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#toxic relationships
traumasurvivors · 12 days ago
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It’s not on you if you “ruin” their life by telling your story. You don’t owe them silence to protect their reputation. If they hurt you, you have a right to talk about it (if you want to).
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sk-lumen · 6 months ago
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You cannot bloom in the same soil that poisoned you. The reason why it can be a struggle leveling up in those circumstances is because you’re still operating in survival mode. You have to prioritize changing your environment first so you can finally start healing, and that healing begins with having a healthy, nurturing foundation.
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mmnwritingadvice · 3 months ago
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Avoiding Writing Toxic Relationships
- My biggest problem with YA is the glorification of toxic relationships. Especially since it is targeted at a younger group of people who often idolize said relationships. So here’s a guide for determining if your MC’s love interest is toxic, or just a normal flawed person. 
FIGHTING
-  To make a realistic relationship, your MC and their love interest are going to fight. They are (most likely) young and in a high stress situation. It would be completely realistic for them to fight. However, too often in YA, these fights are taken past an unforgivable line. Physical violence is where the line in crossed. They should not push, slap, kick, their partner. If it is lover’s to enemies, this is okay when they are enemies, as long as it stops once they’re in a relationship.
- This goes for girl love interests as well. I’ve seen countless books have the girl slap or kick her male love interest after a small mistake or to show she’s angry at him. Authors do it to show that she’s a “strong female character”. Don’t do that. It’s not something cute. When I was twelve and began reading The Mortal Instruments, I got to the scene where Clary slapped Jace and was confused about whether or not they were really supposed to be interested in each other. (There are several things with their entire relationship. It really is just toxic. I had to stop reading after the second book the first time around.)
- Have your characters be in the wrong! It doesn’t make them toxic, it makes them human and relatable. Have them snap at their love interests over hurt feelings or in a stressful situation. But have them apologize and do better. Not only does it help show the audience that they have a healthy relationship, it shows character development. A character should not be the same as they were at the beginning of the book. They need to learn something. This is a good place to start if you are at a loss. 
CONSENT
- What else makes YA couples toxic besides fighting? Consent. I’ve had to stop reading many YA books, because I was so put off by a lack of consent. I’ve seen authors frame forced kisses as romantic, even when the main protagonist was initially mad about it. (Sarah J. Maas books.) I’ve seen characters admit to s*xual assault and and it is framed as romantic because it’s framed as one character pining after the other. There always has to be consult. Characters don’t have to ask for everything, especially if they have an understanding with each other. Forcing things is different. Two best friends, or lovers, who don’t ask to hold hands, lay on top of each other, kiss, etc. (especially if it is common in their relationship) is completely different then knowing someone doesn’t like you and forcing yourself on them or admitting to them you don’t care about their boundaries. 
TOXIC RELATIONSHIPS
- Have toxic relationships in your stories. Condemn them and show they are bad. Show red flags for young audiences and warn them to stay away from similar people. Have your character grow and over come people who don’t really care about them. Don’t use “he/she had a troubled past and has trauma. Now their a badboy/girl in need of love” to excuse their toxic or controlling behavior. 
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hatefilledsuggestions · 26 days ago
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It’s so exhausting how those who purposely hurt you see themselves as the victim and YOU as the villain. Just so that they don’t feel bad about hurting YOU. So they don’t have to feel any guilt about fucking YOU over. Like, get the fuck over yourself.
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datinganonion · 4 months ago
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Let this be a lesson in control. Sometimes we lose people we never thought we would. Sometimes the people we trust the most hurt us. Sometimes really unfortunate, really messy things happen, and we cannot control it. Because we cannot control other human beings. We cannot control how they show up for us, or how they treat us. We can only control the way we react. The way we grow from the experience.
(x)
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seijorhi · 5 months ago
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Finders Keepers
the long awaited (sorry!) zombie au. hope y’all enjoy
Seijoh 4 x female reader & Miya twins x female reader 
TW Blood, gore, angst, um... toxic relationships?
“Let me see.”
It’s little more than a murmur, but in the quiet stillness of the night your voice carries. It hardly matters; Oikawa has you close, tucked under his arm with his injured leg stretched out between the two of you. He could stop you if he really wanted, but he only watches, those tired, wary eyes fixed on your face as you reach for his pants. 
“It’s fine,” he grunts out, yet he can barely get the words out before he’s hissing through his teeth – a knee jerk reaction to the scrape of rough fabric against his wound. His fingers are digging painfully into your arm, and it doesn’t make a difference how gentle you try to be, how many stammered apologies fall from your lips, your fingers are stiff and clumsy and his pants are caked with dried blood and grime, hindering the process.
Pursing your lips, you glance up. “This would go easier if you took these off, you know.”
He cracks a smile at that, strained and tense, but your chest still flutters at the sight of it. “If you wanna get my pants off so badly, cutie, all you had to do was ask.”
“Tooru,” you begin, but he sighs heavily and that brief flicker of mirth glimmering in his eyes fades. Reaching over he picks up his hunting knife, pressing the handle into your palm and letting his fingers slowly curl around yours. The weight of it feels unwieldy and foreign in your hand, and you can’t quite say for sure if the way your breath picks up and hitches is due to your nerves or the way Oikawa’s watching you, his warm hand still wrapped around yours.
“Cut it, then.”
The knife helps, shearing through his pants like butter, but the wound itself is messy – torn threads plastered to congealed blood and dirt – and blunt fingernails sink into your skin and Oikawa grits out a curse when you try to gently ease them free. 
It’s worse than you’d thought. A lot worse. Raked over his right knee, five gouges, jagged and gruesome, raw flesh and muscle exposed beneath. Your stomach roils at the sight of it, bile creeping up your throat, and for a moment you’re astounded by how calm he is, sitting there beside you. 
If it were you, you’re fairly sure you’d be rolling on the ground howling by now, but the only hint of pain Oikawa’s face betrays is the tightness of his jaw, teeth clenched even as he looses a shuddering breath.
“I-I’ll go see if I can find something to…” to what? Clean the wound? Stitch it? You’re not an idiot, unless this little cottage has an incredibly well stocked first aid kit, you know you’re in trouble. And even if it does, beyond the very basics of clean, disinfect and bandage, you don’t know how the hell you’re supposed to fix this.
Iwaizumi was always the one to stitch up their wounds, muttering obscenities under his breath and glaring at them the whole time. It was their own idiot faults for putting themselves in a position where they could get hurt in the first place, he’d say, they could deal with a little pain while he fixed them up. But as you stare at the grisly mess of Oikawa’s knee, there’s a sinking feeling in the pit of your stomach that this might be beyond even Iwa’s level of expertise. 
