch who needed to die”. No, you weren’t upset in the same way and you refuse to fucking get it while talking over women and pretending you do because you just cannot help but dominate and intrude in everything. God, just shut the fuck up and listen. This is just one example, it happens all the time where I explain something and here comes a man in the comments going “Well, actually” and talking down to me while refusing to hear anything I’m saying as if I said nothing at all because my words don’t matter to them. Like I once said wishing rape on bad people is wrong and a bunch of men rushed to defend wishing rape on people all with that same patronizing “You’re just an emotional girl, let me explain it to you as a man with no experience or knowledge” attitude.

[theexodvs]

The protest by women's groups against the rebroadcast of the Lifetime movie "Men Don't Tell" is an old husband's tale. Or, at least, it is as long as MRAs are unable to present a shred of evidence.

First off, the bare claim of it being broadcast only once in any format on any channel ever is blatantly false. It has been rebroadcast a number of times on Lifetime's cable channel. It is true that it was aired exactly once on CBS, and never picked up by any other over-the-air broadcast networks.

What you have to remember, however, is that the movie was made a year after the FCC rescinded its fin-syn rules. In practical terms, the OTA networks (ABC, NBC, CBS) were thereby permitted to produce scripted content in-house after a nearly two-decade ban. There was a mix of in-house and syndicated content in the early years as the networks got back into the swing of things. Some outside content was inevitably going to get dropped. It just so happens that "Men Don't Tell" got lost in the shuffle. Keep in mind, a Rule 63 version of the movie would be a bog-standard among Lifetime's output. It is entirely unremarkable apart from depicting a male victim of IPV. It is odd that MRAs point to this as an anomaly, not paying attention to movies and entire TV series that have never once aired on OTA television, and even content that was aired once OTA before enjoying modest to considerable airtime on cable.

A forgettable movie getting a single a single OTA broadcast right as the OTA networks were finally receiving permission to create their own content is not by itself strange. The MRAs' reaction to it, to the point of making up ludicrous conspiracy theories in order to defend a movie most of them have never seen or would even enjoy, is.

So, if you hear an MRA make any assertion about "Men Don't Tell," ask them:

How many things about Peter Strauss's character besides gender can you name that distinguishes him from IPV victims in other Lifetime movies?

Have you ever seen "Men Don't Tell?" Can you name even three of its plot points?

Which women's groups protested the (attempted or actualized) rebroadcast of "Men Don't Tell," and when? Why didn't they prevent the actual rebroadcast of the movie on cable?

Can you name the titles of five other Lifetime movies?

Did "Beavis and Butthead" not having one frame broadcast OTA even once during the nineties prove it was the subject of feminist ire?

[onlytiktoks]

[sacriluna]

real fucking agitated that the number of older black women who teach black men to hate black women is not 0 and holding

cassie is complicit in whatever d*ddy had going on and deserves jail time too bc she got a settlement and a male sex worker said “yeah she was into it” in the face of that heinous hallway video

megan didn’t actually get shot / it wasn’t t*ry lanez that shot her, it was her friend / whatever “evidence” they heard someone present on youtube that conveniently wasn’t a part of the trial

rihanna probably said something chr*s didn’t like / was probably hitting him first / “you going to the chr*brown concert??”

if it happened in the 80s why come out about c*sby now??

that last one gets me esp when it’s black women who have been in law enforcement/the military and know firsthand how little black female victims of DV have been and still are constantly dismissed

the call is coming from inside the fucking house, i fear

[cor-is-a-mess]

aabg (assigned abusive by groupchat)

[meguwumibear]

tw: mentions of intimate partner violence (NOT between togame and reader), reader has a black eye as a result of the IPV

The streets of the city come alive at night. There’s a buzzing in the air that isn’t present in the morning. Shops and restaurants turn on their bright, neon signs that thrum audibly with electricity. People move about chatting and laughing with each other about the latest workplace scandal or other idol gossip.

