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juniorgman187 · 4 years ago

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Fighting Fire With Fire (Reid Fic)

Summary: Reader must lower her pride after a date goes wrong and the only one who can rescue her is her mortal enemy - Spencer Reid.

A/N: This was a beast of a fic to write. It’s been in my WIP since September, and I managed to go from 11 pages to 22 pages in three days. It is now my longest fic thus far. I am insanely fucking proud of it and I hope it does well. Category: Angst Pairing: Fem!Reader x Spencer Reid Content Warning: allusions to ‘catfishing,’ allusions to abduction, dub-con to taking provocative photos, alcohol, mentions of bruises, jealousy, carrying hug which implies weight of Reader (lmk if I missed anything) Word Count: 11.7k

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

I tried to play nice; I really did, but there was no getting through to him. Everyday started and ended with us fighting fire with fire.

Maybe the reason the two of you butt heads so often is because of how similar you are.

That’s what the team would say when Spencer and I got into one of our daily (sometimes hourly) arguments.

They constantly encouraged us to get to know each other so that we’d finally see the likeness, and until recently, I wasn’t opposed to the idea. I was willing to do whatever it took to get him to like me. However, as previously mentioned, my willingness quickly dissipated in light of recent events.

Voluntarily spending more time than necessary with him would be a recipe for disaster no doubt.

Somehow, in a matter of a month, Reid decided that he simply did not enjoy my presence, which was the nice way of putting it.

To be more crass, he loathed me to no end.

Initially, I was operating under the assumption that he wasn’t fond of change, and with me joining the BAU, the change was too much too fast for him, but after four weeks, his attitude toward me never deviated. Yet again, I made another excuse for him, arguing to myself that people are allowed to not like me. I could respect that, but where he lost my respect was how he made a conscious effort to remind me of how much he despised me. Even when I was at my nicest, he still treated me like a scelerate.

If there was a prize for gaining a mortal enemy in the shortest amount of time, I guess I already won that without even trying. He hated me with a burning passion, for reasons unbeknownst to me, despite the fact that all I’d ever try to do was be his friend.

For far too long, I kept denying the part of me that knew making peace with him outside of work wouldn’t go well and it’d simply go down in history as another failed attempt of mine to form a bond with him, so it was at this point that I decided to face the facts.

He didn’t make it easy for me, either. It was hard having to be kind to someone that was only ever out to get me.

He would constantly correct me but only after I said something incorrectly, just so he could prove me wrong.

“If each police officer patrols a street, we’ll be able to cover the entire comfort zone.”

“Actually, we’d need three more officers if we want to cover the entire comfort zone. There’s still 2.347 miles that are unaccounted for.”

I never understood why he couldn’t just say his piece before me so that I didn’t look like an idiot, but I suppose that was the point.

And he had this infuriating, unwarranted habit of judging my taste in cinema and literature. Anytime I told Emily or Derek about a movie I saw or told Rossi about a book I read, he felt compelled to share his antagonistic opinions as if I asked for them in the first place. Sometimes even spoiling the endings for me!

“Rossi, I just started reading Doctor Sleep!” I was so eager to tell Rossi that, so much so that I’d become blind to one dark cloud’s own eagerness to ruin the fun.

“The hotel burns to the ground, but the ghosts don’t die with it.”

He said it with such monotony and nonchalance, not even bothering to look up from his own book to watch my reaction to his menacing act. He just didn’t care!

The list of reasons not to like him truly did go on and on, so it was almost insulting how people would compare the two of us.

They’d bring up the congruence in intelligence, the same affinity for reading, and closeness in age, but it only made me madder. The last person I wanted to resemble was Reid, except today, I gained another glaring similarity to him.

“Look at you two. Did you plan your outfits or something?” Emily playfully pointed out after I walked into the conference room.

I eyed the doctor sipping at his cup of coffee who swiveled around in his chair to see what everyone else was seeing. Just from a short glance, I spotted his navy blue button-up with white polka dots that was nearly identical to the color and print of my dress.

“Well, looks like one of us has to go home and change.” His lips grew into a mischievous smirk behind the rim of his mug.

Was that a joke? Did Spencer Reid make jokes now?

“Ha ha. Very funny.” I facetiously remarked, taking the only open seat at the table which was next to the jokester himself.

“I’m kidding. You look really nice today.” He alleged without a hint of irony. He was complimenting me now, too? It was so unfamiliar that it felt like uncharted territory, possibly even a trap.

“Why? Because I’m dressed like you?” I wasn’t going to fall for his words now, maybe the version of me who would do anything to gain his approval would have. She would’ve smiled and said ‘thank you,’ but this me was going to challenge him if that was the last thing I ever did. “Bit of a narcissist are we, Dr. Reid?”

“Mmm maybe,” He wagered, tilting his head from side to side as if to contemplate the possibility. “Or maybe I just really think you look nice.”

Without even thinking, my heart skipped a beat. I was utterly repulsed by how I let his words have any effect over me. I couldn’t believe that he’d actually managed to fluster me with mediocre flattery.

It felt like years that I had to sit next to Reid at the round table before Hotch dismissed the team for the flight.

30 minutes later, and we were on the jet. I’d taken one of the seats at the table opposite Derek and Emily, with Spencer beside me.

Little things like this I could handle, but I knew it wouldn’t be long before he started bothering me. Morgan was listening to music and Emily was turned around in her seat, facing the back to talk to Rossi. Reid was playing himself in chess, and it took all of my self-control to not be a total asshole and knock the board and its pieces over and into the aisle. Luckily, I had a good enough distraction.

Grant: can you ft tonight?

Me: we’ll see. i might have to work overtime.

For the months that I had been talking to Grant, I was deliberately ambiguous about my job because I wasn’t exactly keen on telling him that I worked for the FBI and that I might not be able to FaceTime him since I was in the process of investigating a series of homicides. That’d surely scare him away and I was never one to flaunt my government job anyway.

Grant: you look stunning today

Me: you haven’t even seen me today

Grant: don’t need to.

Grant: you’ll always be stunning to me.

“Who keeps texting you?”

I looked up from my screen to see Reid fixated on his game but still engaged in my business.

“No one,” I harshly replied, making a conscious decision to turn my phone on vibrate so he wouldn’t hear the chime of my text notifications.

With one nimble side glance, Reid eyed my screen. I nudged him away with extra force.

“Nosy much?!”

This stunned him. He wasn’t used to my coldness, he probably expected me to smile in a chagrined manner and not confront it - as I would have done - but now I was fighting back, and if I didn’t know any better, I’d say he liked it.

I knew he could read fast, but how he managed to look at my phone so quickly it was like he never even moved his eyes - I didn’t know. Somehow, though, he managed to capture Grant’s entire username, and I didn’t doubt that he caught my entire conversation with him, too.

“Who’s Grant?” The name rolled off his tongue like he was insulted to even be saying it.

“No one.”

He didn’t respond soon after I said this, which I misinterpreted as a little victory for me since I almost believed he was going to drop the subject, but in true Spencer Know It All Reid fashion, he just kept going.

“‘You look stunning today B-T-W. You haven’t even seen me today. Don’t need to. You’ll always be stunning to me.’ Doesn’t really sound like a ‘no one’ to me.” His recitation of my entire PRIVATE conversation with Grant embarrassed me.

Did I forget to add his eidetic memory and speed-reading ability to the list of reasons not to like him?

“Shut up!” I nudged him, this time using much more force than the last. I was becoming more and more inclined to push over his ridiculous chess game so that he’d finally take me seriously.

“Oh, really clever by the way. Vaguely insinuating that you ‘might not be able to call him because you’re working overtime’ just so you don’t have to disclose the true nature of your job.” Spencer’s sarcasm was thick.

“Are you just jealous because the only date you’ve been on was a fake one with a serial killer and not even your actual girlfriend while she was alive?” My reference to Cat and Maeve caught the attention of the entire jet.

Each member mentally rolled their eyes thinking ‘Here we go again.’ And if that wasn’t their reaction, they were certainly cringing at the fight that was ensuing.

Things had been suspiciously good between the two of us today so it was about time we argued. We were due for our daily quarrel.

“Oh, that’s right! The only girls who like you are victims in our cases.” Now this comment was referring to Lila and Austin. (I had Penelope to thank for filling me in on all of Reid’s ‘entanglements’ after I was first reassigned).

“Really? You wanna go there?” He sassed back, diverting his attention away fully from his chess game now. “Do you know how many people get ‘catfished’ when using online dating websites? Or the statistics on how many people are raped, assaulted, or murdered by said ‘catfish’?”

“I’m not stupid, Reid. He and I have been talking for months. We’ve been on calls and Facetime before, too. We’ve just never met in person. Sound familiar?”

“What Maeve and I had is not at all comparable to what you and this ‘guy’ have. And just because you’ve seen his face before doesn’t mean he’s not a serial killer or operating under an alias.”

I had to scoff. Who was he to label our relationship valid or not?

“What’s it to you anyway? We all know you’d be ecstatic if this guy turned out to be a serial killer or catfish. You’d get to rub it in my face and say ‘I told you so.’”

This touched a nerve. He hated it when I attacked his nice-guy facade.

“Is it so hard to believe I’m actually concerned for your wellbeing?”

“Yes, actually.”

“Fine. If you think I don’t care about you, then don’t come crying to me when you realize he’s not the guy you think he is.”

“Oh, trust me, I won’t! It’s not like you’d be able to protect me anyway, Pretty Boy.” I sneered, using Morgan’s nickname for him as an insult got to him, and I could see it in the way his jaw clenched and his nostrils flared.

Hotch had to interject now. “Alright, (y/l/n), Reid, that’s enough. We need to focus on what’s actually important.”

I settled back down in my seat, facing forward and avoiding eye contact with Reid.

“Have fun on your date,” He muttered under his breath. “Hope you survive it.”

Bastard.

For the rest of the case, I was on edge. Deliberately avoiding him was a much harder task than one might think. I had to wait at least ten minutes for my coffee, so I wouldn’t be at the machine when he was there, and if I had to guess, he probably took longer just to make me wait in agitation. I had to awkwardly squeeze into a new spot beside Rossi and Hotch when we were delivering the profile. I had to ask not to travel in the same SUV as him.

And this exhausting routine went on for days. In fact, I’d managed to almost go the entire case without interacting with him. That was until Hotch sent us both in the field to apprehend the unsub.

“Are you sure?” I asked with clear reluctance.

“Are you questioning me?” Hotch replied sternly.

“No, sir.”

I was already on thin ice being the new recruit, so I knew better than to question any of Hotch’s orders. And as miserable as working with Reid was, I figured he’d at least ease up on the hostility when we needed to be professional. Evidently though, even in the field, he wasn’t willing to work together with me.

It was a quick decision, not careless in the least, however. The unsub had locked himself in his warehouse and refused to leave unless we were brave enough to drag him out of there ourselves. The ultimatum he gave specified that only one of us could do it and we both agreed that I should go in, seeing as he’d underestimate my strength as a woman, and I’d have the upperhand when I inevitably apprehended him.

However, he also explicitly told us that I couldn’t come in with a gun - it had to be an even playing field.

“You are not going in without a gun,” Reid ordered.

“We don’t have time to argue about this - I have a spare on me, okay? There are three hostages in there, two of which are children.” Without giving him a chance to respond, I handed him my gun and holster.

Had I let him waste a single second more of my time, we wouldn’t have been able to save the three hostages and successfully arrest the unsub. I saw this as a victory and I was almost willing to celebrate it with him, but it wasn’t long before he let our enmity tear us apart again.

When we got back to the precinct, I went to the locker room to change, then suddenly, Hotch came in.

“I’ve been informed that you went in unarmed against a fellow agent’s orders. This matter will be discussed in my office when we get back. I should warn you, (y/n), you do not want to make this mistake again.” Hotch left me with those foreboding words, and I knew, I knew immediately that Reid was to blame for this.

If I took a look in the mirror of my locker, I wouldn’t have been surprised if I saw that my face was turning a bright shade of red. I was fuming - bursting at the seams from the anger building within me that was desperately fighting to escape. I could imagine myself as a cartoon character with steam blowing out either of my ears. I was about to go on a rampage, and no one - absolutely no one - could stop me.

The last straw was hearing him come in. This was my opportunity to unleash what was already boiling.

“What the hell, Reid? ‘(y/n) went in unarmed.’ Seriously?!” I undid the velcro on my vest so hastily out of my blind rage that the spiky side of the velcro strip nearly sliced my finger. “Are you trying to get me fired?”

“If that’s what it takes to make you realize how stupid of a choice that was, then yes, I do.” He was so calm and collected in his inflection that it angered me all the more.

“What are you even talking about? What ‘stupid choice’? You knew I had a second gun on me. And even if I didn’t carry it, I still would’ve had my vest on. I wasn’t going in unarmed or unprotected, so why would you tell Hotch that?”

“In the time it would take you to assess the danger, react, and then reach for the gun at your ankle, the unsub would’ve been able to shoot you twice - if not more. That’s going in unprepared, which is going in unarmed.”

I scoffed in disbelief that he was actually reprimanding me. “Are you kidding? This is all based on a technicality? Did your eidetic memory somehow forget about what happened with Maeve? Because my memory didn’t. I know for a fact that you went into that warehouse without a vest or a weapon. And unlike you, I had a spare and my vest. AND I actually apprehended the unsub. Did you stop Diane?”

This crossed a line and I knew it, but it was too late to take it back, and clearly, it was much too late to repair any relationship I had with him. We were far beyond the point of no return.

He was so mad that he didn’t even answer me. The only response I could gauge was from his body language, which by the looks of it, all the signs of anger were plain on his face. He clenched his jaw so hard I could hear his teeth grind. Even his nostrils flared so primitively. His eyes narrowed down at me with a glare that said, ‘I’m the predator and you’re the prey.’

“Yeah, exactly.” I spat when he stayed silent.

I turned around, starting towards the exit, but I was too furious to stop there, so I spun around and unleashed the remainder of my wrath that had been dying to come out.

“Look, I get it. I’m the new kid around here, and it sucks when someone new comes in and changes up the team dynamic, but any mistake I make, or any mistake Hotch thinks I make, could send me packing. You’ve been working in this unit for years, and even if Hotch questions your choices, he won’t reassign you. He won’t even threaten it. He’s willing to overlook your mistakes because he knows that what you have to contribute to the team is too vital to let go, but I haven’t even had my chance to show him what I have to offer. So when I do make a mistake, there is nothing for me to fall back on, nothing to redeem me, and no safety net, but you? You have years of experience on your back to break your fall. So don’t you dare act like you’re doing me a favor by reporting my ‘mistake’ to Hotch. You might be costing me my dream job, and if you think that makes us friends - think again.”

I stormed out of the locker room seeing red.

This war was far from over.

_ _ _

“You’re clenching your fists again,” Emily said under her breath. I was grateful that she said it in a hushed tone, otherwise she might’ve revealed my lingering anger to the whole jet, which wouldn’t have been good.

I immediately unclenched them, opening up my hands to reveal small, dark C shaped imprints on my palms from where my nails had dug into them.

I should’ve expected that she would’ve learned at least one of my tells by now. I did have many after all. Cheek biting, fist-clenching, leg bouncing.

“Something bothering you?” She probed quietly.

She set her book down to give her undivided attention to this conversation. That was enough to tell me that an excuse like, ‘Nothing, I’m fine,’ would not suffice. She wouldn’t be satisfied until I told her the truth, which I surely did not want to tell. So I settled for a half-truth.

“Hotch wants to talk when we get back.”

From my peripherals, I saw her knit her brows together in confusion. “Is . . . is that it?”

“Mhm.” I lied.

“But that’s not enough to warrant the fist clenching. Cheek biting - sure - you do it when you’re anxious, but not fist-clenching. You only do that when you’re angry about something.”

“Oh, so you have figured out all my tells,” I smirked.

“Pfft, I figured them all out the first week you got here, but I won’t tell you the rest, otherwise you might try and hide them from me,” She joked.

I shook my head playfully. “Yeah, you’re right. I’m just worked up about something - it’s nothing you need to worry about though.” Habitually, my eyes looked right up in his direction. I caught a glimpse of him sprawled against the couch, sleeping. He was lucky I wasn’t ranting about the little stunt he pulled earlier to Emily. He should be thankful that I was even trying to protect his reputation to her at all.

“I get it if you don’t want to talk about it, but it does help. Take it from me, someone who really only trusts myself, you shouldn’t hide what you feel.”

What you feel.

I clung onto those words.

What was I really feeling?

Was I upset that instead of receiving praise for the arrest I made, I was scolded like a child? Was I angry that Hotch believed what Reid had to say about my “problematic behavior” instead of believing in me?

Or did I feel betrayed that despite my best efforts to build a bridge, Reid was tearing it apart brick by brick? Burning it to pieces with the fire of his rage?

“Thanks.” I bleakly said to Emily. I would’ve told her the truth, but it didn’t feel necessary at that moment. If anything, it just would’ve reflected badly on me.

Truthfully, she was the closest thing I had to a friend in the BAU, and if I wanted a permanent spot here, I needed to make more of them - and fast.

“Hey, (y/n), we’re all going down to O’Keefs tonight to celebrate. You wanna join us?” Morgan asked, walking up the aisle and crouching down beside my seat to talk to me.

“Oh, I wish I could, but I have to talk with Hotch when we get back,” I explained, smiling politely.

