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anarchosyndicatalyst · 1 year

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We as humans have the rather unfortunate habit of always questioning things. This has often lead us down paths that many say, we were better off avoiding in the first place. As Douglas Adams once put it, “many were increasingly of the opinion that they’d all made a big mistake in coming down from the trees in the first place."

This tendency to question is what sets us apart from all of the other species in the animal kingdom. Dubito ergo cogito, cogito ergo sum; I Doubt, therefore I Think, I Think, therefore I Am. One of the greatest questions plaguing modern and ancient philosophers alike is that of the future of the human race; or more specifically what that future *should* look like, and the steps that we as a race need to make to get there.

My explanation is this:

What do you see when you imagine "history?" It is easy to picture what an apple looks like as it is a solid, familiar object that almost everyone has seen, held, tasted, and even smelled. But when one conceptualizes "history," what image comes to mind? What shape does the idea take in your mind?

History [and therefore time] takes a different shape depending on the observer; for example, I asked my friend what she imagined when she thought of the word "history." Her response was that to her it appeared circular, as she felt that she was trapped in an everlasting loop of events from which she was unable to escape.

As for myself, often view the concept of history as likened to a tapestry; a single long stretch of fabric composed of interwoven strands which flow together to form pictures, images, and even new colours. This analogy still does not quite fit, as it fails to capture the mode of progression from which the strands find their energy.

But first, what does it mean to progress? The dictionary definition of progression (or at least the one that best fits) is "to move forwards or onwards in time or space." Notice how this definition lacks a requirement for there to be a destination. Ergo, it is possible to "progress" outwards through Time without there needing to be a destination.

Now what is "Time?" As human observers, we experience time linearly, which basically just means that I am incapable of going back and undoing and doing something (actions, thoughts, experiences ect.) over again. So, from our perspective, time is merely the progression of events both natural and man-made.

When one applies these definitions to the human experience, you get a philosophy that resembles existentialism. The idea that "there is no one meaning to life" can be quite an intimidating thought to face, but many (including myself) take comfort in the idea that only you have control over your own destiny. In my opinion, this mindset also happens to give more value to one's freedom and independence, as it forces one to examine themselves for what they want in life, as well as what exactly is standing in their way.

This progression away from a central point is key to my understanding of history. For it is the lack of destination that I am interested in, as well as the lack of determinism that comes with it.

But what exactly is it that is progressing?

Lets use the definition of time as the progression of events both natural and man-made. Nature, by definition, cannot act with any will; that luxury is for now reserved for humans. Ergo, it is Humanity that is progressing - this seems rather obvious, as it is only through the interaction with objects other than "the self" that we are able to define ourselves. However it this base interaction is what began our two million year-old journey.

This is the first dialectic - the interweaving of man and nature has forever altered the flow of human history, but most crucially at it's beginning. By nature of course I mean the natural scientific world; the teeming chaos from which life emerged, and "order" balanced. We as independent actors have forever battled against nature, tearing down her trees to shelter ourselves from her harsh rebukes. It was this battle that brought us to our evolved state, and formed the first thread in our pattern. For it was the harsh elements that first drove our ancestors to innovate and survive; using the gift of doubt to reason out the puzzles of the natural world in order to better use it to our advantage.

Like Marx, I believe that history is ruled by contradictions. The interactions between mankind and the natural world described our history far before the tools required to transcribe it were invented. However, like rats in a barn, we humans stuck it out and began banding together into societies to better survive.

It was then when the second dialectic emerged and began to shape human history. This inherent contradiction mirrored the first, in that it was a battle between the rational and the natural. Inside one's own mind, I believe there exists at least three separate "selves."

The Self - Center from which one experiences reality

The Rational - Characterized by the sub-conscious

The Animal - Remnants of a less civilized past

In my opinion, the makeup of human biology can often be analogous to that of a computer. In many modern electronics, one finds hardware working alongside software. In the human body, the hardware would be characterized by the various organ systems, and the software would be the patterns of individual neurons which form the human brain.

In the case of a smartphone, the computational limits are largely set by the density/quality of the hardware, but also rely on the complexity of the software to set the "structure" of those computational algorithms. Seeing that electronic data is merely patterns of electricity which we have designated specific meanings to, the structure of any hardware determines the nature of the software as well.

Think of the human body as very poorly-designed computer. Within our genetic code lie countless genetic remnants from our uncivilized past. This is because the dominant Self does not have full control over the entirety of the body, just as a pilot does not control all of the faculties of an airplane. Our bodies have a built-in autopilot that functions outside of the Self's awareness, and it is from here that I posit spring forth the concepts such as "intuition" and "subconsciousness." I believe these functions occur without intervention from the dominant psyche because they originate from the biological equivalent of hardware; i.e. it exists in a part of the brain that has been inherited from one's animal predecessors.

These unconscious processes cover the remaining two parts of the overall whole, and characterize the dialectic inherent to every human. It is that of the Natural versus the Modern Man, with the Self emerging from and guiding these contradictions.

What makes the Natural Man? What does it mean to be an animal? In my opinion, to be an animal is to use reason for the purpose of one's own survival. Animals, while not so advanced as to be capable of consistent growth, still utilize rationality in their day-to-day lives. However their use of rationality is limited by their inherent lack of awareness of anything "other." For most creatures this definition is limited to themselves, but a few of the more advanced species have learned to expand this definition to include others of their species. However in many cases, time and circumstance has lead to entrenched behaviors between differing species. This is often mistaken for altruistic behavior, but the majority of scientists agree that it is merely another aspect of evolution. In essence, to be an animal means only being capable of using one's rationality for their own survival. This is the baseline, and does not require a very complex noggin to accomplish.

Humans, however, rationalize just about everything. Everything has a reason, everything has a purpose, and this is what sets us apart from the rest of life on Earth. The ability to reason may be inborn, but just like a muscle, one must exercise it in order to use it properly. Our ability to break down and store complex information for later retrieval is part of what helps us grow, but it has also been recognized that the way in which we conceptualize that information affects how it is stored [think the relationship between software and hardware]. This is what allows us to surge beyond the boundaries that nature provided us with; a way to reprogram our minds and resist the biological impulses that may come upon us. This is the power of doubt.

This is the dialectic that has served as the engine of human history since the first struggle against nature: the interplay between the biological impulses and the rational structures one utilizes daily, and the ability to use each to determine our reactions to external stimuli. It is from this that we shape our "Self." It is upon these reactions that we place moral weight, as they are usually the result of conscious deliberation. However even in the courts there are acknowledgements that there are some actions taken in haste without prior judgement. To me this showcases the inherent contradiction of the human mind; the existence of "base" or natural instincts alongside the ability to question why.

Dialectics often have a habit of placing some form of "higher moral value" often in an attempt to compare *good* and *evil.* I however do not believe in such concepts, as I do not believe that there exists any authority high enough to presuppose our moral values for us. Actions cannot hold moral value in and of themselves; the morality of an action stems from the intent behind it.

Just the same, I do not believe that either the Natural or Rational man is inherently good or evil.

From our natural side we are given both joy and anger, fear and pleasure, comfort and anxiety. Even feeling such as hunger and thirst stem from our ancient DNA. Each has it's place, and are often merely ways that the body communicates it's needs to the Self. In less developed species, these impulses rule day-to-day activities unless circumstance calls for their limited reason - this is very much the same in humans, except our own awareness encompasses a much larger portion of our mind and body making it difficult at times to "stay in touch with one's feelings" over the noise of one's own Self.

Our rational mind however is more deeply intertwined with the Self. Whenever one seeks to solve a simple math problem, lets say 2+2, our minds naturally follow the logical computational steps in order to reach the conclusion. It hardly takes any thought at all, and the answer simply enters your awareness. This is the work of your unconscious rational mind accessing the previously ingrained pathways that likely formed in elementary school. If you instead attempted to solve something like (7-24/8*4+6), for most of us it would require slowing down and consciously working through the PEMDAS formula; that is, unless you are someone whose computational structures are so often employed (or perhaps more efficiently employed) that the answer of "1" appears as easily as "4" did the equation before.

Like the Natural man, the Rational self is neither good or evil; this is due to it's fluid and subjective nature dependent on the individual. Rationality can be used for malicious purposes, but in the end it is the intention behind the rationality that matters. So how is it that one is to determine "morality" if there is no "good" or "evil" inherent to mankind?

In this I return to the philosophy of existentialism - it is our duty to make our own morality, as we have the capability to do so. Once "morality" becomes something that can be altered, it opens up room for both great improvements and even greater threats. For we must be careful with this power, as if there exists no inherent "good" or "evil" we must strive towards, the morals that we may create for ourselves run the risk of corruption.

So when we as a species pick our morals, I believe that we should return to the philosophy of our ancient hunter-gatherer ancestors. We must care for the tribe, and keep it's interests as our interests; however this is a tribe that encompasses all who wish to join, barring none for their color or their creed. All must become brothers and sisters in an effort to procure the survival of the tribe, ensuring that all are cared for as "the tribe" does not conceptually exist as apart from the whole of the society.

A society that accepts all and bars none will surely fall to the ruin of those who seek to exploit them. It is my belief, however, that the core of humanity is "good." More accurately, I believe that the vast majority of humankind only wishes what is best for themselves and their friends/family. It is because of this belief that I am confident that should one expand their circle of concern to encompass not just people within their city or nation, but instead to humanity as a whole; it would become much easier to find the love that is required to motivate action towards the greater good.

There also exists those who seek to use others for their own benefit, or even harm them to prove a point or make a statement; however these cases are rare in places where there exists a strong social safety net to protect against the circumstances wherein individuals are pushed to their breaking points. I believe that "true evil" is rare, and exists only as a result of individuals who psychologically/biologically lack empathy. In this case, true reason prevails untempered by empathy and most other emotions, and permits individuals to plan and commit horrific acts without guilt or thought of consequence.

It is this lack of the Natural Man that gives these detrimental individuals such an advantage, and often provides their downfall as well. Our empathy and our rationality work in tandem to navigate the Self through it's existence, each keeping the other in check to best understand the world around us. It is from this relationship that doubt emerges, as fear serves as a powerful motivator in double checking your essay for mistakes before handing it in to the professor. Oppositely, a complete lack of fear would lead to overconfidence in one's work, which often results in mistakes that would otherwise have been easily spotted and fixed.

How are these internal dynamics reflected in the real world? Well, I once heard an old Native American story about two wolves that live inside all of us. One wolf represented all that was good, and one represented all that was evil. According to the story, these wolves fight a seemingly endless battle within us and when asked by a small boy which wolf would win, the answer supplied by the elders was "the one you feed."

