#I don’t want it to be destroyed I don’t want it to be irreparable

[samuraisharkie]

me every time I think about the current state of The Amazing Spider-Man comics: Here’s How Peter Can Still Win

[dolldefiler]

C/W: Rape, shock collar

Oh, you silly little slut. Night after night, you’d stream yourself playing with your pussy. You’d stretch yourself out with an obscenely large range of sex toys, whoring yourself out for money. Every night, men would watch your tits jiggle as you ride your toys. Men like me. You would beg us for money, willingly doing the most disgusting things for our pleasure. For pitiful sums of money. Over time, you would let slip the smallest details about yourself. Your name, the closest grocery store, the day you started work. Everything would add up eventually. Everything would lead me to you.

I’d find your family first, taking photos of them. I’d carry them in my coat pocket. And then I’d find you. I’d break in at the dead of night, pushing your head into your mattress. I’d tell you to shut the fuck up. That I’d hurt your family in ways you couldn’t possibly fathom if you screamed. I would tie a shock collar to your neck, much like one of those perverse toys you’d play with on your camshow. I know you’d go cold at the familiar feeling of it around your neck. If a man would break into your house to rape you, he most certainly would turn you into a tortured cunt if you didn’t behave. 

You’d reach for the collar and- ZAP. Before your fingers can reach the collar, I’d press a button and watch you silently scream in agony. I’d lean in and whisper sweet words of comfort and a promise to hurt you again if you tried to take off your new collar. Violent rage bubbling in your heart, you’d roll off your bed and land awkwardly on the floor. I’d press the button again. And again. And again.

While you lay broken on the floor, I’d tear your nightdress up and slide my cock into your abused cunt in one swift motion. Fleshlights so willing to give away their body don’t deserve foreplay. No, they’d deserve long, painful strokes of my cock and zaps to their shock collars if they didn’t behave. I’d jerk myself faster into your used holes, telling you what a good camwhore you’ve been. You’d barely register my words, your lips frothing, your eyes rolled back to cope with the pain. The trauma. 

I’d slap you awake as I rape my shaft into you, again and again. You’d splutter awake, fear taking you instantly. In that moment, I’d have to try so fucking hard not to cum as your tormented fuckbox clenches around me in pure terror. You’d struggle to stay sane, but I’d still laugh and tell you thank me for tuning into the show tonight. Like a broken record, you’d comply, feverishly thanking me for the kind support. Thanking me for donating. Again, and again until I got bored of your words. Until it was time for me to pump up your sex with my rapist cum. I’d slam your head against your floor, suffocating you, shove a finger into your asshole and spurt thick streams of spunk into your broken, damaged sex. I'd leave you, the photos of your family members torn up next to you.

Would you still stream after that? Could you do that, knowing one of your viewers had turned you into an irreparable cocksleeve? That he could destroy everything you ever loved, if he wanted.

[misguidedasgardian]

Storm's End (End 2)

HOTD MASTERLIST

Pairing: Aemond Targaryen x Niece!Strong!Reader

Summary: your mother sends you to Storm’s End to rally Lord Borros Baratheon for your side, but your uncle arrived there before you

Warnings: Cursing, use of the word bastard, angst, heavy, canon level incest, thoughts about dying, fear of commiting s*icide, mentions of bedding, and more, dark fic, Aemond is unhinged, rape, non-con, minors engaging in sexual activities, blood, violence, war and death, Kinslaying, death in childbirth, dark things related to childbearing, and other very dark things. mIght miss some warnings

+18 MINORS DNI

Wordcount: 4,2 k

Notes: Alright people, this is it! the END, no more, please I beg of you, this was supposed to be a two shot! No more…

It's been two weeks since he cuddled you to sleep that night 

Since you confessed to him that you didn’t hate him, that the only thing you wanted was to get back in time and spare you all that hate as well

He acted more kindly to you, gentler, he still had you everytime he could, but at least he made sure to prepare you, to even make sure you don’t hurt while he was bedding you 

But it was too late

It was too late, he had hurt you in an irreparable way

You barely spoke, you barely looked at him, no matter how he tried to coax words out of you

it was true, you did not hate him, but you were destroyed, physically, mentally

You didn’t understood it, what was happening to you

You always thought of yourself as this calm, reserved person, you made sure never to harm or annoy someone, to make sure to present yourself as best as you could, as nicer as you could… people around you cared for you, respected you, you could tell, your family adored you… you were a good person

You didn’t understand why you were being punished with so much hurt and hate

Your own body… felt so foreign to you…

Before, you felt like you were in control, like you were one in all aspects of yourself, now… you barely wanted to move… you felt every breath you took, and even moving posed a challenge, like you had to command every movement of your body… like it didn't belonged to you anymore, you yourself were just floating inside this unknown vessel, who belonged to…

Him

And you didn’t even wanted to move in the first place

You often laid on the bed, not being able to move, sitting so still, you believed that if you did so, stood so still, Aemond wouldn’t see you, wouldn’t hurt you anymore, would forget you exist.

You felt like by only moving, you were going to make him hurt you

You offended him by only existing, by breathing, so when he entered the room, you barely did so…

He would see it, the state you were in, he chose to ignore it, and only spend time in the chambers like they were his own, he would read by the fire, he would sip wine and eat with you as well…

He couldn’t tell, but you would throw up everything you ate

Maybe that is why it was so hard for you to move…

Because you had no energy

One afternoon he came in the room, unannounced, like always, he stopped by the bed, looking down at you

“Are you with child?”, he asked severely, you looked up at im

You also knew he did not liked it when you didn’t answer

“I don’t know”, you answered truthfully

How would you know? you did felt “different”, but it was such a difficult and different circumstances, you couldn’t be sure if the “changes” you were feeling was because your uncle’s seed had taken root in your womb… or because of the estres

He sighed, loudly

“I’ll fetch a maester”

This wasn’t the first time the old man examined you in such an intimate way it made your eye spilled silent tears, but again, you felt so out of your body, you were starting to become indifferent to whatever was happening to you

“He is not with child my prince”, the old man breathed finally, and you didn't know how to feel

If you were with child perhaps Aemond would be satisfied, and would leave you alone, his purpose of humiliate you in the ultimate way would be fulfilled

On the other hand, having a child terrified you to your core

Having a baby… growing it in your belly….

Birthing it… you were there with your mom the day she lost your baby sister, and you were so horrified… maybe you’d die in labor, and the thought, of your child, being raised by the greens, frighten even more

If they even decided to raise them, knowing them, they would throw your babe into the depths of Flea Bottom with the rest of Aegon’s bastards…

That “silly” imaginary scenario made you cry, real tears, all the possibilities were terrifying, now even more so because Aemond was going to keep bedding you until he got what he wanted

You didn’t even know what he wanted anymore

“What is wrong with her?”, he asked coldly, the old made made a weird face, and Aemond grabbed him and took him out of the room, so they could speak without you hearing them

Speaking of your body, out of your earshot

Yet another proof, that your body didn’t belonged to you anymore 

“She is dehydrated, stressed, and she hasn't been eating my prince…”, you heard the old man say, “women are delicate, they need optimal conditions so they can breed…”, you felt like… something else 

“Get out, don’t tell anyone”

Aemond didn’t know the maester’s loyalties lay somewhere else.

He returned to you, and he communicated to you he was going to be send away to Harrenhal, to sort some political matters, and you should do well in using this time to rest, eat, and drink whatever you liked

Of course there was a hidden threat, so he bed you one last… long time, and when the sun broke the next morning, he was gone

Alicent had become frightened by her own son

She thought she knew his heart, but oh how wrong she was

She saw a side of him that scared her more than the drunk side of Aegon

A possessive side, dark side… 

A side that was capable of killing, raping

That poor girl

Rhaenyra’s daughter, she involuntarily whimpered every time she thought about the only daughter of her childhood companion

Alicent was scared of her own son

And this was going to get out of hand if she didn't do something 

The summit was barely a few weeks from now, and she had no idea how to remove his son’s claws from you

And she knew that if it came between getting back his father or keeping you, his father was going to be lost forever, especially since the maester had come to her the day before and told her that you were with child, and as instructed, he had lied to the Prince.

He couldn’t find out…

So gathering the last of her bravery and strength, and with the help of Larys, she… had you taken, in the middle of the night when she knew Aemond was away in Harrenhal, securing the castle before the summit 

She exchanged correspondence with Rhaenyra before hand of course

And exchanged you both, before the summit

It was a dark night without moon when you were dragged out of bed and walked amongst the secret passageways of the Red Keep to the docks of King’s Landing 

You should have been relieved, but you weren’t, you were frightened, because clearly Aemond hadn't agreed to this, you knew his anger and his rage, and you were scared of what he might be capable of, especially after he had told you that might just someday appear in Dragonstone and burn the castle  to the ground and everyone on it…

But like you yourself said, it was better one week back in your family’s arms, than years with him.

“Aemond…”, you started, “It’s going to be angry”, you whined

“Let me handle my son”, snapped Alicent, as she herself grabbed you and dragged you through the moldy passageways of inside the Keep 

“I must try again and beg you to convince your mother to see reason, that is why I’m releasing you”, Alicent said as you were about to jump on the small boat that was going to get you to the ship

“Please see that Aemond…”, she nodded shortly, but you and her knew very well than there was nothing she could do

The control over dragons was an illusion, they were savage beats, unpredictable and destructive.

As you were sailing back to your home, passing by another vessel, you couldn’t find it in your broken heart to be relieved, you felt like this was making things worse

Much more worse

You were the last chain containing the wrath of the biggest and most powerful dragon in the world

And it just snapped 

And it couldn’t be that easy, just slipping away, going back home…

But as you saw the black castle in the distance, that is when you felt it, the relief, the happiness 

You were home

For a week, a moon or years, it did not matter, you were home

Before you knew it, you were walking slowly up the huge stone bridge connecting the castle with the rest of the island, and then… there they were

Your entire family was waiting for you a bit unfitting for a Queen, a King consort, and princes and princesses, but they clearly did not care as you mother ran towards you, embracing you tightly as soon as she had you within her grasp

“MAMA”, you sobbed into her neck

Her touch, her smell… it brought you back to life, it brought your soul back into your body

“My baby girl, my sweet, my love, my heart, you are home”, you could tell she was also crying as she held you in her arms

You could no longer stand, your legs failed you, but she had you, she was a strong woman, so so strong.

You couldn’t remember much after that

You just collapsed 

You woke up feeling… uncomfortable, a sharp pain between your legs

You whined and tried to get rid of said intrusion, that is when you came back to your senses, the maester, the dragonstone maester, released you with with a concerned face

“She is with child your grace”, you felt your mother’s crying, and dark promises from your Stepfather to… “kill the one-eyed bastard”

You pushed the maester away, and he only nodded

Your mother’s attention was back to you, smiling

“My love”

“I’m sorry, I don’t want anyone touching me”, you whispered, she nodded

“You don’t have to be sorry”, she said simply, she sat by your side, a single tear fell from her eye

“I’m fine”, you assured her, “just a little broken, but aside from it all, I’m home”, she barely smiled and nodded 

“Your brothers want to see you”, she said softly, Daemon stood there, looking down at you in pity, didn’t say anything, didn’t approached you, but you preferred it that way

“I’d like to see them too”, you said, standing from the bed, you had noticed they dressed you in a simple dress 

Your brothers entered the room, but you were nervous, they could see it, and didn’t push you with the physical contact.

Nervous or not, scared to death or not, nightmares or not, you were home, for the next two weeks, you were safe and sound in your home with your family, your whole family, they had all expressed their love for you unborn child. 

