#so we’re just glossing over the fact that all of them are traumatized and the cute family stuff isn’t actually happening | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

naynay5155 · 3 years

Text

C!Tommy’s Storyline With C!Dream Is A Very Concerning Depiction Of Abuse

Wild Title

Okay, I’m sure that this probably isn’t too new information for anyone paying attention to the overall story of the DreamSMP, especially C!Tommy’s storyline, but I figured I’d give my two cents for this anyways.

C!Tommy is an Abuse Victim who has gone through horrific stuff at the hands of C!Dream. This is not an arguable fact. regardless of if C!Dream had reasons for doing what he did, if C!Dream also later gets abused, or if ultimately the abuse portrayal could be considered in some ways flawed or unrealistic, that stuff doesn’t ultimately matter. Because we’ve seen what happened to C!Tommy during Exile, have seen the physical, emotional, and mental abuse he was put through. Just because they won’t call it Abuse doesn’t mean it isn’t Abuse.

Now, C!Tommy being an abuse victim is an interesting idea from a storytelling perspective. It has a lot of potential to lead to genuine character development, or to affect relationships and story beats in interesting ways. And it could be an interesting way to really say something about abuse and coping with it.

And to an extent, an argument could be made that it has, though I’d argue the exact way those are handled in canon, but not the point. The point is, abuse is not just something that you get to gloss over. If you want to include themes of abuse in the story, a story you are making available to the public for millions to see, then there needs to be a clear and obvious message being portrayed with including abuse in the story. Preferably, that abuse is bad, and can have majorly negative effects on anyone, especially children. We don’t always get that lucky, but whatever.

But, from my months of watching the story of the DreamSMP, and trust me I’ve been here a long while, I haven’t seen C!Tommy’s abuse being handled very... well. I could, of course, be wrong in some aspects, and maybe be misremembering stuff since this dumpster fire has been happening for a year now, and feel free to correct me or bring up more points if you know something I don’t. But, I still think that overall, I have a point of view that should be considered.

So basically, C!Tommy is an abuse victim, right? this is easy to see, very obvious in the way he acts and behaves. Or... is it?

Abuse is a complex topic and one that, in real life, presents itself in all sorts of forms. Many abuse victims were raised in unloving homes and ended up becoming more vulnerable to abuse later on in life as a result of that. Others never properly learned how to express emotions or turn people down and got taken advantage of. Others were abused from the start, and develop various ways of coping and dealing with that, even ways that they might not be fully conscious of themselves. Abuse is not a one-way street, it could hardly be considered a street at all given how diverse and differing the people who experience it end up developing into are.

So I’m not saying that, if C!Tommy were a real person, that he isn’t “Being traumatized enough” or that “Why isn’t he more like what I expect him to be like?”. That is not what I’m saying at all.

What I am saying, is that C!Tommy is a fictional character who exists within a narrative, a story. And in a good story, consistency is half the battle. I, as the audience consuming the story, need to be able to look at C!Tommy and pick up on and understand the effects abuse has had on him. And these effects need to be consistent, otherwise, as an audience member, I’m going to get confused and start having questions about why he acts one way here but doesn’t somewhere else.

I also need to be able to clearly see and understand, by being given narrative stepping stones, if something is changing for his character.

As the saying goes, “Show don’t tell”. C!Tommy can’t just say he “Goes to Puffy for Therapy” offhandedly one time, as a means of handwaving away why he doesn’t really consistently act as traumatized as he used to even though it’s literally only been a few weeks, or months at most. To explain how he can jump back between being really sad and depressed about something, to joking about Women and Twitter. It seems weird if he’s able to just so seamlessly, so effortlessly, go back and forth. Almost as if he’s bouncing between OOC and IC, but that’s a whole other discussion.

Sure, C!Tommy is representing real mental health issues, but he is, ultimately a Fictional Character existing in a story. I need to be given signs, proof, foreshadowing, to explain when he has certain reactions and behaviours in order to understand his character. And these need to be consistent, otherwise we get plotholes and general confusion.

I criticize the inconsistency and the offscreen handwaving because it’s generally not very good writing. It’s the same reason I disliked Eret’s basically off-screen-sort-of-redemption-arc. It’s the same reason people dislike it when Villains of previous seasons suddenly come back as fully reformed good guys for seemingly no reason. There is no arc, no development, no progress is shown to us.

Because when you’re telling a story about a character having some major change or developing in some way, or having an important character trait, if I don’t see it on screen, then it didn’t happen. How am I supposed to root for C!Tommy’s progress, or understand what he’s doing to progress, if a never see his coping mechanisms? His therapy appointments?

You can’t just say something, or inconsistently portray something, and expect me to jump through hoops to connect these nearly transparent dots that keep getting thrown around.

Show don’t tell. Show me Tommy getting better, because otherwise you’re just telling me he made character development, and showing me this completely different character as proof. No, last I remembered C!Tommy was having panic attacks and yelling when C!Dream was even mentioned. You can’t tell me that a day later he can interact normally after days of being in the prison and a month of being dead.

Or, if you are gonna have him flip flop back and forth, don’t have it be so sudden and jarring, give an explanation. Is he faking being fine? Does he have memory issues? C!Tommy doesn’t read to me as the type who’s good at suppressing his emotions, he wears his heart on his sleeve. So you’re going to have to explain, clearly, in a way that isn’t ambiguous, what’s happening with C!Tommy here.

You’re not really saying anything about the abuse C!Tommy goes through, if all of that trauma is automatically wiped from the story when the writers get too lazy or too scared to keep it in. At best, you are showing abuse and trauma for the sole purpose of showing it, with no intention of properly dealing with and addressing it in the story. At worst, you are basically just doing torture porn.

Pain, Hurt, Trauma for the sake of it. Not with any goal in mind. Just for the drama of it, or to hurt the audience.

And then your audience is just supposed to take that content in uncritically, and they gain no true understanding of how abuse victims survive and cope after their traumatic treatment.

Exile Arc sure did a good job at making C!Tommy suffer. But as soon as that arc ended, a lot of the stuff that happened in it went completely glossed over and unaddressed for a long while. That might have been fine in the lead-up to Doomsday, since a lot of plot stuff had been going on and stopping to handle C!Tommy’s issues might (Might is heavily doubted cause it certainly isn’t impossible) mess with the pacing a bit. But then after Doomsday, there isn’t really any excuse to put it off. Because nothing was really happening for a good while, and nobody had anything to do plotwise.

And this became even more true with C!Dream being locked in Prison. Nothing was really happening, so what was stopping the story from taking the time to properly discuss and deal with this stuff?

Well, nothing really. So, the Hotel Arc happened. And oh boy, was it a mess.

So, C!Tommy being angry at C!Dream for the abuse and trauma he has suffered at Dream’s hand isn’t an issue. It’s an incredibly common thing for victims to feel angry at their abusers, and to even go so far as to wish for vengeance against them in some way. And that’s a totally valid and fine feeling.

You’re hurting, you’re scared, you’re in pain. I get that. When we’re hurting, we don’t always act rationally or healthily.

But, ultimately, that rage, and hurt, and want for vengeance is not a healthy thing to hold onto. In many circumstances with an abuse victim wanting to inflict pain back on their abuser, we run into various problems.

For one, getting vengeance on your abuser is quite frequently going to give you more emotional pain than it will fulfilment. Especially if you are young, or are letting this want for vengeance take over your entire livelihood. It does you no good ultimately, to attempt to bring pain to the person who hurt you, because not only will you often be unsuccessful, you frequently won’t find emotional healing and stability in that.

(The only exception to this rule being if ignoring them or moving on from them isn’t an option for you right now.)

Actions have consequences, and if you invest more time in that person who hurt you, then you have no time to work on yourself or the relationships around you. You have no time to heal, and this can become self-destructive.

Spending time around an abuser, as a victim, is in all likelihood just going to upset you more. You’re retraumatizing yourself by spending time around them, and as you make attempts to give them their comeuppance, you could possibly end up internalizing the methods they used on you, and just end up perpetuating the cycle of abuse again.

And even if you have no problem with doing that to this particular person, consider how fully internalizing these abusive behaviours could affect your friends or family. Frequently, even when they don’t mean to, abuse victims can internalize the things that they went through and then use those same behaviours against people in their life later on. Being shitty to your support system because of what you went through isn’t a good move, for you or them.

Basically just, an Abuse Victim has more to gain from working on themselves while finding ways to heal and overcome their trauma and abuse, than they do spending their time and energy on the abuser. Its frequently unhealthy, distressing, and self-destructive to indulge in that too much.

(Of course, I don’t speak for everyone, but from what iIve looked into and seen, this is the healthiest method of actually healing from your abuse. That doesn’t mean you just... leave your abuser alone and never address or talk about what they did, you don’t let them get away with it, of course not. It just means you don’t waste your mental well being and time obsessing over someone, especially someone who has hurt you so much.

You deserve better than that. You deserve to heal.)

Now, let’s get back to C!Tommy.

C!Tommy, instead of finding a proper means of coping with his issues (proper therapy, diagnosis for his issues, forming and maintaining healthy support systems, focusing on things he loves, etc) is shown to repeatedly focus back on C!Dream. When he was making Big Innit Hotel, it did seem like he was to an extent finding ways to cope with his shit. He was still kinda shitty and his hotel was not exactly made and run by the most morally great standards, though I suppose I can’t expect too much when he is a very traumatized teen and doesn’t really know what he’s doing.

But, ultimately, this all fell apart when he got locked in Pandora’s Vault with C!Dream. Arguably, it was already falling apart the moment he decided to keep pursuing C!Dream even when he was locked up.

See, the thing is, C!Tommy can never just… have trauma. Having trauma that he can healthily and methodically work through is something that for him as a Character, is basically impossible. His character is an angry one, one built on spite and childishness, and who holds the mantle, unfortunately, of “Spunky Male Protagonist In A YA Novel”. So, his mental health issues can never just be a struggle he has to cope with, especially not when the DreamSMP can never seem to have anything between “A lot is happening right now omg” or “Literally nothing is happening and nobody is playing on the server at all omg”.

Instead, his issues have to be seen as a battle, and they fuel the narrative of the story. Him having been abused by C!Dream cannot just exist as a thing that he as a person has to work through slowly with the help of others around him. It has to be seen as this Epic Triumph Against Evil, another battle of Tommyinnit VS Dream on the DreamSMP, a classic Villain versus Hero fight.

This, of course, isn’t too great. By C!Tommy’s abuse plotline being framed in this manner, it makes it so that C!Tommy is constantly obsessing over his abuser and recklessly throwing himself into dangerous and triggering situations is some attempt at an “Epic Battle With Evil”, rather than this being treated like the self-harm it actually is. And yes, it is self-harm, a form of it.

C!Tommy uses his trauma and issues as fuel for the story, making it so that its impossible for him to truly progress and a character, and the moment he does start growing, he has to get retraumatized again so he goes right back to where he was.

C!Tommy does not become a better person when he’s around C!Dream, nor does he find any form of fulfilment in being around him. He gets shaky and panicky at just the sight of him. He regularly has violent and explosive outbursts at just the mention of him. When C!Dream talks to him, he gets nervous and basically can’t help but listen due to conditioning he still listens to.

When C!Tommy went to go visit C!Dream the first time in Pandora’s Vault, he brought with him stacks of TnT. He did it because he wanted to mimic what C!Dream had done to him in Exile, where he would take all of C!Tommy’s newly gained items and blow them up underground for dramatic effect.

C!Dream did this for control over C!Tommy, to manipulate him, for his suffering.

And C!Tommy wanted to do this to C!Dream, because he was feeling vindictive.

When C!Tommy got into the prison, he mocked C!Dream, hit him repeatedly, and tried to boss him around. He made him write ridiculous books and verbally berated the man. He did this in a feeble attempt to gain some feeling of control over C!Dream. This, evidently, did not work. At best his success was momentary. And this sense of achievement he gained was gained through projecting his abuse trauma onto someone else.

He repeated the cycle.

After he got brought back from the dead and let out of the prison, he was much much worse. C!Tommy was now paranoid, anxious, constantly thinking about C!Dream, and had his mindset solely on getting revenge on him, by killing him.

It got so bad, he ended up doing lacklustre “Exposure Therapy” to help himself not panic when he went into Pandora’s Vault to kill C!Dream. It got so bad he dragged C!Tubbo and C!Ranboo into this, putting them in danger and putting more pressure on another two teenagers’ shoulders.

It got so bad, that Ghostbur died, C!Sam closed off even more, and C!Wilbur came back.

Objectively, C!Tommy leaving C!Dream alone would be the better thing for everyone. And yet he keeps repeating the cycle. Because C!Tommy is not meant to grow, learn and heal. He is made to suffer.

The problem is not so much showing an unhealthy depiction of a mentally ill or traumatized person. Because trauma and mental illness and the effects of abuse are not always pretty, and they shouldn’t always have to be portrayed and pretty or sympathetic to be accurate.

It becomes a problem when you get this depiction of C!Tommy’s coping being presented uncritically to an audience of a lot of underaged and young people.

Nobody in canon, whether they be adults or fellow teens, has ever tried to question C!Tommy’s methods for coping. C!Ranboo and C!Tubbo just limply went along with his plans for Exposure Therapy with no consideration of if this was a good idea. No adults really offer to genuinely step in and help C!Tommy deal with his shit, and the ones that do leave him or get corrupted in some way, often leaving him with more trauma as they do.

C!Puffy’s therapy methods are dubious at best, and the most we ever see of her actually helping C!Tommy is her humouring his toxic behaviours, and C!Tommy making offhanded mentions to vague therapists appointments we never see.

C!Technoblade stopped giving a shit as soon as C!Tommy walked off the screen. C!Wilbur was dead, and now that he isn’t he certainly isn’t helping C!Tommy. C!Phil isn’t C!Tommy’s dad and has no obligation to do anything for him as a result. C!Ranboo has the backbone of a chocolate eclair. C!Tubbo is too busy repressing his own trauma to help C!Tommy with his. C!Sam is being ruled by the prison and C!Quackity. C!Quackity has become an Ancap.

Nobody in this story is a reliable or trusted person to C!Tommy, who could properly tell him his methods are unhealthy and give him better alternatives. And as a result, nobody is able to tell the audience that C!Tommy is wrong

Unreliable Narrators are only effective when the narrative in some way has their unreliableness pointed out or proven to the audience. If you go into a story with the assumption that everybody watching will be able to see past C!Tommy’s POV and not take him at face value, then you are naive. Especially when this fandom is made up of many teens and children.

I only know C!Tommy’s methods are unhealthy because I care way too much and do my research. A vast majority of the world doesn’t have the same understanding and education on these topics, especially not children and teenagers. A good chunk of people, especially neurodivergent and mentally ill people, could very well take the story at face value and automatically assume that what Tommy’s doing is actually a good coping mechanism because they don’t know any better.

There is no clarification or safety net for preventing misinterpretation. And being of the opinion that “Well, they should know better than to trust a bunch of Minecraft Youtubers for this stuff” or “We can’t expect them to be psychologists! You expect too much” is just… not helping.

Because I shouldn’t have to explain why children and teenagers, especially those that are using these people to cope, are not always going to make level-headed and common-sense decisions. They will be influenced by these Content Creators, whether we think it’s “Stupid” or not.

And I can say with certainty that, while yes, this might be a bit much to expect from a bunch of British/American white guys who play Minecraft to handle, may I also point out that nobody fucking made them put this stuff in the story. There are ways to write a story without stepping outside of your realm of true understanding. Nobody begged these MCYTs to go and make torture porn for a 16 year old, nobody asked them to touch on topics they have no fucking clue about.

They put that in themselves. And we have the right to point out the problems and flaws in it, and criticize them for not handling this stuff better.

You don’t start applying for a job you don’t meet the requirements for. You don’t start an expensive project you can’t finish.

You don’t include elements in a story you aren’t willing to fully go through with and address in a proper and sensitive way.

#hope this makes sense #dreamsmp roleplay #dream smp critical #dreamsmp #dream smp #character analysis #c!tommy #c!dream #tw abuse discussion #tw abuse #negativity #dsmp critical #critical dsmp

378 notes · View notes

notyetbulletproof · 3 years

Text

To me, the interweaving of those scenes were done for a few reasons:

- to show that everyone experiences trauma differently. Things we experience shape us in ways we can’t always anticipate. In ways we have no control over. No one trauma is worse than the other. Everything is relative. The trickle down effect of things in our past shape our future.

- to not gloss over their separate pain but also not provide every intimate detail of incredible pain that would already be triggering for so many people. To handle it with as much grace as the retelling would allow.

- the fact that it happened in intimate settings— with a therapist/ with a parent. Allowed the audience to understand the story set up. To understand what they were about to learn.

- selection of Friday the 13th. Another careful selection to already give the audience a chance to look away

- it was also done to show that these 2 people had very different experiences and carried a lot of anger and resentment for years that ended up shaping who they were and their relationships. Which also explains their own respective fall outs post things crashing down. Also explains their stance on things and the testing of their faith in themselves.

———————————————————————-

I don’t think it was done to equate pain and trauma. We shouldn’t do that. Everything is relative.

Ted’s father, by all accounts, wasn’t abusive so what was it about Jamie’a dad that triggered him? The tone? The sound? The disdain? Did it mirror his own? Did Jamie’s dad feel like a manifestation of Ted’s anger? Or someone hurt lashing out for the world to see? The abandonment? Was that it? The humiliation? Or was it wishing his Dad shared his hurt because maybe things would be different? Did Jamie’s silence and anger resonate with his? Explain why Ted used positivity and a “never quit” attitude to hide behind?

Whatever it was, whether it was a combination of things or just one thing— it was a trigger for Ted. A trigger just like the dissolution of his marriage. Being away from his son. The choice he made to give them space but the hurt of being away. The fact that he felt like he quit. When he swore he’d never quit a day in his life. The anger when he said “because he quit!”. The man that tells everyone to believe?? There is no quit for Ted, there are no losers, winning isn’t everything… he was bound to be crushed under the weight of that bright light shiny positivity mask he wore daily.

(Additional point for Rebecca: The fact that at the end of that conversation with her mother, the eulogy, the funeral, Rebecca realised that “being happy” scared her. “Having someone wonderful” like her back, scared her. It begin to explain so much to her. Tie that in with Sassy’s observation of her “disappearing act” for years?? It was building to a breaking point and after so many years of compounding issues, she had a breakthrough. She wants to figure out why that is and how to move forward.)

I still think it’s interesting how they built to this. You don’t need to have lived the same experiences to be affected by them. Wonderful storytelling tbh.

Trauma reshapes us. There is no comparison. Sure, we want to compare OUR OWN traumas? What you think messed you up more than others? Do it. It’s important to know the things that cause you pain and the triggers that surround you.

Watching this episode, if you can’t relate to Rebecca then yeah, I could see why it would feel weird to talk about it in the same vein of other traumatic experiences. But whether it felt weird or not, it doesn’t take away the fact that for Rebecca it was traumatic. That it reshaped her life. That was fucking painful, scarring and emotional beyond belief. And the secrecy that followed.

For people that went through that or similar shit, it could have been incredibly painful. Her relationship with her father ended that day. Nothing was ever the same.

Yes, it is not the same as what happened with Ted. Not at all! It wasn’t trying to be though. It was interwoven not trying to one up each other. It was told to different people in different places about different people. They were dealing with such hyper sensitive stuff. I really appreciated hearing it that way. Not having to live out every detail of their pain but hearing enough to fill in the blanks on my own.

Of course!! This is just how I feel. If it affected you and upset you, that’s totally valid. Pain is relative, we carry different hurts. I’m not saying you’re wrong. If it bugged you, it bugged you. If it hurt you, it hurt you. If it made you fucking mad, then it made you fucking mad. We’re all entitled to feel how we feel and to write about it in our respective spaces as we see fit.

I’m saying this is how I felt about those things.

But that’s trauma and pain isn’t it? It’s all relative, fucks us all up differently.

#Ted lasso spoilers #Ted lasso

36 notes · View notes

grimmradiance · 3 years

Text

Close to Me: How the Hollow Knight's Fighting Style Reflects Their Trauma (and the Radiance's as well)

So I've been trying to actually beat the Radiance, which means I've been fighting the Hollow Knight. A lot, as a matter of fact, since I'm beans at this game sometimes. I've also been thinking about @lost-kinn's meta about how fighting styles are how Vessels, especially the Little Knight, communicate.

In trying to apply this to the Hollow Knight, I've been coming to some very interesting conclusions, especially taken in context of...Everything Else in the lore, and Everything Else implicated in this by the psychology of it.

There's a lot to cover here, and it tracks through a LOT of different places, including trauma psychology, the relationship between chronic stress and lifespan health, and shape symbolism. Two warnings first:

One: this essay is gonna get heavy. It includes fine-grained discussion of the Hollow Knight's trauma, including discussions of the real-life machanics of psychological abuse, as well as the Extremely Concerning Implications of them harming themself during their boss fight. please read with caution and when you're in a safe emotional place to do so.

Two: This post is not a place for justifying the Pale King. If you read this essay in its entirety and still want to do that, please make your own post; my relationship to the Hollow Knight themself is deeply rooted in my own experiences, so in the context of this discussion I can't promise I won't take it personally.

With that out of the way, let's talk trauma and fighting styles:

We know that the Hollow Knight is trained to be a paragon of fighting skill, through the Pure Vessel fight, and this gives us a fantastic way to compare what they were like before they were made Government Assigned Radiance Jail, and after. Or, in other words, we're given the perfect opportunity to see what the Radiance is doing (i.e. context effects), and what Hollow is (i.e. what we can conclude is reliably consistent as a part of them). Listed here, for reference:

Hollow's attacks:

Three slashes

A dash slash

A Radiant Shade Soul, which launches a volley of Infection blobs in arcs

A Radiant Desolate Dive, which produces pillars of entwined Void and Light at random intervals

The Infection bursting out of them in random arcs, covering a significant amount of the aerial space of the arena

The Radiance ragdolling their body around trying to hit the Knight

Contact damage from them stabbing themself and falling over atop you

The Pure Vessel's attacks:

Three slashes

A dash slash

A Pure Shade Soul, which launches a volley of nails in straight lines

A Pure Desolate Dive, which produces nails at specific intervals

A Pure Focus, which causes circular explosions across most of the aerial space in the arena

Lashing out with a Void Arm (word choice intentional)

I've highlighted attacks from each battle that are different, since those are our points of interest here. In addition, both the Pure Vessel and Hollow are exceedingly fond of teleport-spamming in a way that is usually reserved for a specific group of bosses.

Another very important distinction between these two fights: the Pure Vessel doesn't scream. Well, they certainly try to, but no sound comes out. No voice to cry suffering, after all. All of these points have a lot to go into, so let's address them one at a time.

All That Remains: Theoretical Background On The Significance Of Constants

Making comparisons across time is important specifically because humans (and human-like bugs) change. Most personality traits aren't set in stone--they exist as an interaction of someone's internal tendencies, their experiences, and their environment. Speaking of those last two points, not all experiences and environments are created equally. Adverse childhood experiences (ACEs for short) are known to have lifelong implications for a child's health, both physically and mentally. These are events that are so stressful or stressful for so long that they exceed a child's ability to cope and become toxic stress (yes, that's the term in the literature, because it actively damages your organs). They compound, as well--the stress of one ACE makes it harder for a child to cope with another, especially if they overlap.

Some examples of ACEs? Being exposed to physical danger or the threat of physical danger, deprivation of normal social relationships with peers of a similar age, being forcibly seperated from family members, witnessing a loved one being hurt or killed, chronic illness in oneself or a family member, neglect of a child's emotional needs....

Poor fucking Holly. It's a miracle they didn't disintegrate under the pressure. The only other option is that they bent and adapted under that much stress--in other words, most of their personality has been forcibly reshaped by what they've gone through. Anyone who has up-close experience with parentification or complex child abuse already knows: this was by design. I'm not saying the intent was to traumatize the Pure Vessel past several points of no return, but the intent definitely was to reshape their personality for the purpose of being The Vessel. We only see them (the Pure Vessel) in battle after this process is mostly or entirely complete, but we do see them a few times beforehand. I'd like to draw attention to the Path of Pain cutscene right now.

