#and being educated about child abuse

[ickypuppi3]

These anti arguments are so tired 😐 It's like we have to use baby gloves every time we decide to engage with them. Billy isn't like anyone else in this show, he's literally so isolated from everyone that you can't compare him to anyone else. He had no one to turn to at any point, he had himself and his actions just prove that. It's subconscious self defense

literally

and the way they always try to backtrack by bringing up a completely different point whenever the shitty argument they’ve used is inevitably taken apart.. it’s honestly embarrassing

people don’t seem to understand that this 17-18 year old literally had nothing

he had no one on his side

no close friends

no parental figures supporting him

no one to turn to

and why would he let people in, anyway?

when the one person he clearly trusted left him with his abuser as a child

and then on top of that is the ‘i can’t be ‘nice’ because ‘nice’ is soft and soft is how you get hurt’ aspect of it all..

it’s really not that hard to understand

especially for those who’ve been in the same position as him

but people don’t want to admit all that

because then they’d have to accept that things aren’t all black and white

and that thinking solely in terms of ‘good’ and ‘bad’ doesn’t help anyone

idk i would just love to know how they think they’d act in his position

[silusvesuius]

steer clear of ....the illigitimate child of... nvm

[helioptilie]

very interested in some of the talk around the new pjo episodes 

‘censoring a story to align with a predetermined family friendly model is not only a disservice to the original work but to the audience it claims to protect. allowing children to engage with difficult content in fiction can help them to process difficult experiences in their own lives.’

and 

‘reading about something and seeing it happen have a different impact, things that are appropriate for a book could be triggering when depicted on screen. it is important for production to consider their young target audience and the well-being of their child actors when adapting sensitive content for the show’

are not contradictory statements and we should discuss 

[shiningneedlecastle]

So like. Maybe it's an ironic joking thing, but sometimes the tags on your posts/reblogs make me feel concerned, so like. Are you doing ok? Do you wanna talk about it?

yeah it's not really ironic joking, not gonna lie i'm doing quite badly irl what with how badly the american education system is structured (especially medical education and how particularly hellish it can get). i don't wanna burden you with the sheer weight of all this horrible shit and i don't spend much time on here anymore. but thank you for the offer though, sincerely

[caffeinatedopossum]

I just heard someone say that getting married is the hardest thing they've ever done.

I'm sorry but if getting married is the hardest thing you've ever had to do, I don't think I can talk to you. That's fine, that's totally okay if that's hard for you. I just need a long moment of silence for my misjudgment of the average amount of suffering that any given human experiences.

[surpriserose]

okay was informed aboht how colleen hoover writes sex again so i have to turn into a cringe sex ed teacher but like oh my god

Penatrative sex should not hurt!!!!!!! Anal or vaginal!!!! If you are going to penatrate your partner you should make sure one that its uh what they actually want and two make sure it doesnt fucking hurt them????? Because no shoving shit in dry is not good for anyone its not hot its not sexy it hurts and it sucks and sex should be good not shitty because your partner doesnt care about you!!!!!!!!!! Like you wouldnt want a girl going in dry penatrating you dude she isnt gonna want that shit either!!!!!!!! Also penatrative sex is not the only way to have sex even for cishet couples oh my god and if penatrative sex is consistently painful or bad for you its okay to seek out ways to improve it or other ways to have sex!!!!

[damianwaynerocks]

no way the league of assassins taught damian anything about sexuality/gender identity, right? literally no way.

when he’s robin, i doubt he had the time or care to research. dick probably told him “this is completely fine and normal” and damian listened but didn’t look into it because who cares who they like, as long as they do their job.

like he isn’t rude, but he’s uneducated. like he just didn’t have the urge to research. he genuinely does not care.

and then tim comes out as bi.

and damian gets curious. partly because he was frustrated a superior detective such as himself didn’t deduce this and partly because of what the tabloids and social media are saying about tim

gotham gazette: “wayne heir timothy drake-wayne comes out as bisexual. is this just a publicity stunt?”

twitter user: “i remember when the waynes were normal. this world has gone to shit”

twitter user: “all the rumors of bruce being a child abuser and now this? something’s suspicious.”

damian’s like “i need to understand what is occurring with my brother enemy.”

so he researches and looks into it. he learns more and is extremely perplexed as to why some people are reacting so negatively. it makes him angry.

so, under an anonymous twitter account, he starts responding:

“why would the waynes require a ‘publicity stunt?’ bruce wayne is one of the most recognizable people on earth, he already donates and is founder of several LGBTQ+ resources. he has no logical need to have timothy pretend.”

“the waynes are still ‘normal.’ the one you should be concerned about is richard grayson and his idiotic food choices.”

“there have been countless studies that show there is no data to suggest that abusing children makes them homosexual. while there can be a correlation, that does not equal causation. you clearly have never completed higher education.”

nobody knows this, though. one day when tim finds out that damian was looking into this, he asked why. damian panicked and said it was to insult tim better and then proceeded to call him “a second-rate alan turing with a lower threshold for illness.” and “a disgrace to everyone that fought for LGBTQ rights due to your atrocious actions you have made in life.”

[five-thousand-loaves-of-bread]

autism awareness & autism acceptance not either or. not mutually exclusive. can coexist. need coexist.

“there enough awareness for autism already 🙄 we need acceptance”

ok. you aware of high support needs autism? aware what that even means? not “need reminder take meds need remind take shower” “high” support needs autism, but “need full physical help do bADLs lack danger awareness may accidentally hurt self or even kill self without support” high support needs autism? not just higher support needs people who can be independently online do advocacy, but those who need help from others even be online, or those who cannot be online at. all.?

aware of nonverbal nonspeaking people? not just nonverbal nonspeaking people who can write grammatically correct cannot tell apart base on writing. not just nonverbal nonspeaking people who can be online who can advocate online.

aware of nonverbal nonspeaking people who cannot communicate in way that easily understood, either for now, or ever? aware of nonverbal nonspeaking people without functional communication, aware of how without functional communication, how that drastically limit communication, even though behaviors are valid communication? aware of nonverbal nonspeaking people who may never use AAC fluently even with best support?

aware of technically verbal but very limited verbal autistics who may only able say wants & needs but not other things and certainly not online advocacy, “despite being verbal”?

aware of just how much our life depends on caregiver/carer/PCA/etc? aware how vulnerable that make us? aware of abuse from caregivers? aware of caregiver burnout from lack of support for caregivers, & how that impact our care we receive? have you even heard of term respite care? aware of those of us who cannot separate ourselves from caregiver? aware of those of us who cannot participate in autism community without caregiver?

aware of visibly autistic people? aware how we not automatically believed? aware how we often bear blunt of violence because we most easily identified target because we visible? aware visible =/= get support, aware that many those diagnosed severe who now adult so no longer qualify for services under 21 year old, languish in hospitals because nowhere to go? aware how long life saving necessary waitlists are? aware that even to this day parents have to fight school fight day service fight government fight insurance for them give their nonverbal nonspeaking child AAC & be properly taught how use it? actually, are you aware of how properly teach AAC to nonverbal nonspeaking, developmentally delayed child who may or may not have intellectual disability?

actually, aware of autistics with (correctly diagnosed) intellectual disability & how they make up big amount of autistic? aware of institutional systemic & legal impact of mental [r word] right & the human rights abuse justified using r word right? wait, you aware that r word come from old term for intellectual disability, that, actually, still in many laws because no one bothered updating, right? aware of what severe profound ID look like? and aware they real and they still human deserve education deserve life deserve care, yes?

aware of early diagnosis 20 30 or even 10 years ago, not same as now, even less resources & knowledge about autism now? aware that while gender race class 1000% impacted diagnoses, a lot of early diagnosed people early diagnosed because… they die without support unlocked by diagnosis, right? but also, aware that in old times, early diagnosis often did mean doom, not because autism bad or anything, but because severe lack of support & diagnosis can literally bar you from so many things including basic education?

aware that for many people in special education, which impact specific group of autistic people, they not get degree when graduate high school, they just get certificate, which limit their educational & employment opportunities & others?

aware of life saving importance and necessity of masking for autistic of color especially Black autistic people, despite stress inducing traumatic? aware that live in broken system be victim of hate crime & police brutality just as traumatic often even more traumatic than masking? aware that many Black & other parents of color forced to teach their child masking because of this?

are you aware of most marginalized autistic people? aware of leadership of most impacted?

aware you can and need to care about autistic experiences & form of autism you not experience? aware that you can and need to do that without try twist your experience into our experience into our words our community?

aware that advocacy goes beyond about you?

aware that you can’t speak for all autistic? aware that you shouldn’t speak for all autistic?

are you aware of when you need to stop talking & listen & amplify others? aware of when and how to decenter self?

aware that even this long post, barely scratch surface? still so much to say?