It doesn’t matter anyway, because Iwa isn’t here. 
Makki and Mattsun aren’t either.
And strangely enough, it’s not the fear of the creatures lurking in the woods that’s gnawing at your gut. It’s Oikawa’s injury, the blood and mangled mess that you can’t even begin to fix, the thought of the trap that’s awaiting the others back at the sanctuary. It’s that feeling of helplessness that’s tightening around your neck like a noose.
“Hey,” Oikawa calls, snagging at your wrist when you try to pull away. “They’ll find us, have a little faith.”
Swallowing down the lump in your throat, you nod. “I know.”
You don’t have the guts to tell him that that’s only half the problem.
Making do with vodka and some old bandages you’d scrounged up from a first aid kit under the sink, you do what you can for Tooru’s knee. Working by the light of a few flickering candles, your hands shaking like a leaf, it's a job easier said than done, and you can’t help but wince at every pained hiss and grunt that escapes him. 
It’s a hack job, a bandaid over a gaping wound, but he thanks you for it anyway, pressing an affectionate kiss to your temple as he drags you closer once more. “You’re not getting rid of me that easily,” he murmurs, and the words hang heavy over the both of you; a promise and a sobering reminder in one.
Tucked up in his embrace, you shut your eyes and will yourself to fall asleep. 
Yet the moment you do, you’re right back there again: the hallway doors bursting open and the undead pouring through. Rotting and snarling, the sound of panicked shrieks tearing through the sanctuary in their wake.
Tooru’s hand in yours, yanking you along as he ran. Your heartbeat, pounding in your ears as you gasped for breath, your chest burning. And the fear, the horror that threatened to choke you as the others fell behind, their frantic pleas turning into agonised screams.
Everybody else first. The words spoken before any one of them left the safety of the sanctuary; you’d always assumed it was a grim kind of joke between the boys, a good luck charm. How many times had you heard Mattsun laugh it, clapping Iwa on the shoulder, or Makki for that matter, or Oikawa?
‘Come home safe’, you’d thought it meant, not ‘rip the guns out of other survivors’ hands and throw them back into the path of the oncoming undead’.
And then you’d stumbled, tripping over your own two feet. You remember Oikawa cursing, the pain that radiated up your knees and the palms of your hands as you hit the floor hard, and the absolute, bone chilling terror that surged through you when you looked up and saw one of the undead creatures lunge for you; jaw hanging loose, more ripped flesh and gristle than an actual mouth–
Oikawa was too far away, too slow, and even if he wasn’t, you’d just witnessed the lengths he’d go to for self preservation. You’d screamed for him anyway, squeezing your eyes shut and praying you’d go quickly when those fingers and yellowing teeth dug into your flesh and ripped you apart.
And in the space of a single petrified heartbeat, three shots had rung through the air, a warm wetness splattering against your cheek. Tooru was there, kicking the rotting corpse away from you and hauling you back to your feet, back safely against his side.
But the next one was quicker, leaping over the husk of its fallen friend, snarling and bloody and savage, and then it was Tooru who was screaming, undead fingers sinking into the flesh of his leg, ripping as it tried to claw him back.
Heart pounding viciously, your eyes shoot open in the darkness.
Even with the reassurance of Oikawa’s frame pressed up behind you, his breath warm against your skin, sleep doesn’t come easy, and the dawn brings little reprieve.
Stupidly, you’d hoped – prayed – that somehow through the night he might’ve gotten better. It was early in the morning when you’d felt him start to shiver against you. You’d tried to roll away, to give him space so you wouldn’t accidentally knock his leg, but Tooru was having none of it, burrowing in closer, his grip tightening.
And when you’d felt him start to sweat, his arms becoming sticky and clammy, his shirt dampening at your back, that slow, cloying sense of dread took root inside of your stomach.
Under the first rays of morning light, the true extent of Oikawa’s condition is unignorable. Without the luxury of being able to properly close the wound, blood’s seeped through the bandages overnight, leaving them a mottled, macabre red. His face is pale, a thin sheen of sweat dotting at his brow and with every shallow, rattling breath he takes, his body trembles.
It’s more than just simple blood loss.
You think for a moment that he’s unconscious, long lashes fanned out over flushed cheekbones, but the moment you reach for the bandages, his eyes snap open. “Don’t,” he rasps.
You frown, “Tooru–”
“No,” he says. “It’s fine. Leave it alone.”
Between him and Iwaizumi, and to a certain extent, Makki and Mattsun, you’ve never had much of a say in how things are run. You’ve never questioned that they’re the ones in charge, Oikawa most of all. They’re the ones who’ve kept you safe, kept you alive all this time, and all they’ve ever asked of you is that you do what they say.
And you have. Always. Because without them, you’d be dead. You don’t have to pick up a gun and fight, because they do it for you. You don’t have to go on supply runs because they take care of it, they take care of you. And it’s never mattered whether it’s just been the five of you out there alone, or if you were banding together with other survivors; that’s never changed – no matter how many dirty looks it earned you from the others.
You are their responsibility, but in return, you do what they tell you without question.
But this–
This isn’t like that. This isn’t you begging Iwaizumi to take you with him on perimeter patrol because you’ve been cooped up for what feels like weeks, or pouting because they’re deliberately keeping things from you again. 
And maybe they have kept you in the dark, but you’re not blind and you’re not stupid. The reality of this situation hasn’t escaped you. 
The sanctuary’s overrun, and if – when – Iwa, Makki and Mattsun make it back, they’ll be walking into an ambush. Even if by some miracle they do manage to all make it out unscathed and somehow figure out a way to pick up your trail, there’s no telling how long it’ll take for them to find their way back to you.
(You can’t bear to think about the possibility of them not coming home; you won’t.)
Right now, it’s just you and Oikawa, stuck in some abandoned cottage in the middle of nowhere with nothing but a rifle and a baseball bat between you. You have no food, no supplies and he’s getting weaker by the minute.
You’re terrified.
And you don’t have the luxury of sitting back and letting somebody else take care of you anymore. You don’t stand a chance of survival without Oikawa, and right now he doesn’t stand a chance without you.
Swallowing the lump in your throat, you shake your head. “Okay, I won’t touch it, but I’m not just going to sit here and watch you get worse.” Smoothing your palms over your lap, you take a deep breath in through your nose. “There’s a prison–”
“No.”