I've seen people talking about the look the Vessel and the King share as a sign that TPK really does love his child. That might be true, but it's definitely not relevant when it comes to how abuse works. This is, in fact, exactly how the cycle of abuse uses affection as a tool. Long periods of abuse or neglect, smoothed over by small periods of affection that placate the survivor? That's textbook love bombing, the kind that forms stubborn trauma bonds and facilitates unhealthy dependency. Forgive me for not giving the Higher Being of knowledge and prescience the benefit of the doubt on that one. (/s)

Team Cherry knows about the importance of parallels and dissonance. There's a reason the music in the second phase of the Hollow Knight fight plays in the Path of Pain. There's a reason it cuts out the moment the battle with the Kingsmoulds is over, instead of at the room transition. There's a reason it doesn't cut out in the Black Egg. Actually, there's two potential reasons, which could also coexist: either little Hollow trusts the Pale King to keep them safe, even after the borderline torture that they were just subjected to, or big Hollow is so hypervigilant that they're in full functioning-through-trauma mode even while they're at death's door.

If you don't see how much the Pale King scarred his child at this point, I'm not sure we were playing the same game.

Walking the Straight Line: How the Pale King's Teachings Show In the Pure Vessel

The Pale King loves order and control. Everything about the White Palace and every decision we see him make implies this. Everything is spotless white walls and well-maintained gardens; the only signs of disorder are hidden away, either in his workshop or in The Pit™. This also reflects in the Pure Vessel's title--pure as in holy, but also pure as in without flaw. Considering the Nailsmith's emotional state after completing the Pure Nail, TPK's fate with his Perfect Controlled Kingdom, and the Godmaster ending as a whole, attaining perfection is not a good thing in any sense.

We know the Hollow Knight isn't perfect--that's the whole catalyst for the plot. But considering their upbringing and their fighting style as the Pure Vessel, their imperfections absolutely kill them emotionally. I'll spare the lecture on how perfectionism affects neurodivergent kids even more severely than neurotypical kids, if only to keep this post to a reasonable length (look up "twice-exceptional children" if you'd like to know the theory I'm glossing over in more depth). But, in essence, the deck is doubly stacked against them--they have a higher goal to reach, and far more obsctacles in their path, including their own emotional scars.

I've already discussed how Hollow isn't meant for this kind of stress in a physical sense in other posts. They're not prepared for it emotionally, either--the Pale King wants perfection, and they can't even stand up straight (every spoonie in the audience already knows how exhausting people's obsession with Standing Up Straight is). There's another page on their stack of emotional baggage, even BEFORE you consider that the Pure Vessel knows their perfection is what bought them a ticket out of the Abyss.

Bringing Teleportation To A Sword Fight: Where The Pure Vessel Reveals Their Fears

How else are they going to cope with that need for perfection, that need to prove themselves worthy of the reason their life was spared, by being flawless in any way they can? Being a mechanical, flawless fighter puts so much pressure on them, both literally (repetitive strain injuries fucking HURT) and figuratively--if you're predictable, the only sure way to win is to mop the floor with your opponents before they figure you out. Hell, that's the way most people play their first run of Hollow Knight, by throwing themselves at the bosses over and over until they figure out the patterns. That strategy is inherently going to fail against an opponent that's, say, an immortal higher being.

There's no way that the Vessel didn't figure this out, and yet none of their TPV specific attacks are positioned randomly--the nails are always evenly spaced, and the Focus explosions are always in a specific height region of the screen. That's clinging to survival strategies even when they become maladaptive in its purest form.

Another dip into psychological theory: let's talk about disorganized attachment. Attachment styles describe how someone's relationships to their main caregiver(s) influence their understanding on relationships in general. Disorganized attachment is a result of an upbringing of inherently unstable parent-child relationships, where there's no way of a child predicting whether an adult is going to be delighted to see them, ambivalent, upset, or otherwise. If my parent woke up some days saying "all right my child, time for the Infinite Buzzsaws Obstacle Course," I'd be the same way. In adulthood this manifests as an inability to form a stable sense of self-concept as well as concepts of others. Mission accomplished, TPK, there's no will to break if you broke it yourself.

This is where the fighting styles as communication comes in--Hollow needs to keep Ghost at a distance to fight, but also wants to be closer to their sibling (the only being who has a chance of understanding what they've been through), BUT also has a trauma-rooted fear of attaching to people, as their experiences with attachment are inherently unpredictable and dangerous. Hence, both the teleportation that doesn't seem to match their fighting style any more reliably than "aim at the thing attacking you" and the second attack unique to the Pure Vessel--they're quite literally lashing out in pain to push people away. There's a reason that attack is so reminiscent of the Thorns of Agony.

Of note is that Holly does seem to teleport like the bugs of the Soul Sanctum do (favoring the edges of a screen, rather than going wherever like Dream Warriors do), which makes sense--they're the most obvious answer to the question "how did they learn how to teleport, anyways?" However, Sanctum bugs have abilities designed to capitalize on this, like homing spells and slashes from above. I can only assume this means that someone saw Holly's proficiency with the nail and assumed it translated to other forms of combat, and didn't feel the need to give them at least a bit of a primer on how to make the best use of it. There's another tally for the Hollow Knight as an autism metaphor.

Trauma Bonds: How the Radiance Speaks Through Hollow

Now, we're back to the Black Egg, and two people stuck in the same sinking ship. The thing that makes this hurt so badly is that Holly and the Radiance are at complete cross purposes here, and yet they both want the same thing:

They both want out, no matter the cost. For the Radiance, this means forsaking the pacifistic nature of the moths and nuking Ghost personally.

For Hollow, this means forsaking the way they were raised and everything that was bludgeoned into their personality: the only way out is to fail, give up control, and trust that Ghost will do what needs to be done.

Imagine how much pain they're in to actually go for it. Going against a literal lifetime of conditioning is something that takes the average person years to even consider, let alone go through with. It's a form of learned helplessness--if you try to break free and fall, again and again, it actively discourages further attempts. Breaking through learned helplessness is an interesting process, because it generally involves re-establishing a sense of control by recalling previous events where the person was able to change their situation.

Which, as far as we know of, are nothing but traumatic memories for Hollow. It's very unlikely that they'd break through it on their own, but we know they have by the time we see the second phase of their fight. This is them at their most desperate: the same music as the Path of Pain, the way they let, or can't stop, the Radiance throw their body around, the way they actively try to let the Radiance out by stabbing themself.

You'd think that giving up and learned helplessness are inherently compatible, but when giving up both goes against your core personality, and involves your active participation, they're in direct opposition. So either Holly was able to process all their trauma by themself (which I doubt, judging by how much effort the player has to go through to even see Ghost's and Hollow's traumatic memories), or someone gave them a nudge or three in that direction.

Considering that there's been someone living in Holly's head who has a vested interest in them Not Doing Their Duty, I think we know who. And the thing is, I think we watch Hollow have this breakthrough during their battle. Imagine for the first time in decades, at least, you can move. You're in pain from being in the same position, probably hallucinating from sensory deprivation, with an infection sucking at what strength your body has left. And there's this little creature who looks ready to fight you, who seems to have let you go for that exact purpose.

And you look down, and both you and the Radiance recognize them from a place rooted deeper than consciousness, in the murky depths of trauma. You see the other Vessel who just as easily could have been you, and who looks so much stronger for not being you, for being an imperfect, willful creature. And the Radiance sees history threatening to repeat itself, another one of the Wyrm's cursed children seeking to lock her away once more.

What else do you do when you're triggered? You scream, and you go on instinct, and you retreat into your head. Those first blows, with the epic music? That's the Vessel the Pale King forged, the fighting machine that will endure unimaginable stress because it knows no other way. What snaps you back out of dissociation? Usually, either the passage of the triggering stimulus, or an even more relevant stimulus (severe pain from getting beaten up by a nail, for example).

The tragedy is this: we know this isn't a triumph. I think most of us went into that fight the first time, knowing we'd be putting the Hollow Knight out of their misery. The music turns tragic, Hollow screams, and then we see the Radiance and Hollow themself break through: the Radiance trying to fight Ghost directly with the resources she has, and Hollow trying to help her along.

For what it's worth, Hollow even had the right idea, when it came to letting themself rest while helping Ghost stop the madness their father started--they were just digging for the Radiance in the wrong place. The dynamic between the Radiance and the Hollow Knight is something I could write on for pages and pages, but this has gone on for long enough. Tune in next time, where I'll presumably talk about this same topic but in reverse with regards to the Radiance.

#hollow knight #hk #the pure vessel #the pale king #the radiance #my meta #the higher being speaks #i hate fact-checking my abuse infodumps because the ableism against personality disorders is EVERYWHERE #but here this monster of an essay is #anyways the hollow knight as a character sniped my trauma on sight #so i may be a tiny bit biased here But Also I'm Right #abuse //#child abuse //#emotional abuse //#i legit do not know what tags to throw on this #also the overarching title is a reference to the song of the same name from just shapes and beats because. yeah

316 notes · View notes

todomitoukei · 3 years

Note

I think its weird to use 100% real life judgment on bnha when its a story about people with powers. Like, the only reason bkg or dk havent killed anyone yet is because the author said so. The reason AM didnt kill afo is because hori didnt want to. Its the same violence and the same crazy powers from every side. Basically dabi is not much more violent than anyone else there, but hes a villain and hes craaazy 🤪 so everything is automatically evil with him.

People also forget about this part from the USJ arc:

when Shouto literally says “ayyy guys, I’m going to not kill you. Is it because of my morals? Nope! It’s because I wanna be a hero so I can’t :)”

Also not to forget how all these kids could have already killed numerous people but, just like you say, Horikoshi doesn’t want them to kill so people magically survive (i.e. in both movies, Shouto attacks a villain in a way that would definitely be fatal under normal circumstances).

Also, people forget that Dabi is literally a villain. He has to break some laws to get that label. He didn’t have to kill those thugs or Snatch, but Horikoshi wanted him to instead of having him just commit other crimes (considering being part of the League of Villains is enough to establish him as a high-class villain).

Not to mention the fact that this is a fictional story. There are so many fictional stories where people kill others and it’s barely addressed, if at all. Just think about all the video games (games like Tomb Raider, The Last of Us, Assassins Creed,...) where you constantly - as the hero of the story - kill people and it’s barely ever mentioned to be a bad thing because the people you kill are the bad guys and also they aren’t relevant characters - they’re just obstacles. But do you ever see people saying that Lara Croft is evil because of this?

People forget that our judgment is heavily influenced by perspective. We are more inclined to side with the main character because we mostly get their side of the story and not that of the opponents. People then often tend to gloss over crimes that the hero of the story commits since we are supposed to root for them and stories usually tell us that those crimes are necessary; like with survival-type stories where it’s an either you or them situation.

This isn’t to say that killing isn’t bad. In fact, in the case of Dabi it’s supposed to be bad to those around him because he killed all those people in order to reach his goal of bringing down Endeavor. He wants this to be a bad thing.

But the point is that we - the audience - are not supposed to look at this VILLAIN and go “omg he killed 30 people, how could he???” - we’re supposed to look at the tragic case of a boy that never got to live his own life, who got raised to get to the top and then dropped as soon as he wasn’t good enough anymore; and instead of giving up, he turned the whole thing around and decided to raise the person that put him through this hell to the top only to drop him - just like he was dropped before.

It’s the sad story of someone that was hurt so much he couldn’t take it anymore, whose brain couldn’t take it anymore so it rewired itself to the point where he thinks he has to commit crimes in order to ever find peace in all of this.

The characters he killed were nameless and irrelevant. We know Snatch’s name, but he got killed in the same scene he was introduced in. We’re not supposed to just see Dabi as a murderer because him killing people is supposed to show us just how bad the abuse has traumatized him.

Endeavor, on the other hand, we can more likely continue to associate with his crimes because his victims aren’t nameless, nor are they irrelevant. His entire family gets shown to us and how his past actions still affect them now. So if we have a harder time forgiving him/don’t want to forgive him at all, it’s not just because of what kinds of crimes he has committed, but also who his victims are.

Dabi killed 30 people - that’s a number.

Endeavor abused/traumatized Rei, Touya, Fuyumi, Natsuo, and Shouto - those are people we know.

Anyone that keeps bringing up the “he killed 30 people” argument is just outright ignoring the bigger picture and misses out on a deeper conversation about the effects trauma can have on people as shown to us through a fictional story because they somehow value the lives of fictional nameless characters more than that of real people.

#idk it's kinda their loss i guess #but yes anon you're very on point #ask #bnha #dabi #Anonymous

114 notes · View notes

bigskydreaming · 3 years

Text

Fandom Stuff To-Do List (basically just stuff I want to get to this week in any order, now that I have Completion Capabilities. Not meant to be a promise of any specific things on this for sure getting done, just these are stuff on my mind to get around to when I have the chance)

- Finish meta post about the wings fic AU and how peoples’ wings are affected by massive physical or emotional trauma that changes them as a person (aka do Babs’ wings change when she becomes Oracle). Which will of course segue into a mini-rant about how our culture tends to view trauma and the acquisition of physical disabilities as something there’s no coming back from, like there’s a ceiling on how good a person’s life can ever be after certain things happen to them.

And that’s why so much of our media content is geared towards treating disabled people and survivors almost more as resources to ensure ‘the same kind of thing’ doesn’t happen to people it hasn’t happened to yet and thus ‘can still be saved/protected.’ Rather than people just fucking acknowledging that trauma is just destructive change that’s impact is relative to how many resources a person has to cope or deal with that change and incorporate it into their life. And that people don’t need to be protected from trauma or accidents as much as is hyped because its literally impossible to ever prevent anything bad from happening ever, so rather than hyping the illusion that ‘this sort of thing could never happen to you as long as you do xyz and don’t do abc’ more attention and focus should be shifted to acknowledging that its still gonna happen sometimes no matter what people do to prevent it or keep safe from it. Because these sorts of trauma ARE EXTERNALLY ORIGINATING and thus there’s literally only ever so much people can do that’s originating within the self to control/protect from being affected in certain ways by stuff originating from outside the self, aka inherently OUT of our control.

And thus IMO we’d all be better served as a society by paying less lip service to the idea that people can be guaranteed safety or protection from various things and instead have more of that focus and attention shifted over towards the acquisition and building and distributing of more resources to help people in the EVENT of certain things happening to them anyway. Which in turn helps spread the narrative that you know what, even if these things happen, even if you are disabled, even if you are traumatized, that’s not the end of the road, that’s not a dealbreaker, that’s just a CHANGE that we as a society are here to help you through. It just means that your life is different now, that you may be different now, but different doesn’t have to be bad, it doesn’t have to come with a ceiling or limitations, it just means a change in perspective.

Bad things will still happen, just like bad things still happened before your Big Change, and its important to remember not to glamorize or romanticize the Before time because that tends to gloss over the fact that nobody’s life was ever perfect before big change or trauma hit anyway. So why on earth should it be a surprise (or any different from anyone else’s life) that life isn’t perfect after big change or trauma? That doesn’t mean it can’t still be GOOD. That you won’t still have good days, good surprises, happiness, friends, joy, laughter, that maybe it takes more resources or just DIFFERENT resources to get there than it did before.....but everyone’s life is different and everyone requires different resources to achieve various desired results or experiences in the first place, so its not the end of the world to have to switch your focus and look in different places for different resources now.

There needs to be less focus on what HAPPENED to people and more focus on what EFFECT it had on them, specifically. On how it changed them and what those changes mean they require now in order to live their life fully and happily, that just might be different from what they needed before. There needs to be a shift in focus from just the trauma or accident or THING that happened that changed the course or direction of a person’s life as like....the definitive point their life changed, because that THING that happened was still just a THING. It came from the outside. It was external. It literally WASN’T ABOUT THEM, and thus focusing on IT can only ever reveal so much about the PERSON it happened to.

No, the point of focus for a person’s life changing in the wake of massive trauma or an accident isn’t WHEN that happened, its when in the aftermath of that, however long it took, when that person, that survivor, finally got up one morning and realized they had a new normal. That they weren’t the person they were before, but they aren’t aimlessly lost in a single long-lasting trauma response searching fruitlessly for personal landmarks to reorient themselves when those landmarks simply don’t exist anymore, because they don’t HAVE to find or lean on those old familiar landmarks anymore. Because they’ve found new ones, found their footing in a new landscape, a new approach to living and perceiving the world around them and how it impacts and intersects with them.

Gimme a change in focus to how recovery isn’t a thing you can ever FIND, that you can ever ACQUIRE by searching for it...and so its less vital that we hold up the idea of it as some kind of semi-mythical Holy Grail its okay to send knights eternally questing for on just the possibility of its existence because hey at least its something to shoot for, when not so deep down a lot of people shelling out advice for recovery that isn’t rooted in their own experiences or utilization of the same advice they’re selling but rather is born of ‘eh, you want something I can’t give or help with and that’s making me uncomfortable so lemme point you in a direction just vague or far away enough that I don’t have to worry about seeing you and your aura of Making Me Uncomfortable around for awhile’....

.....nah, instead how about looking to how resources might be better utilized just....supporting people until they can reach that point of recovery in their own time and their own ways. Because by its very nature, you can spend years working on recovering, on finding a new normal, a new sense of stability in your life, but you’re only ever going to ‘find it’ the day you realize that you’ve ALREADY found it. That you don’t have to go searching for it anymore because its already there, you settled and replanted yourself without even realizing it. Recovery in the wake of trauma is about searching for a way to feel better, to heal, to move past something, and the answer to that need is a feeling of no longer needing to search or find that ephemeral something, because you’re content, you’re okay with who and what you are now. And you don’t need to look anymore for something you wake up and realize you’ve already found somewhere along the way.

Being disabled, being traumatized, being hurt, being CHANGED by some kind of big ass fucking Meteor Of Suck smacking into the planet that is your life and wiping out the fucking dinosaurs of this weirdo metaphor, like....yes, it leaves a mark, makes an impact, oftentimes a BIG one. But like, without the meteor that ended the dinosaur age or whatever, none of us would even be here because the point is just life goes on, and there’s no predicting what it will look like tomorrow, so yeah it could be worse and maybe it’ll never be like it was before, but there’s absolutely zero proof it couldn’t maybe be BETTER, even if it doesn’t ever look the way it was before.

Change is just change. Its not the enemy, its just the point of life. Like we’re born and then things change every single day of our life however long it is and then we die. Birth and death are the bookends, and constant change is every single page of the book in between that. Change isn’t the villain of our story, change IS our story.

And its OUR story, so it never gets to be defined by what someone else does to us in the story, because the hero’s journey isn’t about what MADE the hero set out on their quest, its about their QUEST itself, its about their TRIUMPH, its not about what happened its about what THEY decided to do NEXT because of it. Its not about the catalysts for our changes, its about what we decided to DO, who we decided to BECOME, once those catalysts hit the page and necessitated further change.

Your trauma, your change, none of those are YOU, because YOU are the person you see when you look in the mirror and take all of that in, view it as part of you, your story, something that left a mark just like every single experience of your life has left SOME kind of impact no matter how small, and who you changed into, decided to become, how you incorporated all those marks and changes and experiences....THAT is you. The ENTIRETY of that map, not the single markers along the way, no matter how loud or dramatic or attention-grabbing they try to be.

You are the map of your experiences and you only look to a map, a map only matters to you when its about leading or finding the way to where YOU want to go, with intent. No road map gets to take the wheel of the car just because you aren’t going in the direction it said you were supposed to go originally. If you get lost, you get lost. If you end up somewhere you didn’t expect, you end up somewhere you didn’t expect. If you realize you no longer want or need to go where you were setting out to originally, if you change your mind or decide another destination is better suited to you, you get to look to your map and draw a new route accordingly, because its YOURS, it only exists because of you, not you because of it.

Your trauma or whatever else is fucking up your life may be big fucking pieces of the mosaic you are when you see yourself in the mirror metaphorically speaking cuz I want this analogy to be inclusive for blind people too and I just realized I need to spend more time thinking up alternative ways to express that sentiment that don’t rely on a singular axis of experience to convey it, because that’s kinda the point in and of itself:

We’re all born with toolboxes that give us a variety of tools to approach life with, to build things out of, to build OUR life out of. The aim of civilization, of society, of being a species that only made it this far by being communal and building things together, pooling our tools to build things none of us were equipped to build with just what we already had...is that ideally, the toolbox we’re born with gets added to by others around us. Our parents or guardians or teachers, our friends and loved ones, the random person at the store who saw someone was a dollar short at the grocery store register and offered one of their own or the way we can add to someone else’s toolbox by simply asking if they’re alright when we can see they’re not and then just like that they have the added resource of the knowledge that someone cares enough about them to want to know what’s wrong.

And none of our toolboxes are identical. None make it all the way to our deathbed with us while containing the exact same tools we started with, some are missing, some are added. Some we didn’t even realize we had. Some we never even used. Some we used the hell out of and are worn to pieces and some are shiny and new because we wore out the older version of them and needed a replacement. And sometimes big fucking meteors of suck smack into our lives right when we’re just minding our own business and enjoying our own jurassic age and everything changes forever, but millions of years later we might still be around and now we just look like chickens and alligators and sharks and all the other creatures that are basically just dinosaur descendants in a different form because we’re hardy as fuck and damn I really need to get over this metaphor it is not the analogy I’m looking for but oh well.

Point is, sometimes Change happens and the tools we’re used to leaning on when building our better, ideal lives and optimal experiences, like....maybe they just don’t work for us anymore. Maybe we can’t grip the old familiar ones the way we used to, maybe our eyes have gone to shit and we can’t wield the more precise instruments with the precision we’re used to, maybe the nails we were using to build stairs in our dream house are fucking useless cuz they’re not the right size when building the wheelchair ramp our new dream house needs instead.......and so fucking what? What does any of that actually say about US, about who we ARE, about what our life could be or how good it could get?

Absolutely nothing. Because the toolboxes we were born with were still only ever just tools. What we ARE is what we make with them, what we build out of ourselves, what we choose with intent to become. So what if our old tools aren’t up to the task of actualizing our new dreams? That’s what we need other people for. That’s what society SHOULD be for. That’s when what we need is not to be FIXED, not to be restocked with what we had originally but is now no longer of use to us or what we need or maybe even not what we want.....no, all we need is....new tools. New resources. New kinds of help.

And again, that’s what society is SUPPOSED to be for. To help us define ourselves not by the problems we face but our solutions to overcoming them. To help give each other new tools and teach each other how to use them when change necessitates hunting around for something that’s easier to grip now. And if we all come into the world starting out with different tools than everyone else anyway.....what does it MATTER if somewhere along the way we have to swap out the old familiar ones we started with and look for new ones we didn’t need originally?

A cane is just a cane to help someone walk because for whatever reasons, their legs or spine need that tool to help get them where they want to go. A cane is not proof that it will never take them to a destination where they’re every fucking bit as happy as people who made it to the same place without the use of one. A cane is not THEM. Its just a fucking cane. Same thing with glasses, with wheelchairs, with prosthetic limbs, with hearing aids. Same thing with support groups, with therapists, with trauma centers.

Like do people ever think about how fucking AMAZING it is that we have prosthetics at all? That somewhere along the line, people saw a problem, saw a need, that was not ‘oh this person (or maybe even ‘they themselves’ because let’s not go the saviorism route and forget that disabled people have had plenty the fuck to do with designing or dreaming up or building the tools disabled people use to navigate life while working with a different set of physiological tools than most people are equipped with. Like this isn’t a ‘oh look how good other people are to people in need’ point but more just a ‘people-as-in-society-overall-which-includes-both-able-bodied-and-disabled’ point).

Like the point is the response to seeing that was not just ‘oh so and so or maybe even me is damaged beyond repair,’ no instead it was just ‘this person’s legs aren’t currently equpped to do what this person needs or wants them to do.’ And people said okay the solution, the answer, the RESPONSE to seeing that problem or need was not to sit back and think about how much it sucks that this person can’t walk on their own and how limited or ‘lesser’ their life will be than other peoples’ because of that, no they said instead, hey, what if we just BUILT THEM DIFFERENT LEGS. Like, just THINK about that. We, as a people, communally, as in more than one, pooled resources to BUILD PEOPLE NEW FUCKING LEGS.

And all it ultimately took, the catalyst for THAT, for changing the lives of people who use prosthetics as tools in their day to day lives....the catalyst for that CHANGE was NOT in fact....whatever happened to make various people need prosthetics in the first place. No, the catalyst, the change that got us to the point of people having the OPTION of prosthetics at all, was the point in time where people saw a need, and came up with the solution of prosthetics to address that need. When they said not oh that’s a problem or oh sorry you have that need, but oh I have an idea, or oh here’s what we can do about that. The defining element wasn’t that something needed building. The defining element was WHAT PEOPLE CHOSE TO BUILD BECAUSE OF THAT.