If you only knew then, you were going to look back to those days as the happiest of your life…

The summit went terribly wrong… awfully, terribly wrong

Aemond was enraged, for the simple reason you were taken from him, his own family had mocked him, deceived him, betrayed him, you were his, not theirs to trade like they saw fit, he had claimed you, he belonged to you

As expected, not even Aegon could control Aemond, who demanded you to be brought back to him, now he seeked a marriage, and again, demanded that the pact of the division of the Kingdoms was sealed under a marriage pact, but not only Rhaenyra refused, but Aegon and Alicent did also…

It was a breaking point

The first one to suffer his wrath… was your baby brother

Plucked front he skies as he was returning front the Eyrie a few weeks after the summit

Your mother, nor you, not anyone really, was the same

The pact of no aggression went to shit after that

And the seven Kingdoms submerged in a gruesome war

Your brother Jacaerys was next, he perished in the narrow sea, he and his dragon, fighting against the triarchy, your baby brothers were lost too, Aegon and Viserys, you were numb by then, but the wails of your mother would hunt you forever

By that time, you were almost about to give birth

You had terrible nightmares everyday and you were certain you were going to perish in childbirth, only to punish your mother further

It was a terribly stormy night you gave birth

Terrible shapes were drawn in the walls because of the winds that sneaked through the windows threatening to make the flames of the torches perish. You felt like you were hunted by demons of the seven hells, waiting in the corner of your eyes and the room, ready to collect you

But the wail of your baby scared them away

Against all odds, you recuperated, your baby brought a glimpse of hope into the castle

Your mother was never going to smile again, but you felt her relief, and she seemed to draw a small smile only for your newborn son when she held him in her arms

Aemond’s son

You had heard terrible things about him in the last months 

That he married Floris Barahteon

that she died trying to bring forth a deformed child

That it was because a witch from Harrenhal, Alys Rivers had poisoned her because she tried to take away her lover

Yes, Aemond had taken a Strong bastard as a lover 

You could say he had a type

Things took a turn when your mother took King’s Landing

You assured her you were better here, in Dragonstone, “holding the fort”, as it were, you did not want to go back to that palace, even though, staying here alone would probably tell Aemond that you were here…

But…

He had taken wives and mistresses, so maybe, only maybe, he had forgotten about you 

Oh how wrong you were

Your baby boy was about to have his first name day when you heard the terrible news

King’s Landing had fallen

Because your stepfather, Daemon, has challenged Aemond, who remained the biggest threat, to a single combat with their dragons above the God’s eye, and he had perished

And Aemond survived it…

He and an injured Aegon took back the capital, slayed your mother, your remaining baby brother Joffrey had perished as well

And you stood in Dragonstone, alone

Dragonless, powerless

The houses loyal to your mother’s cause were in disarray, and even though her cause was still alive and well, it was hard to find something to fight for, your baby brother Aegon the III had been captured by The Usurper, and nobody looked at you, the known disgraced daughter of Rhaenyra 

You didn’t have time to ponder, or to grief

7 days after the death of your mother, sails and wings were seen upon the horizon

Ships dressed in black, gold and Green, and the monstrous Vhagar guarding them

Your people fought valiantly, knowing they were going to perish, they did not have enough strength to repel the force and defend the castle… and yet… they fought to die, for your mother’s cause, for you

But it wasn’t long… until you heard rushed step running down the stone hallway and towards your room, armor and sword clashing, screams and wails of agony

You shushed your baby, who was whimpering, ready to start crying

You sat in a chair in the corner furthest from the door, you had a vial of Tears of Lys, the maester had concocted for you

“For its preferable death than what they do to women on a siege”, He had said, it was enough for you... and for….

You looked down at your son, who was looking up at you with his big beautiful eyes.

His dragon, barely a hatchling, wailed and cried in the corner, flapping his silvery wings, he knew his bonded human was in danger, of his own mother, your thought, he filed shortly to stand in the armchair by your side, protecting your baby

You couldn’t do it

You couldn’t take the life of your own child, and not even your own

If you perished, who was going to care for your child? bastard prince?

The doors opened suddenly and soldier wearing the golden dragon on their chest threw themselves at you

You threw the vial on one of the soldiers face, making him cry out when the liquid got in his eyes

But they were vicious

You only started crying and screaming when one of them ripped your son from your arms, as another grabbed your limbs to tear from him

You kicked and screamed profanities as you son wailed when he was parted from you.

His dragon was caught by the neck but screeched and threw little flames that made the soldier curse

But he knew better than to harm him

“Let me go! traitors! usurper cunts!”, you were lashing out, scared for your son, your child

They dragged you through the hallways and corridors, trough halls and rooms

You knew exactly where you were going

Anywhere you looked you saw people killed, soldiers, servants, you looked at each of them, knowing their names and their faces, it was a sign of respect, a last thanks for their loyalty and sacrifice

The double doors of the throne room opened, and there he was

Sitting on the Dragonstone throne

Aemond Targaryen

Aemond’s face was one of complete satisfaction, but completely changed when he saw him

Your son, in the arms of another soldier, entered behind you

He paled, he was shocked… He knew you were in this castle, that is why he came so quickly, he had to take it, and retrieve you… But he never expected this… he knew you had been with child, but his spies never managed to confirm the birth of the baby… so he thought of the worse

The child… he had white hair, big eyes just like him… his head filled with silver curls

He didn’t even had to think about it

This was his son

You were pregnant, you had his child in your belly when you escaped his grasp

“Everyone, leave”, everyone left except for the soldiers who were holding you tightly

Aemond walked slowly towards you

He was the same as he was the last time you saw him

Maybe more… adult… he seemed tired, older, crueler….

“I’ve been waiting for this moment for two years”, he started, “to see you again… tu punish you for betraying me” 

“I didn’t…”, only with his look he got you to stay quiet

“You ran away from me… took my son with you”

“I didn’t know…”, you muttered defensively

Your son, Aerion, got strangely quiet, looking at his father with curiosity, and Aemond turned to him, and he drew a smile on his face

“This was going to be a lot different…”, he said as a threat, he dared to touch his cheek with his finger. Aerion playfully turned with a smile on his face and wiggled in the soldier’s embrace 

He planned on dragging you by the hairs, humiliating you in front of the Lords of the Crownlands, making you kneel and crawl, or worse…

But he never expected this

His son

He didn’t even have to ask, or do the math, he… this was his son, his flesh and blood.

“What’s his name?”, he asked softly, taking the babe from the soldier’s embrace, accommodated him in his arms

“Aerion”, you said simply, “Aerion…”

“Aerion Waters”, he completed, you frowned

“My stepfather named him a Targaryen, my mother legitimize him, he is a Targaryen”, you defended, then his dragonling roared, making himself known

Aemond smiled widely

“He hatched a dragon…”, he said, pride in his voice

Angry tears fell from your eyes

Aemond had killed your baby brother, your stepfather… And now he was happily holding his son, your son

“He is mine”, you whined, he looked at you, as you cried, “he is my son, and mine alone!”, you whined, at the sound of your voice, Aerion reached for you with his chubby hands, waggling frantically in his father’s arms 

“He is my son too”, he said, trying to pull him away. The soldiers grabbed you tightly 

“How do you know?”, you asked, and he laughed 

“I knew what happened that night when you left me, I tortured that wretched old man, and he confessed to me, that you were with child”

“That’s why you killed my baby brother?”, you asked, it’s been almost two years,

“They took you from me”, he said simply, “they took my son…”, he kept reaching for you, you tried to go to him but they grabbed you even tighter, “he is the sole reason… the mere thought of his existence, is what led me to win against my vicious uncle, is what gave me the strength…”

Your son was your reason to live, everyone else was gone, only he remained, you had to fight for him, you couldn’t leave him alone, you couldn’t leave him at Aemond’s mercy…. More tears fell from your eyes as you whimpered in fear

“Please… don’t harm him”, you whined, Aemond was so unpredictable, and his temper was feeble, you could never guess what he was going to do

“HARM HIM?”, he asked, enraged, “he is my son and heir… how could I ever harm him?”, he said, “I’ve killed for him…”

“What are you going to do?”, you asked then

He looked back at you, his gaze changed, fargone was the cruel and mean, his eye softened, his mouth untightened 

You hated him now

You did

And he could see it

“He is my son and heir, and I will say that publicly”, he said calmly, “I will take him with me abc to King’s Landing”

“NO!”, you fought to release yourself from their grasp, you did, “he is mine! he is mine!”, you screamed, Aerion began mumbling and whining, wanting to reach you again

“If you want to come with him, with me…”, he then smiled as yous tilled, “beg me for it”

“What?”, you whined

“Beg me to take you with me, beg for my forgiveness for abandoning me, and beg me to let you see my son”

“HE IS MINE!”, you cried, “he is mine you can’t take him!”

“Beg”, he demanded, you weep as the soldiers released you

You couldn't lose him, not your baby, you son

He could take him, he could command his soldiers to slice your neck right then and there, and your son would be alone

So with trembling legs, you fell to the ground, you heard your son whimper, threatening to start crying

And you kneeled in front of the man that raped you, that killed your brother and your stepfather

“Please”, you begged, “don’t take him from me… he is the only thing I have…”, you weeped, Aemond smiled widely 

“And what would you have me do?”, he asked

“Please I beg of you, take me with him”, you cried, “take me with you”, you continued, wiping your tears, “please, I’ll do whatever you want please, don’t take him away from me”

When Aerion realized that his “father” was not going to release him, he started crying loudly, wiggling and reaching even more strongly for you

“You'll do as commanded”, he said, his patience short, “or I will lock you up in the black cells and you will never see your son again”

“Please”, you begged, “not him”

“Very well”, he said, pleased 

Aemond got what he always wanted, he got you, and a son, and even though he reveled in the thought that he had tainted you with a bastard… he thought enough is enough

You kept your word, receiving Aemond in your bed, back in your life, you did everything he wanted

He kept his in turn, he married you through a Valyrian ceremony

Aegon died of his wounds, he left no children behind him, so Aemond was named King of the Seven Kingdoms, and your son was Prince of Dragonstone, and you, became Queen of the Seven Kingdoms

Nobody complained about the fact that you were not married when he was born

Your life wasn’t happy… but Aemond was pleased with you, so he didn't harm you… much, and you were allowed to see your son everyday

You were never going to forgive him for killing your family, but you had no choice, but stand at his side

Once you were married, you got pregnant again, you gave birth to a little girl you named Aerea, an egg was placed in her crib, an old egg, that was of Aegon’s delusion, and against all odds, it hatched for her

Aemond was thrilled

he sat on the throne with his son perched on his leg, and his daughter in his arms

You actually helped him settle as King

You gave him two more children, a boy, Rhaegar, and three years later, another boy you named Maekar

You found consolation in your babies, and the fact that after you and Aemond are gone, your mother’s blood was going to sit the Iron Throne 

Edit

Aemond kept visiting Alys Rivers, his mistress, that relieved you, until her and her bastard's death at a fire in Harrenhal, nobody ever find the culprit, even though all eyes turned to Corlys Velaryon

THE END

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[blixabargelds]

hi! can I ask why some many people think that Roman has an ed? not a criticism, just genuinely curious cause I never noticed any signs!

i first started thinking it from day one for no reason other than i hc lots of my faves with eds because i love angst and have suffered with eating disorders therefore i like to project/ find it easy to write etc haha but over the course of the show there’s been lots of things tbh.

very early on in the show we see him bodychecking pinching his stomach etc he looks unhappy with his body. he’s very rarely seen eating anything other than fruit, frequently at tables he’s the only one not eating. this gifset is a really good show of that.

the roy’s in general all seem to have poor relationships with food, which has been confirmed in the recently released script books (“the summer of competitive eating disorders”), but roman especially has several fraught memories relating to food (being forced to eat chocolate cake (dog food?), getting beaten for ordering lobster, “if you wanted roast chicken and i wanted steak we always had chicken, i would fucking tantrum because i never had steak, i never won.”)

i think kieran did irreparable damage with this interview (he’s so smart, this was also over a year ago, before the scripts released anything canon).

roman’s relationship to his body is consistently distant and negative (he’s not a real person). he was, as far as we know, the only one who got hit by logan. he’s the shortest, he was sent away to military school which is notoriously regimented and harsh on the body, he was shoved into a cage, he was beaten, and depending on your reading into it there’s also plenty of hints that he might have been sexually abused in some way. he’s seen as the weak dog. he’s constantly treated as such.

i think having control over food is a way he could take control over a body that’s never felt like his, that no one else has ever respected so why should he? i don’t think it’s all about being thin, although we definitely see signs of him being obsessed with his image. he was never going to be the biggest, the manliest, but he could be in control. an eating disorder could be his private thing, the thing he could do well at, no one knows how strong he’s actually being by denying what his body needs. that’s impressive, okay? that counts for something, surely.

he seeks comfort in harm, he doesn’t know what his dad means when he asks if he even made contact, he’d already forgotten, promise. he asks to be degraded, he jumps into a mob asking to be hurt, he needs it, he’s been taking beatings his whole life, he speaks this language. he’s got the gift of the gab when it comes to destroying himself. he’s hurt and he’s hurting but he chose it, he’s got control. he has.

[jomamaofficial]

The Chronicles of A Hero's Daughter pt.2 (Father!All Might and Daughter!Reader Angst Oneshot)

A/N: SO, THIS WAS ASKED IN MY ASK BOX. BUT I STUPIDLY REPLIED TO IT SO I DON'T KNOW WHICH ANON ASKED FOR IT SO I'M JUST GOING TO TAG EVERYONE WHO LIEKD THAT POST HERE AND HOPE IT'S THE BRILLIANT ANON WHO WANTED ME TO WRITE A PART 2. @dark-magic-phoenix @crystal-freak24 @observaureium @justtovi3w62. As always, my Ask Box is open for any requests or just a conversation. Please remember to take care of yourselves, and enjoy. As always, I would love to see your thoughts in the comments :). TW: Graphic descriptions of blood (coughing blood), graphic imagery of crushing a heart (doesn't happen, just explained) CW: difficult father-daughter dynamics. Taglist: @thatcatladywrites @smikys-stuff @kimberlyfletcher @dawnwriterimagines Masterlist Word Count: 1951. Summary: One argument led to another– the foundation of your family was built upon suffering and sacrifice. Secrets were unveiled, revealing the true intentions of your father, the lingering wounds of the past stinging harder than any cut has ever. With tension reaching a breaking point, what happens when you confront your father, searching for the harsh truth, even if it leads to a devastating decision– you will never be the same again. He will never be the same again. 

