#our relationship is one tormented by the past and so so much negativity | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

raayllum · 3 years

Note

What are some examples for you that, in your opinion, are the reasons Rayllum is a healthy romance while Catradora is not?

(This is not a ship hate ask question, I'm just curious since I've seen a few comparisons and I'd like to know more)

Short answer? Everything.

Long answer? Under the cut so people have an easy time scrolling past it if they want, since this isn’t quite my usual content.

And special note to CA shippers: this probably isn’t a post you’re going to enjoy, nor is my mind really open to being changed if you disagree. This is my own personal discussion and opinion, not a debate, and it holds as much or as little weight to you as you want it to. Please choose accordingly whether you want to read something that may be upsetting or if it’s better to just scroll by. Do what’s best for you.

TW: discussions of emotional & physical abuse

Okay? Okay.

Let’s get into it.

Now, to get the obvious out of the way:

1) Rayllum and C*tradora do have some similarities. Rayla and Adora both have swords and immediately switch sides when they realize their original side was wrong and decide to fight for peace; Rayla and Catra can both lash out when others are trying to get them to open up; Callum and Catra both have issues with insecurities / feeling inferior. The shows also touch on similar themes such as choosing your own destiny, breaking the cycle, overcoming negative parts of your upbringing (for Rayla in particular) and more. Largely due to Shera’s ending, I don’t think it handled any of these themes particularly well, unfortunately, but I will be keeping this specifically centred on the relationships out of preference and because this meta is already long enough.

2) Children can indeed abuse other children, the same way that children can bully/torment other children. Adora and Catra had a “golden child — scapegoat” dynamic with Shadow Weaver as their “shared parental” figure (a very common dynamic for siblings). Someone can be an abuse victim and also be an abuser. Mental health and abuse are explanations, not excuses.

3) No, Catra’s abusive behaviour towards Adora cannot be explained away under the guise of “friends to enemies to lovers.” Mostly because that would mean they’re both equally enemies to one another over the course of the show, like Catra doesn’t always hit Adora where it hurts 100 times harder. Nor can the 4+ seasons worth of harm all just all be magically swept under the rug by one apology and a season where Catra treats Adora the way Bow and Glimmer have been for the entire show. Beyond the really awful stuff — physically attacking and injuring Adora (in ways Adora never returns the same way, ie. scarring her), attacking and kidnapping her friends, electrocuting Adora (s4), trying to kill Adora, tasing her, drugging Adora to use her as a weapon (remember “White Out”?) — there are also far worse emotionally abusive behaviour underneath it all. Guilt tripping, blaming Adora for everything, consistently lashing out, being angry whenever Adora does something good for herself that doesn’t also benefit Catra, wanting to isolate her, not being emotionally supportive, etc. But I’ll get more into that later. Funnily enough, the fact that an abuser was abused doesn’t tend to actually matter to their victim.

The crucial thing about Catra’s character and her relationship with Adora is that — rather than seeing Adora leaving the Horde as a moral/ethical thing (of which Catra the war criminal just doesn’t care as she becomes Hordak’s right hand woman) or even as Adora leaving an environment Catra knows is shitty (“They’ve been messing with our heads since we were kids”) — she sees it as Adora “leaving” her. She sees it as Adora choosing other people over her. And that’s been something Catra has seen as unacceptable ever since they were children, pushing/punching/scarring Adora on the face and making her cry when Adora is friendly with Lonnie and tries to convince Catra they can all be friends. It’s why she’s so angry about Adora “abandoning” her to be best friends with Bow and Glimmer, and the idea of Adora making the right choice in leaving an abusive environment and not her specifically never even crosses her mind.

The fundamental flaw in their relationship is that Catra never actually lets go of the belief that Adora abandoned her, or that Adora’s actions against her (y’know, when Catra was literally helping the Horde conquer the world and is the aggressor in every fight scene between them) were ever Justified.

[From the finale episode] C: So please, just this once — stay!

[The multiple and repeated times Adora tried to convince Catra to come with her and even said “I’m sorry for leaving” and “I won’t leave you behind again” and “Please stay, I need you”? Completely chucked in the bin, thanks for nothing - cause yeah, Catra, that certainly never stopped you from scarring or hitting Adora at any point in your life]

While watching S5 and the series through the first time I enjoyed their relationship and even shipped it (the turn around came two weeks later as the more I thought about their relationship, the less I liked it / more deeply uncomfortable I became with it), but one moment rubbed me the wrong way even the first way through it. In the penultimate episode — “Failsafe” as I’m counting the finale as one joint episode — Adora has taken the Failsafe to save Etheria. Delivering it to the Heart may kill her. However, as She Ra, she is literally the only person on the planet — which is about to end! — who can take it and not automatically die. Adora has also, already, taken the Failsafe. It can’t be removed.

C: Why do you always have to sacrifice everything for everyone else? Why are you like this? When do you get to choose? What do you want, Adora?

So despite being literally the Stupidest time Catra could have this concern — again, Adora has already taken the Failsafe, she can’t remove it, the whole world will end if someone doesn’t, and Adora is the only person on the planet where taking the Failsafe isn’t an automatic suicide mission — let’s focus on what happens afterwards, because That is what rubbed me the wrong way.

Adora has made a choice, but it doesn’t align with what Catra wants. So in the penultimate episode, and we’re supposed to believe Catra deeply loves Adora, Adora clearly states what she wants. She is scared of dying and of failing the world, she knows she’s put herself greatly at risk, and she understandably asks Catra — someone who is supposed to love her — for some goddamn emotional support.

A: Catra, please, stay. I need you.

And what does Catra do? She abandons Adora and basically says she’s a liar: “No, you don’t. You never have.” And she leaves Adora, sobbing alone in the woods, with the entire weight of the world on Adora’s shoulders. We later get more of an explanation as to why Catra left, as she states, “Adora chose Shadow Weaver, okay? Not me. Adora doesn’t want me! Not like I want her.” Catra sees Adora choosing the well being of everyone on the planet and her takeaway is, yet again, Adora choosing people over her, somehow. Even worse, part of Catra’s justification is that Adora, apparently, doesn’t romantically want her back.

Just to recap: it is the penultimate episode, the apparent girl you have “always love(d)” is about to possibly sacrifice herself and die, and asks you for emotional support. And then you abandon her because she doesn’t want other people to die and because she might not return your feelings. Are. You. Shitting. Me.

But put a pin in that, cause we’re gonna come back to it later.

But you know what, why is Adora like that? Why does she always feel like she has to protect and save everyone else, even at detriment to herself? What could have possibly made her feel like a failure at protecting her friends? Who could have blamed her for all these problems that aren’t actually hers to fix, but it feels like they are? Gee, I wonder...

C: As long as we have this sword, we have the power to make her go berserk. We can turn the Rebellion's own hero against them. That's good. [to Adora, smugly] I wonder which of your friends I'll have you annihilate first [...] Are you kidding? I've got control of Adora. I am not giving that up.

A: [quietly, seriously] You wanna know the worst that could happen? Fine. I'm the heaviest hitter, so Catra will separate me right away. Trap me, take my sword, do something so I'm helpless when she turns on you. She knows everything about me, exactly what I'll do, exactly how to take me out. [...] Catra will make me watch all of it before she finishes me off, and then everyone is gone, and the Horde wins the war, and Etheria crumbles, and it's all my fault! [knocks all the figures off the table]

C: It's always the same with you, Adora. “I have to do this. Oh, we have to do that.” Let's be honest, all of this is your fault. If you hadn't gotten captured, your sword wouldn't have opened the portal. If you hadn't gotten the sword and been the world's worst She-Ra, none of this would've happened. Admit it, Adora, the world would still be standing if you had never come through that portal in the first place. You made me this. You took everything from me. You broke the world, and it is all your fault.

A: Why are you doing this [attacking me]? C: Because you left me! (early s1)

C: Where's Adora? G: She...She left us. She's headed to the Heart on her own. C: Of course she's gone! That's what she does, isn't it? (finale s5)

Because there’s nothing more romantic than basically telling someone you’ve “always” loved that the world would be a better place if they’d never been born, right? To the point where Catra basically becomes a trigger in Adora’s mind of how her dominos will fall and culminate in her losing everything she loves. To the point that Catra still acts like it’s Adora’s fault for taking the Failsafe. To the point that Catra’s ‘love’ for Adora reads almost entirely as completely selfish at basically every turn for the majority of the show.

Another moment that rang very hollow very quickly was the fight between chipped!Catra (aka brainwashed) and Adora in s5. Adora has come to rescue her after Catra made one (1) apology and sent Glimmer safely to Adora, doing one (1) good thing after season upon season of terrible thing. The show frames their face off as this big tragic fight — as most brainwashing plots tend to. The whole point of a brainwashing plotline, usually, is to have someone hurt someone they never would ordinarily. Except there is basically nothing that happens in the brainwashing fight in terms of physical harm that Catra hasn’t willingly inflicted on Adora in the past (the last time they saw each other in person, Adora was being electrocuted by ‘Catra’ — another character in disguise, but Catra gave the order for it and saw it happen, so).

[Screencaps from s5 and s1 respectively, of Catra clawing at Adora’s back; in the lower picture, she breaks through cloth and rips through skin]

Horde Prime is seen as the ultimate evil in the series because he brainwashes people and sets them on their loved ones as well as being an abuser. And Catra does the exact same thing to Adora earlier on in the show (remember that “annihilate your friends” comment?) — and even if you aren’t willing to admit that Catra abused Adora, the show makes it explicitly clear she manipulated Entrapta and flat out abused Scorpia. But Catra is redeemable because...? (Don’t even get me started on the fact that Catra is responsible for the death of Glimmer’s mother, which is a massive deal in season four, and it’s never even mentioned, once, in season five, and Catra never has to face consequences for any of it.)

That being said, I’m actually not opposed to Catra being redeemed, nor was I ever, and I always thought she’d end up with Adora. But the path they took to get there, the utter lack and regard for Adora’s feelings, are incredibly bad and very transparent. The show and showrunners tried to patch this up with statements like, “Catra knew when she left Adora to die — after Adora had saved her life and was begging for help — that Adora would survive the fall from this cliff.” Which is all well and dandy for Catra’s characterization, but does absolutely nothing to address the trauma, or at the very least negative emotions, that Adora would have from that experience.

That, combined with other prominent facets of emotional abuse in romantic relationships being

The abuser is angry with the victim for prioritizing other things (people, needs, career) over them = a lot of what I’ve pointed out above

The abuser gaslights the victim, saying the victim is to blame for their abhorrent actions (self explanatory)

The abuser seeks to isolate the victim = even Catra as a child not wanting Adora to have any other friends but her that was present at least until s5

The abuser will guilt trip and take out their rage on the victim for “leaving” them

The victim convincing themselves that if they just try hard enough, they can “fix” the abuser with their love, perpetuating the cyclical belief that the victim is really to blame for the abuse, etc. = “You’ve never given up on anything, not even on me” and again, fairly self explanatory

Which is too bad, because as a concept, C*tradora is great. Childhood best friends, raised together (take out some of the consistent resentment Catra harboured for the only person she claimed to love), pushed to be on opposite sides of a war (in which almost any chance — except for maybe two — that Catra has to ruin Adora’s life or hurt her, she takes). Then they end the war, hurray, and live happily ever after!

Anyway, now onto something far happier for me, at least, which is Rayllum.

Ah, Rayllum. A barely enemies to friends to best friends and lovers. Let’s revisit those brief similarities with C*tradora, shall we?

Rayla and Adora immediately defect and swords are involved. They have to turn against someone they love (Runaan, Catra) in order to do so. Rayla ends up aligning herself with Callum (and Ezran) as an ally rather than an antagonist. Even in the brief period she is an antagonist, Rayla quite frankly isn’t aggressive. She’s threatening, sure, and chases Callum down with swords — it’s scary, I won’t deny that — but she also immediately starts stalling.

Then, when Rayla actually does threaten him, she apologizes: “I’m sorry. I have to do this. I don’t want to, but I have to.” And she lets Callum stall her further in their ethical debate, and after he’s lied to her about his identity and run away again, and when the actual Prince Ezran has been revealed. So despite being enemies, either of them actually hurting each other willingly? Completely out of the question, except for one (1) kick Rayla gives him in 1x02.

You also have Rayla’s similarity with Catra in terms of lashing out when someone tries to get them to open up. The difference is that Catra lashes out at Adora usually because of some negative emotional response ‘Adora’ has drawn out of her. For example, feeling rejected and abandoned because Adora was friendly with one of the other cadets.

Yes, Catra is an abused child and it feels like Adora is all she has in the world, but that doesn’t make that okay or healthy. Catra very clearly wants to keep Adora to herself and rejects any other possible friendships either of them could have. And Adora is also an abused child. Catra pushes Adora, makes her scream and cry, scars her across the face, all for Adora being friendly with another kid their age and coming to see if Catra is okay.

In contrast, Rayla tends to lash out because she’s crumbling under the weight of her own failures. Callum is not connected to why she’s actually lashing out at all. This is how Rayla responds when Callum tries to be there for her after she’s discovered the death of her father figure and has been banished from her village, just like her biological parents were, all of them branded as cowards (which is the worst thing someone in her society can be).

Callum isn’t injured, he’s not crying. He isn’t made to feel responsible for any of Rayla’s emotional turmoil; if anything it’s the opposite, as she places it wholly on herself and her own feelings of inadequacy. Rayla then opens up, processes her anger and grief, Callum is able to successfully cheer her up, and the next time they’re in a similar situation of emotional turmoil, she’s grown greatly. The scene above is also generally considered (and seen, in show) as Rayla’s lowest moment in many ways. Whereas for Catra, it seems like it could honestly fit right in with being a semi weekly experience. Again, I think the screencaps 90% speak for themselves, but this was just for clarity’s sake.

Then you have Callum and Catra. Both have struggles with feeling inferior. But Catra has a tendency to blame other people around her for everything (“You made me this. You took everything from me” and “Some people have a bad day. I’ve had a bad life”) Callum sees the fault line being in himself.

The only time he ever blames Rayla for anything is in 1x06 about rushing them and causing him to forget some of their supplies — a minor thing that she then just teases him over and something he apologizes for later — and for dropping the egg of the Dragon Prince as a spur of the moment reaction. Which he then almost says was his fault later on in the season.

This is especially important, because both Rayla and Adora deeply struggle with a fear of failure and many of their actions are defined by their self sacrificial streak. But Callum never blames Rayla for things, even when he would be justified in doing so, and Catra routinely harps on Adora’s biggest insecurity as a way to cut her open when Catra isn’t blaming her outright for things. Remember that pin we put in, earlier? We’re bringing it back now.

Because Rayllum also has a fight in their penultimate episode about one of them being self sacrificial and the other disagreeing. And it goes completely differently than the one C*tradora had in a few key ways.

1) Callum does not abandon Rayla for wanting to sacrifice herself. He does the opposite, elongating the conversation and trying to get through to her that this may not be the best thing.

2) It is never, ever, Callum’s concern that Rayla is “choosing something” over him. It does not occur to him, he does not bring it up, his relationship to her — and by this point they’re actually in a romantic relationship — is seen as completely irrelevant to her levels of agency.

R: This all happened because my parents ran away, so I have to stay and protect the [sleeping] Dragon Queen. [...] C: Really? So, that’s it? Just… goodbye? You’re going to stay here and die out of pride? Oh? You have a nicer word for it? Honour? Redemption? It’s just pride! [...] Don’t let your parents’ mistakes drag you down. I know you feel guilty, but you’re not thinking straight! Rayla, you have to let it go!

3) Later after their argument, he calmly approaches her and provides a solution that places the full agency back in her hands. Rayla then resolves to include him in the decision making process.

Again, there are similarities: “Then you don’t know me at all. You never did.” and “No, you don’t [need me]. You never have.” But again, Rayla is the one who walks away from her and Callum’s argument, which is about her risking her life. Adora and Catra’s argument is at first primarily about Catra abandoning Adora in her greatest hour of need without saying goodbye (which Catra never apologizes for or even seems ashamed of) and then Catra switches gears and makes it about Adora. She says that Adora should care about her own needs, but when Adora expresses those needs, Catra ignores them.

The one time that Adora ever thinks Catra has come back for her, she’s surprised.

On the multiple occasions Callum goes back for Rayla (or she, him), she’s almost never surprised.

Which is really just reflective, honestly, of the fact that the vow Catra makes to Adora in the finale is basically the promise/offer Rayla makes to Callum... three episodes into the whole series, the first night they met each other.

Another direct comparison is the early conversations between each pair that we’re privy to. The conversation enclosed below (the bolding are my personal additions, not to indicate actual emphasis)

C: No way. You've been promoted? A: Well, kind of. I mean, yeah, I guess. Heh. But it's not a big deal. C: Are you kidding? That is awesome. We're gonna see the world and conquer it. Adora, I need to blow something up. A: Umm.. C: What? A: Shadow Weaver says you're not coming. C: What? My time was just as good as yours today. What is her problem with me? A: I mean, you are kind of disrespectful. C: Why should I respect her? She's just bitter that she doesn't have any real power that doesn't come from Hordak and everyone knows it. I guess it sure must be easy being a people pleaser like you. A: I am not a pe-- Catra, wait. [Sighs] Look, I'm sorry. I didn't even think you wanted to be a Force Captain. C: I don't. Here, take your stupid badge. A: Come on, Catra. This is what I have been working for my entire life. I was hoping you could be, I don't know, happy for me. C: Ugh, whatever. It's not like I even care. I just wanna get out of this dump at some point before I die of boredom.

Let’s look over that conversation in more detail, shall we? This is supposedly when Catra and Adora were best friends and happy. This is the “positive” background given that “justifies” Adora’s continued investment in Catra even as she does more and more terrible things. But what actually happens? Adora reveals she’s been promoted. Catra immediately makes it about them as a unit / about herself; no congratulations or anything. Catra then insults Adora for no reason other than her own bitterness and resentment (which is ironic given her comment about Shadow Weaver). Adora apologizes for being promoted and not being able to magically read Catra’s mind. Catra insults Adora’s promotion and when Adora asks if Catra can be happy for her, because “this is what [she’s] been working for [her] entire life” Catra just completely dismisses her and makes it all about herself. Again.

Below, I’m going to show one of the early disagreements between Callum and Rayla in 1x04 (roughly two days into them knowing each other). Callum said that she (as an elf) was a bloodthirsty monster in an attempt to protect her, although it still hurt Rayla. He’s relieved that they’ve made it out okay, but Rayla quick makes her displeasure known:

C: Ah, it worked. I can’t believe it. R: I can’t believe that you’re such a jerk. C: What? What’s wrong? R: You called me a bloodthirsty monster. You have no idea how that feels. C: But I don’t actually believe any of that, I was just trying to scare her. I thought she’d back down. R: Oh that went well. They tried to kill me! C: I’m sorry. That’s not what I meant to happen. R: Well it did.

Rayla insults him directly for something he’s done (not a decision someone else — Shadow Weaver — has made). She’s open and honest about her feelings. Callum clarifies his own — he doesn’t see her as a monster at all — but he can recognize that even though none if it was intentional, he messed up and hurt her and put her at risk, so he apologizes. And then never does it again, worrying about her being around other humans more than Rayla does throughout the rest of the seasons (1x07, 2x04, 3x08).

Another notable difference in terms of just overall health is that unlike Catra and Adora, where Catra often slacks off in training and is then angry about being held back and Adora has actually put in all the work to earn her own accomplishments in the Horde... Rayla has something Callum desperately wants — a connection to an arcanum to do magic — that Rayla was born with and does not care about at all, and Callum never, even for a moment, resents her for it. Ever.

C: I will learn magic. It’s who I am. // When I could do magic, I finally felt like myself. I’m just trying to find my way back.

Other Important differences:

Even when Callum and Rayla are angry or upset with each other, they never use it as an excuse to mistreat each other and they never take out their anger on each other — nor are they ever angry at each other for someone else’s words or actions. Callum is upset when he finds out Rayla knew about his father being gone and that she didn’t tell him right away, but all he says is this.

Even when Rayla is mad at him for doing Dark Magic, she still worries about him, makes sure he gets out safely, lays him down gently, and tends to him while he’s sick.

Another thing I love about Rayllum — and this is my aro-specness coming out — is the irrelevance of romantic feelings. Callum likes Claudia at first in 2x02 and Rayla doesn’t like watching them flirt, but she’s never possessively jealous whatsoever or angry at Callum for pursuing something else he wants. Callum also chooses to trust Rayla over Claudia in the end. Then in 3x04, when Callum has a big speech building Rayla up after her breakdown scene, (and he does know he has feelings for her at that point), Rayla kisses him. He fumbles through explaining he wasn’t saying all of those nice things about her just so she would kiss him. Rayla is embarrassed — and covers some of it up with anger — and views it as a rejection (she also saves his life and accepts his help like, three minutes later). But even when Callum is awkward about it the next day, Rayla sets it aside and puts his comfort ahead of her own hurt feelings or awkwardness, so that he can have an easier time of things.

Other comparisons:

A: Did you have to make [Catra] so mean? LH: The simulation is designed for total accuracy. Is the one you call Catra not mean? A: No. She is.

C: You never did have much faith in me. A: Can you blame me?

“Romantic” dancing versus two friends actually having a good time together

Before jumping off a cliff to follow/rescue their partner, Adora and Catra’s last interaction was Catra apologizing over a commlink and sending Glimmer to her. Before that, their last interaction was Catra brutally electrocuting her.

A: Can we skip the speech? I’m done playing your games, Catra. Too many people got hurt when you set off that portal [ie. Catra purposefully trying to end the world so Adora couldn’t ‘win’ and save it]. I hope it was worth it. Because I won’t let you hurt my friends or anyone else ever again.

When Callum leaps after Rayla, their last two previous interactions were both Rayla comforting him, taking his hand and silently asking him to be in the present with her, rather than consumed with worry in his head.

Other Notes:

1) I have no idea what Catra and Adora admire/like about each other.

