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the-bi-space-ace · 5 months

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Okay I’m going to talk about cutting off Crosshair’s hand because while I know plenty of people see a lot of symbolism in it and think it was a good decision I have things to say about it.

I have CPTSD which has a lot of different symptoms. One of them is trembling or shaking. There’s a lot of complexities tied up in it but I’m not going to go into more detail because it’s not a fun thing to talk about.

What I liked about Crosshair’s trauma was that it impacted him not only mentally and emotionally but also physically. It’s very representative of what it’s actually like dealing with symptoms from something like PTSD and CPTSD (there are differences between these two that I won’t go into rn). I loved that we got to see a physical symptom of something psychological. It’s so rare that it’s handled well. Because yeah meditation and safety will help, certainly, but oftentimes it’s not the end all be all. I’m safe. I’m protected. I take care of my mental well being. But I still have symptoms that say the opposite. Because it’s not as simple as ‘no longer in the bad situation therefore the symptoms will stop’. I’ve made my peace that it’s lifelong and, honestly, Crosshair’s symptoms would be lifelong as well.

Cutting off his hand…

Here’s the thing.

The show really makes it seem like cutting off his hand is something he needed to move forward. He needed to be rid of the symptom because it was a physical reminder and it was holding him back from moving on. Cutting off the hand means no more shaking which means he’s healed. No more shaking hand=no more trauma. He can finally move on with his life.

And to that I say ouch.

There’s been plenty of times my symptoms are inconvenient to myself or others. Times when I wish I could just make it stop. Times when I’m terrified that it’s holding me back and I’m screwed up and that’s all I’ll ever be: broken. There are plenty of times I know people wish i could just knock it off and get over it and cut it out but that’s not how it works. Like I said. I’ve made peace with this thing that’ll be with me forever.

It was refreshing to see him try to adapt to dealing with it instead of ignoring it or trying to get rid of the part of him that was hurting. I loved that. It was such a freeing thing to see. Someone who will live with the hurt and the symptoms and it doesn’t make him any less. It just makes him have to do life a little different.

I hate that they cut off his hand. I hate that it wasn’t handled with any sort of nuance or delicacy. And I hate that this thing that made me so proud of him, so proud to share something with him, just got cut off for… what? Shock? To ‘fix’ him?

If we had gotten more time with the loss of his hand maybe I’d feel differently. Hell, I’d love to see how Crosshair adapts to losing his hand, see how he learns to accommodate. It would give him and Echo something to bond over and talk about, finding healing with each other. I think this could’ve been done well. I’d still be on the fence about it but I would’ve held my breath and saw how it played out.

I fully expect people to roll their eyes at me here. I expect that people will say that I just don’t get it or that this isn’t what they intended. I’m sure this isn’t what they intended. At least I hope it isn’t. But what they intended doesn’t change how insensitively this was handled after a whole season of him unpacking his hurt and trying to learn to adapt to it. No one reacted to it, not even Crosshair, and we got no unpacking of what happened. I’m not happy with this but it is what it is I guess.

#space chatter #the bad batch #tbb crosshair #tbb spoilers #tbb season 3 #idk what to say other than ouch #feel free to disagree #this is just how I’m feeling rn #maybe I’ll write something nuanced in fic form about this one day #and I’ll feel better #but for now I’m getting my week of sadness out of the way #before I move on to continue writing and ignoring the parts of canon I don’t like #it just stings is all #tw ptsd #tw cptsd

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radio-writes · 6 months

Note

Congrats on the 300 followers Vien! for the event:

"They were there, you weren't" + "What keeps you up at night?"

Embracing Faded Pages of Tainted Saints

300 Followers Event

Warnings: Mentions of past physical injuries

Tags: Alastor x reader, gn reader, relationship can be read in any way

MDNI

You stood awkwardly at the doorstep of the new hotel, unsure exactly of what to do next.