“We can postpone the meeting till first thing Monday morning. I need to go home and be with Jack, anyway,” Hotch added.

I didn’t realize he could hear me from where he was sitting, which made me all the more nervous that he might’ve overheard the entire conversation between me and Emily earlier.

“Looks like I’m free,” I looked back at Morgan. “Does the offer still stand?”

“Anything for you, sweet cheeks.” He winked.

Judging from the lightness of the atmosphere, everyone, except maybe Hotch and Rossi, would be celebrating at O’Keefs - including Spencer.

I think I might’ve actually preferred to be scolded by Hotch tonight, instead of being silently glared at by Spencer, but it was already too late to revoke my confirmation of presence.

Because, if Hotch could hear me from where he was sitting, then Spencer could, too.

He already heard I was coming, and there was no way I was backing down.

_ _ _

In spite of the fact that I could barely hear myself think over the loud chatter and blasting music, I could still feel the rage radiating off of Spencer. You would think with how long his nap was on the jet, he wouldn’t be so cranky, but I guess he just couldn’t sleep off his disdain for me after our minor altercation.

I wondered if the team could see it, too. The way he was burning a hole into me with his fiery stare. The tension was palpable, as it has always been, but remember - I’m not the one who wanted it that way.

He started this. I was only making the feeling mutual.

“So what about you, (y/n)? Are you seeing anyone?”

I tried to hide my growing smirk behind the rim of my beer, but I knew I couldn’t hide much from them. Of course, right across from me, Spencer was glaring at me expectantly, waiting for the answer he already knew.

“Oooh, look at her - she’s blushing! Spill.” Penelope ordered, beating her palm on the table so enthusiastically it shook all the drinks on it.

“Well, there’s this one guy I’ve been seeing for a while,” The second I started speaking, I noticed Spencer rolling his eyes. I figured his apprehension was the only response of its kind that I would receive, but I was very mistaken.

“How did you two meet?” Penelope giddily asked, nearly jumping up and down in her seat.

“A dating app, actually.”

The table went completely silent, and I immediately felt my stomach drop. It was as if I’d just said something very wrong. With just a quick glance in front of me, Spencer was basking in this.

What a dick.

Emily hesitated to ask. “...Have you two met in person before?”

Now it was my turn to hesitate to speak. “No, not yet.”

I took another sip of my drink even though I wasn’t thirsty. I just wanted to hide any part of my face I could to shield myself from the five sets of eyes burning holes into me now, rather than just the one. Trying to make matters better, I spoke all too quickly, nearly sputtering on my beer. “I’m completely safe, though. Nothing sketchy’s going on, I promise.”

“Of course,” JJ agreed. “We totally trust you,” neglecting to attach the cliche, ‘It’s him we don’t trust.’ But if she had, it would’ve spoken everyone’s bubble thoughts right about now.

“Just be careful, mama.” Derek’s response felt the most sincere, and I honestly believed he was happy for me, but it didn’t change how much their judgement initially stung.

For the rest of the night, I didn’t talk. No one noticed.

Except maybe the last person I wanted to notice.

I quietly slipped away somewhere in the night when the conversation was at its highest precisely so they wouldn’t question where I was going or if I was okay. If they had asked, the truthful answer to the former would’ve been ‘just outside to get some air’ and the latter ‘no.’

The cool breeze drifted through the door like rising fog and for the briefest moment in time, I felt suspended in the space around me - I’d finally caught my breath. That feeling wouldn’t last long, though.

I’d intentionally gone outside to compose myself until I came back a person who wasn’t on the verge of tears, but apparently, trying to pull myself only resulted in my falling apart. A ball of yarn unraveling is the closest comparison I can draw to what I must’ve looked like, crying quietly on the street.

“I figured I’d find you here.”

It was the mere sound of someone’s voice that shocked me, but it was the person whose voice it was that led to the frustration that followed.

“What are you doing here? Shouldn’t you be inside talking to the team of people who also agree with you about Grant?”

He was too much of a nuisance to warrant exchanging eye contact with so I simply stared forward as I spoke and wiped the tears away that were still pooling on my lower lash line. I hoped he hadn’t actually seen me crying, but from what I could tell, he was probably standing there long before he said something. And if he was truly looking at me as deeply as it felt like right now, then he’d have noticed my bloodshot eyes, flushed cheeks, and unending sniffling.

“Is that why you disappeared back there? Because you’re upset they didn’t exactly like the idea of your relationship?” The pain in the ass really tried, he really tried to get me to look at him by facing me and making these gestures with his hands that should’ve gotten my attention, but instead, I stayed put leaning against the wall, keeping my line of sight straight ahead.

“(Y/n), they weren’t insulting you or judging you -”

“Then why did it feel like it?” For the first time since he’d joined me, I’d looked at him. I didn’t even mean to and I had every intention of denying him that privilege for the entire duration of our conversation, but as soon as I asked him my question, we locked eyes, and I saw it written all over his face.

He felt sorry for me.

Now, he could clearly make out how distraught I was from this unobstructed view of my face that was kindled by the dim, flickering yellow glow of the streetlight beside us. And he kept staring, looking into my eyes to read me just as easily and just as quickly as he read a book.

“All we want is for you to be safe,” His voice crackled momentarily, and it actually touched some part of me for how genuine it sounded. “We weren’t trying to judge you or to insult you, and I’m sorry if it felt that way, but if we want your safety, and you tell us about something that could be potentially harmful, then of course we’re going to be apprehensive about it. That’s how people that care about you should react.”

“So are you saying that I don’t care about myself because I’m engaging in something risky?” Isn’t that the most ironic statement of this year? The definition of our job was risky, and even if this wasn’t the safest relationship on the planet, it was nothing like what we put ourselves through everyday being in the field.

“No, that’s not what I’m saying -”

“So what are you saying?” I dared. He shook his head and sighed like he was about to give up, but I needed an answer. “No, please, do continue. Finish what you were gonna say. Since you apparently know everything, 187. Please go ahead - tell me what you think I should do.”

Tell me what you really came out here to say, I ordered him with my eyes.

“I think I respect you more than you respect yourself, and that’s really saying something. Because if you actually liked yourself as much as I do, then you would realize that subjecting yourself to this nonsensicality of a long-distance relationship is not only dangerous - but insulting to your worth, too. You deserve more than that, (y/n).” He couldn’t have been clearer when he murmured a low and firm, “Much more.”

The world was spinning on its axis too fast for me to process anything he said before snapping back at him. “So what exactly is it you want me to do?”

With utmost clarity in both annunciation and intention, he told me, “Break up with him.”

Not a shadow of a doubt in his words.

Then, like the phantom of the opera himself, he vanished back into the bar, but even if he had stayed, I wouldn’t have had anything to say to him. I was simply rendered speechless.

Circling back to my previous argument, I questioned once more why was it any of his business anyway? I was allowed to do as I pleased and I most certainly did not have to listen to him. And I didn’t.

But I should’ve.

_ _ _

My Monday morning meeting with Hotch wasn’t nearly as fire and brimstone as I thought it would be. It did however feel like the equivalent to an “I’m disappointed in you” parent speech. In some ways, I related to the average teen who was grounded. Except instead of my phone being taken away, it was my freedom. From now on, I could only follow executive orders that had been given to me. At least for the time being.

It was clear that, deep down, some part of Hotch knew what I’d done was the right call, but he couldn’t give me any favors. Not until they were deserved on my end.

Walking onto the jet after our meeting, however, felt more juvenile than the punishment itself. I was a kid again, re-entering my classroom after using the restroom, only to have all eyes on me as I came through the door.

As per usual, the only empty chair was next to Reid. There’d been too many instances of this happening to think it was just a coincidence. At this point, I had to assume it was by design. Whose design however? That I didn’t know.

“Hello, trouble,” He sang when I took my seat.

I could only assume that this new nickname was based on what took place in Hotch’s office - thanks to him, need I remind you - but I didn’t care to know the origin because that would require talking to him, and for several reasons, that was the last thing I wanted to do. The first of which was what happened less than three days ago. An event we both hadn’t mentioned yet, and I hoped we never would.

I took every preventative measure in the book. I changed seats with JJ. I moved to the couch. I even started reading in the little hallway between the kitchenette and bathroom of the jet to avoid sitting beside him, but against all my best efforts, he always found a way to bug me. When there’s a will, there’s a way. After exhausting any real reason he had to talk to me, he had to get creative.

“You’ve been on that same page for four minutes and twenty-seven seconds.” I heard him say when he walked up to the kitchen to reach for the pot of coffee. Almost expecting I’d ask him what he meant, he added the explanation casually. “It never takes you more than three minutes and twelve seconds to move onto the next page. So either you’re not understanding the material or you’re not actually reading.”

It was utterly hilarious of him to imply that either of those things were definitely the answer. “What if I’m just taking my time reading this page, genius? Ever thought of that?”

His eyes turned into slits as he leaned in closer to examine me. “You’re blinking rate just increased, too.”

“Stop!” I screeched childishly, pushing him away by his shoulders in an attempt to get him off my back, but he was far from off my back. No, he was right against it. More specifically, his hand was on the small of it.

Leaning in so close that his lips were practically pressing on the shell of my ear, he whispered, “Come find me when you’re ready to tell me the truth.”

He didn’t need to know his words or actions had any sort of effect on me, so I kept the most stoic facial expression on, and I didn’t say a single thing back. He turned back around to leave with the hand on my back being the last thing to go. His lingering touch caused a shiver to run down my spine while paradoxically burning my body from the friction.

I was disgusted with myself for having let him elicit any sort of reaction from me, even if he wasn’t aware of it.

“Yeah ... well, d-don’t expect that to be anytime soon,” was my poor attempt at a retort to shut him up.

“Whatever you say, trouble.”

_ _ _

Personal space can be a wonderful thing. Much less so when it’s invaded, however.

After what felt like the longest flight ever, all I wanted was to take a shower and go to bed. My wishes were granted when I was able to wash off the stress and exhaustion and slip into a blush pink satin pajama set Grant sent me that I’d been meaning to wear. The plunging neck of the tank top was lined with lace and adorned with the tiniest little bow at the center. To match the shirt, the hem of the shorts were lined with lace that trailed up the small triangular slits on the side of the shorts, where at the vertex of them was the same little bow detail. For such a pure and innocent color as baby pink, you’d think it’d be somewhat less revealing. The longer I started at myself in the mirror while wearing it, the more aware I’d become of the intentions behind why Grant had sent it.

How cute, I thought, rolling my eyes.

Gifts should always be appreciated, if for no other reason than the effort put into it, but this just felt slimy. There was obviously no valiant romantic intent behind the negligee, which spoiled the delight of receiving something out of the blue from him. What’s worse was that I wasn’t even sure how to thank him for something like this.

Me: thank you for the pajamas. they’re so cute!

Lying was easier over text message, in case you were wondering what the perks of a long distance relationship were.

Grant: good, I’m glad you like them. are you wearing them right now?

But sometimes, when you should lie, you don’t. And you regret it later on - take it from me.

Me: yeah, they’re super comfy

Grant: great! i wanna see them on! take a pic

As if to compensate for the indisputable hatred I had for this lingerie and what it stood for in our relationship, I did the only thing I could think that would make him think I really liked them. That I felt good in them.

I took pictures - not your ordinary, run-of-the-mill, Yelp review pictures, though - provocative ones.

In the same breath I went to take them, though, Spencer’s words rang through my head.

You deserve more than that. Much more.

Shaking off the thought of Spencer, I decided against what the little voice in my head that sounded too similar to his would’ve said.

To add to the illusion, I situated myself within the hotel sheets and used the front camera to capture my chest that was very much on display in this top. In the middle of rolling around the bed, trying to find the angles that wouldn’t show my face of dejection, the door opened.

Instantaneously, I clawed at the sheets until they wrapped around me like a towel. I was ashamed to admit they provided more coverage than these ‘pajamas’ did.

My shriek of shock must’ve sounded familiar to the stranger intruding on me because no sooner did I scream than they questioned, “(Y/n)? What are you doing here?”

Oh, you’ve got to be fucking kidding me.

“Spencer, what the hell are you doing in here?” I grumbled, struggling to maintain a tight enough grip on the sheets that would keep them from falling and unveiling a sight I desperately did not want him to see.

“I asked you first.”

Boy, if you only knew how badly I wanted to slap that smirk right off his face. “This is my hotel room obviously. Your turn.”

Returning just the same tone, inflection, and vocals, he imitated me. “This is my hotel room obviously.” Like one of those magic tricks he’d show Henry or Jack, he miraculously flashed a room key between his index and middle finger that wasn’t there before.

“No, that’s impossible.”

“I opened the door, didn’t I?” That damn smirk was still there when he asked this. Maybe, just maybe, if it hadn’t been so condescending, I would’ve thought his sarcasm was ... attractive. Disgusting, I know.

“Well, if you actually plan on staying here, then you’re sleeping on the floor or the couch, got it?”

My question went unanswered until I turned around to follow where he’d traveled in the time that I spent pondering how this happened. Now perched at the window, sitting on the arm of the chair in a way that chairs weren’t meant to be sat on, he continued to stare silently at me.

“What? What is it?” I urged.

“What’s going on with the …” He made a side to side sweeping motion with his key card. “Bed sheets?”

Consciously, I shimmied the fabric further up my body. Seeing as there was virtually no way to escape an honest answer, I confessed. “If you must know ... I’m wearing p-pajamas.” My own body was rejecting the shameful admission causing the word to stumble out of my mouth.

He didn’t need to know any more than that to gather what kind of garments they were. He already figured it out.

“Did Grant give them to you?”

I almost rolled my eyes at the implication. “What makes you say that?”

“Because I know you,” He punctuated every word perfectly. “And I know that you wear big shirts and sweatpants to bed because you don’t see the point of spending money on clothes that are only made for you to sleep in - especially if they’re clothes that make you uncomfortable like these ones clearly do.”

Although, I greatly despised the fact that there was even a little bit of a chance that I might’ve agreed with him, I still defended Grant. “It was a thoughtful gesture.”

“Thoughtful, right,” He scoffed. “And which head was he thinking with?”

I was baffled he had the gall to say such an innuendo. “Spencer!”

How dare he? So what if Grant bought me something provocative because he was physically attracted to me? At least someone was.

Despite the ferocity plain on his face, he chose not to pursue this conversation. Visibly biting back on words he knew would hurt me, Spencer managed to sound remarkably genuine when he promised me, “I won’t look if you don’t want me to.”

I want you to, was my very first thought. Oh, God, that’s so fucked up, was my second.

He underlined his sincerity by turning fully around until he was facing the window. “But we should probably put the sheets back on the bed if you plan on sleeping on it.”

He was so patient as he waited for me to remove the cloth from my body. It almost made me feel guilty. He didn’t grumble or gripe, nor did he pressure me to do it at all. So by rights, there should’ve been no reason for me to take so long to let the barrier fall - he wasn’t looking at me. But I was just so goddamn embarrassed.

This wasn’t me, and even he knew that.

“You can turn around now,” I mumbled quietly once my safety net of a bedsheet had abandoned me. My arms were crossed over my chest and my thighs were pressed so tightly against each other as if to limit the surface area that Spencer could scrutinize.

That never came.

He did look, I could tell that much. But it wasn’t a look I’d ever seen before. It wasn’t rage or annoyance or pity. It was a look of lust.

A look that made me positively weak in the knees. A look far more sensual than even my racy garments.

“I’ll just sleep in Morgan’s room tonight, okay?” He offered once he finally broke out of his incapacitation. Grabbing the two opposite corners of the sheets that I was holding, it was a team effort as we arranged the covers where they belonged. It was probably the longest period of time we’d ever worked together without fighting or talking at all for that matter..

Not a single word was exchanged between us while Spencer gathered his things to leave for Derek’s. The room started to feel dangerously empty in the stillness.

When he slipped past me to make his way out, I caught his upper arm, successfully pulling him back around.

I could’ve been sweet, I should’ve. But that wasn’t our thing. So I settled for what came naturally to us and what would set off the least amount of red flags - I didn’t play nice. “As long as you promise not to hog the entire bed with your behemoth body, we can sleep together -” Catching the words as soon as they came out and what they could’ve implied, I began backtracking. “Sleep in the same bed. Sleep as in rest. Not sleep as in … anything else.”

Then, in one of those rare moments- he laughed. He actually laughed. Like a real, hearty, sudden laugh. “I know what you meant, (y/n).”

I’ll never forget the smile that followed the world’s greatest laugh either.

Oh, God, I’m so fucked up.

_ _ _

Spencer’s POV

Domesticated animals are smarter than we give them credit for. Studies have shown that pets can actually sense time; They know when it’s time for their owner to leave for the day and when they’ll be coming home, too.

Animals aren’t dumb - and neither was I.

Like a dog sniffing out their owner’s imminent absence in the home, I could tell (y/n) was leaving the hotel room for the night. If her current state wasn’t convincing enough, then her behavior throughout the entire day supported that theory just as well.

Whether it was her phone, the clock on the wall, or her watch, she was evidently keeping a close eye on the time. She did it so often, though, that you would think she would just use simple deductions to figure out what time it was by estimating the time it was when she last checked, but nope. She rarely let more than a minute go by without monitoring the clock.

My suspicions didn’t end there. What’s more suggestive was the anxious fidgeting. She had her tells of anxiety - everyone does - but this was a level of stress I’d never seen her exhibit before, not even in the field.

