#tw RAPE

[tra-archive]

Twitter has exploded with this whole “would you rather be stuck in the woods with a man or a bear” debate, and it shows that once again males cannot grasp women’s reasoning for choosing the bear.

Almost every woman I’ve seen online and talked to in person has picked the bear. Of course, males are using this as an opportunity to call out women for being dumb and not knowing how dangerous bears are. And of course, they’re wrong. So let me clarify something.

We are aware that bears are dangerous. We know bears can attack. We know they’re wild animals. We know not to fuck with bears, especially a mother and her cubs. We’ve heard all the graphic details about what happens in a bear attack. Bears are dangerous.

However, a bear operates on instinct. Bears don’t want to attack you, they’d rather be left alone. Bears will attack you if you’re perceived as a threat to them, their food, their space, or their cubs. Their behavior is, for the most part, predictable, and we have lots of knowledge on how to stay safe while in an area with bears. I’ve been hiking in bear country before, I’ve even seen bears by my house, and I followed all the tips that I was supposed to do. We left each other alone and I have never been hurt or even noticed by a bear.

So why are women choosing bears over men?

A bear won’t attack and kill you if you say you don’t want to go on a date with it.

A bear won’t rape you.

A bear won’t lie and manipulate you to get what it wants. A bear doesn’t hide the fact that it’s a predator that can be violent.

A bear won’t call you a bitch, cunt, whore, slut, feminazi, or any other degrading term.

A bear won’t try to justify sexual assault based on what you’re wearing.

Did a group of bears team up and torture a schoolgirl for 40 days until she died a horrible death? No, that was men.

Did a bear shoot innocent college girls because he was a violent misogynist? No, that was also a man.

Didn’t bears create an entire violent ideology that states they’re entitled to sex and that women should be forced to sleep with them? Oh wait, that’s incels.

Do bears make up almost 99% of sexual assault perpetrators? Nope, men again.

We know that all bears are dangerous. But we have no way of knowing which men are. Sure, it’s “NoT aLl MeN,” but it’s a significant enough number of them that we are wary of all. And instead of considering why women are choosing a wild animal over them and thinking “yeah, their reasoning makes sense,” many men have doubled down and said that they hope we get mauled by bears, further proving our point.

I CHOOSE THE BEAR.

#the SECOND I see someone come here with whataboutism they’re getting blocked #man vs bear #I choose the bear #radblr #radical feminism #radical feminist community #radical feminist safe #radical feminists do touch #radical feminst #tw rape #tw violence #radfem #radfems

[radykalny-feminizm]

I had the dubious pleasure of learning about the most insane and disgusting person I've heard about in a long time, and I don't want to be alone with this knowledge, so.

This is Christian Weston Chandler (aka Christine aka Chris Chan)

He's an internet personality who was once popular in certain online circles because of his absolutely unhinged behavior and susceptibility to being trolled.

A handful of facts:

He's an extreme incel who, for most of his life, desperately tried to find a partner while claiming that he only needs a woman for sex

At one point he paid a woman so he could rape her

He created and published sexually explicit drawings of female bodies on the internet, including those of women he knew in real life who, of course, did not consent to such things

In addition to being a misogynist, he's also a racist and homophobe. In his own words: if I could have it my way, I'd make it illegal and forbidden to have homo men; women are safe

Surprise, one day he started identifying as a woman and an ally of the LGBT community. He assumed a new identity solely because he thought it would give him sexual access to lesbians. But hey, TRAs keep saying that such things don't happen, so we're good

He thought he was able to magically grow a vagina and showed off his infected taint gash as his new vagina

If you think that's already pretty bad, the worst was yet to come. In 2021 he was arrested for raping his 79-year-old dementia-ridden mother. That's right. If you've ever wondered about the embodiment of evil and degeneration, here it fucking is. The justice system didn't buy into his bullshit identity and treated him as a male. Unfortunately, he was released from jail in March 2023, and in August the same year his incest charge was dismissed as a result of his lawyer having filed for an autism disorder deferred disposition. Which is fucking outrageous and bullshit because hello?? Autism doesn't make you want to rape your own elderly mother??

I don't even have a proper conclusion to all of this. No words in any language can express my absolute contempt and disgust for this moid.

And for TRAs who don't understand why women don't want "trans women" in their spaces - this is why.

#christian chandler #christian weston chandler #chris chan #christine chandler #radfem #kill all males #radical feminism #radfem safe #radblr #radfems do interact #feminism #radfems do touch #adult human female #trans #trans woman #trans women #trans women are amazing #trans women are beautiful #trans women are valid #trans women positivity #trans identified male #tw incest #tw rape #kam #men are disgusting #men are evil #men are the problem #lgbt #tra #male degeneracy

[hazshit-hotel-hater]

What theories do you have with season 2 or what do you think is going to happen hazbin hotel?