You knew there was a chance he'd be the one to open the door and greet you, but truth be told you were hoping otherwise. You thought you had worked through all your emotions about him years ago; but standing in front of him now, you realized that was far from the case.

You felt a surge of pressure almost squeezing at your heart, but you tried your best to ignore it as you offered Alastor a small smile.

"Hey, Al. Long time no see." You tried for casual, despite the way things ended the last time you were together.

"How are you—" Al finally spoke, his grin tight as his eyes narrowed at you.

A bright, bubbly woman shoved her way to the door, effectively cutting off whatever Alastor was going to say.

She grabbed you by your hands, and you did your best to shift your focus to her. You listened, responded, and tried very hard to ignore Alastor's burning gaze on you.

You were very swiftly taken into the hotel lobby, brushing right past the tall man. You were introduced to the staff and guests alike, and you painted your best smile as the blonde host swept you here and there. You merely tried to swallow past the lump at your throat as you greeted everyone.

You heard this place offered a chance at redemption, as well as some sort of protection from all the horrors Hell had to offer. You thought it was worth it, that the solace you could find in here would greatly outweigh having to be near Alastor again.

But his mere presence, just knowing that he was in the same room as you again, was already eating at you—suffocating you.

It was like you could feel the sharp stabbing pain across your gut again. The blood—the life—leaking out of you. The desperation crushing your heart.

"I'll take it from here, Charlie, dear." You heard his voice before you felt a heavy hand at the small of your back. "This lovely demon seems to be a little bit overwhelmed. They can do with some rest, don't you think?"

The bright blonde agreed easily, allowing Alastor to quickly guide you along the halls of the hotel and away from all the excited chatter.

"You're alive." Alastor stated, his eyes set ahead of himself as he walked beside you. His hand had retracted from your body, now resting behind his back.

No thanks to you.

"Nope, still dead." You tried to joke, a soft, fleeting attempt at a laugh following it. But you stopped immediately when you realized that, despite his wide smile, Alastor didn't seem to be in the mood for jokes.

"You were bleeding heavily." He said instead.

You tried to keep your responses vague. "Yes, I...I remember."

You've thought about it many times over since your near-second-death experience. How Alastor had always been a dear friend of yours, through life on earth and Hell. How you both knew you were helpless at that time. How it was perfectly normal for him to choose to save himself instead.

You've forgiven him, at least that's what you told yourself. You still saw him as a friend, even after he abandoned you—and that's why you would never let him find out about your betrayal.

You could never hurt him like that.

You thought that this was all so crystal clear to you. That you've long healed this wound, but evidently that wasn't the case.

Just seeing him now. So well poised, so put together, cozying it up with the Princess of Hell. His smile was as you remembered it, and not a hair was misplaced on his head.

He had continued on like nothing happened, like he didn't once leave you to die.

And there was that awful, bitter, anger slowly filling your chest. That nauseating feeling of betrayal that twisted your gut. No matter how hard you tried to stick to reason, to remember all you've resolved in the past years, you just couldn't help but hate how he was able to move on so easily.

The rest of your time heading to your room was silent. Just a constant soft static noise following your steps. You spent that time fighting your base instincts to just jump him, throttle his neck, scream at him.

How could you? How could you just leave me to die like that?

Alastor finally halted by a door, his clawed hand turned the knob and ushered you in.

You looked up at him, smiling once more as you tried to hold onto your more logical side. "I don't know how I feel about you having keys to my room." You try to joke again.

Oh did you miss the times when the two of you wasted hours in hysterics; just exchanging the dumbest jokes you could think of.

But that felt like almost two lifetimes ago.

"This is my room." Alastor clarified.

"Well that explains the swamp." You say bluntly. You walked slowly in, not exactly knowing what you were doing here now.

"I thought we could sit down for some coffee—" Alastor said, closing the door behind him. His hands reached for a coffee pot, but paused before he could reach the handle. "No no, this definitely calls for something much stronger."

He sat down on one of the seats by the fireplace, easily summoning two small glasses and a bottle of rye on the table.