The closest I’ve got is “Hey, you were great out there” from Adora to Catra about her fighting skills when they were kids, and “You’ve never listened to anyone in your life, are you really going to start now?” (from Adora) and “You’ve never given up on anyone in your life, not even me” (from Catra). Even in seasons one and two for Rayllum, it is abundantly clear what they admire about each other.

C: I don’t get it, Rayla. Why are you so worried about a dragon that just set fire to a town? R: I’ve been thinking about something someone once told me. About how when one person hurts another, then that person hurts them back, it becomes a cycle that never ends. C: Who told you that? R: You did. C: Oh. R: But Callum, to break that cycle someone has to take a stand when no one else will [...] Protecting that dragon doesn’t just feel like the right thing to do, it feels like the right thing for me to do. It’s where I’m meant to be.

Don’t even get me started on season three (“He’s noble and true” “Rayla, you’re the most amazing person I’ve ever met,” “He’s smart and kind and brave and he’s—” “I’ve seen you get knocked down so many times and every single time you get up again. That’s real strength,” “I don’t think I can do it without him,” “Rayla is selfless, strong, and caring”).

2) This isn’t relevant to the discussion, but someone pointed it out once that when Shadow Weaver sacrifices herself so both of her adoptive daughters can get away, she erects a boundary to keep the monster out. Is there any particular reason she couldn’t have sealed all three of them behind the boundary and just closed the monster off in the other room? Genuinely asking.

3) Because it can be / apparently needs to be said, TDP is nice because Rayla is allowed to form healthy meaningful relationships with other characters, like Ezran, that exist completely separately from her relationship with Callum. Whereas Catra arguably gets Glimmer and all they do, more or less, is talk about Adora (again, Scorpia and Entrapta don’t count because those are abusive, unhealthy relationships).

Glimmer: Wait, are you—are you saving me? C: Not you. Adora.

4) For TDP, they take the character with massive fears of failure and pair her with someone who continually builds her up and says that things aren’t her fault and speaks up when she’s being treated unfairly (without treating her like shit for seasons beforehand). They take the character with inferiority issues and instead of giving them resentment, makes him deeply admire his love interest while she also validates the fuck out of him. Don’t get me wrong, Callum can be insensitive and Rayla can be snarky, but they give as good as they get (an equal standing sorely missing in C*tradora in every season, whether it’s causing physical pain to each other or Adora doing way more emotional support for Catra — the person who has caused her the most emotional distress in the whole series — than the other way around). But Callum and Rayla never belittle each other. Ever. Much less in the season where they get together.

I genuinely don’t know why SPOP thought pairing up a character with deep seated inferiority issues with the person they’ve continually resented, and the character with deep seated fears of failure with the person who has continually blamed them for everything, was a good idea. Especially when, as the screencaps and quotes show, almost none of that has changed in season five. All that’s really changed in season five is that Catra has stopped attacking Adora and started helping her, doing things Adora’s friends had been doing for ages without, again, treating her like shit.

Callum and Rayla meet on a mission of convenience and chance, and although imperfect, they always choose to care about each other. Catra and Adora, meanwhile, are bound together by who and where they raised — things they never ever had a choice in, which is interesting for a series that strives against the idea of destiny so heavily.

5) Catra resents Adora for being a hero to everyone but her (ie. not focusing solely on protecting/saving Catra) and Callum admires Rayla for being a hero to everyone but him. Catra then tries to destroy Adora’s sense of self and wellbeing any chance she gets up until s5, but even then still resents her even when Adora is showing concern for her. It never, ever occurs to Catra until the season finale that Adora is someone who needs to — in the most literal sense of the word — be saved. Meanwhile, Callum knows this even before Rayla does. He knows she’s a hero, and he knows that sometimes, she’s the one who needs to be saved.

[Screencaps from 1x05 and 1x06 respectively]

[Followed by screencaps from 3x01, 3x05, and 3x09 respectively.]

Concluding Thoughts

As a queer afab, I find She-Ra’s portrayal of abuse in all of Catra’s relationships (the Horde trio — and even within that group, the treatment Kyle consistently receives — Scorpia, Entrapta) worrying, her “big epic romance” with Adora as “true love” most of all. Emotional abuse isn’t cute and passable just because it’s gay, with domestic partner abuse already not talked about in queer relationships, and something this messy and unhealthy being marketed in a show for small children who still like talking horses. I understand the appeal of the show and the ship — I was similarly drawn to it, for a while, for its “complexity” and “layers” — but that’s true too, of the emotionally abusive relationships I’ve been a victim of; I didn’t see them as abuse, either, until I was out or on my way.

Nor have I ever said in fiction that healthy relationships are the be all end all. People like the twisted shit. I ship some things purely for the fictional, non canon dysfunction of it all, and it’s really fun.

But, one of my favourite things about Rayllum is that they’re healthy, and supportive, and work through their problems with generally good communication. They both have trauma and issues, but they never act like those things are excuses in regards to how they treat each other (or even explanations) and you can actually buy that they’re best friends by choice.

And, in my humble opinion, are far healthier than C*tradora in every way imaginable — but that’s not exactly a hard bar to meet when the bar itself is Healthy Relationship.

#darkwolfgoddess #rayllum #spop critical #anti catradora #tw abuse #again this is just my opinion #nobody has to agree nobody has to debate #just scroll on by and don't click on it if it's not your thing #requests #analysis series #analysis #this was a Long Boi #now to finally purge everything shera related from my mind #i'm free

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devotion · 3 years

Text

hold you forever → peter p.

summary: your misguided tattoo has appeared on your eighteenth birthday. however, they aren't the initials of your one and only peter parker.

warnings: angst, swears, an emotional ride, happy ending, a few suggestive references but not really.

notes: a soulmate au. prompts in bold for @rosyparkers challenge (back in aug 😔).

word count: 3.7k+ | p.p masterlist

───✦

the balmy weather outside would have been a welcoming relief for you if you didn't spend your birthday staying cooped up in your room for the past couple of hours. you had other plans; all spent with the company of your best friends and boyfriend.

maybe a little campfire at the end of the day - cooking your favourite s'mores and doing everything and anything that you deemed enjoyable. it was your day after all. but your sullen mood had gotten the best of you - the reason why brought you down almost instantly you found out. like the sky no longer seemed limitless anymore.

you should have been thankful. while your parents were out, getting decorations and preparing for the ultimate birthday you were going to have, there you were -- leaning on your bedroom door and part of your head buried between your knees, ignoring all the incoming messages and calls from anyone - especially him.

it would have been a lie if you said that you weren't expecting this; almost everyone you knew looked forward to their big day. to have a clue on who their better half would be. with that in mind, you and peter had barely mentioned soulmates before, except you both denied the concept - as really - it was just too good to be true. and instead, settled on the fact that they just simply didn't exist.

however, not a single ounce of your being succumbed to admitting it wholeheartedly. and now you were paying the price - lying to peter that, in reality, you had always been smitten with the fact that there was someone to love out there. someone destined for you. someone who could be your personal hero. but who knew that, from the very start, you were mistaken about your own? to the point you had overlooked it completely because you were that confident it was him -- peter.

your peter.

but to see - that your wrist had initials miraculously engraved on your left wrist was anything but his; it truly shook you - expecting no other than two p's. not one with the letter b next to it.

but part of you guessed the universe didn't always have the plan you wished for. and even if it meant dying without him - with nobody to take care for you, to give you the physical affection you deeply craved for -- that urgent need seemed to only be a desire at that moment. it was equal to nothing. it didn't matter at all no matter how much you wanted him.

he just wasn't yours.

it hadn't hit noon as of yet, but peter dwelled on why you hadn't texted him back, even bearing in mind that he knew you were a pretty shit texter, but the feeling of discomfort planted itself inside peter's chest.

why were you so stressed?

peter sat down on the edge of his bed, his fingers weaving through his mess of hair, pondering whether or not to come over to your apartment below his.

but if only, he thought, you knew he could feel your emotions. maybe the constant worry of letting you know that would put him at ease.

thoughts like this would always pass his mind every so often. though what always drew him back was that if he let you knew, he wouldn't want to withstand the pain and neglect of you not wanting anything this serious. even if you've already been through your whole life together since diapers. or if worse came to worse, the utter heartbreak he would feel of the image where you'd be broken all your life without a soulmate if he didn't come home after fighting crime.

that thoroughly tormented him the most no doubt.

he knew -- you knew -- that secrets, big secrets like this, weren't healthy for relationships. maybe keeping them were logical in this sense. but truthfully, how were both of you going to handle it this time?

maybe ignorance was bliss. although now that it involved you both and your whole lives ahead of you - now... you didn't think it was actually worth it.

"peter! i need you to try this new spaghetti recipe i made!" aunt may's voice rang through the apartment, completely catching peter off guard, his spidey senses being completely useless at that point as he slipped off the bed in a thud.

thankfully may didn't hear that.

before peter could think about his previous thoughts any further, he allowed himself to settle on the matter that you were busy with your parents, shoving the negative suspicions he kept in his mind. even if he could still feel the inkling that you weren't having a great time at all. he was going to visit you in an hour like you both had planned, anyway. he'll just have to wait.

──

snivelling, your hand finally seized your phone in annoyance, only to find out that it was mj calling. you wiped your nose and tears in an effort to somehow sound better on the phone, accepting the call shortly after you had a coughing fit.

the conversation started off fairly simple, talking about how you've both been lately since school ended. all until she asked you how your birthday was going. and being with mj taught you how to never have a filter with her - to speak the perfect truth - since she could already notice the way you felt because of her ability of being very "observant".

"like trash, mj," you began, "i'm in such a mess."

mj's eyebrows creased as she replied, "why's that? did you buy the wrong outfit? 'cause i can come over-"

you were quick to intervene, "no no." your head dropped down to look at your unclothed wrist. you confessed, "i... have a... tattoo."

"and?" she probed, resisting the urge to roll her eyes. maybe sometimes you were a little dramatic, "what's so bad about that? didn't you want peter to be your soulmate?"

you bit your lip to stop yourself from the tears from falling, squeezing your eyes shut as you said, "he isn't. that's what my problem is. it says pb."

"oh whatever," she gave in, rolling her eyes even if you didn't see her. mj would always say that she thinks that you and peter were made for each other - in more aspects than one. and to think you'd say that, she didn't think she heard right.

but her dismissiveness seemed to have made you whimper. it wasn't helping since no one could convince you otherwise when the biggest, most obscure, obstacle was right on your body. instantly, when mj had heard it, she maintained in a soft voice, "come on, y/n, don't say that."

"no i can't, mj. i can't let this slide," you choked back a sob. "i genuinely thought we had our whole life planned ahead of us. there was so much more to what we had. i love him. i love him so fucking much," you stressed, attempting to hide your sniffles,

"it hurts," you continued to lament, "hurts to know that it's not him that i won't spend the rest of my life with. i want him. i've fallen too hard for peter that it slipped out of my mind totally whether or not he would be my soulmate from the very start."

a silence fell over the phone, giving you time to wipe the tears that escaped. even though it was no use since your eyes had welled up again. mj spoke up, "you sure it's not a p?"

"no mj, it's clear that it's a fucking b."

"upside down, maybe?"

"still would be pb, wouldn't it, michelle?"

"you mean qd, right?" she corrected before snorting, suppressing her laugh as she realised, "ha, what if it's peanut butter?"

you wanted to laugh, in an aim to ease the tension, but there was a tightening in your throat that forced you take in a short breath.

rather than a snarky comment, mj tried to be understanding even if she couldn't relate; that in all fairness, falling in love with someone who wasn't destined for you was really a tricky situation. you hear a sigh on the phone, "could be a misunderstanding, girl. peter's not turned 18 yet, you'll have to wait a little longer, a month to be precise, to see if your initials are on his wrist."

"what? is this a three way to you?" you deadpanned and mj couldn't help chuckling loudly at that, "and if they aren't?"

your best friend knew how much he meant to you; the love you had practically radiated from one another. although mj had a soulmate of her own, she was well aware of how strong the connection between you and peter was. she never tried to dictate your relationship; all she could do was suggest what was best for you.

"look, y/n, i love you. and if i haven't stressed that enough throughout the time that we've known each other, i'm sorry." you heard another sigh. "but i ain't kidding when i say that you can always be friends."

friends.

just... friends?

she went on, "your life doesn't revolve around a man. it never has."

"mj, i understand you. i really fucking do. but that would apply if soulmates didn't exist!" you almost shouted over the phone, again realising that it was her time that you were wasting, "no, sorry, i mean. sorry for shouting."

you lowered your tone to sound less harsher, but mj could still hear your voice edging whilst you spoke, "but i honestly wouldn't have cared this much if i never felt the fucking pain he has. the falling bricks that lands on him when he's neck on neck with some next-level bitch, his sadness over his uncle every so often, or even when everyone asks him about tony. and to add to that already, the constant stress of college overwhelming him - all of it."

you breathed a sigh of exasperation to calm yourself down.

"and you fully well know the amount of times i've screamed for no reason when peter was out at night patrolling when we studied together."

"yeah, my mom really thought we had something going on between us."

you tried not to chuckle. "it doesn't make sense," you finalised, "we may have gone through our whole childhood together, but this -- it's different. this tattoo- it- it makes no sense and it's affecting me so much. the reason why i'm not balling my eyes out and screaming right now is because peter somehow feels happy at the moment."

"so, why are you worrying?" she countered.

you smacked your head. the sound was that harsh that even michelle had heard it over the phone, "ouch, that must've hurt." but she dismissed the comment as quick as she muttered it, "you know he's happy because it's your birthday."

that had completely slipped your mind. on its own accord, your bottom lip trembled, voice coming out as a whisper, "yeah. but he's always happy on my birthday."

"maybe you just know him because you've always been together?" she suggested to you, "sometimes that just happens, right?"

but by that point, mj didn't fully take on board the situation. all of it being very confusing, just like how you were. and she decided that you had better go to him to sort things out instead of you mulling it over and doing absolutely nothing.

"yeah, you're right," you exhale, the tears no longer flowing down your cheeks as you took into consideration her advice ─ you were going to tell him that you couldn't see each other any more like this.

because, really, peter didn't deserve an unfair relationship with you - you'd rather have it end now to get over him. besides, it was selfish of you to keep him to yourself - leading him on like this. wasn't it best to let the people who were most dearest to you go anyway?

──

as you stood there in front of the door of the parker apartment, pensive, you already knew that you weren't ready for this. sweaty palms, jittery nerves, a blurred subconscious - you had it all. moreover, you had been so consumed in your own bubble that you had forgotten to wear shoes.

fingers tangling with each other, you became familiar with the feeling of instant regret surfacing and bubbling your insides. many passersby gave you weird looks as to why you just stood there.

no. you simply weren't going to tell him yet. not today. save it for another day, right? that way you don't have to cry in front of peter and his aunt-

"fuck it," you muttered under your breath, but before you wrapped your hand to knock on the door, someone had opened it - revealing a smiley peter. in a heartbeat, taking in your red eyes, his smile dropped. and all of a sudden your heart felt heavier than it did before; the emotions locked up and weighing you down massively.

were you really going to go through with this?

he opened the door fully, gesturing for you to come inside and you hesitantly stepped in, the whiff of freshly-made tomato sauce enveloping your senses. it smelt heavenly.

"are you okay, y/n?" peter spoke up, stepping just a little closer and coming to a stop as he noticed your red eyes, "why've you been crying?"

in hopelessness, you looked down at your socks, the same pair you had borrowed from peter in fact, and back at his face - worry etched clearly in his expression. the air of despondency made peter uncomfortable and your silence told him he wasn't going to like where this was going.

eventually, you realised if you didn't speak, the void of sound would have laid bare any conversation, and you didn't really come for that. so, you answered, "i- have to apologise."

his eyebrows raised and he thought the worst was to come, but his whole heart and mind trusted you; you couldn't hurt him. but you did with the next few words,

"we can't, pete," your eyes bore into his soft, brown ones , "i can't see you like this, anymore," and peter could hear your heart accelerating at such an alarming rate; generally meaning that you were scared of something.

he questioned, "what do you mean? have i done anyth-?"

"-no," you interrupted him, the words coming out more strangled as you said them, "we have to break up."

"wait. hold up. on your birthday? you're breaking up with me right now? don't i deserve an explanation at least?"

"i-," you paused, asking yourself, did you? no, in reality, you didn't. but your mouth never really cooperated with your brain as you went with, "i don't think a relationship is right for us right now, because you've been so busy with patrol, and- and-"

"-i've always made time for you," his voice broke, "this doesn't add up."

the way you sounded quite stupid didn't please you the slightest bit as you replied, cursing yourself for using the high school musical reference, "we just have to go our own way now, pete. i'm tired of these games."

you toyed with your sleeves as you let the painful words out, utterly lost in your emotion, when immediately, (you were glad the door was shut) you heard aunt may screaming,

"peter benjamin parker!" the woman's cry startled you, "get up here right now!your room is in an absolute tip."

at the same time, the back of your mind thought about the use of his middle name. although, you figured it was the best time to leave, blinking your eyes harshly to stop the threatening tears from spilling - it could possibly be the last time you stepped in here.

peter ignored his aunt, as much as he knew it was wrong to, but his eyes never moved away from your face - glazing over with tears whilst he got to take in what he could. were you actually leaving?

you finally forced yourself to look away from him. even as you sniffled to turn away to the door, peter watched you go, not believing that this was happening.

still his hand reached out to grasp your left hand, savouring the possibly final touch of your skin with his.

but what you failed to remember was about the ink decorated on your wrist. now, your sleeve of your jumper had ridden up because he clutched your hand tightly, not letting go, and peter looked down to appreciate how your hand fit with his so perfectly.

and then he saw it.

your line of vision was directed towards the picture hung up near the door frame, completely clueless on what peter was seeing. a picture of you and him at the homecoming dance (taken by ned) displaying the first kiss of many shared between you two on the canvas.

you felt peter let go of you. but you didn't expect him to ask you,

"do you believe in soulmates?"

anxious, your head whipped around to look at him narrow-eyed, "no," you lied through your teeth, hoping he wouldn't notice. but peter didn't assess your face as he was more bothered about your response.

he knew well that it was his initials on your wrist. yeah, it might not have been pp but benjamin was also his middle name. all in all, it finally was clear to him why he could feel what you felt.

"oh, well," peter choked, becoming glassy eyed ─ not wanting to proceed by saying the upcoming words. yet he couldn't live with the fact that if you didn't know he was, indeed, your soulmate, he probably would never forgive himself if you let go out of his grasp. even though you probably were going to, he wanted to let you know at least.

but who was he kidding? he needed you for crying out loud. with that, he continued, "that's a shame because i'm it." at long last he confessed,

"i'm your soulmate."

your face washed blank with confusion, like the cogs in your brain couldn't turn fast enough to take in the information from what peter had just informed you with.

"peter b-!"

every muscle of your body just froze, trying to process his words still, as aunt may descended from the stairs, arriving on the landing in frustration. even then, you could tell she was still seething. but due to the fact she saw you in the doorway, at once she regained her composure.

and it clicked.

how on earth could you have forgotten peter's middle name?

may gave you both a tight-lipped smile, already wishing that she wasn't there to invade your privacy. it was evident with the quietness between you two. and the distress on peter's face showed how important the discussion you were having was.

"i'll go," she disclosed, before turning to peter, "and you better sort the filth in your room, young man," then, pivoted slightly to face you, "you may go into the kitchen, y/n, and grab anything you want. i have spaghetti!"

soon enough, may had gone. whilst peter dreaded your departure, you raised up the cuff of your sweater, making known the tattoo that was marked down underneath.

he gulped at the moment you edged nearer to him, and you lifted your head, a smile slowly appearing on your face at him, baring your teeth. the bliss you felt emitted easily towards peter because of the close proximity, instantly flexing the muscles in the apples of his cheeks as the corners of his mouth turned upwards.

you feel your cheeks heating up, affirming and crunching your nose up in attempt to hide your embarrassment, "you're mine."

"i'm yours," he confirmed, a grin spreading on his face, "bet you feel like a right dumb ass,"

you moaned childlishly, "fuck you, peterrr." elongating his name as your head fell into the nape of his neck.

the clear and resonant sound of his laugh reached your ears, the vibrations of his chest growing stronger against your own as you hugged him. eventually, peter calmed down, brushing his lips on your neck, then saying through a chuckle, "will do, baby. gotta wait a while."

if it was even possible, your face felt all the more warmer. meanwhile, you revelled in his embrace -- and so did he, almost afraid to release your hold again.

you murmured quietly to him, "i love you, pete. i'm so sorry 'bout what i said. you patrolling doesn't affect me at all and-"

peter's finger reaches your lips to hush you, "-and i love, i love, i love you," he cut in, already aware that what was said prior were just excuses. he didn't blame you for being forgetful about his full name; but he would come to that matter some time later.

you beamed up at him when he said that, catching his focus. and it seemed like the world fell away. like nobody but you two existed.

your nose touched his, peter's hand trailing across your arm to your wrist, wrapping it around your own. the tingle you felt now that his touch rested there gave you the best feeling you've ever had in your entire entity. he brought your hand up for both of you to admire - to see that the letters were more prominent than ever.

and upon seeing this, peter planted a deep kiss on it - making you throw your head back in laughter at the way it felt. almost ticklish, but this was a good kind - where you wanted nothing but more.

after a couple of moments, you piped up, pursing your lips up at him, "i have to apologise to mj for the shit i came out with. i really wasted her time," you said, sadly.

"oh, fuck," his head tilted backwards, thereafter complaining, "mj knows already? before me?"

"yeah?" you replied confused.

"i wanted to do a surprise, show our tattoos together the next time we meet or something," he pouted.

"awh, don't worry, pete," your hand stroked his cheek, taking in the softness of his skin. peter melted against the texture of your fingertips, enamoured by the tenderness and affection.

you pursued, "we've got forever to show to everyone that we belong to each other." and your head tilted to gaze at him in content, whispering,

"never forget that i'll be the one to hold you forever."