She kept cracking her knuckles, even when she’d exhausting all the popping noises she could from them. Her leg-bobbing was another big tell, too. I tend to sit on tables rather than in the chairs at said table, allowing me to feel the earthquake occurring on the precinct floor. Her leg was bouncing up and down so vigorously it was practically shaking the room.

I would’ve asked her what she was so impatient about, but I feared I already knew the answer.

Grant.

And if I never heard that name roll off her tongue again, it would be too soon.

That didn’t mean I couldn’t ask where she was going, though.

Pretending to read Sir Arthur Conan Doyle, I barely let my eyes venture far off the page when I loudly asked from the window seat, “So where are you going tonight, trouble?”

The faintest sound of a chuckle erupted in the bathroom, most likely from the nickname I hadn’t let die yet.

“Nunya,” was her ever-so mature answer.

I didn’t want to give her the chance to say ‘nunya business’ like I knew she would, so I quickly interjected with a monotone, “How clever of you.” If she wanted to be a child about this, then so be it.

“Let’s see. You brought your good heels out of your suitcase, which you only wear on special occasions. And you put on a different perfume than the one you usually use, so I’m assuming it’s new. ... If I didn’t know any better, trouble, I’d say you’re going on a date.”

She peeked her head out of the bathroom doorway to say, “You’re creepy, you know that?”

Seeing the small portion of her face that was embellished with a smile would’ve been enough if only I knew what dress she was hiding in behind that wall. I had yet to see that part of her ensemble, but if I had to guess, it would break my heart.

“Just saying,” I casually lied while clearing my throat.

“Well,” I heard her begin from within the bathroom. “Not that it’s any of your business, but Grant is meeting me tonight.”

Kill me now.

“I thought Grant lived in D.C.” Not that that would change much if he was already here.

“Yes, he does, but he’s driving all the way here to meet me. Seeee,” She drew out the word. “Would a serial killer do that?”

I refrained from giving the obvious answer: Yes.

“Well, I hope you don’t plan on bringing him back here. Otherwise, that’d be terribly awkward, don’t you think?” My allusion to the possibility that Grant would come back here to find me in her bed was borne from the intentions that were a complete contradiction to the words I’d just spoken. It, in fact, wouldn’t be terribly awkward. No, it would be fun. For me at least.

I would have loved to have seen the look on his face, and the worry on hers as she tried to explain who I was and why I had any right to be in (y/n)’s gravity.

The room went silent again while I stayed on the same page of my book and, unbeknownst to her, waited for her to enter the room. How long she was taking was starting to worry me, though.

“Need any help in there?” I called out.

“Nope,” She said through a strained voice that proved she was indeed struggling with something.

“Really?” I asked once more to give her another opportunity to lower her colossal pride. “Cause it sounds like you need help.”

“Nope. I’m good.” Liar.

I knew her too well. I counted down to the exact second when she finally scrambled to ask, “Can you help me zip up my dress?”

“Yyyup.” I’d already resigned to the fact that I would have to help her, bouncing happily off the bed when she finally admitted it and letting myself lose the page I was on as I tossed the book haphazardly behind me.

I was forced to join her in the bathroom for it was already hard for her to humble herself enough to ask me for help, so she certainly couldn’t be expected to lower her pride again and walk out to a place more convenient for me.

The first thing I noticed was that it was a space clearly not made for two. It was so cramped that I ended up right against her in order to fit. The second thing I noticed was how she made no movements to distance herself. She was so close to me that I could actually see the little hairs on the back of her neck standing up from where my breath ghosted on the area. The sterile smell of hotel bathrooms had been replaced by the flowery, aromatic scent of her new perfume, and my heart broke all over again.

Using the back of my fingers, I cast a barely-there caress on her neck to stroke her hair out of the way to clear the path of the zipper. The little hairs on the back of her neck stood up again.

She liked that.

“So do I get to know where you’re going?” I reached for the zipper on the small of her back. “For safety purposes, of course.”

“Aww, you looking out for me, Dr. Reid?” She teased in a seductive tone while gathering her hair into a makeshift ponytail that for the shortest second recorded in time might’ve reminded me of a constantly recurring intrusive image.

“Always, trouble.”

The zipper fastened with absolutely no resistance all the way to the top. My eyes flashed to the mirror to catch her expression, which told me everything I needed to know.

What a pretty little liar. She didn’t actually need my help.

Comprehending that the realization dawned on me, she gave me what she knew would shut me up. “We’re going to The Rooftop at Lamont’s.”

How effortlessly she slipped past me without a thank you or a glance in my direction served as a rude awakening.

“Well, you should take an umbrella with you. It looks like there’s gonna be a storm tonight.” This was my small way of coming to terms with the reality of the situation.

“Eh,” She waved my suggestion off with a dismissive hand. “We’ll be fine. Oh, and don’t even think about stalking me!” She warned before exiting the room.

In the blink of an eye, she was gone - my peace of mind having left with her.

_ _ _

The amount of sleep you need varies for each person and is affected by several factors. However, for most adults, 7–9 hours per night is the ideal amount. And I was slowly reducing that optimal quantity, hour by hour, until there was none left.

I would continue to sacrifice my sleep so long as I was awake for her return. If she’d asked why I was still up, I would lie. Though I wouldn’t look half so pretty as she did when she lied.

Losing rest seemed like such a small price to pay to make sure I was fully alert in the event that an emergency happened, even if I would suffer the consequences in the morning. But hey - that’s what caffeine is for, isn’t it? To re-energize oneself after staying up to guarantee one’s enemy’s safety.

Yeah, I’m sure that’s exactly why Kaldi invented coffee in 750 A.D.

Besides the thunderstorm, my mind also made great company for situations like these. Granted, the visions it would project kept me up for a reason - they were all so awful.

There was simply no projected reality where things would turn out alright.

If she had the time of her life on her date, she would come back to throw it in my face that I’d been wrong, and her admiration for Grant would have deepened.

Or if he stood her up, she’d be devastated, but instead of letting me console her, she’d push me away as easily as she always did.

In a more neutral instance, perhaps she would admit it wasn’t as great meeting him as she thought it would be and the relationship would fade out for innocent reasons. Even if that seemed like the most favorable circumstance, she would eventually grow to resent me for planting the seed of doubt in her head in the first place.

But nothing- nothing I could have imagined would be as treacherous as what actually happened.

At exactly 1:09 a.m, my phone started to ring. I can’t explain to you what it was, but I just knew - it was her calling, and it wasn’t even her number.

“(Y/n)? Is everything okay?”

If she said something beforehand, I couldn’t hear her because the storm was too loud and her voice was too quiet. “Did I wake you up?”

I reassured her with a tone I didn’t even recognize. “No, no. I was awake. Why? What’s up?” The line went quiet again, forcing me to prompt her to speak in order to find out if she was still there on the call. “(Y/n)?”

“Spencer ...” She choked out a hoarse sob. “I need you. I need you to come get me, please.”

My eyes clenched shut at the dreadful sound of her sorrow, and I jolted into action. After scrambling to gather the keys to her car that she’d left behind, I fled the room faster than ever before.

“I’m on my way, (y/n). Stay right there. You’re at The Rooftop at Lamont’s right?”

The poor thing took the longest pause in history, either from shame or disorientation. “He threw me in the back of his car and drove me all the way to D.C. I …” Her breath caught on her dry throat again. “I, um, I managed to escape and now I’ve barricaded myself in a payphone booth. I haven’t called the police yet. You were the first person I thought to call. I just, I just needed to hear your voice.”

My knuckles turned an unfamiliar shade of white when I gripped the steering wheel, picturing her caged up in a rectangular box, dialing my number instead of 911 just so she could hear my voice.

“Everything is gonna be okay. I promise you. My ETA is 1:28. That’s in 19 minutes. Are you okay being there for that long or do you want to find somewhere safer?”

I could no longer distinguish the difference between talking to her right now and talking to a victim in distress. I was speaking with the same tone and inflection but feeling a sharp pain in my chest that wasn’t there before.

“I can stay here. Just ... don’t hang up, okay?” The fact that the possibility of me abandoning her over the phone even crossed her mind was more than enough to get me to drive well over the speed limit.

The list of traffic infractions only grew from there because honestly? Screw my safety or anyone else’s. Her’s was the only one that mattered. She was the priority.

She was my priority.

Throughout the entire call, I kept repeating, “You’re gonna be okay. You’re gonna be okay. You’re gonna be okay.” Frankly, it was something we both needed to hear.

It was both the fastest and slowest 19 minutes of my life. Time no longer felt real when I finally found the payphone booth that boxed in my troublesome girl. No sooner did I drive up to the sidewalk than I ran out of the car to sprint the short distance to free her from her coop.

“(Y/n)!” I shouted, swinging the door open and throwing caution to the wind in the process. Immediately, she dropped the phone, not even bothering to replace it onto its receiver.

The pouring rain had stripped her of her dignity. Mascara ran down her face in pigmented streams of black. Her curled hair was dampened into strings. But worse of all, it hadn’t washed away the darkening bruises on her skin.

“Oh my god, Spencer!” She cried as she ran into my open arms.

Her body collided with mine in such a gentle manner that I had to wonder how that was possible at all or if it was a figment of my imagination. Was our collision actually that gentle or did it seem that way because of how good it felt to have her arms and legs latch around my entire torso, crossing and connecting somewhere in between?

With one arm under her thighs to hold her up, I pulled her impossibly closer to me by cradling the back of her head with the other hand.

Her small hands found their way into my hair, a new sensation I tried not to indulge in so as not to let my attention stray away from the little life I was holding in my arms.

She was so cold.

Shivering from my warm embrace, her teeth chattered as she whispered, “I’m so sorry, Spencer. You were right I should’ve listened -”

“Shh, it’s okay, (y/n),” I said with the hopes that I could make the pounding heart that was thumping against my shoulder settle down until it reached her standard heart rate of 67 beats per minute.

After a second of just holding her wordlessly, she spoke again.

“I don’t wanna fight.” She surrendered so easily to me that I could hardly believe this was her at all.

“I don’t wanna fight with you either.”

That was entirely true. Fighting with her was the last thing on my mind. The first was getting her into my car.

It was easier that I imagined it would be, but then again, it’s easy to do things when you’re motivated in this way.

Before I loosened my hold on her to shut the passenger door, she squeezed me a little tighter, as if to be absolutely certain this was real and not some cruel dream.

“Thank you,” She hummed into the crook of my neck. From where her shoulder was digging into my throat, I couldn’t exactly respond verbally, so I settled for rubbing my hand up and down her back comfortingly.

“Let’s take you home,” I basically said to myself seeing as it was too quiet to be discernible.

“No,” She shook her head rapidly. “Take me to your apartment.”

“What?”

“I don’t want to go back to the hotel right now. I need to be somewhere I feel safe.”

My apartment is closer than the hotel, I reasoned, pretending it was the logic of it that made my heart swell and not the statement I would fixate on for the entire duration of the ride there.

I need to be somewhere I feel safe.

And that’s wherever I’m with you.

_ _ _

Reader’s POV

Porcelain wall tiles gleamed back at me, mocking my wretched misery. They were much prettier than me, but then again, anything else would be prettier than me right about now.

I certainly wasn’t the belle of the ball in my bare naked state. The fact that I was sitting in a pool of my own washed off dried blood didn’t help either.

I would’ve looked away from the bright white walls, but where else were I to look? Into the pair of eyes that I was deliberately avoiding? The ones that were staring a hole through me right now? No. I couldn’t bear to meet those eyes. So I kept looking forward at the mean walls - those mean, mocking walls.

“Is the water warm enough?” He asked, dipping a finger into the bathwater to test it himself.

I watched as his hand snuck into the tub and swirled around some water, causing soap bubbles to revitalize.

For a reason I didn’t know nor could remember at this given moment, Spencer drove me to his apartment. That memory of why I was here was fuzzy, but the rest following my arrival was more vivid. Perhaps because it was all unfolding right now.

“I think I should go,” I murmured. The bathwater had gone cold, and the silence was too deafening. If I didn’t leave now, then I would be trapped forever.

I leaned forward with my knees still pressed to my chest to protect my modesty while I tugged on the silver drain plug of the tub to release the suction.

“You can’t go home. You’ll be alone again, and who will be there to help you that time?”

“I don’t need anybody’s help.” I responded curtly.

“Then why did you call me tonight?”

“Why did you answer?”

He was stunned by how I didn’t miss a beat with my question, stunned enough to purse his lips in contempt. “Should I have declined your call then? Said ‘no�� instead and let you fend for yourself? You know what - my bad, (y/n). I sincerely apologize that I care about you.”

I scoffed at his factiousness. “No, what you should’ve done is whatever the hell you wanted to do. But clearly, since you said ‘yes’ and came to my rescue like I’m some victim in a case - you wanted to be there. I could chalk that up to you having a hero complex, but I think it’s time for you to admit you just wanted to see me at my worst so you could throw it in my face like you’re doing right now.”

He clenched his jaw in fury, muttering under his breath, “I should’ve left you in that booth.”

This crossed a line, but I was just as ready to cross it, too.

“But I bet you liked saving me. Seeing me as a damsel in distress that you could white knight. You like that, Spence? Does my weakness settle your deep rooted fear of inadequacy in strength?”

Shouldn’t have done that.

For a second there, I was sincerely scared of the response I might’ve just elicited, so I shot up from the tub and grabbed the towel on the rack, quickly wrapping myself in it and avoiding Spencer’s gaze the entire way out of the bathroom.

“Where do you think you’re going?” Judging from the loudness of his voice, he was right on my heels, following me close behind.

“You’re smart. Figure it out.”

“God, why do you have to be such a pain in the ass? I don’t want to leave you like this.” It never failed to amaze me how he could both show disdain and concern for me in the matter of a sentence.

“Well, you’re not leaving me like this - I’m leaving you like this.” My clever remark angered him more.

Seemingly from out of nowhere, Spencer called out from the end of his hallway, “What are you so scared of?”

Reaching the end of my rapidly fraying rope, I spun around to throw my arms out to my side in just the same defensive manner as he did. “Nothing! Maybe I just don’t wanna be stuck in the apartment of the man who hates me! Can you blame me?”

He ran a hasty hand through his hair, pulling at the strands out of pure irritation. “Why do you keep saying I hate you? How can any of what I’ve done for you tonight suggest that?”

He’d chosen his words carefully and for that, he was smart. His inclusivity of the word ‘tonight’ meant I could only reference his actions from the past few hours, which wouldn’t help my case, as opposed to the months and months that he’d given me the cold shoulder, which would have helped my case. But again, he was smart - he had me in a deadlock. I couldn’t accept defeat, but what could I possibly argue against his point?

My body literally shook from the power of the deep groan that tore through my chest. “God, what do you want from me, Spencer?” I wanted nothing more than to be far, far away from him, but my body was resisting all those urges. Lunging forward, I pointed the sternest index finger at him, staring the most unforgiving glare into his soul. “Tell me - tell me what you want! Because when I was nice to you, you-you treated me like shit. And then when I stopped being nice to you, you still treated me like shit. So what -” I had to laugh to alleviate the sheer rage I was feeling. “What the fuck do you want from me? Because it’s like no matter what I do, it’s just not good enough for you!”

His eyebrows had furrowed and his eyes softened. He didn’t look angry whatsoever. No, he looked hurt.

“Not good enough for me?” He leaned down to my level to look right into my eyes. “You are everything … everything to me.”

With one last breath, I cried out in anguish, “Then why? Why do you hate me so much?”

He gulped back the lump in his throat - the last barrier that kept him from telling the truth.

“I ... I never hated you. I just need to be in control of my thoughts and feelings at all times, otherwise, I feel-I feel like I’m going crazy. Like I’m on the verge of a psychotic break that I’m genetically predisposed to have. But when you came around - I lost all my control. You were inhabiting my dreams, you were stealing my sleep, occupying more and more space in my brain until there was no more room left to take. God, I think about you all the time, and I literally cannot physically stop it. I have no control anymore,” and somehow him saying that sounded something like an ‘I love you.’

“The only thing I could control was how I treated you. I thought being awful to you would get you to despise me enough to make me despise you, too, and while it was easier to be angry at you, it was so much worse having you hate me.”

“I never hated you, Spencer.” Never.

“You should have,” He rasped. “I know I don’t deserve you, but I wish to spend every day proving that I want you. Oh, I want you so bad,” He sharply inhaled through gritted teeth, and I unconsciously laughed in return. His pain wasn’t funny in the least. What was amusing was knowing that he had the same excruciating longing for me that I had for him.

“I don’t want control anymore if it means I can’t have you.”

He leaned in so carefully that I almost didn't register the movement at all. Our hearts were pounding to the same synchronized beat. We were the shore and the tide one in the same. Our breaths would draw in and out, in and out, as he held my face so gently. We were still the shore and the tide, but more than anything we were drowning in the ocean of ourselves. The rising waters of his admiration threatened to flood every empty nook and cranny of the room until it swallowed me whole. All I could feel was him, everywhere, filling absolutely everything.

“Wow ... I finally got you speechless,” The cocky bastard hummed happily, letting his words vibrate on the smallest part of my lip.

“Oh, shut up,” I declared through a smirk I needed to fight off before finally closing that nearly imperceptible gap between us.

All the forces in the world couldn’t tear us apart after we connected. They were no match for the force Spencer’s hands had as they pulled me impossibly closer. The pressure might’ve even been unbearable had it not been for the velvety pair of lips giving me back all the oxygen it stole from my lungs just seconds ago. They were so soft, like freshly washed sheets, like biting into cotton candy, like floating for the first time, feeling utterly weightless in water. It’s sweet, it’s so effortlessly sweet.

