#this social pressure we put on people to Acknowledge The Awful Thing

[thoughtofadumbteenprotagonist]

“You should be acknowledging this!” “Um, you should all be reblogging this actually” “think about this thing!” “Be aware of this new awful thing happening half way across the globe that you personally have no hope of every impacting in any way whatsoever, but I will word this post like it’s your fault personally!” No, actually. None of these things are my responsibility personally. Yes they’re shitty, yes they shouldn’t be happening, no I’m not going to be guilt tripped into reblogging your inane rant about it all just so someone else can get guilt tripped too.

[ckret2]

One of my favourite things about the book of Bill has to be how hard it has cemented that, for all the airs Bill likes to put on, he's actually awful at manipulating people. Like if you look at the just the show, on the surface his record isn't bad. 2 1/2 successful manipulations out of 3 shown on-screen is solid. ((That is until you examine it further and realize that the 2 successful ones were done to 12 year old children who 1. Weren't exactly in the best states of mind at the time due to severe sleep deprivation/a difficult emotional state and 2. he still had to trick via his power (the fake timer on the laptop/possessing blendin so Mabel didn't know it was him)) But now? Oh man! Ford wasn't just lucky, he joined a tradition dating back all the way to humanities beginnings! Bill has been trying to get people to do his bidding literally since people had gotten good enough at resource-gathering and tool-usage to be able to potentially build his portal! And he failed over and over and over again and he never learned shit! That would be bad enough but not only did he fail at manipulating several civilzations worth of people, they ALSO constantly thwarted him in ways beyond that! He got himself banished, trapped, and annoyed to hell and back and thats just the stuff he told us! Thats not even speaking of his latest and possibly greatest fumble, failing the convince us, the reader of the Book of Bill who is canonically a fan of Bill or at least Gravity Falls into striking a deal with him. In short, if I asked Bill to manipulate a child into eating ice cream with just his words I wouldn't trust him to get it done within my or the kids life time.

Except, Bill IS good at manipulating people. You JUST DESCRIBED several examples of him being good at manipulating people.

Identifying the most vulnerable targets, the "weakest link" most likely to cave and do what you want—like children (or elderly people with dementia, or immigrants who don't understand the language well)—is part of being good at manipulation.

Identifying and taking advantage of people in a compromised mental state when they're not thinking clearly and are more likely to do what you want is part of being good at manipulation. (He didn't try to persuade Mabel to destroy the laptop, BECAUSE HE KNEW DIPPER WAS MORE VULNERABLE. He didn't approach Dipper or Ford dressed as Blendin—BECAUSE HE KNEW MABEL WAS MORE VULNERABLE.)

Just straight up lying to people—about a situation (the timer), about a person (Blendin)—is a manipulation tactic.

Fabricating a totally artificial emergency and pressuring a target to ACT NOW to prevent disaster is a common con artist trick. (See: scammers who cold call strangers, say they're from the IRS and the stranger is behind on taxes, and demand they transfer a large amount of money from their bank RIGHT NOW or go to jail—WHICH ACTUALLY WORKS A LOT, especially because people CAN'T THINK AS CLEARLY when they're panicking.)

Disguising yourself as somebody trustworthy or somebody intimidating to trick a target into obeying you is also a common con artist trick.

Not to mention ALL the work we see into how he manipulates Ford: he makes note of Ford's social isolation and how Bill can use that to his advantage; he identifies the thing Ford wants most (respect & acknowledgment for his intellectual achievements) and weaves that into his manipulation; he uses both Ford's ego AND Ford's insecurity against him; he almost effortlessly turns Ford against the one friend who adores him, making Ford think his friend's kindest attempts to help are evidence of backstabbing; and even though ultimately it didn't work, you can't say that threatening to destroy Ford's life from inside his own body was a BAD manipulation tactic.

Plus the entire muse schtick. Fooling people into thinking you're doing something magical or supernatural is such a common manipulation tactic that there's a whole name for it: "mystical manipulation." Bill does this NON STOP with Ford, and with many of his other victims.

We see him successfully talk an entire tribe into helping him build a working redwood portal—and they only turned against him when the portal started petrifying people, unleashing monsters, and creating bottomless pits. He talked the Aztecs into sacrificing 9,000 people to build a portal that didn't even work. He talked not-Disney into making a cartoon about Bill that included UNLEASHING LIVE BEES IN THE THEATER. Who the hell would think that's a good idea!

And to top it all off, he formed multiple successful cults that were ride or die for him until the bitter end. That's like the crown jewel of being good at manipulating. Bill talked a whole town into joining his cult in under a month in spite of the fact that he kept calling them plasma bags and chugging formaldehyde. Based on the dates in the document about Silas Birchtree, people were marrying into Ciphertology at least five years after Bill's puppet disintegrated and he ditched them.

Bill was good at manipulating people!

Do you know what Bill WASN'T good at? Getting people to finish and open a portal.

Largely because portals are difficult to make, and because he can only get so far into the process before it becomes obvious that this thing will destroy the world and that's usually enough to override any other threats or promises he makes.

Yeah, he says some stupid things that should obviously give him away—like talking about setting off all the nukes. He's kinda pathetic and a bit of a dumbass sometimes. But, here's the thing about successful manipulators, con artists, and cult leaders: MOST of them are kinda pathetic dumbasses. Cult leaders are idiots. There's a cult leader who preached his followers should be on minimal vegetarian diets, had his chauffeur take him out to a big fancy steak dinner, then told his chauffeur he did that to test his faith—and the chauffeur was like well okay. Cult leaders are idiots, AND YET SUCCEED. When Bill says you can get anyone to hum along with your tune if you've got charisma? He's right—that's true in real life.

Manipulators get away with manipulation not because they tell such brilliant impeccable lies that the most clear-headed rational person in the world would believe them... but because they know to tell their lies to people who aren't clear-headed and rational, and because they know using cheap tricks and false identities and lies that the victim WANTS to be true works better than a flawless story, and because they know most people tend to give other people the benefit of the doubt that what they're saying is probably true.

So yeah, he's too cocky, he's a bit pathetic, he lost a lot, he loses at the end of the book... but that doesn't mean he's a bad manipulator. It means that being good at manipulating can only carry you so far, and Bill didn't have what it takes to carry him the rest of the way.

[housethemd]

Lines In The Sand/Autistic House Headcanons pt. 2

This episode left a lot of us confused. What exactly were we supposed to take from it. Is House autistic or not? Well I think yes, and here’s why:

The biggest confusing component is of course Wilson’s little monologue at the end where he tells House “You aren’t autistic, you don’t even have Aspergers, you just wish you did.” I think that Wilson says this not because it’s true, but because House doesn’t want his autism to be common knowledge.

Think about it. Wilson literally uses the “House probably has autism” argument to get House his carpet back, right before he says this. I think Wilson knows for a fact that House has autism.

I feel like House would probably never volunteer the information, but after a couple years of friendship Wilson, being a doctor himself who would have at one point done a psych rotation, starts putting together all of House’s “quirks” (picky about food, always moving/playing with things, doesn’t quite make eye contact, social issues) and finally asks “Have you ever considered you might have autism?”

And House just scoffs and says “Took you long enough. I thought you were a doctor?” Even though he was panicking a little because his father scared him into thinking that he had to keep his diagnosis a secret when he was a child.

But Wilson just quietly accommodates him. They never talk about it, but Wilson learns over the years the best ways to support House. He also realizes that House is quietly terrified of people knowing he’s autistic.

So Wilson implies to Cuddy that House might be autistic to get House what he needs, but then turns around and in full view of the hospital, says House doesn’t have it, that he’s just an ass. It’s easy to throw people off the scent because people want to believe he’s just an ass (and lets be honest, House is autistic and an ass.)

I headcanon that after work that night Wilson comes over for pizza and a movie and while House is standing at the island getting his food he says,

“Thanks for… you know, today.” It’s spoken quietly, without looking up from his plate.

“We wouldn’t want you to lose your mystique.” Wilson replies, because he knows that House acknowledging what happened is a big deal and getting to serious about it would make him uncomfortable.

House laughs and smiles at Wilson’s joke.

“House, can I give you a hug?” Wilson asks.

He always asks, knows House needs to prepare for the sensation. He hadn’t understood at first, but once House described being touched unexpectedly as eliciting the same sensation as nails on a chalkboard does, that god awful shiver down your body that takes so long to go away. Wilson knows how awful that is, and never wants to make House feel like that.

House nods his consent, and Wilson is coming up behind House to wrap his arms around his arms and chest and squeeze him tight. Wilson knows the best way to hug House: come from behind so it doesn’t bother his face, arms around his chest, and nice and tight so he feels the pressure he loves so much. They stay like that for a few moments before House is pulling away, claiming they’ll miss the start of their show if they don’t go out to the living room now.

Wilson smiles to himself, happy that House trusts him enough to share this part of himself with him.

[linnorabeifong]

Just Thinking

With everything Lin’s been through I’m surprised she never had an Azula-esque mental breakdown.

This woman had an absent father, a neglectful mother, basically had to raise her sister because Toph wouldn’t then got her face sliced open by said sister. Her sister leaves after that and then her mom leaves about (guessing here) a year or so afterwords and just hangs out in a swamp. She joins the police to impress her mother and goes on to become the chief and her mom still doesn’t care.

Her job is immensely stressful, her friends are across the world ( Izumi is in the fire nation, Kya is traveling, Bumi is in the UF) and she gets left by Tenzin (who she’s probably known and been friends with since infancy) for a younger woman.

Presumably there would also be the pressure of the Beifong name and title and the maintenance of the estate after her grandparents die because I don’t see Toph handling that. Additionally all of her mentors either die or move away from the city (Aang dies, Sokka dies, Zuko is in the fire nation, Katara moves to the south) . Obviously we know from the show she handles her emotions poorly and bottles them up. We also know that she’s kind of socially-awkward at times like Azula.

Then we get into the issues of each season. RC already has organized crime that she has to fight to take down then the avatar lands on her door step and destroys public property and agitates the equalist situation. Then Lin looses her job which she has dedicated her entire life to. Outside of her job she doesn’t have a lot going for her. Then she sacrifices herself to save the family of the guy that cheated on her and looses her bending in the process. That must be soul crushing and no one shows up to save her or support her in her time of need.

Season two she has to deal with the attacks in RC and deal with her detective being falsely accused and then with the spirit vines overtaking her city.

Season Three she has to protect the avatar from a terrorist group and is forced to see her sister after thirty years. This experience is obviously super overwhelming for her and then she’s pressured into meeting all these new people (our girl is an introvert). Additionally the stress of her job is physically taking a toll on her as seen throughout the episode. She goes to get acupuncture which resurfaces all of her old painful memories and then when she has an outburst ( understandable she’s going through a lot) everyone is mad at her. ( I have so much more to say about this but I don’t want this post to be a novel) . The battle with the Red Lotus: she was nearly killed and she watched P’Li die. that had to be gory. Even if Lin has seen a lot of death that’s a VERY gruesome way to go.

Season four is obviously stressful for her but there’s particular instances that stick out here: Toph hiding who her dad was just to go and tell Bolin ( this must’ve been so immensely hurtful for Lin: think about it she didn’t even know her dad was from the fire nation until her mom casually told Bolin, that means Lin went fifty four years not even knowing her ethnicity ) . But also the way that after everything Toph’s done she’s just expected to forgive her ? And Lin is so incredibly self-sacrificing that she just swallows her own feelings and does.

Here are the things that really irk me the most

Circling back to season three: “Bitter loner who only cares about herself. No wonder Tenzin ended things with you years ago”

Wow, just wow this is so genuinely awful. But also untrue. Lin has made so many sacrifices, she’s put her life on the line multiple times for Korra and had her bending ripped away from her while protecting Korra.

Bringing up Tenzin was a low blow and so immature of Su.

Lin is so forgiving and no one appreciates her or acknowledges the tremendous amount of pain they put her in.

Also Lin has massive scars on her face. She has to see those every day. That has to take a toll on her self esteem. Not only that they look painful and deep. For all we know she could have sensitivity or be completely numb in that area.

This pisses me off the most: Toph could feel everything through the vines apparently so that means she knew when Lin lost her bending but she didn’t show up for her. Realizing this broke my heart for Lin.

In conclusion Lin has been through a lot. She is traumatized. Yeah she’s grumpy and she has outbursts and she cries in the Zafou episodes but none of this feels like a proportional response to everything she’s been through . I don’t think she as a character can heal until she really processes things and lets it all out but all we see is her continuing to work and heap more pressure on herself. That isn’t sustainable and eventually will create consequences much worse than what we’ve already seen.

I see parallels between her and Azula ( I won’t get into it) and with the strained relationship Lin has with Toph I could see her having an Azula-moment.

Thanks for listening to my disorganized thoughts .

[furiousgoldfish]

How do I decide a career field?

I mean my entire self esteem, self worth and self confidence is destroyed. I hate myself. I don’t think I’m capable of doing anything. I like art, even though it’s very hard for me to do I’m pushing myself to explore as much as I can. I am thinking of going into data analysis but it’s so overwhelmingly scary for me.