───✦

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qqueenofhades · 4 years

Note

The photo set you reblogged of Yusuf and Niccolo helping throughout time just filled me with so many happy feels and it made me realize that it seems so common in media with immortal couples that they take breaks from each other and reconnect after a few decades. Which is a great trope but seeing these two that seems to have been attached at the hip since the day they met just fills me with all the heart eyes.

(I haven't read your fanfics for them yet. I know I'm a bad fan but if it helps I havent been able to read anything since all this started but while writing this ask I got the feeling that all this rambling I spewed out is a big theme)

Hush. Bad fan nothing. We all are coping with this stupid, awful year in different ways, some of us by escaping into fandom and some of us being unable to engage with it and some of us doing both or anything else. You certainly don’t owe me or anyone any obligation to interact with our content, fic or otherwise. So just to have that there on the top. You’re good, hun. :)

ANYWAY, thank you for giving me a chance to meta a bit on the boys and their relationship and to have a window into what my brain looks like pretty much 24/7 these days. (I blame them.) I keep thinking about all the ways this couple is depicted in the TOG film and how lovely it was and how unusual it is for me to have an OTP where I actually love them in canon and don’t need to violently disavow it in order to create AU fan content with just the characters. (See: Timeless, Game of Thrones, pretty much any show I’ve hyperfixated on at some point.) I love AUs anyway, because that’s the way my brain works, but the fact that I can also enjoy canon just as much is rare for me and for a lot of us. I saw a post somewhere remarking on how the fanfic for Joe/Nicky isn’t fixing anything, which is usually the point of transformative fanworks: we take something that canon atrociously fucked up and fix it. But in this case, all our interpretations are based on actually appreciating the way they’re presented in canon and wanting to enjoy that and uphold it, and that -- especially with a couple like this one -- is shocking??

Like. Despite my historian gripes about the occasionally incongruous details for their graphic-novel backstories (which are the only things I HAVE fixed in my fics), I’m just... deeply appreciative of the care which everyone, writers and actors and all else, put into depicting Joe and Nicky and their relationship. And god YES, one of the things I love the absolute MOST is that they’re a loving, faithful, committed, happy married queer couple over centuries, and that seems to be the case for as long as they’ve known each other/ever since they got together. (See Booker’s “you and Nicky always had each other.”) These fools can’t sleep apart from each other even when they’re stuck on a freight train in the middle of nowhere, they flirt like teenagers at dinnertime and even when they’re strapped to gurneys in a mad-scientist laboratory, they make out to enrage bad guys and also because they’re just still that goddamn into each other after all this time.

I think it was Marwan Kenzari who pointed out that there’s simply no way to truly state the depth of their knowledge and devotion and commitment to each other. They’re 950 years old. They have known each other since they were in their thirties; they’ve been husbands for literal centuries. There is no way anyone else in the world could possibly come close to replicating the kind of bond they have with each other, and neither of them have ever had any inclination to look, because why would they? Especially with the fact that queer couples in media, even otherwise sympathetically portrayed ones, often have Drama and Third Parties and Promiscuity and whatever else (because of the tiresome old canard that Gays Equal Hypersexualized!), and Joe and Nicky don’t need or want ANY of that. There’s no urge to make their relationship a cheap source of soap-opera conflict. It’s the rock and the center and the core of both of their lives, and everything they do stems from that.

There have been some great metas/comments on how neither Joe and Nicky are sexualized, they dress like stay-at-home dads during quarantine (Marwan Kenzari and Luca Marinelli are both objectively gorgeous men, and they’re out there looking like that, god bless), and the viewer is never invited to goggle at or fetishize their relationship. There are no leering or exploitative camera angles on anyone, and their expressions of love aren’t posed or intended to titillate the audience, they’re just solidly embodied and natural and lived in. It’s never bothered to be stated clunkily in dialogue that they’re a couple; we just see them exchanging looks and smiles in the early part of the film, and then we see them spooning on the train after the mission in Sudan, which confirms it.

At every turn, the narrative celebrates the kindness and love shared by the Immortal Family, the individual characters, and Joe and Nicky, especially and explicitly in queer form. The villains of the film are also defined by how they react negatively to that love. @viridianpanther had a great meta on how Keane as a villain is especially set up to menace Joe and Nicky as the narrative representation of toxic masculinity, aggressive heterosexuality, and the usual “Kill Your Gays” trope that we’ve all come to wearily expect. But instead, after that scene where Joe and Nicky fight Keane, Nicky is shot and comes back to life in Joe’s arms rather than dying permanently like we probably all momentarily expected, and then Joe gets to FUCKIN’ BREAK THE NECK of the guy who enacted that violence.... good GOD. The first time I watched it, I almost couldn’t believe it was happening. (This goes for the whole film, but especially that scene.) Like... when do we get that?? When do we EVER get that???

Obviously, there are so many stereotypes, whether visually or in behavior or character traits, that could have been assigned to a gay Italian character (excessively dramatic, effeminate, fashionable, etc) or a gay Arabic/Muslim character (explicitly announcing He’s Not Like Those Muslims, having to actively reject his heritage to make him more palatable to westerners, being tormented over being gay, etc) and Joe and Nicky subscribe to none of those. I get very emotional about Joe referring to Nicky as the moon when he is lost during the truck scene partly because it’s SUCH a common motif in Arabic love poetry. To call someone your “moon” is a beautiful way to say they’re the light of your life, and since the Islamic calendar is obviously lunar and the holidays, months, and observances, are set by the phases of the moon, this also has a deeper religious significance.

I don’t know for sure if they did that on purpose, but it it’s a lovely and subtle way of showing us how Joe clearly doesn’t have an issue with being both queer AND Muslim, and is able to draw on both facets of that identity in a way that a lesser narrative would have denied him. And that is just really wonderful. Yes, we’re seeing these characters when they’ve had centuries to settle into themselves, but there are plenty of writers who would have forced those conflicts artificially to the surface, rather than letting them be long in the past. It’s the same way when you watch a film set in the medieval era, it wants you to know that it Is Set In The Medieval Era. Cue the filth, misogyny, racism, violence, etc! Rather than it being a lived-in reality, it has to be jarringly drawn attention to, and I’m just so glad they didn’t do that with Joe and Nicky. And for them to have met in the crusades and fallen in love??! Come on. That’s just rude. Rude to me, personally.

Anyway, this was a rather long-winded and feelsy way of saying that these characters are constructed, acted, and written organically in such a way that you hate to even THINK of them being separated, and it’s not because they can’t function without each other, but because they are two halves of a whole. We also see that the characters themselves can’t stand being forced apart: Joe’s freakout in the truck scene when Nicky briefly won’t wake up, Nicky making sure to tell Joe that he’s glad he’s awake in the lab, the whole post-Keane fight scene that I talked about above, the way Nicky fights ferociously to get to Joe when Merrick’s stabbing him, etc. For that to be given to the queer couple, where the strength of their love and devotion is reinforced as one of the emotional goals of the story, and for that queer couple to be written in the way that Joe and Nicky are, both individually and as a unit, is just so very rare.

Because yes, there’s plenty of drama and angst and pain in their lives, but there’s none at all in their relationship, and that’s what fans keep telling TV writers the whole time: they WANT to see the couple confront things as a unit, rather than being kept on tenterhooks the whole time and forced to go through manufactured or artificial drama. It would feel especially wrong for Joe and Nicky, who have known and loved each other for 900 years. The fact that their respective actors also put so much care and love into them is very obvious, and makes me feel even luckier that they’re played by people who clearly get them and honor them and know what they’re doing.

Basically: of course Joe and Nicky have been with each other the whole time, and of course we’re all drowning in feelings over it, and I feel very blessed that this ship exists, and I very much need the sequel ASAP. Thanks.

#the old guard meta #joe x nicky #immortal husbands #long post #roseoswiins #ask

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theonceoverthinker · 3 years

Text

I wish I could be happy, but I’m not

(I made a thread of this on Twitter this morning, but I’m going to elaborate on it here because as you’ll see in a different sense on this post, character limits are BS)

So I'm not gonna lie, I think the line about Clover that many in my neck of the fandom are getting excited over isn't the loving acknowledgment of how Qrow felt about Clover that many seem to think it is.

Follow me on this one:

Is it good that Clover was finally explicitly brought up? Yes.

Did they do it in a terrible way? YUP, and I'll explain how in just a moment.

Am I surprised? Less than I ever wanted to be.

Actually, before I begin, because I KNOW people are gonna come after me for this post one way or another, I just want to ask those people if they think I LIKE being this negative? Do they think I LIKE being so cynical towards a show that I used to have so much fun with, a show that I was starting to trust? Don’t you think I want to be excited about Volume 8 with everyone else, and that prior to Volume 7, I wasn’t having the time of my life thinking about and enthusiastically waiting for the new episodes.

No, believe me, I’d be thrilled to enjoy this new volume with everyone else, but after the waking nightmare that was 7X12 (An episode that keeps getting worse and worse the more you look at it, as if an evil version of a Where’s Waldo artbook), CRWBY made it pretty apparent to not trust them as far as I can throw them, to guard my heart, and to temper any positive expectations I have for this show because they can and will likely let me down.

Full disclosure: I’m not watching the volume itself in the traditional sense: I’m having the context of the scenes explained to me by a wonderful friend, and seeing and reading the dialogue and facial expressions of the scenes through gifs, pictures, and the like on various Twitter and Tumblr blogs. That having been said, I take confidence that I am getting an accurate and complete understanding of the Qrow scenes.

Okay, let’s go...under the cut because this got LONG!

The line that starts with "The thing that really stings..." is the line in question, just in case there was any doubt since Qrow speaks a fair bit in this episode (Yes, I’ve read through the full line, but this post is already gonna be long enough without transcribing the whole thing, here it is if you haven’t checked it out yet). It comes up right after Qrow talks about Clover's death.

“The thing that really stings” is a crucial opening line. It implies that on a list of important matters pertaining to the given topic being touched upon, what he’s about to state is the most important of them.

And what does he go on to talk about after that opener?

Semblances. Just semblances, or rather, just his semblance.

Qrow talks about how he was finally entertaining the notion that there was somebody he could be around without having to worry about his semblance complicating things, but that he now believes that possibility was nothing but a childish dream.

This line (which I HOPE is just accidentally clunky because I DO want the Staff Theory to be true so we can start to recover from all this BS in a way that lets me keep enjoying this series) is a lot more harmful to the Fair Game relationship than anyone in the Clover and Fair Game fandom seems to think it is. I genuinely don't want to rain on anyone's parade because I know a large part of my fandom is pretty excited about it, but I can't leave this alone.

I'll be frank: This line implies that Clover's death on it's own (The act of the character of Clover dying, his entire being, personality and all) isn't as important to Qrow as what that death symbolizes. All it does is just talk about how Clover meant he could be around someone and not have his semblance mess things up.

It doesn't discuss the bond they formed over their time in Atlas together. It doesn't discuss how Clover was someone who was addressing his self-loathing and absence of a team or how they cared about each other. These things would imply that Clover meant something to him as a person outside of his semblance.

Now did the paragraph need to go into detail about or even discuss Clover and Qrow’s bond? Not necessarily, but with a line starting with "what really stings" that only on to talk about Clover as he relates to his semblance undercuts what made Clover's character so beloved in the first place.

Clover fans didn't fall in love with Clover because of his semblance. It was an interesting aspect of his character, sure, but it wasn’t the only one by a long shot.

We fell in love with Clover's unique personality, how he was cocky without the pompousness or bullying that tends to come with that cockiness, as well as his emotional softness and how it contrasted with our expectations at every turn, even extending to his support-suiting weapon.

We fell in love with how Clover, even dealing with people he was technically sort of opposed to like Robyn Hill, he made every effort to be diplomatic, careful towards her election, and sincere.

We fell in love with how Clover, unlike the rest of his team, was the notable exception to the rule of the Ace Ops not being friends with their teammates.

We fell in love with the many, many interesting visual aspects of his character design, both individually as well as how closely they mirrored Qrow’s.

We fell in love with the concern he had for Qrow, someone who Qrow was finally on an equal playing field with and could grow to trust as well as willingly and happily team up with.

We fell in love with Clover’s persistence in getting close to him and having Qrow come to a place where he could acknowledge his own worth.

So understand that this line says that the thing about Clover that left the biggest impression on Qrow (And by extension in terms of the show’s meta narrative, the audience) was not that character that we cared for because of who he was, but instead that Qrow cares more about how Clover benefitted him personally on a strictly utilitarian level than the actual connection he and Clover shared as people.

That sentiment does an incredible disservice to Clover's character. Despite what those who defend 7X12 felt, Clover was a character with dimension (And by no means was an Adam, just to stop that garbage comparison in its tracks before it comes up again). What that line does is callously strips away that dimension to make Clover almost something closer to a one-note manic pixie dream boy, and only for the purposes of his semblance, at that.

That’s not good writing, and it shouldn’t be as revered as it presently is (I know the episode’s only a few hours old at the time of writing this, but this seems to be the line’s perception by the Clover and Fair Game fandoms).

More than anything -- more than the possibility of Jailbirds becoming canon, or the lack of connecting Clover and the staff this volume -- this sentiment that Clover’s only worth came from his semblance said by Qrow himself (The character who spent a lot of time bonding with him) makes me worried about whether or not we will actually get a Clover revival.

Again, I don't want to ruin anyone's fun (Though I know I risk it just by making this and will probably be subject to all manner of online torment as a result because that’s just the way things go around here), but I think we Clover fans need to acknowledge the dangerous wording of this line and temper our expectations accordingly.

Today's Clovember theme is 'wish.' I'm not gonna stop wishing for Clover's return. I'm not gonna stop hoping for Clover's return, either.

However, I don't want another 7X12 to happen to myself or the various others in the fandom that I’ve grown to care about this past year again. I can’t ignore a bad sign when it’s staring me in the face, leaving such a foul taste in my mouth in the way that this is. Fair Game Buddies and Clover fans alike, please just be careful. I love you all.

#clover ebi #rwby spoilers #clover deserved better #fair game #qrow branwen

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jurdanhell · 4 years

Text

Soft Cardan Greenbriar Things that Make Me Want to Cry™ part #253

i wanted to trace this image back to the original tumblr op (because i found it on instagram), but i couldn’t find the account :(

okay so i saw this n i kinda wanted to cry, here’s why:

the bottom half of this textpost is targeting abusers who have caused their victims to feel unworthy of love & that they are undeserving of it. reading this immediately pulled this line from the depths of my sad, fandom brain:

“‘I have not made myself easy to love,’ he says, and I hear the echo of his mother’s words in his.”

which then pulls this line:

“Cardan was not an easy child to love, and he’s only grown worse with time.”

alrighty, so, the correlation here is obvious; jude noticed it & even pointed it out for us. and if that wasn’t enough of a kick to the stomach, it’s like a kick to the teeth when you compare these quotes to the line from the mentioned therapist above, “be difficult for abusers to love.”

cardan spent a lot of his life prying for his parents’ attention, even acting out to get it. he was so desperate for the attention of his neglectful parents that he didn’t care about the positive or negative correlations to the attention they gave; he just wanted to be seen, to be noticed.

cardan was not easy for his abusers to love, and he knew that. he was not easy for them to love because he was everything they didn’t want: a suspected failure, “the ruination of the throne and destruction of the crown.” cardan had shitty parents who simply did not want to love him.

but then, he tells jude with one of his ever-infamous lines:

“I spent much of my life guarding my heart. I guarded it so well that I could behave as though I didn’t have one at all. Even now, it is a shabby, worm-eaten, and scabrous thing. But it is yours.”

cardan believed himself to be difficult to love because he was abused and because he was taught through actions (or rather, lack thereof) that he wasn’t worth the effort, which is far from the truth. he had accepted this part of him—this survival instinct, perhaps—that he adapted because his abusers told him who he was from the start.

“You need not say it out of pity,”

“I have asked you to lie to me in the past, in this very room, but I would beg you not to lie now.”

these lines heavily imply that cardan not only accepted this, but truly believed he was unworthy of jude’s love. something he so desperately wanted, something he worked to gain even though he didn’t believe he deserved it, even when he believed it was something he could never have.

he felt it was tormenting, because he was taught to believe that he was unworthy of love, of anyone’s love, which made him cruel and wicked and desperate.

holly black tackles the characteristics of abusive relationships, & repeatedly baffles me. it is extremely realistic; the relapse, the small triggers, the built-in armour, the deflection & evasion, the crave for love even when you feel you don’t deserve it, and the need for defense and defiance when it’s completely unnecessary.

further, in the epilogue, there’s a line that’s similar to this:

“[Cardan] smiles nervously at me, as unused to all this happiness as I am.”

(i can’t honestly remember if that’s the exact line or not, but that’s not the point.)

for the longest time, he’s wanted jude, he “looked at her as though she were made of glamour and smoke,” and when he finally had the oppirtunity to reach out and touch her, to hold her, he retreated as if it was the smoke of jude that scolded him and not the underlying fire of his past parental and guardian’s (balekin) abuse.

jude describes cardan as funny, and clever, and those being some of the reasons she fell in love with him; so we know that there is much more beneath the façade he wears like a mask.

but that’s just the thing:

“I think back to his riddle. How do people like us take off our armour? One piece at a time.”

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jougogo · 4 years

Text

4 times nishinoya had your back and the 1 time you had his

happy birthday to my first haikyuu crush, the energetic and sweet guardian deity of karasuno, nishinoya yuu!

a/n: i wrote this at 3am this morning so please ignore any mistakes teehee

warnings: not proofread, my crappy writing

word count: 1.9k

1. when you fell off the swings in first grade

you were in first grade. it was your favorite time of the day, recess, and you had giddily run out onto the playground. you immediately ran to your favorite swing; you’ve always adored the feeling of flying in the air. while you were there, you spotted a couple of older girls come up to the swing set as well. one girl swung oh-so-high and performed an impressive flip off the swing. you were in awe. determined to prove that you could be just as cool as the older girls, you pushed yourself and swung as high as you can. the ground looks awfully far from here, you remember thinking. the next thing you know, you had let go of the chains on the side of the seat and was now tumbling through the air, at the mercy of gravity. it was only then that you remembered the sharp wooden chips that line the playground. you closed your eyes shut, ready to brace for impact when you felt your body slam against a soft...person?

“ow. you shouldn’t do that! don’t you know how dangerous it is? if i wasn’t here, you would’ve died! i saved your life!” a squeaky voice blabbered from the boy that you were currently lying on top of.

“huh? thanks, i guess you did save my life! want to be friends?” you put on your best puppy eyes and extended a small hand to the boy. he wasn’t much taller, but he had a comforting, protective aura.

“sure!! I’m nishinoya yuu,” he grinned.

2. when you didn’t have anyone to sit next to at lunch

it was the first day of fifth grade. your best friend had recently moved away, leaving you with nobody to sit with at lunch. noya had grown up; his daredevil mindset, athleticism, and good looks made him popular amongst both boys and girls in your grade. yet there you were, pathetic, friendless, and sitting alone at lunch. burying your face in your lunch box, you felt your face begin to grow warm, and a familiar feeling of something in your throat sneaked up as you tried your hardest to keep the tears from sliding down your cheeks. out of nowhere, a loud metallic noise of something slamming down against the aluminum table interrupted your weeping. you looked up tentatively to find noya and his lunchbox, grinning at you from across the table.

“did you really think i would let you sit alone at lunch?”

3. when you were rejected by your crush

“hahah, y/n has a crush on a third year!” “did you really think an older boy would be into you? how sad!”

it was the tormenting middle school years. somehow, the news that you had sent a letter confessing your crush to the captain of the soccer team had been spread all throughout the school. you could hear the snickers and whispers as you walked through the hallway. he was so attractive, and you were convinced that he even flirted with you a couple times when you watched his practice. but when he came storming up to you with a threatening gaze and all his friends trailing behind him sneering at you, you were terrified and ran to the girl’s bathroom. how did this all even happen? you didn’t dare to come out from the stall until you heard a familiar voice calling to you from outside the bathroom door.

“y/n! please hurry and come outside, i’m not supposed to be in here and if they catch me i’d be dead meat.” noya pleaded.

“they all hate me,” you mumbled.

“no they don’t! please. I just want to talk to you, i’m your best friend! c’mon,” he begged. reluctantly, you picked up your bag and stepped out of the small, depressing stall. noya’s usually bright demeanor had been replaced with one of concern and oddly, determination. he pulled you into a storage closet, and shut the door quietly. “listen, y/n, what that guy did to you was messed up. he’s probably just insecure, and he definitely doesn’t deserve someone like you. you are so special, and loved, and absolutely adored , and i will fight anyone who says otherwise.” he declared confidently.

“but what if i never find my soulmate? i don’t know if i deserve to be loved,” you spoke softly.

“then i’ll be your prince charming,” was the last thing he said before he pressed his soft lips against yours.

4. when he walked you home in the rain

the searing feeling of his lips lingered on your mind. after he kissed you, you couldn’t stop thinking about noya. was he letting you borrow his pencil because he liked you? or was he just genuinely being a nice person? what about when he gave his last quarter for a drink from the vending machine? when he asked you to help him study for the upcoming quiz? everything about your friendship became a confusing and blurry mess. regardless, you couldn’t be prouder of your best friend. nishinoya was finally being recognized for his hard work and talent in volleyball, and he had even won the award for best libero. you always went to support him at his games, and today was no exception. his team had fought tenaciously, and everyone was determined to place in the tournament. they were in the final set against kitagawa daiichi when a realization hit you. he had become so good at volleyball, you weren’t sure if this was the same boy who complained about digging drills two years ago. was this talented, attractive, and popular volleyball player really your nishinoya? clearly, he was too good for you. tired of the overbearing negative thoughts from your overthinking, you walked out of the gym only to find that the sky has decided to cry. the droplets pitter and patter against the pavement, and you mentally curse at yourself for not remembering to bring an umbrella. hoping that you could wait out the rain, you sat on the cool metal bench that was outside the gymnasium.

