#like… as any woman what do you do in that situation with a known abuser

[realpontchartrain]

Beyonce is standing by Jay Z too. And y’all said I was a schizo before I threw my man in jail and ran lmao

[copperbadge]

Let's Talk About Missing Persons

So, I've seen this post circulating last week, and a few others like it in the past year. I think this probably needs to be discussed every few years, and it feels like time.

First, a few caveats: there are reports on the post that Abby has been located and is fine, so no need to reblog and also that's great news, I'm very happy she is safe. Second, I did not especially doubt the veracity of the post, so I'm not impugning the people who made and posted it, but I also declined to reblog it for reasons I'll get into. Third, I know that especially in marginalized communities it can be dangerous to involve the police, and that Missing White Woman Syndrome means it can be difficult to get media coverage. I understand why Abby's community may have chosen to search for her in the way they did.

However, for everyone's safety, I do not link any missing persons post that requires you to contact an individual to report the missing person's whereabouts. If the poster doesn't ask you to contact the police or a known missing persons organization, I won't do it.

This is for the safety of the missing person.

When you see a post with someone's photo, name, and last known whereabouts, and you are asked to contact an individual -- a family member, partner, friend, etc -- what you are being asked to do is report on the whereabouts of one person you don't know to another person you don't know. You don't know that the person you're talking to isn't an abusive partner or parent, a stalker, or a person who means them material harm. One of the Insta accounts in the missing image doesn't appear to exist, and another has no bio and very little captioning on their images. I couldn't verify that Abby even knew these people.

Again: when I looked at the image, it looked sincere to me. I didn't doubt those people were earnestly searching for a friend they were worried about. But also, an abuser doesn't look like an abuser until they do. So I don't make exceptions, because a missing person is missing but a victim outed to their abuser has strong odds of being murdered. The most dangerous time in the life of an abused person is when they are leaving their abuser. Even if a victim simply logs on to say "Hey, I'm fine, these people mean me harm" the abuser has now flushed them out of hiding, and manipulated them into making a public statement.

If you can't verify positively that the person searching does not mean the missing person harm, you should not be circulating a post, full stop. At the very least, if the community doesn't wish for the help of the police (understandable) or can't get the help of an organization or community (frequent), the missing persons poster should advise you to speak to the missing person, not the searcher, and notify them they're being sought, as long as it's safe for both you and them to do so.

This isn't intuitive. We want to help, and search posters like that tug on the heartstrings. We know that when the police get involved even in something this innocuous, it can be perilous for everyone. But in situations where someone is so vulnerable, we have to concern ourselves first with harm reduction, which in this case means not spreading someone's photo with a stranger's contact information on it.

I'm glad Abby was found and is fine and that her searchers were in earnest. But that will not always be the case, and it's important to remember that.

[schtrawberry]

[3] personal astrology observations

[!] this is mostly an introspective view into my chart; in no way, shape, or form am i saying that any of this is fact or set in stone, nor am i saying that i am a professional astrologer. these are just presences that exist within my chart that i've felt manifest themselves in real life. simply put, take what resonates and leave what doesn't :)

— the observation that venus in the 9th house and sagittarius mars natives are far more likely to be attracted to foreigners and/or meet their future partner/s in a foreign country is true!

[nothing, just felt like confirming, esp as someone w both these placements 🤭 like, i honestly am more likely to be approached (in a romantic setting) by a foreigner both in-person and online!]

═ sun square neptune is the aspect of daydreamers. they're always thinking about an idealized version of the future or dwelling on the past. rarely do they ever think in the present. it is often easier for them to drift off into a daze either thinking about what could have been or everything that could be.

☰ chiron in fifth house indicates pain associated with creative passions and self-expression. one may have had negative experiences that have led them to feel insecure about these aspects of life; thus leading them to distance themselves from openly expressing themselves creatively. they may take great care to keep their works of art private, tone down certain parts of their personality, and may even feel ashamed to explain themselves when others ask them about certain aspects of their creative and self-expression because of negative feedback they could have gotten in the past.

but with such pain comes empathy and understanding. once developed, these natives are the first to take notice and are the fastest to lend a sensitive ear as well as a supportive hand as soon as they see others going through the same struggle.

☱ sun-lilith in harsh aspects might have been told to cover up more by both peers and grown-ups, even when wearing "acceptable" clothing when they were kids. this placement can indicate an individual that was more sexualized from a young age, which can lead to them either being hypersexual or overly-reserved sexually in adulthood.

☲ lilith in the seventh house can indicate an individual that struggles to commit and open up about who they are to their partner/s. people with lilith in this house may have had bad experiences with marriage (perhaps witnessing bad divorces or tumultuous long-term relationships between their parents) and therefore might be turned off by the thought of marriage and/or long-term partnerships.

and though this doesn't mean that the native will be a lone soul forever, it does make one more likely to have these sort of relationships at a significantly older age in comparison to other signs.

[tw: mention of domestic violence in my personal experience, i have witnessed my parents go through an incredibly bad separation (tons of emotional abuse, infidelity, and a situation actually involving domestic violence) which has honestly made me quite hesitant to get married, even as i approach my mid-20s.]

☴ the cancer rising urge to cry when someone you care about is crying or in distress in general.

☳ a few asteroid notes:

note: asteroids are less impactful to one's personality, physicality, etc. compared to personal planets. they tend to only be relevant to one's chart if they are either in a tight orb (0-1°) or have major aspects to personal planets, preferably conjunctions or oppositions.

✢ messalina (545) known as the most promiscuous woman in rome, empress messalina is still recognized today as a symbol of uncontrolled, violent, irrational, and impulsive behavior. this asteroid reminds me very much of lilith in that it is representative of dark feminine energy and having this prominent in one's chart can be indicative of an individual that is not afraid to use their sexuality to their advantage or to create harm unto others in different aspects of their lives, but especially in terms of romantic and sexual relationships.

✢ anagolay (3757) is an potentially hazardous asteroid named after anagolay, the tagalog goddess of lost things and the daughter of the hermaphroditic goddess of seasons, lakapati. she is culturally-recognized for her ability to find not only physical objects but also abstract possessions like lost opportunities and faded memories. having this prominent in one's chart can suggest an individual that is very in-tune with cycle of nature and the subsequent passage of time. they may be more sensitive to bouts of nostalgia where they dwell on things that could have been and the way that things were. may also just indicate a person that is hypersensitive to losing physical things, though.

[`] film: go (2001) dir. isao yukisada

last / next

[joelscruff]

wait (boyfriend's dad!joel x f!reader) 18+

first and foremost! this is part of my boyfriend's dad!joel series and takes place after "words". this won't really make sense if you haven't read that one! it's so crazy to me how this started out as a silly little smutty drabble and somehow became this. this one's kind of heavy (read the warnings!!) but i promise that things won't stay this angsty forever. at its root this story is supposed to be smutty and fun and i promise there will be more of that in the future. i hope you enjoy it and here's my kofi if you'd like to leave a tip 💕 summary: it's been a month since your boyfriend discovered your relationship with his father and a month since you've seen joel. it's starting to take its toll. rating: 18+ explicit warnings: daddy kink, unprotected p in v sex, sexting, comeplay, angst, allusions to past trauma, shitty family dynamics (addiction & verbal abuse), panic attacks word count: 3.2k

i miss you

it's the only thing you've thought about texting him for about a month, a text you always type out and then erase a few moments later. it's something you swore to yourself that you wouldn't do no matter how lonely you got. he'd said he needed time, and you want to give it to him. and yet here you are, leaning against the window of your bus home from community college with tears in your eyes, phone in hand, wanting nothing more than to see him. selfish.

it's been one of the loneliest periods of your life. you've known loneliness, felt it throughout most of your childhood, through your adolescence, it's nothing new. but with joel you'd finally begun to feel whole again, like you actually mattered to someone. he looked forward to seeing you, to holding you, being with you. you'd never felt so desired and loved and protected in your whole life.

now you're back to having nothing, no one. it's a harsh reality you're forcing yourself to accept. you still haven't heard anything from your boyfriend - now ex, of course, though there was never any official breakup - and even that's a punch to the gut, an added depth to a loss that you caused.

he's hurting, i hurt him, joel's words repeat in your head. it breaks your heart that he's feeling so guilty, that he feels that he caused this entire thing when it's really your fault. if you weren't such a mess of a person, such a broken human being, the whole thing wouldn't have even happened to begin with. what kind of person sleeps with their boyfriend's father? starts a relationship with him? calls him daddy?

you know you caused this and yet you can't help but miss him so much. it's like he's ingrained himself into your bones somehow, his touch tattooed into your skin. he's all you think about, dream about. you miss being in his embrace, being held by him, whispering daddy in his ear and feeling understood, not judged. you miss his gentle kisses to your nose, the safety of his lap, his arms around your trembling form while he fucked you, took you, made you his.

you stare at the unsent text message and inevitably find yourself scrolling back up to a previous conversation from a few months back, short and simple. texting was never a frequent medium for the two of you, more-so used for you to send him dirty pictures every so often to tease him a bit. you briefly look at the picture, a close-up shot of your bare pussy with some of his come leaking out; absolutely filthy.

still have u inside me daddy

oh baby, so messy. what am I gonna do with you?

you smile at the silliness of it all, the filthiness, but it quickly fades when you remember the reality of the situation again, the fact that your boyfriend had read joel's messages, had definitely seen these texts in particular. he'd called joel a sick man. you don't agree, but you can understand why; if you'd seen a text interaction like this between your own father and a girl half his age... you'd probably have a similar reaction - though the concept of your father showing a woman any affection in the first place is alien in itself.

your bus pulls up to the stop near your house and you get off, slipping your phone back into your pocket and hiking your backpack over your shoulder as you go. it's only a short walk to your house, no more than three minutes, though you usually try to make it a bit longer to delay the inevitable disaster of your home life.

you take it one step at a time, slowly walking down the darkening street with fresh tears in your eyes. god, you're so lonely. you don't want to go home, don't want to be accosted by your alcoholic father and avoidant mother, your asshole brother who never gives you a break. it's so damn depressing in that house; when you'd first gotten together with your boyfriend you'd been so relieved to finally have somewhere else to go that wasn't school or home, another reason you'd stayed with him for so long despite the relationship being doomed. you should have known it couldn't last.

you'd told joel everything. it's hard to believe sometimes that the connection you shared was strong enough for you to trust him with some of your darkest secrets, the worst things from your past. he knows all about your family, all about what you've been through, had listened to you quietly and earnestly as you cried into his shoulder about the hand life had dealt you. he'd rubbed your back, kissed your forehead, whispered it's okay, and i'm here now, and i'm gonna take care of you, sweetheart. and he did. he did take care of you. he'd done everything right and somehow you still managed to fuck it up.

the lights are on in the house when you arrive at the front gate, though the car is missing from the driveway; this only means that your mother is out late tonight, probably staying with a friend or a lover or whoever she turns to when shit gets bad. you can't blame her - you'd done the exact same thing when you'd actually had somewhere to go - but part of you still aches for that little girl inside you that needs her, wishes she was inside waiting for you, though it's not like she'd do much to help.

your father is definitely home, probably your brother as well. you stand at the gate, gripping the strap of your backpack and deliberating even bothering to go inside. you know you'll be accosted at the front door by either a drunken tirade or bitter argument. it's a no-win situation no matter how you look at it. your phone buzzes in your pocket and you pull it out, grateful for one last brief distraction.

i miss you too, angel. so much.

your eyes go wide, heart stuttering in your chest as you stare at the words.