My answer to this question is very similar, minus all the stuff about good and evil. Instead, I believe that an individual is defined by the internal "balance" between the two base selves, using information and concepts gained from their external surroundings to build a "Self." This process is gradual, with biological mechanics such as neuroplacticity allowing for continued growth our entire lives.

In the realm of political philosophy, this results in two general types of people - those who wish to rule, and those who wish to be governed.

Those who wish to rule are those whose awareness rarely expands further than their own selfish desires, and when given power use it for their own gains instead of first seeking to consider the whole of society. This is because they use their power as an animal would - hoarded from the rest, using reason only to further the selfish urges that sometimes arise from the accumulation of vast amounts of money and power.

Those who wish to be governed seek not power, but peace of mind. These are the every-day people who simply wish to be able to live out their lives in peace, and so many care little for the goings-on in the world outside their awareness. It is this mass of people that make-up the vast majority of the human species, and the source of the world's greatest revolutions and feats of wonder. This is because while often selfish, an individual's selfishness extends to those who they view as "part of the tribe," allowing the use of reason in pursuit of the benefit of the whole in order to effect the betterment of the individual.

It is the relationship between these two groups of people that has shaped the course of human history. Feudalism had kings and nobles who sought to strip the land bare, and carry away it's resources to be hoarded in castles. This resulted in the agglomeration of both power and population, resulting in technological innovations that made it possible for a larger percentage of the population to become educated and seek liberation.

The resulting colonial era contained both the remnants of the feudal lords, as well as the growing class of capitalists that sought to strip the world bare in the pursuit of industrial growth. Soon enough that growth provided the means for the birth of a "middle class" who fought to even the scales of power through the birth of Constitutional Republicanism.

Finally Marx's concepts of the Proletariat and the Bourgeoisie attempts to encapsulate the dialectic that drives our modern industrialized world, however I feel that he was misguided in placing too much importance on the economic aspects of life. Indeed he is correct when he points out that the global economy rests on the backs of the lowest common denominator, but i feel that he is too deterministic in his view that it is our material factors that separate us into our respective "social classes." In fact I feel that the concept of social classes is heretical to what Marx and Hegel intended; that being a global society wherein socialist ideals of self-management and democratic control reign.

This is due to the tendency towards tribal relationships that I referred to earlier. While there can be no dispute that there exists different "forms" of individuals, I believe that due to the exceptionally subjective nature of the development of our Self there can be no divisions made based solely on economic circumstance or social situation. It is only in one's intentions that one can be discriminated against, and even then only at the basest of levels.

Therefore I submit this one condition of judgement: that when possible, to first keep one's intentions directed towards the fulfillment of the basic needs for all of mankind - and to otherwise seek to better the whole of society through the preservation of the individual.

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wendelyngandr · 1 year

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Okay so

To most viewers, Novi’s window is overly-technologized garbage. As one of six digital-frame windows in the entire exhibition, it distinguishes itself by having so many separate images layered on top of each other (87,253!) that it becomes useless as a window - it is simply an opaque mess with just a little bit of transparent glass showing through. In a space where the other windows that look out across the city are overlaid with flowing lines coalescing into, among other things, the immaculate form of the Wind Goddess, or the haunting profiles of the islands of the future, you know, images that say something, it looks for all the world like Novi has leveraged an incredible amount of technological potential in order to say... nothing at all. This pisses off not only the traditionalists, who think that digital windows aren’t real art, and the other digital window artists, who see only wasted potential (two inches of glass! Enough to make 3D models out of consecutive layers! You could program the world’s most elaborate shadow puppet show into this thing!).

When he finally makes his way through all the distractions of the exhibition - over a hundred works of art that have “actual ideas” to express, hundreds of opinionated (and hot) people dressed in their finest - and stands in front of Novi’s window, Mobulas is faced with an absurd choice: does he accept what the artists and critics are saying about his friend’s work (namely, that it’s a rush job with no conceptual competence behind it), or does he trust the image of her he has in his mind, and justify the window’s seeming incoherence with the idea that Novi is simply playing a more complicated game than anyone realizes? See, it isn’t just the fact that they’re friends that motivates Mobulas to defend Novi from the critics. Or rather, it is the reason why he and Novi are friends that propels him to search for a charitable explanation. He sees her excessive dabbling in different arts and disciplines as indicative of her spirited pursuit of knowledge in all its forms - something he can relate to as a historian and osteographer.

Unable to find Novi, Mobulas begins a thorough examination of the work itself in the hopes of rescuing it (within his own imagination) from the depths of failure consigned to it by the experts. He discovers the window’s overlay display - hallucinatory-psychic projections emanating from the window’s computer. In addition to the images within the frame, the window projects its own public comment space. The comments are scathing, but there is something else here - a link to the “edit” layer, which controls ultimately which of the 87,253 images are displayed by the window. Using this, Mobulas could theoretically hide every layer and search through each image individually, laying bare the secrets of the window (or rather, proving that there are secrets in the first place). The only problem is, there are 87,253 layers, and the editing functions Novi programmed in (and apparently left open for anyone to access?) force Mobulas to go through the layers one at a time. If there is a deeper meaning to this, it lies at the end of an arduous process. And without Novi’s approval, the process feels a lot like vandalism, which is unacceptable no matter how much people hate the artwork. The absurdity of the situation dawns on Mobulas in an instant: to actually mount a defense of Novi’s window, in which he sees only the glimmering potential of a mystery, he must destroy the sanctity of the divide between artist and observer, and hack the thing to pieces in front of the entire exhibition.

Naturally, Mobulas refuses to do this without Novi’s permission. He calls her to ask if he’s on the right track. By now a crowd has gathered around the window to dismantle Mobulas’ half-baked theory and question his credentials alongside hers. When Novi arrives, the question is put to her whether there is a true message at the end of the 87,253 images. Her response:

“Okay so... instead of trusting your own sacred self as to what reality is telling you, you are asking me what it all means. Me! Am I the Wind Goddess? Do I know your heart better than you do? Here, let me bequeath upon you my wisdom: the very last image is a dick I drew in my notebook when I was bored in class. There’s only one way to prove this, and if you go through that process you are going to murder me out of sheer frustration when you finally find the truth. If you can get that, then you already have everything this window can teach you.”

#Hnoko Daydreams #Novi #Mobulas #writing wip #just using this as a place to put ideas for later

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imaginedreamwrite · 2 years

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Taste Of Honey: Part 3

The draw of winter was closing in and with it, the colourful cluster of leaves had begun to die as they fell from the spindly limbs of trees that, like him, would enter hibernation. There was something infinitely beautiful about the end of one season and the start of another, something breathtaking about the onset of hibernation that would not be spent in seclusion, but with the greatest partner, he could have never imagined having.

It was the promise of his mate being so close that had almost completely eradicated the feeling of loneliness and ire that had afflicted Ari for the majority of his life as a man, and a bear. It was the promise of companionship that had drawn him further into the need to hoard and claim, to prepare heavily for any suspected circumstance that could have arisen during the time frame when there was a charm protecting him and his land from intruders.

It was drawing nearer, the time when he and you would be unable to remove yourselves from the expansive portion of your safely kept and tightly clutched oasis in the thick of the forest.

It was your safe place, and it was his duty as the massive beast that he was to protect you with every breath in his lungs, with every ounce of his life force that would have to be ripped from him to get to you. It was his duty as your mate, a duty to provide you with every necessity and factional desire that you could ever have. It was his duty to protect and provide for you and your cubs when they should arrive.

Ari was busy, he had been busy, doubling down on the goods he had stored at home for you and himself. He had been astute in his efforts to have enough supplies for the two of you to not just survive the hibernation but thrive together as a future mated couple.

He had gotten everything he thought you may have needed, with enough to occupy your time while he had been out patrolling the land to keep himself fit, and to make sure the charm had remained intact. It was all part of what had made him the deadly beast he was, an integral part of him that had demanded and desired the most secure location, the most formidable home to keep his most precious gifts safe.

You, and your future cubs, were already his entire world and he hadn’t had either yet.

Ari was already devoted beyond reason and measure, and there was nothing he would not do to keep those he cared most about, protected.

His claws dug into the earth as he pushed himself to run faster, Ari had broken through the tree line and crossed the barrier, sealing himself inside his land before the sun had started to set and the last few hours before hibernation had come to a close.

Ari had huffed in his beast form and shook his head, the dark brown fur flowing against the mix of the chilling wind and the motion of him shaking the last few beads of water. He had taken a few steps toward the tree line and then felt the shift as he had become a man once more.

He had felt the wind against his bare skin, the blast of air, chilled by the encroaching winter, would have made any other man freeze.

But to Ari, the massive werebear that he was, the chill was nothing but a gentle breeze that made him aware of the change of season. It was here, the hibernation charm that had fallen over his territory, had prevented any humans from getting in.

And more importantly, it had prevented his darling little mate from escaping his clutches at such a pivotal moment as hibernation.

Ari knew, and he had prepared for a struggle, for the fallout of your emotions, and as he had taken that first step, still naked as the day he was born, toward the house.

He could hear the sound of your breathing, and the steady beat of your heart as you lay in slumber in one of the rooms in the cabin. It wasn’t his room and he had wished wholeheartedly to make you embrace the full comfort of his den in all its conceptualization, however, Ari knew it was too soon.

This would all be too much for you to handle already, without Ari demanding you embrace his den. Ari knew that when he took you to his den, he wanted to feel you quivering underneath him, quaking from the orgasms that he had ripped from you with every stroke of his cock and his tongue. He wanted you to fill the den with screams of pleasure, your cries of necessity and need driving the sexual tension between you two as it naturally should have during your mating.

Ari had stopped short of the porch built against the front entrance of the cabin and bent down to a secured storage box set to the left of the bottom step. He had unlatched the silver clasp and reached inside for the set of clothes he had resting inside, nothing particularly special. As he had slipped the grey sweats on and set them low on his hips, he had yanked the worn flannel from inside and slipped his arms through the sleeves, ceasing buttoning up the front when he had heard the first of your startled shrieks.

You were awake; you were not pleased.

Thick, heavy paws with sharp claws penetrated the wet soil. It was the huff of a great beast that had towered above you, that had crept up onto your position against the sheer rock wall behind you, that had first shot fear straight into your core.

You were pressed against the rocky side, your hands gripping the stone with all your might as you turned your head, averting your eyes as the beast had crept closer and with its approach had come the sickening scent of death and rotting food. Its eyes were wild, overcome with great animosity as it snapped its jaws and grazed the swell of your abdomen.

“Please,” you cried as you attempted to lessen the space between you and the beast, “please-“

“Y/N!” A voice had called you, another thrashing of paws thudding against the wet earth, and the beast that had been gnashing at you, had been thrown aside, the collision of one impossible body against another had made the earth rattle at your feet.

