karkatfuckingvantasshole

This is a warning to all in the Alberta, Canada region. This is a warning and a plea for understanding.
Please be cautious reading if you are triggered by the mentions of rape or sexual abuse.


Before I begin my story and warning here is something to keep in mind.
Holding silence of this magnitude for so long is the worst thing you could wish on another person.
Everyone tells you that there are side effects- that there’s trauma, but what media and most sources forget to include is detail of the magnitude..
Maybe some of you know. Maybe some of you don’t, but even if you haven’t experienced sexual abuse there’s always an embedded fear in most women’s minds.
I’m hoping that here on tumblr I can shine through the silence for the first time in my life, without fear, because the last few years have been full of threats and fear over what happened.
The nightmares and depression I’ve had from holding this in, and everything I feel now, the misery and pain while this girl lives her life without regret, without a care in the world- it’s finally coming out.

This girl is named Sarah Shillington [x], she lives in Spruce Grove, Alberta. She goes to a lot of conventions Canada-wide and possibly some in the USA. She’s part of a popular cosplay group in Canada, [x], and she lives a decently happy life, with loving parents and friends, (one pictured with her in above cosplay photo.) who are willing to go to extreme lengths to stop her from receiving any consequences of her actions.

I was raped, sexually harassed, harassed, degraded, and continually sexually assaulted by this girl less than few years ago.
Most people who hear this deny it because ‘it hasn’t happened to them’ or because she’s a female, and they don’t see any harm she can do because of that fact.

I come here knowing that I’m in a decent and just community, and that most of you respect a victims right to speak out, and even now I’m creating an entirely new account to share my story out of fear of her friends, but I know that I’m in the safest place I can be to post this, and to know people will not shame me, as several of her friends, my friends, and adults have done when I tried to talk about this.

I know I’m not the only one she’s harassed, and made uncomfortable, and I know for a fact I’m not the only one she’s abused.
After being hurt I talked to her exes, and even her longest friends, and I discovered that there were quite a few people who opened up after hearing my own story.

Her best friend, the girl in the picture above, is known to be a strong defender, admitting that Sarah is a rapist, but continuing to tell people who claim they were hurt that they’re bullying her by calling her a rapist. She is also in the cosplay group, and stands firm, snapping on anyone who tries to speak out and degrading them, and harassing them.

This girl is highly dangerous, not just to her partners, but to her friends. She doesn’t have any concept of no, or personal space, and has been known to get aggressive when fought off.
She is over legal age and she is fully capable of making decisions.
She’s sent apology letters to some of her exes when confronted with what she did.. That has a lot of nerve, in itself.
An apology can’t make up for severe trauma, repeated over time, an apology is meaningless when the offender continues the crime after sending the apology without learning any lessons.

This girl has gotten away with several assaults on other women so please, please signal boost this.
Especially if you have followers or are from Canada.

kazusakai
fuckyeahthespianpeacock:

saltheria:

yeffyaboyuice:

mythchief:

