i’m really damn tired of seeing “don’t abuse your boyfriend” posts from blogs that are otherwise spouting complete garbage so here’s a shitposter’s wholesome content:

  • don’t hit, slap, beat your boyfriend
  • don’t neglect, punish, frighten your boyfriend
  • don’t dismiss, demean, belittle your boyfriend
  • don’t make your boyfriend have sex when he doesn’t want to
  • that’s rape. don’t rape your boyfriend.

glad we had this talk

Part of capitalism’s response to grassroots opposition is to assure the distressed that their “voice” is heard. That the authorities who “hear” you also enable your brutalization is immaterial. The point is to convince you of your continued stake in the system. It is to guide you toward the politics of representation and away from the politics of resistance.
—  Russell Rickford, “The Fallacies of Neoliberal Protest” (

for awhile my ex-roommate led me to believe there was something about me that was inherently hard to get along with and that all of my friendships/relationships with roommates would turn out super toxic but after over a year living with my best friend and 9 months with my partner i realized that’s so not true lol


Request - Joker and Harley’s daughter One Shot imagine

a/n: hiii omg, i recently got this imagine request and i LOVED IT!!! so imma do it ehehhe. and it will be my version of how the joker and harley’s daughter would look and act like :) hope you enjoy babes

characters: joker, harley quinn, reader, some asshole named roy

pairing: reader and the asshole named roy are together, joker x harley as parents

storyline: reader and asshole named roy are in an abusive relationship, roy is abusive. reader’s parents - joker and harley don’t know about it, because y/n is too scared to tell them, not knowing they have control over anything. one day y/n’s parents find out.

warnings: abuse, mention of abuse and abusive relationship, swearing, death

“Please, please, don’t, no.” I whimpered, knowing what he was about to do. His hand raised and collided with my cheek, making tears spill out and my head turn harshly to the side. I gasped, sobbing and holding my face from the pain.

“You are never leaving me!” He yelled. “You understand?!” His hand grabbed my face, pulling me closer. “Do. You. Fucking. Understand?!” My eyes shut closed from his loud voice grazing my ears. “Speak, you little filth!”

“Yes.” I whispered.

“What was that?”

“I will never leave you, Roy.”

“Yeah, that’s right. Now get out before my parents come back!” He yanked me away from him, making me fall on my knees. “Get up, bitch. And remember, nobody knows about this.” His harsh words stabbed me right in every place in my mind and body and I scrambled to my feet. I grabbed my things and with all my energy, I got out of his house and got in my car.

Once I started the engine and got far away from his house, I stopped at the side of the road and cried. I cried and cried, and cried for what felt like hours. When I felt like calming down, I looked at the time. Shit, it was almost curfew. I started the car again and drove home as fast as possible. I hoped I made it in time.

I parked my car in our garage and quickly walked through the front door into the house.

“BABY’S HOME!” I heard mom yell from the dining room. I sighed. Jeez, I really needed them out of the way right now. I just wanted to go to my room and be alone for a while. But I had to greet them, otherwise they would get angry. “I made some dinner, hon.” She said. Her white hair with pink and blue ends was up in a perfect messy bun, her body wrapped in a white silk robe. Dad was sitting next to her, an arm around her waist, probably. He was in a simple white shirt, his green hair perfectly standing out.

I placed my bag on a chair and finally faced her. 

“Oh, honey.” She pouted, seeing my face. I furrowed my eyebrows. “What happened to your make up?”

“W-what do you mean?” I asked. Oh, right, me crying. 

“Your mascara is running down your face, eyeshadow smudged. What happened?” She questioned. Well, should I tell them? I mean, it’s not the best timing since this abuse from Roy has been going on for months. But they need to know, better late than never. Although he told me not to tell anyone. We both know what he would do if I told anybody. But God, I couldn’t take this for any longer. I couldn’t take it anymore.

I ran my fingers over my face and my hair, sighing. I opened my mouth to speak, but only sobs and pants came out. 

“Oh, baby, come here.” Mom urged for me, stretching her arms out to me along with dad. His blue eyes held strong concern. I walked over to them and fell into their arms. I cried into their clothes, their arms wrapped around me, dad’s one hand was soothing my back. “Is it someone at school? Is it Roy?” I nodded my head feverishly. “What did he do? Did he hurt you? God, I always knew there was something wrong about him.”

“Tell us, baby, so we can figure it out together.” Dad said. I looked up at him. “We’re here for you, baby girl. We’ve always been. Whatever it is, you can tell us. Even if you think you can’t, please do.” 