"fuck," you breathe, "fuck, fuck fuck," you quickly scroll up to confirm your fears - the i miss you text, the one you always erase, the one you make sure to never send - you'd somehow sent it this time, entirely by mistake.

tears are stinging your eyes as you turn on the spot and start walking back and forth in front of your house, running your hand through your hair in disbelief while you stare at joel's text. you fucking idiot. what the fuck have you done? what happened to giving him space? you stupid fucking bitch. you absolute loser. you're suddenly berating yourself the exact same way you know your father and brother will berate you if you go in the house now. you can already picture it - them seeing your tear stained cheeks, the puffiness of your eyes, the words they'll throw at you to hurt you even more, make you feel small.

fucking bitch. fucking loser. fucking idiot.

your breathing is becoming more and more erratic the longer you pace. you can't go in now, not after this, not after seeing that he misses you too and being so fucking close yet so far away. all you can suddenly think about is all those wasted moments at his house, spending so much time with your asshole boyfriend when you could have been with joel, been loved instead of tossed aside like garbage.

god, if you could only hear his voice. if you could just talk to him for one minute before you have to go into this godforsaken hellhole.

before you even fully understand what you're doing, you're hitting the call button and bringing the phone up to your ear.

he answers on the first ring.

"h-"

"i can't do this anymore," you gasp out through a sob, not even bothering to let him say anything, "joel, i can't do it, i miss you so fucking much it hurts."

"babygirl," he breathes, voice rough and deep and gorgeous and familiar, sweet like honey in your ear, "where are you? are you okay?"

and that's enough to break you.

you feel the tears begin to stream down your face, hot and unrelenting. you shake your head even though he can't see you, throat bobbing through repetitive gasps, "no, i'm not okay," you blubber, "da- fuck, joel, i- i can't do this, i can't be by myself anymore. i'm - " you don't even know where this is coming from, voice muddled, "i'm so lonely. i can't do it anymore, i can't. please, i can't."

he makes a devastating sound at your words, something between a sob and a gasp, "where are you?" he repeats, voice full of concern, "where are you, baby? i'm gonna come get you."

"the bus stop by my house," you manage to tell him through your tears, reaching the little bench and situating yourself on it without an ounce of hesitation, "i was- i was gonna go home but," another sob rips through your throat, "but they're home and i- i can't- i can't take it anymore, joel. i don't wanna be there anymore, i can't be there."

"you stay where you are, you hear me?" you can hear movement on the other line, the rattle of keys, footsteps, "don't go home, babygirl, i'm comin'. i'll be there in ten minutes."

"okay," you whisper, trying to catch your breath, "okay."

"deep breaths, baby, remember?" and you do remember; he'd taught you some exercises to help in situations like this, when you feel like the world is falling apart around you and you're just getting smaller and smaller, disappearing into nothingness. he'd held your hands while you'd sat in his lap, eyes closed as you both matched each other's breathing, melted into one another. "in and out, babygirl, that's it. real slow, count for me."

"i r-remember," you manage to hiccup, squeezing your chest with your other hand and trying to ground yourself.

the wait is excruciating, no matter how short, and no matter the fact that joel is on the other end trying to calm you. you sit on the bench with a hand on your heart and the other on your stomach, listening to joel count to five over and over, phone upturned on your thigh.

"big breath in. one...two...three...four...five," he says through the muffled sounds of traffic and wind, "big breath out. one...two...three...four...five." over and over and over again, "i'm turnin' the corner, baby, i'm almost there," he says after about ten minutes of this, "you see me, honey?"

you look up to find his headlights, getting brighter and brighter as they approach. you shakily sit up from the bench, breath coming out much less erratic now, "y-yes," you whisper.

seconds later the car is pulling up in front of you and he's jumping out, not even bothering to shut the door behind him as he dashes around it. it's been so long since you've seen him that it's jarring to suddenly have him in front of you, sprinting toward your small and shaking form with his jacket undone, shoes mismatched, glasses askew. you catch a glimpse of his expression, concerned and upset - are those tears? - before he scoops you up into his arms and pulls you in close to him.

"i'm here," he tells you, voice rumbling through his chest against your cheek, solid and warm, "i'm here now, babygirl, you're okay. you're okay."

and somehow you are.

--

"i'm sorry," is all you can say to him as he drives you to his house, hand holding yours tightly the whole way, "i'm such an idiot, i'm so sorry."

"stop saying that," he repeats for maybe the fourth time, shaking his head and squeezing your hand even more firmly, "you're not an idiot and you have nothing to be sorry about."

you really are okay now, breaths calm and tears not even flowing anymore. instead the guilt and shame and humiliation have taken over, sinking into your skin as you lean back in the passenger seat with your hood pulled up, hiding your face from him.

"i was giving you space," you mutter, "i didn't even mean to text you, it was an accident. i was being stupid, as usual."

"stop it," he says again, "stop being mean to yourself."

you close your eyes and face away from him, "easier said than done."

the two of you drive in silence for a few moments, that is until he asks, "have you eaten?" and you say, "no."

he buys you mcdonalds and doesn't let go of your hand.

--

the house hasn't changed. you hadn't really expected it to; it's not like it's been that long since you were last here. you don't bother even sneaking a peek at your ex boyfriend's bedroom as joel leads you upstairs, curiosity nonexistent.

you're not sure why you expect him to take you into his office, maybe sit on the couch with you and talk. to your surprise he leads you straight past the door, down the hallway to what you can only assume is his bedroom - a place you've never been in all your months of being with him.

"sit down," he tells you softly as he opens the door, pulling you slowly inside and nodding toward the queen sized bed, "i'll get you something to wear."

"okay," you breathe, barely looking at him as you examine the room in front of you, large but cozy, cool colors but a warm atmosphere, framed music posters and blueprints covering the walls - exactly what you'd expect from someone like joel. you shuffle forward and drop your bag at the end of his bed, sitting on the edge of it while he goes to his dresser.

you end up in one of his sleep shirts and a pair of his underwear, loving the feeling of being his again, even if neither of you have actually talked about what exactly this means for your relationship. he helps you change, tugging off your worn-out jeans and the same shirt you've worn for three days in a row, pressing a kiss to your forehead as he pulls off your panties and replaces them with his boxers. it's not sexual, but part of you still longs to pull him on top of you, just feel his weight, smell his cologne.

he pulls back the duvet and helps you climb inside onto your stomach, rubbing your arms and shoulders and releasing some of the tension you've been feeling for the past month. you feel him press another kiss to the back of your neck, pushing your hair out of the way and stroking it gently, giving you all the care and attention you've been aching for. his hands are so big, so comforting and safe, touching you everywhere without any expectations or underlying motive.

"i missed you, daddy," you whisper against his pillow, not sure if he can even hear you, even more unsure whether it's okay to use that word anymore.

he doesn't reply right away, still kneading his thumbs into the base of your back and massaging you gently. you hear him inhale and exhale deeply a few times, like he's biding time while he figures out what to say.

"sorry," you wince, "joel."

he releases you then, helps you turn over so you're on your back and peering up at him with uncertainty. he sits on the edge of the bed and reaches down to thumb your cheek, eyes sad and tired.

"i wanna be that for you, sweetheart," he murmurs, brow furrowing, "i do. i want it more than you even realize," he takes a breath, biting down on his lip briefly, "i just... i need you to tell me somethin'. be honest with me now."

your heart skips a beat, "what?"

"when you said you loved me..." his voice breaks a bit and you ache to reach for him, cup his cheek and hold him close, "was it because of what we've been doin'?" he seems to reassess his words, shaking his head slightly, "i mean, did it...did you actually mean it? or was it... was it just part of the game?"

you stare at him for a few seconds, lips parting and eyes going slightly wide. without a second thought you do exactly what you'd just been thinking about, reaching up to place your hand against his face, feeling his scruff beneath your palm. he leans in and takes a breath, peering into your eyes with a yearning you can't describe, can only feel.

you shake your head slowly, "joel," you whisper, "it's never been a game."

his eyes close, stuttering out another breath when your thumb strokes his cheek soothingly. unable to hold back anymore, you lean up to capture his mouth in a soft kiss, sweet and tender and familiar. his hand finds the back of your head, pulls you closer, claims you again.

he fucks you slow.

it's never been like this, never has he fucked you the way he fucks you now. you barely speak, just moan and whimper and sigh and melt into each other the way you've never truly been able to, not without prying ears and a time limit hanging over your heads. your hands tangle in his hair while he hits that deep spot inside you, holds you close, buries his face in your neck and breathes you in, pounds into you relentlessly like you'll both come apart at the seams if he lets go.

you're biting it back, trying not to say it as much as you desperately want to, still unsure if this is really want he wants. just tell me what to do and i'll do it. i don't care, i'm yours. he looks into your eyes and you can't help but start crying again, overwhelmed by the warmth of him, the safety. he thumbs your tears and kisses them away.

"say it," he murmurs to you as you both near your inevitable release, the tension building and building as he grabs your face with both hands and fucks you with purpose, with passion, "say it, babygirl, tell me."

you shake your head, suddenly self conscious, suddenly afraid. the feelings from earlier tonight rise back in your chest, making a home in the back of your throat as a sob threatens to rip through it.

"it's okay," he whispers, voice trembling with the speed of his thrusts, "it's okay, honey, i wanna hear you say it," he furrows his brow and releases a groan, so close to the edge, "please, baby, say it. need you to say it."

you pull him close, grip his back, press your lips to his ear, "daddy."

he groans, dark and rough, "that's it," he murmurs, "that's it baby, i'm your daddy. that's right." he pulls back to look at you, eyes meeting yours in a passionate gaze that lasts forever, "say it again."

"daddy," you whine, unable to unlock your eyes from his, lip trembling as you submit entirely to him, "feels so good, daddy."

there's something in his expression you can't place, something in his words that reverberates in your brain like a pinball. say it again... you realize it means more than you'd initially thought. he's not just asking you to say one word - he's asking for three.

"i love you," you cry out just as he presses his thumb to your clit, pushes you over the edge, "i love you."

he comes just as you do, an animalistic sound tearing from his throat as your fingers scramble for purchase at his back, holding him impossibly close to the point where his entire body weight is on top of you, but you don't care. all you can feel is the way his heart beats against your chest, the way his gasps match yours, finding the same rhythm.

you lay there still for what feels like eternity, joel laying on top of you with his cock still deep inside and his forehead pressed against your shoulder. your tears have stopped but you feel the dampness of his own on your skin, hear the gasp he lets out as he sets his emotions free.

"i love you too," he whispers in your ear, breath hot and quick, voice wrecked, "god, i love you so much."

for the first time, you stay the night.

[radfemsiren]

A big reason why I don’t take “what about male victims🥺” seriously is because men consistently define “abuse” and “violence” as any boundary that blocks access to women’s bodies. It’s insidious and a manipulation tactic I don’t fall for.

I was arguing with this bisexual guy that told me women were far more homophobic than men. “How is that so? Describe the exact situation.” I said.

“Well the second they find out I’m bi, they don’t want to keep dating me! Or have sex! Like I’m unclean!”

I had to laugh in his face. This isn’t the only ridiculous time an interaction went like this, where a man demands access to women’s bodies, domestic labor, emotional labor, etc… and labels the upholding of a boundary on our own bodies, time, and spaces as “abuse” “manipulation” “homophobia” or “transphobia”

Like that woman that went on strike in her home and refused to clean, since she was the only one doing so. All these men came out of the wooodwork to say this is domestic abuse. Really? For letting her husband pick up his own dirty underwear ??

Or this man, for example, who is a well known sexual predator (whose crimes have been documented on YouTube) that has been on TikTok live for weeks now spouting this rhetoric:

Maybe we would take “male victims” seriously if you didn’t call every time you didn’t get your way and threw a tantrum about it “abuse” or “bigotry” lmao.

