#(have grew up dealing with emotional abuse so that statement is just insulting to me)

[tyrianludaship]

telling people that their comfort character would abuse them is completely unhinged and can potentially even send said person into an episode if they are attached to said character due to autism, you get it. people should do whatever they want but they should not push their non canon interpretations as factual and get mad when people are uncomfortable. this should just be common sense.

ABSOLUTELY!

IT SHOULD BE EASY TO RECOGNIZE THAT TELLING PEOPLE THAT THEIR COMFORT CHARACTER WOULD ABUSE THEM IS A FUCKED UP STATEMENT.

IT SHOULD BE EASY TO RECOGNIZE WHY THAT STATEMENT WOULD MAKE SOMEONE UNCOMFORTABLE AND WHY THEY MAY HAVE A STRONG REACTION AS A RESULT!!

YOU DON'T EVEN HAVE TO EXPERIENCE ABUSE IN REAL LIFE TO RECOGNIZE HOW UNHINGED THIS STATEMENT IS.

IF YOU SIMPLY UNDERSTAND THE GRAVITY OF ABUSE AND ABUSIVE RELATIONSHIPS, YOU SHOULDN'T SAY THAT OVER CHARACTERS THAT AREN'T. EVEN. CANONICALLY. ABUSIVE.

[whimsicallyreading]

Dark Roast, No Sugar

“Last night I woke the hell up. I realized I need you here, as desperate as that sounds, yeah.” - Jon Bellion

Masterlist

Chapter Nine-

Aelin showed up to the police department in a pair of leggings and an oversized shirt. She didn't even bother putting on the new-ish sneakers she owned, opting for the ones with holes because they didn't squeeze her feet. It wasn't the first impression she wanted to give, but you deserve a little forgiveness when making a whole-ass human.

Leaning over the dash of the car, she presses a friendly kiss to the side of Chaol's face. "Thanks for the ride, boys."

His cheeks redden, and Dorian leans as much of his body as he can into the front of the car, "No sugar for me?"

Aelin laughs and kisses his cheek good-naturedly. "Feel less left out now?"

"Much better," the corners of his happy smile dim, his blue eyes dart to the doors of the precinct. "Are you sure you don't want me to call you a lawyer, Aelin?"

Chaol nods his agreement beside him, his hands clenching the steering wheel despite the car being in park. "Do you want me to go inside with you?"

Aelin feels a bubble of warmth blossoming in her chest. Their worried faces and eagerness to help her- it was almost enough to warm an assassin's heart. "Don't worry. They just need me to clarify a few things in my statement. Nothing serious. Paperwork issues."

Dorian and Chaol had shown up right as she was walking out of the front door of The Stag. When they realized she was leaving and offered her a ride... Aelin couldn't say no. Not with how her feet were aching.

It took some more reassuring, but they finally agreed to let her leave their caring grasps.

Fenrys met her at the door with a smile, "Hey, Baby Mama. Looking beautiful."

Aelin is surprised to find she's genuinely happy to see him. She can't help the toothy grin he brings out in her. "I'm well. How are you this morning, Fen?"

Fenrys lights up at the nickname. "I bought us some donuts. We have a hard day of work ahead of us, and I figured we would deserve a treat in advance."

Donuts sounded phenomenal and vastly improved her outlook of the day.

He steers her through the PD, and several heads turn to stare as she passes. Aelin didn't particularly care. Whatever they thought they knew about her, they probably didn't.

When they finally reach Rowan's office, they find him slumped over a laptop at a desk piled high with neatly stacked papers. The room is minimalistic. Only necessary office items were visible—no personal effects, knickknacks, or pictures of any kind adorning the space.

Rowan himself is also in his usual state of neatness, minus the dirt she could see staining the underside of his nails. He must have been gardening this morning.

Aelin doesn't bother with greetings. She grabs a chair opposite him and sits down. The last few days, she'd been feeling more drained and quick to tire. At first, she attributed it to the baby getting larger and demanding more of her body's resources, but now Aelin started to think that she caught a bug galavanting through the night.

Fenrys set a blueberry donut and a cup of hot tea in front of her. Bless him. Aelin mumbles her thanks before stuffing her mouth.

Rowan shuts his laptop with a snap and replaces it with a yellow notepad. "Alright, Aelin. I need a name. Who do you think is doing this?"

"When is Aedion getting released?" She says around a mouthful of glazed blueberry.

Fenrys slumps into an office chair at a tinier desk in the corner of the room. "This afternoon."

"If all goes well at this meeting," Rowan tacks on the thinly veiled warning. "I need a name."

Aelin leans back in her seat and takes a deep breath. There was a strange heaviness in giving his name. As if speaking it would materialize him into existence in front of her. Her goal when she moved to Ornyth was to forget about him and push her old master as far from her mind as she physically could, but she supposed it was naive to think he wouldn't come looking for her.

This wasn't just for her, Aelin reminds herself. Aedion would benefit from this conversation.

"His name is Arobynn Hammel. He's thirty-five, red hair, grey eyes, and an utter asshole." Aelin lays the name of her childhood tormentor out on the table. A bad taste sours her mouth.

Rowan tosses the notepad to Fenrys, who relays what she said to the paper. He looks at her over his desk with an unreadable expression. "What is your relation to Mr. Hammel?"

"Why?" Aelin chuckles as if the stress is trying to escape her with each half-hearted chuckle. "Do you want to know if he's my baby daddy?"

"Yes," Rowan and Fenrys say simultaneously.

Aelin's smile falls, and she scowls at both of them. They didn't know better, but she still felt insulted.

"He isn't, but I suppose he probably would have liked to be. Make sure to underline that," she points at Fenry's pad of paper. "Arobynn raised me. I don't think he was legally a foster parent, but he is who I was given to in the shuffle after the occupation."

Rowan dips his chin. Green eyes focus on her intensely, as if he's trying to absorb and commit her every word to memory. "How old were you when they put you in his care?"

"Eight," Aelin breathes out, a sharp tingling of grief comes with that admission. "I lived with him from the time I was eight until I turned nineteen."

"Why do you suspect him of producing and distributing Synth?" Rowan asks the nail-in-the-coffin question, and Aelin has to bite back old instincts to lie and conceal this information. It makes her feel vulnerable to expose Arobynn.

Vulnerability isn't an emotion she handles well. After all, when you bare your neck to someone, it becomes within their power to cut their throat.

"I've seen where he makes it, and I oversaw some of his high-risk contracts and dealings with the distribution," Fenrys chokes beside her, but he smothers it with a cough. Even Rowan looks a little taken back, eyes narrowing.

"At what age did you start assisting with his-" he struggles to find the words. "-His business practices."

Aelin blinks, "Eight."

This time, neither of them covers their reactions. They both freeze in their seats, an air of disbelief hanging over them. Aelin feels a chill and tugs at the hem of her shirt, wishing the sleeves were longer.

"What?" Rowan is the first to break the tension.

"I was displaced in the occupation," Aelin begins the watered-down version of her sob story. "I was carted into Adarlan and placed in the care of Arobynn Hammel. Within a couple of months, he was already using me as a mule to get orders across Rifthold. He trained me in various skills to carry out larger jobs, along with a few other children."

"There were others?" Rowan looks saddened by that tidbit.

Mentally Aelin wants to laugh.

Of course, he would be upset at the prospect of other good children suffering from such a fate.`Ones who had the potential he thought she lacked.

If only he knew what bastards they all grew up to be, and she by far was not the worst of them.

Fenrys' eyes were gleaming with more pity than Aelin was comfortable with because, unlike Rowan, she knew it was directed towards her. Gratefully he didn't dig too deeply. Instead, Fenrys picked up the next question. "Can you name the others?"

Aelin bites her lip, leg fidgeting under the table. "Tern Fletcher, Archer Flynn, Adam Mulligan, Lysandra Ennar-" she swallows past the lump in her throat. "Samuel Cortland and myself."

"Lysandra was involved?" Rowan leans back in his chair and crosses his arms. He hasn't looked away, barely blinked, since the questioning began. Aelin feels naked as his eyes seemed to be raking in her every movement.

"Not-" she tries to think of how to phrase it in a way that respects her friend's privacy. "She wasn't involved in the same capacity I was."

"Are the others you know still working with Hammel?" Rowan asks, and Aelin gladly lets them move the conversation away from Lys. She wasn't comfortable digging into her friend's wounds when she wasn't around.

"I suspect Mulligan, Flynn, and Fletcher. They were extremely loyal, and as of the last time I saw them, very active in the business." Aelin fondly remembers the beat down she laid on Archer before their parting words. He sold them out, and she hopes for his sake that they never run into each other again.

Fenrys looks up, "What about Samuel?"

"What?" Aelin flinches, the question taking her back.

"Samuel Cortland," Rowan reiterates. "You named him as one of the employees in Hammel's custody but implied he's no longer active in the business. Where is he then?" He leans forward, and Aelin wishes she could shrink back. "Would he be willing to speak with us?"

"Children." Her voice comes out as gruffer than she intends. "We were kids. Not employees. It wasn't a mutual agreement. None of us could consent to what became of us."

Aelin is surprised by the emotion that makes itself known. She swallows back the tears that want to fall and stuffs her trembling hands under her thighs. The implication any of them had a choice in serving Arobynn was disturbing and utterly wrong.

The taste of skin between her teeth, blood crusting under her nails, and being surrounded in pitch-black darkness consume her. Aelin suddenly feels more ill than she had this morning.

"Of course, Aelin." Fenrys placates. "That's understood. We just need to know where Samuel is. He could be very useful to the investigation."

"Dead," Aelin throws the word out like a dying fish on the table. "He died."

It hurt to say that. Tears burned in the corners of her eyes. Sam dying was worse than talking about Arobynn. A million times worse.

Aelin tries to swallow the lead rock in her throat. Arobynn didn't deserve to be known. His legacy was of blood, abuse, and control. It belonged in the sewer alongside his corpse.

Sam, on the other hand, deserved to be known. He abandoned by the system, forgotten by his family, and still chose kindness above all else. Sam's story deserved to be told, and it killed Aelin that it hurt her so much to share it.

"How did he die?" Fenrys prods delicately.

"What?" Aelin asks dumbly, heart accelerating in her chest.

"How did Samuel die? Any details you can give are beneficial. and you agreed to cooperate." Rowan reminds her sternly.

Mala save her, she couldn't go into detail about how she found him. She couldn't. Aelin feels blood rushing up to her head, and the room seems to sway.

"Sam. He liked to be called Sam-" Is all Aelin manages to choke out. "Excuse me."

Pushing herself from the desk, she shakily bolts for the office door. Their complaints are silenced as the glass shuts behind her. Outside, Aelin can feel the trembling beginning in her hands and spreading up her arms.

Sweat beads on her forehead in the oppressive heat of the building, but when she rubs her face, it feels damp and cold to the touch.

Aelin frantically strides down the hall, eyes darting around madly for a bathroom door. Nausea was creeping up her throat, and she really didn't want to throw up in someone's trashcan. She knew she was moving quickly, that someone might see her and become alarmed, but anxiety made everything feel like it was moving in slow motion.