[better worded version of original post]

[inky-duchess]

Fantasy Guide to Royal Children - Heirs and Spares

The lives of Princesses and Princes are of interest to most fantasy writers, it's where many of our heroes, side characters and antagonists hail from. But what is there life like? Is it always ballgrowns and servants? Or something more?

A Strict Order of Precedence

The first thing to know about royal children and siblings is that there's a very strict precedence of importance. Is it fair? No. But this is a system, it doesn't have to be fair. The heir comes first without argument. They are the most important child, they are always greeted first, they are the one to stand next to the monarch or their parents at occasions, they literally go first - and this doesn't change with age, if the heir is the youngest, they still have precedence over their siblings. After the heir, order of predence goes by age and the order effects the life of the children. For example, the older sister will marry begore any of her sisters. This order of deference will be so engrained in your character's life that they will believe it the norm and rarely question it, it probably won't spark any in-fighting.

Accommodation & Staff

Royal children are usually raised one of two ways. Either they are raised at court, in the same Palace as their parents or they are raised away from court under the care of trusted servants. Being raised away from their parents isn't a sign of remoteness or dislike or terrible parenting, it was a way of break a child into the constraints of royal life while giving them freedom of scrunity or danger. Usually these children are raised in the countryside for their health, as cities are usually cesspits for disease. Their parents would come to visit them or allow them to visit them at court. Children raised at court are raised with a higher level of scrunity and attention. They will be in the public eye.

Royal children will always be surrounded by staff. There will be nurses to wash and dress them, nannies to discipline and direct them, guards to protect them and usually, a guardian known as a governess to run their household and care for their needs. Staff are not allowed to hit royal children and must obey their commands. Some royal children were very close to their staff:

Kat Ashley and Elizabeth I

Baroness Lehzen and Queen Victoria

Klementy Grigorievich Nagorny and the Tsarevich Alexei Nikolaevich

Lala Bill and Prince John

However, some royal children faced neglect from their staff. George VI was abused by his nanny, who would pinch him during important occasions, openly favour his elder brother over him and deny him food, which many have been a cause of his speech impediment. After the Russian Revolution, another of the Tsarevich's nannies proved less loyal than the other. Andrei Yeremeyevich Derevenko abandoned his charge, but not before ordering the boy around and insulting him.

Day to Day Life

Royal children would be educated withing their home by tutors. They would usually take lessons all together (the heir may take other lessons). A royal child would recieve an education in languages, arithmetic, geography, etiquette, dancing, music, sports such as riding and literature. Sometimes they would even share lessons with the children of trusted nobles or their cousins. Only the heir will be taught statecraft and how to reign. There is no rhyme nor reason a spare would learn how to rule.

Some royal children are taught the value of their position. Many royal children will be raised strictly to adhere to their social standing and their place in it. Some children may be raised in isolation, kept from mingling and raised to think of themselves as higher than those around them. Some royal families preferred to raise their children as "normal" as possible. The last Romanov children slept in camp beds, with no pillows and we're expected to tidy their own rooms and help the servants. They didn't even use their proper titles, they were called by their names and given a tight monthly allowance to spend. Alexandra of Denmark and her sisters used to make their own clothes. Some royal children could even be encouraged to play with the children of servants and staff as well as nobility (Kolya Derevenko and Tsarevich Alexei Nikolaevich, Winifred Thomas and Prince John). Companionship was a great honour for noble and common child alike as sometimes, they would be invited to live or be educated alongside by the royal children.

Royal children will not undertake royal duties until they are of age. Younger children be be present for large scale events such as jubilees but would not be expected to partake in any duties themselves. When they are of age, they will usually be granted an annual allowance, be invited to social events, invited to be patrons of charities and participate in royal duties.

Heir Vs Spare

Heirs have more responsibility, all the prestige, more power but they have less freedom, less room to explore their own lives and be expected to always be the epitome of perfect. Heirs will be given responsibilities in government, sitting in on state meetings or undertaking state duties.

Spares have little in the way of real power but have the ability to live less regimental lives and gave more agency in their personal lives. Spares may act as ambassadors to other nations or undertake state visits on behalf of the monarchy or even take positions in the army. Spares are encouraged to find positions to support themselves outside the family, either in a marriage or undertaking some service to the country. Spares who stay in the country, tend to act as unofficial advisers to their sibling when they become monarch.

All Grown Up

When royal children grow up, there are usually certain expectations and limitations.

Heirs will be married quickly, the lineage must be secure. Heirs will usually marry either as part of a political alliance or marry somebody suitable - from a good family, the right background, and able to fit into a certain mould (i.e malleable, amiable and loyal). They will be expected to focus on the country, it's needs and support the monarch at all times. Their social circles will be scruntised, their every move will be noted and remarked upon. Heirs will never gave to worry about funding their lifestyle, the Crown is their job and it supports them.

Spares can marry or remain single if they choose, (but if the monarch instructs them go marry they must). Spares can travel, they can be idle, they can even persue amusements not permitted for the heir. Spares can win glory on the battlefield and mix with all sorts of people. That isn't to say spares are useless, spares often occupy very important spaces in society and government. Spares will usually take these positions not for just status but also for the pay. This is why spares are granted royal titles such as dukedoms (they can make money off the lands, be able to build a dynasty for themselves and their heirs and gain status).

[justsomeantifas]

at a certain point we’re going to have to accept that all this posturing about “most people being abusive and neglectful parents” is an indication of a societal issue that we are conveniently turning into personal moral failures of parents

either because they hit their kids or shove their kids in front of screens or because they do not know how to properly feed their kids or because they do not play with their kids etc. …

so we as a society don’t have to actually structurally change anything to make life easier on families and children.

What I find most haunting as a parent right now is how negatively parents speak of their kids, as if their kids are messy burdens designed to make life hard and them look bad and the fact that I struggle to find parents like me who love their kids and enjoy letting them get messy and have fun outside … is an indication of a larger issue

The fact that my kids pediatrician was surprised my 3 year old doesn’t know how to use a phone or a tablet/has a tan … this cannot be simply classified as personal issues…

We need more parent and child support groups, educational outreach programs… it needs to be more acceptable to take kids places outside of kid designated zones—even if the kid is loud and prone to outburst…

The world is pretty hostile right now towards children … we’re a highly technologically advanced society where many of us spend a large amount of time socially participating online a place children cannot and should not go.

The convenient answer is to blame parents … but the fact that it is *so many parents* doing this *should* ring alarm bells as a larger issue … one that we cannot simply rule out as a skill issue on the part of parents doing this.

We aren’t going to get anywhere with improving the lives of children by simply shaming parents for doing things that harm kids like shoving tablets in their faces … only when socially conscious efforts are made to better lives does change for the better start to take shape.

[rafesaddiction]

It's not cheating when he's your stepbrother – Rafe Cameron x Reader

Summary: You lie about your first kiss. Will you lie about your first time too?

You are Rafe's stepsister, just graduated from boarding school and here for the summer holidays before you'll leave for college. You and Rafe used to be close, but that changed, years ago. Now he is distant and mean, and something else happens when you have your first boyfriend. A nice guy, a sweet guy, nothing like Rafe.

Concept: stepsiblings, first time, just the tip

Warnings: mdni! – smut, noncon/dubcon, rough sex, p in v, loss of virginity (virgin!reader), fingering, stepcest, violence, slapping, manhandling, mentions of child abuse (ward physically and emotionally abusing rafe), cheating (reader cheating on boyfriend), name calling (rafe calls reader slut and whore), angst, dark!rafe, mean!rafe, this starts off kinda sweet but gets quite dark.