——————————————————————————————————

Toshinori’s chest rose and fell. 

“You don’t mean that…” 

A pang struck through your heart as your father’s laboured breaths increased, tailing off in steady wheezes that only grew louder. 

“Dad…” you whispered, closing your eyes. “Dad, I didn’t m-”

Your voice cracked, succumbing to the hot tears which burned against your cheeks. Emotions flooded your head, as though they had been waiting to escape from the dam of truth that you had to silence to protect the peace in your family. The pressure had built up and that dam had finally broken in the most irreparable way possible. 

Shame hammered your mind, delivering blunt throbs as you watched your dad clutching his frail chest in agony. 

Guilt drilled poison into your veins as your father struggled to stand up– his sickly body unable to bear this pressure. His airways had been restricted, thus his once strong and proud chest had nothing to show but a vacant cavity, struggling to hold itself up. 

This living room had always been small– enough space just for the two of you. Dad and his little hero. It had always been you two, but today, this room was longer and narrower, as though mocking your sanity which had become a battlefield. 

Would you protect your father and carry on living in this dollhouse family, of which the  foundations were built off of your suffering.

Or would you protect yourself and destroy your relationship with the only family that you ever had.

The struggle had refused to forsake– silence had become your greatest enemy. It had left you alone with your screaming thoughts of doubt that deafened your conviction, leaving you straggled, naked, and vulnerable in the vast depths of your fears because what if. 

What if Midoriya truly was better than you? 

What if you truly were not worth it?

What if you had lost your rights to call yourself his daughter. 

Forever. 

You had lost everything to the ravenous beast which ruined everything you touched, and it wanted more. It wanted more, so it began making more noise, howling over the whispers of the wind, it howled over the ticking of the clock. It howled until nothing could be heard. 

Silence. 

Silence. 

Silence.

It had become silent. 

As though you were the only person in the room. 

A sudden thud drew your attention to the floor. 

Toshinori collapsed on the ground, and his eyes had gone blank, jaw slack. His ribs stuck out from under his skin, showing through his thin white t-shirt as his brassy cough filled his mouth with blood.

He urgently covered his mouth with his hands, forcing it shut but to no avail. It had already slipped past his hold, travelling down his neck, staining his shirt. A constant offender.

Your father began developing bloody coughs over three years ago. Yet every time you saw his chest heave and bleed, surges of nausea would creep up your veins, forcing you to leave. 

“Dad!” 

This was too much blood. It wasn’t meant to be like this… The doctor said a few drops or so, maybe a teaspoon, but that was ‘highly unlikely’. You watched as his white shirt became saturated, dizziness threatening to blur your vision.  

But you could not see him like this. You didn’t think twice before rushing to help him– but you were stopped. 

Toshinori raised his shaking hand immediately. You were halted, frozen in disbelief. 

He put his hand back on the floor, taking a few breaths before pushing himself, warranting another step forward from you, another cry, but he just stopped you again. You could only watch as your father relied on his bony wrists to push himself up. 

You could hear his shallow gasps for air, and his repressed coughs– and all you could do was watch your father’s face contort in fatigue and ache. Toshinori had finally gotten up, but that look had not left his face as he pushed past you. You watched the limp in his leg as he hobbled towards the couch, slowly lowering himself onto the cushioned couch. His head slumped onto the head rest, limbs unfurling in exhaustion. 

You were suspended in your head, unable to move past the questions which rung bright sirens. 

You shouldn’t have raised your voice at your own father– the doctor had told you. He’s injured, he’s getting older. He can’t process such shocks like this anymore.

What was wrong with you? 

But it couldn’t have been just your fault… right? But then he pushed you– maybe he didn’t just notice– but what if he did it on pur-

“Y/N”, your father had called for your name, but his eyes did not meet yours. 

Instead, they looked past you. 

Toshinori Yagi adopted Toshinori Y/N when she was five years old. 

A decade after the first quirk was discovered, many adoption agencies in Musutafu began sorting children based off of a ‘ranking system’. 

Official documents stated that this case was first brought up in the Supreme Court due to an incident that had occurred in an orphanage near Musutafu, 26 years ago. It was a heartbreaking case of manslaughter that had taken place when six year old Chihiro Onodera– Quirk: Lava, accidentally murdered eight year old Honoka Sugo– Quirk: Bubbles, during lunch time as they were play-fighting. 

It did not take much convincing as this case had reached international news, thus the court immediately passed a bill on the separation of quirks preliminary based off of their strength and danger levels, which were to be evaluated on a scale of 1 to 5. 

Nevertheless, this bill had struck a controversial match, becoming the largest contemporary topic that was disputed over in the past years. 

Demonstrations, protests and violent public outrage reached its peak when leaked intel revealed that a lot of children began to go missing from Adoption Agencies under the radar– they no longer had papers, as if their identities had been erased off of the face of this Earth. 

Nanami Tomoda, Sae Ojima, Makoto Kanezaki– these were some of the household names that had garnered petrifying national and international headlines: 

Heartbreaking Tragedy Strikes Japan: Devastating Attack Leaves Communities Reeling 

Japan in Shock: Deadly Assault Rocks Nation's Sense of Security 

Aftermath of Brutal Assault Leaves Nation Grieving Chaos and Carnage

Not much was known about these young adults. 

Apart from two things. 

First. 

They were not independent contractors. All of them could be traced back to some of the very few established, powerful, underground organisations. 

And second.

They were all orphans, rated 5, who had been declared missing for ten or more years.

Toshinori Yagi adopted Toshinori Y/N when she was rated 5. 

Toshinori Y/N lost her quirk at age ten. 

You are rated 0. 

Zero.

Toshinori took a deep breath before he spoke. 

“I have raised you since you were five years old.” He still did not meet your eyes. “I raised you in hopes that you would become a strong, and powerful young lady.” 

He drew a breath in– it was laced in disappointment. 

“But why does it feel, as though it has had no influence on you?”

Toshinori shifted both of his arms onto the couch rests, sitting tall. 

“One does not become a hero by winning every fight. Not everything is about a hero’s physical strength. A hero is made when they understand that retaliation only makes them the real villain.” 

Your father’s voice had deepened, and so did the dreadful pit in your stomach that sunk your resolve. 

“A true hero understands that strength lies in the ability to rise above the pain. Because those who focus on what has been lost”, he continued, lips twitching, as a faint, uncontrollable tremor laced his words in indisputable venomous contempt, “are either insane, or desperate for attention they know they will never get.”

Small muscles in your face began to twitch despite the heaviness that had been pulsed through your body, holding it in place, as you just stood there. Your eyes, once red and exposed, had no inhabitant, no focus. 

A ghost town. 

“A true hero is grateful. And recognises every bit of effort someone else put in order to get them to where they are now.” 

His gaunt eyes found yours, casting an unfamiliar chill in your body. They were sunken in, casting his gaze in dark shadows– an abyss impenetrable by light. 

“You got your quirk stolen, Y/N. But you cannot get that back anymore. But it’s been years, I expect at least some gratitude considering I did you a favour by adopting you.” 

He had left a clot that blocked your heart.

“Because no one else would have wanted you.”

It is always the one closest to you that hurts you the most. 

The man you called your father had waited until the last second to take the satisfaction of crushing your heart, flesh against flesh. 

Humans evolved to gain resistance and immunity against everything that threatens their survival.

Therefore, living with this man only meant that you had to gain immunity against pain and humiliation, because that was the only thing that could guarantee your survival. 

So when you shook off the heaviness in your lid and focused onto your father’s face, you could only lift the corners of your lip.  

“If you didn’t want me. Someone else would have adopted me instead. Like you did. No papers, no nothing– I’d slip under the radar, at least I’d still have my quirk, and end up on those headlines.”

“How dare you?” he uttered, face contorted in malice.

“I was five. That’s why you adopted me. Don’t deny it” 

Toshinori stiffened, his Adam’s apple bobbed up and down. His shoulders, broad and hubris, had become small and meek. You watched him contemplate: his eyes, vindictive and daring, were cast down, hiding amongst the Tatami flooring. 

“My child…” he began, his voice softer. “After your quirk had been stolen, I could not risk making you the target again. That’s the reason I don’t come to your events. It’s because you’ll become the target everyone goes for because they know you’re my daughter”.

“They’ll know?” your lips had pressed into a thin line. “Like how Midoriya knew I was your daughter? Like how the media knows?” 

In the stifling air, your dry laughter bounced off of the discomfort. 

“Don’t act like you aren’t ashamed of me.” 

Your face had settled into a stone. 

“It’s not about me being a target. It’s about protecting your image.”

“My daughter-”

“You have lost the right to call me your daughter. If I was such a disappointment after my quirk was ripped away from me, why did you keep me? You could have sent me back. Why did you keep me, dad, why did you keep me!”

Those closest to you, leave irreparable wounds. 

But there was a reason they were close to you. A reason that subsided in love, care, and hope. 

Your crushed heart was surviving on its last breath, waiting to hear something that could revive it. 

Toshinori lifted his head again, his eyes flickering behind you. 

It locked onto an object that somehow gained more attention than you ever had in your entire life. You risked a look over your shoulder, only to see the picture of your father and Midoriya, smiling–almost mockingly– back at you. 

You knew what the answer was going to be. 

“I’m beginning to question the same thing.”

A flat-line. 

“Well if that’s how you really feel, I have no obligation to stay here anymore.”

You drew your breath in, words suspended at the tip of your tongue. 

“I wish you and your student the best of luck, All Might.”

[nevess]

[ don’t leave me here alone… don’t go where i can’t follow! ] -j. r. r. tolkien

🌱… description: Its been years since you last saw Anakin, still you could not help but nurture the glimpse of hope within you that kept saying the man you loved was not entirely gone. He was not Darth Vader.

🍵 … warnings: lightsaber fight, not very explicit tho. Hearthbreaking feelings ngl

🧳 … character/s: Darth Vader/Anakin Skywalker x Reader

☕️ … word count: around 1k ; | date: October 9th, 2023

🗞️ back to the main menu

a/n: Disclaimer: I looked at it to see if it had inconsistencies, but its almost the same as I wrote it in the draft, so i apologize for any typos :p In other news, im looking for beta readerssss here's the post!

The tension hung heavy in the air as you faced him, the man you loved appeared to be long gone. His helmeted face concealed any trace of the person you once knew, and his voice, distorted by the modulator, carried a tone of bitterness and anger.

"Why, (Y/N)?" he hissed, his red lightsaber humming menacingly. Hearing the sound of your name coming out of his mouth and being distorted by his helmet made you shiver. "Why did you betray me? Why are you with him?" Vader’s voice dripped with a searing sense of betrayal as he spoke, as if every word carried the weight of a love now shattered and a trust irreparably broken. His tone quivered with the pain of feeling abandoned and let down by someone he had once held so close to his heart.

Your heart ached at his words, and you struggled to find the right response. "Anakin, I didn't betray you," you pleaded, your voice trembling. "I never wanted any of this. I just want you to come back to me."

Anakin's breathing was heavy, and his anger seemed to boil over. "You and Obi-Wan," he spat, his words laced with venom. "He turned you against me. Obi-wan couldn't stand knowing that I was more powerful than him, he was jealous—and now you." In all your years of knowing him, you had never heard him refer to you like that. “

“He couldn't stand to see me happy, to see me achieve what I've worked so hard for. I can't let anyone destroy it." 

Tears welled up in your eyes as you took in the heartbreaking reality of the situation. Anakin believed you had turned against him, that you were working to thwart his plans. He couldn't bear the thought of you being on the opposite side, and his desperation had driven him to this point.

A tragedy was unfolding before your eyes as you felt responsible for the total destruction of the love of your life. You watched in despair as Anakin, the man you had cherished and believed in, had been driven to this point of desperation and darkness. It was as though the very essence of the love you had once shared was being consumed by the overwhelming power of the dark side, leaving you with a deep and profound sense of loss that threatened to shatter your very soul. 