I have an MD, but i can’t pursue it because of my mental health issues.

Okay so I might not be the best person to talk about this, because I figured out that career just isn't important to me when I'm just trying to survive, so I don't think any field is worth chasing or putting effort into, for me at least! Job is just something that gives you the means to get survival resources and that is it.

Otherwise I really relate to what you're saying, I also don't feel like I'd be good at any field, don't feel like I'm made for anything and can't see myself doing anything specialized seriously. It's also very difficult to choose a field when you've never gotten to try bunch of things, never had experience doing stuff and you don't really know what you'd enjoy, what you like, or at least what doesn't feel too stressful, overwhelming and impossible.

It's incredibly impressive that you have a MD, that alone signifies great endurance, persistence and intelligence on your part, and it's awful that mental health issues prevent you from doing anything related to it (I feel the same tho, my degree is in the closet, never seen or used at all lol)

I think the best way to decide is to talk to people who work in various fields and ask them what their day-to-day work is like, and figure out where you see yourself, where you fall in easily, or at least what seems doable, not too stressful, not overwhelming. What doesn't make you hate yourself. I'm just doing cleaning but I couldn't be more pleased because it's very obvious when I've done well and it's so low stakes that pretty much nothing can go wrong. Nobody ever complains either. In fact yesterday I got a text message from a client saying I did amazing, I mean that kind of stuff is ideal to my mental state.

I think we're raised to believe that our career needs to be something very significant, something that creates a place for us in the world, the proof that we're useful to society and that we made something out of ourselves! We need to show off our success and our identity needs to be tied to what we do. And we need to be good at it and make a difference in the world with it.

Well in the current capitalistic climate, this is bullshit. The only socially useful jobs are the ones which get no recognition, no social acceptance, no praise, no acknowledgment, in fact you're looked down upon if you just do manual jobs that are incredibly necessary to keep the society going.

The jobs where you can reach high success and high paycheck - are the ones that make rich people richer, and that is not what I'm about. I mean it's not what anyone really wants to do, but it's the only thing that is considered successful and admirable, and I hate it, don't want to participate in it, makes me want to run away from capitalism.

And also it's a myth that you need to be really good at your job because people do bad jobs constantly and get paid and they don't feel bad at all, lots are bad on purpose and use their jobs to do evil, and get away with it, so there's no pressure to be perfect at your job. If it gets done thats all that matters.

So if you can find anything that just fulfills the purpose of getting your survival resources to you, go for it. If you feel like data analysis is what makes you pleased and happy, go for that. If art makes you feel good, you can do that too! You don't have to have only one job, you can change jobs multiple times during your life, it doesn't need to define who you are, you are not here to serve the society, you're here to survive and you can do your job for yourself only. It's supposed to serve you, not the other way around. You don't exist only to do your job. You exist to be safe, and happy, and fulfilled, and safe. A job is supposed to do this for you, and it doesn't matter which one, as long as you're not being tormented by stress and fear, it's fine.

So what I'm trying to say, the world should not pressure you into making a quick decision, you should take your time trying out stuff and finding what works for you, and what doesn't make you feel awful about yourself. And also if it helps, everyone has a sort of a low confidence when only starting! Everyone is bad at everything when they're starting. Confidence will come with experience, when you see yourself getting better at something trough the years, you will get a chance to gather some faith in yourself and know you're doing well. You can follow any interest you have, regardless of how well or bad you're at it, as long as it can secure you some income. It's okay to be bad at first too because everyone is kinda bad at first.

Also, I've seen some people incredibly confident in their work while doing an awful job at it, it was pretty scary. Like they were doing active harm to society and didn't understand how anything actually worked but boasted about how capable they are because they were picking up a high paycheck. When I think there's people like that, and then others are worried about not being good at anything, it makes me stunned. I truly believe that no matter what you do, you'll never do as much harm as some high-paid people out there.

I hope you don't have a horrible time deciding anon! It's a difficult spot in life for anyone, so don't worry if it takes a bit of time or if you choose something and then quit, it just brings you a step closer to what you actually like doing, and it's a good thing to try things out and pick out the one that works best for you.

[team7-headquarter]

On wasted years of teenage girls and what's beyond them:

A Sakura Haruno quick character study.

⠀

⠀Ignoring Kishimoto's possible implications or even his intentions for the character, I think one of the coolest facts about Sakura is that she wasted so many of her Academy years in superficial stuff.

And you'd say: “How is that good? Or cool?”

Listen, most 12 years old have their lives figured out. They don't have a clear path to follow, they haven't lived a traumatic experience that altered completely their core and the paths they'd follow for the rest of their lives. They don't attach their personal growth or maturity process to stuff like revenge or proving to my homeplace that I, a 12 years old kid, deserve basic human treatment.

There are kids like that, of course. Kids like Naruto and Sasuke, like Neji and Rock Lee, like Itachi and Kakashi and so many other kids that worked hard for years to become strong in their system 'cause they knew what they wanted, needed even.

⠀

But pre-teen girls with a relatively normal life?

⠀You mean to tell me it's not common for them to fall prey of the social obsession over physical appearance? Specially little girls who were bullied for not being up to the standard, girls who crave attention from someone well-liked or popular because that would make them worthy or visible to the others. The reason they are so many books and movies and stories about how awful is to be a teenage girl, is not for fun. The expectations are crushing: from your parents, from society, from the people at power even.

And if you were one of this girls, only to wake up one day after a reality check, let me tell you it hits you so, so hard. You'd obsess over the lost time, terrified it's too late, you'll never be able to catch up with the others. You fell into the trap and now it's game over. Except is not, but no one will ever stop reminding you of that mistake you made.

Even if it was on a period of your life when things were changing so fast you could barely follow the flow of it all. Your body was changing, hormones betraying you. You were expected to be sincere but not overly vulnerable and be pretty but not superficial and be joyful but not annoying and be quiet but not utterly submissive and— you get it.

⠀

⠀My favorite part is that Sakura, a late bloomer, never gave up on herself. For all the people who wasted years of their life caring so much about things that didn't matter at all in the end, Sakura is good representation of what it feels to try and recover. Honey, you can still achieve your dream. Stop beating yourself up, stop destroying yourself over mistake you knew because you didn't know better. You know better now, don't you?

It's not gonna be easy, but you can still work for it, go for it, train for it, you can change. Humans are allowed to change. If you had a slow start, if you found your purpose years after you were expected too, if you find it hard to understand what to do or even understand yourself, if you crumbled under the pressure, if you weren't as strong willed or if you didn't have it as bad as others, breath, it's okay, don't punish yourself any further.

⠀

⠀And it brings me to the question of why do we confuse obsession with passion. Why do we turn innocent actions into something with ill intentions?

Naruto was passionate about being Hokage the same way Sasuke was passionate about revenge. Sasuke's thing wasn't negative before Orochimaru put in his head that he was wasting time. Sakura was passionate about getting recognition from Sasuke at first, which is not so different from Naruto wanting recognition from the village or Sasuke wanting his brother to acknowledge him.

And it was not until the Forest of Death that she realized she doesn't want recognition of that type anymore. That's the symbolism behind her cutting her hair. She wants Naruto and Sasuke to see her as someone they can truly trust in, as an equal not in terms of power, but as reliable teammates. There she shows that she has grown to the point she cares about them both, about what both of them think of her, about their well-being and approval as her friends. She's done wasting time, and even when we see she's every inch as weak as she was before, what changes is her actitud.

⠀

⠀If you read her interactions with this in mind, it makes more sense.

In the beginning of the Chunnin Exams, Kakashi makes sure she will participate for herself and not her teammates. She does. And Kakashi's worries are confirmed twice, when she almost raised her hand after the writing exam because she was concerned about Naruto and when she almost raised her hand after the Forest of Death, because she was concerned about Sasuke. She wanted to be there but she was willing to give it up if it was to protect her teammates dreams or well-being.

She tries to stop Sasuke from leaving the village because that's her first big loss. That's her first time facing a tragedy. It is traumatic, just not so big when compared to her team experiences. But she just realized how much they mean to her and how much she wants to be better for them and now it's over, too late, too late, too late.

She asks Naruto to retrieve Sasuke because she does know she was weak, she wasted her time, she should be better. And when Naruto comes back so beaten, she swears next time she will be able to go with him. At least strong enough to be considered to go on the mission, to be considered useful enough, skillful enough.

Her reason to train with Tsunade is because she wants to be capable of resisting the conditions of a fight. Being a medic nin made her irreplaceable, being a combat medic nin gave her the freedom of following her team around and withstanding more than the common medic nin.

She fights Sasori and learns mid-fight to deal with him without Chiyo'd help, all not just for Gaara, but for a clue of Sasuke's whereabouts. And she got it. In that sense, she reached her goal in that moment. She proved she had it in her.

⠀

⠀From there on, it was a struggle. Almost every decision she made, it was thinking of how she could help or what was (wrongly assumed) her responsibility to her team.

She confessed to Naruto her fake love because she believed it was her responsibility, when it was not. Naruto's feelings were their own, his promise to take Sasuke back to Konoha maybe started with her, but became his own quickly. She didn't have to lie to him and to herself in order to fix only temporally a situation that would get out of their hands anyway. Was it something awful to do? Yes. Was she wrong? Yes. Should it be excused? No. But there is a reason to her actions.

She tried to kill Sasuke because she thought she had a responsibility to him as her teammate (to stop him from descending more into darkness), to Naruto as her teammate and friends (to spare him of the hurt of being the one to kill Sasuke) and to Konoha and the shinobi world (to stop his acts, to put at end to the madness).

When she jumps to their side at war and says she has finally reach them, she means this, the fact she has a reason to stand beside them even if it's not in power or fighting skills. Her invocation is as useful as theirs, she's the best medic nin available so she needs to go with them, even if only for a second or even if only on one thing, she can still do something for them. Let it be keeping Naruto's heart beating, or giving Obito chakra to keep his Mangekyou running longer to find Sasuke, or hit Kaguya in the head so Naruto and Sasuke can seal her.

She even says it. If with her life she can help them at least a little, if she can change things to their favor at least a little, if she can heal them at least a little, she'd be satisfied with that.

⠀

⠀Isn't it amazing that the girl who wasted her Academy years in being pretty and spend years upon years trying to be accepted by society, a girl so weak and helpless, became a woman capable of helping so many people. Someone strong and reliable, top on her field, compared to the best of the kunoichis. She didn't know what she wanted in life at 12 years old (she rambled nonsense when Kakashi asked), but when she finally figured out, she didn't stop until achieving it.

And I think that's good, right there. I don't like how the story execute this concept, I don't like how certain things were portrayed, but it makes sense when you consider her core as a character.

I love her going from true zero, (just knowledge, stuff anyone could adquire with proper studying), to the top. I love that she had a bad beginning, that she was annoying and naive and ignorant, that she had so much room for growth and she did grow into it. Kishimoto's writing aside, I'll give him this: Sakura is a needed character in the plot and he gave her the necessity for being a great character. He just,,,,, well, like he said it himself, he struggled a lot with her, writing her, portraying her properly. And it'll forever show.

[adapembroke]

Leo and the Lonely Child

We all participate in all of the archetypes. Your astrology may emphasize some archetypes more than others, but you have every sign and every planet somewhere in your natal chart. They are there for you to access in the moments when you need to put on an unfamiliar archetype like a cloak. 

Maybe you’re normally gentle and kind, but when your child is in danger, you step up and become the Warrior. Maybe you’re literal and blunt until you find yourself awed by a beautiful sunset, and, for a few moments, you have the mind of the Poet. You have been the Child, the Student, the Lover, the Witness. If you live a long, full life, you will be the Elder, too. 

Why is Leo the Child archetype?

Becoming a mom has taught me a lot about Leo and the Child archetype. My daughter doesn’t have any planets in Leo, but she is full of Leo energy. She loves to perform. When we applaud, she shines like a star. She loves clapping so much, she randomly drops what she’s doing periodically to initiate a clapping break. Whenever we pass the photo collage in the hall, she asks to stop and point at all the people she knows. And she points at herself the most.  Mostly, we see Leo the Child in her, but she has moments of quiet dignity when she reminds me that Leo is the King and the Child simultaneously, and it’s not because putting on airs is childish.

Children are associated with the Leo archetype because Leo is the part of us that needs to be seen and recognized by the people we care about. Children cannot thrive without attention. Psychological studies have demonstrated that children need attention as much as they need food. Neglected infants get sick. They develop poorly. They could even die.  

The Still-face experiment established that even a few moments with a parent who is present but doesn’t engage is profoundly distressing to infants. The child tries to get attention. If that doesn’t change their parent’s behavior, they cry. If the parent doesn’t respond to crying, the child tries to escape. If escape isn’t possible, the child withdraws into themselves. If a parents’ neglect becomes habitual, the child’s withdrawal becomes habitual, too. 

For a long time, we didn’t know about the importance of attention for children. Children were expected to be seen but not heard. Making an infant “cry it out” when they needed attention at night was supposed to teach them resilience. We’ve come a long way in our understanding of human development, and it is becoming popularly understood that neglect is abuse.