A dainty hand grips her elbow and tugs in gently. "Follow me, dear. I can help you."

Aelin's head is swimming, and she allows the calming voice to steer her back in the other direction. When the person pushes open the bathroom door and Aelin sees the navy blue stalls, she rips her arm away and falls to her knees before the porcelain bowl.

Long, slender fingers pull her hair back from her face and rub her shoulders as Aelin loses her breakfast. "You are okay," the voice consoles—a hand massages up her spine and soothes the aches there.

Aelin's whole body is shuddering now. Her stomach rolls over itself, and the muscles of her diaphragm are quaking with exertion. She doubts she could get to her feet if she tried. A strand of drool hangs from her lips, and Aelin would be humiliated if her head wasn't still reeling.

Gouged eyes. Bent fingers. Blood on her lips.

A wad of paper towels appears and dabs at her cheeks, which Aelin hadn't even realized were wet with tears. She failed to notice that her body was shuddering under the intensity of the sobs coming from her. The woman continues to pat her cheeks and nose. Then to her mortification, it swipes at the spit hanging from her mouth.

Mala end me now, she mentally pleads.

Aelin looks up to find a woman with raven hair and onyx eyes looking at her sympathetically. "I'm sorry, dear. I don't mean to overstep. I've been where you are before. Please don't be embarrassed."

Opening her mouth, Aelin makes to apologize, but another crackling sob breaks from her chest instead.

She's just tired. Tired of being sad. Tired of feeling sick. Tired of being unable to even say his name without breaking down.

Arms wrap around Aelin's shoulders and tug her into an embrace. She allows her face to burrow into the woman's blazer as the grief racks through her body.

"Oh, sweety. It's going to be alright. I promise whatever is going on right now will work out." Fingers rake through Aelin's hair soothingly. It turns her to jello in the woman's arms. Her presence was just so motherly in a way that Aelin sorely misses.

She holds Aelin tight until she's calm enough to hold a plastic cup of water without dropping it. The woman helps her stand and wipes the mascara smudges off her cheeks with a damp towel. "There you go," she tosses the towel in the trash when she deems Aelin presentable. "Brand new, again."

"Thank you," Aelin breathes out at last. "I don't even know what to say."

"Say nothing," the woman waves her hand. "I've been pregnant before. Hormones. Nausea. It isn't an easy ride, dear. Besides, no one comes to a police station for a good reason." The woman pulls a stick of gum from a purse sitting on the sink and offers it to her. Aelin accepts it gratefully.

"Has anyone told you that stress isn't good for you?" Her kind eyes bore into Aelin worriedly. "You look very pale."

"I've been told. Many times." Aelin rubs her forehead, an ache already forming there. "I just don't have much of a choice."

"What's your name? I'm Maeve." She smiles and extends a hand for Aelin to shake.

Aelin takes the hand, happy that they aren't trembling so badly. "Aelin."

"Do you have any name ideas for the baby?" Maeve's eyes glance down towards the slight swell of her belly a little wistfully.

Names? Aelin periodically forgot that the human growing inside of her would pop into the world and require such a thing. It was a far-off event where she had plenty of time to accommodate for things in her head. In reality, she was halfway through her fourth month.

Time was ticking.

"No. I don't have any ideas yet." Aelin admits.

Maeve pats Aelin's shoulder kindly. "That's just fine. Ignore my curiosity. You have plenty of time if-" she emphasizes, "you take better care of yourself."

There is a knock on the door. "Aelin, are you alright?"

Rowan.

"Yes. I'll be back in a minute," Aelin says through the door.

She waits until his footsteps echo back down the hallway before she makes towards the exit. Eager to leave the bathroom and the memories of her awkward breakdown with it. "Thanks again. Really. I appreciate it."

Aelin truly meant it despite the utter humiliation she felt.

"Let me walk you back to Rowan's office?" Maeve asked. "It's easy to get turned around in this building."

They walked in a comfortable silence back to the office. Maeve's demeanor is so tranquil it surprises Aelin when the demure woman pushes the door open without knocking. "I have a delivery for you boys."

"Chief?" Rowan stands up, confused.

What? Aelin blinks and turns back to the woman, noting the black and whites and the metal badge on the breast of her blazer. The same blazer Aelin had just cried on.

Blood rushed to her face, and her brain curdles in her skull. Of course, it was the law of Orynth whose arms she just broke down in. Adarlan's Assassin reduced to a ball of hormones clinging to the chief detective of Terrasen like a baby clinging to its mother.

"Has she caused trouble?" Rowan's eyes glint with steel.

If you've done anything to degrade me to my boss, the deal is off.

"Not at all. We ran into each other in the bathroom and had a lovely chat," Maeve brushes an invisible piece of dust from Aelin's shoulder. "I will let the three of you get back to business. You are in excellent company."

Aelin's lip quirks. Just the opposite. She loves me. Congratulations, you are already reaping the benefits of my presence.

"Oh, and Fenrys?" Aelin looks at Fenrys, who is actively ignoring them. "The reports you promised are late. Have them to my desk by the end of the day, please."

"Will do, Chief." Fenrys' reply is dry and lacks his usual pep.

Aelin notes the worried glance Rowan throws him, but he swiftly covers it with an expressionless mask. "I will make sure he gets it done."

What was that? Aelin tries to pry an answer from Rowan, but he avoids her look.

When Maeve leaves, the tension eases from the men's shoulders.

"You are trouble," Rowan tosses at her without venom.

Aelin picks up the cup of tea she left at his desk, glad it's still warm. "Yes, but only the best kind."

"We haven't laid out a single plan for weaseling out Arobynn," Fenrys makes an irritated face at them. "If either of you could focus for ten minutes, we can do the rest of the questioning later, but we need to start throwing out ideas."

"Did Rowan piss in your tea in the last ten minutes I was gone?" Aelin shoots back, not appreciating his sudden attitude.

"Thirty," Rowan says. "You were gone for thirty minutes. That's why I came looking for you. Also, ruining beverages is your thing, not mine."

Damn, had she been gone that long? A glance at the clock confirms he was correct.

When she turns back to Rowan, there is almost something like worry in his eyes? That couldn't be right, Aelin rubs that aching side of her head again. She needed to stop reading so deeply into things.

"We can continue with questioning later," Rowan announces. "Fenrys is correct in saying we need to start making plans. You've given us enough to work with for now."

They sat back in their chairs, pulled out more notepads, red pens, and sticky notes. Together, Aelin helped them form a list of potential places Arobynn would be laying low. Hotels, rental homes, and vacant manors. He had a taste for luxury Aelin knew he wouldn't sacrifice for anonymity.

Test results were still running on the Synth. Technicians had let them know it showed highly abnormal properties compared to average street drugs, and they promised to send them an extensive report when they were through.

Rowan had hushed any potential news stories about The Stag shooting. He didn't want anyone who may know Celaena to catch wind and start snooping around. Aelin was his best lead, which afforded her a certain level of discretion he acknowledged.

They didn't know about the Bane patrolling her block at night, keeping their eyes on the streets for unusual activity.

The clock ticked, and the light beaming through the winders grew warmer as the afternoon trickled away. It was nearly five o'clock when Rowan declared then done for the day, and Aelin was utterly exhausted.

"Come on," Fenrys offered her a hand to help her stand. "I can drive you by the prison. Aedion should be getting checked out as we speak."

"Thank you," Aelin accepts the help. Her feet ached, and she felt entirely drained. It was good Fenrys was offering a ride, or she'd have to call Dorian to come and get her.

Together, the three of them made their way to the parking lot. Conversation between them was sparse but not unpleasant. They'd fallen into a rhythm at some point while working together. It helped break up some of the awkwardness between her and Rowan.

Aelin hustled a little bit when she spotted Fenry's luxury car. She wanted to claim the front seat before Rowan did. Her gut couldn't handle the stress of riding the back.

Her fingers barely grazed the polished handle when Fenrys started yelling.

Arms wrapped around her waist, and Aelin's face throbbed as it found itself slammed into the asphalt. A loud explosion rattled her ears, and chunks of debris went flying through the air. A thick foggy smoke started filling the air, and she immediately started choking on it.

A dense weight lifts off her back, and hands grab her shoulders, rolling her body to face the clouded sky instead of the ground. Rowan is in her personal space immediately. He's speaking to her, but no sound is penetrating the ringing in her ears.

His hands are running along her arms, the side of her face, checking for injury. Aelin tries to ask him if he's alright, but he doesn't seem able to hear her either.

Suddenly, Fenrys is there, and he's grabbing them both by the arms. They are moving away at a sprint. Fenrys is yelling, but the smoke is stinging her eyes, and even seeing is becoming hard.

There is another explosion, and Aelin can feel the tremors beneath the soles of her shoes as the three of them hit the ground once more.

People are pouring out of the precinct. Aelin spies Cheif Maeve at the front of them, ordering people out of the building. Red and blue lights reflect off the smoke, and she knows that ambulances must be on their way.

Rowan is lying beside her. She hadn't noticed the rips in the back of his suit jacket at first, but there were long gouges in the material, and smoke wafted off a couple of scorch marks. The fact he'd thrown himself over her body and shielded her from the explosion was only starting to register when something warm squeezed her hand.

Are you okay? Green eyes were scouring her body for wounds.

I'm fine, Aelin assures him. She's more concerned about the spots on the back of his suit growing wet as he bled.

"Someone blew up my car," Fenrys is gaping at the spot where his vintage ride used to be. All that remained was a roughed-up frame that was lit ablaze like a campfire.

"Gods," Aelin breathed out, the ringing in her ears dying down. "I almost died."

Rowan hadn't let go of her hand and made no move to do so as his eyes fixed on the burning car. "That was meant for us."

He didn't have to elaborate for Aelin to understand. Whoever had placed the bomb hadn't been targeting her, but Rowan and Fenrys. They arrived and left work together. The bomb wasn't there when they got to the precinct this morning, so someone must have placed it while they were inside.

"What have we gotten ourselves into?" Fenrys runs a dirty hand through his hair.

Sirens wailed as paramedics filed into the parking lot. Other detectives and officers were starting to approach them. Firefighters approached the car with extinguishers and began to tame the burning fire.

Aelin didn't have an answer. Just the sinking feeling that the game they'd entered into had more players than she'd thought.

Here is part one of the mass updates! Thank you SO much for reading. I’ve gotten so much feedback and love on this fic it’s been so wonderful 💚

I do have an ✨IMPORTANT QUESTION✨

Would you all prefer I have tag lists specific to certain fics or an overall tag list for ships? So one tag list for all of my rowaelin fics, one for all my quinlar fics, or would you like me to keep it as I have been? Please let me know! ✨

Tag list- Let me know if you would like to be added or removed. :D ( names in bold won’t tag)

@thisismylibrary​

@highladywhitethrone​

@bee55​

@royalsqueeze​

@rowaelin-cressworth​

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[shhhhsh]

About Tim’s New Story….

I just really hope they address Tim’s mental health. Like, DC just been ditching really good plot lines in favor of being “woke” or pandering. Just look at all the live action shows.