Not nearly as sweet as the words that followed our parting.

“Not enough for me?” He repeated, recalling my previous claim. “You’ve had me since the day you walked in, trouble.”

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

fingers crossed this fic doesn’t flop!

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#spencer reid #Spencer Reid fic #spencer reid angst #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid kiss #fighting fire with fire #juniorgman187 #criminal minds #criminal minds fanfiction

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oumakokichi · 4 years ago

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So what do you think of Kaede and Kokichi's relationship? And if Kaede remained the protagonist how do you think it would change?

Considering it’s Kaede’s birthday today I think this is a really fun question to come back to!

Kaede is an absolutely amazing character, and I love how different her relationships with the rest of the cast feel from Saihara’s. She and Ouma have an especially interesting friendship in their FTEs together (one of Kaede’s FTEs with Ouma might be one of my favorite FTEs ever, really), so I don’t mind going a little more in-depth on my thoughts about their dynamic, as well as about how that dynamic and the story itself might’ve changed if Kaede had remained the protagonist!

Warning for spoilers as always, though I’m pretty sure most people know about the chapter 1 twist by now.

I think one of my absolute favorite things about Kaede is just how easy it is to get attached to her in such a short amount of time. She’s only around for the prologue and a single chapter, but despite that (or rather, because of the sheer length of the chapters in ndrv3, which tend to be much longer than dr1 or sdr2’s chapters), we still get to see so many different sides of her and just how complex of a character she really is. And I think that’s largely the reason for her continued popularity to this day: Kaede might not stay around for long, but we still really feel like we know her by the end of it.

And really, I think that’s pretty similar to how the actual characters feel about Kaede themselves. Despite how short her time is with all of them, she leaves such a powerful, lasting impression, even after her death. This is a pretty big change from previous DR games, where the chapter 1 culprits especially tend to suffer a pretty big lack of relevance or relationship to other characters in later chapters. Often times the victims are at least somewhat memorable (Maizono and the Impostor both at least come up a few times in their respective games), but characters like Leon or Teruteru just don’t feel like they have much of an impact on the other characters or the plot itself after their trials are finished.

This is totally different from Kaede, whose positive outlook and outgoing attitude already makes her fairly likable to most of the others, but who also openly invites the others to rely on her once she establishes herself as a leader figure fairly quickly in chapter 1. Most of the other characters latch onto her almost immediately, either because she seems so reliable and helpful (Saihara and Tenko in particular seem to like this about her), or because they can’t help but respect her and what she’s trying to do for the group (characters like Momota, who really values group cooperation, come to mind).

Personally, I think Ouma fell into the latter category. He and Kaede have something of a complicated relationship almost right from the get-go in chapter 1, but it’s still pretty clear that Ouma did respect Kaede a lot and recognized that she had the group’s best interests at heart, even if he didn’t always agree with her methods.

Likewise, I think Kaede was somewhat curious about Ouma and really wanted to get along with him, despite how difficult he could be. We see in Ouma’s introduction, both in the demo and the actual game, that Kaede clearly recognizes on some level that part of his annoying attitude is really just his way of teasing others, and that he doesn’t seem particularly malicious. More specifically, she describes him as “having a childish streak that makes him hard to hate,” which is a pretty spot-on description of Ouma in a nutshell. In short, she knew he was annoying and childish (on purpose, most of the time) but she definitely didn’t think of him as evil or cruel. This may in part also be because she didn’t live long enough to see him embrace the fake villain routine by the end of chapter 4, of course.

Ouma has a few teasing remarks throughout most of the game, but it’s not really until the death road of despair is discovered that he and Kaede butt heads for the very first time. This is because of a big, fundamental difference between their ideologies: while both of them very much have the group’s best interests at heart, they completely disagree when it comes to whether it’s worth it to cooperate as a team or not.

By the end of the game, Ouma is extremely paranoid, refusing to cooperate with absolutely anyone unless it’s out of some mixture of chance and necessity (such as working with Momota in chapter 5). He keeps all his cards close to the chest, and refuses to confide in or trust any of his remaining classmates, believing it’s fully possible any of them could be the ringleader.

But before the events of chapter 4, we see that he’s actually not opposed to the idea of selective cooperation. He strikes up a tentative collaboration with Miu early on, commissioning her to create some extremely useful inventions with the intent of using them to try and end the killing game. He also extends an invitation of cooperation to both Kaede (in one of her FTEs) and Saihara (in chapter 4, in the parlor of the VR world), though he goes about this in such a sly, underhanded, and off-putting way that both of them shoot his offer down flat. Even he’s not beyond the idea of teaming up with people he perceives as “useful” or “smart,” as long as it’s a much smaller, one-on-one effort rather than trusting or working with the entire group.

By contrast, Kaede is someone who believes that group unity is almost a necessity if they want to escape the killing game. This is very much in line with the role she establishes for herself as a leader. Unlike characters like Momota, who has always sort of longed to embrace a “hero” role, or Saihara, who is considerably more awkward and unwilling to be a leader because of how guilty he feels, Kaede’s role is much more about boosting and maintaining the group’s morale.

This is lampshaded several times by the classical music pieces that she references, often in an attempt to either clam the others down or fire them up at the idea of working together and escaping. It’s also a fantastic little clue that her own positive outlook is something a bit more crafted than it seems on the surface; she always tries to be optimistic about things and face her problems head-on, but that’s in large part because she tries to energize herself and present that reliable, dependable persona to the rest of the group. In short, she believes that if she reveals her own uncertainty or lack of faith in her plans, the rest of the group’s trust and morale will fall too.

Like I mentioned, this difference in their outlook is really what begins to cause problems for them once they discover the death road of despair in chapter 1. Kaede sees the tunnel as their one opportunity to escape without having to rely on the killing game itself; even if it’s extremely difficult and damn near impossible to get through it, the chance of injury is a risk she’s willing to take, no matter how many times they have to start over. But Ouma disagrees with this mindset and criticizes her in front of the entire group, pointing out how everyone else is already exhausted and even injured, and saying that she has no right to make that decision for the rest of them.

He even goes a step further and accuses her of strong-arming the rest of them by “denying them the right to give up in an impossible situation.” He claims that by positing herself as an inspirational figure, she has the “moral high-ground” no matter what the rest of them do or say, and clearly doesn’t think it’s possible for them to continue down the death road without someone getting seriously injured, or worse.

These harsh words really take Kaede aback, especially since most of the rest of the group seems to more or less agree with Ouma. She’s extremely hurt—not just by the fact that no one seems to really want to keep going with her plan, but also, I think, because she felt as if Ouma was right on some level. In my opinion, this is why she cries once she’s alone in her room later: because she did feel as though she’d forced everyone else to go along with an unreasonable plan. It’s the first time that we really see the cracks in her leader persona beginning to show, as well as the self-doubt that she carries.

I honestly think many people who dislike Ouma on their first playthrough of the game may have started here, right at this moment. Because so much of this seems to be fairly black-or-white initially—Kaede is presented as the unequivocally good heroine, trying to get everyone to work together and escape, and Ouma by contrast seems mean and unreasonable for arguing with her in front of everyone. We’re not supposed to linger on the fact that he makes several good points about everyone else’s safety and exhaustion because how he goes about it is off-putting and unlikable.

Not only that, but we as first-time players aren’t supposed to know about all the similarities that Ouma and Kaede actually have in common, despite their differences on the matter of group cooperation. We’re not supposed to know just yet that they both want to save the group, no matter what it takes, or that both of them are willing to go to extreme, sometimes morally grey measures in order to try and stop the killing game. We’re not supposed to know right away that Ouma can be every bit as self-sacrificing as Kaede, despite the selfish things that he says in front of the others, or that when push comes to shove, Kaede is willing to lie almost as much as he is.

We don’t know any of that, initially—which is why that scene hits so hard and sets Ouma up to be so unpleasant. But I think going back on a replay and evaluating it again is pretty interesting specifically because of all these similarities that I’ve listed. The fact that they clash here is especially interesting, given the sort of roles they embody to the rest of the group, with Kaede deliberately choosing to be someone that the entire group relies on and finds trustworthy, while Ouma later sets himself up to become a villain who’s hated by everyone. And despite this, their goals are largely one and the same: expose the ringleader and end the killing game.

I think it’s specifically because Kaede realized she couldn’t continue pushing everyone to do the things she wanted them to, no matter how badly she wanted everyone to cooperate and escape together, and that’s ultimately why she turns to Plan B when she hears from Saihara about the bookshelf hiding the ringleader’s lair in the library. And for all that she does want to trust and cooperate with everyone else, she actually goes about this plan in the most Ouma-like way possible: by doing everything herself and without telling anyone her real intentions, not even Saihara.

Something I especially like about Kaede as a character is just how nuanced she is. Because she is simultaneously the brave, trustworthy, outgoing protagonist that we see her as, but she’s also so, so much more than that. She’s fiercely determined and cares about everyone else, yes, but it’s also because she cares so much that she’s willing to do things like lie and attempt murder behind everyone else’s back.

If we look at the audition videos as any sort of clue as to what the characters might’ve been like before the start of the game, I do think there was a somewhat more skeptical, cynical side of Kaede deep down that didn’t quite trust other people—and that’s all the more reason she wanted to trust them and work together with all of them, because she knew exactly how hard it was to do so. It’s such an interesting contrast from Ouma, who could easily have used all his lies and charm to cooperate with people if he wanted to, but who instead continually pushes people away because of his skepticism, all the while pretending to act completely arrogant and self-assured in his plans. Deep down, I think both of them were much more vulnerable than they were ever willing to show in front of other people.

And I think by the end of chapter 1, Ouma became more or less aware of that side of Kaede, once she confesses everything she tried to do to end the killing game. Prior to this, I personally think Ouma still very much liked and respected her guts and her attempts at leading the group, but that he ultimately thought she was doomed by her reliance on trust and cooperation when they didn’t even know who the ringleader was within their group. But I think that after hearing just how far she was willing to go to stop the killing game, including but not limited to lying to everyone else and going behind their backs with her own plan, he couldn’t help but respect her even more. Despite his accusations that she was too soft or naïve for trusting everyone else, her actual attempted solution was far closer to his own outlook than he initially gave her credit for.

This is why, just before Kaede is about to be executed, Ouma drops all of his usual acts and facades with her and gives her a sincere goodbye, telling her that she “wasn’t boring.” And this is really the highest compliment someone like Ouma can give: she did take him by surprise and surpass all his expectations from her, and I do believe he was genuinely sad to see her go when she attempted such a huge sacrifice for everyone else’s sakes.

Truly, the only part of her plan that I think he disagreed with was the act of (attempted) murder in and of itself. He felt that despite her good intentions, she had “crossed a line” that shouldn’t be crossed, and that she fell into the ringleader’s trap the moment the idea of murder crossed her mind. Considering how much DICE’s “no murder” taboo guided Ouma throughout the game, it’s not surprising at all that this is where he disagreed with Kaede. Though ironically, he himself crosses the same line in chapter 4 when he decides the only possible solution to Miu’s attempt on his life is to kill her himself, and therefore winds up getting his hands dirty without ever directly committing murder, much like Kaede herself.

Questioning how they might’ve gotten along if Kaede had actually lived past chapter 1 and continued being the game’s protagonist is interesting, mainly because so many factors would change as a result. Kaede and Saihara are so fundamentally different as protagonists, and Kaede herself is much more in line with what we would expect from a Hope’s Peak protagonist instead. Kodaka himself has described her in an interview as being extremely similar to Asahina, and I personally think she’s something of a combination between Asahina’s outgoing attitude and Maizono’s carefully crafted façade (not to mention moral ambiguity). So it stands to reason that the game and its themes wouldn’t quite be the same if Kaede were still the protagonist.

On the one hand, I do think there would be interesting potential for a possible alliance between her and Ouma, especially given how similar they could both be. Ouma himself proposes such an alliance to her in one of his FTEs, though she does get angry and shoots him down, as I mentioned earlier. But it’s interesting to consider if Kaede might’ve been more willing to cooperate in smaller, one-on-one alliances if she had attempted her plan in chapter 1 and failed without getting executed for it.

There’s also the fact that Ouma claims to remember her and everyone else adamantly in his FTEs with her, even going so far as to claim that she and everyone else forgot about him, even though he never forgot about them. It’s unclear whether he’s referring to his memories from before the game still being intact (which is likely, since he’s pretty skeptical of the flashback lights right away), or if there’s some other explanation for it, but personally, I don’t think it can be dismissed as a complete lie. Even if Kaede herself accuses him of lying and making it all up, he goes uncharacteristically blank and claims that “even he’s not that good at lying.”

This adds huge potential to Kaede sticking around, as there could easily be an underlying mystery element. In addition to the trials themselves and the mystery of the outside world, it’d be very possible to explore their dynamic further, as well as why Ouma said the things he did and if he was actually telling the truth about knowing her and everyone else from before. Kaede is absolutely persistent enough that I feel like she would’ve pressed him for details about this, especially once it became clear in the main plot that their memories were unreliable.

On the other hand, it’s really unclear if Ouma would’ve still been willing to offer that alliance to Kaede once she had attempted to commit murder. Assuming the events of chapter 1 stay more or less the same and the only difference is that Kaede survives instead of getting executed, this raises some potential problems with Ouma actually working together with her or trusting her. She did, as he puts it, “cross the line”—even if her murder attempt wasn’t successful, Ouma claims that she was already too far gone the moment she even considered murder as a possible solution. This could definitely cause another clash of opinions between them, especially as Ouma is much too paranoid to work directly with anyone who he thinks might kill him.

Another potential source of conflict in my opinion is the Hope’s Peak flashback light in chapter 5. Unlike Saihara, who deals primarily with questions of “truth or lies” and is ultimately able to see through Tsumugi’s false ultimatum in chapter 6 with the choice of either the “hope ending” or “despair ending,” Kaede is, as I mentioned, much more in line with what you’d expect from a Hope’s Peak protagonist. She’s extremely smart of course, but she has a bit of a reckless, headstrong streak where she tends to act based on emotion rather than reason, and this could get her into quite a lot of trouble once Tsumugi started rewriting everyone’s memories in chapter 5.

Saihara was able to see that both of the choices Tsumugi presented in the final trial were bullshit and would ultimately keep the cycle of Danganronpa ongoing, but I’m not entirely sure if Kaede would realize the same thing, or even if she did eventually realize it, I’m not sure it would’ve been in time to stop it. Because of her self-sacrificing nature, I personally think she would’ve chosen to be one of the sacrifices for the sake of “hope,” much like Amami presumably did in season 52. This ultimately means that Kaede sticking around might have ultimately led to a “bad end” of sorts, where even if the rest of the group went free aside from her and one other sacrifice, Danganronpa itself never gets dismantled and lives to see another season.

The only possible way I see for Kaede to avoid falling into this trap and making this choice is if enough of her classmates rubbed off on her or helped her see things in less black-or-white terms like “hope” or “despair,” and in more nuanced shades of grey instead. But considering how completely fooled almost everyone was in the actual events of the game, it’s difficult to say if this would happen. She would definitely need to talk and debate with someone who viewed the flashback lights a lot more skeptically, whether it was Saihara or Ouma (or maybe even Angie), before she could reach the truth about what Tsumugi and Team Danganronpa were really after.

This analysis has gotten pretty long by this point, so I’ll just wrap things up by saying that I really do love Kaede and Ouma’s friendship, and I think they had more potential of getting along than either of them might’ve realized in canon. Despite their fundamental differences, both of them were two characters who went farther than almost anyone else in trying to stop the killing game, and both of them weren’t afraid of getting their hands dirty if necessary. I think the fact that Ouma claims to remember Kaede and everyone else from before the killing game is super interesting, and I would’ve absolutely loved to see it touched on more if Ouma had lived longer.

All in all, Kaede is such an amazing, morally grey character who really helps to establish what we can expect from the rest of the game, and I think that’s part of what makes her so memorable. Maybe one day we’ll get some sort of DR:IF equivalent where we get a semi-canon look into a scenario where everyone lives, and hopefully there we could see not only more of Kaede being a protagonist figure, but also more of her interactions with Ouma and everyone else.

#danganronpa #new danganronpa v3 #ndrv3 #kaede akamatsu #kokichi ouma #ndrv3 spoilers //#my meta #okay to reblog #lamekit

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hanazou · 4 years ago

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Hi! Could I ask for Dazai, Ranpo, Kunikida/Atsushi with an s/o who frequently picks their skin/scabs/scalp. My psychologist, mom, and I are pretty confident that I have ASD, and it's a relatively common stim. This can also happen with ADHD, OCD, and anxiety disorders -- I'm not sure if this suggestion is too centered around a reader’s identity! (Also, it's not intentional self-harm; it relieves stress and boredom, but just happens to cause damage :/ If you're uncomfortable, I understand) Thx! <3

dazai, ranpo, and atsushi and a lover who constantly picks skin/scalp/scab.

📜 Books : Dazai | Ranpo | Atsushi

📜 Word count : 2.3k

📜 Shelf : Paperback

📜 Category : Headcanons

📜 Genre : Fluff, with a tiny hint of angst with Dazai and Atsushi

📜 Caution : Vague mentions of disorders and insecurities

📜 Note : Don't worry, @my-introvert-hideout! I'm not uncomfortable nor is this too specific. In fact, I had so much fun writing this! I chose Atsushi (because I kin him I resonate with him better), I hope this does your suggestion justice. I apologize if any of these is inaccurate.