It’s one thing to acknowledge that a child needs attention to thrive, but adults are expected to outgrow the need for attention. It’s acceptable to talk about having an inner child as long as that means embracing playfulness and creativity, but adults are pressured to behave as if expressions of love from the people around us don’t matter to us.

Leo is a silent rebuke of this narrative. It is controversial because it constantly reminds us that human beings are not solitary creatures. We need each other. We need the physical presence of others around us because our ancestors found safety in numbers, but we have social needs that are just as important as our physical needs. We need love and attention from our community to thrive. 

The Sun Is a Lonely Star

“Community” doesn’t come up often in conversations about Leo. Leo is ruled by the sun, and so descriptions of Leo tend to revolve around solar metaphors. 

The sun is our star, the center of the solar system. Its light is the source of all life. Its gravity holds all the planets and comets and asteroids in its orbit. It rules alone at the center of everything. 

Because of these stories we tell about the sun, Leo is commonly seen as needing to be in the center of things. Leo needs to rule–or believe that it rules. It is endlessly self-referential, unable to cooperate with others. The people in Leo’s orbit are so small, Leo is barely able to perceive them at all. 

There are people like this. Otherwise, these myths about Leo wouldn’t survive, but that kind of behavior isn’t what Leo is. It isn’t even the whole story of what the sun is. Since the discovery of Sedna in 2003, the scientific consensus has shifted, and we’ve learned the sun may have something to do with community after all. 

The Discovery of Sedna and the Sun’s Missing Family

Around the turn of the 21st century, astronomer Mike Brown was convinced that there were planets beyond Pluto. This was a heretical belief for an astronomer to have at the time. Scientists had looked at all the possible places where planets could exist according to the current working theories at the time, but he suspected there was something they were missing. 

He started looking in impossible places, and it was in one of those impossible places that he found the dwarf planet Sedna in 2003. 

Confronted with the existence of an impossible planet, the scientific community came together to rewrite their models to make Sedna’s existence possible. In the end, they concluded that Sedna could only exist if the sun hadn’t always been alone. 

The best theory we have for Sedna’s existence is that the solar system was formed in the sun’s infancy. In those days, the sun was part of a nursery of stars who danced with each other. Over time, the sun’s family drifted apart, but Sedna was close to the other stars in the nursery. She still flies out into space–halfway to the next star!--pulled by the gravity of the sun’s lost family. 

Today, the sun stands alone, surrounded by acolytes but alone without peers. Because of its position, we projected stories of kingship onto it. We assumed that it stood alone because its power had pushed all its rivals away. It never occurred to us that the sun could be lonely. 

What if the sun is a neglected child, shining in the dark alone. What if Sedna is the sun’s emissary, searching for the sun’s missing siblings? 

Leo Is Always Looking For Friends

The discipline of astrology is a celebration of the subjective. The empty circle in the center of your birth chart is waiting for you to step into it. When an astrologer reads your chart, they are stepping into the circle with you, helping you see more clearly how reality looks from your unique perspective. 

For as long as humanity can remember, we have used the sky as a mirror. We told stories about the stars that were really stories about ourselves. But astrology is not a human-centered monologue. The universe is alive, and the sky talks back to us. The stars and planets reveal themselves in unexpected ways, showing us our assumptions and biases, expanding our understanding of ourselves and others. 

As a narrative astrologer, I believe it’s an important part of my job to celebrate the subjectivity of astrology. When I write about astrology, I am not presenting the absolute objective truth. I am merely describing the world as I see it. Every astrologer is doing the same. 

Because I write this way, I have attracted a lot of clients with birth charts that are similar to mine. I have a Leo ascendant, so I spend a lot of time talking with Leos. What I have learned from my work with Leos is that the people who live on a stage blinded by their own brilliance either aren’t that common or they don’t have much use for astrology. I rarely meet egotistical, self-confident Leos who have no use for anyone but themselves. 

It is much more common for people with strong Leo placements to feel like lonely children, left alone in their crib to cry in the dark. They may shine. They may be natural performers, but those qualities are the least of their concern. What they want more than anything is to belong in a constellation of stars, to dance and play with the others forever. 

This is the reason why it is so important for Leo to find the others, to not waste time on people who don’t appreciate them. It isn’t because of some ill-conceived need for worship. It is because the need for the others who love us is real. Without friends, the sun is a lonely child, abandoned and alone with no reason to shine.

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[mamabeatnik]

Separation of Church & Fate

This year apparently has been about learning self-validation. 

I started school this year, and turns out - I’m not dumb and i’m really good at time management, unlike what i was telling myself. 

I was diagnosed with Autism and ADHD (combined type) at the very start of the year, and it turns out those are fuckin REAL and so are the issues they bring to my life. I’m not just a lazy asshole, like i was telling myself.

It’s also been about recognizing old patterns and navigating the essential inner growth. 

Why do i feel these things about myself? Why is my self-confidence destroyed this year? I KNOW i’m not bad, or dumb, or manipulative, and that i am always putting effort into growth within relationships and myself. I like to ask questions because i’m genuinely curious and i want to know what people think and i like to solve problems in ways that benefit everyone. 

So where am i getting this negative self feed-back loop? And why was it missing for a few years but suddenly has come back full-strength?

Turns out that the negative thought patterns i allowed to creep in are not actually my sentiments at all. They’re the reflections of very difficult years in harsh environments built up over time, strengthened by the perceived notions of people who have no fucking clue what’s actually going on. My inner awful dialogue wasn’t something i struggled with as a kid, until the church came along. This would be partially a product of simply being a child, but also being an AUTISTIC child. Most children are who they are, they like who they are, and they don’t realize that there’s anything wrong with them until someone doesn’t like them or misunderstands them. Essentially, all children are taught to be self-conscious and learn that they are ‘weird’ or ‘bad’ or ‘dumb” from social peers and triggered adults and the cycle starts there.

This is true tenfold for autistic children. 

Up until the point I was introduced into a society that isn’t built to include me, i had no frame of reference to believe that i was any better or worse than anyone else. I was ME. I liked being me, until i encountered a religious environment that told me i must acknowledge that i’m a bad person in order to participate and get any social ‘perks’ with my club membership (my father also told me i was 'stupid', an 'idiot', and 'dumb' on a daily basis but that's a story for another time).

This seemed arbitrary. Listening to someone preach love and forgiveness every Sunday while also casting hellish aspersions on non-club members, sanctioning domestic abuse and violence, subjugating their female members, and publicly flogging and banishing members who didn’t adhere to the exact script - none of it made sense. It sure seemed everyone was getting away with something, but because they’d stamped God’s name on it, it wasn’t hypocritical. 

My blood would boil, my blood pressure would rise, and I would daydream about stabbing myself in the neck with my pen, listening to these men preach on and on and on. Which didn’t seem constructive or conducive to personal growth. I wanted to get rid of that part of me that spent the mornings in the pew viscerally angry. Because, as i was being told, the problem was ME. 

I started asking genuine questions because i was confused how such GOOD people could be so hypocritical and lack so much self-awareness. Why would these men tell my mom she had to stay with a man who pushed her down stairs and beat her children and why would they say God wants it? Why would they take it upon themselves to discipline grown adults like they were children and treat children like livestock to “train”. Why would there be a spiritual entity that wants any of this? 

These aren’t ground-breaking questions that should shake the very foundations of a sturdy, well-built religious faith that’s predicated on genuine love and forgiveness. If we were truly involved in the spiritual practice this cult claimed we were, there would be inclusiveness. Kindness. 

Support. 

Grey areas. 

Honest and difficult conversations. 

The ability to share your experiences and have them be received with curiosity and understanding. 

There would be space for mistakes, apologies, and proper conflict resolution. 

Turns out, this was too ideal and not the environment in which i found myself. I quickly learned that asking tough questions and trying to have a dialogue relegated me to the status of “questionable” and “dangerous” - even if I took accountability and apologized. I didn’t understand that. 

Years later, i realized i’d already been marked as dangerous by this community when i was 8. And while it sounds too self-victimizing to be true - it was simply because I shared some info and asked a question. 

My father’s anger was ramping up. He had started taking it out on my mom in physical abuse form, and if i stepped in, it was my turn. Being a problem solver, i figured sharing this info with some older girls at the church might yield positive results. Perhaps their dad could say something to mine. What actually happened was difficult to process. 

The girls went to their mother, who went to my mother. I was pulled aside and reprimanded by this other woman for sharing personal family info and instructed never to do it again. She had dragged my mother over with her and lectured both of us on…something - probably encouraging us to get our feminine tongues under control. Years later, this woman’s husband would recommend that my beaten mother skip the divorce she so badly needed on the premise that God likes faithful and submissive wives. But that's another story.

So this is where I learned that my naturally questioning and problem-spotting brain was THE problem. If you see something suspicious, you will get swatted. If you ask questions, you will be banished. If you speak up for yourself, you will be punished. It doesn’t matter how obvious the problem is, how kindly you try to say it - it doesn’t matter if you’re not contributing to the dialogue in a way that sweeps things under the rug and bolsters the bullshit. 

I had assumed this was only an issue within church structure. Once i left, the pattern seemed to resolve itself. A non-religious social hierarchy built on the same non-friction and passive double-standard principles didn’t seem like it should exist. 

Unfortunately, au contraire. 

This year was about learning that people everywhere feel attacked when you suggest something in the social structure is off and try to have a dialogue about it. In a less aggressive sense, this situation mimicked the one from my childhood - misrepresentation, misunderstanding, an entire group of people telling me i was wrong and insecure, and several others clinging to the idea that i tried to control their lives.

(lol - why are they pretending i have that much power)

The difference this time was that i'm now an adult. I have endless experience being treated this way for asking questions.

i also now know that people - esp women - on the spectrum are treated socially poorly bc they're easy targets due to our trusting nature and our communication disability and inability to understand or be passive aggressive. So we are labeled confrontational and aggressive. Dramatic and rude. This time around, I can observe it from a more secure vantage point. i don't have to let it rule my life or destroy my self-confidence. Or convince me that my intentions are bad or my perspective invalid. I can simply remove this dynamic from my life altogether. I can stand up and leave that pew behind.

What surprised me wasn't that i was encountering these accusations of being dangerous again. What surprised me was that it was a social structure of people in their 30s, who should know better. What surprised me was that the church structure i'd worked so hard to leave behind exists alive and well, but on a social level.

Certain social groups it turns out, can  also be built on rules and certain ways of doing things. None of this is the more ‘correct’ way, it’s just become whatever is easy and more acceptable by a majority. There’s even a game element to it - and as long as you play by the rules and don’t upset anyone - even if their behavior has negatively impacted you - you have a club membership! Don’t rock the boat! Please be sensitive to others but the minute you ask them to be sensitive of you, it could end poorly for you and only you! If you have a mental breakdown because of years of hiding an unknown disability, you will be accused of trying to take advantage of someone financially! You're not a partner! You suck! This social construct hates consequences, but we definitely have some for YOU!

This provides a nice set-up for people that lack self-awareness or good intentions - or have yet to sort through their negative patterns of behavior. People who aren’t BAD per se, but also aren’t trying to grow or take accountability. Charismatic people who charm the pants off friends but gaslight and stonewall their partner behind closed doors. People who haven’t learned conflict resolution. People who don’t understand boundaries. People who are blind to the fact that most of society functions around using your friends to get the attention and validation you want rather than learning to get it from yourself. And these don’t make them bad people. No one is perfect, and we all have blind spots and struggles. 

The distinction lies in whether or not they’re willing to accept responsibility and pay attention when someone shares negative feedback or says “hey…i think we have a problem.”  The only bad person is someone who makes a mistake and does not apologize or learn from it, but chooses defensiveness and projection instead (at the end of the day, that will affect THEM negatively the most). No one likes to hear they’re wrong or fucking it up, but it’s a necessary part of being a human if we want to grow and improve. It’s a personal pattern to break. Humans are here to communicate and help each other.

Reliving an experience adjacent to my church upbringing as an adult has been eye-opening.  This year, i realized this is where my personal responsibility to breaking this pattern as an Autistic person comes in. Because of the autism, I will be dealing with this in some form for the rest of my life. The pattern contains many things - my participation, my willingness to trust that most people have good intentions and want to be better and will listen when someone speaks up, my effort to fit in with everyone else, my desire for connection. In certain environments, these expectations will be true. Recreating my experience as a child of witnessing fishy behavior, boundaries being crossed, and trying to step in for someone that was not my responsibility was my fault. I willingly chose to do this. That's my shit to work through.

And while it is not up to me to accept the blame for how people respond or their behavior, my responsibility, in order to avoid putting myself in these witch-hunt situations, is to learn how to recognize in which environments asking questions and solving problems is accepted, and to pursue relationships within those. Because, based on how my brain works and my communication style, no matter how much responsibility I take for my side of the street, other people will find some sort of problem with how I am.

However, I can complain about how i’m being treated for speaking up for myself all i want, but if i truly want growth and a healthy environment, i’ll stop choosing social spaces that label me as insecure and controlling, and i’ll stop choosing people who play the victim and misrepresent me and gossip.

