Tw Abuse - Blog Posts
Spread Word
Hello runner of the following pages here
@yoko-ono-daily @johnonolemons @liverpoolian and @takashimakato
I will be going over a few things I've been going through at the hands of my mother and I need you guys to listen along/Read along
Misery
a state or feeling of great distress or discomfort of mind or body.
Manipulation
trying to control another person so they will do what you want because it benefits you. Firm boundaries are necessary to protect yourself from a manipulator
For quiet sometime now every since August 2023 I've been manipulated by my mother in multiple ways.
1. her gaslighting me to believe my family hates me
2. all of my friends or Acquaintances are trying to R word me or Touch me inappropriately
3. That my feelings aren't as important as he feelings
4. That my mental health is not at all important and that the medication I was using did not help me at all.
What makes this worse is that My mom now has another thing to manipulate me with something I did that I'm not proud of.
She also makes me believe no one cares about me to the point that I barely have contacts in my own phone anymore.
That these guys I hang with are gonna rape and take advantage of me even though they are the only people I feel safe with besides my other friend.
My feelings are never validated, hell I'm staying at a house I don't want to stay at so my mom doesn't use this secret against me making me submit to her torture and abuse.
My mental health has been regarded so bad that I've tried to off myself multiple times and I've told my mom I need medication to get better but am met with threats of 302ing
(302)
In Pennsylvania, a 302 commitment is an application for emergency evaluation and treatment for someone who is a danger to themselves or others due to a mental illness. A person can be considered for a 302 commitment if they meet certain criteria within the past 30 days, such as attempting suicide, self-mutilation, or being unable to care for themselves without supervision. A 302 commitment can only be processed in the county where the behaviors occurred and can last up to 120 hours. A 302 commitment usually stays on a person's record for life, but an attorney may be able to petition the court to have it removed.
I've been miserable with everything that's been going on I have no one to go too and I'm scared to tell an adult and get CPS called its frightening every single second of the day walking on eggshells.
I also rarely eat since I'm afraid that we won't have any food left and since I don't have a job yet since I'm still in school and my mom has a shitty job we won't have lots of money.
My mother's baby father (not my father)
Has accused me of liking his wife (since my mother and him are not together and talk because my mom has a kid with him) even though I'm not interested in this lady and have a preference.
He called me a whore for having a partner and has told me I need to "Stop being Grown" when his niece is sending naked pictures of herself to people.
His niece is not better, she called me boring for not wanting to go outside and just watch what I want to watch while I'm there.
Turned off something I felt comfortable watching then tried to talk to me like it was okay before telling me I have to apologize to (Her uncle's wife) for trying to talk to her since I apparently am in love with her.
I told her about my S/A in confidence and she told everyone making me look like a whore..saying I enjoyed everything.
She lied to me saying she never told anyone but she did because I just don't go Promoting someone touching my body.
But i just want to say that this has been happening to me since August 2023 when I moved with my mom after my aunt kicked me out after something happened.
I used to think you were a smart man
now I’m not so sure
in fact
I think you told us several times
when I was younger
that you were anything but
you scared me too much to test that
I hope the people who live in our old house
look at the dent in the freezer
that you nearly broke your foot making
because you wished you could have done
it to me instead
and wonder how it got there
and soon enough they will discover
the lines I scratched into the wood
into the walls
little traces of anger
it fills every support beam,
every wall,
every floorboard like rot
spreading
consuming
devouring
“Bible Study”
Cw: mentions of abuse,puritan culture, secret relationship
You trembled as you sat at the table across from your father. He was calm, too calm. His collected demeanor was merely a mask to cover the rage he would inevitably let loose on you.
“I’ve heard things about you, y/n. Things I don’t want to be hearin’. You been disappearin’ a lot more and people are saying you’ve been running around with boys.”