None of my theories are super fleshed out but I do have some concerning theories that I really hope do not happen, the biggest is how Vox’s character will be written.

Warning for stuff about Raphielle and their grossass fetishes

Judging by a “fan animatic” they did to that Valentino fansong, I’m worried their portrayal of Vox is going to bleed into the show, aka where he jerks off to Angel Dust being raped. Genuinely if they do this I don’t know what I’m going to do. Vivzie and Raph can’t seem to think of any other way to write a villain rather than make them a rapist or make the character have a rape fetish themself. It’s horrible and lazy writing. If you can’t write an interesting villain, you’re a bad writer. If you can’t keep your fetishes out of your shows, you’re a bad writer. If you can’t handle genuine criticism of your insanely offensive show and characters, you’re a bad writer.

I hardly believe I’ll canonise much of anything from S2 for my rewrite when it comes out. My version of Vox will not ever stoop to the level of whatever the fuck Vivzie does with him. Even the way I write Valentino isn’t absolutely trash. Yeah, he’s still horrid, but I’m not treating him like some silly background character with mildly scary scenes and shock value. Treat him with the severity he brings from the actions he does. End of story.

Somewhat aside from the Vee’s, I hope they do fun things with Sir Pentious. They set up that whole double agent thing for him just to drop it the same episode and yeah I guess to be like “but people can be redeemed guys.. 🥺” okay? Thats a real fuckin mundane thing to focus on for his redemption though? Talk about like. Actual bad shit. Like all the murder. Seems a bit more important? Anyway, I think having Pentious somehow be a double agent in Heaven and provide information to the cast down in hell would be cool. No idea how they’d do that but I’d the idea is fun.

I also have a suspicion that Angel might be the second person to be redeemed although I hope not. For as much “character development” as he’s gotten for some reason, it’s all been incredibly half-assed. He’s hardly fixed himself at all and all of his progress was offscreen. There’s no way he sang a song with Husk on the street and that just suddenly stopped his drug addiction. That’s not how addictions work. Trust me I fuckin wish I could’ve sang a song and been cured from that kinda shit but unfortunately it just is not like that.

Photo I made to express my grievances.

Husk and Angel are also likely gonna date or whatever, personally I’m horrified if this is true because Vivzie is Vivzie and I don’t think she knows what slowburn actually means. I’d wait for like a third season before even starting that stuff but like I guess as long as it isn’t horrifically abusive??? Idk.

Dropped my wallet while writing this and im blaming it on the shows existence

Oh also I think Valentino might die, thats about it

#raimble #hazbin hotel #hazbin critical #hazbin hotel criticism #hazbin hotel critical #hazbin hotel critique #the vees #angel dust #hazbin angel dust #hazbin the vees #sir pentious #pentious #hazbin sir pentious #hazbin pentious #hazbin theory #hazbin hotel theory #tw valentino #cw valentino #tw rape mention #tw rape #cw rape mention #cw rape #anti vivziepop #anti hazbin hotel

[anti--transid]

radqueers genuinely cant deny being a safespace for actual predators now, I've seen three seperate posts, by three seperate accounts, about how they want to rape and abuse children, one of them referred to a BABY as a "slut" and that they "wanted to use her", if you genuinely dont see anything wrong with that, you're vile.

#tw rape #tw csa #tw child abuse mentions #tw rape mentions #tw csa mentions #anti radqueer #anti radpara #anti transharmful

[alastairstom]

Genuinely wish the TLH canon dove a bit deeper into Charles and Alastair's relationship. Like yeah, the grooming and abuse are canon, but the text never actually calls it what it is and I feel like doing so would have been really powerful. I understand that the word "grooming" probably didn't exist, and I get that, but I feel like we needed to go a little bit further in describing the reasons it was fucked up at least.

Any reader with basic reading comprehension skills can see the reality of what happened. But it would have been really empowering to see it actually named what it was.

In fairness, I do think Cassie tried this in showing Alastair's direct reactions to Charles. His feeling sick when he looks at Charles is clearly a result of what happened, as is his insecurity after the infirmary scene. Also Charles like, harassing him in public in ChoI is insane. Cassie blessedly showed us these things, and his reactions and traumas regarding this are extremely relatable and recognizable to any survivor. I'm not actually upset about it. But I think we could have done more than skim the surface of this relationship without ever using actual words like "abuse".