Actual male victims of actual crimes like rape and murder are done almost entirely by other men. Male on male crime is not ever going to be of concern to me, figure it out amongst yourselves. If you actually gave a shit about male victims, you would point the finger at the number one rapist, killers, and abusers of men and boys: MEN!

[nobodysuspectsthebutterfly]

Hi, I was wondering if you could answer a question I had about how much authority a lord has over his extended family members. Like if a lord wants to marry off one of his brother’s daughters, can he do so even if his brother refuses to agree? Who holds the most authority in a situation like that? Does it change depending on the status of the lord in question- like if he was a king, lord paramount or someone from a great house rather than a more typical lord?

Again re feudalism, a lord has as much authority as his vassals allow him, and vassals include family members. (And "allow" includes what they feel they must do per traditions and societal pressures.) Look at how Hoster Tully tried to marry off his brother Brynden to Bethany Redwyne. Brynden refused, and though this pissed off Hoster and strained his relationship with his brother, that's how he left it. A more cruel lord, who loved his brother less and his status more, might use more pressure to get his way. Lords are not bound by any law or custom to support their family members, so in the case you mention, that lord might then tell his brother "fine, then, you and your daughters have to leave". And faced with having to make his own way in the world while supporting his girls, the brother might bow his head and submit. Or maybe he would decide to be a hedge knight after all, or maybe he'd have in-laws he could look to for support, it all depends.

Though again re feudalism (because the feudal contract goes both ways), theoretically this brother could try to go over his lord brother's head and appeal to their overlord. See for example Lord Wyman Webber, who when faced with a daughter, Rohanne, who refused to marry per his command, instead wrote a will that said she had to marry within two years of his death or the lordship and the castle of Coldmoat would go to her cousin instead. It was asked within the story, couldn't Lady Rohanne appeal to her overlord, Lord Rowan, and have him override the will? Well, she tried, but that Webber cousin just happened to be married to Lord Rowan's sister, and so he upheld the will. But maybe in a different situation something could be done -- perhaps the overlord is known to be particularly noble, or perhaps this pressured brother has a connection to the overlord (maybe via his wife, maybe they were companions in battle or as squires). But still, the brother would have to take his daughter with him during this appeal, or he might return to find out she's been married off in his absence.

And as for the girl herself, could she not refuse? Even if she's underage, isn't it true, as Sansa thinks, "Not even the High Septon himself could declare a woman married if she refused to say the vows"? Well, we have Sansa's own example, where when she was faced with marrying Tyrion, Cersei told her she could be dragged to the altar and make a spectacle to be laughed at but they'd still make her do it anyway... and so Sansa submitted and said the vows. See also how Randyll Tarly forced his son Sam to join the Night's Watch. Sam didn't have to submit, there is no law saying he had to obey, but his father threatened to kill him if he didn't, and due to Sam's experience with his father's abuse (and what that abuse did to his personality), he fully believed him. Someone once asked me if an overlord could help there (though weirdly they mentioned Stannis, who wouldn't be able to do anything even if he wanted to), and the point I had to explain was that Sam was so beaten down by the abuse he never would have even considered going over his father's head, even if he could have somehow escaped his father's guards on the way north.

So with these examples, you can see where the status of the lord in question may change things -- a king, for example, has no overlords to appeal to. A lord paramount's brother could only appeal to the king. This status also changes what pressure the lord can bring to bear -- a very small lord may only have a sworn sword to threaten his brother with, a bigger lord could have a whole garrison, and the king would have not just the Kingsguard and the castle guard and the city guard but theoretically every lord and soldier in the country to use as pressure. Again, feudalism works both ways.

And generally none of this is even stated aloud. Everybody just knows the answer to "you and what army?" and so even family members understand what their lord pressuring them means. (Girls particularly innately understand this, along with patriarchal pressure; like Roslin Frey had no real choice at the Red Wedding but to obey her father, brothers, uncles, and cousins.) So, like so many things in ASOIAF's medieval-inspired era, the personal is the political. Only the personalities of the people involved, and their means of pressure or access routes to escape, are what truly defines what can happen in cases like this.

[drdemonprince]

do you have any advice for navigating a friendship with a trans kids whose parent is transphobic? my uncle started dating this woman when her kid was 2 or 3, and then they broke up 8 or 9 years later. i consider this kid my cousin and xe has been an active part of my life through that whole time up until the break up just under three years ago. ive still been able to see xem occasionally but certainly with much less frequency. ive suspected for a few years now that xe is trans. xyr christmas gifts from me are almost always queer/trans books of some kind, and to be honest a lot of the reasons i show up in my family the way i do is so that a) xe can see a happy queer adult just being alive and b) to pave the way for xem to have a better experience with our family if/when xe chooses to come out. xe came out to only me a month or two ago and expressed a lot of gratitude to me for being there for xem. fast forward to today, xe is now saying xyr mom is uncomfortable with us texting and will be monitoring our texts. ive always known this was a possibility, and have followed xyr lead on what is and isnt safe to text about, and i stand by 100% of what ive texted xem. but i am really devastated by this news. xe is deleting our texts and i am not really sure how to navigate this because im sure there is a way for xyr mom to get deleted texts and i dont really want that to be like…an indicator of anything. and regardless, this is going to impact how much i can show up for xem. also this is like…just so obviously transphobic since i have known xyr mom, and known her WELL, for over a decade at this point. and shes had some pretty awful and bigoted and homophobic things to say in the past. im just really fucking sad about it to be honest and i dont really know how to navigate this in a way that preserves the relationship we do have, allows me to actually be myself, and lets me continue to have this kid as part of my life.

I think you gotta reframe this situation to make it less about how you get to still keep the kid in your life, and focus instead on what is gonna keep the kid safe. Right now, the kid being caught with any messages from you makes xem unsafe in an abusive, isolating home. My recommendation would be making yourself easy to find. Maybe even do some visible trans activism in the local community that everyone in the family will be able to know about. Make sure you have some kind of email or blog or social media page the kid could theoretically access at a better time. The kid should know where to find you when xe has a safer means of making contact. When xe gets a little bit older, then xe can begin to make decisions about potentially escaping this abusive environment and asking you for practical support, and the time may come when you can provide xem with a burner phone, some cash, or a place to crash. But for now you will have to tread really lightly so that the kid's mom doesn't escalate against xem.

[bullet-prooflove]

Three word prompt for Judd ryder

Betrayal, loss, redemption ❤️

Tagging: @kmc1989 @wnbweasley @runawayxheart @backstreetboysfan @star017

Companion piece to:

Not A Good Time - Judd won't tell you what's really going on.

The end to Judd’s marriage isn’t a tale of betrayal, loss or redemption but rather one of mutual acceptance. You can’t maintain a relationship when you’re 9000 miles part, especially when your wife in a war torn country with no internet or cell reception. So the decision is made to uncouple, to move on and live separate lives.

Three years later Judd falls in love a woman he wants to marry, the only problem is he’s still married to Grace.

In Grace’s faith the Bible states there are only four reasons that a marriage can end in divorce and those are  adultery, abandonment, abuse or addiction. It’s why the divorce rate amongst Christians in Texas is only 15%.

Judd would argue abandonment if he had to pick one since Grace up and left to do missionary work in Africa but Grace doesn’t view what she did in that light. To her it was God’s calling, she’s doing the Lord’s work. She refuses to sign the divorce papers because she thinks it’ll dishonour the vows they made before God.

The whole thing is driving Judd crazy because all he wants to do is marry the woman he loves, to show her how committed he is to her pleasure and her happiness. The worst part is the stress of this situation it’s causing friction between the two of you because although you’ve known from the very beginning that he was still married to Grace, you don’t know that Judd’s been planning to propose to you. He’d wanted to surprise you, make it all romantic like and now he’s just fucking everything up.

 When you’re ready to talk about what’s really going on with you, you know where I am, you’d said to him earlier today and that’s why Judd’s now standing here right outside your door. He’s finally ready to talk, he’s ready to tell you the whole goddamn thing.

Love Judd? Don’t miss any of his stories by joining the taglist here.

Interested in supporting me? Join my Patreon for Bonus Content!

Like My Work? - Why Not Buy Me A Coffee

[agirlwithdemonblood]

Breaking Free: Chapter 1- Hearts & Tires

Pairings: AU! Mechanic Dean x Reader

Chapter Summary: Y/N is navigating her new life, alone when she meets Dean, a mechanic who is too kind already.

Warnings: Mentions of physical abuse, threats, abusive ex fiance.

Series Masterlist here!! & Main masterlist here!

Dean Winchester had seen her around for months now. The shy, reserved woman who always walked alone to the coffee shop every morning. Every morning around the same time, there she was, smiling polietly yet nervously as she walked by.

He didn't know much about her, except that she was engaged to Andrew Wilson, a well known reporter in town, and sometimes he swore he could see bruises peeking out from beneath her makeup, but he never asked. He just nodded politely back when she greeted him.

He wasn't sure why he felt drawn to her. Maybe it was the vulnerability in her eyes, or the way she seemed to be the most beautiful girl he's ever laid his eyes on.

Either way, every morning when she walked by, that little smile of hers made his heart beat faster in his chest, and it was something he was excited to see.

But for the past week, she didn't appear at the coffee shop and Dean couldn't stop his concern when he realized there was no sign of her. He asked around discreetly, but no one seemed to know where she had gone.

I once saw a quote hanging on my therapist's wall "As long as you're still alive, you always have a chance to start again."

At the time, it seemed absurd. Why would anyone need to start over when they could just move on?

But now, here I am, needing that chance to start a new life. I barely escaped alive, and now I have the opportunity to make things better for myself. The problem is, I have no idea how to begin.

A few months ago, my life was completely different. I had everything-A fiance, a beautiful house, a life. It was supposed to be our fresh start together. But within days after our engagement, I discovered he was cheating on me.

Without thinking, I stayed, wanting my relationship to work so badly but it got worse and he showed his true colours.

Confronting him only made things worse. He denied everything, accessed me of lies and blamed me for his indiscretions. He turned the tables to make me seem like the one who was crazy and abusive.

I followed him to this new town because of his career, I gave up everything for him, and I endured his abuse because I believed i deserved no better.

A month ago, I knew I needed to leave. I stood up to him, telling him I deserved better, and he hit me-brutally, mercilessly. Not stopping until my blood was on his fists and I was laying there, broken and beaten down.

He told me he could continue, he could hurt me any time he wanted because nobody would ever believe me. He was a respected citizen and people knew him as so.

That's when I realized, I had to run. Because the moment he realized he could hurt me in such brutal ways and get away with it, that's when I knew if I didn't leave-he was going to kill me.

And nobody would do anything about it.

Now, I found myself homeless, with only a few bills and my car to my name. The money in my account, once shared, has been emptied by Andrew.

I was stranded, with no one to turn to except distant parents who have their own issues and blamed me for not making the relationship work. I was alone, and broken.

The next morning, I woke in a motel room, drained and uncertain of my future. The weight of my situation laid down on me like a heavy blanket I couldn't shake off.

A loud thump on the door made me jump as I cautiously opened it. My heart skipped a beat when I found myself face-to-face with Andrew, wearing a mocking smile. All I wanted to do was slam the door in his face, but fear stopped me.

"Y/N, I was surprised you didn't come home last night." he taunted.

"Why would I come home after what you did?" I shot back, crossing my arms to hide the panic within.

He laughed sarcastically. "You still think you hold the cards here. I didn't do anything to you that you didn't deserve. Nobody would ever believe you. Half our neighbors already think you're the toxic one. Your story isn't going to match up. You have nobody on your side."

Swallowing hard, I dropped my arms. "I don't care if nobody believes me. I know what happened, and I'm going to tell my truth."

