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etheriadearie · 4 years ago

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“Promise”

Why can't you just… Promise ?

Today's goal is an in-depth look at one of the most beautiful and breathtaking episodes of She-ra: "Promise"

Storywise, it's incredibly important to the series, and focuses entirely on Catradora. It's the first time since Adora left Catra behind to seek out the sword that the girls really have an opportunity to talk, and things are not going well. Both of them are royally pissed off at the other, with good reason.

For Adora, we're gonna deflate that proud hair poof of hers a bit, as we'll take an honest look at her as a person at this point in her life. And Catra... she's really guarding her feelings closely, as she's already deeply angry with Adora. But we will use the combination of Catra's younger self in the memories they see, plus looking at other times in the series that relate to this episode, where she was less guarded, in order to understand her as a person at this time. Also: warning: tl;dr, best enjoyed while cozy with a drink..

To get started, we skip to when they end up stuck together…

After Adora takes drastic measures to ward off the security spiders by collapsing the tunnel, the girls are now stuck together, and so… they talk...

We immediately see how incredibly irritated they are with each other as Adora chides Catra for being in the Crystal Castle, since the monsters will continue to attack them as long as she's protecting Catra… only to have Catra retort that she didn't ask for protection. Some snippy bickering back and forth happens, then...

Adora asks: "Does Shadow Weaver know you're here?" Very deadpan assertion from Adora. She knows Catra must be disobeying orders, she just doesn't know why.

"I'd say Shadow Weaver has bigger problems right now". Catra is already starting her move against SW back at the Horde. With SW abusively blocking her every move within the Horde, and now that Catra knows that SW was going to mind wipe Adora, Catra has decided she must deal with her abuser.

Adora puts on her telltale sideways grin, and Catra chafes at Adora's flirtation, saying "I told you it's not because I like you” downplaying Adora’s suggestion that this was the reason she let her go. Catra freely admits here that she does like Adora, but it's not the real reason she did it. Still, Catra doesn't explain further, and we see later that Catra often lets Adora explain away her actions this way... but that Adora constantly misses the deeper truths.

"Where are your new best friends? I thought you did everything together". She's very snarky and dismissive of Adora and her flirting. She's mad about Adora leaving her for her new life.

"The ones you let SW imprison and curse?" Adora is angry at Catra for what she did, which was a sudden escalation of things by Catra.

"Yeah obviously, what other friends would I be talking about?" An obvious dig at Adora for leaving her, everything behind. She deadpans this, staring back plainly. Catra is obviously really angry at Adora... while Adora is legitimately mad at Catra for doing something so nasty to Bow and Glimmer...

::Let's take a moment to talk about Catra's feelings about Adora's new friends: Catra feels horribly betrayed by this. Adora completely tossed her aside, and replaced her with Bow and Glimmer. What comes to mind is at the end of Sea Gate, Catra is thrown in the water and then looks up at Adora, who is celebrating and cuddling with Bow and Glimmer. Catra is emotionally forlorn watching this, as Scorpia comes to drag her off to safety, Adora doesn't even look back towards her.

She's forgotten, Adora showed no love towards her at all in that scene (and then hardly any at Princess Prom, either). Adora ignored her plea for her to return, she didn't reach out to Catra at all. And now she watches her cuddle with her new friends: everything Catra thought she had with Adora meant nothing, and she's been replaced with these feel goodie goods who are fawning all over Adora.

Suffice to say, Catra couldn't do this, she's got way too many issues with emotional intimacy and touch aversion. So she watches Adora, seeing that what she offered her wasn't good enough, knowing because of it she's forgotten. Catra was trying really hard to be a close friend to Adora in spite of her issues, but as we will see, Adora wasn't trying to understand what was going on with Catra. And because of this, Catra was too afraid to express her affection openly, and yet here's Adora... accepting all of Bow and Glimmer’s love, for which Adora really did nothing to earn. Adora took Catra’s friendship for granted while ignoring her deeper needs, as will be explained, then completely abandons her, not even seeming to miss her. Catra is deeply hurt by the unfairness of this.

>Catra stares back at Adora, frustrated when she doesn't even acknowledge their lost friendship.

"Well, we don't need to go together. You do your weird little magic quest thing I'll find my own way out". Catra looks resentfully at the sword on Adora's back as she says this. Catra is laying down boundaries, except it's useless since they are trapped together. But, boundaries are important to Catra and as the episode progresses, Adora shows that she doesn't really understand Catra's.

>As they walk along, both girls' shadows loom equally tall. The symbolism is that in this story, both are equally important... it's also a shockingly beautiful sequence. (pic above)

After entering the room of infinite darkness, Catra tries to separate from Adora but the door is gone, they are stuck together. Weird things start happening. As the Fright Zone appears, both of them are confused. Adora decides to suspect Catra, after all, she attacked her friends. But as Adora grabs Catra, Catra is surprised and confused... Catra doesn't like being touched unexpectedly, Adora knows this but is ignoring that and attacking her. She gets treated as an enemy when she clearly hasn't done anything wrong, and it sets the tone for the two of them: Adora has constantly treated Catra as an enemy since the very moment she defected, not even trying to understand Catra's point of view. And so Catra increasingly emotionally distances herself from Adora. Catra angrily casts Adora's arm aside, not liking being vilified by her, and Adora doesn't understand why Catra is so upset. Catra slips away to explore, needing space from her.

The way Adora immediately suspects and then attacks Catra is symbolic to the whole episode: by defecting to the Rebellion, Adora chose to start treating Catra, and her entire unit, as enemies, backing it up with hostility. But Catra doesn't really agree that the horde is evil... in her experience, it's just how life is.

>The two girls, now separated, call out to each other. Adora hears Catra's call, then another: young Catra is behind her, looking lost and insecure. Catra joins Adora as their first memory has just begun…

~DISCLAIMER TIME~ A lot of information in She-ra is inferred by emotional context, so if this seems a bit head-canon-y, I assure you, I have data! Please ask questions and seek clarifications, I promise to answer back! ~EtheriaDearie

>A worried and hurt young Catra runs to young Adora's side. She is emotional and needs support. Adora checks her out then gets the real deal: Catra was in a fight with an adult. It hints that Catra always had to deal with people messing with her, even before SW began her abuse. This is a guess, but it's probable: this is likely a happy memory of the two of them right before the hurting began. Along with the "promise" memory and the moments immediately preceding their entering the Black Garnet chamber, these scenes set the baseline for what their friendship was like before Catra suffered SW’s abuse. Also, this memory is a happy one, and how Adora remembers their friendship: it was likely triggered by her memories. The next ones are not, as I believe they are triggered by Catra, who is trying to explain to Adora what was so painful about their childhood...

>Catra doesn't know what to expect when she shows Octavia to Adora. She probably expects Adora to try to apologize on her behalf, or to give her a hard time about what she did. Instead, Adora sticks with her friend and yells “Hey Octavia, you're a dumbface." This brings young Catra much joy, Adora is sticking with her, not passing judgement. The two young girls run together hand in hand, experiencing childhood bliss, but it doesn't last. The present versions of themselves return, holding hands...

They share a brief moment of connection before Catra pulls her hand away in anger. Adora is surprised at the strength of Catra’s reaction. They are not on intimate terms any more, in fact, I suspect they had been struggling for a while before Adora's defection. Adora doesn't want the moment to stop, but Catra does. It hints that the gulf between them is already wide.

"How can you deal with all this magic stuff?" Catra has a deep distrust of magic, as it was used in her abuse. She resents it, and throughout the series whenever anything magic happens that she doesn't see coming she gets creeped out.

"I'm only dealing with it because I need to figure out how to heal Glimmer after someone got her cursed." It's a valid criticism, but Catra deflects it.

"What do you want? An apology? You're not getting one." We don't get the full story on this moment until season 5 when a young Catra tells Adora she'll "never say sorry to anybody, ever." Adora doesn't like Catra just refusing to explain, and as Catra pushes her away, Catra is full of reproach at Adora's judgement.

::As an abused child, Catra was continuously vilified and abused by everyone but Adora. And when Adora would suggest she apologize throughout their lives, she can't understand why Catra won't. It comes down to literally everyone in the world judging Catra and being cruel. Not once did any of them apologize to her, even though she didn't do anything to deserve the abuse. Except Adora... but that has issues, too. In fact, SW literally tells her "I won't apologize" regarding her abuse of Catra. Can you imagine the hurt at that?

[pic caption: Catra refuses to apologize, Catra often shows her deeper emotions while blinking, in this case: the incredible pain she experienced from SW’s abuse.]

So no, Catra won't apologize, she had a thing she was trying to do by kidnapping Bow and Glimmer and taking her sword, and it ended badly. But she felt she had a good reason to do it: she wanted to force Adora to see her, to make her acknowledge how big of a part of Adora’s life Catra used to be. And it's not like anyone has been helping Catra, she's had to make every single decision on her own her entire life and live with the consequences.

Also, mistakes for Catra have an entirely different meaning than they do for Adora. Whenever Adora made a mistake, she was given an opportunity to fix it. This is a theme of their relationship: Adora expects Catra to let her fix her mistakes. But for Catra, she learned that any mistake she made was dangerous, as when she did make a mistake, SW would torture her for it. And if other people saw it too, they'd use it to perpetuate the notion that she's some kind of no good fuck up. So Catra is extremely careful to not make mistakes, and if she does, she tries to cover it up, distance herself from it. (note: this isn't the same as Catra's intentional rebellions against this system where she was unfairly targeted for abuse-). This is why Catra simply cannot forgive Adora easily for breaking her promise: in Catra's world, she had to be perfect, or she could have been dead by SW's hand. She wasn't allowed to make mistakes like Adora is, she is what is clinically known as 'hyper vigilant' and always preparing for the worst. And so she applies this standard to be perfect all the time to Adora, and therefore she won't give Adora the same license to make mistakes with their friendship. Catra thinks Adora should know better, and see the consequences of her actions.

>Adora lets it go: when Catra seems to shut down, Adora does her best to try to accept her. Adora tries a different track. She asks Catra why she let her and Glimmer go when SW had them imprisoned, when it could have resulted in Catra getting in trouble. Catra walks ahead, trying to distance herself from having to answer. But the magic of the Crystal Castle intervenes: as Adora slips and begins to fall, Catra saves her. It's a symbolic moment: Catra has always tried to protect Adora, to save her from pain. It's why she changed course to give the sword back to her, partly.

"Did you really think I'd just let SW erase your memory like that?"

"I don't know. Probably." Adora shows such little understanding of their friendship. It shows Adora really is thinking of Catra as an enemy, not as the complicated person stuck between protecting her friend, and the cruel necessities of her life.

Catra looks at Adora with disappointment. "Yeah, well, you never did have too much faith in me." Adora tries to understand Catra's emotions, fails.

"Huh, can you blame me?" Ouch. Adora smiles at Catra, trying to show love for her roguish quirks. But it just shows how little Adora understands: she is repeating a negative stereotype of Catra that everyone in their old life believes and perpetuates. And Adora should know better, instead of just assuming the worst about her. That persona is one which Catra uses to protect herself, partly from her own emotional feelings, but also as a necessity to protect herself from SW. She had to act like she doesn't care, doesn't try, so SW wouldn't see her power.

"Psh, not really." As Catra turns away, again she deadpans this but you can see pain and disappointment leaking past her indifference.

As she walks away she trails her tail across Adora's hand, flirting and drawing Adora's attention to her butt. It's a cute little moment of telling a truth to counter the lie: 'Adora, you should know me better, and also, I like you.' Still, it's only a half truth: Catra couldn't let SW win because SW is Catra's true enemy. But, Adora takes the flirtatious hint, as always. She accepts it and doesn't dig deeper.

Catra asks Adora about their childhood, trying to understand how Adora could just throw it all away. Adora gives a very direct and impassioned speech, she looks Catra in the eyes, trying to convince her and make her understand why leaving was the right thing to do. Catra hides her emotions, weighing Adora's answer. She doesn't agree with her sentiment, in Catra's experience good and evil are relative and exist as such everywhere. Also, she's right: we meet many people in the Horde who aren't evil. And Adora's finding the sword is one giant sinister manipulation by Light Hope. Moral grayness is a constant theme in this show. Still, this isn't really why Catra chooses to stay with the Horde.

Adora sees her explanation failing to convince Catra, so she tries reminding Catra of their deeper friendship, telling her she misses her too. Catra is temporarily taken aback at being called out before remembering to deny it. She tells Adora to get over herself, and Adora tells her she won't stop until Catra says she likes her. They flirtatiously rough house, and Catra smiles during it: yeah, she does. But she denies it anyways.

::Adora often tries to be respectful of Catra's personal space but is making an exception here: she's telling her that she finds her desirable, and if Catra wanted it, they could be together. Adora can't understand why Catra feels the need to resist this, but she knows doing it helps her friend feel wanted. Still, this shows how casually Adora views their attraction.

Yes, they should be together. And actually, they had an unspoken agreement that they would be. But Catra's not going to open herself up to that just to serve her desire. She wants more from Adora, for Adora to show her that she really does see her, and cares about her. If she did, maybe Catra could open up about some of her pain. Being intimate without doing that would be impossible, and so far Catra's life still isn't safe enough to risk her feelings. Adora's promotion could have meant the beginning of something new between them, where they worked together to build a more secure future together where Catra didn't have to be fearful all the time. But instead, Adora left her.

So begins the second memory. The two girls, now teenagers, compete against each other in sparring. It's clear they are flirting, and neither is fighting all out. When Catra taunts Adora by putting her finger to her forehead, she shows how much better she is at fighting. She full heartedly laughs, Adora enjoys this and then throws a purposefully weak strike to restart the fight. When Adora seemingly turns the tables through brute force, Catra plays hurt to exploit Adora's naiveness. As Adora tries to show concern, Catra turns the tables back. She wants to teach Adora a lesson: that not everyone will play fair, as Catra knows all too well from SW's abuse. But Lonnie interrupts her. Catra doesn't appreciate this and makes quick work of Lonnie, showing just how good she is. Adora attacks, getting the predetermined win. Catra doesn't enjoy the beat down but accepts Adora's help up. She heads to Lonnie as Adora receives compliments from their commander.

As Catra confronts Lonnie, she tells Catra "you were playing dirty, I was just leveling the field". Catra will hear these words again when she leaves Adora behind in frustration near the end of the episode. They are significant: these are stereotypical views forced on Catra, and those views ignore that Catra was just doing something she felt was important: teaching Adora about the harsh realities that exist in the world. Real enemies don't play by the rules, and will be unpredictable.

As Catra’s anger rises at this, Adora puts her hand on Catra's shoulder to calm her down, then compliments Catra on her fighting skills. Catra ever so casually tosses the comforting hand aside. She's saying 'I can handle my emotions without your help, but thanks for asking.' As she tells Adora she let her win, Adora tries to tell if Catra really is ok.

Thus starts one of cutest exchanges between the two of them: as Catra tries to explain why she lets Adora win, Adora puts on her sideways 'you like me' grin while she playfully denies that Catra let her win. Catra gives a very animated and obviously made up explanation about not wanting to have people expect things from her. Adora grins along, and halfway through her lie Catra leans in, staring at Adora's lips before looking up into her eyes. Once again, Catra is undoing a lie by telling a truth: she let her win because she likes (loves) her. But it's only a half truth, once again...

Adora accepts the explanation, keeping her sideways grin: 'it's so cute how you like me'. Catra's explanation done, Adora moves on, wanting to catch up with their unit. Catra lets her do so while excusing herself. As Adora leaves, a huge amount of meaningful information passes across Catra's face…

First, Catra feels bad about having to lie to Adora, and it shows. Then, as Adora leaves to socialize, disappointment and rejection shows: Catra had hoped Adora might look deeper, and try to see the deeper truth. As Adora turns away and leaves we see a look of total love and adoration on Catra's face. She really, really loves Adora. She's the light of her life, a real idiot no doubt but Catra will always love her for exactly who she is.

The girls remain their younger selves as the rest of the memory plays out, Adora staying to accept praise while Catra separates to deal with her internal feelings which Adora always fails to see: the hurt and aloneness she feels.

>A frustrated young Catra cries, expressing her repressed emotions. It would be easiest to assume she cries because she's sad about losing, but we have to look ahead to the next memory to find the real truth.

Catra is sad because she never had a choice. SW took that choice from her, and while Catra is happy to let Adora win because of the love she feels for her, it hurts that she never really got to decide. And Adora doesn't see that, doesn't see the pain Catra is bearing, hiding. And so she cries for that, too. The one person who should love her doesn't really see her. As she looks up in the mirror to see herself, since no one else in her life seems to see her pain, she sees her present tearful self looking back. The pain of the past is real in the present, and while she's older now and won't let herself give in to tears, she feels the pain as she did back then. (pic 1, below) She sees the tears and it snaps her back to her present self, totally unnerved by the simulation as the security detects her and attacks. A fearful Catra screams, wanting help, wanting Adora.

>Adora snaps back to herself, having been participating in the replay of the memory post Catra excusing herself. She tries to run to help Catra, full of worry. She sees a terrified Catra trapped by the spider. As the spider begins to drag her away the two girls lock arms, trying to free Catra. But it's too strong, and as we see their grip start to slip, Catra looks to Adora wanting, pleading for help. As Catra is pulled away, Adora feels helpless, knowing she couldn't help her friend. She thumps her head in frustration that she wasn't there for Catra.

The scene speaks to an obvious truth: Adora has never quite been there enough for Catra. She's always less present, less aware of Catra's reality than she could have been. But since Catra was experiencing a painful memory when this happened, her reaction shows her vulnerable emotional state, and so she called out for help: Catra just wants to feel safe, for Adora to be there to help her. But she wasn't.

>As Catra is dragged away, she feels helpless, and calls out mournfully for Adora. But she's long gone; Catra is alone and scared, as usual. She screams out her frustration, the realization that she’s never gotten the help she needed, she always ends up alone. She cries tears for the suffering and anguish she feels from that. (pic 2, below) It’s a moment that shows us the real inner Catra: She feels deeply, whether it be her desire to be seen, loved by Adora, or the fear she feels in this moment and others. She tries her best to act confident in herself, but it's a lie: she needs support, yet is left behind by everyone, including Adora. She was willing to bear her pain for Adora's love, but she has become increasingly aware of how tenuous that really was growing up.

>Catra digs deep, like she's always done. She will handle this, won't take the abuse lying down. She shifts her mentality to being the survivor, the person who has survived years of abuse. She frees herself and gets to her feet, accessing her foe, determined to defeat it. She attacks, using her anger to deal damaging blows, seeking to destroy her enemy, to make sure she survives. She stands back, confident she's won, proud of herself for it. She doesn't quit, she always perseveres against those who want to destroy her. (pic 3)

Adora shows up, finishing the monster. Catra doesn't drop her mentality, this person who has lived a separate life from Adora and survived on her own, doing the hard things like winning fights and resisting Shadow Weaver's abuse.

Adora walks forward, seeing Catra's anger, determination. She looks blankly, trying not to upset Catra. She's trying to get a read on Catra but not having any luck, so she's being cautious. She asks if Catra is ok, casually pulling webbing off Catra's shoulder, trying to exist in her physical space without upsetting Catra further. "I had it" says Catra, not dropping her fighter stance, mentality at all. Catra is very much feeling the aloneness of her life from everyone, including Adora.

Adora tries to casually put aside Catra's assertion that she had it, she smiles diplomatically. She tries again to touch Catra, to break down her animosity and get her to calm down. It doesn't work. "We need to make sure we stick together from now on." As Adora touches Catra, she tenses, uncomfortable. Catra has strong touch aversion, and Adora knows this but she also knows doing it sometimes helps Catra shift her mentality, so she's trying to get Catra to connect emotionally, to get her to accept care.

"Will you stop telling me what to do?" An exasperated Catra says. We see a look of total dismay cross Adora's face. She's not understanding why Catra has so much animosity in this moment. (pic below)

As Adora looks at Catra, she hunches her body, looking misunderstood and isolated. Adora has consistently failed to see Catra's emotional states and so Catra is feeling more and more apart; that the mentality of the survivor she's feeling now is the right one. Adora didn't really help her at all growing up, and she doesn't see her for who she really is, either. Adora always took the easy explanation, like saying that Catra did things for her because she liked her. Never looking deeper, trying to see her struggle. And so Catra doesn't drop her combative pose, she stays in it because she feels in control, less vulnerable.

As for the words "stop telling me what to do", that's an essay in itself but consider: just now Adora became frustrated when she lost Catra, and now tells her they need to stay together. But they didn't, they never did, and even when they are together Adora is no real help to Catra. So she reacts in anger to Adora trying to direct her. After all, in the next scene we will see that Adora leads Catra into danger, and then doesn't really help her as she gets abused. Adora is no great leader, not according to Catra's experience.

::Adora is having a total loss, here, as she tries to understand Catra, why she's angry at her: It's because she has never really known this 'survivor' side of Catra. Adora wants to comfort her and calm her down, but Catra isn't having it. I think this is when we first see Adora begin to realize that there is something is very wrong with her friend that she has completely failed to see, and she's deeply worried by it. (pic 2)

[pic cation: Adora can't read Catra's emotions, Adora realizes Catra is deeply angry. Outside SW’s chamber, Adora wants to take Catra’s hand.]

Adora loves Catra, but can't seem to get through to her: Catra is holding herself apart from Adora. Again, Catra pushes Adora's hand aside, frustrated. She expresses her exasperation at the situation, saying she's sick of what's going on. Adora follows along, confused. As Catra seemingly purposefully leaves her behind, Adora demands to know what Catra's problem is, saying that she was trying to save her. Catra looks down at her confrontationally, frustrated with Adora's lack of vision. "For the last time, I don't need you to save me. I've been doing just fine on my own. No thanks to you." Uh oh.

The words "no thanks to you" are especially cutting. Adora has totally failed to see the struggles Catra had all her life, she didn't understand the hurt and abuse Catra was fighting against. And so Catra did it all on her own, protecting herself and trying to remain strong. Her love of Adora might have helped her have hope, but fundamentally Catra overcame the abuse by not giving up on herself, believing she had worth, and not letting others tear her down.

Adora runs to Catra's side, taking her arm in one hand. Feeling her friend becoming increasingly distant from her, Adora tries authentically telling Catra her feelings, hoping to make her friend see her desire to help and understand her. Adora explains that she's sorry for leaving and that she did it because she couldn't stand the war the Horde has pursued. Her next words are telling: "but I never wanted to leave you". 'Want' is an important word in this series, and it comes up again in season 5 when Catra asks Adora "what do you want, Adora?”. By choosing to leave the Horde, Catra feels that Adora wanted that more than she wanted what they had together. Also, promises are not something you're supposed to break over a 'want'. And Adora so casually breaking their promises makes Catra think she doesn't matter to Adora. It's not the truth, but this belief still determines her reaction in this moment. Even though Adora dearly loves Catra, including at this point in the story, she hasn't shown it in a way that Catra can see as meaningful. As Adora finishes saying this, Catra looks back, feeling alone and unwanted, seemingly thinking 'but you did leave me, Adora.'

