#tw:violence against women

[chokememaximoff]

Riding Hearts: A Biker's Love Story I

Wanda Maximoff x Reader series

Abstract:Wanda infiltrates a dangerous biker gang to uncover secrets of super weapons. Amidst the chaos, her bond with Y/N evolves, leading to passion, sacrifice, and a love story that defies the odds.

TW:Violence,Death,Blood,Gore,Trauma,Manipulation,Language,Substance,Sexuality,Danger,Criminality

Y/N Y/L/N's leather-clad fingers tightened around the handlebars of her roaring motorcycle as she sped down the darkened highway. Wind whistled past, carrying with it the scent of freedom and rebellion. She had been part of the Wolfpack biker gang for as long as she could remember, a family forged in the crucible of danger and loyalty.

Her mind wandered back to the day that had changed her life forever. She had been a young girl then, innocent and vulnerable, when a predator had cornered her in an alley. Just as fear had threatened to paralyze her, a group of leather-clad bikers had stormed in like avenging angels. They had fought off her assailant and taken her under their wing.

Now, Y/N was a force to be reckoned with, her name whispered with a mixture of awe and trepidation on the lips of anyone who dared cross her path. She had earned her place as the right hand of the Wolfpack's leader, a position that came with both respect and fear.

The night was alive with the rumble of engines as Y/N and the gang pulled into their makeshift headquarters – a rundown warehouse hidden on the outskirts of the city. Her heart quickened as she dismounted, the weight of her responsibilities settling on her shoulders.

As she strode through the warehouse, the other gang members parted like the Red Sea, clearing a path for their fierce leader. Y/N's piercing gaze scanned the faces of her companions, a mix of misfits and outlaws bound by loyalty and a shared thirst for adventure.

But tonight was different. Rumors had spread like wildfire that the notorious Avengers had set their sights on the Wolfpack. The Avengers were known for their uncanny abilities, a league of heroes who often walked the fine line between good and questionable tactics.

Word had it that they were after the gang's alleged connections to acquiring super weapons – weapons that could tip the balance of power. And so, with trepidation simmering beneath the surface, Y/N braced herself for the arrival of these so-called heroes.

As the gang settled into the warehouse's dimly lit interior, Y/N leaned against a stack of crates, her steely gaze fixed on the entrance. Moments later, the massive doors creaked open, and in walked a figure cloaked in shadows.

Wanda Maximoff, the Scarlet Witch herself, stood in their midst. Y/N's eyes narrowed, assessing the intruder with a mixture of curiosity and wariness. This was the woman who had come to infiltrate their ranks, to play the dangerous game of deception.

The tension in the air was palpable as Wanda's eyes met Y/N's, and for a fleeting moment, the two women sized each other up. Y/N's aura exuded power and danger, a stark contrast to the subtle intensity that radiated from Wanda.

As the gang murmured and exchanged glances, Y/N's lips curved into a sardonic smile. She knew the drill – a test to see if the newcomer had what it took to be part of the Wolfpack. And she was more than ready to see just how far this Scarlet Witch was willing to go.

Little did Y/N know that this encounter would set the wheels of fate into motion, weaving a tale of intrigue, danger, and a love that defied all odds.

..

The warehouse air crackled with anticipation, the eyes of the gang members fixed on Wanda Maximoff. Y/N Y/L/N leaned against the crates, her arms crossed, as she observed the Scarlet Witch with a mix of skepticism and intrigue. This was no ordinary newcomer – Wanda's aura held a unique blend of determination and hidden vulnerability.

Razor stepped forward, his biker vest adorned with intricate symbols that told the stories of his battles and triumphs. "Welcome to our little slice of paradise, sweetheart. We've heard you've got guts, but here in the Wolfpack, we don't just take anyone."

Y/N's lips curled into a half-smile as she unfolded her arms. "Razor's right. We're a family here, and family comes before anything else."