He stepped closer, and I froze, regretting pushing him. "He pressed his forehead against mine, his gaze intense and threatening. "You do that. I'm thrilled to see what happens when you start opening your mouth."

I backed away, turning from him, afraid he might strike again. He chuckled and left, his footsteps echoing down the hallway. As the door slammed shut behind him, I finally felt a moment of relief, like i could breath again. I didn't care about exposing him or proving anything to the world. All that mattered was being safe from him and finding a way forward.

Stepping outside to grab some breakfast, I halted in shock. All four of my tires were slashed, a knife laying on the ground nearby.

"Fucking Andrew," I muttered, realizing he wasn't done tormenting me. He wanted to see me broken, crawling back to him with nothing. But I refused to let him hurt me anymore-physically or emotionally.

There was an auto shop not far away, and I figured that was my best shot at getting help with my car.

Walking towards the shop, I spotted a mechanic underneath a car, engrossed in his work. "Um, excuse me, sir?" I called out shyly.

Startled, he cursed softly and slid out from beneath the car. My breath caught as I met his gaze. It was him, the man I said hi to every morning. I couldn't deny that I always found him cute, but up close he was more like a model out of a magazine-bright green eyes, a face streaked with grease that somehow looked good on him.

His eyes focused on mine, recognition on his features as his breathing hitched slightly, before a flirty smile appeared. "Ma'am? What can I help you with?"

I blushed and dropped my head, which only made him chuckle softly, causing my cheeks to burn even hotter. Quickly collecting myself, I explained, "I need new tires, all four are empty and I'm looking for the cheapest option."

He frowned but chuckled underneath his breath, leaning against his car and wiping his hands, eying me with a hint of curiosity.

"Is it here?" he asked, gesturing toward my car.

I shook my head, feeling suddenly self-conscious under his gaze. "No, it's at the motel I'm staying at."

"Okay, can you bring it in? I can give you a better estimate once I see the car," he suggested.

"I was just going to buy the tires, and bring them back." I admitted, feeling a bit embarrassed at my idea.

He raised an eyebrow, surprised. "No offense sweetheart, but how were you planning to bring four tires back to the motel? I'm not sure I could even manage that."

I sighed, realized he was right-it was a stupid plan.

"I can't afford a tow truck," I confessed quietly.

Understanding and pity crossed his face and he nodded sympathetically. "Well, if you want, I can get my truck and come with you-for free."

I blinked in surprise and stared back, unsure if i heard him correctly.

Grinning, he grabbed his keys and gestured for me to climb into the truck beside him. The ride was surprisingly comfortable, with occasional glances exchanged that sent my heart fluttering.

As we arrived back at the motel parking lot, I felt a strange sadness knowing our time together was ending. I barely knew him, yet I already missed him. It was crazy-I couldn't be developing feelings for someone new, especially fresh out of a toxic relationship.

He stepped out of the car and I quickly followed, standing a good distance away from him as he observed the mess from this morning. "Oh.. Wow." He muttered, eying the tires.

"What?"

He cleared his throat and looked back towards me, "Nothing it's just... when you said your tires were empty I thought you meant they popped not this... You don't seem like the type of person who would have somebody slash all four of your tires."

I smiled to myself shyly, trying to keep the anxiety at bay. "I must have pissed somebody off, I guess."

He chuckled lightly and leaned down to check the wheels, focusing on what type I would need. I leaned against the truck and snuck a glance at hi; god, he was the most gorgeous man I'd ever seen.

He stood from his spot and nodded, "Luckily, we have the right type at the shop. I can bring it back with me and drop your car off tomorrow?"

I smiled gently and nodded in response. It's not like I could really speak right now while he was standing right there in front of me, his beautiful green eyes shining in the light.

He smirked in response and got to work hooking up my car, taking the keys and getting back into his truck. I was about to turn and leave when his voice called me back.

"Hey, wait!"

I turned and came back to his truck, leaning on the window to face him. He swallowed hard, and he looked... nervous?"

"I uh... Your name.. I need your name for the... papers."

I bit my lip to hold back a laugh, "The bill?"

He laughed to himself and dropped his head, "Yeah, that would have sounded better."

"What?"

He blushed and lifted his head, "Nothing, sorry. Um, your name is?"

My cheeks burned red, and for a split second I felt like I couldn't breathe. The way he was staring at me was different than before; it was intimidating and filled me with desire for this random man.

"Y/N.. My name is Y/N."

He breathed in as a relaxed smile erupted on his face. "That's a gorgeous name."

I could feel the heat spreading all down my body; the nerves were kicking in. Why was he flirting with me of all people? Did he know about me?

"And your name?"

"Oh right." he laughed, sticking his hand out to shake mine. "I'm Dean."

I smirked as his name left his lips. Dean-now there's a name I wouldn't mind screaming out. No, wait, stop.

"Dean.. What a unique name, I like it."

This time his cheeks burned red, and god, he was so cute when he blushed. He cleared his throat and nodded before starting the car, a small wink sent my way making my stomach do backflips.

"I'll see you tomorrow Y/N."

I smiled in response, "Thanks for everything. See you tomorrow, Dean."

I watched the truck leave the parking lot, and strangely enough, I felt sad. I didn't even really know Dean, yet my heart missed him. It was crazy-really frigging crazy.

Is the universe messing with me? Is he?

Dean couldn't quite understand it, but he found himself strangely drawn to her. Everything about her seemed to captivate him; the way she looked at him, the effortless way her hair fell across her shoulders in the truck, her attitude, her infectious laugh and her smile that could light up a room.

As he parked the truck and began to unhook the car, his father appeared, wearing his usual grumpy expression.

"What are you doing?" his father questioned with a hint of disapproval.

"Changing the tires," Dean replied, glancing at the car and then back at his father.

His father scoffed, visibly annoyed. "With her. Haven't you heard the rumours about her and Andrew?"

"Yeah, but she seems alright. They are rumours, Dad."

"You do realize that by helping her out, Winchester Mechanics could lose our opportunity to go on the news? Andrew promised us some TV time, but that could change once he finds out you're getting cozy with his ex."

Dean rolled his eyes, frustrated by his father's stubbornness and self-centeredness. Despite his good intentions, his father often looked down on his choices.

"Dad, I'm just fixing her car. We just met, it's not that big of a deal."

"Sure," his father muttered skeptically. "I saw how you looked at her. Just... be smart, Dean."

After his father left, Dean leaned against her car and couldn't help but smile to himself. He knew he had lied to his dad—it was a bigger deal than he let on. There was something about her that had taken hold of him, something he couldn't quite explain. Deep down, he knew this was just the beginning. Maybe he was crazy, or maybe, just maybe, she felt it too.

He would find out tomorrow for sure.

Thank you for reading, I hope you enjoyed it! Chapter  coming soon stay tuned!

Like, comment, and reblog, feedback is my fuel 💕

[maxknightley]

do you think not having concrete information since you aren’t directly related to a situation extends to all forms of allegations? like coming forward about r*pe, or accusing someone of not paying you foryou work, or relaying a warning about a community member known to be a snitch? i ask this in good faith bc it's genuinely something i grapple with and it's also an argument i see against stuff like believing amber heard or supporting Black friends after they allege racism but i also see this used to isolate people that just aren’t well-liked (including myself). do you think it also may depend on the framework of justice in the situation?

again, these are different situations that I think warrant different responses.

when it comes to sexual assault, I think there's a few different things to consider:

While false accusations of sexual assault are rare, they are not categorically impossible, and they disproportionately target queer people and people of color. like, the gay panic defense is essentially accusing a trans woman of rape by deception. black men - hell, black teenagers - have been straight-up killed based on false accusations by white women.

When there is not a significant power differential in place, then absent any concrete evidence, you are still going to be making a decision largely based on vibes. If you have a personal connection to the people involved, there's not much you can do about that; you are probably going to have to support one party or the other for obvious interpersonal reasons. it sucks ass and it's not a decision I would wish on anyone. But if you don't have a personal connection to the people involved, there's not much you can actually do to impact the situation in a positive way regardless.

again, DARVO is a huge thing here. X says they were abused by Y, Y says they were abused by X. absent any concrete evidence, you are - again - going largely off of vibes and your personal connection to the situation. which sucks!! but let's not pretend the situation is anything other than what it is.

depp v. heard, it must be emphasized, was not a callout post; it was a series of legal trials (involving a moderately famous actor, an extremely famous actor, and the mass media, none of whom are "some broke asshole on tumblr"). even speaking as someone who generally distrusts the legal system, it's important to emphasize that legal trials typically involve presenting evidence and both sides having a chance to argue their case. this provides structure that Online Arguments do not have.

given that the whole "me too" movement started with sexual assault allegations against Harvey Weinstein, I think it's worth noting that 1. Harvey Weinstein was in a position of power that he was very obviously able to abuse, 2. there were several accusations against him. imo, both of these are pretty noteworthy.

when it comes to saying someone didn't pay you for work, or issued a false chargeback request, or whatever:

generally I think this has clearer intent than your average callout post: you are trying to tell other people "hey, don't do work for free."

relatedly, there are concrete actions people can take in response. charge up front. don't do work for that person.

this is subjective, but I think "this person welched on me" is a less charged accusation than something like sexual assault or being a bigot, so imo it's less likely to encourage knee-jerk responses. maybe it's just something I haven't personally seen happen, though.

as for accusations of being an informant: while they should be taken seriously, you need to consider that there is a whole-ass term for when the Feds attempt to trick you into thinking someone is an informant when they are in fact legit.

[studentinpursuitofclouds]

are you accepting requsts for 1.6 stuff? if so, may i get all of the SVE bachelors (especially magnus) reacting to their spouse witnessing the new Mr Qi event at the summit and becoming Very intimidated by him? bonus points if the farmer went through the SVE ??? mature event

⚠️Warning: Spoilers for SDV 1.6 update event and SVE Mr. Qi mature event under the cut!

Ok, a little preface: I had a little trouble comparing the logic of opening the Summit location in vanilla SDV and SVE (I know it's just a game and a lot of things don't make sense, but it's important to me, so shhhh!). In SDV the location is available after reaching Perfection, and naturally the new 1.6. event with Qi will be when the Farmer reaches Summit before reaching Perfection. Whereas in SVE this location can be opened earlier with the help of Clint.

So. Let's pretend this is the situation in SVE when Farmer hasn't yet accessed Summit with Clint, and they reached that location using "cheat" magic. I just don't really want to break 4 walls and imagine that this world is just a game, so let's consider it magic (scythe and glitch magic, lol).

Thanks for the ask, dear anon, and enjoy! 💕

Lance:

Too much, it's all too much. The second time Farmer has been admitted to Harvey's clinic in critical condition, they haven't told Lance anything about what happened, and they're still enveloped by thin threads of unnatural magic. Very powerful and dark magic. Not their magic. Good thing thar clever pink-haired adventurer had managed to inform Camilla, Magnus, and the heads of the Ministry about this strange occurrence that still plagues the Farmer. Except that even Lance didn't expect things to be this bad.... He longs for action to protect his dear spouse, but the Ministry has ordered him to bide his time, and that's what kills him the most... This feeling of helplessness before an unseen enemy and Farmer's face that tries to hide the fear and pain behind a fake smile. Lance isn't vindictive and doesn't usually harbour grudges, but when he finds the culprit behind all their troubles, he'll make this person pay for every second the Farmer has spent in misery and horror.