Adora tries to appeal to Catra to join the rebellion with her. Then she says "I know you're not a bad person, Catra. You don't belong with the Horde." Catra must be thinking 'Ok so at what point did you become the authority on whether someone is good or bad, Adora?' Adora has shown no interest in understanding Catra's position, she treated her as an enemy without fail since she left her, literally in every single case including at Princess Prom when Catra was trying so hard to romance her. And Catra doesn't accept Adora's naive black and white view of the world. Think about it: when Adora defects she begins treating all Horde with hostility, including her dearest friend, she judges them all and doesn’t even try to see them as the complicated people that they are. So when she suggests Catra doesn't belong with the Horde, Catra looks back at her, feeling totally isolated from Adora. Even though Adora's plea is earnest, Catra declines it.

>As the next memory begins, we see Adora now has both hands on Catra's arm, she's desperately trying to hold on to her bond with Catra and show her desire to fix things between them. Catra doesn't drop her wary demeanor at all, and Adora looks lost and anxious over this as a young Catra runs by.

The memory starts out full of childhood innocence as the two of them play together. When the girls see that the Black Garnet chamber is open, young Adora remarks "we're definitely not allowed in there." Young Catra looks at Adora, seemingly asking if she wants to go in, trusting her. Young Adora runs off, and Catra follows her in. Yes, Catra participates in the decision, but she's not the one who runs towards the chamber, and that's important to what happens next.

A worried (adult) Adora looks to her friend who seems so distant, stoic. Anxiously, Adora tells Catra "You don't have to go in there." Adora knows what happens next is very bad, that this is a hurtful memory for Catra. As an unwavering Catra begins to walk towards the chamber, Adora looks down at Catra's hand. [pic above] She wants desperately to reach out and take it, to hold Catra back from this terrible moment, to tell her she's sorry for messing up. Adora knows now that she screwed up, that she's let Catra down, somehow more than she ever realized. She doesn't know what to do about it… she follows Catra inside.

The young girls explore, Catra touches the black garnet and gets shocked. Adora has second thoughts, she realizes they're trespassing.. but of course, SW returns, so they try to hide. As SW takes off the mask, Adora cries out, taken aback... young Catra looks at her in dismay. She's about to pay for Adora's mistake with a lifetime of suffering. Offended, SW tells them to "Get out!" but rethinks. She puts the mask back on, and decides to use this moment to instead abuse the girls and use the crime of their trespass against them. As SW tells Catra to stay, Adora turns around, seeing that Catra is caught, and she's scared for her friend. She really did make a poor decision, and as a highly empathetic person, what happens to Catra scars Adora, too.

Held powerless by magic, Catra tries to explain that they were just playing. SW's words to her set the stage for a lifetime of physical and psychological abuse: SW leans over her menacingly, telling her "Insolent child, I've come to expect such disgraceful behavior from you, but I will not allow you to drag Adora down as well." Again, it's not Catra who decided to go in, so it's really not her fault. SW disparages her and heaps blame upon her for Adora's bad choice, ignoring the truth.

Adora weakly tries to protect Catra, saying "SW, it wasn't her fault. It was my idea too." It's an understandable response, as they're just little kids. Still, Adora could have taken the blame for their trespass, since she led Catra inside. But it's about to get a lot more hurtful for Catra...

SW's voice echoes through Catra's head as she trembles in terror: "You have never been anything more than a nuisance to me. I've kept you around this long because Adora was fond of you but if you ever do anything to jeopardize her future, I will dispose of you myself. Do you understand ?" Catra trembles in fear, her eyes unfocused, the room empty but for SW menacing her. She's in a dissociative state, terrified and helpless. I think some people probably feel like this must have been a idle threat, but it isn't: SW abuses Catra many times after this for her mistakes. And the depiction of the dissociative state helps us understand just how damaging it was. While Adora seemingly goes on to not realize the importance of this memory, for Catra it is formative to her entire life.

Again, Adora tries weakly to stop what's happening, putting herself between them. She tells SW "please, stop" then looks over at Catra, full of concern. Running over to SW, she tells her "she didn't mean to". This is so hurtful, as young Catra is very smart. Catra knows Adora has blown it again, after all, what is it that she "didn't mean to" do when it was Adora's idea to trespass? Adora isn't getting the magnitude of the situation, and Catra is very much left to fend for herself.

SW then does a very insidious thing to Adora, a very directed abuse that's meant to work against her personality and empathetic reactions to others pain. She tells her "Adora, you must do a better job of keeping her under control. Do not let something like this happen again..." SW follows this up with years of manipulation to make Adora even more susceptible to abuse. But in this moment, SW again heaps the blame for Adora's mistake onto Catra, who did nothing wrong. For Catra, she comes to believe that what she did doesn't even matter, nobody cares what the truth was. Even Adora. But for Adora, the hurt goes deep as well. She made a bad decision, her friend gets hurt for it, and she never comes clean... instead, she's told she has to do a better job of controlling her friend, and that she has to be perfect so that it doesn't happen again. It's a deep and hurtful moment for Adora, just like it is for Catra. But the hurt is much less direct, and more sneaky. Nonetheless, Adora struggles with this moment, this abuse of her, in the most intimate and painful ways all throughout the series.

Young Catra watches on as SW completes her manipulation of Adora. For Catra, she's left with the feeling that nothing she does matters, she was blamed for something she didn't even do. And Adora seemingly took the easy out, spreading the blame. But she doesn't realize this moment is so insidious for Adora, that it attacks and manipulates her at her emotional need to help others. From this moment on, Adora is afflicted with a desperate fear that she can't protect others, and must lead perfectly so they don't get hurt. This internal conflict erodes Adora's self worth, and causes her great emotional pain throughout the series. Catra, instead, believes she is being told she has no worth, and isn't even allowed to make her own decisions. It's hurtful, and it's part of why she tensed so badly at Adora for trying to tell her what to do earlier. We see this realization cross young Catra's face: she feels forgotten in this moment.

We see the young girls walking away from SW's chamber, Adora with her hand around Catra's shoulder. This comfort is not enough... Catra really needed Adora to stand up for her there, to come clean, and she didn't. Trying to comfort her now seems hollow. As they flash to their present selves, Catra knocks Adora's arm aside in frustration, accusing her of needing to play the hero.

Adora responds, saying she was only trying to protect her. Catra's next words tell the real truth of their childhood: "You never protected me! Not in any way that would put you on SW's bad side!" Adora at first chafes at this statement, feeling like she did try to protect her, then crosses over to confusion at the strength of Catra's assertion. Catra is telling Adora she was blind to her pain. She wasn't there for her, and this is very much at the core of Catra's disappointment with Adora: the fact that she never stayed, never tried to understand. Adora let SW control her, make her ambitious, and so Catra was put to the side of that, and over time Adora grew apart from her. Catra’s exact words here are important: she says that Adora ‘plays’ at being the hero, yet always seemingly protected her status as the favorite, never standing up to SW and risking harm onto herself in order to save Catra from pain.

And so, the fact that out of seemingly out of nowhere, Adora decides to risk everything and defect in order to fight for people she doesn't even know, insults Catra. Adora abandons and consequently fights against her own people, leaving Catra behind, unilaterally treating her as an enemy. Never, in their whole lives, did Adora ever fight for Catra, only offering affection afterwards to make up for the cruelties that happened to Catra. So no, Catra doesn't want Adora to save her, or her sympathy, when she seemingly cared so little about her pain. Adora was no hero to her.

Now an obvious question might be: if the manipulation is that Adora is supposed to protect and control Catra, then shouldn't she have had to see SW abuse Catra for it to work? The first part of the answer is that it was never really about that, once the idea was put in Adora’s head, SW used it to manipulate her further into a mentality where Adora would accept praise, promotion on her path to becoming a force captain.

The other is that when someone is being hurt like Catra was in that moment... if the one person in the world who is supposed to get it doesn't get it... then it becomes very hard to ever bring it up to them again. It's a specific type of hurt and abandonment: for Catra, she goes on to believe that this is her burden, that somehow she alone is supposed to learn these hard lessons. And so she doesn't tell Adora about the abuse. Also, keep in mind that they are small children, and Catra doesn't want Adora to hurt like she does... so she's actually protecting her, in her mind. But the fact that time goes by and Adora never seemed to care, to stop and see Catra's pain, was very hurtful to her. And Catra’s feelings of betrayal at Adora’s not seeing the hurt are justified: in episode 1, we see Adora watch SW menace Catra, then happily run off to accept her promotion, only remembering to check on Catra as an afterthought. Catra needed Adora's support, and never really got it.

[pic caption: (left to right) Adora’s apparent willful ignorance of the abuse.]

So Catra believes she learns these hard lessons so Adora won't have to, but is left alone in her pain. This also means that SW specifically abused Catra at times and in places so Adora wouldn't be aware, which again, tells us it was never really about making Adora responsible for Catra's decisions. No, the reasons were much darker, and Catra bore it all alone.

The girls flash to their younger selves, and Catra accuses Adora: "Admit it, you love being her favorite." Catra is telling Adora that she was disappointed and hurt that Adora kept accepting praise and privilege from SW, after that moment when she so clearly should have seen how SW abused her, and the maliciousness of the death threat. In Catra’s mind, Adora could have rejected SW. As painful as it is for a small child to be without any parents, it would have been the right thing to do, for Catra. SW was no good to Catra, and they could have shared the pain of being orphans who only had each other, but instead Catra ended up bearing all of the abuse while Adora was given privilege.

Adora denies this assertion, and yet she did accept the privilege SW offered her. Catra's next words show how ignorant Adora was to the realities of their lives as they flash back to their present selves: "Oh yeah? When you left, who do you think took the fall for you? Who was protecting me then ?" Catra bore all the abuse and punishment for Adora's leaving, and Adora wasn't there to see it. Catra did this bravely for Adora, in fact, up until before Princesse Prom, Catra did everything she could to cover for Adora, just like she asked, protecting her, hoping she'd come back to her. But Adora shows no understanding at all for what Catra went through, she didn't even think about what must have been happening to her. Adora has never taken the time to think about how her actions affect Catra's life.

Adora counters, suggesting that Catra could leave the Horde, and therefore get away from SW's abuse. Catra just glares back at her, disappointed. Catra knows running from the abuse won't solve anything.

::What this comes down to is a totally different understanding of the world. For Adora, she thinks she became a hero for leaving the Horde, and becoming She-ra. She doesn't realize she was lucky to fall into the situation she did, with Bow and Glimmer helping her gain acceptance and protecting her. She's totally unaware that the reality that her becoming She-ra is a manipulation born out of evil intent. For Catra, she's always known that the world is harsh, and that bad people exist who will try to destroy you. She's not afraid to fight, she's had no choice learning these harsh truths. It's a jaded view that negatively affects her perceptions of people, but it prepares her for the worst, and so she relies on it. So when Adora suggests she run from it, she rejects her as naive. They flash back to their younger selves after Adora suggests Catra can leave like she did, and Catra accusingly points out that she doesn't need to follow Adora around. That they're children is relevant to the previous memory where Adora led Catra into danger, and then didn't protect her. Catra isn't interested in following Adora blindly after she's put her in danger so badly in the past.

Flashing back present selves, Catra tells Adora she doesn't want to leave. As she says this her face conveys her anger at the world, her drive to face SW instead of flee. She says "I'm not afraid of SW anymore, and I'm a better force captain than you ever would have been." Let's take this in parts: Catra won't run from her abuser, she's already planning to take her down. Doing so is important to Catra, as it fixes her world in an important way. And that Adora can't see this just shows how far apart they are now. In Catra's mind, Adora was supposed to stay, and as they rose to power together, they would have supplanted SW, fixing Catra's world. The two of them would have been stronger in the end. But Adora did leave, so Catra impatiently tries to get Adora to see that she won't just run away. If Adora doesn't want to help Catra overcome this evil, then she'll do it on her own.

Her disappointment in Adora for abandoning this fight is apparent, what comes to mind is when Catra calls Adora weak in the Sea Gate episode. And now Catra knows she's got the power to do this, she's a force captain, and if she can just find a reason to depose SW she knows she has the station and fighting ability to take her down. She always knew she could lead, but was happy to let Adora have success because she really didn't want that responsibility. So she points out her superiority, not to show that she's better than Adora, but to tell Adora she was blind to Catra's worth, and to be hurtful to Adora for abandoning her.

They flash back to their child selves: Adora looks at Catra, hurt and confused "You always said you didn't care about things like that." Adora is feeling hurt by the idea that she was unknowingly taking advantage of Catra, because Catra has seemily just told her she was lying.

Now, this next part is important, and it's important that we are seeing Catra's reaction as her child self: Catra looks sad and lonely as Adora finishes her question, and she's crying. Something adult Catra would never let herself do. So we're seeing a much more authentic expression of Catra's hurt and emotions than if it were her present self. What you need to understand here is that those emotions don't really match her words... Catra tells her "Well I was lying, obviously!" But her face says she's angry and hurt at Adora for not seeing her pain.

As she delivers those words her face is full of accusation and insult, she's being dramatic, something we will see Catra do time and time again. She stares down Adora, eyes scrunched up, showing Adora how betrayed she felt by her insensitivity. Then we get sadness, disappointment. Finally, we get a lonely kind of furious sorrow: all that time feeling alone and Adora didn't bother to understand is written on her face.

The tears are still flowing, but as she turns away they shift back to their present selves. Adult Catra looks totally alone, heartbroken.

Ok but how we REALLY know Catra isn't telling the truth is this: almost word for word, this moment exists in episode 1. ANY time you see that happen in this show, you need to look back to find the meaning of it.

>We will need to look in totality of this scene in episode 1: An excited Catra pounces on Adora, asking her what SW said. She sees the badge and takes it. Here's a funny thing, because we see Catra jump on Adora you might think Catra is always like this, she just comes into Adora's space as she pleases. But once Catra has the badge, we see no anger or jealousy. Just total wonder. She shows nothing but exuberation and happiness for Adora's promotion (pic 1, lower left fyi).

Catra knew this could be the turning point she's been waiting for, that Adora was due for promotion. And so she's jumping all over Adora, full of joy. We only see her attitude change once Adora tells her SW isn't letting her go on missions. And so, we can infer a lot of information from this...

Catra expected this moment to change their lives for the better. That Adora's rising in rank means freedom, the beginning of something new. Some many new things, in Catra's case. But Catra definitively shows us in this scene that she doesn't desire the success for herself. She only shows happiness for Adora, for them together, and she's ecstatic. (pic 1, fyi)

This, in Catra's mind, probably means the start of their romantic lives. If Adora is the force captain that brings them to victory, SW won't be able to just trample all over their lives. Catra can begin letting down some walls, maybe even let Adora pursue her romantically. If they're together, and Adora is on her side because of that, she becomes safe from her abuser. It's a much better outcome than trying to fight SW, but that's not how the story goes. No, Adora leaves her instead. How's that for emotional whiplash? All of these truths are laid bare in s3ep5, when we see Catra's perfect reality, when she and Adora are together romantically. Catra only wants to be safe and to be loved, but when Adora leaves her she loses trust in the goodness of Adora, and in people in general.

> Adora tells Catra she shouldn't be surprised she's been cut of of the mission because she's so rude to SW, to which Catra responds by calling Adora a people pleaser, then storming off in anger...

::Note, as this is important: Adora is taking SW’s side, and not Catra’s, which is entirely opposite of their early childhood memory of Octavia. It shows how Adora had started listening to the negative judgements others placed on Catra...

>Adora goes after Catra, finding her sulking on the roof. Catra is angry, betrayed by the world, at the injustice that SW is in her life. Adora asks "I didn't even think you wanted to be a force captain?" Catra tossed the badge at her, saying she doesn't. Then she folds her body up, holding herself. Adora sees this, but doesn't touch her. She's being careful to respect Catra's boundaries. But the anger Catra feels here isn't about being denied the chance to be a force captain, it's at all the hurt that SW has dealt her and continues to do so. And Adora doesn't see that, which disappoints Catra. But, she's unable to verbalize it herself, she is too insecure in her emotional vulnerability, so she lets it slide.

What we have here is two different instances of the same question with two different answers, but in both cases Catra is telling the truth. In episode 1, it's the truth that she doesn't care about being a force captain because of her love for Adora, and the promise, in her mind, that they will eventually be together. In episode 11, Catra then says she lied, and this now is also true: Catra did think about what she was going through, all the pain and sacrifices she made for Adora, which were done in the name of love. But Adora doesn't love her the way that Catra loves Adora, instead leaving her behind. And so now that Adora didn't ever see how excellent a person Catra actually was, how dedicated to her she is, and the pain she was willing to bear for her sake, it does matter. Because that's shitty of her, and so now Catra will survive on her own by her own excellence, her strength that Adora never stopped to see. So Catra is guilting Adora, trying to make her see how blind and unfeeling she is.

>Back to ep11: Catra tries to walk away from Adora, who desperately chases her, trying to understand why Catra is becoming so distant, wanting her to tell her what's wrong. She reaches out for Catra's shoulder in one last attempt to get Catra to talk, she knows touching Catra could maybe get her to be more open. But the truth is Adora has been far too easy on Catra, she needs to be more forceful if she wants Catra to talk, which she later comes to understand... she's been coddling Catra, and so Catra is allowed to wallow in her unhealthy mental states.

Catra takes Adora's hand, forcefully holding it away from her and delivering a hurtful line: "Why do you think I gave the sword back to you in the fright zone? I didn't WANT you to come back, Adora!" This hits Adora like a load of bricks, her dismay is evident. And it's all true, which is the sad part. Catra was already preparing to cut ties with Adora, as even by that point she had come to a realization, a decision: if Adora doesn't want to be with her, then she'll do it herself. She will do the hard things on her own.

She turns away from Adora, looking hurt and betrayed. And Adora is at a complete loss, she doesn't know this side of Catra, this part of her that has survived hardship all these years... she lets her leave, not knowing what to do.

Adora is then attacked by the security, which takes up her time. As that happens, we see memories only shown to Catra. Catra runs, emotionally overwhelmed as all the unfair judgements, the abuse, and hollow apologies ring out around her. All the years of frustration and sadness weigh on her, she tries to keep it together, lashing out at the holograms. She falls to her knees, fighting back emotion and trying not to cry, her inner, vulnerable self is near the surface, and she's trying not to break down in tears over all of the hurt she's had to bear...

… and then she hears soft crying...

She turns to see her younger, tiny self, crying. Then, a tiny Adora joins the tiny Catra. Unlike the other memories, Catra never flashes into her younger self, she just watches...

The tiny Adora pulls the blanket down, Catra hisses at her... Adora sits down next to her tenderly. And we finally get the promise, the two parts that Adora has so tragically broke...

Adora tells her "It doesn't matter what they do to us, you know? You look out for me, and I look out for you... nothing really bad can happen as long as we have each other." The tiny Catra looks at Adora, wanting to trust her, to believe in her. As she says the question, present Catra echos it: "You promise ?" This was a sacred moment that gave Catra hope as a young orphan, that maybe she would be ok.

And so, the present Catra echoes it. Adora tells her she promises, as the skeptical present Catra looks on. Tiny Catra is still sad, insecure... she hugs Adora, needing this. Adora suggests they go back out to play... and we see tiny Catra look at her, still afraid, reluctant, wanting to stay. But she decides to trust Adora, and so they walk out, holding hands. Then something unique happens. Tiny Catra stops to look up at her present self: note, this is entirely a unique moment in the simulation, it never happened in reality... and yet Catra is given this moment...

The innocent child stares up Catra, making her see her. It's a look full of meaning, it doesn't carry any specific emotion... only innocence. Catra is having an inner child moment. That most deep and innocent part of her, her vulnerable self who feels love, is communicating with her. It's asking her to see it's vulnerability, and it's pain. Catra sees this, all of the pain Adora has caused her, the breaking of the promise, the promise that this innocent part of her was holding on to desperately with hope. She is forced to acknowledge Adora's disloyalty to her, her carelessness. Catra is reflecting on how she did her absolute best to keep that promise, even after Adora failed to look out for her in SW's chamber. Catra was so loyal and so good to Adora all of their lives; she made sure Adora had a good life, and she played by SW's rules so Adora could be the chosen one, wanting to protect her. All in the hope that they would be together, and that their love was real. But Adora couldn't even do that much, she left her. And Adora doesn't understand her, she doesn't even seem to miss her.

[pic 9: Broken Promises, Catra’s inner child, The Hero goes Her Own Way].

Present Catra watches her tiny self leave, coming to the tough realization: that she's never been able to trust Adora, not really. Her love isn't reciprocated, not by her standards.

…. which makes Adora a deeply unsafe person to Catra...

Catra survived SW's abuse, learning to believe in herself, protect herself because no one else would. All while keeping this hope of love in her heart, this vulnerable core of herself that has tenderness and loves Adora, and needs love back. But, her need for love goes to such a deep vulnerability that giving in to it and then again being rejected or forgotten by Adora would simply destroy her. SW held the threat of death over Catra’s head her entire life, and Catra resisted it, got through it by being tough and trusting in herself. So now she sees she can't trust Adora: everything that happened since she left her behind, the fact that Adora always treats her as an enemy, that she seems to show no lingering desire for her, and doesn't even seem to miss her while replacing her with new friends, seems to confirm her worst fears. Fears that have been building over the years, starting when Adora broke their promise in SW's chamber, and then as Adora pursued her success while accepting praise and privilege from SW, ignoring the abuse Catra bore because of it. She decides she can't trust Adora. Love is a lie, a weakness. A weakness that could destroy her last bit of individuality, and belief in the world.

And so, Catra, The Survivor, makes the decision... in her mind it's the brave one, just like way back when and she decided to bravely stand up to SW's abuse and not let it destroy her: she will stand up to the threat that is the weakness of her love for Adora. Adora is selfish, she doesn't deserve Catra's love. She was stupid to believe that love was even possible, for someone like her… who has always been ignored, and told she is unworthy of praise or even existence. There's only one thing left for her to do: she will be alone, strong on her own, for herself.

Her gaze hardens... that part of her that has made sure she survived SW's abuse, and made sure she won fights when she was threatened, is now the decider. It will protect her from her vulnerability, and reject Adora for her. I suppose you might be confused as to what I'm referring, or maybe not... If you haven't had to fight for your life, whether physically, mentally, or otherwise, you might not know this side of yourself well. But we all have it, it's The Survivor. And while I knew mine would protect me, I didn't accept it as my real self, I didn't accept its necessary but vicious deeds as my own. This is very much how Catra is, and as the series goes on she puts this survivor in charge of more and more decisions, we watch her deteriorate as this part of her gets out of control, protecting her from darkness with more darkness. All the while her vulnerable inner self suffers, watching the horrible deeds and becoming more and more alone, desperate for affection.

>Adora is outnumbered, eventually ending up hanging from the cliff's edge by spider webs. She hears Catra return, dealing with the spiders. Adora looks up, hopeful because Catra has returned...

Catra saunters in. Let me say a few things before we go through this part: Catra is about to say a lot of things that aren't really true. They are instead meant to be hurtful to Adora, Catra is being intentionally mean. We shouldn't take her exact words as her authentic beliefs, because they're not... no, Catra is doing what she believes she has to so she can be apart for Adora, and be safe from her. The truth is, Catra needs to be away from Adora. She's too scared of the vulnerability that is her love for Adora, because Adora hasn't shown her that she cares. And she can't do that by defecting, no, she must stay with the Horde. It's the only thing she feels there is left for her to do.

Now, let's go through this: and heads up: I'm getting at something very powerful that's going on here that you may not have realized. This speech is, in fact, a heroic moment. A heroic moment... for Catra. Not Adora, for Catra. And you just need to open your ears to hear it...

"Hey Adora."

🎶 is sad

"Catra! Help me, please!"