Before you could say another word, Anakin lunged at you, his red lightsaber swinging with deadly intent. Reluctantly, you ignited your own lightsaber, the green blade crackling to life. The clash of lightsabers marked the beginning of a battle neither of you had ever wanted, but one that had become inevitable. Each clash of lightsabers felt like another painful blow to your heart, a cruel reminder of what had been and what was now slipping away, seemingly beyond your reach.

As the battle unfolded, your heart was torn between love and sorrow, anger and regret. You fought not just for your life but for the man you had once known, hoping against hope that there was still a chance to bring him back from the abyss.

You couldn't help but remember the days when the two of you had fought side by side as Jedi, when love had blossomed between you. But now, that love seemed like a distant memory, overshadowed by the darkness that consumed him.

Without a word, Darth Vader lunged at you, his crimson blade slashing through the air. Instinct took over once again as a clash of lightsabers filled the space around you, the sound a painful reminder of the divide that now separated you.

As you parried his strikes, you couldn't help but see glimpses of the man you once knew, intuitively you could sense part of him was still fighting against the influences of the dark side. The eyes that had once gazed at you with love and warmth now held only a cold, distant fire beneath the black helmet. Your heart ached as you fought, refusing to believe that the Anakin you loved was entirely gone.

The battle raged on, and with each strike you tried to reach him, to call out to the part of him that had once been good, but your words fell on deaf ears. He was consumed by an indelible feeling that overwhelmed even the quietest parts of his being, an echo that seemed to never stop, and it seemed that nothing could bring him back.

But you couldn't give up, not now, not when you have him in front of you. With every swing of your lightsaber, you held onto a glimmer of hope, a belief that there was still a chance to save him. The battle was fierce and heart-wrenching, a tragic dance of two souls torn apart by the forces of destiny.

In the end, it was Anakin who delivered the final blow, his red blade cutting through your defenses, but it was not a deadly cut; you knew he did that on purpose. As you fell to the ground, gasping for breath, you looked up at him one last time, tears in your eyes.

"Anakin, please," you whispered, your voice filled with love and desperation. "You could come back to me. We all miss you," you say softly while trying to stay calm. The cut on the skin of your leg definitely burned agonizingly. But having him in front of you, with tears flooding your cheeks, you had to make him see reason. Your voice trembles with emotion. "It's okay you made the wrong choices; we'll take you back."

Anakin's eyes, hidden behind his menacing mask, seem to flicker with a hint of conflict. "I'll only hurt you again," he responds, his voice tinged with regret.

It was a cry for help, an agonizing plea that he no longer wanted to inflict pain on others. Seeing you on the ground had inadvertently triggered an internal alarm within him. He had harmed the woman he loved, the woman he had envisioned building a future with, the one with whom he had hoped to grow old.

Tears threaten to spill from your eyes once again, but you swallow hard, determined to reach him. "We'll keep a better eye on it," you insist, desperation seeping into your tone. "We'll learn to live with things, and communicate it all this time."

If this were a movie, the most tense and guilt-ridden soundtrack would undoubtedly be playing in the background. Yet, it wasn't necessary to hear the music to feel the overwhelming weight of remorse and desperation that hung in the air, palpable even through the Force. Anakin awoke from a deep, dark slumber that had consumed him for years, as the realization of what he had become, and what he had done to the love of his life, flooded over him like a tidal wave of anguish and regret. 

For a moment, it seems as if the darkness in Anakin is wavering. You can sense the turmoil within him, the battle between the Sith Lord and the Jedi he used to be. But will your words be enough to bring him back from the brink of darkness?

© Nevess 2023. My original posts are not allowed to be edited, translated and/or re-uploaded on another account or platform without my permission, nevertheless, re-blogs are accepted and very appreciated.

[physalian]

How to Subvert Expectations Without Compromising The Story

Whoo boy, is this a contentious topic with the last few blockbuster franchises. To “subvert expectations” is to do the opposite of whatever your audience expects to happen. Your audience expects the story to go a certain way based on the archetypes and tropes your characters follow, the tone you’ve set for your story, and the level of mature themes that tone allows.

It might mean your long-lost princess doesn’t actually reclaim the throne she’s been fighting for. Or the presumed hero (or any of their straight friends) of the story dies halfway through their arcs. The mentor pegged for death actually survives to the end credits. The villain’s plan actually succeeds, or the heroes fail to deactivate the bomb before it explodes. The “will they/won’t they” is never fulfilled.

Supporters of SE argue the following:

It’s refreshing, novel, new, a fun twist on a classic tale

They like that it’s unpredictable and bold

They’re tired of stories fitting within the same wheel ruts of every other story that came before and like to see creativity thrive

It gives audiences something they didn’t even know they wanted

Haters of SE argue this:

It’s only done for drama at the cost of fulfilling character arcs

It’s a cheap gag that only works once and has zero rewatchability with the same impact

Tropes and archetypes have stood the test of time for a reason - to entertain

Plot holes ensue

When expectations are subverted and the story changes in a more positive light (like a beloved character who doesn’t die when we all think they will), the reaction is not nearly as emotionally charged as when the story changes negatively. Thus, the haters have plenty of evidence of bad examples, but minimize the good ones. Good SE is novel, or a pleasant surprise, or a quaint relief. Bad SE trashes the story and spits on the fans and destroys the legacy of the fandom.

What makes a bad subversion?

Like killing any character for shock value, bad SE takes all of the potential of a good story and gambles it for a string of gasps in the movie theater. It exists only to keep the audience on their toes, or because the writer went out of their way to change the direction of their work when fans figured out the mystery too quickly and now *must* prove all the clever sleuths wrong.

So, say your subversion is making the hero lose a tournament arc when they made it all the way to the final round and the entire story is riding on this victory. They may have stumbled along the way and had some near-misses, but they must win. Not just so the audience cheers, but because this is the direction their arc must take to be at all entertaining and fulfilling.

Then they lose, because it’s *novel* and irreparable consequences are reaped in the aftermath. They lose when, by rights, they were either stronger or smarter or faster than their opponent. They lose when the hand of the author rigs the fight against them and everyone notices.

Sure, it’s not at all what audiences expect, but you, writer, your first responsibility to the people consuming your content is to entertain them. So what purpose does this loss serve this character? How does it impact their arc, the themes that surround them, the message of your story?

Even if mainstream audiences don’t care on the surface about themes and motifs, they still know when a story fumbles. It’s not entertaining anymore, it’s not satisfying. Yes, crap happens in reality, but this is fiction. If I wanted to read about some tragic hero’s bitter and unsatisfying demise, I’d read about any losing side in any war ever in a history book. I picked up a fiction book for catharsis.

On the topic of “gritty fantasy/sci-fi anyone can die and no one is safe” – no author has the guts to roll the dice and kill whoever it lands on. Some characters will always have plot armor. Why? Because you wouldn’t have a story otherwise, you’d just have a bloody, gory, depressing reality TV show with hidden cameras.

What makes a good subversion?

Now. What if this character loses the final round of their tournament, but it’s their own fault? Maybe they get too cocky. Maybe it’s perfectly, tragically in character for them to fall on their own sword. Maybe the audience is already primed with the knowledge that this fight will be close, that there might be foul play involved, but still deny that it will happen because that’s the hero, they won’t lose. Until they do.

Then, it’s not the hand of the author, it’s this character’s flaws finally biting them in the ass. It’s still disappointing, no doubt, but then the audience is less mad at the author and more mad at the dumbass character for letting their ego get to their head.

If you write a character who’s entire goal in life is to win that trophy, or reclaim their throne, or get the girl, and they *don’t* do those things, then the “trophy” had better be the friends they made along the way, that they learned it wasn’t the trophy, it was something *better* and even though they lost, they still won. Even when expectations are shredded, the story still has to say something, otherwise the audience just feels like they wasted their time.

A good subversion does not compromise the soul of the narrative. You might kill a fan favorite character or even the hero of the story, but their impact on the characters they leave behind is felt until the very end. The hero might lose her tournament, but she still walks away with wisdom, maturity, and new friends. Heck, sports movies leave the winner of the big game a toss-up more often than not. Audiences know the game is important, but they know the character they’re following is even more important. Doesn’t matter if the *team* loses the battle, so long as the protagonist wins the Character Development war.

Good SE that should be more popular:

The “Trial of threes” – your hero faces three obstacles and usually botches the first two and succeeds on the third attempt. Subvert it by having them win on the first or second, lose all three, or have a secret fourth

Not killing your gays. Just. Don’t do it. That’ll subvert expectations just fine, won’t it?

Let the villain win

Have your hero’s love interest not actually interested in them because they realize they deserve better / Have the hero realize they don’t want the romantic subplot they thought they did

Have the love triangle become a polycule / have the two warring love interests get with each other instead, or both find someone they don’t have to compete for

Mid-redemption villain backslides at the Worst Moment Possible

Hero doesn’t actually have all the MacGuffins necessary at the Worst Moment Possible

Hero is simply wrong, about anything, about important things, about themselves

The character who knows too much still can’t warn their friends in time, but lives instead with the guilt of their failure

The mentor lives and becomes a bitter rival out to maintain their spot at the top of the charts

Kill the hero, and make the villain Regret Everything

More deadbeat missing parents, not just dead parents

Let the hero live long enough to become the villain

—

Why write a crown prince that never becomes king? What’s the point of his story if all he does is remain exactly who he was on page 1 and learns nothing for his efforts? Why write a rookie racer if he spins out in the infield in the big race and ends his story broken and demoralized in a hospital bed? Why should we, the audience, spend time and emotional investment on a story that goes nowhere and says nothing?

Cinderella always gets a happy ending no matter how many iterations her story gets, because she wouldn’t be Cinerella if she remained an abused orphan with no friends. We like predictability, we like puzzling out where we think the story will go based on the crumbs of evidence we pick up along the way, we like interacting with our fiction and patting ourselves on the back when we’re proven right.

Tragedies exist. There’s seven types of stories and the fall from grace is one of them… but audiences can see a tragedy coming from a mile away. Audiences sign up for a tragedy when they pay for the movie ticket. We know, no matter how much we root for that character to make better choices, that their future is doomed. Tragedy is still cathartic.

What’s not cathartic is being bait-and-switched by a writer who laughs and snaps pictures of our horrified faces just so they can say they proved us wrong. Congratulations? Go ahead and write the rookie broken in the hospital bed. I can’t stop you. Just don’t be shocked when no one wants to watch your misery parade march on by.

[any-mouse]

Ra’s Al-Ghul Is Why We Batclan Can’t have Nice Relationships Things.

Ok, so. I am not someone who knows a lot about the DC fandom, but fics and the DCxDP crowd (who are why I’m here) have given me information and research binges have given me more. And here’s a take I haven’t seen about Jason’s death, and why Batman not killing Joker made things dangerous for Robins. Or did it?

Batman could not win. If Ra’s decided the only thing that would get his chosen heir, or at least son-in-law, into killing would be to kill Robin, it’s time to send his assassins in. Batman keeping to the “no-killing” rule is the only thing keeping a bunch of kids and teens from facing down, not the gangs and henchmen of Gotham, but a literal death cult.

Which is one thing that makes me wonder if that’s hadn’t been Ra’s’ plan, only manipulating the Joker into doing it for him. Which casts Batman undoing Nightwing’s killing of Joker in a very different light.

But there are other things that go along with that. And why Ra’s is a bit, fixated, on poor Tim. With how wrathful and brutal Batman became after, everything, it was only a matter of time before someone died. And then all Ra’s has to do is, wait. Drop hints or little reminders of the League, maybe have Talia swing by a few times. Allow the previous rapport to rebuild itself. In the meantime, build up Jason’s rage, anger, betrayal, and then unleash him on Gotham. Watch as the two brutal titans clashed, until Batman kills Red Hood. It would utterly destroy Bruce to have been the one to kill Jason a second time.

But, ah, there is a chance to fix this. The Lazarus Pit. Bruce will do anything to undo this fatal mistake, wrought at his hands and driven by his wrath. And in his grief stricken desperation, as he looks back on his rampage with despair, at all of the people he maimed, crippled, and killed in his agony, in steps Ra’s. Don’t worry, Ra’s has been collecting them. Fixing them. He does not agree with Bruce’s decision to leave, he still does not support Batman’s policies. But he knew it was important to Bruce so he took steps to ensure that no irreparable damage was done. Slowly, carefully, drawing a grateful Batman back into the fold. Wearing away at morals already cracked by grief and rage, using soft words where harshness has failed. Reviving Jason once again, keeping the two of them orbiting each other like binary stars, unable to leave, but always wanting to stay.