Victor:

Victor is already in total despair. He sought help and advice from everyone he knows: friends, his mother, even some folks from Zuzu City. The poor guy was asking everyone since the Farmer themself wouldn't tell him anything, always saying that "everything is fine." Fine?! It's not fine! Victor knows that the job of an adventurer is difficult and challenging, but in his heart he senses something wrong. And while the worried young man stood on the porch, completely absorbed in anxious thoughts about his spouse, a mysterious woman appeared to him out of nowhere. "We're guessing what happened to Farmer, but we're not 100% sure." Victor could barely restrain himself from rushing over to Camilla and grabbing her by the shoulders, begging her to tell him what she knew and why his Farmer was acting like this. "Shh, there's no need to panic. We'll try to do whatever is necessary, but we need your help." Is it really that dangerous? But he's willing to take the risk, for Farmer's sake.

Magnus Rasmodius:

"What do you mean we can't find the source of this damn magic?!" It had been a long time since Magnus' colleagues had seen him in such a rage, but what was there to be surprised about? Almost any man whose spouse had been subjected to possible abuse, cursing, and maybe even physical or psychological torture would have gone berserk. Magnus was no exception. However, this enemy was no ordinary man at all, but the very same obscure individual that the Ministry had long been wary of. And now they came again and started to frighten Farmer. It is not known why the stranger is so interested in his spouse, but no one dares to harm Farmer. Even if the Ministry doesn't help him, to hell with it. Magnus has enough friends and colleagues who will not leave him in trouble and, if anything, will protect Farmer.

[cherienymphe]

When The Party’s Over XX (Rafe Cameron x Reader)

Warnings: NON-CON touching, DUB-CON, ABUSIVE RELATIONSHIP, DOMESTIC VIOLENCE, forced pregnancy, toxic relationship, violence, jealousy, stalking, underage drinking, drug use, manipulation, corruption, public sex, innocent reader, Heyward!reader

➥ banner by @vase-of-lilies​ | divider by @silkholland​​

➥ series masterlist

summary: Manipulated into a secret relationship with Rafe Cameron, you’re finding it much easier said than done to do the right thing and walk away…especially when he refuses to let you.

~

“…and there’s the heartbeat.”

You stared at the screen, your own heart beating in time with that of the baby’s in your stomach. You swallowed, gaze roaming over the monitor and feeling…weird. You knew you were pregnant, had known for weeks, but being confronted with the evidence in such a glaring way made your head spin more than expected. The sound of its heart was so loud in the otherwise quiet room, and Rose softly gasped.

You had not wanted Rafe in the room.

At all.

It had sparked a disagreement that was only settled when Rose stepped in.

“Rafe, if she doesn’t want you there then she doesn’t want you there,” the older woman had said. “She’s carrying your child. Let’s pick our battles, okay? She doesn’t need any stress.”

Rafe’s entire visage had clouded over, and you had ignored the feel of his cold gaze all the way to the doctor. You blinked at the monitor, surprised by how your eyes watered, and you struggled to swallow.

“Oh, honey,” Rose said, grabbing you a tissue.

“Sorry,” you tearfully apologized, wiping your eyes.

You didn’t even know why you were crying. Surely that whole hormone thing couldn’t start this early. All of it was just so overwhelming. You’d thought about motherhood a lot growing up, always knowing you’d want to be one someday, but you’d never imagined like this. You never imagined this early, and with Rafe of all people.

This was a moment that should’ve been happy, and it was in a way, but it felt wrong to think. Let alone even say. Rafe had raped you, had cornered you into going through with this, and as awful as the circumstances were, you couldn’t deny how almost excited you were to have a baby. The excitement, however, was more than dampened by everything revolving around the situation.

“Do you want to know the sex?”

You looked up at the doctor in wonder, eyes wide as you thought it over. It was no secret that your families were dying to know. Rose and your mom wanted a little girl so badly. Your dad seemed impartial, just wanting the baby to be healthy, while Ward on the other hand… You hadn’t missed the way Rafe’s jaw had clenched at his dad’s verbal desire for a boy.

The why was no secret.

He wanted a boy that had the capacity to turn out better than Rafe.

Truthfully, you didn’t know what you wanted, and you hadn’t spoken to Rafe about it either. You didn’t talk to him much at all if you could help it, and even from what you knew about him, it was still hard to try and surmise what he hoped for. You didn’t need to look at Rose to know she was disappointed when you shook your head.

“I don’t think I want to know yet.”

“That’s okay!” the doctor assured you, and you wondered if your uncertainty was written all over your face. “Plenty of people want to be surprised, or they simply aren’t ready yet.”

You returned her comforting smile, letting out a breath of relief. The rest of the appointment was spent making sure you were healthy and that the baby was developing as it should too. Rose was an odd comfort, a soft touch on your back as you both walked out of the room. Rafe’s face was hopeful when you finally neared him, and you said nothing as Rose spoke.

“Y/N doesn’t want to know the sex yet.”

You could feel his gaze on you, and you pointedly ignored him.

“Why the hell not?”

“Rafe,” his stepmom scolded.

You brushed past him on your way out, but he was quick to walk in time with you.

“Why don’t you want to know the sex?”

“…because I just don’t.”

He pulled you to a stop once you were outside, and you narrowed your eyes at the way he stared you down.

“First you tell me you don’t want me in there with you, and now you’re taking this from me too…”

“Rafe-.”

“The baby is mine too.”

You huffed, crossing your arms over your chest and looking away. Rafe moved closer, and you felt the cool air of his breath as he exhaled through his nose.

“I know that just eats you up inside, but I have just as much right in these decisions, so you really need to get over that,” he spat.

You could hear Rose scolding him again, and your eyes landed on his face again just as a sneer fell onto his lips.

“So, if you don’t want to know the sex, fine, but you’re going to wait here while I find out.”

He was taking off before you could stop him, and you roughly exhaled as your eyes met Rose’s. It bothered you that Rafe spoke about this baby like it was a mutual decision between you two. If you had it your way, Rafe wouldn’t be involved in the pregnancy at all. His determination to make you both one big happy family was unnerving more than anything else.

…because Rafe had an infuriating habit of getting what he wanted.

“Oh my God,” Bunny breathed as she held the sonogram Rafe gave her, lips parted in shock.

Cam sat next to her, both of them staring at it with wide eyes. Part of you felt bad for hiding this from them for so long, but you’d needed time to process it all yourself. Plus, there was the added weight of hiding the true nature of your relationship—or lack thereof—with Rafe from them.

It felt like forever since you’d seen them, and Ward and Rose took no issue with inviting them over.

“I feel like the biggest idiot in the world,” Cam said, shaking her head. “You were fucking Rafe this whole time, and I didn’t even know.”

You threw her a sheepish smile when her gaze met yours.

“Not even Kelce knew, so…”

“Yeah, but they’re guys. We’re girls,” Bunny cried. “We tell each other everything.”

The blonde pouted at you as Cam took the sonogram for herself, marveling at it.

“I didn’t want anyone to know,” you quietly confessed. “Pope, you know.”

Bunny nodded in understanding, Cam humming.

“…but you guys aren’t together anymore,” the redhead sadly mused. “…and you’re still going to have it?”

You sighed, nibbling on a snack that Rose had made you as your thoughts ran. You knew what they were thinking because it was the same thoughts you’d had before your abortion. You’d had no intention of being with Rafe, and he’d shown you that he wasn’t a promising father. Not to mention, you hadn’t wanted him to use the baby against you. It hadn’t made sense to keep it.

It didn’t make sense to keep this one either, but you were cornered.

Still…ignoring Rafe, you wanted this baby, and that was what you’d told them.

“What about school?” Cam wondered.

“One more year off isn’t the end of the world,” you assured them. “Online classes are a thing, and…I don’t know. Once the baby reaches a certain age, I could go in person…even if only for the experience.”

You’d talked about it in passing with both your parents and Ward. You hadn’t missed the way Rafe’s gaze had lingered during the conversation. His gaze lingered a lot lately, and you knew it was in part because you wanted nothing to do with him.

He watched you a lot when you walked, eyes focused on your steps and movements. He stared when you ate too, taking in what you ingested and how much. You weren’t stupid. You knew why, of course, but a part of you didn’t want to accept that Rafe was just looking out for the mother of his child. You didn’t want to acknowledge that beyond all of his awfulness and troubled mind, there was a part of him that existed that did care about you and this baby in his own way.

You didn’t like the area of grey.

Like now for example.

“You can’t forget these,” he told you as you ate, sliding the prenatal vitamin across the table.

Your shoulders sagged for several reasons, mostly because you hated that you kept forgetting while Rafe didn’t. He never forgot everything you were supposed to take and how much you were supposed to be eating and how much rest you were supposed to be getting. It ate you up inside, and you weren’t too proud to deny it.

Bitterness settled in the pit of your stomach.

You knew that you were just overwhelmed, and due to the circumstances, Rafe had much more control over the situation than you did. Even still, you couldn’t help how it made you feel like Rafe, of all people, was going to be a better parent than you. You knew that wasn’t true, of course. You could start smocking crack, right now, and you’d still be a better parent than him.

Rafe just had much more invested in this baby than you did.

Maybe you’d just subconsciously internalized that. You did want this baby, but if you lost it, you’d be sad…but not forever. You’d grieve, of course, but you couldn’t deny that a part of you would take it as a sign, a blessing in a weird way almost. You would be sad…but you would be free, and Rafe of all people understood that more than anyone.

So, he was overly invested in making sure everything went right with this pregnancy.

He couldn’t risk losing the baby because he couldn’t risk losing you.

“I guess I’m going to have to write it on your forehead every night…”

Your eyes met his, and the corner of his lips curved upwards into a cold smirk.

“…or shove it down your throat.”

You looked away, picking at your food.

“If I didn’t know any better, I would think you were trying to intentionally ruin this pregnancy.”

You glared at him at that. You both knew that wasn’t true, and you felt insulted that Rafe would even think that of you.

“You twisted my arm into this whole situation, and now you complain when I’m not perfect at it,” you told him. “I’ll do better.”

You took the vitamin, swallowing it down with some water under Rafe’s watchful eye.

“I know you can be stubborn…but you really plan on doing this for the next eighteen years?”

You swallowed down a sigh, sparing him a brief glance.

“Doing what, Rafe?”

“You know what.”

You hated that smirk dancing on his lips, chin resting in his hand as he stared at you like…like some child. It was the smugness that really made your skin crawl. The unshaking certainty that you’d come around and Rafe would really just get everything he wanted.

“Plenty of people coparent without being together all over the world, Rafe. I don’t see why we can’t…”

“This isn’t all over the world, beautiful. It’s Kildare.”

You rolled your eyes at his tone.

“…and Rose already hates it enough that we aren’t married. I’ll never hear the end of it when you actually start showing,” he grumbled.

“Well, maybe you should’ve thought of that before you forced a baby in me.”

His face fell at your words, and you held his gaze. Sarah was in the living room, not one to leave the two of you completely alone, but you didn’t care if she heard or not. She already knew, anyway.

“You didn’t give me much choice…now, did you?”

You scoffed at him, looking away with a shake of your head.

“You tried to drown me, Rafe,” you reminded him, watching the way his jaw ticked. “What did you expect me to do?”

“I said I was sorry-.”

“That’s not something that can be fixed with an apology. It can never be fixed.”

“I-.”

“You hit me, you raped me, and you think any of that is supposed to make me want to be with you? You had to get me pregnant just to keep me tied to you, Rafe. What does that say?”

You were grabbing your plate and standing before he could respond, but you weren’t surprised to hear his chair scraping too as he followed you into the kitchen. His hands came down on either side of you at the sink, and you shrunk in on yourself at the feel of his chest grazing your back. He leaned in, and you shuddered when his nose grazed the top of your ear. He sighed, and you felt the action against your back.

“I want you to understand something…okay…?”

His voice was hushed, and you did your best to lean away from him to no avail.

