wesgibbans:what really kills me about this scene is raven’s reaction to abby slapping her. you can s
wesgibbans:what really kills me about this scene is raven’s reaction to abby slapping her. you can see, just for a split second, the shock and betrayal etched on her face. because raven looks up to abby. she respects her, craves her approval—when clarke is furious at her mother in season 1, raven’s the one who defends abby. she tells clarke the lengths her mother went to to come to her, how much abby loves her, and you can tell what raven really means is you’re so lucky to have her.we know that raven’s mother was canonically neglectful, in fact, raven mentions in season one how her mother might have only kept her around for another share of rations. so it’s not a stretch to surmise that her mother may have been abusive, emotionally and/or physically. so raven’s always adored abby so much because to her, abby seems like the foil to her own mother. she looks at abby and sees the parent she never had, a mother who cares and loves their child, someone who protects their daughter instead of abandoning her. and maybe, sometimes, she feels a little warmer after she talks to abby, feels a little tightening in her chest whenever abby touches her hand or smiles down at her. maybe she thinks about how abby praised her or encouraged her before she goes to sleep sometimes and smiles to herself, because she can only allow herself to hope for impossible things like family and being loved after night falls. she’s not fool enough to believe that abby loves her the way she does clarke, of course, but she does care—doesn’t she? she must care at least a little. so raven holds that thought tight to her heart, never breathes a word about it to anyone because it’s her secret little bubble of comfort, a quiet hope.and then this happens and you see the pain flash across her face because she just realized she’s not enough. she’ll never be enough. abby would do anything for clarke, would use others to get to clarke, would die for clarke but raven? she’s just an afterthought. just a kid abby needed to get to clarke, someone abby talks to once in a while. some stupid little girl so hungry for affection and acceptance that she latched onto someone else’s mother and somehow thought a few casual words and wayward touches could be the equivalent of a parent’s love. so in the next second raven does what she’s always done best. she shuts down her emotions. makes herself ignore the painful twinge in her chest, forces down the choked sobs that would have risen in her throat. gets this heartbreakingly blank look of acceptance on her face and meets abby’s eyes calmly. she doesn’t protest, doesn’t leave, just stares at abby across the table and lets the last of that foolish hope turn to dust. because raven should have known better, right? should have known better than to let herself care about another person, to dream about things she’s never had and never will. she doesn’t blame abby, not really. only herself. herself, for being such a lonely little girl that even now she can’t help but cling as tight she can to anyone who shows her a shred of affection. that’s always been her problem, hasn’t it—she loves too hard, holds on too tight. it’s why finn stopped loving her, why abby never will. raven pushes her drink towards abby, tells her the hard truth about clarke because raven is not abby’s daughter but clarke is and clarke deserves a mother who will understand her, even if raven doesn’t. and then she leans back, bitterly runs a hand over her paralyzed leg and wonders if she’ll ever learn to stop caring for people who will never love her the way she wants to be loved. -- source link