You fight the urge to turn your eyes away from your father’s as you think about the last few months. You had been running around, though not with boys. You’d been spending every free moment you had with a man. A godly man, whom you trusted to protect you from the forces of the Devil while he used your body for sin.
“I haven’t been running around. I’ve been with Father Sunday, you can ask him. You know how I struggle to grasp my readings. He’s been kind enough to help me with the word.” You state, trying your best to sound as innocent as possible.
“Get up,” he snaps, causing you to jump in your seat, straightening your spine to attention as you stand.
“Where are we going,” you question, voice trembling as all the possible punishments your father could lay on you race through your mind.
“We’re going to have a word with Father Sunday, and if he doesn't corroborate your story you best hope we’re out of grits,” he growls, grabbing the back of your neck forcefully and guiding you towards the front door, jolting you harshly as you struggle to keep up.
He marches you across the field to the chapel beneath the tree and kicks the door open, pushing you down the aisle to where Eli kneels before the cross, his head bowed in prayer.
“Father Sunday,” your father calls, startling Eli from his task. “I’m terribly sorry to bother you so late in the evening, but I have reason to believe my daughter’s gotten herself into a predicament.”
Eli stands and turns to face you, taking your hands in his and gently pulling you away from your fathers grasp. “Oh that’s quite alright. What ails you child,” he hums, bringing his palm up to rest on your forehead.
“Word around town is that she’s been running around with boys and getting up to ungodly things.”
“Oh, no no,” Eli murmurs, moving your body so his view of your father is unobstructed. “That’s simply not true. She’s been here with me, studying. I know how she struggles and how terribly she wishes to be close to God. She’s done nothing wrong, and I’ll make sure everybody knows that. I was worried when she didn’t make it this afternoon, was it at your discretion sir?”
“I kept her home to question her on the matter.”
“I see,” Eli hums, looking over at you, taking notice of the way your hand trembled in his. “Would you still like to study this evening instead? I’ve got plenty of lamp oil.”
You nod softly at his offer. “Yes sir, I’d appreciate it.”
Eli releases your hand and turns his attention to your father. “She’s in good hands, sir. I’ll see to it that she gets home safe.”
You watch as your father nods curtly, merley giving Eli a grunt as he turns on his heel and retreats through the heavy doors of the church.
As soon as the door slams behind him you fall into Eli, a sob wracking your body as his arms wrap around you. “Oh Eli, thank you. Thank you.”
Eli’s hands grip your shoulder as he pushes you away to look at your face. “What’s he done to you now?”
“Nothing. He didn’t do anything this time. If your story hadn’t agreed he’d have made me kneel in grits again.”
“Oh darling, my darling girl. I won’t allow it. I’ll make my next sermon about sparing the rod, he’s sure to listen,” he rambles, his hands roaming hurriedly as the pads of his fingers trace the contours of your face, wiping your tears away.
“Eli, that won’t do a thing.”
“You should marry me. If we got married I could take you away from him for good. He could never put his hands on you again. We wouldn't even have to share a bed if you don’t want to.”
“Please, Eli, I don’t want to think about that anymore.”
His arms relax, pulling you towards him and the weight of his head resting on yours comforts you. “Alright then. I understand. Let’s go into the study.”
“Of course Eli, let’s,” you hum, allowing him to lead you into his study and settle you into the chair across from him.
“So aside from your father, how have you been since I last saw you, darling,” he questions, reaching across his desk to take your hands into his once again.
“I’ve been well, just helping mother with the canning for winter when I’m not with you.”
“Do you like being here, with me?”
“Of course I do Eli, I wouldn’t come around if I didn’t. I- I do love you, you know.”
“I love you too, darling. I meant what I said. I would like to marry you.”
“We can’t now, my father’s already suspicious. Just give it a year, then we’ll be safe.”
Eli sighs, leaning to rest his head on his arm. “I wish he wasn’t so cruel to you. I’d kill him if I could.”
“Eli, don’t talk like that. It’s sinful.”