#anti charles fairchild #alastair carstairs #musings #sorry #tw rape #tw grooming

[stuckinapril]

These updates are fucking insane. Israeli forces are currently besieging 3 hospitals: al-Amal Hospital, Nasser Hospital, and Shifa Hospital. They even executed a doctor, Muhammad al-Nono, for refusing to leave his patients, while a PRCS worker was killed in the al-Amal shelling (they are terrorizing these hospitals all at the same time). A Palestinian woman relayed that other women have been rounded up from Shifa hospital and subjected to rape and torture. There are also accounts of Christian Palestinians being denied access to Jerusalem on Palm Sunday—all while Israeli settlers stormed al-Aqsa Mosque on this same Sunday. My heart is aching for these Palestinians. So devastating there are no words.

#palestine #tw rape

[toxicanonymity]

The Spread

PAIR: Thomas Hewitt x f!Reader

WORD COUNT: 3.5k | MASTERLIST

SUMMARY: You hide and don't get slaughtered. Tommy secretly keeps you. He's kinda sweet if you're good.

WARNINGS: I8+ Canon-typical violence (implied) & setting, captivity, dark caretaking, manhandling, sleeper hold, oral f receiving, noncon unsafe piv, finger gagging, dark fluff, tommy has a praise kink, stockholm syndrome vibes. NO human skin mask: leather partial mask shown in photo. He is feral and naive due to his family. No use of Y/N. Divider by gasolinerainbowpuddles.

SIZE KINK - Reader is much smaller than Leatherface, can be carried and maneuvered. He is 6’5”, thicc and STRONG.

You barely escaped the so-called law man, and your friends weren’t so lucky. They got chased right into the lair of a chainsaw-wielding giant.

“C’mon, Tommy,” the Sheriff encouraged the giant, “Just like the slaughterhouse.”

Heavy chains thrashed, and one of your friends groaned.

“Attaboy,” the Sheriff praised.

While they were distracted, you ducked into a nearby woodshed. You didn't dare go far – you had encountered too many hazards on the property to trust your footing, and couldn't risk calling attention. Instead, you sat there in the shed, paralyzed, listening to your friends get butchered. One by one, their squeals turned animalistic until a wet thwack or rev of a motor cut them off.

Finally, there were no more screams.

Huddled in a corner of the woodshed, you tried to keep your wits about you. The shed was about the size of a small dorm room. There were stacks of wood all around–some freshly cut, some rotted–and hay covered the floor.

You were in a tank top and Daisy dukes with cowboy boots that made you feel like an idiot. You had sap on your knees from crawling over the wood. Taking deep breaths did nothing but fill your nose with cedar - it was only a matter of time before you’d meet your fate. You picked splinters out of your hands as you replayed the chase in your mind. You began to feel sure “Tommy” had seen you run into the shed. If that was the case, you didn't know why he let you go. You could only guess he already had his hands full.

“Think we got’em all, son?” The Sheriff asked.

Tommy grunted.

“That’s my boy,” the Sheriff concluded.

-

Dusk was approaching. Not long after the Sheriff left, heavy footsteps crunched louder and louder toward the woodshed. Your heart pounded harder with each step. The rickety door busted open with a plume of dust. Tommy’s silhouette consumed almost all the daylight that remained.

The door frame would’ve been tall enough for most men, but Tommy had to duck on his way in. He carried an ax. Each step he took shook the entire structure. His breathing was loud, his mouth hanging open below the leather that covered his nose. The partial mask covered his chin too, but not his mouth. It was fastened with two straps behind his head nestled in thick, chestnut hair that came down around his shoulders.

He approached you cautiously and paused when he was an arm’s length away. You whimpered, knees held to your chest. He sniffed around like an animal. Then he brushed a stray section of hair out of his eyes, and you saw a glint of uncertainty in his gaze. You tried to compose yourself, wondering if your fear could trigger him.

He knelt down to get a better look at you. He reached for you, and you jumped. He grumbled and held up a massive finger less than an inch from your mouth, telling you to be quiet.

Something possessed you to reach for his hand. He let you move it.

You put his palm on your cheek and watched his chest heave in confusion.

He tilted his head and stayed crouched there for a moment, staring at you with his brown eyes softening above the leather.

“Attaboy,” you whispered, repurposing the Sheriff’s words.

Tommy huffed, then abruptly stood. He left the shed, ax slung over his shoulder. He ducked again on his way out.

He didn't return for a while. You finally dared to open the door just enough to look out, but not for long, startled by an older woman’s voice calling, “Tommy!!! Time for supper.” You shrunk back into your corner, afraid you had been spotted.

You sat there frozen, afraid to run.