If i am in a place where i cannot open dialogues with people and learn and grow with them, then i must seize the opportunity to trust myself, my intuition, and my emotions. Time to practice the self-validation that i have struggled so much with over the years and learn the warning signs of this particular pattern, so that i don't have to play this game again. i can validate my own experiences. I can seek environments where deconstruction of social norms is encouraged, and where my question-asking brain isn't THE problem.

Because if all it takes is one person challenging the "way it's always been" to topple a social or religious structure and wreak havoc, then what was that foundation built on? Certainly something that was already false and unsustainable to begin with. If the structure of whatever i'm questioning is truly sound, it shouldn't result in defensiveness and fear and gossip. It should add to foundations and be embraced as another unique nail that holds it up.

In a sense, I'm grateful to be confronted with this strange dynamic again. These experiences teach me how NOT to be. I don't want to live my life unable to take responsibility and unable to embrace different points of view. That's where we lose growth and accountability and stay the same. That's how we are adults with a child's conflict resolution skills. That's how we tell ourselves that our point of view is THE one and we harm and ignore the others.

Be respectful. Speak up for yourself. Ask questions. Point out problems. And if people don't like it, that's their problem.

[watchinglikeafangirl]

The eclipse ep 10 4/4 - Akk fails

It was probably the most intense the eclipse has ever felt like. All the teachers keep on oppressing the students and expect everyone to go on with their usual life. Change is not accepted and it's actually something Akk himself lacks of acknowledging. He doesn't like change as well, struggles to recognize it as something good which is why Aye has to literally insist on being Akk's boyfriend.

The scene in the classroom felt especially aweful. It was the most non-educational I have ever seen. Picking someone out in front of the whole class and telling them their performance is lacking, is very immature at this point. For Akk, it's aweful because he can't really say anything without having eyes on him. It is socially stressful. Everybody else in that room just pities him. And the teacher just didn't seek a private talk outside the classroom because there would actually be a logical reason behind his explaination and she fears losing her job over this, over not keeping things in order. We all saw how pressured Teacher Chadok is and with Madam Waree it won't be different. They keep on pressuring each other. Since the teachers are pressured, they pressure the students. It's passed along just like trauma. The teachers feel suffocated and to feel a bit relieved from the stress, they suffocate the kids. It's a toxic hirachy coming from the school board.

So, Akk is called out and yelled at by two teachers, two role models, two people students look up to. The trust is shattered into pieces, Akk is left with nothing because his world trembles and shatters before him. His principles are still right but it's hard to endure if the system hates him now. It's a lot more uncomforting and lonely than anything else. And the eclipse doesn't fail to adress this negative aspect of a rising protest. People suffer, else they wouldn't protest, and the one who believed for a very long time, see the world they knew being erased and showing its true colors. It's very scary and Akk is breaking at this point.

It's mental abuse since both teachers stress social anxiety and depression causing a trauma. Akk suffers the trauma teacher Chadok suffered. Ah, if it wouldn't be so hard to break out of the system...poor Akk.

Both times, Aye is there but it doesn't really help since Akk doesn't feel appreciated. His self-esteem is really low and by just taking his hands, it makes Akk feel like Aye is pitying him like the rest of the classroom. When Chadok yells at Akk, Aye shows up to save him which is also annoying because Akk doesn't want to be saved. He needs to be reassured and saved but he doesn't see it now. He just wants the day to end basically.

We saw before how much pressure Akk puts on himself. He wants everything to stay, he doesn't like change. Whenever there is change, there is loss. His anxiety level is probably pretty high by now, even worse after the teachers scolded him. So yes Akk is slowly breaking. The look he gives Aye shows it all. Close to tears, lost, crying for help and in despair. It's very scary to see a person being so broken. It's why Aye goes completely nuts. He loves Akk, he loved Dika. Those two things combined lead him to raise his voice. But more to that in another post

[dumbass-extraordinaire]

Duck, Duck, Grief

The newly reopened wound on Aubrey’s thigh throbs dully as she limps away from the base of the ruined Mt. Kepler and back towards the gate.  She hears a voice in the back of her mind, the sensible one that sounds a lot like Duck, telling her that walking on an injured leg is a bad idea and that she’s only gonna make it worse.  A louder, more vicious voice tells her she deserves it.  This one doesn’t sound like Duck.  She ignores them both and keeps walking.  The night air is cold, numbing her exposed arms and face.  Aubrey is grateful for it.  Having a body feels like an impossible task right now.  Thinking is out of the question, because thinking means acknowledging everything that just happened- 

(gone all gone all gone he’s gone he’s gone it’s all your fault why couldn’t you heal him useless you didn’t even try you told him to leave he was supposed to leave now he’s gone it’s your fault)

-and she wasn’t ready.  Her head felt like it was stuffed with cotton and her ears were buzzing and it was too cold and she couldn’t breathe-

(he’s on the ground his eyes are open he doesn’t see you he isn’t breathing why isn’t he breathing his hands are cold he is never cold he is always warm warm warm warm smile warm laugh cold)

“Miss, are you okay?  Can you hear me?”

There is a voice above her-

(it is not his voice you will never hear his voice again your fault all your fault dead dead dead)

-the voice continues, but it is not talking to her anymore.

“I think she’s in shock-- Oh god, she’s bleeding, oh that’s real bad, aw jeez,” warm hands grip her arms and lift her to her feet.  She doesn’t remember falling to her knees.  That explains why her leg feels like it’s on fire-

(burning burning the house is on fire there is a man in a mask her dad is on the ground burning)

  She is vaguely aware of being half-carried over to an ambulance.  They sit her down, telling her to put pressure on the wound, wrapping a blanket around her shoulders.  She does this without comment, cannot open her mouth for fear that the words will come tumbling out and never ever stop.  She does not move.

…

Duck and Minerva had just finished taking down the abomination and were making their way over to Leo Tarkesian and Dr. Sarah Drake when they saw the top of Mt. Kepler lift into the air, then came crashing back down, shaking the earth and causing the telescope to creak and sway a little, which in all honesty was really terrifying.

“Jesus fuckin’ Christ!” Duck yelped as the ground shook with the aftershocks of the mountain’s collapse.  He lost his balance but Minerva grabbed his arm to steady him before he could fall over. 

“Duck Newton You Should Be Careful!  Core Strength Is An Integral Part Of Any Hero’s Skill Set!” She exclaimed cheerfully, clapping a hand onto his shoulder with almost as much force as the mountain’s collapse.

“Thanks Minnie,” he wheezed, rubbing his sore shoulder.  Sarah ran up to them, her eyes wide with shock.

“What the hell just happened to the mountain?” she asked, her face pale with fear.

Duck scratched his head.  “Honestly, Sarah?  I got no earthly idea, but we should probably go find out,” he sighed.  “C’mon, we got a ways to go.”

The group of four made their way across the field towards the parking lot, Minerva still giving Leo a piggyback ride on account of his injuries.  When they reached the front gate, Sarah paused and turned to Duck.  She looked as exhausted as he felt.

Running a hand through her hair, she sighed, “As fun as this has been, I think I’ve just about maxed out my daily limit for weird.  If it’s all the same to y’all, I think I’m gonna head on home.”  She points to him, “Don’t think this means I’m gonna let you off the hook about this, mister.  I expect an explanation.”

He salutes her playfully, “Yes, Ma’am.  I’ll have that report on your desk by Monday.”

She smiles and says, “See ya around, Newton,” before turning and walking into the night.

Duck, Minerva, and Leo do the same, making their way to Duck’s government-issued truck.  He chucks the extra broadsword into the truck bed, slings Beacon back around his waist, and slides behind the wheel exhaustedly.  A part of him waits for Aubrey to call shotgun before remembering with a start that she isn’t with them.  He’s so used to having her and Ned as back up in life threatening situations that their absence right now is disconcerting.  He’s more than a little anxious to see them again; they’d all been so busy with their own situations the past few days that they hadn’t had much of a chance to hang out.

“What A Fine Chariot This Is, Duck Newton,” Minerva booms jovially, slapping the roof of his truck.  There is the distinct sound of crumpling metal.

Duck squints blearily at her as she squeezes into the passenger seat, mentally cycling through the five stages of grief as Minerva buckles her seatbelt.  He turns the key in the ignition and drives out of the parking lot.

… 

The closer they get to Amnesty Lodge, the more nervous Duck gets.  Not for the first time since the whole Sylvain mess started, he resents Kepler’s location in the Radio Quiet Zone.  Usually he didn’t mind not having a cellphone, but right now he would give just about anything to call Aubrey and Ned and make sure they’re okay.  The herd of ambulances and police cars heading towards the Lodge do nothing to quell Duck’s mounting anxiety levels.

His anxiety turns to dread as he turns onto the dirt road leading to the lodge and sees the crowd of townsfolk gathered in front of the gate, an ambulance parked off to the side.  He jerks the truck to a stop and jumps out, not even bothering to take the keys out of the ignition as he scans wildly for his friends.  Minerva moves to follow him, but he stops her, telling her to watch out for Leo.  Things are complicated enough without throwing an honest-to-fucking-god alien warrior into the mix.

When he finally does see Aubrey’s colorful shock of dyed hair, it is both a relief and an extra source of stress.  A relief because she’s alive, and a source of stress because she’s sitting in the ambulance.

Duck rushes over to her, his heart dropping into his stomach as a list of every worst case scenario runs through his head.  Someone found out about the lodge, someone went through the gate who wasn’t supposed to and went on a rampage, Agent Stern arrested someone, someone got hurt, someone got killed.  At least Aubrey is okay.  And while he doesn’t see Ned anywhere, Duck isn’t too worried about the old guy.  He’d survived ramming into a Pizza Hut sign with a jetpack, as well as the explosion of said jetpack immediately afterwards.  The man was damn near unkillable.  He skids to a stop in front of Aubrey, his momentum almost causing him to crash into the side of the ambulance.  He takes her in, noting the bandage on her leg and the shock blanket around her shoulders.

“Y’okay, kid?”  He asks, “Aubrey?”  She doesn’t respond, doesn’t look at him or even seem to register his presence.  

That’s his first clue that something’s wrong, because he’s seen her like this before, after the whole ordeal with the Pizza Hut sign.  The hollow, haunted expression on her face is nearly identical to the one she’d worn that day.  It scared him then and it scares him now.

“Aubrey,” he repeats her name.  “C’mon kid, ya gotta talk to me.  I just got here, I’m way outta the loop.”  Nothing.  She just keeps staring blankly ahead.  He crouches down in front of her, waving a hand in front of her face to get her attention.  Again, nothing.  Shit.

He stands back up and starts pacing, raking his hands through his hair, “Aubrey!”  He snaps.  The longer she stays unresponsive, the more nervous he gets, “I need you to say something, kid, you’re fuckin’ scaring me!”  Try as he might, he can’t quite keep the panic from bleeding into his voice.

Finally, finally, she looks up at him, and his heart breaks.

Aubrey looks absolutely wrecked.  Her eyes are bloodshot and ringed black with smeared mascara and eyeliner, her face blotchy and tearstained.  Disconcertingly, both her irises are a bright, piercing orange.  Duck figures this is something important, something he should ask her about right away.  He doesn’t, though, because he couldn’t care less about whatever earth-shattering event made Aubrey’s eyes change color.  He doesn’t care about all that world-saving, chosen one stuff, and he never has.  He cares about people, his people, and right now that’s Aubrey and Ned.  They’re the Pineguard, his family, and he would rather die than see them hurt.

“D-Duck,” Aubrey whimpers, her voice fragile like his ma’s best china.  “Duck, I couldn’t…h-he…”  She shatters, then, curling in on herself as she sobs.

“Hey now, uh,” Duck has never been good at comforting people, especially when they’re crying.  But this is Aubrey and she needs him, social anxiety be damned.

He sits down next to her on the tailgate of the ambulance, shifting so that he’s almost facing her, and puts his arms out, “Do you-- Ooph!”  Before he can finish his question, Aubrey collapses against him, sobbing into his shoulder.  Duck freezes for a moment, unsure, before wrapping his arms around her.

“I-It’s all,” she hiccups, “it’s all m-my fault, Duck, I-I couldn’t…”  She dissolves into sobs again, too distressed to continue.  Her shoulders shake with the force of it.

Duck pats her back awkwardly.  “Aw, Aubrey, I don’t know ‘bout that,” he says, “I don’t think-- don’t blame yourself, kid.  I’m sure you did everything you could.”  Apparently that was the wrong thing to say, because she starts crying even harder.

He doesn’t know what to say, so he just hugs her tighter instead.  He hates himself a little for that, wishes to god that the words didn't stick in the back of his throat like old gum on the underside of a picnic bench.  Aubrey hiccups, and Duck rubs her shoulders soothingly.  He’s never seen her like this before, never seen her this broken.  Sure he’s seen her cry, seen her upset, but never like this.  Something is very, very wrong, and Aubrey’s clearly in no shape to tell him what, so he scans the crowd for someone who can.