When reading this, please do so at your own discretion. Keep in mind, this is just a work of fiction.

Word count: 9.0k (holy fuck! how did that happen?)

tagging @ashy-kit since you asked. I hope you'll like this.

“Wait! Was that actually your first kiss? Oh my god! It was!”

Sarah stared at you with large eyes, then covered her mouth, laughing. You just smiled, shrugged, and averted your gaze, feeling heat in your cheeks. It was a bit embarrassing that your younger stepsister had more experience with boys than you did. The reason for that might have been that you had gone to an all-girls boarding school practically your whole life. But truth was, if anything, away from parents, kids had even more opportunities at boarding school to gain sexual experience, be it with other students, local boys, or even teachers. You knew that a lot of your classmates did much more than just kiss when sneaking out at night. But you weren't the type to sneak out at night. You were the type to get your first kiss at 18 after graduating from said boarding school.

“Tell us more,” Wheezie insisted. She sat next to you on the couch, cross-legged, looking at you, eager to hear your story. You smiled at your little stepsister. You two had grown closer over the past years, with Wheezie discovering the internet and thus being able to chat with you even when you were hundreds of miles away at school.

“Denny is quite a good kisser though. You’re lucky, he was your first,” Sarah said, grabbing a handful of popcorn from the bowl on the coffee table in front of her.

You knew that Sarah had hooked up with Denny. So you had, of course, told her when he had asked you out. Sarah was totally okay with it, she even encouraged you to text him back, when he texted you. Denny hadn't been her boyfriend, just one of her hook-ups, ages ago. And as of now, Sarah was too happily in love with her pogue boyfriend to be jealous at all. It was kind of a forbidden romance, Wheezie had told you all about it, but Sarah herself also liked to share, she loved talking about her boyfriend and his pogue friends and their way of living. And you liked to listen to her exciting stories or when she complained about her father or brother. You liked that you were kind of close, even though you only spent the summer and Christmas holidays at Tannyhill.

Your mother had you at a very young age and you were practically raised by your grandma. When your mother married Ward Cameron, you were old enough to be send off to one of the most prestigious boarding schools in the country. The school was in another state, but could as well have been on another continent. Your mother didn't want to have you in her new life, she already had three new kids to look after. Ward wouldn’t have minded, he made sure you knew that you were as much a daughter to him as Sarah and Wheezie. He showed his affection by paying for your expensive education. Now that you had graduated from high school, you were supposed to spend the summer before going to an ivy league school with your family in the Outer Banks.

“Did you close your eyes? Did you feel butterflies? Did he do the neck grab?” Wheezie kept shooting one question after the other and you felt your face must have been glowing. You looked away, trying to think of what to answer, when your eyes met a pair of intense blue eyes, staring at you from across the room.

Rafe, your older stepbrother, stood in the hallway, looking at you. And for some reason, you felt that damn heat had reached your ears. You quickly looked away, turning to Sarah, who was telling Wheezie that she shouldn't base her expectations on tiktoks and fanfics.

The kiss happened the night before at a kook party. You had been texting and hanging out with Denny for about two weeks. He was your age, he was charming, smart, the former captain of the football team. He was actually so good that he got a scholarship to play at a college team. Not that he would have needed the scholarship to go to college, his parents were one of the wealthiest kook families on the island. Almost as rich and influential as the Camerons. Of course, you knew Denny before, the island was small and he was one of your stepbrother's friends. But this whole thing with him only started about two weeks ago when you quite literally ran into him at the country club. He insisted on buying you another drink even though you were the one who spilled your drink on him. He texted you later, he got your number from Sarah, and, since Sarah was encouraging you, you texted back and agreed to go on a date with him. You had been on four dates already: dinner, a trip to the beach, another dinner, and a date on his family's yacht, when you went to the party with him the previous night. And then it just happened. He kissed you outside the house where the party was. It was a starry night and the kiss was nice. And after, he took your hand and walked inside with you and you smiled, as you felt the warmth of his hand around yours.

“I'll get us some fresh popcorn, then we can start the movie, okay?” You grabbed the half-empty bowl and got up from the couch, while your stepsisters were in some serious discussion about some actor from a show you had never heard of.

You left the living room and walked past Rafe, who didn't seem to have moved an inch. You didn't look up at him when you spoke to him.

“You wanna join us and watch a movie with us? It's Wheezie's choice tonight, so I guess it's whatever is trending on netflix at the moment,” you said and were about to head for the kitchen, when suddenly his hand wrapped around your arm. You stopped and looked up at him, gasping.

Rafe leaned down to you, and you felt his hand gripping tighter around your arm. You winced and were about to say something, when you met his eyes. Dark blue orbs staring at you, so very close to you.

“Why did you lie?”

You frowned in confusion.

“Why did you lie and say that that was your first kiss?”

You just gazed up at him. And despite the heat in your face, you felt a shiver running down your spine.

You parted your lips, wanting to say something, but he cut you off.

“I hate liars.”

And then he let go off you, turned around and just left, and you felt your heart beating in your chest, so rapidly, so loudly, your stepsisters in the other room must have heard it. You stepped back from the door, your back pressing against the wall, as you tried to compose yourself.

He was right. That kiss wasn't your first kiss.

Your first kiss happened with Rafe when you were 15 and he was 17.

It was right after Christmas. Before New Year's Eve. It was late at night and you decided to have a hot chocolate before going to sleep. You met Rafe in the kitchen, standing at the open fridge, rummaging it for some leftovers from dinner. He was wearing that ridiculous Christmas sweater with the reindeer over his sleeping shorts. You couldn't help but giggle at the sight of him. He was already tall then, not as tall as he was now, but much taller than you. He was lean, less bulky. He was a boy still and he grinned like one, when he turned to look at you.

“What's so funny? You laughing at me?”

“Nothing, nothing,” you shook your head, grinning, “Sven.”

You squealed and giggled when Rafe launched a tickle-attack on you.

It used to be so easy around him. He was always sweet, sometimes teasing, but always in a sweet way. He was protective and you felt safe with him. You were closer then, and it was just easy to be yourself with him.

You got into a real tickle fight with him, chasing each other around the kitchen, as he finally got you.

“Stop, stop, stop! I surrender!” You said, out of breath. Your cheeks hurting from laughing so hard.

He stopped tickling you, but his hands still rested on your sides, and he stood very close in front of you. Your own hands clutching that ridiculous sweater of his. He looked down at you. His hair disheveled, his cheeks flushed, his chest heaving, his lips parted. He didn't laugh or grin and your own laughing had stopped too. All you heard was your rapid heartbeat and both of you panting.

And his hand touched your cheek. You felt a little spark, but instead of withdrawing, you leaned into his touch. Your lips parted as he leaned closer. His face so close, you could hardly make out his features, so you closed your eyes, and breathed in. And it was his scent that filled your lungs, before you felt his lips on yours. And that contact sent a wave of some yet unknown sensation through your body, and you felt it everywhere, felt it in your fingertips that grabbed the sweater. Felt it in your toes as you stood on them to meet Rafe's lips. Felt it on your skin, where he touched you, felt it under your skin. Felt it coursing through your veins.

A distant sound, and Rafe suddenly broke the kiss. In a state of daze you opened your eyes and moved them to what Rafe was staring at. Or to who.

Ward was standing in the door to the kitchen. His presence towering both of you. You shuddered and jumped away from Rafe.

You slowly walked backwards, your heart racing, sudden fear being the dominant emotion. But when Ward came closer, his attention wasn't focused on you. He hardly seemed to notice that you were even there. He glared at his son, glared at Rafe who just stood there, as if he was paralyzed by fear, unable to move.

You didn't wait for what happened, you chose flight and ran past Ward, ran up to your room, locking the door. You heard no screaming, no yelling, though you had expected as much. When half way up the stairs, you had heard a thud, and then something banging heavily, like a chair falling to the ground.

The next morning, you didn't see Rafe at the breakfast table. You saw your stepfather, who was smiling and being his relaxed self as ever. Only he avoided directly looking at you.