Enjoy your books! 💛

Dazai Osamu

He's an ex Port Mafia executive and currently employed as a detective. Never doubt that he'll catch on your habit the first time you display it around him. But only when things are official between you two will he take an action about it.

With his background and quick wits, Dazai knows a lot about the quirks people can have, where they came from, and why they do it. By judging from your expression and slights of movements, he knows that it's caused by your certain conditions and nothing like deliberately inflicting pain on yourself. After all, he's well accustomed to self harm itself too, and he doesn't see it in you, not that way.

Dazai's understanding on your habit will be more personal rather than analytical--because of his self destructive tendencies. He can relate to you in this aspect, but whether this is a bad or good news is completely up to your personal interpretation.

Only after things become official between you both that he steps his feet into ‘that’ zone, deciding now he has the right to interfere. He's the type of guy that perceives intervening with issues like this requires a special established relation with you beforehand, if not, who is he to say anything?

Dazai doesn't mind that you never took the initiative to tell him first, what matters that is he knows and he has for long. He'll take his chance of intervention when you start picking yourself again, but only when it's just the two of you around. If you're with the other ADA members or within a crowd, he'll just figure out something to distract you and do it subtly.

The private moment will come sooner than you think. With a swift move that escaped your eyes, he has taken your hand hostage. "Nuh-uh," He cooed. "You're prone to injure your pretty skin."

His direct words will push you off guard. You'll notice that he knows about your quirk, maybe get a little shy from not realizing that he knows if you're the shy type of person.

Dazai is a clingy guy and even more so as a boyfriend, your habit will only give him a legitimate reason to hold your hand wherever you two go. Your hands will sweat from constantly holding his. He will definitely use it as an advantage to tease you too.

"I have to go to the bathroom, can I trust your hand or do I have to keep holding it?"

You will literally throw his hand away. "What th—Go by yourself."

Dazai has loads of tricks up his sleeve, and combined with his knowledge, he knows more than one or two or three methods to help you. Whether they are effective or not depends entirely on you and your condition. Sometimes his tricks are so subtle that you didn't even realize until you think back about it.

Assuming you're thinking of seeking help from experts, Dazai will be totally with the idea. "I can feel your earnest effort for this, I'm glad for you."

He'll take you to your appointments and wait for you, and sometimes walk you back home, which is also another trick to ditch work and piss Kunikida off. Two birds with one stone, right? :)

Expect him to shower you with loving words after every session. Maybe it will even make you feel corny. But truth be told, he'll deeply ponder about your condition, you, and himself. He's well aware of his nihilism and ponders whether the words he said are genuine or just part of the new personality he adopted when he left Port Mafia that sometimes run on autopilot.

(aka he suspects he's not being totally earnest with his sweetness)

If it's the latter, the corny lovey dovey words will double as an effort to help you and himself. Don't blame Dazai too much, he has trouble differentiating between what’s good and bad (as what was said by my man Oda), but at least he's trying hard for your sake.

When you show some progress, he will be so expressive in praising you. His self doubt or whatever it is, that can wait. His darling comes first.

Dazai will give a hug or two and other romantic stuffs like that even if you're in public. He's a tease and you know you love it. If you especially get embarrassed about it, he'll try to fluster you even more. Is it to distract you or himself? Nobody knows.

Edogawa Ranpo

This Yokohama's best detective is well versed in a lot of things, psychological conditions included. If you have any condition at all, it doesn't take him long at all to understand it. Nothing escapes his pretty green eyes.

Ranpo's approach will be the opposite of Dazai. His will be more analytical rather than emotional or personal.

In the scenario where you don't feel too confident about your condition, you might be constantly worrying Ranpo will make a blunt comment about it. But trust me, you don't have to worry anything about it with this guy. He’s straightforward, but he’s not rude.

Even if Ranpo hasn't had any personal experiences of feeling/witnessing this sort of thing firsthand, you can count on him to be knowledgeable about it, although his words won't be exactly delicate. He knows that some people have problems if it's addressed boldly and he knows where the line for him lays.

Ranpo is the type of guy to think that if you never told him about it, then that's your decision and it's nothing to make a fuss about/make complaints for, but he's not going to pretend he doesn't notice. He doesn’t hold back his tongue.

He will treat this situation slightly akin to a case for him to solve. Why? Because first of all, he’s your boyfriend. Who else is better fitted to take care of you and analyze the root cause? Second, because of that personal attachment with you, he will feel the obligation to step in.

When nobody is in the agency office since they don't slack off like him, he'll stretch back against his chair, hands behind his back, and call out your name who stayed behind to assist and babysit him.

"Won't you hurt yourself if you keep doing that?" He asks, his sharp eyes closed. Blunt questions are his signature. You will instantly freeze, only realizing that you were going off with your habit.

You won't feel the need to explain it, because you know that he knows, and he knows that you know he knows (do I make sense? this sounds like that one Dazai and Fyodor meme)

"If you want, I know some ways to help and I'm acquainted with some experts." He says easily, stuffing his mouth with chips. After he swallows, only then his green eyes opens. "You're hurting yourself, you know that?"

I'm not going to sugar-coat his personality. If you want heartfelt, supportive, and warm words, talk to Kenji or Yosano because you won't hear it from Ranpo. But the brighter side is that Ranpo is a very good listener and offers practical suggestions that you know are fool-proof. With each word you vent to him, the more methods spring up in his head to help. Lucky of you to have him!

If you agree to seek professional help or his own, he's a different kind of romantic than Dazai who knows how to swoon you off your feet. Ranpo’s praise won’t be like Dazai’s (since receiving conventional praises is his thing), but he'll say something rather indirect like "Good for you. Nobody knows what's best for you other than yourself, not even me."

After your sessions are over for the day, Ranpo will gift you his favourite snacks. Chips, cookies, ice creams, jellies, sodas. Do you know how lucky you are if Ranpo gives you his favourite snacks? Mostly it's because he's not confident in sweet talks so he's hoping that you'll get the gist of what he's trying to do.

Heck, he'll even wait for you (partially because he doesn't know how to go home by himself, but that's not the point) quietly without whining that it's taking too long. To occupy himself, sometimes he'll bring some papers of the cases Fukuzawa gave him and solve interesting cases. But when you emerge from the door, everything is forgotten and his attention is fully back to you.

"Oh, you're finally finished!" He springs back up to his feet, arms expanded.

I encourage you to tell him about your sessions. He'll compliment you in his own ways believe me.

"My super deduction concludes that you did well." He says as you pop out the popsicle he gave, a cheeky grin on his face. Oh, you one lucky fella.

On the way back to the agency, presumably on a train, if you're getting better, Ranpo will definitely smile cheekily to himself, prideful of you and him.

"I'm always right, after all." He says. "What do you think, aren't I such a great boyfriend and detective? You're lucky to have this combination all for yourself!"

Damn right you are.

Nakajima Atsushi

This will be slightly lengthy.

In terms of discovering this quirk of yours, Atsushi's approach will be different than Dazai and Ranpo's. If anyone is insecure about this one aspect in your relationship, it will be Atsushi.

Let's be frank, Atsushi's abused background didn't let him know much about the world, disorders/special needs included. We're talking about the boy whose first idea of survival was to jump on strangers. He was thrown into the real world without any experience and minimum social skills, it's almost impossible he immediately clicks on the reason behind your habit.

Despite so, Atsushi will notice it, weretiger senses used or not. Growing up abused, he was forced to notice the microexpression changes on people’s face and their quirks/habits as a defense mechanism in case he earns someone's ire (remember about the infiltration mission with Akutagawa on Rats of the House of the Dead when he said he can hear when someone’s mind snaps). Even though he believes you will never pose a harm to him ever, he couldn't help but to overthink every single little thing you do. He just can’t help it.

Constantly picking your scalp/scab/skin makes him free fall to the assumption that you're anxious around him since he knows that people sometimes fidget when they feel unsafe. At first, he thought that you're nervous around him. Is it because he's a weretiger? Because you don't trust him? Because you think of him as a hindrance?

This sweet boy thinks a lot about you. You basically live in his head rent free, and ever since he noticed your habit, you will quickly climb up the ranks of things-Atsushi-overthinks.

He will address you about his insecure thoughts after they're brewed aka rotted his brain long enough

When you're picking your skin, Atsushi will call your name softly as he fidgets. "Are you, maybe, uncomfortable around me?"

The confusion you will feel. "What?"

The conversation will spin around how and why that thought even popped out, and because of mutual confusion, it will take a while until you're like "OH. That's why."

You will have to explain it but he's not that dense as to he'll keep asking "Huh?" As I mentioned, anxiety is his old friend. He understands very well the constant need of having to pick to ground yourself and alleviate the intruding thoughts.

He will apologise for assuming things himself, maybe overreact a little, blaming himself for thinking things are about him when it’s actually about you, and he will be very tender about it. After all that, he will do everything in his power to help with your condition.

Atsushi will keep your hands busy by holding it before you start picking yourself, gently, but firmly. He will use his heightened senses to pick on the signs before you pick your skin/scalp/scab and try to distract you by doing anything.

Remember that one scene of his entrance test where he panics, not knowing what to say to Tanizaki? yeah he will be like that.

"AAH! Look! A cat!"

Then Atsushi will get more creative. He will not hesitate to spend the money from his cute wallet to buy lotion/moisturiser for your skin that smells so good (thank you for your help to guide him pick it, Kyouka), hoping it will help you. Maybe he'll get you gloves to match his own (matching couple things are never outdated). You won't pick on your fingers that way.

If you ever want to talk about your condition, please, share it with him. I insist. He insists. It's a win-win solution for both of you. His faith that you truly treasure and believe in him will harden (helps with his self esteem), and you get to throw off the load burdening you down.

He also feels it's his responsibility, part of that is because of his Headmaster's words, but mostly because he treasures you that much. If he caught you picking again, he'll become super worried and so guilt ridden.

If you decide to seek professional help, he will be 100% supportive. I won't sugar-coat again��Atsushi will detect his disappointment at himself for not being enough to help you on his own, but at the same time he's also realistic. He knows that he doesn't have what it takes by himself.

His Headmaster's words will echo again, again, and again. "You failed to help your own lover? Have this orphanage taught you nothing—have I not taught you anything? Will you ever amount to any good?"

He will fight it back harder than usual because now, it's about you. He can't afford to fail you, especially you. If you do talk about your condition to him, it will calm him down by a lot.

In short, your condition impacts Atsushi more that you ever thought. Please support each other.

📜; like what you read? visit my bookshop!

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ranboo5 · 3 years ago

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man

based on my understanding of our boo boo his goals seem to be:

actualize self-identity

love and protect the specific people who matter

make everyone get along despite their differences in hopes for a better server

and the problems he has with all three goals make him so so cool

how he goes about it is so mysterious and compelling!

it's why he can be so sincere but like, be a scarily convincing liar if he had to

he got tommy and tubbo to vent to him because he was just nice to them vs him getting wilbur to vent to him to deliberately get to know him better

like, the effort he goes through to do anything is massive and he's even willing to sacrifice dignity to do it, but not people he loves tho, which is so cool

he isn't fucking spineless, he's radical and i want ranboo to win

YOU I LIKE YOUR RANBOO TAKES

Man it really is that way. I would less specify "in hopes of a better server" and more that like... more generally in hopes of a better world? One lacking in the political expectations of a side yk

Irt being sincere and also a very good liar But Only Sometimes, and also irt Wilbur: I think honestly it's a huge Mask Of My Own Face scenario he doesn't need to lie outright (and when he does he kinda sucks) he just throws and agrees and lets people assume and that works. He's sincere and it's the presence sincerity that encourages ppl to look past the fact that he's not securably loyal whatsoever yk? Smth smth my ghost!Ranboo/Boo hcs

I would also argue that while his overall goals (personal, sentimental, ideological as your points very aptly summarize) stay stubbornly consistent how he goes about them keeps shifting and he tends to get paralyzed confusing himself locking himself in Hypothetical Chambers and in trying to see the big picture too much yk? Like from the msgs he leaves himself etc the way he writes his goals Out

That + the inconsistency of when he remembers what is why I strongly, STRONGLY don't think Ranboo has an actual ongoing secret plan I don't think he's got the processing to do it. While I do believe in my heart in Enderwalk as a security measure wrt recall I don't think he has an actual handle on it in canon, I don't think there's a reliable "remembers/doesn't remember plan" dichotomy, and I don't think Ranboo has the discipline to have the organization, singlemindedness, decisiveness, and actual yk processing skills to carry one out. Like even with the shulker deal he thought out loud for like fifteen minutes and came up with Help Me Out If War Starts Pls? Which is a useful thing no doubt but he absolutely didn't seem to actually have plans abt it. Smth smth weed dealer post

Ranboo doesn't have the cognizance no matter how many memories he has he just doesn't have that kind of processing skill and doesn't have that built habit. He waffles it's what he does

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dwellordream · 3 years ago

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“Eleanor and Louis arrived at Antioch’s port ten miles from the city on 19 March 1148, eight months after leaving France—considerably later than they had expected to reach the Holy Land. They were welcomed warmly by the prince of Antioch, Raymond, younger brother of Eleanor’s father. He led the royal entourage to Antioch “with great pomp,” where the clergy and people were waiting to greet them. On Eleanor’s arrival in the city after the ordeal of the harrowing crossing of Anatolia, she anticipated relaxing and recovering from her hardships, swathed in luxury at Raymond’s palace.

During a ten-day sojourn as her uncle’s guest, Eleanor enjoyed the company of a number of other Poitevins who had followed Raymond to Antioch, among them his palace chaplain and some of his knights whose families she knew, as well as the patriarch of Antioch who came from Limoges. Eleanor took great delight in the company of Prince Raymond, only nine years her senior, and his sophisticated court at Antioch charmed her. The city and its palatial residences with marble columns, intricate mosaics, and rich silks called to mind the magnificence of Constantinople.

The “Franks,” as western Christians settled in the crusader states were called, had adopted Syrian manners and customs that were suitable for the local climate. They took baths and used soap, wore eastern-style clothing, ate the local dishes, including sweets flavored with sugar, and built their houses on the Syrian model with courtyards and fountains. Louis and his men recoiled from the luxurious and self-indulgent way of life they observed at Antioch, regarding it with the same scorn felt earlier for the Greeks at Constantinople. They were shocked and scandalized by Frankish settlers who “went native,” making friends with Muslim notables and occasionally even allying with them.

…In his attempt to convince Louis VII to join him in recovering Edessa, Raymond of Antioch “counted greatly on the interest of the queen with the lord king.” Raymond probably sensed Eleanor’s admiration for him, aware that she saw in him a father-figure, a reminder of her father, Duke William X. He knew how to play on his niece’s divided loyalties, appealing to her sense of family solidarity; he was her closest living male relative and a reminder of her pampered childhood at Poitiers. In addition, his entourage included a number of Poitevins, so he could arouse her concern for her kin and countrymen dwelling in this endangered Christian outpost.

He would have observed that Eleanor was a strong-minded woman. Certainly her interest in political matters had been evident from the first years of her marriage, and then Louis’s hopeless love for his bride had won him over easily to her point of view. Yet now Eleanor felt herself capable of openly disputing her husband’s policy decisions on the basis of her own judgment. Impressed by Prince Raymond’s knowledge gained from a decade’s residence in the crusader principality, she quickly grasped the wisdom of his strategy. Despite Raymond’s success in recruiting his niece to his cause, neither she nor he had any luck in shaking Louis’s determination to proceed directly to Jerusalem.

Louis VII now expected his queen to be a docile wife, submitting to him and not questioning his initiatives in public policy. Yet his indecisiveness during the difficult crossing of Anatolia already had shaken Eleanor’s confidence in his judgment, and no doubt her impatience with his austere way of living had deepened during her exhausting and frightening journey across Anatolia. She could no longer deny her unhappiness with her marriage, and she quite possibly confided this to her uncle. Her refusal to be forced into a constraining mold of wifely submissiveness became clear at Raymond’s court, and this was her actual crime at Antioch in the eyes of Louis and his entourage.

Eleanor’s impassioned and forthright support of Raymond’s plan only provoked her husband’s jealousy. When neither Raymond’s private approaches nor a council attended by both rulers’ entourages could win Louis’s support for his plan of attack, the prince’s attitude changed, and he began plotting against the French king. Eleanor announced to Louis that he could go on to Jerusalem, but she would stay in Antioch and initiate proceedings for the annulment of their marriage. The earliest source for this shocking episode, the infamous incident at Antioch that colored all succeeding assessments of Eleanor, is John of Salisbury.

…Because John’s recounting is so significant for Eleanor’s later reputation, it must be quoted: Whilst the king and queen remained [at Antioch] to console, heal and revive the survivors from the wreck of the army, the attentions paid by the prince to the queen, and his constant, indeed almost continuous, conversation with her, aroused the king’s suspicions. These were greatly strengthened when the queen wished to remain behind although the king was preparing to leave, and the prince made every effort to keep her, if the king would give her consent. And when the king made haste to tear her away, she mentioned their kinship, saying that it was not lawful for them to remain together as man and wife, since they were related in the fourth and fifth degrees.