Finally, he makes eye contact with Jake Coolice.  Which, okay, not exactly ideal, except for the fact that he’s standing next to Mama, who’s engaged in conversation with Detective Maygen.  Duck jerks his head towards the matriarch of Amnesty Lodge, hoping Jake picks up what he’s putting down.  The neon-cloaked Sylph looks confused, and he points at Mama and mouths her name in a silent question.  Duck nods emphatically.  Jake smiles and gives him two thumbs up before tugging on the sleeve of Mama’s duster to get her attention.  The older woman turns to Jake, who points in Duck’s direction.  She squares her shoulders, like she’s preparing for battle, and makes her over to the ambulance.  

The first thing Duck notices is how tired she looks.  The second is the blood on her shirt and hands.  

His blood turns to ice in his veins, “What the fuck happened?” he demands, “Are y’okay?”

Mama sighs, her whole body moving with it, “It’s not mine,” is all she says, and her shoulders slump in something a bit too much like defeat for Duck’s taste.

“Whaddya mean, whose is it then?” he asks, panic setting in.

She exhales softly through her nose.  “Duck, honey, I’m real sorry,” she begins, “now I don’t want you blaming yourself for this, ‘cause it ain’t no one’s fault.”  Mama pauses, looking up at the night sky before running a hand down her face.  There is dried blood under her fingernails.

“Whaddya mean, Mama, what happened?  What don’t ya want me blaming myself for?”

She looks pained, “Duck, sweetheart--.”

“No!  Don’t baby me, I aint a fuckin’ kid,” he snaps.  “What. The. Hell. Happened.”

“I-it was Ned.”  The response comes not from Mama, but Aubrey.  She pulls aways from Duck, exhaling shakily and wiping her eyes.

Duck stares at her.  “Whaddya mean, did he get hurt or somethin’?” he asks, pretty sure he already knows the answer to that question and hoping to god that he’s wrong, “Aubrey?”

She shakes her head.  “No, uh,” she takes a shaky breath, “Shit, I can’t do this.  Mama, uh, can you explain, please?”  Her voice trembles as she gives the older woman a pleading look.

Mama gives her a sad smile, “Sure, baby.”

“Thanks,” Aubrey sniffles.  Duck puts an arm around her and she buries her face in his shoulder.

Mama takes a deep breath, “Duck, ya said ya didn’t wanna be babied, so I guess I better just say it outright.  Ned ain't hurt, honey.  I’m so, so sorry, Duck, but he’s dead.  Ned’s dead.”

The words hit him like a punch in the gut, leaving him breathless and gasping.  

That can’t be right, Ned can’t be dead.  Ned ‘Cowardly’ Chicane, the only one of them with any sort of self-preservation instinct, the guy who just the other day had assured Duck that he didn’t need to worry about him getting hurt because he quote-unquote, “knew when to get the hell outta Dodge” was dead?  No way.  This had to be to work of the shapeshifter, or some sick practical joke.  It couldn’t be true, because if it was, it would mean Duck had failed.  It would mean that something happened and he hadn’t been there to take the big hit.  It would mean that Ned had taken the hit instead.  And he can’t handle that.  What’s the point of being the “Chosen One”, the so-called savior of the planet if he can’t keep the people he cares about safe?  

“Duck?”  Mama’s voice cuts through the haze of grief and shock clouding his brain.  He doesn’t respond, “You with us?”

He wants to argue, wants to break down and scream at the injustice of it all.  But he doesn’t, because he’s not the only one grieving Ned’s-- he’s not the only one affected.  Aubrey’s here too, huddled against his side like a barnacle on the hull of a ship.  God, she’s so young, still just a kid, really.  She shouldn’t have to deal with this alone.  She shouldn’t have to deal with this at all, truth be told, but that’s not in the cards.  The least Duck can do is be strong for her.  He’s good at being strong.  So he pushes aside all his grief and anger and self-recrimination, packing them away in a cardboard box in some dusty corner of his mind to deal with later.  Aubrey comes first.

He takes a deep breath, “Yeah, Mama, I’m with ya.”  He runs a tired hand down his face, “What, uh, what happened?”  His voice trembles right at the end.  He clenches his jaw.  

Mama glances ever so slightly at Aubrey.  “I’m fine,” is all the young woman says.  Mama looks to the night sky, as if hoping the stars can tell her how to make this easier.  Whatever she was looking for, it isn’t there and she faces Duck once more.

She does that thing again, squaring her shoulders like she’s getting ready for a fight, “The Abomination, it took Ned’s shape an’ then spilled the beans about everything on television.  The lodge, the gate, Sylvain, all of it.  That’s why all these folks are here,” she gestures to the crowd of townspeople.  

“Ned, he killed it and came down here to try and divert ‘em, send ‘em on a wild goose chase.  It sorta worked, actually, he got rid of about half of ‘em.  He starts talkin’ folks down, tryin’ to get the rest of them to see sense,” she laughs bitterly, “And it mighta even worked, too, ‘cept then the glowing coffin shows up and out pops Dani.  And she’s all feral, completely outta her mind after being separated from the hot springs for so long.”  

Her mouth presses into a thin line.  “And then she, well… She charged these here folks, and Ned, he tackles her.  Thing is, you get a buncha scared folks with guns in one place, well, someone’s bound to get hurt.  And tonight, that was Ned.  He got shot, and by the time the ambulance got here it was too late.  There wasn’t nothing any of us could do,” she looks over at Aubrey when she says that.  “And that’s… that’s the whole story.  I’m sorry,” she gives him a sympathetic look, “Y’alright, Duck?”

Duck says nothing, just nods sharply.  Because how do you respond to something like that?  What do you say when someone’s been ripped from your life and you can’t remember the last thing you said to them?  What do you say?  What can you say that would be enough to encompass the raw, gaping wound that takes the place of your heart, the way your stomach drops, when you think of all the things left unsaid?  What do you say?

As it turns out, “Let’s go home,” is a pretty good start.

[rf-times]

One thing I don't understand is, how is wearing a hijab in any way empowering? It's a matter of choice, they say, but why would anyone choose to wear something that was originally meant to mark a woman as a man's PROPERTY? Some women keep saying that the choice to wear the burqa is their own, to cover all their skin is their own. I feel that they are directly or indirectly trying to appeal to men, or win approval. This may not even be on purpose, it may just be something ingrained into their minds.

Hijab is not empowering, it is deeply dehumanising and misogynistic. Not just as the marker of property but also in itself the idea is that a woman is inherently lust inducing and she has a responsibility to cover herself up to not provoke men. There's also the idea that covering oneself up makes one "closer to god", that woman's inherent uncovered existence is immoral, which is what underpins female modesty in all abrahamic religion.

For every woman living in a society where individualism and "choice feminism" has taken hold, we are put into the awful situation of being told that everything that we do or that happens is our choice, that we are not victims, that we are immune to social structures because we're too clever and empowered, while at the same time actually being surrounded by nothing but implicit and explicit pressures. To admit that we feel pressured is to admit failure and if we ever do it we're bombarded with other women telling us "well it might be pressured on you (because you're weak) but it's a choice for me (because I'm powerful)" and men saying "guess women aren't independent after all."

This pressure is multifold for many Muslim women living in western countries, if a woman says "I feel pressured to wear a hijab." She faces backlash from both western and Islamic groups while if she says "I choose to wear a hijab" she is keeping both groups happy. Muslim women are also further driven to defend hijab because of islamophobia like governments banning hijab in public places or western men tearing them off women's heads or shouting abuse.

And of course we must never discount the horrific violence committed against women who remove their hijab and the retribution against many brave outspoken women. Both for the direct suffering of these women and what it does to all Muslim women knowing what violence potentially awaits them.

So there are a lot of factors in why a woman might claim that hijab is empowering rather than talk about how dehumanising it is and how much pressure there is to wear it. We should also acknowledge that it is usually people who have never worn and never will wear a hijab who talk the most about how "empowering" it is.

[rotationalsymmetry]

Actually, I do have opinions. I’ve been sitting on this one since, like, adolescence, maybe early adulthood.

One similar way I’ve seen this phrased is “you have one mouth and two ears, so you should listen twice as much as you talk.”

I think in modern industrialized society, we have a problem that people are forced to talk much less than half as much as they listen.

Consider. You’re in a classroom. Do you talk anywhere near as much as you are expected to listen? You’re in a work meeting. You’re watching live theater. You’re watching TV.

People can get close to that ratio in conversations in small groups, and balance it back the other way in one on one conversations and journaling. (or, these days, posting to social media…but how many of us post more words than we read?) But I think for the most part people’s development gets horribly stunted from the lack of chances to self-express, and especially from lack of chances to speak to someone who’s genuinely listening and trying to understand.

We have a system where 1. children and other vulnerable/non-“productive” members of society get sidelined and spend large chunks of time in institutions that are staffed “efficiently”, ie by a relatively small number of people who don’t have the time to give the kids/etc much one on one attention, unless it’s necessary for purposes of keeping things under control. (“Behavioral issues” — an awful lot of which are more about the conditions kids are expected to exist in than the kids themselves.) And 2. where we have “media” intended to have a small number of people engaging in one way conversation with much larger audiences, in place of personal conversations, in-person storytelling, discussion groups, etc.

(this is not a dig at teachers, this is about the educational system, not the quality of the people in it.)

Anyways, the upshot of this is that most people are absolutely starved, all the time, from early childhood, for opportunities for self expression and genuine connection, and any time they get a chance to express themselves they tend to prioritize that over listening, because they’re “full” of listening and “starved” of self-expression.

And we need to express ourselves to fully understand ideas. It’s well known in education that if you really want to understand a thing you should try teaching it to someone else. (That’s one reason why teachers assign class presentations so often — it makes it harder for the other kids to learn the material, because chances are it’s going to be presented terribly, as teaching is a skill that takes time and practice to develop, but the kids doing the presentation absorb the material much more deeply than they would otherwise.) Without the chance to put things into your own words and synthesize new idea with your existing worldview, people don’t learn shit.

This is a systemic problem and individual solutions can only go so far. But within the individual solutions approach, it can help to notice when you’re doing things out of habit that you don’t really find fulfilling, and when there are opportunities for a more even exchange of ideas.

and part of that is recognizing that quality interactions don’t get handed to you without effort and rarely come advertised. So when you’ve got some extra energy (/executive function/whatever), investing it into building closer relationships with your friends and family, community organizations and library or parks and rec programming, religious communities (for people who do religion), etc. that’s how we get this kind of thing. it’s not work that gets paid or, often, even acknowledged. but it’s what holds the fabric of society together, it’s what makes the world go around. (And doing work that isn’t for a boss or for pay — that you’re not under pressure to do — can be its own kind of liberating.)

[saltwatersweetner]

End Me

Eren x Reader

A Prequel of Sorts. Eren never fought for control preferring the security of your hold on him but you could never fully domesticate a wild animal it seemed.

Part 1 Part 3

CW: Manipulation, Toxic Relationship, Attempted Murder, Unhealthy coping mechanisms all in all mildly unsettling themes.

Eren knew how to be good—painfully so. He also knew how to be bad—concerningly so. He was a creature of habit. He did whatever he decided was best for him at the moment and maybe thats what lead you to your current stare down.

“Eren I said move.”

“Fuck what you said.”

Frowning you tried to think what honestly could have brought this mood upon him. It couldn’t have been because you were going out he always understood your random need to socialize. You also can’t remember purposefully setting him off, not in the mood and you weren’t completely cruel to ignore his random—even for him mood change—more in tune to your partners mood swings and emotions than you were to you own.

Carefully reaching out for him you raise an eyebrow when he moves away from your—for now—gentle touch “Are you really upset or just being a brat?”

“Stop talking to me.”

Huffing you choose to ignore his attitude and slip your coat over your shoulders just in time for a knock to be heard from the front door. With Eren on your heels you open the door for your friend.

“Y/N I called but you didn’t answer so I just came up.”

You get a flashback of Eren throwing a tantrum not even 30 minutes ago and launching your device from you 6th floor apartment “Yeah I dropped my phone off the balcony but lets go—Eren be good.”

His glare turns even more deadly when Reiner politely wraps an arm around your shoulders. Closing the door behind you Reiner laughs into the quiet hall “Be good? What is he your dog?”

“Something like that.”

Reiner was a friend an attractive one at that and Eren didn’t like it at all. He hated anyone that was even remotely close to you because you already didn’t like anyone but with Reiner it was different. You let him touch you and hold you.

Eren hated it, he hated it so much—and to make matters worse you didn’t care about his feelings—not one bit.

After a night of bar hopping and watching Bertholdt make a fool of himself in front of Annie, Reiner once again brought you home.

“It was nice seeing you, without your guard dog.” The face he made at the thought of Eren wasn’t a nice one.

“Aw sweetheart don’t be mean.” Reaching up you hold his warm cheek in your slightly chilled hand.

You knew jealousy when you saw it, could detect the slightest change of emotion when it was presented to you. He leans into your hold like a cat seeking out affection—much different than Eren’s wild way of seeking you out.