“All I care about is you. I just want you to be free.”
“And I will be in time.”
He sighs again and brings you hand to his lips, kissing it gently and looking up at you.
“You’re the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen,” he hums, making a warm blush creep across your cheeks. “I haven’t done right by you and I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have asked you to take so many risks for me.”
“I wouldn’t have if I didn’t want to.”
“I haven’t forced your hand?”
“Never,” you reply, pulling him into a kiss. “I’m my own woman, I don’t need a preacher-man to guide me. I understand the Bible just as well as you, you know, I just wanted a reason to spend time with you.”
He laughs and brings his hand to cup your cheek. “Well, I’m glad your father thinks you’re as foolish as he is.”
‼️CW: Implied abuse, bruises‼️
View artwork under cut:
20 years of running away are still not enough 🩵💔
₊⊹————✧————⊹₊
❀ Characters ❀
Maya (ToyHouse link) - they/them
Ok, but I saw this scrolling through Instagram reels, and it made me want to burst out in tears.
I used to live in a place like this. Kids at school used to make fun of me for smelling bad. Teachers used to complain that I didn't have good hygiene.
But I was terrified to have a shower in my own home because of how gross everything was. Not to mention being intruded on because no one in that house had any sense of healthy boundaries.
I didn't have any money to even afford deodorant, let alone pads or tampons, half the time, and my dryer at home was broken, so my clothes were always damp and moldy. How is it even possible for a child to possibly take care of themselves when they live in a place like that? and ultimately have no choice or say in the matter?
I left at 17, it's been 5 years now since I lived there. 3 years since I went completely no contact.
If there's any young people on my page who are seeing this and are in a similar situation. Just know that you are not alone 😔🩵
It's not your fault 🫂💔
And you don't deserve any of this, and just because "they are your parents" doesn't mean you own them anything.
-kalika
The Last Straw - Short Story
It’s been months since I’ve seen them—three months and nine days, to be exact. That last, monumental fight echoes through my mind as I sit, waiting, in our favorite cafe. It was a mutual decision to take this break, I remind myself. We just needed time to cool off from the fight and better ourselves before we tackled the whole “serious relationship” thing again. The idle chatter of the other customers, the clanking and hissing of the coffee machines, and the muted pop music emanating from the speakers on the wall do nothing to dull my nerves.
I glance at the clock above the door and, noting that they’re definitely late now, check my phone as well. No messages. My stomach clenches as I turn my attention back to the door. I shouldn’t be surprised by their tardiness, considering they've never been particularly concerned about timeliness.
The door swings open again and in they finally walk. In our months apart, nothing has changed in their appearance and, despite my anxiety, that warm feeling only they can create spreads through my chest.
“Can I get my usual? With almond milk this time, though. I’m on a diet.” Their voice cuts through the cafe as they order their drink. The barista nods, sets up their order, and charges them. They scan the cafe and, spotting me, saunter over to our table.
“Long time, no see, huh?” They greet me, giving me a relaxed smile. Without waiting for a response, they add, “I love what you did with your hair. I told you that color would look great on you.”
“Thank you! You were right, I really like it.” I comb my fingers through my hair as I speak, proud of this change I’d managed to make. “It’s faded a bit-”
“You should’ve cut it shorter,” they cut in, their smile giving way to a speculative frown. “That length makes your face look fat.” Their tone is remarkably light as they say it but it still makes my stomach drop. Of course I didn’t get it right.
Before I can come up with some sort of response, the barista calls out their order. The table shakes gently as I tap my foot against its leg and watch them retreat to the counter. It was just a comment about my hair; we can still salvage this.
“Excuse me, but I need a straw.” Again, their voice cuts through the cafe, this time dripping with that familiar annoyance of being inconvenienced.