-

Sometime later, you heard a squeaky wheel approach the shed. The door opened more quietly than it had the first time. The hulking silhouette was backlit by a buzzing floodlight in the yard. The man seemed to be more careful and quiet this time. He had brought a few blankets. One of them was tattered, pale yellow bordering what used to be white, and it had Care Bears on it. He put the blanket over your body, coming all the way up to your neck, and patted your head. Then he took a bundle of newspaper out from under his arm and handed it to you like an offering. It smelled like barbecue.

As he turned to leave, you whispered, “Tommy.”

He dropped his head and looked back.

“Thank you,” you said.

Looking at the wall, Tommy offered a short nod before leaving. Then he locked the door from the outside.

After he left, you opened the newspaper. It was too dark to see, but the contents felt like a charred bone with bits of flesh hanging to it. You weren't hungry anyway.

You wrapped yourself tight in the blanket, and to your discomfort, your heart fluttered at the man’s softness with you. You replayed the day’s harrowing events in your mind’s eye and saw him differently than you had at first. Maybe he was nothing but an attack dog. You began to doubt he would've hurt your friends at all if not for the older, more wicked man in uniform.

Maybe Tommy was as much of a prisoner as you were. You wondered if he could talk. You felt sure he could listen.

After sunrise, you awoke to some commotion and heard a vehicle drive away. After a period of silence, you tried to open the door to the shed, but it was securely locked.

Soon, Tommy came back and unlocked it. He moved swiftly toward you with purpose in each heavy step, crouching slightly. The mass of his body strained his shirt. You'd never seen forearms like his. He could surely snap you like a twig, but something told you he wouldn't. Still, your heart raced when he lunged toward you. He reached over a wood pile and used both massive hands to force you onto your feet. He wrapped you in the blanket, then put you over his shoulder like a potato sack.

He put you into his wheelbarrow, then nestled some firewood around you. He looked around furtively as he did it. Then he covered you with another blanket and wheeled you across the bumpy ground, onto a smoother surface. He rolled a garage door down behind you and left you covered in the wheelbarrow as he rummaged around the garage.

You peeked out from the blanket and saw him placing shackles on a table. Your heart raced. You glanced behind you. The garage door was still lifted by a small margin. Maybe big enough to fit through.

You watched in terror as he brought out a mallet. Finally, your body unfroze.

You lowered yourself out of the wheelbarrow as carefully and quietly as you could and crawled toward the narrow opening. As you began to wriggle under it, your ass hit the door, making a noise far too loud to go unnoticed.

Within a split second, his massive hands were firm around your ankles, pulling you toward him, dragging you roughly across the concrete.

He manhandled you like a doll. He forced you onto your back and shook you, then wrapped a massive hand around your neck. Your life flashed before your eyes, and you kicked him. He grunted and grabbed you roughly by the shirt, then sat back on his knees. He held you with your back against his enormous thigh. Your Daisy dukes did nothing to protect your ass from the cold concrete. You thrashed, and he put the crook of his elbow around your neck, then everything faded.

When you woke up, you were chained to the table, with cold, metal shackles on your wrists and one ankle. You were bottomless, and the air was cool between your legs. Your feet were bare. All you had left was your tank top, which you wore without a bra.

You didn't dare move. A foul dust in the air made you sneeze, then Tommy came into view. He was wearing a butcher’s apron, and the sleeves of his dingy, button-up shirt were rolled up to expose those big, hairy forearms. He held the mallet. His eyes were industrious.

“Please don't hurt me,” you begged.

He laid a heavy hand on your shin, and you flinched. He gently placed your free ankle in a shackle, then nailed it shut.

“Please,” you begged.

He laid a hand on your thigh and looked you in the eyes.

“What are you going to do to me?” You asked.

He huffed and put the mallet away.

You were relieved until he returned with a meat cleaver. You tensed and squirmed. He laid a hand on your stomach and his searing eyes told you to stay still. He slid the cleaver under your tank top, and you held your breath and looked at the ceiling. Your nipples hardened at the feeling of his knuckles between your breasts.

He violently sliced upward through the fabric, turning your wifebeater into a vest which burst open, freeing your breasts. He inhaled sharply at the sight and discarded the meat cleaver with a metallic clatter on a nearby shelf.

“Please,” you begged again, then he stuck his fingers in your mouth and peered in. His thick digits tasted like charcoal and salt. Three fingers were enough to stuff the orifice completely. When you stopped whining, he abandoned your mouth.

He cupped a breast, then cupped both of them. He hummed a curious “mm,” Then dragged his thumb down your sternum before stepping away to survey your body.

You felt like a cadaver sliced open for examination. As he slowly stalked around the table, it dawned on you that's what he was doing. He was studying you.