"hey, we won! did you see me save that one ball? it was like WHOOSH! and then KABAM! and i went BOOM! and," nishinoya beamed, but he trailed off when he noticed your mindless stare at the street.”huh? Hey, are you okay? did something happen?” he stammered, trying to think back to all the possible things that could’ve upset you.

“no no no, please dont worry about me, noya-san. enjoy your victory; i’m really happy for you!” you faked a grin. he raised an eyebrow, but decided not to press further.

“come on, i’ll walk you home. we can share my umbrella,” he tugged at your hand, and reluctantly, you went along with him.

the streets of miyagi was busy despite the weather. bikers and pedestrians crammed the sidewalk as everyone tried to get home quickly.

"why does he even like me?” you asked yourself under your breath.

“because you’re there for me. always. we’ll always have each other” he replied nonchalantly. you jumped.

“shoot, did you hear that?” you panicked.

“of course! i answered your question.” he wasn’t even a bit bothered. “even though you’re usually pretty subtle about it, i know you care about me. like when you give up lunch to help me study, or always giving me a bottle of water after waiting for my practice to end.” he looked off to the side, a bit embarrassed. i’m really grateful for the little things you do. and i know that, uh, what happened the other day, i should’ve asked you first. i’m sorry, i wasn’t thinking with my head. if you don’t like me back like that, i totally understand. we can still be friends”

“you were thinking with your heart,” you mumbled. “i don’t know if i’m ready for a relationship yet. i don’t want to risk what we have.”

“ok! that’s fine by me. pinky promise that we’ll be friends forever no matter what?” he held out his hand.

“deal.” you grasped his pinky with yours.

5. when you believed in him in a moment where he didn’t

before anyone could realize, the year had flown by and it was time for everyone to pick a high school. noya ended up choosing to attend karasuno, an old volleyball powerhouse that was near his house. thanks to tedious hours of studying, you were chosen to attend shiratorizawa on a scholarship.

“i’m proud of you. i knew you were smart and you would get in! you have so much potential ahead of you. thank you for spending the past 8 years with me.” he began, but was cut off when you buried your face into the crook of his neck and cried.

“stop, the graduation is already hard enough, don’t make me even sadder,” you sputtered through tears. the private academy had strict rules about phones so contacting any of your friends outside the high school would be a challenge.

after bidding him a tearful goodbye, you didn’t see him again.

that was, until your second year of high school

when you heard that the glorious nishinoya yuu and the reborn powerhouse of karasuno has the chance to play against the elite shiratorizawa academy, you couldn’t help but wonder how he was doing after all these years.

nishinoya was scanning the stand for your familiar face. “ i wonder how y/n is doing. did she make new friends? does she have someone to sit with at lunch?” he couldn’t help but feel protective of you. after all, you were like a sister to him. soon, the ref blew the whistle that signaled the start of the game. the bright lights, the polished floor, and the enthusiastic cheers were all at the back of his mind. right now, he only has one job: to keep the ball in the air and keep the game going. however, ushijima’s serves proved to live up to its reputation. spike after spike, the foreign spin of the ball combined with the powerful accuracy was a challenge to receive.

noya was exhausted, in pain, and mentally beating himself up. he had one job, and as the libero, if he can’t even receive a serve, what is he doing? he felt like he was letting the team down, and a familiar feeling of guilt began to weigh heavily in his heart.

that’s when he saw you in the karasuno stands, holding up a poster with his face on it and the words “thank you for having our back” drawn in bold letters. you had the biggest smile, and was waving excitedly. you didn’t care if you were betraying your school; you were so grateful for all the times he was there for you, and you owed him at least this. you had spent all night making the poster, carefully coloring in every letter with the utmost precision. this was your way of saying “i believe in you. go be that talented, amazing person you are.”

that’s when he decided that no matter what comes his way, he’ll dig up every spike, save every ball, and win every game for you. because nishinoya yuu won’t let you down.

#nishinoya x y/n #nishinoya fluff #hq nishinoya #haikyuu!!#nishinoya yuu #yū nishinoya #nishinoya x reader #happy birthday noya #idk how tags work someone help me LMAO

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simply-mk · 3 years

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IF ONLY 20’S HAD A MANUAL.

Authors note.

As a young undergraduate, I’ve often felt neglected and sometimes felt that my opinions didn’t matter. This age puts us in a difficult situation where our parents see us as rebellious and the world considers us a mixture of nagging, selfish, unapologetic generation and the other, responsible, self-composed and the great leaders of tomorrow.

While our voice seems to be foreshadowed by what the media has portrayed of us out there , we are left confused of what to do and how to act since they already have a perception of what we are. Therefore I believe communicating about it would bring change to our world because there is no formula or rather a book that guides you of what to do in your 20’s. This is mostly considered as the freedom age.

As someone in this age, I would like to share my thoughts with you in order to understand each other better. I hope to help others who like me have been left confused of what to do or expect in this age.

Is this the age to be rebellious? Is this the right age to engage myself in a committed relationship? Is it the right age to get married or have kids? Should others opinion of me matter? , Well I hope to answer some of the questions from shared experiences in my writing. I hope you have a changed mindset at the end of your reading, one that truly reflects you and your ambitions.

FAMILY

That’s the thing that gets you moving during your lowest moments. These are the most important people in your life and their evaluation can either motivate you or lower your self-esteem to achieving anything in your life. Watching Modern family made me realize that the thing I was missing to motivate me and remind me of who I am, was, and who I wanted to be had been here all along- My family. This was and is always going to be my biggest flex.

Moving out to the city to achieve big dreams was always my first priority immediately after high school, not because I wanted to escape from the day to day headache of living with my siblings, but because I wanted to make it in life so that I could finally make my family proud. Everyone always wants to be a hero in their family.

REALITY

However, the minute you step out of that cocoon called home, insecurities start following up with you. You no longer see your family as your friends but rather your biggest enemies in a sense that you try to fit in with others but you feel like your family values or traditions hold you back. So to avoid being the weird one or the outsider you push them further and further away. The night calls stop, the long talks of how you find your new environment completely disappear or thin out. And to make it worse you’re always too busy to talk to them unless you need pocket money or rent.

This is what creates a wall between us achieving our goals in life and making it into the adult world depression free and with all the best accolades. We start fighting to fit in so much and try to avoid getting any advice from our family especially our parents because we feel they’re so old fashioned. The excitement that comes with breaking the rules kicks in and you find yourself drinking with the guys, partying every weekend or trying out drugs something you never thought of doing all in the name of fitting in. After some time we lose our balance, our grades fall behind, we can’t seem to balance everything in life. You live alone but the pressure to fit in becomes too much and you find yourself spending unnecessarily. You’re broke even before the middle of the month, and depression kicks in because you see yourself as a failure and feel like the world is constantly throwing obstacles at you. In the end you are left confused whether you chose the right path or is just living to survive.

The truth, however remains, that our obstacles are 90 percent mental and ten percent less likely to be caused by any physical inabilities. To prove this I sat down and looked at all the people that were with me that achieved their best despite having been through tragic experiences. A friend of mine who got a brain tumor in the third year of University, had to stay out for a whole academic year recuperating but after that they still went on and continued creating their favorite content, Graphic designs. One of my closest friend whom people considered illiterate and too chatty made it in her family to be the first to board an airplane, through connections because she followed her dreams and attended various vocational training to help her understand a way forward for her future, despite not being able to finish high school or college.

This age has proven to be the most stressful yet advantageous age to have. I imagine it as Time. From the moment dawn begins we see the day as beautiful young and motivating enough to achieve everything. But time doesn’t wait for anyone, so as time goes by some of us manage to create opportunities for ourselves and escape from the cages of our mentality to be the best we can. Others just keep staring at that clock or watch until it’s too late and they keep postponing whatever they want to do until tomorrow.

We never want to reach a point in life where by we are clouded with the thoughts … What if we become failures in our family. What if life challenges us in a way that is too much to handle. Just ask yourself whether you want to be the person who begs or takes leftovers from others to feed your family because you were too afraid to go for what you wanted during your prime years.

I’ve never felt so satisfied in my life like the day I finally was able to share my thoughts with everyone. I am a writer and what scared me most was that no one was ever going to relate to the content I share because everyone has different experiences. However while concentrating on this thought for a while I just let myself absorbed ego go, and observe what each and every one that I had encountered was going through, and what I realized is that we are all the same in one way or the other and we can only manage to achieve our goals collectively.

My advice

1. Never go on an empty stomach if you know a friend or someone who can help. It’s better to be seen as weak right now but an achiever of great things tomorrow. You can never achieve greatness on an empty stomach.

2. Do not consider yourself too perfect to learn from anyone. Having friends around will help you learn the best and avoid mistakes through shared experiences.

3. Growth begins from within. You can never grow if your mind is always filled with negative thoughts of what could go wrong. Think about what you could achieve by taking that step and what you could improve from your past mistakes.

4. Never try hard to fit in where you feel uncomfortable. This only takes away your energy to do something better, or be your best self elsewhere.

5. No Act is bigger than death. So, failure should not hold you back from achieving your potential. If you are still breathing, use whatever time you have to do great things and achieve your purpose in life.

6. Whenever you feel like someone or something in life suffocates you and is holding you back from being your true self. Let go of that relationship. You only get the best when you do away with the bad things in your life.

Therefore always remember, your family is there to embrace you, not torment you. Immediately we’ve chosen to pursue a higher course, our family sees us as the end product and not just some raw material. They are the people to remind you who you are when you fall. They should be your motivation and not something to be ashamed of. So whenever you feel like giving up or losing your focus just look at your family, they already see you as a hero for making them proud and reaching to that point where you are now. So don’t look back, just see yourself as an engineer even if you only connect the cables from the decoder to your TV. The Teacher of your future generation despite the fact that you only tutor your siblings. Be you, and achieve the best you can.

#familia #lifeprotips #motivation #positivity

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islamicrays · 4 years

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Salam, the guy I like is engaged to someone else and I am heartbroken. When Will it be my turn? I am so ugly and fat

Walaikum Assalaam

Marriage is something that will happen when Allah subhanahu wa ta'ala wills. It doesn't matter how you look if Allah subhanahu wa ta'ala has written something for you then you will get it. I have seen many beautiful sisters but they are facing problem in getting married. Marriage will happen when Allah subhanahu wa ta'ala wills. It's just matter of time. Pray to Allah subhanahu wa ta'ala that He grant you a righteous spouse who will be the coolness of your eyes.

If you are fat but healthy then that's good. Love yourself. But if you are not healthy then better to lose weight because those who have higher BMI; they are at greater risk of having diseases. If you make the intention to lose your weight so you can worship Allah subhanahu wa ta'ala in a more better way then you will get the reward as well in shaa Allah.

The best remedy is to keep yourself busy and to be in His rememberace. When you get thought of him seek refuge in Allah subhanahu wa ta'ala. Fix your prayers and make your relationship stronger with Allah subhanahu wa ta'ala. Think of ways how you can improve your relation with Allah subhanahu wa ta'ala. Help your mother in the house. Be good to your family members. Do activities in your free time. Do dhikr all the time. It will help you in shaa Allah

First we need to attach ourselves to Allah then we can easily detach from others. We need to balance the love of Creator and the Creation. Keep the love of the creation in your hand and the love of Allah Subhanahu wa ta’ala in your heart that’s difficult to do but with time you will learn. For this we need to make dua and love for the sake of Allah Subhanahu wa ta’ala

“Call on your Lord when your heart is brittle, that is a time when it’s in pieces and the Light of Allah can fill the gaps. That is why Allāh is with the broken hearted.”

-Shaykh Hamza Yusuf

“The fastest way to heal a broken heart is to find someone better to love, and love more. Know that sometimes heartbreak happens just to push you to Allah.”

-Yasmin Mogahed

Fix your prayers and ask Allah Subhanahu wa ta’ala for the help. Always remember that Allah Subhanahu wa ta’ala plans are better than our wishes. Make lots of dua and while asking Allah Subhanahu wa Ta’ala always say “if it’s good for me” because we don’t know what’s good for us only Allah Subhanahu wa Ta’ala knows.

“But perhaps you hate a thing and it is good for you; and perhaps you love a thing and it is bad for you. And Allah Knows, while you know not.” (Quran 2:216)

Advice from Hadia Alia on moving from a ex boyfriend

“Moving on from an ex-boyfriend can sometimes be very complex. Every situation is uniqe and will require different actions. Here are a few tips to get over him:

Cry. It is ok to cry if you want as it feels better when you let all the emotions out instead of keeping them bottled up inside you forever.Talk to someone you trust. Sometimes you just need someone to listen rather than offer advice. Even you cannot understand why it happened, talking about it can help you accept that the relationship is over.Get the help you need. A breakup can have serious negative effects on your mental and physical well-being, especially if you find that you are still dwelling on it months later. Breakups have been associated with weakened immune systems and an increased risk of illness. People who have not gotten over a breakup within 16 weeks can even experience physical changes in their brains that reduce their motivation, concentration, and emotions. A therapist can help by listening to you, encouraging you to confront your feelings, and teaching you new ways to do with your pain.Remind yourself to let go. There are variety of behavioral techniques you can try to stop thinking about your ex. All of these techniques rely on your ability to recognize when a thought about your ex enters your mind and to take a specific action to stop that thought from coming back. Remember that these techniques are to be used for obsessive thoughts only! If you have not yet dealt with your feelings and taken the time to grieve, you should not try to suppress your thoughts.

– You can try wearing a rubber band around your wrist and snapping it each time you think about your ex.

– You can write down the thoughts you are having about your ex on a piece of paper and then throw it away.

– You can try a visualization exercise, which requires you to visualize a specific scene whenever a thought of your ex occurs to you. For example, you could think of a stop sign in order to remind yourself that you need to stop what you are doing. If you do this consistently, the association should become automatic.

Focus on taking care of yourself. In order to boost your mood, it’s important to practice healthy habits. Make sure you exercise regularly and get plenty of sleep. Committing yourself to a healthy lifestyle will not only make you feel good, but it may just offer you the escape you need from thoughts about your ex

– Start praying five times. It will help you to regain your positivity and let go of the stress associated with your breakup.

Remember, you are strong and can get over him if you really want to.”

Always remember this:

“No amount of guilt can change the past and no amount of worrying can change the future. Go easy on yourself for the outcome of all affairs is determined by the decree of Allah. If something is meant to go elsewhere, it will never come on your way, but if it is yours by destiny, from you it cannot flee.”

-Umar ibn al Khattab (Radi Allahu Ta’ala Anhu)

On healing broken hearts:

If you are trying to get over a person you can’t be with, treat it like an addiction:

1. Cut yourself off from the drug completely: Cut off all communication and reminders–even if that means blocking numbers, emails, a Facebook profile, and stop checking their Facebook! This is your detox.

2. Replace it with something better: Increase in your thikr (remembrance of Allah) and get closer to Allah. If you aren’t praying your daily prayers, fix that. Pray all and pray on time. Pray qiyam in the last third of the night (just before fajr). Make duaa, tawbah (repentance), cry, plead to Allah. This is your treatment.

(Yasmin Mogahed)

Unlawlful love before marriage…

Ibn al Qayyim al Jawziyyah (rahimahullah) mentions in regards to unlawful love before marriage (i.e. haram sexual relations, or love for someone who you are unable to marry).

“And the cure for this deadly illness (i.e. unlawful love before marriage) is for the person that is afflicted to realise that this love is only due to his/her own delusions and ignorance.

So upon such a person is to first and foremost strengthen their Tawheed and reliance upon Allah, and secondly to increase in worship and busy themselves with it, so much so that they do not have any spare time letting their minds wander and think about their beloved.

And they should call upon Allah to protect them and save them from this evil, just as Prophet Yusuf called upon Allah and he was saved. And they should do as he did, be as he was, in terms of ikhlaas (sincerity) and remembering Allah in abundance.

This is because if the heart is filled with ikhlaas for the sake of Allah, there will be no space left for any unlawful love to be present, rather this only happens to a heart that is empty and has no ikhlaas whatsoever.

And let such people remind themselves that whatever Allah has decreed for them is only in their own best interests, and when Allah commands something it is never to cause harm or misery to His slaves.

And let them also remind themselves that their unlawful love does not benefit them, neither in this world or the hereafter! As for this world then they will be so preoccupied with their love that it will cripple them and will cause them to live in a fantasy world. And as for the hereafter then it will cause them to be preoccupied with the love of the creation instead of love for the Creator!

These people need to be reminded, that the one who is submerged in something will never see it’s ill effects, neither will the person who has never experienced such things. The only people who will be able to relate to them are those who have experienced the same thing but have been saved. Such people can look back and realise how evil it is.”

Recite Astaghfirullah as much you can.

Following are some dua for marriage:

1.“Our Lord, grant us from among our wives and offspring comfort to our eyes and make us an example for the righteous.“ (Quran 25:74)

2.”Rabbana aatina fi’d dunya hasana wa fi’l aakhirati hasana wa qina `adhab an-nar.” [O Lord! Grant us good in this life, and good in the next, and save us from the torment of the Fire] (Qur’an, 2: 200). Recite this dua’ with the intention of marriage as it is included in the phrase “fi’d dunya hasana” (good in this life).

3.My Lord, do not leave me alone and You are the best of inheritors. (Surah al-Anbiya` 21:89)

I hope it will be helpful. May Allah subhanahu wa ta'ala guide us all to the straight path. May Allah subhanahu wa ta'ala grant you a righteous spouse who will be the coolness of your eyes.

Allahumma Ameen

#question

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mor-beck-more-problems · 3 years

Text

Marley and Me || Morgan & Deirdre

TIMING: Present

PARTIES: @deathduty & @mor-beck-more-problems

SUMMARY: At therapy, Morgan and Deirdre uncover some secrets between them. So much for telling each other everything.

CONTAINS: references to past domestic (child) abuse, negative self-talk, trauma related panic.

Kelly hadn’t doubted that she would get Deirdre to open up and connect eventually. But given the breadth of the woman’s combative defenses, she hadn’t expected to get genuine admissions from her on a fifth session. Certainly not one that was secret to Morgan. Kelly had almost asked Deirdre to stop, to give herself more time to acclimate to the process and not feel so obliged, but the woman was determined. Kelly could only hope now that this determination would present itself now in their latest joint session.

As they settled in for the hour, Morgan had her notes ready, but her anxiousness to give an itemized progress report had ceced in favor of burgeoning confidence. Maybe it was partly a show, but some patients had to fake it til they made it. Kelly leveled her eyes at Deirdre, the only kind of warning she gave. She was curious to know where her bravery came from, and how far it would take her today. They’d had an understanding, but agreeing to a discussion on one day was different from facing it head on later. “Good to see you both today. Deirdre,” she said her name carefully. “Why don’t you start us off today? You had something you wanted to share with your partner from our last session together, didn’t you?”

Silence could be measured by the clock on the wall, ticking dutifully. It took five ticks for Deirdre to respond, having been focused on settling in beside Morgan, and trying not to look like she hated this room and what it asked of her. “Y-yes,” she snapped her attention up, swallowing thickly. When she’d mentioned it in their individual sessions, she was vulnerable from admitting to Kelly something she couldn’t even tell Morgan, and she hadn’t thought about what it meant. To her, therapy was just one more thing to conquer and get right, she might as well move it along. Yet, she didn’t realize ‘moving it along’ meant talking about it. To Morgan. Right now. “Yes, I did.” She reached for her girlfriend’s hand, taking it into her lap, shifting to face her. She was struck then about how silly this was; why did she think this was a good idea? Why did Kelly? “At night…” she began slowly, voice twisted into a trembling confession. She clamored for a tighter grip on Morgan’s hand. “You know….sometimes I have trouble sleeping….because of….nightmares...usually.” They weren’t even a common occurrence now! She was just a restless sleeper most days and she’d been like that ever since she was a child. Her grandmother told her she cried and wailed in the middle of the night like no other child she’d heard before. “A great set of lungs on you! Even before.” Her mother remained appalled by the sound for crying. Maybe this anecdote was more important to explain, maybe she should have told Kelly this instead, that session past. Deirdre frowned. It took three ticks for her to continue.

“And I don’t like to tell you what they’re about because…” Because one of two subjects that tormented her most was Morgan, her death being a common night terror. At first, she assumed the vision came to her because of her proximity to Morgan as she slept—she could, at the drop of a hat, summon that vision forth whenever she wanted (though she never wanted). But, as she confirmed months ago when a plate slipped from her fingers, just about anything could remind her of the moment. Just as she was sure it was worse for her love. But the other subject, the one the mentioned to Kelly, she dreaded to speak of. Lest she be summoned, perhaps. Or, more likely, Deirdre be embarrassed again by her vulnerability.

Marley Stryder was not a topic she brought up at home.

“Well, I don’t want to worry you and I...don’t want to admit that I...well I…” Deirdre swallowed. She glanced towards Kelly, whose face was patient; she should have just said she’d do this at home. Another tick. “You’ll remember, months ago, at that amusement park…” And another. And two more. “...that thing that happened.” Her eyes fell from their place looking into Morgan’s, focused her hands. She played with her fingers, intertwining them with hers, tugging on them and squeezing. “It haunts me sometimes. In dream, where I see red glow. I’ve had the microwave replaced that time because I couldn’t stand it--that red, cutting through the dark. I can’t--” She swallowed. “And I think about how it felt to be there, on the floor and no one’s ever made me feel so--” Exposed. Vulnerable. Weak. Pathetic. Like a woman that didn’t belong in her own body, like a woman that didn’t want to be. And all of her fears were right there, but the vision of them wasn’t so much what bothered it. It was the feeling, the dread. She couldn’t stop shaking. She was shaking. “Sometimes, the nightmares are that. They’re about her. And I didn’t want to--I thought you’d think it was silly, to feel this way about it. But what happened still bothers me, and I haven’t told you that before. I usually don’t like talking about it.” She looked up, at Morgan then at Kelly. “T-that’s it. That’s what I wanted to say. I wanted you to know, because we talk about everything, and I like that we do that. And I’ve felt so…” She gestured, “guilty that I couldn’t tell you this.”