You saw Rafe later in the afternoon. You wanted to talk to him, say something, but you didn't know what. And when you saw the bruise under his eye, you had no words left.

Four days later you left to return to school. And when you came back during spring break, things were different, very different. Rafe no longer smiled at you, never laughed when you were around. When he didn't avoid you, he glared at you. And there was something so dark in his blue eyes that it made you shudder and sob at night.

“But you have to come!” Sarah pushed out her lower lip and looked at you with her big brown eyes, pleadingly, practically begging you to come with you to the party that evening.

“I want to spend time with my favorite older sibling and I want you to meet my friends. Besides, what do you want to do here, huh? Your boyfriend is on a family trip in the Bahamas and you can't seriously want to spend another evening binge-watching The Summer I Turned Pretty with Wheezie. Come on! Pleaaase.” Sarah's pouting went up another level and she made actual puppy eyes.

You didn't mind spending another evening with Wheezie and listening to her endless monologs on why she would always choose Jeremiah over Conrad, over any guy really.

You sighed. “But I don't have anything to –”

“To wear?” Sarah interrupted you and grabbed your hand. “Come on, you can pick whatever you want from my closet.”

You sighed in defeat, but smiled, as you followed your stepsister into her bedroom.

You didn't end up with choosing anything from her closet, but she picked out an outfit for you. And Sarah had great taste and you didn't complain. She selected a light summer dress for you, fitting for a casual party at the beach. You liked how the fabric felt on your skin and how the cut accented your curves without revealing too much. The skirt was a bit shorter than what you'd usually wore, but it was the middle of summer and you were on the island and not in the city.

When looking at the mirror, you smiled at the young woman smiling at you. You touched the golden necklace you were wearing. A gift from Denny. When he gave it to you the other day, you were surprised. Wasn't it a bit early for such costly gifts? But he insisted on you taking it and he was so happy when he put it around your neck. The pendant was a green stone, it was a bit heavy, but it looked nice. You really appreciated the gesture. And you really appreciated how your boyfriend treated you. He was okay with taking things slow. He never pushed you and in these past weeks, you had never done more than holding hands. You hadn't even kissed again. – Something you wouldn't tell your sister, for a reason you didn't quite know yourself.

You enjoyed yourself a lot at the party. Sarah's friends were easy to get along with, especially JJ. You just met him like an hour ago and he had already made you laugh more than you had in the whole past month or even year. But talking with Pope was also nice, he knew a lot and you liked listening to him. You also liked watching how these two boys got into a playfight about something stupid. You didn't mind that Sarah left you with the pogues as she and John B wanted to spend some time alone.

“Now, c'mon. Dance with me, big-city girl,” JJ pointed at you, then bent his finger to indicate that you should follow him. You laughed and shook your head. He then tried to catch you with an imaginary lasso.

“You’d better go, before he does his full-on cowboy impression, and talking in that accent, and believe me, you don't wanna hear that. No one wants to hear that,” Pope told you, leaning closer to you, and then taking your cup, so you could go and join JJ at the bonfire.

You couldn't deny that the cheap beer you had been drinking had made you a bit tipsy and somehow loosened you up a bit. But mainly, you just felt comfortable in the presence of Sarah's friends that had quickly become your friends too. And you weren't the only ones dancing by the fire. Other people also danced to the music coming from someone's speakers.

JJ took your hand and twirled you around, made an effort at imitating some dance moves that looked very elaborated. It was fun, you felt a permanent grin on your cheeks, glowing with the heat from the nearby fire, the booze and the excitement. You felt free, not thinking about anything at all. Not even thinking about the way you moved, but you just did. You felt the music, felt the joy of being young and careless – and you suddenly felt something hard that you bumped into, while twirling around.

“Sorry,” you muttered and looked up, as two hands grabbed your arms.

And you looked into the angry face of your stepbrother.

You froze, just for a moment. Then you tried to get away, but Rafe only held you closer, like pulling you into a tight embrace, and for an instant you thought that he might want to dance with you. But he didn't.

“Hey!” JJ's voice behind you made your head spin around.

“Let her go!” The blond boy stood a couple of feet away, his hands clenched into fists. His whole body seemed tensed up and he glared at Rafe. JJ looked so different from how he had looked a minute ago. All that carelessness, all his smiles gone.

You felt Rafe tense up too, as his hands tightened their grip around your arms, making you wince in pain.

“JJ,” he said his name through clenched teeth as if it was an insult.

The two boys stared at each other, the tension between them was palpable. People had gathered around them, but you didn't actually take notice of them. You looked at JJ, tried to tell him not to do anything stupid, but his eyes were fixed on Rafe. You looked at Rafe. You gave up freeing yourself from his iron grip.

“Please,” you pleaded, unsure what else to say. Your voice too soft, too weak anyway. You felt cold all of a sudden, and very sober.

And then everything happened just so fast.

JJ must have stepped closer, because the next moment, Rafe pushed you behind his own body as he lunged forward to hit JJ. When he moved his arm back, his elbow hit you at your chin and you, no longer held by him, stumbled and fell to the sandy ground. But neither Rafe nor JJ took notice. When you looked up, you saw them throwing fists at each other. Their bodies colliding, this was another kind of dance. You were shocked to see such fierce violence, both of them seemingly fighting with the intend to end the other.

You were shaking and only now noticed that you had started to cry. You cried and yelled and pleaded them to stop.

Fortunately, some guys stepped in, pulling the fighting boys apart.

Rafe angrily shrugged off the guy who was holding him, while two others held JJ, who fiercely, but in vain fought to free himself.

“Rafe!” You screamed his name, and that made him stop, made him turn his head towards you, still sitting on the ground, tears running down your face.

Rafe's eyes were dark and the look on his face was unlike anything you had ever witnessed. You flinched as he came closer, suddenly so afraid of your own stepbrother. He frowned at your reaction, but proceeded. He grabbed your arm, made you cry out in pain, pulled you to your feet. And when you tried to get away, because every cell in your body told you to run, he caught you, wrapping his arms around you from behind, picking you up like you weighed nothing, held you in both his arms. Your feet kicking the air, your fists trying to hit him, you were screaming, but he easily carried you away. And no one stopped him.

Through teary eyes you saw JJ being held by the two guys while a third one punched his face, and yet he fought, tried to get away, looking at you, looking at Rafe, who carried you away, carried you from the beach to his car.

He opened the door and tossed you onto the passenger seat. You let out a groan, as something hit your back. As soon as Rafe let go off you, you tried to get up, get out, but Rafe pushed you back into the seat.

“Let me go! Just let me go!” Your hands tried to shove him out of the way.

He caught one of your wrists, twisted it in his grip, as he reached over you to fasten the seatbelt.

You whined and gave up fighting as you knew he was too strong and you had no chance against him at all.

“Please just let me go. Why are you like this?” You pleaded between sobs.

“Why am I like this?!” Rafe yelled at you and his hand shot forward to grasp your chin, pressing so hard, you feared he would crush your jaw.

“You acting like a goddamn slut messing around with a fucking pogue!”

You flinched at each word he yelled at you, his face closer and closer. His eyes so wild, his whole expression just fuming with rage, directed at you.

“I did not,” you tried to defend yourself.

“You're a fucking LIAR!”

You flinched, and when you closed your eyes, a stream of tears ran down your cheeks.

“No,” you tried again, but he cut you short.

“You think I'm stupid?” He tilted his head, frowning, his eyes small as he glared at you in disbelief. “You think I don't know what's going on? You fucking that pogue. You’re a whore. Just like Sarah. All my sisters are goddamn sluts fucking those filthy pogues. And what does that make me look like, huh? Thought about that? Thought about what it means for your family? Your free-spirited fucking lifestyle? How does that look on dad, huh? Have you ever thought about anyone but yourself? Ever thought about the consequences of what you're doing?”

You gazed at him, taken aback by his accusations, not understanding what had gotten into him.

His eyes moved down from your face to your chest, which rose and fell under your agitated breathing.

His hand slowly let go of your chin, moved down your neck. You held your breath as you felt the pressure on your throat. His tongue flicked out, wetting his lips. His hand moved down further, his palm pressing hard onto the necklace’s pendant. You winced as you felt the hard stone digging into your skin.