“Just tell us, hon. We will do anything to make you happy.” Mom urged and I slowly calmed myself. And told them everything. How Roy had been abusing me for the past few months and told me to not tell anyone. How I had been using dumb excuses for my bruises and scars every time they had noticed and asked. How I had been too scared to tell anybody.

“Baby, how-” Mom couldn’t even form words.

“Haven’t you got any idea of what we can do?” Dad said.

“What?” I asked.

“Baby, we have all the power.” Mom gave me a wicked smile. “To do anything. Get revenge on someone, get something, destroy the wo-”

“Harley, please.” Dad stopped her. “We could’ve done something so long ago.”

“But I thought you guys were… I didn’t know about your… power.” 

“Now you know.” Mom spoke. “So let’s get him.”

“W-what, I-I just-”

“Don’t say you don’t want to get rid of him.” Dad said. “Harls, get hers and your costume, this Roy will finally meet his ‘girlfriend’s’ parents.” Dad spoke and stood up, walking down the hallway. I turned to mom.

“What? C-costumes? What did he mean?” I asked. Mom only smiled again and took my hand, dragging me upstairs. After a little while, we were both in matching red and black costumes with white and checker-style details. Mom improved my make up situation, making my mint-green hair into a bun like hers.

“Oh, baby, I’m so excited.” She said, putting some lipstick on my lips. “Haven’t gone out this way since you were in me.” Weird. “We’re finally gonna show you bits of our old life. Perhaps later we can teach you how to fight and… well, live.” She spoke, giggling after. Mom took my hand and dragged down to the very basement where I saw things I had never seen in my life. Dozens of guns stocked in different shelfs, all over the place. 

“Wow.” I breathed out, all the sadness gone. 

“I know, hon. Let me just take two.” Mom said. She walked over to a black box and came back with two guns - one was gold, the other white with gold touches. “Alright, now let’s go. J’s probably already waiting for us.” We walked back into the main room, and there was dad standing in a purple suit. It was perfect, no flaws. 

“Well, aren’t my girls looking beautiful?” He smiled, accenting the last word, which made mom giggle. I felt very insecure and uncomfortable in this costume, I never wear tight clothes. “Let’s go now.” 

We got into dad’s lamborghini and soon were at Roy’s place. A big jeep in the driveway gave away that his parents were home. What would we do about them?

We got out, me and mom following dad, and simply came in through the front door. Roy was standing behind his parents, it looked like we interrupted something. I stood behind dad, looking doubtfully over at mom. 

“Don’t worry, hon.” Mom whispered, sending me a wink. I gave her a weak smile, holding onto dad’s hand. 

“Who the hell are you?” Roy’s voice cut through the tense silence. Dad laughed in a way I had never heard before, tilting his head back.

“Oh, boy. Do you really need to be asking the questions here?” Dad spoke in a seductive way.

“How about we ask you a few questions, Roy?” Mom spat his name like poison. The looks on Roy’s family’s faces were ridiculous. 

“For example, Roy’s parents, do you know how my daughter’s and your son’s relationship is going?”

“Y-yes, it’s like a piece of cake.” Roy’s mom said.

“Is that so?” My mom asked. “What do you think, mister?” She pointed her finger at Roy’s dad. 

“I think it’s the same as my wife thinks.”

“Hmm.” Mom narrowed her eyes in doubt.

“You see, we got complains from our daughter here that… their relationship hasn’t been going so well the past few months.” Dad spoke. “She told us Roy here has been abusing our baby doll. Do you know anything about that?” Roy’s parents turned around to him with wide eyes.

“Roy? Is that true?” His mom exclaimed.

“N-no, of c-course not, y-you know I wouldn’t d-do that.” Roy stammered. Pussy. 

“Of course it’s true. Our baby would never lie to us.” Mom said. “Y/N, can you tell them?” I came out in front of my parents with the biggest confidence I had felt in my life.

“Yes. It’s true. Roy has been abusing me for five months. He told me to never tell anyone or it would get worse. But now, knowing what my parents are capable of, I could finally have the courage to tell them.” I said. “I honestly don’t know what you get out of it, Roy. Wait, I know - you’re a pathetic sadist, who’s reputation is made of bad things only.” I spat. 

“Yes, that’s right.” Dad nodded. “That’s the truth. We’ve seen the scars.”

“Roy! I can’t believe this!” His mom exclaimed. 

“Don’t worry, miss.” Mom said with a sarcastic smile.

“You won’t have to deal with him.” Dad spoke.

“We’ll do it for you.” Mom finished. The next things happening were a blur. Loud noises, like shots and Roy’s parents’ bodies falling to the ground. Mom and dad were laughing. I looked at Roy and laughed myself. The boy had pissed himself with the biggest fearful eyes I’d ever seen. 