And it’s all foiled by one rich brat who’s stealthier than he has any right to be. Tim knows that Batman is going off the rails of sanity at an ever quickening pace. If he’s close enough for good pictures, he’s close enough for first aid and responder calls. So there is A Lot of damage and wreckage left in Batman’s wake, but nothing that isn’t salvageable. Ra’s won’t have a cadre of former henchmen and goons brainwashed into serving as Gotham’s foot soldiers but that would have been secondary. But Tim does more than that. Tim throws himself between Gotham and Batman because no one else will. Tim is a highly intelligent and self-sufficient child. His self-worth is in the toilet, thank you very much Drake bio-donors.

So Tim out-stubborns Batman and glues himself to his side and pulls him back. He cuts off the roaring rampage of revenge. Batman starts healing and Ra’s just can’t have that, oh no. But this is an easy enough fix, and it’s even better than the first plan. After all, loosing the last Robin to a violent villain led them to this point. How much worse would it be, to have started to heal, only to have it happen again? To destabilize that way again? Oh, Batman will never be able to resist, there had always been the possibility that Red Hood would win. Not high, and not an unworkable outcome, but snuffing out yet another Robin would ensure Red Hood would die, and then Ra’s would have another knife to twist Jason to his will. Taking pointer from his killer, not just his name, tsk tsk.

And it’s not like he couldn’t revive Tim as well, play the two of them off against each other and Bruce. Using their enmity and bitterness to wound Bruce, using Bruce to keep the two of them from spiraling out of control in their rivalry, make them resent Bruce for picking sides, rubbing salt into Jason that Bruce cared enough to avenge Tim but not him. Taunting Tim for what Bruce dragged them all into over Jason. Throw Damian into it just when it seemed to be settling into an uneasy dynamic equilibrium. Setting the boys on Blüdhaven, drawing in Bruce. See which way Bruce jumped, to protect Dick from the boys or if Bruce will try and recruit Nightwing for the League.

Ra’s has so much to gain from Joker killing Jason. It wouldn’t be difficult to send in a few assassins disguised as henchmen to plant the idea. Sacrifice a pawn or two, to gain a queen and rook.

[teenagecriminalmastermind]

Fuck the NRA, and fuck every politician who takes their blood money.

TW: Gun Violence

EIGHTEEN elementary school aged children are gone. 18 sets of parents will never see their kids again, 18 families destroyed. I’m so fucking sick of the NRA pretending like their funded legislation is saving lives.

Anyone who says that this is why we need more guns needs to reconcile themselves with the fact that they too, are okay with little kids being murdered; literally nothing else but stringent gun control is gonna stop this. Columbine wasn’t enough, sandy hook wasn’t enough, parkland wasn’t enough, oxford wasn’t enough and neither will this be.

How can pro gun law supporters reconcile their humanity with these beliefs? there’s more than ample proof that the NRA funded pro gun legislation has done absolutely nothing to curb homicides, but on the contrary increased them.

You’re making deadly weapons accessible to teenagers whose brains aren’t done fully forming. who, in the heat of their emotions, might commit irreparable damage - we don’t let kids DRINK until 21, yet you’re arguing that they have the mental faculties to handle a literal weapon?

Legislators keep complaining about how hard it is to gain bipartisan support, but how hard can it be to gain support for basic humanity? You have been elected to do this arduous task, sworn in to serve the people you represent.

The people you represent don't want bodies riddled with bullet holes, they want their loved ones to come home at the end of the day. And if you believe that staying in power with the aid of death-mongers like Wayne LaPierre and the National Rifle Association is more important than innocent lives, then I hope you remember that you are replacable. The dead are not replacable, but you are.

So do your fucking jobs, or get the fuck out.

[ccatskies]

this is my take on the initial episodes of queen of tears: so, um. hyunwoo’s reaction to haein dying. a lot of people were immediately put off by it and dropped the drama, calling him an asshole. i wouldn’t say the reaction wasn’t a little uncomfortable to watch as a viewer, but that’s only the case if you’ve never put yourself in the shoes of someone suffering immensely from a dysfunctional relationship.

the lack of overt affection was destroying him because his wife is so closed off and would rather care for him in a way that is impossible to be acknowledged by him, she humiliated him in front of his employees and he had to respond w “yes, ma’am” despite not agreeing w her bc she’s his boss, she didn’t stand up for him vocally when her family was berating him to no end, plus the family made him do their household chores against his will. he had to walk on eggshells around them, especially his wife.

it was so bad that there were multiple scenes where his hands were clenched together, trembling. he went to therapy and got strong anxiety meds prescribed in return. this abysmal marriage was crippling him emotionally and mentally (it’s safe to say haein put him through emotional abuse, even if she didn’t intend to affect him that way)

his initial plan was to divorce haein because he couldn’t take it any longer, even if it meant his multimillionaire father-in-law was going to stab him in the back (figure of speech). in fact, he preferred being stabbed over having to face the vengeance of the hong family.

the “window fantasy” isn’t fictional. there are multiple women, unwillingly dependent on their narcissistic husbands (not only bc they can’t go anywhere since their working opportunities have been sabotaged but also bc a bad rep will follow them if they leave or don’t yield to their husbands; tldr: there are consequences to leaving), that have wanted to be widowed at some point bc they couldn’t bear the trauma of the marriage. growing up in a south asian society, i know a thing or two about being stuck in traumatic marriages and the only way being out is if your partner somehow dies.

no one would invalidate an abuse victim if they wanted their abuser to die. so, are these women any different just bc they agreed to the marriage when their partner swore to carry out their commitment? only to find out none of their needs are being met and they’re stuck? are they not being abused?

so, people, to an extent, DO justify it when women want their toxic husbands to die because of terrible life situations.

now, back to QoT. i saw someone on twitter say that if the roles were reversed i.e if haein was the one who was wishing for hyunwoo to die, they’d be okay with it bc “yess go get revenge on your toxic husband and free yourself girl” bc misogyny is a systematic thing. it’s not easy to escape abusive husbands in our society especially when they hold power over their partner.

so, for the opposite to happen i.e the husband wanting his wife to die just looks “bad.”

however, queen of tears is a show where it is blatantly obvious that the gender roles are reversed. something that even my younger brother pointed out seamlessly. the hong “queens” family think they’re progressive for making their sons-in-law do their chores for them (something they did not sign up for). this is how many daughters-in-law are treated in modern society. the only reason “misandry” feels more real in the show, in terms of the hong family, is bc the women of this family certainly hold more power over the sons-in-law because of CLASS. haein is a multimillionaire’s daughter while hyunwoo is a villager’s son. they could easily take revenge on his family in irreparable ways. class distinction exists, power exists, abuse exists.

with all that in mind, hyunwoo might as well have been going through the “widow fantasy” where if he left his wife willingly, he’d have to suffer and if he chose to stay, he’d still need to suffer. the only way out was haein not being in his life anymore without him having to do anything.

it sounds cruel but it’s obvious he was pushed to the edge. he wanted to escape the trauma and it should also be noted that by then, he was completely out of love with haein (he told his therapist that he despised his wife the most). how much can you sympathize w someone you can’t even look at without feeling small?

so, in that period, he must’ve went through an overwhelming amount of emotions while he was on survival mode, not allowing him to think straight, or even consider what he had w haein in the past bc much of that was long gone. furthermore, i don’t think he would’ve been that obsessed w the will revision if yanggi didn’t motivate him to think that way, with the intentions of getting compensation for their poor excuse of a marriage.

so yeah, i wouldn’t say he was being a good husband to her initially. but rather, he was being selfish… by looking out for himself for once. he’s always had to clean up the hong family’s mess, looking after their reputation, never getting peace of his own.

then again, it takes two to tango and the marriage failed bc of both hyunwoo and haein’s lack of efforts. but i would say it was more complicated for hyunwoo bc haein always kept him guessing (and she was indecisive as well; the wedding anniversary issue) and he’s grown up in a pretty communicative family, so not taking his partner’s words at face value isn’t something he’s used to. he felt the most unloved.

so, personally, it was hard for me to sympathize with haein until a few more episodes into the show (this is coming from someone who relates to haein a lot, kind of opened up room for a lot of self reflection). she was a bad wife to the point her partner wanted to die. can’t say if the feeling was mutual on her part. haein herself admitted that she was a terrible partner, understanding why he did what he did, despite it being heartbreaking.

another thing i’ve noticed people say is that hyunwoo was pretending to be the good guy and hiding behind his “kind” actions but you could tell his actions became more genuine and he started to catch feelings again, albeit he was in denial at the beginning. when the divorce agreement papers leaked, he told her the honest truth without coming up w excuses, acknowledging that this whole ordeal hurt haein more than it hurt him. he didn’t take advantage of her memory loss (the rain scene w the cat “aeong”) to cut himself some slack and to make sure haein wouldn’t immediately be plotting against him.

he wasn’t hiding behind his actions or claiming to be a good guy. he was owning up.

he started to care, felt guilty (hotel scene in germany) and realized why and how their relationship failed, worked towards making it better. i think he would’ve been honest and told haein abt the divorce himself anyway but learning about it from her mother kind of broke the trust haein had on him.

anyway, i never thought i’d be on tumblr defending a man who was happy at the news of his wife dying but here we are.

[gvnvks]

arguing with zb1 boys …

> pairings: non-idol!zb1 x fem!reader

> warnings: angsty, mentions of break up and insecurities, lowercase intended, not proofread

> song recommendation: astronomy by conan gray

> note: this is my first and last post THAT long lmaoo 😭 I spent a good week writing this pls don’t let this flop or else ill kms

김 jiwoong.

the air in the room feels heavy, charged with tension like a gathering storm. the once warm and comforting atmosphere has been replaced by a cold, hostile energy. you and jiwoong stand face-to-face, the distance between you filled with a chasm of misunderstanding and jealousy. his eyes burn with a fire you've never seen before, seething with an intensity that sets your heart pounding.

”i can't stand it anymore!” he shouts, his voice filled with a mixture of anger and desperation. ”i can't stand the way he looks at you, the way he touches you. it's driving me insane!”

you feel a wave of confusion wash over you, your mind struggling to make sense of jiwoong's sudden outburst. ”he's just a friend,” you reply, your voice trembling. ”you know that. there's nothing more between us.”

jiwoong shakes his head, his expression twisted with jealousy. ”i see the way he smiles at you, the way he makes you laugh,” he says, his voice laced with bitterness. ”i see the connection you have, and it eats me whole, tears me apart.”

you take a step closer, reaching out to touch his arm, but he recoils as if your touch burns. ”jiwoong, you have to trust me,” you say, your voice pleading. ”you have to trust that my love for you is real, that you're the only one who holds my heart.”

he turns away, his shoulders tense with anger. “how can i trust when all I feel is this overwhelming fear?” he says, his voice filled with anguish. “i can't bear the thought of losing you to someone else.”

your heart breaks at his words, at the depth of his insecurities. “jiwoong, love isn't about possession,” you say, your voice gentle but firm. “it's about trust, about believing in the strength of our bond. i chose you, and i choose you every day.”

he looks at you, his eyes filled with pain. “i want to believe you,” he says, his voice barely above a whisper. “but these feelings, this jealousy, it consumes me. im afraid it will destroy us.”

you take a step closer, your hand trembling as you reach out to cup his face. “let's work through this together,” you say, your voice filled with determination. “let's communicate, let's find a way to heal these wounds. i don't want to lose you, jiwoong. i want to fight for us.”

for a moment, there's a flicker of hope in jiwoong's eyes, a glimmer of the love that once bound you together. but then, he pulls away, his expression hardened. “i don't know if I can,” he says, his voice heavy with resignation. “i don't know if i have it in me to let go of this jealousy.”

and with those words, the fragile thread that held your relationship together snaps, shattering into irreparable fragments. the pain of the argument hangs heavy in the air, suffocating the love that once bloomed between you. you both stand there, wounded and broken, realizing that sometimes, love alone isn't enough to overcome jealousy and insecurities.

장 hao.

in the twilight hour, the world around you seems to hold its breath, suspended in a fragile balance between darkness and light. the air crackles with tension as you and hao stand face to face, your voices rising in a crescendo of anger and frustration.

the sky above is a canvas of swirling clouds, mirroring the turmoil within your hearts. each word spoken is like a thunderclap, echoing through the depths of your souls, leaving cracks in the foundation of your once-unbreakable bond.