"This thing wouldn't work for me if I tried, would it? It only works for you... then again, you're special... that's what Shadow Weaver always said..."

🎶 is melancholy

"Catra, what are you doing??"

"Ah, ya know, it all makes sense now... you've always been the one holding me back... you wanted me to think I needed you, you wanted me to feel weak."

🎶 has even tone

"Every hero needs a sidekick, right?"

"Catra that's not how it was.."

🎶 rises, falls, sad (“Promise” begins playing)

*Catra chuckles* "The sad thing is I've spent all this time hoping you'd come back to the Horde... when really you leaving was the best thing that EVER happened to me..."

🎶 lowers, is dark, is dramatic. -Note: we see Catra seemingly become deranged as she says this line. This is Catra deceiving herself out of perceived necessity.

"I am so much stronger than anyone... ever... thought." *she cuts part of the web*

🎶 begins to rise, uplifting

"I wonder what I could have been if I'd gotten rid of you sooner." *she cuts the rest of the web, Adora falls, catching herself*

🎶 rises, is dramatic

"I'm sorry! I never meant to make you feel like you were second best. Please, don't do this."

🎶 is still rising, uplifting

*Catra stands proudly, nobly, looking at the sword. She looks down at Adora, then she casually tosses the sword past her...

🎶 is rising, hopeful, heroic.

"Bye Adora, I really am going to miss you..."

🎶 is heroic, violins now playing, adding depth

*Catra turns and walks away from Adora, proudly*

🎶 has risen to its height, crests, is heroic.

"Catra... Catra, no!!"

🎶 remains high, cresting, heroic

*Adora cries, sad, confused by Catra's leaving her...*

🎶 crests again, fades out...

Ok, so... let's talk about what just happened here. The undeniable conclusion is that this was meant to be a heroic moment, and a damn heroic moment... for Catra. The writers are telling us that Catra leaving is an important part of her hero’s journey, and that it was the right thing to do. You might be wondering, how can that be? The short answer is, Catra is on a hero’s journey unlike all the other hero’s journeys normally portrayed in fiction. All of it, even her darkest deeds, all her cruelty towards Adora, will be part of a very... important... and powerful... journey. One which will forge her into a hero in this series, in her own incredible right... how this is, what she is, is yet to be revealed... but make no mistake, she's a hero. Just not the one you expect…

We see Adora open her eyes, and see Light Hope. She tells Adora to let go. She means of her emotional attachments, as we find out. Adora cries for her lost Catra, that she couldn't bring her back to her. She lets go...

BIG ASSERTION TIME: Now, I know it's a common theory that these memories were all just an elaborate manipulation by Light Hope to divide the girls from each other, but I don't agree with that. No, I believe this was a memory journey guided by Catra, subconsciously, to help her tell Adora why she couldn't come with her, why she has to be apart.

Take for instance the memories and visions that Adora sees when she's on her way to the Heart of Etheria in season 5: this system exists apart from Light Hope, who dies at the end for season 4. This simulation comes from somewhere more primal: in my belief, it is the deep magic of Etheria being visualized through the First One's tech. We see the simulation show Catra the promise memory, something Adora isn't shown at all, and then allows her to see her inner child's hurt. Something deeper is going on here, and you should consider how strongly the magic of Etheria is resonating with Catra when it does. Because the magic of Etheria will again speak directly to Catra, this isn't the last time... In short, the magic helps the two of them to understand each other, because Catra is an important part of Adora's true She-ra journey.

I also believe that a theme of this series is that abusers, like L. Hope, are not perfect vindictive manipulators. They are flawed, and L. Hope in particular, I believe, is no genius: she fails time and time again. That L. Hope uses the moment to get Adora to let go is her using the moment to her advantage, she didn't play ultimate control over it. She just piggy backed on Catra's hurt to do it. So that last memory really was for Catra... Furthermore, I simply cannot believe L.Hope would understand the concept of the inner child… as she can't even understand sarcasm.

But now, because of this, Adora now knows of Catra's pain... and this is the beginning of Adora's long journey back to Catra, of her repairing their bond…

Let's address the obvious counterpoint: Adora now knows that Catra is hurt, but she doesn't yet understand why. And it's not really her fault, as Catra doesn't know how to talk about her feelings, among other things. But it's apparent that Adora doesn't remember these crucial memories as well as Catra does, even though they were critical in her development as well. Adora is a mess of emotions, just like Catra, and (if) she has ADHD, it might be one reason why she doesn't really get Catra. Especially if her parental figure has been manipulating it against her. Adora very much vibrates between stimuli anxiously, so SW might have made her forgetful by distraction over time. Also, the way in which Adora treats Catra as an enemy when she doesn't accept Adora’s (totally rushed, afterthought, and hollow) ultimatum that she defect with her, is a reflection of Adora's ingrained Horde war training… this is something she has to unlearn, as it is wrong. But Adora is a good person, she really, truely, is, because Adora never stops trying to make it better. And so, she slowly, but surely, comes to understand Catra’s trauma.

We get one last scene of Catra returning to the fright zone. We get to see Catra's truth here: She walks, as if she's not even there, she's deadened by the sorrow and the inevitability of what her life will now be: one of hard work, and zero joy. She will try her best to stand on her own, and put Adora out of her heart, slamming its doors shut against love. It doesn't work, but that's what she's trying to do, nonetheless. This is the beginning of a profound depression that builds over the next 3 seasons, and combined with new traumas, nearly takes her life.

But the tech Catra has brought back will end up giving her what she needs to face down and depose SW, just like she needed...

::Here is another complicated twist that's so essential to She-ra as a series: Catra, in fact, protects Adora by taking down SW. Catra may go on to command the Hordes forces so effectively that it pushes the Princess alliance harder than it's ever been pushed before, but her deposing SW is extremely important in the story. She both removes SW’s ability to attack Adora, and then denies her any sorcerous power by taking the Black Garnet from her, since SW needs an external source to draw power from in order to use her vampiric powers...

Ok so more theory time: it's a common belief that Catra stays with the Horde, and goes on to try to conquer the world out of some deep need to externally validate herself, and to prove she was the better child by beating Adora. I don't think any of these explanations are true. Catra may go on to play such a character on a surface level, but every time she professes to have any such ambitions, she is either in the presence of Adora, or under incredible stress. In the one case, she's saying those things to try to hurt Adora, and make her see how naive and foolish Adora always was, especially now that Adora thinks she can fight against her.

In the other case, it's actually her survivor mechanism trying to take over, to make her world safe. In every case where Catra says something about ambition, somewhere in that scene, Catra shows the distinct emotions of her true inner self: generally, these emotions are sorrow, fear, and loneliness. They don't exist on screen long, they are what is known as micro expressions. (See below for a short discussion of Catra’s micro expressions.)

To put it simply, the only reason Catra stays with the Horde is so she has somewhere she can be separate from her feelings and heartbreak over Adora, and then she climbs the ranks in order to find safety, first from SW, and then Hordak, once he threatens her life with his temper tantrums. That she fights against Adora is just a collateral consequence, she isn't out to get Adora, but nor does she care if Adora gets hurt, because she’s hurt her. Catra does fight against the princesses, though (including She-ra).

A core feature of Catra's character is indeed one of personal power. She's a person who is told to hurry up and die at an early age, but refused to do so. So her arc, her issue, isn't a cautionary tale about chasing validation, it's about her overcoming her fear of vulnerability and allowing herself to rely on others in a way that lets her be safe without needing to combat the darkness with more darkness. But vulnerability scares her because of the abuse she experienced.

As for validation, the only person she would want that from is Adora. This is because Catra believes in herself already: that she has a sacred right to exist, no matter what SW and others may tell her (note: Adora struggles with this, she's actually the one who seeks validation). But, she also needs love, and she is too fearful that Adora doesn't really love her and is afraid of being hurt by that. It's also why I think she's so chaotic towards Adora: her inner child tells her adult self to protect her from her love for Adora, which it tries to do, but that same child misses and needs Adora in so many ways. So she's trying to be mean to compensate for the incredible desire she feels towards Adora. I love it when Adora calls her a brat in season 5, it's such a well deserved line, mmhhmmm.

Actual discussions of how these particulars play out in the show are better left for another time, but there you have it.

Promise sidebar discussions: Catra’s micro expressions; Catra nearly dies at the Battle of Bright Moon

“White Out” microexpression discussion: [see pics below] This is the first time since the Battle of Bright Moon that Catra and Adora meet. So it's a good time to talk about Catra’s micro expressions. Picture 1: Adora says “Hey, Catra” out of the blue and Catra is completely blindsided, she figured she wouldn't be bothered out in the middle of nowhere. She's anxious and unhappy to be seeing Adora. Along with her suspicious absence the episode before in “Roll With It”, the answer is obvious: Catra has been avoiding Adora. She may have cut ties with her in “Promise”, nearly bested her at the Battle of BM, but she doesn't want to see her. She doesn't know what she feels about her.

Picture 2: Enraged monsters are decimating the base, and a battle breaks out over the corrupted disc. Catra is desperately trying to protect it, because she can control Adora if she has it... and she needs this chance to have her back. As Catra reaches to pick it up, she's facing away from everyone and so no one can see her desperation and sadness from missing Adora. (pic 2) Shortly after, we also see her clutch the disc desperately to her chest in a way that's very endearing, right before the monster attacks her and makes her drop it. Then, as she's about to die in its jaws because she doesn't want to give Adora up again, Scorpia breaks the disc and saves her life. We see in this episode as Catra completely loses track of her emotions, and now realizes she has to come to terms with the fact that she's so desperately sad from missing Adora, she was willing to die just for a chance to have her back.

Pic 3: Catra hates working for the Horde. She HATES it. She gets zero joy from the job, and she’s already figured out that Hordak will kill her if she screws up too badly. She didn't want this job, plain and simple, but now feels stuck with it. None of this is the life she wanted. Combining this knowledge against Catra’s declaration to Adora at the end of Promise, we know she's not happy that she had to go her own way...

Catra’s near death experience at the Battle of Bright Moon

At the Battle of Bright Moon, Catra leads Adora (She-ra) away. They battle, but then Catra retreats and instead starts listing out every single worst fear of failure she thinks Adora has. It's a dark moment, she's acting much like SW did to them as children, and we watch her manipulation take root in Adora. Finally, her words are too much, and as Catra looks down at Adora's (She-ra's) back, we see Adora become deranged, overcome with her fear of failing everyone... (pic1, above) she picks up a boulder and throws it directly at Catra. Catra is knocked flying, and only by the barest of margins does she keep from falling to her death. Adora nearly kills Catra. And so, as Adora drags Catra up from the cliff and slams her into the wall, we see a totally heartbroken and emotionally crushed Catra. In this moment, Catra believes all of her worst fears are confirmed: Adora only cares about being She-ra, so much so that Adora would kill her in the name of being that hero. Catra uses this moment, this belief, to justify her division from Adora. Sadly, she's wrong... she's ignoring the seriousness of the threat that the battle poses, and as Adora was facing away from her during that moment, she doesn't see the terror and desperation Adora experiences due to her cruel words…

Oh, and one more thing before we go: when Catra says “What, did you really think this was about you ?” SPOILER ALERT: It was. Because She-ra is one big Catradora story… and we love it.

As always, thanks for reading. <3

~EtheriaDearie

P.S. :: as I am new to tumblr, if you enjoyed reading this, please consider giving me a reblogg! Thanks!! 🙇💛

#she ra #spop #she ra and the princesses of power #catradora #happy birthday Catra #catra #she ra shadow weaver #shadow weaver #adora #my writing #thanks for reading #she ra synopsis #she ra fan theory #she ra meta

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jasontoddiefor · 4 years ago

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nobody's keeping score

Ship: HideKane

Summary: In a world where ink stains the white papers of constitutions, damning the lives of ghouls, their existence is no secret or rumor, but a topic of heated debate, protests, and anonymous organ donations in shady alleys. No matter how bright the CCG appears in their white coats, their light cannot reach the dark tunnels where ghouls and sympathizers alike are plotting. And when Hide, after hours of sitting at his best friend’s hospital bed, sees him wake with one eye black and red, the difficult question is not how to get him help, but how to avoid him becoming the figurehead of a conflict threatening to turn into a bloody revolution.

AN: Notes: You ever just take a 4-year break from a fandom and return with spite fic because you remembered how much you hated canon? Yeah. This fanfic is my attempt at corralling the TG worldbuilding into something coherent that makes sense. I will keep some elements of canon, others I will throw out of the window straight away. This is utterly self-indulgent.

“And with the developments in synthetic meat production—”

Hide wanted to groan. They’d been discussing the same question for the last three hours of class and he was, frankly speaking, done with it. People were running out of arguments and circling back to topics that didn’t contribute anything to the conversation they were supposed to be having. From the way their lecturer was glaring at the latest speaker, Hide would say that she was also very done.

“Yoshimura, as stated before, we are not discussing possibilities for ghoul integration, but the mere premise of whether they even deserve the rights needed to legalize their status as citizens. The right of existence of an individual should not be dependent on what modifications would have to be made to accommodate them, but whether they deserve to live regardless.”

Hide had zoned out about an hour ago. His opinion on ghouls had always felt rather clinical, mathematically detached, despite Hide’s history. Maybe too much time had passed since he’d looked at the bloody remains of his father to really hammer home the fear-motivated rejection so many people fell to. Perhaps the CCG investigators, who had dragged him away from his father’s corpse, should have allowed him to get a little more traumatized before the kindness of his new parents had become enough to dull those painful memories.

Some ghouls were no different than brutal serial killers, and they had to be taken down, but the rest seemed to be getting by just fine. If a new legislation would make it even easier for them to go about their everyday lives, perhaps the number of violent ghoul attacks would go down as well. Hide was well aware that this was the view of a privileged person. Growing up in the 20th ward meant that you needn’t be scared of leaving your house when it was already dark. Kamii University prided itself on the fact that it could safely offer evening classes such as the one Hide was attending now. The same certainly couldn’t be said for the other wards. Any citizen between the 9th and 13th wards would probably advocate vocally for the extermination of ghouls. The 11th especially resembled a warzone even during the daylight. Ghoul sightings were nothing unusual there, and investigators’ mutilated bodies were displayed as trophies and warnings alike. Meanwhile, nobody had died in the 20th war for something like ten odd years. Sometimes it felt like waiting for the other shoe to drop, but most of the time, Hide didn’t even think about ghouls.

By the time class was finally over, Hide had taken only one or two more bullet points. They hadn’t really said anything of interest and it reflected in his writing. Usually, Hide would be sending rapid-fire texts to Kaneki now, but his friend was still on his date and Hide didn’t want to bother him. It had taken more than just a bit of teasing and probing to get Kaneki to ask that girl out and he wouldn’t self-sabotage his hard work.

It was good that Kaneki was connecting to people that weren’t just Hide.

And it would be awesome if Hide could do the same.

Codependence needed two people to work and Kaneki was definitely not the only one struggling with independence. Hide had yet to figure out how to let go of Kaneki when his relationship to the other boy had been the only stable thing in his world for the longest time. Nothing said mental health like latching onto an abused child to escape the stifling air of his brand-new foster fathers’ home.

The next time he visited his parents, he’d bring them some flowers to make up for how troublesome he’d been as a child.

Glancing at his phone again, Hide realized he had to hurry if he wanted to take the early bus home. He was just about to plug in his headphones when an unknown number flashed up on the display. Who would call him at this time? Hide was definitely someone who preferred texting. Even his parents knew better than to call unless it was serious. The only person he ever actually called was Kaneki, and that was only because his friend sometimes got so lost in a book, he forgot to text back or didn’t even hear the phone buzz. Hide contemplated picking up for another ring, then gave in and accepted. “Nagachika Hideyoshi speaking, who’s calling?”

“Hello, I am Tanaka Akako, a nurse of the Kanou General Hospital. You are Nagachika Hideyoshi, Kaneki Ken’s emergency contact?”

The blood in Hide’s veins froze.

“Yes, I am. Has— has anything happened? Is Kaneki alright!?”

The nurse’s voice was so calm, steady, and pleasant as if this was a chat between friends. Somewhere Hide knew that it probably helped most people, but it just put him on edge. “Nagachika-san, your friend and another young woman were involved in an accident. Dr. Kanou is preparing him for surgery, but as his emergency contact, we have to discuss the possible options before we can proceed.”

Hide didn’t want to discuss any options. There shouldn’t be any besides Kaneki’s survival. Hide wanted to rush into the operation hall and hold Kaneki’s hand, wishing he could turn back time, tell his friend to remain at his side and consider that girl out of his league so he’d spent the evening with him and not getting sent to ER. This couldn’t be real; he was sick to his stomach.

“What are the options?” Hide asked, panic threatening to strangle him as he rushed to the street, trying to find a taxi to take him to Kanou General straightaway.

“Kaneki-san sustained serious injuries. Dr. Kanou is willing to transplant the deceased Kamishiro-san’s organs into your friend to save his life even if her family hasn’t consented yet. The only consent we can ask for in Kaneki-san’s case is yours and—”

“Do it,” Hide replied immediately. He didn’t know Kaneki’s date, and as much as Hide loved people, argued for a baseline acceptance every day in class, he couldn’t bring himself to care about the wishes of a family whose daughter was already dead. The only thing they were still good for once their hearts stopped beating was serving the living with their remains.

Kaneki might survive because of her; what else could matter? “Do it, whatever you need to save him— you have my full permission.”

Finally, a taxi approached and stopped right when Hide waved for it. He quickly climbed inside and, paying no attention to the driver, told him to get to the hospital as quickly as possible.

“And in case he doesn’t survive, may his organs—”

“He will survive,” Hide pressed because he didn’t know what he’d do with himself if he were to lose Kaneki. He’d built a life around his best friend and how much they meant to one another. Hide couldn’t give up on that, couldn’t let it slip past his fingers. “He’ll survive. I know it.”

Organ transplants took place every day without any complications—

Hide’s eyes widened. “Kaneki has recessive ROS!” he all but shouted at the nurse, startling the taxi driver.

Kaneki’s father had died because of it. If Kaneki got the wrong blood transfusions or anything, his RC cells were suddenly pushed to start acting up, the dormant sickness could turn on and what if Hide had just damned him to a life of wasting away—

No.

Stay positive. Don’t freak out even more. They hadn’t done anything yet, merely asked for Hide’s permission to help Kaneki at all. He was saving his friend’s life; he wasn’t cursing him.

“Thank you for telling me, Nagachika-san. I will pass that on to Dr. Kanou. You have just contributed immensely to the safety of the procedure.”

“I’ll be there in a few minutes,” Hide said. “Just— he has to hold on. Tell Kaneki he has to hold on until I’m there.”

“We will, Nagachika-san, don’t worry. Dr. Kanou will do his best.”

His best.

The words echoed in Hide’s mind. How was he ever supposed to know if Kanou’s best would be enough for his friend? Hide excelled at being optimistic, could see the positive side of most things in life, had learned how to be hopeful at the funerals of people he’d loathed. He just couldn’t allow himself to drown in any negative possibilities.

The rest of the drive passed in the blur, either because the driver had known to speed up after listening in on the phone call, or because Hide was so out of it that he didn’t really register the streetlamps flickering by until the taxi had reached its destination. Hide passed the driver a couple bills, probably more than the transport had actually cost, but he didn’t care. What were one or two skipped meals compared to being there before it was too late? Hide rushed inside the sterile white hospital, eyes immediately set on the front desk.

“My friend,” Hide stuttered as he clung to the counter, holding it as if it were his lifeline. “He was brought in— an accident. He was on a date and there was an accident. Dr. Kanou is operating him?”

The receptionist seemed confused, needing a moment to make something coherent out of Hide’s rambles. “I need your identification before I can tell you anything about our patients.”

“Yes, yes, of course.” Hide fumbled for his student ID card and put it on the counter with shaky hands. “Nagachika Hideyoshi, I’m Kaneki Ken’s emergency contact.”

“Of course, your friend is still in the operating room. You can wait here.”

Hide didn’t want to wait, but what else was there he could do? He hated feeling useless like this, unable to contribute anything productive. The receptionist sent him a kind look and, defeated, Hide crossed the entrance hall to the waiting room where he remained together with other worried family members and patients, clutching his phone so he wouldn’t start screaming. He couldn’t stop moving his legs, stress keeping him wide awake even as the hospital emptied and less and less people sat around him. How long did such an operation take? An hour? Two? Hide had absolutely no idea. He didn’t study anything like this. His major was English literature, which was about as helpful as hot air at this moment.

He could quote enough books concerned with some medical drama and family members in the hospital, but none of them brought him any comfort.

“Nagachika-san?”

Hide looked up into the kind face of an elderly man wearing a pristine white coat.

“Y- yes?” Hide replied and quickly stood up, brushing imaginary dust from his pants. “Are you Dr. Kanou? Is my friend alright? Can I see him?”

“I am sorry to have caused you such worries. The operation went well. Your friend is resting in intensive care right now. He is still asleep, but you may visit him. The presence of loved ones is often very beneficial to the healing process.”

Healing.

A sob shook Hide’s shoulders. Kaneki was alive. He hadn’t died.

“Thank you,” he managed to say in between his sobs. “Thank you, thank you for saving his life.”

The doctor only kept on smiling and kindly put his hand on Hide’s shoulder, squeezing it lightly in what was meant to be comforting. “It is my job, young man. You don’t have to thank me. Nothing is more important to me than saving innocent lives. If you follow one of the nurses, you can see your friend immediately.”

Hide thanked the doctor once more, relief slowly filling the pits anxiety had hollowed out. He followed the nurse through the labyrinth of death, decay, healing, and salvation up to the intensive care station. Quietly, he was led to a room. The door opened, revealing one lone figure on a bed.

From a distance, hooked up with so many tubes and wires, Kaneki was nothing like the person who took up half of Hide’s life. He seemed so much smaller and looked like just one push could snap his connection to life.

“Please remain quiet,” the nurse told him. “And don’t move him.” Glancing at his still trembling fingers, she added, “but you may hold his hand.”

Hide nodded, then quickly crossed the room to Kaneki’s bed and sat down on the chair next to it. Kaneki didn’t move at all; not even a single muscle twitched. Hide would assume they had led him to view his friend’s corpse if not for the steady rise and fall of his chest. Pushing up the sleeves of his jacket, Hide took Kaneki’s hand in his own.

“Hey, Ken,” he muttered, pressing his eye close so no tears would escape them. “You scared me there. Don’t ever do that again.”

Predictably, Kaneki didn’t reply. Nevertheless, Hide imagined that just for a moment, he squeezed Hide’s hand back. Slowly, the tension bled from Hides’s shoulders and he made himself comfortable in the hard plastic chair. This was bound to be a long night and he was starting to feel his exhaustion catch up to him. He tried to keep his eyes trained on his friend for as long as possible, remaining alert for a change to his condition, but it was getting more and more difficult to keep them open.

Eventually, the darkness caught him as he fell. Hide knew he stirred a couple more times during the night, likely when the nurses came to check on Kaneki. Nobody asked him to move and leave, something he was immensely thankful for. He wouldn’t have been able to let go. By the time the sun began to chase away the shadows again, Hide wasn’t sure how much he had slept, only that it had definitely not been enough. But that was alright, he could catch up on sleep sometime later. It was far more important that Kaneki was going to be alright.

Hide turned to look at Kaneki’s face and found his friend awake, staring back at him.

One eye gray like a stormy cloud before the morning rainfall.

The other was blood-red against the night sky.