“Oh, I’m sorry, someone must’ve just taken the last one,” the barista replies quickly, her voice squeaking at the threat of a true confrontation. “Give me just a second-”
“Is it really that hard to do your job?” They demand before the barista can even step away from the counter. “No wonder you all make such little money at these jobs. You idiots can’t even keep the straws stocked.” Without waiting for the barista’s response, they storm back to the table.
Silence settles over the cafe for a moment as the others watch their return to our table. They take their seat, pointedly pop the lid off of their cup, and take a sip. The flavor must meet their standards since they don’t speak up to the barista again.
They quietly study me over their coffee before asking, “How have you been? Haven’t fallen in love with someone new while I’ve been gone, have you?” Their tone almost feels joking but their fingers clench around their cup of coffee, white from the pressure.
“I’ve been fine,” I offer, carefully watching for any sort of new reaction as I speak. “I made a lot more progress with my novel, so I’ll be-”
“Did you meet anyone new?” They interrupt, their tone as sharp as the pinning stare they give me.
“No, I didn’t meet anyone new.” I match their tone as best I can, hoping it at least somewhat conveys my intention to not let them walk over me again. “I’ve been looking into querying-”
“Good,” they reply, leaning back in their chair and setting their coffee on the table. “I met someone pretty cool at a bar a little while back. They actually live in the other wing of your apartment complex. I barely even recognized it was the same building, they decorated it so nice. Your place doesn’t have to look like such a dump, you know. A few nice rugs, some original art, and boom, no one would be able to tell it was practically falling apart.”
I listen quietly, considering their comments as I sip my coffee. They ramble on, talking about their new job, their joy from seeing me again despite my ugly hair, and their plans to travel to the east coast. They’re in the middle of telling me about the pie they made earlier this week when I finally speak up again.
“Do you even care?” I ask. My leg bounces under the table, the only outward sign of my anxiety that I’ll allow. They raise their eyebrow at me, a smirk forming on their lips.
“Do I care? About what?” They question back. “About you? Yes. About my new job? Also, yes, even though it pisses me off sometimes. I care about a lot of things.”
“You don’t even-”
“I think the question here is whether or not you care about me.” They plow on, leaning forward and planting a firm hand on the table. “You disappeared for three months and didn’t contact me at all. We took this break for you and you took your merry time, torturing me with your silence. Your parents even said you’d told them not to talk to me.”
“I think that’s enough,” I say and, even though it comes out quieter than I intend, they stop talking immediately. They stare at me in shocked silence as I continue. “I thought we could make this work, but I’m done.” I get up from the table, retrieving my coffee as they process what I’ve just said.
“You can’t just break up with me,” they finally say, their eyes narrowing at me as they rise from their seat. “You think you’ll get on without me? Who else do you have-”
“I’d appreciate it if you didn’t contact me again,” I say, keeping my voice even as theirs rises. “Goodbye.” I turn and make my way to the barista’s counter, drop an extra tip in their jar, and leave the cafe.
This is a piece I wrote for a creative writing course I took recently. I don’t have any current plans to continue it but I thought it’d be nice to share it with you all! I hope you guys like it!
puppeteer.
That kind man, forged from a generational habit of skillful deceit, found his way into the unguarded chambers of my mind; with his soft words, he carved and morphed the memories that his Hyde had inflicted on me; what resulted was near insanity, as what I knew to be truth, what I knew to be reality, crumbled. I had --- and still have --- moments where the very fabric of reality seems to be wearing thin, and I can see no difference between reality and these captivating, yet nonetheless dreadful, memories. As years passed, and Jekyll continued to wear thin the cognizant layer of my mind, I had more and more moments where I seemed to slip from my body; not in a paranormal way, but in the way of one who knows not who she is --- what she is. What she means.
Confusion. Hysteria.
An evolutionary and well-developed terror at the thought of my captor and those calloused hands that molded my torture. Delirium because the vividities of last night were mere dreams, mania because yesterday's twisted events never happened.