Just like severe trauma is a catalyst for change in a person’s life, a meteor that no one saw coming and can dramatically reshape the landscape of their life, wipe out familiar comforts and landmarks they use to orient themselves.....but at the end of the day, that person is not the meteor itself. We don’t call them whatever we call that meteor, we call them by their fucking name because they’re still the same fucking person, just in a different place now, with different needs, with different dreams or wants or goals. Who they are isn’t how rough they have it while they’re going through the most....because how much a trauma shakes up a person’s life is directly relative to how equipped they are already to deal with that particular trauma or change.

So by its very nature the ‘worst’ or most changing traumas are the ones that we’re personally LEAST equipped to deal with at that particular time on our own, and how fucking stupid is it to try and draw conclusions about a person based just on how they react in the immediate aftermath of an event whose defining element is that it was a destructive change that was uniquely impactful because it hit them where they were least equipped to deal with it?

Like, NOBODY is equipped to handle well, like, an event that relative to THEM SPECIFICALLY, like....is something they’re not equipped to handle. LOL. Like, that’s so fucking dumb, but that’s who we ALL are when in the midst of massive trauma responses - just people hunting desperately for new normals, new landmarks, new awareness with which to recenter ourselves, reorient ourselves, redefine who and what we are in relation to our lives and society and our loved ones in the wake of a massive change that shook things up and required repositioning ourselves because the spot we used to be positioned on no longer exists.

And what the fuck can you learn, can you actually KNOW about a person based solely on the fact that ‘oh this person is having a hard time dealing with something that there’s literally NO good way to deal with?’

People talk a lot about how revealing trauma or tragedy is, that you can learn a lot by seeing how someone handles a huge trauma or tragedy being thrown at them, even in fiction. But y’know what? There’s a ceiling on how much that alone can ever reveal, especially if the lens of time through which you examine that person or character is limited just to the aftermath of the trauma, the thing that HAPPENED to them. Rather than focused on the beginning of their new journeys, once they’ve reoriented themselves, acquired new tools, picked new destinations or goals for their lives and set out to now make THOSE a reality....just like people before or without massive trauma or tragedy are similarly not defined by the LACK of what didn’t happen to them, but simply by......what destinations or goals they pick for their lives and their journeys to get there and what they do and what choices they make along the way.

Nah, if you ask me, a person’s truest essence isn’t revealed by what they do with whatever limited tools or resources they have when struggling with a massive trauma or tragedy that’s only massive specifically BECAUSE it hit them in a way or place they were ill-equipped or unprepared to deal with. Because the essence of that person, the truth revealed by examining that struggle, the answer in focus when looking through just that finite lens....can be boiled down to the exact same thing, no matter WHO you put in that place.

What they do in the wake of a massive trauma is simply ‘as much as they’re capable of given their limited resources or capabilities at THAT SPECIFIC POINT IN TIME.’ Which is inherently....not a lot. Completely subjective and relative to every individual, given the different traumas, resources and needs or injuries relative to every individual while they’re going through their fucking worst....but that’s still the point.

A person struggling with things beyond their capability to handle well at that given moment given their current state or resources.....is ultimately never going to appear as anything other than.....a person struggling with things beyond their capability to handle well at that given moment given their current state or resources. Wow. Really pegged that person huh. Got them all summed up, totally differentiated from every other person to ever go through shit, just by seeing them.....not handle it great when by its very nature of fucking course they’re not going to handle a trauma they’re not prepared for with any degree of ‘great.’

Like, is it any wonder our society has this built in presumption that experiencing certain traumas or tragedies just fucking CONDEMNS that person to from then on live a life that will never actually measure up to being as optimal as it maybe could have been if that hadn’t happened? What other conclusion are you gonna draw, about how good or not a person’s life is in the wake of massive destructive change....if you’re only ever focusing on or looking at how they react at the specific point where they’re LEAST equipped to deal with that trauma or tragedy well?

Because thing is....that’s not a person. That’s a snapshot of a person. Try and define me or sum me up by looking at a fucking Polaroid of me when I was ten or whatever. Go on. See how revealing that is. Tell me what that says about me.

People can’t be defined by negative space. By what they’re NOT. By all the ways in which they can’t be what they MIGHT have been had something happened different, or all the things they COULD be if they were born into different circumstances. You do that, you’re not describing a person, you’re describing hypotheticals that you can apply as desired to ANY person, with just a few tweaks here and there, and thus always find a way to picture them as you want to for your own personal purposes, agenda or comfort, rather than gaining any insight whatsoever about who they are as defined by the space that they DO fill up, with intent, by their choices.

We don’t look to the early history of our species and talk about all the people who DIDN’T discover fire, maybe even just because they were born in a fucking wet climate or whatever where it was inherently more difficult to happen across the realization that striking sticks or stones in certain ways can make a very useful and helpful flame. With the point being that even if we DID talk about those early humans as much as we did the ones who got actual bonfires going, the fact that they simply ‘weren’t the ones to discover fire’ actually would reveal shit about them in and of itself, because who’s to say that the reason, the ‘culprit’ for that was that they were simply too dumb or whatever to figure that out instead of just being they lived in a climate that made that discovery particularly difficult or less likely to happen by chance? Y’know?

But no, anyway, we talk about the ones who DID discover fire, because the turning point for our species which that was, like, we don’t look at it and define it by the lack of it happening sooner, at the problem that not having fire was for the people who came before that discovery. It was the triumph that mattered, it was the choices made in the wake of that discovery, it was how people put that new tool to work and not oh how revealing it is about the rest of early humanity that they didn’t put that tool to work in similar ways because it simply wasn’t even a possibility for them when it was simply a resource they didn’t have.

Nah, IMO a person’s truest essence is revealed not by their problems or their lacks, not by the hypothetical maybe me they could have been if they went through life without anything bad ever happening to them and thus who they’ll never actually be now. Its not revealed by taking a snapshot of them in the moments or days or even weeks following a trauma or tragedy that struck with an accompanying seismic shake-up of all their existing stability and support systems that ultimately limited how much or many of the resources they’d previously acquired or built could even be of use to them in dealing with things now. You don’t learn anything substantial by putting people in a room with only two exits and one of them locked and then act like its an insightful revelation that they ultimately make their way out by means of the finite options available to them when their options have been actively limited by forces outside them and their control, even if that wasn’t the ‘optimal’ answer to that predicament and you wanted them to make other more ideal choices without acknowledging they literally were limited to the most basic of fucking choices available. No, IMO the actual revelations about people come in their declaration of a new want or wish or ask or goal AFTER they’ve found their footing and are ready to live again rather than just cope.

Why define ourselves by our needs when we’re most ourselves when dreaming of our wants?

You don’t gain the most insight by watching someone flail about when they’re at their lowest and just floundering. You want insight, you look to see what tools they use to pull themselves upright, what resources they ask for or seek out in order to build something new that they can place upon their new shaken-up-and-reformed foundations and from there find some stability with which to pull themselves FORWARD. Instead of just clinging to the shattered remnants of whatever their source of stability was previously but is no longer useful for that purpose, maybe not even because they WANT to cling to just that or are afraid or unwilling to move forward, but because they simply can’t reach any fucking resources with which to do anything BUT just cling to what little they could grab, and what they actually need is just someone to offer them said resources instead of just acting like they really did something by looking at a person lacking in resources and then judging or defining them simply by all the things they AREN’T doing to better themselves or their lives, WHEN THAT’S ONLY BECAUSE THEY’RE LACKING THE FUCKING RESOURCES TO DO ANY OF THAT.

You see who a person is not by comparing them to who they MIGHT have been before, because who can say with any certainty what person they might have been the day after that massive trauma or tragedy, had said trauma or tragedy never actually occurred? Who can guarantee that person, that hypothetical maybe-me is ACTUALLY better than who they are or can become now?

Nope. You wanna know who that person is? That’s who they declare themselves to be the second they stop trying to define themselves by who they WERE and thus who they’re not anymore....but rather by who they are NOW, and who they want to be from here on out. You don’t look at the person who’s been pushed to the ground and say oh that’s that person, that’s who that person is. No, all that tells you is that person was pushed to the ground by an asshole, and surprise surprise, they fell because that’s what fucking happens when someone pushes you to the ground, lolol. That’s not the nature of a person, that’s the nature of physics. Wow. Person A is affected by gravity and the forceful aggression of assholes in their vicinity. The uncanny insight of it all.

You wanna see that person, you look at who they are AFTER they’ve pulled themselves back up. You see what they do THEN. Once they’re back in control of themselves, their life, in the driver’s seat.

You can’t define people by the lack of something. A lack of control, a lack of choice, a lack of resources. Because we are our choices, we are the journeys we take, we are what happens on the next page of our story because the next page of our story only EVER happens because each and every page we decided to MAKE something happen next.

And we can only MAKE those choices, versus have them made for us and which thus says more about the person who forced those choices on us than it does us for simply being unable to stop that, we can only TAKE those journeys, versus being forced into certain directions and paths and down certain roads by limited options that say more about how little a person can do with only finite options available to them rather than say anything substantial about what directions a person might go in if they had actual options and choices available to them beyond just being presented with two routes that both equally suck, we can only do anything substantial with any of that, anything that says anything about US rather than just descriptive of our circumstances....

We can only do anything with all of that AFTER we’ve gained or taken back or regained control over our lives. AFTER we’ve found our footing. AFTER we’ve said well guess what, this happened then, but guess what else happened today? I got out of bed and said okay so we’re just not gonna worry about that because its over and done and it doesn’t get to be the only thing that matters about us. So instead, how about what matters right now is whatever the fuck I choose to do today, because THAT is up to me, THAT says something about me, THAT is not just some random rock crashing into me from outer fucking space and saying knock knock, fuck you. THAT is ME, saying with intent, THIS is who I am now and THIS is what I’m going to do today, and THAT’S an actual story about me and my choices and my PERSONHOOD. Versus just a summation of how shitty I looked while being smacked in the face by a mountain of bullshit and me without so much as an umbrella.

THAT’S a story about a person. That other thing, that fixation on the rock that crashed into them without warning? Its ultimately never going to be anything other than the story of how a person got hit by a fucking rock.

All of which is to say, so yeah, in that wing fic AU, Babs’ wings do change after what happens with the Joker, even though her wings had already settled.

BUT, the key thing about that is....the point of CHANGE for her wings was NOT when the Joker shot her. Its not when her life, when SHE changed, ‘because of that.’ Because maybe her wings didn’t work the same way anymore after that happened, because they represented who she was before that. And before that she was and thought of herself as someone who could grapple between buildings, flip kick into bad guys, do cartwheels across rooftops, and she can’t do those things anymore so maybe her wings don’t work for her in the way they used to because they were ‘designed’ for someone who lived life in a way she was no longer capable of.

But her wings didn’t just change then and there, they still remained the same as always even if they weren’t as useful because maybe she could still fly perhaps, but not land in the ways her wings were designed to do that, due to the changed capabilities of her legs and spine which were meant to work in concert with her wings.

See, because the point is.....if the wings are the ultimate expression of the self, even acknowledging that she was in fundamental ways CHANGED at that point (not lessened, but changed, made different, needing different things and having different wants).....the point is, at just that specific time, in the immediate aftermath of that trauma, what would her wings have changed into? What would they LOOK like, simply because say, two days ago, the Joker shot her and now she’s paralyzed? If she’s no longer the old her, how could the new her POSSIBLY be defined by that little data, that little definition, that small an image or encapsulation of everything she still MIGHT yet be or become once she’s out of bed, out of tears, out of grief for the goals that are no longer viable and now ready to say okay, now let me decide what DOES come next for me now.

So yes, Babs’ wings do change after the Joker shoots her, but they remain as they were for awhile. Just not as useful to her now that her toolbox of physical capabilities was less equipped to accommodate her newly changed needs and approaches to life.

When they change, its because she’s already become Oracle. That’s who she is now, Batgirl is a part of that but more about who she was. It’s part of the foundation she built her new self atop, its never going to not be a part of her, never going to leave, it still matters....but it is not the building itself anymore, it is the bedrock that made it through the seismic upheaval of her life and thus was sturdy enough she felt safe building something new on it, something that could ride out further earthquakes thanks to having it to ground her. But as integral as it is to what she built in the wake of her big quake....it is not the house she houses her self-image in. That’s Oracle’s domain now.

And so when her wings do change, it happens overnight, while she’s asleep. Dreaming of everything she wants now, everything she wants to become. They change not in a ‘this is happening’ sense, much like we’re never fully aware of how far into our recovery process we are.....instead, they change in a ‘huh, so this happened’ sense. Just like we only realize how much we’ve recovered, how much we no longer need to define ourselves by a quest to be better, happier, more alright...once we’ve already found that happiness or contentment and realized the reason there’s no longer the same drive to pursue some abstract image of recovery is simply because we no longer need to go anywhere to get that, we’re already there and this is what that looks like.

And so when one day Babs wakes up feeling different and looks in the mirror to see her wings no longer look like they used to but rather seem much more suited to the woman she is now, the woman she envisioned in her mind as a new goal or destination of self-determination, that she chose to become with intent, that she worked to become so she could be defined by something other than what some asshole did to her, so that she could be the sum of her deeds rather than the snapshot of her tragedy.....its a sign of change. Of her change, and proof that her life is not now what it once was, and never will be again.....but its not some big momentous reveal, more just an exhale of affirmation for something she’s already known for awhile and just now has the distance and perspective to see actual proof of.

Its the marker of the fact that actually she’s okay with it, she’s okay with herself, her new self, because she doesn’t need to be who she might have been without that trauma, she doesn’t need to be a maybe when who she is? Has no more of a built in limit or ceiling or cap on happiness and success than the woman she was before her trauma had. She doesn’t love what happened to her, but its just something that happened to her. Its not who she is, THIS is who she is, this is THAT, and this she’s more than okay with, she’s proud of, she’s like damn I look good. Life threw a punch at her and she got into a wheelchair and rolled with it, and if you’re busy looking at the bruise from that punch because you’re so focused on the fact that it happened, you’re missing the real story.

And that’s the way she pulled herself out of bed every morning for a year and into her wheelchair to train with escrima sticks in whole new ways of fighting so the next time the Joker tried knocking on her door, he wouldn’t get to pull the same shit twice. Because she’s not the same woman she was then and anyone focusing on THAT instead of watching out for all the ways she can still kick ass, some old, some new, some that she invented herself because necessity is the mother of invention and Babs has always been driven to be the top of her class for reasons that have everything to do with just HER and absolutely nothing at all with what happened to put her in a class where fighting from a wheelchair was a tool she felt she needed -

Well maybe they need to get clocked across the head with a stick to drive home that they’ve missed the entire point, that if you’re there looking to see a tragedy you’ve got the wrong fucking address cuz she’s doing just fine.

And so she wakes up one day and looks in her mirror and sees her wings have changed overnight and they look nothing like she remembers but tbh, she likes these a lot better, likes the way they feel, the shape of them, they just FIT....and then she just nods her head decisively, quietly pleased but in no rush to make any big announcement, because for her, this changes nothing. Its just a sign that change has already happened.

And its like....duh, she already knew that, and she’s more than okay with it, so semantics can wait for another time. She’s Barbara Gordon, the Oracle of Gotham, and she’s got shit to do.

And okay, so clearly, I ended up just writing that post instead of writing the rest of that to-do list, so I’m gonna now go make another post with the ACTUAL to-do list, and like, yay, I can cross this off I guess? My process is so mysterious, oh unknowable ways.

13 notes · View notes

bsd-elle · 3 years

Text

Thoughts on the SK8 The Infinity Episode 12

So the final episode just aired. And I’m having majoorrr mixed feelings.

This show was truly something that kept me going, with it’s story, animation and the whole found family thing. I have loved this show from the beginning and I will till the end.

But as a lot of people in the fandom I do have some strong opinions on the finale

First off, I just want to say that everyone is allowed to have their own opinion but please do not send hate or any negative energy to studio Bones and Hiroko Utsumi. They have worked incredibly hard on this series. In fact I put them on a pedestal for giving us something so poignant and wonderful during such trying times. I looked forward every Saturday to watch the new episode and that feeling, that rush while watching it, never changed throughout the show’s run!!

Now on to my thoughts on the finale.

1. Shipping

I saw many people in the fandom criticizing the studio for queerbaiting. Now I can definitely not give an accurate perspective on this, as I am not part of the LGBTQIA community, though I am a strong ally.

Let’s talk about the main ships: Renga and Matchablossom

Renga: In my opinion they’re pretty much canon. All the hints, the loving looks, Langa jumping to hug Reki, Langa basically saying Reki is his happiness, Reki wanting to skate beside Langa (Infinitely). In my eyes, they’re canon.

Of course it would’ve been amazing to have a canon queer relationship, but we have no idea what happens behind closed doors. The rules in Japan, unfortunately are totally different from other progressive countries. As someone who lives in a country where they just decriminalized gay marriage, seeing canon queer relationships is honestly rare.

I think they did whatever they could to show that Renga is canon.

I mean come on, Langa basically said he liked Reki in episode 8

I think it would be very very cool and progressive to have a them outwardly admit to it, but we know both these dumbasses never finish their sentences. lol

I’m happy with the way their relationship evolved.

Matchablossom: I honestly can’t give a clear reasoning to this, because personally I don’t ship them. But the thing is, they could be canon, who knows?

I mean everyone was talking about how Joe went out with 2 girls in the end sequence and because of that they aren’t canon. But by that logic we couldn’t ship them from the beginning, since Joe kissed girls in the first episode.

I mean I totally headcanon that Joe is a bisexual king, so that means he could be hanging out them girls while still majorly crushing on Cherry.

Who knows, maybe Joe brought the girls to Cherry’s signing on purpose to make him jealous. Lol

Let your imagination run wild, people. It’s up to your own perspective. I personally don’t ship them, but I don’t think it’s queerbaiting when you pretty much have several hints to them caring deeply (love) about each other.

2. Story

This is where the critiquing comes.

One of the main reasons why I loved and still love Sk8 was one, obviously because of Renga and two because I absolutely loved the story.

From eps 1-11 the story was so compelling and written in such a fantastic way. Every week I’d have some assumptions and every time it would completely blow my mind.

In particular ep 10. When I originally saw the title “Dap not needing words” I was so worried.

They need to talk, they have to communicate. But wow, that episode was just phenomenal, if you guys want me to make a review on each episode I would be happy to, I have so much to say.

Sure, ep 10,11 was wayyy too rushed, but I just know it’s because they had to fit a lot of story in such a little time period. If they had maybe 24 episodes, they would’ve knocked it out of the park.

Either way I had no complaints.

My issue with ep 12 is the beef: Adam Vs Snow

I thought animation wise and as a beef it was really impactful (similar to Reki Vs Adam)

But why God, why did they give Adam a redemption

I’m sorry but he doesn’t deserve it.

I knew for a fact that as much as I wanted Adam to go to jail (so badly), I knew it wouldn’t happen. That was just not possible (in my eyes). I thought they would take a page from Fugou Keiji: Balance Unlimited, where his family (those evil ass aunts) and send them to jail (for clear mental, physical abuse and who knows what else), and Adam would go in isolation somewhere.

There he could properly heal from his trauma and abuse, work through it, heal his relationship with Tadashi and just work to be better.

There was a part of me that expected the show to end with a typical “oh we’re all friends and everything is forgiven” bullshit and I prayyedd that wouldn’t happen

But boy was I wrong

Why did they try to sympathize with him?!?

I get it, he’s clearly had severe trauma and abuse, and he uses skateboarding and entering the “zone” to get away from his terrible reality.

But why did they have Langa say this to him??

“Skating is fun because you can do it with your friends!”

It’s sweet that he’s trying to teach Adam what Reki taught him, but this implies that Adam is his friend. Or atleast that’s what he wants

“hey, you’re a crazy monster and you assaulted my friends (boyfriend), but I still wanna skate with you, cause it’s fun with friends”

I’m sorry, in what universe is this.. your friend?

Your actual friend, Langa, who taught you everything you know, who’s been with you from the start, he has been attacked and traumatized multiple times by Adam. Not to mention several other people.

I could’ve accepted it if they used the line

“Don’t ever end up on your own”

That makes more sense in this context, it’s like saying “hey you evil monster, you’re crazy but don’t end up alone, treasure the people in your life”

I think that implies more on the sense that Adam has to figure shit out on his own, by himself. Not with Langa and the people he’s assaulted.

Then it would make atleast a bit more sense to heal Tadashi and Adam’s relationship.

You just cannot build up a character like Adam, for 12 episodes and then completely forgo that for the sake of “friendship”, that just makes no sense

Not to mention, Kirako the detective, the fact that she worked so hard and got absolutely nothing, is preposterous.

That whole thing put a really bad taste in my mouth.

Also, during the beef, like I mentioned, Langa basically implies that they should have fun because they’re skating with friends.

This basically just throws out Langa’s friendship with Reki.

I mean Reki was so badly hurt and injured after their beef, both the times.

Yes, he did have a lot of fun and that was the point of ep 10, 11 to show Reki that he didn’t have to skate to be the best (like no one ever wass.. dun dun dun. If you know that reference, here’s a chocolate) he skated to have fun(even though in my eyes, he’s the best)

Ep 12 was that arc for Langa, for him to realize he also skated to have fun.

But when you’re condoning and encouraging Adam, idkk.. it just rubbed me the wrong way.

I didn’t like it at all. They made him into a gag character in the end scene, which is literally the opposite of what he’s been pictured for the past 11 episodes.

3. Side characters

Shadow did not deserve that in any way whatsover.

He was completely glossed over. I thought his injury would be a pivotal plot point for improving his relationship with the manager, but they just used it as a way to remove him from the tournament

Tadashi, babyy, that’s Stockholm syndrome

When I saw that dog comment:

Godd... he deserves so muchhh moree..

So, overall the finale, honestly disappointed me. But my love for sk8 is everlasting and the finale will never change that

4. Future

Hopefully, and I pray for this

A season 2, movie, OVA or anything tbh.

There’s so much potential

Reki and Langa go to Canada, they visit Oliver’s grave, Langa teaches Reki snowboarding

Kirako finally arresting Adam

Tadashi becoming true friends with Langa, Reki and the gang

Shadow getting the love he deserves

Matchablossom canon

Renga canon

Miya getting the apology he deserves

But whatever it is, Sk8 the Infinity owns my heart and I don’t know what I’m going to do with my life.

Other than reading Renga fanfiction

#sk8 the infinity #sk8 #renga #hasegawa langa #kyan reki #sk8 langa #sk8 reki #adam #matchblossom #cherry blossom #joe #sk8 cherry x joe #sk8 cherry blossom #what is my life now #its incomplete

40 notes · View notes

gaawachan · 3 years

Text

Critical Role 127 Discord Discussion

*Content warning, discussions of trauma, toxicity, toxic masculinity, implied projection, violence, strong language, etc*

*this is a conversation between two AFAB people with PTSD about Critical Role. It is a bit uncharitable at times, but try to understand that it's coming from a place of hurt and frustration. There are brief references to our own trauma, and discussions about social pressure and unsafe handling of traumatized individuals.�� Please note that NONE of this is directed at the Critical Role cast*

Also, sorry to any Veth fans we’ve offended, but it’s not so entertaining when you’ve had people like that in your life messing with your ability to heal in a healthy way. Sometimes the media we consume is unintentionally hurtful... as is the meta surrounding it. Please try to remember who might be reading your posts.

Sibling: (regarding a post about how Veth drew first blood in sanatorium) That's TRUE! VETH SHOT FIRST "oh wow what a cold-blooded murderer" fuck off with that lol

Me: ngl I dislike Veth at this point. She's outright toxic to Caleb in a way that makes me really uncomfortable.

Sibling: How dare she call him that when her first impulse in ANY SITUATION is to kill... and she dragged him to the hall he was abused in and condemned him for killing people as swiftly as he could.

Me: She's by far the most bloodthirsty, the whole group (but especially her) keep pushing him into situations he doesn't want to be in and then they clutch their pearls as he mops up the mess THEY pressured him into.

Sibling: I honestly wish Caddy had gone instead of Jester, but I understand why he couldn't.

Me: At EVERY TURN, even before Molly died, they pushed him and put him in dangerous situations he didn't want to be in and then they're like GASP he kills people really fast oh no!

Sibling: I mean, what I don't get is that... yeah, visually the deaths seem horrible. HE MADE SURE THEY DIED AS QUICKLY AS-AS THAT LADY FROM HITMAN WHO GETS SQUASHED IN THE GIANT PRESSER.