You had been blocked off, the path to you distorted by another great beast. The massive bear in front of you had appeared to be a formidable enemy, however, any path the first creature had tried to take, was blocked by the beast in front of you.

“I don’t want to die!” Your voice shook as you lowered yourself to the ground, and rest one hand upon your belly, while the opposing beasts had darted toward each other, the thunderous boom of two bodies colliding was earth-shattering.

Beads of sweat had rolled down the small of your back as you had been ripped awake by the bowl of the wind against the glass of a window to your left. You had laid dazed in a bed that was too soft and too warm to be your own. You had been dazed, had remained dazed as the course of the days had come back to the surface of your mind and you were reminded of your station the last few days.

You had not been in a hotel, at an Airbnb or in any other kind of lodge. You had been in the woods, camping before you headed west to start a new job. You had been in a tent, to experience the last few monickers of freedom before you were thrown headfirst into work and a new social life.

You were camping. You were in a tent. There were warnings about strange disappearances that had been pushed to the back of your mind, and they had now seemed so vivid and blinding.

It was real, it was all real and it appeared like it was happening to you.

The first real sensation that had been your reality check was another harsh blow of the wind against the glass pane, and the sudden awareness that the bedroom you were in was part of a cabin. You could see the distinctive, massive and elegantly knotted logs that had been stacked on top of the other, only broken by the panes of glass that had given you a look to the outside world.

An immediate chill had run down your spine while you had steadily removed the blankets that were covering you, and had pushed yourself to sit on the edge of the bed.

Your feet had fit the wood floor and your hands had been braced against the edge of the bed. Your fingers gripped the soft cotton sheet beneath you, as you fixated your attention on the grains in the hardwood while you had attempted to place the last few hours and figure out how you had gotten wherever you were.

You had remembered tracks encircling your campsite, you had remembered the heat of the fire that should have long gone out yet it was thriving. You had recollected your attempt to climb the hill that had obscured you from the original path you were on. Nothing had been as you remembered; everything had been changed.

You took a slow deep breath, and then you pushed yourself to stand. Your knees had started to give out on you before you could even take a step, and it was only after you had stumbled forward that you had managed to brace yourself against the wall and gaze out the window.

The window was wide and gave an impressive view of the landscape beyond whatever house you were in, however, the sights before you did nothing to ease you. There was nothing familiar from what you could see, and even more so, there was no distinctive trail that would or could have led out of the thick cluster of trees that was seemingly surrounding wherever you were.

You stumbled away from the window when you saw movement from the tree line, a massive man with such broad width and a bare chest to match, shaggy brown hair that had brushed the back of his neck and the tops of his shoulders. His eyes were impossibly blue rimmed with gold, and the thick density of his beard had almost obscured the roundness of his lips.

He was beautiful, and you were struck in awe of this man who appeared from the middle of the cluster is trees, naked as the day he was born.

It was, for a moment, as if you were seeing things and this was all a part of your crazed and delusional attempt to make sense of the sudden shift in locations. It was as if your mind was attempting to make sense of what was nonsensical.

Intending to get out of here as soon as possible, you pulled yourself away from the window and moved toward the door of the bedroom, scrambling to rip open the object in your way. As the door had been opened and you had been granted access to the exterior of the bedroom, your feet carried you down the hall, and then a set of stairs to the main floor. You were greeted by the immaculate conception of an open concept cabin that had been as airy and homey as it was completely unfamiliar.

Your feet carried you to the back door that had led to an enclosed porch, and with a breath held tight in your lungs, you pressed your hands to the glass. It was the first of many tightly wound shrieks that had been pulled from you, the first of many sounds that you had only just been able to make.

“What the hell…?” Your lungs had started to burn with every passing moment that you were incapable of being able to breathe normally.

Your heart was thrashing violently in your chest, your eyes had begun to grow wider as a sense of overhanging panic had slowly crept further into your mind. This was not a place you should have been, this was not anywhere you recognized.

“Y/N,” a voice from behind you had rung out, and through the reflection of the glass, you could see the towering and Herculean man moving toward you, “you’re panicking. You need to calm down.”

Your hands had begun flitting with the knob of the door as he had gained ground on you, your sense of urgency and the fight or flight response was telling you to flee.

“Honey, you need to calm down. You’re going to give yourself a panic attack.” His voice was deep and husky, his stature double what yours was.

“I don’t…I don’t know you. I don’t know…where I am.” You began to slide the door open, the wind whipping against the glass of the veranda.

“Y/N…come back inside. There’s a storm coming.” He was barefooted and the clothing he had worn did nothing to hide the sheer size of him.

You had yet to look him dead on but had chosen to study him through the glass. You were torn between the beauty that was encapsulated in this man, this complete stranger, and leaving while he was still a short distance away.

“I’m not going to hurt you.” He held his hands up, only a few feet from you, and you knew the moment was closing in. “Y/N, honeybee come back inside.”

You jerked through the open space and slammed the door behind you, jumping over the small bistro table set against the left corner to gain access to the door leading out of the covered porch. You knew he was after you, you knew he was following you out into the open space.

Your feet carried you as far as possible into the dense cluster is trees while the wind had harrowingly attacked the surrounding area. Everything you had been doing to escape had drained you of all energy until you had stumbled headfirst into a wide and willowy trunk, your hands gripping the trunk while your knees had finally given out.

“You’re okay,” he was behind you, encouraging you through soft temperance, and gentle hands, lifting you from the ground, “you’re okay, honey. I know it’s a lot to adjust to. I know.”

#werebear!ari levinson x reader #werebear!ari levinson imagines #werebear!ari levinson x reader smut #werebear!ari levinson x reader angst #werebear!ari levinson #ari levinson imagines fluff #ari levinson imagines angst #ari levinson imagines smut #ari levinson x reader smut #ari levinson x reader angst #ari levinson x reader fluff #ari levinson x reader #ari levinson #taste of honey masterlist #taste of honey series #taste of honey part 3 #taste of honey

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arofluxstuff · 3 years

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The problem with the nuclear family model

An unnecessary division of community. It's a direct product "American dream" propaganda, and the individualistic "pick yourself up by your bootstraps" ideals.

And it is Hurting people.

This concept of families consisting of 3-5 individuals two of which are an adult cis man and woman, the rest being their biological children is completely unrealistic even for some of the people most committed to this ideal. To begin with conceiving children is difficult, and bearing children can be dangerous for the the person carrying them. This dream is one medical condition away from being unattainable whether because one of the would-be parents is unable to have kids or because of a pregancy-related complication that harms the parent or child.

The pressure to birth your own children leads to many women developing lower self-worth or poor mental health because they feel that so much of their worth as humans relies on their ability to bear children. Adoption could be a wonderful option for those who want children, not just as a backup plan but as their primary method of seeking to raise kids. However this is against societal expectations.

Even queer folks, who by nature of who they are don't fit within the mold of the nuclear family, are pressured to strive to be as close as possible to that ideal because any other way would simply prove how different they are from the clearly superior straights cis folks./s

This concept insists upon conformity and isolation. People are shamed for living parents into adulthood, and are treated as immature outcasts without further inquiry as to why they're living with family. When people do comply they are divided into groups with only one other adult who is expected to be their only emotional support and vice versa. Women can, in some cases, depend on other friends for some support but it's dependent upon whether they have time to cultivate close friendships along with the stress of parenting, maintaining a romantic connection with their spouse, and whatever job they might have. Men on the other hand are expected to not offer each other support at all lest they be viewed as weak.

This is not a recipe for an emotionally healthy environment for children to grow up in especially since many people have children out of obligation and are completely baffled as to what to Do about this tiny human in their care.

The concept of community into adulthood has all but died as friendships are steadily shuffled to the wayside as the least important of relationships in people's lives.

People on the asexual or aromantic spectrum are obviously harmed by this, as a desire for sex and romance are integral to this ideal and people who are either asexual OR aromantic will often, in an attempt to be respected, point out the ways in which they DO adhere to the standards, thereby throwing the other community squarely under scrutiny in their place (ex. "Well c'mon, I'm not a robot, I still like sex!" or "We still love just like everybody else!").

In the same vein, this affects everyone who wants non-traditional relationships such as queerplatonic relationships or polyamory. These are typically seen as childish or immoral respectively. Because the view point of the general public is that if you aren't doing relationships the way they think you should be you are at best stupid and immature and at worst gross and harmful.

And the worst part is that the only reason for this standard to exist is to make sure people are doing good for business. Each household buying one of each appliance or piece of technology leads to higher profits. People will be too tired from trying to shoulder all their responsibilities as a duo to realize that they aren't being paid enough, aren't being treated well. And I don't think I need to explain how destroying community is good for making sure no large groups are forming which might disrupt the status quo.

Families were not (and still aren't) structured like this in much of the world. There are plenty of cultures where multigenerational households are the norm. Allowing for the young to care for the old and allowing for more dependence upon one another in families with more people to share the load.

And yet even people who claim to understand that families don't all look the same and sing the praises of found families in media can't conceptualize of such a family in real life if the relationships between members aren't falling into the expected patterns of parent-child, siblings, or romantic partners.

The nuclear family is bullshit and serves as only a way to control and divide us, stop letting it trap you

#nuclear family #aromantic #asexual #polyamory #lgbtq #queer

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nalledimessi · 3 years

Text

Chapter three: Blood.

Hello there friends, hope that all of you are great. Well, I don't know what to said, even sometimes I think I speak to much and sometimes I feel like the middle child, but anyway...

Don't forget to to like, leave a comment and reblog if you enjoy it! It means the work to me!

@imgoingtofreakoutnow Congrats on your exams Annie, you deserve a rest for the great job on them! I still can't thank you enough. You know I'm here for you, love.

Warnings: Mentions of blood, drinking blood, making love and flashbacks.

Tag's: @valsworldofcreativity @avala-moon @r13mar @drwho-ess

If you haven't read the previous chapters click below!

< Chapter two: Confrontations.

Elijah bows his head, the veins under his dark eyes showing on his face. He opens his mouth while his fangs become visible, all in one single action, and sinks them in the neck of his human blood bag. He can hear how the heart is starting to slow down more and more with each sip he takes, but he’s unable to calm his thirst.

“Elijah!” Rebekah’s voice stops him before he drains completely the girl in front of him.

He pulls apart from the neck, bringing his wrist to his own mouth, biting it and taking it to the human’s mouth to allow her to drink some of his blood. Then he looks her in the eyes. “Forget this ever happened and continue your way” he instructs her using compulsion.

“Thank you, Rebekah.” He cleans the last remnants of blood from his mouth with his handkerchief. “I may say I’m not myself lately”

“Not just lately Elijah, but since she’s gone” she declares.

“You’re correct.” He puts his handkerchief in his pocket, then stands straight next to her.