Half-assed apologies over text, disorienting "I love you"s slipped under doorways post-episode; a huge sheet of unlined, white paper, with crude sharpie scribblings and an effortless, three-featured smiley face. "Sorry if you think..." "Sorry that you feel...but..."
A doctor could say someone's guilty. A prosecutor would say you're guilty. Yet here I am, doing nothing.
Ah, trauma bonds.
I must not waste my own love on a love that shouldn't have been. And yet here I am, crying more for my father, who still lives, than for any dead being. There are not tears enough in the ocean with which to express my cries; not enough fire on all the earth to succumb my rage; not enough beauty in this world to make up for the illusory treasure I have forever lost. I must hold my head high and acknowledge gone. I must hold my head high and acknowledge forever. It was not meant to be. I am not dissonant enough to believe there is some higher, divine purpose to this injustice. But I am no longer foolish enough to give him all of my love. I am no longer foolish enough to sell myself to a soul so loveless that it cannot survive without a vessel. It is over. He is gone.
Warning post for Kallulily
This is a warning post for @/kallulily regarding an incident she was in that happened in January of this year. This is being brought up right now because Kallulily is modding for the Kirby Gijinka Rainbow Zine (as Mod Paintra), a large event in the Kirby community. As this incident happened on Twitter/X it’s not well known here and many continue to support Kallulily without knowing her morals or actions.
Trigger warnings for grooming, abuse, and mentions of NSFW, rape, feral, and incest content in certain links
The incident concerns Kallulily’s friend @/splitser on tumblr and @/splitsterart on twitter (known as “Mod”) being called out for grooming someone starting when the victim was 15 and they were 19-20. A callout was made for this. There were two docs made, both shown in the X link below, with one being explicit, and one being a censored version. Warning for mentions or explicit screenshots of NSFW, rape, feral, incest content being exposed to minors, depending on the document https://x.com/RustyDoodleBot/status/1749553958920577093
Mod would later put out a response to this callout. Despite claiming they don’t condone their own behavior, they gave the excuse of the minor “insisted on seeing [Mod’s] NSFW material”, dismissing their own blame from their inappropriate actions towards minors.
In the document they portrayed the victim, named Hoco, as the one who made THEM uncomfortable, despite Mod being the adult in the relationship who accepted/continued/sometimes even initiated the advances. Mod ultimately held more power in their dynamic, they could have cut the relationship at any moment before it got sexual. https://x.com/splitsterart/status/1749929155251102148?t=UVpJv9IJPTNiEwVoH-Gv3w
At the same time, Kallulily put out a statement defending her friend. This statement once again blamed the victim, insinuating the victim only came forward with the grooming allegations as an act of revenge (yes, the victim who had been groomed by her friend). Taking it as far as stating that the victim was a greater threat to minors than the groomer ever was.
Kallulily would later delete this statement. These screenshots were saved by another user, and are taken from here: https://x.com/Kaizilero/status/1750261445080883671
Along with this, Kallulily & Mod claimed Hoco knew and enabled a minor to distribute NSFW commissions. This has been cleared up by both the minor and Hoco. It’s important to mention how much making a claim like this can hurt someone’s reputation. https://x.com/RustyDoodleBot/status/1749962678406177246
In no situation is it ever ok to blame or portray a grooming victim as evil for coming out about their abuse. Despite Kallulily claiming she holds her friend accountable, she still brings the victim's reputation down to elevate her friend’s actions. Note that Mod was inappropriate to multiple minors, at least 3, meaning Kallulily and Mod’s argument of this happening because of Hoco’s behavior is null. As Mod has been inactive on all of their accounts since their callout, they are not the focal point of this post. However, other affected minors were recently contacted and new screenshots with both confirmation via memory and hard proof with screenshots of past NSFW conversations and art were given, with permission to share. DM this account for those screenshots if the extra confirmation is necessary.