Me: No one else in the party gets pressured to do things they don't want to do quite like Caleb does. Maybe Caduceus, early on. But they are CONSTANTLY doing this to Caleb at every turn. Fjord is probably the only one who consistently tries to avoid doing that. Everyone else gets the whole "we'll support whatever you choose to do" treatment. Not Caleb.

Sibling: but yeah, Beau seems... okayish about it? But I wish she'd kept her mouth shut about Astrid. Why should he have to hear what someone complicit in his abuse and others' is "feewwing"? She's using him and she's using the 9.

Me: It makes me so angry, because Caleb, more than any other member of the party, really ought to be given respect for his own autonomy and wishes, ESPECIALLY with regards to his past! They don't just pressure him to do things he doesn't want to do with respect to his past (and other situations, too) but they demand that he do what they think he should while holding the motives they think he should have while doing so. It's not enough that he go after Trent, he has to police his own feelings and do it for the right reasons. Which is really disgusting because all of them are clearly chomping at the bit to kill Trent out of revenge, but Caleb's supposed to want to kill Trent for the greater good. Like seriously FUCK OFF.

Sibling: EXACTLY. HE SHOULD BE ALLOWED TO MAKE HIS OWN DECISIONS. It's the expectation of: "You should feel and do these things in regards to your trauma, because doing anything else makes us uncomfortable." Don't we know that fucking feeling. You don't even have to like how you're feeling and other people still get to dictate what is and isn't acceptable. It's genuinely appalling.

Me: I think it's really gross how supportive the group is of each other when it comes to all their various problems, but with Caleb, they are constantly pressuring and challenging him and NOT IN A GOOD WAY.

Sibling: I felt Veth and Caleb's personal exchange was sweet, but I'm right back to feeling that she needs to go when they go to Nicodranas, just... just stay with your family. Bring back Taryon or something.

Me: If this last episode was proof of anything, it's that forcing Caleb to confront his past because others in the party want him to is nothing short of abusive behavior on their parts.

Sibling: Not to mention the condemnation of how he handles the thing they pressured him to do.

Me: And I have thought this even before he told Beau and Molly about Trent, because Caleb didn't want to participate in that tournament thing in Zadash that put him back on Trent's radar. And after he told them, did he ever get an apology from those who pressured him to participate in that? No.

Sibling: ... I just don't understand the 9. Caleb... It'd be like how they treated Fjord in regards to Avantika, honestly.

Me: But frankly she (Veth) has been repeatedly very cruel to him in a very casual way.

Sibling: Totally, wtf, she says she loves him but she acts like she thinks he’s an awful person- a useful awful person.

Me: And I should be clear, I've tried really, really hard to give her the benefit of the doubt, and she just keeps doing it over and over.

Sibling: Dude, same. I thought we got Nott back, and was feeling good until recently.

Me: And the thing that pisses me off most of all is that Caleb HAS made clear what HE wants at this point, and the party just... glossed over it. Caduceus said he approved of Caleb's stance, but... That doesn't mean anything if you don't actively push back against the pressure the other party members apply.

Sibling: As I've said before, I want Caduceus and Caleb to have this talk and yet I realize that he's not that kind of counselor. I don't see Ducey as an advocate... he has no idea what Caleb went through and doesn't have the skills to help him cope; he's a grief counselor, not a therapist.

Me: What Caleb needs is input from people who aren't so pushy about this. Fjord is a good choice but, like Caddy, he's shown that he won't step in and be like "how about we do what CALEB wants?"

Sibling: And... they're able to semi-acknowledge Beau's trauma but not Caleb's? Fjord honestly is the closest thing to an advocate Caleb has but he... he's also too passive. He doesn't care if Caleb does something he'll regret and also doesn't care that other people are pushing him into doing things he'll regret.

Me: Honestly this is why I was HOPING that Essek would get to know the party better, because for all his faults, Essek generally has a cool head and I think he WOULD push back against the others and say that, especially with his experience with the Assembly. I think that Essek would definitely support Caleb's perspective more than the others and he's not afraid to push back with his opinions.

Sibling: Shadowgast forever. Even if it dismays the Widojest fans, who apparently don't like shipping Caleb with people who are morally questionable. Despite the fact that Jester was willing to dupe a ton of people into putting their lives in danger for an imaginary friend.

Me: (not touching ship wars with a ten foot pole, tyvm) I think if Essek saw the way the party members were pressuring Caleb with respect to Trent in particular, he'd be a bit taken aback because he's seen how amenable to the wants of his friends Caleb is.

Sibling: Essek did what Essek wanted to and it got him into trouble. Caleb is helping other people and doing exactly what others tell him to, feeling what others want him to, trying to please them, and it's getting him into trouble. They could do with a bit of reigning in for each other.

Me: Ngl, if this mess gets Caleb killed, I'm going to lose it.

Sibling: Well, I mean... If Caleb dies at all, I'm going to lose it... especially because his blood will be on the 9's hands and I'm not sure if, like Molly, he would want to come back. Which is awful to say but I wonder if someone so... hurt wouldn't just... let it happen.

Sibling: I sort of got it from a player's perspective in regards to Ducey? The cast was bored and weren't really interested in Cad's story so they messed around and ignored him... But like, this? This is... "We need to see Caleb's story arc because we haven't yet, even though it doesn't make sense right now and we're already on a time limit"

Me: That's true... IT MAKES ME SO MAD. When they finished the spell for Veth and tricked Isharnai, Cale let her take time to think before they removed the curse. He didn't even fully understand why she needed that time but he gave it to her. And again, on Rumblecusp for Jester, he was like "here is what I can offer. What do you want me to do for you? I am here for you." AND THEY NEVER DO THE SAME THING IN TURN. WHEN IT'S HIS TURN, THE PARTY IS LIKE "HERE IS WHAT WE WANT YOU TO DO AND HOW WE WANT YOU TO FEEL ABOUT IT."

Sibling: It's true. I'd go so far as to say Caleb's self-destructive in that respect.

Me: Maybe I'm being uncharitable, but this has been going on for 127 episodes and it hasn't gotten any better! They're STILL doing this and they're not even being half as supportive about it the way they were with Jester's angst about Artagan! And Caleb is almost as young as Jester mentally!

Sibling: No, I don't think you're being uncharitable. They treat Caleb like they know what's best for him and not one has bothered to ask him- SERIOUSLY ASK HIM- "Do you want to deal with this now, later, or not at all? because it's okay if you don't want to deal with it. That's your choice."

Sibling: Can you imagine if they were as supportive to Caleb as they were to Jester about her "pedoy-creeper" imaginary friend? Meanwhile Caleb's backstory has ACTUAL TONES of sexual abuse and they're just like hahaaha, don't you want to go back to the torture prison?? You can get some anti-spy necklaces, it'll be good but don't kill anyone there even if they were complicit in your abuse...

Me: AND THEN RESPECT THAT CHOICE. They do not, DO NOT, get to clutch their pearls over Caleb killing people in the sanatorium after all this time. THEY pressured him to do this, THEY ALREADY KNEW this would be awful for him, THEY'VE ALREADY SEEN WHAT HE'S LIKE in these situations, and THEY ARE JUST AS MURDEROUS AS HE IS. When other party members kill people, it's no big deal, but when Caleb is faced with people who imprison and experiment on and torture people like him (ONLY FIVE-SIX YEARS AGO HE WAS IN THERE) and he kills them and they have the audacity to be upset as if they haven't killed dozens of other people for far weaker reasons!

Sibling: ... Actually, do you think it's a sexism thing? They're not addressing Caleb's massive elephant in the room because there's a cute gal who has mild creeper overtones in her backstory?

Me: Yes, I absolutely do. If Caleb was a cute girl, they would be far more emotionally supportive and would not be pressuring him in this way. It absolutely wouldn't happen.

Sibling: Like, they punched the crap out of Artagan, which like, cool, but what did he do to Jester? He screwed over other people and there's some mild undertones of gross manipulation when she was little. Trent canonically abused the Blumentrio when they were children and then stripped Caleb's ability to say "no" from him for 11 years...

Me: It's not just because he's a boy, but he also looks older than he is- early thirties instead of early twenties, and I'd argue that his five years on the streets barely count for mental maturity, too- so they don't give him the same kind of unabashed emotional support, because they still code him as someone "unstable/misled" who needs to be "guided/controlled," hence the constant pressuring and questioning.

Me: No, and that's the thing. The thing that hangs over this in particular. The party barely knows anything about the abuse he suffered and they, including Caleb, know almost nothing about what he endured in the asylum. I can't even imagine how horrifying it is to be there. Just think about it.

Sibling: I have, and I can empathize

Me: Every time he saw one of those guards, you know he had to think... "Did this one hurt me? Did this one? Do they know? They have to know. There's no way they don't know even if they didn't participate... I was here just a few years ago... Did one of them hurt me? Did one of them touch me? Did one of them see me?! I CAN'T EVEN REMEMBER IF THEY HURT ME BUT THEM JUST BEING HERE MEANS THEY ARE HURTING PEOPLE LIKE ME." How is anyone, even someone who wasn't tortured and brainwashed as a teenager, supposed to handle that?

Sibling: I know how much it can fuck you up IRL to be abused. Can you imagine 11 years of that??? Fuck no, it was awful just the few times it happened but that was his TRAINING before it was his PRISON. And then his "friends" call him a murderer. Cold, cruel. And that's the thing... I don't know if Caleb will ever open up to anyone about it. Maybe Essek, but certainly not Veth. Veth doesn't care unless she can get something out of it.

Me: It's shocking to me that no one in the party seemed to even consider what a horrible thing it was to do to bring Caleb back there. It speaks to how little consideration they actually have for his feelings on any meaningful level.

Sibling: The only person I can think of who might have an excuse is Caddy because I don't think he's had that specific talk with Caddy. And he never will, because those characters never fucking talk.

Me: No, when they were in Rexxentrum, he clarified some things. He told them that Trent would hurt him and then apologize after the fact, and about his parents, and in Felderwin he did tell them about the experiments, and they knew that he was kept in the asylum for eleven years.

Sibling: Ugh, you're right. I mean I feel like I just don't understand the 9 right now. Caleb... It's a lot like how how they treated Fjord in regards to Avantika, honestly. In fact, I keep drawing parallels to Fjord.

Me: Yeah, that was terrible.

Sibling: It's another "ughh he's a boy he needs to deal with it" rather than "that was awful and I'm sorry" "what can we do to help" And honestly fuck that mindset.

Me: And remember; Caleb was the only one to consider that what happened with Avantika would be hard on Fjord, and even said to Beau and Nott that they needed to be supportive... and then they just ignored him.

Sibling: How dare they treat Jester, who... I'm sorry, what's her trauma again? She was stuck inside for a while... nvm, why is she being treated with more care than Caleb and Fjord, who've both had actual abusive experiences... and the answer is that they've got dicks, and that means they don’t need concern and care. They can deal with it themselves, they have to be MANLY and cope with violence, but also violence is bad and you shouldn't engage in it... "how dare you strike back at the abusers we told you to strike back at?"

Me: Yes. That is exactly it, and don't forget this: When the party first met Nott and Caleb, they assumed that Caleb was a FUCKING PREDATOR preying on Nott. Why? Because he's a homeless man in his apparent thirties, and she was small.

Sibling: Critical Role and the Assumed Nature of People w/ Penises

Me: The best thing Nott ever did for Caleb was correct the record on that bullshit.

Sibling: But again, that's Nott, not Veth. God I miss Nott.

Me: That was back when he was a surrogate for her family and her hope for becoming herself again.

Sibling: I just.... I don't understand what changed; she cared for Caleb even if it was for her own gain... why is she still manipulating him if she has nothing more to gain?

Me: It was Felderwin (when it started to change). But she's doing it now because it will make it easier for her to leave guilt free.

Sibling: Then leave... Don't hang around with a "murderer" if you're going to pretend you haven't done your fair share of slaughtering yourself- fuck, she even drew first blood in that fight, WHY?!

Me: You don't get to put someone into a position where they have to kill people and then get upset and call them a murderer when they kill people. If Veth had just shot and killed the guy in one turn, do you think she'd get that kind of reaction? No. But because it's the traumatized young man who was trained to be a murderer as a teenager, it's somehow particularly bad when he kills... when he has no choice but to do so?! Ridiculous.

Sibling: I just find it so weird that the ACTUAL murder hobo of the group is pointing at another member and calling him the murder hobo. He has killed people, he was a hobo, but the people who have truly done disgusting things over the course of the campaign is not the hobo who is a murderer. It's the Chaos Crew. Beau killed a person with acid when she had a knife readily available... and you know... could have snapped his neck to begin with... not that the party knows that but.

Me: That's what I EXPECTED Beau to do!

Sibling: The GROUP was all horrified and shocked when Caleb quickly and swiftly took out the guards of the torture dungeon but Beau let a man suffer for fucking MINUTES while acid burned out his throat and he suffocated and STILL DIDN'T DIE until she had to finish him off... and Beau killed that man near Caduceus' family, threw his head in the water.

Me: Remember when Nott killed that guard in Uthodurn?

Sibling: Veth has killed so many people when they didn't need to, but no. Using quick, lethal methods to dispatch guards (much, MUCH BETTER than burning) is too far.

Me: NONE of them are pushed back on in the same way, and none of them are pressured to act/feel a certain way, and ALSO... The party has ONLY benefited from this side of Caleb. It is the ONLY reason that Fjord, Yasha, and Jester are alive, because he went into that space to save them in the Sour Nest. It is the ONLY reason they took down Avantika as easily as they did, because he went all out in that fight. It is the ONLY reason they got Yeza out and made friends with the Dynasty, because he was willing to do something that got him scolded- SCOLDED- by the group even though it saved them and HE was the one losing out more than any other by giving up the beacon! And it is therefore the reason they were able to use their clout in the Dynasty to END THE WAR. They benefit from this headspace Caleb falls into and then condemn it at the same time. Don't want him to be that way? Stop putting him in situations where he HAS TO BE THAT WAY.

Sibling: Caleb is the glue for the M9, has saved them more times than they can count. Time, traveling and in combat, and they're still demanding he address his trauma in ways that make them comfortable. Despicable, and honestly? Toxic.

Me: And now he may fall back into the hands of his abuser because of it. I've been thinking of this ever since the peace talks that it was such a shame that Essek was the traitor because Caleb really, really could have benefited from having a true safe space in Rosohna. What a shame it is that Essek was working for THEM, and broke Caleb's trust, and now Rosohna doesn't feel like a place he can really go to anymore.

Sibling: He still can. If Essek survives, go live in your wizard tower, resummon it every single day, and live life away from both sides of the war.

Me: No, I agree. Probably the worst thing that people keep pressuring Caleb on is not revenge. It's what they keep implying he ought to do after Trent is dead. He DOESN'T WANT to be part of the government. He just wants the scourger program to stop.

Sibling: He owes the government NOTHING. It has only hurt him. He doesn't need to be forced to pick up the mess that OTHER PEOPLE CAUSED because he was affected by it.

Me: He just wanted to teach magic ffs. That breaks my heart. Like, what a terrible thing... to tell someone who already thinks he doesn't deserve to be happy, that he should spend his life in a job he DOESN'T WANT in order to fix things that PEOPLE WHO WRONGED HIM DID. Because he could cave in and do it; he hates himself, and that's the true grossness of all the pressure the party puts on Caleb. His self-loathing makes him inclined to just give in and do what they say, because his own desires will end up stifled by theirs.

Sibling: I think the thing that's weird to me though? Is that... other cast members don't... seem to see that. Even in the Talks Machina segments. Liam has expressed how profoundly damaged Caleb is and the cast, not just the party just... doesn't seem to mind? And I honestly, HONESTLY think it's sexism.

Me: Yeah, remember how sweet they were to Calianna? >_> Less trauma with actions just as bad, and yet... "CALEB WHY ARE YOU DOUBTING AND DISTRUSTING HER" - said the people who non-stop doubt and distrust Caleb.

Sibling: I do completely agree that the way the 9 have been handling Caleb's trauma is encapsulated by last week's episode... I think it: 1) Has a lot to do with sexism and 2) Has a lot to do with the cast rushing his arc before the Eiselcross arc is completed. This doesn't feel like his choice to enter his arc. This feels like his hand was forced to address trauma before he was ready and I don't think that's a great look for the 9.

Me: It makes me sad, too, because I feel like with the careless way the Nein handle Caleb's past... I just don't see any way for things to end well for Astrid and Wulf, to be honest. There's no way these buffoons won't fuck up any chance at those two being redeemed. And I'm not even crazy about the prospect of them being redeemed, but if there's any chance for it... it won't be Caleb that fucks it up. It will be the other members of the Nein, I just know it.

Sibling: No, they'll force a romance that won't be any less toxic than it was before. Because a woman needs to heal Caleb's wounds. *pukes*

Me: GOD AND THEN... Like, they all want revenge on Trent even as they pretend that Caleb shouldn't and needs to do things for the greater good, but... the thing is that if they really, really wanted justice for Caleb... Why, why, WHY are they not coordinating with the COBALT SOUL to take Trent down?! That is their ACTUAL BEST AVENUE for doing so! And Caleb would be far more safe and comfortable doing that!

Sibling: "Because the Cobalt Soul is Beau's arc and we want to do Caleb's arc"

Me: Beau gets a trial for her trauma... Caleb gets called a stone-cold murderer for being forced to confront his directly. Then stop pressuring him into direct confrontations with his trauma!

Sibling: Sexism, I'm telling you. She's a laddyyyy

Me: And more and more I'm thinking that the 8th floor of the tower is actually a really healthy thing for him to do, because it's obvious that he's never going to be able to healthily process his trauma in a way that's under his control with the Nein constantly pressuring him to confront it in dangerous, unsafe ways that he doesn't want to. It's amazing to me that they balked at the 8th floor of the tower but have no problem MAKING HIM INTERACT DIRECTLY WITH THE ASSEMBLY AND THE SANATORIUM.

Sibling: And here's my thought regarding that... He can change the tower. When he doesn't need those rooms anymore, he will change them. As he has for his friends. That's a sign of healing. It's a scar that will heal, and that he has power over.

Me: Yes, yes, exactly! And the thing about it is... It's like photos, you know? And no one can actually hurt him in that space.

Sibling: He doesn't have the power over his place of abuse. Old photos can be used to safely address old trauma... walking into the torture-prison and whining about the people you hurt in there is just...

Me: ... It reminds me of the sequence in Tales of Berseria, where they torture Velvet simply by revealing hidden knowledge about the past to her, or Tales of the Abyss, where Luke finds out he was made to do something horrible and it breaks his ego. They are literally putting Caleb into situations where something like that could happen to him every time he meets Astrid or Trent or goes to a place where he will be triggered. I mean full-on total mental breakdown.

Sibling: Honestly? that's what I am expecting and it still could happen.

Me: All it would take is some sort of reveal about those eleven years. Or that night. Or something... and he could just shatter to pieces, and they haven't seemed to have even considered that. It's unbelievable. I'm terrified of a "You destroyed the pillar that supported Akzeriuth. You committed more atrocities you can’t even fathom" moment for Caleb. ;_;

Sibling: stop, god, I can't I would literally have a meltdown like this if Caleb was forced to regress because he wouldn't regress like Beauregard... he would regress, like any abused child to being hurt again.

Me: But we don't know WHAT THEY DID TO HIM... Not fully. I mean the asylum, too, because it's not just that they could have done anything to him in that place. It's that they could have MADE HIM DO THINGS.

Sibling: They abused him, experimented on his body with residuum, and broke his mind. Why would any of that have stopped, when he was literally at Trent's summer house?

Me: And worse still, Trent has ALREADY TRIED TO CAUSE SUCH A BREAKDOWN. He tried to blue-screen Caleb repeatedly at the dinner with comments about his parents. We ALREADY KNOW that he wants to provoke some sort of breakage in Caleb, so why, WHY would you pressure Caleb to go back to that place?!

Sibling: Not to mention, (fucking IDIOTS) THAT ASTRID SENT HIM THERE. SHE WORKS WITH TRENT. SHE WANTS CALEB OUT OF THE WAY. What better way to do it than another 11 years to plan?

Me: She told him Trent wasn't there, too. :-/ Now, that still might have been true in that... he might have been called to the place, but I doubt it.

Sibling: What I want to be said... nvm, I'll actually save that for therapy lol. That's too deep and I don't wanna type that out. That's the problem with characters with trauma: what you want for them might hit too close to home LMAOAOOO. Hurts your heart, especially when it's glossed over.

Me: Caleb getting justice shouldn't necessitate his trauma being rubbed in his face 24/7.

Sibling: TRUE. Truest goddamn thing I ever heard. Especially if his choice is to be done with it.

...........

We didn’t really touch on Yasha, who has actually been a good influence on Caleb, imo, and there were other things we could have talked about that are related to this subject, but *shrug*

Anyway, this conversation mostly came from a place of hurt. It’s frustrating to see characters who claim to love a traumatized character consistently, thoughtlessly behave in ways that are hurtful to that character, and in often brazenly selfish ways. We’re not saying you can’t like characters who do that... this conversation was actually prompted by frankly hurtful posts with respect to Caleb’s mental state.

Also sorry for those who are unfamiliar with Tales of the Abyss/Tales of Berseria. Both of these video games have traumatized protagonists and both games explore their growth (or decline) as a result of that trauma, and were useful in our discussion for making my point.

Edit: Okay, so the first comment I got was someone saying that I’m allowed to think what I want but they don’t want to see it. If you’ve read this far, I hope you noticed that this post criticized that sort of attitude... IN THE CHARACTERS OF CR... It’s bad to pressure a person into exhibiting their trauma in a way that makes normies “comfortable,” so of course the first responder to the post decided to prove just that. I deleted that comment... but not before doing what they wanted, like people like me and characters like Caleb almost always end up doing anyway. Thanks for that. I can see why my post upset that poster. *rolls eyes*

#critrole spoilers #critical role #critrole #spoilers #critical role 127 #caleb widogast #fjord stone #jester lavorre #caduceus clay #beauregard lionett #trent ikithon #essek thelyss #abuse #trauma #meta #autonomy #calianna #relevant tag removed upon request

35 notes · View notes

missing-my-griffin · 4 years

Text

a rant that’s way too long about Tics character bc i need help

Alright I simply cannot get over how the show writes the way he treats women, and it’s all so intriguing, so here we go. He’s supposed to be our hero. Sweet, nerdy (or so we’re told) and oh yeah a war criminal who hates what he’s done. Traumatised and complicated and allowed to be. Interesting concept, and a very gray character to have as your male lead. I LOVE seeing flawed personalities. But thus far, I feel very very unsure of whether or not the show is going to acknowledge the shit he’s done... all that stereotypically male, entitled kind of shit.

Hippolyta’s arc about becoming small, making herself small, and George who was like the poster child “good guy” not being all good after all because he let her, kind of makes me question what they’re trying to say about Leti and Tic.

Because, (that’s the relationship I wanna start with...) it’s freaking me out.

They have these “romantic” scenes, we had Leti last ep saying she loves him. And yet. I don’t see any real intimacy. It’s all so superficial?? I see Leti making herself small like Hippolyta did, and him not only allowing it but just... living in his own world so much it seems he wouldn’t even care if he knew. Ji-Ah’s and Tics relationship seemed much sweeter and more sincere than what he shares with Leti, but maybe only because of the innocence of it all. First loves and stuff. Leti and Tic’s dynamic is much more “grown up”. Which is fucking me up, because she was a virgin, and by choice because she was waiting for something real. Tic is Leti’s first love. It almost makes it seem like they’re trying to say “the relationship is as mature as HE wants it to be. HIS status matters for the softness of it, never hers.” Just compare the respective first times we had here. Ji-Ah was so careful, so sweet towards him; and he anger-fucked Leti for 30 seconds on a bathroom sink. Granted, he didn’t know. But still. This show really glossed over the fact that it was her first time and that she, in canon, said she wanted it to be special. She played it down for his sake so he didn’t feel bad “Don’t worry, I needed it”, and then his reaction kind of implied he.. couldn’t care less? It was like the bare minimum of “awww :( My bad.” Not to mention, I am still fucking disgusted at how Leti just swallowed all that up like it was nothing (how he treated her in that bathroom), just to turn up the very next episode and be some kind of hypersexual seductress. I’ll throw up about that for centuries. And it could have been fine, if they had made it a point to show us “Yes she was a virgin but she’s a grown woman and her lack of experience doesn’t infantilize her, and now she’s making the choice to explore her sexuality in a very mature way.”, but they didn’t, quite the opposite we’re getting less sass, less flirtation, less provocative playfulness.