Razor nodded in agreement, his stern expression softening slightly. "So, Wanda, let's see what you're made of. You want in? You'll have to prove it."

The gang members moved in a little closer, their challenging stares fixed on Wanda. Razor motioned to a makeshift target at the far end of the warehouse. "You've got a shot at that target. Impress us."

Wanda's gaze remained steady as she focused her powers. Scarlet energy crackled around her fingertips, and with a sudden surge, she released a bolt of energy that streaked across the room and struck the target dead center.

The gang members exchanged glances, some of them nodding in approval. But the air remained tense, and Y/N's raised eyebrow conveyed her begrudging acknowledgment of Wanda's display of power.

Razor's lips curled into a smirk. "Not bad. But raw power won't always save your hide."

He signaled to the gang members, who produced a series of makeshift weapons – a knife, a chain, and a pair of brass knuckles. "Pick one."

Wanda hesitated only briefly before choosing the knife. She held it firmly in her hand, her stance determined as she braced herself for what came next.

As Razor signaled the start, gang members lunged at Wanda one by one, attacking with ferocity. Wanda's movements were swift, but the odds were against her. She managed to evade some blows, but others landed, leaving her with bruises and scrapes.

The gang members jeered and laughed, taunting her as she struggled to hold her ground. Y/N's gaze remained fixed, her expression unreadable as she watched the scene unfold.

Wanda fought valiantly, but eventually, she found herself pinned to the ground, a gang member's knee pressing into her back. The laughter echoed in her ears, and humiliation burned in her chest.

Razor's voice cut through the commotion. "That's enough."

The gang members stepped back, leaving Wanda on the ground, breathing heavily and disheveled. Her pride stung as she slowly pushed herself up.

Razor's gaze locked onto Wanda's. "You've got heart, but you'll need more than that to survive with us."

As the gang members dispersed, Y/N pushed off the crates and approached Wanda, her expression inscrutable. "Welcome to the Wolfpack," she said, her voice a mix of begrudging respect and something else.

Wanda nodded, a mixture of determination and humiliation in her gaze. As Y/N walked away, Wanda's jaw clenched, a silent promise forming in her mind – she would prove herself, no matter the cost.

As the echoes of laughter and the sting of humiliation lingered in the air, Wanda's path into the heart of the Wolfpack became more uncertain and challenging than she could have ever anticipated.

...

Weeks passed since Wanda's initiation into the Wolfpack, but the gang's skepticism hadn't faded. The dimly lit warehouse buzzed with anticipation as Wanda stood at the center of the room, a mixture of trepidation and determination in her eyes.

Razor's voice cut through the tension. "Time for your next trial, Wanda."

A murmur of excitement rippled through the gang as they gathered around, eager to see how the Scarlet Witch would fare. Y/N Y/L/N leaned against a pillar, her arms crossed, her gaze piercing as it fixed on Wanda.

A gang member stepped forward, holding a bucket filled with a thick, gooey substance. "For this trial, you've got to dig deep. Reach into this bucket and find a hidden object."

Wanda's brow furrowed as she glanced at the bucket, then back at the gang member. She hesitated for a moment before plunging her hand into the goo. Her fingers squelched into the mess, searching blindly.

The gang members exchanged knowing glances, smirks playing on their lips as they watched Wanda's struggle. Y/N's gaze remained steady, unmoving, her expression inscrutable.

Finally, Wanda's fingers closed around something hard and cold. She pulled her hand out, revealing a small metal object. A key.

Laughter erupted from the gang members as they clapped and cheered, their amusement evident. Wanda's cheeks burned with embarrassment, the goo dripping from her hand as she held up the key.

Razor's voice broke through the laughter. "Impressive, Wanda. You've got a sharp eye."

But the trials were far from over. Another gang member stepped forward, holding a makeshift costume – an outlandish outfit that seemed better suited for a carnival than a biker gang's initiation.