“Oh my God.” I said between laughs. Mom and dad walked to stand next to me and mom handed me her gun.

“I think you have the honor, baby.” She said with a wicked smile. I took the gun from her and put it up in front of me, aiming at Roy. The actions came practically naturally.

“It’s in her genes.” Dad said with a smirk.

“Y/N, no, please don’t do this. I will be better, I promise, I won’t hurt you again, I know what comes of it, I-”

“Shh.” I said with a smile and pulled the trigger, aiming at his forehead.

Hey so like if your gender/sexuality is the way it is because of trauma that’s still 100% valid

Like I see rude ass jokes/comments about people being gay/trans/etc because of trauma/abuse but like… you aren’t any less valid if it was because of trauma/abuse

You are totally valid no matter what the reason and if anyone tells you otherwise they’re in the wrong, not you

It was my first relationship and you knew I was struggling and still you used me. You never loved me. I sat through it for you even though I hated every second of everything you did to me. The universe seems hellbent on reminding me you exist and I hate it for that because every time it just reminds me of how I don’t hate you as much as I wish I do. My friends still spend time with you even though they know what you did. You broke me. You hate me. I hate myself too. I hope you’re happy.

anonymous asked:

I just wanted to say that I finally go the courage to tell my therapist about all the abuse I was facing at home!

Darling I am beyond proud of you. That takes an incredible amount of strength to speak about. It’s very inspiring, and I hope your situation improves asap. Thank you for being courageous. Thank you for being you. Please stay safe and remember that you deserve recovery. You’re on my mind, angel.💕

The resurgence of vriska serket support and adoration just bc u ship her with terezi makes me so sick and upset honestly. They were iirc horrible for each other during & before sgrub, not to mention terezi deserves better than to date ANOTHER ABUSER… shes perfectly shippable with other girls who arent evil, stop using terezi as a selling point for vriska, terezi is too good to be reduced to that shit

mrsjohnsmith  asked:

You told him. You actually grew a pair and told him. With just two beers down for each of you, you looked dead into those sparkling green eyes and said three little words. There wasn't any response and so you thought maybe they were lost in the music. So you said them again. That's when the light faded in his eyes, when he licked his lips and looked around the room before dragging them back reluctantly to meet yours. It was damn near ages before he spoke a response, the words low and quiet. "I'm

not letting them take you.” He tried to look confident, but you could hear it in his voice: he was terrified.

Putting on a brave face, you grinned; he didn’t take the news well. “Dean, I’m not gonna die.”

He rolled his eyes. “Damn straight you’re not. Not on my watch.”

“To be honest, I really don’t think that’s up to you –“ You didn’t get to finish your sentence before he slammed his bottle down on the table and got to his feet.

“Cas! Get your ass down here!” Dean shouted to the ceiling, and moments later you heard the familiar rustle of feathers.

“Hello, Dean. I am here. As is my backside. What do you want?”

Good old Castiel. You sniggered, feeling some of the apprehension melt away.

“Your stupid ass brothers want Y/N, so I need you to work your mojo on Y/N; ward her like you did Sam and me.”

“Alright,” Castiel nodded and stepped closer. But just as he was about to put his hand on you, the lights flickered and the room filled with static electricity.

“Tsk, tsk,” the newcomer tutted, giving Castiel a disapproving look. “So willing to betray your brethren, Castiel?”

“Adriel, you are not –“

Adriel snapped her fingers and Castiel disappeared with a pop.

“You son of a bitch!” Dean growled, stepping between you and the angel.

Putting a hand on Dean’s shoulder, you pulled him back. “I got this,” you said calmly.

“Have you reconsidered?” the angel asked gently, tilting her head the way angels seem to do when they try to understand humankind.

You pinched the bridge of your nose before dragging the hand down your face. “Let me put it this way,” you began, still calm, although your insides were storming, “when I was little, I was taught that my body does not belong to me. That my words are not worth the length of their waves. I said no. I tried to push him off me. But he didn’t listen to my screams. I was not strong enough to move him. I was only eleven.” You blinked away those damned tears and coughed to remove the slime in your throat before continuing. Adriel watched as you steeled yourself, as you drew yourself up to your full height and held your head high – you were not afraid of her.

Dean knew what you were doing, and as much as it hurt him to listen to your story again, he got to work; slowly fishing his knife out of his pocket. The cut stung, and he bit his lip to silence the groan forming in his chest.

“I was only eleven,” you repeated, finding your voice again, “when I told my mom about it, and she told me that he was just an old man. That he probably didn’t even mean anything by it. And she taught me that my pain was an inconvenience. That it was too much hassle to fix it for me. He was too old to go to jail. Our family would disintegrate. Think of the consequences, Y/N. Think of the shame. What will the neighbours say?”