The queen was correct about their kinship within the prohibited degrees, for it was an open secret that she and Louis shared a common ancestor. Yet it was a daring declaration for her to make, and she would not have spoken so boldly without her uncle’s support, or perhaps his urging. Raymond, angered by Louis’s contrariness, saw his niece as an instrument for revenge. No doubt during their many conversations the prince had assured his niece that as senior male of the Aquitanian ducal line he would take her under his protection should she become single again.

He knew that the choice of another spouse for her would fall to him, and her marriage could prove useful in cementing some new alliance. John of Salisbury continued, telling of the advice given to Louis VII by Thierry Galeran, a eunuch who was a trusted counselor of the king. Thierry warned Louis against allowing Eleanor to remain behind in Antioch because, quoting Ovid, “guilt under the guise of kinship could lie concealed.” The quotation can be read as a veiled reference to Eleanor’s incestuous relations with Raymond, but may be no more than a rhetorical flourish added by John, a scholar proud of his classical learning.

Thierry further warned the king that should the crusade result in the loss of his wife, by her desertion or her theft by another, it would bring lasting shame on the French kingdom. John of Salisbury took care to make no overt accusation of adultery, seeming to suggest no more than the queen’s immoderate familial affection. If he intended to hint at Eleanor’s unfaithfulness at Antioch, it is significant that he chose Thierry Galeran, as a eunuch an object of derision, whom he described as “a eunuch whom the queen had always hated and mocked.”

John comments that Thierry expressed his view “either because he hated the queen or because he really believed it, moved perchance by widespread rumour,” leaving readers free to reject his testimony as unreliable. John of Salisbury says little about Raymond’s role in this matter, other than that as the king prepared to leave Antioch “the prince made every effort to keep [Eleanor].” It is quite clear, however, that John held Raymond guilty for using the queen to pressure her husband into agreeing to his plan for battling the Turks, and for encouraging his niece’s decision to seek a separation from her husband once he had failed to influence Louis through her.

…What is important about the Antioch incident is not so much what actually happened between Eleanor and her uncle, but what her contemporaries believed or wished to believe had occurred. For John of Salisbury and his clerical contemporaries, Eleanor’s violation of the laws of marriage was not adultery with Raymond, nor her demand for an annulment of her marriage so much as her refusal to adopt the subservient role expected of a wife. She had gone against the submissiveness demanded of wives by a male-dominated Church and secular society.

Her lack of discretion and obstinate behavior in pressing for her uncle’s plan and disputing her husband’s decision-making in military matters constituted infidelity by compromising her husband’s royal dignity. It was already clear that Louis VII’s queen had achieved a place among his chief counselors and had exercised influence over him before leaving France. Clerical authors of the twelfth century could not condone such behavior in a woman: only men were considered capable of acting rationally, and when they encountered women wielding power, they attributed their actions to irrational, passionate motives, not to practical political considerations.

In their view, Eleanor was engaging in a pattern of misconduct, “a form of deliberate provocation . . . a will to manifest her independence” that they interpreted as infidelity, whether or not it amounted to outright adultery. For the queen’s clerical critics, her conduct failed to conform with the Church’s standard for the proper self-effacing role of a wife or a queen, and she acted as “a man . . . even as a king.” Equally shocking to John was Louis VII’s excessive love for Eleanor that drove him to surrender to her wishes and to agree to the separation that she desired.

This made manifest the French king’s ineffectual control over his strong-minded queen. For most medieval males, Louis’s inability to resist his wife seemed to threaten a moral and political order that defined female activity in diplomacy and politics as “unwomanly” and a husband unable to master his wife as “unmanly.” John, steeped in the Stoic philosophy revived in the twelfth-century Renaissance, held that a man must use his superior rational faculties to control his passions and attain an ideal life of moderation. He concluded that Louis’s love for his wife “almost beyond reason” showed the king’s dangerous lack of moderation in marital love, allowing passionate jealousy to overwhelm his masculine reason.

Although John of Salisbury’s condemnation of Eleanor does not imply actual adultery, rumors about the royal couple’s troubled marriage soon spread in the camps of French soldiers bitter at the crusade’s inglorious end. In the retelling of the queen’s indiscreet behavior in Raymond’s presence, “Gossiping courtiers apparently misconstrued and magnified her lively enjoyment of the visit.” Soon rumor magnified her deed from an impudent challenge to her husband’s authority, disobeying the Church’s teaching on wives’ submission to their husbands, to outright adultery with her uncle.”

- Ralph V. Turner, “Adventures and Misadventures on the Second Crusade, 1145–1149.” in Eleanor of Aquitaine: Queen of France, Queen of England

#eleanor of aquitaine #eleanor of aquitaine: queen of france queen of england #history #raymond of antioch #louis vii of france #french #medieval #high middle ages #crusades

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imreallyhereforkataang · 4 years ago

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On The Southern Raiders

Several months ago, a fellow ATLA-consumer asked me the following in reference to TSR:

I came across a post (on tumblr, what a surprise!) the other day saying that Aang never seemed to care about Katara’s feelings revolving around her mom. […] Do you think people genuinely interpreted Aang’s actions like that? Simply by watching? Or are they purposely misconstruing it?

I responded with the vast majority of what follows. It was a while afterwards that I rejoined the fandom for long enough to see the massive spectrum of takes on The Southern Raiders that continues to be put out on the daily.

There seems to be this recurring idea that Aang’s actions in TSR demonstrate that, not only did Aang “never care about Katara’s pain” regarding her mother, but also that he was “forcing his morals on her,” etc. On the topic of whether people honestly believe this to be in Aang’s character or see him this way deliberately, I think sometimes they jump to the conclusion that Aang didn’t care because it stems from a misconstrued interpretation of Aang and Katara as individuals and their dynamic as presented in the show, which may extend to the belief that Aang doesn’t give back what Katara gives to him. In general, I can see how someone might form that impression, but they’re missing some key contextual pieces.

Just a quick disclaimer: This is (obviously) a look into TSR and dives into Katara and Aang, both as individuals and together. I try to make this fairly objective while relaying my own opinions, but this will subsequently hold pro-Kataang rhetoric, platonic or no. Additionally, because this is TSR we’re talking about, I do allude to elements here that mold into what I see as ‘specific common misconceptions about Z*tara’s romantic compatibility based off this one particular episode.’ Why are these relevant? Because there is a clear trend where the people trying to put Aang down or even demonize him for this episode are often pro-canon!Z*tara advocates. To be clear, I don’t have an issue with people who ship them for fun outside of canon, so if you like romantic Z*tara but also appreciate Aang, any perceived digs are not directed towards you! But I think some of these things are worth mentioning here in the interest of examining TSR and Aang-bashing.

(Also fair warning that this is nearing 7k words.)

So, with that out of the way:

I briefly mentioned how people can misinterpret Katara and Aang’s back-and-forths in terms of emotional support, and I feel like that starts with Katara.

Katara is a naturally caring person and earnestly reaches outward to empathize with people. She’s extremely perceptive when someone is hurting (the only one to look concerned when Aang showed gripes about killing Ozai in The Phoenix King) and is often seen as the nurturing character who will coax others to talk about their inner struggles (she does this with Toph in The Runaway and Zuko in The Old Masters, for instance).

Time and time again, when Aang has struggled on his Avatar journey, Katara has been the one to get him to open up and articulate his turmoil, ultimately supporting him or convincing him that there is still hope for better days. She’s been there for him at all times, from The Storm to The Avatar State to Bitter Work to The Serpent’s Pass to The Awakening and beyond, exercising patience and care. It’s a role she undertakes, and as Aang is our main character and undergoing, arguably (I guess? But to me inarguably), the most of everyone in the gaang, it makes sense that Katara, given her empathetic nature and their strong bond, will often be the one expressing true concern for Aang.

So we know that when Aang struggles, which we understandably see a lot of, Katara is his rock. But what about giving back when Katara struggles?

When it comes to Katara’s share of turmoil, the death of her mother and how it continues to impact her is one of her greatest sources of pain. Honestly, it might be one of the only times we actually watch her struggle on her own, as Katara tends to be a powerful self-advocate (see: The Waterbending Master). The thing is, even though Katara has mentioned losing her mother several times throughout the series, and of course she always sounds regretful when it’s brought up, she tends to keep the rawness of her associated sorrow bottled up. Almost every time Katara mentions the death of her mother, it’s been, in very Katara-like fashion, to express understanding towards others. With the exception of @Zuko in the crystal catacombs and TSR, she only brings up her own grief to empathize (@Aang in The Southern Air Temple to prepare him for the genocide and show understanding when he grieves, @Haru in Imprisoned when Haru talks about connecting with his father, @Jet in Jet when he talks about losing his own parents to the Fire Nation, and @Hama in The Puppetmaster when talking about losing members of the Southern Water Tribe). Really, The Crossroads of Destiny and TSR are the only times Katara actually brings up her own pain for the sake of bringing up her own pain, and it’s not often that we see her physically break down over it like we do in the former.

Katara isn’t the sort of person to bring up her turmoil simply for her own needs, or because she realizes it’s weighing on her heavily in that moment. It’s a sore spot that’s changed her behavior (as Sokka explains in The Runaway), making her grow up faster, and that she’s continued to carry for years and years. And yet, again, before The Southern Raiders, we never watched her actively cry over her mother except for when she was alone in The Swamp and with Zuko in The Crossroads of Destiny (and also perhaps when she was alone in The Runaway).

Thus, The Southern Raiders is an interesting episode because it’s where those feelings Katara has been harboring are fully brought to the surface and, in extent, it’s the episode where we see Katara at her lowest point. All of that pain is made fresh and present, the murder no longer feeling like something that happened long ago with, as she believed, no available ends to tie (“Now that I know he’s out there, now that I know we can find him, I feel like I have no choice”), and it causes her to lose sight of herself. That’s not only starkly reflected in her decision to bloodbend, but also in how she doubts that anyone understands her pain.

Katara undermines Sokka’s hurt at the same loss she’s experienced and forgets all the struggle that Aang has had to endure from the start. Not only does he know how it feels to lose a parental figure (Gyatso) to the Fire Nation and not have been able to help (“My people needed me and I wasn’t there to help”; “I’m not the helpless little girl I was when they came”), but he also knows how it feels to lose an entire culture (something only Katara and Hama have similar experience with). And Katara knows this – she’s the one he’s expressed the most of his grief to, and yet here she forgets that. So we can already see how this opportunity Zuko has given Katara, the chance to find her mother’s killer and the anticipation that she feels from it, is bringing out a darker side of her that, unlike the Katara we know and that she wants to be, does not empathize or pause to understand. She’s so engrossed in her own pain, for the first time in so long, that she can’t see beyond it.

In consequence to this episode being about Katara’s emotional journey, I think The Southern Raiders is the most opportune time to observe who will give Katara what she has always displayed towards others. When a character undergoes the level of hurt Katara expresses here, it’s usually she who reaches out to that person, but now it’s her turn to be emotionally compromised. Now we get to see who steps up to the plate.

A lot of people conclude that this person is Zuko. That he’s the one who will reach out to her and connect with her emotionally to help her deal with that pain. I do agree that Zuko played a vital role in Katara’s emotional journey here – he was the catalyst for it. He had an established motivation to get off her bad side and onto her good side, a possible solution alluded to him, and knowledge that comes with hailing from the Fire Nation to go forth with his idea. And he does, and he’s physically there to help Katara through its execution.

However, Zuko making the effort to give Katara this opportunity does not reflect a lack of effort on Aang’s part. Firstly, because, as explained, Aang didn’t see how raw this pain still was to Katara. At this point, Zuko had been on the receiving end of two beratements where Katara angrily mentioned her mother’s death. Aang was not, nor did he witness these incidents. Aang understood the significance of her necklace (Bato of the Water Tribe) and looked concerned for her when she mentioned her vision (The Swamp), but Katara never seemed to express to Aang just how raw her mother’s death still felt, just as Sokka never did. She mentions it in The Southern Air Temple, but their topic of discussion was the Fire Nation killing the airbenders, and Aang was trying to fend off the idea that they might have committed genocide against his people. Considering context, there’s no reason to fault Aang for any of the things he did on this issue, or a lack thereof.

Just as Katara and Sokka thought, Aang probably believed it was a concluded topic in terms of active response. It was something that happened years ago, Aang was in an iceberg at the time, and neither Katara nor Sokka nor Aang thought it was something to go back on and revisit. When Katara yelled at Zuko, she never suggested looking for the killer. And again with that quote, “Now that I know he’s out there,” I don’t think hunting for the man was on anyone’s mind. As a viewer, it was never on my mind, either.

What Zuko had that the rest of Team Avatar did not was direction and knowledge on how they could potentially track down this specific Fire Nation military official. Even Sokka, who could remember the emblem of the Southern Raiders and underwent the same loss Katara did, not only seemed to have no intention of tracking his mother’s murderer, but also took Aang’s side when Zuko and Katara explained what they were planning to do.

Which supports the next point – regarding how Aang responded to the idea once it was out there.

Quick tangent, but it’s a scene like this that shows how Aang’s feelings for Katara have matured. The way he reacts to Katara in The Southern Raiders conveys how he knows she’s not perfect, he knows she can make mistakes, and even if, to some, he comes off as trying to hinder her on this sensitive topic, he overtly wants what’s best for her.

Aang recognizes the change in Katara’s demeanor when she approaches him about borrowing Appa. He seems to notice that something is off about her energy, probably to this extent for the first time, just as for the audience, and his instinct is not to step out of her way and “stay on her good side,” but to try and assess the situation before he lets her go in the condition she’s in. Katara is undeniably not thinking clearly during this scene, nor for much of the episode’s proceedings, given her tone, expressions, words, and intent. She’s undergoing, just as Aang says, “unbelievable pain and rage” (callback to The Avatar State; “for the people who love you, watching you be in that much rage and pain is really scary”). Aang understands where Katara is coming from, and he offers her his two cents, but he doesn’t “force” them on her, either.

Watching how Aang’s expression changes between looking at Zuko and Katara, he appears intent and almost stern towards the former. But for Katara, he’s first treading the waters, then concerned and earnest. Aang doesn’t shame Katara for her dark rhetoric or tell her what she should or shouldn’t do, but tries to help her regain some control of her emotions (“Katara, you sound like Jet” – he knows this side of Katara isn’t truly her, or who she wants to be, and this comment might serve to give her insight as to how she sounds) and then offers Katara a choice. Aang makes light of an option that she’s overlooked upon having this opportunity, and he tries to explain why the road she’s going down, the way she’s choosing to handle the situation, is self-destructive. All in all, he’s looking out for her. In his own way, he’s doing for Katara what Katara would have done for him.

I think it’s made fairly clear that, had Katara killed Yon Rha, (who, while, yes, is vile and got away with murder, was also defenseless against Katara by the time she caught up with him), she would’ve regretted her decision. The frightening thing is that I don’t believe she would have accepted that regret from herself, either. It would always remain a blemish in her energy (mind you, not because murder will inherently do this to everyone in ATLA, but it would to Katara specifically given her nature), something that would make her forever carry a bit of that darkness we so rarely see from her, much heavier and more permanent than withholding forgiveness, instead of following “Let your anger out, and then let it go.”

Here’s the thing people seem to forget about TSR: Canon shows us that Aang’s method for handling the situation is beneficial to Katara. It’s true that Zuko was the catalyst for this journey and he was there to help Katara see it through, but it isn’t true to say that Aang didn’t do her a favor by reaching out and being honest with her before they left. Remember the ultimate note on this side story: “You were right about what Katara needed. Violence wasn’t the answer.” The narrative teaches us that Aang was correct on this front – maybe not for everyone, but he wasn’t trying to nudge everyone. He was trying to nudge Katara.

I recently acquired the official DVD commentary for The Southern Raiders. I’ve transcribed relevant points on the end of this post if you’d like to read them in full, but Bryan and Andrea Romano (voice director) talk about how “even though Aang is sort of not in this story very much, to me his presence is in all of these scenes ‘cause you know he’s like, the little angel on her shoulder”; “I agree with you, he is with her through this entire journey she goes through.”

The fact that what Aang said resonated with Katara when it mattered – Katara, who becomes stubborn when she feels strongly about something, who doesn’t let anyone stop her when she disagrees with them, who is going through the most raw, emotional turbulence we have seen her in throughout the show –, the fact that Katara ultimately agreed with Aang’s words, that his words were the aid she needed in realizing there was a decision in either killing Yon Rha or sparing him, hugely states that Aang was there for Katara. Aang helped her see she had a choice for her own sake when her mind was clouded by pain and rage. You don’t need supplementary commentary to see that – Katara was seriously considering revenge, Zuko was leaning towards punishing Yon Rha but, for the most part, staying out of the decision (though based on the two back-and-forths he had with Aang before they left and his reaction to Katara walking away from bloodbending the wrong man, he didn’t realize how detrimental to Katara killing Yon Rha would be – his intention when giving Katara this opportunity was ultimately to gain some ground with her, and while he shares a sense of her pain, he doesn’t foresee what the nature of this journey will do to impact Katara specifically, which I get since he hardly knows her), and so it was ultimately Aang who helped Katara find her path even when he wasn’t there with her physically.