“why, hao? why can't you see what we have?” you cry out, your voice raw with pain. “we've shared laughter and tears, built dreams and held each other through the darkest nights. how can you doubt us now?”

hao's eyes meet yours, his gaze filled with uncertainty. “i wish I had the answers,” he responds, his voice strained. “but lately, i started questioning whether we are truly meant to be.”

your heart clenches at his words, a torrent of emotions crashing against the walls you had built together. “but what about the promises we made, the vows we shared?” you plead, your voice trembling. “are they just empty echoes now?”

hao's voice wavers, his defenses crumbling beneath the weight of his doubt. “i never wanted it to come to this,” he confesses, his voice laced with regret. “but I can't deny the gnawing ache in my heart, the yearning for something more.”

the tears well up in your eyes, each drop a testament to the agony of a love on the brink of fracture. “what more could you possibly want?” you whisper, your voice barely audible. “i've given you all of me, poured my very soul into this love. is that not enough?”

your boyfriend’s expression softens, the pain etched across his face. “it's not about you not being enough,” he murmurs, his voice carrying the weight of his own anguish. “it's about me and the uncertainty that shadows my heart. i need to find my own path, even if it means leaving you behind.”

the words strike you like a dagger, piercing deep into your wounded heart. the world around you blurs as the storm within intensifies, the anguish and fury mingling together in a symphony of shattered dreams.

“how can you say that?” you cry out, your voice breaking. “to forsake all we've built for the sake of your own uncertainty? don’t you see the pain you'll leave in me?”

hao's shoulders slump, his voice barely a whisper against the roaring tempest of emotions. “i see it all too clearly,” he murmurs, his gaze filled with regret. “but i can't continue to live a lie, to cling to a love that no longer feels true. we both deserve better than that.”

silence falls upon you both, heavy and suffocating, as the reality of your crumbling love hangs in the air. the path ahead is uncertain, veiled in shadows and unanswered questions. the bond that once held you together now threatening to break.

and so, in the dying light of a love that once burned so bright, you stand on the precipice of a heart-wrenching decision, knowing that even if you fight against the current, you may have to learn how to let go and find healing in the depths of your shattered souls.

성 hanbin.

the room feels suffocating. you stand there, your heart pounding in your chest, your hands trembling. hanbin, your boyfriend, stands across from you, his eyes filled with regret and realization. but it's too late; the damage has been done.

a delicate veil of silence hangs between you, shattered only by the echoes of your racing thoughts. the words he uttered, meant as a joke, pierced through your soul like a thousand arrows. they struck at the very core of your insecurities, tearing open wounds you thought had healed.

tears well up in your eyes, threatening to spill over, as you find your voice, shaking with anger and hurt. “how could you?” you whisper, your voice a mere thread of sound.

hanbin's face contorts with remorse, his eyes pleading for forgiveness. “i didn't mean it like that,” he stammers, his voice strained. “it was just a joke. i didn't realize...”

but his words fall on deaf ears, drowned out by the roaring storm within you. “you didn't realize?” you shout, your voice breaking through the silence. “you didn't realize how much those words would hurt me? how they would reopen old wounds?”

the room vibrates with the intensity of your emotions, each word a lightning strike in the darkened sky. the weight of your pain hangs heavy in the air, choking the both of you. hanbin takes a step closer, his arms outstretched in an attempt to comfort, but you recoil, your body a fortress protecting a fragile heart.

“don't touch me.” you cry out, your voice sharp and filled with anguish. “not after what you've said. not after tearing me apart with your thoughtless words.”

hanbin's face crumples, his shoulders dropping with the weight of his mistake. “i'm so sorry,” he whispers, his voice laced with desperation. “i never meant to hurt you. please, give me a chance to make it right.”

but the echoes of his apology are met with the bitter taste of anger, of wounds that run too deep. the tempest within you rages on, each gust of emotion pushing you further apart.

“you can't fix this,” you say, your voice trembling with a mixture of sorrow and resolve. “not with words, not with empty promises. the damage has been done, and it will take more than apologies to heal these wounds.”

the room falls silent once more, the quietness enveloping you like a heavy fog. hanbin stands before you, his face etched with regret, his eyes a reflection of the pain he has caused. but as you look into those eyes, you realize that sometimes love is not enough to mend what has been broken.

with a heavy heart, you turn away, your steps faltering as you leave the room, leaving behind a love that has been scarred by insensitivity. the door closes behind you, sealing the chasm that has formed between you, and the tears finally spill over, mingling with the shattered pieces of your heart.

석 matthew.

in the fading light of the evening, the atmosphere inside the house is heavy, like a storm ready to unleash its fury. the clock on the wall ticks relentlessly, each passing second fueling the mounting frustration within you. you sit on the edge of the couch, anxiously awaiting matthew's return, your heart pounding in your chest.

as the minutes stretch into hours, your worry transforms into anger. the promises he made, the reassurances of punctuality, now feel like nothing more than hollow echoes in your ears. your patience wears thin, frayed by the passage of time and the unanswered questions lingering in your mind.

finally, the front door creaks open, and matthew steps inside, his presence igniting a volatile mix of relief and fury within you. his face is flushed, his hair tousled, and the faint scent of alcohol clings to his clothes like a bitter reminder of his tardiness.

“where have you been?” you demand, your voice laced with a mixture of frustration and concern. “you said you would be home hours ago!”

matthew's eyes meet yours, and a flicker of guilt passes through his gaze. “i'm sorry,” he replies, his voice strained. “things got out of hand, and I lost track of time.”

your anger rises like a tempest, swirling within your chest, threatening to consume you. “lost track of time?” you repeat, your voice rising with each word. “do you know how worried i’ve been? how much i've been waiting for you?”

his eyes drop to the floor, unable to meet your gaze. “i didn't mean to make you worry,” he murmurs, his voice barely audible.

a surge of frustration courses through your veins, your words turning sharp as you confront him. “it's not just about the worry,” you say, the bitterness staining your tone. “it's about respect. it's about honoring your word and valuing our time together.”

your boyfriend’s shoulders slump, the weight of his actions settling upon him. “i know,” he says, his voice laced with remorse. “i messed up. I didn't think about how it would affect you.”

the room feels suffocating, the air thick with unspoken emotions and shattered expectations. you take a deep breath, trying to steady yourself, but the anger within you refuses to be quelled.

“you can't just keep doing this,” you say, your voice shaking with intensity. “you can't keep disregarding my feelings, my trust.”

matthew's eyes glisten with regret as he looks up at you, his voice filled with anguish. “i don't want to lose you,” he pleads, his words a desperate plea. “i'll do better, I promise. Just give me another chance.”

your heart wavers between anger and love, torn between the desire for resolution and the pain of disappointment. you take a moment to gather your thoughts, the silence between you stretching like an infinite chasm.

“i need time,” you finally say, your voice weary. “time to heal, time to rebuild the trust that has been broken.”

matthew nods, his face etched with remorse, his voice a whisper. “i understand,” he says, his words heavy with regret. “i'll do whatever it takes.”

and with that, the echoes of your argument linger in the air, as the two of you retreat to your respective corners, unsure of what the future holds, but aware that the bonds between you have been strained, leaving scars that will take time to mend.

김 taerae.

amidst the dimly lit room, you stand with your heart racing and your eyes brimming with tears. taerae, your boyfriend, stands opposite you with a scowl etched onto his face, his voice hoarse with anger. the air is thick with tension, and you can feel your chest constricting as he spits out the word that cuts you to the bone - “clingy.”

you feel a surge of anger rise within you as his words strike a nerve. how could he say such a thing? you're only trying to show him how much you care, how much he means to you. but instead, he sees it as a weakness, a flaw that he can't stand.

“you're suffocating me,” he says again, his voice dripping with disdain. “i can't breathe when you're around. you're always there, always in my space, always wanting more from me. i need space, i need time alone. can't you see that?”

you feel your heart breaking as his words sink in. is that how he really sees you? as a burden, a nuisance, someone who can't give him what he needs?

”i don't understand,” you say, your voice trembling with emotion. ”i'm only trying to be there for you, to show you how much i care. why can't you see that? why can't you appreciate what i'm trying to do?”

taerae's face darkens as he steps closer to you, his eyes blazing with fury. ”because you're smothering me,” he says, his voice low and menacing. ”you're suffocating me with your neediness, your constant demands for my attention. can't you see that you're driving me away?”

you feel a lump form in your throat as you realize that he's serious, that he really does feel this way about you. all the love and affection you've poured into this relationship, all the sacrifices you've made, and it's still not enough. you're still not enough.

”i don't know what to do,” you whisper, tears streaming down your face. ”i love you so much, but if this is how you feel, then maybe we should just... end things.”

taerae's face softens as he reaches out to touch your cheek, his fingers gentle against your skin. ”no,” he says, his voice low and soothing. ”i don't want to end things. i just... i need some space, some time to breathe. can you give me that? can you understand that i need some time to myself?"

you nod, your heart heavy with the weight of his words. you don't want to lose him, but you also don't want to be a burden. you want to be the kind of partner he needs, but you don't know how to be anything else.

”i’ll try," you say, your voice barely above a whisper. ”i’ll try to give you space, to let you have some time for yourself. but please... please don't give up on us. please don't leave me.”

your boyfriend’s arms wrap around you, his embrace warm and reassuring. “i won't leave you,” he whispers, his lips pressed against your hair. “i love you too much to let you go. we'll work through this, together. i promise.”

and as he holds you close, you feel a glimmer of hope in your heart. maybe things can work out between you after all, maybe there's a way to bridge the gap between your needs and his.

리키 ricky.

amidst the flickering candlelight, the atmosphere teeters on the edge of tumultuous uncertainty. the restaurant's ambiance, once a romantic haven, now feels heavy with the weight of accusation and doubt. you and ricky sit across from each other, the tension palpable, like a tightly coiled spring.

your eyes narrow as you watch your boyfriend engage in conversation with the waitress. her laughter dances through the air, a melody that sends ripples of unease cascading through your heart. you can't help but notice the way ricky's eyes linger on her, his smile widening in her presence. the seed of jealousy takes root within you, its tendrils twisting and knotting, threatening to strangle the love you once held so dear.

“i can't believe you're flirting with her,” you say, your voice laced with accusation, your words cutting through the charged silence. “am i not enough for you? do you find her more interesting?”

ricky's eyes widen in disbelief, his voice rising to match your own. “how dare you accuse me of such things?” he exclaims, his words dripping with indignation. “i'm simply being polite, engaging in casual conversation. is that a crime?”

your heart pounds in your chest, a maelstrom of conflicting emotions swirling within. “it's more than just casual conversation,” you retort, your voice quivering with hurt. “i see the way you look at her, the way you make her laugh. It's like I don't even exist.”

ricky’s face flushes with anger, his voice now tinged with frustration. “you're being paranoid,” he snaps, his words sharp as shards of glass. “i can't believe you would think so little of me. you should trust me.”

trust. the word hangs in the air like a bitter reminder of the cracks forming in your once-solid foundation. your eyes well up with tears, a mixture of anger, sadness, and confusion. how did you reach this point, where doubt has become the unwelcome intruder in your love story?

“i want to trust you,” you say, your voice choked with emotion. “but right now, all i feel is this gnawing uncertainty, this fear that i’m not enough.”

ricky's eyes soften, a flicker of realization crossing his face. he reaches out, his hand trembling as it hovers in the space between you, wanting to bridge the growing divide. “i never meant to make you feel that way,” he says, his voice now gentle, his eyes pleading for understanding. “you’re more than enough for me.“

the room seems to sigh with the weight of those words, as if a storm has finally been unleashed, cleansing the air of its stifling tension. your heart aches, torn between the desire to believe and the fear of being hurt.

“i need you to show me,” you say, your voice barely above a whisper. “i need you to prove that my fears are unfounded, that our love is stronger than any temptation.”

your boyfriend’s expression softens, his hand finding its way into yours. “i will show you,” he promises, his voice filled with a newfound determination. “i will prove to you that you are the one who holds my heart, that no one else can compare.”

김 gyuvin.

you stand before gyuvin, your eyes filled with a mix of frustration and hurt, longing to be heard, to have your feelings acknowledged.

“you care more about your games than you do about me,” you say, your voice trembling with an undercurrent of pain. “it feels like I'm competing for your attention, constantly playing second fiddle to a virtual world.”

gyuvin's eyes narrow, a smirk playing on his lips as he leans back, as if your words are nothing more than a joke to him. “oh, come on,” he retorts, his voice soaked with condescension. “you're making a big deal out of nothing. it's just a game. don't be so dramatic.”

his words strike you like a dagger, each syllable carving deeper into your heart. how could he belittle your emotions, dismiss your concerns so callously? tears blurry your vision, but you refuse to let them fall, determined to stand your ground.

“it’s not just a game to me," you reply, your voice trembling but defiant. “it's about the time and attention you invest in something, while leaving me feeling neglected and unimportant.”

your boyfriend rolls his eyes, his dismissive gesture cutting through you like a gust of icy wind. “you're overreacting,” he scoffs. “it's not like i ignore you completely. can't you see how ridiculous you're being?”

you feel the walls closing in, the room growing smaller with each passing second. the pain within you intensifies, a symphony of emotions crescendoing in your chest.