Pausing, feeling the pulse in your fingertips and suppressing the urge to throw up, you saw that the angel was completely engrossed in your story, with something resembling sympathy flickering over her face, making you smile grimly. They weren’t taking you today. No chance.

“Where were you then? With your righteousness and judgement? Yeah, maybe he was to old to go to jail, but I’ve been incarcerated ever since,” you continued, stepping a little bit closer as Dean stilled behind you.

“But I’ve taught myself otherwise. I am my own. So you see, the only words you will get from me are fuck off! I am not going to be anyone’s meatsuit.”

Dean nodded, looking at you with reverence and awe before turning his eyes back to Adriel. “You really aren’t the sharpest tools, are you? Though, tools nonetheless.” He grinned, following the angel’s surprised gaze to the blood dripping down on the carpet.

“Buh-bye!” He slammed his hand on the wall, activating the sigil he had drawn, and the angel disappeared in a flash of light and disappointment.

You let out the breath you’d been holding and stumbled over to Dean. “Let’s get this cleaned up and bandaged,” you muttered, gently running your thumb along the edge of his hand.

Lifting your hand slowly, Dean pressed a light kiss to your wrist. “Don’t worry about me. We gotta get you warded before they come back.”

“Cas’ll be here soon,” you assured him, pulling him with you. “Let me – just let me take care of you this once.”

Dean chuckled and let you lead him to the bathroom. “You’re too good for me, Y/N.”

“No I’m not. Quit goofing around.”

“I’m serious.” He stopped in his tracks, tugging on your arm. “You constantly amaze me with your strength and determination –“

“I thought you didn’t like my pig-headedness.”

“Shut up. I’m trying to compliment you.”

“And you’re doing a great job. Come on, Dean. Before you bleed to death.” Pointing to the toilet, you motioned for him to sit down while you got the first aid kit from your bag. He winced as you dabbed the wound with antiseptic liquid. “Sit still,” you scolded, winking at him. Now that things had calmed a bit, you felt more like yourself again.

“You love me,” he replied with a chuckle.

Feeling your heart race, you swallowed thickly. “Yeah, I do,” you said, the confession spinning in your head. “I do love you.”

Dean’s head snapped up, all humour gone from his face. “I…”

“It’s alright. You don’t have to say it. If you’re not ready.” Tying the gauze neatly, you gave him a small smile.

“I do, though,” Dean said quietly, never taking his eyes off you. Rising from his seat, he wrapped his arms around you and buried his face in your hair. “I love you.”

“I know.”

I don’t think I can manage any more drabble requests now: there’s quite a few more I have to write, and considering the turtle pace with which I write, I’ll be doing this for some time. Thank you to all who participated, and all your kind words. It really means a lot to me!



(ps. if you do need to leave and don’t know how, hit me up anytime via message, i will help you find a safe place in your area)

Finding the Good

So, I have a lot of scars, physical and psychological, from a pretty shitty childhood. And as an adult, there are times when I lapse into self loathing because I catch myself acting like my dad, a person I so intensely hated that I didn’t feel anything but relief when he died (about 7 or 8 years ago - I don’t remember or keep track of the anniversary).

But the thing is, whether I like it or not, I *am* a lot like my dad, and there are some core pieces of me that I owe to him.

Inspired by @boxoftheskyking and her grateful lists, I feel like I should find the good things about him to talk about so I’m not so crushed by the weight of being just like him. Here goes.

He’s the one who encouraged me to write, even when I was a tiny angry middle schooler who hated feedback. He read every damn story I handed him and some of his advice sticks with me still today.

He’s the one who gave me my strength of will, determination, confidence, and sense of empathy. I sure as fuck didn’t get those from my mom, an incredibly depressed woman with an attachment disorder and a Sicilian’s penchant for grudges.

He’s the one who taught me how important it is to take care of people who need it. I didn’t land in the service sector because of mom’s cold heart, but because even when he had nothing, my dad could find something to give to someone who needed it.

He’s the one who taught me to love being in the woods. The silence and peace and appreciation for its beauty.

He’s also the one who taught me how to have awesome coffee when I’m flat broke. They have the shittiest coffee in jail, and my dad played with common kitchen ingredients to make it palatable. Did you know if you put cocoa in the grounds when you brew it, it tastes close to a mocha? Or pumpkin pie spice for fall yumminess? My favorite, still to this day, is cinnamon and a splash of vanilla mixed right into the cup.

After a long night of wrestling my hatred of him because I was feeling with the leftover, persistent hurt of an old injury he left me with, and hating myself because what am I if not my father’s daughter, I feel like it’s a damn good start.