He stopped at a long side of the table – your left side. He brought his face–his leather mask–to your skin, just below your ribs. His hair fell onto your body, and the light brush of it tickled. He paused to loosen the strap at the back of his head. Then he dipped his face to your abdomen again. He turned his head and dragged his cheek, and the leather, over your bare stomach, to your breast. You could hear him desperately sniffing and wondered why he didn't take that thing off.

Lips, hair, and smooth leather dragged across your skin as he wiped his face along your chest. Then his face made its way into your armpit, where a dart of his tongue made you flinch and shiver. His tongue darted out again. He sucked the delicate skin slightly into his mouth before releasing it with a soft grunt.

He paused and pulled away. He pivoted to stand behind your head, then brought his hands to your breasts. Helowered his mouth to your neck and licked you. His hair fell on your nose and smelled like smoke and metal.

He seemed to savor the taste of your skin. He licked longer, harder, the strong slippery muscle of his tongue nudging your jugular. You felt a rush of arousal and shame. He tasted the other side of your neck and hummed in satisfaction. The throbbing between your legs made you wince.

He dragged his tongue down over your chest to lap at your breast. He flattened his tongue to lick your nipple, then began to suckle at it. One thing was clear - this was not for your enjoyment. He was entirely absorbed in what he was doing. He didn't even glance at your face. Whether it was for his pleasure or curiosity, you couldn't be sure. He moaned into your nipple and you knew you must have been gushing onto the table.

After a few seconds, he pulled away from your tit and began to sniff the air. He stalked around the table some more and paused at your shackled feet, staring up between your spread legs. He found the source. His hands dwarfed your thighs as he pushed them further apart. Then he dabbed a thick finger, only grazing your folds as he picked up just a taste of you from the table and brought it to his mouth.

“Mm,” he hummed quietly, staring between your legs. He licked his finger again and his eyes searched the air curiously. Then he grabbed your upper thighs and anchored his thumbs on your outer lips, spreading you open. His heavy gut rested on the table between your feet as he leaned forward. As he lowered his mouth to your cunt, you twitched and felt another rush of shame.

His breath was hot on your cunt, then he dipped his tongue, and you tensed.

He lapped at your entrance, and the physical pleasure made you exhale and relax, while your fear remained. He licked and sucked, and your moan echoed before you could try to cut it short. Your chest was hot with embarrassment, but if he heard the sound, he ignored it.

He fed on your juices like a starved animal. He sucked and slurped, and dug his lips and tongue in, searching for more. The squelching and gurgling sounds were obscene between your legs. He closed his eyes and dug his fingers into your hips as he feasted.

The leather mask nudged your clit and made your hips lift into his mouth. He brought a hand to your lower belly to hold you still. Then his tongue plunged into you. You whispered, “good boy,” and your whole body felt weak with shame.

He paused and glanced up, then repeated the action. It was true, some part of you welcomed this, as afraid as you were. In any case, the heat and pressure building in your gut would have to release at some point.

He fucked you with his tongue, nudging your clit with the smooth leather, and you had to remind yourself to breathe. You'd never been eaten so voraciously. He moaned into your cunt and the tension was too much to hold. You whimpered as you began to pulse and twitch. His tongue paused as you clenched around it. Then he continued. Your back arched as he sucked it all out of you, swallowing every drop he could find. As your climax waned, you took slow, deep breaths.

Finally, he slowed down. He looked flustered for a moment, then his hand disappeared from your thigh. He pulled his face away, and the leather mask was soaked and shiny. Then he took his apron off. When he stood to put the apron aside, the protrusion in his pants made your breath hitch and your asshole flutter.

Your cunt spasmed once around nothing, and your insides churned as though making room for a massive guest.

You couldn't peel your eyes away. He adjusted himself, then palmed the bulge. His shirt had come untucked. The bottom button wasn't fastened, and his midsection strained the other buttons as his whole torso heaved. He eyed the mess between your legs as he palmed himself.

He seemed to be considering the possibility of stuffing your cunt with whatever monstrosity hid in his pants. He could take anything he wanted, but he didn't look proud of it. This didn't feel like something he did every day.

You decided not to fight back. You told yourself it was for survival, but you also twitched at the thought of him wrecking you. You looked at his crotch, then down between your legs, still gushing at the sight of him barely contained by his pants. The way his whole body wanted to bust out of his clothes made you weak in the knees. He was so solid and strong. You looked again from his crotch to your own, as though your eyes were instructing where to put it in defiance of your better judgment.

He grumbled as he picked up a hammer and approached you, making your heart nearly stop.

He pried the nails out of the shackles, and you cursed yourself for the way your heart fell. Your disappointment was quickly replaced by relief. A man this size, with these capabilities – he could have done serious damage to your body.