“Don’t be jealous my dear use your words.”

Reiners face was slowly moving closer to yours and you smirk in amusement. It would seem you had a knack for catching the attention for boys who were looking to be controlled.

“Y/N....”

Your door swings open before Reiner can kiss you and Eren is looking beyond livid. Reiner freezes his fight or flight telling him to run but you keep him steady with your palm.

“Were you waiting for me?”

Eren’s nod is slow and deliberate his eyes still glaring at the nonexistent space between you and the blond.

“Then that ends our time together, goodnight Reiner.” He shivers in what you think is glee from the acknowledgment of the time you spent with him.

“Goodnight.” He doesn’t acknowledge Eren any longer and hurries out to the elevator.

Turning back to the aforementioned boy you make a motion with your wrist “Move.”

When he eventually does get out of your way your hyper aware of the way he sticks to you almost like glue. Throwing your coat over the back of your couch you stretch and lead him to the kitchen.

“You hungry? All I’ve done is drink tonight I could really eat—“

He swings you into the wall by the neck. The alcohol in your system made it incredibly difficult to feel the pain you knew was blossoming up your back so all you could do was stare at the man before you.

You saw the endless sea of madness that unlike you he didn’t bother to cover up. Everyone found the look endearing on him like he never left that childishness behind but you knew the truth.

You could slowly feel yourself starting to suffocate. You didn’t bother panicking because as it had it Eren had all the power right now. If he or you moved the wrong way your neck was as good as snapped.

“Why did you let him touch you?”

Putting a calm hand on his wrist you try and fail to alleviate some of the pressure being forced down on your windpipe “Why. Does. It. Matter.”

Eren was breathing unevenly stuck between fighting his impulses and actually causing some damage “You’re mine you’re—you’re not supposed to—“

“Says. Who?” That makes him let go.

As it would have it you and Eren weren’t dating in any shape or form but he belonged to you. You brought him pleasure that he couldn’t find anywhere else. He was entirely devout to you and you only, all on his own fruition. From the moment he’d accidentally bumped into you and saw through the mask you wore. From the moment he stalked you from the moment he’d shown himself to you begging for salvation.

He wanted to play the game—wanted to be entertained in the morbid way regular people would get sick to their stomachs at—and you let him. You found him amusing enough to keep around but you refused to belong to anyone but yourself.

He was losing the game and fast. As his god you couldn’t be bothered with feeling bad for him.

“Now we can eat or you can sit here and starve whats it gonna be?”

Eren looked terribly unwell like he was about to fold in on himself “u-um eat please.”

You’d never seen him look so unsure before and it made you excited. How would he cry for you next? Would he try to fight more, yell and scream? Or would it be silent and broken?

Flicking your wrist you busy yourself in the kitchen “Good choice, go sit.”

He does as he’s told mumbling words to himself along the way. Was it cruel? Maybe. But you couldn’t be bothered considering how much of a thorn in your side he’d been all day.

You wanted to break him more and till he was nothing but crushed up stars slipping away in the wind. You almost felt bad for how much you were going to ruin him.

But he was your property after all to do with what you wanted. No one could stop you even if they tried. Especially because he let you and thats what made keeping him around so worth it.

You didn’t have the capability of feeling anything close to love no matter how fond of the boy you actually were. So you settled with ownership—they were damn near synonymous anyways.

So you proceeded as normal—well as normal as you are. You order the food you feed him and you move on to wash the dishes. He’d eventually get out of his feelings because he didn’t have the mental capacity to dwell on certain emotions for too long. It was all but routine now.

“Eren bring me whatever dishes you left lying around.”

“...ok.”

Filling the sink with a mixture of water soap and a drop of bleach you wait patiently for the boy to bring what you requested. Turning off the tap You almost get impatient when it seemed like he was taking forever.

“Eren—“ you’re grabbed by the back of the head and shoved face first into the sudsy water.

You try with all your strength to get your head out of the sink but Eren just doesn’t stop. He’d never...hurt you before? Never acted out in this manner it startled you maybe.

And you were slowly but surely drowning.

When he finally does let you up you drop to the floor taking in large gulps of air. Your eyes stung from the mix of bleach and soapy water and you were suddenly freezing.

“Dont,” you look up to eren to see he once again wore that livid expression.

“Dont you ever think about leaving me do you understand?” His breathing was already heavy but now it was slowly turning into hyperventilation. “I’ll kill you I’ll fucking kill you if you ever l-leave me.”

You watched him begin to sob, dropping on his knees he crowded closer to you looking every bit of the victim he made himself.

“Im sorry I’m good I’ll be good I swear!” He tries to touch you but you smack his hands away making him sob harder.

You knew Eren you knew him. His inclination of violence had never been towards you and yet?

“Hit me hit me hit me im sorry please im good I promise.”

Those were the only words that made sense to you in the moment. You were a violent creature by nature one who prioritized your own life before anyone else’s, you’ve never done anything you didnt doubt you’d be able to get out of and yet? Eren had surprised you and not in a good way.

Your eyes come back into focus and you see the pitiful look he wore as if he hadn’t just almost killed you “Hit me please?”

And so you do.

You punch him right in the face with all your strength causing him to fly back against the tiles and you don’t stop there. You let out all the frustration from your near death experience out onto his body completely aware of the blissed out smile he now sported.

Regardless your mind was going 1 million miles per hour as one thing became clear. Eren was slipping out of your control and fast. One day you feared he’d be the one in control and that wasn’t a game you wanted to play.

You’re in control.

You were IN control

You not him.

You.

You freeze. Fist inches from his face.

It was like your body was in forced reboot you couldn’t move your thoughts finally spiraled too far and too fast for you to reach.

You weren’t in control?

Starring at the needy expression on his face you came to the horrific realization that maybe you’d been playing in his hands all this time. He’d been able to get anything he ever wanted out of you—he knew it too.

Did you really—no you couldn’t be right?

“I’m good see?”

Wrong—you were in so fucking deep.

Slowing your breathing you lower your once trembling fist “Get. Out.”

“Huh?”

Climbing off his chest you wipe the remaining water off your face “Get the fuck out I dont wanna see you.”

Eren hadn’t expected this outcome considering how hurt he looked “B-but where am I supposed to go?”

It was a stupid question you both knew he had his own dorm to himself but he’d been so used to sleeping with you every night that he couldn’t imagine being anywhere else.

Rolling your eyes you til your head “I dont care.”

“I cant sleep without you.”

“Cry about it.”

Hauling his shocked form up and out of your home you slam the door shut and immediately turn all three locks ignoring his soft cries from the other side.

Pulling at your wet shirt you could feel the breakdown coming. How did he do it? How’d he make your carefully crafted control snap?

Going into your room you lock that door as well before snatching the throw blanket from the end of your bed and a pillow. Going into your walk-in closet you close the door behind you and navigate in the dark to the farthest corner and sit.

You sit and sit and sit and sit and sit...and then you scream.

You scream until your lungs are raw and your voice is gone and you’re not sure when exactly you started scratching at your face but the stinging thats left behind is brutal.

You needed to think.

You needed a plan.

You needed—fuck you didnt know.

But you did know Eren was about to become a much bigger problem.

[vs-redemption]

hi there! could i request an aizawa x female reader oneshot? if you're willing to do angst, could it be him getting jealous when they go out for drinks with a group of friends :o

Ok, so I’m hoping this is angsty enough. I’m still getting used to writing in that style. Also, thank you so much for the request. I wasn’t sure about writing for Aizawa at first, but it was easier to get into his mindset than I thought it would be!

My requests are still open for anyone who is interested. Please check out my rules and masterlist!

A Big Deal:Part One (Jealous!Aizawa x Fem!Reader)

You can find Part Two of this story Here!

Today was kind of a big deal for you. After months of grueling effort and countless hours of overtime, you’d finally been acknowledged by your boss and given a huge promotion in your company. You’d been awarded a new title along with a generous pay raise, effective immediately. In addition to those perks, your new job responsibilities would allow you to finally use the degree you’d put yourself through college to obtain. It was really great news, and you were over the moon with excitement. A few of your colleagues suggested a night out to celebrate the career advancement. You were quick to agree. It was a Friday evening and you saw no reason not to make the most of this incredible day. You sent out a quick text message to invite your boyfriend and a few of your close friends to join in the festivities.

Today was kind of a big deal for Shota Aizawa too. He had always been a bit wary of relationships, both romantic and otherwise. He was a bit of an introvert and socializing often wore him down. He had a couple close friends that had forced their way into his life during high school and that had honestly been enough for him. He had been content to be mostly on his own until he met you and his outlook changed. You were hardworking, which he admired, and he’d noticed right away that you always gave him his space even though you were more outgoing than he was. You never forced him to attend big group outings or gave him a hard time when he was just too tired from work to do anything else besides get take out and have a quiet night in for date night. He appreciated the comfort and peacefulness you brought to his life, which is why he was actually quite excited that today was your one year anniversary together.

Aizawa wasn’t much for big extravagant gestures, but thought it might be nice to invite you over for a nice dinner when you finished work. He managed to get out of his teaching duties a little early so that he could pick up what he needed from the grocery store and get the cooking started. He had a nice evening with just the two of you in mind, so it came as a bit of a shock when he got your text message. He sighs and looks around his kitchen at all the half prepared food. Normally he would decline such an invitation, though he always appreciated you thinking to include him, but this was not a usual circumstance. He knew how hard you worked and was happy to hear that you were finally being recognized for everything you did. He takes out some containers and starts packing up the food, knowing he could always finish cooking it tomorrow.

The Izakaya restaurant where you were having your celebration was already packed with people since it was a Friday, but you’d somehow managed to book a decent sized table. The first round of drinks had been brought out and everyone was calling for you to make a speech. It wasn’t until they started bringing out the food that Aizawa finally arrived.

“Hey! Eraserhead!” Present Mic calls him over from the far end of the table. “You actually showed up! Come over here! I’ll order you a drink!” Aizawa glanced over at you but you were deep in conversation with two of your coworkers. He would have preferred to sit with you, but could settle for attaching himself to Mic since he didn’t know anyone else that well.

“Let’s have another round on me!” one of your coworkers calls to the wait staff. You laugh and nudge his arm with your shoulder.

“Idiot. We paid for ‘all-you-can-drink’!” You give him a teasing grin, “No matter what, we’re all going to be paying the same amount!”

“Aw, come on!” Another one of your male coworkers leans across the table, “You know we’re not letting you anywhere near tonight’s bill! You’ve been working so hard for this day, so let us treat you!”

“You make a good point,” You nod while lifting your glass. “And I’m not one to turn down free drinks!” They all laugh as the waiter disappears to go prepare another round for the table. Aizawa’s eyes linger on the two male coworkers for a moment before turning back to Present Mic.

“I guess she has a pretty good relationship with her coworkers,” he says flatly.

“Yeah! Definitely!” Present Mic declares with a wide grin, “I’ve met them a few times before. They’re fun dudes!”

“Hmm,” Aizawa found himself wondering if those guys knew you had a boyfriend. He trusted that there wasn’t anything deceitful going on, but it was weird for him to see you so open and relaxed around people who were strangers to him. He’d never really thought about what exactly happened when you were out at work parties. Perhaps this was normal. Still, he kept an eye on the people around you as the food and drinks continued to come.

“Shota,” you shuffle over to your boyfriend once last orders had been taken and the rambunctious group was kindly asked to leave the restaurant. “Thank you for coming! You usually don’t.” The words, though said with a lazy smile, struck Aizawa with a pang of guilt. You’d never forced him to go out, but perhaps you’d always wished he would.

“This was a special occasion,” he says while you both head out into the cool night air with everyone else. They were all mingling outside the restaurant, waiting to see what happened next. “You deserved that promotion, and I’m very proud of you.” He wanted to tell you that he’d also come to this party to spend time with you since it was your anniversary, but decided not to ruin your good mood by mentioning it. Perhaps he didn’t deserve to celebrate the milestone in your relationship anyway if letting you go out to these little get-togethers without him made him a bad boyfriend.

“Who’s up for Karaoke?” Present Mic throws his hands into the air, attracting the attention of other drunk groups meandering the streets nearby. A few people declined the offer, saying they needed to catch a taxi home, but a handful of others seemed enthusiastic about continuing the festivities of the night.

“Well we know you’re coming!” One of the coworkers from before slides up next to you and throws an arm around your shoulders. “This party is for you after all!”

“Of course!” You agree before turning to Aizawa. “You don’t have to come if you don’t want to. I know it’s not your thing.”

Aizawa stared blankly at the arm around you that was not his own. He was tired from work, he hated parties, and a night of karaoke was literally his worst nightmare. Were the things he hated the same things that made you happy? It made him wonder why you were even dating him in the first place. Maybe there was a reason why you hadn’t mentioned your one year anniversary, and perhaps this relationship meant something different to each of you. Even if that was true, could he really let you go off to spend the rest of your one year anniversary with a bunch of other guys?

“Hey, come on!” another one of your coworkers comes over and playfully shoves you in the direction of the karaoke bar. “You’re burning moonlight! Don’t think you’re getting out of doing a duet with me like the last time!” You can’t help but giggle at his antics.