I’m going to be very honest, Leti’s “lady in the streets but a freak in the sheets” - sexuality is the very epitome of performing sexiness for the male benefit. She’s the cool girl, she’s pure, innocence, you know, but with you, oh my wonderfully average hero, for you she’s a fucking whore. For you she’ll be down, be sexy, pretend it wasn’t a big deal what you did. Do they really want to portray this as a romance we should root for?? I’m so conflicted.

And last episode, again, had me wondering.... because Ji-Ah came back and he treated her like literal garbage, a monster, a thing, for no goddamn reason.

Because remember the opener?? ? Very first episode, Tic’s wet dream of his “hero’s adventure”, he’s the main guy in a sci-fi flic and gets rewarded with a barely dressed alien-Ji-Ah, very classic old sci fi look. And yes, classic in this context means disgusting, fetishizing, sexist. Because this Ji-Ah, she had red skin, a bit of an otherworldly look. An “acceptable” alien/monster because she’s still objectify-able. Still “hot”. But when she turned into an actual monster, whose tails don’t exactly fit the hot stereotype, Tic decided she had no worth anymore. None whatsoever. Even though she is kind, forgiving, loving and selfless. But she is worth nothing more than Tic’s disgust as he reveals he never had any shred of true feelings for her, because she’s just a repulsive thing for him to yell at for trying to save his life because she loves him despite it all. Not to mention, how dare he judge her. (that line “It’s my nature, what’s your excuse” had me in TEARS lol) He tortured her best friend, watched as she got murdered, and had the audacity to go “well that’s how it goes, it’s her own fault for being a communist” Tic’s not a bad guy, and I don’t hate him. But he’s much less of a hero than Leti or Hippolyta, or Ruby and Ji-Ah for that matter. He’s traumatized, and it’s eating him up, but he lets his anger (or coldness) at who he became in the war and who his father made him out on the women around him. Which is interesting, because the women in this show are all traumatized as well, yet are still kind and rarely project their anger. Tic uses his love interests, refuses to “see” them, and thinks it doesn’t count because he’s not doing it maliciously, just out of ignorance and aloof entitlement. And depending on how this show treats this issue (I’m really really hoping they’ll acknowledge it obviously but really unsure atm), I’ll applaud them til by hands bleed or be really fucking pissed :’D

And lastly just to make it clear again: I do not hate Tic. He’s not the villain, and I don’t see a mad queen arc for him. The only reason I’m judging him so harshly is because the way they’re portraying him is so ambiguous. This show is all about injustice and that includes feminism, and they got Dee’s and Hippolyta’s stuff so brilliantly, and then they turn around and give us a male centric, dripping with sexist undertones main couple? I think I hate some of the stuff Tic’s done so much because it’s so MUNDANE; like every woman has been treated like that before. And every woman has had to sweep it under the rug and hope to grow strong enough to learn her worth, expect more from the mediocre men around her. Demand real intimacy, demand real kindness. Tic is a little like Nick from gone girl.. like not the antichrist lol, but just this normalised amount of selfish dispensation that never gets portrayed as such or called out bc it’s not “that bad”, quite the opposite, men like him get the hero treatment, and in Ruby’s words, I’m tired.

#lovecraft country #ahhh I needed to let this out #it's been brewing for weeks

51 notes · View notes

marvels-agents100 · 4 years

Text

the thing about love

volume I

sure, it could hurt you, baby, but give a little try

pairing: aaron hotchner x gender neutral ! reader

warnings: gore, death, blood, aaron is sad and traumatized, reader is shot, the usual,,, reader attempts to seduce a man at one point

word count: 14,685 (grab a snack, babes)

author’s note: welcome to s l o w b u r n central, also, this is currently my pride and joy, my lil babey, please love her

You knew he wasn’t yours to have. His heart had left him long ago, locked in a box in the back corner of his closet, leaving behind a dark void between the cobwebbed bars of his ribs, his burdened breaths a soft echo inside his chest. The only love, the only care he felt he was really capable of was the love he held for Jack. And yet, he laid in bed every night and wished the silk of his sheets would cover him completely, swallowing him into wherever he went when he fell asleep, locking the door behind him and losing the key. The guilt alone was eating him alive- how dare he feel exhausted for loving his son?- and it never left his mind, no matter how focused he was on a case. The lack of compartmentalization was something that would take time to get used to.

You saw it on his face, every time the glass door to the BAU swung open with the push of a heavy arm, every time the lines under his eyes became darker and deeper, every time he sighed like the sorrow and darkness that plagued his mind had leaned upon his shoulders once more. It killed you to see the weight he carried every day; you couldn’t begin to imagine how he felt. What completely broke the beat within your chest was how much you wished you could help, yet you knew he would never let you.

That was, until he did.

You had joined the BAU after Elle left, also specializing in sex crimes. The team is your family, your life, and everything in between. You watched them rise and fall, love and lose, laugh and cry. And every time one of you needed help, the others were there to support each other. It was a beautiful, wonderful thing, the BAU. And that beautiful, wonderful thing also included a certain Aaron Hotchner. Most of the team were too intimidated to ever really try prying into Hotch’s psyche, especially since Hailey died. However, one particular day, you couldn’t stop yourself.

Your knuckles tapped gently on the door to his office, your ear close to the wood, listening for a response. The blinds had been drawn the entire day, and hours had passed since the rest of the team had departed. If you didn’t know better, you would worry if Aaron was even alive in his office.

“Come in,” his voice rumbled, the words slipping past his lips with a small sigh.

You opened the door cautiously, first looking inside, then fully stepping in. It shut behind you with a soft click, Aaron’s eyes never looking up from the file before him. His left hand lazily dragged out a signature along the bottom of the page. Your arms tightened around the small stack of files you held in your arms- a compilation of yours, Spencer’s, and Emily’s.

You cleared your throat softly, “Hotch,” you greeted, a polite smile on your lips as his gaze finally flickered up to you, “this is all the work from Spence, Emily, and I on the Atlanta case.”

“You can leave it on the table there,” he gestured towards a small end table with his pen, before returning to his writing, “thank you.”

You nodded, setting the stack of papers down softly, stealing a glance at him before turning and making your way back to the door. Your hand hesitated as it reached for the knob, your heart begging you to turn around and talk to him, comfort him, absolutely anything to just help him.

He noticed your hesitation, your frozen stance by the door catching his attention. He sat up fully, his pen dropping on the desk as his brows knitted together.

“Is there something else, (Y/L/N)?”

Your outstretched and hovering hand slowly closed to a fist, your eyes shutting as you realized there was no way to play this off without him being suspicious. You turned to him, meeting his gaze and trying to keep from caving under his intense stare.

“Actually,” your hands ran down your pant legs, and you found yourself finding a seat across from him, “there… there is.”

He leaned forward on the desk, his expression still studying you, but his voice softening as he recognized how nervous you were, “What’s going on?”

“Sir,” you began, having trouble meeting his eyes, “I don’t want to overstep, and I know you’re a private person, but you’ve been in this office all day with the blinds shut and the door closed and- well, I’m sure I speak for the whole team right now- but we’re worried that you’re not okay, and if you wanted to talk- not that you’d need to, I’m sure you can work through a lot on your own, being knowledgeable in psychology and all-“

“(Y/N).” He cut off your rambling, your eyes finally snapping to his when he said your name. He paused for a beat before continuing, “I’m sorry if I worried you.”

You sighed, trying to not be discouraged by his complete avoidance of your question.

“What’s going on, Hotch?” You asked softly. He looked down at his hands, sighing deeply.

“It’s nothing you have to worry about,” he shook his head slightly as he spoke.

“But I do. And I will. I worry, you know that.” You gave him a small smile when his gaze lifted back to you. He returned it for only a moment before it dropped away from his lips.

“It’s just…” he took another breath, “it would’ve… it would’ve been her birthday today.”

As his voice croaked out those words, you felt the beating of your heart stop. The physical ache made you drop your head for a moment, just to catch your breath.

“I’m so sorry, I-“

“It’s okay.” He interrupted you again, “I know it’s been a while now, and I’ve been able to make peace, for the most part. But, every time today comes around, or Christmas, Thanksgiving- hell, whenever any holiday comes around- he always… Jack always-“

He couldn’t finish his sentence, his hand coming to rest against the bridge of his nose, catching the tears that threatened to spill over. Your head tilted as you watched him, tears of your own beginning to gloss your eyes.

“He asks about her, doesn’t he?” Your voice was barely a whisper.

Aaron sniffled, letting a deep breath straighten his back again as he tried to compose himself.

He nodded, “Yeah, he does,” he scoffed and shook his head, “I never know what to say.” The chuckle that fell from his lips was humorless, just a sad acknowledgment of how pathetic he felt.

“God, Aaron, who would?” Your once hesitant hand reached forward and rested upon his, “You are living in a situation with Jack that no one could have prepared you for, one that no one will ever have the answers for.”

“Is that supposed to make me feel better?” He joked, a single laugh escaping as he used his free hand to wipe away a tear. You let out a watery chuckle, giving his hand a squeeze.

“Yes, because despite the fact that there isn’t a single parenting manual on raising a kid like Jack, everything that you have figured out on your own has made him into the wonderful little boy he is.” You smiled at him, “You are an amazing father. The world deserves more dads that are like you.”

He gave your hand a squeeze, a real, genuine smile gracing his lips. A moment passed before he spoke again.

“Thank you, (Y/N), I appreciate you checking in on me.”

“We were all worried, sir.” You replied, “And we all know you don’t really talk about the dark, stormy thoughts that bounce around that head of yours,” he chuckled at that, “but, I felt like you needed to know: we’re always here. I’m always here. If you want to talk, if you want me to talk and distract your thoughts, if you just need the presence of someone in the room- no matter what it is- I’m here.”

He nodded once, eyes never leaving yours, “Thank you.” His voice was much quieter now.

You gave his hand a pat and stood, smoothing down your pants with your palms.

“Anytime.”

He stood as well, circling his desk to open the door to the office. You were close behind, stopping short when the door didn’t open. Aaron’s hand was stagnant on the knob, his eyes locked on yours.

“What is it?” You asked, a confused look on your face.

“I-“ he paused, then shook his head and opened the door, “have a good night, (Y/N).”

You nodded politely, choosing to ignore his behavior, knowing he had already made himself vulnerable enough for the night.

“You too, sir.”

***

“(Y/N), Spence, we have a case.” JJ breezed by the two of you, heading for the conference room. You were hovering over Spencer’s shoulder, his hand scribbling on the beaten pages of a legal pad. It was his idea, attempting to solve the Zodiac’s cypher. He could pick out patterns with a single glance, and you were able to add the small, less logical and structured details that his analytical mind always seemed to miss.

Needless to say, neither of you had figured anything out. It was simply a way to pass down time.

Upon entering the conference room, Spencer close behind, you found your seat between Emily and Derek. Penelope began pulling images onto the screen, her brightly colored fingernails tapping softly on her tablet. You leaned back in your chair, toes rocking it ever so lightly back and forth, back and forth. Hotch was the last to arrive only seconds later, his presence alone notifying you of his arrival. He had a way of making himself known before speaking a single word.

“Garcia,” he urged, signaling for her to begin.

“Alright,” she began, the unmistakable sunshine leaking through her words, “giddy up, cow boys and girls, you’re headed to Houston!”

You had to hold back your giggle- it sounded like she was pitching a dream vacation.

“Unfortunately, it’s not to attend the rodeo, but to find who killed these three men in the past month.” Three pictures flashed onto the screen, the bodies of three victims displaying before the BAU. “The bodies of Tyee, Kele, and Dakota were found three weeks, two weeks, and almost one week ago.”

“Why are we just now being called in?” You asked.

Garcia sighed, almost sadly, “Police claim to have not seen a connection, but others living on the reservation say that police didn’t try to.”

A pause fell over the room, the only movement being Derek’s head shaking slightly in disappointment.

“Cause of death?” Hotch asked, breaking the small silence.

"They were all shot once in the chest, then- and this is an image that will never leave my mind- were scalped. If that wasn’t enough gross and icky for you, they were all missing their left thumb.”

“Tyee Begaye, Kele Etcitty, Dakota Nez. All mid 30’s, all Native American, all living in the Alabama-Coushatta reservation. The similarity between them all makes me think they could be surrogates,” Morgan stated, his fingers carding through the file before him.

“What are they wearing?” Emily asked, referring to the burlap and tan clothing that, frankly, looked like a cheap and offensive Halloween costume.

“That, my lovely Emily, would be an attempt at traditional Native clothing.” Garcia replied, “Strong emphasis on attempt.”

“The scalping indicates that the Unsub is probably white, since the textbooks teach that it was purely a Native ritual. In reality, it was a white governor who offered rewards for ‘Indian scalps’.” Your fingers made air quotes around your words, “Maybe we have a white supremacist who is trying to seek some twisted form of revenge.”

“The missing thumb interests me,” Rossi thinks out loud, “is there a ritual or tradition that involves the thumb?”

“Not necessarily,” Spencer spoke, “however, the now disbanded Atakapa tribe lived along the Gulf of Mexico, until an epidemic nearly killed the entirety of the tribe in the late 18th century. They believed in life after death, and anyone who died by a snakebite, or whose corpse was eaten by another human, would be denied that afterlife.”

“Why would our Unsub be displaying rituals from a tribe that doesn’t exist?” JJ questioned.

“That’s a question we can answer on the plane,” Hotch stood from his chair, “if our Unsub sticks to his timeline, we have two days to find him before he kills again. Wheels up in 30.”

***

Discussion on the plane wasn’t leading very far, mostly because of the lack of information the team had on the murders. It was abundantly clear that local authorities, or at least the particular officers that had investigated the murders, didn’t take much interest in actually finding who had commit them. It was incredibly frustrating, knowing that you and your team could be miles closer to finding a serial killer if prejudice didn’t stand in the way of justice.

You pushed those thoughts away, knowing that thinking too hard about it would just infuriate you. There wasn’t time to be angry, you had to focus.

“Why the outfits?” Rossi asked, “These men are clearly Native American, why feel the need to dress them in stereotypical clothing?”

“It has to be a part of the fantasy,” JJ answers, “they look like they’re characters from a western.”

“What time period was traditional clothing like this worn?” Emily inquired, her eyes never leaving the file in front of her.

“When forced assimilation of the 19th and 20th centuries began, traditional clothing stopped being made in the name of appeasing the powers that be,” Spencer began, fingers wiggling with his words, “Most traditional, Native American fashion designers began making clothing only for certain celebrations and rituals, exclusively for personal use. It wasn’t until 1934 that the passage of the Indian Reorganization Act began to encourage the production of traditional clothing once more. The patterns and weaving we see in modern fashion today all began in 1942, when Native American fashion was featured in a high profile fashion show, and instead of being discouraged, was appreciated. Most designers use their Native roots to assimilate traditional textile with modern trends in order to reach a larger audience.”

“So clothing like this isn’t mass produced?” Morgan asked.

“Unless it’s close to October 31st, no,” Spencer answered.

“It’s August, there’s no way he purchased these almost a year ago, he wouldn’t have been able to control his urges for that long.” Emily shook her head, completely baffled.

“Maybe he’s making them?” You offered, doubt in your voice, “I mean, they don’t exactly look well made.”

“He could be ordering them online,” Hotch countered.

“Alright, alright,” JJ interrupted, “I think the significance lies in what the costumes are supposed to mean. He’s calling back to before the 19th century. What fantasy is exclusive to that time frame and involves Native Americans?”

“If we had more information on the killing itself, I feel like a lot of these questions would be answered,” Dave’s voice was laced with frustration.

“I agree,” Hotch began, “Prentiss, Morgan, I want you to talk to the ME, try to find absolutely anything that wasn’t reported. David, (Y/L/N), go to the newest scene and see if you can add to the reports as well. Reid, JJ, and I will go set up at the station, start interviewing families and the officers that were on the original scenes. We need to get all the information they neglected to share,” Hotch directed, approving nods coming from the rest of the team.

“And if they try to stop us?” Morgan asked, Hotch giving him a confused look.

“What do you mean?” He asked.

“Look, when I was with the Chicago PD, I saw this kind of prejudice within my own precinct. Bad cops won’t stop being bad cops just because we’re in their jurisdiction.”

Hotch paused a moment before speaking.

“Our job is to build a profile and catch whoever is doing this,” he began, “and we are going to do that, even if a bad cop- or anyone, for that matter- tries to get in our way. We’ve dealt with worse than this; I have faith that this team can still perform successfully.”

Morgan nodded in agreement, but you knew he still had his doubts, “Yes, sir.”

You all had dispersed through the jet, Emily and Spencer fiddling with a chess board between them, Morgan and Rossi both listening to music and staring dramatically through the window, and JJ flipping through her file in her own space, reading and rereading every word until her eyes ached. It was a habit, she knew, trying to memorize every detail of the case in order to justify her decision to present it to the team. Although choosing cases was no longer her responsibility, she still found herself with the guilt of not being able to help every person whose name was written in manila files on her desk.

You sat across from Hotch, him close to the window, your feet propped up on his unused armrest. You hummed lowly to yourself while glancing over the file, fingers tapping against the manila to the beat of your voice.

“You know,” Hotch spoke up, “if you ruin this seat with your shoes, it’s coming out of your paycheck.”

Your humming stopped and your eyes snapped up to him, catching the small smirk on the corner of his mouth, the smirk that he tried in vain to play off as he kept his gaze trained on the open file in his hand. A smirk of your own tugged at your lips, the papers in your grip falling lazily into your lap.

“You mess with my check, Hotchner, and I will consider you an enemy,” You threatened, your finger pointing at him to emphasize your words.

He shrugged casually, eyes lifting to meet yours, “I’ll add you to the list.”

Your angry resolve broke, a chuckle leaving your lips. Although his joking caught you off guard slightly, it all was oddly comfortable. His shoulders weren’t tight like they usually were, his eyebrows weren’t tensed, and his frown had disappeared. Usually, his rare humor would throw the whole team for a loop, but when it was just you and Hotch, there was just something so natural about it.

“Yeah, put my name right between ‘going to bed at a decent hour’ and ‘smiling’.” You retorted, narrowing your eyes and giving him nothing less than a shit-eating grin.

His face dropped from the sly smirk to stone-cold in a split second, causing your smile to grow even wider.

“How did you know that?” He asked quietly. You laughed then, a full, joyful laughter. You didn’t see how his smile had returned, and his softened gaze stayed trained on you.

“I guess you could say I’m good at my job,” You replied, wiping under your eye as you caught your breath.

“Now that,” he pointed at you, “is something I can’t deny.”

You smiled again, but genuinely. It almost made you blush, him inadvertently saying that you were good at your job. He didn’t compliment people too often, but when he did, it was always completely genuine and special.

“But I will still make you pay for this seat.”

“Yeah, okay,” you giggled, waving your hand dismissively at him.

***

The crackle of dirt and gravel under your soles mixed with the bustling of law enforcement around you. Rossi walked close by, both of you stopping as you reached the true crime scene. He sighed deeply as his eyes scanned over the red stain in the terra-cotta colored dirt, trying to not think about how little the uniforms around him cared about the life that stain had once provided.

“It’s pretty desolate out here,” you stated, purposely keeping your eyes up as you scanned the mountains around you, “the Unsub definitely knows this place, he’s familiar with it.”

“That means he’s probably local,” David agreed, eyes never leaving the dried blood on the ground, “(Y/N), look at this and tell me what you see.”

Your eyes finally flickered down to the blood, your hands finding home in your pockets in an attempt to hide your clenching fists.

“It’s…” your voice trailed off, your head tilting slightly as you realized what David was hinting at, “It’s… small. Dakota was shot, this all just looks like blood lost from the scalping and the removal of the thumb.”

“Which means,” Rossi added, “this is just a dumpsite. He’s taking them to a secondary location.”

“How long between the missing person’s reports and the discovery of their bodies?”

“Hours, no more than a day.”

You sighed, stepping closer and lowering yourself towards the ground, elbows resting on your knees. “So, he’s not holding them, but he’s shooting them in a secondary location before bringing them to these mountains, and dumping them.” You stood again, turning to David, “Why?”

His head shook slightly, “Possibly a forensic countermeasure. If he were to shoot them here, he could leave behind casings, splatter patterns… more evidence than what we have now, at least.”

You glanced one last time at the ground before beginning to walk towards the SUV. “I think we should get back and tell them what we’ve found.”

Rossi got into the driver’s side while you settled in next to him, a matching frown on both of your faces. You looked out the window, allowing your mind to drift away from the case. Usually, you stopped straying thoughts before they could begin, but you decided to set them free for the duration of the car ride back to the station. Upon arrival, your mind was to be strictly business.

You first thought of Hotch. You thought of the exchange you had a few weeks prior, where he opened himself up to you, even if it was just a fraction of the feelings he kept bottled up inside. Things had shifted, at least in your perspective, since then. He was more… himself. When there wasn’t a case- those few and far between days of strictly paperwork- you would find him smiling a little more, always directed at you. It was always just a tilt of his lips, just a twitch at best, but you always noticed it. He would find you in the break room, he would make light conversation. It was always professional, always appropriate in his position of Unit Chief, but you knew it was more personal.

Maybe it was your wishful thinking, maybe it was all made up by your own habit of overanalyzing. But, the physical reaction you had whenever those small moments of warm sunshine burst through the dark curtain of SSA Aaron Hotchner, the way your stomach turned and your cheeks ignited, now that… that was not constructed by your mind. That was a real, true reaction to a man you (apparently) liked a little more than you originally thought.

“Penny for your thoughts?” David cut your wondering short, and you were almost thankful for it.

“Hm?” You acknowledged, snapping out of your daze.

“Call me a profiler,” he chuckled, “but I know when you’re thinking too hard. Is something bothering you?”

“No, no,” you denied, a small laugh leaving your lips, “just, trying to stay focused on this case.”

“Hm.” He hummed, obviously not believing you. “Is it about the 16th?”

Your eyes snapped to him, his gaze holding steady on the road in front of him. A breath of pause added to the sudden tension in the air.

“How do you know about that?”

“Anytime Aaron Hotchner cries, you can be sure that I will know about it.”

You sunk back into your chair as another beat of silence filled the SUV. Honestly, you had no clue how to talk about the situation between you and Hotch. And frankly, you didn’t know if there even was a situation, it could all be made up in your head. Telling Rossi that you have the hots for your boss wouldn’t fix any problems you currently faced, it would only create new ones.

“I just want to see him happy,” you whispered, keeping your eyes forward.

“He is happy-“

“I mean, truly happy, Dave,” your head rolled towards him, his shoulders dropping slightly as he understood what you meant. He sighed heavily, readjusting his grip on the wheel.

“I think he lost that when he lost her, (Y/N), I don’t think he will ever go back to who he was before,” he sounded so sad, admitting that the man he considered family would never see a light he once knew.

“Maybe,” you agreed, “but that doesn’t mean I won’t try like hell to help him find it again.”

Dave glanced at you, a small smile tilting his lips up, “I think you’re the perfect person for the job.”

***

You had arrived just as Emily and Derek did, Hotch and the Captain of the station coming to meet you at the door.

“Captain McGuire, this is SSA Emily Prentiss, Derek Morgan, (Y/N) (Y/L/N), and David Rossi.” Aaron introduced. The captain politely shook all of your hands.

“Thank you all for coming,” his words were borderline disingenuous, but you smiled politely and let it go.

“We’ve got some news to share,” Dave said, turning towards Hotch. He responded with a nod before turning and leading the four of you to the Houston PD conference room, where Spencer and JJ were already waiting. Everyone stood around the table, unable to sit down with how uneasy the case felt.

“Everything here is just as you would imagine,” JJ began, clearly irritated, “these officers didn’t care enough to properly investigate these murders.”

“All of the families said that our victims were well respected, got along with other people, nothing too out of the ordinary,” Hotch added, his arms crossing over his chest as he looked at the evidence board.

“Dave and I think they’re being held in a secondary location,” you stated, everyone’s eyes turning to you. Your gaze met Aaron’s as you continued, “There wasn’t nearly enough blood at the scene for a man to have been shot there.”

“Forensic countermeasure?” Hotch inquired.

“That’s our guess.”