“Thank you,” you whispered. You laid on the table patiently looking at the ceiling as he went down to your feet and unshackled your ankles.

Then he grabbed you by the thighs and yanked you toward the end of the table, making you yelp. Your naked crotch came to rest flush against the bulge in his pants, making you ache with arousal. Your thighs trembled in fear.

You looked down toward him and he forced your chin upward, making you look at the ceiling. You pinched your eyes shut. You were at war with your body’s desire. He might kill you. He might actually split you in two. The dying squeals of your friends echoed in your mind. But his hardness swelled against you, and oh, fuck.

His hips backed up and you twitched at the loss of his warm package against you.

With your eyes still pinched shut, you heard his clothes jostling, then he spread your lips apart while he notched his tip against you. It was too big. He held your thighs again and pulled you toward him with a forward thrust and a grunt.

Being impaled with his cock felt like being split open. The girth burned as it stretched you, and you whimpered as your body tried to accommodate him. He stayed inside, and he sighed. You'd never felt so stuffed. He leaned forward, and the contact with your clit provided some relief as your body spread itself more. But still, your heart raced at the prospect of him moving. You prayed he would be gentle.

When you didn't stop whimpering, he stuck his fat, smokey fingers in your mouth again. He placed his other hand on your chest to hold you still, with the crook of his thumb close to your throat. You gagged on his fingers and he removed them. He wiped your saliva onto your nipple before kneading your breast.

Thankfully, you were wet and getting wetter. He held you down and slammed into you. The fullness pushed your thoughts out of the way along with your guts. You kept your eyes shut as he speared into you again.

His breathing and grunting seemed to echo through the room with every snap of his hips. His unholy girth twitched against your walls. He grabbed onto your hips and brutally pounded you. He used you like a sleeve until his moans were drawn out and his breath became ragged. He pulled you back hard and leaned forward, the weight of him resting on your lower abdomen. Your cunt fluttered in anticipation of his climax, but he paused. Your hips lifted, seeking friction for your front.

He pulsed once, making your chest flutter with pleasure, but then he swiftly slid out. He left you twitching for more as he finished coming outside. His cum painted your folds and inner thigh, and he grumbled and turned around. You lowered your chin to look just in time for him to release onto the wheelbarrow and floor. Then he stood there with his broad back heaving as he looked around.

You closed your eyes again and opened them when you felt fabric on your inner thigh. He was wiping you off with the bottom of his shirt. His face and neck were blotched pink, and he had fixed his pants. He was looking at you, chest still heaving when his ears perked up at the distant sound of tires on gravel.

He quicky put your shorts back on and gathered you off the table, nestling you in the wheelbarrow once more. He swaddled you in the old blanket, now wet with his cum, and opened the garage before quickly wheeling you back to the shed.

He placed you in the corner where you had been, just in time for the truck to park. As he turned to leave the shed, you said “Tommy. Can you bring me some water?”

He hesitated then gave a short nod before locking the shed again behind him.

He came back later with a jar of water and a metal bucket. You were shivering in the corner when he came in. He set the bucket down next to you, then placed his hand on the crown of your head and gently moved his fingers as he looked around. Then he abruptly began to unbutton his shirt. He pulled you up from the corner to put the shirt on you. His chest was hairy and broad, and his entire torso was thick, just massive.

“Good Tommy,” you said as he finished putting the shirt on you.

He paused and left it unbuttoned. His eyes were big. He held you by the sides, looking you up and down in the oversized shirt and Daisy dukes. Then he put you back where you were and locked the shed behind him.

The shirt was filthy, cumstained, and reeked of sweat, but it didn’t smell as bad as it should've. It didn't make you sick like it should've. When he left, you wrapped it tight around yourself, then looked in the bucket. There were apples.

Thank you for reading and engaging! Love you guys 🖤 please consider commenting even if this is old. It helps to know what you liked.

If you want more, good news - I have more thots! Feel free to send yours, too.

#leatherface x reader #thomas hewitt #thomas hewitt x reader #leatherface smut #thomas hewitt smut #slasher smut #slasher fucker #tommy hewitt #leatherface x you #thomas hewitt x you #slasher x you #slasher x reader #tw noncon #dark fic #toxicanonymity ☠️ #slasher fandom #tw rape #texas chainsaw massacre #leatherface

[tikkunolamresistance]

from “Women, Race & Class” by Black revolutionary Marxist, Angela Davis.

Read here:

#anti capitalism #anti imperialism #propaganda #remind you of anything? #angela davis #resources #tw rape

[wilwheaton]

Brock Turner the literal textbook definition of a rapist

As a reminder, convicted rapist Brock Allen Turner now goes by his middle name presumably so when folks Google him, his conviction for raping an unconscious woman next to a garbage dumpster doesn't come up. So while convicted rapist Brock Allen Turner now goes by Alley Turner, he is still a convicted rapist. Despite the new name, the person is the same: convicted rapist Allen Turner raped am unconscious woman next to a garbage dumpster.