You watched him tentatively, heart tightening at the familiar sight.

There was once a time when nights like this was something you looked forward to—but it didn't seem that way anymore.

Your eyes couldn't help but narrow at how well off he looked. It's like nothing had changed for him at all.

You attempted to be civil, still, and made your way to sit across him. It's was stupid to hold a grudge against him for something like that. What he did made sense, and you shouldn't be mad about it.

Your eyes scanned the knickknacks scattered about his shelves and walls, eyes catching on a wide set of antlers mounted high above.

"That yours or a friend's?" You once again tried to lighten the mood. Whether it was for your sake or Alastor's, you weren't sure.

"We both know I've never been one for small talk, dear." Alastor said, pouring alcohol in your glass before his. He easily downs the drink he poured himself before filling it up again. "How are you alive?" His head tilted.

The moment the words left his mouth it felt like someone emptied a bucket of ice water over you.

The question simply came out of nowhere. Sure you had expected him to ask sooner rather than later, but to jump right to it?

Your half-assed smile dropped just a fraction of a bit.

Looking up at your old friend, the ever charming, ever present smile, you realized that perhaps you were being stupid—and not for the reason you originally thought.

You've been friends with this man since either of you could walk, friends through his stupid murder fixation, friends through his takeover of Hell.

But he left you for dead.

He finally found out that you survived and the first thing out of his mouth was an interrogation?

Where was your fucking apology?

So maybe, just maybe, you've been stupid this entire time. That you didn't need to be making excuses for him. That you didn't need to forgive him. That maybe your anger, your want to hurt him back, was more than valid.

You picked up your own glass and downed its contents in one go, relishing in the familiar bitter taste.

"There's no bed." You noted instead of answering your old friend, your grip was tight around the glass you held. "Where do you sleep?"

"I don't." Alastor answered simply. He moved only to fill up your glass again, but his eyes never strayed from you.

You weren't sure how much truth there was behind his words. Sinners still slept, and no matter how highly Alastor thought of himself, he still functioned the same way the rest of you do.

"What keeps you up at night, then?" You couldn't help but ask.

Perhaps it was an attempt to piss him off. Make small talk, delay from giving him answers.

But as much as you hated to admit it, it was likely because there was an answer you wanted to hear. One caused by that part of you that still hoped for your old friend to show you even just a hint of a conscience.

Perhaps if he gave you that, it would be enough for you to hold onto civility. It would be enough for your to at least honor what past friendship you had with him.

"Nothing in particular, really." Alastor glanced away from you, downing his drink once more. "There's just no rest for the wicked, isn't that what they say?"

You followed his lead, throwing your head back and letting the alcohol burn its way down your throat.

It almost felt like old times when you'd compete with him in old dingy bars.

"Ah, I figured you wouldn't be hung up on it." You held your empty glass in your hands, a finger unconsciously caressing its cool surface.

"My bad, dear." Alastor gave you a faux look of guilt, but the mockery that dripped from his tone easily gave it away. "Did you want me to mourn you for a couple decades?"

You rolled your eyes. "Considering everything we've been through, I'd have expected at least a few years."

You noticed Alastor fill his glass up again, he knocked it back just as quickly as the previous ones.

You both looked like you were drinking your problems away, but it seemed like this was more of a habit. One formed through a lifetime of repetitions.

"I can start now if you'd like." Alastor smiled at you.

Your brows raised. "I am very clearly not dead."

"You might be soon." The static in his voice was heavier, and for a split second you could have sworn his pupils changed to dials.

Your fingers stilled against the glass you held, feeling your skin prickle at the silence that followed.

The wood in the fireplace crackled, and the eerie light coming from the green flames added just a tinge more terror to your situation.

Or it would have if the only emotion you felt wasn't an all consuming rage.

The clear threat hung in the air for a second before Alastor spoke again. "So tell me,"

How long have you been alive?

Why didn't you tell me?