“Tooru–”
“I said no,” he snaps.
Biting back a sigh, you try again, “Tooru, there might be supplies there,” you plead. “Painkillers, antibiotics, something that might help–”
“I don’t need antibiotics and you’re not leaving. We need to stay here where it’s safe until the others find us,” he grits out, eyes narrowing dangerously. 
Normally, this would be the point that you’d back off, running off to lick your wounds before he decided to get mean, but even as some part of you cowers at the mere thought of upsetting him, this time you don’t back down.
He watches warily as you lean over, pressing a kiss to his cheek, gently smoothing damp brown locks back from his sweat slicked forehead. “I don’t know when Iwa’s coming back,” you murmur. “But until he does, the prison’s our best chance, if I can just–”
“No!” he snarls, cutting you off once again.
His eyes are manic now, blown wide and glazed over, he’s shivering, his breath a faint rattle – but his grip is iron, long fingers clutching at you desperately when you jerk back with a gasp.
“You don’t leave me.”
You don’t want to. 
It’d be easy not to, to sit and stay with him and pretend that your world isn’t falling apart and he isn’t dying. You’ve never been a fighter, always too soft, too weak, too naive to survive out there on your own. The thought of setting one foot outside of that door without him by your side fills you with absolute terror, but what other options do you have?
He might not like it, but you’re out of time – this decision isn’t his to make anymore.
“Tooru, I-I have to, you know–”
“No!” he snaps, dragging you closer. “You’re not leaving me, I won’t fucking let you!”
Your hand trembles when you reach up to take his, easing it from your shirt and bringing it to your lips. Tears spill from your lashes, falling in heavy droplets against the back of his hand as Oikawa makes a pained sound.
“Please don’t go.”
You both know he can’t stop you.
“Keep the gun,” you tell him, mustering up a tight, watery smile. “Anything but Iwa and our boys comes through that door, shoot it.”
It seems a cruel, twisted joke that you find a perfectly good truck sitting a little ways up the driveway, just begging to be used – with no way of getting it started.
Mattsun always made hot wiring look so easy, tossing you a wink when the engine rumbled to life, as if it was a neat little party trick he’d pulled out just to impress you. He did it so quickly, so smoothly, ripping the wires out and sparking them like it was second nature, but he’d never bothered to actually explain what he was doing to you.
And why would he? Between the four of them, there’d always be somebody else to take care of it for you. It’s the same reason they never taught you how to shoot, never taught you how to fight beyond the very basics of self defence.
Now, trudging along the side of the barren road with nothing but your baseball bat and a canteen of water slung over your hip, you find yourself wishing you’d paid a little more attention. Ten miles hadn’t seemed that far on paper – it was less than the trek back into town and you’d figured a safer bet, but walking around in broad daylight without any kind of real protection feels like you’re begging to be preyed upon. Yet by some stroke of luck (and despite that persistent nagging sense that you’re being watched) you manage to make it to the perimeter gates without coming across another soul, dead or alive.
The towering brick walls topped with spirals of barbed wire that line the prison complex are as imposing as they are unbreachable, and for a moment, standing there staring up at them, you feel a crushing sense of disappointment. You’ve walked over two hours, left Tooru in pain and alone for nothing. There’s no way in hell you’re gonna be able to scale those walls, and without any kind of bolt cutters or firepower, you’re not sure how you’re supposed to get past the front gates. 
Iwa would’ve known that. Iwa would’ve been better prepared. 
But as you draw closer to the guardhouse, you’re pleasantly surprised to find that it’s not a problem. The heavy wrought iron gate’s already unlocked and open, creaking in the breeze. And really, that should have been the first warning sign, but you’re too busy thanking your lucky stars as you slide on through to pay attention to things like that.
The courtyard is just as deserted. The crunch of gravel underfoot echoes too loud, setting your nerves on edge as you make your way towards the imposing structure. It’s quiet, eerily so – even the birds seem to have disappeared. Is this how all raids feel, you wonder as you climb the steps towards the door. This sense of foreboding dread that settles in your stomach, the goosebumps that prickle down your arms? 
Your grip tightens around the handle of your bat and you press gingerly against the door – just like the guardhouse gate, it gives under your touch, swinging open wide. It’s dark inside; you hadn’t thought to bring a torch and with the absence of any windows lining the corridor it’s near pitch black. Your heart hammers inside your chest, every cell in your body screaming at you to turn around and run back to Tooru, but you’ve come this far already. 
The undead flock to fresh, living meat. It’s been months since the outbreak began; anyone unfortunate enough to have found themselves trapped inside when it happened is probably long dead, and any of the undead likely long gone.
It’s just a little darkness. 
Steeling your nerves you creep through the black, clutching tightly at your bat, toeing your way down the corridor waiting for your eyes to adjust to the dim. Every breath you draw in feels too loud, every step too obnoxious. Deserted or not, the sooner you can find the med-bay, get what you need for Oikawa and get out, the better.
The layout’s simple enough – five looming multi-storied wings breaking off like fingers from the central watch-tower, but you don’t have a clue which one holds what you’re seeking. Your only option is to search them one by one and hope for the best. 
You’d expected steel bars and heavy locks, but the prison reminds you strangely of a school instead; long hallways lined with doors, each with a tiny window to peek through. They’re all open now of course, whatever locking mechanism keeping them shut having failed when the generators ran out. The first few are empty, barren and stripped of everything but soiled mattresses – it should be a relief. 
There’s nothing waiting for you in the darkness but empty halls and emptier rooms. If the others were here, they’d be teasing you for sure. Or Makki and Mattsun would, at least. You always were such a scared little baby – their scared little baby – you’d jump at your own shadow if you didn’t have them around. 
And it’s easier to keep going imagining them there by your side, the jokes they’d crack, the warmth of Iwa’s hand in yours, or Makki’s arm slung over your shoulder. You’d feel safe with them. You wouldn’t need to feel afraid.
But no amount of pretend comfort is enough to allay the heavy sense of dread that’s sitting in your stomach, growing harder and harder to ignore with every passing minute. And the problem, you realise, with the prison being so deadly quiet is that every noise, no matter how quiet, echoes.
Climbing the stairs in the dark, you don’t notice the slickness on the walls either side of you, the red handprints smeared messily over white paint. You don’t see the broken, bloody fingernails littering the steps beneath you. 