I sincerely hope this bag of shit does not get a single second of peace for the rest of his miserable life.

#tw rape #brock turner is a rapist #brock allen turner is a rapist #allen turner changed his name from brock turner because he is a rapist #brock allen turner the rapist is the textbook definition of a rapist

[neil-gaiman]

Two poems by Roz Kaveney:

No matter what. My people will endure.

Kill us. Imprison us. Carve up our brain.

Out of your children we are born again.

Erase our past and future but be sure

We are among you añd will find a way

To know ourselves in fragments from the past

Constructed truths. You think you have locked fast

The doors of memory. Your world is gray

Lacks savour. We umami of the soul

Palate remembers taste it never knew

Your angry grand children will stare at you

Carve us from world and you will leave a hole

Negative space describes all that we were

They fill it with new flesh. He him. She her.

#

When they have killed us all, or maybe most

Of us, because some fragment will escape.

We are quite good at hiding. When they rape

Some young guy on your street and later boast

Taught it to be a woman, when they shave

That blonde's head bloody slash her by mistake

Across the cheek for being tall. And make

Pyre of our books. And in an unmarked grave

Neighbour or niece. Legitimate concern?

Will you still sleep at night? Will you forget

You sort of wanted this...perhaps not yet...

But soon you'll stand and cheer and watch us burn.

Then later say it was not in your name

You never meant it and are not to blame.

(Twitter links follow.)

#tw rape #tw murder #tw poetry #Roz Kaveney

[animentality]

#twitter #tw rape #feminism #misogyny #tw sa

[hazshit-hotel-hater]

Making a whole ass side blog to hate talk a show no one is forcing you to watch seems kind of sad and pathetic.

The fact youre on anon says quite a lot to me! ik no one is forcing me to watch this show! I am hyperfixated on the show and enjoy fixing the issues with it. Id personally say calling out someone who is racist, misogynistic, antisemitic and has a rape fetish isn’t that sad and pathetic but yknow, to each their own. If ya like that stuff thats on you babes 🩷 no ones forcing you to look at my blog either btw, just incase you weren’t aware, have a good night or day though

#raimble #hazbin critical #hazbin hotel criticism #hazbin hotel critical #anti hazbin #anti hazbin hotel #anti vivziepop #tw rape mention #cw rape mention #tw rape #cw rape

[magnetictapedatastorage]

TRAs to minors: you need amputations and chemical injections or you're going to fucking kill yourself. rush rush rush rush rush as FAST as you can. LIE and THREATEN SUICIDE to anyone who stands in your way. here's a script of fake statements to make to your doctor so you can get the amputations and chemicals as fast as possible. doubt is the enemy. if you even THINK about not going through with it RIGHT NOW, you're permanently hindering your ability to pass as an adult. which means you WILL KILL YOURSELF AND THERE IS NO OTHER WAY. YOU WILL KILL YOURSELF. YOU WILL KILL YOURSELF YOU WILL KILL YOURSELF THERE IS NO WAY OUT THERE IS NO ESCAPE

TRAs when someone detransitions for literally any reason: you were a fucking liar and never really trans you nazi piece of human trash. nobody would ever pressure you like that or tell you to lie. the least you can do is shut your fucking mouth and toe the line, and stop trying to convince people there's any alternatives other than amputations + chemicals, or straight up killing yourself. you're a fucking conversion therapy supporter and deserve to be beaten to death and raped

#gender critical #nsfl #sorry i am just angry as fuck at the shit i'm seeing #tw rape #tw suicide

[cathy-plus-e]

If this post gets 50k notes before July 7th of 2024 I'll do anything possible to go to therapy and investigate if I really got rapped when I was 10 years old so I can stop living with an uncomfortable feeling of doubt and insecurity with my own body

This got extremely specific I'm sorry

#tw rape mention #tw rape #tw sex abuse

[tocomplainfriend]

HAZBIN AND SA (+HB)

TW: SA and RAPE

THIS ITSELF DOESN'T TALK ABOUT THE SCENE! But the surrounding context.

So I really hate everything about how this has being treated. I am a SA victim and wanna talk about some stuff. If you didn't know, in episode 4 (I think) there is an exploration of Angel Dust SA, before going to do that lets see some stuff first:

She made a "cumming" joke about the song Poison (that accompanies the SA scenes)

This person over here worked on HH/HB (draws r-pe/non-con)

BLURRED AND CUTTED IMAGES: (Some are more or less explicit)

You know, that whole thing of shipping, and drawing porn of the canonical sexual abuser with the victim?