“i’m not being ridiculous,” you say, your voice shaking with a mixture of hurt and anger. “i deserve to be with someone who sees me, who values my presence, not someone who mocks my feelings and belittles them.”

gyuvin's expression wavers, a flicker of realization crossing his face. for a moment, silence hangs heavy between you, the weight of unspoken truths swirling in the air. the room feels heavy, as if the gravity of your words has anchored you both to the ground.

“i didn't mean to make you feel that way,” gyuvin finally admits, his voice softer, the arrogance in his eyes replaced by a hint of remorse. “i guess i got carried away. i didn't realize how much it was affecting you.”

your heart softens, the storm within beginning to subside, revealing a glimmer of hope amidst the chaos. slowly, you take a step forward, your voice filled with vulnerability and yearning.

“all i want is to feel seen, to know that my feelings matter to you,” you say, your voice a gentle plea. “can we find a way to balance your passion for games with the love and attention i need?”

his gaze softens as he nods, a genuine smile tugging at the corners of his lips. as you reach out to touch his hand, a newfound understanding blooms between you.

박 gunwook.

the room feels like a battleground, the air charged with the electricity of an impending clash. gunwook stands before you, his eyes ablaze with frustration, as you struggle to find the right words to convey the storm brewing within your heart.

“can't you see?” you exclaim, your voice quivering with a mixture of anger and hurt. “i need my private space, my personal sanctuary. it feels like you're invading every part of me.”

gunwook’s jaw clenches, his voice rising in response. “i'm just trying to be close to you,” he retorts, his tone filled with equal parts defiance and exasperation. “i thought love meant being open and sharing everything.”

a wave of frustration crashes over you, like a torrential downpour threatening to drown your very soul. you take a step closer, your eyes locking with gunwook's, searching for a glimmer of understanding amidst the tumultuous sea of emotions.

“but love also means respecting boundaries,” you say, your voice laced with a mix of determination and pain. “it means understanding that we are two separate beings, that we need our private spaces.”

his eyes flash with resistance, brows furrowing in stubborn defiance. “i just want to be a part of your world,” he replies, his voice tinged with desperation. “i want to know everything about you, to be there for you in every moment.”

you take a deep breath, your chest rising and falling like the crashing waves against jagged cliffs. you want to make gunwook understand, to bridge the gap between your hearts, but the words feel like thorns on your tongue.

“it's not like i keep anything away from you,” you say, your voice softening, tears threatening to spill over. “it's about having the freedom to nurture our own passions, our own dreams, and to come together as stronger individuals, supporting each other.”

gunwook's gaze falters, the hard edges of his defiance slowly eroding. the room becomes an echo chamber of silence, as the weight of your words hangs heavy in the air. time seems to stand still, as you both stand at the precipice of a choice that could alter the course of your relationship.

“i didn't realize,” gunwook finally admits, his voice breaking with vulnerability. “i never meant to invade your private space. i just... i love you so much that I wanted to be a part of every aspect of your life.”

your heart aches, caught between the fierce love you hold for gunwook and the need to protect your own sense of self. slowly, you reach out, your fingertips grazing against his trembling hand, as you seek to bridge the divide between you.

“i love you too,” you whisper, your voice filled with a delicate tenderness. "we’ll get through this. together. you just need to respect, that sometimes i need my own space.”

gunwook's shoulders relax, a flicker of understanding finally shimmering in his eyes.

한 yujin.

the room is filled with the sound of crashing waves, the tempestuous storm of your argument raging on and on, with no end in sight. you and yujin stand on opposite sides, your words sharp and cutting, your voices raised in anger and frustration. the real reason for the argument has been lost in the tumult, the source of your anger and pain now nothing more than a distant memory.

“you just don't get it!” yujin shouts, his eyes blazing with anger. “you never listen, you never understand, and i'm sick of it!”

“i don't get it?” you reply, your own voice rising in response. “you're the one who's not making any sense! we're arguing about nothing, and yet you still find a way to blame me!”

the heavy weight of air presses down on you, suffocating you. you both know that the words you're exchanging are born from a deeper pain, a wound that refuses to heal. but in the heat of the moment, all that matters is the anger, the frustration, the hurt that boils within.

“why can't you just see my side for once?” yujin shouts, his hands clenched into fists. “why do you always have to be so damn stubborn?”

“why can't you just let it go?” you reply, your own hands shaking with anger. “why do you always have to make everything so difficult?”

the words feel like barbs, cutting deep into your heart, each one a reminder of the pain that simmers just beneath the surface. you both know that this argument isn't about the trivialities that you're fighting over, but about something much deeper, something that you've both been trying to ignore for far too long.

and yet, even as you hurl insults and accusations at each other, a small part of you wonders if this is it. the end of the road, the point of no return. you wonder if the love that once bound you together has finally reached its breaking point, shattered by the weight of your pain and anger.

but then, just as suddenly as it began, the storm subsides. you both stand there, panting, your breaths coming in ragged gasps, as you realize that the real reason for your argument has been lost in the chaos. you both feel the weight of regret settling upon your shoulders, the ache of loss and pain washing over you like a tidal wave.

“i’m sorry,” you whisper, your voice hoarse with emotion. “i didn't mean any of those things.”

“i’m sorry too," yujin replies, his voice softening. “i just... i don't know how to make things right.”

you both stand there, the silence stretching on for an eternity, as you both realize that the love you share is worth fighting for. even when the winds of anger and pain threaten to tear you apart, you both know that there's a love that still binds you together, a love that refuses to die.

and as you reach out to take yujin's hand, you both know that the road ahead will be long and difficult, but that you're ready to face it together, hand in hand, united by a love that will never falter.

gvnvks © 2023

[jethrowest]

i’ve been dead and i wanna come out…

- afraid by sarah fimm

Hood, with you, trying to live a slower-paced, easier life. How he deals with it. How you both do. How you love each other and express it.

Word count: 1.3k

Warnings: mental struggle/anguish, mentions of trauma, hurt/comfort, angsty sex. 18+

—

He hides among the hollow of your breast, whimpering into it like a wounded dog. You smooth your hands down the muscles lining his spine, soothing him with repetitive motion. “It’s okay. You’re safe here. Fall into me. I’ve already caught you. There you go…”

He nuzzles against you, tears seeping into the burn of his cheeks. He draws you so close to him, squeezing your back like he’s afraid you’ll slip through his yearning for a simpler life, like you’ll stay behind and be consumed by the flames of his past.

“I’m so proud of you,” you continue, kissing the top of his head, your lips brushed by the concentrated points of his buzz cut. “You’re a good man. A good man. And I love you more than I’ve loved anyone or anything.” You grip his face and lift him up. Knotted brow, dried tears, wet lashes. A fresh one rolls into the angle of your thumb, stroking along his ignited skin.

He slackens his jaw and stares deeply into your eyes. He hates coming undone like this. His heart beats rapidly in his ears.

Releasing you, he gathers the shirt you’re wearing- his shirt- and hastily removes it. You sit naked upon the counter, your hair messy from the fabric pulling it upward. His mouth opens briefly, taking you all in before drawing you into a desperate kiss. He moves harshly against you, squeezing his eyes shut and scooting you toward the edge.

You taste his salt on your tongue. Experiencing it fully, his hands on your aching hips- aching from his intense emotions forging a home within you, becoming yours as well- makes you cry with him. Quietly, softly.

This is what he does. Breaks others down. Destroys. Why should you be any different?

He decides, suddenly, that he needs to be inside you. His thumb strokes your clit and you moan into his mouth. He twitches in his sweat pants, his need for a distraction, to pour all that he has somewhere else, making him throb uncomfortably.

When he’s sure you’re aroused enough, he hooks his fingers beneath you and you simultaneously wrap your limbs around him as he carries you to the bedroom.

He’s so warm, a sharp transition from the constant chill of the kitchen’s countertop. You wonder what’s brought this on, but you don’t question him. You’re both in survival mode, even when it comes to what others might deem simple. As commonplace.

When things settle and relax, neither of you are able to follow that pace. You’re never fully at ease.

But it’s all you want. It’s all you can think about. It makes you tense further. You should be able to move like everyone else. You shouldn’t be stuck. But you are.

You unravel together. Somehow, somehow. Two irreparably damaged people discover ways to fit their broken pieces together. Find solace among your individual suffering.

Despite his evident impatience, you are placed upon the tangled sheets with care and consideration. You can’t help but search his tender yet violence-ridden expression, caress his hard cheekbones, taut jawline. He slides out of his loungewear and positions himself in front of your parted center. You’re open to him. More than you’ve ever been with anyone, including yourself.

You both gasp when he enters you, your lower half pulling him as close to you as possible. His hands are on either side of your head, and for what feels like an eternity, he can’t look at or touch you. He simply loses himself inside your heat; your inviting, comforting body, swallowing thickly as he increases his rhythm.

He loves you so much. Why does that lead him to dragging you into his impossible, opaque depths? Why won’t he release you to the light? Why does he keep you here, trapped within his pain? Surrounded by yours as well?

Why won’t he release you?

With a strangled groan, a sound that causes your concern for him to rise along with the stimulating sensations he provides- a sound that twists and wrings your insides out like a wet rag- he holds your hips down, thumbs digging into your vulnerable flesh. He’s too fast now, all-at-once. Skin slapping skin, raw, unyielding

You should be free. He should set you free. But he forces you deeper into his chaos, into him. He forces you to believe you’ll be in a better place some day. You’ll be happy.

You’re starting to hurt. It’s not what it might have began as.

Again, you take his face in your hands, trying to get him to look at you, to focus, and you squeeze. “Slow… slow down, honey, please, I’m not… going anywhere…”

Hot tears collect in the corners of your eyes. But he slows. For a few seconds, it doesn’t seem like he will. Like he’s too far gone.

You wish you could read his thoughts. What he’s truly reacting to, reaching for. Is being here enough?

Past the blood roaring in his ears, he is able to hear you. Attuned to the slightest of your shifts. He falls into you like you told him he could. He shudders from the sobs that suddenly overtake him. And he affixes himself to you, still inside. You keep him there. You don’t move away from his firm, distraught embrace.

You tip your head back as far as it will go. You pulsate, unsure of what will happen next. You know he doesn’t want to hurt you. You know he endures enough as it is. You know this is a break, a flood; that this is something you can mend and love as if it’s yours.

He’s held your burdens just as close to his own chest.

Your fingers flow across his back, like before. You pause when you return to the tops of his shoulders. You soak him up, gather him to you. Let him do what he needs to.

Finally, he lifts himself. His movements are uncertain, but they encompass a specific kind of strength. His breaths are hot, panting against your neck. You feel his tears seep into your skin. What previously formed in your eyes also escapes, moisture eventually disappearing back inside you.

His gaze is heavy when it meets yours.

He wants to speak, you can tell. You’re in no hurry, no rush. So you stare at each other, feeling him gradually calm, his heart beat a steadier rhythm.

Your throat is dry, nearly closing. He kisses your nose, your cheeks, your jaw; your lips. His tears stick to you.

“You,” his voice wavers. “You looked so peaceful.” A small, watery smile flickers over his mouth. “You made me breakfast.”

You laugh gently, a little strained from the amount of emotions that tore through you these last few minutes.

“I promise I didn’t burn it.”

He laughs now, tickling the tepid tips of your features.

“I didn’t mean… I-” You press your index to his lips, tilting your head. He exhales, smile fading into a sincerity you’re not sure you’ve seen before. He grasps your wrist and rests your open palm to the curve of his cheek.

“No apologies. Just… show me how grateful you are. Who knows. Might earn you a lifetime supply of breakfasts.”

His mouth twinges, floating between a perplexed and hopeful grin.

Hopeful, he realizes.

“We’ll, uhhh…” he rasps, clearing his throat, “-be here all day if I show you how grateful I am. Won’t even get to enjoy the meal you cooked.”

You smile, the mood change a slow burn as opposed to a devastating burst of flames. Your fingertips are gentle but firm at the nape of his neck. You pull him in for a sweet, lingering kiss. He still tastes like salt.

The hands that hold you no longer dismantle. They might tear and rip at the smallest sign of normalcy. But they won’t bleed you out in the process.

You can bleed together. It won’t kill you anymore.

You choose to live.

Starting with breakfast.

[sad-outsider]

Why I didn't like the ending of R&R. Final part

The final part of my analysis and the main reason for my indignation is that the ending of R&R destroyed the entire arc of Alina’s development as a heroine.

Where does the trilogy begin? Alina is powerless, sick, lonely, not finding a place in this world and the only close person is Mal (although this is a controversial statement). Then, according to the classics, she turns out to be the chosen one, she finds allies, enemies and a great goal. In a good story, the main character is faced with difficult choices more than once over the course of the story, and each such choice changes him; each action has consequences and, as a rule, irreparable ones.