Wanda's eyes widened in disbelief as she took in the ridiculous outfit. The gang members roared with laughter, clearly enjoying the spectacle that was about to unfold.

Y/N's gaze remained unmoving, her lips quirking into a faint smile as she watched Wanda's reaction. There was a spark of something in Y/N's eyes, a glimmer of understanding beneath the surface.

As Wanda reluctantly donned the costume, her face flushed with embarrassment, she stepped forward and began a hesitant, awkward dance. The gang members clapped and hooted, their amusement showing no signs of waning.

Wanda's heart raced as she danced, her movements stiff and self-conscious. The gang members' laughter echoed in her ears, a constant reminder of the spectacle she was making of herself.

Finally, the dance came to an end, and Wanda stood in the center of the room, breathing heavily but resolute. The gang members applauded her efforts, their approval evident.

Razor stepped forward, his expression a mixture of amusement and something deeper. "You've shown us something tonight, Wanda. You've got guts."

Wanda's gaze flickered to Y/N, who stood at a distance, her expression unreadable. Wanda couldn't decipher Y/N's thoughts or emotions, and the uncertainty only added to her unease.

Y/N's voice cut through the commotion. "But remember, the Wolfpack doesn't just tolerate weakness. We test it."

As the gang members dispersed, leaving Wanda standing alone in the center of the room, Y/N approached her, a glint of something in her eyes that was more than mere amusement.

"You're not like the others," Y/N said, her voice a low murmur. "You've got a fire that burns even through humiliation."

Wanda met Y/N's gaze, her heart pounding in her chest. She couldn't read the emotions in Y/N's eyes, but the intensity of the moment made her feel exposed and vulnerable.

"I'll prove myself," Wanda replied, her voice steady despite the tremor in her nerves.

As Wanda walked away, the echoes of laughter and the sting of humiliation mingled in the air, a reminder of the trials she had endured and the challenges that still lay ahead.

[the-beastslayers-queen]

A Dangerous Game: Chapter 6

Chapter 6 is here. TRIGGER WARNING IN EFFECT AGAIN: DATE RAPE AND DRUGGING. Tagging: @queenofthearchitect @biforbecky2belts @writtingrose @mrsambroserollinsacklesmgk and @jeffhardyenigmawwefan I’m still accepting tagging requests so hit my ask box please. Enjoy!

I decided to send Seth off so I could have Finn come over. I was laid up on my couch, an ice pack on my eye to try to reduce the swelling and the deep color of my black eye as I waited for my brother. Once I heard the door knob jiggle, I knew Finn was here and using his key to open my apartment.

“Okay something is definitely up if you have your door locked, Catie,” Finn sounded concerned, “What was so important to have me rush across town from Bullet Club?”

“See for yourself,” I told him as I removed the ice pack from my eye. Finn’s jaw dropped and he jogged over to my side to get a closer look.

“Damnú,” Finn cursed as he inspected my eye, “Who did this to you?”

“McIntyre,” I confessed as he ran his fingers gently against the bruises, causing me to wince at his touch, “He clocked me when I rejected his advances. With my shoulder being the way it is and how soon it was into our engagement, I was uncomfortable. But instead of being understanding, the asshole punched me.”

“Damn it Catriona,” Finn grabbed at his hair in frustration, “Get used to him making advances on you. You’re his fiancée. Now grow up and think of the Club. You have to endure him if we want peace. Now behave around him and you won’t get hit.”

“Are you fucking serious,” I screamed at him, “I am not going to toe the line when McIntyre was more than willing to swing at my face. Get the fuck out, you asshole!”

“Grow the fuck up Cat and deal with it,” Finn shouted back, “You’re marrying him and that’s final.”

Finn stormed out of my apartment and slammed the door behind him. I collapsed to my knees, tears streaking down my face. I was locked into my fate and my brother didn’t have a care in the world to do right by his sister, the girl who had a bright future as a potential cop and threw it all away for him. I had no brother, just a demon that called himself my brother.

