#they were just kids
https://minghuas.tumblr.com/post/638588943558983680/all-you-do-is-speak-over-us
hi, sweetie! thanks for getting back to me, and thanks for taking a look at my blog :) i really appreciate it! i’m just going to address your first point, because, y’know, i can tell that trying to talk to you about the rest of the points isn’t going to go anywhere! thanks for the block, by the way :))
so. hmm. i really want to talk about the part where you said “Shipping Zuko or Azula with anyone is a bad idea. They were children who were extremely abused, which is one good reason for them not to be shipped with people.”. i am only going to be talking about this statement, purely bc i can’t rest until i address this. my response is: what??? hi. i’m an abuse survivor. i was abused by my stepfather from the ages of seven until fifteen. it left me extremely mentally scarred. i have depression, anxiety and ptsd as a direct result of this abuse, and it fucked me up. i want to be really explicit that this has been a major part of my life that i’m recovering from to really enunciate the fact that i take. so much offence to this statement.
normally on this blog, we don’t like to take offence to a whole lot of stuff. we simply don’t have the energy. but this. “abused characters cannot be shipped with other characters”. this legitimately offends me. and i would say, justifiably so. i’m not sure if you meant for it to be taken this way, but to me it sounded like this infers that abused people cannot find love. that abused people are too “damaged” to have access to fulfilling relationships that teach them that love can be healthy and that love is possible. and that’s not an okay stance to take. for a very long time, i didn’t believe in love. i thought that every relationship i would ever be in would be like my mother and stepfather’s. it took me a long time to believe in love again. being abused does not mean that i am undeserving of love, it’s not unhealthy for me to fall in love, and being in a healthy, post-abuse relationship with someone who actually respects me should not be stigmatised.
there’s a reason that gaang fics centered around zuko’s abuse and the gaang finding out about zuko’s scar are so popular. there’s a reason that zutara and zukka fics where zuko is exploring healthy love after being traumatised are so popular. it’s because these fics symbolise hope. hope that love is real, and that healthy relationships are possible, and they’re just fucking nice and cathartic to read. zuko is allowed to be shipped with other characters, because his abuse does not and should not prevent that. azula is a character worthy of redemption, and she deserves love too. she’s fourteen. she still has time to learn and grow and unlearn behaviours that ozai manipulated into her.
because, yes, i’m turning this into an azula-deserves-redemption post, being the “favourite” child in an abusive situation feels like life or death. you don’t want to be mistreated, and you don’t want to be hurt. this becomes a very real competition between siblings. my little sister and i ended up hating each other by the end of our abuse, because we were in such fierce competition of being the “favourite” child. this is why azula is the way she is. and this can be unlearned. she can be deserving of love, eventually. i don’t want this response to get super long, so i’m going to leave it here. i don’t know if you intended that one-off statement to be read that way, but jesus christ, please, please never say that again. it’s such a hurtful belief to hold. abuse survivors should not be prevented from loving relationships purely because of their trauma.
Oh god someone please help me. I can’t stop thinking about Harry and Draco.
They were kids in a war.
They were kidsonopposite sides of a w a r.
Don’t tell me their love was soft. Don’t tell me their love was pure.
Their love corrupted everything they knew, leaving them hollow and disoriented. It took every idea of the morality they were fighting for and crushed it - leaving dust in its wake. The dust blurred their vision and filled their lungs and made them scream in horror and unimaginable pain until they were gasping for a breath that would never come.
How can you tell me their love is what saved them? There is blood on their chests and hands and necks. No one knows whose it is (is it their own?). Their eyes reflect images of death, as if it’s projecting out of them instead. Their cheeks are mixed with tears and ash.
Anytime they meet, it’s a battle of sides. It’s grappling, biting, tearing, pinching, holding. Holding on for the last particle of hope as they tumble down,
Down,
Down.
Their love was not soft, their love was not pure. But god damn everything - it was love.
It was all they had.