She crosses her arms. “As much as I hate to say this brother, I think you should stick to blood bags until we bring her back. At least if I don’t come with you” she suggests to him.

“I will consider it” he utters, heading outside the alley they are in.

Rebekah vamp-speeds in front of him. “I’m serious Elijah”

“And I said I would consider it, Rebekah” he roars at her, his eyes darker and veins beneath them.

“You won’t find her if you end up with a dagger in your chest on a coffin” she reminds him.

He takes a deep breath and rubs his eyes, trying to regain control. “You’re right, I’ll do it.” Taking another deep breath, he then turns to face her. “I just need some air. I will see you at home.” He takes her hand and squeezes it softly. “I won’t do anything that’ll prevent me from getting her back”

“Call me if you need anything” she says before leaving him alone.

He gets out of the alley letting his feet carry him away, maybe somehow to you. He walks from the bourbon street to the Café Du Monde; he walks inside and purchases a few beignets to then start his way to what used to be your shared home.

“Hey” you greet Elijah from your seat, reclined on the arm of the sofa, your legs under you while reading a book.

“I brought you beignets.” He raises a bag while walking towards you.

You lift your sight from the book to look at him with a sweet smile. “You definitely know how to spoil me, Mikaelson”

He leans in to kiss you and then sits next to you while looking at you eating a beignet. “I haven’t seen that grimoire before, is it mine?” he asks.

You shake your head, taking a bite of your piece of dough. “Mine” you answer with some of it filling your mouth. “I found an interesting spell” you explain once you finish your bite.

“And what makes this spell so interesting?” he questions, raising an eyebrow.

“It’s called ‘De vampiri conceptu’ ” you reveal to him, reaching with your hand his tie to unfasten it.

“The conception of vampires” he translates with a smile on his face, knowing where this is going.

You move so you can be on his lap. “We both know vampires can’t procreate,” you say, stating a fact, “but we both love to try” you finish, slightly moving your hips, teasing him.

He places his hands on your hips, his fingers slipping under your blouse and caressing your skin. “And this particular spell tells you what to do?”

“Actually, it does.” You lean closer to his ear. “And it says to make love while we share blood” you whisper, kissing his sensitive spot below his ear where his jaw starts.

He stands up quickly with you in his arms, hands on your thighs to keep you from falling. You immediately wrap your legs to his waist while he claims your mouth. “Let’s take this upstairs then” he growls, carrying you to your bed.

“Sammy!” you shout, crying for him locked in your bathroom. “Sam!”

“[Y/N?]” You hear Dean worried voice on the other side of the door. “Open the door, [Y/N]” he requests when he hears you sob.

You unlock the door and collapse in his arms. “There was… blood” you whisper, wrapped tight in his hug.

His thoughts immediately go to your baby. “Let’s go” he says, pulling you with him to the door, “let’s take you to the doctor, now”

He leads the way to the Impala, placing you on the seat and driving to your obstetrician —thank God he overheard from Sam where it’s located.

“What if I- I-” You don’t finish your sentence because you start crying again.

“Hey, hey...” Dean takes your hand in his as he parks in the clinic parking lot. “Look at me,” he asks you, focusing your attention on him, “the baby will be fine. Its part of you and you’re the most stubborn and badass person I know. He, or she, will be fine” he affirms once more while squeezing your hand. “We’re here just to confirm it, ok?” You nod. “Alright” he says before releasing your hand and running to your side to open the door.

The nurse rushes you in after your explanation while Dean waits for you seated on the chair of the waiting room; he lays his head to the wall closing his eyes, trying to gather his thoughts when his phone start ringing.

“Yeah?” he answers without looking at it.

“Where are you Dean? [Y/N] is with you?” Sam asks in a hurry.

“She’s with me, don’t worry Sam.” He stays silent for a few moments. “Don’t freak out,” he requests, “but we’re at the clinic”

“It’s- is [Y/N] alright? The baby? I’m on my way.” Dean could hear him moving on his end.

“I told you not to freak out!” he reminded him. “Don’t come, try to contact Cas in case we need him” he tells him.

“Alright, keep me posted.”

“I will” he assures before hanging up. After a few more minutes he starts to pace from side to side of the room until he sees you coming out of the door. He walks directly towards you. “Is everything alright?”

“Yes” you only answer and raise your arms to show him a photograph in white and black.

He takes it from your hands and examines it, trying to figure out what it is without luck. “What’s this?”

“That is my baby.” You point to a small curve on the ultrasound.

He looks it again and then turns to you with a smile. “It looks like a shrimp”

“Not for long” you smile back, watching the longing in his eyes.

“Let’s go, Sammy should be worried sick by now” he says before pulling you out of the clinic.

Dean places the key in the car, ready to start the engine, but doesn’t. He passes a hand over his face and exhales. “I know this isn’t my place to say, but you should tell him…” he stops to damp his lips, “Elijah has the right to know”

“Dean, I-”

He extends a hand to you. “Let me finish,” he turns to look at you. “I don’t know him but I know you. He must be a good man if you fell in love with him, apart from being an original vampire, but even I would like to know if I were to be a father.” He turns away from you to look out of the window. “I just need time. I need to get used to the idea that my baby sister is having a baby and who the father is...” —you knew he doesn’t like to speak about his feelings and he isn’t good when those same feelings involve you or Sammy— “but that… that doesn’t mean I don’t care about you or the baby. I’m here for both of you that is what family is for” he finishes, still avoiding eye contact with you.

You lean over him and deposit a kiss on his cheek. “Thank you, Dean.” Seeing how his cheeks turn bright red, you chuckle.

“Now, let’s get you something to eat and those things that the doctor told you” he announces, switching back to his usual mood.

Chapter four: Symptoms >

#Waiting for you #The Originals #Supernatural #spnfamliy #Elijah Mikaelson #Winchester Sister #Winchester !sister #Rebekah Mikaelson #Sam Winchester #Dean Winchester #Elijah Mikaelson x Winchester sister #Elijah Mikaelson x Winchester!sister #mikaelson x reader #Mikaelson x Winchester #Elijah Mikaelson x reader #elijah mikaelson fanfiction

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littlemisspascal · 3 years

Text

Death and an Angel part 11

Death!Din x Cupid F!Reader

Summary: “When we get out of here, Din will fly us far, far away,” you murmur, just loud enough to be heard over the sound of the baby's resumed chewing. “I promise you we’ll be happy together.”

Rating: T

Word Count: 3,511

Warnings: captured reader, angst, bonding with Grogu, plot plot plot

Author Note: To anyone and everyone sticking with this series, I love you so much! I know the plot is more than a little thick right now, but answers are slowly but surely being revealed.

Links to Part 1 and Part 10 and Part 12

Cross-posted on AO3.

Photo Inspiration:

You pace the length of the cell, brow furrowed as you try to organize your racing thoughts. Between the chilly atmosphere and the severed bond wailing for its other half, you imagine you outwardly resemble the jittery and unbalanced mess you feel internally. You refuse to feel humiliated by your appearance, not when the witnesses are Gideon and his minions. They can think what they want about you, believe they have broken your spirit, because that just means they won’t expect it when you free yourself until it’s too late.

However, part two of your plan of escape is proving to be more challenging to conceptualize than you initially thought. The collar is tightly wound around your neck to the point of chafing. Apparently the rule of being able to slip two fingers under a collar is only applicable to animals in Gideon’s eyes because your attempt of slipping your finger between skin and metal is dissuaded by another electric shock zipping through your body.

However, as you lightly trail your fingertips over the cold metal, you’re surprised to feel a noticeable dip in the back. It’s not a design flaw, you think as you try to visualize it in your mind. Your heartbeat quickens as realization strikes: it’s a keyhole.

Any excitement you might feel at your discovery is spoiled by the fact a keyhole is useless without a key. You look at the laser gate, further disappointed as you contemplate the complexity of the tunnel system. There could be dozens of cells down here, potentially thousands of hiding places for Gideon to keep the key to the collar secure. Not to mention, you don’t even know what the key looks like. It could be hanging right outside the cell and you’d have no idea.

Lost in the sea of disparaging thoughts, you don’t notice the return of the baby crawling through the hole in the wall until he latches onto your foot. Startled, you barely manage to refrain from shouting a curse as you stare down at him. He giggles, clearly amused by your wide-eyed expression, and then slaps a silver plastic bag against your shin using the hand that isn’t gripping his favorite black cloth.

“Did you bring me a present?” you ask, taking a seat on the pallet and lifting him up onto your lap. This time when you reach forward, he willingly lets you take the item from him instead of trying to take a chunk out of your hand.

You tear open the plastic, revealing its contents to be five teal-colored cookies.

“Wow, bud,” you murmur, holding one up between pinched fingers. The treat smells distinctively like vanilla. From what you’ve witnessed, you doubt Gideon is the type to offer his prisoners dessert with their meals which means these were probably stolen from somewhere. “Where did you find these?”

The baby only babbles unintelligibly in response, gesturing with his free hand in the direction of somewhere beyond the laser gate. You nod along, feigning understanding, but your eyes can’t help but drift to his collar when he turns his head. The keyhole for his collar is smaller than you expect to see which has you quickly theorizing there is not one universal key for all of the collars. If that theory is true, then it raises the difficulty of escaping yet another level.

With a sigh you cram the cookie into your mouth, finding the tiniest smidge of joy in its crunchiness.

“When we get out of here I’ll buy you a dozen boxes of these,” you tell him once you’ve swallowed, offering him one of the cookies. He coos excitedly and takes a large bite, uncaring of the blue crumbs that rain down upon his coat. “And once Din sees you, I bet he’ll want to spoil you rotten, too. He has a not-so-secret soft spot for kids.”

The baby’s head tilts, reacting to the name-drop by making a confused gurgling sound around his mouthful.

“Don’t talk with food in your mouth,” you scold gently, tapping his nose with your finger and laughing under your breath when it proceeds to scrunch up in an adorable manner. Leaning your head back against the wall, you’re unable to keep the note of wistful longing out of your voice as you explain, “Din is my soulmate. To the rest of the world, he’s known as Death. They’ll have you believe he’s someone to be feared and avoided at all cost. But luckily I’m here to tell you the truth.”

He stares up at you, snack seemingly forgotten in favor of listening intently to every word coming out of your mouth. Distantly you think you should be a little scared by how intense his gaze is, as if he’s attempting to look past your skin to the soul beneath, but you remind yourself all babies are innately curious and don’t know it’s rude to stare.

“He’ll never admit to it himself, but underneath all that beskar armor, he is the most socially inept being in the galaxy. I swear, bud, the first time I met him I thought it was impossible for him to say more than two words or else he’d hurt himself.” Your lips twitch at the memory, the smallest of smiles you can make without it feeling forced. “Still, despite his horrible first impression, I couldn’t get him off my mind. I wouldn’t call it love at first sight, but—look, I know how crazy this sounds, okay? But I felt like I had to get to know him better. There was this voice in my head insisting we couldn’t just remain strangers. It took about ten thousand questions and three more meetings for me to earn his trust enough for him to take off his helmet and let me see his face.”