“Baby or no baby, you were never getting away from me,” Rafe purred, and you flinched when his hand trailed up your frame, coming to rest on your stomach. “This was just the easy way, and you think you’d appreciate that.”

You pushed your body against his, trying to get from in between him and the sink, but Rafe’s hand was quick to circle your wrist. When you looked at him, his blue eyes were hard, no hint of humor found on his face. He leaned in, and you worriedly leaned back.

“This is me being nice…because you’re pregnant, and you don’t need the stress…”

His other hand came up to touch your cheek, and your lips trembled as he ran his gaze over you, slowly taking you in.

“…but do not let that get to your head.”

You stared at each other for what felt like a long time, and you jerked when Sarah’s voice reached your ears.

“Rafe! What the hell are you doing?”

The disgust in her voice was clear, and you swallowed when her brother threw her a crooked smile, reluctantly letting you go.

“We’re just talking,” he evenly told her, looking at you again. “Baby stuff.”

He tapped your chin before brushing by you, and you wiped your face, having not even realized that your eyes had started to water.

You let out a breath, staring at the pastel green crib with parted lips. It was so big and pretty and unexpected. When Sarah had taken you out, you hadn’t thought anything of it. Returning to the Cameron’s to Cam and Bunny in your room was a surprise, and the pretty crib was an even bigger surprise. You didn’t miss the gender-neutral color, and you blinked at them.

“Rafe told Kelce and Kelce told me,” Cam said with a shrug. “It’s perfect for…whatever you hope you’re having.”

You couldn’t lie and say your curiosity wasn’t piqued. After all, you hadn’t forgotten the look on Rafe’s face when he’d finally joined you and Rose in the car that day. It was strange, seeing him so happy, and that happiness sparked by something so innocent and genuine.

“Do you like it?” Bunny wondered with a hopeful smile.

You dazedly nodded.

“Yeah,” you breathed, slowly approaching it, placing your hand on the wood. “It’s so pretty.”

With every passing day, this pregnancy became more and more real. In less than a year, a little baby would be sleeping in this thing, and you blew out a breath. You and Rafe would be parents, and you briefly closed your eyes.

“Are you scared?” Bunny suddenly asked.

When you looked at her, she looked like she was for you. All three of you were so young, after all, and you were having a baby. You were starting a portion of your life that wouldn’t even be thought about for another decade for them, if at all.

“Yeah.”

It was an honest answer, but just not for the reason you led her to believe. You weren’t scared of this baby or being a mother, but instead of Rafe. You were scared of the power he held, and would hold, over you. You were scared of eighteen plus years of having to deal with him and his antics and his unwavering determination to keep you under his thumb.

You were afraid of Ward and his money and how difficult your family’s life could be should you ever decide to stand up to Rafe for the whole island to see. You were afraid of Rose’s excitement to have a baby in the house, what she might do or turn a blind eye to all for the sake of looking like a perfect family.

You didn’t say any of that though.

“What if I suck?” you wondered, recalling your thoughts from the other night. “I mean, Rafe of all people, has to remind me to take my prenatal vitamins. What if he’s better at this than me?”

“I can barely imagine Rafe as a dad, and he’s literally going to be one,” Cam scoffed. “You’ll be a great mom, don’t worry.”

“Plus, you’ll have so much help! We’re here, and Rose and Sarah, and Kiara’s going to help too, right? She’s dating your brother,” Bunny reminded you.

It was true that you would have help. You were sure you’d need it, and it did relieve you some, and you looked at the crib again. It looked so nice in the room, oddly in place, and you were thinking about waking up in the middle of the night to check on the baby or watching them sleep. You were still staring at it when Rafe finally returned.

You knew because you heard him knock something over downstairs.

It was late, very late, and truthfully, you hadn’t been all that concerned about where he was. Your curiosity, however, was piqued when you heard Ward’s voice. It became clearer when you stepped out of your room, nearing the stairs.

“Y/N is upstairs, carrying your baby and getting the rest she needs, and you’re out drinking?”

It wasn’t surprising to hear, not even disappointing. You’d come to expect everything of Rafe, and you peeked around the corner, gaze landing on the two of them at the bottom of the stairs. Your ex did look drunk, hair mussed like he’d been running his hands through it, and your eyes fell to the large bag in his hand.

“When you came to me to take responsibility for your part in all this, to tell me about the situation, I had hope, Rafe. I still do, but this? I don’t like this,” the older man scolded.

“You can relax, alright? I was just at Topper’s. We just had some beers-.”

“…and then you drove here.”

Rafe didn’t say anything to that, and when you glanced up again, you found his drunken gaze on you. Feeling embarrassed at having been caught, you backed away and made your way back to your room. You could feel your stomach turning, mouth salty, and you grimaced, rushing to the bathroom. Truthfully, you weren’t sure why they called it morning sickness when you found that it sometimes lasted all day.

When you finished rinsing your mouth out, you were stumped by the sight of Rafe in your room.

You opened your mouth to say something when you paused, taking in the way he stood over the crib. You studied the way he seemed to study it, blue eyes drinking in the color and size, and you watched him reach up with his free hand to brush his fingers along the smooth surface. He didn’t acknowledge you right away, just drinking it in, and his throat bobbed.

“Cam and Bunny bought it,” you finally said.

Again, he said nothing, and you sighed.

“Rafe, I need to sleep. You can look at it tomorrow-.”

“No.”

You frowned at him, frown deepening when he moved to sit down on your bed. You folded your arms over your chest, opening your mouth when he drew your attention back to the bag he’d been holding. You watched him dump everything out onto the bed, and it was hard to describe the feeling in your chest as your eyes ran over everything.

It was all baby stuff.

Blankets, onesies, diapers. You sharply inhaled, so conflicted at the sight of Rafe simultaneously trying and fucking up. You let out a bitter chuckle, thinking to yourself to leave it to Rafe to get drunk and drive home with a bag full of things the baby would need. You dropped the blanket, unsure of what to say. You felt like you should thank him, but you weren’t going to thank Rafe for doing what dads should.

Providing for this baby he was forcing you to have was the least he could do.

“Ward said you’re drunk…”

Rafe heaved a sigh, rolling his eyes towards the ceiling, but he didn’t deny it. He shook his head, running his hand through his dirty blond strands, and standing.

“Topper and Kelce can’t believe I’m doing this, you know,” he slurred, and you eyed him. “They think I’m crazy…but they don’t get it.”

“Look, all of this stuff is great, Rafe, but I think you should-.”

“I fucking love you.”

Your stomach churned at that, and you couldn’t hold his gaze when it met yours. You didn’t believe that for a second, and it scared you that Rafe genuinely did.

“I do,” he drunkenly continued. “…and you might hate me, now, but you won’t forever. You can’t.”

“Rafe,” you sighed.

“…because that baby will know. Our child will see it, and they’ll hate you.”

Your heart skipped a beat as Rafe stared you down, and you swallowed.

“Our son will hate you.”

You froze, eyes widening at Rafe as he revealed what you didn’t want to know yet. He watched your face as you processed the knowledge that you were having a boy…another Rafe, and by the look on Rafe’s face, you could see that was where his mind had headed too. You stumbled back, and Rafe let out a soft chuckle.

“We’re having a boy…and I’m going to treat him better than my dad ever treated me,” he practically sneered, your eyes meeting his again. “He’ll never have to beg for my attention, my love, my approval.”

You turned away, staring at the crib and the pastel green color, mind racing.

“He’s going to fucking love me…and you will too because he does.”

You shook your head, and Rafe continued.

“You will too because he’s mine,” Rafe whispered, moving closer, now. “You’re going to see me in his face and his laugh and his God damn smile.”

“Shut up, Rafe.”

Your voice cracked, and you hadn’t realized until now that you’d been hoping for a girl. You tried to tell yourself that it didn’t matter to you, but in this moment, as Rafe taunted you with everything you wanted to pretend wasn’t true, you realized it mattered a lot. Seeing Rafe in your son was going to elicit one of two reactions.

You were either going to hate the sight of him and everything he reminded you of, something you couldn’t imagine…

…or he was going to make the next eighteen years very trying in ways you didn’t even want to think about.

“I told you I didn’t want to know,” you choked out. “Do you ever respect anything I say?”

You pushed past him, moving to clean everything off of your bed when you felt Rafe at your back. You reached back, pushing at him, but Rafe wouldn’t budge. He wrapped his arms around you, and you felt his face in the crook of your neck.

“Rafe-.”

“We’re having a boy,” he drunkenly murmured, lips brushing your neck. “You’re giving me a son.”

When you turned around, you pressed your hands to his chest, but Rafe dropped to his knees before you could stop him. You gasped when his arms tightened around you, his face pressed to your stomach, and your hands were suspended in the air, unsure of what to do.

“Rafe, get up,” you harshly whispered.

You tensed when he pressed his lips to you, lifting your shirt, skin meeting skin.

“Rafe, stop-.”

You cut yourself off with a gasp when his teeth nipped at you. He kissed his way up your body, lips meeting yours before you could stop him. You pushed against him, noises of protests leaving you as he moved his mouth over yours. Rafe’s hands pressed into you, digging into your skin and preventing you from moving.

Your heart started going crazy in your chest, and you worriedly looked towards the door.

“Rafe, stop,” you hissed against his lips, shoving his shoulders.

He ignored you, shoving you down onto the bed, and in your panic, your hand clasped onto some random baby toy he’d bought. You swung it at his face before you realized it, eyes widening as he pulled away with a loud hiss. The corner of the box it was in had cut his face, and you watched him reach up to touch it. Your lips parted when he looked at the blood on his hand, and you fearfully moved back, tearful eyes focused on him.

When his blue eyes met yours, his entire face hardened, expression taut. He came at you again, and you swung your arm, his hand catching your wrist just as the door opened. You both flew apart with impressive speed, your tearful gaze landing on Ward as he looked between you two. You didn’t miss the way his gaze narrowed the more it lingered on Rafe.

“Y/N needs rest, Rafe. You know that.”

The blond swallowed, running his hands through his hair with a nod.

“Yeah, yeah, I just… I was just showing her the stuff I bought.”

You could tell that Ward didn’t believe him, and when it became clear that Ward wasn’t leaving until he did, Rafe reluctantly moved away from you. You looked down when he glanced over his shoulder at you, only looking up again to watch the way Ward roughly grabbed his shoulder, guiding him out as he shut the door behind them.

You wrapped your arms around yourself, throat tight as you looked over everything Rafe had bought. You were fighting to calm your heart, realizing how close Rafe had been to having his way with you. You were shaking, and you furiously blinked back tears, hand coming to rest on your stomach. A mini Rafe was growing inside of you, and to make sure he didn’t turn out like his father, you worried that you’d might have to lose yourself in the process.

[yunazxxx]

lara raj x megan skiendiel

cw ; toxic relationship , established relationship (girlfriends), on and off, loser!megan , megan’s clueless majority of the time , angsty?? , abusive!lara , abusive relationship (verbally, mentally, sometimes physically),, etc maybe?

wc ; 1k

-

the ginger and the redhead sat across from each other on their livingroom couch, they just got out of an argument over something megan had done. it wasn't the younger's fault, actually it was something she didn't even notice.

lara had gone through her phone, after the previous night of some activites. lara had heard megan's phone ringing while the younger slept, checking the number and realizing she didn't know it. she let the call ring out before checking through the texts with megan and this girl, lara knew this about megan, she was oblivious as fuck. - but she didn't make it known she was in a relationship.

lara bit her tongue for the night, knowing something in her was yelling at her to wake megan up and ask her who it was. she couldn't beside the girl anymore, and slept in the guest bedroom. when lara woke up that morning, she saw the ginger on the foot of her bed, laying down but she wasn't sleep.

lara ignored her for hours, anytime she'd try to talk to her, lara would just look in teother direction. megan frowned and finally asked, "what's wrong? why are you acting weird?" lara held her composure, and recalled the number she saw on megan's phone the previous night.

megan's eyebrows furrowed, "what do you mean?" and lara looked at her girlfriend, "are you fucking dumb, or trying to play dumb?" lara asked, her voice raising heavily. "i don't know what you're talking about" megan denied any accusations made by the redhead.