I got out my phone and called Seth. He had to know that we need to plan out our escape from Orlando. I was not going to marry Drew. I was going to do everything in my power to get out of this marriage. If I had to marry Seth to do it, I would without a second thought. He’s the man I want to share a bed with, to share the rest of my life with.

“Seth,” I was still in tears when he answered his phone, “Come to my place. We have a trip to plan.”

“What,” Seth sounded confused, “Did Finn not side with you and try to end the engagement?”

“No,” I hiccupped, “He screamed at me that I had to suck it up and be obedient to Drew. He’s not the brother I remember growing up with. This is Bálor, the darkest side of Finn I have ever seen. But please just come to my place. I don’t want to be alone tonight.”

“I’m packing a bag and I’ll be right over,” Seth agreed and I could hear him starting to pack, “I will work on getting us a game plan to flee the city. Drew is not marrying you, not on my watch. Fuck Finn, okay. He clearly doesn’t deserve his sister’s compassion when he refused to show you any.”

Seth finally arrive to my apartment and I wasted no time in running into his arms. I was still a wreck after Finn effectively turned his back on me. He knew when we were kids I was afraid of being rejected by those that were supposed to be my family, and he’s done the one thing I have feared above all else.

“Cat,” Seth rubbed my back, trying to calm me down, “Just breathe, okay. It’s okay now. I’m here and I’m not going anywhere until you tell me to. Finn has no idea what he condemned you to. Drew is a monster, a psychopath through and through. If he won’t protect you from that, then I will.”

“I think I need to tell you why this is hitting me so hard,” I hiccupped as I wiped the tears from my cheeks, “You need to know what I fear above all else.”

I was three and a half when my parents had fallen on such hard times, they opted to give me up for adoption. My parents were too poor to provide me the future I had deserved. Five months after I was given up, I was adopted by the Devitt family. I was hesitant to trust them, but it was their son Fergal, that won me over. He made a promise to me one night when I had a nightmare of being given up again that I knew I was where I needed to be.

When I was 12, I received a letter from my mother’s brother that my birth mother had passed away from a fatal car accident and that he wished to get to know me. He also wrote to my parents, asking if he could take me in for a few years to get an excellent education in the States. My parents agreed, seeing it was a chance for me to get to know my real family and to better my chances to excel and succeed in life. I felt like I was being abandoned again, but Fergal again showed me that I wasn’t being abandoned. I was able to come home for the holidays and the summer to spend time at home.

When I graduated college at 20, Fergal had come over to the States to see me graduate. It was after my graduation that he told me he was starting an organization in Orlando and he needed my help as his resident hacker, I agreed. I knew that if I joined him, I wasn’t going to lose him. I turned down the job offer from the FBI to become a cybercrime expert for them and packed up for Orlando.

But after all the times I expressed my fear of being abandoned, my own brother that had always sworn to be there for me abandoned me so easily. All so he could help solidify his influence in Orlando between the two largest organizations in the criminal underbelly of Orlando.

“Finn is on my shit list for what he’s done to you,” Seth seethed, “The next time I see him, I’m punching him right in his jaw.”

“Seth I don’t want you to start a war with everyone at my expense,” I placed my hands on his chest as he breathed heavily in anger, “If you start a war with anyone it should be McIntyre. He deserves it more than Finn does. He’ll come around once he sees I’m not safe when I’m around Drew. For now, until we have a game plan, I will follow through on this wedding plans crap. Once we’re ready, we’ll make a break for it and run far from this damn city and go into hiding.”

It had been a couple weeks since Drew punched me in my face. My black eye was gone and I was no longer in a sling for my shoulder. I was still in pain, but it wasn’t as bad as it was before when I was first shot. I was still limited in my range of motion, but the physical therapy I was doing to get me back to 100% was helping me get better. Seth has been trying to help me too by coming to my physical therapy sessions so he can learn the workouts I would have to do at home.