You take a deep breath and stroke your finger over the baby’s ears, needing to feel something other than the flaring pulse of pain from the bond. “One look at those beautiful brown eyes and I was done for.”

Saying Din’s eyes are brown feels sinful. It’s like saying the ocean is blue—accurate, but not detailed enough to describe its depth and volatility. There are days when his eyes are the shade of brown reminding you of leather bound journals—ancient and full of profound wisdom, meant to be admired and cherished for an entire lifetime. Other times, they are the kind of brown that matches your favorite chocolate pastry from the bakery down the street from your apartment—decadent and warm with the slightest hint of temptation.

“When we get out of here, Din will fly us far, far away,” you murmur, just loud enough to be heard over the sound of the baby's resumed chewing. “I promise you we’ll all be happy together.”

And I’ll never get tired of seeing those brown eyes everyday.

The hours start to bleed into one another. The baby snoozes in your lap, head pillowed on your thigh, but you have no idea if it’s night or day. Gideon had said he’d let you talk to Din ‘tomorrow’, but that doesn’t tell you how many days you’ve been here in total.

Your legs have started to feel numb from sitting in the same position so long, but the last thing you want is to wake him up by moving. The importance of him feeling safe enough to be vulnerable and sleep is not lost on you. His desire for attention and physical contact is so painfully obvious you hate thinking about how often he must have been ignored before your arrival.

As he sleeps, you’re unable to resist your curiosity any longer and carefully maneuver the piece of cloth out of his grip. Despite its aged and dirty appearance, it is still surprisingly soft to touch. Whatever article of clothing this was torn from must have been well-tailored, you think, imagining a hooded cloak or perhaps a long coat. Your nose twitches when you hold the cloth close to your face to better study it, reacting to the variety of odors embedded in the wool fibers. Maker knows how long the kid’s been dragging the fabric around with him without it being washed regularly, so you shouldn’t be surprised it has absorbed a couple dozen scents.

Still, the faint essence of smoke you detect swirls around in your brain even long after you’ve laid the cloth back over him like a makeshift blanket. Memories of your death start to resurface again despite your best mental efforts to push them away, causing your stomach to clench with nausea as you recall the horrific stench of charred remains.

It isn’t the same, you tell yourself, squeezing your eyes shut and forcing your head to clear itself. It can’t be because that day was fifty years ago and he’s only just a baby.

You repeat these thoughts like a mantra until, without meaning to, you fall into a dreamless sleep.

You’re startled awake by hands seizing hold of your arms and pulling you up onto your feet without warning. You yelp at the sudden rush back to consciousness, brain scrambling to make sense of everything. Your eyes sweep the ground, panic washing over you like a bucket of cold water when you fail to see a tiny green body.

“It’s time, pet,” the twi’lek’s voice hits your ears and you turn to see her standing near the cell’s entrance, a lantern in one hand and a shiny blade in the other. “The Moff is expecting you.”

It takes you a minute to process in your frazzled state, but you realize it must be time to talk to Din. You’re shoved forward by whoever has your arms twisted behind your back, but you manage another quick survey of the cell. There is no sign the baby was ever here and you send a quick prayer to the Maker he had snuck back through the hole without anyone seeing him.

You have mixed feelings about not being blindfolded as you’re led through the underground labyrinth. On one hand, you get to observe everything and everyone you come across, making as many mental notes to flip through later when you’re alone. On the other, you think this must be an intimidation tactic. Gideon wants you to see everything so you know with absolute certainty how high the odds are stacked against you.

There are cells identical in appearance to yours on either side of you, carved into the tunnel rock and blocked from entry by laser gates. Except not one of them contains a prisoner. Either you have severely overestimated the size of Gideon’s collection, or he is purposefully keeping you separate from the rest for reasons known only to him.

Another surprising and unsettling observation you make is how many different types of species Gideon has employed as minions—human, rodian, trandoshan, you even spot a devaronian in the mix. Except for the Cupid twi’lek in front of you, everyone you come across is mortal. It does not make much sense to you why a seraph as powerful as Gideon is relying on mortal henchmen to help maintain control of his secret prison. Your gut instinct is insisting you’re missing a vital piece of information and you don’t like being in the dark about it.

The tunnel you’re being marched down eventually opens up into a larger cavernous space with several dozen lanterns hanging along the walls providing ample lighting. There are several crates spread about the area, and some have been pried open to reveal they are packed full of blasters and ammunition. You rack your brain trying to determine the purpose of the weapons. Yes, clearly, they are meant to cause havoc and destruction, but why are they here? Who or what is the target they will be aimed at?

Gideon stands in the middle of the room next to an empty chair. On his other side is a mortal human male, bald-headed with ginger facial scruff, who has two blaster pistols holstered around his chest and yet another one held by a droid arm attached to his backpack. Overkill much?

You’re shoved in the direction of the chair and gruffly told to sit. Huffing, you wordlessly obey and try not to squirm as all eyes lock onto you as if you’re going to perform a trick for their entertainment.

“You have a minute to record your message,” Gideon says, holding out a piece of paper towards you. “These words I have prepared must be included in those precious sixty seconds or you might find me reluctant to allow you to send a second recording.”

Is he serious? This isn’t the arrangement you previously discussed with him.

“Record?” you repeat, reluctantly taking the paper.

“I never said you would have the opportunity of speaking to Death face-to-face.” You want more than anything to tear the condescending smirk off his face with your fingernails. “Absence makes the heart grow fonder, isn’t that the mortal saying? You would know better than me, living amongst them in that quaint little apartment on Umbriel.”

Of course he knows about your home. Of kriffing course he does.

Heartbeat quickening, you avoid eye contact by scanning the few lines of words he’s written, eyebrows slowly inching up your forehead the more you read. “I don’t understand. This isn’t a demand to kill anyone. What does it mean?”

“Now is not the time for you to know,” he answers cryptically.

You shake your head, insisting, “Well maybe it should be. He knows me better than anyone. He’ll be able to tell I’m confused and—“

Gideon’s heavy sigh interrupts you. Then, quicker than you anticipate, he steps to the side of you and unsheathes his sword, its black blade positioned at your throat. It happens in one fluid movement, and the danger of your current predicament doesn’t sink in until the frightening humming notes of the weapon register in your eardrums seconds later. Your expressionless mask wavers, facial muscles tightening as you fail to refrain from flinching.

“All that is required from you, Cupid 1-1-7, is for you to speak from the heart and convince him to follow this one instruction. Do you think you can accomplish that?” he asks the question as if you have an actual choice. Like you can walk away now and there will be no hurt feelings.

But that is ridiculous. Everyone knows Cupids don’t get to have choices. Not when they are only given orders to obey.

You give him the tiniest of nods, careful not to let your skin make contact with the blade. “Yes, sir.”

“Then let’s begin.”

The nav computer on the Razor Crest contains the coordinates of every moon and planet within each region of the galaxy. There is not one inch of space unknown to Din and yet his search for his angel continues to remain unsuccessful. He doesn’t consider the possibility of her being deceased for even half a second. As her soulmate he would have felt her passing the moment it happened. The bond he shares with his angel might be young and fragile still, but he doesn’t doubt her loss would eviscerate him in the same merciless manner he had done to Hess.

His inability to find her can only mean a powerful immortal is involved in her capture. As Death he roams the universe as a neutral entity. The only enemies he encountered—and he uses that term loosely—were foolish mortals thinking they could outlive their destined time by fighting him, only to ultimately meet their fated ends in the process. Prior to Hess’ demise, he had upheld his sworn creed to the universe and never once was tempted to defy the natural order or break a sacred rule.

Although admittedly strange to consider, the thought that maybe his angel’s capture isn’t meant to deliberately hurt him or her is one that keeps crossing his mind. Perhaps they are merely pieces in a game neither of them recognize nor want to willingly participate in.

As Din sits in the pilot’s seat, staring at the screen dispassionately through the visor of his helmet still coated with Hess’ blood, he is well-aware of Bo-Katan standing behind him, attempting to freeze him solid with her iciest glare.

She is the bravest of his reapers, unafraid to piss him off and counteract his opinions with her own. Yet ever since they left Hess’ body hanging in the warehouse and returned to the Crest, she’s not said one word to him, seemingly content to suffer in silence as a background presence while he contemplates whether he should be the one to track down the twi’lek Hess referenced or if he should have his reapers engage in the hunt.

“We’re going to talk about what happened,” Bo-Katan says coolly.

He grinds his teeth. “We will talk if and when I want to.”

“No.” She forcefully pulls at his chair, turning it around to face her. A snarl escapes him, animalistic and furious, but her green eyes don’t even blink, not the least bit intimidated. “You reaped a soul before it’s destined time. The universe isn’t going to easily forgive you for that. There will be consequences.”

“The only thing that matters is getting her back,” he answers. It’s the truth too. The second his angel was taken he knew there was not one rule he wouldn’t break to have her back in his arms—consequences be damned.

“Do you even hear yourself right now?” Bo-Katan asks, looking him over as if she no longer recognizes him. Her eyes linger just a second too long on his bloodstained gloves. “You’re losing your mind over a soulmate you’ve barely known a year.”

“Have you ever had someone you loved taken from you?” Din counters.

She scowls, eyes narrowing with loathing. “How dare you compare—”

“Answer the question!” he shouts, slamming his fist down on the armrest hard enough the metal creaks ominously.

“Yes.” Her chin dips briefly towards her chest as she takes a second to compose herself. “You know I have.”

Din does know. Hours prior to every major catastrophic event in the galaxy’s history he’s felt an invisible leash wrap around him, pulling him in the direction of the tragedy and demanding he be there to personally reap the souls of the victims in the aftermath. He had witnessed the destruction of Bo-Katan’s homeworld when it was ravaged by a series of bombings orchestrated by an unknown enemy. Thousands had been killed, including Bo-Katan’s sister.

He doesn’t let the silence stretch too long, voice unwavering as he says, “And if you had the chance, would you not kill the one responsible for your pain?”

“It wouldn’t bring her back. Not any of them.”

Din sighs, glancing away, but Bo-Katan surprises him not even ten seconds later, apparently unfinished.

“I’d still do it though,” she says, not sounding the least bit guilty for admitting to hypothetical murder. “I’d carve the heart out of whoever set off those bombs and force-feed it to them.”

“We’re more alike than you may think,” Din says. “Think about that before you question my actions again.”