"you know what, since you want to be fucking dumn" lara said, standing up, "give me your phone" and megan did. in megan's eyes she didn't know who she was talking about, because everyone who megan spoke to knew she was in a relationship, it maybe wasn't the best one but she was taken.

"i'm always here for you, and i love you so much megan" lara quoted from the end of a paragraph that the girl wrote her, "are you fucking serious?" lara threw the ginger's phone down, almost hitting her foot. megan flinched, and lara walked up to her, anger burning in her eyes, "fuck this, huh? fuck everything we ever made, everything we fucking did.”

her words struck like venom through megan, she loved her so much, and seeing her take a conversation out of context was hurting her even worse. megan tried explaining her side, saying things like "that's not what she meant, she didn't mean it like that" but lara walked off, yelling across the house "you're defending another bitch in front of me, how the fuck is that supposed to make me feel better?"

you could hear the door slam from outside of their house due to how hard lara closed it, megan sighed, picking up her phone and sitting on the couch. and she texted lara's phone, her actual number wasn't sending but she was active on socials.

@mmeimeei : hey, can we just talk this out? sent at 3:57 pm - the ginger knew how long it'd take lara to reply, and so she just put her phone down and waited for the notification. she opened their chats again, seeing that the red haired woman had read her texts.

it was turning 4:30 pm at this point and megan still had no reply from her, so she went upstairs, opening the door and seeing the redhead standing there. megan apologized, feeling like she was actually wrong in this situation, knowing that everything she said she shouldn't have, and went on a small rant, until lara shut her up with a kiss.

"shush" lara said softly, kissing the ginger's cheek and pulling her hair out of her face, "we won't talk about this, okay?" megan nodded, putting her head on lara's chest. her heart was filled with guilt, wholeheartedly believing that she had hurt the older.

megan blocked her friend, the same one who she defended, and it was like it had never happened, the next hour the pair was playing around and laughing like usual. lara remembered what happened before and the words slipped out of her mouth, "there's no one else, right?" she asked the ginger, "no, no one else" she hurriedly said.

"i want you all to myself, i'm never letting you leave" lara said, and kissed megan, the ginger responded to the kiss, knowing the dangers of this as well. the obvious past of theirs where situations like this would end in a breakup for a week or two before megan is beggng lara to take her back.

lara knew how dependent the younger girl was, how much she loved her and how obsessed with her she was, and as fucked up as it sounds, lara would use it to her advantage. it wasn't like she could always control what she'd blow up at or about.

one second she could be screaming down megan's throat, but the next she's all over her and loving her. "you're my everything" lara mumbled against megan's skin while she kissed her, every word and kiss and touch made her fall more and more intoxicated.

"i love you so much" lara whispers, megan sayng it back, but in a whining tone. lara was always like this, fixing almost all of their problms with some type of romantic interaction or sex. megan knew how bad this was, but she couldn't leave, she didn't want to, she loved lara too bad to ever just leave.

as said before, all the older would do is manipulate her girlfriend into believing she was the problem or that she was wrong. but it would all disappear after one night, she would wake up to lara cuddling her but somedays she wouldn't wake up to anything from her.

everytime megan would shower, she'd see all the markings on her body, indicating what happend the previous night. megan would always let lara take her anger out of her, whenever and however she wanted. there was really no wrong answer.

tonight lara had megan laying on her lap while she played in the younger's hair, despite how toxic their relationship had gotten, they knew how to handle each other so they never left.

[dckweed]

TORMENTED TRAGEDY, benedict bridgerton

summary: in which ruth archibald participated in her first social season in two years, re-introduced to high society after a years long retreat to a rest home after having had a horrid break down during her first season. she expects the whispers and sideways glances, the purely evident lack of suitors (what man wants a crazy wife?), however she doesn’t expect to find companionship in that of Benedict Bridgerton, and least if all the affect she so unknowingly craved.

warnings: brief mentions of abuse & attempted suicide. depression is going to be a heavy theme throughout the series so if you're uncomfortable, please do not read any further. cold and uncaring maternal figure, crazy twin brother who helps his sister be happy by sneaking off with her favorite bridgerton brother, loving father figure, its brigerton so ofc she's gonna be featured in whistledown and most likely bullied by the ton...eventual smut

series masterlist here. if you would like to be tagged in future parts, please comment on the separate taglist post!

i. seasons greetings

The sun rose over the blackened iron gates of the Archibald family’s city home, a grand structure (much too large for their family of five) situated on it’s own city block merely four streets over from the royal palace, and with it, Ruth Archibald woke to the sights of here own bedroom for the first time in two years.

The walls were still the peachy pink color of her girlhood, her room still decorated with that of the last things she’d touched, a book on the table next to her bed, her hairbrush and jewelry and in the corner, that god forsaken baby blue dress..She stared at the ceiling, unmoving from her bed despite the early morning light filtering in from behind the drapes. She felt like a stranger to herself in these four walls..Ruth had left a crumbling mess of a distraught girl, and had come home an entirely different person. 

Two years in a glorified mental facility could do that to a person, though deep down, she had always quite felt like this, like she was just going through the motions and painting a bright smile on her face while doing what was expected of her, and there was always so much expected of her. 

The Marquess and Marchioness were of one of the highest rankings, The Marquess, Lord Archibald serving as advisor to King George and Queen Charlotte. His children were expected to be intelligent and beautiful, sociable. They were expected to be prim and proper, to be knowledgeable in politics as well as being proper hostesses, fine horsemen and cordially impeccable. They were expected to be the most popular of the Ton’s high society, the most desirable for courtships and the perfect marriage for even someone as high ranking as a prince. 

All of which, Ruth had been. Perfectly perfect in every aspect..though it seemed never perfect enough for her mother. 

Marchioness Archibald was not an easy woman to please, the three of her children had learned that together, growing up competing for the womans cold affections their entire lives. It seemed that Ruth had finally won them two years ago when she had landed herself the fancy of a soon to be Duke, someone she had known her entire life..The boy was handsome, her mother had said, his father worked closely with the king and queen, he had troves of money..they would make a fine match, she had said. 

Ruth couldn’t do it. 

The soon to be Duke was not a kind nor caring man, something that Ruth had known growing up. Her brother had protested (having gone to eton and oxford with the man), her father had seemed angered by the arrangement that had happened behind his back. Ruth had tried to tell him no, but her other had already betrothed them, making the plans with his father,.the family would be receiving an ungodly amount in the form of her dowry. 

Ruth tried. 

She smiled politely, she wore her most flattering dresses, she spoke kindly and intelligently. She did everything she had been taught to, Cecil seemed to have responded well, though he spoke hardly in a cold tone not unlike her mothers. Her mother, though, had seemed quite pleased with her for once and Ruth basked in it, feeling the warm tickles of her conditional love. 

The girl had managed to keep up with it, her upcoming nuptials the talk of the ton. She kept up the smile, the ruse of love drunk bliss, had done all that was expected of her by society, and most importantly, her mother. She thrived under the pressure, until she couldn’t. 

It had happened on the eve of their wedding, the two families had been rehearsing how the next day was supposed to go, where each person would stand at the ceremony, what the couple would say as their vows..

Ruth couldn’t quite meet Cecil’s eyes as she repeated the vows after the priest. Something about the man she was set to marry the next afternoon seemed extra foreboding, his entire body looked rigid, tense, and his voice was cold and empty when he spoke his words. Short and to the point, as if he’d rather be anywhere else in the world. Honestly, Ruth couldn’t blame him, she herself would rather have been anywhere besides there. 

The rehearsal came and went easily enough, and the entire party went back to the Archibald manor, where the grooms family was joining the Archibalds for a friendly, but formal supper. 

Ruth had taken to her room nearly immediately, having politely mingled with her mother and father in law to be for a few minutes before feigning exhaustion and retiring herself upstairs, where se paced tirelessly, attempting to calm her nerves as she thought about the wedding, how in mere hours she would belong no longer to her own self but to a man that she had been afraid of when they were younger. 

It had terrified her how unhappy she already was. 

Ruth knew not how long she paced for, but a soft knock at her door brings her out of her reverie. At her approval the door opens and her lady’s maid Esther appears. 

“Yes, Esther?” Ruth asks, feigning a smile as she looks her young maid in the face. The girl was a shy thing, her face flushing at being put on the spot by her mistress. Ruth envied her something awful. 

“Your betrothed has asked me to come fetch you, Miss..your families are sitting down for supper and noticed your absence.” The girl can’t even meet her eyes, staring down at Ruth’s bare feet poking from under her skirts. “He seemed most irritated, Miss..” 

Ruth sniffs, turning towards her window. “Kindly inform my betrothed and his family that I will not be joining them for supper, I am unwell. I bid them good evening..” She says, voice stiff. “And then please help me prepare for bed..” There was noway she was going to get the stays of her dress or untie her corset without help..her mother had been insisting on her wearing them as tightly as possible the past few weeks. 

Esther rushes out, leaving Ruth alone to her thoughts once more. The girl, resumes her pacing, mind reeling about her impending nuptial. She so desperately did not wish to marry this man, but she saw no way out without facing her mothers wrath or ruining their family reputation, unless her father put his foot down of course..

An idea formulated as she paced, her mind working on what to say to her father that would make him give final say on the matter. The Marquess had always been soft on his daughters, so really, she knew it would be easy. 

A short moment later a sharp knock sounds on her door, thinking it her maid she’s quick to allow entry, not even bothering to glance. “I should like a hot bath prepared, Esther” Ruth says, opening her wardrobe to find herself a nightgown. 

“Well, i’ll be sure to let her know on my way out.” His vold voice sent her body rigid, a chill creeping along her spine. Ruth turns slowly to face him, offering a soft smile. His face was blank, eyes dark and empty. Slowly he walks towards her, as if stalking prey, until he comes to a stop merely inches from her. “Your young maid said you were unwell and had taken to bed, i thought i would do the husbandly thing and coem check on my bride to be..” His lips purse as he stares down at her, his hand raising to caress her cheek. Ruth felt no emotion behind what should have been a loving touch, and instead her nervousness increased. “Though it seems to be unnecessary, you appear quite well.” 

Ruth wondered where Esther was, they weren’t yet married and she knew they still require a chaperone. “My apologies, your grace,” She says, hoping the smile she wore would help her matter. “I am feeling unwell, nervous about tomorrow I suppose..I was hoping to prepare for bed early so I could be well rested.”

Cecil purses his lips, removing his hand from her face. A feeling of relief flow through Ruth, though it is only for a moment as her cheek is met with an open handed blow, skin stinging as her head is flung to the side. The metallic taste of blood hits her tongue as tears fill her eyes, threatening to spill over. 

Ruth looks to the man that she was meant to wed, eyes widened in fear as she presses a delicate hand to her smarting cheek. “I do not tolerate liars, darling. “ His voice is cool, uncaring that he had just struck his bride as if she were a man. “I will tell our families that you are unwell and wsh to not be bothered.” He caresses her cheek once more, almost affectionately this time, before turning on his heel and marching out. 