Aizawa glared at the men who could not seem to keep their hands to themselves. Part of him wanted to whip out his scarf and knock them on their asses, but another part of him envied their closeness with you. They got to see you all day, every day. Did they know you better than he did? It made him feel ashamed somehow.

“OK! Ok!” You swat your coworkers away so you could focus on your boyfriend. “No pressure, babe!” You tell him, “I won’t be mad if you want to get home and get to bed.” Aizawa was second guessing everything now. Normally he took your words as kindness and understanding, but now he was wondering if it was a dismissal. It made sense if you didn’t want him to come. There was no way he’d join in the singing so he’d just be dragging the mood down by coming and lurking in the corner. It was better for you if he stayed behind.

“Yeah,” he shrugs, “I guess I’m going to call it a night.” He watches your face for signs that he’d made the right choice. Would you be happy that you were finally rid of him for the evening, or disappointed that he wasn’t as fun and outgoing as your coworkers? It was hard to judge your reaction.

“All right,” you tell him. “Go ahead and get some sleep. I’ll talk to you tomorrow.” You lean forward to give him a peck on the cheek before finally heading off towards your next stop of the night. Aizawa was left to watch you go off with a group of people he knew could make you happier than he ever could.

[gaawachan]

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*

[whump-town]

The Lies We Tell

Aaron Hotchner has been lied to his entire life. That’s the thing about good intentions...

Warnings:  abuse

The day that Haley’s family moved into the neighborhood is seared into Hotch’s memory.

He was pulled out of bed by his father. The older man slurring his words, heavily affected by whatever cheap liquor he’d been drowning himself in the entire afternoon prior. He had no chance to understand what was being said. He’d gone, regardless, in the direction of his father’s pulling to alleviate the pressure on his shoulder joint. Knowing too much of the pinned, awkward angle would spell misfortune for him.  

Sure enough, his shoulder comes free with a pop and a chocked grunt of pain-- he knows better than to cry out. He suffers through the drunken rant his father’s worked himself into, careful to keep his wounded arm tight to his chest. In the privacy he’s afforded, only after his father’s taken a few blows and has resigned himself to sleeping off his slump, he can reset his shoulder. Should he do it by himself? No. There, simply, isn’t any other option.

With word of the family moving in down the street, the Brooke’s, his father sobers up to put up his best front: loving father who day-lights as a lawyer and spends his nights beating the shit out of his family. That doesn’t mean that Aaron doesn’t manage to “step out of line” just as they’re leaving-- how dare he existed in his home. 

With his ears still ringing from the blow to his head, vision swimming, Aaron Hotchner stands between his mother and father on Brooke’s lawn. His father beams down at him, pride and joy in every area of his face except in his eyes. The only place it matters is the only place it isn’t. The family across from them doesn’t take note of how empty his father’s eyes are or how hard his grip is on Aaron’s bony shoulder. All they see is a family that mirrors their own:

A father, a mother, and two children. 

The Brookes are a good family. It takes years for Aaron to grow out of his contempt for them. By then, his father is dying and the beatings are getting worse. 

“Aaron--” 

He falls hard for Haley Brookes and for some reason she gives the world’s worse pirate #3 a chance. She starts to wonder how a guy like Aaron falls through the cracks. He does plenty of clubs and he’s as sweet as can be. His personality is a little underdeveloped, as are his social skills, and he doesn’t always understand current social things, but he’s funny, and he’s handsome.

And he’s got an awful home life. 

“Oh God,” she reaches for him and quickly realizes that was a mistake. “Sorry,” she whispers, taking a step back. She hadn’t expected the broken sob to leave his mouth when she reached for him. Sure, she’d noticed that sometimes if she reaches for his hand too fast he flinches away. She just hadn’t connected his bruises for… for this.

He’s shaking in their doorway, soaking wet from the rain pouring down outside. It’s too cold to let him stand out there for too long. 

She wracks her brain for what to do and with shaky inhale she forces herself to calm down. Aaron’s always fed off of the energy others give, it’s one of the first things you notice the longer you’re around him. His empathy is high. “Aaron,” she calls softly, extending her hand out of the doorway to him. He still has to step to reach her but that leaves their proximity in his control. 

It takes him a moment but he steps closer and allows his fingers to brush against hers. 

He knows Haley is safe. Haley will help him. He’s struggling. The line between pain and comfort is distorted. He’s scared and it immobilizes him. Rationally he knows-- he knows Haley will help him but he’s afraid his father will see. What if he hurts her too?

“Son?”

Mr. Brookes. He’ll protect them from his father.

“Son, what the hell--” 

Haley steps between them, seeing the way Aaron’s eyes light up at the sight of her father. He’s not in his rational mind. This isn’t his fault. “Daddy,” she warns softly. Mercifully, they pass between them an understanding. Her father hates the Hotchners and he distrusts Aaron and his motivations. But he understands this. He understands where the bruise swelling on Aaron’s right cheekbone came from.

“Let me help,” Haley whispers to Aaron. “Come on, you’ll be okay.” She offers her hand back out and watches as Aaron’s eyes pass between her and her father. There’s another moment, more hesitation but he finally breaks the gap. He trusts her. He’s always trusted her.

Once he steps forward, this time, he doesn’t stop until he’s got both arms wrapped around Haley. He sobs into her collar and she holds him. Pulls him close until he’s practically folded into himself to be at her height. To allow himself to sink into her arms and just be held. 

Haley’s mother brings in a bag of peas, cliche but the only thing they have to reduce the swelling in his face. Mr. Brookes stays in the kitchen, watching from the doorway as his wife and daughter aid Aaron. As uneasy as the situation feels him, there’s a stir of pride in the pit of his stomach at the side of Haley being so tender.

“Shh,” Haley runs her hand through Aaron’s wet hair. He flinches from the touch of the cold press to his cheek, pushing himself closer to Haley. She expects the movement and wordlessly takes the bag from her mother. “It’s alright,” she soothes and this time he sees the bag coming. He doesn’t fight it. 

“I’m right here.” She promises, “always. I’ll always be right here.”

He places his hand over her own. It takes him a moment to realize where he is-- laying in the Brookes’s living room with his head in Haley’s lap. Blinking tears out of his eyes he asks, “do you promise?”

Haley nods and presses a kiss to his forehead, “I promise, Aaron. I’m right here.”

That was the first lie she ever told him. 

___________

He makes it through training. Paperwork comes and goes. He can wrap his head around the cases that hurt the most but... he still stumbles. He’s not figured out how to hide these things from people trained to detect exactly what he’s doing. Jason and Dave are unforgiving. They push and push at his broken pieces.  There’s a moment, suspended, where he can recognize that he has exactly two options: fall apart or tell. 

And the time to make that decision is quickly leaving. 

The silence is building and while he understands that there is nothing wrong with the silence normally, here it is baited. Each moment he allows Dave’s question to go unanswered is another ticking time bomb that allows Dave to come to his own conclusion, however right they may be. 

Hotch doesn’t typically appreciate people getting into his head. He doesn’t appreciate anyone getting into his head. There’s a strange give and take with Dave, though. He’s come to understand a certain level of giving-- personal information as little as a review of his day or, from what Dave wants, an in-depth analysis of his childhood. These things equate to trust and… and, well, love. 

“Well?”

But he can’t say the words. They’re stuck in the back of his throat-- worse than choking. Exactly like choking. He doesn’t want the words there. He wants them aired out. He wants to tell Dave that his father hit him so badly once that he was hospitalized for three days in the ICU. That the hitting wasn’t enough. As he got too weak to hit, the verbal abuse was just effective. 

But there’s no Heimlich maneuver for emotions.

Just growth. 

“I don’t know what you mean,” Hotch doesn’t dare look up from the paperwork in his lap. 

The question had been if he was willing to tell Dave what it was that had bothered him so much about the family of their almost victim. Almost, being subjective. The boy had still been through the trauma of being kidnapped, it was just some cruel mercy he wasn’t killed. 

And for what? Hotch knew exactly what they were sending that boy back home to.

It’s the same thing he used to go home to.

Dave hums, it’s a specific sound he makes in the back of his throat and Hotch knows exactly what it means. He looks up and Dave just raises an eyebrow and shrugs it away. “I was just wondering,” he mumbles. “I also thought you should know that Jason called child protective services and I have a friend working on getting those kids out of that house.”

So he had seen the bruises.

“Oh,” escapes his mouth before he can bite it down. He nods his head and looks away, afraid of what he might see if looks at Dave for too long. “The father was unhinged,” he profiles. “Those kids won’t survive much longer with him.”

Dave nods, he’d come to the same conclusion. “Can’t imagine what it would be like to be raised by a man like that,” Dave says with a sympathetic shake of his head. “No one deserves that.”

Hotch refrains from nodding or even acknowledging that statement because he knows it’s meant for him. At him. Saying anything is admitting that Dave’s right. 

Clearing his throat, Dave settles his attention back on the road. They’ve got a long drive ahead of them. Plenty of opportunities to have this discussion another time. Aaron’s just starting to hope that’s exactly what’s going to happen when Dave glances over at him.

"When was the last time you slept, " Dave plays his worried glance off by looking in the rear view mirror. Checking behind them. But he doesn't need to be looking at Hotch to know if he's lying or not. The kid looks like shit. He hasn't slept properly in days.

Hotch looks out the window, leaning his temple against the cool glass. "Don't know, " he mumbles. 

Rossi hums. 

"Why?"

Rossi glances at him, for a long hard minute it's a battle of wills. With a raised eyebrow, Dave shrugs. "Just checking in on you, am I not allowed to do that?"

Hotch doesn't reply. He doesn't even look up.

“Kid?”

Dammit. He wants to keep to himself. He wants to just crawl into a hole and act like nothing’s wrong. His childhood was great. His father was a hero. His mother… but he can’t even breathe. Each inhale gets caught in his throat and he can feel panic setting it. He needs to get out of this car. “P-Pull over,” he gasps, fingers going to his noose-- tie. “Pull over!” 

He throws his door open, rushing out and toppling over onto his knees, gagging into the tall grass. A small voice in his head warns of the dangers of a snake, he did grow up in the south, but the way his stomach keeps cramping pushes that thought away. There are more dangerous things than a snake-- he used to live with one.

“Easy,” Dave mumbles from behind him and Hotch realizes he’s now leaning into Dave. Allowing the older man to hold him. “Easy, kid, just breathe.” Through each shuddering breath he pulls in, Hotch can feel Dave rubbing his hand up and down his back. His head is pounding, his ears pulsing. “Tell me next time you’re feeling sick, okay?”

Hotch leans back over, gagging miserably but unable to bring up anything with nothing left in his stomach. 

“Look at me,” Dave asks, handing him a handkerchief to wipe his face off with. “I’m not going anywhere, kid. You can trust me. I’ll always be right here.”

Two months later he retires. Hotch doesn’t even get two weeks’ notice.

___________

He keeps counting. Jason Gideon keeps counting and each time he comes up one short. The radio in his ear buzzes, body counts over and over listed for the personnel looking through the carnage. There are plenty of missing officers, a single swat agent, and-and Jason’s one missing agent. Possible missing agent.

Six agents in… If six agents went in then there should still be-- Aaron. 

Swaying where he stands,  Aaron’s looking at the ruined building before him. His dark brown hair is pushed in disarray atop his head. No amount of gel keeping his crazy hair down. Jason’s always found it an endearing, if not silly, thing for someone so serious to have. But right now he can’t appreciate the cowlicks.

“Aaron,” Jason calls, knowing how the younger man startles when he’s not expecting being touched. “Can you hear me?” The closer he gets the more blood he sees. It might not be Aaron’s. That’s a very real possibility but Jason doubts that the crimson stain on his chest is entirely someone else’s. 

Neither of their luck is that good. 

And Jason knows he’s broken his promise to Dave.

“Watch out for the kid, huh? He…--”

“Get himself into trouble? Yeah, I know. I’ll watch his back.”

Who was watching his back today? Not Jason. He let six agents die. He was stupid. It was a stupid mistake and now everyone else is paying for it.

“Gideon?” Aaron turns to him, confusion pulling his thick brows down. “I can’t--” he looks around them, to the smoke and the building. “I can’t find Morgan. He… I just--” He winces in pain, his left hand touching his abdomen and he pulls it away bloody. He looks up to Gideon, tears in his eyes, “I can’t find Morgan.”

Jason nods his understanding, keeping his slow approach. “That’s okay,” he reassures him. “Don’t you remember? I sent Morgan back to Quantico.” He’s close enough now to touch Aaron and he offers a squeeze to his shoulder. “He’s okay. He’s safe.”

Aaron sucks in a breath, it sounds like a sob but he nods his understanding. His knees start to give beneath him, no reason to keep fighting if Morgan’s okay. 

Jason catches him around the waist just as his knees cave beneath his weight. “It’s okay,” he breathes, shushing Aaron’s incoherent mumble. “You’re okay.” He places his hand over the wound, it’s easy to identify. It’s the only warm place on Hotch’s entire body. The strangled cry that leaves his pale lips rips through Jason. 