“Well,” Emily sighed, “I guess that makes more sense. The ME said the scalping and thumb removal was antemortem. The last step of his fantasy was shooting his victims. This guy would need somewhere to torture his victims without anyone hearing it.”

“I had Garcia do a search for any trespassing or squatting complaints around the mountains where the bodies were found, just to see if any witnesses saw the Unsub while he was disposing of his victims. There wasn’t anything significant,” Spencer chimed in.

“I’m starting to think this guy has more experience than we might think,” Morgan said, “he’s able to abduct, control, and torture grown men, then dispose of their bodies quietly.”

“What does that mean?” JJ asked.

“It means there’s probably more victims,” Hotch was storming out of the room as he spoke. You were close behind him.

“Spence, call Penelope, have her start digging!” you quickly spoke, hurrying to keep up with Hotch. You weren’t sure why, but you knew he was furious. He must have put something together before you.

“Hotch, Hotch!” You hissed, jogging lightly to catch up to him. “Aaron!” You finally stood in front of him, his angry steps halting before he could run you over, but his glare still trained on the door to Captain McGuire’s office.

Your hands hovered in front of you, level with his chest. You scanned his face, seeing nothing but anger in the way he glared over your shoulder.

“What is going on?” You asked quietly, teeth clenched together. It was then that his eyes flickered to you for a fraction of a second, a deep breath leaving his lungs. His shoulders lost some tension and his eyes closed, his attempt at calming himself clearly visible.

“We know this station is riddled with cops who don’t care about justice for anyone of Native descent,” he began, his voice low and dangerous, “how many people have died without justice? How many were at the hands of the same Unsub we’re trying to catch?”

“Hotch,” you tread carefully, “believe me when I say I am equally as furious as you. However, you, of all people, know that storming into that office right now will only cause more problems. We are surrounded by people who don’t care if we leave here successful or not, and the Captain may be a part of that group. We need to be smart about this.”

He huffed, but he knew you were right. It was a bit out of character, him getting so upset without being able to control it. He noticed that since Hailey had died, his emotions were a little stronger and a little harder to control, especially when it came to his job. His need for justice made him do things he would have never done when she was alive.

Was it a fault or strength?

“How do you propose we do that?” He asked, his voice more gentle than before.

“Let me go in there, break the news,” you offered, “if that man is anything like who I think he is, I could bat my eyes and get anything I want from him.”

Aaron’s gaze shifted from you, to the office, then to you again. “Okay,” he finally agreed, “in and out. Be careful.”

“Yes, sir,” you grinned, turning and walking towards the Captain’s office. You glanced back over your shoulder, seeing Hotch in the same exact spot you left him. Sending him a small wink, you reached the door and let yourself inside.

Hotch took another deep breath as you disappeared into the office, once again trying to calm himself. He had faith in you, he knew you could handle yourself, but the thought of that man- any other man, in fact- looking at you in the way he knew that Captain was going to look at you… well, that made him furious all over again. It was completely inappropriate, he knew, but he knew it wasn’t something that was within his control. He had just been feeling a greater sense- a greater need- to protect you, to make sure you were okay. He, himself, had a lot of questions about it. Why was he feeling this way? When did it start? Am I even able to feel this way again? Of course, he didn’t have any answers to his own questions. It always seemed to be that way. So many questions, all unanswered.

Despite his better judgment, he turned towards the conference room, fighting the bubbling anger in his chest.

***

The door clicked closed behind you, Captain McGuire’s eyes shifting from his paperwork to your face, then dragging down your body. You cleared your throat, your heartbeat already picking up slightly. You weren’t nervous, you knew you could take him down in a second if need be, but the way he looked at you like you were an object almost made you see red.

“Agent (Y/L/N), please, have a seat,” he gestured to the chair across from his desk.

“Thank you,” you spoke quietly, sitting down and crossing your legs, “I just came to discuss something quickly.”

“Of course, what is it?” He leaned forward on his elbows, a sign that he did, in fact, like you. You already knew that, of course, but the confirmation did make you a bit more confident.

“You see, we seem to think that this particular Unsub didn’t start killing three weeks ago. We think there’s previous cases,” you kept your voice soft, playing up an innocence you found that all men had some form of attraction to.

“With all due respect, I think I would remember a case like this.” He held his hand up as he talked in a way of dismissing you. You knew you could either snap at him and get kicked out, or play along and possibly get what you want. You had to feed into his ego.

“Oh, absolutely,” you agreed, uncrossing your legs and leaning forward, elbows resting on your knees. It gave him a full view, so to speak, and his eyes shifted exactly here you wanted them to. So predictable. “I would never insult your intelligence like that, sir,” he seemed to perk up at that nickname, “we’re just asking that you do a review with your officers, maybe someone will remember something they didn’t before?”

His eyes met yours again, and he had to clear his throat before he talked.

“Anything you need,” he was trying to flirt back now.

“Thank you, sir,” with a smirk, you stood and walked out, feeling the eyes of Captain McGuire follow you the entire way. As soon as the door was completely shut, you felt a chill run down your spine and you let yourself shiver.

You really hoped your flirting would get you something.

***

“Garcia, I need you to look for any cases within the Houston area that might be linked to these,” Spencer spoke into the phone.

“I already have, my little Einstein,” Garcia’s voice crackled through the speaker, “there’s nothing that looks like these.”

“They’re gonna be hidden, babygirl,” Morgan pressed, “details might have been left out in the case files. Send us anything that has even the smallest connection.”

“I’m going to need more time for that, love,” she sighed, nothing but disappointed in Houston authorities.

“Work fast for me, baby.”

“Oh, my beautiful, brown Hercules, do I work at any other speed?” She spoke seductively, earning a few smiles from the intensely frustrated team surrounding the phone.

“You never disappoint,” Morgan cooed, taking the phone and hanging up the call.

Hotch reached the room shortly after the call, everyone’s eyes snapping towards him as he entered. He looked over his team, eyebrows pulled downward, expression stone-cold.

“Are you okay, sir?” JJ asked bravely, her voice soft and understanding.

“I’m fine,” he muttered, “anything from Garcia?”

And just like that, Derek began to update Hotch on what Penelope was searching for, and all was forgotten. Hotch was good at that- making everyone forget about what he was feeling. The question he dreaded most was also the question he heard the most- are you okay? He would hear those three words and immediately have to find an escape, and excuse, as to why he couldn’t quite answer them. His feelings were ones that were felt only by him, shared only to the family picture he kept on his nightstand. It was comfortable, easy, and it kept him away from vulnerability.

He made sure he was facing towards the door of Captain McGuire while he worked, his gaze constantly flickering upwards and out the window of the conference room, hoping to find you there every time. When you finally emerged, he could tell how uncomfortable you were. You let yourself shiver, taking a moment to breathe before moving towards the conference room. Hotch made sure to meet you at the door.

“Anything?” He asked as soon as the door shut behind you. You sighed heavily before answering.

“He said he will reopen some cases and do some debriefing, but I honestly don’t think we will be getting much out of it.”

His eyes closed and he shook his head in disappointment. “Okay,” he finally spoke, “we’re on our own here.”

“Hotch, come look at this,” Derek called, pulling Aaron’s attention away from you. He hurried to Morgan, looking at the photograph held between them.

You moved towards the table and began working, praying to any God, any higher being, that something- anything- would catch a lead in the case.

***

“If I read one more file before I get a cup of coffee, I just might rip it to shreds,” you muttered, shoving your eyes into the heels of your hands. Your elbows rested heavily on the conference table you sat at, the many, many reviewed files scattered between you and the rest of the team. Analyzing them for any connections had been nothing short of tedious and time consuming.

It had been hours now, and nothing new had come to light. The sun had fallen asleep long ago, dipping behind the mountains, leaving a path of stars in its wake. The moon shone fully, the soft white blanketing Houston in a gentle embrace. You wished you could be sitting on the balcony of your apartment, staring at the twinkling of the stars and bathing in the cool air, your only warmth coming from a cup of hot tea gently resting in your hands. Instead, you were staring at pictures of dead men, trying to get ahead of a killer that was many, many steps ahead of you.

“Spence, have you found anything?” JJ asked, her voice sounding just as exhausted as you felt.

“I’ve read every file at least twice now,” he sighed, “I’m sorry, I can’t find any connections.”

“Don’t apologize, you’re doing everything you can,” you scolded softly, pointing a lazy finger towards him.

“Thank you,” he spoke gently, a thankful smile on his lips.

Your eyes returned to the papers before you, scanning over a single sentence before you gave up, “Why are we still looking, anyways? What do you think we’re going to find when- and if- we find any more victims?” Your hands accented your words, your frustration abundantly clear.

“MO,” Morgan answered shortly, “we need to know how this Unsub started- when he was still learning how to kill, when he was discovering what he liked most. That’s when he first made his mistakes.”

“Okay,” Rossi chimed in, “but how do we know that those cases were fully investigated? What if they’re just as neglected as the three we already have?”

Morgan sighed and ran a hand down his face, looking utterly defeated, “I don’t know.”

The ringing of Morgan’s cell phone caught everyone’s attention. He answered quickly, putting it on speaker.

“What’d you find, baby? You’re on speaker,” He asked.

“I’m sorry to report that I haven’t found much of anything,” Garcia said, “I mean, there are lots and lots of middle-aged, Native American men dying- which breaks my heart into very little, tiny pieces- but nothing that fits into our timeline or modus operandi.”

“Try expanding to neighboring states,” Emily recommended.

“I already did, sweet Emily,” Garcia sighed, “nothing.”

“Alright,” Morgan sighed, eyes closing as he exhaled, “keep searching, babygirl. Let us know if anything pops up.”

“Of course,” she sounded just as disappointed, “heads up, loves, we will find something.” Morgan hung up, setting his phone down before dragging a hand down his face.

Hotch’s file flipped shut in his hands, the fluttering catching the team’s attention, “We need to take a step back. Looking over the same words won’t get us any further.”

“What do you suggest we do?” Dave asked.

“Take an hour. Get coffee, food, whatever you need,” Hotch stood from his chair, straightening his suit jacket, “I wish we could stop for the day and return tomorrow, but we don’t have that kind of time.”

You stood, stretching your arms above your head, “Well,” your arms dropped to your sides, “I’ll take an hour. Hell, I would take 15 minutes. Any time for a mental break would be beneficial, at this point.”

“There’s a 24 hour pizza shop one block east,” JJ pointed out, “want to grab a bite there?”

“I’m in,” Derek stood.

“Me too,” Spencer agreed, rising as well.

“Pizza sounds so good right now,” Emily whined.

“Only if it is authentic,” Dave wagered, “(Y/N)? Hotch?”

“If I get full right now, I will definitely pass out,” you chuckled, “you guys go ahead.”

“Hotch?” Dave repeated.

“I’m okay, thank you,” his lips twitched into a polite smile for only a moment, then it was gone once again.

“Suit yourselves,” Derek teased, sending the two of you a dazzling smile as the rest of the team left the conference room.

You dared to peek over at Hotch, watching as his eyes looked back down at the numerous open files in his workstation. He even picked one up from the table to get a closer look.

“This break includes you, you know,” you said, smirking when his eyes jumped from the page to you. He set down the file again, a sigh falling from his lips.

“I don’t think I could take a break from this one, even if I wanted to,” he shook his head slightly as he spoke, arms crossing over his chest. A small silence filled the room.

“Okay,” you sighed, “I’m going to get us some coffee- good coffee, from the store across the street- and maybe some food, then we can sit and look over some of these together. Maybe we can find things together that we can’t find alone.”

He nodded, pulling out his chair and settling into it, “I would appreciate that, thank you.”

You smiled, nodding once in his direction. His eyes were already back on the files before you had even turned to leave. Something about this case bothered him, deeply, and you were almost certain you knew what it was.

Ever since Foyet came and destroyed nearly everything Aaron loved, particular cases weighed on his mind a bit heavier. It all came down to justice. Hotch couldn’t stand to see anyone or anything come in the way of true justice. You weren’t completely sure as to how Hailey’s death or George Foyet could have sparked this, you only knew of how angry Aaron would get now if anyone stood in his way.

You entered the corner store, heading straight to the hot coffee by the drink station. The fluorescent lighting only irritated the headache you had been fighting for the past hour, but you just ignored the pain as you came to a stop in front of the industrial sized coffee maker. You pulled two large, styrofoam cups from the dispenser, filling one to the very top with rich, black coffee, for Hotch. The steam billowing from the cup made your lips twitch up into a smile, the thought of caffeine beginning to change your mood for the better. Quickly making your own cup of self motivation, you moved towards the check out counter, the employee behind it looking just as tired as you felt.

“Just those?” She asked, finger already tapping away on the screen before her. You pulled a PayDay (Aaron’s favorite candy bar), from the small display on the counter and placed it next to the coffees.

“And that,” you answered politely, “thank you.” Your eyes wandered over the small keychains and magnets displayed on the counter. Most read ‘HOUSTON’ in large, colorful lettering, while others were decorated with horses and huge, green fields. Your head tilted as you looked, and a particular keychain caught your eye.

It was silver, sparkling subtly in the harsh lighting. You reached out and pulled it from behind the ‘HOUSTON’ keychains, the small cowboy hat resting on the ends of your fingers. Your eyebrows furrowed as you thought, becoming completely entranced by the small trinket.

“That one’s real popular,” the employee drawled, her southern accent pulling at her words, “everyone wants to be a cowboy, these days.”

“I see,” you replied quietly, still staring at the keychain.

“It’ll be $2.38 for those coffees and candy, ma’am.”

You shook your head, snapping out of your trance, “Yes, of course, sorry.” A nervous laugh left your lips as you reached for your wallet, the silver hat falling away from your hand. Quickly handing her a five dollar bill, you grabbed the coffee cups and candy bar before she even managed to open the register. “Keep the change, thank you!”

You almost ran out the door, needing to get to Hotch immediately.

***

“Hotch!” You all but burst into the conference room, kicking the door shut behind you, “I think I might have something!”

He looked up at you, slightly startled by your sudden entrance (but he would never admit it), “What is it?”

You almost laughed at how calm he sounded in comparison to how loudly your heart was pounding in your ears. Promptly setting his coffee and PayDay in front of him, you yanked a chair over until the armrest clinked against Hotch’s chair, then sat and set your own coffee down.

“Remember what JJ said about the costumes, on the plane?” You asked excitedly.

“Something about looking like an old Western-“

“Exactly!” You interrupted, “I might be jumping to conclusions, but the gun, the scalping, the race of our targets,” you counted your list on your fingers as you spoke, “I think our Unsub’s fantasy includes him being a cowboy. Like, a heroic, wild west cowboy.”

He nodded, eyebrows dipping as he thought it over, “That would explain the extreme sadism,” he added, “the narrative of most of those shows are cowboys versus Indians.”

“So,” you took a quick sip of your coffee, “maybe we should be looking for other murders that included any type of rope, gun- hell, even something like a horse.”

“That will help narrow it down,” he agreed.

“And! I almost forgot!” You couldn’t contain yourself, “Ranches, farms- they’re huge pieces of land that would be a very smart location to torture someone quietly.”

“We need to call Garcia,” he said, pulling his phone out of his pocket quickly, “and (Y/N)?”

“Hm?”

“Good work, really,” his hand rested on your shoulder, “but I’ve never expected any less.”

Before you even had a chance to respond, his phone was to his ear, and he was asking Garcia to narrow her search to the new parameters you had discovered. He rose and walked toward the board, looking over the crime scene photos, hand resting on his hip, as he talked. You just sat still, shoulder burning where his hand had laid, heart pounding in your ears. The warmth of his compliment surrounded you, making your cheeks hot and your mind fuzzy. A smile slowly edged it’s way onto your face, your shoulders rising as you held your coffee a bit closer, trying desperately to keep that warm feeling inside. You knew how ridiculous it was, to be sent into a full blush over a small compliment- and quite frankly, it was a compliment you heard a lot- but the mere fact that it came from SSA Aaron Hotchner, the man you found yourself think about way too often, made it all that more special.

“Thank you, Garcia,” he hung up the phone, turning to you again, “you should take a break. I can handle this by myself for a while.”

You relaxed back into your chair, taking a slow sip of your coffee, “You first, Hotch.” A smirk found its way to your lips.

“I’m fine.”

“No one ever says that when they’re actually fine.”

He just stared at you for a long moment, gaze narrowing slightly.

“You’re not going to budge on this, are you?” He asked.

“Not an inch,” the smirk never left your face. A smile of his own played on his lips.

“Fine,” he conceded, “but, as soon as Garcia calls back, it’s back to work.”

“Deal,” you nodded, “now, come sit and enjoy your coffee and candy I got you.”

He followed your orders, settling into the chair beside you (which was very close to you), and finally taking a drink of his coffee. A content sigh made his shoulders relax, eyes closing as he set down his cup.

“I never knew coffee from a gas station could taste so good,” he sighed, eyes meeting yours as a content smile settled on his lips.

“You’re welcome,” you teased, nudging his arm with your elbow.

“And this,” he held up the PayDay, “is my favorite. How did you figure that out?”

“Every old man likes PayDays,” you said cheekily, biting down on your lower lip to keep yourself from giggling. His eyes narrowed at you, but his smile only grew.

“I could put in an insubordination complaint right now,” he threatened.

You relaxed in your chair, letting out a noncommittal sigh, “Just show me where to sign, Hotchner.”

He laughed, putting the candy back on the table and shaking his head, “You’re lucky I understand your humor.”

“And it’s one of the reasons why we get along so well, Hotch,” your nudged his shoulder.

He chuckled a bit, his smile settling on his lips. He looked deep in thought, a certain tenseness tightening his shoulders and making a muscle leap in his jaw. You looked over at his hand, noticing how it fiddled with the corner of the candy’s packaging.

“What’s bothering you?” You asked, not really expecting much of an answer. He had opened up to you before, but it had been extremely late at the time, and he was, in that moment, probably more sleep deprived than rational.

He locked eyes with you, staring for a moment before speaking, “I’m sorry you had to talk to Captain McGuire,” he looked away, “and that nothing really came of it.”

“It’s okay,” you reassured, slightly confused as to why he looked so guilty about it, “I did it because he potentially had information that would be useful to us. I’d flirt with every dirtbag in this station if I thought it could help us.”

“I know, and that is what makes you so valuable to this team,” he avoided your eyes, reaching for his cup again, “you’re able to control your own emotions in order to do your job.” He took a sip.

Oh. You thought, that’s it.

“Hotch, you had every right to be angry.”

His eyes snapped to you, unmistakably surprised that you saw through him. Well, maybe he was aware that it wouldn’t be too hard to see what was bothering him, but he wasn’t used to someone just… calling him out completely.

“I was irrational,” he spoke, “unprofessional.”

“If I was in your shoes, I would have acted the same way.” Your hand hesitantly found his arm, palm resting on his bicep and fingers landing on his shoulder. His gaze flickered down to your hand, then met your eyes once again.

“You’re allowed to be human,” you said, softly, “and sometimes, humans have emotions. That’s kind of the whole reason why we have a job.” You giggled a bit as you spoke, trying to show him how ridiculous it was to feel guilty for a perfectly natural and normal reaction.

“Did he bother you too much?” He asked, nodding towards the office of Captain McGuire. You chose to ignore how he had changed to subject.

“No, not really,” your hand fell away from his arm, feeling noticeably colder when contact was lost, “I’ve heard worse from the men I meet at bars.” You chuckled a bit, shaking your head, “You know, you should hear some of the things I say to drunk men that bother me. I think you would find it amusing.”

Of course he would, he would love to hear you put a man in his place. The feisty attitude you saved for those who bothered you was one of his favorite things about you. It never failed to make him smile, wether it was directed at someone else or- on occasion- him. Your demeanor was nothing short of soft and caring, but once someone crossed you, well… hell hath no fury quite like yours.

“I would have to agree with you on that,” he chuckled, finally beginning to loosen up, “but, please, if any of these officers seriously bother you, tell me.”

“Alright,” you held your hands up in mock defense, “but I can’t guarantee that I will hold off on putting my two cents in.”

“I wouldn’t dream of getting in the way of that.”

“Good.” You smiled brightly. He returned it, having to look away before his face began to flush red. He wanted to just reach out and touch you- hold your hand, hug you, anything- but the thought of trying made his hands start to shake. You made him nervous, a feeling that he didn’t feel often, that he didn’t enjoy at all. But, he knew what it meant. He knew that he was far past the point of no return; the future would consist of his complete and utter falling for you. It terrified him, honestly, but it also thrilled him. He knew what love was, he knew how it felt. The ‘great love’ every one always fantasizes over, was a love he had already experienced. And God, was he determined to feel that again. Not always- he wasn’t always in the pursuit of love- but ever since he met you, that perspective changed.

But it still was frightening, the thought of loving you. He had experienced love, but he also had experienced loss. He knew that letting you take full control of his heart would be putting himself at risk of extreme, unimaginable pain. Pain that he never wished to feel again. Pain that he wouldn’t wish on his worst enemy. It was a dangerous, terrible gamble, the game of love. On one hand, he would be sacrificing himself in the constant war he fought with vulnerability, but on the other hand, he could mend the still broken pieces of his heart and be whole again.

The shrill ringing of your phone pulled him away from his internal battles, his brown eyes finding your (Y/E/C) ones.

“Garcia,” you breathed out, promptly answering and putting the phone on speaker. “You’re with me and Hotch, Pen, what’d you find?”

“Hello my lovely lady and sir, I have two potential victims for you,” she answered, the indistinct clicking of a keyboard in the background. “I narrowed the search with everything you gave me, then again to any murders that took place Thursday through Saturday.”

“The same time frame he’s using now,” Hotch added.

“Exactly. That search left me with two names,” she paused a moment, probably pulling up the case files on her screens, “Kenneth Thompson, 35, died six weeks ago by a single gunshot wound to the chest, and his body was found in his apartment, with his limbs hogtied, like a cow… or a little piggy.”

“His race?” You asked.

“White, which doesn’t match our latest victims, but I have more,” the clicking was heard again,

“Carlos Dominguez, a 32 year old hispanic man, found four weeks ago, dead, by a single gunshot would. But, there are also reports of deep lacerations to his hairline area.”

“So, he tried to carry out his fantasy, but it quickly died when he couldn’t ignore that Carlos was hispanic.” You suggested.

“He always favored the shooting,” Hotch said, “but didn’t develop the hatred towards the Native Americans until his third victim.”

“Or rather, he just realized that he couldn’t use surrogates for them. He needs the real thing.”

“That explains the development of the thumb removal- if he kills Natives with the belief of an afterlife, then he can’t let them go to their version of heaven. It wasn’t necessary for the first two victims.”

“He makes them suffer, even in death,” you shook your head, completely disgusted, “thank you, Garcia.” You hung up the phone, placing it back on the table and leaning back into your chair. Your eyes eventually found Hotch, whose elbow sat on the tabletop, his jaw cupped in his hand.

“I think we need to call the team back in here,” you said quietly. He checked the watch on his wrist briefly, then returned his hand to his chin.

“They have fifteen minutes, let them have it.” He muttered.

***

Briefing the team when they returned was anything but nice. They stood around the conference table once more, as Hotch told them about the new victims and the Unsub’s MO. Revealing and analyzing the true sadism of this Unsub was something that even Emily struggled with. The more the team learned, the more motivated they were to stop him.You could see them all getting visibly more distraught the more you told them.

“So, this guy is just playing cowboy?” Derek asked, anger evident in his voice.

“‘Playing cowboy’ is a very tame way to put it,” Emily scoffed.

“How do we even go about trying to find this guy?” JJ asked, arms crossed over her chest.

“We can start with farmland,” Dave suggested, “single out any that are secluded, or on very large pieces of land.”

“Let’s call Garcia,” you said, taking your phone out of your pocket.

“How big would a farm have to be in order to be secluded enough for this Unsub to operate?” Emily wondered.

“If we take into the fact that the Unsub is probably firing a gun on his property,” Spencer began, fingers intertwining together as he thought, “and, a football field- without the end zones- are roughly 1.38 acres, or 60,112.8 square feet, I would say you would need at least four or five acres to conceal that type of noise.”

“What can I do for you, Holmes?” Garcia chirped through the phone.

“We need you to pull land deeds- look for any farms with at least four acres of land, within the comfort zone,” you said, holding the phone near your voice.

“Got it,” she began typing away, “oh, my- well, you have 143 matches, my dear.”

“You said he hogtied his first victim,” Dave pointed towards you, “Garcia, narrow it down to farms that have cow and/or pigs on them. He had to learn how to tie a knot like that somewhere.”