Now I’m not saying they can’t make Tim queer/bi/gay, but (as someone pointed out to me) Tim’s previous story writer was bi and he still chose to write Tim as straight & in a healthy romantic relationship with Stephanie Brown. I’ve seen several people who identify as queer/bi say that to have Tim go “ ooooh I’ve fooled myself into thinking I was straight, but now I’m freeeee” sends the message that Tim’s previous relationship failed b/c he was with a woman and not because of Tim’s poor mental and emotional health.

To go back to my previous statement; by him not writing Tim as bi tells me that he didn’t want or care for Tim to be bi, but instead saw Tim as, or preferred him to be, straight. The writer had free control to write Tim how ever he wanted and yet he chose to keep Tim straight. And he actually liked & wanted Tim/Steph. Again, I’m not saying Tim can’t be queer/bi, I’m just saying I find the motivations for this possible change very fishy. Almost as if the new writer is trying to get brownie points for pandering to a portion of the fans.

I think this way b/c in every other media where a character is revealed to be LGBTQ they just did it. They didn’t beat around the bush or do any queer coding/baiting. They either announced it, just made the character that way right out the gate, or just dropped the bomb w/out warning (as seen in Netflix’s Voltron, Amazon Prime’s Invincible, and Nickelodeon’s Legend of Korra respectfully).

DC currently has a bad habit changing things to be “woke” and bragging about it or shoving it in our faces. DC is becoming the “pick me girl” of superhero media. If you want to do it, just do it. Again I just get the “look at me, look at me” & “carrot on the stick” vibes from them now. If you truly feel in your heart to do something you would just do it without the need for recognition or to be so dramatic about it.

Now what I much rather see & think it’s a natural progression for Tim:

I personally believe that if Jason, Dick, & Damian can get a story that attempts to give them character development beyond romantic relationships (romance was more of a B-plot to the character driven A-plot anyway) I think they can give it to Tim as well.

I know that the Bat-Family all struggle with some form of mental health problems (most commonly paranoia and PTSD). However, I would like to point out that trauma is was what brought the others into the vigilante lifestyle, while Tim & Barbara became traumatized because of the vigilante lifestyle. Yet, Barbara was shown overcoming her trauma and using it as motivation to get better. Tim is yet to have this moment.

We all know that Tim struggles with depression, self-esteem, and suicidal tendencies. I mean heck, him becoming Red Robin only happens because of Tim’s degrading mental health. I hate to say it, but Tim is very psychologically broken and has been show to get so depressed that he can’t even get out of bed some times. To my knowledge, Tim is the only one in the Bat-Fam that struggles in his head with the idea of not being needed, useful, or forgotten when in reality that is furthest from the truth (Steph, Jason, & Damian also feel like the black sheep periodically, but that is because they have been presented with real evidence that would lead them to logically believe this. I.e being actually forgotten or dismissed for past mistakes despite great efforts to better themselves).

While yes, Dick did Tim dirty by replacing him without having a proper conversation first, the motivation was because he saw Tim as his equal and not Damian. He thought highly of Tim, but Tim couldn’t see that over his offense. Tim is so beat down by life that he see’s everything with negative lenses. Everyone came to check on Tim’s mental health but Tim took it as an insult instead.

And even though now Tim has reached some form of “peace” in his life, that only happens because the people he lost came back (Bruce, Conner, Bart, Cassie, etc). Tim never fully learned to handle grief, to handle his emotions, instead he represses them. Again in the Red Robin run, the main reason he doesn’t believe in any form of God is because he can’t logically justify the pain he has gone through. He is hurting and doesn’t know how to deal with that. In his original Robin run, when he tried talking someone out of committing suicide……the words and comfort he gave….that wasn’t something that was just inside Tim, this is something that was told to Tim. This is followed by him calling Dick to get the same pep-talk he just regurgitated to someone else.

In short: Tim is hurting. Deeply. And having been someone who’s emotional & mental sanity was pushed to the brink and attempted to jump off several times, I think it’s really sad that DC just ignores it. Now as someone who’s gotten the help they needed & now helps other people who struggle with the same issues as myself & Tim, I think that they’re going to say a lot of Tim’s problems come from him not being “aware” of his own sexuality, which is just sad.

In the story in question, Barbara talks about Tim not having a solid identity. People are more than their sexuality. People are capable of making future decisions for themselves without it hindering on their sexuality. If Tim was real, I would brake down his struggle as so:

Tim refuses to go to college and do something more with his life because he cannot see anything beyond his current circumstance. And the only reason why Tim cannot see anything beyond his circumstance is because he has no internal sense of purpose, identity, and acceptance beyond the cape & cowl. And when Tim finally found that in being Robin, Tim held onto it as a lifeline. There’s a reason why everyone says Tim is basically Bruce 2.0: it’s because he is Robin/Red Robin/Drake & Tim is the mask. At a young age, he did not grow up having these things instilled into him due to his parents neglecting him at a very important age in his development. Tim raised himself, and for a lack of better terms; an idiot cannot teach themselves to be smarter, an idiot becomes smarter by learning from the intelligent. A child can’t teach themselves to be an adult, they have to learn from others to grow & better themselves.

Now a parent doesn’t necessarily have to sit down and give a lesson about how to be an individual, but children learn how to live life by watching their parents. A good example of this is the rest of the Bat-Fam; they all grew up with some form of parental figures that taught them how to behave (for better or worse). Of course children have their own personalities, which is why two kids can go through the same type of trauma but come out differently, but it is a battle of nature vs nurture. Steph, Jason, Cass, & Damian grew up in abusive/unstable homes, while Dick, Barbara, & Bruce grew up in loving homes, but their personalities & character dictated how they responded to trauma. They took what life gave them and decided what to leave or take.

Tim had nothing to work with & is basically playing catch-up with the rest of his peers.

In a weird sense, Tim is like Zuko from The Last Airbender: only living to serve their father’s purpose. Anything outside of that they don’t know what to do. They’ve been trained to be something externally without been given a chance to figure out who they are internally.

Again you are not your sexuality, your sexuality does not determine who you are as a person. When a person struggles through life, it is due to the conditions of thier soul. Everything starts internally and shows it’s self externally.

I want to make that very clear because I am truly scared that in DC’s attempt to claim “clout” they are missing the bigger picture. Tim doesn’t have identity problems simply because he “doesn’t know” he likes boys, but because DC never gave him is own identity to begin with. Robin was never his own identity, Red Robin was never his, & Drake was his first attempt to make his own but he quickly gave it up so that he can be Robin once again. What is Tim going to do once Damian gets back? Is Damian going to get his own identity before Tim? Or is Tim just going to go back to one of his old identities?

I would like for Tim to personally move on from being a vigilante and rejoin civilian society for a while. Go to college, do something for himself and only for himself. Give Tim the self-discovery story, let him heal, and grown to be his own person. Besides you can never have a functional romantic relationship if you are not a functional individual. Self love > romantic love.

[arvandus]

Touch (Pt 2)

Pairing: Dabi x Fem!Reader

WARNINGS: 18+ only please!  Drug abuse/withdrawal, adult language/themes, heavy angst, past trauma/abuse, anxiety/panic attacks, PTSD, fluff, pining, slow burn, eventual emotional SMUT. *please pay attention to the chapter tags as these warnings will apply at different times*

Synopsis: When you first joined the LOV to lend your healing quirk, Dabi  terrified you.  Not interested in attachments, he wanted to keep it  that way.  That is, until he needs your help. (Slow burn, soft Dabi).

Time Frame: Right before the League meets Overhaul

Additional notes: I took some liberty in giving Reader a backstory that fits in with the BNHA world and is important for the story.  If that bothers you, I apologize - just think of it as role playing!  Also, this’ll probably be broken up into 8-10 parts, roughly.  JUST KIDDING - this has now turned into an epic (roughly) 40 chapter series.  Oops.

Please let me know if you’d like to be tagged in future chapters.

Recommended Chapter Song: Cradles by Sub Urban

Part 1

Artwork credit to @hellowon31​ on Twitter (https://twitter.com/hellowon31)

Part 2 - A Crack In The Armor

The pain came back, just as you said it would.   What you didn’t mention was that the numbness would gradually fade away.  It might sound nice to some, but Dabi hated it. He felt like he was driving towards a cliff in slow motion, waiting for the crash, unable to turn the wheel.  He had no control.  He hated this feeling of helplessness and traded it for anger instead. Why did he even ask for your help to begin with?

His answer was given to him as soon as your quirk’s effect finally stopped.  Dabi stared angrily at the empty pill bottles. It was amazing how quickly the brain adapted, his body acting as if he’d never had to deal with his damaged nerves before.  He had half a mind to hunt you down and demand you take care of it. He didn’t, of course, pride the deciding factor.  The scars were his, a series of choices made, a patchwork flag he wore into battle.  They were his burden and a reminder of his fight; he wasn’t going to give that up so easily.  Still, he couldn’t deny the temptation that surrounded him like a cloud, even if all he did was entertain the thought. 

Dabi waited all day for your visit until finally your characteristic knock on his door rewarded his patience.  He stood from his bed and cooled his features into their typical mask before opening the door. There you stood, keen eyes already assessing him.

“Can I come in?” you asked. Like the day before, he stepped aside just enough to let you pass.  He had discovered yesterday that he liked having your presence close to him… it gave his pulse a little rush.  He caught a whiff of your shampoo as you gingerly passed him and felt the softness of your shirt as it brushed against his own like a whisper.  His grip on the doorknob tightened.

As soon as Dabi closed the door behind you, you got started.  You were determined to be strictly business.  “How’re you feeling?” you asked, keeping your tone even, the perfect balance of concern and professionalism.  Dabi wanted to laugh.  Were you always this serious?

“Like shit.” He grinned. “That quirk of yours is potent stuff.”

You couldn’t help but let a grin escape in response to his candid words, a fracture in your hastily built armor.  “Not sure if that’s a compliment or an insult.”

“It’s a compliment.” He stated.

You felt your throat go tight.  Stay on task.  Stay on task.  You cleared your throat slightly as you averted your eyes from him.  “Well, let’s have a look.”

With a little less flair than yesterday, he removed his jacket like before, followed by his shirt as he turned around to display his back for you.

You could see that the bandages were seeped through.  You had laid them on thick since you knew you wouldn’t be able to check on him as often as you’d like – he was still going out to do Shigaraki’s bidding and you had others to look after as well.  You were planning on seeing him daily, but it looked like he’d need more. 

Your little checkups were far from over.  You couldn’t help but wonder what he thought about that.  You honestly weren’t sure what you thought about it yourself.

“I’m going to use my quirk and then change your bandages.  I’ll check on you again tomorrow morning before you leave.”

“How often do we have to do this?” Dabi asked.  His tone was difficult to decipher.  Concerned? Annoyed? …Hopeful?

You cleared your throat again, desperate for a glass of water, as you began to remove the soiled gauze. “I’ll probably visit you twice daily for the first week, then reduce it to once a day or every couple of days for the second week.  We’ll see where we are by then.  It’ll take at least a few weeks before it’s fully healed.  That’s only if you’re good though, and don’t go out and use your quirk for a bit.”