You hear it though, when you reach the landing. It’s soft. A quiet, wet squelching, ripping–
There’s no screams accompanying it like there were back when the sanctuary was overrun, but it’s not a sound you’re gonna be able to forget any time soon. In the dark you freeze, not daring to so much as breathe as you peer down the endless corridor, trying to pinpoint which of the cells it’s coming from. 
In the end, you decide that it doesn’t matter. 
They’re quicker when they’ve fed, stronger too, and there’s not a chance in hell that you’re going to be able to fumble past in the dark without drawing that thing’s attention. The wooden bat in your hands feels heavy, your palms already slick with sweat. You weren’t quick enough back at the sanctuary; without Tooru, that thing would’ve eaten you. And suddenly it seems laughable that you came out here, that you genuinely thought you could handle this – fight one of them off if it came down to it.
Tooru needs those meds, you know that, and you might be useless and weak and absolutely paralysed with fear, but you’re not stupid. You can’t help him at all if you’re torn apart by one of those creatures.
Your pulse racing, a potent mix of adrenaline and sheer, unrelenting terror coursing through your veins, you draw in a quiet breath, slowly lifting your foot to back away. It hasn’t heard you yet, and so long as it’s distracted–
“Oi, hurry up! I know what I saw, she came in this way.”
“Jesus, just shut up for a sec, wouldja! Ya don’t need to keep yellin’ at me, I’m comin’!”
Through the grate at your feet, you see two beams of light break through the darkness, the sound of loud, heavy footsteps echoing down the wing. Icy claws tighten like a vice around your heart and you still once more, squeezing your eyes shut as you listen, praying…
The squelching’s stopped.
Grip tight around the handle of your bat, your entire body quaking with fear, you watch with wide, stricken eyes as one of the doors halfway down the block slowly creaks outwards. 
For a heartbeat, there’s nothing, and you try and convince yourself it’s just the wind, that you’re imagining things and your mind is playing mean tricks on you–
A feral snarl rips through the air, and before you can so much as scream it’s crashing through the open doorway, head swivelling as it searches for the source of the disturbance. In the dark you can’t make out much, only that it’s huge, half its flesh torn and decaying, smeared with blood and filth – but you see it when those white, cloudy eyes fix on you, its rotting mouth bared and salivating.
And this time you do scream. You scream for Oikawa, for Iwa, for Makki and Mattsun and the faceless strangers on the floor below as you cast your bat aside and run. You don’t dare look over your shoulder as you take the stairs two, three at a time, slipping and slamming into the stairwell wall, a sharp burst of pain radiating down your shoulder – you can hear it giving chase, the rabid growls and snarls too close for comfort.
Tears flood your eyes, your chest heaving with every desperate breath as your feet hit solid ground once more and you take off.
“Please!” you sob as you run, blinded by the brightness of the torch beam as it’s shone in your direction. “PLEASE HELP ME!”
You can’t outrun it forever. Even now, you hear it gaining on you, its hot, foul breath puffing against your back – it’s just like back at the sanctuary. It’s gonna catch you, rip into you and feast while you choke to death on your own blood and screams, and this time you won’t have Oikawa here to save you. You’re going to die in agony, torn apart and devoured, and it’s all your own stupid fault.
Your throat tightens, more tears springing free. You can’t see anything beyond those two blinding lights, moving now, dancing across the field of your vision. “PLEASE!” you shriek, desperate and hoarse as the undead creature behind you readies itself to pounce.
Please don’t leave me here to die.
And for one heart wrenching second, you think back to your boys, and the words they’d said before kissing you goodbye. Everybody else first. Maybe this is some kind of divine retribution, you think. Maybe when the world went to hell people became cold and selfish and you deserve this for sitting back and letting others die in your place.
“Get down!” the voice yells, and you don’t even stop to think before you drop, sliding across the floor. There’s another blinding flash, a shot fired into the dark and all you can do is squeeze your eyes shut and hug your knees to your chest as the creature snarls in anger and jerks backwards, a gruesome spurt of blood spraying over you.
“Ya fucking missed! How could ya fucking miss?!”
The gun cocks and reloads, another deafening shot ringing out above you and you flinch, your nails biting into the soft skin of your palm–
But this time the bullet hits its mark. The creature crashes to the floor with a loud thump and doesn’t move again. 
You don’t waste a second scrambling to your feet, launching yourself into the arms of your saviour. You don’t care that you’re crying, that you’re covered in blood and filth and god knows what else, you cling to him like he’s a lifeline, sobbing into his shoulder. And instead of pushing you away like he probably should, he lets out a short huff that sounds almost like a laugh, his arm curling around your waist.
“I’m the one who shot the damn thing,” the other mutters sourly.
The man holding you snorts, “Nah, yer the idiot who missed.” Belatedly, you realise that he’s still gripping his gun, the brightness you’d assumed to have come from a torch actually from a light mounted to the barrel. He slings the rifle carelessly over his shoulder, drawing back slightly to appraise you. “Now, wanna tell me what a sweet thing like you’s doin’ all alone in a place like this?”
With your eyes now adjusting to the light, you can see that the two of them can’t be much older than you. They’re both tall, broad shouldered and handsome, the same jawline, the same slope to their nose, nearly identical hooded eyes – brothers you decide, maybe even twins. And they’re both smirking at you, not with the relief of just barely escaping a brush with a particularly gruesome death, but with an odd sort of lackadaisical amusement, as if this – skulking through dark, abandoned places, killing the undead – is nothing out of the ordinary for them. 
And from the ease with which they carry their weapons, maybe it isn’t.
Oikawa warned you about men like them. Men in general, really. Even the ones who smiled at you back at the sanctuary, the ones who offered to help you move heavy supplies when they saw you struggling – at least, until Iwa or one of the others stepped in with a poisonous glare. Anyone who wasn’t them was dangerous, a threat, just waiting in the wings to take advantage of a pretty, dumb little thing like you.
And maybe he’s right, but when the one holding you instead drags you closer, wraps an arm around your shoulders and begins to lead you back towards the guard tower as his brother falls into step on your other side, you don’t shrug him off. 
Oikawa isn’t here, and they have just saved your life. That has to count for something, right?
“I-I thought it’d be safe,” you confess breathlessly, trying not to focus on the thumb sweeping over the curve of your shoulder. “Well, empty at least. I didn’t have a choice.” And they listen, sharing glances in the dark as you tell them about what’d happened at the sanctuary, about Oikawa and the desperation that’d led you to leave him and walk miles alone to try and find some kind of medicine–
Until a snicker interrupts you. “Sorry,” the blonde mutters, though he doesn’t look all that sincere when your eyes flash to his. “It’s just…”
“Anythin’ worth taking woulda been snatched up months ago,” the darker haired one interjects.