But tonight, Drew was hosting a party at his club, Glasgow Kiss, and I was forced to attend by Finn. So I begrudgingly got dolled up for the event. Thankfully it was a masquerade party, so I could sneak in Seth so he can hide in the crowd. I didn’t want to be at this party if I couldn’t sneak him in so I can run off with him. So I wore a cute demon mask, playing on the Bálor name, and I got Seth to wear a wolf mask so I knew where I could find him.

“I’m going to the bar and get a drink,” I told Drew as I got up from my seat in the VIP section, “Do you want anything?”

“No thank you,” he replied, “I’m going to get bottle service over here.”

“Suit yourself,” I shrugged and walked over to the bar to get a drink.

I walked over to the bar, finding a man leaning against the bar wearing a wolf mask. It was the same mask I had picked for Seth, so I decided to have a little fun and flirt with him.

“Nice mask,” I smirked as I came up next to him, “Very fitting for a member of The Shield.”

“You picked it out,” Seth replied as he leaned in close to me, “But I do like the cute demon mask you have on, Miss Bálor. It’s very fitting for you.”

“So any trouble brewing at this damn party,” I asked after I put in my drink order with the bartender, “Because I am so bored in VIP being Drew’s damn arm candy.”

“None that I’ve seen,” Seth replied, “I’ll keep my eyes peeled for you. Just please be careful around Drew, okay. I want to have you home in one piece and not bruised.”

“I make no promises,” I winked at him, “I’ll be careful for you. I’ll see you tomorrow, okay. I need to get back to Drew.”

I took my drink and went back to the VIP section and sat down next to Drew. Baron came over to whisper something into Drew’s ear, lingering close enough to me to draw my attention that I didn’t notice Dolph coming over right away. I just rolled my eyes and drank my drink.

When I finished my drink I began to feel really woozy. I swore that the room started to spin. I went to reach over to Finn, trying to find my center.

“I don’t feel so good all of a sudden,” I grumbled as I set down my glass and grabbed my head, “I think I need to go home.”

“Finn I can get her home,” Drew volunteered very quickly, “Let me take her to the office to get her some water and get her away from all the noise in the club.”

Finn didn’t protest and Drew scooped me up into his arms and began to take me away from the crowd. I noticed through my stupor that Baron and Dolph were hot on Drew’s heels. Once we got into the office, Dolph locked the door as Drew laid me down on his bare desk in the middle of the room.

“Alright, Corbin, Ziggler, hold her down and get rid of her panties,” Drew ordered. I began to fight against the two dummies as they made quick work of my panties, sliding them down to my ankles and punching me a couple times in my ribs to stop my moving before holding me down by my wrists and ankles.

“No,” I groaned, trying to resist them, “Don’t touch me!”

Drew removed his pants and climbed on top of me. I spat in his face to try to stop him from going further. All that did was earn me a slap across my face so hard, I had a split lip and I had to spit my blood out of my mouth.

Drew fisted himself a couple times before he slammed into me hard. I felt the wind leave my lungs as he entered me forcefully. I wanted to scream, but Drew tore off his tie and shoved it into my mouth to muffle the sound.

Drew kept his pace up high and hard as he rode me to his climax, releasing inside me. He climbed off me once he was soft and moved to Baron’s position at my wrist. Baron let me go, but Drew grabbed on, squeezing hard enough to leave bruises for sure. Baron repeated the assault that Drew delivered before he then traded with Dolph, he too squeezed on my ankles hard enough to leave bruises there too. Once it was over, Dolph and Baron hit me some more before Drew called them off.

“Alright she’s been punished enough,” Drew ordered them off as I was released from his grip, leading to me curling up into a ball in shame and agony, “Get her panties back on and get her to the car. We’ll dump her at her apartment.”