A sob wracked her body as the door slammed shut, crumpling to the floor in front of her wardrobe. Esther had nearly fainted at the sight of her, but had stood by her mistress through the night as she lay in bed weeping. It wasn’t until the early hours of the morning when Esther had gone to fetch something for the girls aching head that she had done it. Ruth wasn’t entirely sure what possessed her to take the ornate silver letter opener to her arm, but she had done it. Panicked by the sight of her own blood, the girl had collapsed to the ground, a heap of sobs. 

Her mother had shipped her off to the rest home quicker than she could eat breakfast. Hadn’t come to visit her but one time within two years, to tell her with contempt that it was time to come home and marry. That was how she wound up back here, with these memories plaguing her..

A sharp knock at her door moves her mind from the past and into the present as the heavy door swings open, a tuft of graying hair peaking around the edge. 

“Papa?” Ruth asks, sitting up in her bed, worried that something may be wrong. The man sighs and steps into the room, he had not entered it since the morning of the almost tragedy. 

“I just wanted to make sure you were alright, my dear..” The older man speaks, placing a warm and loving hand to his daughters cheek as he takes a seat at the edge of her bed, near her pillows. “I know that your Mama didn’t give you much choice in coming home, I begged her to at least move your room, or for god sake get the damn dress out of here..” His jaw ticked as he stared at the scrap of fabric as if he had wished to burn it on the spot. 

Ruth places a hand on her fathers arm, giving a reassuring squeeze. “I’ll be okay, Papa..” Her voice was soft as she spoke, as was the smile that her fathers face bore. “I’m sorry to make you worry, but I promise, it won’t happen again..” 

A large hand covers her own along with a squeeze as he looks down at the smaller form of his youngest child, eyes watery. “I know my daring, I won’t allow it.” Another squeeze, an unspoken promise to do better. To protect her better. “What have you got there?”

And thus began a quiet morning of reading the novel Sense and Sensibility to her father, a fond memory of him reading to her in her youth crossing her mind. When she finally heads down for breakfast with her family, she notices her Mother and older Sister reading little leaflets, the words ‘Seasons Greetings’ emblazoned across the heading. 

“Mama, when may i see the dress for tonights ball?” She asks, sitting down across from her twin brother, who tosses a melon ball in her direction as she’s being served. She rolls her eyes, returning the warm smile he offers her. She had missed her twin brother something awful. He had been her best friend growing up, always getting up to no good with each other. 

Maybe being home isn’t such a bad thing, she thought. 

taglist: @cherrylovers-world @little-boats-on-a-lake @imgondeletedis

[dearweirdme]

https://www.tumblr.com/dearweirdme/765691014325452800/httpswwwtumblrcomdearweirdme7656128619764121

Hi Rain!

So here is how I see it (mostly my subjective speculations of course)

BSH had this troublemaker free spirit in his hands. On one hand, he knew what a huge and unique potential Tae had (as visual, character, artistry etc) so he couldn’t leave him out. But on the other hand, he knew that Tae would be the hardest to control. So what to do? He made sure to control him through the people Tae cares (his bandmates), treat him as an afterthought to beat his self confidence, make him feel like he is not needed but try to use him for your gain with the amount you want and all that manipulate games…

Tae shouldn’t be too front to shadow others but also intriguing enough to draw new audiences (it is well known and accepted that DNA was the breakthrough, a first step to worldwide success and guess who mostly caught new audiences eyes first?) so Tae has been a double edged sword since the beginning. His unique qualities and free spirit is what draw the audience but also make him difficult to control. Do you remember Tae’s birthday live when he was spoiling his songs and when staff reacted to that he said "what can company do? Fire me?" That was the self confidence that BSH was afraid of but well… :)

Imo, at the beginning, other guys tried to keep him under control but then they also (probably) realized all those control attempts were suffocating Tae and they were losing him anyway (hence his leaving attempts in 2018 and sugar’s letter to him and jk). I always think that Suga (especially) kept saying either 7 or 0 for the fans but also a message to company that they are all or nothing. Especially things changed when JK clearly stand on his side, imo, that changed the balance a LOT.

Once they (or most of them) backed him, BSH didn’t have much in his hands but manipulate him from outside… And because of his very good communication skils, that also didn’t work that well, imo. Because I remember many instances that can ended any idol’s career didn’t work on Tae at all (his smoking pictures, friend zoning fans from the get go, that airport scene when he reacted to stalker and lastly suing that woman with JK etc etc) He was seen as a disobedient rebel all along anyway, so in a way, this image saved him and bite BSH in the ass.

And Tae has been very smart in solo period, creating his own connections, making friends with important people in SK entertainment business as well as international brands (I think he didn’t have enough time to work on international part but I am sure he will after ms) he focused on entertainment shows to present himself directly to the audience as Kim Taehyung and it mostly worked. He is in the military and still on the news. And this Hybe situation is a mess and I know there is a manipulation operation on him to make him the bad guy but I don’t think it works. Any sane person can see that he has been a victim of the company and he stood his ground grounds.

Hi anon!

Sorry for having you wait for a reply for a couple of days (weird week, I wasn’t in the right headspace.. I’m fine now 😊). I’m gonna leave your thoughts here and just add my own, I think we find some overlap there.

I feel Bang Pd is a selfish and quite possibly an actual narcissistic person (though ofcourse it’s hard to diagnose). The way he inserts himself in footage, the way he uses members achievements to prop up himself, the abuse I think his artists go through. I think he’s ruthless. What you often see with narcissists, is how they will hate someone who takes away their sense of importance. I think, by Tae being Tae even at a young age, that’s what happened. I think Tae’s freespiritness and the way he carried him and just attracts attention might’ve irked Bang Pd early on. Him not having known Tae’s name for a year, to me feels like he wanted to make Tae feel small. The decision to have him be a hidden member, also made Tae feel small. I think he listened to his advisors and knew from a business perspective Tae is valuable, but he needed to mold him into someone he could just use. He probably wasn’t open about it, and he was probably even able to argue why he needed things to be the way they were, but I wouldn’t be surprised to see some personal dislike there at all. It’s total speculation from my side, but I think Tae played to Bang Pd’s insecurities just by being himself… and that’s why Tae never got the full spotlight. It can’t be his lack of talent, it can’t be his personality, it can’t be his working ethics.. so yeah.. I’m putting my money on it being unfair.

Now I think all members have had their own issues that they had to deal with. The music industry is an environment that I think causes hurt in many different ways (body image issues, eating disorders, anxiety, depression, mental abuse, physical abuse, forced substance abuse, lack of medical care, homophobia, closeting, forced plastic surgery, and the list goes on and on). I’m not saying all members went to any of these things, but I also think it’s naive to think only Tae has suffered from the hands of the company… and I just wanted to shine a light on that as well. We don’t know what goes on behind doors and we cannot know all the different waya the members have suffered. We ofcourse focus on Tae and Jk, but Tae and Jk are just a part of BTS and it’s absolutely realistic in my eyes that they as a band had to have all of their backs at some point. I think for instance that a lot of Jk’s care and concern towards Jm comes from Jk knowing when Jm has it tough (a different kind of tough, but tough nonetheless). I think they all know how tough Namjoon had it and they made attempts to, if only momentarily, lighten the load for him. I do think at one point they decided it’s 7 or nothing.. and imo that moment was probably heightened at the 2018 talks. I don’t think it was just Tae and Jk who were considering leaving, but probably several of them on different levels of seriousness. I do think there was a whole different level of concern and doubt present with Tae and Jk. For them signing on again meant having to keep hiding for the length of their new contract. That’s not an easy thing to sign on for, but them loving what they do (performing) and wanting a long career, knowing the other members have their backs must’ve made up their minds for them.

I’ve seen discussion on the other members having let the company abuse and neglect Tae, and I was saddened by that. Because, it goes against what Tae himself does. He signed on again for the members. I think that statement to some maybe doesn’t carry the weight it should. Imo it doesn’t mean that Tae signed on because he felt he owed it to them. Had he not genuinely felt they have his back and has he himself felt they leave him at the mercy of the company.. he would have left them. Because even though he has no say in some things, I do believe the power to resign lies with him and I think him capable of making good decisions for himself. I think the members make Tae feel like it’s worth it. I think they build him up, they comfort him, they value him, they make him feel like he belongs. That’s what they all do for each other.

As to Tae and Jk, I think most likely they suffered in equal but different ways. Not only would they be affected by what the other goes through, but both of them have had to hide and do things to keep hidden. Both of them have felt the same pressure and, though in different ways, Jk has also been used by the company. We talk about Tae being a free spirit, but I think Jk is also one. Jk isn’t able to fully Jk as much as Tae isn’t able to fully Tae. Jk’s music might’ve been pushed by the company in ways that Tae will never be, but his achievements have been taken and used for Bang Pd’s benefit. They talk about him as if he’s their creation. Jk’s insecurities about why people love him, don’t just come from nowhere. He’s been made to believe he has to fit a mold. I think the members all flocked around them, because they actually know and love them both and because they recognize (all of them, because they themselves are in it too) how wrong the company is.

I think the company’s main goal and interest lies in BTS as a group. I think these solo projects have been hugely used to keep fandom interest up (as has Taennie, as has Ays) and they fully want to collect every last drop of money they can before BTS goes on hiatus or whatever form they take on after reunion. They probably already suspect which members will sign on individually and which won’t.. which might explain the different levels of company push.

I probably went all kind of ways here (always fun to see my adhd reflected in my writing 🙈). There’s so much more to say, because it’s not a simple situation at all. There’s probably things at play none of us can even imagine.

[genderkoolaid]

hi! your blog's been encouraging to me as a trans guy, but i've recently felt that i should no longer call myself that/should just "go back to" being a girl, and idk if my train of thought makes any sense...so i just wanted to ask someone w more experience (but feel free to ignore this rant/call me out if im not making sense btw)

so yeah, my cousin's been out to me as a (binary) trans man for a few years now, and in trying to find understanding, i came out to him a few months later, but got a very flat/kinda disgusted reaction. despite my consistent support for him over the years, he has continued to "joke" about my looks/short hair and dismisses any attempts at serious conversations or even just jokes about gender/being a guy too. he also calls me things ive told him makes me uncomfortable (gender-wise) and then acts like it means nothing. he generally brushes me off by telling me to stop trying to compare myself to him, and is either prickly about it or just in-your-face "idgaf what you're talking about and i'm tired of you." it barely hurts me anymore, but ive felt connected to trans-ness for so many years (longer than id even known he was too) and his reaction to this part of me has honestly made me wonder if i'm just making it up/am trying too hard or something,,,like maybe i'm just trying to cover for being a gross 20-somethings woman ?? idk ?

i'm probably just being over-sensitive, and i dont feel it's outright malicious or anything (maybe he just doesn't think/care about it as much as me?), but i have nobody else to ask (no irl friends/people im out to) and i'm currently renting/living with him, which has brought these worries to the forefront. thanks if youve read this far, but please don't feel pressured to respond!

Your cousin sounds like he has a lot of internalized transphobia he's directing at you. Unfortunately there are trans people who try to prop themselves up and make themselves feel more confident in their transness by tearing down others. You are not being over-sensitive, and regardless of what he thinks he's doing, he's actively being cruel to you. You are well within your rights to be hurt by his actions. Living with someone who is constantly being transphobic to you is traumatizing- detransitioning can be a coping method for those who have to constantly defend themselves from transphobic abuse.

If its possible, I would recommend trying to see if there are any queer orgs in your area you could connect with (physically or online). At the least, you may find some people who can give you emotional support, and they also may be able to find you a better living situation. Even if that's not possible right now, keep reminding yourself that his behavior is cruel and you are allowed to be upset about it. You do not need to take any of his opinions on your gender seriously. You are not making up your transness or trying too hard. You are not over-sensitive, you are being hurt.