“You have a brilliant mind, my Italian Stallion,” Garcia praised, “we’re down to 87.”

“How many of those also have horses?” Emily asked, “Can’t be a cowboy without a horse.”

“22.”

“That’s still too many,” you sighed. Hotch laid his palms flat on the conference table, head bowing in defeat.

“We’re missing something,” Spencer mumbled, walking towards the evidence board with narrowed eyes. His head tilted as he stared at it, mouthing words to himself silently.

“What do you see, kid?” Derek asked, taking a step towards Spencer.

“The gun,” he responded, finally.

“The gun?” Morgan questioned. Before getting an answer, Reid had whipped around towards the phone.

“Garcia, the first two victims, what did they conclude about the gun used?” He spoke quickly.

“Um,” she typed just as fast, “it was registered, but reported stolen two weeks prior by 62 year old Harvey Pooler… oh no, Pooler died four days before Kenneth was killed. Heart attack.”

“Did Pooler own a farm?” Spencer asked.

“Let me… see,” a small gasp came through the phone, “He did.”

“Take a 50 mile radius from the Pooler farm and cross that with our 22 potentials.”

There was a couple seconds of typing before she spoke again, “We have a hit. Five acres owned by a Timothy Locke.”

“What do you have on him?” Emily pressed.

“He lived there his whole life,” Garcia spoke quickly, “mother died when he was young, father was… well, not the best father. Multiple trips to the ER when Timothy was still little Timmy.”

“Where’s the father now?” Hotch asked.

“Dead,” she answered shortly, “Month and a half ago, natural causes.”

“That’s right when the killings began,” Rossi observed.

“There’s our stressor,” JJ added.

“What about hobbies? Places he frequented? Anything to tie him to the cowboy fantasy,” You asked.

“Besides his ownership of horses,” Garcia clicked away on her keypad, “he was a frequent flyer of the local rodeo, even participated in it… oh no.”

“What is it, babygirl?” Morgan asked worriedly.

“This particular rodeo, well, it was more of a reenactment type of show,” she explained, “most of their ‘historical retellings’ were that of the wild, wild west. The racist, kill the Natives, wild, wild, west.”

“Garcia-“ Hotch began.

“Oh, honey, I know. Addresses are sent… now.”

“Let’s go,” Hotch said, everyone starting to hurry out of the room.

“Be safe, my loves!” Garcia called.

“Love you, Penny, great work,” you told her, before hanging up and following your team towards the SUVs.

***

The kevlar vest reading ‘FBI’ hung on your shoulders, the slight weight grounding you completely in the events that were about to occur. You glanced over to Hotch- who was staring straight at the dirt road with both hands on the wheel- then looked over your shoulder at Reid and Emily in the backseat, nodding at them slightly before facing forward once again. Your heart was already racing with adrenaline, the rhythmic beat loud in your ears.

Emily glanced out the window, eyes scanning over the seemingly endless fields surrounding the many farms in the area. It all looked so peaceful, the way the green blades stretched towards a crystal blue sky, it was almost heartbreaking that such awful, heinous deaths had occurred on the very same land.

Spencer was leaned over slightly to see out of the front windshield, eyebrows pulled downwards and lips set in a serious frown. He was scanning for a farmhouse, a shed, anywhere that someone could keep another person hostage. The three of you were already driving on the property, just looking for the specific spot where the Unsub operated.

“Over there,” Spencer pointed to the right, a small, white, wooden house coming into view. Hotch turned sharply down a dirt road that shot off the main one, hoping it would lead up to the farmhouse Spencer had spotted.

It wasn’t long before the vehicle stopped, the four of you swiftly jumping from your seats, meeting Dave, JJ, and Morgan as they also left their SUV. You looked up at the farmhouse, eyes squinting slightly from the now rising sun. It was large enough to be comfortable for two, maybe three, people, with a front porch that lead to the entrance. It was two stories, a small, round window sitting on the front and center of the house. The white of the painted wood seemed to illuminate in the orange of an awakening sun, and you could’ve called it beautiful, if you weren’t aware of the horrors that took place inside.

“What’s our plan?” Emily asked, facing Hotch.

“We’re going to do a soft entry,” he began, “Morgan, Reid, and JJ will lead in the front, Dave and I will go around the back. Prentiss, (Y/L/N), there’s a cellar to the right, take some SWAT officers with you, but I want you to clear below.”

“You got it, boss,” you nodded, turning and calling over two SWAT members.

“Alright,” Hotch drew his gun, “Let’s go.”

You and Emily moved alongside Derek, Spencer, and JJ, breaking off as they closed in on the front door. You reached the doors of the cellar, looking over at Emily. She looked back at you, smiling slightly and offering a reassuring nod before grabbing ahold of the handle on the left door. You took a deep breath and grabbed the other one, looking back to Emily once more.

“One,” she counted softly, “two… three.”

You both simultaneously lifted the doors, the two-man SWAT team moving forward, descending the stairs before you and Emily. You were close behind, guns raised. Your flashlight moved around the room, finding it to be mostly empty, save for a few cardboard boxes in the corner. You turned to your right, finding a door tucked away by the staircase.

“Emily,” you alerted, “we have a door.”

She moved over to stand beside you, “Boys, over here,” she beckoned the SWAT officers, nodding toward the door with her head.

They approached slowly and quietly, taking position on each side of the doorframe. One reached out and placed a soft hand on the doorknob, waiting three seconds before turning it and pushing it open, immediately drawing their weapons in from of them as they cleared the small room. You and Emily followed them in once again, your eyes going straight to the unconscious man in the very middle of the floor. His head hung, arms bound behind him and legs bound to the chair he was sat in. His shoulders slumped, his hair stringy, and a small trail of blood trickled down his forehead.

You rushed towards him, the light flickering on as you knelt down beside him. Emily’s hand left the light switch and moved to the restraints on the man’s hands, working quickly at the knots. With gentle pressure, you pushed your fingers on his neck, breathing out a sigh of relief when you felt a pulse beneath them.

“We need a medic in the cellar,” you spoke into your radio, keeping your fingertips against the man’s pulse and taking a silent count of how many beats passed every minute.

“Sir?” Emily asked, finally untying his hands, “Sir? Can you hear me?” She had to hold onto his shoulders to keep him from slumping completely forward.

“We found the hostage, Hotch,” you said into your comm device, “currently unresponsive, we have medics en route.”

There was no answer.

“Hotch?”

Silence. You looked up at Emily, whose worried expression matched yours.

“Hotch,” she tried, “can you hear me?”

Nothing.

“Hotch, Reid, Morgan,” you spoke quickly, “JJ, Rossi, do you copy?”

Radio silence.

“Stay with him,” you said, quickly rising to your feet.

“(Y/N), what are you-“

“You,” you pointed at one of the SWAT members, “come with me.”

“You can’t just go up there- (Y/N)!”

You ignored Emily’s protests, jogging up the stairs of the cellar, the SWAT officer right behind you. Holding your gun in front of you, you turned left, heading towards the back of the house. Reaching the back door, you slowly crept up the stairs, clearing right as the SWAT member cleared left. The first room was the kitchen, small and vintage, then you passed into a living room, with purple couches sitting in front of an ancient TV. Cowboy themed decor hung on every square inch of the walls, ranging from horseshoes to framed photographs of Western icons, such as John Wayne. You moved through the room, turning left through a doorway, which led to the entrance of the house. Pink and yellow sunlight leaked through the glass detailing at the top of the door, illuminating the staircase that sat almost directly in front of it. The SWAT officer appeared on the other side of the entryway, nodding towards you in a silent was of saying ‘all clear’. You nodded back, allowing him to ascend the stairs before you, his boots creaking slightly against the steps.

As you neared the top of the stairs, you could hear the low voice that plagued your every thought, the voice that talked to you in your best dreams and worst nightmares, always speaking of comfort and serenity.

“Timothy, we just want to talk-“

A sickening, teasing laugh cut Aaron off, the unmistakable sound of heeled boots tapping against the floor echoing through the house.

“We both know that’s not why you’re here, officer,” a southern accent laced through his words, his voice dark and deep.

You crept towards the voices, which were carrying down the hall. One door was open, down near the end and to the right. With quiet steps, you made your way towards it. You held your hand out toward the SWAT member, having him stop a few feet behind you. Placing yourself at the edge of the doorframe, back passed firmly against the wall, you dared to peek your head into the room.

That’s when the smell started to hit you. It was rotten, pungent, and… familiar. Your nose crinkled, eyebrows furrowing as you tried to understand why you recognized something so awful. Then, you realized.

The smell of death.

Your eyes scanned over the walls, stopping at a far corner. Hanging from the ceiling were the three scalps that were taken from your victims, a silver bullet casing tied up with each one of them. You took in a shaky breath, trying to stop yourself from hearing their screams, or picturing the way they looked as they were tortured.

Shaking your head to clear those thoughts, you turned your attention back to your team.

The Unsub’s back was to you, JJ held firmly in a chokehold with his left arm, his right hand holding a revolver with the barrel pressed to her temple. Hotch, Morgan, and Reid stood in a semi-circle in front of him, guns all drawn and aimed.

“You don’t have to do this, man,” Morgan bargained.

“Of course I do,” Timothy Locke, the Unsub, laughed again, “if I have her,” he shook JJ slightly, “then I have a chance of leaving here alive.”

You moved your head out a little more, catching Hotch’s eye. Looking between you and Timothy, he nodded, ever so slightly. You knew what he meant, you didn’t need his words to know what you had to do.

Quickly, you switched to the left side of the doorframe, positioning yourself to enter the room without Locke seeing you.

“Putting the gun down and surrendering will get you out of here alive,” Spencer urged, clearly distraught that the Unsub was holding a gun to his best friend’s head.

“And you would love it if I did just that, wouldn’t ya?” Locke sneered, readjusting his grip on his gun slightly.

You slipped into the room silently, gun raised and steps slow. Hotch’s eyes flicked to you every few seconds, his expression- hardened and serious, but what else is new- unchanging.

“We know what your dad used to do to you,” Hotch said lowly, catching the attention of Timothy.

“You don’t know shit.”

“We know of the hospital visits, the broken bones. We know that you were left alone with him after your mother died,” Aaron’s voice was unfaltering, purposely trying to irritate Locke.

It was working.

“I said,” he hissed, “you don’t know shit.”

“Then enlighten me.”

Timothy took a deep breath in before speaking, “Do you know what happened in this house? Between these walls? How every time I wasn’t good enough or smart en-“ his hands swung out to the side as he talked, his anger getting the best of him. In one swift movement, his right arm had extended away from JJ, and you were holstering your own gun and lunging for Locke’s weapon.

You pushed his arm backwards, his hand tightening from the surprise. A single gunshot rang out, and a searing pain ripped through your left arm, causing you to cry out. JJ moved out of his grasp, which had loosened significantly, turning towards him and kicking his left knee inward, making him sink to the floor. You pressed your right hand to the hole in your arm in an attempt to stop the bleeding, using the last bit of adrenaline in your body to swing your leg up and connect your foot to the face of Timothy Locke, making contact with a sickening crack, rendering him unconscious. He was down before Derek, Spencer, and Aaron had even moved forward- it had to be less than ten seconds.

Spencer reached you first, pressing his palm over your hand, applying more pressure as your grip started to loosen and your fingers slipped from beneath his.

“Look at me, (Y/N), look at me,” he ordered. You tried to, but your head was dizzying and you were having a hard time keeping your eyes open.

“You’re going to go into shock,” he spoke quickly, “just keep your eyes open, okay?”

After cuffing Locke and checking in with JJ, Hotch rushed towards you, reaching you just as your knees buckled and gave out from below you. His arms held you steady, his knees bending as he slowly sank down to the floor with you.

“I- I don’t think the artery was hit, but there’s a lot of bleeding, so I’m not su-“

“Reid.” Hotch interrupted. Spencer’s eyes shifted from you to Hotch, eyebrows turned upwards, nothing but worry in his features.

“Call for medics again,” he instructed Spencer, whose hand was still on your arm, “don’t stop calling until they get here.”

Hotch’s hand replaced Reid’s, his free arm holding you against his chest. Your eyelids still drooped up and down, your battle with sleep being anything but victorious. It was almost like a dream, blurry and vague, with a feeling of unfamiliarity. You weren’t completely aware of what was happening. Hell, you still were not feeling the pain of a bullet passing through your arm. That’s how you knew something was very, very wrong.

“Keep your eyes open,” Hotch spoke, his soft words landing delicately on your ears, “keep looking at me, (Y/N).”

The corner of your mouth tilted slightly, “I got,” you let out a small giggle, high on adrenaline, “I got shot, Hotchie.”

“Yes, I know, honey,” his voice was still soft but by God, was he using all his strength to keep it that way. He fought against the way his heart threatened to leap from his chest, the way his mind became frantic at the sight of your blood painting his fingers crimson, the way he could feel his breaths losing rhythm.

It was through and through, he thought, it will be okay, they will be okay.

And yet, despite his logical thoughts, he felt like he could cry as he held you close.

“Did you get him?” You asked, your words weary and strained.

“We did,” Aaron could only whisper to keep his voice from breaking, “you saved them, (Y/N). Now, just do me one favor and keep your eyes open.”

Your hand shakily covered his, your fingertips delicate they brushed lazily over his knuckles. The small touch brought a small, content smile to your face- and that mad tears reach Aaron’s eyes.

He looked up as the EMTs burst through the door, kits jostling in their hands. Seeing them felt like taking a breath out of water, like he could finally get oxygen in his lungs again. He looked back to your drooping eyes as they pulled you out of his arms, working quickly to stop your bleeding.

He stood and backed away, stumbling over his own feet slightly, his gaze never leaving you. You were moved to a plastic cot, straps securing your head, chest, and legs, as you were lifted from the ground and ushered through the door. Hotch stayed where he was, focus trained on the pool of blood that began to seep into the wooden floor, turning it a dark burgundy. His mind attempted to understand that the stain was, in fact, from your blood. Suddenly, the weight of what he saw everyday piled on his shoulders, from the gruesome photos to the actual victims. He was always aware of their humanity, of their worth, but his jaded mind could look past that and move along. Now, it seemed he couldn’t hide behind compartmentalization and insensitivity.

Sirens chirped outside, the sound floating in through the window, and his head snapped up at the sound.

Flashes began to obscure his vision. He saw the home he shared with Hailey, he saw the smiling and devilish face of George Foyet, he saw the lifeless eyes of the mother of his child, the blood that stained the carpet, the way his fist smashed in Foyet’s cheek, the way Hailey looked when she was gone, the way Jack looked when he asked where she was.

Then he saw you. He saw your smile, the light step of your walk, how delicate your hands looked as you wrote, how you bit your lip if you focused enough, the way your hair caught the light. He saw the sunshine that brought light into his dark, dark life.

The siren chirping once more brought him back to reality.

With his trance broken, he rushed out of the room, steps pounding against the creaky floor and echoing throughout the house. He ran down the stairs, the echos creating a drum roll in his wake as he finally stepped onto the front porch. The ambulance door clicked shut, the EMTs finding their seats before the ambulance sped away, sirens blaring.

He watched you leave until the sun engulfed the ambulance in orange light. His chest was heaving, in and out, mouth hanging open slightly. Suddenly, the kevlar around his torso felt much too tight, his hands finding the velcro and tearing at it. His breathing quickened, the kevlar falling to the ground, but the pressure in his chest still present. Frantically, his finger fumbled with the top button of his shirt, nearly ripping it off in his urgency.

“Aaron?” Dave asked, ascending the porch stairs towards his friend, “Aaron, are you okay?”

“I can’t,” Aaron wheezed, hands pulling down on the collar of his now exposed undershirt, “I can’t breathe-“

“Sit down, sit down,” Dave ushered him to the floor, Aaron practically crumpling into himself, “now, exhale completely.”

Hotch did as he said, shoulders hunching as he let out his breath.

“Now 4 seconds, in through the nose,” Dave followed Aaron’s movements, his hand accentuating his breathing, “hold for 7 seconds,” there was a pause as the two men held their breath, “and now, out for eight.”

Aaron closed his eyes as he exhaled, the tightness of his chest beginning to loosen.

“Keep doing that until you’re ready to talk,” Dave said gently, settling into the floor of the porch while he waited. Hotch completed three more cycles before he opened his eyes. He looked at Dave, eyebrows flicked upward in worry.

“Now,” treading lightly, Dave asked, “what was that about?”

“I don’t know,” Hotch answered quickly, avoiding Dave’s gaze.

“Aaron, the rest of the team may be fooled, but I am not,” Dave began, pointing over his shoulder at the team, “I’ve seen the way you look at them, and the way they look at you.”

That made Hotch’s heart flutter, the thought of you looking at him the same way he looked at you.

“I’m not pushing you to do anything you don’t want to,” Dave defended, “but you already have so many things you keep to yourself, you might have to let this one out.”

Aaron sighed, jaw clenching slightly, “I know.”

“Good,” Dave smiled, patting Hotch on the shoulder before getting up and walking away, preparing to fend off the rest of the team and their questions. Hotch was on his feet just as quickly, rebuttoning his shirt and retrieving his kevlar. His face had returned to the stoic expression everyone was used to, but his pulse was still racing.

***

“The doctor says they will be okay,” Derek told the team, taking a seat beside Spencer, “they’ve been moved to recovery; we can visit once they’re awake.”

Everyone nodded, a gloom hanging densely in the air. The team knew you would be okay, in all reality. Spencer had been sure to spout off a multitude of statistics to prove that a shot in the arm, avoiding the brachial artery, was survivable. But, despite the logical comfort, Hotch could only remember the way you looked, bleeding and incoherent in his arms. The bright, lively red of your blood on his hands was an image that would stain his mind as permanently as the very same blood stained the wooden floor of that house. He figured he could add it to his endless collection of gruesome images that lived in his brain, but he also knew he was a fool if he thought he could compartmentalize that away.

His elbows leaned against his knees, hands coming to a steeple upon his lips. The lines beneath his eyes grew deeper with every passing hour, but he remained in the same position, just as quiet. When it came to his thoughts- in particular, the dark, intrusive thoughts that came to him when the sun went down- he was fairly good at navigating through them, keeping them from degrading his worth as a human and protector. However, as he sat in the uncomfortable, plastic chair of the hospital you were a patient of, he could only think of how many people had been hurt (or worse), because of him. He could only see the way Reid cried as Tobias Hankel tortured him, the way JJ broke when he told her he couldn’t protect her job, the betrayal in Morgan’s eyes when he realized he had buried an empty casket, the beaten and bruised face of Emily after Benjamin Cyrus found out she was FBI.

But then, he saw Hailey. He saw her lying, dead, on the ground of the bedroom they had once shared, the room in which they had decided what to name their child, the room they laughed and cried in, the room they had loved in. She gave him everything he had to live for- his son.

Then he saw you. Dipping in and out of consciousness, calling him nicknames and smiling as you bled onto the floor. The way you giggled and called him ‘Hotchie’ was a happy image spliced into a bigger picture that made bile raise into his throat.

Lastly, he saw George Foyet. At least, what had been left of him. He remembered how he didn’t even feel his knuckles split open as they collided with Foyet’s face. It scared him, truly, how he didn’t stop, even after George was gone. It scared him how he would’ve stayed there, killing a man that was already dead, if Derek hadn’t pulled him away. The broken, mangled face of The Reaper haunted him the most.

A hand on his shoulder pulled him away from his thoughts, his eyes reaching upwards to see who it belonged to.

“You in there, boss?” Emily chuckled, a dazzling smile on her face.

“Uh, yes,” he nodded once, clearing his throat as he stood. He smoothed down his shirt, suit jacket having been abandoned long ago. In vain, he tried to look like he hadn’t been caught off guard.

“They’re not awake yet, but the nurse said we can go see them, if you’d like.”

He nodded, blinking twice as her words processed in his overworked mind, “Lead the way.”

His strong facade was held together by bubblegum and paperclips when he entered your hospital room. The way you looked so serene- with your eyelashes resting upon your cheeks and your shoulders completely relaxed- it was almost overwhelming. It was only hours earlier that he watched that same face contract in pain, those same eyelashes flutter in an attempt to stay awake.

He stayed by the door as the team found their place around your bed, his hands finding themselves in his pockets and his eyebrows pulling downwards, like they always do. His heart physically ached beneath his chest, its beat no longer the allegro of anxiety, but the slow waltz of failure. He had failed you- failed to protect you, failed to keep you safe. Imagining where that bullet could have landed made it all the worse.

It was bittersweet, really, the way you made him feel. There was a sunshine, a happiness that you infected those around you with. Your warmth was a gift you gave to everyone you met, regardless of who the were or what they’ve done. You would pull the hurt and forgotten from the earth without questioning their origin, your delicate hands caressing them gently with the comfort they’ve never known. You spoke words that covered the listener like summer rain, moved in a way that mimicked the lithe movement of dandelions in the breath of spring. He would surrender himself to you in the way the tides surrender to the moon, and a small part of him knew he already had.

He would give what little of himself remained, if you’d asked. The thunderstorms and lightening he had journeyed through had washed away pieces of him, leaving an otherness that felt all too unfamiliar, that stared right back at him whenever he looked in a mirror. But, regardless of how much he lost of himself, no matter how withered he became, all of it would be yours, if you’d asked. Because, despite the darkness that engulfed his waking moments and controlled the rest, you were always beside him, with a candle to light the way. And for that, he would promise to love you with everything inside him, despite the raindrops that dance on his feet.

If you’d asked.

But, you wouldn’t, he knew, so he wouldn’t fall in love with you. He couldn’t. His heart was tired, weary, and weak. The thought of loving you- in the jumping-from-a-cliff-but-laughing-as-you-fall kind of way, because allowing himself to love you would open a floodgate- and potentially losing you; that was a trauma he couldn’t see himself recovering from. He didn’t have the strength to. So, he would reside in the outskirts of your life, keeping himself close enough to feel the warmth you radiated, but far enough to feel a chill trace his spine.

And that’s exactly what he did. He stayed near the doors of your hospital room, looking silently as the team conversed lightly with your sleeping ears, hoping you would hear their words despite your lack of consciousness. He could hear their gentle whispers, the way they teased each other, the gentle laughs they exchanged. He stood in a room of people that loved and were loved, each of their hearts clean of the bruises that riddled his.

He doesn’t remember when he left, or how he ended up in the George Bush Intercontinental Airport, but he was seated in an airplane seat, staring out to the wisps of clouds and star-spotted sky, mind empty and full all at once.

***

Your eyes slowly pried themselves open, the bright, white light overwhelming your senses momentarily. A groan left your mouth, eyelids dropping once again, your head tilting towards your pillow.

“Good morning, sleeping beauty,” the voice of Derek Morgan teased, a small smile coming to your lips.

“Am I in heaven?” You croaked out, “I think I hear the voice of an angel.”

“You’re too good to me, (Y/N),” he laughed, his hands gently patting yours. You opened your eyes again with a sigh, looking around the room at your team.

“You had us worried there, kiddo,” JJ chuckled.

“Sorry,” you grimaced, “I didn’t mean to get shot, I swear.”

“Well,” Spencer spoke up from his chair beside the hospital bed, “don’t ever do it again.”

“Pinky promise.”

“Yeah, leave the dying to me,” Emily joked, earning a weak laugh from you.

You looked around at your family, the people you loved most in the life you had, and you hid the disappointment you felt because one was missing.

***

Aaron entered his apartment, shoulders heavy as he set his briefcase by the door. He turned to find Jessica asleep on the couch, hands tucked beside her head. He walked towards her, pulling a blanket from the back of the cushions and draping it over her. She stirred slightly, but settled quickly.

He moved numbly, putting his gun away securely and removing the belt around his waist. Walking towards the bedroom down the hall, his shoes were kicked off and his dress shirt was discarded, leaving him in slacks, socks, and his white undershirt.

With a low creak, his eyes peeked through Jack’s barely open door to find him sleeping soundly in his bed, the dark blue comforter pulled up to his chin. Aaron stepped into the room fully, closing the door softly behind him. Carefully, he climbed into the bed beside his son, settling into the pillows. Jack reacted immediately, curling under his dad’s arm. With a small kiss to the little boy’s forehead, Aaron allowed himself to fall asleep, willing away the darkness of the day. Pushing the twisted thoughts away, his mind concentrated on the boy in his arms, and the incredible love he held for him.