“I won’t make any promises.” He replied.

You sighed.  “Well, at least your honest.  Really though, you should at least try not to use it.”

“That’s up to the Crusty Hands.” Dabi replied.  “He’s the one sending me out there to try to recruit members and gather intel.”

You rolled your eyes at the nickname for Shigaraki.  “Couldn’t you ask him for a break then?” You asked, your head tilted. “No point in making you hurt yourself over lackey work.”

The question was innocent enough, but Dabi turned around and stared at you like you grew a second head. Ask Shigaraki for time off? The thought made Dabi bristle for so many reasons.

You quickly caught on to his shift in mood and tried to repair your previous statement. “Look.  I get it if that’s an issue for you. Maybe I could be the one to ask him.  I can make it a medical request, since I’m the healer.”

That option almost seemed worse.  He didn’t need to be excused from his duties like a child with a sick note. And he most certainly didn’t want you putting your neck out for him.

“Look, I know your still kinda new here.  So, let me break this down.  There is no ‘sick time’ in the League of Villains.  No vacation, no hazard pay.  We all got our jobs to do.”

Now you bristled, your shoulders tensing up and your arms crossed in front of you defensively. “Yeah.  And my job is to make sure you crazy idiots don’t kill yourselves before we complete our mission.  You know, the big long-term one where we change the world, not the pointless dirty work Shigaraki’s got you doing.”

“Pointless dirty work? That dirty work is how we reach that long-term goal, sweetheart.”   Dabi grinned devilishly.  “I didn’t realize you had such strong opinions about how we do things here.”

“Just the part about using your talents for recruiting street thugs.  Most of them are idiots that can’t tell Stain’s message from an anarchist bumper sticker.”

You were right, of course. Dabi chuckled.  You were more interesting than he thought.

“Look,” you said, your voice quieter as you uncrossed your arms.  “We’re all in this together come hell or high water, and I’m really hoping we can all see it through to the end.  If that means taking some time off to let your body recover, then I’d think that’d be worth doing.”

Dabi stared at you silently while something tightened in his chest.  Your need to hold everyone together like glue was admirable and almost… endearing.  He felt a sinking feeling in his gut.  He knew there was a high likelihood they wouldn’t all see the end of this, if the end ever even comes.  Did you know that but stubbornly hold onto your optimism?  Or were you really that naïve that you believed there was a chance that everyone could come out unscathed?  When the worst happens – which it inevitably will – will you blame yourself?

The thought bothered him.

For the first time Dabi’s mask slipped, and for the briefest of moments you could see the pity in his eyes.

“Thanks for the concern doll, but I got it under control.” Dabi said, his voice unusually calm. “Besides, if I took time off every time I hurt myself with my quirk, then I’d never be any use.”

Between his eyes and his words, there was no room for discussion, so you let the topic drop. 

You let out a defeated sigh. “Well then, let’s get started.” You placed your hands on his back.

Once again, the sweet balm of your touch spread across his skin, bringing back the relief he had missed. His body responded instinctively. His breathing slowed; his muscles relaxed.  He closed his eyes, relishing in the sensation.  You noticed the slightest drop in his shoulders and a pang of sympathy washed over you like a wave.  You wished you could do more for him, but you had to conserve your quirk for the others too.

You cleaned his wound quickly and applied fresh bandages without any more talk.  As quickly as it had begun, it was over.  Without missing a beat, he pulled his shirt back on while you packed your items.

You turned to leave, but paused for a moment before turning back slightly, your eyes bravely locking with his.  “Try to get some rest… it’ll help your body heal faster.”

Dabi didn’t respond with his usual quips.  Instead, his electric blue eyes stared at you in a way that made your blood pulse in your ears and the air burn in your lungs.  You stood captivated for a moment, locked in his gaze, before finding your way out of the maze of his eyes and left his room, hearing the quiet click of the door behind you.

 Without a word, Dabi sat on the edge of the bed and stared at his hands.  His brow furrowed in confusion.

This was supposed to be a game.  A game of walls and mazes and misdirection. He was the ‘Asshole,’ full of snarky comments and flirty quips all while withholding his true self.  He didn’t need friends, just coworkers so he could carry out his mission and bring Stain’s vision to life before his quirk killed him.  But your magic hands dismantled his walls, allowing you to walk right in and get in his head with your stubborn heart.  He had cared. For the briefest of moments, he cared.

It was his game.  Why did he feel like he was losing?

______________________________________________________________

Part 3

__________________________________________________

Taglist: @lemonfvck​ @vs-redemption​ @inanabsentia​ @sheedaabee​ @toshiuwuu​ @marydragneell​ @chillinwithmybakubros​ @genuinelytodorokisbitch��� @sam-i-am-1025​

[quirkycombatants]

🔥

Alright. So... Let’s just jump right into this. 

I really don’t like how the fandom handles Endeavor and Shouto and the Todorokis. 

Bit of backstory. I grew up in an abusive household. I grew up in a household much like Shouto’s, where we were terrified of my father, where my father was single mindedly obsessed with success, where he basically went out of his way to pit us against each other and make us miserable. I grew up in a world where my father convinced me that what I loved I hated, and what I hated I loved, and I literally knew nothing but shame for anything I might show interest in. 

Nor was the whole Toya thing strange to my family either. My uncle died of HIV during the AIDS crisis in the late 1980′s before I was born, and my dad’s family basically made him disappear. You know that burnt mark on that family tree in Harry Potter where they erased Sirius? Yeah that was my uncle for my dad’s family. Supposedly this was to keep us from asking my grandmother and upsetting her, but this persists to this day. My father’s family were ashamed of his sexuality, and made him disappear essentially. Which transferred to him being super paranoid about my sexuality, and trying to force me to be manly. He’s a super a-type personality, very much someone who needs to be seen as the alpha male. I am not. But that conflict very much exists in my family. I was a lot like Shouto, in that I am a passive, rather intellectual sort, whereas my father is more like Endeavor, all about image and appearances. 

I say all this, because I hate the ‘never forgive endeavor’ chorus. 

Don’t get me wrong. There are people who have been abused who cannot forgive an abuser, nor should they be forced to. Everyone has different coping and healing paths. We all decide things on our own. There are people who have been abused, who will never forgive their abusers, and that’s okay. 

But. 

There are a lot of people, who have never been abused, who use Shouto as a way to virtue signal their dislike of abuse in the most absurd, out of character way. They don’t care about how abuse effects people, they don’t care about the complex feelings that an abuse victim feels towards their abuser, especially when they’re younger, all they care about is completely erasing Shouto and Enji’s characters in order to signal how much they dislike abuse.

These are the kind of people who are like ‘well if I was in that situation’ and acting like they’re morally in the right, and that any sympathy or understanding must naturally come from a place where you’re a bad person. It’s the ‘well I would say no to drugs and peer pressure so you’re a bad person for not doing so!’ crowd.

In that world, they strip away all emotional nuance and trauma and weight, and turn the relationship into a morality play where you have to show how much you hate something because any attempt to grasp the difficult emotions that come from trauma and abuse is seen as enabling or apologizing the behavior. 

One of the reasons I like BNHA is because the Todoroki family is so well written. It feels real. From a father who abused his kids coming to terms with the fact that what he did was wrong and accepting that he is not entitled to forgiveness, to Shouto struggling with his feelings towards his father and going from hatred to being able to forgive him so he can move on, to Fuyumi who just wants her family to get along because she feels and felt powerless... it feels real. It feels like how it actually is. And I know that, because I lived it. 

Which is why the virtue signaling and turning Shouto into another character to fit this narrative of what they feel he should act like is so infuriating. What you have is perhaps one of the best depictions of abuse and dealing with it in a family in a major publication, and people want to erase all of the detail and emotions so it can be a good vs. bad PSA. 

Like, it’s one thing if someone has been abused and says ‘I can’t forgive Enji for the same reason I can’t forgive the person who abused me.’ It’s also fine if they say ‘I can’t really relate to Shouto because I can’t forgive the person who hurt me.’ 

It’s another thing entirely to be like ‘well I wouldn’t be acting like Shouto if I was in that situation, and showing any kind of hesitation about the feelings towards one’s abuser is somehow being encouraging towards that behavior, so I’m going to entirely whitewash his entire character to make him a pure character in my eyes.’ 

It’s the same with people who take Enji and turn him into a complete villain with no good points, trying to make some weird moral argument that bad people can’t have likable parts or good parts to them. In fact, most shitty people are well liked. That’s what makes it so hard to deal with them, as anyone who has been abused knows, because so many people struggle to accept what you tell them. They don’t see person x as being a bad person, so how could what you’re saying be true? I’ve been there. I’ve dealt with that. 

One of the things that I really like about Shouto’s development that people who don’t understand abuse erase is the importance of when Midoriya says that it’s his quirk. If you’ve never been in the situation that Shouto is, where a person strips you of all your individuality and makes you think that you are an extension of them and not your own person, you can’t understand the weight of that statement. 

Shouto realizing that his quirk is his and not his father’s is the start of him becoming his own person, deciding what he wants to be and realizing that his destiny is not just to be a tool for his father’s satisfaction. Again, having been born and raised to exist for my own father’s satisfaction, I understand this journey, because I’ve walked it myself. 

That’s why Shouto considering forgiving his father is so powerful. It’s the moment where he decides that ‘i am my own person, and you, my abuser, do not get to decide whether or not I forgive you.’ Because Enji might seek forgiveness, but Shouto realizes that he is the one who ultimately has the power to grant it. And then he has to deal with the question of whether refusing to forgive means that he is still being controlled by who his father was. Because you can be a slave to your trauma as I was for years. And at some point you have to ask if who you were and what happened to you is what defines you, or if you can choose to define yourself. 

And thus Shouto struggles with these feelings, asking himself whether or not he should forgive his abuser and move forward, knowing that there is no right answer to that question. There is only what is best for him. 

Which is why people who remove all of this and make it simply fire man bad are so insulting to me, especially when they make it all about some moral argument. Because it erases his development. It erases the trauma and the struggle that he and other abuse victims go through. And most of all, it removes Shouto’s agency, his ability to decide for himself what he believes. 

And you can’t understand that unless you step out of a moral framework and actually internalize the often contradictory feelings that come with abuse and trauma. 

Which is why I hate so much of the fandom that seeks to erase both Shouto but also Endeavor’s development. 

Endeavor too, is someone who has real growth, but also is someone who understands that he doesn’t get to decide if he’s forgiven. One of the most important parts of this is him saying that he wants Rei to come back and live with his kids, but that he himself won’t live with them, understanding that the one who should decide that is Rei herself. 

Enji, a controlling, angry individual, is forcing himself to relinquish that control, and allow his family to make their own decisions. He’s accepting that what he did was wrong, that he is the one who must atone, but also that his atonement is not in his own hands. The ones who decide this are the people who he hurt. And his acceptance of this is what makes him grow as a person and as a character, and something I’ve seen with my own father. Again, having lived it, I would say so if I thought what was being written was wrong or offensive. 