Any potential response from his reaper is interrupted by the beeping of an incoming transmission. He turns his chair at once, noticing the recorded message’s origin source is a random scrambling of letters and numbers. Every instinct is telling him he won’t like what he sees, but his hand reaches forward anyways, as if possessed by an unseen force, and presses the button to view the recording.

His angel appears as a holographic figure and immediately his eyes zero in on the collar around her neck. Anger threatens to course through his veins again, but Din forces his lungs to draw in a deep breath. Now is not the time to unleash his temper. Now is the time to listen and commit every word she says to memory, to study her every feature for any sign she’s been hurt.

“Death,” she begins, and his entire body tenses at the use of his title and not his name. It’s been so long since she’s addressed him as such, he knows it can’t be accidental. “I hope this message reaches you wherever you are. More than anything I wish I could be with you right now. I’m so sorry I broke my pinky promise to you, sweetheart. The way our bond is...I hate to think you’re feeling as much pain as I do.”

Din’s heart shatters when she starts to anxiously rub at her soulmate marking, sniffling quietly. His fingers itch with the overwhelming longing to hold her hand.

“I’m not safe here. What they’ve threatened to do to me...it scares me. I-I need to ask you a favor, a very important one.” A few teardrops escape the corners of her eyes and drip down her cheeks. Din bites the inside of his mouth so harshly he tastes blood. “If you want to protect me, then you must let go.”

The transmission goes dead.

Tag List: @leilei-draws, @theocatkov, @vintagesaph, @stardust-and-starlight, @adrieunor, @remmyswritings, @gallowsjoker, @rhiannon-russo, @randomness501, @sylphene, @softly-sad, @maytheglitter, @melobee, @rogertaylorsfalsettogivesmehives, @eleinemk, @captain-jebi, @aerynwrites, @promiscuoussatan, @stilllivindue2spite, @coaaster, @lin-djarin, @oh-no-a-whovian, @over300books, @chibi-yuki, @becauseican2, @kay2304, @odelia-d32, @nicotinebirds

#din x you #din x reader #din djarin x you #din djarin x reader #Din Djarin #death and an angel #Pedro Pascal #pedro pascal character fanfiction #my writing

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imagining-in-the-margins · 4 years

Text

Here to Misbehave (Pt. 16 | S.R.)

Summary: Reader is trying to go back to her old life, which includes the life she led before she met Spencer. Category: Angst. Couple: Spencer/Fem!Reader Content Warning: Drug mention, addiction, jealousy, arguing, death mention Word Count: 9.3k

MASTERLIST

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“Don’t wear that tie, wear the other one.”

Spencer turned to look at me curiously, his little grin the first signal that he saw right through me. “Why?” He asked, taking off the tie he’d only just finished putting on to swap it for the other one hanging in my closet.

It’d been a week since Spencer all but moved into my room, refusing to leave my side for even a second longer than necessary. Aside from the freshly healing bullet wounds, it had been one of the best weeks of my life.

“I don’t know.” I shrugged, trying and failing to hide my smile. “I just wanted to watch you take it off.”

My boyfriend pointed an accusing finger at me as he approached the bed, using it to poke my nose before retreating. “You, my dear, are a troublemaker. I’m going to be late.”

It was hard to believe that life could resume so quickly for everyone else when it felt like I was still on my knees on the cold tile floor of the bank. I tried not to think about it, acutely aware of the terrible things that could happen when PTSD was left unchecked.

I wanted to think about nice things, instead. Like how cute my boyfriend was, acting like it was my fault he’d be late while he took his time tying his tie over and over again. He’d say it was because it wasn’t perfect, but we both knew he didn’t care about that. He just didn’t want to leave yet.

“If you’re going to be late Dr. Reid, it’s because you refused to get out of bed until I gave you a kiss for every hour you’ll be gone today.” I reminded him, joy filling my chest at the small combination of a smile and a pout I received in response.

“You still owe me two.”

“Do I?” I responded, reaching out to grab his hand and pull him back to my place on the bed. “Then please, let me remedy that.”

Not wanting me to move any more than I already had, he quickly came down to place a chaste kiss on my lips. But I didn’t let it end there, holding onto the newly secured tie and tugging him closer.

Now it might be my fault, I thought, but I didn’t care. With one hand on the bed to steady himself and the other carefully caressing my cheek, he put all of his love into one little kiss. I felt like I was going to explode with the pent up desire that had accompanied being with him for so long without being able to show him how much I loved him in a physical way.

He insisted that he didn’t need sex, that it didn’t matter to him, but it mattered to me! I didn’t have a way with words like he did, and while he was content with curling up by my side, it left me wanting more.

The doctor kept telling me it would be soon, that the time will have passed quickly in hindsight. I didn’t understand half of what he said— he was just trying to get me to accept the narcotics in hopes that I wouldn’t end up back in his hospital.

I was doing it again. I was thinking about things I didn’t need to think about instead of the way Spencer bit down on my bottom lip when he paused to let me breathe. The smell of his cologne filled my lungs and I remembered how much I used to miss it. I’d stopped appreciating it when it was around me all the time.

It wasn’t until his phone rang that he left completely, tearing himself away from me like he wouldn’t be able to stop himself any other way.

“Hello?”

There were only a few reasons they would be calling him right now, and I didn’t like any of them.

“Oh… Alright.”

It was that exact tone, that terrified, pitiful grumble that told me what I needed to know. He had to go somewhere, and he wouldn’t be back today. He’d retreated from me, turning his back to me like I wouldn’t be able to tell what was happening just because I couldn’t see his face.

His voice was hushed. “Hotch, are you sure that I…”

The hopelessness hurt. I wanted him to go back to work; I knew he needed to. But it was so hard to let him go.

“Understood. I’ll be there soon.”

“How many more kisses do I owe you now?” I asked with a nervous laugh, fiddling with the sheets between my fingers.

“I don’t know.”

“Uh oh. I don’t like that voice.” I tried to keep my tone playful, but it wasn’t enough.

“I have to travel.”

The fact that he wasn’t looking at me made me more anxious than the fact he was now grabbing all the clothes he had in the closet and dropping them in the suitcase.

“Where to?”

Spencer paused, staring at the floor so that he could see me from his peripherals. He was torturing himself by forcing himself to see my reaction, but he wasn’t strong enough to look directly at me.

“Alaska.”

“Oh... wow.” I didn’t know how to respond, my body freezing as I tried to conceptualize just how far away that was. Far enough away that in maps of the United States, they had a separate area designated for it since it couldn’t fit.

It was too far, that’s all I knew.

“Hey, that’s fine! I can still call you.” My voice sounded foreign and the hopefulness was poorly performed. I wasn’t sure calling would be enough, but it apparently didn’t even matter.

“Not really. They don’t have service out there. Garcia is coming with us.” His packing got angrier, no matter how hard he tried to hide it from me.

“It’ll be fine, Spencer.”

His hands, unable to find any more clothing to grab, found purchase in his hair instead, running through them roughly. “What if something happens?” He asked as he finally turned to face me with a seriousness that was unbecoming.

“Nothing is going to happen. I have tons of friends who can help me. I’m just going to be sitting here on my ass all day watching bad TV.”

I gestured to the television that my friends had been nice enough to set up in my room, sighing as Spencer sulked in the other corner. It took a few waves of the hand, but eventually he dragged himself back to my side. Opening my arms to him, I took him in when his head dropped against my shoulder once more.

“I-I’m not ready to leave you yet.” The vulnerability shook in his voice, and I could feel the insistence in his grip denting my pillow.

“Well, too bad, superman.” I teased, pulling him away enough that I could show him my smile, hoping that it would be enough to calm his mounting fears. “You’ve got lives to save.”

He looked at me, his eyes still welling with tears despite the smile he now wore. He took my hand and heldit against his cheek. He closed his eyes; taking a deep breath, he mumbled, “How do you do that?”

“Do what?”

“Make me fall more in love with you every single day.”

I had to laugh, and I cursed him for it. It hurt so badly to laugh still, but the look on his face was worth it. No matter what, Spencer Reid had to be a romantic, and I loved him for it. It was so very much unlike me.

“Don’t get all sappy on me now, old man.” I chastised him lightly, “You’re going to be late.”

He wasn’t done yet, though, that protective glimmer in his eyes returning with a vengeance. He held tighter to my hand and bit his lip.

“Promise me you’ll be safe. Don’t do anything you aren’t supposed to. Please.”

It sounded like a beg, a desperation that I wasn’t used to. Up until now, it always felt like I was the one who was seeking more information and assurance. But now he sat before me, practically broken at the thought of not seeing me for a few days, pleading for me to take my own life seriously.

I hated the attention, but couldn’t tell him that. He wouldn’t understand; it would only make him worry more.

“I promise.”

He didn’t believe me, but he accepted my answer, anyway. Lunging forward, his lips crashed into mine without any reservations. I laughed into the kiss, tangling my hands in his hair so that he’d have to fix it again before he could leave me.

It was only funny until I remembered how long it might be until I see him again. I held onto him, deepening the kiss just to drag it out. He was also looking for an excuse, still refusing to part all the way when our lungs had nothing left.

“I love you… so much.” He whispered, resting his forehead against mine for a moment longer.

“I love you, too.”

I’d said it so many times in the past few weeks, but the words still felt new on my tongue. I wanted to say them more, to shower him in my affection, but I didn’t know how. Love was just another language he was fluent in, and I decidedly wasn’t. All I could do was wait for him to translate the thoughts to me whenever I got lost.

“I’m going to try to set up something so I can talk to you, okay? I can’t promise it’ll work but I’m going to try. You remember what I said about the last time I couldn’t reach you.”

Memories of papers scattered on the floor ran through my mind. I could practically feel his hand wrapped around my neck for the first time, holding my life in his hand because I’d trusted him to keep me safe. The vision of waking up in his bed, only to have him lower himself below the sheets, pressing kisses down my stomach.

Things had been so different then. It felt like a lifetime ago.

Those thoughts were suffocating and overwhelming and painful, and I shoved them back into the deepest recesses of my mind. It was too early to be emotional.

I took a deep breath, patting Spencer’s cheek with a soft palm before I summoned all the sarcasm I could in my voice. “I’ll always be with you in your heart,” I joked, smiling as he cringed at the sound.

“I mean it, little girl. If you don’t take care of yourself, you’re in for it when I get back.”

Feigning shock and a gasp, I brought my hand to my chest just in time for him to step away from me. The absence of him was colder than it should have been. At least he appeared to be in better spirits, and I wanted to keep it going.

“Dr. Reid, has that ever worked to make me not do something?”

Spencer shook his head with a chuckle, grabbing the rest of his things with more pep in his step. The closer he got to the door, the harder my heart beat. It was deafening and mind numbing in its volume.

Was this how love was supposed to feel? Or had I just grown so spoiled and accustomed to him being here, that I was being entirely selfish? I would no doubt have days to think about it.