Kallulily claims her friend has changed, but change isn’t trying to shift the blame onto a minor for starting NSFW conversation. Change isn’t trying to bring down a victim to make yourself and your friends look less bad. The overreaching defenses only come across as a defense of grooming itself.
Regardless of if Hoco did something bad too, it doesn’t take away from Mod’s abuse of them. Both Kallulily and Mod never apologized for claiming Hoco was at fault for being groomed in some way, which is the reason why this post is being made for awareness.
Please do not harass Kallulily, Mod, the Kirby Gijinka Rainbow Zine, or anyone else involved. This post is only to spread awareness.
Sure, I COULD make normal, healthy ships...
But, here me out, emotionally abusive x physically abusive.
Give me equally abusive ships where they both think they can fix the other but they really just need severe therapy. PLEASE.
Just a little vent.
TW // CHILD ABUSE
So, with most people, if they have problems at all with any of their parents it's usually the father they have problems with, right? Well, why doesn't anyone talk about how mothers can be bad parents too? I mean, I'm talking speaking from personal experience, I myself have mommy issues. I have experienced things that I don't even remember. For example, here's a list of things my mother has done (I'm only mentioning the stuff that I know, and since I don't know all of what she did to my brother, I'm only going to list the stuff that I know she did to me. Alright? Alright.):
• Kidnapping me then leaving me naked on the driveway as an infant
• Failing to pay any amount of child support throughout my entire life
• Only wanting to be in contact with me once I turned 10 years old
• Not paying for my education like she promised
• Not responding to any messages about school payments
I'll probably add more later if I can think of anything or if she does something else.
COPING (A Solangelo mortal-AU Fanfiction)
T/W Nico POV: My face was bruised with scars and wounds, my hands were littered with scars, some self inflicted, others from the abuse. Some days were better than others, when we could be an almost normal family, almost. Others were worse. Normal days were very rare. When I was younger, my father would return drunk everyday, he said it was coping. So, I followed in his footsteps. Everyday, he would hit me, with a belt, empty bottles, whatever would be nearby. One day, I ran away. I had dealt with enough, but, my father was an influencial person, I was found and sent back. I got beaten harshly that day, but I remained hopeful. Now, slowly, that hope seemed to be seeping through the cracks of the hardwood floor along with my blood. I was to be going to Olympian High, a prestigious school meant for preppy, rich kids. I had one job, to be one of them. My father had dared me to mess this up as one of his colleagues' child went there. I think he said the name was Will Solace. I looked at the clock hanging from the dull, grey wall. It was 6:45, school started at 7. I hastily wrapped bandages around my bleeding wrists. No time to sterilise them. I put on a black shirt along with black, ripped jeans. Once I had made sure that my attire matched my soul, I spared another glance at the clock, 6:50, ten minutes till school started. I threw the bag pack on my shoulders and ran out of my room and down the stairs. Once I was outside the house, I ran towards the school, it was nearby, fortunately. I ran past speeding cars and towards the bright building ahead of me. Once I finally reached the gates, I slowed down. I walked into the building and looked at my routine which had been delivered to me beforehand. First class was English, great. I dragged my sleep deprived ass to the classroom. It was an all too familiar pattern. I entered the class, which has disgustingly bright walls. It was as if the school was built to oppose me. Luckily, the teacher hadn't arrived, so I quickly found a seat, not noticing who sat next to. Beside me sat the most stunningly beautiful boy ever, he had lustrous blond hair and startling blue eyes, with a tan complexion. His face was littered with freckles and his body was muscular. He was wearing a bright yellow hoodie and cargo shots which really suited him. "Hi, I'm Will Solace, can I help you?" Oh great, I just had to fall in love with Will Solace. "No you may not." I replied, snarkily. I regretted it immediately when the boy's face drooped an his eyes dimmed. "Okay." I decided to apologise, a feat I had never taken before. I sighed. "Look, I'm sorry. I'm just not used to this." "Its okay, I'll help you out." I smiled. "I'm Nico, Nico Di Angelo." ---------------------------the end (FOR NOW.)---------------------------- Hey guys, I hope you like this, its the first part of the fanfiction and I'll be writing a few more parts to it. :<)
NEW OC RAHHHH
TW: Abuse, neglect, murder
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Just the picture:
minor vent
Privilege
Cw: knives, restraints, manhandling, mouth whump, implied torture/amputation, noncon touching (non sexual)
“Open your mouth.”