But again, there are lots of other people who have been through abuse and have dealt with this sort of thing who may had different opinions. And that’s okay. Because they can bring the sort of emotional nuance forward that informs this sort of difficult topic.

But people who try to turn the Todoroki’s into this morality play infuriate me, especially when they try to tar and feather people who like what is being shown as being part of the problem. 

[secondpubertyscene]

6.30.19

Feelings are complicated things to navigate. This realization is one that I keep coming to.

This summer has been one of infinite growth, as I’ve mentioned previously, and naturally, growth can be uncomfortable. In my case, it demands that I recognize unhealthy behaviors in the past and remedy them with mindfulness, intention, and consistency. Acknowledging where I’ve made mistakes or even acknowledging how trauma has influenced some of my relationship building practices has been really difficult for a number of reasons. I’m beating around the bush though. I should just break it down.

I’ve been taking a lot more time this summer to examine my relationships (both past and present) as I’ve just exited like my third really shitty relationship. Am I doing things that make my relationships fail? Am I creating spaces for toxicity grow with my own behavior? Am I the toxic person? In my analysis of it all, I’ve come to realize that I have indeed developed some toxic behaviors that need to be remedied before I even consider bringing someone else into life romantically. Let’s go piece by piece.

A lot of my previous relationships were based on my savior complex. I saw someone that I found attractive, I invested time in them, and I tried to help them solve their problems. More often than not, I found myself being the sole supporter for people that definitely needed professional help beyond what I could offer and I usually found myself super worn out by the end of the relationships because I neglected taking care of myself. As the old adage goes, it is much easier to deal with someone else’s problems than it is to deal with your own. These relationships had their ups and downs and to this day, I am still friends with most of these people (something that I think I want to write about more soon), but looking back at it all, they were based on some unhealthy foundations. In some ways, being able to help someone get better and grow helped me feel needed and significant and even powerful, but in other ways, I used their inability to reciprocate my actions as validation that I wasn’t really worth more than what I could do for others. I think that demands further explanation.

I never once felt angry or upset when my partners got better or grew as people. That’s literally why I was dating them after all. To help them grow and work on their own lives as much as possible. I think the thing that bothered me a lot was that the relationships were non-reciprocal and I felt as though they would never try to help me the way that I helped them (that statement isn’t ubiquitously true). What I’ve come to realize, however, is three things. One, if I’m dating someone going through their own deep personal recovery, I cannot expect them to dedicate a bunch of time to “helping” me through my own issues. If you’re bleeding from your eyes and I’m walking around with my own gaping wound, why would I look to you to help me? Especially since I can see that you’re bleeding from your eyes and I decided to help you despite knowing that I had my own gaping wound to take care of? My decision to prioritize your pain over my own resulted in added insult to my injury and only I can take responsibility for that because I CHOSE THAT. It is unfair for me to place the expectation for someone else to support me fully when I know that they’re barely hanging on themselves. That isn’t calling them weak or anything. If anything, the opposite. It takes strength to focus on oneself and confront the uncomfortable realities of life. I was avoiding doing that by focusing on everything and everyone but myself and my own condition.

The second realization I came to was that I didn’t really want help to begin with. Or at least, I don’t think I did. I think maybe I did but perhaps felt that asking would confirm that I was indeed not as okay as I would have liked to believe I was or that it would make me look weak to my partner, like perhaps I wasn’t able to support them in the way I needed to (which in some cases was true and my refusal to accept that resulted in more harm than help but that is another story for another time). I think I used my partner’s issues as reasons not to work on my own. I got so wrapped up in their world of hurt that I invalidated my own troubles by measuring my problems against theirs. Instead of dealing with the fact that I had just gotten dragged by my hair around my house and kicked in the face, I would deal with my partner’s emotional breakdown over THEIR parents abusing THEM. I didn’t want to face my own life, I didn’t tell my partners everything because I felt that they wouldn’t be able to support me the way that I supported them, and I think in some ways I found relief in that. I found relief in the fact that they couldn’t try to fix me or help. I don’t know why. That is still something I am working through. What I do realize now though is that I strongly underestimated the emotional capacity of some of my partners and they certainly could have supported me if I actually talked about things.

The final realization was perhaps the hardest to come to. The reality is, all of those things made ME toxic. While it wasn’t overtly toxic behavior, it certainly did not make for a healthy relationship. Especially a few years ago when I was still very much operating from an ableist mentality towards people suffering from mental illness and mental health issues. Not handling my own shit caused a lot of problems and contributed to the shortness of relationships. The “all-or-nothing” mentality was also an unhealthy thing that I still find myself fighting. Balance is so important in all relationships and if I keep dating people who aren’t in the right space to actively help me grow while also handling their own shit, then I’m playing myself out. There will be no space for our collective growth if there isn’t a foundation of “I’m working on myself and I am in a space where I am capable of supporting you healthily” from the beginning.

I don’t want anyone to read this and think that because they aren’t in fantastic spaces in life they can’t have healthy and fulfilling relationships. That isn’t at all what I am saying. Balance is important and if you’re capable of having open and clear boundaries with your partner with great communication, then power to ya. I can only speak to what I know is healthy and unhealthy for myself at this present moment.

I would also like to point out, my partners didn’t really need me, I don’t think. I think I conflated my role in their development a lot of times and they really would have gotten better with or without me. My partners were not helpless or weak or incapable of supporting themselves completely. They were just struggling a lot and much more open about that than I was with my own troubles. 

Upon realizing these things, I’ve taken steps to be more intentional about the partners I seek out. Do I really see myself growing with them? How do they add to me as a composite? What do they have to offer? Are they capable of supporting me healthily? Do they WANT me or just NEED me? Do they respect boundaries? Do they know how to communicate? Do they genuinely make me feel good? Asking these questions as I look at the people that I’m talking to or crushing hard on has helped me so much and I think as I continue to unlearn past practices, I’ll be much happier.

I’m currently content with being single, even with my strong feelings towards one individual in particular. If they were to ask me out tomorrow I would be interested in figuring it out, but that also would never happen because I think their head is in a different place and I’m okay with that. More space for introspection and growth, right?

[sllester]

Love and understanding in the time of coronavirus

An intensive care physician from Limerick has advised us to treat each other like pariahs in order to avoid spreading the coronavirus.  This may seem counter-intuitive at a time when a lot of people are confused, terrified and need, more than ever, human warmth. But look at her face, she’s not joking.  She’s not politely suggesting that you think about changing your behaviour the way Boris might tell you to refrain from going to the pub. She is saying: if you don’t practice social distancing people will die. In fact, she looks like she might kill you herself if you don’t comply.  But pariah is a confusing analogy here, because really what she’s also saying is: we are all connected and your actions have consequences beyond yourself. Care for others by not being close to them.

We live in an age of hyper individualism but it’s a fallacy that we ever believed we were individuals in the first place.

For the last few weeks I’ve been puzzling over why other people seemed to be far less affected by these warnings of a fast-approaching apocalypse.  I couldn’t figure out why there was little public outcry over the suggestion that over 60% of the population should catch this virus that we know little about (with a death rate estimated between 1% - 3%) on the offchance that we build up herd immunity to a virus that may in any case mutate. The herd immunity idea has since been retracted, and described instead as an unintended consequence, as opposed to a desired outcome. This shift in policy has been attributed to the results of a study from Imperial College, which showed that the original strategy would overwhelm the NHS many times over. Adaptive policymaking is to be expected when the science is shifty and uncertain and decisions are ultimately political, but the lack of transparency means that people in the UK genuinely don’t know if they should take it on the chin and get infected…or the complete opposite. When you need trust in a government above all else, that’s a pretty big problem.

As it happens, my anxiety around the potential knock on effects of coronavirus grew to such an extent that I naturally achieved a pariah-like status without even trying.  I’m not particularly worried about catching COVID-19 myself, but I’m terrified of unintentionally infecting people who have worse health than me, I’m worried about how our decimated public services will deal with the strain (even with the extra resources), and I’m haunted by the steepness of that exponential curve, fearing that we’ve done more to make it spike than to flatten it. I’m worried about the role state violence will inevitably play in keeping order. But more than any of those things, I feel a strange mix of terror and hope at the transformative potential to change the very way that we relate to the world and each other.  

People are coming together in amazing ways to navigate a new normal, but people are also divided, helpless and angry. We’re living in the wake of ten years of austerity and this crisis represents a decisive point – do we get better at understanding each other and changing our behaviour or do we refuse to think beyond ourselves?

“Selfish middle class bitch” shouts one woman in the street to another who is wearing a facemask “what do you think you’re doing?”. Assuming that this insult is aimed at her ‘selfish’ mask wearing – I wonder what makes the abusive woman assume she isn’t trying to protect others as much as she is protecting herself. She might be a healthworker or chronically ill or pregnant. She may be trying to protect her elderly friends and relatives. Please don’t shout at her, I want to say, but I keep my distance like the pariah I’ve become.

The regular homeless man who roams round our street looks on at the people kitted out in gloves and masks scurrying about with shopping bags in bemusement, a wry smile on his lips. Apparently, they are going to tell the contestants on Germany’s Big Brother, who have no access to news, about the coronavirus live on air. Will they go straight back into the house to quarantine? How will they know what reality is any more? How does anyone?

Meanwhile people send memes mocking those who are scared of food shortages, a recipe for a quarantini, or messages complaining about their kids not being allowed in nursery. I take a deep breath before responding to anything, consider the situation from all angles so as not to get upset that somebody’s take on it is different than mine at that precise moment.

I have a heated conversation with my Dad, who is 71, because he laughed off my suggestion that he might change his plans in order to mitigate the risk of catching or spreading the virus. Things go from bad to worse when he says he was pleased to hear Boris say he was led by the science. I get angry and say it’s meaningless. What is ‘the science’? At that point I couldn’t find anything to show what he was referring to, and this obfuscation leads me to speculate that he was planning a eugenics experiment inspired by Dominic Cummings. Children get infected to pass it on to grandparents and the ill. He chastises me for the Hitler comparisons, even though I didn’t mention his name directly, and we talk momentarily about the undesirables. “I’m not a fan of mass murder” my Dad says after a pause and the absurdity of the statement makes me laugh for the first time in what feels like weeks.

He asks how much we’ll need him over the coming months, and I tell him I have no idea, it’s difficult to quantify. I explain, wincingly, that I don’t want to put other vulnerable people at risk if he’s not going to change his behaviour. “If I’m expected to stay in my house for four months, you may as well give me an injection”, he concludes. My Dad may be stubborn but he’s not prone to dramatic outbursts. This made me sit up and listen.

So, in a weird reversal of my teenage years, I’m yelling at my Dad about not going out, and he’s telling me that he’d rather live life on the edge, ignore the public health advice and play tennis with his octogenarian friends. I realise on reflection, that while I’m worried about my Dad, I instinctively feel that he will be alright, but as my partner has a chronic illness and is on an arsenal of various opiates I am worried that he may be badly affected. An overwhelmed health service is unlikely to be able to deal with anomalies such as rare diseases should he need medical care. It’s all speculation of course, and my partners’ anxiety is mainly about protecting his parents, who I’m also very keen to keep safe too. So there is a web of connections and half-voiced concerns between all of us, and what I want for one of the people I love is not compatible with the free will and intentions of another person I love. One wants to bunker down and wait it out, and the other thinks this approach is laughable. In a way, in the case of such overwhelming uncertainty, both of them are right.