“My own sister. Dressed like a whore. Fucking a pogue.” His voice was now calmer, darker, and it made you shiver.

“But, Rafe,” you sobbed, your hands tentatively reaching for his arm. “I did not do anything, I swear.”

The back of his hand hit your cheek so hard, your head flew to the side and it hit the headrest of the driver's seat.

You stared at him in shock, eyes widened, lips parted, pressing your hand to your throbbing cheek.

You couldn't believe what just happened.

But instead of apologizing or saying anything that would explain what he just did, Rafe just kept looking at you, his eyes on your trembling body. You noticed only now that your dress had slipped up, revealing a bit of your underwear. You quickly reached down to pull the fabric to cover as much of your legs as possible.

You looked up as you heard him scoff.

Shaking his head, moving his lips as if talking, talking to himself, he pushed himself back from the door, slammed it shut and walked around the car to get into the driver's seat.

You shifted as far away from him as you could, pressing your shoulder against the window, but you did not try to get out. You did not try to stop him when he started the engine. You did not yell or scream or rage. You just sat there, quietly sobbing as he drove you back to Tannyhill.

And Rafe didn't say anything, didn't even look at you when he parked the car in the driveway. He didn't look back when he got into the house, just left the front door open after he went inside.

You followed, slowly, your body still shaking with sobs. Your face hurt. The throbbing had become a sharp pain by now.

You got inside the house, it was dark, your parents and your little sister fast asleep.

You waited at the top of the stairs, until you heard the door of Rafe's bedroom shut, then you ran into your own room, locked the door behind you and crawled under the covers of your bed.

You didn't tell anyone what had happened that night with Rafe in the car.

Of course, Sarah knew about the fight between Rafe and JJ, and the day after she asked you, if you were okay. She even asked you if she should come over. But you said, you were okay and she should stay at John B's, you might come over later too. Sarah liked that idea, she was totally excited about it. You were talking over the phone, no video, so you didn't have to fake a smile. But you liked just listening when she talked with you about John B and the pogues. Their treasure hunting, their fishing trips, how she was learning to surf. It was nice to hear that your stepsister was so happy. It made you forget your own situation for a while.

Truth was, you weren't quite sure what that situation was.

The next days you tried your best to avoid your stepbrother, which wasn't too hard. He seemed to be out or asleep most of the time. So you were able to spend some time with Wheezie, preferably outside the house, somewhere you'd know you wouldn't accidentally run into Rafe, like that ice-cream parlor or the waffle house that sold these literally gigantic waffles with pink marshmallows. You even went to the mainland to a funfair with your little stepsister. Wheezie didn't notice the bruises on your face. You did quite a good job covering them up with your make up.

Since your boyfriend was still away with his family, you spent the nights either watching movies with Wheezie, helping her make tiktoks, or just in your room, reading a book.

You closed the book you had been reading for the past hours. Yawning, you looked at your phone. It was almost 3 a.m. You needed to use the bathroom. You sat on the edge of the bed, hesitating. Usually you would go down the corridor to get to the bathroom Sarah and Wheezie were sharing. But it was the middle of the night and you didn't want Wheezie to wake up. Besides, Rafe hadn't come home that night, so he wouldn't hear you.

You left your room and went to the bathroom. Pushing open the unlocked door, you stepped inside and froze. The light was on and you should have taken your time and listened when you had been outside. The water of the rain shower was running. And Rafe was standing under the shower. His back to you. The water raining down on his body, his naked body. The open shower offered you a complete view. His hair was wet, sticking to his head. Drops of water gracing his broad shoulders. Trails of water running down his back, accentuating the contours of his well-defined muscles. Water running down his lower back, over the curves of his butt, down his legs. He shifted slightly, his legs parting just a bit. Your eyes darted up, and you saw how he turned his head, turned it towards you. And looked at you. Water drops caught in his lashes, as he gazed at you. And his body moved and he was about to turn around completely, when you finally woke up from your frozen state and swiftly turned around and left the bathroom as fast as you could.

When you were inside your room, you were shaking. Your back pressed against the back of your door. You were panting, so loudly, it was embarrassing. You covered your mouth with both your hands. Your legs felt weak, like they would give in, but at the same time you felt something else, a very different, very unknown sensation. Something that had started as a tickling sensation and was now a throbbing, between your legs. You pressed them as closely together as you could. But it wouldn't stop. All your previous sleepiness gone, it seemed like all your senses were fully awake and heightened.

You heard a door open and close. You tried to focus and listen, between the sounds of your own rapid heartbeat. You heard footsteps on the corridor. Slow and heavy. They came closer and stopped. In front of your door. Right behind you. You pressed the palm of one of your hands against the wood. And you stopped breathing. Your mind racing. Trying to remember if you had locked your door.

It was still, completely still apart from your own heavy breathing, muffled by your own hand.

Then you heard footsteps again and another door, open and close.

And you still couldn't move.

When you finally made it to your bed, after checking if you indeed had locked your door, you didn't find real sleep for the rest of the night. Again and again you woke up, hearing the dripping sound of water or raspy breathing close to your ear.

You must have fallen asleep at some point, because when you opened your eyes next, the sun was shining right into your face and it was almost noon. You groaned as you turned in your bed. It was unusual for you to get up this late. You got dressed, wearing a sweater and your jeans shorts. It was most probably too hot outside for wearing a sweater, but with the air conditioning working, it was a bit chilly inside.

You went to the kitchen to get some coffee and something to eat to finally start the day. On your way downstairs, you heard Wheezie's and your mother's voice from another room. You figured that at this time of the day, the kitchen would be empty. Except it wasn't.

You stopped in the doorway when you saw Rafe. His back turned towards you, wearing a loose t-shirt and grey sweatpants, Rafe was standing at the coffeemaker.

Involuntarily, you let out a gasp, which he must have heard, because his head turned around. His eyes met yours. Just for a brief moment, then he turned his attention back to the machine in front of him. He didn't say anything, but you could have sworn that you saw a tiny smirk curling up the corners of his lips.

You took a deep breath. Something inside you told you to just go and run upstairs, lock yourself in your room. But your feet started moving and you walked to the fridge. It didn't seem as if Rafe even cared that you were in the same room with him. So you supposed that he had resumed his usual stance of just ignoring you. Besides, you still heard your sister's voice from the living room close by. Even Rafe wouldn't dare to do anything with his family, with his little sister so close by.

You went about grabbing something to eat and making yourself a coffee, while Rafe was doing the same quietly. You didn't look at him, just heard him move about and saw his frame from the corner of your eyes.

Your hands rested on the edge of the counter, fingers curling, your weight shifted to one foot, the other foot rubbed over your calf, feeling the warm woolen fabric of the sock, you were deeply in thought, while waiting for the coffeemaker to finish the program for your cappuccino.

“You're done with the staring?”

That dark voice directly behind you made you flinch and you lost your balance, tipping to the side, you almost fell – if it hadn't been for a strong hand catching you. And even when you were standing securely on both feet again, that hand didn't let go off your waist.

You felt your chest widen with the deep breath you took.

Rafe's body was so close to yours, you could feel the heat radiating from it. You could feel his muscles move as he leaned down to you, his chest pressing against your back.

“So, did you like what you saw? Last night? You left in such a rush. What were you doing in your room? Lying in your bed, thinking about my cock, touching yourself?” His lips grazed your ear as he whispered those words that made you involuntarily shiver, despite the heat you felt under your sweater.

You turned your head to look at him, when you felt something poking at your back.

Your lips parted and you felt them quiver as his face moved closer. His breath caressing your face, his eyes holding yours as his lips hovered over your mouth. Your breathing hitched as you felt his other hand move up to reach for your face.

“Finally you're up!” Wheezie's voice made you gasp. You felt pure heat rushing to your head.

Rafe’s hand – a second ago almost brushing your cheekbone – reached up to the cupboard above your head, taking out a glass. He walked to the fridge to take out the orange juice and pour some into the glass.