“There ain’t nothin’ here but the occasional idiot tryna set up camp an’… Well, ya saw how well that turned out.”
It hits you like a gut punch, forcing the air from your lungs in a harsh, gasping breath. There was never anything here, everything… all of it was a waste. You came all this way, left him feverish and screaming himself hoarse for you, risked your life, almost died and–
It was all for nothing.
Fresh tears sting at your eyes, they’re still talking but it’s just white noise washing over you. You don’t even realise they’re leading you back outside until you’re walking through the doors, the sudden burst of sunlight making you flinch. But it doesn’t matter. None of it matters anymore.
You’re an idiot.
A naive, dumb little girl who was stupid enough to think this half cocked plan was gonna work. That you would make it back to Tooru in one piece, medicine in hand to save the day and prove you weren’t the helpless damsel they’d pegged you for. 
You’ve wasted so much time, for nothing. 
There’s no drugs, no food, nothing that’s gonna help either one of you make it through the next few days and suddenly you’re drowning under a wave of hopelessness and bitter disappointment. You fall to your knees in the dirt, taking both your saviours by surprise, and let out a painful, heart wrenching sob. And once you start, you can’t seem to stop. It’s overwhelming, every emotion you’ve bottled up and shoved aside over the last two days suddenly forced into the light. You cry for yourself, for Tooru – for Iwa and Makki and Mattsun. You cry until it feels like you can’t breathe anymore, and then there’s rough calloused fingers brushing your tears away.
You look up through wet lashes to find the dark-haired man crouching before you, his expression sober. “Ya don’t need to cry, sweetheart, we’re not monsters y’know.”
His brother chuckles behind you, “We’re not about to leave some pretty little thing all alone out here to starve to death.” His hand’s resting atop your head now, smoothing down the hair at your crown. It’s soft and soothing, and you’re so attuned to seeking comfort that you can’t help but lean into it, eyes momentarily fluttering shut. “We’ve got some friends nearby, a nice little hideaway stocked full of all kinds of shit. Everything ya could possibly need.”
“Y-you mean it?” you ask, wide eyes flickering to the dark haired one, who smiles at last. “You’ll share them with me?”
“‘Course we do. Meds, food, weapons. Whatever ya want, it’s yours.”
You take the hand he offers to help you stand, your limbs trembling once more – but this time it’s not from fear or exhaustion, but the overwhelming rush of sheer relief. You could kiss him, kiss them both, but you don’t.
Instead you settle for throwing your arms around them once more, breathless thanks falling from your lips faster than they can catch as you hug them tight. They don’t seem to mind though, sharing almost identical smirks as the three of you head out to an old, beat up camaro parked out by the entrance to the prison. While the blonde slides in the driver’s seat and his brother takes the passenger’s side, you climb up into the back seat. 
“Is it far?” you ask as he kicks the car into gear and peels out onto the deserted road. Hopefully it’s not, the sooner you can get back to help Tooru the better. 
“Nah, not too far. We’ll be home before ya know it.”
Of course, they’re driving you to their friends, but they haven’t promised anything about driving you back to the cottage and Oikawa–
Which is perfectly fine! You’re not going to push your luck, they’re already doing plenty for you. More than they really have to. You don’t even need that much – just some medicine for Tooru and enough food for the two of you to get through the next few days, and you’ll be fine. Whatever you can carry, which, admittedly isn’t much. There’s still a few hours of daylight left, if you’re lucky you’ll be able to make it back to him before nightfall.
Things are gonna be fine. You’ll bring the medicine and once he’s better, the two you can head out to find the others. Everything’s gonna be okay. You’ll be better when you’re all back together, the way things were meant to be. 
You need them, if anything this little venture’s proven that much at least. 
They’d promised that it wasn’t far, and maybe it’s just the exhaustion of the last few days creeping in, or the gentle hum of the engine as the car drives along the long, narrow stretch of road, but your eyelids start to droop, your breath evening out as sleep beckons.
And you’re just dancing on the edge of consciousness when a hushed voice breaks through the comfortable silence, dark eyes flickering up to watch your slumbering form in the rearview mirror. “Ya think Kita’ll be pissed?”
There’s a snort, “Nah. He’s always had a soft spot for strays, ‘specially the pretty ones.” He’s quiet for a moment, almost contemplative before he opens his mouth to add, “‘Sides, we’re gonna take real good care of her, ain’t we, Samu?”
The only reply he gives is a soft grunt of acknowledgement. 
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furiousgoldfish · 6 months ago
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Why boundaries don’t work with abusers
You’ll often hear that to combat abuse, all you need to do is set up some proper boundaries! Say no, tell them to stop, and then everything will get better. Here’s several reasons why this does not work.
You should not have to specifically set boundaries that are pre-assumed for every human being to have
Abuser has already done everything they could do to bypass your boundaries, possibly to even punish you for having any boundaries in the first place
This type of thinking minimizes abuse as ‘your boundaries not being visible enough’ instead of, the real problem – abuser never having any intention to respect your boundaries or see you as a human being
It shifts the responsibility of ending abuse on you, the victim, as if you not setting boundaries is the cause of the problem, and not someone’s repeated abusive behaviour.
Abuse is not a problem of poorly-set boundaries, even if it looks (on a very surface level) as if the victim is 'letting’ it happen, the reality behind is that the victim’s choices were already taken away; it’s possible they faced violence in the past for 'not letting it happen’, or they’ve been threatened, blackmailed, groomed, and stand to lose a lot if they attempt to oppose the abuser on any level.
Abusers don’t only cross the 'invisible boundaries’, the ones that are negotiable and differ with every human being, instead they go for the natural boundaries nobody could violate 'by accident’. Such as: touching you when you’re clearly uncomfortable with it, humiliating you in front of others, regarding you as their property/servant/toy, implying or directly stating you’re not good enough, disgusting, stupid, physically assaulting you, threatening, blackmailing you. Imagine if everyone had to explain to everyone that it’s crossing the line if they’re publicly humiliated, physically violated, insulted or belittled repeatedly; we don’t have to do that. Because these are pre-assumed boundaries everyone in society is obliged to respect by default. If abusers violate them, it’s not because they 'don’t understand this is wrong and harmful’, they do it because they know they can.