Morgan sat alert while Deirdre tried to make her confession. She encouraged her eyes, with a gentle smile, with a squeeze of her fingers. It was okay. She could take her time. She had nothing to fear. And then Dierdre told what she had been keeping secret, and it took all of Morgan’s willpower not to pull away. She flinched, and her eyes widened in a very loud signal of no, oh no. Her gaze flitted to Kelly. She wanted to scream at her. What do you think you’re doing? What the fuck is this? What the hell made you put her up to this?

In their last one-on-one session, Morgan had enumerated some areas where her fear was overriding her values with their relationship. And if she were to put the knowledge that she wasn’t really afraid of Deirdre or what she would do into action, she could maybe start by cleaning up those messy areas in the next joint session. Like expressing her desire to make their home into more of a social space, even if Morgan didn’t think there was much they could fix about it. There was no telling for sure, and Deirdre deserved to know, and there was nothing wrong for being upfront about sacrifices being made. Or about how sorry Morgan really was for her days of rage after Deirdre’s return home. Or, yes, the fact that she occasionally spoke with Marley Stryder and even liked the woman sometimes. But none of the plans had been definite. At least, not specifically.

Morgan had imagined she would mull this over, prioritize, maybe drum up the courage to introduce an idea of her choosing. Not this. This awful, staged ‘opportunity’ for them to ‘grow together.’ How much were they going to grow if she had to look at Deirdre in all of her pain and be all, oh, that’s so funny, I’ve been telling the face you see in you nightmares that she’s great! Aren’t our differences so wonderful! She actually deserves to be happy, you know, like everyone else! That wouldn’t make you feel incredibly dismissed or anything, right?

Swiftly, she drew Deirdre into her arms and pressed her tight. She did not speak. She was too aware of Deirdre’s body trembling in her grasp, of the weight of what she had to say if she didn’t want to betray her love in even worse ways than she already had. And it was a betrayal, wasn’t it? She hadn’t known, she couldn’t have. All those times Deirdre woke up screaming, Morgan thought it was her mother or Regan or even Morgan herself that she was running from. Deirdre had said she didn’t like it anymore. One of her meals had come out cold still, so: new microwave. Deirdre had replaced things in the house for less. But none of that would matter, would it?

Morgan’s body clenched stiff, pressing Deirdre tighter still. “I’m sorry,” she squeaked at last. “I didn’t…you never brought it up after that…'' That long awful night in the hotel, when neither of them had slept until sunrise. Morgan had never seen Deirdre like that before. Come to think of it, she hadn’t seen her like that since either. Low in other ways, yes. But not that deeply frightened, beyond speech, with boundaries no one was ever supposed to cross shattered inside her. “I didn’t know. I didn’t know at all. I had no idea this was still happening for you. I…” Thought it was over. She’d had her revenge outside the bowling alley, right? What else was there to do? “Fuck...” So long as Morgan kept holding her, she didn’t have to say it. If she could just say like this, comforting her…

“Is there something you’re trying to say in response, Morgan?” Kelly prompted.

Morgan fought the urge to growl. She was not ready for this. “I’m sorry,” she said again. “That you felt like you couldn’t say. I don’t want that for us. I truly...I had no idea…” She pulled back just enough to kiss her cheek (was that bad, with what she was holding onto?) “I do… I n-need you to…” Morgan sighed and kissed again. Maybe she was overreacting. Maybe this was just that fear and this was the best way she had of conquering it. If they seriously made it through this moment intact, what else was there to be afraid of? What other proof could she possibly need that they were safe and strong and fine? And didn’t Deirdre know how she felt about giving people chances anyway? “I have something to tell you too,” she said quietly. “But I really, really, really need you to understand that I...it didn’t even occur to me that she could be the one in your night terrors.”

Kelly was right. Talons lifted their suffocating grip on Deirdre’s body, lifting up and flying away, freeing her from their invisible pressure. It didn’t take away her pain, or trauma, but it had given her a foothold, just like Kelly said it would. Little steps; sometimes those helped. Deirdre relaxed in Morgan’s arms, safe in them. There existed a person who would never hurt her as she had been, and she held on to her just as tightly as she held back. “It’s okay.” Her voice was clear now, confident. She could breathe. Everything was fine. It was okay. She’d said what she wanted to say, and Marley didn’t pop out of some shadow to taunt her, and that feeling of dread didn’t come back. She was safe. It was okay. “Don’t be sorry,” Deirdre was smiling, bright and free. She looked up and found that all she wanted was to smooth away whatever was troubling Morgan. Don’t worry, it’s okay. She lined her face with eager kisses. “It’s okay! It---I just thought if I said it, I’d feel that way again but---” But she had said it, and she didn’t. She felt good, even. Now she really had told Morgan everything, right? Would it all be better now? “Oh, sorry I didn’t mean to interrupt you.” She grinned, and pushed away the small, stubborn question that sprung to mind: why wouldn’t that occur to you? Morgan had seen her then, Morgan knew; Morgan probably meant that she didn’t think it was nightmare-worthy, but knew completely and totally that it bothered her so. Why wouldn’t she? She knew her so well, she loved her so kindly. And there were no secrets now, except the one Morgan was trying to tell her. “Sorry, go ahead, my love.”

Morgan cringed at Deirdre’s assurances. She didn’t know when ‘the right time’ was or what the ideal format of this conversation could have been. If Kelly had led with her baggage and made her pick from the dropdown menu of fear, how much more or less afraid would she feel? There was no telling now, but at least she wouldn’t have this extra helping of guilt stuck in her throat.

She gripped Deirdre’s hands and squeezed them tight, as her love had done minutes before. “I didn’t realize,” she said again, and cringed again, hating how much easier it was to apologize and enjoy the comfort without paying for it first. She could do this, right? What was she if she didn’t? And what was their trust worth, their honesty, if she didn’t? She met Deirdre’s eyes once, pleading, and lowered them as she spoke at last. “S-sometimes...just, I don’t know, maybe five or six times, I...I don’t count, I didn’t think I was doing anything…”

Wrong? She knew it would be inappropriate to regale Deirdre with tales of how Marley was coming along with her own growth, but she didn’t alert Deirdre every time she had a conversation with someone who’d been hurtful in the past either. That would be absurd. She didn’t need a run down of her talks with Miriam in detail, but that didn’t make the vampire a secret. Deirdre knew Morgan was invested in her well being. Just as she knew Morgan was close with Kaden (another person she didn’t go into detail about, out of respect). Deirdre had been the one to encourage Morgan to see people as people in the first place, even those it was easier to hate. And with the trauma of that dark amusement park in the past tense, in Morgan’s mind, Marley wasn’t any different. Just a person, that deserved the chance to change.

“...as a last resort, or a friend emergency, because we’re not friends but we seem to have almost all the same ones, sometimes…” Morgan swallowed thickly. She wasn’t talking to her mother. Deirdre loved her well. Endlessly, unconditionally. She did. And they forgave each other everything, so maybe Morgan was the one prolonging her own pain for no reason. Right? “...sometimes we talk. Marley and I.” And she’s not that person anymore. She’s so much like you. “We’re not friends, so it didn’t even seem important, a-and it’s usually just because she’s worried about Erin or Anita, or there’s some other thing and there’s just no one else to ask! I thought it would be…” Hurtful to tell Deirdre. Cruel. Was that a paradox, or had she been deluding herself worse than she’d realized? “I wouldn’t have done it if I had known that this was so heavy that it would still be in your nightmares.” Not like that anyway. “I wouldn’t knowingly hurt you, Deirdre. I knew you wouldn’t like it no matter what, but this makes it different and I’m sorry, more than I ever thought I was going to be. I am sorry.”

It took Deirdre seven ticks to reply. As Morgan spoke, her face had gone from bright to eager to understanding to confused to impassive, until finally— “W-what?” Betrayed. Her mind, often an erratic creature, quieted; all she could hear was the thrum of her own heart, pushing blood to her face. This didn’t make sense. Morgan wasn’t making sense. Just moments ago, she was safe, and now she was… “What?” Deirdre pulled her hands from Morgan’s. She pushed herself away. “I don’t—I don’t understand.” She looked to Kelly, wondering if she was just as lost. Morgan isn’t making sense! She wanted to scream. Make Morgan make sense. She turned back, talons upon her shoulders again. The world was small. The world was quiet. “I don’t—how could you not know?” Because you didn’t tell her, something else argued, but by then, it didn’t matter. “Stop. Stop. Stop!” She shot up, hands curled to fists at her side. The room rattled with her voice, her body quivered. “Stop,” Deirdre was pleading to no one in particular. “Morgan, I don’t—that doesn’t make sense. It—“ She began to pace the length of the room, hand pinching the bridge of her nose. Her mind was quiet still, though she was forcing herself to think. “Why would you—how could you—I don’t understand.” Morgan was talking to Marley. Morgan was talking to Marley to help her. Morgan was talking to Marley to give her advice. Morgan was talking to Marley to soothe her concerns. Deirdre paused, she looked at Morgan. Her mind was no longer quiet.

Do you remember, she began asking herself, how you thought Morgan knew you? Deirdre’s nostrils flared, a deep breath filling her lungs. Yes, yes, she said, yes, I do. It was with that betrayal that her voice cut into the air, cracking certificates and diplomas, a framed family portrait on a desk, the vase Deirdre thought always looked a little like a gnome. “You knew!” She resumed her pacing, furious in her march. “You—you saw me! You saw me that day! You picked me up! And you’ve been—you knew what she did to me!” Deirdre’s nails made red marks in her palms, screaming for recognition. Think about me! Think about my pain! “You knew and you still—I tolerated it when you thought being Anita’s friend was—I tolerated it when you and Erin—I can’t believe—“ One of the frames shook off its nail, shattering against the ground. “You knew what she did to me and you’re helping her with her life!? Do you even care about—She hurt me!” Deirdre halted, having just enough sense to know she didn’t want to yell at Morgan, she turned her head up to the ceiling and yelled. “She hurt me! Why does it matter if it was in my nightmares or not? She hurt me! You were there! You knew! I told you! You know how I feel about her! She hurt me! She made me feel like—like—“ Deirdre dropped her head, trembling with rage, crying with the sting of betrayal. “—and I told you. You saw it. And you still—you still thought—of all the people...of all the people to be to be talking to about their life. To be soothing. To be helping. Fates, do you tell her that she’s not that bad? That it’s okay? That her life will be okay? You saw what she did to me and you tell her that? And I thought the last time you—I thought you would’ve stopped—I thought you cared!” Deirdre made it to the door, hand above the knob. She remembered where she was, and why she was here. She turned to Kelly, throwing her arms out. “Well?!” Another frame crashed to the floor.

As soon as Deirdre pulled her hands away, Morgan’s mind decided what was happening. The same thing that always happened. They were fine, and they weren’t. Whole, and then shattered. Just in a breath, in a single word. Because of her. How stupid she was, how hopeless. She had to spoil everything, didn’t she?

Between Deirdre’s half started phrases, she tried to protest. “I didn’t, I didn’t know, not like this, you didn’t tell me! You only just told me! And you said I shouldn’t look at people as monsters and I shouldn’t let it be that easy! You told me to see people! I was thinking about that! I didn’t understand! I don’t understand!”

But she never understood when she was hurting people, or screwing up. Not until it was too late. Her mother had said she was selfish and conniving, playing innocent when anyone else would have known better than to do whatever she’d done this time. Morgan thought she had disproved that theory enough times but maybe she was willfully stupid, maybe she didn’t want to know so she could get her way, maybe she couldn’t help but hurt people…

“Please, I’m sorry….” she whimpered.

Glass broke, stabbing the air as Deirdre screamed. Morgan cried out in a sob and cowered, covering her head. “Please!” More. Louder. Shards pattered the carpet and Morgan drew her legs up, making herself as small and tight as possible. If she cut herself, her mother would think she was looking for pity, or she would hate the extra work of taking care of her. To make her mother do the dressing and the cleaning of her body when she was already mad was so much worse and so unfair. (But this wasn’t like that, was it? Hadn’t Deirdre promised? Didn’t she love her?)

At the last piercing strike of the air, Morgan flinched, her body preparing for a hand to clamp on her shoulder, her hair, her neck, whatever was most convenient. She couldn’t remember if she’d been asked a direct question of if there was a rhetorical statement hanging in the air, if she was being stupid for wanting to answer, I love you, of course I care. Please stop, I care. Please stop and love me again.

Kelly had known she was pulling a gambit by putting Morgan on the spot, but it wasn’t until her own voice was drowned out by shattering glass that she had to concede that this had been a bad bet. Time moved strangely slow, even if the scene wasn’t especially confusing. Morgan, cowering and probably crying, almost certainly having her trauma triggered. Deirdre, angry and lashing out to cover the extent of her own hurt. Retreating into herself behind whatever maximum security facility she’d started to creep out of, possibly re-living other times her needs had been dismissed under less sympathetic circumstances.

But until the handle rattled and Deirdre snapped her question, Kelly’s mind was flowing in the ocean tide of falling glass stirring in the wind in her fourth floor office. Then, she came back. She had no idea if she could help them repair this, but there was time left in the session, so she may as well give it her best.

“Well, what, Deirdre?” Kelly asked. “What do you need right now? Look at your partner—” Morgan gasped tearfully and shook her head as she tried to cower further into her corner of the couch. She didn’t want to be perceived, or hurt. “I don’t think this is a productive approach to getting your needs or your answers. Do you?” Did anyone? “I think taking a breath to collect yourselves and self soothe, however that looks, is the next logical step before you can try to set up a mutual dialogue. Do you agree?”

Morgan said nothing, but continued to tremble and whimper quietly, waiting for Deirdre’s cue. She would give her the car keys if that’s what she wanted. The credit cards. The clothes. Whatever she wanted back, however Morgan was supposed to pay, she would do it, she just wanted to know how.

“No, I don’t! Fuck you, Kelly.” Deirdre jabbed a finger in the air, finding it easier to shift her anger to Kelly than it was to admit she was right. Partially. Deirdre didn’t want to ‘self-soothe’, she was tired of self-soothing. She was tired of being the only person that ever cared about herself, even though she did such a poor job of it. But as Morgan’s whimpering found a voice under Deirdre’s anger, she couldn’t deny the rest of what Kelly had suggested. “Fine! Fuck.” Her hands shot up to her eyes, pressing them into her skull with her palm as she spun around and looked back at the door—she wouldn’t allow Kelly the satisfaction of knowing that she was following her advice. Deirdre had half a mind to stomp over there and hold Morgan close to her, but the stomping was just the issue. And so, she breathed. In. Hold. Out. In. Hold. Out. She spun back around, hands off her eyes and on her hips instead. In. Hold. Out. “For the record, I don’t fucking agree, by the way.” In. Hold. Out. Impatient, pained, she moved to the couch.

“Morgan…” She didn’t touch her, she wanted to ask before she tried, but before she tried she wanted Morgan to see she wasn’t so mad anymore. Not at her, at least. Self-soothing was a load of bullshit; weren’t they both tired of that? Didn’t they do it better together? Wasn’t everything better together? “I’m sorry about yelling, my love. I’m very sorry. I should have known better, and I’m sorry. I’m really sorry. Will you look at me? Can you look at me?” Deirdre hovered away from putting her hands on her, asking with the twitch of her fingers, the furrow of her brow. Is this okay? She needed Morgan to tell her. A fearful, trembling Morgan wasn’t a sight she could be angry at; it wasn’t one she ever wanted to cause. “I love you. I love you even now, I promise. Is it okay if I hold you? We can hold each other and then we can breathe—“ Or one could while the other only pretended, though the act was sure to help anyway. “—just the way you taught me that night on Cece’s porch. Do you remember that? We can hold each other just like then, just like every other time after. Is that okay?”

Morgan flinched at the sound of her name and squeezed her muscles taut to prepare herself. She shook her head at the apologies, those were traps. When her mother apologized, it was still Morgan’s fault for causing the mess in the first place. She wouldn’t have needed to yell if Morgan had just been good, if she acted as smart as she pretended to be. But Morgan didn’t want to make it worse by being disobedient, so when she was asked to look, she shifted her arms just enough to peek out with one visible eye.

And there was Deirdre. Flushed, but soft again. Or maybe Morgan was just making her be that way and she didn’t really want to, she just wanted to get to the end of this. But her eyes were so gentle…

Morgan’s dry lips parted. “I’m sorry. I didn’t….understand. I swear, I promise I didn’t understand what it was still like f-for you.” Her voice croaked and rattled hoarse, deprived of too much air. “I was stupid. I’m always so stupid and I never mean to do anything bad…”

At the mention of love, the tears she had dutifully held back rose up to her lashes. She sobbed, grimacing as she tried and failed to swallow it back. “You don’t have to,” she whispered meekly. “I’m sorry. You don’t have to do anything you don’t want to.” But she couldn’t swallow down the next sob breaking out of her shaking body. Or the next. Or the next. She sniffled and scraped her hands over her face, but there was no containing the mess in her—stars, it felt so much like grief. “I’m sorry. Will you—?” One of her trembling hands ventured out toward Deirdre’s fingers. But who was she to ask for things right now? Reluctantly, Morgan’s fingers faltered and she whispered, “Whatever you want, that’s okay.”

Deirdre’s lips parted. Her usual response, it’s okay, didn’t feel right. It wasn’t okay. She didn’t think it was okay. Yet, every other time those words tumbled from her mouth, she would have moved earth and Fate to make it true. She still would, but she was less keen on lying. “I know,” she said. “I know that. I do.” She pulled Morgan into her arms and held tight, steady. She made sure Morgan’s head was pressed to her chest, where her heart had calmed to something close to its usual slow rhythm.

“You weren’t stupid. I don’t think you’re stupid. I was hurt, but that doesn’t make you stupid. I’m sorry I yelled. Are you going to breathe with me?” Deirdre began: in, hold, out. If anyone was stupid, it was her. She knew what experiences of anger coloured Morgan’s life, but she’d been so pained by perceived betrayal that she didn’t want to stop to think. And wasn’t that ironic? She thought Morgan should have known better, but even she didn’t. In. Hold. Out. In. Hold. Out. She felt more confident now to tangle her fingers in Morgan’s hair; thumb her tears away. She looked up and scowled at Kelly, how could she look at Morgan and think time to soothe herself was what she needed? And how— Deirdre froze. She dropped her hand away. Morgan’s words rang in her ears, desperate, subservient and fearful. Oh, she thought, this must have been what Kelly meant. “My love,” Deirdre pressed a kiss to Morgan’s head. “My love, you’re afraid right now. What are you afraid of?”

Morgan did not relax. But she did let herself be held and then made herself breathe. In. Hold. Out. There were coughs and sobs that had to be expelled on the exhale, and Morgan shivered and shut her eyes, ashamed that she struggled with doing even this much with ease. But there were fewer in the next breath, enough for her to whisper, “I should’ve known better,” and none the breath after.

Soon the trembling eased, no longer coiling through her whole body, but just in her fingers when she dared press them into Deirdre. At her love’s question, she looked sidelong at Kelly, who seemed to have a few leading questions of her own despite her interest in Morgan’s reply.

Morgan said nothing at first. Then, barely above a whisper, she said, “I’m afraid…” Everything around her felt like a threat now, an accident waiting to happen, or worse. “...You’ll change your mind. You’ll take care of me because you love me but when I can act normal again, you’ll remember what I did and that’ll be the end of everything. Or I’ll mess up again, even worse. I don’t know how, but I’m always hurting you when I don’t think I’m doing anything wrong. And I hate it, because how can I say I won’t hurt you ever again if I don’t realize until it’s too late? And—” She gave a thin, humorless laugh. She may have questionable common sense, but she had enough to appreciate the associations leering out from the corners of her mind. Morgan let the sentence drop. Admitting her mother was in the room with them wasn't something she wanted to do just then.

“Morgan, can you speak to where your mind is taking you right now?” Kelly prompted.

“The place I grew up in. The first one,” she mumbled.

“But you’re not just in that place, are you? You’re in a therapist’s office in Maine. What is it about that place that has your attention? What do you see?”

Morgan shook her head. So much for keeping that to herself. “I keep thinking about my bedroom door. The cracks around the frame were the only light sometimes. And I’d press myself against it and ask my mother...what did I do? Or, if I did know, that...I would be better, if she’d let me out and show her. But she never let me out until after dinner. And she never held me after, even when I asked. Even when I fixed what I’d broken.” She turned her attention back to Deirdre, shy and penitent. “I don’t know how to fix this. Nothing feels like enough. Tell me—”

She had enough sense to stop herself there, but the ache in her remained. Slowly, Morgan forced herself to ease her grip on Deirdre. She could be okay on her own. She could pack her things and go somewhere or hunker in the studio until she could think straight. Maybe she wouldn’t even have to leave. But that was too much to consider. Morgan could only hang onto the few miserable and lonely hours ahead and remind herself that she would be able to get through them. Make herself dinner, shower, hold Moira, work. She summoned the mantra she had fashioned with Kelly’s input. I am here, I am complete; I am here, I am whole.

“I don’t know what’s going to happen to me now. Or us.” She said. “That scares me too. Even if...that’s just how it is,” Is that bad? She wanted to ask.

“And I should’ve known better than to yell,” Deirdre reminded Morgan. She wondered what self-soothing Kelly had meant. If she wasn’t meant to hold Morgan now, chasing anxiety away with touch, then she’d like a new therapist. But Deirdre shook her head, she wasn’t going to be thinking about what Kelly’s intentions were, she didn’t care. She took Morgan’s trembling hands in hers, holding them steady. The exchange between Kelly and Morgan played out in a place she wouldn’t disturb. She listened and she waited and she was reminded of her own sessions with Kelly. The therapist thought she closed herself off too much, Deirdre thought she just wasn’t worth the opening up to. But Morgan was, Morgan would always be.