#tokyo ghoul #hideyoshi nagachika #kaneki ken #tg #hidekane #fanfic #what UP i'm back with spite fic #also on ao3 #but i will add the link later bc tumblr likes to mess up

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whentherewerebicycles · 3 years ago

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wow okay i am skipping the lingerie party lol and am instead going to just briefly jot down some thoughts before i go to sleep and wake up at 5 for my flight tomorrow morning. jesus christ i have ONE MILLION thoughts and feelings about this weekend. i want to preface this by saying that on the whole, it was a fine social experience! it was nowhere near as awkward or painful as i was expecting. or like, parts of it were painful, but it was 100% to do with my own complicated feelings about literally every part of this tradition and the wedding industry in general lol, and not anything to do with the people themselves. the other women were friendly and very welcoming, i made an event best friend who was wonderful company, and it was really fun to get to spend time with both my sister-in-law and her older sister, who was so charming and wonderful. i’m glad i came even though thinking about the $$ i spent on this trip makes me physically gag.

but okay i want to just record some THOUGHTS that maybe i will continue unpacking with some distance. i feel likeeeee okay here are my thoughts.

the social norms around femininity are just a fucking minefield and i feel like i really just gotta keep walking back the impulse to judge other women for the choices they make as they navigate around the manifold traps and snares and half-buried landmines that constitute the landscape of being a woman. like jesus christ. it’s so fucked up, it’s so fucked up, the received and socially enforced norms of femininity are just so fucked up. I think ALL THE FUCKING TIME of this margaret atwood poem i love so much, which was REALLY on my mind this weekend:

How can I teach her some way of being human that won’t destroy her?

I would like to tell her, Love is enough, I would like to say, Find shelter in another skin.

I would like to say, Dance and be happy. Instead I will say in my crone’s voice, Be ruthless when you have to, tell the truth when you can, when you can see it.

I feel like the first bit was very much on my mind throughout the weekend, but those last three lines have come to the forefront over the course of this last day, as i have tried to do some Thinking about what i observed/experienced/felt this weekend. whether or not this is what it means in the context of the poem, tell the truth when you can, when you can see it, expresses something of my complex feelings: I don’t know that I can tell the truth about femininity because I don’t know that I can see it. i am both too close to it/still emotionally entangled in it and too far from it to know which parts of it are ‘real’ and which parts are just performance.

i feel like one thing that struck me this weekend, in ways that i don’t know if i’ve noticed as much before, was that so much of the things women say to each other or do in these social contexts is performative, and they know on some level it’s a performance, but we are all going through the motions of doing and saying the expected things anyway. that has not always been clear to me. i have spent so much of my own life as a woman thinking that other women perfectly, seamlessly, naturally embodied the norms of femininity, and i was the only one (or part of a group of only ones) who couldn’t remember my lines, or kept fumbling my cues, or felt so painfully, self-consciously aware that i was playing a role that i could never deliver a convincing performance. but this weekend, after the initial social panic had passed, i started trying to get out of my own head a little bit and look for things that disproved the very strong theory i had brought into the weekend. and of course then i started seeing more and more of the little moments where women say one thing and do another, or profess one belief/conviction but then the whole corpus of their lived experiences and choices contradicts that stated belief, or whatever. and also just like, moments of pathos, where someone i had judged harshly at the beginning of the weekend offhandedly revealed something about her past that really changed my perception of her, or at least made me think like, ah god, i have to have empathy for and with this person, because i think she might be a complex person just like me, with an intricate inner life that her performance partially reveals and partially occludes from view, and agh, it sucks to have to think of people as complicated instead of as safely two-dimensional & easy to dismiss, and the reason it sucks is because then it forces you to realize that you share more with this person than you’d like to admit, and that some of your wounds are the same, even if you dealt with those wounds (the wounds of girlhood, or rather the emotional wounds that our culture inflicts upon girls, which then become tangled up in complex and painful ways with the lived experience of girlhood itself) in really different ways.

but also ugh. we are all performing gender norms but there is just something that does not feel playful at all about embodying conventional femininity. i can’t think of a better way to phrase that right now but it’s like.. the performance isn’t fun. it doesn’t seem to be fun. i don’t know that anyone here was having fun doing it, even if they were having fun being with each other. but it was like doing the intensely gendered social rituals was like, the price of admission? like it was the toll we had to pay to be together spending time in the company of other women? i don’t know man but it fucking exhausts me. like i can push myself to stretch my genuine empathy and sense of solidarity with other women much further than my knee-jerk judgmental reaction, but i can’t ever get to a place where i find any of those social rituals anything other than fucking exhausting. they feel so fucking joyless. they feel like things that many women have internalized as ‘things we must do in order to have relationships with other women.’ (please do not even get me started on how exhausting heteronormativity is i think i could write an entire other essay on how women use these bachelorette party-type rituals to spend time with their closest female friends, but the whole event is still implicitly organized around men, and these women’s male partners are still positioned as the priority in their lives, and the whole event is framed as like, a last burst of intense closeness between women before the bride is delivered over to her husband. like i KNOW that this is not how women think of it but all the RHETORIC of the bachelorette party, the little events and rituals and games, the little comments everyone makes all fucking weekend, good fucking lord, my jaw is so TENSE.)

anyway god i just AGHHHH. idk sorry this is definitely not coherent at ALL because i’m tired and still need a bit more distance/time to process some of this. i guess here is one last thing i want to register before i sleep. i am in my 30s now and i am living a life that is so, so far removed from the social world i grew up in. marriage is not a norm among my friend group, almost all of my female friends are queer women, many women i know are not partnered and have no interest in being partnered, and the friends who are in heterosexual relationships tend to be in very gender-balanced relationships or slightly nontraditional relationships where it feels like both partners have engaged in conscious reflection about what they want their relationship to look/feel like. also i now date women, am out as a lesbian, and spend most of my time teaching/working with queer- and trans/nonbinary-identified kids.

so like, the world i live in now is just so different from the world i grew up in. and sometimes it is easy for me to kind of downplay the intensity of my own gender distress as a teen and young adult, or to sort of - act like it was a phase in my life that had much more to do with me than with the social environment i lived in. i don’t mean ‘phase’ in a dismissive ‘those feelings weren’t real’ kind way, but more like, ‘oh that was just part of the normal growing pains of figuring out who you are and what kind of person you want to be as an adult - everybody pretty much goes through some version of that.’ it’s true that everyone DOES go through some version of that, as just like, part of the process of individuation in that age range. but also like. idk man. being back in this environment - straight white women from the midwest and south, all engaging in the rituals of heterosexual white femininity - was just so intense and so MUCH, and it brought back a flood of feelings and visceral memories that i feel like i will need to spend some time sorting through over the next few weeks. like, what i experienced back then really WAS gender distress, and it was so, so distressing. i spent the years from age 11ish to 24ish existing with this constant lowgrade baseline feeling of wanting to claw my own fucking skin off because my own gendered body felt like such a prison, and i sometimes felt like i literally wanted to destroy my own body because i could not yet conceive of an alternative to inhabiting that body or playing the role that had been handed down to me. until i started reading queer memoirs and inhaling lesbian media and (especially) reading about queer femme identities, i literally did not have an image or any kind of felt sense of what another way of inhabiting my own body might look/feel like. i literally could not imagine it!!!

and that is why the distress feels so distressing, and becomes internalized in such violent ways, i think. because it’s the blind, mindless panic of a trapped and wounded animal. except that you lack any real understanding of the larger social forces at work, or any language with which to describe or conceptualize what social norms are or how they’re enforced. so in your mind, the only thing you can see wounding you is your own gendered body, or the way that gendered body is socially 'read’ by others. and that is why you want to claw your own fucking skin off, just literally dig your nails into your own flesh and claw it the fuck off. because you can’t see a norm, but you can see your gendered body, and you can see the ways that it causes other people to react to you, or treat you, or hold you to a certain set of expectations, and so in your mind you are like: this must be destroyed. in your mind you are like, the only way out is to get out of this fucking body, but that’s impossible, surely, you can’t get out of your own body, so you have to settle for starving it and self-harming it and ruthlessly punishing it in a thousand terrible ways, because you might not be able to leave your girl’s body behind, but you can make it suffer and pay for what it’s done to you.

i am old enough now, and have spent enough time thinking and writing about those feelings, to identify them when they arise again, and to get the necessary distance from them so that i can say, what i want to destroy are the norms themselves, and the distress they cause, and not the body that has done nothing to me but be me. so i am not quite as sucked under as i used to be. but i think that there is something about the violence and intensity of those feelings that i forget sometimes, or misremember with age and distance. it’s easy to be a little bit patronizing to my younger self (or by extension to my younger students sometimes), because i now live in a social world that is largely arranged in ways that minimize rather than intensify or amplify gender distress. but when you have no choice in how to arrange your life, and no language with which to understand what is happening to you or what you are experiencing, and no frame of reference to help you understand that this is a period in your life and not forever, and no models you can look to in order to discover alternative ways of inhabiting your body or arranging your life... my god, that’s quite different from being an adult with a wide range of experiences and with much greater autonomy over your own body and life. anyway idk i need to keep thinking but now i must go to bed and try to sleep five hours before the plane.

#how can i teach her some way of being human #that won't destroy her!!!#gender #mw #to think further #girls I have been

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loquaciousquark · 4 years ago

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Talks Machina Highlights - Critical Role C2E111 (Redux! Oct. 13, 2020)

Gooooood evening good evening good evening, all! I started the VOD late for this recap and somehow the first four or so minutes of the show have a Twitch audio copyright claim, so I am reduced to only reading Brian's lips when he asks if we're on the internet. Hilariously, Marisha's background room is a comfy-looking blue/gold fabric wall with a ceramic colorful abstract lamp and a yellow silk scarf over the lampshade, and Taliesin's is an industrial looking games room in grey and black with multiple monitors, overhead speakers, and mysterious metal fixtures behind him. What a treasure this group is, honestly.

Tonight's guests: Marisha Ray & Taliesin Jaffe, discussing episodes 110 and 111 again. I wildly speculate once more about what might have caused their absence: jury duty? Sam appearing on The Masked Singer? Something to do with the animated show? One day, we’ll know, one day... (One day this “copyrighted audio” section will come back from the wars, too. Ugh!) Finally! The audio comes back to reveal Brian discussing the endless reality of digital meetings and Marisha talking about (I think) her glare-reducing glasses she’s wearing. Welcome to the New Age (welcome to the New Age, to the New Age).

Announcements: Marisha suggests checking out Dimension20, another live tabletop gaming group, which premieres live on Wednesdays at 4pm (CollegeHumor).

Brian immediately wants to know how they feel about the revelation that Molly is alive. Taliesin’s personal reaction: he “knows some things” he can’t talk about and is aware of several possibilities that might be going on, but had a sneaking suspicion that there would not be a body for them to find. He says it’s almost all there for anyone to see in past material. Marisha’s personal reaction: she just wants to know how she’s doing with her theories, & was trying to block Tal’s face out deliberately as she was going off on her theories in the last episode. Taliesin says he thought her ideas were pretty good!

Cad has no clue what to think - it’s like listening to your friends talk about Buffy. Marisha thought it was a 50/50 Molly would still be there, but Beau had no idea. Not that it mattered, because as soon as Matt went through with it the reveal still blew their minds. Tal laid out his plans for the character with Matt during Campaign One (towards the end) after they all got their VM tattoos.

It is a “horrifying and gross” thing to dig up a body, and Beau was pretty reluctant to do it. Tal, as Cad: “Sometimes dead’s better.” The moral quandary of trying to speak with a dead friend was very different here than the frequent occasions they used the spell in C1.

Taliesin says his poker face is very bad, so it’s easier for him to over-react and let it all play out. The only other player he can see very easily from his place in their current setup is Travis, and because he knows Travis doesn’t watch TM, tweet, or participate in social media, he admits he thoroughly enjoyed watching Travis freak out at his freaking out. He says he only knew about 20% of what Matt described at the end of that episode. He was picking things to mug to increase Travis’s surprise. I love this so much.

Taliesin provided the table left leg shake; Travis provided table right. Ha!

Beau is really accepting her role in the Cobalt Soul. It’s good when “as a person, you feel like you can settle into your calling. Sometimes you can do more from the inside than fighting from the outside.” It’s a mirrored but opposite path of Keyleth from C1; Beau felt like she was too good for her duty, while Keyleth thought she wasn’t good enough.

Caduceus is not a big believer in jumping to conclusions. He does have an idea/notion of the “city of the undead” and thinks all this necrotic energy must come from somewhere, and wonders if this is the “capital of anti-death.” He’s willing to believe whatever he sees. This is one of the few things that trigger a bit of loathing and disgust in him. It was terrifying that the Wildmother didn’t know anything.

Beau is pretty confident in her Charlie Day impression laying-out-the-research last episode. She enjoyed taking the things that were known & extrapolating around them; this is a huge facet of Marisha’s own personality and she really enjoys it, so she built a character this time that would allow that kind of puzzle-solving. It’s also why she repeatedly notes when Beau journals, so she can avoid metagaming. Trent’s mention of Vess Durogna’s tomb raiding was completely circumstantial, and the only reason she’d made the connection to the Tombtakers was because she’d recently reviewed those notes for a separate unannounced project. Sometimes she tries to make connections and Matt is like, “It was...just descriptive. Just flavor. The curtains were red...” and she has to discard a paragraph of notes. She feels like it’s still something they have to do because of “look at what he does! Look! It’s totally valid!”

Cosplay of the Week: @kitsunstudios with a gorgeous Caduceus with a very intricate silk vest.

Caduceus’s takedown of Trent! One of my favorite moments in the entirety of C2. Taliesin felt Trent was an asshole; Caduceus felt sorry for him because of how dumb he thought he was. Caduceus’s response was "this is the dumbest man I’ve ever met in my life. He’s so dumb! Is nobody going to tell this guy how dumb he is? Oh, they’re all freaked out. Somebody needs to tell this guy he’s an idiot before somebody gets hurt.” (Marisha: “Before?”) Tal says it was the product of several years of therapy and many drunk conversations with Whitney Moore. It was from a genuine place of concern from Caduceus. “How are you allowed to have this much power and be that dumb?”

Brian loved how funny it was to watch everyone tiptoe around Trent and then Caduceus bulldoze through the end of the meal.

Taliesin: “Damage doesn’t make you interesting or better. It’s not what makes you good. Character isn’t found in damage. Just recovery.”

Brian & Marisha commiserate going through the stage where believing surviving something automatically made you a stronger person, better for the pain; instead it just meant you had to pick up the pieces after. Marisha talks about how strength through survival may be true for some people, but it shouldn’t be considered a necessity. Taliesin talks about how he used to think he had to be miserable to write. Brian talks about how believing he liked reading and writing miserable things only limited him for years.

Marisha feels it’s a C2 theme that almost all the PCs have someone trying to handwave or take credit for their accomplishments or explain their pain as being for their own good (Trent, Beau’s dad, Obann). She thinks it’s interesting to see all the various ways people try to take credit for your work/delegitimize you as a person. She loves that RPGs allow you to explore these odd moralities in interesting ways. The only way to fight it is to have a sense of your own self-worth, which is a problem a lot of the M9 started with.

Caduceus likes everyone, and really likes people who appear to need role models (Eodwulf). “With the right friends and the right bar and the right attitude, I think he’d be okay. Come over here where it’s so much better. That seems like an exhausting friendship that you have there.”

Marisha loves the mix of personalities in the M9; Veth, Cad, & Jester were all “we kind of like them!” after the dinner, and she immediately made eye contact with Travis and they both shook their heads. She knows Beau has to go along with it for Caleb’s sake for now, but she & Fjord are pretty sus of Trent’s proteges.

Beau is less concerned about Artagan’s relationship to Jester because “he showed his ass--she’s less worried about Jester now because a little of the magic is gone.” It’s a little like becoming an adult and realizing your parents are also just adults & human. Caduceus wasn’t suspicious of the Traveler for a long time until they got to the island. Aside: Taliesin loves the pantheon in D&D. “The notion of attempting to apply common Western conceptions of religion to a world where you have a pantheon of interventionist gods as baseline makes no sense to me. Everyone admits that every other god is there and doing shit; it has more in common with ancient Rome than anything else.” Now that he knows it was a con, he feels the wind had been taken out of it. He does have a sense that Jester’s gotten back together with an ex: “I hope that I’m really happy for you.” They’re both interested to see how Jester navigates the new relationship.

My internet goes out, of course. I panic for a second, thinking I’ve lost everything above, but all is well! Thanks, Form History Control addon!

Marisha loved punching Artagan, but regretting rolling so poorly. “I miss violence.” Dani lets us know it’s been about four episodes since the last battle.

There’s no way the Cobalt Reserve doesn’t have a single document on the Eyes of Nine. Beau believes “there are no real secrets” because people are just bad at not writing things down. For there to be no information at all seems really suspicious for her.

Fanart of the Week: @oddalchemist on twitter with some awesome Beau conspiracy red-thread boards overlaid a distant shadowy Molly walking away.

Caduceus feels a little guilty for really enjoying his time right now with the M9 and not wanting to go home. He’s starting to suspect that he’s going to go home very different than when he left. “He has the softest problems. I don’t know if I want to move back in with Mom & Dad.”

Beau is trying to get comfortable with the idea of being happy. Jester is probably Beau’s first real best friend & one of the first healthy female friendships she’s ever had. As long as she still has Jester in her life, she doesn’t care. For Yasha... “At the end of the day, Beau is a lonely person and has always been a lonely person. And I think you kinda reach this point where once you’re not lonely anymore, you can kind of come out of the fog and realize that was horrible! And terrifying! And is even more terrifying now that I know what I could have, and I don’t want to go back to that. At the end of the day Beau doesn’t want to be lonely anymore. There’s always been that flirtation with Yasha, but everyone had to figure their own shit out. And now it feels like it’s coming out a little bit of that haze, maybe this actually could be...” There are a lot of ways they complement each other & are good-different from each other. Marisha believes people can be attracted to more than person at once.

Caduceus doesn’t think nature turned against him on Rumblecusp, it was just a reality of nature being dangerous and violent. “He has a complex relationship with nature.” He doesn’t expect special treatment.

Thoughts on the mansion: “Man, it’s nice to be seen.” Marisha: “I don’t know how I ended up becoming the Scanlan of this campaign, but I’m living for it.” It felt like an echo of “I’m better for having known you.” They compare Marisha taking specific notes on the campaign to Liam taking specific notes on people’s favorite tapestries, comics, etc.

They talk about missing theme parks and daydream a park version of the mansion in CritRoleLand. It’s lovely.

Taliesin never expected Divine Intervention to work; he just wanted to roll some dice. He’s still processing what he saw/heard. They all agree it was very useful in the Vokodo fight.

Vilya! Marisha: “Ah! Ah! Ah!” As a player, Marisha was so deep in Beau’s eyes she didn’t pick up it was Vilya at first (especially since Matt really emphasized they should not be looking for C1 NPCs). Marisha’s brain melted. She bawled her eyes out on the ride home after that episode. Right after it ended, Laura told Marisha “Keyleth finally gets her happy ending,” and it makes Marisha emotional again since Keyleth’s story ended so bittersweetly. She talks about the very real feelings of “just wanting them to be happy, though!” She went back and listened to all her old Keyleth playlists. Everyone was teary after the episode. “Everyone has these 100% real memories of being these characters and having these good times.”

And that’s that for that! Thanks for your patience, all, and is it Thursday yet?

#critical role #critical role spoilers #talks machina #talks machina spoilers #long post for ts

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humourharry · 4 years ago

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Hello.

Travis don’t read this.

Some of you are about to be real mad at me. But it must be said. It probably doesn’t need to be said, but it’s my blog and I don’t care.

I am honestly so disappointed about how just bad mbmbam has gotten recently. I stopped listening over a year ago because it was just too cringy but I started up again because I really needed some content to listen to. I figured I would be able to find at least a couple of minutes of listenable content within the 530+ episodes of this show.

Travis just ruins every single one. He fills up any single miniscule pause or moment of dead air with drivel. Whatever useless thought that pops into his head gets spewed out onto his brothers. All of his scenarios and fictions he creates necessitate some longwinded backstory for almost no payoff. And listen, it’s a comedy podcast. So the goal should be comedy. I see what he was going for with “Play Along at Home,” and I see that the comedic value in the bit was Griffin and Justins’ fury. Like, it was funny to ask Griff questions about Disney and ask Justin questions about Pokemon. But the anti-comedy approach can’t be one of the three hosts’ only contribution to the podcast. It is poison to my ears. I have never had the misfortune of hearing a Sad Libs. (In a recent live show, Griffin mentioned during the ad read that he had edited a Sad Libs out to spare the listener that tremendous burden. That comment was certainly a joke or a lighthearted jab at his brother but honestly, thank you Griffin.)

What kills me is Travis’s ability to completely obliterate the momentum of the show. Griffin and Justin will be riffing, building off each other, having good time. Then Travis will jump in with something as irrelevant as “haha yeah! and what if they were on the moon!” or something similarly asinine.

You just can’t justify it as “middle brother energy,” or “he has ADHD, of course you can’t follow his train of thought!”

It is a comedy podcast. If one of the hosts is petulant and attention seeking, it is going to be a bad time for everyone. If one of the hosts gets distracted and derailed, it is going to be a bad time. Perhaps his birth order or his ADHD are his reasons for his behavior but whatever the justification may be, this behavior just doesn’t make for good content. And that’s all I wanted, some good content. It truly is a shame that what once was a decent show has been ruined by 1/3 of the hosts being “anti-comedy.” What?

Another thing he does (that is often attributed to his ADHD) is interrupt. They all interrupt each other and talk over each other, but Travis’s interjections are never for the purpose of moving the bit along. He will interrupt someone’s train of thought to say “ [sjw disclaimer] just so no one calls us out on twitter....” or “just to be clear, we are NOT kinkshaming...” Travis has made it clear he wants to be the Ally Of All Allies, and he would never even dream of saying anything remotely shitty to any marginalized group of people. Sure. But his performative allyship is ruining his own show. I understand that listeners or content-enjoyers mustn’t ever try to shut down people who are only trying to increase the stock of harmless cheer in the world, but there is a limit. We don’t need every single joke about furries or whatever to be bookended with Travis’s “not that there’s anything wrong with thaaaAAAaaat....” whine.

Speaking of whining... I truly cannot stand to listen to the sound of Travis’s voice. This is my own personal problem. Sometimes I find the sounds of peoples’ voices so grating that it drives me up a wall. But beyond Travis’s baseline nasally voice and accent, he often launches into this very high pitched voice when he is trying to interject. (I’m not even talking about the Riddle Master). In Episode 536 he turned into a full-on squeal when talking to Griffin. Other times he is full-on shouting! Like I have to turn the volume down on my phone because he is fully shouting. Justin has begun doing something that I appreciate: if Travis is literally screaming into the microphone, Justin will get really quiet. He does this humorous, tongue-in-cheek sultry voice that is very soft. And it causes Travis to quiet down. But when Travis is left to do whatever he wants, he will become extremely loud while contributing almost nothing of substance. It can be really painful to listen to Griffin and Justin trying to move to show along or just power through one of Travis’s meaningless tangents. It would be bad enough for Travis to be so poisonously unfunny and annoying at a normal volume, but the the fact that he steamrolls everyone else at an intense volume and in an effeminate affect (nOT tHaT tHEreS aNYthiNG wRonG wiTH tHaT) and a nasally voice drives me nuts.