Abusers also do a great deal of sabotage to bypass your boundaries, such as enforcing terror if you fight back, isolating you from support, triangulation, grooming you to believe you’re bad if you have this boundary, pretending the boundary is hurting them, convincing you the boundary is hurting you, or brainwashing you to believe you have no right to boundaries at all. They’re also in position of power over you and can take things away from you if you insist on a boundary – putting you in position where you have to choose between a boundary and your home, food, job, transport, medical care, security. They will make sure it’s impossible for you to defend your boundary before they attack it.
And lastly, you are not responsible for the abuse regardless of whether you set any boundaries or not. The problem was never in you 'not fighting back enough’; it’s in the abusive behaviour of a person who repeatedly hurt you. Good people will not abuse you regardless of boundaries; they will not violate your consent without paying attention what it does to you, they will not isolate, humiliate or threaten you. They will not try to exploit your vulnerability or use any lack of boundaries against you; instead, they’ll ask if it’s alright, they’ll check if it’s okay, if you’re hurt. Good people will not use your reluctance to set boundaries as a 'gotcha! Now I can do whatever I want to you’. They will care about not abusing you.
Telling someone to 'just set boundaries’ in a situation of abuse is the wrong thing to say. Shifting responsibility on the victim, and minimizing abuse as 'boundary setting issue’ is the exact opposite you want to do. Nobody gets abused due to lack of boundaries, responsibility for the abuse lies 100% in abusers targeting vulnerable people they can trap and traumatize. If vulnerable people had a simple trick to not be vulnerable anymore, they would have done it a long time ago. You will do much better to acknowledge this reality, get outraged at the abuser’s despicable and cruel actions, acknowledging the victim didn’t do anything to deserve or cause this, and staying consistently on their side.
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endeavorny · 3 months ago
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A reminder on toxic relationships: they’re never worth it.
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vixenpen · 9 months ago
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Yandere! Poly Bakusquad💥⚡️🦈📦👽 x Fem Reader
(This is part two of the first half of the yandere poly Bakusquad as requested on here and on Ko-Fi. Read pt.1 here)
(Trigger warnings: implied captivity/violence, burns, broken bones, struggle, implied abusive relationships)
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You and Mina had concocted an entire escape plan in code. With as long as the two of you had been held captive, the plan almost seemed absurdly simple.
It also seemed unreasonable dangerous. If this didn’t work, the two of you would probably rather be dead than deal with the consequences of whatever your boyfriend’s would have in store for your punishments.
“You know this is insane right?” Mina signed in a mix of ASL and BASL. “Escaping while they’re all here? What if we get caught?”
“It’s crazy, yes, but it’s better than trying to escape while they’re all out and about at their agencies. With access to all of their resources. They would track us down in no time, and you know it.” You signed back.
Mina shuddered.
The first part of the plan was simple.
The first thing that happened were the leaks in the bathroom—easily caused by a few wrong tweaks of a wrench that you hid in the pockets of your baggy hoodie.
The difficulty would be getting the men in the right place at the right time, and holding them there while Mina executed the escape.
“Denki! Denki, come quick!” You yelled as water gushed from the sink and shower, flooding the floor.
You swallowed a smirk as you heard Denki’s feet slapping the wood floors as he ran to the hall bathroom.
“What’s wrong, babe?!” He exclaimed, his golden eyes landed on the mess in the bathroom and he cursed under his breath. “W-what the hell happened? Dammit!” He took a step inside and hesitated, eyes flickering.
You knew how Denki’s ADHD worked. If you had to guess he was deliberating on whether or not to try and fix the problem immediately or go get some tools.
“You want me to get Sero to help?” You suggested in an attempt to help him along in his decision making.
“Yeah! Get Sero and grab some tools.” He ducked into the bathroom. You ran to find Sero.
Mina was in the basement where the exercise equipment was.
The basement doubled as Katsuki and Eijirou’s training room, as it was custom designed to withstand Katsuki’s blasts and Eiji’s hardening blows.
She rushed as quickly and quietly as possible to the storage closet below, and grabbed the tools she had stashed down there earlier in the week. Her heart pounded as she breathed deeply to calm her nerves.
She just had to fiddle with the expensive equipment enough to make some sort of noise that would draw their attention.
She tinkered with the gear diligently until—BOOM!
Mina’s body jerked from the surprise, heart tripling from the scare.
Footsteps pounded from over head. Coming her way fast.
“Fuck!” She whispered.
Mina rushed back to the closet to hide the tools.
“Pinkie!” Eijirou’s worried voice called downstairs. “Is everything alright?!”
Mina took a deep breath and clutched her shaking hands into her skirt, hoping she didn’t look as terrified as she felt.
“I-I don’t know,” Mina yelled back, running to the bottom of the stairs, “I-it’s the equipment it...malfunctioned or something! You should get Katsuki to help.”
Due to Katsuki’s quirk, he was partially deaf without his special hearing aids. He likely hadn’t even heard the blast. Fortunately, Eiji didn’t ask questions. Instead he ran to find their partner.
Moments later, both men stood at the top of the stairs wide eyed at the mess below.
“God dammit, Pinkie! What The hell did you fuck up?” Bakugo barked.
“I-I didn’t-“
“Move!” He snapped, shoving past her.
“Katsuki, don’t talk to her like that.” Eijirou scolded, following the man’s lead. “She didn’t mean to-“
“Shut up, and help me. Pinkie, go upstairs and get the tools.”
Perfect.
Mina climbed the stairs, shutting the heavy door behind her and going to work ensuring the men wouldn’t be able to open it again.
You rushed down the stairs, seeing Mina working to jamb the doorknob of Katsuki and Eijirou’s training room. The door was made of the same sturdy material as the rest of the room. The men shouldn’t have been able to escape so easily, but still, the two of you couldn’t take any chances.
“Mina!” You whisper-yelled, rushing down the stairs. “I got the door. Go handle the locks!”
“Sero and Denki?”
“Handled!” You replied.
You took over jamming the door, while Mina quickly went to work melting the special locks.
Just the sight of those god damned locks made her blood boil.
Those horrible locks had always represented the beginning of your captivity to the four, possessive men.
“Y/n!” The Muffled yells of Denki and Sero echoed from upstairs.
THUMP! THUMP! THUMP! THUMP!
Sounded from the other side of the door.
You jumped. Mina squealed, but neither of you stopped what you were doing.
“Mina?” You called in a harsh whisper.
“I’m going as fast as I can!” She whispered back. The locks were deteriorating rapidly.