You grabbed the mug from under the coffeemaker, turned around and lifted it to your lips even though the contents were still too hot to drink. Your sleeves covered your wrists and you held the mug with both your hands, holding onto it like a lifeline. You nodded at Wheezie and tried to offer her a smile while your whole body was trembling.

Rafe had downed the orange juice and was pouring himself another glass, when Wheezie came over, snatched that newly filled glass from his hands and turned towards you while taking a sip.

“I needed your help with that tiktok,” she said and her accusing tone made you feel guilty, even though you couldn't remember having promised her to help her.

“I'm sorry,” you muttered. “We can do it now?” You offered.

Wheezie exhaled dramatically.

“Now is too late. We're about to leave.” Wheezie looked at you with her dark eyes, pouting. “But you could come and we can make it on the ferry,” she asked sweetly all of a sudden and took another sip from the orange juice.

Rafe, obviously having decided that he was still thirsty, had stepped closer and took out another glass from the kitchen cupboard above your head. His arm brushing your hair as he did so. And you felt goosebumps crawling over your skin, spreading on your neck.

Your eyes darted up and you noticed that Rafe's eyes traveled to your neck, and that look felt more intense than any touch and caused another shiver.

“You cold? Are you sick? Is that why you slept in?” Wheezie sounded seriously concerned now.

That shiver must have been visible. You cursed your own body for reacting so intensely and so weirdly to your stepbrother's presence.

“No, no, don't worry, Wheezie. I'm fine. I just spent the whole night reading.”

You heard a scoff coming from Rafe, but didn't look.

“Oh, that book with the dragons? You need to tell me all about it!”

“I will,” you smiled, and it was a real smile. You loved your little sister's enthusiasm.

“But not today. Denny is coming back from his family trip and we're meeting this afternoon.”

Wheezie's lips formed a disappointed ‘O', but then she nodded and took more sips from her glass.

“You're spending a lot of time with that boy lately,” Ward had entered the kitchen, and he offered you a warm smile. “You should invite him over for dinner, so we can officially meet.”

“Oh, my god, dad. You sound like a total patriarch,” Wheezie rolled her eyes.

“I do? Now the patriarch tells you to get in the car, Wheezie, we're already late,” Ward tilted his head and looked at his youngest daughter with warmth in his eyes.

Wheezie rolled her eyes again, muttered an annoyed “Fine,” put her glass down on the counter next to you, hugged you as if she was about to leave for months. When she let go, she turned towards her brother standing by the fridge.

“Bye, Rafe. Thanks for the juice,” she said, twirled around and literally danced out of the kitchen, as Rafe mumbled his reply.

You noticed how his stance had changed completely, his shoulders were drawn up, he was looking down. He seemed more tense ever since his father had come into the kitchen.

“If you don't find it too patriarchy of me, I’d like to get to know the boy that my daughter spends so much time with.”

“No, of course, that would be nice. I’ll ask him,” you quickly replied and smiled at your stepfather. You couldn't deny it, it always made you feel sort of happy when Ward casually called you his daughter, making no difference between you and his biological daughters.

“Now that's settled then,” he said. “Enjoy your date.”

“Thanks,” you took a sip from your cappuccino, which was now cool enough to drink.

Ward gave you another smile, before turning his attention toward his son.

“I asked you to drop off the crates at the site by 2.”

“I – I will. I'm on it,” Rafe gazed at his father who frowned at him.

“That's what you always say.”

“But I will.”

“It's a simple task, Rafe. If you can't even do that –“

“No, I said I will!” Rafe straightened up, took a step closer to his father, his body tensing up, you noticed.

“Honey? We need to get going,” your mother looked through the kitchen door.

“You have a nice day with Denny, sweetheart,” she addressed you, before just frowning at Rafe and leaving.

Before Ward also left, he smiled at you again – this time, the smile was a bit strained, you noticed.

He shot a less than friendly look at his son.

“For a change, just don't disappoint me again.”

When your parents had left, you remained in the kitchen and there was a strange silence.

You looked at Rafe, he was biting his nails.

“You okay?” Your voice soft, full of real concern.

He turned his face towards you, glared at you.

“Shut up!” You flinched as he yelled at you and then stormed out of the kitchen.

You let out a shaky breath after he had left. You weren't hungry anymore, so you just emptied the remains of your cappuccino into the sink and went upstairs.

Wrapped in a towel after taking a long hot shower in your sisters' bathroom, you returned to your room, only to find Rafe standing at your bed, looking at the clothes you had picked out to wear.

He held up the top you had put on the bed.

“You gonna wear that to your date?” He tilted his head, looking at you, his eyes slightly narrowed.

“Give that back,” you tried to snatch it from his hand, but Rafe's reflexes were better and he held it up, out of reach. Still you tried to get a hold of it, reaching up with one arm, while you held the towel close to your chest with your other hand, feeling it loosen from the quick movement.

Rafe looked down at you, just with his eyes, and there was a glint in them, and the corners of his mouth curled up into a smirk.

You frowned and held both your arms now in front of your chest, clutching the towel.

The tip of his tongue flicked out and wetted his lips. As if it was some reflex, you bit your own lips, and he chuckled in response. You only now realized that his body was so close to yours that you felt that vibration in your own body.

“You want to seduce him? Want him to fuck you?”

“Why are you so –” You looked up at his face and tried to step back when you felt the edge of the bed hitting the back of your legs and stopping your movement.

“So what?” He bowed his head down and his piercing blue eyes stared at you.

“Mean,” you said.

“You like it, don't you?” He tilted his head to the side and that grin on his lips changed.

“No,” you said quickly and as firmly as you managed to.

“No what?” He mocked you.

You looked at him, your brows furrowed. Still holding the towel with both hands, you tried to push at his chest with your elbow to get some distance between you two.

“I like you better when you're not mean,” you said, no longer looking up, but your eyes on his chest that you were trying to push away.

“That so?” His voice was lower than before and you lifted your gaze to see his eyebrows raised. “Like when?”

“Like when you were nice.”

"What is nice, hm?”

You felt a heat crawling under your skin and lowered your gaze.

His fingers under your chin tilted up your head, made you look at him again. His thumb brushed along your bottom lip.

“This nice?” His voice a raspy whisper.

The sudden softness of his touch made you shiver.

Your lips parted and you drew in a sharp breath as he leaned down.

“This?” His voice so low, you could hardly hear it, but feel it so intensely, as his lips moved close to yours. And you could taste his breath, taste the coffee and the orange juice and him.

You held your breath and his lips grazed the corner of your mouth. You closed your eyes. Exhaling through your mouth, you felt that trembling growing. Your legs suddenly unsteady. But you didn't fall. His arm wrapped around you and held you close to his body as he slowly lowered you on the bed.

His lips were so incredibly soft as they covered your face with tender kisses. His body was hovering over yours as you lay on your back. You felt its warmth, but not its weight.

His hand touched your face, his long fingers caressed your neck, brushed over your shoulders, leaving a trail of goosebumps on your heated skin. His mouth traveled over your cheekbone to your ear. His breath made you gasp and whimper as the tip of his nose touched that spot you didn't know was so sensitive. Slowly and without any resistance from you, he uncurled your fingers that were wrapped around the towel. He guided one of your hands to his shoulder, and your fingers, like they had their own will, grasped at it, held onto him, as your body arched and a moan escaped your lips when his mouth found the sensitive skin on your neck. His big hand cupped your now exposed breast, kneading it, fumbling it, no longer touching softly. His knee pushed between your legs, parting them. And you felt the pressure at your core as your hips rose to meet him.

Your breathing, slow and loud, was all that could be heard in the room. And then the soft sucking sounds of his lips on your neck, leaving a mark.

Both your hands were on him now. The one hand at his shoulder, grabbing so hard, it was shaking. Your other hand touching his back. The lightest pull from you and he rocked his hips against yours, making you gasp and open your eyes in surprise as you felt his hard length urging against your thigh. Being completely inexperienced, you couldn't quite judge whether it was normal that it was so huge. And your mind was cloudy with all those unknown sensations that you were unable to tell whether this was right when you felt his fingers rub along your folds, when they parted them and pushed inside you.

You tensed up, cried out, as you clenched around the intruding digit. Your hands no longer pulling Rafe closer but trying to push him up, like pushing at an unmovable rock.