I am not the only person to notice these things. The reviews on Apple Podcasts are mostly positive. The only negative reviews are from people who didn’t like that the mcelroys were encouraging people to vote (these reviews were saying the show was getting “too political,” with the boys simply reminding people not to be fascists) and the rest are from people who insist that Justin and Griffin need to reign Travis in. I hope they are able to have a conversation with him in private. I know that TAZ Graduation has its own set of problems, but I’m afraid that their listenership is just going to decline further and further if no one talks to Travis about his tangents and deliberately unfunny bits. I have given them so many chances and I just can’t do it. I’m afraid that others might not be so generous.

Bye!

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chriswhitewolf · 3 years ago

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Hello. Another long rant post. Haven't vented on Tumblr in a while.

⚠️ Content/ trigger warning for homophobia, transphobia, and general bigotry towards all queer/LGBTQIA+ people. Manipulation, gaslighting, and general emotional abuse. Swearing as well. ⚠️

So, the other day, I was casually hanging out in the living room where my mother, father, and one of my older brothers were. I don't remember how the conversation started, but the three of them were talking and my mom jokingly asked if my brother's friend was gay. My brother laughed and replied that he [the friend] was not, and my mom goes "well if he is that's [name]'s choice."

And I, as someone who cares about human rights, basic decency, the systemic civil issues in the USA, and just using proper language and having accurate information regarding topics like this, casually jumped in and commented

"No it's not."

Now, my mother is aware of the fact that sexual orientation isn't a choice, and I am well aware of it. (She is still a homophobe, but she recognizes that it's not a decision people make to be attracted to their same gender/sex.)

Anyway, I said that, and had no intention of saying anything further. I simply corrected the language she used because it was inaccurate and harmful. (And annoyed the hell out of me, her closeted agender omnisexual polyamorous offspring, but details.) My mother proceeded to huff and announce in a VERY aggravated tone that

"yeah well, I'm not going to argue with you about this when you know what I meant."

As I said earlier in this post, the thought of participating in any sort of argument hadn't even crossed my mind. And I did know that she is aware of her choice of language being inaccurate, and that she wasn't consciously trying to argue or affirm otherwise.

But her language played into the harmful misinformation and anti-scientific viewpoints that are a major issue affecting queers everywhere, so I interjected and corrected because calling it a choice, even jokingly, even knowing it's not and with no intention to claim it is, supports the culture in worldwide society that portrays non-cishet individuals as Wrong.

But she immediately turned my calm and non-argumentative correction that bore her no ill will into an attack against her, and played herself up as a victim of my incessant attempts to purposefully twist her words and make her seem like a bad person.

(we will disregard at this moment that she's absolutely a bad person simply due to her actions and ideaology)

And I wanted to call her out. I wanted to speak up and ask her at what point did I ever mention and argument or that I didn't know what she meant? I wanted to look her in the eyes and defend myself because all I did was calmly and politely correct her. I still do, days later.

But I can't, because I know how that would go because it's been happening for a big portion of my life. Because if I do bring it up, how she twisted my words to make me seem like an argumentative and intolerant person and how she does that consistently, she'll gaslight me and guilt me and shame me into being a horrible person and child who blames them for everything and forces them to walk on eggshells to avoid upsetting me and I'll end up spending the next few hours or days re-convincing myself that my having issues with her behavior is valid and that I'm not always wrong, and forcing myself to stop the self-gaslighting behavior she conditioned me into that I've been actively working on dismantling and breaking out of for months. I can't confront her with the things she does and says and the way she treats me and her emotional abuse, because she will do what she always does and it will end with me even more miserable than the baseline that comes from being around her and my dad and I can't safely put myself in that situation because I'm barely coping enough to survive each day and that's almost entirely due to dissociating from my emotions and situation and putting off the hurt until I'm in a safe enough environment to feel it and start the healing process.

So I have to bite my tongue and go sit alone in my room with the door closed and isolate myself in an attempt to ensure my own survival and not being able to feel my pain properly means I'm not able to work through it and let it go, so the anger is left festering in my subconscious and reappearing in my thoughts every couple days.

And my only opportunities to talk about the things I'm suffering through are long text posts no one sees on social media, text vents to the one friend I have, and in once-a-week therapy sessions where we can't work on much of anything because trying to heal my trauma while I'm still in the situation that's traumatizing would do more harm than good.

#abuse mentions #transphobia #homophobia #swearing #trigger warning #triggering themes #emotional abuse #shitty parents

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electricbluebutterflies · 4 years ago

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Kabby + knows your schedule from the back of their heads (and gets shocked when there is a sudden change to your routine)

Yay post-s2 grayspace. Content warning for vague talk of suicide. PG-ish and also on ao3.

As always, the dynamic is effortless and unspoken.

Abby may not like her counterpart yet – is that a safe enough word for him? does it cover enough ground? – but the upside of having been at war with him for the past decade is that man is predictable. Even in an entirely new environment, even with a less defined role in their systems, Marcus thrives on routine. By the time she’s able to leave her compartment on her own without help, he’s settled into a self-inflicted schedule that not even the unpredictability of life on the ground can throw off for very long.

She knows, a month after her injury and a month after new habits were set, that he stays out of their workspace during peak daylight. This is a newer development – the man he once was kept much stranger hours without much regard to how convenient it was for anyone else, but more recently he seems to have realized that she likes quiet for doing her share of administrative tasks. What few there are, she thinks as she scrolls through the datapad. Again unspoken, again the comfort of knowing each other well enough to know that she hates dealing with the mundane.

But it’s a quiet day, and people know where she is if anything goes wrong enough to need her, so she stays curled up on the battered couch a little longer than usual. She is not the right person to make some of these documented decisions, but at least she’s now more aware of building projects and reenforcing the wall and-

At some point, as fascinating as all those plans are, Abby falls asleep.

When she wakes up, sunset filters through the skylight and she is still alone. This is strange, this change in routine she hadn’t realized she liked. It’s not the first time she’s taken a nap in the workspace, on that couch that is somehow more comfortable than her bed, but every other time she’s woken up with a blanket over her and she knows only one other person has that access to this space and-

Oh. Oh no.

It’s easy to slip into something-is-wrong mode, too easy considering she’s attempting to lead a civilization alongside a sacrificial dumbass who hasn’t outgrown the default masculine invincibility belief that usually fades away well before his current life phase. Marcus is becoming a decent person for the first time since they were tiny, and that may well be the problem because he didn’t try to kill himself (intentionally or as side effect) back when he spent every waking hour making her life a living hell but he sure does now that he’s found better priorities. Abby is fairly sure somebody would’ve come and found her if they’d reached the fallout stage of whatever reckless idea her counterpart is probably up to right now, which means he’s probably doing something questionable right this moment that he didn’t bother to run by anyone else, which means-

She runs. It hurts like hell, the lingering pain in her thigh a reminder that she is too damn fragile for this life she lives, but she runs. Trusts her instincts to guide her to wherever he is, trusts their recent understanding to be enough to talk him out of whatever the hell he-

Somehow she ends up outside the tent he’s claimed as living space, near the wall but not near any of the gates. She’d been surprised weeks earlier when she’d heard he’d taken space like that, less sheltered from the elements, but it suits the midlife crisis they are both trying to pretend he is not having. She hesitates, isn’t sure what she’s about to find, isn’t sure if she should be worried or scary-calm or-

“You can come in.”

Well, at least he’s talking. That’s a good start. Maybe.

She sticks her head in, still unsure what she’s getting into. She hasn’t come out here before, hasn’t needed to, hasn’t-

“Can you please just say whatever you’re trying to glare into that wall?”

Fine. He wants a fight, she can give that.

“Where the hell were you.” Not a question. “I… you usually…”

To his credit, Marcus actually looks surprised, which is not an expression he defaults to when she’s determined to go at him. Again, an easy ten years of picking fights on a regular basis creates certain baselines. Usually his reaction to her confrontations is more like apathy and boredom, here we go again with an eye-roll for good measure. Not this.

“Hunting party hallucinated a lion,” he says like that’s totally normal and hey maybe it is.

“And you didn’t tell me.”

“Didn’t think you needed to-“

“You’re avoiding me, you forgot to inform me of major developments, you-“

“I am not avoiding you!” He motions to the space on the other end of his… bed is really not the word for that pile of who-knows-what, but the closest thing to furniture in the tent. “And you shouldn’t be standing so long.”

Abby hisses, outright growls because she is not taking that kind of advice from the one person in her life who is even more determined to ignore the limits of their body than she is. “I’m fine.”

“You’re not fine.”

“You know I hate you, right?” she says, almost playful as she slips into the space and sits down anyways. She’s not sure how this is an improvement, but at least her bodyweight isn’t adding to her problems right now.

“So you came all this way to…”

“Make sure you’re okay,” she says too quickly, because if she thinks too much about why she cares this will all fall apart and she will have nothing left. “You’re… predictable. And I like predictable. And today you weren’t.”

“And normally you’re not-“

“And I have gotten used to someone wrapping me up in a blanket when I fall asleep on that couch, okay?”

He’s quiet, too quiet for too long. “Oh.”

They don’t talk about what they are and what they are becoming. There is too much else to do, and there has been that understanding alongside all the rest. Whether they actually care about each other does not matter. Whether it’s even deeper than that… she’s too old for that kind of want, which means he is too. But there are still sparks, still moments of almost crossing that line anyways.

“I can plan around you and know what will happen,” she continues. “And today that fell through.”

“And you’re this wounded because…”

“I didn’t know where you were. And not knowing where you are tends to mean you’re doing something stupid, and you are not allowed to die reckless do you understand?! I need you more than that.”

If she were a different sort of woman, she thinks, she would’ve taken kisses instead of saying that last bit. She’s been perfectly chaste in her widowhood and this pile of questionable blankets would be an acceptable place to end that dry spell. But she can’t take a risk she can’t trust, and she doesn’t, and she wants and she can’t want, and-

“I’m not planning on dying,” he murmurs. “Wouldn’t do that to you.”

She reaches for his hand because she needs something, traces little patterns and watches him try to ignore how cold her fingers are. “You better not, or I’m finding a way to bring back your ghost so I can yell at that too.”

#pixievixen #kabby #ebf writes fic

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infpisme · 5 years ago

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Why INFPs May Stay in Bad Relationships (and How to Get Out)

In life, heartbreak is inevitable, at least at some point. What is preventable, though, is staying in a relationship that doesn’t resonate with you and doesn’t make you truly happy.

I’ve had my fair share of relationships and modern dating. It’s tough. It’s fun. It can be beautiful — but it can also hurt very deeply, especially for people who feel as much as INFPs do.

As an INFP who has stayed in a few toxic relationships for too long, here are some lessons I’ve learned the hard way.

We See the Best in People (Sometimes an Imaginary Best)

I once read a quote that said: “Never fall in love with someone’s potential, because you could be falling in love with someone they’ll never be.” For INFPs and others like us, this is a huge danger zone.

INFPs are idealists. We see future possibilities rather than present realities. When we meet someone — and we feel a connection — it can be immensely difficult for us to take them at face value. We think about them in great detail, potentially filling in gaps of character knowledge with what we would like them to be, and daydreaming about what we could do together in the near (and even distant) future.

We can become so immersed in who we think this person is, and who we want them to be, that we may ignore incongruities in this person’s character. I think this stems from the fact that we believe all people are inherently good — I still believe this, even after two toxic relationships. However, some people’s intentions are not so honest.

I have an unfortunate, perhaps cliched habit of going for bad boys. Maybe it’s part of being the “healer” personality, but I am your typical “fixer.” It’s sweet in theory, but it’s detrimental to my own wellbeing.

I have been guilty of staying in relationships that are not right for me because I saw the imaginary best in a person — clinging to our best moments and ignoring huge, waving red flags. For example: lying, poor communication, drug abuse, narcissism, even infidelity.

We May Accept Others to the Point That We Neglect Our Own Needs (Then Blow Up)

This leads swimmingly to my next lesson. Many INFPs believe in the concept of “live and let live.” This can make us great, understanding partners, but what happens when the person we’re with doesn’t treat us how we want and need to be treated?

We hate conflict, so that’s usually a painful no-go. Then there’s swallowing our emotions and trudging along while not feeling truly happy. I’m sure we’ve all done this at some point, regardless of our Myers-Briggs personality type. My best friend — an ESFJ — used to say that I was “a passive acceptor of torment” about my relationship with my ex-boyfriend. He did things that — when I look back — simply made me sad: messaging other women, lying, poor communication.

These things made me feel hurt and uncomfortable. But, rather than own the fact that they made me uneasy, I instead tried to push my feelings to the side, thinking I was overreacting or being needy.

I was so accepting of who he was as a person that I excused behavior that didn’t sit right with me, and stayed in a relationship that made me sad for far too long. I overanalyzed and ruminated, trying to understand his side, and let his behavior be okay with me.

But then, every little incident would feel like a tiny increase on the thermometer, until suddenly I reached my boiling point and blew up. Of course, he thought I was acting “crazy,” completely unaware of all the slights along the way that had led to this point.

If You’re in a Relationship That Makes You Uneasy, Don’t Ignore That Feeling

Both traits tie together in a way: We see what we want to see, and we accept and try to empathize with what hurts us. This is why I’ve stayed in bad relationships, despite anxiety and unhappiness.

What I have started doing is listening more to my gut. INFPs have very strong belief systems that we use to navigate the world. However, when love comes into play, our internal compasses may go askew, and we might even stop listening to our instincts.

In past bad relationships, I felt completely, totally anxious. There were highs of immense fun, but my baseline was unsettled. I felt drained, I overthought a lot, and I wasn’t happy. But I ignored those feelings and continued to hope for the best.

Some things I used to say to myself:

“It’s just the way they are. I need to relax.” (I never felt relaxed.)

“It’s just me — I’m sensitive and asking for too much.” (Why did I put my needs in the backseat?)

“I should not have said that, now they are mad at me.” (But they weren’t making me happy in the first place!)

The things I said to myself simply caused more pain. They stopped me from saying how I felt to my significant other — a person who wasn’t a good match for me regardless — and kept me in the bad relationship when I should have ended it.��

Moving Forward: Create the Life You Want to Live

At the end of the day, INFPs are dreamers. We have colorful visions and idealistic dreams of the life we want to live. We’re at our happiest when our imagination is powering us forward and enriching our real lives.

When I finally left my ex, it’s because I had been working on using my dreams and imagination to supercharge my life. I started focusing on myself and boosting my self-confidence. As I did this, the idealistic halo I had unintentionally placed on my ex’s head fell off, and I realized the way he was treating me and his opposing values weren’t what I wanted.

If you’re an INFP who thinks you might be in a bad relationship, it’s time to take action. First, I would recommend trying to view your partner without the rose-tinted spectacles we INFPs so readily wear. This can be tricky, I know, but it’s important to take stock of the realities of your situation (and not pen your hopes of what could be).

Some things to consider:

Does my partner make me feel safe and comfortable to be myself?

Do I trust them?

Do my partner’s actions truly match their words?

If you answered no to one or more of the above questions, then you might be in a situation where your idealism (which you must remember is a wonderful gift, but one that must be channeled and nurtured) is blocking your view of reality. Look into yourself and ask, “Am I really in love with this person — as they are, right now? Am I happy with how they treat me, or am I holding onto the idea of what could be?”

I can’t tell you to leave a relationship — it isn’t my place. But I do want you to be aware of your idealism, and make sure it doesn’t pull the wool over your eyes. Self-esteem and confidence also play a huge role. Listen to your inner dreams and pursue them in actuality. This can go a long way to keep INFPs grounded in reality.

Once you can see your partner without an idealistic halo, you’ll know within yourself what the best next step should be — be it a conversation, some inner work on self-esteem, or perhaps even ending the relationship for good.

Remember, relationships should feel like blessings, not curses. The bottom line is, in a healthy relationship, your baseline feeling shouldn’t be stress. Of course, no relationship is perfect, but stress should not be the predominant emotion.

Why be with a partner who brings out the worst in you? Who makes you feel like your intuition is off kilter? Who makes you feel like you are asking for too much, when all you want is to give and receive love?

INFP, you deserve the love you so freely give to others.

Source: Olivia Berkley, IntrovertDear

#olivia berkley #infp #introvertdear #infp quotes #infp thoughts #infp personality #infp advice #infp problems #infp things #infp traits

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lihikainanea · 5 years ago

Text

When tiger says her safe word.

Disclaimer:

Alright guys, look. I wrote and re-wrote this one a million times and then I thought it might just be better to add a bit of context.

People aren’t perfect, and sometimes they fuck up. Bill doesn’t seem like himself in this one, and in the heat of the moment tiger’s mind got away on her a lot. It happens, especially when your partner seems a little left of centre and you don’t find a lot of their traits that you seek out when things get intense. Dom/sub dynamics can escalate quickly, if a person’s headspace isn’t quite right it’s easy for the body to activate that panic response. Tiger was feeling some discomfort, she didn’t quite feel safe, and she did exactly what she was supposed to--exactly what Bill wants her to do--every single time that happens.

Tiger knows Bill would never hurt her, and she’s not scared of him. But in the heat of the moment, who he seemed to be was giving her quite a fright. But the minute she said her safe word--he stopped everything. Immediately. Because there is no other option. When someone safe words, you stop.

***

He didn’t seem like himself.

It was the first thing that struck you as he greeted you in the airport. Even though he had wrapped, even though it was time to leave the character behind, he seemed to still carry some of it with him. His face still had a few harsh ridges that didn’t belong to him, a bit of a tick in his jaw that was more ominous than his own, an impatience and abruptness to his movements that you weren’t used to.

The character had been so far from his baseline. You hadn’t been around to see it, only just barely as he rehearsed for the role before leaving to shoot—but it was a man full of torture, of pain, of aggression and anger and a hair trigger temper. It was far from his naturally even-tempered, calm state and like everything else, he had thrown himself into it with reckless abandon. The FaceTime calls were few and far between because his character was a recluse, one who gladly eschewed human interaction at every chance and he wanted to feel that, to immerse himself in it. But the few times you had seen him, it was easy to see a difference in his usually happy self—his patience seemed lot shorter, his answers to your questions far more curt. It had sent a warning flag up in your brain but he had levelled with you in a lengthy series of text messages a few days later—this one was a hard one. He already had a tough time wrapping his head around the character and he felt that unless he really threw himself into it 100% and let it consume him—then he would just never get a feel for the guy he was supposed to portray. So that’s what he did. He reinforced that your safe word would still work over text message and that if you really needed him, then he’d be there. But otherwise, he needed…space. Distance. He needed to allow himself to delve into the darkest parts of a mind that wasn’t his, to make it come to life on screen.

And he did just that, but when he wrapped, he had reached out. He needed a break, needed to let the character go, needed to get as far away from him as he could. He had asked you then, if you’d go away with him somewhere—anywhere, so long as it was far away. You checked in with work and booked the time off before calling him back, telling him to choose the place. Somewhere warm, he thought. Somewhere with a lot of nature, where time seemed to just stand still, where you could be just the two of you and reconnect.

“Tiger, I need a favour from you,” he had said on a late night call, “A mulligan. A free pass, or whatever.”

Something in his tone had struck you, and you pressed the phone closer to your ear.

“Just name it and it’s yours, Billy Goat,” you reassured. You heard him take a deep breath.

“Let me take care of this one,” he asked.

“Bill—” you huffed.

“I know, kid. I know,” he interjected, “But I have it all lined up. I need sun, I need nature, I need ocean. I need you, tiger. Please, let me do this. For us.”

You sighed heavily into the phone.

“For me, kid,” he tried again, “Please?”

“Bill, I love you. And for everything but your money.”

“I know, tiger,” he said and you could hear the smile in his voice, “Thank you.”

“I’m paying you back in blowjobs,” you said, and you smiled when his boisterous laugh came through the phone.

“I’d be an idiot to say no to that,” he laughed, “The mouth on you could kill a man.”

You hung up shortly after, making arrangements to meet him where he had just wrapped because it was easier to get to your vacation destination from there. The airline tickets had come through your email a short while later, accompanied by a sweet note from him that had you packing your bags that much faster.

But when you landed, it seemed that there was somebody other than your best friend who had greeted you at the airport. A man with a much shorter temper, a lot more darkness in his eyes, far more malicious purpose to his step. He looked tired as he always did after a gruelling shoot and that seemed normal, but something in his demeanour seemed off. His demeanor, and his body—Bill looked huge. You told him as much as he leaned to hug you.

“This guy was big, tiger,” he explained with a shrug, “Big and angry. I had to work out a lot more and eat my weight in chicken breasts. But I’m done talking about him. Done living him. Come on.”

He ushered you to the waiting car, giving your bag to the driver to toss in the trunk as he slid in beside you. As soon as the doors were shut he took your face in his hands, laying a deep kiss on your lips.

“I missed you, kid,” he murmured against your mouth as he kissed you again, “So, so much.”

“I missed you too, bud,” you whispered, “And now we have a whole week together to just relax.”

He sighed against your lips, and you pulled him in for another kiss.

You both thought the sun, the sea and some good food would do him good, would bring him a little back to himself. And while it did relax him somewhat—the bags under his eyes took a few days but they eventually disappeared, his skin took on a much healthier glow, but somehow he still seemed….different. He seemed tense and alert, ready to strike at any moment. His laid back nature was gone, replaced by something far more anxious, jumpy, something worried and jaded. He had been rough with you too, the first night you spent together after awhile. You hadn’t quite paid as much attention to it because you needed him just as bad, but his movements were far more harsh, aggressive. He grabbed and pulled at you, bit at your lips and just moved you into the position he wanted before slamming into you, keeping his pace hurried and rough. You had enjoyed it, it had been a long time since you had been with him and you liked when he got needy, when he got so desperate for you that he could barely contain it. You liked when he was a little frantic, a little aggressive, a little consumed by it. It felt good to feel his desire, to be with him after so many weeks apart. But usually after being a little rougher than usual he’d take care of you, make sure you were okay, cuddle you and give you lots of gentle touches before drifting off to sleep.

This time, everything about it after was different. With an arm slung loosely around your hip, he leaned over you and kissed your cheek.

“You good, kid?” He asked, already settling behind you. You furrowed your brow.

“Yeah I’m…I’m good,” you stammered, and you craned your neck to reach his lips for another kiss.

“Good. Goodnight, tiger,” he murmured, and then he flopped his head on the pillow. Frowning, you removed his arm from your waist and pushed the covers back.

“I’m just going to clean up,” you said into the darkness, and he raised his head.

“Oh, right,” he fumbled, “I’ll get you a washcloth.”

You pressed his shoulder back into the bed as he sat up.

“It’s okay,” you mumbled, “I’ll get it.”

With your arms outstretched, you followed the walls into the bathroom to clean up. It was usually always something he did for you, bring you a warm washcloth and even wipe you clean, but you knew he was tired. He probably still didn’t have his head screwed on straight, you rationalized, and he’d be back to himself after some much needed rest and relaxation. You cleaned yourself off and shut the light, making your way back to bed. He was already snoring, his rhythmic breaths breaking the silence in the room. You crawled back into bed, grabbing his wrist and looping it around your waist. He stirred, curling in around you and pressing his lips to your ear.

“I’m sorry tiger,” he mumbled, “I should’ve done that.”

“It’s fine,” you murmured. You titled your head for a kiss, raising a hand to run through his hair as he tightened his arms around you.