The streets are crowded tonight too, despite the weather. Thick, heavy drops of rain fall from the dark night sky, pattering against the soft awning you’re crouched under. The storm came on suddenly; the weathermen didn’t predict it. When you ran out into the night, you did so without your shoes let alone an umbrella.

Absentmindedly, you picked your way towards the nearest convenience store, planning on buying something frozen to ice your eye with. A pint of ice cream, most likely. Two birds one stone or what not.

Problem is not only are you without your shoes or umbrella, you’ve left your wallet at his house too. After he raised his hand at you–not for the first time–you simply ran from his apartment as fast as your legs could carry you. His temper has always been bad, but it’s gotten much worse these days. You don’t want to be on the receiving end of it anymore.

A blast of cold air hits you as the convenience store’s automatic doors slide open. You don’t pay any mind to the man who walks out until he joins you under the awning. He too, it seems, is without an umbrella.

It doesn’t take long for you to get the feeling the man is looking at you. Just your fucking luck. Got away from one asshole only to have to deal with another. You look up at him and shoot him the meanest glare you can manage. Soaked through as you are, you figure it doesn’t amount to much.

“Ouch,” is all he says, staring directly at the growing shiner your (ex) boyfriend gifted you with. “Hope you returned the favor.”

“Tsk,” you huff with a roll of your eyes, “do I look like a fighter to you?”

The man continues to look at you through a pair of yellow tinted shades. After a moment passes, he shrugs. “Looks can be deceiving. You’d be surprised.”

It’s then you notice the orange jacket the man is wearing. Two twin lions embroidered on the breasts of the jacket.

Shishitoren.

Shit.

You look away.

If you don’t engage with the guy, maybe he’ll just up and leave you the hell alone. You stare at his sandalled feet, tracing the rigids of the shoes with your eyes to distract yourself from the fact that the guy is still fucking staring at you.

When the dude finally looks away, it’s to root around in one of his bags for who knows what. There’s a rustling sound as the guy picks through the plastic. When his hand emerges again, it’s holding a can of soda.

“For the shiner,” he adds when you don’t immediately reach for the can. “Gotta ice it so it doesn’t puff up.”

Fuck, why can’t the guy just leave you well enough alone? You gingerly take the soda from him, nodding your thanks, though your eyes don’t leave his toes. Is it possible the man recognizes you? It’s possible he passed pics of you around the gang.

You press the perspiring aluminum against your cheek and focus on the cold radiating from the can. You really should head back to your apartment. You haven’t really put much distance between you and him.

There’s quiet hum above you before the man lowers himself to a crouch in front of you. It’s harder to ignore him now he’s this close to you. Can’t the motherfucker take a hint?

“Can I see?” he asks.

“Why.”

He shrugs, “Had my fair share of black eyes. Just wanna assess the damage for ya.”

An exacerbated huff escapes you. Dude’s either the dumbest man in Japan or intent on ignoring social cues. Either way, fastest way to get away from him is to let him give you a once over. So you do. You drop the can from your face and briefly try to meet his gaze. It’s gentler than you expect it to be.

Your eyes find the orange of his jacket again. You stare at the dark threads of the embroidered lion’s eyes. A hand raises, moves towards your injured cheek, and you flinch away.

The man curses under his breath and tears you didn’t even realize you were holding back begin to fall.

“Who did this to you,” the man asks, voice hard and firm. When you turn to face him again, there’s something in his eyes that wasn’t there before.

“What’s it matter?” you sigh. “Your kind protect their own.”

The man’s fingers ball into tightly clenched fists at his side. His hands are huge and scarred at the knuckles. They’re hands that have known violence. When he notices your eyes drift to them, he makes a visible effort to unclench them.

“Name,” the man repeats, struggling to keep the urgency out of his voice. Then, “Please.”

The next time you see Togame, he’s tossing the jacket of your ex into your lap.

“I don’t protect woman beaters,” he says. Followed by, “Would you like to go for dinner? I’m starved.”