“WHAT THE HELL IS GOING ON UP THERE?!” Katsuki screamed from behind the basement door.
“Why is the door closed, Pinkie?” Eiji called back.
You heard a BOOM! Indicating that he’d used his quirk in anger.
You jumped away, squeaking in fear.
“Katsuki, stop!” You heard Eijirou scold him.
“MINA!”
“Y/N!”
“QUE CARAJO!”
“Y/N! Let us out!
The thudding of fists against doors and walls bled into the screaming voices of your boyfriends and rattled your nerves.
You ran to Mina’s side on your heavy, shaky legs and clung to her side.
Your boyfriends screamed to be let out from both of the rooms they had been trapped in. Your quirk had made the door impossible to break down (it can be whatever you imagine it to be) without the use of force.
Something neither Denki nor Sero’s quirks were ideal for.
Denki wouldn’t use his electricity while trapped in a flooded bathroom with Sero, and Sero’s quirk wouldn’t be much use to getting out, either.
The obstacle you’d created would have been no problem for Bakugo’s blasts or Kirishima’s unbreakable form, which was why Mina had to get them to the training room together.
“Almost done,” Mina whispered, her pink skin flushing and her eyes squinting in concentration as she worked. “I’m almost done, I’m almost-“
“OPEN THE GOD DAMN DOOR!” Katsuki roared.
“MINA!” Eijirou’s voice rose up behind Katsuki’s. “Stop playing, baby girl, open the door!”
You could hear Bakugo fiddling with the messed up knob.
“Fuck this, I’m blowin this shit off.”
“No, you’re not!” Eijirou replied. “If you blast at that thing it’ll either be ineffective at best or ricochet back on us at worst.” He reminded the grumbling man.
After what felt like forever, Mina managed to get the final lock disintegrated enough that the two of you were able to let yourselves outside.
Moonlight spilled over the huge stretch of lawn where the mansion stood.
Air.
Fresh, unfiltered air. And grass. And trees. And—
BOOM!
The force of the explosion shook the ground.
Mina’s wide, fearful Amber eyes found yours and realization dawned over you both.
Katsuki had gotten out.
“Y/n!” Mina tugged you forward.
That’s right, your job wasn’t done yet. You were just on the lawn. That wasn’t true freedom.
Not yet.
Mina scooped you up bridal style, her chest heaving, and laid down her acid.
“YOU BRATTY LITTLE BITCHES! COME BACK HERE!”
A hot gust of air brushed past the two of you.
“AHH!” You screamed.
The explosion was deafening, but Mina didn’t stop, slow down, nor chance a look backwards.
She sat deeper into her stance to pick up speed along the sidewalks.
“GIRLS! COME BACK!” Eiji’s voice rose up now. “We can talk about this-“
“NAH! Fuck all that chivalrous shit! Get your ass the fuck back here now!”
The next blast that headed your way, burned. The heat seared your skin, but your focus automatically went to Mina when you heard her pained cry. Then the two of you tumbled down the hill.
The world rolled beneath you. Your skin ripped and tore against the cold gravel. You came to a harsh, painful stop at the bottom of the hill, Mina’s body landing on top of yours and a sickening crack met your ears.
A choked sob broke past your lips.
“M-Mina! Are you ok!” You rolled the woman’s body off of you and examined her.
Her pretty pink skin was flushed red, and covered in scrapes and bloodied lesions from the fall.
“We...we have too...”
“I think they went that way!” The two of you heard from the distance.
Mina froze beneath you in fear.
“Get scotch tape and Pikachu, I’ll get the girls.” Bakugo commanded.
“Just be easy, man. You’ll kill them blasting like that. Besides there’s not another house for miles. They won’t get far.”
Kirishima was right. The men had kept you guys in a secluded and huge mansion that you had all bought together at the beginning of your relationship. It was far from town and certainly far from any other homes.
“Mina, you have to get up baby.” You pulled the woman to her feet gently only to crumble to the ground yourself.
“Fuck!” You hissed through gritted teeth.
“Y/n?!” Mina whispered, her hands steadying your shoulders. What’s wrong?”
“M-my ankle...fuck,” you groaned? “I think it’s broken.”
“Dammit.”
“Girlsss!” Bakugo called out from the distance. “Come out, come out wherever you arrrree. Daddy’s sorry for blasting at you, you know he loves you right? We can talk about this. I’m not mad at you.”
Too calm. He was too calm. That was dangerous. That was the most dangerous.
Mina was looking in the direction of the voice, body rocking back and forth.
“We have to go.” She whispered. “On three I’m picking you up and we’re gonna go like hell, ok?”
You nodded. Mina crouched, bracing her hands beneath you.
“One...two...three!” Mina hoisted you up, and took off-fast.
The two of you rushed down the hilly sidewalks once more.
“We need to get to town, babe! We need to get to Aizawa and Hizashi!”
Mina nodded, eyes front.
“There they are, I see them!”
It was Sero! Not good. Not good at all.
You activated your quirk, feeling your muscles lock in protest as you tried to manipulate the gravel to act as a barrier between Mina and yourself and the boys.
Tape shot out towards the two of you blindly. Still it managed to grab your arm. Mina acted quickly to burn the tape away, but it had still snatched at your arm just enough to wrench it out of socket.
You cried out.
“I know baby, I know!” Mina cooed at you in a thin, shaky voice that betrayed her fear and anxiety. “We’re so close to town.”
“Mina can you-“
“I’ll make it! Save your strength.”
It felt as if you were going for hours. The moon broke through trees and the constant shouts and attacks of your boyfriend’s was always not far behind.
“Mina look!” You shouted, pointing towards the city lights.
The two of you surfed into town like mad women.
Mina found a nearby hotel and hustled the two of you through the doors. Every guests eye fell on you with looks of concern, shock, disdain, distrust. Mina didn’t care, she carried you both to the check in counter where the staff gawked at the two of you with looks of open bewilderment.
A smartly dressed woman in a skirt suit wearing a manager badge steppped up with a worried look on her weathered face.
“Are you-“ The front desk manager began, but Mina cut her off.
“I’m Ashido—Pink Acid,” she corrected, deciding to use her old hero name, “my boyfriend has been holding us captive for two years, a-and we’ve just now able to get out. I...she has a broken ankle, my back is burned...we-please. We need help. We need a room. I don’t have any money, but-“
“Pink Acid...Ms. Ashido,” the manager cut her off, a look of understanding and determination in her eyes, “please. We’ll get you a room. Don’t worry. We’ll find you somewhere. Should we call the hospital?”