“Hey…” Deirdre reached down to brush Morgan’s hair into place, her voice so gentle that it startled even herself. There was glass on the floor, bits lodged into the rug. The windows sported a fine, thin crack and the vase was just a breeze away from falling apart. Around her was the evidence of her anguish, and yet, her voice held no memory of it. Deirdre wasn’t Ruth; she wished there was a way to let that truth sit without doubt. Morgan was thinking about a bedroom door, Deirdre was imagining the red lashes on the back of her hand. They were both asking the same questions of two different, yet unavoidably similar people.

“You don’t have anything to make better...you don’t have anything to fix…” Deirdre closed her eyes. She had been hurt, yes, but Morgan’s obligation was not to mend her—mend them. “I love you now. I’ll love you when we go home and this is over. I’ll love you tomorrow. You can ask me, and I’ll tell you.” Deirdre smiled, pressing a kiss to Morgan’s temple. “I thought you would know how much it hurt. You saw me after, and you know why I don’t even like the idea of you being friends with Anita, and I thought that all made sense to you, just like it did to me. But I never told you. And it is true, sometimes, my feelings are not the most obvious. And how could I ask you to know something that I had done my best to keep a secret anyway? My mother…she changed her mind often. Like she needed an excuse to be mad, just about anything there was. My hair could be fine one day and then terrible the next. And these moods she had, she always said I should have known. But how could I? How could you?”

Deirdre sighed, eyeing the clock. They still had time, but all she wanted now was for them to go to their home, where it was a little easier to imagine things would be okay. “I don’t know what the solution is, my love. But we can figure that out together, later. When you’re feeling less afraid, and more like yourself again, and we can talk about it more then. And whatever we come up with, it will be enough. And the next time something happens that makes me angry, I won’t love you any less—I don’t love you any less right now. And hurting each other….some of that is inevitable, isn’t it? But it’s okay. I think it’ll be okay.” She looked up at the clock again, then back at Morgan. “We have some time left, what do you want to do now?”

It was all Morgan wanted, to be loved when she had done wrong. Deirdre’s assurances fell like rain at the end of a draught and there was no question of whether or not to give in, but whether or not she would feel ashamed for it later. Her body released the last sobs it had been holding onto and she sagged against her girlfriend, all but collapsing in her lap. But will you stay with me? She wanted to ask. Loving and staying aren’t the same thing. Will you? But that was too far ahead for her to ask. She would deal with the answer either way, in its time.

Kelly eyed the clock with Deirdre. She had half a mind to refer Morgan elsewhere after this mess, but she didn’t want to waste an opportunity, or the rest of their time. “Morgan--?” She asked softly. “Are you okay to talk to us, Morgan?”

Morgan nodded. “Yes,” she croaked, lifting her head without leaving Deirdre’s arms.

“Good.” Kelly said it softly, a gentle affirmation. “I want to circle back to something you said. You’re ‘always stupid’ and you’re ‘always’ hurting Deirdre when you don’t think you’re doing anything wrong. I’m just curious--” Her gaze shifted to Deirdre again, looking to see if they could form an alliance. “Always is a pretty strong word. Do you feel like these statements describe your behavior all the time?”

Morgan shivered. She felt like she’d been caught in something, but she wasn’t sure what. “...Not always-always, but…” Morgan tried to measure out her screw-up to success ratio, but couldn’t decide how to factor in the scale of the screw-ups. The more badly it hurt someone or the worse the consequences, the more value it should hold, right? Or was that something else talking, and objectively, she should flatten it out and worry about the relational stuff separate? And wasn’t it worse if she hurt someone she loved? It felt worse. “No. I don’t know. It’s still…” She gestured vaguely, a lot. Sure, she had long stretches where she did things okay, but still...

“Deirdre, how would you characterize Morgan’s behavior? Would you agree with any of her statements?” Kelly asked.

Deirdre looked up, staring at Kelly with furrowed brow and tight frown. Shouldn’t they just leave now, wasn’t that the better thing to do? But she saw Kelly had another idea, and knowing most of the evidence of her qualifications was on the floor, Deirdre sighed and said nothing. Until she was asked. She looked up again, startled this time. The clock ticked, resilient in the wake of the crack in its face--steadfast in its count of ever marching time. Deirdre blinked. “No, of course I don’t agree but that--” She swallowed. She didn’t know how to go about explaining to Kelly that this was Morgan, and didn’t she understand Morgan by now? Her life had been tragedy, and fear was the festering wound it wrought. But Kelly wasn’t asking because she didn’t know, Deirdre figured. “No, I don’t agree. I don’t think Morgan is stupid; not always, not even some of the time, not ever. And I don’t--I don’t---” She sighed, sagging against Morgan. “I don’t blame her, and I understand why she thinks that way---even if it isn’t true. Morgan’s life has been...” Deirdre glanced down, feeling strange about talking about Morgan’s life as if she wasn’t right there to talk about it herself. She looked back at Kelly and offered a tentative smile. “It hasn’t been easy, and it hasn’t been kind, and it’s told her all sorts of things. I know that. I know that’s why I shouldn’t yell, and I don’t think it’s her fault for thinking how she does, and responding how she does, it’s not---”

Deirdre sighed and looked at Morgan, feeling tired of talking to Kelly, through Kelly. “Mo ghrá, you don’t make mistakes more than anyone else--statistically speaking. And even if you did, it um--” Deirdre shook her head, laughing softly. “No, I’m saying this all wrong. What I mean is...do you remember when the dishwasher foamed over? You put the wrong liquid in, because you were distracted, and it covered the kitchen in foam. And that was a mistake, you made a mistake--and if you wanted to be cruel to yourself, you could say it was stupid. But the bubbles were so pretty, weren’t they? All rainbows under the kitchen light. And you didn’t ruin anything, we just wiped the floor down and it was fine. And didn’t we have fun, throwing bubbles around? And it was a mistake, you didn’t mean to do it, you didn’t realise, but wasn’t it okay? Wasn’t everything okay? Didn’t we laugh about it; go back to the couch; go to bed without worry and wake up the next day to a kitchen that smelled like lemons? And then you made lemon meringue pie, because I said the kitchen smelled delicious. And that was it. You made a mistake, and you were so worried--and I understand why you worry, my love--but that was it. It was just bubbles; harmless, easy-to-clean bubbles.” Deirdre pressed her lips to Morgan’s cheek, holding her face tenderly in her hands. “It’s bubbles, Morgan. We can wipe them away. And I’m not interested in being angry at you, I promise. I was us to go home, and go to bed, and wake up the next day and remember that our house smells like lavender, and that it’s nice. And if it’s not okay then it will be. And I understand why you feel how you do right now, and I’m not interested in being mad at you for that either. I want to love you, better and more.”

Deirdre turned to Kelly and smiled; the only ‘thank you’ the therapist would get from her for some time. Her eyes raked over the glass and the disarray, and she shrugged. “Just--uh--invoice us for the damage.” With a cough, she turned to her girlfriend. “What are you thinking right now, Morgan?”

Morgan stared at Deirdre with bewildered confusion. But I did it, she wanted to say. She even got as far as mouthing the words. How could she not be blamed? Shouldn’t she have known, isn’t that part of why Deirdre had been so angry with her? But, no, she hadn’t meant to, she’d missed the step where that knowledge had been, and somewhere in the minutes behind her that was supposed to mean something. And Deirdre was kissing her cheek, earnest and loving, and using the softest words, endearments that she normally saved for home, or her letters, places where she really, deeply, let herself love her. Morgan whimpered into her touch, desperate for comfort. She wanted everything to be okay. She wanted to jump right to the place where this had been fixed, and Deirdre didn’t have to push through her pain, and everything was wonderful.

She remembered that day with the dishwasher vividly. She’d almost tripped over her feet running to the kitchen to stop the machine in time. As soon as she saw the mess she’d started apologizing. I’m sorry, shit, I didn’t mean to, sorry, sorry, fuck, it’s off now, I can clean it real fast, I don’t think anything’s been damaged. She’d been so stuck on that anxious loop, Deirdre had to take her hand and pull her away to get her attention. And that moment, with Morgan babbling no, she really did need to clean up her mess right now, she was sorry she’d made such a stupid mistake but if she got to it right away, you wouldn’t be able to tell, Deirdre only smiled and hushed her and kissed her so tenderly. Could it really be that simple? Could she have this back without repenting on her knees or pleading for hours?

“I-I don’t--I don’t know,” she said quietly. She pressed Deirdre’s hands where they held her, trying to hold onto her good, her forgiveness, as much as possible. “I--” She struggled to find the words for what the problem was. Deirdre had been so hurt and angry, and Morgan hadn’t been able to do anything to comfort her yet; until now, she’d been nearly too scared to touch her without permission, just in case it was another mistake she couldn’t figure out in time. But Deirdre said she understood, and she wouldn’t lie about that. And if she tried the scenario in reverse, she’d do anything to make sure Deirdre felt loved, above all else. But Morgan hadn’t done anything this hurtful before, not to Deirdre. How could she take it so easily?

Morgan lifted her eyes to Deirdre’s, pleading silently. She wasn’t sure for what, but it was the clearest feeling inside her besides more apologies. Please still love me, please keep holding me, please forgive me, please be patient with me, please explain again, please kiss me, please… “I’m still...I want to make it better. I want you to know I…” She grimaced pitifully, knowing it was all probably so obvious. “I love you. I want us to be good. I haven’t even been able to comfort you, I haven’t done anything for you, I just hurt you. But I didn’t want to make things worse, and I’m still so sorry...” She deflated. “Even if you’re right about everything--” And with how her counterarguments fall apart in her head, she had a feeling that she was, and that the real trap was in her own thoughts. “--Okay, conceding that you’re…” Her voice caught in her throat and broke. “That you’re...probably right. I think…” She hesitated as her voice caught again. It was difficult to sift past all the mess and worry to get to something that was her own. “I really, really hurt you and I’m not going to feel right about it until I know how we’re going to make it right, but could you please...I want us to be home. I want you to love me like this, like everything’s okay. And...I want to love you too, I don’t want you to hurt by yourself anymore…”

Deirdre’s features softened. She breathed out gently, shaking her head. “You said we help each other, right? You first said it so long ago, and I haven’t stopped thinking about it since. I know I’m not always so good about...letting you help me, but I...want to be better with that too. So, yes, you can help me too; comfort me. We help each other.” Laughter bubbled free from her lips, and she leaned in to kiss Morgan firmly. “Well, thank you for agreeing that I’m right.” And in the interest of not offending Kelly’s sensibilities, Deirdre left the one kiss where it was, knowing she’d steal more later. “I was wrong to yell at you...and to get so mad like that...I’m sorry too. And I know, my love, which is why I promi—“ She tensed and swallowed, eyeing Morgan to see if she really needed to hear a promise now to soothe her worry or if trust could be okay. “We’ll talk about it tomorrow. Or sooner, and we’ll figure something out, but let’s get home first. And let me love you, and you can love me, and I...I don’t want to hurt by myself anymore.” Deirdre shook, sniffling. “I don’t want to either. And I know you love me, and I don’t want to hurt anymore, Morgan. I want to tell you everything and I…” Deirdre tried to blink back tears, parting her lips for a quivering breath. That had been the problem all along, wasn’t it? All the pain she held by herself—this torment of her humiliation, the sting of knowing she was the only one that cared about how badly she’d been hurt. The betrayal she thought Morgan committed, was committing. The disjointed loyalty. Deirdre sighed, “I just want you to love me. I don’t want to feel like you don’t—I don’t want to hurt on my own anymore. All I want is…” She shut her eyes to echoes of shouts and animal screams. Of a mother with a sharp voice, and a family with one that all sounded like one song; the same song, over and over again. Of her own voice, never able to hit the notes right. Of begging, of blood spurting. Of the silence and the clocks that broke it, one tick at a time. “...to be understood and loved, just as I am.” She opened her eyes to the woman that did just that, and smiled.

“You do know me, my love, better than anyone else. And you love me. And I think that means everything will be okay.” Deirdre pulled Morgan close, breathing her in. She pressed kisses to her temple, cheek, jaw, shoulder—sparing the lips for some imagined idea of Kelly’s prudishness. “My love,” she breathed, “my light, my Morgan—let’s go home.” She lifted her head up, turning to the clock. There was still some time left, and a therapist that might have a thing to say about it. Deirdre saved Kelly from another glare or frown, and greeted her with an earnest smile and pleading brown eyes. “Can we end the session early? Can we go?”

Intrigue settled into Kelly’s features. She turned and surveyed the damage again, then regarded the couple. “I...don’t think there’s a problem with ending the session early.” She set her pen down and rose, careful to avoid glass. “I’ll call in a couple of hours to check in, and if you two would like to be referred somewhere else for a follow up, I can…” Kelly trailed off, Deirdre had risen already, helping Morgan to her feet. As Deirdre smiled at her, nodding in appreciation, she turned and looked at the glass again for a moment before offering a smile of her own.

Deirdre nodded again, “we’ll see you at our next session, right? Do invoice us the damage for everything—It won’t happen again, I just uh...stomp very aggressively.” She laughed nervously and glanced at Morgan for some kind of confirmation before she pressed in with another kiss. “Let’s go home, my love. Let’s go.”

#wr deirdre #wr chatzy #wr deirdre chatzy #marley and me #domestic abuse tw #wickedswriting

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shybluu · 3 years

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October 24, 2017 @11:35am

This was no accident. This was no mistake. Meeting you was one of the best things thats ever happened to me.. I could write for hours about our love story, aside from the negative part. I really fell for you.

I knew you were different. From your personality, to your body, to your voice and to the feelings you gave me by simply being in my life. Not only did you open up my heart in a way I've kept locked shut, you've helped me overcome so many fears and grow into the young woman I am today. I thank you. I thank you even for the bad times because they made me appreciate the good. They made me more stronger and wiser. More aware and focused, towards what I really want.. for 3 years my life has been dedicated to you. With no regrets, I'm happy to say you were the first real relationship I've ever had. From the arguments to the screaming then to breakups and makeups it has all be TOO real. I've stayed committed, even through my stupid mistakes, to you and only you. To me, it's just always been you in the end. I don't know why, after everything we've been through, after having a thousand reasons to leave, I've stayed. I've come back. I've always had this feeling like we belong together and if we aren't then life isn't complete... I wouldn't be able to move on and succeed in life without you. I used to fantasize a future with you and I was able to actually see it... I wanted it so much and believed it could happen.. honestly I can't remember when it all stopped... when it all changed... my feelings... my mindset.. I cant explain why and how it happened... After 3 years of being in this relationship, after all of the things we have been through, I think it's time I begin a new journey. As many times as I've walked away and looked back, this time it will be the last. This decision wasn't easy... and I know you're going to focus on us and our days throughout this past month.... but it's time I'm honest with not only myself but with you.. I can't pretend like I'm okay. Like this is what I want for myself.... I have so much more growing to do. To become a woman. To become a mother, if I need to be one day. To become successful with or without a man. Afterwards, I will then want to decide whether this is what I really want. I'm young right now.... I'm not gonna front like I'm good. Truly, I'm scared. I'm confused. I worry and stress like hell over you. Over us. It torments me some nights and most days. It has for so long..... it's been apart of this life I'm living for 3 years... it's drained me. It's changed me. It's made me feel different. I made the decision to leave around the beginning of the month.... if you think for a second that how good we've been recently was fake, just stop right there.. it was more then real. It even helped me finalize my decision.... you may not understand right now but you will... i love you. And I'll always love you. And for a while I've been used to pushing you away when I know this isn't what I want but I tried something new... and that was loving you even though I'm leaving you.. and it felt amazing. It gave me reassurance that things are going to be okay. this isn't the end of things. It doesn't even have to be "good bye". It could be "see you later!". We both need to grow a little bit more. In ways we won't be able to, together. We need to grow as independent people. We need to feel alive every time we wake up because we're here to do something. Right now I don't know why I'm here. I want to... I need to... I love you... I'll see you later...

#breakup #toxic relationship #first love #journal #my writing #my words #relationship

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trombonesinspace · 4 years

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Typhoid Mary: feminist femme fatale?

“Season 4 was going to be Typhoid Mary, Alice Eve [who played the role in Iron Fist], we were doing a kind of...I had a much different version of her than what Raven [Metzner] had done in Iron Fist. I was kind of rebooting what she was going to be like, and we were going to do a, you know, kind of a warped love story/murder mystery kind of femme fatale, but kind of a modern-day, feminist version of it, as opposed to kind of the older, sexist kind of femme fatale archetype.”

-Erik Oleson, in conversation with Steven DeKnight, SaveDaredevilCon

As I said yesterday, I have some thoughts about this! If you want some opinions nobody asked for, about a storyline that may never come to pass, you’ve come to the right place! Let’s dive in.

A femme fatale is a character type with quite a history, that can take various forms. She is always an attractive woman who brings ruin to the man who gets involved with her. But sometimes she is deliberately manipulative, while sometimes she is more a victim of circumstances. She may be evil, or she may be sympathetic/tragic. But whatever her moral alignment, she has two defining traits: sexual allure, and some form of negative consequences for the hero as a result of his involvement with her.

A woman who schemes against the hero, and succeeds in harming him, but without using feminine wiles? Not a femme fatale. The Marvel TV universe has featured several examples on different shows: Madame Gao, Mariah Dillard, Alexandra. And, ironically, the version of Typhoid Mary who appeared in Iron Fist. (We’ll get there.)

A sexy woman who tries to manipulate/damage the hero, but fails? Also not a femme fatale. I wish I could give some examples, but sadly I can’t think of any, in dramas at least. Our current media culture loves a sexy manipulator, no writer ever seems to introduce one into a dramatic story without making her succeed in her schemes, to some extent at least.

Which is unfortunate, from my perspective, because I loathe sexy manipulators. It’s a character type I really dislike, whenever I encounter her. As soon as she shows up, I know the hero is going to fall for her bullshit like a chump, and I’m going to end up respecting him less as a result. I could try to unpack my feelings about this a bit more, but that would probably make a post all on its own, so for now I’ll leave it at that.

This doesn’t mean I hate all femmes fatales—it really depends on her motivation and her behavior. If she isn’t trying to harm the hero, and it happens due to circumstances, then I might like the character, but the story becomes a tragedy. Which is not necessarily bad. Just, you know. Tragic.

Anyway! Let’s talk about Typhoid Mary.

Mary Walker is a woman with Dissociative Identity Disorder (multiple personalities), and high-level combat skills. In the comics, she is also a mutant with mental powers. She appeared in the Daredevil comics starting in 1988.

In this original version, her personality fragmented due to childhood abuse, leading her to vow as an adult that no man would ever hurt her again. Her personalities are: Mary, who is timid and gentle; Typhoid, who is adventurous, lusty, and violent; and Bloody Mary, who is even more violent, sadistic, and hates all men.

Mary becomes romantically involved with Matt Murdock, who is cheating on his girlfriend, Karen Page, to be with her. At the same time, Typhoid is trying to ruin him, having been hired to do so by the Kingpin. Matt can’t tell they’re the same woman, because when she switches personalities all her bio signs change (voice, scent, heartbeat, etc) so much that he can’t recognize her. (Uh, sure.) She may also be using some of her mutant powers to confuse his senses. I haven’t read the comics, I’m relying here on what I could learn from the internet.

Eventually Typhoid drops him off a bridge, but then Mary finds him and gets him to a hospital, saving him. Karen is with him when he wakes up, but he breaks her heart by calling out for Mary.

This storyline...does not thrill me. As I said, I haven’t read it, but comics writing about mental illness is generally neither nuanced nor accurate, and comics writing about women circa 1988 is also not great, by today’s standards. And comics Matt’s disastrous love life is legendary—cheating on your girlfriend is bad, Matt! Don’t do it!

I have, however, watched season 2 of Iron Fist, where we get a different version. This Mary Walker is a US army veteran, special ops, who was captured by the Sokovian military. Her personality fragmented due to the brutal abuse she received from her captors for nearly two years, until she finally escaped. She got a medical discharge from the army after being diagnosed with Dissociative Identity Disorder.

Her personalities are: Mary, who is innocent and naive; and Walker, who is a ruthless, coolly efficient mercenary-for-hire. The existence of a third, ultraviolent personality, previously unknown to either Mary or Walker, is revealed near the end of the season.

Mary meets and befriends Danny Rand, while Walker is hired by his enemies to stalk him, and eventually capture him so they can steal his Iron Fist powers from him. She later changes sides, getting hired to bring down Davos, the season’s main villain, by Joy Meachum, his former ally.

There are clear parallels to the Daredevil comics storyline, albeit in less extreme form—Mary befriends the hero, but isn’t romantically involved with him; her more violent personality works against him and fights him, but doesn’t try to destroy him.

I enjoyed this version of the character more than I expected to, for a couple of reasons. For one, she is never the out of control, “crazy” stereotype of a person with mental illness. Both Mary and Walker are more-or-less functional adults, managing to live a strange hybrid life, aware of each other’s existence even though they don’t share memories.

But what I especially like is that she isn’t sexualized, at all. It’s incredibly rare, in my experience, to see a young, female antagonist opposing a male hero, and not have her be sexy. Older women are exempt from this obligation (see my list of examples above), but the young ones always vamp it up, and I am so tired of it. I am not opposed to sexy women, but I am very opposed to the requirement that all women must be sexy. (Unless they’re old.) Male antagonists aren’t required to be alluring, so why should women be? (Yes, I know why. I just don’t like it.)

There’s also a lot of potential YIKES in sexualizing a woman with a severe mental illness, which was caused by (among other things) repeated sexual violence. Could it be done in a way that isn’t super problematic? It’s possible, sure. Am I assuming that most television writers would give the subject the respect it deserves? NOPE!

I’m really glad they chose to just not go there. Walker is extremely good at what she does, takes no shit from anyone, and (almost) never gets riled up. After everything she’s been through, nothing in her present life has the power to faze her, and none of the men around her have the power to intimidate her. It’s pretty great!

She isn’t the least bit coy or seductive, and, equally refreshing, none of the men try to sexualize her or hit on her. Everyone Walker talks to knows she is a highly skilled professional, and they treat her accordingly. Or, when someone does disrespect her, it’s never gendered as far as I can remember, and it stops as soon as she calmly states what she’s going to do to him if it doesn’t.