What do we see in the ending of TGT? Alina is back where she started, alone and powerless again, while constantly remembering the brightest period of her life, when she was a Grisha, and Mal, whom she sacrificed for the sake of victory, was ✨magically resurrected✨ simply because it was necessary, because Mal her one “true love”, her ray of sunshine and she doesn’t need anyone else, ugh.

What is the message of this story? Never grow up? Live in childhood? Shift responsibility to others, because you don’t want to do something yourself? Maintain the status quo, because you don't care about other people's problems? if you are oppressed, be patient and hope for a miracle? Do not under any circumstances dare to resist oppression, otherwise you are a villain and deserve to die? Excellent moral, Leigh Bardugo… for some immature people.

This ending is tantamount to what if Harry Potter had not destroyed the Horcruxes at the end, become a Muggle, allowing some strangers to kill Voldemort, and then got a job at McDonald's to provide for the Dursleys and returned to live in the closet, nostalgic for Hogwarts, and the author would have said in all seriousness , that everything was originally planned this way and would present it as a happy ending, and not as a tragedy. Do you think many fans of the franchise would be happy with such a “happy ending”? I don't think so.

For those who say that the ending should not always be standard and predictable, I agree, but you just need to be able to write a non-standard ending, otherwise it is better to follow the well-trodden path. After all, the whole point of surprises is that they should please. If someone shits under my door, I will certainly be surprised, but will I be happy?

And for those especially gifted who believe that I have no right to judge the author, because “this is her world, she sees it that way, and if you don’t like it, don’t read it.” I wouldn't say a word if this were fan fiction. But this is a commercial product, I bought these books with money, hoping to read an exciting story with a dark romance (yes, I am one of those people who started reading and finished it mainly because of Darklina), but instead I got wasted potential and disappointment. And people usually get angry when they aren't sold what they want.

[kaseyskat]

the other day i wrote a little smth as a warm up that is based mostly on musings i associate with @officialgleamstar (thank u travvy ily) and i have decided against my better judgement to post it! for funsies

~~~

Taylor’s mom bought the house.

It was a gift to them, after Normal had studied and studied to learn a spell that could regrow her disintegrated hand and after the near end of the world left them far too behind in their schooling to catch up. A safe place: they didn’t have to live there, but Link stayed there as he slowly mended the relationship with his dad, and sometimes Taylor would come for solitude, and sometimes Normal would visit just to get away from his family.

And Scary? Well.

After her stepdad’s death, she hadn’t gone back home. How could she? Her relationship with her mother was irreparably destroyed, torn to shreds and left a bleeding corpse. It was hard enough to call her when all was said and done, hands trembling as she tried to explain the craziness of the world.

She loves her mother. Her mother doesn’t deserve this: a heart broken twice over, the death of her husband and subsequent death of the daughter she knew. No, it was easier for Scary to go to Normal’s dad and beg him to use magic to wipe her mother’s memory, to give her a chance to start again.

She hopes that she’s happy, somewhere, somehow. It would make everything worth it.

Hermie stays with her at the new house most often. He, too, couldn’t go back home to his adopted parents after everything, not with how long he’s been gone, the truth of his heritage revealed. Despite it, Scary almost doesn’t mind: she likes the company, surprisingly enough.

Hermie’s mellowed out over the years. Now, at eighteen, she’s been working on her GED just like Scary has, wanting to fly over the world and audition at different colleges. I still think it’d be neat to get on Broadway, they had confessed to Scary once, when the dark of the night had been heavy and oppressive and all they could do was sit on the porch and share a blunt. Feels like a silly goal after the end of the world, though.

When they’re not trying so hard, he’s actually kind of a neat person. Scary finds his company endearing.

They never had gotten their marriage annulled. It was pointless: Taylor’s dad, for all his charms, was legally dead after disappearing when Taylor was a kid, and it would just be too much effort. Scary doesn’t think she minds, even if she hadn’t technically consented to the marriage in the first place.

Tonight, though, Normal is the one visiting. She finds him sitting in the living area, curled up in the pillows, staring wistfully at the TV screen when she comes down the stairs to make herself dinner.

“Hey, Norm,” she greets, softly, watching the way his gaze flickers to her and back again. “What’s wrong?”

“Hi, Terri,” Normal mumbles, and he shifts around a little bit, leaving just enough space for Scary to squeeze in next to him, drawing him into her arms. He goes willingly, pliant against her chest, shivering.

His hair has grown out into a wild mess of curls that he’s braided loosely. It’s cute. He’s cute, although Scary would never admit so out loud.

“Mom’s made some progress with Margaret,” he explains, his tone muffled as Scary starts to work on unbraiding his hair– as it is, it’s half fallen out, and will only make it harder to sleep later, she knows the pain pretty well. “But with Dad spending so much time with my grandparents… I don’t know. It just gives me the creeps. Is that bad?”

“If you want me to tell you you’re not a bad person, you’ve come to the wrong gal,” Scary snorts. “I’m glad to see you though. Feels like it’s been forever since you came to visit last.”

“I might stay for a few days this time. At least until Dad gets back. She told me that she’d be finding an apartment when she came back to San Dimas, so I won’t have to deal with Margaret smiling at me all the time.” Normal shudders, and he makes a quiet whimpering sound as Scary’s fingers brush a little too close to his neck.

“Stay as long as you want, seriously,” Scary tells him. “Hermie’s been practicing monologues at me again, and let me tell you, I did not miss the method acting one bit.”

Normal laughs at that, and then they fall quiet.

For some reason, he’s the easiest one to deal with, in the aftermath of it all. Link is just… angry at the world, and all the sweet charm that had attracted Scary to him in the first place is gone, replaced with a quiet frustration. Oh, he’s still the loyal teddy bear to them and the others, but even as he repairs things with Grant…

…he hasn’t been the same, after it all.

Then again, had any of them? Scary thinks if she told her younger self that one day she’d be here, living in an extravagant house paid by a famous voice actress, holding Normal Oak in the closest facsimile to a relationship she’s ever had… well, she’d think it was a crazy fever dream, for sure.

It’s nice. Scary’s had the concept of family broken and plastered with glue and duck-tape and then broken again, but somehow she’s found it, and she’s found it here: playing with Normal’s hair, twisting the curls in her fingers now that it’s freed from its constraints, his head tucked into her chest, body pliant against hers.

It’s the closest thing to love that she has, and by the Gods Above, she’s going to take it.

“Norm, I can feel you falling asleep against me,” she finally says, snickering with amusement at the way Normal only hums in response. “Do you wanna change first? Or at least go upstairs?”

“I’m already comfy right here,” he replies, the pout evident in his tone, and to punctuate it, he nuzzles further into her chest, nudging Scary backwards until she’s comfy herself against the arm of the couch, Normal crumpled in her arms. Here, their legs are intertwined, and she can still play with his hair, and the blankets they keep on the couch for this specific reason are all tangled around them.

“You’re gonna have to deal with my backache tomorrow,” she warns, but she can’t keep the smile out of her tone, and she hesitates, and then commits, leaning in to press a kiss to Normal’s forehead. “Get some rest, dork. I’ll get Hermie to make us pancakes in the morning.”

“Hermie’s pancakes suck,” Normal huffs, but as his breath evens out, Scary just smiles again.

It’s not what she pictured for herself, sure, but in this moment? There’s nowhere else she’d rather be.

[atopvisenyashill]

All of the adult female characters are supremely isolated from other women... friends or family. It's equally doled out. Alicent is in King's Landing. Rhaenyra is in King's Landing and then Dragonstone. Laena is in Pentos. Rhaenys is isolated on Driftmark (she essentially doesn't leave due to Corlys's wars and/or various strifes between her family in all those years).

The only female company any of them have are daughters, step-daughters or granddaughters and that is a relationship of responsibility, even if it brings happiness at times.

they establish that feeling of isolation in the show you’re speaking of too early & in a weird way by wholesale excising laena’s impact on the plot and also making rhaenyra look a bit nonsensical. the thing about this time period in the book is that everyone is building the families that are going to get destroyed by the dance. there’s an entire arc here wherein rhaenyra & alicent get their first true taste at what losing might mean with the driftmark fight and the harrenhal fire, and it makes both of them double down on their worst impulses in fear for their families and make the conflict more volatile & more irreparable. for rhaenyra, this involves first losing harwin and then laena, two people she is incredibly intimate with, and laena to childbirth to boot. it’s why she panic marries daemon so quickly, she’s afraid for the lives of her children and has convinced herself only daemon is capable of helping her do that. in the show, they gloss over rhaewin and cut out laenyra completely by isolating her in pentos and then telling that arc exclusively from daemon’s PoV instead of laena’s or split between them. laena’s death is what drives rhaenyra’s isolation to dragonstone. instead, in the show, it’s what drives daemon back home (because he wants to lay laena to rest at driftmark) and then to dragonstone with rhaenyra. this is exactly what they did in got btw - they told the war from robb’s pov not cat’s, then changed jeyne into talisa bc she was less complicated. they cut sansa’s entire vale arc bc they thought it was boring then put her in winterfell and focused more on ramsay gleefully torturing her than sansa’s actual story. they just shuffle laena around into what’s easiest.

the thing is that laena is a tricky part of the family because she is a daughter, but also has her own family, and her husband does not have his own seat, so he’s naturally an extension of yet another family. this nuance in her character doesn’t work so they just have her never interact with her own parents or brother & then die so daemon will go home. the reality is that laena loved her family and considered rhaenyra her family, and would have fought for her on vhagar but she dies before she can and vhagar is used to kill rhaenyra’s son. that’s the tragedy of laena. like alyssa t, like aemma, forced out of the story too soon. but idk, they just weren’t interested in talking about the tragedy of a woman who died too soon, so even if she died loved, she dies woefully unfinished in her life. reminds me of what brienne says - no one sings songs for the women who die in the birthing bed. not only that, but her entire family is sloppily racebent & they refused to think through the implications of a) what laena’s death in childbirth looks like now and b) what completely erasing her entire character’s impact and changing her personality looks like now. i think that’s wonky writing and i don’t understand people’s devotion to defending that weird choice!

[kalinara]

It’s interesting to me how many Nate-haters in the Ted Lasso fandom seem to also be big fans of Rebecca Welton, or “Tedbecca” as a ship.

Disclaimer: this is not an attack on either character or ship.  I like the idea of Tedbecca, and I love Rebecca as a character.  I am also not saying ALL Tedbecca/Rebecca fans hate Nate.  Many people actually have taste.  :-)

But it’s very interesting.

I had an old post reblogged recently by someone who just HAD to add tags about how they wanted Nate to be redeemed, but thought he shouldn’t be able to come back to Richmond afterward.  He’d done too much.

On that person’s tumblr was another post, of a gifset from the most recent episode, talking about how much they wanted to see Rebecca tear Nate a new one.

I am not, for one moment, trying to excuse what Nate did.  But there is no objective standard where Nate’s actions are worse than Rebecca Welton’s.

Rebecca spent an entire season trying to destroy Richmond.  She very nearly succeeded.  If Ted Lasso the show were just a hair more realistic, or Ted Lasso the character just a hair less magical, then Richmond the team wouldn’t have stayed together during their demotion.  The more talented players would have jumped ship to greener pastures.

That is, assuming they were recognized for their talents.  Rebecca’s sabotage was long-term, and it made the entire team a laughing-stock.  They have the advantage of performing very well during their Champion League year, but they still have the stigma of season one to get past.  She might well have done irreparable damage to more than one career.

The funny/sad thing about Rebecca’s plot this season is that her humiliation and fear of ridicule isn’t due to Rupert’s actions, but her own.  

Rebecca can’t even claim the moral high ground when it comes to Ted himself.  She was sympathetic to his panic attacks, sure.  But that was after she’d already been softened by half a season of sincere friendship, plus the emotional catharsis of her reunion/reconciliation with Sassy.  This is also the woman who tried very hard to get Keeley and Ted exposed for an affair that never existed, remember.  And she’d had no idea at the time that Ted and Michelle’s marriage was on the rocks anyway.  She could have destroyed his (and Keeley’s) life if she hadn’t belatedly realized it could be traced back to her.

And bullying?  Sure, Nate was a dick to Colin (who had been a dick to him first, remember?) but Rebecca spent a whole year making Leslie Higgins miserable.  Did she have a legitimate reason to be angry with him?  Sure.  But that’s when you fire someone.  You don’t spend a year torturing them.  

I am not saying this to attack Rebecca.  I’m just pointing out that if Nate’s actions caused enough harm that he can’t possibly return to Richmond (assuming he’d want to), then why isn’t that true for Rebecca, who has caused far more harm to far more people?  

I think maybe it might come from the idea that Ted forgiving Rebecca is a cornerstone moment of the ship, and that it’s somehow less impactful if Ted extends that same forgiveness to someone else.  

There are other, less generous interpretations, of course...