“No, please!” You cut off. “No publicity. This is bad enough. We just need somewhere to stay the night.”
She nodded. “Alright.” She turned to her staff. “Get these women a room, ASAP. See to it they have what they need.”
And so they did. You and Mina were ushered to a room on one of the upper levels.
Once the attendant closed the door behind the two of you, Mina sat you down and collapsed beside you. Her eyes closing immediately.
“Mina?” You shook her. “Mina??”
The woman didn’t stir. Her chest rose and fell in shallow breaths. Fear struck you. You turned the woman on her stomach and flinched back at the sight.
The woman’s shirt had been burned off in the back and her beautiful pink skin was a violent shade of red. Ugly, seared, and festering.
“Oh god...”
If you left that untreated...you couldn’t. She wouldn’t make it. You made for the phone and called the first number you could recall from memory.
“Hello?! Please! It’s y/n...I know it’s been a long time, but, We-we need your help.”
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
“How’s she doing?” A voice asked.
You sighed, never tearing your eyes away from Mina’s unconscious form.
“Stable...”
You felt a warm, comforting hand on your shoulder. It managed to draw a smile from you.
Momo bent down. “She’ll wake up. That ones too stubborn to stay down.”
Jirou, Momo’s wife joined the two of you. They had been the first ones you had thought to call for help when you realized the extent of Mina’s injuries.
The last six months had been fueled by paranoia, fear, and anxiety, but you hadn’t regretted a thing. Mina’s condition was stable. She stayed in a secured hospital comatose, but alive. Which was better than nothing. You, in the meant time, were under the watchful eyes of Momo and Jirou with only a handful of authorities knowing your location.
“Well, this should put some pep in her step,” the woman announced as she joined Momo’s side with a bottle of wine. “The hero association has revoked the men’s licenses and launched a full investigation into you guys’ disappearance. From what I’ve heard, they are barred from holding licensing until the investigation is finished. The evidence against those guys will put them behind bars for lifetimes.”
Your spirits soared. You turned back to Mina’s still body. “You hear that, baby?” Tears burned your eyes, and your voice wavered. “Those sons of bitches are gonna pay,” you ran a hand over her messy pink curls. “They’re gonna pay, and when you wake up, we’re going to celebrate the second you wake up. So please...wake up soon, ok?”
You kissed her hand, before leaning down to kiss her cheek.
“Please.”
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bluevalntine · 5 months ago
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my thoughts on The Grisha Trilogy/Ships. (Spoilers!)
I just finished reading The Grisha Trilogy and I’m still so confused on why Twitter was trying so hard to convince every one new to the fandom that Mal was "toxic" as a way to justify shipping Darkl!na and hating that Malina was endgame. 
There’s a huge difference here.
Darkling was an adult — a 500 year old acient being that was manipulating and abusing a 17 years old girl (and did multiple times with other teenagers). 
Mal was an annoying 17 years old conflicted over his feelings for Alina. — and I dare to say that people were exaggerating over him in the books, they made me believe he was actually terrible when he isn’t  — he is normal.
The fact that so many of that shipping side use Mal's careless attitude as a even comparative point to Darkling is very concerning and I blame pop culture for make us romanticize villains so much to the point some don’t even draw the actual line between what can actually be hurtful. 
With that being said, I enjoyed the books overall, and I can see the appealing to Darkl!na because it’s a interesting dynamic  — but incredible toxic and based on things you shouldn’t aspire to have - manipulation, opression and possession being some of them. It was clear to me reading the books that he wanted her for her power and as long as she fulfilled [his agenda], so it’s so weird to me how this ship is so romanticized, but i am not surprised either.
There’s nothing wrong with liking and shipping a problematic ship as long as you are aware is problematic  —  the people that genuine believe Alina should've ended with him are concerning. There was not doubt in my mind her romantic endgame was and should’ve been with Mal.
About Malina, I enjoyed their journey  ─ they obviously have the soulmates material. I loved the internal monologue when thinking about each other. And when some actions made by Mal made me angry I think the thing about Mal is that he is a very human character, which is probably why so many don’t like him.  —  he doesn’t have a fantasy appeal, he is as human as they come and with that, his mistakes. Mistakes that he grows out from eventually.
It was also very clear to me that both Mal and Darkling represent two sides of Alina. The human and the power. And by choosing to be with Mal at the end  ─ she chose herself.  Many people were mad about Mal telling Alina that the powers were changing her  —  but they were, and it’s very clear in the books.
So many people also use the whole ‘she wanted to travel, not settle down on a farm' as to say Alina gave up her dreams to be with Mal and with that her agency, and is a weird take considering Darkling was literally slaving her and using her powers for its advantage [without her consent], willing to kill her loved ones to keep that power  —  and at the end she defies him with those powers and decides to live a peaceful, ordinary life [for herself].
There’s more to Alina than her powers.
Alina deserves to have a peaceful love. She deserves a love were she doesn’t have to constantly be questioning her value. She doesn’t deserve to have a love focused on chaos and a power dynamic were the prize is her powers. And the books (and the show) gives you a lot of symbolism about that (the constant Malina hand holding vs the way Darkl!ng grips her wrists).
Alina didn’t settle for less  —  she settle for the man that knows her best, loves her for herself and for a life that will give her peace, specially stability. As the book said: “an ordinary life”. 
And lord, I feel like so many people that genuine think Darkl!na deserved the endgame in any shape or form read those books as teenagers because me as an adult, can see the whole point the writer has been trying to make, and the difference in perspective is huge.
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boxofbonesfic · 2 months ago
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PATTYCAKES Series Masterlist
Title: Pattycakes
Summary: Like they say, it really does just take one time… Patricia Hodgins knows that better than anyone. She’s got even worse luck when it comes to her child’s father: Billionaire playboy Thor Odinson. He’s selfish and manipulative; and Patty’s not sure which outcome frightens her more—killing him or letting him worm his way into her heart.
Pairing: Thor x Black OFC
Rating: Explicit
**Warnings: Manipulation, Possessive behavior, oral sex (m!recieving, Age Difference (significant but not extreme), Stalking (light stalking though lol), Past Relationships, Class drama, Dad!Thor, Character improvement **
Chapter 1 // Chapter 2 // Chapter 3 // Chapter 4 // Chapter 5// Chapter 6// Chapter 7// Chapter 8// 
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traumasurvivors · a month ago
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Your trauma is still valid if you went back to your abuser. 
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