I save most of my emotional strength for the time I spend with my 3 year-old daughter, which is also the time that I should be working. My partner reminds me gently not to look at e-mails or the news when I’m playing with her. She gets upset when she doesn’t have my full attention and I’m grateful for the reminder. I’ve been obsessively streaming through commentary and evidence and opinion pieces, trying to form a balanced view of all this, to try and understand the rationale for certain decisions that have been made. It does me good to stop.

The more I talk to different people the more my views, which a week previously I’d been sure about, shift. I was convinced that we should be following China, South Korea and Singapore’s model: strictly enforced social distancing measures, contact tracing and an aim to suppress, rather than mitigate, the virus. This seemed logical to me, as somebody who lives with other people that I love. My Dad, who lives alone, saw quarantine more like a death sentence. I suppose solitary confinement is a punishment for a reason.

The next morning my wayward Dad jumps on the last plane (urgent travel only) to Germany to see his girlfriend. Once he’s settled there he calls on what’s app: “I’m embarrassed to say that I’m having a good time”. He puts me on his car insurance, says we can use his house which is up near Hampstead Heath and has a garden (=heaven) everybody is, in that moment, happy. We all need some fresh air.  We are physically distant but emotionally close. I ask him to send his address in Germany as I have a fear that the internet is going to stop working at some point. Can the internet disappear? Or would it just be temporarily suppressed?

The next day I call my 91-year old Nana anticipating she might be afraid after the announcements about the over 70s. Again, I am proven wrong. She appears even less bothered by all of this than my Dad. Maybe she thinks, at her advanced age, that she is in a different category altogether. She’s been working in her son’s DIY store that day, handling coins, riding on the bus. She’s been selling lots of toilet roll, she laughs.

 “It’s just a matter of luck, whether you get it or not” she says. In a way, she’s right. Many people won’t have the means to avoid it. But I tell her it’s a good idea to wash her hands all the same and to try and lie low for a while if she can. “I’ve had lots of phone calls lately” she says. The phone is making a comeback we agree. Yes, and there are dolphins in Venice’s canals and the birds seems to be singing louder than normal. And then she warns me that the phone will cut out because her phone battery only lasts for 25 minutes intervals. “We’ll just keep talking until it cuts out”, she says. And then it does.

We’ve all been rearranging our lives in light of a new virus, to accommodate something we don’t fully understand. A week ago, I was certain I had all the answers but that was because I had a very narrow view of the problem. It might seem obvious to do something from one perspective, but there are inevitably unintended consequences, both good and catastrophic. Every intervention (such as school closures) brings with it an array of unintended consequences (e.g vulnerable children not receiving free school meals; parents going insane from trying to work and look after their kids at the same time, rise in domestic violence).There isn’t such a thing as a single solution to something so complex, only a series of momentarily meaningful decisions made in the face of dizzying ambiguity. We are making it up as we go along, and we have to make sense of it together. Even when physically apart. 

[msilwrites]

The Cannibal’s Pawn (Short/Multi)

A/N: Hi guys, I was suddenly inspired to write a short story and a Hannibal fanfiction, as what the majority had been convincing me to do.

Please also take note of the following;

-'Dr. Roman Fell' was the identity Hannibal stole when he was in Italy. I am just re-using it, just to make a bit more sense.

-Both Will and Hannibal fell down the cliff, the ending was left ambiguous. Therefore, I am using the ambiguity here as an advantage.

SYNOPSYS:

The story is set in England. A mix between the book and Hannibal's NBC.  Also, take note Dr. Roman Fell was the identity Hannibal stole when he was in Italy. He is just reusing it in this story.

Annabeth D' Matteo is a woman who suffers from the obsessive-compulsive disorder (OCD), sleep disorders, and depression. Due to her psychiatrist getting promoted, and transferred to another post. Annabeth is referred to another psychiatrist, by the name of Dr. Roman Fell.

At first, she was reluctant. She wasn't comfortable changing doctors, but after a few convincing from her friends and family, she yields. Finally attending her first session with Dr. Fell.

Unbeknownst to everyone, Dr. Roman Fell is actually FBI's most wanted, Dr. Hannibal Lectre. The moment Hannibal got to know Annabeth, he is immediately impressed with her observation skills and intuitive mind, and how much she reminds him of Will Graham.

He sees potential in her and uses her mental illness, issues and weakness to try and manipulate her. Will Hannibal succeed in turning her into a monster? Or will Annabeth notice what is wrong, and realise she is being used as Hannibal's pawn?

                                                           ONE

                                                     Bella Figura

'Bella Figura' is an Italian way of life. Values that Annabeth grew up with. Bella figura goes well beyond image, visual beauty and presentation...it also is defined by behaviour: knowing how to properly and graciously interact with others in any social or public situation. Exhibiting good manners, tact and gentility is an essential component of "cutting a beautiful figure". And Dr. Roman Fell is the epitome of these two words; 'Bella Figura'. 

If she knew that her new psychiatrist would be this handsome, it would've been a little easier for her to agree to the transfer her previous doctor made.

"Good Afternoon Ms. D' Matteo..." Dr. Fell greeted cordially.

"G-Good Afternoon..." she smiled, and nodded. While she waited for the invitation to take a seat, she looked around, admiring the office's beautiful interior.

The Doctor looked at her questioningly, as she still hasn't sat down. "Please... take a seat" he offered.

"Thank you..." she said politely, as she sat down. Growing up in an Italian family, one must never sit down, unless the host has offered.

"So what can I do for you today, Ms. D'Matteo?" he began, as he started to open his leather clipboard, jotting down notes.

"Just a refill of my medication will do, Dr. Fell..." she said politely, as her thumbs fidgeted. There goes her OCD again. What made her hesitant to the transfer, was that this new doctor might not be as patient as her previous one. She was so used to her old doctor, who was very patient and understanding, that she didn't know how to move to the next one. Adding to that, her previous psychiatrist was a woman, who understood 'Woman Problems'. It didn't matter if Dr. Fell was a well-trained psychiatrist or much better than her previous doctor. In Annabeth's opinion, only a woman can understand another woman well. However, she didn't want to be rude or insulting. She wasn't raised that way.

Dr. Fell looked at her, and raised a brow. He clearly recognised her fidgety behaviour as OCD. He was trained to read people after all. "If there is clearly something you want to do, please do so, I would not judge you..." he said.

Annabeth hesitated for a while, before standing up half-way, smoothing out the fabric of her wide-legged pants, and touching her stud earrings. "T-Thanks..." she stuttered.

"What brings you here Ms D' Matteo?" he said, asking a slightly different question from earlier.

"Uhhm... just to refill of my medication Dr. Fell..." she repeated politely and smiled at him.

"That's it?" Dr. Fell shifted from his seat, and leant a little closer. "You are aware that I am not able to refill your medications until you tell me what is wrong? So that I can make a diagnosis.

"I'm sure Dr. Abernathy has sent you my records... you may refer to that..." she replied in a soft voice, referring to her previous psychiatrist, who was now working as a professor in one of the most prestigious college in London.

"Yes, her clinic did..." he said, as he flipped through the number of pages, clipped inside the leather bound clipboard. It was definitely her medical record he was reading through.

"You do not trust me Ms. D' Matteo, why is that?" he asked directly, which kind of surprised Annabeth. They've just met, and he was already being too straight-forward. However, there was no hint of impatience in his voice, when he said his concern.

"Dr. Fell... it isn't because I do not trust you... I am very sorry if I had offended you in anyway... It is not my intention. I just probably do not know where to begin..." she reasoned. It was their first session, and she definitely did not want to offend her doctor. Making the best first impression mattered to her, this was one of the principles of 'Bella Figura'.

"You are misinterpreting my concern Ms. D' Matteo... you have not offended me in any way, do not worry. My concern is that as your doctor, and with the oath I have taken, I am supposed to do my best to help you. But how am I supposed to help you, if you do not trust me? "

She nodded in agreement to his statement. But still, couldn't bring herself to tell him anything. It was awkward, no doubt about it.

Dr. Fell looked at her, and waited for her patiently to begin. Not being able to take the awkwardness and hold his gaze, Annabeth finally broke her silence.

"I... as I've said, I do not know where to start..." she said, as she looked down at her shoes. As if her pumps held the answer.

"Tell me something about you Ms. D' Matteo..."

"Like?"

"We start with the general information? What is your passion? What do you do? what were the problems you were facing that made you come here? those general things."

"Ahem..." she cleared her throat. " I'm Annabeth, and I work as a designer."

"Ah... what type of designer?"

"Fashion, both men and women... textile too, but my strength lies in men's fashion..." she elaborated.

"I see, why men's fashion?" he asked curiously.

"It's a bit of a long story actually. Have you heard of the term "Bella Figura"?"

"Yes... First impressions matter..." he replied.

"Well... Since I grew up in an Italian family, "Bella Figura" was one of the values taught to me as I grew up. When my two younger brothers were growing up, we couldn't afford to have a bespoke suit made for them from Saville Row." She recalled as the family weren't very rich that time. They had just arrived in London then, from Italy.

"Therefore, they had to wear borrowed ones. Sometimes, they were too tight, and sometimes they were to loose. It looked unflattering and people began to say things and started talking behind our backs. Well, because I couldn't take it... I started saving up allowance money, to be able to afford textile for my brothers' suit. I then borrowed my mother's old sewing machine and began creating clothing. Those were the first clothing I created. The rest is history." she said, proud of herself on how far she had come.

"Interesting... I am guessing that you are very close to your family"

"Yes... yes of course... but It wasn't always like that during my early teenage years." she sighed, as she leant back.

"How so?" he asked, curiously.

She heaved a sigh before speaking. It was a sensitive issue that she needed to re-tell once again.

"My parents were conservative people... When I was a teenager, my parents called me a whore and a hoe. I have never even kissed someone before. I never had a boyfriend. Heck, I was too young to even have one. But I was called this because I liked a boy, and was caught smiling at him. I also dressed up and started putting makeup, to look more presentable. But I was only doing this part for myself. I wasn't inappropriate in any way shape or form. I dressed and groomed myself like a lady should, conservative. I followed the principles of 'Bella Figura'. But I was still being slut-shamed. They think I'm up to something or that I only cared about boys and men at school. Which I don't, because I was mostly busy with my projects. " she recalled painfully. What was worse, was that she was also being bullied in school during that time.

"How long did this went on?"

"Until the end of university..."

"I see... and how did you deal with it? how did you hold it together?"

"I didn't... I became what my parents called me, a hoe..." she laughed, and stared at the ceiling.

"Well... if you are comfortable answering... what do you think turned you into it?"

"I was just tired of the emotional abuse, I needed validation outside that my family couldn't give me. So I turned to men. I went from dating to dating, relationship to another relationship." she admitted painfully. Admitting what is wrong within a person, is one of the most painful things there is. No one likes to admit their own shortcomings? do they?