People can argue that Aang was forcing his morals on Katara, but he wasn’t. He was offering valid wisdom, yet pressing enough to hope that she’d actually listen and maybe react, as she did, rather than Aang simply standing back. It would’ve been easy for Aang to do nothing (like he said) and not risk coming off as unconcerned about her feelings, like he did to some viewers, because we know how Aang feels about Katara and that he doesn’t want to create rifts between them. But he risked stirring them, in her volatile state, in order to get his point across, if it meant that in consequence there would be a better chance Katara wouldn’t make the mistake that he knows would haunt her after this foreign mood of hers has passed. Aang isn’t about to let her go without trying to help her, even when she seems to not want help. It’s not in Katara’s nature to seek emotional support, and the audience has never seen her like this, but Aang recognizes that she needs the nudge (which, had her mind been clearer, she’d apparently agree with over her idea of revenge) and gives it openly and hopefully, even when she isn’t in a receptive state (or so it seemed). Again, Aang’s “morals” in this case of murder turned out to be, as he suspected, compatible with Katara’s as well as Sokka’s, so clearly he did a good thing there.

I think some people believe that Aang “forces his morals” on Katara because they’re under the impression that Aang’s concern is the general idea that she will kill somebody, the persons involved being irrelevant. That he’s acting selfishly and, in the interest of aligning with his own ideals, doesn’t want the girl he loves to be “corrupted.” This sort of mindset that “he’s against killing, so he won’t let Katara have this” leads to the conclusion that he’s not giving her the free reign to make her own choice.

However, this idea is debunked again and again in the episode. Aang says, clear as day, “I wasn’t planning to [try and stop you]. This is a journey you need to take. You need to face this man. But when you do, please don’t choose revenge” as Katara turns away from him to go, and Aang stands back and watches with concern. He’s not being “forceful” – he’s being honest, like Katara’s been for him, and even supportive. If Aang really wanted to ensure that Katara followed his own morals, if he were actually not giving her free reign, he would’ve either disallowed Katara and Zuko from taking Appa or gone along with them. Aang could’ve justified joining the mission – it is his bison and that would split up the gaang evenly. He could’ve forced himself on this journey and used the time before meeting Yon Rha to monitor Katara like a chaperone, believing he’s just trying to help and making sure she doesn’t get hurt.

And yet he doesn’t. He lets Katara do this, and his parting words continue to be what he hopes she’ll choose. But his final action, letting her set off with Appa and leaving him behind, means that he’s leaving the decision up to her.

I feel like people completely forget some segments of the episode. Like how Sokka says “I think Aang might be right” and doesn’t go on the journey that he has as much reason to embark on as Katara does. Or how Katara literally says right before departing, “Thanks for understanding, Aang.”

Aang’s stance on Katara getting revenge goes beyond Aang just being against killing – he’s not voicing his opinion out of defense of Yon Rha or because he doesn’t want to love someone who went against his morals. He’s doing it because he knows what Katara’s going through and he doesn’t want her to have to face the consequences of letting the pain get the better of her. He’s trying to help her from going down a dark road, not for himself, but for her, because he knows her and knows this is something she would regret.

So when Katara tells him later that she didn’t forgive Yon Rha, Aang doesn’t push her or ask questions. He’s glad – and proud – that she didn’t do something that would’ve permanently hurt her, and beyond that, she could dissent from his morals as she liked. When Aang saw Katara after her trip, the first thing he did was run to her purely to ask if she was okay, not to discover whether she killed; he already knew from Zuko.

Bottom line is that Aang cared about her feelings. Particularly the feelings of the Katara she normally is, the Katara she means to be, the Katara who doesn’t bloodbend or unempathize, the Katara who’s hurting and whose pain is getting the better of her. Aang saw what was happening and did what he could to help, nudging her on the path she needed when her vision was clouded (sounds like Katara helping Aang when he’s in the Avatar State. Again, The Southern Raiders provides an instance of Aang giving back to Katara what she’s given to him, like with The Desert/The Serpent’s Pass, his pain from which Aang pointed out in “How do you think I felt about the sandbenders when they stole Appa?”).

Overall, people might honestly interpret Aang as being unsympathetic this episode, and I can see how from a superficial standpoint. But by doing so, they’re missing the significance of Aang’s choice to reach out and the importance it played in helping Katara conserve her own image of herself. She bloodbends someone – not even confirming that it’s the right person, first – in a rush of pain and rage after practically swearing it off less than ten episodes ago, so she clearly loses some semblance of herself during this episode, and it’s Aang who makes the most effort to help her find balance without getting in the way of her search. Ultimately, Aang’s role in TSR demonstrates how well he understands her personally, as well as his ability to step back and let her make her own decisions while still offering a viewpoint that her pain prevents her from seeing.

—-

Okay, big breath. Halfway through. I’d like to talk in more depth about how Aang understands Katara’s position.

I was thinking once again about Aang saying, “I do understand. You’re feeling unbelievable pain and rage. How do you think I felt about the sandbenders when they stole Appa? How do you think I felt about the Fire Nation when I found out what happened to my people?” As presented to us, those two incidents had several things in common.

Aang went into the Avatar State due to intense emotion, as opposed to a life/death situation, and caused mass destruction that risked placing harm on others. And both of these times, Katara was the one to pull him out of that state. An important thing to note is that there’s one other moment very similar, but not identical, to these, which took place in The Avatar State. Just like in The Southern Air Temple and The Desert, Aang entered the Avatar State due to intense emotion, out of anguish when losing Katara. But the difference here was the amount of destruction caused. When Aang lost control of himself, he went through with hurting the people in his vicinity, and when he came out of that state, he hated to see what he’d done. Aang told Katara that he hoped she’d never have to see him like that again, and he hoped it for himself, too (but, of course, she did see him like that again in The Desert).

What I’m trying to show here is that Katara losing herself to her “pain and rage” in The Southern Raiders parallels Aang losing himself to his “rage and pain” in The Avatar State, not just in The Southern Air Temple and The Desert, as he directly references. But why am I so adamant about The Avatar State as opposed to those other two episodes?

Because we saw the lasting effect that The Avatar State had on Aang. There are many analyses out there that explain how Aang has had to struggle with control over his vast power, oftentimes depicting it as something he’s afraid of. For so long, Aang fears the Avatar State, what he’s capable of while in it, and how he can’t regulate his actions when it occurs. This conflict comes up time and time again, and a huge part of his character arc is involved with that struggle.

But again, for the significance of The Avatar State episode specifically, I was thinking about chakras in The Guru. From his Earth Chakra, we see that Aang continues to fear himself in the Avatar State, and from his Water Chakra, we see that one of his two greatest sources of guilt is that he lost control of himself in The Avatar State due to his rage and pain, lamenting that he “hurt all of those people” (the other being that he ran away, which, as mentioned before, is tied with his guilt at not being there to help and isn’t unlike the anguish Katara must feel now at not having been able to help her mother, get her father’s help fast enough, etc.). Pathik tells him that, in order to open his Water Chakra, to absolve the guilt and let the pleasure flow, “you need to forgive yourself.”

So here we have this idea that forgiveness is the key step to opening a person’s Water Chakra. Water, symbolizing pleasure and healing. “It’s easy to do nothing, but it’s hard to forgive.” “Forgiveness is the first step you have to take to begin healing.” These things Aang says in The Southern Raiders reflect what Pathik taught him about the Water Chakra.

Forgiving oneself is (obviously) different from forgiving your mother’s killer, but with this insight it’s clear that Aang personally understands how it feels to let your pain and rage get the better of you, and how it hurts deeply to face the consequences of your actions once the moment has passed. He recognizes that Katara is in a state not unlike the one he’s in when he loses control (“I do understand”) and he doesn’t want that for her. He wants Katara to be able to regain control of her actions and navigate out of her clouded vision so that she can make the choice that’s right for her. Aang is trying to help Katara see the pieces she’s missing, like how Katara does for Aang when he’s in the Avatar State.

Forgiveness is a necessary step in order to heal, and maybe it wasn’t a choice Katara ultimately made, but that was a decision Aang accepted. She didn’t kill Yon Rha, she didn’t have to now struggle with guilt or having to admit to that guilt, and she didn’t have to be faced with the strenuous task of forgiving herself for something she definitely would not have wanted to admit needed forgiving for. She saved herself from the pain that could have resulted from her own actions, because Aang helped her see she had a choice. When it mattered, when she was about to deliver the final blow, Aang’s words helped her pull out of that emotion-induced near-equivalent of an “Avatar State.”

To me it’s really fascinating to see the connections between these incidents – The Southern Raiders plus the three episodes where Aang enters the Avatar State out of emotion/rage (almost four if you count The Storm, but he manages to contain it when Katara calls out). The way these arcs parallel each other (“I went through the same thing when I lost my mom”; “How do you think I felt about the Fire Nation?”; “Watching you be in that much rage and pain is really scary…I can’t watch you do this to yourself”; “As you watch your enemy go down, you’re being poisoned yourself”) and ultimately culminate in acts of mercy. It’s incredible how Aang and Katara are able to reach each other when they’re in their emotional states, and know what the other needs and who they are when they lose themselves.

In addition, I also think Andrea’s point about how Aang “teaches” Katara is further reflective of the impact Aang has on the people around him. I’ve seen many circulating posts about how Aang hailing from the time before the war and being raised by the Air Nomads allows him to bring a unique, positive influence to those around him who, in contrast, grew up in war-time and were most likely (Bumi is an exception) never alive in the time of the Air Nomads. However, along with the lightheartedness and fun (see: The Avatar Returns and The Headband), this also includes the specific wisdom and peacekeeping ways of the airbenders that became lost in the war, and that Aang symbolically ends the war with: An act of mercy, thus showcasing the survival and triumph of the Air Nomads as well as the Avatar. In TSR, Aang shares this wisdom with Katara – that the choice exists, and there is strength in not choosing revenge and electing forgiveness if she so resonated with it.

[Click here]

—-

Back to the original question –

It may be possible that if someone were to overlook some characterizations and watch The Southern Raiders episodically, as opposed to as part of a whole arc, then they might genuinely form the impression that Aang is in the wrong here. I think I myself might’ve been a bit surprised by his approach when I was younger (though Katara’s attitude was also very surprising and even unsettling), but that was also at an age where I didn’t really understand the severity of the situation and just how much Katara was drifting from herself, or what killing Yon Rha could do to her, or, simply, in that volatile state, what she needed to hear.

I’ll be honest (drawing from personal experience, not sure if others relate) – I think as a child, one may not see the episode as intended because, unlike many other episodes, the takeaway lessons in The Southern Raiders are either expressed through words or an instance of not doing something (the instant where Katara doesn’t kill Yon Rha, since not doing something is less stark to a child than doing something). It’s a gray story in terms of right/wrong, and when you’re young, I can see why those lessons are misinterpreted because the viewer gets so caught up in the adrenaline rush of the action in this episode, the stealth, the bloodbending, the frightening amount of anger in Katara. It consumes most of the viewing experience, and within all that, the ultimate big lesson that “Violence wasn’t the answer” might get missed because violence or violent intent constituted almost all of the runtime. I see people who don’t remember this episode as a commentary on vengeance/forgiveness/the middle ground, but as “the one where Katara and Zuko got super badass."

Getting older, The Southern Raiders is such a gruesome episode. I now see the crucial, ‘quieter’ points that I overlooked as a child. Things like Sokka siding with Aang, Katara thanking Aang for his understanding, Zuko ultimately agreeing with Aang’s assessment of what Katara needed. Sad thing is that some people don’t appear to see this episode the way it was intended in time. TSR requests a perceptive mind from its audience, and some people don’t seem open to that.

I feel that this episode is often treated as shedding light on canon romantic Z*tara for similar reasons as to why people might miss the lessons – Zuko and Katara look cool and badass, on their way to kill a man. It’s exciting to see them working together, the nature of the mission is intriguing, but understanding subtext means acknowledging the tragic underlining of the episode, that it’s painful, that it’s Katara’s journey. It’s disappointing to me when some people chalk up Zuko and Katara’s relationship to being “badass” and “sexy” as a result of The Southern Raiders. It feels out-of-context, caught up in the “coolness” of this episode and misinterpreting physical synchrony as emotional, especially since their dynamic changes anyhow after Katara forgives him.

The episode presents very clearly that Zuko wasn’t right in his assumption about what Katara needed. Again, not necessarily his fault, although his comments about "Air Temple preschool,” “Guru Goody-Goody,” and forgiveness being “the same as doing nothing” display his skepticism of going the peaceful route (though this is curious to me given how often he showed mercy towards Zhao). He honestly didn’t realize the implications this journey would have on Katara, but by the end of the episode, I think it’s safe to say Zuko learned that Aang knew what he was talking about. Aang, whose whole nation and father figure were killed, and yet was able to forgive. Who could see how Katara was responding to the information Zuko gave her.

That’s not to discount Zuko’s role here. Maybe Katara did need closure, and Aang did say “This is a journey you need to take” (although, I do wonder, as Aang asked originally, what it ultimately accomplished. I get that Katara felt like she needed to take the opportunity once Zuko handed it to her, “Now that I know we can find him,” but if Zuko had never brought it up, would things be different? I hope it accomplished something in regards to Katara’s turmoil – perhaps she was able to forgive herself in that she could finally confront the man who did this, when all those years ago she came back with help “too late” – but at least she forgave Zuko in consequence), but this journey was so emotionally turbulent for Katara, heavy to the point where she wasn’t even herself anymore (as said in The Avatar State, “I saw you get so upset that you weren’t even you”).

Therefore, I personally find that simplifying TSR into “Katara and Zuko being cool” to the point where people glorify the way Katara acts in this episode insulting to her character, simply because I don’t enjoy watching deep pain morph Katara into becoming something she dislikes (see: Bloodbending and how it’s often glamorized in fandom). To me, it’s not as if she’s honing something akin to her inner strength. Katara is an extremely powerful character, which is shown time and time again, and her power comes from her physical capabilities as well as her inner strength. “Hope is something you give yourself. That is the meaning of inner strength.” Bam, Katara right there. “I don’t know if it’s because I’m too weak to do it or if it’s because I’m strong enough not to.” As is a theme in this show, there is a strength in restraint.

In her right mind, Katara would be horrified by her actions in The Southern Raiders, or at least what her ultimate intention was, and if people more closely understood Katara as she is, then I feel like they’d agree. As Aang did.

—-

Do I think there are people out there who deliberately reimagine TSR as ‘the episode where Aang was a “self-righteous prick” to Katara’? Yes, absolutely. As for motivation, I can’t really think of any reason for trying to make Aang look bad besides trying to make him look bad in comparison to another character (i.e. Zuko here), or maybe people have their own personal reasons for disagreeing with Aang’s sentiment while forgetting that Katara ultimately does not (in regards to the killing). Or maybe people just dislike main characters who manage to uphold their morals and it goes in-hand with those who think Aang should’ve killed Ozai.

—-

Honestly, there’s a lot more that can be said on the topic in regards to what Katara learned about herself in TSR, as such might be reflected in her active choice to spare Azula in Avatar Aang (which Bryan notes in his commentary: “Katara also finding a peaceful means” in reference to Aang), but frankly I’m kind of exhausted so I’m gonna leave this half-baked copy-and-paste from something I wrote earlier this month:

I feel like the only people Katara has harbored legitimately murderous thoughts towards have been Yon Rha (her mother’s killer) and Zuko and Azula (Aang’s killers, indirectly and directly), indicated by that unique energy she’s carried around those three that we don’t see a lot from her, where her voice becomes lower and the weight of her words more threatening (also the fact that she issued clear death threats to the first two).

For the final Agni Kai, Zuko planned on ending Azula. He goaded her into using lightning and intended to redirect it at her (he didn’t want to, of course, as Bryke noted, but that was the decision). So it’s striking to me when Katara, despite having a very opportune chance to end Azula and knowing Zuko wouldn’t have judged her for it since he was about to do the same, makes the active choice to keep her alive. Katara could have unfrozen herself and gotten to Zuko immediately, but instead she took the time to restrain Azula and allow her to live. And I do believe that a part of the decision was made clearer to her after the events of TSR. Katara realized, subconsciously or no, what she isn’t, and that she’d try to preserve Azula if she could despite how much she might hate her for what she did last season.

—-

DVD Commentary for The Southern Raiders

[…]

Andrea Romano: This is where she does bloodbending, right? So scary!

Bryan Konietzko: It’s this dark skill that she reluctantly learned in episode 3x08. And there’s another important lesson – it’s like, once you have power over someone, are you strong enough not to use it? Or, use restraint in life?

Dante Basco: […] The thought of bloodbending is an idea that – it’s just crazy! Like, the average television or Nickelodeon show […] is not thinking about bloodbending. But yet it’s a very possible situation in this world, and I think that’s what makes it so exciting for people who watch the show.

Michael Dante DiMartino: Yeah and it’s not a skill that they take very – or certainly that Katara takes – lightly. It’s a very serious proposition to do that on somebody.

AR: And it’s not treated lightly. Here she is, she’s so close to being out of control. And that’s what adds so much to the drama of it, is, we think, she could really lose it here and really do something that she regrets for the rest of her life. But she manages to hold herself.

[…]

BK: We see that she’s unbalanced emotionally, and so that’s what’s coming out.

AR: […] But we can only hope she’ll make the right choice. (Imploringly) Use your powers for good!

BK: I love that, even though Aang is sort of not in this story very much, to me his presence is in all of these scenes ‘cause you know he’s like, the little angel on her shoulder-

AR: Absolutely, yeah.

BK: -y'know, that she’s ignoring at this time. And so, to me it really is a story about Aang because it’s like, it’s just about him trying to have influence over her actions from afar – just, by not telling her what she has to do, but just by gently suggesting what she try to achieve with this journey.