#aaron hotchner imagines #hotch x reader #hotch #criminal minds #angst #this is so long im so sorry #I hope y'all are ready to READ

107 notes · View notes

vampwritesstuff · 3 years

Text

Wing Beifong x OC / Part 1

Before this starts, you should know a few things about my OC.

Her name is Kana Soshi. She is an earthbender and is blind in her left eye, Lin taught her seismic sense, she is unable to metalbend. Has helped Lin out at the Republic City police department before and considers her as somewhat of a mother figure. She’s known Bolin and Mako for a long time and she met Korra and Asami through them, Bolin is her best friend.

Yes, I know that some of the events are out of order, I didn’t feel like rewatching the episode. But without further ado, here is part 1!

Wordcount; 5,203

“So are we sure there’s an airbender in Zaofu?” Kana asked as she leaned against the cool metal of the airship they’re currently flying in, she would have much rather been on the ground where her Earthbending and seismic sense were of use to her. Even though she could use seismic sense, she could not metal bend, and that made being on this airship insufferable, not being able to combine metal bending with her seismic sense could not have been more infuriating to her. “Yes, Kana, we’re positive that there will be an airbender there.” Korra said as she and the rest of Team Avatar sat around the area.

Kana absentmindedly stared off at nowhere while she played with a strand of her brown hair. One of her green eyes had a certain gloss over it, a tell-tell sign that she was blind in one eye, she was glad to have her seismic sense for that reason as when in battle her eyesight was often a hindrance in her ability to fight and know where and who she was aiming at.

Constantly, Bolin would ask Kana to teach him, and every time she tried, he could never seem to get it down. But that didn’t discourage him and that made her happy that he had such a strong spirit. So when they landed in Zaofu, a little bit of her detested the fact half the city was made of metal, but she quickly forgot that as her bare feet touched the ground. “Finally, my bending can be of some use to me.” Kana smiled as Bolin came up next to her, putting his arm around her, “C’mon, Kana, being on the airship wasn’t that bad!” He mentioned, “But when most of your sight and bending depend on being on the ground, I would rather have blown up that airship.” She pouted to her best friend.

“Hello! Welcome to Zaofu, home of the metal clan.” A gray haired woman said as she came out to greet them. “I’m Suyin Beifong, the matriarch of the clan.” She smiled at everyone. Kana smirked to herself, realizing now why Chief Beifong wanted to stay on the airship. She figured Lin might have some bad blood with her family in Zaofu. As everyone walked, they met Opal, she was the airbender. “Pleasure to meet you Opal!” Kana said happily as Suyin led them all away and towards an arena type place. It had large metal columns placed in it and it was placed deeper into the ground than where the group stood. “Those are my two youngest, Wei and Wing. They’re playing a game called power disc. Came up with the game themselves.” She told each of them as they watched the boys bend a metal disc at each other and hit the columns. That continued back and forth until one of them missed the disc and it flew into the net behind the raven haired boy, a bright red light lit up and a buzzer was heard, “And Wing goes down!” Shouted the boy, whom Kana could assume was Wei.

Her sight lingered on Wing a little longer than she would let on. Suyin turned to her and Bolin, “Do you two metalbend? The boys would be happy to teach you power disc.” Her smile fell as both of them shook their heads, “We don’t, but Kana here uses seismic sense!” Bolin boasted for her, Kana sheepishly rubbed her arm as Suyin smiled at her, “Well that's wonderful to hear, I’m sure you would love to learn to metalbend, we can teach you.” She offered. “Oh, I only use my seismic sense to help me see because I’m blind in one eye, I’ve tried metalbending before, it's never worked for me.” Kana sighed as she saw the look of pity from Suyin, she hated people knowing about her sight problem, she hated the looks of pity anyone would give her once they found out, she despised that everyone would dote on her once they knew.

Thankfully, Su’s advisor came up and whispered something in Suyin’s ear that made her eyes widen. “Avatar Korra, why did you lie about this being the only people you had with you?” She questioned as everyone’s eyes went wide. Kana knew she was talking about Lin, she watched in amusement as Korra and everyone else stuttered over their words. “Well, you see, our chief of police didn’t want everyone to know she was here and asked us not to tell. But since the secret is out, I guess Chief Beifong is gonna have to deal with it.” At Kana’s words, Suyin’s eyes widened, “Lin’s here? Well I would love to see her.” She said, leaving everyone all confused. She had stopped paying attention to Su’s words as her eyes went back to the playing arena, Landing on the two twins playing another game of power disc, not noticing everyone was heading inside until Bolin pulled her away.

At the dinner table, Kana sat in between Bolin and Asami. She loved Asami, she was her greatest friend other than Bolin, though Kana hated how she always tried to convince her to wear shoes, to which Kana would always tell her no and end the conversation at that. It didn’t fail to happen that night either as everyone was preparing for dinner.

“Come on, Kana! It's just for an hour at least!” Asami pleaded as she held a pair of flats in her face, pushing them away Kana gave Asami an exasperated look, “How many times do I have to tell you no? I don’t like shoes, they mess with my seismic sense!” She told her as she gave a sigh, knowing Kana wasn’t going to ever change her mind about shoes.

So there they sat, at a fancy table with the Beifong family eating the fancy dish that their chef prepared, she didn’t bother to remember the name of the dish. Kana looked to the head of the table as Suyin cleared her throat and addressed her. “So, Kana, how did you come to learn seismic sense?” She asked, Kana noticed that the entire Beifong family had their attention on her, “Well, Chief Beifong taught me after the accident that caused me to go blind in my left eye.” She said shortly, placing her fork down on her plate. That caught the twins attention, as well as Suyin’s, “If you don’t mind me asking,” Kana knew where this question was going, “How exactly did you become blind in that eye?” she asked, she and everyone else seemed to genuinely want to know, any time some one would ask, Kana would brush them off. But this was the matriarch of the metal clan, and she did not want to disappoint her.

So Kana let a heavy sigh leave her mouth before speaking, “Back when I was 12, I got caught in the middle of a turf war between the triple threats and some other gang. I was suppoesed to be with Li- Chief Beifong but I was dumb and slipped away from her as soon as I got the chance to explore.” She took a breath before continuing, everyone was paying close attention. “While I was looking at some stuff I realised that some triple threats and other thugs were fighting each other, next thing I knew, some stray ice shard from a waterbender hit me in the eye, and that's when Chief Beifong got there and saw me, she took care of the gangs and later healers said that they could not repair the damage done to my eye. At first I was able to see out of it just barely, but over time the sight completely left my eye.” She said, running a gentle finger over the skin around her eye as Kana stared down at the table, everyone had a solemn look on their faces, Bolin placed his hand on her shoulder while Asami did the same with the other shoulder. Silently Kana stood from the table and cleared her throat, “I’m going to turn in for the night.” She said and quietly left to her room for the time being. As she shut the door, Kana placed herself on the floor and let a gentle sob escape her throat.

Losing her sight had really impacted Kana, and everyone in the dining room could tell. Asami sighed, “I see why she hates wearing shoes now.” Trying to lighten the mood, “You know, this is the first time she’s talked about the accident since it first happened.” A voice said from the doorway, everyone looked over and was surprised to see Lin even after she had stormed out earlier on during dinner. “ What do you mean?” Wing asked as he looked at his aunt, “Exactly what I just said, losing her sight in that eye was very traumatic for her, she had nightmares for weeks afterwards.” Lin told them, everyone's eyes softened and Lin scoffed. “You all act like it affects you too, Kana is a tough young woman, I taught her seismic sense so she could still kick ass when she helped me out at the police station. She was more angry than sad about losing her sight, also, she despises anyone giving her pity. So if you’re gonna do that any time you’re around her then don’t bother speaking to her.” Lin said as she walked back out of the room. “Remember when we fought Amon? Kana really did beat some equalist ass!” Korra laughed as the rest of the team avatar laughed along with her. “I felt so bad when Amon took her bending, but she showed us she didn’t need her bending to fight Amon.” Asami said and they all agreed.

“Oh! Oh! Remember when she threw Unalaq in the air with a pillar of rock? He screamed like a little girl when she was in his face right after he hit the ground!” Bolin laughed loudly, Korra butted in, “And when she punched him in the face for being annoying! She did the same thing to councilman Tarrlok.” She laughed. Everyone at the table had begun laughing at the stories of Kana not giving a shit about who she was beating up.

Wing’s heart fluttered when he heard the stories about her, Kana really seemed like a cool person and he wanted so desperately to get to know her better.

Later that night as he and Wei were preparing to sleep, Wing decided to ask his twin a question, “Hey, Wei?” He began, “Yes, Wing?” Wei responded. “What do you think about Kana?” Wing asked as he set his metal cuffs on his dresser. “Think of her in what way? She seems like a very determined person and I think that’s admirable about her.” Wei told his twin as he sat himself on his bed, “I mean, yeah you’re right about that, but I don’t know.. I get butterflies around her, and hearing all those stories about her just invested me more, what should I do?” Wing ranted as he fell onto his own bed with a deep sigh. A chuckle escaped Wei’s lips, “Seems like you have a crush, Wing. But if you really want something between the two of you, I’d do something before she and the rest of her group leave Zaofu.” Wei advised, Wing nodded his head, thinking deeply.

It was true that Kana, along with everyone else she came with, plus Opal, were going to have to leave at some point to continue the search for more airbenders. So many thoughts clouded Wing’s mind as he tried to think of what he would do. Kana seemed like an angel to him, but he hadn’t even spoken to her once! How was he going to become closer to her if he hadn’t ever spoken to her or introduced himself. Wing couldn’t help the yawn that escaped his mouth, his exhausted state of mind could barely let him think straight. He would deal with his feelings and thoughts in the morning. With that, everyone in the Beifong estate was peacefully asleep.

Sadly, that peace hadn’t lasted long for a certain earthbending girl. Kana bolted up in her bed in a cold sweat, “It was just a nightmare, one I haven’t had since I was younger.” She mumbled to herself as she lifted her body from the emerald green sheets of the bed. She placed her head in her hands and she took deep breaths. “I need some fresh air.” Kana told herself as she stood up and headed towards the door. Opening it, she checked if there were guards around, once she made sure there was none she walked from her room and towards the garden of the Beifong estate. Once outside she let out a breath of relief and sat on the steps in front of the door.

“Can’t sleep?” The voice startled Kana as she wasn’t paying attention to her sense. Turning she saw one of the twins, “Uh, yeah. Rough night.” Kana looked away, she’d be lying if she said she knew which twin he was. “Wanna talk about it?” Wing asked her as he took a seat on the steps, Kana shook her head. “No, but I could use a distraction,” She started, “But first, I’m still not good with telling you twins apart, mind telling me?” Kana gave a sheepish smile to Wing as he laughed, “Yeah, I can help with that, and I’m Wing.” He told her as he stood from the steps and offered a hand to her. Taking it, Kana was surprised at how effortlessly he pulled her up. Wing’s heart fluttered once more as she grabbed his hand, her small hands were cold from the night air but he was disappointed when she pulled her hand from his. “So what's this ‘distraction’ you got for me?” Kana raised an eyebrow at Wing, he smirked and grabbed her hand once again.

Wing pulled her up to one of the metal covers that surrounded the estate, he metalbended an opening large enough to fit through and once both of them were on the other side Wing bended the metal back into place. He continued pulling Kana up a hill where there was a small cliff face, they could see the entirety of Zaofu, “Wow, Wing this is amazing.” Kana said as she sat down with Wing on the grass and looked out at the city, it was even more stunning at night. “Yeah, I found it a while back. I come here every time I need a distraction or to just clear my thoughts.” Wing said as he looked over at the brown haired girl that sat next to him, admiring the city. Wing took the moment to really study the girl beside him, taking in little details like how her short hair would flow with every breeze and the way the moonlight reflected in her eyes, the small smile placed on her lips as she closed her eyes. Kana looked at peace, and Wing was thoroughly enjoying the look. Then she opened her eyes and looked at him, Wing blushed as he’d been caught staring, “We should get back to the estate, we don’t want anyone finding out we’re gone and getting worried.” Kana told him, ignoring his stare as she stood up and pulled him up with her.

They walked down the hill in silence until they got back to the steps in front of the garden, “Wing,” Kana put her hand on Wing’s shoulder before he left to go inside, “Thank you for tonight. It means a lot.” She told him as she walked passed and back to her room. Wing stood there, a blush on his face and a hand on the shoulder that she touched. He walked back to his and Wei’s room in a daze and held a stupid grin for the rest of the night until he fell asleep. Kana had a peaceful sleep for the rest of the night, glad that she had spent some time with Wing to clear her head.

The next morning, Kana sat on the steps as she watched the twins spar with Korra and Bolin, well spar wasn’t the right word for Bolin. “I can’t believe I’m sparring with the Avatar!” Wing said excitedly after he tangled Korra in her own cables, the same couldn’t be said for Wei, “I can’t believe I’m stuck with her friend.” Wei complained, Bolin tried to bend the meteorite at Wei but it fell from his hands, “Hold on I got it,” Bolin tried, “Don’t got it.” He slumped over, Kana gave an encouraging smile, “Don’t worry, Bo, you’ll get it eventually.” She offered him a thumbs up and he smiled, but that quickly turned to horror as he dodged metal being thrown at him by Wei, “Trial by fire, best way to learn!” Wei claimed as he continued shooting at Bolin, finally Bolin picked up a small rock and bended it at Wei, hitting him in the forehead just as Mako and Asami showed up. “Nice shot little bro, but I thought this was supposed to be metalbending?” Mako asked as Wei agreed while rubbing the spot the rock hit, “Yeah, cheater.” Wei grumbled. “Listen, Mako, metalbending is extremely hard! Only 1 in 100 earthbenders can metalbend.” Bolin stated before everyone turned to Kora as she took Wing down with some metal, proceeding to jump in the air, “Woohoo! Metalbending champion!” She exclaimed, bringing her arms up to show off her well toned muscles. Bolin gave a comical look, “She’s the Avatar, that doesn’t count!” He stated, Kana giggled at how Bolin was acting.

“You guys might wanna get cleaned up, Opal’s farewell dinner is soon.” Asami told everyone, Kana saw Bolin slump once more and begin to sulk. Kana walked over and lightly patted his shoulder, “Hey, you’ll see her again once we are finished looking for more airbenders.” Kana comforted him, although that only seemed to perk him up less than what Kana thought it would. “Hey. Kana, why don’t you try metalbending?” Korra questioned the brunette, “Oh, I’ve tried before. Never worked, and besides, I’m fine with my seismic sense.” She said before sighing, “But it would be nice so I could use my sense on that damned airship.” Kana added before Bolin swung an arm around her shoulder, earning a jealous glare from Wing, “Alright, alright. We know you hate the airship.” Bolin teased as he ruffled her hair, earning a nice punch to the gut from Kana, a laugh erupted as Bolin doubled over in pain. “I didn’t even punch you that hard.” She rolled her eyes, Mako let out a playful scoff, “Kana, even your softest punches hurt.” He laughed, Kana’s eyes widened before her eyebrows furrowed, “Do they really?” She asked, everyone, besides Wing and Wei, nodded with a laugh at how confused Kana looked. “Why do you think I refuse to do hand to hand combat with you?” Korra laughed, she truly did not enjoy being punched by her, Kana shrugged, “I just thought you didn’t wanna hurt me, miss Avatar.” Kana jokingly used the nickname she gave Korra when they met for the first time, Korra wasn’t a fan of it but never told her to stop.

“Anyways, are we just gonna stand around talking about how you guys can’t handle a punch, or are we gonna clean up for Opal’s dinner?” Kana asked, changing the subject. Everyone nodded and headed to their temporary rooms to prepare. Kana settled on taking a shower in her room’s adjoined bathroom, as the warm water hit her body, she relaxed and gave a small smile. It felt nice to clean the dirt away from her skin as she scrubbed it with a milk and honey scented body wash. After scrubbing her hair with shampoo and conditioner and washed it out, Kana stepped out of the shower and shivered as the cool air hit her wet skin. Wrapping a towel around herself, Kana proceeded to dry off in her room and get dressed in a bathrobe, lazily, Kana walked to Korra’s room and knocked on the door. Korra answered, “Yes?” She asked, “Hey, wanna do me a favor and bend the water out of my hair, please?” Kana asked hopefully, with an amused sigh, Korra nodded and bended the water from Kana’s hair and moved the water to her own bathroom sink. Thanking her, Kana left and headed back to her own room. Once there, she sat down at the vanity table, Kana examined herself before deciding that she didn’t need any makeup for the dinner. Instead, she went to the wardrobe and chose a lovely forest green dress like a robe that had many silver embellishments, putting the dress on made Kana feel like she was some kind of earthbending princess. Laughing at herself, Kana placed the large silver necklace around her neck as it hung right above her breasts, she grabbed the arm cuffs and placed each one on both of her wrists before placing two ankle cuffs on her own ankles, to finish the outfit, Kana placed a metal belt piece around her waist. Kana twirled in front of the mirror and smiled, this was by far the most expensive clothing she had ever worn. A knock at the door startled Kana from her trance, “Hey, Kana, it's Korra and Asami. Are you ready for dinner?” Korra questioned loudly from the other side of the door, “Yeah,” she started as she opened the door, “I’m ready.” She looked up at Asami and Korra, they both were staring at her with wide eyes, “Does it not look good?” Kana asked self consciously, “No! You look amazing! We just never expected you to dress up so nicely.” Asami assured the earthbender, and received a smile as Kana saw Korra nod in agreement, “Well then, lets go knock the socks off those boys.” Kana winked at both Asami and Korra as she walked past them and towards the dining room.

Once they stood in front of the door, the guards opened it and everyone stopped what they were doing, most of the boys’ stares were focused on Kana as she took a seat between Bolin and Wing, “What’s with the look, Bo? You’ve seen me dress up before.” She giggled, “Yeah, but never in earth kingdom clothing!” He exclaimed, “I guess you’re right.” She thought before paying attention to what the chef had made for the dinner, he had made Opal’s favorite veggie wraps. Kana didn’t exactly care to listen to whatever mush Bolin was spewing to Opal, so she turned to Wing, “How has your day been so far?” She asked him once she had finished a bite of her food, “It’s been great! I mean, I got to spar with Korra which was totally cool. But I’ll admit I’m going to miss Opal.” Wing said, gaining a sad tone towards the end of his response. In a kind gesture, Kana put a hand on Wing's shoulder and offered a sympathetic smile, then she was hit with an idea, “Wanna sneak out tonight and go to the hill?” She asked referring to the cliff that he had shown her the night before when neither of them could sleep. Wing perked up and gave a fast nod, “Yeah, that’d be awesome.” He told her, trying to contain his excitement.

The rest of the dinner went by smoothly, and soon everyone was leaving to prepare for bed, except for Kana and Wing. Kana did put on some more comfortable clothes before she would meet up with Wing. They both had decided to wait until everyone else seemed to be asleep so they could meet. But the sound of someone yelling caught Kana’s attention, she opened her door in confusion as Bolin ran past, in the process he grabbed her wrist and pulled her along, “Bolin! What’s going on?” She shouted at him, “They’ve got Korra!” He exclaimed, passing more doors as he ran towards the outside of the estate. He had already woken up Mako and Asami, so she pulled her wrist from his grasp and started to run at his pace.

Once outside, Kana finally understood who Bolin was talking about. There was a group of four people running through the courtyard, one had Korra slung across his shoulder. Thinking quickly, Kana created a rock wall in front of the group. They quickly stopped and turned to see who stopped them, “Leave Korra alone!” Kana shouted, jogging towards them to get close and dodging blasts of rock and water. Her seismic sense had instinctively kicked in and Kana was able to narrowly avoid a rock coming at her from behind. She stomped a foot on the ground, using a large chunk of earth to throw at the intruders. Kana noticed that Bolin had only been staring in awe as Kana skillfully dodged attacks from multiple angles, “Bolin! Get your ass over here!” She yelled, momentarily she was distracted and didn’t notice the large rock that had been aimed at her.

A painful cry had alerted everyone else to where they were, and as they got there they saw Kana struggle to her feet as Bolin tried to deflect any attempt to knock her back down. Once she fully stood up, Kana gave the others one glance before turning back to the people that had Korra. Everyone noticed the change in Kana’s attitude and it sent a shiver down their backs. Kana angrily ripped a large portion of rock from the ground and hurled it at Korra’s captors but, much to Kana’s displeasure, the man with long greasy black hair had deflected it. Finally everyone else was working with you and Bolin to get Korra back, they had a chance to run and they took it, but they were unexpectedly caged in by large metal panels. Those present turned to see where the metal came from and they saw Wing, Wei, Su, and Lin. “Thank the spirits.” Kana muttered as she had a moment to breath, but that moment didn’t last long before lava started to pool from under the makeshift trap and melt the panels, “That guy can lava bend! That’s so cool!” Bolin exclaimed, but noticed everyone’s deadpanned looks, “But very bad! Very bad for us.” He corrected himself.

“Are you all okay?” Su asked as she pulled a panel to protect the group from the tall lady’s explosions. “Could totally be better.” Kana quipped sarcastically as she bended a rock at the group, only for it to be deflected once again by the earth bender. “Watch out!” Wing said as he pulled Kana back down as another explosion was sent her way, narrowly missing her but a sharp rock hit her forehead, and it began bleeding down her face. “Thanks.” Was Kana’s short reply as she kept them distracted long enough for the others to devise a plan, ignoring the pain of her cut and the looks of worry from her friends. Su, Lin, and the twins would go on top of the dome and drop in from above and grab Korra while the others would distract and temporarily stun the combustion lady. Stunning the lady was up to Kana and Bolin.

“Ugh! We can’t get a clear shot!” Bolin exclaimed a few minutes later as his and Kana’s attempts were continuously shot down. “Are we a go?” One of the twins asked from the radio, “No go! No go!” Bolin and Mako shouted, “Go? Got it!” Came the voice again, “No! Don’t go! No go!” Mako repeated into the radio but it was already too late. Lin and Su were already lowering from above, “C’mon Bo, we’ve gotta make this shot or Lin and Su are toast!” Kana gripped Bolin’s shoulders. He nodded and they both took a small piece of rock, then the combustion lady looked up and Kana saw their chance, “Now Bolin!” She shouted as she and Bolin tossed their rocks right at her, hitting her not once, but twice in her third eye looking tattoo. Lin was able to grab Korra and soon they were being hauled back up, but the air bender brought his glider out and soared up after the three. As he got closer to Lin, Su grabbed her sister’s cable and swung her out of the way, taking some metal and bending it at the man, successfully ripping the fabric of his glider and he began spiraling downwards.

As he landed, he began to create a large cloud of air, and once it cleared there was no sight of the intruders anywhere. “Where the hell did they go?” Kana asked angrily, as she frantically looked around for any trace of them. Suddenly she became dizzy, Kana placed a hand on her head, finding that her wound from early was still bleeding, “Shit..” She muttered and sat on the grass as she tried to make the spinning stop, “Kana! Are you okay?” Bolin asked worriedly as he saw his friend with her eyes screwed shut and sitting on the ground. Everyone else noticed as well, but Asami was the first to figure out the problem, “Her head is still bleeding! We need to get her medical attention!” She said as Mako picked Kana up from the ground, running up to Su, Lin and the twins. The four gave a confused look until they saw Kana’s condition, and quickly Su led the way to her office where they could patch Korra and Kana up.

At first, Kana was refusing the help, but as her headache worsened she finally gave in and let them wrap a bandage around her head and give her medicine. As the pain went away, Kana found herself slowly growing tired and letting a yawn slip, “I can take you to your room if you’d like?” Wing asked as Kana looked up to him and nodded. He helped her stand up and kept a firm grip on her waist so she wouldn’t fall, “Guess we’re gonna have to take a rain check on going to the hill, huh?” Kana half heartedly joked, “Yeah, guess we are.” Wing said, although he didn’t mind, he just wanted Kana to recover safely. Sometime through the obscurely long walk to Kana’s room, she had fallen asleep and Wing had to carry her to her bed. As he laid her down in the bed and covered the girl with the blanket, she grabbed his hand while half awake from the movements, “Thank you, Wing.” She tiredly stated before falling back asleep. He smiled, hesitantly leaning down and leaving a small kiss on her forehead, then he left the room. Shutting the door and sighing, “You must really have it bad for her.” Wing jumped as he noticed Wei standing in front of him with a smile on his face, Wing nodded, too tired to argue with his brother. “I think she’s warming up to you.” Wei teased as he and his twin walked to their shared room, “Yeah, I think so too.” He said as they both fell on their beds and contently fell asleep.

32 notes · View notes