As for Mary, although she has a more feminine appearance than Walker (hair down and loose, makeup), she is also not sexualized. Her friendship with Danny, who is in an established relationship with Colleen Wing, is platonic, and no one else tries to hit on her that I remember.

So this is the version of Typhoid Mary that Erik Oleson was going to reboot, into a femme fatale. Only, you know. A feminist one.

I...have some questions. What does that even mean? What does feminism mean to Erik Oleson? Let’s be real, the idea of a woman becoming an ultraviolent, sadistic man-hater as a result of sexual trauma would have been seen as feminist in some circles, back in 1988 when that version was written. So what, exactly, did he have in mind?

As I said before, sexual allure is a necessary component of a femme fatale. So she was definitely gonna be sexy. And you know now how I feel about sexy female antagonists. As for the “warped love story” part...Matt wouldn’t be cheating on Karen, since they aren’t together (please, for the love of mercy, don’t have them get together right before he meets Mary, we did that once and I do NOT want to see it again), but I am still not a fan of Matt/Mary as a couple.

Her Dissociative Identity Disorder raises some serious issues around consent, and even if the show chose to ignore that, there’s still the issue of past sexual trauma. Unless Oleson’s reworking of the character was going to include a completely different back story, a Matt/Mary relationship would mean Matt unknowingly having sex with a woman who has suffered brutal sexual abuse in her past. Not to mention, having sex with her that only one part of her personality actually wants.

Is it possible for someone with Mary’s past trauma and present mental illness to have a positive sexual relationship? In reality, of course! In the hands of writers with only a layman’s knowledge of psychology, on a show that loves to torment its hero, I wouldn’t bet on it. How do you suppose our poster boy for Catholic guilt would react when he inevitably finds out the truth?

Plus, aside from any issues around Mary herself, Matt starting a relationship with anyone other than the handful of people who already know his secret identity, means a whole new round of Matt lying to someone he cares about. Does anyone really want to see that? I know I don’t. Sure, maybe he’d tell her eventually, but how long would they have to date before he decided to trust her with the truth?

I’m not opposed to the Mary Walker from Iron Fist appearing in Daredevil, if the writers could come up with a new story for her (i.e, don’t just have her repeat all the same plot beats with Matt that she already did with Danny). But bringing her in as a femme fatale really doesn’t sit well with me. We’ve already seen Matt in an ultimately destructive relationship with a sexy, violent, morally grey woman. I really don’t want to watch Round 2: now with multiple personalities!

Of course, maybe we never will. The quote at the beginning of this post is from just a couple of weeks ago (July 25 2020), so Erik Oleson still seems to think it’s a fine idea. But obviously we don’t know yet if there will ever be a season 4, or who the show runner will be if there is. He may never get to make the story he was planning.

So yes, I realize I’m merely speculating about a completely theoretical story that may never happen. But I wanted to write this anyway. I had a strong “ugh, no” reaction to the idea of a feminist femme fatale Typhoid Mary, and I wanted to go deeper and pick apart my reasons for not liking the idea.

To the three of you who have read this all the way through to the end (this post is nearly 2000 words, yikes), thank you for indulging me! These are, as always, my own opinions, and YMMV.

#daredevil #typhoid mary #femme fatale #long post #oh look I wrote a dissertation

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pllandcompany · 4 years

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I Choose You

Summary: Hospital AU! A look into how Roman and Logan’s relationship developed.

Pairings: Pre-romantic into Romantic Logince, background QPP Moxiety

Warnings: discussion of medical procedures, blood mention, violence/shooting mention, mention of drug use/addiction, anxiety, crying, a (and one almost) kiss

Tagged: @shxtxpp @apologieslogan @crofters-jam @asylia5911 @ab-artist @band-be-boss-blog @unbefuckinglieveable@flyingfreeyt @thecatchat @thefallendog @backatthebein @insufferablegayastronaut

Notes: Guess who’s back at it again after months of writer’s block?? I’ve wanted to write this story for a while. It does reference a few other fics I’ve written in this AU so here, here, and here are the links for those stories if you want more context as the events of this story are not in order of how they happened based on the established timeline. Also, heads up that I’ve only linked the first part of Out Loud (last link) and Don’t You Remember (second link) but If you want full details (or if you just love my writing so much, insert eye roll here), go to my masterlist and read all of the parts. Still, it should be fairly clear even without reading the previous stories. Okay! Enough talking! Enjoy!

Why wasn’t he awake?

That deadly, nerve-wracking, gut-twisting question had been bouncing around Dr. Roman Courtland’s mind for five days now. The deadline of the withdrawal of care date loomed over his head like a terrorizing and expansive storm ready to break open at any moment. Fourteen days was just simply not enough time. Did the man have no hope?

Note to self: Remind Logan to change that stupidly short time period when he wakes up.

In all actuality, Logan being in a coma was not the expected outcome. It was a nearly perfect surgery. The bleeding was minimal and deftly controlled by his swift hand when it occurred. There was no sign of post-operative stroke or brain death. He should be awake. Yet there Logan lay as still and pale as driven snow, the steady beep of the machines being the only sign of life in the room. It shouldn’t be the case, but it was and Roman was damned determined to find out why. This wasn’t just any patient. No, this was a colleague and a gifted one at that; Logan was quite possibly the most brilliant cardio-thoracic surgeons this hospital had ever seen. Not only was this a professional point of pride, Logan was also the man who saved his brother’s life while simultaneously putting up with his relentless torment the entire time Remy was hospitalized. Roman knew he had been unfair to the surgeon, cruel even and he has certainly spent an exorbitant amount of energy trying to make up for that fact since, including personally taking on his case when Logan turned up with a brain tumor. Shortly before his diagnosis, the two finally found themselves on better terms and Roman was…looking forward to getting to know the doctor more, figure out what truly makes him tick. Now he was potentially the surgeon responsible for destroying that precious of a mind, for squandering the opportunity to…learn more about Logan? Roman refused to accept that reality. Logan Taylor was going to wake up if he had any say in it. He had to; Roman wasn’t ready to lose him-

“Roman? What are you still doing here?”

Patton. Damn it. “Looking over Logan’s post-op scans.” Roman felt the deep sigh more than he heard it.

“For the hundredth time, I bet. Roman, take a break, please. You have to step away at least for a moment. Have you even eaten anything?”

“Have I figured this out yet? Then the answer is no and I’m not leaving until that changes.” A small pang of guilt tightened Roman’s chest briefly. Yelling at Patton was like kicking a puppy, a completely undeserved action. As usual, Patton didn’t even seem fazed which only served to make the neurosurgeon feel worse. Instead, he simply sat across from the distraught doctor, empathy shining in his eyes.

“Roman, you can’t keep doing this to yourself.”

“Then what the hell else am I supposed to do?!” Roman flailed his arms in sheer frustration, the force of action flinging the scans everywhere. He roughly ran a shaky hand through his hair and breathed deeply, trying to control himself while Patton quietly picked up the discarded films.

“I wish I could tell you what to do, Roman. I don’t know how to fix Logan. But I do know you’re not going to find the answer like this. Please take a break. Get some sleep. Come at this again in the morning.”

Roman buried his head into his hands. “What if something happens when I walk away? What if he gets worse and I’m not here to stop it? What if I can’t figure this out and I…and we lose him?” Patton gently took Roman’s hands out of his hair and smoothed the wavy locks down, a solemn yet knowing smile playing on his lips.

“I know you’re scared. I am too. But we don’t get to know what’s going to happen sometimes. All we can do is our best. Which you can’t do if you’re exhausted. So, come with me. We’re going to have dinner and then you’re going to an on-call room to lie down. You don’t have to sleep. You can ramble all the medicine at me that you want, every detail. Maybe then we can come up with something together. How does that sound?” Roman nodded silently, allowing Patton to lead him out of his office.

An hour and a sandwich later, Roman was out like a light and Patton was quietly sneaking out of the on-call room.

Mission successful.

****

“Good morning, nerd!”

God, Roman was insufferable. Logan let out a soul-exiting sigh. “Dr. Courtland, must you insist on calling me that?”

“Oh, don’t get your briefs in a twist, Dr. Taylor; you know I tease only out of love.” Logan hoped the tenseness in his shoulders wasn’t noticeable.

There he was using that word around him again.

“You cannot possibly love me. We’ve only known each other a few months. Besides, I seem to recall you having a certain disdain for me when I first arrived here. It would be impossible for that to have resolved itself in totality so soon.” Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Roman stop and turn back to him. Suddenly, Logan was grateful they were the only two in the lounge.

“Logan…you still think so ill of me?” The cardiologist barely held back the gasp that bubbled in his throat at the hurt look on the neurosurgeon’s face.

“No…not of you?”

“Then of yourself?” Roman sat next to Logan, setting his thigh ablaze when they brushed against each other. Logan hesitated for a moment as his mind struggled to find the best way to answer.

“That’s not it either. I simply meant that we are very different people with not much in common. I’m not certain as to how we will coalesce outside of being coworkers.” If we will.

“Well, that isn’t always a negative thing. I like that we’re different. Means there’s much we can learn from each other.”

“Of course. Our specialties differ greatly; there’s bound to be new information learned between us.” Roman chuckled warmly.

“While I find your habit of taking things literally quite refreshing, in this case it led you astray. You’re so much more than the job, Lo. You are strong and wise, brilliant and beautifully complicated in ways I’d like to know more about. If you’d let me that is.” The neurosurgeon’s face held so much hope, it metaphorically made Logan’s heart just…stop. How ironic that he, the cardio-thoracic surgeon would be the one to need pulmonary resuscitation from just one look from the towheaded neurosurgeon. It just wasn’t reasonable how one person could be so disarming, so confounding, so attractive…

Logan had to get out of there.

“Ah! Yes, well, then I concede to your point, Dr. Courtland. Fare-farewell.” The older doctor jumped up like a jack in the box and practically sprinted out of the room, the edge of his white coat narrowly missing Roman’s face.

It didn’t bother him too much once he realized that Logan hadn’t said no.

****

“Okay, Logan. Let’s try this again. Pick up the pencil and write your name.” Logan stared at the yellow No. 2 as if it would jump up and slap him at any moment. “Can we go back to the ball?”

Roman almost chuckled. “You’ve already done that portion. Your grip strength is greatly improved. Now we need to build your prehensile strength back. Go ahead, pick up the pencil. Just try.”

After a few tense moments, Logan finally held the writing instrument. His heart pounded with anticipation as he gingerly placed the tip to the paper in front of him. He pressed down ever so slightly and began to write his name.

He didn’t make it through the ‘g’ before the force of his tremor snapped the graphite.

In a fit of pure rage, Logan swiftly grabbed the pencil in his left hand and threw it across the room. It sailed past Roman’s ear so close he felt the wind move his hair. Before he could react, Logan was standing and tossing his chair across the room. A loud clattering sound stunned Roman into stock still reticence, not daring to test the cardiologist in this state.

“Damn it! Damn it all to hell!”

“Logan, just try to stay calm- “

“No, you said this would work! Yet it’s been a month and I still can’t use my hand! An entire month and I still can’t operate because you make promises you can’t keep!” Silence. “I’m sorry. That was…an unbecoming display.” He moved to restore the room to its original order but Roman intercepted him. He placed two warm hands on Logan’s shoulders, drawing a gasp from the sudden contact.

“You don’t have to apologize, Logan. I understand. I’m surprised you’ve held it together this long.”

Logan refused to make eye contact with Roman. “I still should not have behaved in that manner. Especially after everything you’ve done for me, I shouldn’t be lashing out at you, I am alive because of you, I should just be grateful for that- “

“Dr. Taylor, will you please look at me?” When Logan didn’t move, Roman took his hand under the surgeon’s chin and gently lifted his head. His heart nearly broke at the shattered look on Logan’s face. “See? I’m not mad. What you’re feeling is normal because what you’re going through is hard. It’s okay to get frustrated.” Roman pushed back a lock of the cardiologist’s dark hair and Logan’s eyes closed, leaning into the touch. His head dropped alarmingly close to Roman’s forehead and the neurosurgeon shifted to hold his face with both hands. Logan’s lips parted and his gaze suddenly changed to something…insistent, almost desperate. The question he was asking was obvious and oh, how Roman wanted to acquiesce. Maybe he could, maybe it would be okay…no, it wouldn’t be right; Logan was his very vulnerable patient right now and his coworker. Complicated wouldn’t even begin to describe the nature of their involvement. Roman took a step back and cleared his throat, turning to grab the chair and returned it to the table.

“Look, your hand works. You just have to remind your brilliant brain that it does. And it takes time to build new neural pathways so…try again. Write your name, as much as you can.” Logan swallowed tensely, seating himself once again in the chair. He closed his eyes in a silent prayer, willing the pressure in his chest to release. He looked when he felt velvet skin against the back of his hand: Roman was holding it. Smiling gently at the supportive touch, he picked up the second pencil Roman had conjured from his white coat.

This time, he made it through the ‘g.’

****

“Tell me a secret.”

“…what?”

“We’re getting to know each other. Setting aside our differences, becoming…friends. Friends tell each other things so…tell me a secret.”

“We are sitting on a bench on our lunch break in the middle of our workday. What about this setting makes you suddenly want to have an intimate conversation?”

“Deflecting…”

“Oh, for heavens’ sake, fine!”

“…Paging Dr. Taylor? Are you actually going to say something?”

“I…I want children. Or at least a child. I want to be a father.”

“Well, that’s a mighty forward proposition.”

“Dr. Courtland…”

“Oh, hush now, you know I’m kidding! But why is that such a secret?”

“Because no one expects it of me. People see me as cold and emotionless; no one would think me fit to be a father, much less have a desire to raise children. I’m not like Patton; I don’t seem like ‘the type,’ if you will.”

“I don’t agree with that at all. I think you’d make an excellent father. You’re very practical and you’re extremely dedicated to your patients. There’s no way that wouldn’t translate over into being a parent.”

“Oh…well, uh, thank you. I, uh, believe it is your turn.”

“…I have a twin.”

“In addition to your four other brothers?”

“No, he’s one of the five of us. His name is…was Remus.”

“Was?”

“Truth be told, I don’t know if I should be saying is or was about him. I don’t even know if he’s alive or not.”

“Roman…”

“He was a surgeon in the military. Reconstructive surgery was technically his specialty but over there he functioned mostly as a trauma surgeon. He loved it; he was never phased by gruesome injuries or the horrors of combat. He just did his job saving as many lives as he could so they could go on to keep ours back home safe. One day, their compound was raided and…he was never heard from again. A lot of soldiers died that day but…they never found his body.”

“Oh, Roman…you have my deepest condolences. The amount of grief you’ve had to endure…it’s quite unfair.”

“Don’t worry, Specs. I’m all right. I know it may sound…completely ridiculous but he could still be alive. It’s one of the few things I still hope for…that one day I’ll see my brother again.”

“I understand even more why you’re so protective of the brothers you have here now.”

“Congratulations, Doctor. You just figured out why we tell each other secrets.”

****

The first thing Roman felt when he woke up was pain. Pain in his chest, pain in his throat, God, it felt like he was choking on something-

“Roman? Roman, calm down, don’t fight the intubation, okay? We’ll get it out, just hold on.” That sounded like Virgil, why was Virgil taking him off a vent?

Oh. Right. He got shot.

He got shot and almost died.

He got shot and needed surgery. He had just had surgery to take a bullet out of his chest. Chest…cardiovascular…where was Logan?

Roman knew he wouldn’t be able to get much out at first, but he had to try. He took a breath that rattled in his throat and attempted to speak. “Lo…Lo-”

“Shh, shh, don’t try to talk, Ro. I know who you want; I’ll go get him.” Virgil turned to leave, not even making it one step before he was stopped short by a vice-like grip on his wrist. He turned back to see Roman staring at him with wide eyes, almost pleading with him to understand. Virgil nodded; the message clearly received.

“I know you’re grateful. I’m not hurt. I’m just…really glad to see you make it, man.” Virgil left before anyone could acknowledge the tears threatening to stain his face and Roman found that being alone was scarier than it should be. After all, he had no idea where the shooter was; Logan could have hidden him away to fix him, he could still be here somewhere, lurking, waiting to take another shot that would surely end his life this time-

“Roman? Calm down, your heart rate is way too high. Just breathe, you’re safe.” The neurosurgeon’s eyes met with two dark pools of worry and he locked onto them, Logan urging him to match his breathing. “That’s right; breathe with me. You’re safe. We’re safe right now.” Once Roman’s chest evened out, Logan reached over and grabbed a paper cup full of lukewarm water and handed it to the eager patient.

“Don’t drink too fast, Roman. Slow sips. There you go.” A moment of silence passed. “I’m sorry it’s not cold, I couldn’t seem to locate any ice.”

“The…the shooter-”

“Dead.” Logan’s tone was abrupt and cold. “The shooter is dead; you don’t have to worry about him any longer.”

Roman nodded slowly to not aggravate his already sore body any further. “You saved me.”

Logan nodded absently, staring a hole into the linoleum floor. “I know.”

“Then you know…you know I cannot thank you enough- “

“How dare you?” Logan whispered softly.

“Wh- what?”

“How dare you! How dare you just…waltz into my life and torture me and make me hate you then apologize and befriend me and make me respect you?”

Roman’s eyes widened in shock. “I-I’m sorry- “

“No! No, you do not get to apologize because…because you don’t even leave it there; I can’t just respect you, you then start to make me like you and want you around and want to be near you and then, oh God, you even go as far as to make me fall for you! And just when I figure that out, just when I’m finally able to admit the depth of my feelings for you to myself, just when I finally muster up the courage to even consider telling you about how I…feel, then you decide to go and almost die on me?! And on top of it, you make me be the one to have to save you! How DARE YOU?!”

The entire room stuttered to a halt, save for Logan’s ragged breathing. He was outright crying at this point and quite honestly, Roman wasn’t far behind him. “Logan…I’m so sorry- “

“Shut up! Just shut up! Please just…just tell me you want me too. Tell me I’m not crazy. Tell me that I don’t ever have to live without you because today I learned that losing you feels far too similarly to dying myself so if that is not the case…tell me now so I can figure out how to survive.” A long, tense, quiet moment passed before either of them spoke again.

“Logan,” Roman coughed abruptly, wincing as the motion sent shockwaves of pain through his ribs. He cleared his abused throat and tried again. “Logan, look at me.” The dark-haired surgeon looked up into the soulful eyes of the injured man laying in the hospital bed below him.

“Roman, please,” he pleaded, his voice impossibly soft.

“You can survive without me…but I promise you, as long as I am alive, you will not ever have to.” Logan’s head shot up and before he could control himself, he launched into the bed with Roman, just barely remembering to avoid his ribs and all the wires attached to him. He mumbled a hushed prayer of thank you, thank you, thank you as he curled himself into the space between Roman’s body and the railing of the bed. Roman took a moment to settle before he rested his head against the taller man’s shoulder, exhaustion beginning to blur out the edges of his vision. Logan kissed the crown of his head and wrapped his arms around his newfound love in the gentlest protective hold he could muster, allowing the neurosurgeon to succumb to sleep.

“Rest, Roman. I have you. You are safe. You’re safe with me.”

****

Dr. Picani was a typically patient man but this? This argument he was deeply tired of.

“What I fail to understand is how I continually prove myself to be trustworthy over and over again and you continually shut me out!”

“It is not about you, Roman.”

“Then what is it about? Why wouldn’t you tell me about something like this?”

“I’m telling you now!”

“Yeah, two weeks after the fact and I technically had to hear about it from Virgil!”

“Have you considered that. just maybe, I felt some shame? I had achieved six months of solid sobriety and I nearly threw all of that away in mere minutes!”

“You were obviously triggered by something.”

“I was weak! I failed to keep myself together yet again! And if it weren’t for Virgil dragging me to a meeting and convincing me to tell you, I’d probably still be failing.” Struggling doesn’t make you weak, Logan. The therapist scribbled the thought in his notebook, making a reminder to bring that point up later. He was about to interject when he realized that for the first time in a few minutes, there was silence. Dr. Picani’s head snapped up at the sudden quiet to see Roman’s eyes rapidly filling with tears. Well, this is unexpected.

“Roman? What’s wrong? Say what you’re thinking.”

“I…am I the trigger? Have I pushed you too far?” Good job, Roman, the therapist praised silently, way to take ownership!

Logan’s stomach churned guiltily at the tentative question. “No. You have gotten so much better about that. You did nothing wrong, you are perfect, it’s me, I am…broken.” Logan cursed himself internally for how his voice cracked at the end of his sentence, but he had to keep going. “I want to be good enough for you, but I constantly fail you and I don’t want you to see it. But I fear that one day you will and the fact that I love you won’t be enough to make you stay.” And good job being honest about your fears, Logan. These two have come so far.

While Roman knew just how necessary it was for Logan to admit how he felt, God, how it broke Roman’s heart. He reached out slowly and touched Logan’s hand, chest tightening even more when he felt the muscles jump under his palm. He breathed a sigh of relief when the brunette managed to make eye contact with him, the shared gaze giving him the courage to continue.

“Logan, you’re forgetting one very important thing. I love you too. I don’t want you to be perfect. I want you to be you. Yes, you are strong and brilliant, and I love when you are confident and at your best. But I don’t just love you then. I also love you when you’re hurt, when you’re scared, when you’re less than perfect. Lord knows that I am all those things and you don’t shy away from any of that with me. We’re all a little bit broken but we need each other to keep ourselves together. So, yes, I want you to be strong and healthy but if you can’t be? If it gets hard for you to be that? I still want you.”

“All of me?” Logan whispered.

“The whole damn thing.” Roman paused suddenly, a moment of deliberation passing through his eyes. Logan watched as he seemed to come to some sort of internal decision. He felt the grip on his hand tighten into a gentle squeeze…and then gasped as he watched Roman slide off the couch they shared and drop to one knee.