AR: It really is a juxtaposition there, where the young Aang sort of tells her, like a parent, go ahead, go out and do what you have to do, but please, I hope that you choose forgiveness rather than revenge. And here he is the young one, and she is the older one who should be, sort of, teaching him and in fact they switch and he teaches her. So I agree with you, he is with her through this entire journey she goes through.

BK: I think it’s also interesting that, if you look on paper, Aang has lost a lot more than Katara has, and he sort of gently reminds her of this. He’s like, 'Hey, my whole culture was wiped out. Everyone I’ve ever known was wiped out.’ And uh, but as we all know in real life, you can’t really quantify suffering. It’s really a personal thing and everybody…everybody’s situation, when your own world kinda crumbles, it seems like the whole world’s falling apart. You can’t really equate these things. And so, we just see Katara lost in a very human moment in this episode.

AR: I love that scene. So dramatic. You just go 'Oh no – don’t do it! Don’t do it!’

[…]

—-

DVD Commentary for Avatar Aang

[…]

Bryke: It’s sort of like a multi-stage thing. He releases his emotions, these raw feelings of anger and wrath, and then learns to control them and rise above them. […] We obviously wanted a cool moment of Aang in the Avatar State, and it was kinda finding that right story beat for him. And in this case it was him being the totally wrathful, vengeful version of the Avatar […] But it’s really not Aang. It’s really this energy that has kinda taken over him. He’s not in control at this point. […]

So, can kind of recognize this Kung Fu move he’s doing. It’s what he was having nightmares about in 2x01, as he feared being this sort of wrathful, y'know, Hand of the Avatar. That was that same kind of […] chopping motion in those 2x01 nightmare scenes. […]

I feel like that’s his defining moment. That’s why we call this episode Avatar Aang. […] He’s finally learned to control the energy. […] He’s controlling it, he’s not letting it control him. […]

#atla #avatar #avatar the last airbender #the southern raiders #aang #aanglove #katara #kataang #kataangtag #sorry for reposting #anti zutara #i hope it's not that bad but this way you can filter if you want

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charliesradiodemon · 4 years ago

Text

Corruption

Hello! This is a LATE birthday present for my dear friend @sesukytes ^.^

Happy late bday my dood <3

ENJOY

With Vaggie and Angel out of her life and the hotel still empty, Charlie’s fears became realized. She failed again. Even with a successful redemption program, nobody was interested.

At that point she didn’t know what to do anymore. She didn’t know what she could do anymore.

________________________________

Alastor resided to biding his time after witnessing Angel ascend to Heaven. It was a great shock that the naive little princess seemed to have finally made a breakthrough, but it seemed that it didn’t matter. He waited around to see if the rabble would bite and come running for a “better life”, but not a single desperate soul came even after two months.

Having been bored sick of his empty investment, Alastor decided to make his own move. A month had passed after he heard that Vaggie had ascended and Charlie refused to even leave the hotel. She’d been silent and wasn’t answering his calls nor calling him back.

“A shame, really...” he muttered while stiffly rapping his fingers on his pristine mahogany desk, not caring whether his sharp claws broke through the polish or not. He knew things couldn’t continue as they were. He was generous enough to give her time to recoup and continue on but his patience had finally reached its expiration date.

________________________________

When he walked up to her bedroom door, he already knew exactly what he needed to do. And in her state, leaving her would push her further down the spiral of despair. If he played it right, her broken expression could make up for the waste of time that he spent waiting on the hotel; not that he had many high hopes for it in the first place.

‘To see the broken look on her face...’

Alastor knocked before entering, a bit too eager see the final dregs of hope leave his partner.

What he found was truly pitiful.

She hadn’t been crying, but seemed as if she’d cried herself dry. Instead, she just stared at him blankly, looking broken and lifeless; not at all like her peppy self. Her eye sockets seemed to hollow in, her hair disheveled and somehow she seemed impossibly thinner than ever. When he looked into her eyes he found that the spark was nonexistent, leaving a blank gaze as if all that was left was an empty husk of a being.

Any fun he could have breaking her now was completely drained.

She was pitiful and it took him much effort to find a reason to stick around any longer. Without her life or her smile, Charlie was just a broken doll he couldn’t play with let alone break any further.

As she still said nothing to him, Alastor looked to her nightstand. There, an assortment of litter and tissues laid. In the center of it all: a small framed photo of her and her family sat. She looked to be younger than the portrait in the lobby, but still old enough to be considered a teen.

It was an unremarkable photo in all regards. He’d seen far too many of these family portraits around the hotel and the palace when he visited Lucifer. It seemed odd how family oriented the Magnes were considering how broken the relationship between Charlie and her parents were.

But unlike the ones Alastor had seen before, Charlie looked different. His eyes lingered on the visible horns protruding from her skull, standing tall and proud and unabashedly her’s. In the few family portraits Alastor had seen, Charlie seemed to purposefully hide her horns away even while her mother’s were displayed proudly.

He’d seen her horns and teases of her form in photos, paintings and on live television before, but Charlie had never looked so proud to show off her demonic features than in the photo on her nightstand. She was never ashamed of her demonic form, but rarely had she ever used her features. From what Alastor could remember from his time with her, he realized that she never utilized her demonic form or any powers.

He wasn’t even sure she even had any powers. He reckoned that she had to considering that she was a product of Lucifer, the most powerful being in Hell.

Alastor’s eyes fell back to the skeletal being before him and mulled over a thought that popped into his mind.

He could fix her- improve her even. She was practically a blank slate now, could he really pass up the opportunity? They could discover what exactly she was capable of together. Imagining the possibilities with the princess of Hell was just too enticing to let go.

Granted it wasn’t what he originally intended nor was he one to pick up fixer uppers, but he couldn’t just let the daughter of Lucifer waste away. It wasn’t like he had another venture lined up anyway.

________________________________

He continued to visit her daily, bringing her homemade food, clean clothes, linens and anything else she could need to cheer her up. He would talk to her, try to liven her up and keep her up-to-date on the latest news. Though she initially answered with single worded answers, it was clear his efforts were working as their conversations got longer as her state improved

Little by little, she opened up to him more and more. And in a short amount of time, she seemed to be back to a semblance of normal. And although she physically looked better and spoke more, Charlie was still missing the soul and spark that she’d lost.

Though Alastor didn’t mind. It was just all a part of the process.

Now, after a few weeks of nurturing her, it was time to get the ball rolling.

“All I’m trying to tell you sweetheart, is that you have been holding yourself back. You have so much potential for so much more! Aren’t you the slightest bit curious about what you can do?” Alastor sat on the edge of her bed, facing Charlie who had her legs drawn up to her chest.

Charlie held her knees tighter to her chest and frowned. “Not really...”

“What a shame! It could prove useful for your endeavors. Now that you know redemption is possible, you’ll need to attract more souls to your hotel!”

“I don’t know Al...”

He sat on the edge of her bed and reached over to place a hand on her cheek, drawing her attention to his softened gaze. “Trust me, my dear. I haven’t led you astray before haven’t I? You’ve already done all you could. Allow me to help this time.”

As much as she didn’t like the idea, she knew he was right. Now that she knew redemption was possible, she could help people get to Heaven. But did she have the energy or power to do that when everyone still doubted her? Nobody took her seriously and she doubted anybody would believe what she did at that point. Hesitant, but without many other options, Charlie nodded. “Okay, but I’m not making a deal with you.”

Alastor chuckled, smiling a bit brighter in response to the bit of spunk returning to her. “Not a problem sweetheart. I wouldn’t have expected it any other way.”

Another week passing meant another week gaining Charlie’s wholehearted trust.

Alastor had to admit, it was enjoyable watching her grow back into the person she was before. She even smiled on the rare occasion. But as pleasant he’d found that her company was, he needed to get her going.

Having known her father, Alastor knew that Lucifer had the ability to subjugate and pacify any demon at will. Any demon under his will would fall into a trance-like state and obey all orders, even if it meant permanent death for that demon. All he needed to do now was see if Charlie had inherited this ability from her father.

He brought it up to her, presented as an idea to bring in patients.

As expected, she seemed hesitant. “That doesn’t seem right Al.”

“Don’t you want to help your people? How else are they going to find salvation if they aren’t convinced?”

She paused, seemingly convinced yet careful. “They won’t...”

Alastor nodded, standing from her bed. “Exactly! And the longer you wait for them to come crawling to you, the more that will perish by the next cleanse! I know that you want to help your people, don’t you sweetheart?” He turned to her and extended a hand. “Now why don’t we try? It’s about time you’ve left your cave and let the world see your dazzling smile, so let’s kill two birds with one stone?”

Charlie looked between him and his hand several times while she deliberated her decision. If she did nothing, would things get any better? Alastor was so willing to help her in her time of need- even more so than Vaggie ever had.

What was wrong with trying?

She took his hand, earning her a wide grin and a strong tug from the man. With a yelp, she flew off her bed and into his waiting arms. In an unexpected turn of events, Alastor wrapped his arms around her.

Warmth filled her. When was the last time she’d gotten a hug from anyone? Months ago from Vaggie probably.

“A solid choice my dear! Might I say that I’m impressed with your resolve!” He bent away to find tears rolling down her cheeks. Bothered by their existence, he wiped them away with his index finger. “Why the tears, Charlie?”

“I... I just want to thank you for being here Alastor. I-I don’t want to th-think about where I’d be without you here...”

Alastor chuckled and gently placed his hand on top of her head. She was his now, there was no doubt about that anymore.

“Think nothing about it. I didn’t think I would ever find myself caring about another’s well being.” He said partially truthful.

Once she composed herself, Charlie left the hotel for the first time in nearly three months while holding Alastor’s hand for support. She’d almost forgotten what her home had looked like. The blood-red hue of the sky, the faint smell of rotting flesh; it was something she didn’t know she missed.

Still holding his hand tightly, Alastor led her out to the streets to get down to business. He’d waited far too long for this moment and he was all too eager to get started. “I believe your ability is innate, meaning if you just wanted it enough, anyone could be bent to your will,” he looked about the busy streets but quickly perked up. “Why not try it on that one there?” He said, pointing ahead of them.

When Charlie looked, there was a scraggly three-armed man sitting on the sidewalk holding a cardboard sign that simply read: “help” in crude lettering. He was a hulking purple giant of a man, taking up most of the walkway on the street. Had he not been so massive, the passerbys would have probably scowled at him for being so invasive. The purple demon also appeared to have a permanent frown on his face that made him even less approachable.

“I believe the man needs help, he’s practically asking for it dear,”

Charlie grimaced, suddenly feeling an awful twist of wrongness in her gut.

Alastor quickly sensed her hesitation by her tighter grip on his hand. “Charlie darling, I know you can do it. You can help that man. If you can do it, he’ll never have to beg in the streets again! You wouldn’t deprive him of that chance now would you? You know he certainly wouldn’t survive the next cleanse being so exposed like this,”

Again, he was right. Alastor was always right, and Charlie knew that well.

But still, it just didn’t sit right.

Alastor bent toward her, getting close so that she could only focus on him. Charlie stared into his ruby-red eyes, confusion in her eyes. “I will be here with you all the way.”

She hesitated a bit longer, biting down on her lips and looking down to the ground.

‘Alastor’s always right.’ She reminded herself in her head.

“Okay.”

They approached and Alastor let go of Charlie’s hand to watch her with anticipation from behind her.

Charlie forced a friendly smile on her face and waved up to the seated man. “Uh hi!”

The beggar man didn’t seem amused. “You got money?”

“I have something even better!”

“Meth?”

“Nope! I-I uh, I have a hotel! That redeems souls so that they can go to Heaven!”

The purple demon huffed a laugh. “Oh I know this scam! You want me to go with you to this hotel of yours and you’ll take my organs and use me for meat,” he crossed his two arms and let his third hand give Charlie the bird. “Yeah no thanks, bitch. Get lost.”

Before she could walk away dejectedly, Alastor held her shoulders to keep her in place and whispered in her ear. “Demand it. It will only work if you demand him with confidence. Try it again.”

She took a deep breath. ‘He’s always right.’ She subconsciously reminded herself once more.

“Hey didn’t I say get lost? The fuck you still-“

“You will come with me and stay at the hotel. You will work toward redemption to Heaven and stay there.” She stated firmly and devoid of emotion.

The man closed his mouth, removing the scowl on his face. Not even a moment later, he stood and looked to Charlie expectantly. “Sure thing.” He said with barely any emotion behind his own answer.

Charlie’s eyes widened and she gasped, feeling her heart race. Quickly she turned to Alastor and shot him an unsure look. “Al... I... I think I did it...”

Alastor chuckled and approached, studying the man for a moment. When Alastor leaned in close to the dirtier demon’s face, the other man did not react with any hostility, just with an innocently confused look on his face. Satisfied with the results, he turned back to Charlie and nodded “Yes you did, dear. Now, let’s check him in, hm?”

________________________________

Everything ran smoothly from the first patient in the hotel. Charlie began subjugating the homeless population quickly to beat the cleanse deadline. Every day she got into a normal routine that made bounds in her development. She quickly became much more confident, and most importantly: more reliant on Alastor and his opinions.

Alastor stood beside her wherever she went like he was a part of her being. Though he could be described as her shadow, Charlie seemed to be slowly melting into his.

She began doing everything he suggested. From subjugating whoever he pointed out, to smiling almost all the time, she was improving to his standards rapidly and eagerly.

He was her new constant in life, her lifeline and her only friend.

________________________________

With only days remaining until the next cleanse, the streets of Pentagram City were cleared of a large portion of its homeless population. She’d redeemed such a large amount of people that could have been lost to the cleanse and she was proud of it.

“Darling, the angels are coming this way.”

Charlie gasped, sprinting up to the window next to Alastor. What she found was a team of four angels making their way toward the hotel with deadly purpose. “What? Why?”

“They probably know where a large mass of demons are.” Alastor said calmly with a shrug.

It was time to awaken another power within her. He didn’t have a hand in this arrangement, but he wasn’t complaining. This was the perfect motivation to get Charlie going and he was giddy to figure out what was next.

Watching the figures get closer and closer, Charlie’s heart began to race with frustration and panic. “They can’t do that! I’m helping people!”

“They don’t seen to care.”

She laced her fingers in her hair, quickly losing her cool. “What do we do? We can’t relocate everyone! There’s too many of them!”

“I suppose we’ll have to fight.”

Charlie whipped her head around and stared her companion down in disbelief. “Al, that goes against what I’m trying to do here!”

“Then everyone perishes.”

‘He’s right, Alastor is always right.’

“...Okay. Let’s go then.”

________________________________

“Kill it.”

“W-what?”

“Kill it, or else it will keep coming.”

“B-but...”

Alastor bent, still looming over her and the writhing angel she’d caught in her grasp. He took her chin to look him in the eye. “You must, or else everyone will be in danger.”

Charlie’s head began to spin, her heart racing and the adrenaline rushed through her. ‘Everyone will die. All my hard work...’ She needed to do it. She needed to for her people’s sake.

Alastor let her go, allowing her to decide. If she truly put her full trust in him, he knew she’d do it. It was only a matter of time.

But he didn’t have to wait too long.

Charlie’s grip on the angel’s throat tightened, earning a gurgle from the struggling being. It couldn’t muster the strength to thrash nor could it dig its fingers in to try to pry the hand around its throat off.

She watched it struggle- watched the life slowly leave it. It was suffering. It was fighting so hard to live. It was a sad sight, yet Charlie’s pity for it quickly left as Alastor whispered in her ear. “That’s it, darling. Remember, they hold no remorse slaughtering your people. They even smile as they do so. So why don’t you smile as you return the favor?” He paused before chuckling.

He craned his head around to look at her face to find a smile forming on her face. “There you are. And what a lovely smile, Charlie. Truly a vision.”

Smile? Was she really smiling? How could she smile as she was killing something? Why did it feel so good?

The sudden squelch as well as the splattering of warm blood on Charlie’s face instantly removed her grin. The angel stopped squirming, but slid downward from her bloodied hand. Without a head atop its shoulders, there was nothing left for Charlie to grip. With two audible thuds, she watched as the body of the angel slumped over with the head rolling a bit away from its body.

‘Incredible strength, but I’m not surprised.’ Alastor thought, impressed by her feat. It took a great amount of strength to decapitate a being by just squeezing its neck.

He placed his hands on either side of her shoulders from behind to assure her. “No matter how many you kill, it’s not your patient’s sin. You cannot go to Heaven anyway dear so you’d might as well take the burden and protect them, right?”

She looked down at the angel’s headless body on the ground. “To protect them?”

He turned her slightly and stood in front of her. He gently placed a hand on her head, keeping her grounded. “Yes. I’m proud of you, Charlie.” It wasn’t a lie, he felt immense pride in the progress she’d made.

‘Proud of me?’ She questioned mentally. She pried her eyes off of the sin she’d just committed to whip her gaze to Alastor. “Alastor...” She whispered, tears beginning to form in the corners of her eyes.

“Yes dear?”

She didn’t say anything and instead jumped to wrap her arms around him, catching him off-guard.

He felt her trembling followed by an unmistakable moistness touching his bare chest. “My dear, don’t cry.”

His eyes narrowed as he wrapped his arms around her tightly. “I’m here. I won’t leave you.”

‘And all you need is me.’

#it's more of a quick fic #this could easily be broken up into multiple chapters #charlastor #charlastorfic #radiobelle #radiobellefic

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