Whumpee shook their head, eyes brimming with tears as they twisted against their restraints. The coarse fibers of the braided rope dug deep into their wrists, chafing the skin and rubbing it raw. Despite the terror that shook their entire body, their blood stained lips stayed firmly shut.
“Whumpee.” Whumper growled, their hand slipping into their back pocket and pulling out a small butterfly blade, perfectly polished and freshly sharpened.
Whumpee whimpered, their eyes going wide as Whumper slowly brought the knife to their lips.
“I’m giving you one last chance,” Whumper growled, digging the knife into Whumpee’s bottom lip, drawing a bead of blood. “Open. Your. Mouth.”
Whumpee shuddered, every last bit of defiance draining from their body as they parted their lips with a sob.
Whumper’s other hand flew up, gripping their face by the chin. Their thumb forced between Whumpee’s teeth, tugging their jaw open further.
Whumpee squeezed their eyes shut, tensing as they felt the blade slip past their lips, the flat of it resting against their tongue. A metallic taste filled their mouth, cold and threatening. They didn’t dare move, didn’t dare breathe. One wrong move and.. shit..
“Speaking is a privilege,” Whumper drawled out, wrenching Whumpee’s head up and angling the knife. “One that can easily be taken away, do you understand me?”
Let me preface this by saying that I don't usually make these kinds of posts. Please don't harass or contact the user in question.
It's come to my attention that a user in the SFW/Nonsexual vore community who's gained some notoriety has a history of being a serial harasser and dumping sexual trauma on others without consent, which came to light after an argument that they instigated in a server. This person can be a threat to other users in the community, particularly minors, and we've developed a document with the details of why this person is best avoided.
Heed the content/trigger warnings, keep yourself safe, and please don't send this user any harassment. If you have any questions, ask either in dms or off anon.
https://docs.google.com/document/d/1VOQcgI-PusKNcU3hYKAI3lyD6G1AZ-3EtT99S2qGC6Q/edit?usp=sharing
⚠️CHILDREN ARE BEING MOLESTED AT THIS HOSPITAL⚠️ REBLOG!
I don't care that i don't do this type of posting but one of my close friends was molested while having an appointment at this hospital. the doctor who was giving her a check up threatened to kill her if she said anything about it (i will update you if i get the name of her, she's not in the picture) and it absolutely enrages me that she has been working there for 20 years and nobody believes my freind was sexually assaulted .
⚠️ im not sure how this is meant to be done but please do anything, reblog, share, leave a bad review, anything to get this evil fucking hospital and it's disgusting doctors out of business.⚠️
this is not just for my friend but any of the poor people, children and infants who are being mistreated here.
Update
tw abuse
hey guys, if you saw the community post on the second channel, I’ll be going more in depth here—I’m not really in a good environment right now, I’m constantly under threat of being sent to live with my abusive mother again by my dad, and I’m constantly trapped in my household, I can’t go down the road without a chaperone or move out of state because to my dad it’s too *r slur*, he snapped my phone in half during an argument and pushed me down by my neck
Im so sorry if this is too much to say online, but I can’t go to the police or anything due to my dad, and the only option I really have is to suck it up and save up to attempt to go out of state, I can’t leave either due to my sister
I apologize to ask like this, but my art tablet is constantly taken away due to small arguments, and getting work done is next to impossible sometimes, but please if you can support in any way my kofi is the best way, as I want to keep a fund in my PayPal balance so I can buy a binder(hopefully)