“Oh my God,” Logan choked out. A loud clatter sounded in front of them as Emile dropped his notebook, both hands flying up to either side of his face,

“Oh my God!” Roman chuckled damply at the poorly contained squeal.

“Save it for the end, Picani.” He pulled out a small black box from his pocket, relishing in the way Logan’s eyes lit up at the sight of it. “I’ve been carrying around this thing for weeks wondering when the right time to ask you was, but truth be told, I could have done it anytime. I didn’t have to wait for some perfect moment because every moment is perfect with you. An appropriate time period in our relationship didn’t need to pass because every minute that goes by is another minute that I am undoubtedly grateful to have spent with you. I didn’t need a counselor to tell me if I’m making the right decision. I just need to look at you and see that all my futures, all my forevers and tomorrows live in your eyes. You are the answer to every question I’ve ever had, even the ones I didn’t know I was asking. So today, I am not proposing marriage. I am affirming my sure commitment to you for the rest of my life. The ring is yours today, tomorrow, and for years to come. There’s no time limit, no expiration date. All you have to do is take it when you’re ready.”

Logan sat in stunned silence as his mind turned over every word of Roman’s confession. Slowly taking the sapphire studded ring from the now open box, he turned it over in his fingers and watched as the light danced with the gems, searching the depths of his heart for any hesitation. He handed the ring back to Roman and slowly turned his hand over, palm facing down.

“Put it on me. I’m ready.”

The squeal that Dr. Picani let out threatened to break glass.

****

“Patton, I must insist that you let go of me before you completely cut off my oxygen supply!"

Patton somehow managed to squeeze Logan even tighter for the briefest of seconds before releasing him.

“Sorry, Doc, I’m just so darned excited for you both! Virgil, isn’t it just amazing? They’re getting married!” Virgil chuckled at the giddy look on Patton’s face.

“I swear, you are a living heart eyes emoji. And yeah, it’s pretty damn cool considering you guys hated each other when you met.”

“My God, you would bring that up,” Roman rolled his eyes as Logan and Patton collectively groaned. Patton delivered a playful smack to Virgil’s arm.

“Virgil! Leave them alone, they’re in love now.” Virgil raised an eyebrow down at his partner’s glossy eyes, almost feverish with excitement and something close to…envy? He elected not to comment as turned to embrace the newly engaged pair one more time.

“Whatever, I know the truth. But seriously, congratulations. I’m sorry I’ve gotta run, I’m assisting on a general surgery case and I’ve gotta change out of chief attire. I’ll see you both later this week, celebratory sushi? Friday night?”

“You bet, Tickle-Me-Emo!” Virgil glared at the nickname as he disappeared into the bathroom of the attendings’ lounge. Patton went in for the hundredth hug and jumped as his pager suddenly went off.

“Uh oh, gotta run, looks like a crash C-section. Congrats to you both again! Bye!” he shouted boisterously as he ran down the hallway.

“I’m afraid I must depart as well, my love. It does not inspire respect in my residents if I’m late for rounds.” Roman beamed at the cardiac surgeon, seemingly unaware of anything he just said. “What?” Logan asked hotly.

“You called me your love. You claimed me.” Embarrassment curled up Logan’s neck as he shook his head fondly and leaned in to kiss his now fiancée.

“You are so endearingly sentimental. I will see you at home, my love.” He smirked as he walked out of the door at the way Roman’s knees seemed to buckle just the smallest amount. The neurosurgeon stood in the middle of the room chuckling to himself when he heard a low, smooth voice speak up behind him.

“You’re engaged?” Roman turned around, his face falling in sympathy at the person behind him.

“Oh, Declan…yes. Yes, I am.” The fellow surgeon turned his face to the side to hide his tears, displaying the long scar that ran down the left side of his face. Without warning, he was suddenly being embraced by Roman who seemed to be unable to stop his own tears as they soaked the corner of his scrubs.

“You know, if Remus were here and we weren’t already married by now, we could have planned a double wedding,” Declan murmured.

“He would have loved that. He loved you so much.” Declan pulled away, his glance suddenly dropping to the floor.

“I wish I could tell you what happened to him.” Roman placed a hand on the orthopedic surgeon’s shoulder.

“It’s okay. I know you weren’t there. You couldn’t have done anything to change it.” Declan smiled weakly, nodding a silent goodbye before leaving the room. He paused at the doorway facing the empty hallway.

“Congratulations. Really, you deserve to be happy.” Roman let out a small sob as Declan left, swiftly brushing the tears away before heading to his own rounds.

Neither of them remembered that Virgil was in the bathroom, listening to their entire conversation…and absolutely seething with fury.

#sanders sides #logan sanders #roman sanders #patton sanders #virgil sanders #sanders sides au #tw:/anxiety #tw:/violence #logince #romantic logince #moxiety #queerplatonic moxiety #deceit sanders #sanders sides surgeon au #my writing #pllandco

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like-rain-or-confetti · 4 years

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Request: Claustrophobia part 2 (Jane Volturi x Reader)

Your mistake changed Jane's life forever. She couldn't forget you. You were on her mind like a never-ending loop. She could still remember the touch of your hand and would feel her hand twitch as she barely stopped her hand from locking the empty space in the very way she had previously done to your hand. She had an unmistakable attachment to you but didn't understand it in the slightest. So even after that day had been and gone, the two of you had kept in touch. You knew that Jane could give no answers and it was more than likely that she wouldn't be willing to share them even if she did. So you asked the next best person. Aro.

Aro explained that vampires felt emotions more deeply than humans since the emotions linger longer than a humans can. This made it inevitable to develop bonds whether positive or negative and do so pretty quickly. He informed you it was pretty likely that if a vampire gets a good or bad first impression, it's often very difficult to be more open minded to the possibility they were wrong. On Jane's specific circumstances, she was young, a vampire and underwent severe cruelty when she was human. Therefore, her vampire instincts and emotions develop relationships quicker whilst she prefers to keep little company. For a stranger to have such an effect on her was even more conflicting than it would be for some others. You felt bad about the inner conflict you had caused Jane. You asked Aro if there was anything you could do to help her but Aro's simple response was to suggest you approach Jane about it. So against your better judgement, you did.

"Jane? I've noticed something has been bothering you-" "How would you know? You don't know me." Jane snapped. You quickly collected yourself, startled at her reaction. "I know but it seems something is bothering you. I didn't want to ask you about it because I don't think it's something you'd want to talk to me about. Though i want to help so I spoke to Aro." "You what!?" Jane's eyes widened, she seemed caught off guard as her expression changed from anger to shock. "Why would you do that?" She sneered. "It was with only good intentions. I suspected I was the problem but I’m not allowed to leave. When you talk to me you seem very guarded but conflicted." "Yes, well there are reasons for that." She was clearly getting more riled up. "Maybe, i should just go-" You lowered your head as you quickly turned only to be roughly pulled back by the wrist. "You're not going anywhere. Tell me what was said!" Jane was on the defense but you recognised the underpinning emotion that was breaking through. Panic. Pure fear. "Nothing really too much was said. Aro told me about a vampires emotions and stuff. Then he told me about...you." You trailed off, certain you could feel the blood drain from your face. "What about me?" Jane demanded. "He told me about your past. Nothing in detail but that people were very cruel to you when you were human. That made things a lot clearer-" "You don't know anything of what happened to me!" Jane cut you off. "Don't assume you do!" You jumped slightly startled again. "I didn't ask to pry. He told me a minimum about you. I only asked what I could do to help. I feel guilty and I never intended to sound like I understood what you went through." Jane was silent, her eyes dropping from you seemingly in thought. "I was accused of witch craft." Your eyes lifted to Jane who looked very uncomfortable yet calm, more nervous than upset as seconds before. "Alec and I are twins. Twins were considered somewhat demonic when I was human. So naturally our village thought we were witches. Our gifts were evident at that time. Whilst they were barely a glimpse in comparison to what they are now, they were still evident enough to be seen. Mine more than Alec's. If I had injured myself, Alec would comfort me and put his hand on the injury, for that duration i wouldn't feel the pain anymore. When i was upset, I could hurt things. We'd catch butterflies in cages we made of sticks. If I stared at it it would begin to cower. I felt like that butterfly all the time in my village. When children tormented us, I’d glare at them and suddenly they had sharp shooting pains in their heads. Every time, they’d run away and when our of sight the pain was gone. Eventually, we were taken away to be burned at the stake. Our mother tried to protect us but she died after a hit to the head with a large stone.“ You swallowed, the story was difficult to hear. "We felt the flames, slowly burning. Alec took my hand. He didn’t want to feel any of it. He wished to feel absolutely nothing. I, on the other hand, wanted every last one of them to feel every bit of pain I felt. Aro got us before it was too late. He changed us. Three days later we returned to slaughter every last one of them. We’ve been here ever since.” Jane stared at you for a moment as you tried to process it. How could someone be the victim and the villain in their own story. Then again, could you really blame Jane for doing such a thing? Could you really let such a thing slide after years of such torment? At the end of the day, they never asked for any of it. They were truly defenseless.

“It has always been my brother and I. No one else. We don’t have friends, we don’t have mates. We don’t need anyone. It would be only us forever.” A thought rushed to Jane’s head, her distress returning. “When you took my hand…” Jane swallowed hard. “When you were so scared that you moved for someone’s hand and took mine, even by accident, it reminded me of when my brother took my hand on that stake.” Jane slowly shook her head. “It was ridiculous, I thought it myself. It was ridiculous that you had such a fear of elevators when you were surrounded by vampires but what made it more ridiculous was you taking my hand and me being unable to let go. It didn’t hit me until you had left just how quickly I had grown attached. I haven’t been able to get you out of my mind. My only solution was to get rid of you but I couldn’t do it and it was terrifying. I never wanted this. I just wanted to be with my brother. The way you felt in that elevator is how you make me feel now!” “Philophobia.” You muttered. “Excuse me?” “It’s the fear of becoming emotionally attached to someone. It’s social and considering you went through something so traumatic, it’s completely understandable.” You rambled mostly to yourself. You shook your head. “Or maybe it’s not. I’m not a doctor and I’m certainly not going to offer you a diagnosis but…” You trailed off before holding out your hand. “What are you doing?” “You held my hand when I was afraid in the elevator, so take mine now.” Jane was touched by the offer even as the fear of what it could mean took hold. “I won’t ask anything of you and I certainly won’t force you if you don’t want to take it. I want to help you feel better and maybe show you I’m the last person you should be afraid of.” She looked at your face and then to your hand a few times before slowly taking it.

“So what is your favourite thing that isn’t torturing or killing anyone and let’s go and do it.” You smiled. Jane cracked a smile, still looking at your joined hands. “This way…” She said quietly and the two of you began to walk. “If you tell anyone what I told you I’ll lock you in an elevator.” She said hurriedly and you chuckled. “Your secret is safe with me…but seriously, no elevators.”

#twilight #volturi #the volturi #reader #jane volturi #one shot #oneshot #part 2 #request

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x-avavarts-x · 4 years

Text

A final fantasy fanfiction for my oc and her family.

Characters: Laura lucis caelum (my oc), crystalcrown Leonis( @yutauke28 oc)

Warning:

My national language is not English. I apologize for spelling and grammar mistakes.

Summary:

When your flesh and blood are mixed with pain and you are nurtured with it, you dedicate your whole being to those who were trying to improve your suffering by touching their love. What's wrong with you? It does hurt to lose these loved ones, even thinking about it bothers you. At that time .. you grab everything to stop the destiny .. like a bird stuck in a cage and trying for freedom, you knock yourself on the door and the wall to find a way ... and if you find it. Nothing can stop you, even if it is a God!

Part:9

Almost a whole day has passed! It was a great day for Crystal, who was waiting to talk to Laura about her relationship with her father! She would go out of the tent and come back! She knew that if he woke Laura against his father's wishes, he would understand and reprimand her! Her boredom was going on here, her friends were going to Altisia, and she was wasting her time here!

"You have to be in front of the point now, not here, strawberry!!"

Laura said. Crystal's eyes, which were no longer closed due to the idleness and dullness of time, suddenly opened with the sound of Laura's full voice! She quickly turned her head towards the bed and saw that she was sitting on the bed and looking at her! She was been happy and ran to the bed, sat down next to her and put her hands on her legs:

" sleep well? You slept for 24 hours without any movement."

Laura's short smile lit up her face, and she stared at Crystalcrown as she lowered her head from the bed:

" I was under a lot of pressure, I had to sleep!"

"what do you mean?"

Finally, Laura looked at Crystal. He opened her hair to close it again after brushing it, decided to wrap up the discussion, and under the question of why he slept so much:

"I was tired! Didn't you say .. What happened that you are in here?"

CrystalCrown's laughter made Laura laugh. He raised his head and stared at his beautiful laughter. Thank God that she didn't look like her father at all, maybe it wasn't a good thing and the resemblance of Crystal to her mother .. she was suffering. In any case, waited for her answer silently, after a relatively short crystal laugh, she tried to enter into a serious argument with Laura:

" Um ... well, I want to be curious about you first, sister!"

And again Laura looked at Crystal. She put on her boots, got up from the bed, went to Cor's desk, and poured herself a cup of coffee. Nothing could make her fresh like coffee. She gave a piece to the table and drank some hot coffee:

" From now on I will tell you curious strawberry! Accept?"

Embarrassed, Crystal laughed again. She got up and went to Laura, stood beside her, and tilted her head. To see Laura, she had to raise her head:

"On condition that you answer my questions completely!"

"Receive! Now you can ask the question, pinky!"

Without hesitation, Crystal quickly raised her question:

"Do you still love my papa?"

Crystal's question shocked Laura. Her face remained somewhat unresponsive, but her coffee steel cup stopped in front of her lips. Slowly she turned her head towards Crystal and looked at her with a faint frown:

" What do you mean, little one?"

Crystal's tone became a bit more serious, but it didn't lose its warmth and curiosity:

"I heard from Noctis that you and my father had a relationship! It was very interesting for me to know why your relationship should break down when you are so upset!"

Unlike always, Laura's reaction was somewhat negative this time, but not with that cute and lovely girl! She smiled sadly and stared at the black coffee in her cup:

"I always loved your father! And I still have! I was never afraid of expressing my interest as a princess. If you want to ask the reason for our separation, you have to ask your father!"

"But you know he doesn't answer me! He doesn't hear at all and he doesn't see me either! Please!"

It was very difficult for Laura to tell her that •you was the reason for our separation• because she had tormented herself to get along with it. She was unlikely to be able to bear Crystal, so she didn't like to lie about their past relationship! She took a deep breath and spoke:

"Are you sure you can hear it?"

For a while, Crystal was silent, but that curiosity was so high that it couldn't provoke Laura to doesn't say it! So she answered :

"Yeah!!"

For a moment, Laura's gaze stared at her little strawberry. She stroked her hair gently and then answered, deciding to keep it straight, and not to blame all the blame on her beloved Crystal:

"Your father didn't want me! He never treated me like his girlfriend or even his love! He was always cold and trying to distance himself from me! While I was always trampling on my pride and spending my time on it! I loved your father immensely and that was love. It did not lust! During all the years that I knew him, I became acquainted with his pain and touched his fears! When he failed, I was the one who restored his soul, but he kept his distance from me! His thoughts could not be read for me! This story was between me and him for a long time. Almost no one knew about my love except two people ... your father and my protector!

She ate little coffee and continued her words:

"Once, when I went to the border to disobey, I heard unusual news, that news disturbed my mind so much that I left the front for Citadel! When I came ... your father .. he was holding you in his arms ..!"

Laura's bitter laughter scratched Crystal's heart! Laura's way of thinking and the pain she had endured were also unreasonable ... she was very upset, but she waited for Laura to finish her words. Laura, who made her throat clearer by drinking a sip of coffee. She continued with a pause and a voice that had calmed down because of the sadness, his gaze fixed on an unknown point so that she would not Crystal read the sensory from her eyes and be upset:

" Your father didn't stop to explain that day. His appearance was as usual, and there was no remorse or embarrassment in his eyes .. and I .. I had dried up in my place, with a mountain of questions in my mind. The words of those around me made on my mind these Cor had a secret relationship with someone. And the person who is your mother ..that she left you to your father ..! I had so many problems that I couldn't stand their words, but ... everything seemed right ... Our five-year relationship was secret and no one knew about it, and I think it was because of your mother ... or That cor pitted for me and he allowed me to know him as my boyfriend for a while."

A deep breath was released from Laura's throat. She laughed softly and stared at the crystal:

"When I asked your father for an explanation, he told me that he was never interested in me and from now on he wants to spend his life with you! He was lying .. but not that he didn't want to be with me anymore ..! I also gave him back the only symbol of our love that I received as a gift on my birthday ... a chain from which a crystal snowdrop hung ... our relationship ended like this ..! I hope your curiosity was been finished!"

She lifted her back from the table and placed her empty cup on the table. In front of Crystal's look, he picked up his brush and brushed her hair!

Crystal knew that necklace. She had seen it before on his father's katana. She lowered his head and closed his eyelids to think! Laura had to be told to forget the negative feelings she had for her father. She could have guessed what she had heard about her father! Before Laura came out of the tent, she grabbed her arm and held her! Laura's surprise at Crystal, barrier on her face didn't fade. He turned to her and looked at her. Her kind tone didn't change and she took a step closer to Crystal:

"What's wrong my sweet strawberry?"

Crystal's tone was somewhat sad, but she spoke up:

" Do you hate my papa?"

The smile parted Laura's colorless lips. She tilted her head slightly:

" I will never hate someone I love, baby!"

"But you should know that my father had no relationship with any woman!"

The seal of silence sat on Laura's lips, just wondering why and how Crystal might talk like that! She wrapped her hand around Crystal's delicate body and led her to the bed to sit. As she came to the bed, she brought a chair with her free hand and placed it in front of Crystal. She sat down and looked at her seriously:

"What do you mean your father had no relationship with any woman!"

a beautiful smile painted Crystal's lips and she continued in a kind tone:

"Of course, he was with you that I just became aware."

Unlike Crystal, there were no smiles on Laura's lips. She was more shocked, tilted her head slightly, and her gaze remained fixed on Crystal. A faint frown settled on her forehead in surprise, and her index finger pointed to Crystal:

"If your father was not with anyone ... then you are in the middle ... shouldn't you be his daughter, right?"

" This must be a secret between me and you! OK??"

It didn't matter to Laura who Crystal was anymore. Her mind was on how Cor tells her such a lie. Her hands clenched listlessly and she looked away from Crystal:

"I hear strawberry!"

Crystal is well aware that Laura's condition is not good. She got up and sat on his knees in front of Laura. She took Laura's hands and stared into her beautiful eyes:

" I am the child of the first Oracle, Aera. The God of the gods put me in the crystal. When I was born, the late King Regis asked my father to take care of me! He asked him to keep this as a secret from others because I might get hurt or ... other negative things would happen."

Laura's gaze stared at Crystal's innocent face. She just looked at her in surprise:

"Th Crystal's girl? Are you the first Oracle girl? What does this mean?"

Laura's tone was such that Crystal quickly realized something was wrong.

Because in addition to Laura's curiosity, there was drowsy anger inside her voice. She Squeeze Laura's hands a little:

"Are you fine?"

Laura's tone was somewhat angry. But it wasn't enough to stand out:

" I'm glad you told me who you are, Kuri! If you're really an Oracle ... then I won't be alone!"

Surprised, she turned to Crystal again, pink hair softly scratched:

"I do not understand!"

Laura's gaze was fixed on around for a moment to see that no one noticed. She stared at Crystal again and lowered her voice:

" Bitter events are going to happen! I want to prevent this from happening! I have to go to the crystal gate and seize its power. I also have to ask the kings of yore to talk to them. I can't do it alone. You have to help me !!"

CrystalCrown's eyes sparkled with surprise! She didn't understand anything Laura said!

"Why, when Noctis is supposed to be the king?"

Laura frowned, but her gaze was directly on the ground:

"To save Noctis and Lucis line! If you are crystal's and first oracle child ... you should know about it!"

Laura had guessed right. CrystalCron was well aware of this! She had tried to get ahead, but Bahamut had forced her to watch, and Crystal didn't have the strength to do so! She smiled broadly at her face and put his hand on Laura's shoulder, her oracle's soul tickling her to speak epic!

"I will definitely help you! It is very rare for someone to be found who has to face fate .. You are not just a princess .. You are a savior for this land .. Someone who is going to change this destiny and save Eos from a tragedy!"

Laura's gaze stared at Crystal. She gave a short laugh and kissed her head:

"My strawberry, these words just made you so cute! It does not suit you at all!"

Laughter painted Crystal's lips! She got up and went out of the tent with Laura:

"Are you serious? I know it myself, but sometimes I can't control it!"

Laura's hand wrapped around Crystal and she hugged that lovely little girl. She looked for Cor, but she didn't see him:

"It's good that sometimes you give up hope! Now tell me to see? Where is the avocado?"

Crystal loved Laura when she used nicknames. Strawberry and avocados were the best nicknames she could give to father and daughter! It was a strawberry crystal because of the color of her hair and the avocado was Cor because of her dry and numb behavior! She tied her hand behind her back and answered in her energetic tone:

"He went with Gladio! He'll be back soon!"

This news made Laura frown. Frowning with anxiety and worry! She stood up and turned to Crystal. The fact that Cor was so tired made Laura worry separately! But the fact that Cor went with Gladio had only one meaning! Blade Master !! She reached for Crystal:

"Do you borrow me your mobile?"

The request for a mobile phone from the princess was also wondered because she was not used to using any mobile phone other than her own, but Crystal lent her mobile phone to Laura without any discomfort:

"Where is your phone?"

Laura's gaze stared at Crystal's phone display. She took Cor's number and pointed to the tent:

"It's there, It's turned off. I plugged to charge. I'm sorry, I have a small job."

And she distanced herself from Crystal.

#ffxv #final fantasy xv #ffxv oc #ff15 #laura lucis caelum #cor leonis #crystalcrown leonis #final fantasy xv orginal character #final fantasy xv comrades #final+fantasy+xv+comrades #ffxv fanfic #my fanfic

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