So there I was, ready to take a shower. I mean, I was dirty, a little greasy, a shower was not such a horrible idea. People take showers, amiright? Of course!
I get naked.
FULL naked.
REAL naked.
I’m talking the exact opposite reason why you ever went to your grandmother’s house.
No cookies. Blatant nudity.
That’s how folks take showers these days, right? Well, I pull back the curtain…
And there it was.
This…thing…sitting on the little soap/shower/pube shelf. Not a care in the world, like it’s been there for years. “What the fuck is that?” I think to myself.
Now, what follows is the exact pattern of thought that took me from rational human being to Sloth in 3.4 seconds.
“Is that a Red Lobster cheesy biscuit? Holy fuck that’s a Red Lobster cheesy biscuit. OMG why would someone leave that unattended. Those things are so delicious. I’m gonna eat the fuck out of it. Man, I can’t wait to see whoever left it’s face when they come back to find that someone ate their cheesy biscuit’s fuck. Ohhh boy.”
Then my brain sent a message to my arm that said, “Reach for that cheesy biscuit, bitch. WHAT ARE YOU WAITING FOR!?”
As you must already know, we are all contractually bound to make a dickload of mistakes throughout our lifetime. Some of those mistakes are so big that they forever hinder our world and warrant entire chapters in our children’s history books. However, most mistakes have the dubious providence of merely haunting one’s soul and festering amidst the subconscious for always and eternity.
This was, nearly, one of those.
If my adjacency to failure could be measured, the only possible unit of measurement to appropriate it would be “baby condoms”. And no, I do not mean those horrendous papoose-like titty-cribs that the slovenly carriage their spawn around in in Wal-Mart, I mean condoms that a baby would wear.
My adjacency to failure was roughly 1 and a half Kiddie Trojans.
I’m not sure what stopped me, be it cosmic or supernatural, but it gave my brain just enough time to ask itself some rather important questions regarding this little tub treasure. Questions like:
“WHO, THE FUCK, WOULD LEAVE A CHEESY BISCUIT IN MY SHOWER?!”
And inquiries such as:
“AND WHY WERE YOU GOING TO EAT IT, MORON?!”
Seriously, was I so hungry that I would wantonly disobey all the integral conditioning and survival imprinting my parents bestowed upon me like the ever important, “Um, don’t eat that biscuit retard, you don’t know where it’s been or whose it is and also you found it in the shower.” in order to satisfy something so benign as a munchie?
That, I’m sorry to say, was pretty much my reality.
An early morning introspective psychological evaluation of a sad, hungry, naked man who almost ate a bar of soap.

OMG ITS BACK

This shit needs to be published.

This is going in the monologue section and I’m not even sorry.

fuckyeahthespianpeacock:

saltheria:

yeffyaboyuice:

mythchief:

So there I was, ready to take a shower. I mean, I was dirty, a little greasy, a shower was not such a horrible idea. People take showers, amiright? Of course!

I get naked.

FULL naked.

REAL naked.

I’m talking the exact opposite reason why you ever went to your grandmother’s house.

No cookies. Blatant nudity.

That’s how folks take showers these days, right? Well, I pull back the curtain…

And there it was.

This…thing…sitting on the little soap/shower/pube shelf. Not a care in the world, like it’s been there for years. “What the fuck is that?” I think to myself.

Now, what follows is the exact pattern of thought that took me from rational human being to Sloth in 3.4 seconds.

“Is that a Red Lobster cheesy biscuit? Holy fuck that’s a Red Lobster cheesy biscuit. OMG why would someone leave that unattended. Those things are so delicious. I’m gonna eat the fuck out of it. Man, I can’t wait to see whoever left it’s face when they come back to find that someone ate their cheesy biscuit’s fuck. Ohhh boy.”

Then my brain sent a message to my arm that said, “Reach for that cheesy biscuit, bitch. WHAT ARE YOU WAITING FOR!?”

As you must already know, we are all contractually bound to make a dickload of mistakes throughout our lifetime. Some of those mistakes are so big that they forever hinder our world and warrant entire chapters in our children’s history books. However, most mistakes have the dubious providence of merely haunting one’s soul and festering amidst the subconscious for always and eternity.

This was, nearly, one of those.

If my adjacency to failure could be measured, the only possible unit of measurement to appropriate it would be “baby condoms”. And no, I do not mean those horrendous papoose-like titty-cribs that the slovenly carriage their spawn around in in Wal-Mart, I mean condoms that a baby would wear.

My adjacency to failure was roughly 1 and a half Kiddie Trojans.

I’m not sure what stopped me, be it cosmic or supernatural, but it gave my brain just enough time to ask itself some rather important questions regarding this little tub treasure. Questions like:

“WHO, THE FUCK, WOULD LEAVE A CHEESY BISCUIT IN MY SHOWER?!”

And inquiries such as:

“AND WHY WERE YOU GOING TO EAT IT, MORON?!”

Seriously, was I so hungry that I would wantonly disobey all the integral conditioning and survival imprinting my parents bestowed upon me like the ever important, “Um, don’t eat that biscuit retard, you don’t know where it’s been or whose it is and also you found it in the shower.” in order to satisfy something so benign as a munchie?

That, I’m sorry to say, was pretty much my reality.

An early morning introspective psychological evaluation of a sad, hungry, naked man who almost ate a bar of soap.

OMG ITS BACK

This shit needs to be published.

This is going in the monologue section and I’m not even sorry.