"So did you get what you want out of them?"

"Sadly... no... they'd leave as soon as they get what they want out of me. It was painful to actually be categorised as 'Non-Girlfriend' or wife material."

"So how did you carry on with this cycle?" he said, as he started jotting down notes.

"I didn't, I had a breakdown... and well I ended up being sent to Dr. Abernathy by my parents."

"What caused your breakdown?"

"Oh... that is a painful one. My last 'boyfriend' broke up with me, because he said I wasn't worthy."

"What did he exactly tell you?"

"He was pretty much undermining me and my background. He was from an old rich family. A few months later after we broke up, he got married to someone else. Can you believe it? It was less than a year, and he finds someone else and marries her!"

"That sounds painful..." He tries to sound a little more 'empathising'.

"It was... it broke me... I confronted him one more time so that I could get my closure..."

"And what did he say? What happened?" He asks, curious to what happened next. He didn't exactly pity her. Rather, he was just curious and wanted to hear the whole story. No one likes cliffhangers.

"I asked him tearfully, what did I not do? what was lacking? and he said that it was not the things I did and did not do, it was because of who I am."

"What do you mean?"

"As I've said, he thought I wasn't worthy of him. I was a far cry from his wife, he says. I wasn't from a rich family, nor did I graduated a top university that matched the standards of Oxbridge. I didn't have a profound degree nor a managerial position like she did. He looked down on me, to him, I was a 'Cobbler', a 'Tailor' and nothing beyond that." she said, recalling how her ex-beau used to refer to her choice of profession. It was ironic how he enjoyed sharp bespoke suits, well-crafted shoes, and expensive watches. Yet he looked down on the designers who made them, specifically small time designers like she was, in the past. Back then, she didn't have a have a brand of her own, and was just working for a newly opened clothing company.

Dr. Fell closed his clipboard and sat straight, looking her in the eyes. "You did not deserve such a man, clearly you were dating a jerk... please continue...." he encouraged.

Annabeth smiled with his empathising words and found herself a little more comfortable in his presence, compared to earlier. "Because I could not take it no longer, I had a breakdown. I refused to eat and do my work. I had a hard time sleeping and I became angry at everyone. My parents finally felt the right concern and dragged me to the psychiatrist, Dr. Abernathy. She helped me fixed my issues, specifically the ones I had with my family. We had family counselling, and I could say that my relationship with my family is much better compared to before."

"Well then... why are you here?" he wondered why she was still here, if she claimed to be already fine.

"It takes time to repair broken relationships Dr. Fell, you yourself is aware of that. Though I and my family get along well now. Damage has been done, and I have lots of issues to work on so that I can continue improving myself." she stated, and was met by a nod of approval from her doctor.

"That's a smart decision..." he said, as he nodded. This woman knew what was wrong with her, and was willing to work on her problem. This was the type of patients most psychiatrists liked. He then began writing her prescription but was distracted when she spoke once again.

"Is that the 'Talented Mr.Ripley?!' " she says, as she saw the book on the shelf. It was the first hardcover.

"Why yes? have you read it?" he asked, just out of courtesy.

"Of course! I've read the whole series... I found Tom Ripley likeable enough..." she declared.

Dr. Fell looked at her curiously. Why would a nice lady such as herself, finds a 'sociopath' like Tom Ripley likeable? "He's a sociopath Ms. D'Matteo... why do you find him likeable?"

"Hmmm... perhaps I see a part of myself in him. I can sympathise, and relate to him..." she said, as she headed straight to the shelf, but not before turning to Dr. Fell and asked for permission to touch the book. "Uhhh... may I?"

"Of course..." he replied, and watched her as she pulled the booked out, and smelled it. Finally getting a good look at her, he realised that the woman is beautiful, demure and polite. The soft smell of perfume on her skin, that smelled like the breeze, her chic fashion sense, and her modest behaviour. It would be deemed rude to harm her and 'eat' her. He didn't mind that she continues being his patient. In fact, he didn't mind her presence at all. Adding to that, he found himself curious about her, wanting to find out more. In fact, her declaration of her love for the Tom Ripley series intrigued him. She had just declared that she can empathise with sociopaths. Suddenly, Will came to mind.

 "You love the smell of old books don't you?"

"Yes... I'm a bit of a book nerd..."

"Going back to Tom Ripley... which part of you, did you see in him?"

"Hmmm... most of it I gues? I mean I had a hard upbringing like he did. I started off as someone down with my own 'luck' and was disregarded every time. But with hard work and sheer determination, Tom Ripley manages to make something out himself. Despite the hardships, he came out the other end polite, self-effacing and hard working.  He became successful. I hope you won't judge, I used him as some sort of inspiration."

"Don't worry, I am not judging. But I am curious, I suppose you are aware that Tom Ripley is a cold-blooded killer as well?" he asked, as he walked, and stood beside her.

"Yes of course... But I somehow approve of his actions, I understood it. I found myself hoping that Tom would get away with it all- that he would be able to kill with impunity."

Hannibal looked at her and smiled, what she had just said made him more intrigued. A woman who empathised with a psychopath, just like Will Graham was.

"If I were Tom Ripley, I would've done the same, eliminate them one by one. But not in a quick way... you may think I'm a sadist, but it is better to torture your enemy first, as killing them immediately would be considered 'mercy'." she added. "Oh, I'm sorry... I must've been talking too much..." she said, as she tiptoed to return the book to the shelf.

"It is fine..." he smiled, "Let me help you..." he then took the book, and returned it to its respective place. "Tea?" he asked, inviting her to stay longer.

"Oh... that would be nice Dr. Fell... Thank you!" she replied with a smile, and returned back to her chair.

Hannibal watched as she walked back to her seat. She was wearing a high neck, ruffle lace blouse, which matched her wide legged pastel blue pants. Her short bobbed hair was comb neatly and tucked behind her ears. Her accessories and makeup looked minimal, but it sure did enhance her features. It was no secret that Hannibal liked beautiful women, especially women who carried themselves well. But to fully catch his attention, his admiration must go beyond physical, a woman should have more than beauty.

Simple yet Chic #4 by fashionholicwriter featuring sterling silver fine jewelry

Annabeth D'Matteo obviously had something more than beauty. He was no longer just intrigued by her, he was now fascinated. She has a potential for something more, potential like Will Graham has.

Hannibal smiled to himself as he looked at her, Annabeth D' Matteo was definitely his new pawn.

A/N: I might do some soft editing, as I might have made some grammatical errors. Comments, Questions and clarifications are welcome below.

[ahopkins1965]

Marriage Advice From A Christian Perspective

 

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7 Types of Fights Every Couple Has and How to Solve Them

Sue Schlesman

Crosswalk.com Contributing Writer

2020

27 May

You’re at it again. A simple conversation. A teasing remark. An instruction. Venting after work. And somehow, you and your spouse (or significant other) are locked into a knock-out round that leaves you weepy, angry, or unsettled for the rest of the day.

You’re not sure how a comment or observation ignited into such a big fire. Like oxygen to flames, your friendly critique or sarcastic response has created a problem that’s not easily extinguished.

What should you do and how can you avoid fighting with the person you love the most? Here’s a simple strategy:

Adjust your tone (Are you mad? Unkind? Disrespectful? Take a time-out and try later.)

Redefine your goal (Are you trying to win?)

Identify the triggers (We all push other people’s buttons, sometimes on purpose)

Talk about your problem, not the other person’s problem (Use “I feel” statements, not “You ….”)

If your tone is disrespectful or rude, it doesn’t matter what the topic is or who’s to blame. You’re going to fight. If your goal is to win every conversation, you’re going to fight a lot or shut down your spouse emotionally. (If you’re married to an avoider, you’re going to get the silent treatment.)

It’s helpful to identify the potential landmines if you want to avoid verbal insults and emotional manipulations. Be aware that most of us fight around these 7 topics.

Photo Credit: ©GettyImages/Deagreez 

1. Time

Generally, we have opinions about how our spouses spend their time, when they’re with us and not with us, particularly in when trust has been broken.

Usually, our opinions relate back to us: Am I getting enough attention? Does he/she prefer time with other people over me? Are we doing things together that we both enjoy or just that one of us enjoys? Are we splitting our time evenly between work, play, and family?

The conflicts we have about time reflect deeper problems and insecurities (for example: jealousy, low self-image, materialism, ambition, and selfishness).

In order not to fight about working late hours, missing family gatherings, or going out with friends, every couple needs to discover their emotional need regarding time and attention. You need to discuss it.

One of you might require a lot of quality time while the other doesn’t. If that’s the case, a 50/50 split of time is not necessary, but a different kind of attention is needed. Talk through what you both expect and how it makes you feel when you don’t receive the attention you need. Give grace in areas that don’t matter.

Avoiding or resolving arguments requires a couple things:

1) Put your spouse first. That doesn’t mean he/she “wins” the argument; it means you value him/her over winning the argument.

2) Decide on a win/win outcome for every discussion. If you can’t agree, wait and pray about the decision. Most decisions can wait longer than you think they can.

3) Always confess and ask forgiveness when you’re a jerk. Own it, ask forgiveness, and change. 

Photo Credit: Pexels/JÉSHOOTS

2. Money

Many of us couples have differing beliefs about how to spend, save, give, and invest.

You and your spouse may have different opinions about how much you should pay for something or how to shop for things. It’s wise to talk through all purchasing and saving goals early in marriage to learn how the other person treats money.

Couples entering marriage with huge credit card debt or student loans bring a lot of stress into the relationship and on your whole family; learning to stay out of debt and prioritize paying down debt is integral to handling money together without fighting. Also, you need to talk about saving for the future to lessen your money-related stress.

While couples often have their own careers and spending money, it’s probably unwise to keep all your accounts and belongings separate, as if you are roommates rather than a married couple. The process of merging “mine” and “yours” is a critical part of becoming one. This act will require vulnerability, humility, and selflessness--but will make your marriage that much stronger as a result.

Yes, merging everything (especially money) invites difficult discussions, but keeping everything separate fosters a separate-but-equal mentality in the marriage, forging a comfortable pathway for competition, pride, and even divorce.

If you have debt and spending problems, seek out a financial advisor and develop a plan to manage your money responsibly. The positive momentum will reduce your conflicts over money, and the overall stress of your relationship.

Photo Credit: ©GettyImages/vladans

3. Parenting

Our childhoods and our parents form the framework for how we parent our own children.

Unless you married someone with a nearly-identical family culture, you will naturally approach many parenting dilemmas differently. For instance, you may have had a very strict upbringing that in some ways you resent, so your parenting style may be more carefree. But your spouse may have craved the attention and guidance that rules bring if they lived in a too-lax home, so they may wish to lay down the law.

It's important to recognize that differences exist so you can work towards being on the same page, rather than expecting it to just happen.

It's also essential to recognize that your children will also learn quickly who to approach to get what they want. It’s important to check with one another or you will end up arguing about decisions before and after they’re made.

Taking parenting classes together is helpful for getting you on the same page regarding discipline, training, and connection with your kids. It’s also helpful to become friends with other couples ahead of you in life stage whose marriage and parenting style you both admire.