He returned to me one more time, running his hand gently through my hair and granting me one more soft, serene kiss in the pale morning light.

“Take care of yourself.” He whispered, the begging bleeding back into his voice. “For me.”

“I will.” I promised before closing my eyes so I wouldn’t have to see him leave. I still heard him hesitate at the door, and I felt his eyes linger on me for a few seconds longer. But then the door clicked shut, and I was alone again.

—————————————————

Nine days. I’d been gone for nine days. It might as well have been a lifetime, because that’s exactly what it felt like. Even worse, I was only able to call (y/n) a whopping three times, each one shorter than the last. We’d only talked for a total of 14 minutes and 29 seconds. And considering that nine days is 12960 minutes, that’s a pretty abysmal fraction.

But it didn’t matter, because as soon as that stupid jet landed in Virginia, I was on my way back to her. Thankfully it was still a normal hour and the sun was still out, albeit quickly setting.

She wasn’t answering my calls, and I tried not to think too much of it. During our last call, she’d told me that she started a new medication that made her sleepy. In fact, our conversation had been so short in part because she fell asleep halfway through the call.

I didn’t mind though, listening to the soft sound of her breathing until the signal went dead again. I’d played the audio over and over again in my head to help me sleep that night, knowing that she was hours away but still dreaming with me.

I was so ready to see her again, that I’d barely knocked on her door before the keys were already in the knob. I didn’t want to wait, I didn’t want to spend another second longer than necessary before I could see her.

But before I could turn the handle, the door swung open and away from my hand.

There were a few people I’d expected to see; (y/n), her roommate, or possibly one of the other female friends the girls had mentioned that I’d yet to see. Unfortunately, it was the one face that hadn’t ever crossed my mind that appeared.

On the other side of the threshold was the man I’d only seen in pictures. To be more specific, one picture, months ago, sent to me from (y/n)’s phone in an attempt to keep her from answering my call.

I recognized him immediately, but realized I’d never actually heard his name.

We stood there for a long time, staring at the other with the utmost hostility in our eyes and postures. I hated the fact that I felt the need to compete with him, but found myself acting out of instinct. I just hoped that he wasn’t as smart or perceptive as her, and wouldn’t notice the insecurity and jealousy that immediately emerged.

“So you must be the cop.” He drawled, leaning against the doorframe to prevent my entry. The action alone pissed me off, but I bit my tongue in the hopes I could deescalate the situation, despite how much I didn’t want to. There were many things I wanted to say to him, but only a few words came out.

“I’m not a cop.”

“Yeah, she said you’d say that.” He chuckled, rubbing his chin as he recalled a memory of her. I wanted to wipe the smirk off his face.

“That makes sense. It shouldn’t be a surprise, considering it’s not my job.” I stated matter-of-factly, trying to remind myself that the two of them were friends. She’d known him for a long time, and he probably felt just as possessive of her as I did.

The only difference was that I had a reason to believe she was mine.

“Let me guess, your sense of humor is her favorite trait.” The sarcasm dripped from his tongue. Normally I’d say that was my role, but right now all that I had to spit back was venom.

Retrieving my key from the door, I contemplated barreling past him to get to her quicker, but realized he was probably hoping to provoke that exact kind of reaction.

“You’re funny.” My face steeled and my fists clenched in my pockets, I peered around his head to the empty hallway behind him. “Where is she?”

“Sleeping.” That stupid smirk was back, his eyes trailing after my every movement, waiting for me to snap. When I didn’t, he escalated his antics further.

“I was about to go join her.” He said, licking his lips and standing up in an attempt to match my height.

But it wasn’t size or age that distinguished the two of us. It was our priorities. Because while he was here, trying to prove himself to me, all I could see was a young boy standing in the way of me seeing her again.

“No need. I’m here now.” I took a step forward, unsurprised to find that he didn’t immediately move out of my way.

He narrowed his eyes, grasping at straws to try and prolong this interaction. I couldn’t understand why, really. He couldn’t honestly believe I’d try to start a fight with him or leave, could he?

“Does she know you were planning on coming by?”

“Why does it matter to you?” I responded with a bored tone, staring him down until I saw his stance falter. It wouldn’t take much longer of this standoff for him to finally recede far enough into the apartment that I could just ignore him.

“Just wondering.” He mumbled, finally taking a step backwards and to the side so that I could enter. He shut the door behind me, but clearly wasn’t done with the conversation.

“Figured she wouldn’t have asked me to come spend the night with her if she knew you were coming. So she must not have expected for you to show up.”

I turned around to face him, knowing that I was playing into his games but unable to resist the temptation.

“She told me you got jealous last time. I would hate for you two to fight again if you found us in bed together. That would be so upsetting for her.”

“Well, you’re off the hook. No miscommunication. No worries at all.” It was times like these that I was grateful for my training, because it was the only thing keeping me from lunging at the boy and slamming him against the wall. I knew he could see it in my eyes.

He clearly had an idea of me in his head, one that was honestly probably pretty accurate. He wanted me to lose control and show that side of me, to prove that he was the better man. But he wasn’t. He’d had several years with her now to prove himself, and she’d still chosen me.

She chose me— that’s all I needed to remember.

“What if I want to stay?” He teased.

“We’ll let her decide.”

That was the first thing I’d said that struck a nerve in him. He resumed his previous stance with his back straight and arms crossed over his chest. “You’re a bit full of yourself for a dude who’s never here.” He spat, puffing his chest. The longer the bravado continued, the less intimidating it became. “You barely even know her.”

I was transported back to when (y/n) and I first started dating, when Morgan had accused me of the very same thing over lunch. My heart wrenched in my chest, because so much of me knew that it was still true.

She’d only just started to share information with me about her past, and still she spoke in vague generalities and half-thoughts. There was so much she hid from me, and I just… let her. I let her hide from me because I was scared that if I pressed her, she would leave.

At least, that’s what I’d thought. But each time someone pointed out how little I knew her, I was forced to consider the possibility that she was keeping me away for a deeper reason.

“I know all the parts of her that she doesn’t want to show you.” He taunted, sensing my anxieties that were clearly written across my face.

“Are you done? I’d like to go see her now.”

He didn’t respond, shaking his head. But I only got a few steps before I heard his voice again, this time louder and angrier.

“Doesn’t it bother you? Knowing that I’m here, in bed with your girlfriend while you’re on the opposite side of the country, not even answering her calls?” He remained rooted in his position at the end of the hall.

I lost the battle of keeping my eyes on her door, ripping them away so that I could turn to face him. My breathing got heavy and my hands finally left my pockets. “No, it doesn’t bother me,” I said, my voice falling quieter instead of growing, “You want to know why?”

The grimace on his face was the only answer I needed. I brought a finger to my own chest, not trusting myself to touch him. I barely knew this guy, and I wasn’t about to start a fight with one of (y/n)’s oldest friends to prove my manhood, especially if that was exactly what he wanted.

“I’m not worried because I trust her.” I practically whispered to him, “And even if I had some reason not to, I’m not intimidated by you.”

A fire appeared in his eyes, the desire to bite back stifled by the knowledge that there was nothing he could say to make me doubt her. He’d already tried and failed every time so far.

“I don’t care what parts of her you think I haven’t seen. Because I get to have the parts of her you wish you could. And she gave them to me willingly and without regret. Over and over again.”

There was so much more I wanted to say, but I was thankfully cut off by the hoarse, familiar voice in the backroom.

“Spencer?” She called, groggy yet excited. There was no way she could hear me from the room, which told me that she’d probably just woken up to my texts and hoped I was here. It told us both that when she woke up, the first person she thought to call was me.

“Yeah.” I said, a soft, genuine smile crossing my cheeks at the thought of her. “Like I said… I’m not worried.”

He didn’t follow me then, staying in the hallway to stew in his anger over the fact that this hadn’t gone at all how he’d planned. But I couldn’t think about him any longer, because as soon as I turned into her room, my heart melted.

She was sprawled out on her bed, hugging a body pillow like her life depended on it. Her hair was a beautiful disaster across her pillow, and the blanket had fallen far enough to see that she was swamped in the same Caltech sweatshirt she wore every time I was gone.

“Hey little girl.”

She slowly shimmied her way up the pillows, clearly surprised at my appearance despite having called me in. With half shut eyes, she spoke through a yawn, “What’re you doing here? You look like you haven’t slept in a week!”

“I missed you.” I admitted quietly, finally bridging the gap between us and climbing onto her bed on top of the covers. I couldn’t even bother taking off my blazer or my shoes; I needed to be close to her now, without any other unnecessary delay.

Despite curling up against me immediately, she still found a way to whine. “You better not have skipped out on anything for me. We know I’m not doing anything worthwhile in here.”

I leaned down to kiss her forehead, my hands holding her against me so that I could breathe in the familiar scent of her hair and perfume. “I strongly disagree.” I sighed, happy to hear her hum and giggle at the way my breath tickled her face.

I didn’t even hear the door open, but she tilted her head away from me to see her friend. I stayed where I was, not wanting to take my eyes off of her again for as long as I didn’t have to.

“I’m gonna head out. Let me know if you need me again.” He said, his voice full of repressed anger and sadness that I understood but didn’t particularly care about right now.

“Thanks for coming! I’ll probably see you next week; I’ll text you!” She chirped, waving to the man who’d already left.

His absence eased away the last remaining bit of tension in my shoulders, allowing me to bury myself in her neck while she continued to laugh. I heard the soft sounds of the tv for the first time and mumbled into her skin.

“What are you watching?”

“Just a sitcom. You wouldn’t be interested.”

She sounded... defensive, if not a little ashamed for her choice in shows. I had to laugh, realizing that she was still unaware of the shows my mom and I used to watch when I was a kid. The asinine, cheesy soap operas that taught me the dorky, awkward way to love that she constantly mocked me for.

I would save that piece of information for later, though, and instead, I chose to show her my own interest in the things she loved, or in the very least found comforting. “What’s it about?”

Apparently, it was the right question to ask. Over the course of the next thirty minutes she tried to condense the entire nine season series of The Office into one barely coherent rant. Eventually, she realized that I wasn’t following along as closely as she’d hoped, and just decided to start the show over.

I didn’t mind. She chastised me a few times for not paying close enough attention after catching me monitoring her reactions more than the show itself. But eventually she fell asleep on my chest, still murmuring about Jim and Pam until the words were just gibberish.

Without her commentary, I was forced to pay attention so that when she undoubtedly woke up and quizzed me, I wouldn’t just be repeating words I’d heard in the background. Somewhat unsurprisingly, I found myself swept up in the romantic storyline of her two favorite characters. So caught up, in fact, that when she woke up, it took me a moment to notice.