His breathing immediately becomes more labored, his eyes slivers. “Hurts…” his face is awfully pale. His skin is clammy. 

“Shh,” Jason looks motions for the medics running towards them to run faster. “I know, I know.” He tries to step back and give the medics room but the moment he moves Aaron grabs his hand. “Alright,” he settles back down, making sure to be out of the way but holding Aaron’s hand back. “I’m not going anywhere, I’m right here.”

The minute he passes out, Jason pulls away. He just can’t do it. He needs to get away.

Hotch spends weeks in the hospital.

Morgan’s there… but that’s because no one else can be. Their unit is dead. They have to start from the beginning. It’s just Derek, Hotch, and Gideon. And Gideon’s off… God knows where. 

The day Hotch is released from the hospital, Jason visits. He stands in the doorway of the room, smiling as Hotch and Derek argue while Haley stands to the side, obviously displeased. He’s always enjoyed Morgan and Hotch’s brotherly friendship. No one was faster at putting the other in their place like the other but let either hear someone else bad mouth them and they’d go down swinging. 

Derek wins the argument and Hotch lets him help him into the wheelchair. When Derek looks up, pushing the feet of the wheelchair so that Hotch can rest his feet on them, he follows Hotch’s eyes to the doorway. “What are you doing here?” he spits.

It’s unkind but Jason’s expecting it just as much as Hotch’s soft reprimand in the form of a Morgan’s name grunted. 

Morgan looks back at Hotch, about to start another argument but they share a glance and before either says anything Haley steps up. “Come on,” she motions for Morgan to follow her. “Just give them a minute.”

Morgan gives Jason the look. It means many things but today it’s a warning. If Jason hurts Hotch, Morgan’s going to do worse to him. Boss or not. 

“How are you?” Jason asks, settling himself on the edge of Hotch’s vacated bed.

Hotch looks down at his hands, nervously picking at his nails. He shakes his head, “I’ll be back at the office in two weeks but they’re not letting me back into the field until at least the end of the month.” He looks up at Jason, “ and I have to pass all the field requirements.”

Jason nods, “that’s good.” He leans forward and rests his elbows on his knees. “But that’s not what I asked.”

Hotch raises an eyebrow, not exactly playing stupid but not playing along either. “Mmm,” he looks back down at his hands, brows furrowed now. “Haley’s pregnant, she--” he looks up at the doorway as if expecting her there. “She wants me to transfer. Go someplace safer.”

Jason takes this in for a moment, looking to the ground. He shrugs, “it’s understandable. You’re going to be a father, Aaron. Of course, she wants you alive.” He looks down at the floor, in shame or contempt, or just vulnerability. “You’ll be safer anyhow, now,” he adds. “If you decide to stay you’re going to be taking the Unit Cheif position.”

Hotch’s head snaps up, “they-” He looks away from Jason, processing the information. After a moment, he looks back up. “They took your job?”

Jason shakes his head, “no.” He nods his head towards Hotch, “they gave my position to a worthy candidate, whose name I put in the ring myself.” He smiles proudly, “and I am going to watch him build a new team as his senior agent.”

Hotch looks up at Jason and shakes his head but he looks away, unsure of what he’s supposed to say. He knows he can do the job. That’s always what he wanted-- hell, it’s what Dave and Jason both wanted. He just wasn’t expecting it so soon. He’s not sure he’s ready for it so soon.

“You’ll be great,” Jason reassures him. He gets off the bed and crouches down beside the wheelchair. Leaving the two men eye-level. “There’s no one that could do this job better.”

Hotch feels pretty adamant about this. 

“Look at me,” Jason requests. “Nothing is going to happen. You’re a natural leader.”

Hotch nods.

“You’re going to be fine. Everything’s going to be fine.”

Two years later, as Hotch stands before Strauss knowing that the last year has been an unraveling-- a never-ending list of things that have gone wrong and reasons to fire him-- he wishes Jason were here. He shouldn’t have to deal with all of this alone. And yet he does. 

___________

The world was on fire. Flames licking at the side of his arm and the way his legs refused to properly hold his weight. His knees hitting the gravel and the sting of skin tearing. But he’d sat in something wet. Crimson. 

Morgan was there. He was kneeling beside Hotch, his hand on his shoulder. 

“Agent Hotchner?” He flinches away from the penlight in his eyes. Someone says something and a palm settles across his forehead, this time he can’t move away as the light comes back. “Can you hear me, Agent Hotchner?” 

Morgan stands up from his chair. He pushes himself between the doctor and Hotch. “You’re hurting him,” he accuses hotly. The doctor can’t refute that statement, Hotch is still groaning from the pain spiking through his head. He’s raised his hands to ward off another attack from the light, writhing as he moves his sore body to get away from where he knows it came from.

The doctor sighs. Of course, he understands the proximity of agents. This isn’t his first time dealing with government agents. Things are just becoming tricky. Agent Hotchner’s condition is critical and Agent Morgan understands that a little too well. He just doesn’t understand that his friend’s not going to catch his death with a doctor flashing a penlight into his eyes but he might if his concussion worsens or turns into a brain bleed. 

“Agent,” the doctor says, growing impatient as Agent Hotchner grows more restless. “I understand your concern but your friend needs my help.” He knows he’s won the moment Morgan turns to look at Hotch. “Let me get him something for the pain and we can discuss this some more, okay?”

Morgan looks over to Hotch. 

He’s crying, most likely not even aware of the tears streaming down his face. His hands are pressed over his ears and he’s turned over so that his back is to them. He’s managed to draw his knees to his chest. He’s entirely defensive, his pain is that bad.

“Okay,” the doctor repeats and this time Morgan nods. “Okay.” He steps right up to Hotch’s bedside, gently shaking the agent’s arm. “Agent Hotchner, can you hear me?” He doesn’t shine the penlight in his eyes, he just tries to get some sort of answer out of the other man. 

Hotch manages a grumbled response, it’s too soft for Morgan to catch but the nurse facing Hotch looks up and repeats it. “He’s saying he’s okay.”

“He--” Morgan steps forward about to make sure they understand that’s very much not true but the doctor raises his hand and Morgan stops in his tracks.

“I know, “ the doctor confirms. He leans back over Hotch, “Agent, I’m going to have our very helpful nurse Sarah give you some pain meds, okay?” He pulls at the back of the gown Hotch’s bloodied clothes had been replaced by. He frowns at the road burn he finds but doesn’t comment. “You’ll be feeling a lot better in just a moment.”

The doctor steps to the side and motions for Morgan to follow.

Hotch cracks an eye open, fighting the currents of pain trying to drag him down to watch as the nurse pushing something painfully hot into his arm. It’s clear and his slurred speech doesn’t stop her. She pulls the syringe free and he just watches, that intense warmth working its way up his arm and into his chest. It hurts and it itches but his eyelids start to drop. Impossibly heavy.

Derek appears out of… well, nowhere. Hotch’s eyes move to the left, following the direction from which he appeared but he’s too tired to move his head and really figure out what’s happening. 

“Hey man,” Morgan greets. 

There’s something about the face that Morgan makes as he sits down in the visitor’s chair that sparks a sudden memory. “Kate,” Hotch rasps.

The doctor had just told Morgan that any stress is going to be too much. That Hotch’s heart and body just can’t take it. 

Morgan looks up as the nurse tries to step between them, allowing her through. She places a mask over Hotch’s face, replacing the canal he’d worn just a moment ago. Worse, Morgan recalls, the doctor said he was getting worse. So when he sits down he puts on his best show. 

“Joyner,” Morgan says. “You mean Kate Joyner.”

Hotch manages a small nod.

Morgan has to think carefully about his lie. He’ll have to recall these details later, to make sure the others understand his white lie. More importantly, Hotch has to believe him without a shred of doubt. “She’s downstairs,” Morgan says, which true. He’s just hoping Hotch assumes the E.R. and not the morgue. “You don’t need to worry about her, though,” Morgan says.

Hotch nods, “she’s… she’s okay?”

Morgan pulls in a steady breath, “she’s okay.” He smiles and offers Hotch a reassuring nod. “Get some sleep, man, you could use it.” He reaches over and squeezes Hotch’s hand, making sure he knows he’s not going anywhere.

Hotch can’t fight the drugs any longer. “The others,” he whispers. Morgan can’t hear him. “The others, are they okay?” 

His breathing has become steadily worse and Morgan knows that if he doesn’t shut Hotch up soon they’re going to kick him out. Which may seem like a good thing but they don’t know Hotch. He’ll kill himself trying to get out of bed to make sure no one else is hurt. 

“Everyone’s okay.” 

And Hotch doesn’t need to know any more than that. They’ll catch the terrorist and he can worry about not dying on them. Because Morgan’s not sure he can handle anything but Hotch walking away from this. 

He… He will walk away from this, right?

“Rest,” Morgan whispers. “We’ll handle everything.”

A month later, with ears as healed as they’re going to get and Morgan by his side, Hotch visits Kate Joyner’s grave.

“I’m sorry I…” Morgan can’t look at the gravestone or Hotch so he averts his eyes to the grass.

It takes a moment but Hotch’s voice cuts through the cold air with the thickness of his surfacing guilt. “It doesn’t matter.” 

It did.

___________

Eventually, Dave leaves and Hotch is left with nothing but his previously raised question: what will his son remember about his in ten years? And no answer. 

He falls asleep. It’s not a conscious choice but one his body makes for him. He’s been awake for the upwards of five hours, pushing past the mental fog a little too far. That had always been a problem for him. He could push his body, and he certainly would, but eventually, his brain would catch up. And, just as it had today, would override his determination to keep pushing.

He wakes to the sight of Emily Prentiss. She’s curled up in the visitor’s chair that she’d occupied earlier. Despite the days unraveling, she seems as relaxed as possible. But, then, she’s always held the danger of still water. 

“You should have gone home with the others.” His voice seems caught around his sternum, lower and more agitated in tone than normal. Grumpy. He can’t help it. He’s not sure he could even smile right now if he had to. Not that there’s any reason to. 

He’s completely alone.

She doesn’t pay his tone or attitude much mind but when has she? Given the last two years, he knows she’s grown some traction with the team and… well, they’ve grown closer as well. He knows this with an unfailing certainty when she simply shrugs away his comment. 

Sometimes, they can really test him.

As she does frequently. 

“I did go home,” she clarifies, flipping the page in her book without looking up at him. “And before you ask, I even got a good eight hours of sleep.” 

He rolls his eyes, definitely something he wouldn’t do if not for the hefty amount of strong pain killers being dumped into his bloodstream. He knows he’s been beat, as he often is when it comes to Emily Prentiss, because he can’t disprove she’s slept or went home. 

She reaches up and pulls--what he assumes is coffee-based off of the container-- a cup to her. She sips it and glances up at him. “Besides,” she says, putting the cup back. “I’m taking the first watch. I have to be here even if you don’t want me here.”

He understands well enough. Taking watch is not a new concept but the notion that he’d be on its receiving end is. He also knows she doesn’t mean the Bureau has assigned them to set watch, they’ve decided it amongst themselves. It almost makes the pain in his chest… numb.

He averts his eyes, looking to the ceiling. What’s he supposed to say to that anyway?

“How are you feeling,” she asks, tucking a bookmark in between the pages of her book. She sets it down in her lap, her full attention coming to him, even if he doesn’t want it. “Don’t lie,” she warns. “Your heartbeat is being measured out for me to see and you’re not that good at lying when you’re high.”

Like he’s let his heart rate give away if he was lying or not… besides, they both know lying while high thing is true. He hates that. “Fine,” he mumbles, eyes still on the ceiling.

She hums, “fine.” Sure. He gets stabbed nine times in his apartment after a case sent from hell by a serial killer they have profiled and know will continue to stalk Hotch for as long as possible. His only family has just been sent away for the next to foreseeable future and he’s fine. Just fine.

But what’s she to say. Everything’s going to be okay? She doesn’t know that. Even if they catch Foyet, that’s not going to mean Hotch can still look at himself in the mirror. It’s not going to fix the physiological torture.

She probably shouldn’t but she reaches between the two of them and gently takes his head. “Aaron,” she whispers because this isn’t the time for business casual nicknames. “We’re going to catch that son of a bitch,” her conviction feels misplaced but he can’t even bear to look at her and tell her that. “And you’re not going to lose anyone else.”

He nods, not able to trust his voice. 

He’s exhausted. Too tired to argue with her. 

“Okay.” 

She sits back in her chair and they sit in one another silent comfort. A few minutes pass and she looks up and finds him sleep peacefully. Those brows finally having relaxed and his mouth open. She’ll be right here to keep the demons away and if Foyet decides to show his miserable face? He won’t be ready for the beating she’ll lay on him.

She just has no idea how wrong her promise is. 

Now, she can squeeze his hand and promise him that he won’t lose anyone else. And he doesn’t for a few months. 

Then she finds him crouched over Foyet’s dead body and Ian Doyle claws his way from the grave. 

And he has to bury her. 

He looses her too.