“This guy got to me,” he admitted, “He’s a hard one to shake.”

“But he’s done now,” you slowly rolled over so you were facing him, and after another peck to his lips you tucked your head under his chin, “You don’t ever have to be him again.”

“Until re-shoots,” he laughed with a snort, and you smiled into his chest.

“Those are a long time from now,” you sighed as you kissed his chest, “I love you, bud.”

“Love you too, kid.”

You looped your arms around him, scratching idly at his back until you heard his breaths even out. You shifted, stretching out muscles that were already sore and sucking in a harsh breath when you went to rest on your back. It hurt too much already, your stinging backside and some of the bruises already emerging, so you tucked into his chest and rested your cheek over his heart to let the rhythmic beating lull you into a fitful sleep.

The ache was the first thing that you noticed when you woke up the next morning. It wasn’t abnormal to be a bit sore after a night when you had been so rough with each other, but this was a little worse than usual. Stretching your legs until your knees cracked, you winced as you rolled over onto your back—you could feel the bruises on your backside, the skin raw and tender. You rolled your wrists and flinched, they were aching from when he had held them over your head in a vice grip, but you shook them out and reached for him in bed, seeking his warmth and his comfort.

Neither were to be found as you rolled right into a pillow, opening one eye to look for him. You raised your head when he wasn’t in your line of sight, looking around before you spotted him on the balcony with a cigarette in his hand. He jumped when you opened the patio door, and his face dropped when he saw the distressed look on yours.

“Why did you leave?” You stammered, pulling the hem of your night shirt down.

“Hey kid,” he started, “I’m sorry, I thought you’d be out for a little while longer. It’s early.”

He stubbed the cigarette out immediately, standing and walking to you as you anxiously ran your hand through your hair.

“Bill you never leave the bed after a night like we had,” you said and your voice trembled, “You’re always there when I wake up.”

Your breath came in raggedly and he placed his hands on your arms.

“Tiger, hey, easy,” he said as he took your face in his hands, “You’re okay, kid. I’m right here.”

“But you always stay in bed,” you accused, “To make sure I wake up okay.”

“I just needed a cigarette, tiger,” he said gently, “I’m sorry. I’m right here. Come on back to bed.”

And you had let him carry you back to bed and stay with you for awhile, tending to some of the more sore spots that you had told him about. He seemed like his old self then, bringing you coffee and tutting softly as he ran his hands over you, kissing over some of your emerging bruises. He had showered with you like he always did, helped with the zipper on your sundress and placed a soft kiss on your neck like he always did, grabbing your hand on the way out the door for breakfast. You were a little slow moving, the bruises on your thighs from his tight grip and the ache between your legs from the way he had pounded into you still had you moving a little gingerly, and it didn’t go unnoticed. When the elevator doors closed he let out a deep sigh, turning and backing you slowly into the corner.

“Tiger, I really am sorry,” he murmured, grabbing your chin gently and tilting it up towards him, “I shouldn’t have let you wake up like that after last night. I fucked up, kid.”

He kissed you tenderly, barely brushing his lips with yours and you put your hands on his chest.

“It’s okay,” you tilted your head for another kiss and fiddled with the neckline of his shirt nervously, “Just….just don’t do that again, Bill. It was awful.”

He nodded solemnly and jumped away from you when the doors opened and more people got on. But he squeezed your hand reassuringly, raising it to his lips to kiss each of your knuckles before keeping hold of it.

It seemed, at least for a little while, that his gentleness had come back—until the waitress messed up his coffee order at breakfast, and he uncharacteristically snapped at her. She pursed her lips, looking like she was one more rude comment away from dumping the entire pot on his lap, but ultimately nodded politely and turned to get him the right order as you glared across the table.

“Bill, what the fuck was that?” You kept your tone low but harsh, and he glanced up at you passively.

“It’s coffee, tiger, not fucking rocket science,” he retorted, and you looked at him incredulously.

“And you couldn’t tell her nicely?” You hissed.

“I did that the first time and it didn’t work, did it?” He flicked his eyes to yours before focusing back on his menu. You mouth hung open before you cleared your throat, calmly taking a sip of your champagne.

“Bill.”

“Hmm?” He didn’t look up.

“Bill,” you said more forcefully, and tapped his shin with your foot. Keeping his head down, he raised his eyebrows as his eyes flicked up to yours.

“What tiger?” He replied in the same tone. You reached across the table, grabbing both of his hands and staring him down.

“I’m going to say this once, bud,” you said, “This guy I’m with right now? He’s not you. He’s shades of the guy you just spent 6 weeks pretending to be. And he better get the fuck out of you right fucking now, before I make him get the fuck out. Understand?”

He didn’t react, and you flicked his knuckles.

“Understand?” You repeated; he nodded slightly and had the decency to look at least a little bashful.

“Yeah kid, I get it,” he mumbled.

“Good,” and you released his hands, turning your attention back to your menu. The air was tense, heavy with awkwardness, but a few seconds later Bill rose slowly. Your eyes followed him and you saw him approach the waitress, slowly put a hand on her arm and apologize. She smiled a half smile, nodding and managing a little laugh before patting his hand in reassurance. When he came back to the table he stepped behind you, looping his arms around your shoulders and putting his lips at your ear. He gave you a gentle kiss on your earlobe before nuzzling his nose in there.

“He’s a hard one to shake,” he mumbled.

“Well, you better shake him before I do, bud,” you said honestly, “I don’t like this version of you.”

He sighed softly, mumbling another apology in your ear before kissing your cheek. He grabbed his chair, bringing it around to sit beside you instead and lacing his fingers with yours.

He had straightened out more over the course of the day, making a conscious effort to relax a little. Shades of his normal self shone through when he snuck up behind you to fold you into his arms, when he gently brushed your hair back and braided it for you before dinner—plucking a tropical flower from the hedges by the balcony to place over your ear. He seemed a little more like himself during dinner, taking a seat beside you on wooden chairs plunked in the sand, his thigh pressed to yours, his eyes starting to clear from their fog of the past few days. A little of the impatience still lingered, the curtness and annoyance when something went wrong, but you were willing to acknowledge the progress already. But halfway through dinner, the air changed again. And when he leaned forward, biting your earlobe and surreptitiously passing your hand over the bulge in his shorts, you took in a deep breath.

“I need you kid,” he breathed in your ear, “Now.”

And then you were being hauled up, nearly running after him as he held onto your hand and took big strides to your room. The minute the door closed behind you, he was shoving your back against it. He bit at your lips as his hands grabbed at you, tugging your dress as he tried to find the zipper. You flinched as he bit your neck, his hands gripping the fabric at the back of your dress and you felt his arms tense.

“Whoa whoa whoa,” your hands flew back to grab his just in time, “Don’t rip this dress, I like it.”

“Then get it the fuck off, tiger,” he growled and you winced a little as he pulled you forward and slammed you into the wall instead, jamming his knee between your legs. He kissed you hard, knocking the back of your head into the wall as he groaned into your mouth—but then you were moving again, being pulled forward as the zipper on your dress was yanked down, the straps pulled down your arms before he lifted you and clutched you to his front. You tried to breathe, to calm your racing heart—you had been rough with each other before and you always enjoyed it, but this time it felt more…unsettling. Maybe because Bill had barely seemed like himself for the entire trip, maybe because you were still so sore from when he had let it all out last night, maybe because it seemed that there wasn’t a single part of you that wasn’t being bitten or pinched or grabbed harshly. He pulled his hand back from where it had your thigh in a vice grip, landing it hard on your ass and you yelped, wincing. It just seemed to spur him on more as he bit on your lower lip, pulling back and spanking you again. You sucked a tense breath in through your teeth, barely stopping the pained whimper that escaped, and then you were flying in the air as he threw you onto the bed and pounced on top of you.

You tried to tell yourself that this was Bill, your best friend, someone you loved and felt safe with—but the fear was getting away on you. He was just so big now, a lot bigger than you were used to seeing him, and there was so much anger to him in everything he did. You hadn’t seen any of the gentleness that always seemed right at the surface even when he rough-housed you, you hadn’t seen any of the calmness and comfort he always seemed to exude when you needed it, and he hadn’t once faltered in his heated, aggressive pace where you could usually see hints of the boyish smile peak through. There was none of that, instead he was hurried and rough and chased his own pleasure, his hands were strong as they grabbed and pulled at you, and his usually soft lips were curled over teeth that bit and nipped at you just a little harder than you were used to.

You held onto his shoulders, squeaking as he ripped your panties off. He grabbed your hand to lace his fingers with yours and you breathed a small sigh of relief, but when he slammed into you without warning every muscle in your body tightened and you let out a pained grunt. It hurt—it hurt a lot. You were still so sensitive from last night, still aching in all the same places, and as he pulled back and slammed into you again, the pain got too much.

“Red,” you choked out, and he stilled immediately, “Red red red.”

In a flash, he was off of you. He pulled back, untangling all of his limbs from you and pulling out of you as fast as he could while you winced. He put distance between you—a lot of distance—crouching on the floor at the foot of the bed so you wouldn’t even feel his presence on the mattress. And you needed it—you needed space, to try and calm down. You took a ragged breath in, cupping your hands over your face as a small sob escaped on the exhale.

You counted to ten, trying to get at least three decent breaths in. You couldn’t stop a few tears from falling down your cheeks as you started to cry, keeping your hands pressed to your face as you sat up. You tried to talk yourself down—to remind yourself that this was Bill, and Bill would never hurt you on purpose. Things had gotten out of hand, escalated a bit too quickly, and it had freaked you out because you weren’t sure who he was anymore. He didn’t have his usual gentleness, his calmness, and you needed to sense that when things were starting to get a bit rough, you needed to still feel safe and know that it wouldn’t get too far. But he hadn’t seemed himself, you hadn’t sensed any of your best friend still in there, and when it started to get really intense you didn’t feel safe with whoever he seemed to be in that moment.

But it was still Bill. He was still hiding in there somewhere, maybe a little deeper than usual. And when you said your safe word, he had stopped immediately. And if you had let him know just a little earlier that it was a bit too rough, a bit too intense, that he seemed a bit less like himself—he would have been the one to stop it all, comfort you, make sure you were okay. It was still Bill, no matter what.

But instead he watched helplessly as your shoulders shook softly, watched you try and breathe properly to stifle the crying. He wanted so badly to reach for you, but he knew the boundaries you both had set—red meant you were at your limit. Red meant you couldn’t handle anymore, that you were in pain or scared or both. Red meant he wasn’t allowed to touch you, not even talk to you, until you told him it was okay.

He felt his chest crush with guilt—he had pushed you too far. He had pushed you to the point where he scared you, caused you pain. He bit his lip, running his hand through his hair as he waited agonizingly for your next move. For you to tell him he could touch you, hold you, comfort you the way he needed to. He hoped you would let him.

A sniffle broke through your ragged breaths and he watched as you shook your head lightly and swiped at your tears with the back of your hand.

“Bill,” you held it out to him, “Come here, please. Slowly.”

“Tiger…” he murmured, but the rest of the words died on his lips. He didn’t even know what to say. He rose to his feet, keeping his movements slow and deliberate as he crawled onto the bed. When his chest hit your extended hand, you flattened your palm on it.

“Stop,” you whispered, and he halted. Reaching down, you grabbed his hand and laced your fingers with his. You took a shaky breath in, squeezing his hand. He stayed stoic, your thumb stroking over his knuckles for what seemed like an eternity.

“Talk, please,” you said feebly, “Just say anything.”

“Tiger,” he whispered, and you could hear the pain in his voice, “I’m so, so sorry kid.”

You sniffled, tightening your grip on his hand and he squeezed back.

“You’re safe,” he continued, “It’s just me and you here. You’re safe, kid. Something just scared you, that’s all.”

“You did,” you mumbled lowly, “You scared me.”

You heard his sharp intake of breath, and you glanced up in time to see the tortured look in his eye. Those eyes—those eyes, you knew. Kind and gentle, warm, worried—you held his gaze as he bit his lip.

“Kid, are you hurt?” He tried softly, and you nodded slightly. You heard his hard swallow.

“How hurt?” He asked, “Hospital hurt?”

You shook your head.

“Did…did I hurt you?”

You nodded. His heart sank.

“Tiger, can I come closer?” His voice broke, and he squeezed your hand lightly. You nodded.

“Can I hold you?” He asked, and you nodded again. Ducking his head, he caught your gaze as your eyes flitted to his.

“Yes?’ He looked for confirmation.

“Yes,” you sniffled, “Move slowly, please.”

And he did. Moving to sit cross legged in front of you, he reached a tentative arm out and pulled you gently into his lap as you winced, keeping his movements slow and predictable. Once you were settled against his chest, he wrapped his arms around you and pressed his nose to yours. He took a steadying breath in.

“Is this okay?” He asked, and you nodded.

“Can you talk to me, kid?” He pleaded, “Tell me what happened?”

You exhaled a deep breath, swiping at your tears and picking at your fingernails.

“Bill, you…I got….” You paused when your lip started to quiver, taking a moment to calm down, “I don’t know who you are, this week.”

You couldn’t bring yourself to look at him just yet, so you kept your eyes focused on your lap.

“You’re so angry all the time, so aggressive and short tempered and…and rough. And now you’re huge, and you were so rough yesterday and you didn’t take care of me after and I’m so sore. I hurt everywhere. And when you came at me again tonight I just…I got…scared.”

It was Bill’s turn to pause, close his eyes to try and process it all, but you kept babbling nervously.

“I’m fine with rough because I know that I’m always safe with you. But you haven’t been YOU this whole trip and last night hurt but not enough to stop but this morning really hurt and then you weren’t there when I woke up and I was so sore and tonight you were being so rough again and you’re so big now Bill and everything about you is so angry and I was too sore and it was too much and you just….”

Nothing else came out, and at your silence he raised his eyes to yours. He reached his hand for your cheek, pausing to open his palm a few inches from your face and wait for you to nod. You did, and his thumb stroked your cheek lightly.

“Tiger, last night…” he whispered, “Did I do something that you didn’t want? Did I go too far?”

“No,” you said honestly, “It was…rough. But I enjoyed it last night.”

“Did it scare you?”

“A little,” you admitted, “You didn’t seem like…you.”

He took a deep breath in.

“And tonight? I hurt you?” He asked.

“Yes.”

“And I did something you didn’t want?”

You shook your head forcefully.

“No,” you emphasized, “I said my safe word before it got there. And you stopped.”

“Tiger, can you look at me sweetheart?” He asked, “It’s okay if you can’t yet.”

But a gentle kiss to your temple and his warm hands running up your sides helped ground you, helped confirm that it was Bill now, the Bill you knew, trying to comfort you. You brought your gaze reluctantly to his.

“Thanks,” he murmured, “Tiger, I don’t ever want to hurt you. Ever. And I don’t ever want you to be afraid of me.”

He stopped when his voice cracked, taking a deep breath in.

“I have no excuses kid, none. I have no excuses for leaving you this morning after being so rough with you last night, I have no excuses for snapping at you and everyone else this week, I have no excuses for being so rough and careless with you again tonight.”

“Bill I like it when you’re rough,” you mumbled, but he gently placed a finger over your lips.

“I know, but I took it too far. I need to do better. Tiger I’m so, so sorry. I would never hurt you on purpose, and I never want to scare you. I’m sorry, kid. I’ll do better.”

You sniffled gently, burrowed further into him and he pulled you closer.

“Thank you for saying your safe word,” he continued, “Thank you for stopping me when you didn’t feel safe anymore or when it didn’t feel good. That takes courage, kid. You did good.”

You nodded, fiddling with the chain around his neck and wiping a fresh set of tears from your cheeks. He shifted you so you were facing him, spanning his hands across your cheeks as he kept his eyes on yours.

“I’m sorry, tiger,” he murmured, “I’m sorry I hurt you. And I’m sorry I scared you.”

“Apology accepted,” you sniffled, kissing him gently.

“Are you okay? Can you tell me what I can do to make it better for you now?” He still looked so distraught, so torn up over the whole thing as he rested his forehead gently on yours.

“You can start off by kissing me,” you said, “A real good one, like you usually do.”

He tilted your chin up to lay his lips on yours. It was everything the last few days had lacked—it was gentle, warm, full of softness. He pulled away slowly but when your lips chased his, he kissed you again and waited until you broke away first.

“I want a bath please,” you requested, “A bubble bath.” You wanted closeness, you wanted his arms around you, and the hot water would do wonders for your aches and pains.

“A bubble bath? Okay. I…I can do that,” he nodded, “Can I pick you up?”

You nodded, but you wanted to make one more thing clear to him so you stayed his arms when he reached for you. He misinterpreted your move, retracting his arms as if he had been burnt, taking a big step back from you even as you grabbed for him.

“I’m sorry,” he stuttered, “You said it was okay. I thought—”

You sighed, rubbing at your eyes and taking a steadying breath.

“Bill, it is okay,” you reassured, “Come back here.”

“Tiger—” he hesitated, but you held your hand up.

“No. Bill, right now this is still about what I need. And I need you to come back here and put your arms around me,” you gave him a second to spring into action and he did, gathering you gently in his arms.

“And now, I need you to listen,” you turned so you were facing him, taking his chin in your hands.

“Bud, this doesn’t change…us. Our dynamic. What we do. I don’t want this to change what we do. I enjoy it when you’re a little rough with me,” you explained, but he shook his head stubbornly.

“Tiger, I hurt you. I scared you. This is going to change our dynamic,” he insisted, “I don’t want to be rough with you anymore.”

“In that moment, what you were doing scared me. And the aftermath of yesterday was what hurt me. Bill, I’m not afraid of you. And I know you would never hurt me. As soon as I let you know I wasn’t okay, you stopped. The very reason why safe words exist is so that your partner—whom you love and trust—doesn’t push you too far,” you said. He looked unconvinced.

“I don’t want our dynamic to change. And I want you to know that. Now if you don’t feel comfortable being rough with me anymore because you’re scared, that’s a limit we can talk about. But we’ll talk about it tomorrow, because I am exhausted, I am still sore, and I need you to hold me for a lot longer.”

“Not because I’m scared,” you clarified, coaxing his arms tighter around you, “But because I missed you, because you make me feel safe, because you’re warm, and because you finally seem like yourself again.”

You patted his shoulder, jutting your chin until he got the message and stood to bring you into the bathroom while he drew the bath. He tested the water, putting extra bubbles in it before stepping in and holding his hand out to you. He sat down slowly and waited for your next move, but without hesitation you sat between his legs, leaning your back against his chest. He let out a deep sigh.

“Tiger—“ he started, but you cut him off.

“We’re done apologizing, bud. We’re okay,” you confirmed, craning your neck back for a kiss.

Another deep sigh rang in your ear, but he pressed his lips to your temple and left them there

“I’ve got promises to keep,” he murmured.

“And miles to go before I sleep.”

#bill skarsgard #sub tiger #BFF!Bill #bill skarsgard fic #bill skarsgard drabble

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rayarmat · 4 years ago

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Fun in Snow and The Road Not Taken: Money-Time Trade-off For Happiness is Not Linear

I often hear middle- or high-income friends and family members complain about being overworked and not having enough “time” for fun and relaxation. I think their logic is flawed because of their basic misunderstanding of the relation between “time/quantity” and “experiential/quality” of life. On a snowy day like yesterday, for example, many people were aggrieved at having to work indoors and missing the perfect sunny day outdoors, which my family and I used for downhill sledding (as shared in the pictures and video).

Often when I ask people trapped indoors why they can’t they take a half day off to enjoy the snow, they would say they have used up their vacations or time offs and cannot take an “unpaid” leave. When I ask them how they used up all the “paid time off” they often mention some costly or elaborate activity or high expenses of life. The question is why not enjoy breaks in life in smaller, lower cost doses? or even lower our baselines of expectations in life so we can live at a lower cost? It is all rooted in the circuitry of human brains.

The Addictive Reward Seeking Circuits in Human Brains: Dopamine, The “Never-Enough” Hormone

For example, one of my former coworkers once spent $3000 on a week-long vacation to a ski resort. That was about two weeks of take-home pay for him and his wife (after tax) and about ONE YEAR of his family’s (after-tax) savings. That also used up half of his annual vacation time. Another person I know, would spend a major part of her time-off from her well-paying but grueling (indoor) job, inside shopping malls (indoors again) to shop for designer items like expensive snow boots or triple goose down winter jackets to keep her feet and body “perfectly” warm for up to 8 hours “if and when” that rare occasion arises that she can finally take the hard-earned vacation to enjoy the snow outdoors. When that ephemeral moment of joy finally arrives to enjoy life in full gear - arctic boots, jackets, Ray-Ban sunglasses and all - she would spend, like the fellow in the first example, hours driving or flying to a costly ski resort plus a good bit of her hard-earned savings and time off on a vacation which often turns out somewhat disappointing and not as dreamy or enjoyable as her perfectionist mind had imagined or planned (spent) for. Occasional head aches or back pains, stressful travel, imperfect weather, residual work stress and and the anxiety of returning to her indoors grueling job make the fleeting vacation a lot like caffeine rush and crash, high expectations and fleeting pleasure followed by disappointment and fatigue. The superwarm jacket and arctic boots now have to be stowed away in a large, very large, closet (in a large house with a high mortgage), next to other once or twice a year used items, all paid for by her, toiling away at a tiresome job.

The brain circuits pushing humans to these cycles of “rush and crash” are often controlled by a hormone called dopamine, the “not-enough” hormone involved in pleasure, reward, learning, motivation and novelty. Basically without this hormone we would not be motivated to “explore” but with too much of it we end up on slippery slopes and addictive cycles of seeking more novelties and new highs (My book will explain the mechanisms in more detail). Basically the “rush” phase of the cycle results from elevated baselines of pleasure expectation (dopaminergic reward seeking circuits in the brain) followed by a “crash” phase caused by negative prediction-errors, i.e., the experience being a lot less rewarding than imagined (hence a sharp depletion of dopaminergic energy, drive and motivation). Over time, these cycles are associated with dependence and withdrawal, the clinical hallmarks of addictive behavior. That is why the new volume of American Psychiatric Association's Diagnostic and Statistical Manual of Mental Disorders (DSM-5) now lists several new conditions such as hoarding disorder, internet gaming disorder and caffeine use disorder as psychiatric disorders or conditions recommended for further research because of their addictive nature.

The way out of these cycles is to:

1) Understand the real “reward” is the experience of joy with minimal expectations, and the real “cost” is the amount of life (work) exchanged for that joy.

2) Set our “reward” expectation baselines and set points, as well as our “cost” baselines, at low manageable levels and in small doses over time.

That is why my family and I take a different “low-cost” path to relaxation, but it needs flexibility:

1) We do not wait for the perfect week-long vacation to travel to a remote fancy resort: This allows us to be flexible and take advantage of smaller windows, 2-3 hours at a time, of great weather.

2) We enjoy taxpayer funded local natural preserves or state and public parks that are lesser known, often free and not that busy. Many are within an hour drive from our house so there is no need to spend a lot of time and money in transit, lodging, restaurant food, etc.

3) We do not wait to buy nice arctic jackets and boots because we do not need all of that on a 2-hour sledding window. Normal boots and jackets will do.

4) We do not think too much about the opportunity cost of our time (see next section). Any income we lose from not working for a few hours is offset by the money we save in staying local and flexible with our relaxation windows.

In short, we find Robert Frost very wise in The Road Not Taken:

“I shall be telling this with a sigh Somewhere ages and ages hence: Two roads diverged in a wood, and I— I took the one less traveled by, And that has made all the difference.”