"How are you alive?" He said.

You had no idea why on earth he was angry. What gave him the right?

"We both know the answer to that already, don't we?" Your own smile tightened, teeth clenched hard to keep yourself from growling at him.

You tried to stomp out your anger, but every time you tried to reason that he used to be a friend, you couldn't help but be brought back to that time.

Lying in a pool of warm blood—your own blood. Seeing the exorcists flying down to you, racing to see who could kill you first. Turning your head, using the very last of your strength to reach out to your friend. Watching him stand from your side and melting away into shadows without you.

"Well yes, a deal, of course. But with whom? Not many demons down in this festering tar pit have that much power. You were practically gone, dear."

Ah, so it was a pride thing, you thought. He was bothered that there was someone who could do what he couldn't.

You couldn't hold back from scoffing. "And did that ever bother you? That I was practically gone?"

He paused. The sound of static grew messier for a few seconds before Alastor gave up on his glass entirely. He opted to just grab the bottle by its neck and drank from it.

"You seem like you were hoping it did." He teased as he set the bottle down back on the table. "Shouldn't a good friend be happy I wasn't suffering?"

Your heart clenched, eyes narrowed. The both of you have danced around it this entire time, but it just seemed like there was no longer any way to stop the words as they finally slipped from your mouth.

"Shouldn't a good friend try everything to save the other?"

The accusation, the betrayal, the bitterness, finally dripped like venom from your question.

A heavy tension covered both of you once more. The elephant in the room finally addressed properly, but it seemed neither of you knew what to do with it now.

A beat of silence.

"Then, it looks like we're both such terrible friends." Alastor said, as he sunk back into his chair. You hadn't noticed the tension in his body this entire time, you weren't sure if Alastor himself noticed it either.

But as he rested his head behind him, you noticed something you failed to before now.

He looked...exhausted. His smile was in place, his hair neat, his suit wrinkle free. He looked as perfect as ever; but he looked tired.

You were sure you didn't look any more chipper currently.

You tore your eyes away from the demon that sat across you. "It's been a long night."

"It's been twenty minutes." There was finally a hint of genuine amusement in his tone, but it felt strained.

Like it slipped before he could stop it, a habit formed through decades of banter.

"Twenty too many around you." You simply shut it down.

Still, not one apology. Did he even regret it?

You felt so confused, so conflicted, so angry, and you knew you just had to leave before you did something you would regret later on—whatever that may be.

He looked like he wanted to say something as you got up, but he chose to bring the bottle of alcohol to his lips instead.

It was only when your hand landed on the door handle did he speak. "I would do it again."

It felt like a light went out inside you somewhere.

You didn't turn around.

"I would leave you to die—over and over." Alastor's floaty voice continued. "You were a good friend, but not great enough for me to risk my own skin."

You've known your friend to be quite the liar. He knew what to say and when to say it, and he lived to crawl under people's skin and piss them off.

But at that moment, you knew it was one of the rare few instances where Alastor was honest.

"It seemed like you wanted to know." His normally mocking voice seemed softer. Like it really was just a fact and nothing more.

"The V's were there when you weren't." You found yourself saying. You turned your head to the side just a tiny bit, but still didn't turn to look at him.

The lights flickered and your hand closed around the handle of the door.

"I made a deal with the V's. Everything about you and more, in exchange for my life." You continued, almost unable to stop the words from coming out, really.

"Your defeat seven years ago was my doing."

You really were terrible friends.

"It seemed like you wanted to know, old pal."

You left his room just as the lights fully went out.

#tw: physical injuries #friendly reminder this event has closed #hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin alastor #hazbin alastor x reader #alastor #alastor x reader #vien writes #follower event #we went for emotional pain this time around #more subtle than outright choking the man but I feel like having a dear friend betray him as much as he betrayed them would sting a lot mor #i am firm believer that alastor CAN care if he wanted to #but i must admit i made him a tiny bit ooc here bc i had to tone down his sillies for the mood

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