You whined as his finger pushed deeper, your face turning to the side, away from him as a tear ran down your cheek. He let out a hissing sound, his mouth close to your neck. His finger remained inside of you but stopped moving further. You already felt so incredibly full. His lips started moving over your skin. He kissed your chin, kissed your cheek, licked at your tears.

“No,” your voice a hoarse whisper, your hand balled into a fist, pressing at his shoulder uselessly, in vain trying to push him off you.

“No,” you said again and that word turned into a moan as you felt something pressing against your most sensitive spot. His thumb rubbed your pearl and your traitorous body reacted by shivering. And your legs parted further. He moved them up, made them bent, giving him room. His finger curled inside you. Your body convulsed. You opened your eyes, but you couldn't see anything clear. You felt your body heating up, sweat covering it. Your hands clutching at Rafe's shirt as you made those noises that didn't sound like coming from you. But they came from you. From something deep inside you. Something Rafe had just started to awake. You bit your lips to make those sounds stop as you felt that throbbing at your core with Rafe's fingers caressing, pushing, rubbing, pinching, curling, thrusting.

His other hand gripped your chin, turned your head and you looked up at him, just for a second, before his lips met yours and he claimed your mouth in a kiss that was nothing like the one you remembered from all those years ago, that tender kiss. This kiss was hungry and fierce, and intoxicating. Your mouth opened for his tongue. He claimed it. And when it pushed inside you, it felt like it was your own hunger. You felt like you were starving as he was devouring you.

Wide-eyed, your face burning with heat, your body aching with an unknown need, you gazed up at him when he broke the kiss, lifting his body, no longer touching you. But you still felt him, felt him on you, felt him inside of you, tasted him in your mouth. He had let go off you for a moment to take off his shirt and his sweatpants.

He was completely naked when he hovered above you, resting on his hands pressed into mattress on either side of you. The muscles in his arms tense and hard. Everything about him was hard. Solid like a rock. He was kneeling between your legs. Your body shaking, shivering as if you were cold when you felt that sweat covering it and that wetness between your legs. You were so much the opposite of him, in every way. You felt it so much at that moment when he just looked down at you. Something in his eyes so harsh that it made you shudder and close your eyes. You shook your head and stopped when his hand touched your face and held it. You opened your eyes. His face only inches away from yours.

“I'm gonna be gentle, alright? I'm gonna be nice.” His lips brushed yours in a tender kiss and your body arched up, despite your hands being balled up into fists and your arms pressed close to your chest as if you were trying to shield yourself.

You felt a movement, felt the bed tilt. And when you opened your eyes, you saw him kneeling in front of you, touching his hard cock, pumping it.

You gasped at the sight. It was even bigger than you had thought from what you had felt earlier. It was too big.

“Just the tip, alright? I won't push it all in. I know you're too delicate,” he said as if he had read your mind – or just saw the fear in your eyes.

He leaned down to kiss you and whisper at your lips.

“Just the tip, I promise. You will like it.”

As if proving his point, your hips moved up on their own and a hot shiver made you moan as his fingers touched your needy core. A smile appeared on his face, not quite a smirk, but you weren't sure anymore what you saw, what you felt, what you wanted. All reason was clouded and still, you knew that this was wrong.

You closed your eyes as he lifted one of your legs.

“Look at me,” his voice dark and so low, you felt a tingling at the back of your neck.

You obeyed and opened your eyes. Your arms were still pressed against your heaving chest, but it was easy for him to move them and place your hands on his shoulders as he lowered himself onto you.

“Look at me,” he said again and your eyes were fixed on his face, watching his features, seeing that little smile, that glint in his eyes, seeing his mouth open, and his face contort the moment his tip parted your folds. At first it felt slick and smooth and then suddenly so painfully rough. The thick tip was stretching you unbearably wide. Your legs automatically pressed against his body, desperately trying to close and shut out the intruder. He pushed them apart and you screamed, screamed out loud at the top of your lungs as he pushed inside you. Too deep, too hard, too rough, too fast.

Waves and waves of stinging pain rushing threw your body, making it convulse and shake, making you whimper and whine, you felt like you were being torn apart. You pushed at his shoulders, pressed at his chest, but his hips kept moving, rocking hard against you. Urging his hard length into you.

“So good,” he muttered between strained breaths. “So tight,” he panted. “All mine,” he growled.

His movements so rough and relentless, he seemed lost in his own pleasure. His eyes fixed on you, but not really seeing you, he seemed like he had forgotten all about you, your part in this, your existence.

“Rafe!” You screamed his name, screamed it at his face, screamed it so loud, your throat hurt.

His eyes flickered and he looked at you, really looked at you. And something changed in his features. For the briefest of moments, he paused, leaned down to kiss your lips, whispering something you didn't understand. And then you felt his fingertip touching that spot his thumb had teased before. Only now it wasn't teasing any longer. You didn't know how or why he knew exactly what to do, but that touch, that movement with his fingertip was all your body needed, all it craved for that moment. Your mouth opened wide as you moaned, then just gasped. The back of your head pressing into the mattress, your eyes rolling back. Your fingernails digging into Rafe's tense muscles at his back, as you were pulling him closer, ever closer, when that pain all of a sudden turned into pleasure, a painful, hot pleasure that left you in a state of rapture. Your body bending, trembling, shaking, as Rafe fucked you through your first ever orgasm.

You heard him groan, an animalistic sound. You felt your walls tensing up in waves and clenching so hard around him, making his thrusts only more ruthless, more forceful, as he took you, took all of you. And as the rush of your fierce high faded, you felt him so intensely. Felt him pushing inside you, filling you, feeling you, breathing on you, touching you, holding you, kissing you – it was like he was melting into you, when all of a sudden he stopped his movements, gazed down at you with hazy eyes, his features tensing up for a moment, and the next, the absolute opposite: all soft and lovingly, so sweet. He lowered his body onto yours and you felt his heavy panting syncing with yours. He kissed your face, breathless. Kissed your lips and after pushing into you a few more times, he pulled out and rolled his body off yours.

You kept lying on your back, next to him. Your legs still apart, knees bent. And you felt the cool breeze from the air-conditioning on your heated body, covered in a film of sweat, yours and his. And between your legs, you felt another kind of throbbing. And something sticky dripping out of you. You shut your legs and winced, rolling on your side, you turned away from him. It was as if reality hit you hard, and despite the fact that you still hadn't composed your breathing, despite the fact that your body wanted to remain in that blissful state, you felt a sudden wave of shame and guilt and something else that hurt even more, even deeper than the burning pain at your core.

At the touch of his hand, you flinched. You didn't want to, but your body curled up and you moved away from him, when in fact, you wanted nothing more than for him to hold you, to tell you that it was alright. That everything was exactly how it should be. That you were safe. With him.

Instead, you felt the bed tilt and you heard him get up and put on his clothes.

You moved your head so you could look up at him, look at him through teary eyes.

He stood in front of the bed, looking down at you. For a moment he seemed to hesitate, as if he wanted to lie down again. Then his features hardened. A frown appeared on his brow. His hands balled into fists, his jaws clenched.

“Now you can lie about that too. When your boyfriend fucks you tonight, you can lie and say it is you first time.” His voice so cold, so hard, it took the air out of your lungs.

And you only exhaled when he had left your room and the door shut behind him and you cried and sobbed and wept.

a/n: this was kinda intense. Much darker than my recent fics. And so long. But I didn't want to rush it. I needed to write it as it is. I still hope you liked reading it. Reblogs, comments and likes are very much appreciated. btw, it's my birthday today.

xx

[typologyastro]

Astro Observations

Based on my own experience 🌂

☂️ It seems like everyone loves Venus Conjunction Jupiter folks. It's hard to hate them since they radiate a "good person" aura (and they're genuinely good people). Their kind nature melts everyone's heart. They are so fortunate and blessed thanks to their loving nature.

☂️ Moon-Mars aspects are emotionally straightforward people. You know when they get angry. Their anger can translate through actions since Mars rules actions.