When I came to the next morning I heard the front door of my apartment open. I tried to sit up, but I struggled since my shoulder was throbbing in pain along with the rest of my body. I groaned and just stayed on my bed.

“Cat,” I heard Seth call through my apartment, “Are you home?”

“Yeah I’m in bed,” I called back before groaning from the pain in my chest and ribs, “Ow, this hurts so goddamn bad.”

“What the hell,” Seth’s jaw dropped as he came up to my bedroom, “What the fuck happened to you? Who did this?”

“Who do you think,” I groaned as I grabbed at my head to fight off the throbbing headache I had, “Damn Drew to hell. I can’t wait to kick him in his manhood.”

“What did he do to you,” Seth was getting more and more pissed off, “Cat, what did he do?”

“He and his too little lackeys raped me last night at the party,” I told him as I finally got up, “They drugged me first and then did the act in Drew’s office at Glasgow Kiss. They then proceed to beat me both during the act and after.”

“I’m going to kill him,” Seth punched the closest wall to him, “I’m going to fucking kill him for this. He truly is a psychopath.”

“We should go to Shawn and have him pull a rape kit,” I told him as I packed a fresh pair of panties into my purse before getting out of my dress, I could hear Seth suck in a ragged breath at seeing my bruises as I changed into a pair of baggy sweatpants and a shirt he had left behind one night before slipping on one of my many hoodies I owned, “I need to get a morning after pill so I don’t have to worry about spawning another McIntyre.”

“We’re leaving as soon as we can,” Seth decided, “We’re running out of town and I’m hiding you away from him. I’m going to elope with you and lay low until Drew moves on. Then we’ll come back and kill him and his whole gang of idiots.”

“I agree,” I sighed as I walked over to him, gritting my teeth due to the pain I was feeling all over, “But for now, we need to get me checked out and then we’ll work on the logistics of our trip out of town.”

[themiraproject]

The City and Me

I’m 13, barely growing into my body, and I don’t know the city enough. Home to school to back home, my relationship with the city’s roads are defined in bus rides and sweltering Sundays spent in Connaught Place, surrounded by café-hoppers and chewing tobacco lovers. The only place I can recognize like the soles of my feet is the round bookstore near the place where my mother buys her jhumkas and kurtas. People only look at me to sell me things, as I navigate the city on my mother’s terms.

I’m 15, and we trace footsteps to the mall and back. We make space for ourselves in movie theatres and coffee shops. My friends learn to be loud in groups while I follow them with feathery footsteps and a pair of lips permanently stitched together with shyness. I chalk it up to the fact that I’m just the girl we’re all supposed to learn to be anyway – my silence is a head-start as we all grow into the gender the billboards teach us to become.

I’m 17, body growing in places I don’t understand the meaning of, and no one bothers to explain. We look at the women in Swarovski and Chanel posters and try to figure out where our bodies fit. We become more acquainted in the mall and corners where it’s safe for boys to touch us. We become more acquainted with “safety”: don’t stay out past 8, don’t step into an autorickshaw without calling your mother first, don’t invite boys at home, don’t, don’t, don’t. I am taught to spell “woman” before I am taught to spell “freedom” but I am told I’m allowed to experience both equally. “Equality” is reduced to a set of syllables like the murmuring of my mother praying each morning, and I wonder what do these words mean – if this is meant for me, why is it that I’m still taught how to use pepper spray before I am taught how to drive? “Equality” is an auto-ride into cognitive dissonance. “Freedom” is a trip to the mall. My reality is a world apart from the white women in all the advertisements. Sometimes I feel like a consumer, but mostly I too feel like a product, and the city is moulding me to become both at the same time.

I’m 19 and freedom tastes different: it tastes like wet earth in parks we were always forbidden to visit, passive smoke and cheap chicken rolls. Freedom looks like the walls of forts and monuments and history I’m just beginning to discover. Freedom looks like a city I’ve lived in all my life and am only now experiencing. The city teaches me to revel in it, to brave the crowds and the staring, the “eveteasing” and the hands trying to grope you on busy metro trains. We shed the word “safety” and “security” and learn the ways of the world as we wear down the broken footpath edges with our busy feet.