Watching people parent and watching how their kids react provides a phenomenal learning environment. It’s important to check with one another about how to handle tough discipline situations and keep the communication lines open if you have something you want to bring up, and vice versa.

In parenting, being proactive always trumps being reactive; anticipate problem situations before they happen and talk about how you want to handle something.

Photo Credit: ©Faith Life

4. Extended Family

In-law relationships are not easy, even if your in-laws are lovely people. Every family has its own dynamic and culture, so it takes grace and intentionality to merge new worlds together.

Again, the way you grew up will have a huge impact on your expectations for extended family. Maybe you're used to your whole family gathering for days on end for holidays and vacations, using eachother's things, or stopping by unannounced. But if your spouse did not grow up this way, they might interpret these actions as a crossing of boundaries, and might feel frustrated or unloved if you don't help protect their boundaries.

Or, another situation that may come up is what kind of say extended family has on your relationship. Maybe you want to include your parents or siblings in your private lives--like how many kids you want and when, or how to spend your money. But check with your spouse first, as they should have a say in who is involved in their marriage, too.

If your extended family culture is toxic, dysfunctional, or invasive, you and your spouse will have to set up perimeters for prioritizing your marriage and your parenting while still showing respect and love to the family members in your lives. Learn to set loving boundaries with your extended family.

“Blood deals with blood” is good rule of thumb in handling family communication and problems (especially early in the marriage, when parents are getting used to their kids being a unit apart from them).

That means you communicate, decline, and confront your family members when needed, and your spouse does the same with his/hers. This prevents many additional problems with in-laws and reinforces the boundaries.

Photo Credit: ©GettyImages/Antonio Diaz

5. Friends

Unless you and your spouse had the same friend group before you became a couple, you will have to adapt to your spouse’s friends and their spouses for the sake of your marriage.

Some couples find it difficult to form couple friend groups where everyone “clicks.” One of the beautiful things about the church body is learning to love and support people who are different from you.

Often, we don’t form these types of friendships as single people, but we are forced to do so as married people. Learning to make new couple-friends is an important part of married life.

This doesn't mean that you're forced to become best friends with all of your spouse's friends--but if they're important to your spouse, it should be important for you to get to know them.

If you know that one of your friends is not your spouse's favorite person in the world, be considerate of that. Don't cut them out of your life of course--there's no growth in that--but do include your spouse in on the decision of how much time that friend might spend at your house, etc. You might have to have honest (but respectful) conversations about each other’s friends, especially if a friend has a toxic relationship with your spouse.  

Find married friends who share the same values as you and your spouse do. Church groups are a great place to find these kinds of friends. Start having people over or going out together until you begin forming friendships as couples.

You will need these in the days ahead.

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6. Intimacy

Authentic intimacy leads to good sex, and good sex is dependent on intimacy. However, many marriages lack either or both important bonding tools.

Today, many couples enter marriage with emotional baggage from abuse, previous sexual activity, insecurity, and pornography—all of which hurts intimacy in marriage. Do the spiritual and emotional work of self-care so that you can love your spouse unimpeded by fear, guilt, or comparison. As hard as this work is, it is so necessary to have a healthy marriage well beyond physical intimacy.

Talk to your spouse about what helps them to feel loved and connected, and share your needs vulnerably in turn. And, just as importantly, ask them what makes them feel unloved. If cleaning your dirty kitchen alone after dinner while your spouse watches TV is an intimacy killer for you, your spouse needs to know that!

Without giving time, attention, and kindness to one another, both intimacy and sex will disappoint.

Make it a priority to talk to one another before or after dinner without distraction—catch up on the day, talk through your day, and discuss problems you are facing together. Then give yourself time to be together in the evening before you go to bed. Intentionally making time to decompress early in the evening will keep you from fighting when you’re tired, as well as facilitate a loving environment when you climb in bed. 

You sleep better when you haven’t had a heavy conversation when you’re lying down.

Photo Credit: ©GettyImages/Goroden Koff

7. Faith

If you and your spouse have different faith backgrounds or vary in your perspective about church involvement or affiliation, you might find yourself disagreeing regularly about which church to attend, how involved you should be, or if you should attend at all.

We can also easily judge or criticize one another for the personal way we practice faith: reading, listening to music, going to Bible study or small group, serving, giving. All of these avenues for faith provide a possible platform for argument.

Ask a lot of questions about church and faith background when you’re dating, and don’t assume you can change someone’s mind after you get married. (You won’t.)

Decide what theology and church practice are non-negotiable to you and choose accordingly. Marriage pushes us to adapt and concede in many areas; faith is often one of them (what kind of concession is critical to your own spiritual growth).

Here are a few important questions when it comes to disagreeing about faith: Are you willing to leave your faith to keep peace in your home? Are you willing to pray and give grace when you disagree? What does God require of you as a married believer? Is your spouse asking/demanding that you disobey Scriptural practices and theology?

Arguments evolve from pride and stubbornness. Discussions evolve from mutual respect.

It is always more important in your marriage to prioritize how you disagree over what you’re disagreeing about. Even if the issue at hand is critically important, you can’t resolve the conflict if you can’t conduct a civil conversation. Learn to conduct disagreements where you both feel validated and loved, no matter what decision you make.

Sue Schlesman is a Christian author, speaker, English teacher, and pastor’s wife. She has a BA in Creative Writing and a Master’s in Theology & Culture. Her second book Soulspeak: Praying change into unexpected places is a Selah Award finalist. Sue’s material appears in a variety of print, online, radio, and podcast mediums. She has a passion for missions, social justice, traveling, reading, and the local church. You can find her writing about life, education, family, and Jesus at sueschlesman.com.

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How to Deal with Anger When You’re All Too Good at Avoiding It

For many of us avoiding anger feels automatic and natural. Because anger doesn’t feel good. Because we associate anger with cruel words, broken glass and ruined relationships.

In other words, as psychotherapist David Teachout, LMHCA, said, we associate anger with destruction, and avoidance is how we attempt to maintain our emotional and mental safety and health.

According to Michelle Farris, LMFT, a psychotherapist and anger management specialist, if you grew up in a home where anger turned abusive, you might think that suppressing your anger is actually a healthy thing to do. “Witnessing unhealthy anger and rage makes it tough to see its value.”

But anger has value. A lot of it.

Anger tells us that something isn’t right, and we need to make a change, said Farris, who has a private practice in San Jose, Calif., where she offers supportive counseling and online courses that focus on improving relationships, anger management and codependency.

Maybe you need to set a boundary. Maybe you need to tell someone how you really feel.

“Allowing emotions to be a part of your relationships keeps you and the relationship healthy, and the lines of communication stay open,” Farris said. After all, healthy, close connections require honesty, “and though it is a risk, telling someone why you’re upset gives them the opportunity to heal the hurt or correct their mistake.”

Teachout said anger is a neon flashing pointer to what matters most to us: our values. “We simply don’t get upset about things we don’t care about… When we ignore our anger, try to suppress it, we’re actually suppressing the care we have for what we find important.”

Anger also energizes us. It empowers us to stand up for ourselves, and for others.

Not expressing angry feelings just makes them fester (and fester and fester). “They feel like bricks on your back, always present and weighing you down emotionally,” said Farris, who offers a free email course on anger called Catching Your Anger Before It Hurts.

Over time, not expressing our anger also leads to long-term stress, because “the body stores the emotions that cannot be expressed until they can be released.” This damaging cycle, she said, has been linked to: increased risk for anxiety, heart attack and stroke; a weakened immune system; and “a tendency to overreact because stuffed emotions are harder to control.”

But even though you might have a complicated, thorny relationship with anger (and might’ve had one for years), you can change that. Below, Farris and Teachout share their helpful tips.

Catch anger early. It’s very hard to stay calm and effectively express yourself and understand your feelings when your anger becomes a tsunami. Farris advised against dismissing times you’re mildly annoyed. Instead of thinking “it’s not that bad yet,” pay attention and intervene early. Check in with yourself regularly. “The earlier you catch [anger], the more manageable it will be to contain and express in a healthy manner.”

Early warning signs of anger differ in different people, Farris said, but here are some examples: Rapid heart rate, negative thoughts, sweating, feeling irritable, minimizing upset feelings, stomachache, headache, muscle tension, using profanity and blaming the other person.

Zero in on the broken value. Anger points to “a behavior that didn’t support [one of our values] in the way we’d like or, to our perception, actively sought to undermine it,” said Teachout, who joins with individuals and partnerships on their mental health journey to encourage a life of valued living and honest communication at his practice in Des Moines, WA.

This is why he suggested when we get angry to immediately ask ourselves: What value is the upsetting behavior threatening or undermining? Maybe it’s loyalty, honesty or respect. Maybe it’s fairness, kindness or authenticity.

(Also, “notice that you still care about that value so you haven’t lost who you are or become destructive,” said Teachout, who offers therapy, coaching and groups for the whole person because you’re more than your suffering.)

Once you’ve pinpointed what you care about, consider how you’d like to support it—and act from this place, instead of from a place of defending what’s been threatened, Teachout said. “This immediately takes the focus away from being about the other person and returns it to the core of who you are, your values.”

What does this look like? According to Teachout, let’s say someone lied to you (thus undermining your value of honesty). Acting from a defensive place might look like yelling, hurling insults and internalizing the betrayal. Acting from a supportive place might look like telling the person: “That really hurt because I care about honesty” or telling yourself “My anger is letting me know I still care about truth/honesty and that it means I can support it,” Teachout said.

Take a genuine time-out. “The best tool for anger management is a time-out,” Farris said. Which means physically leaving the space (if possible), and practicing calming behaviors. “Don’t keep retelling the story of what went wrong,” which only boosts anger. Instead, she suggested taking a walk (or doing any other vigorous exercise, which “gets the negative energy out of the body and releases oxytocin which helps calm you down”). She also suggested journaling and listening to soothing music or an inspirational podcast.

Communicate effectively. Farris stressed the importance of naming your feeling, and using an “I” statement, such as: “I feel angry that you didn’t respond to my texts last night.” For some people, “I” statements can feel canned or awkward. Reversing the phrasing can help, she said: “When you didn’t return my texts last night, I was really angry.”

The other key is to name the specific behavior that bothers you, without generalizing, judging or criticizing, Farris said. “When you name what happened as fact not a criticism, the other person is less likely to get defensive.”

That is, instead of saying “I feel really angry when you attack me in front of our friends,” you’d say, “I felt really angry when you made that joke in front of our friends last night.” According to Farris, “’Attack’ is more of a judgment, and doesn’t describe what happened.”

Also, make sure that you’re communicating while you’re relatively calm or in control. Farris has a rule of thumb she uses: “If you can’t listen, you shouldn’t be talking.”

Feeling and expressing your anger when you tend to avoid it can feel foreign and deeply uncomfortable. The first, second, third or thirtieth time. But with practice and the above suggestions, you can reconnect to anger’s value, and let it support your relationships and your life.

from World of Psychology https://psychcentral.com/blog/how-to-deal-with-anger-when-youre-all-too-good-at-avoiding-it/