They also left this comment, under a comic where Val threatens brutal r-pe on Angel.

This person also worked in/directed the scenes of Angel dust Sexual abuse in the episode. The person that ships a r-pe ship and does all this shit is the one to work in this scene?????

ALSO????

Like??????? What happen here?

Also...

(The pinkie pfp person is 15 here too)

Why does Angel sexually harrases Husk non-stop (which is acknowledged by Vaggie)? Why is Moxxie SA by the succubus played for laughs? Same with Chaz or Blitz harassing him sexually or touching him without consent? Why did Stolas do so many unwanted advances towards Blitz, and that's literally the endgame couple of the show? (All of this are jokes, or by the Husk x Angel shit "ship moments"

WHY THIS TOO?

And yes you are "correct", something like Hypersexuality Trauma-should not being shamed. You are not a bad person, for dealing with this. BUT HEY, that doesn't mean you get to sexually harass people like Angel does to Husk or anyone.

Also, the problem is not having an SA victim's story. The problem is how it is treated and all the context that surrounds it. All of this above is that context! Why is so much SA jokes in Helluva? Why is that funny? You want to tell a story of SA, and anyone calling out the problems with it is deleting victims feelings and stories... YOU AND YOUR STUPID FUCKING JOKES DO THAT ALREADY. WHEN SA IS A JOKE FOR YOU, YOU ARE DIMINISHING SA AND R-PE.

There are also a lot of random fans saying that "Viv is an SA victim too"- #1 Where the fuck did she say that, cause you randomly saying that she said it doesn't mean shit. #2 DOESN'T DELETE THE WAY SA HAS BEING TREATED! THIS IS NOT EVEN CLOSE TO MAKING A JOKE AS AN SA VICTIM ABOUT YOURSELF- SHE/AND OTHER IN THE TEAM ARE WRITING CHARACTERS GETTING SEXUALLY ASSAULTED AS THE JOKE. -OR NOT UNDERSTAND LEGIT POWER DYNAMICS AND THE GROSS THING THAT STOLAS DOES TO BLITZ. OR THE LITERAL "SHIP COMPILATION" THAT IS PURELY ANGEL SEXUALLY HARASSING HUSK.

"Is important to represent SA survivors stories- specially men who-" BROTHER ALL YOUR OTHER MALE CHARACTERS SEXUALLY HARRASS/ASSAULT OTHERS AS A JOKEEEE. "They are in hell" BITCH A HUMAN, A REAL PERSON WORKING ON THE SHOW WROTE hahaha Moxxie gets violated by the succubus so funny lol. IT'S NOT "LOONA IS A BAD PERSON FROM HELL THAT'S WHY SHE MADE FAT JOKES AT MOXXIE" NO IT'S WRITTEN AS IF THE SA WAS FUNNY IN ITSELF!

This is also not a scenario where there was a realization of the problems in HB with all those jokes and the harassment, so it was trying to be fixed with a serious story in hazbin. NO, THAT'S NOT IT!!!!

If there was an apology of how the sexual assault was treated in previous works! "We'll make up for it!" (the fact of that was a thing in the first place, it's still bad). That would be a little different. BUT NO, IT'S NOT! IT'S HYPOCRITICAL AND GARBAGE BULLSHIT.

I think purely by the context already given here that I think the representation it's bad. I don't feel like it comes from a good place, due to the hypocritical shit, the comments, and the artist who directed it.

We could go really back and forth with the direct scenes of the episode. BUT THIS IS ABOUT THE CONTEXT SURROUND IT rather than the scenes themselves. (Which is partly connected to the fact that it's incomplete)

Here is the scene "Tuca and Bertie". Is Bertie telling her friend of her assault. It's amazingly respectful and well written. It's not graphic, and tells the story really well.

#vivziepop critique #vivziepop critical #helluva boss critique #helluva boss criticism #helluva boss critical #hazbin hotel critical #hazbin hotel criticism #hazbin hotel critique #spindlehorse critical #tw rape #tw sa #tw abuse

[intersectionalpraxis]

Someone also wrote a brief description about these massacres and brutal systematic raping and often killing of Vietnamese women and children by these despicable and depraved US soldiers. It is absolutely horrific. I hope these soldiers are eternally damned.

I will be adding this to my reading list. This was recommended by someone in the comment section for those who haven't read this one yet:

#feminist #social justice #feminism #american war crimes #american war on vietnam #vietnam #history #vietnam war #tw sa mention #tw rape #tw abuse #united states #us army #us imperialism #western imperialism