☂️ Hard aspects with Saturn make you feel inferior because in your childhood, your authorities made you feel that way. They disregard you as an equally independent human being with your own wishes and desires. To heal the negative effects of Saturn, we should only consider our own judgments like we're the only authorities. Have some self-respect for yourself. What values are important to you? What makes you YOU? Stick with them, and build your own reality despite what people say.

☂️ Saturn only cares for quality (quality lasts a long time). Focus on quality instead of shortcuts to please Saturn.

☂️ Jupiter 2nd house is lucky with money and resources. It doesn't mean they're rich rich but at least money comes their way when they need it. They'd like to look for opportunities to get rich. They also have a high self-worth (the 2nd house is about self-worth).

☂️ Aphrodite Conjunction IC/in the 4th house has a beautiful family/childhood/home that everyone would love to be a part of. You may also be a favorite child/family member.

☂️ Lilith 11th house attracts narcissistic friends, unfortunately. Their friends may manipulate, stab behind their back, insult, and abuse them.

☂️ Mercury in the 4th house's thoughts are influenced by the people they trust, the ones in their circle, family, country, etc. They may have conservative and patriotic thoughts. They may come from an educated background. Their family members may have Mercury ruled jobs (reporters, journalists, teachers, etc.)

☂️ Mercury in the 2nd house may make money by using your mind, languages, and hands. Those jobs can be coding, typing, writing, editing, composing, speaking, singing, etc. They are detailed oriented of their work.

☂️ Mercury in the 1st house sees being knowleageable and intelligent as their personality.

☂️ Moon in Scorpio detects people's true character. What is trash, and what is a real gem among them.

Thank you for reading ☔️

[dalishious]

Alistair vs. Cullen

It really annoys me when people act like Alistair and Cullen are the same character, when they are very different.

Alistair grew up with child neglect. When visiting Denerim, Eamon kept him in the kennels. At Redcliffe, he slept in the stables on a pile of hay. Alistair also recounts a time when he was locked in the dungeons for a day before someone came to get him out. And of course he also talks about how Isolde despised him, and “made sure the castle wasn't a home.” But is still convinced that Eamon is a good person and he deserved all that. Cullen had a very fortunate upbringing with a loving family who supported him and what he wanted in life.

Alistair never wanted to be a Templar; he was forced into joining the Order by Eamon. He is vocal about how much he despised this, and considers Duncan recruiting him for the Wardens as “saving” him from them. The only thing he says he enjoyed about Templar training was the educational component, which he did not receive previously. Alistair was a poor recruit because he frankly did not want to be there, and therefore did not take it very seriously. He saw practices like the Harrowing as horrifying, and deepened his dislike of being a Templar further. And as time goes on, he becomes even less of a supporter of the Order; he outright says Meredith is the biggest threat to Kirkwall in Dragon Age II, if made king of Ferelden. It was always Cullen’s dream to be a Templar, and would even force his younger sister to “play the apostate” for his “training” before being recruited. Cullen was an enthusiastic recruit who considered Templar training “all that he had imagined”, and “did not hesitate” in taking his vows. Even the Harrowing did not waver his devotion to the Order, which by Dragon Age II becomes downright fanatical and tyrannical, practically worshipping Meredith. (Though this was later attempted to be retconned in Dragon Age: Inquisition… just as poorly as all the other retcons in that game, taking the path of “just pretend he never said and did all those things!”)

There is a lot of dialogue from Alistair about how much he dislikes the Chantry. Cullen, on the other hand, is extremely faithful and the only criticism he ever has about the Chantry is that they don’t treat the Templars well enough.

Alistair has a good sense of humour—in fact, it’s one of his biggest coping mechanisms. Cullen wouldn’t know a joke if it hit him in the face.

The player can disagree with Alistair on every turn. He is presented as sometimes being right, and sometimes being wrong, like most people. (Side note: more than that, you can be downright verbally, emotionally, and physically abusive to Alistair. Holy shit, I didn’t even realize how bad it can get until reading through the dialogue in the toolset, because I’ve never picked those options in game. I was honest to god flabbergasted and very uncomfortable through much of it.) The player rarely has the chance to even mildly disagree with Cullen. On the rare occasion you do, the dialogue is painted as if the player is being an unreasonable asshole, and he never even addresses what they say. (Example.)

The only reason I think people are capable of mistaking them for another is because fandom likes to donate Alistair’s personality onto Cullen. That and the the ever-frequent whitewashing of Alistair doesn’t help matters. But I’m not even a Cullen fan and I think it’s a disservice to both of them to act like they’re just Alistair and Alistair 2.0, honestly.

[ash-says]

Tips for Dysfunctional Family Girlies Part 2:

1) Get your basics straight. Education. Boundaries. Financial independence. Further breaking it down and linking it if you get proper education at some point you are bound to get an awareness of this world, if you are able to adapt and improvise yourself and develop your emotional intelligence and get your boundaries straight you will save yourself a lot of unnecessary drama and problems. Education (formal and informal) both will help you in gaining opportunities and if you are financially independent, you are holding the power to make your own decisions.

2) Develop thick skin. Your mom is calling you names. Slut, whore and what not. Your dad doesn't trust you and abuses you physically. So, what now? Are you going to let them define what you are or internalize the anger and use it as a fuel to become successful? Choice is yours.

3) They say you don't owe an explanation to anyone. Sorry to burst your little bubble. Actually you do. We live in a society and have relationships that we need to maintain for survival. This hyper independent stuff is only good to read. We have responsibilities that we need to fulfill. If you don't owe an explanation to anyone then don't cry about a closure from someone too. If you can live by this go ahead and practice it.

4) Stop isolating yourself. That's it. That's the point.

5) First kill the fear inside you. Being a rebel outside the house is no good. Be disciplined. Know how to manipulate your family members in your favor and if you can't just find the weak points and threaten. I know it's difficult to implement but you learn through trial and error. Plus something is better than nothing.

6) Stop glorifying people who treat you with kindness and love. That's the bare minimum. Just because you didn't get it served in a silver spoon doesn't mean it is not served in a silver spoon. People can have ulterior motives and even if they don't fix it in your brain that's normal. No rose colored glasses allowed.

7) Don't be afraid of indulging in your sexuality. No I am not saying go and have sex with people. I mean it in a deeper sense. Connect with the repressed sexual side and try to find healthy outlets. Don't dim yourself to fit in others'expectations or to ease someone's insecurity. Be unapologetic about your wants and desires. Know yourself. It's a powerful energy source if you know how to use it positively.

8) Cry, cry and cry. Wail like a child. No need to keep it all in. No need to act like a macho woman BUT only in front of your god or your belief system. Max in front of your truly trusted people.

9) Question everything as easily as breathing. Doubt every thing. Every action. Every person. What proof do you have to not doubt ? Stop giving benefit of doubts. Stop looking for excuses on how they could be good and instead look for ways in which they can harm you. That's your lottery to be poised and composed. It's just what it is.

10) Obsession. We have it in loads. That's natural to us. So the trick here is to be obsessive. Hella obsessive but about things, topics, goals, subjects, inanimate things,etc. God forbid but never be obsessive about a person. Not even over your dead body. Why? For that I need to make another detailed post I think.

[caffeinatedopossum]

Trying to help a friend with abusive parents so I was looking up what's legally considered child abuse, which I have done before but still. It always shocks me how bad my own situation was but I never realized it

[eve-was-framed]

tbh the past year I’ve adopted the attitude of “they know, they just don’t care. stop trying to change their mind” attitude when it comes to the majority forced birthers, rather than seeing it as just an issue of them not being educated enough on the topic.

they know women and girls die as a result of their policies. they don’t care.

they know that the people creating the policies do not care about children and they block every bill created that would ensure children are fed, housed and have access to healthcare and safe schools. they don’t care.

they know that there is already a tragic amount of children living in foster care, poverty, and abusive situations, and that their policies will create even more children who will suffer in those situations. they don’t care.

they know child rape victims will be forced to risk their lives in pregnancy and childbirth because of something that was forced upon them, as a result of their policies. they don’t care.

the cruelty is the point. it’s never been about valuing life, it’s always been about a desire to see women and girls punished for not being virgins, even if they had no say in any of it