*****************************

On The Opportunity Cost of Time and Experiential Value of Life

“It is one of those days that even my second pot of coffee is not helping!” This and many similar posts I see every day on social media signal to me a state of “fatigue”and grievance among people. But the grievance is misplaced and rooted in the way people unknowingly base their own life’s value system on the economic model first proposed by Adam Smith to quantify and allocate labor and capital resources in the new age of capitalism. Prior to that, (excess) labor, capital and know-how were not mobile or widely available to create the large-scale powerful machinery, factories and markets that capitalism created.

In Adam Smith's capitalism, a person’s unit of time (labor) is valued and quantified for the labor and productivity of that person in that unit of time. Unfortunately, many people have now adopted this market valuation of hourly labor (salary) as the baseline of how they “value” their own time and life’s worth. Their mix up experiential value of life (joy of living) with the exchange value of their time and labor. Therefore, many people now subconsciously evaluate any experience in their life (units of time on this planet) as a “cost” or what economists call an “opportunity cost,” the market value of their time.

For example, a nurse whose time is valued by the medical market at $30 an hour, would be programmed to think of an 8-hour block of her job, life and even vacation opportunities at about $240 (in lost income opportunity or opportunity cost). After all, if she had to take an unpaid day off for fun or any task or life experience, she would lose about $240. A medical doctor making about three times as much as the nurse, would value his or her time in life at a rate of $720 per 8 hours. That is why with time-consuming chores such as mowing the lawn, or taking care of an elderly parent, it is more likely that the doctor, and not the nurse, would hire help. This is because the opportunity cost (i.e., forfeited income) for the nurse, of “not” getting paid for hospital work while nursing an elderly parent at home, is less than her cost of paying someone else to nurse her parent so sh/he would nurse the parent herself. For the doctor, however, the economic calculus is very different. He comes out way ahead in terms of the opportunity cost if he can work on that day (make $720) or not use a paid vacation and instead pay someone about $240 to nurse the elderly parent or $100 to landscape and manicure his lawn.

The problem of “rush and crush” explained in the first part of the article occurs because many humans now equate ANY reward expectations in life (and dopamine baselines) with income and opportunity cost of their time (labor) in the market. Yet life’s “experiential value” cannot be quantified with market “exchange value.” For starters, there are no taxes on the joy of life (not yet). Also, how could anyone assign value to what we learn or feel through our life experiences? To the peace and health that comes with a joyful anxiety-free life?

Although some evolutionary scientists call modern human species as Homo Economicus, the economically calculating human species, Money-time trade-off for happiness is not linear. If it was, rich folks would never have to pay for love, get depressed, addicted or suicidal in an economic utilitarian system.

Our brain circuits (including those of the rich folks) have not evolved to curb our enthusiasm, excess and high reward expectation baselines. So we are prone to being regulated and controlled by the addictive “never-enough” hormone (dopamine) when we are driven by competition to set increasingly high expectations proportional to the exchange value (opportunity cost) of our time even when it comes to life outside work. This is why many people follow and worship folks who have higher (income/reward/dopamine) baselines than theirs because they equate value of a life to the exchange (market) value of that person’s time.

***********************************************

I have learned to set modest reward expectation baselines so I do not have to measure life experiences (vital to my quality of life such as health and peace) against the exchange market value of my time (i.e., labor). For example, the opportunity cost for my two hours of sledding would be around $200 in a competitive world. But that number is now totally irrelevant to me as long as I am able to feed and house my family. Honestly, how can anyone “quantify” a “qualitative” life experience which is conducive to our health and peace? How could I even assign a market exchange (dollar) value to the joy of sledding downhill on a sunny afternoon with my family? Is it worth the $200 I lost in income (if I competed against my equals in capitalism)? or slightly more or less? Does it even matter as long as it exceeded my modest and humble expectation for a happy afternoon and dopamine baselines moderated by contentment (the hormone involved here is serotonin, which is a topic of another article).

Perhaps nobody can summarize this article better than Jose’ Mujica, Uruguay’s former farmer President, who stepped down voluntarily after one term to attend to his flower gardens: “When you buy something, you are not paying for it with money. You’re paying with the hours of life you had to spend earning that money. The difference is that life is one thing money can’t buy.”

#economy #snow #philosophy

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galah-xy · 5 years ago

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Spinel & BPD

Steven Universe: The Movie really hit hard for me. To me, Spinel showed a few symptoms of Borderline Personality Disorder (or BPD), and as someone experiencing a few symptoms of BPD myself, I was really pleased to see an accurate representation of a mental illness in a TV show – and in a children’s 'cartoon' show no less.

(However, as much as I appreciate this accurate representation, I'm still upset that it is represented in a villain, but that's for another essay.)

In this essay, I will relate my own experiences of having symptoms of BPD to some of her dialogues and songs, to show how realistic her character was in portraying BPD.

[SPOILERS BELOW]

Throughout the movie, Spinel showed a few symptoms of Borderline Personality Disorder, such as:

Feeling emotions intensely

Harder to return to a stable baseline after an emotionally triggering event

Fear of (real or imagined) abandonment by loved ones

Unstable personal relationships alternating between idealization (“I love her so much”) and devaluation (“I hate her so much”)

Impulsive behaviors that can have dangerous outcomes

Intense or uncontrollable anger - often followed by shame and guilt

WARNING: I am not a licensed psychologist, and the creators of the show did not explicitly confirm that Spinel has BPD. Therefore, I cannot fully diagnose Spinel has having BPD. I am simply saying that she show symptoms of it. These are only based on my own experiences and observations. And if you relate to a few of the symptoms mentioned above, please seek professional help and avoid any form of self-diagnosis.

Now, to understand how all these symptoms were shown, let’s have a recap of the whole movie.

----------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Spinel was created to be a play mate for Pink Diamond, and they would play in the garden for hundreds of years and years. But Pink Diamond was getting tired of playing with her and felt that Spinel was being too clingy.

So, Pink Diamond told her to play one last game. Spinel will stand in the garden and won't move until Pink Diamond comes back. Thing is, Pink Diamond never came back. Spinel waited for thousands of years, only to hear news that she made new friends without her, did so many things without her, and then died, leaving her all alone.

Feeling hurt, and betrayed by what Pink Diamond did, she released her anger on Steven, Pink Diamond's son, by making Steven lose all his powers, making his friends lose all their memories, and destroying the entire planet. Throughout this fight, however, even Spinel forgot all her memories of Pink, and went back to her ‘default setting’ of being a happy playmate.

Steven spends the whole movie being distrustful towards Spinel, since she was the one who destroyed everything he loved. He spent all his time trying to bring back his friends’ memories, and unintentionally neglected Spinel at every step of the way, and this triggered her to remember all the pain she felt when Pink neglected her.

After Spinel explained everything Pink did to her, Steven tries to help her, and she calms down for a while because she felt that someone was finally listening to her. But it turns out, Steven only wanted to bring back her memories so she can stop the destruction of the planet. After Spinel turned off her injector, Steven went back to trying to help his own friends.

She snapped and lashed out - and this time, she was hell-bent on killing Steven completely.

Spinel: You know, I came here to take my anger out on a bunch of strangers, but now that I know you, I want to kill you even more.

Steven finally gets his powers back after realizing that change is important in growth. He tries to talk Spinel out of her anger, but she couldn’t comprehend that she could change the way Steven did. She had so much hate, not just for Steven, but also for herself.

But after she was able to release out all this anger, she started to show extreme shame and guilt for her actions. She was able to help Steven save the planet, and through Pink’s siblings, she finally found someone who can love her for who she is.

----------------------------------------------------------------------------------

I feel so much sympathy for Spinel. Her only purpose as a gem was to please her friend, Pink Diamond. She dedicated every moment of her life for her. So many of Spinel’s songs and dialogues really hit me, because it made me remember the times I was in her position.

I have had moments in my life when I would sacrifice all my time for someone I loved. I equated my own self-worth with how much I could make others happy. I would hate myself so much whenever I made other people upset.

From the song, “Drift Away”, Spinel sings:

"And then she smiled, that’s what I’m after A smile in her eyes, the sound of her laughter Happy to listen, happy to play, happily watching her drift away”

Looking back, I understand now that constantly seeking validation from others was incredibly unhealthy, and it might have been the reason why these people left us.

I also have this unhealthy habit of doing too much for others, with the hopes that they would eventually do the same for me, even when they have never shown any sign that they would.

In the same song, she sings:

“You keep on turning pages for people who don’t care, people who don’t care about you And still, it takes you ages to see that no one’s there, see that no one’s there Everyone’s gone on without you.”

This traumatic experience of being used and abandoned can echo throughout a person’s entire lifetime and affect future relationships. When Steven showed even the slightest signs of neglecting Spinel (even if it was unintentional), the feelings of betrayal and hurt came rushing back. She jumped to the conclusion that Steven will wipe out her memories again, since he was done using her for his own benefit. She felt that she was going to be tossed away again.

Spinel: What about me? Is that all you needed me for? To turn off my injector? Steven: No… Sort of, but- Spinel: But what now? I did what you wanted. That’s it? Steven: Well, yeah. We can just forget this whole thing ever happened…? Spinel: How are you gonna forget with me around? I’m the source of all your problems. Don’t pretend you want me here. What’s your plan for me, huh? Gonna put me somewhere? You’re gonna leave me alone?

I have also had moments when I would lash out and say hurtful things at my family and friends because I myself felt hurt, lonely, or betrayed. These feelings usually stem from my unhealthy thinking styles, and not from these people actually hurting me.

In Spinel’s first song, “Other friends”:

“What did she say about me? What did she say? What did you do without me? What did you do?”

I relate to this line because I always have this dark thought that my friends are always talking behind my back. I feel like they leave me out on purpose because I have a mental illness, and because I’m emotionally unstable.

Another line I relate to is:

“I’m the loser of the game you didn’t know you were playing”

Because I always put myself down, I always think my friends hate me, and none of them knows how much their smallest actions can have a huge negative effect on me. A clear example would be when I invite my friends to hang out, and none of them reply. Rationally, I know that they’re probably too busy to reply, but my brain automatically thinks that they don’t want to hang out with an emotionally unstable person like me, but they feel too awkward to say no because they don’t want to be responsible if I break down because of it.

When you are friends with someone with a mental illness, expect that they will have a lot of relapses. Even when we are aware of how hurtful we can be, sometimes we can’t help it. A lot of patience is required. Like with Spinel, I experience huge bouts of guilt and shame a few hours after I lashed out.

Spinel: What am I doing? Why do I want to hurt you so bad? I’m supposed to be your friend. I just want to be your friend.

I really hate myself for being so self-destructive, for overthinking too much. I can understand if people want to push me out of their lives. These feelings can be overwhelming at times. It can make me feel like I can never be cured, that I’ll always be like this for the rest of my life – constantly destroying my relationships with everyone, always hurting the people I loved. There have been so many times when I feel like even when I try to do everything I can to be better, it’s still not good enough. Which is why this line hurt me so much:

Spinel: When you change, you change for the better. When I change, I change for the worst. I’m just not good enough, just not good enough for Pink, but now, now I’m not good at all.

But I am trying to change for the better. I'm taking therapy and medications to stabilize my mood. And even if I have lost a lot of friends because of my mental illnesses, I am thankful for the few that stayed. It’s not easy to love someone with a mental illness, and I’m eternally grateful for everyone who has had the patience and strength to stay and help people like me.

Like what Spinel said in “Found”:

“Someday, somewhere, somehow I’ll love again, I just need to find someone Someone who treats me better Someone who wants me around Someday, somewhere, somehow, I’m gonna feel found”

And I do feel found. I have a very strong and loving support system, filled with people who look out for me – my current friends, my boyfriend, my immediate family, and my therapists.

For everyone who went through the same things Spinel did, I hope you find someone who treats you better, someone who wants you around. They’re out there somewhere. You just need to find them.

#steven universe #steven universe the movie #spinel #pink diamond #rose quartz #bpd #borderline personality disorder #mental illness #personality disorder #mental health

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lokidokiliteratureclub · 6 years ago

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Frostbitten (Chapter Three)

Y/N L/N is a child of a Jotun and an Asgardian. She spends her life hidden in the dungeons of Asgard, with no one to talk to other than one of the princes- a man who seems completely incapable of leaving her alone and entirely unable to give up on helping her. Y/N and Loki Odinson have always been inseparable, it seems- even when there is a cell wall, or a village, or an entire kingdom between them.

Even when he disappears, even when you run away, and even when his world falls apart; you are inseparable.

Previous Part

I’m gonna pretend that this didn’t take me way too long to write and I’m just gonna,, leave this here,,

This part of the story is mainly just exposition so that you have an idea of the baseline for the rest of the story. Romantic development starts very, very soon.

Tags are open!

"If you were king, what would you do?"

Loki peers up from his book at the question, frowning sideways at you through a curtain of dark hair. His desire for the throne has always been evident, but he rarely ever talks about it. It always seemed like something he was.. afraid to mention. "What do you mean?”

"Oh, you know," you wave your hand dismissively, "how would you behave? What would you change”

He sweeps his hair behind his ears, and sighs. "Well, aside from an inevitable war or two, I'd, well, first I’d free you. Then, perhaps set up a system of trial- one that involves more than just the king, since we’ve seen how well that works out. I'd allow more children to study magic if they'd rather not partake in physical battle practices. Create a public library or two.” He shrugs. “I'd marry, probably have a child to pass the throne onto... You know, the very basics. Change the kingdom to focus less on glory and more on intelligence- wisdom. Strength is good short-term, but knowledge lasts forever."

You nod approvingly. "How very noble of you. I’d love to live under your reign.” That much is true. “But, really? No bragging? At all?" That part is a joke, mainly.

He grins, looking back down at his book. "You asked me what I'd do as a ruler, not as a man."

"My apologies. So, then, what would you do as yourself?"

"Everything I mentioned before, but I’d also create a very, very large statue of myself. Just as a constant reminder to Thor, since he never fails to remind me that because he is older he will inherit the throne.” He pauses. “Oh, and several very, very dramatic theatrical pieces. Community theatre would return in screaming colors.”

You snort. “There he is! There’s the Loki I know and love. Always one for drama.”

“What? As if you wouldn’t do the same.”

“I would.” You add, “but you know you’re allowed to exceed my expectations, right? You have full permission to be better than me.”

He scratches the spot just underneath his jaw with two fingers, turning the page of his book. “Why raise your expectations when I can drastically lower them and therefore have to work less to achieve appreciation?”

Your eyes give a slight roll. “You’d better be glad there’s something keeping me from you right now. If I could, I’d snap your spine.”

Loki turns the page again, looking back up at you in between the motion. His grin flashes into a smirk. “I’d like to see you try.”

“What the hell?!” Thor bellows, stomping over to his brother and ripping him away from you by the shoulders. “You are not supposed to be here, brother!”

“Says who?” Loki retorts, feigning cluelessness. He takes a few heavy steps, his armor tight enough not to be shifting around, his boots soft enough to not make a sound on the hard ground. Unintentional mental rhyming. “Oh, my,” he gasps, lifting a hand to his mouth in shock, “did father explicitly tell you that I wasn’t to be here? That may be an issue. Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I tried to tell you, but you cut me-” he breaks off and releases a loud grunt of frustration. "You tricked me!”

“He’s the god of mischief,” you speak up, standing up and taking in the cool atmosphere. Bits of jagged ice prick at your bare feet, but for some reason they don’t hurt you. Your head feels lighter in the new environment. You feel more awake. More... at home. “You should expect that of him. He’ll never fail to disappoint you.”

Loki rolls his eyes but smiles faintly. “I think you all need to lower your expectations.”

“Why can’t Loki be here, anyway?” Asks Sif, her green eyes glassy in the cold. “What’s the issue with that? Why not him instead of I? The point of this affair was to prove our sense of diplomacy, wasn’t it? Thor came along to prove to Jotunheim that Asgard unequivocally cared about the reform. Why not two princes rather than one?”

Thor runs a troubled, angry hand through his shoulder-length hair. “I’m not sure, but father made himself clear. Besides, he’s a total pain in the-”

Suddenly, the Bifrost closes. There’s a whoosh of wind followed by an awful, earsplitting silence. The others in the group look at you, then their eyes shift to Thor, then Loki, then Sif. There is a notable absence of trusted adults in the area, and you feel the collective blood pressure of the group begin to rise.

“Where’s Arvid?” asks Sif stiffly. She slowly turns her head toward Loki, who stares confusedly back. “Loki,” she takes a stride toward him, her hand inching toward the hilt of her sword. “What did you do to him?”

Loki frowns, putting his hands up in surrender. “I’ve not touched him. If I killed every man I opposed, I'd never be able to get away with treason the way I need to, even though I’d love a chance to see him suffer.”

Thor starts pacing around the area, moving in heavy, quick steps. “Heimdall!” he shouts at the sky, voice echoing across the terrain. “Heimdall, open the Bifrost!”

You straighten your back and pull at your tattered clothing, shifting your gaze to a dark formation of pillars and spires behind you, some collapsed and some upright- about fifty steps away. It bears a bit of resemblance to Asgard’s palace, but it’s much smaller. It’s beaten down- unrepaired after a history of war. Loki told you about his father’s experiences here, about the casket that resided in Odin’s treasure room. That casket- that war was both the thing that ensured your creation and the thing that took your life away. You should not feel a sense of pride for Jotunheim, but for some strange reason, you feel the urge to protect it. Or, at least, let it die of old age rather than in the heat of battle.

“Are you alright?” whispers Loki, moving closer to you. You think that Sif hears, because her head turns toward the pair of you for a second too long. You don’t really care. “You look shaken.”

You don’t respond. A prickly, steady sense of fear travels through you, crawling up your spine and nesting in your chest.

“Heimdall!” Thor shouts a final time, raising his fists at the sky, before slouching, defeated, in a fit of anger. “We’re stranded!” he announces. “What are we supposed to do?”

“Why did you bring me here?” you say in hardly an echo, turning your back to what remains of the Jotunheim palace and looking out at the group. “Whatever your reason is, I assume you’ll have to go through with your intentions, with or without him. I’d rather I find out now if you don’t mind.”

Thor stops pacing to stare you in the face and then starts to approach you, practically fuming. Your fight or flight reflexes start to kick in, but instead of reacting you stand your ground, keeping your face set, your pulse thrumming in your ears. “If you believe for a second that it’s within your rights to speak to me, you-”

“Brother, I hate to remind you, but we’re in her realm,” Loki states firmly, just before Thor reaches you. When he freezes, you calm a bit, releasing a breath you didn’t know you were holding. “Besides, she’s a princess, now, is she not?”

I’m not Laufey’s daughter! You think, raising both eyebrows. The fear is joined by subtle exasperation.

Thor turns to tower over Loki, but despite being quite a bit smaller he doesn’t flinch. “Watch your words. Neither you nor her need to know of the plans, especially now that they may not be set in motion. Now that Arvid isn’t here to perform the-” he breaks off, groaning loudly. He raises his fists to the sky. “This is all going to Hel!”

“I read the plans, brother. And I still have many questions. So should you.” Loki steps forward and lets his arms hang at his sides, staring daggers into the blue eyes of the older prince. “Until someone explains why this ordeal is to take place in the first place despite the obvious inhumanity, I’d suggest you stop acting as though you’re in control. As if you know what the Allfather has planned.”

“Loki, you know not of what you speak,” offers Sif, her breath fogging in the cold air. “Give it time.”

He turns to her, his lips parting into a somehow-menacing smile. “I’m sorry, is this not a sufficiently appropriate time?” He lets the words ring out, and then scoffs. “No, then? Sif, the two of you need a magician, correct? Are you going to ask me next to sew her lips shut and heal the wounds? To drain the thought from her mind, the soul from her body?” he points to you, and you blink in horror at the thought, shoulders tensing. Loki did make a move to warn you about what might happen if you didn’t escape, but this just sounds... very un-Asgard like.

It makes you think there’s something else going on. Odin is covering something up, or he’s scared. Maybe both. Your legs, weak from lack of use, begin to shake under your weight, and you try to steady yourself, pressure building.

What could an all-powerful being have to be afraid of?

Unlike before, Loki seems to be completely unaware of your mental state at the very moment. “Would you like me to take Arvid’s place as the puppeteer?” You’re going to lash out. You’re going to lash out. You’re going to lash out. “Speaking for her, moving for her, breathing for-”

“What in the Allfather’s name is happening?!” You snap, balling your hands at your sides. You glare at Loki, despite your intent to remain calm, and it takes him aback. “Assume we’re stranded here, how about! Assume we’re stuck on this frozen ice-land, and Heimdall and Arvid have been killed by some unknown force of nature. We’re stuck in Jotunheim, not Asgard. I don’t believe the rest of you have any means of surviving here, so perhaps it’s a good idea to tell the one person who can possibly keep you alive what you’re here for!”

“I don’t believe you’d be of much use-” Sif begins, scowling, but you cut her off.

“Was your intention to take over my body and use Laufey’s belief that I’m the heir to the throne in your favor? That’s what I’m gathering, and I hate to break it to you, My Lady, but if Arvid was meant for that job, and he’s gone, your best chances lie with me.” You glare harshly, and then, noticing the jagged ice stemming from around your feet, take a deep breath in and try to relax. It barely does anything. “I have no intentions of hurting any of you, despite what you might have forethought.”

Sif is offended, but firm. “Do you think that we’re feeble-minded enough to trust you with the throne? Your word means nothing. You’d have us all killed if you had the chance.”

You laugh, the last of your patience fading away. “Would you like to test that theory? I’ve plenty of methods to prove you wrong, and plenty more to prove you ri-”

“Asgardians?”

It’s a cold, rumbling voice from behind you, familiar and foreign at the same time. You turn toward the noise and lay eyes on several Jotun soldiers emerging from behind the large, jagged bits of rock and ice that sprout from the desolate ground. In the midst, a large, guarded Jotun glowers down at you and the others, looking amused and angered

Your aggravation fades and leaves only the prickly, paralyzing fear. The Jotun speaks again. “To what do I owe the pleasure?”

Did he hear you speaking earlier? He had to have heard Thor screaming for Heimdall. Did he hear you and Sif arguing? How much does he know?

You find yourself backing up, and you stop when you feel Loki’s hand, outstretched slightly, press against the covered surface of your back, gently steadying you. When you look at him, he seems to be at a loss for words. You can’t say you feel any differently.

Thor, who had spoken loudly and boldly just moments earlier, is silent and pale. Sif, stepping silently and shakily forward, is the first to speak.

“King Laufey,” she utters, doing her best not to display signs of despair, “while the circumstances of our visit could very much be better, we come to return a prisoner.” The last word is a threat toward you, a reminder that previous plans have been canceled. She is going to get rid of you.

The giant, his face lined with intricate, deeply marked lines, looks quizzically at her, then at you. “Small for a giant’s offspring. ” He speaks slowly. It sounds like an insult. You take in a deep breath, refusing to look away. “Twenty years of age.”

“We understand that you believe her to be your daughter,” starts Sif, but she breaks off suddenly, sounding as though the air has been pulled from her body.

"We bring your daughter here in a gesture of peace," Loki says, and you notice that at the same time Sif lost her breath, Loki curled his fist, as if he had been the one to stop her talking. She looks at him accusingly but doesn’t do anything else, probably terrified. "Asgard's rulers have come to the conclusion that our quarrels with this realm ended inefficiently. We'd like to take some time to organize a proper treaty."