I’m 21 and the city is on fire. I become part of the protests in university, I run from the men who chase us with slurs about our bodies in one breath and slogans about the nation in another. Freedom looks more and more like transformation of the city and the self. It is no more centred on my desire to consume. I loiter in parks after dark but only when I am allowed to. The possibilities in the city present itself: public spaces, accessible to all, that can change the nature of how we mingle with each other. Finding friendship on sweltering afternoons at Arts Fac, or at chai stalls in CR Park, I finally understand this is what it means to be part of a city, and for the city to be part of me.

Shirin Choudhary is a poet, activist and enthusiast of hugs from New Delhi, India. They love to talk/write about human rights, poetry, literature, love and the pleasures of holding your friend's hands.

[engrprof]

The following article is a discussion about violence, violence against women, and the oppression women face every day. Have a care if these topics disturb you. Note too: I am a cisgender male, and the hashtags I discuss below deal with the issues in binary men/women terms, so I do...

[eatmyshoe]

in memory of the Isla Vista victims

Elliot Rodger was not a "madman"; he was a misogynist and a racist whose belief in his own racial superiority and entitlement to women's bodies caused him to murder ten people. His act was one of terrorism--he acted on extreme beliefs and was a proclaimed men's rights activist (he thought that women should be put into concentration camps and starved), and his manifesto reveals his fanatic obsession with his so-called "rejection" by a ten-year-old girl and other females, and his retribution video reveals that these killings are not only "revenge" for some imagined slights that society dealt him but also a threat. The message he sent, and the one that many people (according to YouTube comments, Facebook posts, and a lot of stuff people I know have said) sympathize with, is that if women reject men, they deserve to die. That's basically it. He killed women because he thought he deserved sex and he didn't get it. By extension, he killed men because he thought he was racially superior to them but they supposedly had the attention of women that he didn't.

By saying "haha he just wanted to get out of the friendzone" or "well he killed men too!" or "lol girls should remember this the next time they reject someone" or "he was just crazy" or "why are all these 'feminazis' trying to make this about women" you are being complicit in the perpetuation of violence against women and against people of color. By not acknowledging misogyny, not just in the killings but in our society, you are complicit. Because by ignoring the fact that misogyny kills women, you are allowing it to happen again, as it has so many times before.

(I also want to say that dismissing him as "crazy" stigmatizes those with mental disabilities, and that he had Asperger's but that has no link to violence and is not a mental illness and those with mental disabilities do tend to more often be the victims of violence rather than the cause)

Please, in memory of those who died, acknowledge the causes and realize that these tragedies are not inevitable--that they are senseless but that within the irrationality lies the rationale of male entitlement and misogyny reinforced by our society. And we can change that.

http://bellejar.ca/2014/05/24/elliot-rodger-and-men-who-hate-women/ http://qz.com/213553/what-isla-vista-shooter-horrific-manifesto-my-twisted-world-says-about-values/

[sublimebeeessry]

Watched hours of MSNBC this morning and heard a cis white guy pull the statement "CLEARLY mental illness involved (with Elliot Rodger)" straight out of his ass, several mentions of "possible" premeditation, and zero mention or discussion of his stated misogynistic women - devaluing beliefs. And this was the good stuff. Weekend morning MSNBC. Melissa Harris Perry. And the weeks of ableism, scapegoating, and violent backlash against even the merest hint of the idea that guns could be involved is just getting started =(

[pussyfishcatfoodbrand]

By Christen Smith What do we want from each other After we have told our stories do we want to be healed   do we want mossy quiet stealing over our scars… - “There Are No Honest Poems About Dead Women” – Audre Lorde “Every police car has a bit of slave ship in it” – O Rappa **** On March 16, 2014, military police in Rio de Janeiro shot and severely wounded Cláudia Silva Ferreira near her home while she was on the way to buy cold cuts and bread. The police officers were in a gunfight with alleged drug traffickers, and they shot her twice – “stray bullets.” Although she was already severely wounded, the police waited until the fight was over to put her in the hatchback trunk of the police car to take her to the hospital. Then, on the way to the hospital, she fell out of the trunk, but they did not stop the car. The officers continued to drag her behind the police car for 250 meters until they reached a red light, where they stuffed her [...]

[ongreywings]

This look slike it could either be a legitimate examination of what this woman had to go through to survive within a human trafficing ring, or an excuse for torture porn.jamie Chung is awesome, but I'm not sure I could go through watching this even if it's the former.

[lazyscience]

This is absolutely fucking horrifying. There is every trigger warning imaginable here related to sexual violation, medical malpractice, racism and infanticide.

Then read the comments. Yes, I know what I'm asking you to do.

Then ask yourself how desperate the women had to be who placed themselves in this monster's hands. And how illiterate about their own health and bodies they were. And how everyone turned away, Republican and Democrat, regulators.  

Shame is written on the earth in blood for what happened here. Not because of abortion, but because of greed, and racism, and apathy. 

[radtransfem]

His voice. She hears his voice speaking. He tells her she is always defending herself. For no reason, his voice implies. She tells him that while he was away, she was sick and the baby cried. He tells he that she has told him this to make him feel guilty. He raises his voice. His arms flail about as he speaks. His voice sounds violent to her. Her body flinches. She holds back the words she was going to speak. She feels a weight descend inside her. Her mouth is dry. She puts no name to this. She does not tell herself she is afraid. She does not pronounce the word "violence". His arms stop again and again short of her cheeks, of her breasts. She convinces herself that she is imagining danger. That she has no reason to defend herself, she says. That perhaps she is even now, in her fear, conjuring this up in him. That perhaps she is seeking a reason to hate him. She is ashamed for hating him. She tries again to speak with him. She says that she is tired. He falls into silence. I am tired, she says again. He turns his head away. She wonders if she has used the right words. She wonders if the tiredness in her body is real. Did you hear me? she asks. "Did you hear," she finds herself screaming. He walks out of the room. A violence fills her. Her voice lacks air. Words spit from her mouth. BASTARDSONOFABITCHIHATEYOU, she rasps. Her voice becomes ugly to her. Her words come back on her. She disowns this voice. There is no hearing, no response. She is surrounded, now, by silence. The voice that started in her dies within her.

Susan Griffin, Woman and Nature: The Roaring Inside Her (The Women's Press, 1984), pp. 116-7

TW: abuse, violence against women, domestic violence

see also gaslighting and Nancy Henley on gestures of dominance

[pussyfishcatfoodbrand]

Notes on a Western themed cop show my mom is watching

I've seen maybe 15 minutes of the end of one episode, the last two minutes of one, and 20 minutes of the beginning of another. 1) In the first episode I saw a woman talk about being a DV victim, same woman fend off a home invasion, same woman get threatened with violence, same woman kidnapped, have this conversation with the sheriff who came to rescue her 'Next time I tell you to hide out, out of town?' And she replied in her saucy southern accent, 'Go?' And he said, 'Yeah.' And I guess that proves she's sassy and empowered and shit. 2) The two minutes of the next episode I saw was the sheriff rescuing a sobbing kidnapped woman (different woman). 3)The last episode I saw the plot revolves around a pregnant female prisoner who engineers an escape to birth her baby, but the kidnappers turn on her and threaten to cut the baby out of her while she's bound and gagged and screaming. Then when the sheriff gets there the kidnappers aim the gun at her stomach and threaten to 'spray baby guts' all over the room. I'm just saying I'm getting a real 'sensationalized violence against women for entertainment' vibe around here...