Oh, he's good.

Laufey chuckles, amused. He doesn’t seem to notice Loki’s magic. "And three of you? What well-dressed expandables Asgard must have."

Loki smiles faintly, signaling to Sif. "This is Lady Sif, one of our fiercest warriors. This is my brother, Thor," he signals to Thor, who is still looking a bit flabbergasted, then to himself "and I am Loki. We two are the Odinsons."

That piques his interest. He steps forward, and the four Jotuns surrounding him follow his movement. "The princes?" Laufey turns his gaze back to you. "And you, child. You're my daughter?"

You freeze for a moment, waiting for someone to speak for you, but they don't. You clear your throat. Your voice only shakes a little when it comes forward. "I certainly don't believe there to be any other undersized Jotuns my age, dead or alive, that were taken during the battle. It's not a very popular title."

To your relief, the answer seems to satisfy him. "Then they've kept it from you?" Laufey stares down the princes, lingering on each of them for far too long. Thor looks as if he’s going to speak, but Loki’s fist clenches tighter, and his lips seal shut. "They have locked you up, kept you from the truth, and even now, they restrain you." The handcuffs, frozen but refusing to break, feel heavy on your wrists. "If you were to one day sit on my throne, I wonder, how would you have these men pay for their crimes against you?"

Sif is giving you a cold, silent warning stare, and Thor looks like he might pass out- he does not appear to be breathing. Loki, on the other hand, edges closer to you, growing calmer with each passing moment.

"Well," you say, staring straight ahead. "Lady Sif has had no part in these doings. She hardly ever went down to the dungeons. So, even though I'm certain she'd have me hung if she had the chance,” the soldier is holding her breath, frozen, “she's technically innocent. Her only crime is disrespect." You practically feel the surprise bouncing off of her, and then her face contorts into an expression of suspicion. Loki is controlling her ability to speak- she must think he’s controlling yours as well. "Thor was arrogant, bothersome, but like Sif, he has not tried to harm me. The two of them live in Odin's shadow. They have no knowledge of what to do aside from what he instructs."

Laufey doesn't move, he just shifts his eyes between them, thinking. You don’t dare wait for him to speak, practically tripping over your own tongue in haste for this conversation to be over.

"Loki is so kind that he’s hardly even Asgardian.." You look over at him, asking silently for permission to go more into detail. You don’t want to spill your lifelong secrets if he doesn’t approve. He glances back, holds your gaze for a moment, and then nods wistfully, looking toward the ground. You turn your eyes back to Laufey. "He snuck down to the dungeons. Taught me how to read, how to speak, how to go as many places as I could without leaving my cell. I'd have gone mad without him.”

“They’re all innocent?” He furrows a brow, frown deepening. He’s testing you. “You don’t wish to put them through an inch- a fraction of the pain they put you through? Not even for a moment?”

“You asked me what I’d do as a ruler,” you quote, trying not to smile when Loki’s eyes light up at the familiarity. It’s always a joy to know he remembers your conversations. “Not what I’d do as a man.”

He barely registers any physical reaction before speaking again.

“How amiable. Unfortunately for them, I’m not quite as generous.” Laufey’s red, beady eyes sweep the four of you a final time, and then he turns, beckoning the lot of you, plus the soldiers, after him. “I’d normally have them chained to the walls and beaten to sod. However, your kindness has inspired me.”

Guards move behind you, pushing the other three forward, quite forcefully. Sif breaks free of Loki’s spell and unsheaths her sword, swinging toward the giants, but one of the guards closest to her grabs hold of her wrist, and she drops the weapon before she gets a chance to strike, holding her wrist close to her chest and stumbling back with shock. Two Jotuns seize her by the shoulders and steer her back with the others. She struggles against them, and Thor, alarmed by the sight of the wound, moves to help her, but the giants swat him aside just as easily as they did her. Loki doesn’t bother fighting, resisting. He seems to already be thinking of a plan. He looks calm. He doesn’t look at you.

“I’ll leave them alive. They’ll live what time they have here in the dungeons. And as for you,” he turns around once more, and you freeze, watching the three Asgardians as they’re shoved toward a downward stairwell, leading into a lightless below. “You’ll join my other children in their quarters. They will be awaiting you.”

He walks out of the room, double doors closing loudly behind him.

Frostbitten Tags:

@natalia-rushman @what-inspirational-name@jessiejunebug@fandomdestroyer @a-new-schematic @iris-suoh @pandacookieowo @givememyskittlesback @awesomefandomsunited @itsanallygator @arttasticgreatnessoftheawesome77 @fire-treasure-iii @strangerliaa @for-the-love-of-the-fandom @woohoney @itsanallygator

#Loki Laufeyson #loki x reader fluff #loki x reader #loki #tom hiddleston #loki (marvel)

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comicgeekscomicgeek · 5 years ago

Text

Their Hero Academia – Chapter 47: Faith and Lust

Presenting the next raw and unedited chapter of my on-going, next-gen, My Hero Academia fic, Their Hero Academia!

Earlier chapters can be found here

Akaya Koda in Tears From a Stone

Akaya tossed a handful of seeds into the water and called out to them with her Quirk, causing the water plants to grow larger and more rapidly than they ever would if they had been left to their own devices. The water lilies large and strong, forming the perfect series of rafts between the sinking yacht and the Oki Mariner. Other members of the Oki Mariner crew, most of whom had aquatic Quirks, worked to help safely transport the yacht goers across.

Aunt Tsu—Froppy, when she was working, of course—directed the action like a consummate professional. “Don’t worry,” she said. “You’re in safe hands with my girls.” As always, her expression never seemed to change, unless you were familiar with her.

There’d been six people on the yacht, three adults, a young boy, and a pair of teenagers about her own age, a boy and a girl. The two parents were highly inebriated, the other adult, a butler, slightly shaken. The inebriation probably explained the fact that the yacht had dashed itself on rocks. The younger boy’s eyes were wide, quite taken with all the Heroes.

The teenagers, on the other hand, seemed more annoyed than anything else. No, annoyed and… disgusted? The looks they were giving her and the other crew members like Octo-Pod, Tera-Spin, and even Aunt Tsu, she hadn’t encountered such cold looks in some time. But they were frighteningly familiar all the same.

“Can’t believe we got rescued by the aquarium patrol,” the teenage boy said to his sister, sneering.

“Were all the other Heroes busy?” the girl asked, her haughty tone of voice carrying easily. “I don’t remember ordering sushi.”

“Or a rock garden,” the boy added. “Think she’s hard everywhere?”

“Don’t be gross,” the girl shot back. “Nobody ought to be thinking anything about any of these freaks.”

Akaya felt her face flush as she looked away. Meanwhile, Asuka Sakamata, the daughter of Gang Orca, and third year student at U.A., hauled her massive black and white bulk up onto the deck. She was Froppy’s Work Study student and the largest woman Akaya had ever seen, easily dwarfing her and even larger than Grandmother Koda. Despite her fierce appearance, Akaya had already come to know her bark was far worse than her bite.

Still, it did not take strong powers of observation to see the hurt in her eyes. She’d heard it too. Hurt that Akaya was certain was mirrored in her own eyes. Her own Quirk was, technically, an Emitter type. But she carried with her inherited mutations from an ancestor on her father’s side that had possessed the Quirk “Rock Skin” that had been passed along her bloodline in the form of changed appearances even as other Quirks had combined and mutated. It gave her her great size and perhaps some small measure of greater strength and resilience with it, coarsening her skin even still. Her moss like hair came from her mother’s side of the family, where plant-like Quirks and appearances were common.

She was well aware that she appeared to be something of a walking mountain range. Or perhaps a troll, as some of her middle school classmates had called her. She’d thought she’d buried such hurt long ago. But she was only fooling herself.

“Buncha ingrates,” Sakamata said, crossing her arms. “Shoulda just let them drown.”

“They are young and foolish,” Akaya said. “Perhaps they may yet learn in time.”

They watched as the parents avoided the touch of Cephalo-Squad and Rockhopper, the mother in particular shrinking away from Cephalo-Squad’s tentacles.

Sakamata grunted. “Looks like it ain’t just them. Bastards. Maybe we should just throw them overboard.”

Akaya only wished it were that easy.

***

Space aboard the Oki Mariner was at a premium, even with the improvements to the ship Aunt Tsu had been able to make to it during her rise to being one of the Top Ten Heroes. But Akaya was able to steal a few minutes in the cabin she shared with Rockhopper and Tera-Spin. She was grateful for the all-female crew, at least. But she appreciated the all-too-brief moment of privacy even more.

She got down on her knees, feeling the slight rocking of the ship beneath her, and folded her hands. Closing her eyes, she bowed her head. “Lord, grant me the strength to endure their slings and arrows,” she prayed. “I try not to listen to their words, but the hatred in their hearts does me great pain. I do not mean to question your plan, Lord…”

She opened her eyes and, as a tear fell down her face, found herself staring at her hands, with their wide palms, and thick, coarse fingers. Akaya folded them again and closed her eyes. “And I am not unhappy with who I am. I know this is but another challenge I must overcome… But I do know if I have that strength.”

Life, she knew, came in many different forms since the advent of Quirks. The nature of attraction itself had changed. But there were still many who perceived those with inherited mutations or Mutant-Type Quirks as less than human. And even within those who were open-minded and accepting, deviations from the norm were often scrutinized. Even before her… developments, she knew her dear friend Mika’s appearance had elicited far less shock and discomfort than Akaya’s own. Sero, Tokoyami, Shoji, even Ojiro, many of Class 1-A had unusual appearances. But even with his extra-arms, Shoji was considered quite handsome, and Sero cultivated his look in such a way that few people called him on it. Those with animal characteristics, like much of the crew here and Tokoyami, had their own problems to bear, but it was more varied. Her own younger brother Rikido appeared basically human, with only green hair to show for his differences, and thankfully did not endure what she had to.

She still remembered one of her first crushes, three years ago, a hasty and mumbled confession when she’s skewed up all her courage to ask him out. He’d been a friend. He’d said “I’m sorry, Koda, but I just don’t find you attractive.” Somehow, that had hurt far worse than anything else could have.

Her friends at U.A., both those she had grown up with and those she had made since starting at the school, at least, had no problems with her appearance. And many of them, Mika, Kana, Shiro, and even Aoyama, would be ready to “throw hands” in Shiro’s words, with anyone who had spoken to her as the people they rescued had. None of which made it hurt any less.

She was but as God had made her. Why did so many see that as wrong?

***

“Fuck ‘em all,” Sakamata said, as she and Akaya were on deck-swabbing duty. The events of the rescue still weighed heavily on Akaya’s mind, even though most of the other crew appeared to have moved on from it. For now, the Oki Mariner was docked in the harbor, much of the crew ashore getting dinner, with only a skeleton crew left behind. It still left them plenty to do.

Aunt Tsu had tried to be reassuring, but she could not understand, not really. For all that Frog was a Mutant type Quirk, Aunt Tsu’s deviations from baseline were fairly minor. She was a beloved Hero and a favorite of children, seen by many as cute. She could not understand.

Akaya regarded Sakamata for a moment. “That hardly seems the Christian thing to do,” she said.

The orca-woman pointed a finger at Akaya. “You gotta be you. Don’t apologize for it. Don’t let them tell you what you’re worth. You think I gave a shit what meatheads and dumbasses thought when I started transitioning? You think I give a shit what some bigot thinks of how I look?”

Sakamata was the daughter of a former Top Ten Hero and a rising star at U.A. One of the Big Three of her year, alongside Nejire Togata, and a Speed-Quirk user named Hayai Sokudo. Akaya had already seen how she threw herself into every task before her, the way in which she walked unapologetically through life. And yet, Akaya had already seen that she could be kind as well. She was not soft-spoken, but could be soft when it came to children or animals like dolphins and whales.

Truthfully, she reminded Akaya of Kirishima-Bakugo.

But there was something behind those red eyes of hers, the same pain Akaya had seen there earlier. “I think,” she said, “you care more than you let on. Or more than you would like to, at least.”

“…Yeah, okay,” Sakamata growled. “What can I say? People suck.”

“More people are good than not,” Akaya replied. “At least, so I chose to believe.”

“And when they’re not?”

“Then my faith sustains me. Or so I try. I pray for the strength to endure and I pray for their enlightenment.”

Sakamata snorted. “No offense, but what sounds like a lot of wishing.”

Akaya was used to such reactions when she spoke of her faith. Christianity was not common in Japan and not well understood. “None taken. But my faith sustains me when I feel like breaking.”

Sakamata gave her a skeptical look, but then shrugged. “Whatever works,” she said. “I’ve probably punched a few more people than I oughta have. Tossed a couple of ‘em around. Might be a reason for all the black marks on my record.

“But if you want me to, I can punch the next guy who says somethin’. Lots of bigots in this town.”

Akaya nodded as they resumed their work. “It is appreciated, but I will decline.”

There would always be those who were cruel and thoughtless, who judged others for matters beyond their control. But at least she had found someone else who knew how she felt. She remembered her mother’s words, that prayers were not always answered in the way you would think.

Sakamata lived her truth, unapologetically, with strength and courage. Akaya, truthfully, struggled at times with her appearance, especially when so many of her friends and classmates were so much more traditionally attractive. That she was from a long line of people who looked like her suggested it wasn’t impossible that someone would find her pretty, but some days, that seemed like a very far off possibility.

But perhaps she could find something worth following in Sakamata’s example. She just had to have faith.

***

Mika Mineta in A Lustful Morning

Mika had never been awake at 0500 hours before. She was pretty sure she hadn’t even been aware 0500 was an actual, for real, not made-up time before now. But Ingenium insisted upon an “early patrol” every Wednesday, in order to “remind people from all walks of life and occupations that Heroes will be there for them, every hour, of every day.” This explanation had been punctuated by significant hand waving.

How someone could be as attractive as he was—a little over two meters of pure, rock-solid beefcake—and be that big of a stick in the mud, she had no idea.

She’d only been here since Monday and she’d already worked harder than she ever had before, even in her Hero classes at U.A. Intense physical training, readiness drills, and so many manuals to read and procedures to memorize. Not to mention having been forced to make her bed in the Sidekick’s berth multiple times until she’d gotten it right. And there was the criticism of her costume, as “overly sexual” and “not fitting for a woman of your young age.” Just because Ingenium’s daughter ran around in full armor…

Ingenium ran a tight ship. Which was not to say everyone under him did. His brother, Tensei Iida (not to be confused with the Tensei Iida who was in her class), who lent his expertise as mission control, was a much more easy going individual. And several of the Sidekicks were more relaxed as well, though a few did try to model themselves after their leader.

Speaking of, she knew Team Iidaten had a lot of Sidekicks working for it, but seeing it in the flesh was quite another. Many of them had mobility-related Quirks, though not all of them.

“Ugh,” she said, rubbing her eyes. “I’ve already been up thirty minutes. Why can’t I have coffee?”

Ingenium was standing before her and the four other Sidekicks selected for morning patrol. “Coffee is an addictive stimulant!” he said, waving his arms through the air in what seemed like random, but carefully controlled motions. “A Hero must always be prepared to function at their best, regardless of circumstances, and without artificial aides! While some coffee is acceptable in moderation, relying upon it as a jumpstart is unacceptable!”

“Okay, okay,” Mika said, rolling her eyes. Guy definitely didn’t do anything by half measures.

“And stand up straight!” Ingenium continued. He was wearing the helmet, but she could tell he was scrutinizing her all the same. And not in the way she liked to be scrutinized. Objectifying her was one thing, but actually judging her and trying to correct her faults? What was the world coming to?

There was a sudden rush and a red and gold blur suddenly arrived, seemingly out of nowhere, next to Ingenium. It resolved itself into a woman with long blonde hair, wearing tall red boots with yellow trim, a red and gold leotard, and long red gloves, likewise with yellow trim. Red trimmed goggles with yellow lenses completed the outfit. On her chest—yeah, she was looking—was a yellow lightning bolt symbol. “SorryI’mlate,” she said, tossing off a small salute to Tenya. “Hadtostopapursesnatcheronmywayhere. Don’tworry, I’llgetallthepaperwork filedbeforetheday’sover!”

Okay, Mika was reasonably certain those were words. But they’d come out way too fast for her to follow. And probably for Ingenium too, as his expression passed through irritation, confusion, and then acceptance.

“Flash-Step,” Ingenium said, cheerfully, “glad you could join us for this early patrol. And do not worry, your duty to the citizens of this city outweigh your duty to be on time. Just please remember to slow down before you file the paperwork.”

“Ofcourse,Boss,” Flash-Step said.

“Sorry,” she said, finally slowing down. “Was still going pretty fast there. Back to normal now.”

She shook her head, sending her hair cascading in a halo around her. Mika took a moment to take in everything, from her well-toned legs to her chest to an ass that looked like you could bounce small change off of to what looked like a six-pack under her leotard.

“Mineta,” Ingenium said, “please meet Hayai Sokudo, my Work Study participant, from U.A. She will be responsible for supervising you during this morning’s patrol.”

Maybe 0500 wasn’t so bad after all.

***

Mika’s hooves made a soft clip-clop on the pavement as she and Flash-Step walked through the streets of Hosu City. It had been pretty boring. According to Ingenium, crime never slept. Right at that moment, though, it felt like crime was sleeping in. Of course, she’d managed to nearly walk into three street signs, two mailboxes, and one phone booth (Why was there still a phone booth in this day and age?). So there was that.

She couldn’t help it. The view was incredibly distracting. Of course, Mika found most people distractingly attractive. But Flash-Step was really distractingly attractive. Like, on the level of Shinji distractingly attractive.

Speaking of her boyfriend, she surreptitiously took a picture of the Work Study student with her phone while she was speaking with a civilian, then sent it to Shinji.

Babe, look who I’m working with.

Sorry, right, it’s stupid early.

Hope I didn’t wake you up.

But, she is, like, super-hot.

Should I hit on her? Y/N?

Hot Boyfriend: Holy hurricanes!

Hot Boyfriend: She is nearly as spectacular as you!

Hot Boyfriend: I INSIST that you hit on her! To waste this opportunity would be criminal!

Babe, you are –the best-

Wait, crap. What if she’s straight?

Hot Boyfriend: You won’t know until you try!

Hot Boyfriend: But if she is straight, could you try and talk me up?

What kind of girlfriend would I be if I didn’t?

Try and talk my boyfriend up to the hot girl that we’re both trying to hit on?

Of course I will!

An open relationship with a super-hunk worked out really well.

***

Flash-Step, as it turned out, possessed a Quirk called “High Gear.” It let her shift into super-speed for five minutes, but then required another five minutes to cool down afterwards. It also took the full five minutes to come out of it, as evidenced by the fact that she remained accelerated and fast talking if she finished whatever high speed task she’d set herself before that time was up.

“Saw you at the Sports Festival,” Flash-Step said, as they walked the streets. “They had Third years helping with security, but I caught your first match on my break. When the Boss said you were coming, I watched the rest.” She paused stuck a piece of gum in her mouth. “Don’t tell the Boss. Not supposed to have this, but I gotta get my oral fix.”

She blew a bubble with perfect lips and such breath control that it made Mika’s heart and other parts flutter. It popped, noisily, and she sucked the pieces back in.

“Oh yeah?” Mika asked. The pop had snapped her back to her senses, letting her formulate an actual response, instead of stuttering like a moron. “What’d you think?”

The older girl considered, chewing her gum. “Boss says you’re undisciplined and a trouble-maker.” Mika’s heart sank for a moment. Of course, that was what pretty much everyone thought about her, so she was used to that. Hell, most of the time, she encouraged it. Flash-Step shrugged. “Now, me, I think…”

“You take that back, you bastard!” the voice cut through the air and cut off any possible answer from Flash-Step. Mika followed the source of it, finding what looked like a bunch of high school boys, two groups of them judging by their uniforms, six in total, getting ready to rumble. Probably a good old fashioned school rivalry.

It was entirely too early for this kind of dumbassitude.

“You gonna make me?” one of the boys in the other uniform taunted. He’d activated his Quirk, idly tossing a fireball from one hand to the other. Next to him, most of the others were calling up their Quirks as well.

“I’ll beat it out of you if I have to!” the one who’d called out originally snarled. He raised a palm and a spikey ball of inky blackness appeared, floating around him like a miniature sun. Around him, his own schoolmates were activating their Quirks.

“We going to clobber them?” Mika asked.

“Not if we can help it,” Flash-Step said. “If this turns into a fight, we’ll have to call the police. It’ll go on their records, they might get charged with petty Villainy.” She frowned. “But we need to do something before they get tired of posturing.”

“So what you’re saying is we need to diffuse the situation without violence?”

“Yeah. Guess we could try talking to them…”

A grin spread across Mika’s face. Her time had come. “Let me handle this.”

“I shouldn’t…”

But Mika was already in motion.

“Heeeeey boys,” she called out, putting a little bit of extra swing into her hips as she approached. She bent forward entirely more than was necessary, giving them an excellent view of her cleavage. “Think you could break up your fight and spare a minute for little old me?” She gave them her best “airheaded beauty” look, the kind with pouty lips and half-lidded eyes.

This got all eyes on her. Good. That meant they were all straight, or at least bisexual. Being pan herself, she tried not to make too many snap judgements about other’s sexualities, even if her radar for that was very good. At least two of them were openly undressing her with their eyes.

She put a hand on her cheek. “I think I’m lost, any chance you could help me?”

“Sure,” the one who’d made the spikey black ball early said. “But what’s in it for me?” He was leering. Maybe in a slightly icky way.

“Dude,” one of the other ones said. “She’s a U.A. student! See the costume? Didn’t you watch the Sports Festival?”

“I did,” the fireball user said. “She’s the one who kept talking like a slut.”

Mika pushed down the urge to growl. She owned her own sexuality. To reduce it like that…! But she was playing distraction here. “Oh, tee-hee,” she said, forcing herself to giggle. “What do I know about anything like that?”

“You little boys down?” Flash-Step said, having gotten behind them while they’d been distracted by Mika.

“What?” “Huh” “Who’s..?” Various exclamations of surprise rang out from the six as they realized they were surrounded.

“Get to school, all of you!” Flash-Step shouted. “I’ve got all your faces recorded on my goggles! If you don’t get moving in five seconds or if I hear about you trying to fight like this again, I’m sending it to the cops and every Hero in the city!”

With a grumble, the boys dispersed. There were a few half-hearted “this isn’t overs” but the fight had clearly gone out of them.

“Bye-bye, boys,” Mika said, waving and blowing them a little kiss.

“Good job,” Flash-Step told her, after the boys had left. “Definitely not a strategy I’d have thought of.”

Mika grinned. “No? You could have pulled it off, real easy.”

“Maybe,” Flash-Step replied. If she’d picked up on the subtext Mika was radiating, she didn’t show it. “Still, nice distraction and non-violent escalation. Pretty sure the Boss wouldn’t approve, but he can be kind of a stick in the mud.”

“The stickiest,” she agreed.

They continued walking after that. “Anyway,” Flash-Step continued, “Nejire and I were talking about the Spots Festival. She was rooting for Midoriya, of course, but I was rooting for you. You’ve got guts, kid.”

Mika turned so Flash-Step wouldn’t see her frown. Kid? From somebody only three years older?

Ah, well. Win some, lose some.

#their hero academia #my hero academia #fan fic #fan fiction #my writing #tsuyu asui #tenya iida #akaya koda #mika (tha)

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