“What did I miss?” She grumbled, trying to force her eyes open while she turned to see the tv that displayed the immediate results of a very poorly timed love confession. “Oh, Casino Night.” Her voice was nostalgic and a bit solemn while she spoke. “This is one of my favorite episodes.”

“Why? It’s so sad.”

Without looking up at me, she pondered the question. It was obvious she’d never really thought to question why she was drawn to it. Her answer didn’t provide any comfort or explanation.

“I guess I relate to it. Loving someone like that.” She shrugged before turning back to rest her head against me. She’d said it so easily, like it wasn’t something jarring for me to hear. I realized then that she’d never told me about her past relationships. In fact, I didn’t even know if any existed.

She sensed the anxieties that were building and brought a hand to my cheek to reroute my gaze to her. “What’s wrong?”

“You… You never really talk to me about your life.” My voice was so pathetic, the pout on my lips so childish in its sadness. Because although I told myself I was only upset she hadn’t told me about it, another part of me was also jealous at the idea that anyone else ever got to hold her.

And what a stupid thought that was, to be jealous of men who didn’t get to keep her. I should have been hoping that she had people who loved her and held her and made her happy, not wishing none had existed.

“What are you talking about? We talk about it all the time.” She chuckled, clearly unaware of my inner debate and turmoil.

“I mean your life before me.” I clarified, taking her hand into mine and watching as she carefully wound our fingers together.

“Oh, well… Who cares? It’s in the past.”

She was using that voice that warned me that she was about to try and change the subject. She hadn’t meant to get this conversation started, and now it was quickly getting away from her. But I wasn’t ready to drop it—especially now that I was aware of a huge, life altering event that she’d managed to keep hidden until now.

“I care. If it’s important to you, it matters to me.” It didn’t seem to reassure her, a lopsided smile covering her cheeks before she tried to maneuver away from the topic again.

“What time is it? Shouldn’t you be going to sleep?”

I held up the small notepad that rested on her nightstand, displaying the several timestamps that I could tell were meant to signal the last time she’d taken painkillers. “I was waiting so I could offer you medicine.”

“Ugh, yes please.” She groaned, moving herself off me so that I could grab the bottles beside her bed.

But there was something I’d noticed before, which only became more obvious once I picked them up. I looked past the orange plastic, my mind straining to count the number of pills inside. The date didn’t match the amount.

“Did you fill the narcotics?”

She didn’t answer.

“Is that why he was here?”

“No.” She responded swiftly, shaking her head and rubbing her temples.

The mention of him brought out feelings that I’d almost forgotten, and with those feelings came stupid worries and questions. “...Why was he here?” I mumbled, turning the pill bottles in my hand like I didn’t already have them memorized.

“Are you jealous?” She teased, poking her tongue out at me. It worked to turn my pout into an awkward half-smile, but I was still sulking.

“Would he have really stayed in the bed with you?”

“What? No!” She shouted, sitting up fast enough that she winced, her hand grabbing her stomach but still talking through clenched teeth. “Did he say that?!”

Her reaction alone made me laugh, easing the tension and reminding me it was stupid to worry about it in the first place. “He might have implied it.” My hands started to sort through her tangled hair, gently arranging it back to its rightful place.

“Ugh, he’s such a fucking dick.” She grumbled, wiping her face to try and get rid of the sudden anger.

Meanwhile, I was once again distracted. It was obvious in the way she struggled to keep her eyes open and preventing her hands from turning to fists. She was in way too much pain for my comfort, and it was partially my fault for getting her riled up over something so silly.

But she hadn’t told me she filled the narcotics, and she didn’t tell me where they were. I needed to respect that, if only because I was scared that it might make her doubt me. When she turned to look me in the eyes, I held her cheek that fit so perfectly in the palm of my hand.

“It’s okay if you don’t want to tell me where they are. I understand.”

“No, it’s fine. I trust you, Spencer. It’s…” The troubled look shifted to a shaky smile. “They’re in my bedside table. I don’t think I can get them myself.”

I tried not to look excited by the reveal in case she misinterpreted my happiness. It wasn’t the drugs I cared about – it was the fact she trusted me with the fact that they existed. That was enough to carry me through any cravings that popped up. They were few, but like always, they were there.

I funneled those feelings into my caretaking, grabbing her a water bottle and helping her ease back down onto the pillow after she’d down the pills. With a sigh, she closed her eyes, listening to soft sound of the theme song in the background.

Just as I shifted my focus back to the TV, she brought me back to her with a tiny whisper.

“You have nothing to be jealous of.”

I looked down to see she still had closed eyes, now accompanied with a genuine smile. I laughed at the sight, and her eyelids fluttered open at the sound. She narrowed her eyes into a suspicious glare.

“Yeah, I... may or may not have said that.” I admitted, wiggling my fingers between hers.

“Tsk tsk tsk. Very cocky, Dr. Reid.” She chastised, squeezing my hand tighter and bringing it up to her chest. I could feel her heart beating softly against us, her chest slowly rising and falling as she started to try to drift off again.

“What else did you guys talk about?”

“Nothing that matters. Let’s go to sleep.”

It was a suggestion that didn’t need to be made, because she was basically already asleep by the time she replied, “Okay. I love you.”

“Sweet dreams, little girl.”

—————————————————

The best part of the week was waiting for the chance to spend two uninterrupted days with (y/n). But this time it was different; when I left her house this morning, she told me she wanted some time to herself.

I tried to ignore the fifty alarm bells that rang in my head, convincing myself that she just needed a break from entertaining me. We all needed alone time sometimes, right?

No, that was a lie. I didn’t ever need a break from her, and it worried me that she needed one from me. Was I stressing her out? Were there more secrets she was keeping from me? It had to be something heavy if she didn’t want me to know, but that’s exactly the time she would need me most, right?

It was times like this when I wished that I had more experience with relationships; I was panicking and I didn’t want to ask anyone for help. I didn’t want to. I was scared that they might tell me the wrong thing, or the right thing. I was worried they might talk some sense into me and tell me that waiting outside my girlfriend’s apartment was creepy, stalkerish behavior.

I knew it was. I tried to justify it with a present that I was going to leave on her doorstep and leave. But when I got to her place, a dread filled me. I shouldn’t have come. She deserved her privacy and my trust. She’d earned it, and it wasn’t right for me to doubt her.

So, I turned my car back on and prepared to leave. But before I could, I saw her. Alone.

We’d talked about it before, and she’d promised me she wouldn’t go anywhere alone. The risks were too high – not just that she might fall or get stranded, but that something could go seriously wrong. Her stitches could tear, or she could overexert herself. She could get into a car crash and no one would know about her already existing internal damage.

She wasn’t supposed to go anywhere alone. She’d promised me. But there she was, climbing into her car after suspiciously glancing around. Her car left so quickly, I barely had time to think about the ethics of following her. After a few seconds of wrestling with myself, I decided to just do it and worry about the consequences later.

I’d admit it to her later, when she was safe and sound. Maybe it would be good, too, to see that she was fine without me. I just wished she’d told me so I could come to her aid if she needed me to.

After nearly twenty minutes of driving, I still had no idea where she was going. I was a little surprised she hadn’t noticed me yet, which just goes to show she probably shouldn’t have been driving.

Actually, was she on narcotics?

My mind was spinning, my hands shaking when she finally pulled into a small, unfamiliar cemetery parking lot off the side of the road.

For all her paranoia leading up to this point, she didn’t check the other cars in the lot when she got out. Instead, she put her hand on her stomach and slowly made her way through the gate, hobbling off into the field.

And then I felt terrible for so many reasons. I selfishly felt awful that she didn’t want to bring me here. It hurt that I was violating her trust like this, but it hurt worse to know she was going through it alone.

Leaning back in my seat, I let out a shaky breath and closed my eyes, trying to calm down the emotional disaster of my mind. I didn’t need to follow her, I thought. She would come back in a little while, and I could watch her get back in her car. She would make it home, and I could call her and ask her how her day was. Maybe she’d even tell me herself.

God, I was such an idiot. I shouldn’t have come, but now I was here, and I couldn’t leave, either. This was the time she was most likely to be in danger, since the cemetery was relatively empty.

Just as that thought occurred to me, another car pulled in. it wouldn’t have mattered much to me, but the thing that followed caught my attention.

The woman inside the car climbed out and made a beeline to (y/n)’s car, peering into the windows and taking photos of the license plate. At first, I did nothing, trying to keep track of everything that was happening, noting the unfamiliar woman’s license plate number in turn.

But then she took off in the same direction my girlfriend had left in, and I realized that I couldn’t just wait here. This woman clearly knew her, and from the looks of it, it was not going to be a friendly encounter.

This is why, I thought. This is why I made her promise.

I couldn’t just run out after her yet, so I followed as closely as I could without being clearly visible, relying on sounds, instead. But what I heard was somehow even more distressing than when I could see.

“What are you doing here?! You aren’t allowed to be here!” A scratchy, unfamiliar voice rang through the air. Even if I didn’t already know, her tone alone told me that a fight was about to follow.

I bit down on my tongue, trusting that (y/n) could handle herself. She’d done it before me, and she could do it now. The only thing worse than revealing my presence would be doing it while also discrediting her.

“Mrs. Loughton! I can explain!”

At least I finally had a name for the face, but that was about as far as my thoughts went before they turned to red. Because the only thing I could hear after that was the sound of skin against skin, and the gentle thud of someone hitting the ground.

“Get the hell out of here, you bitch!” The woman screeched, and by the time I came into view, I saw my girlfriend on her hands and knees, holding the very visible red mark on her face. Neither of them saw me, too caught up in each other to notice.

It was the panic on her face, the way she lifted both hands to cover her head when the woman grabbed a fistful of her hair that broke my silence.

“Hey! Get away from her!” I shouted, running over to the two women. Mrs. Loughton released (y/n)’s hair, causing her to drop back onto her hands and knees while she looked up at me with an angry, frazzled stare.

“Spencer?!”

“Who the hell are you?” The woman spat, redirecting her anger towards me. I much preferred it this way.

“I’m a law enforcement agent, and you just assaulted someone.”

“Assault? Ha!” She laughed, talking over me as if she’d heard the speech a million times before. I got the impression this wasn’t the first time the two have had a showdown. “That’s funny, considering.”

“Spencer, please leave.” The fear overtook any other emotion, and the tears welled so quickly in her eyes it hurt my chest. I couldn’t leave. There was no way I could leave her on her knees in front of this woman.

“Let me guess, are you one of her dad’s friends?” She sneered, but all I could hear was (y/n) continuing to plead.

“Spencer. Go away.”

“I’m not going anywhere.” I couldn’t breathe, my chest heaving with unbridled rage, confusion, and something else I couldn’t even place.

“Oh I bet you are one of his friends. Always protecting her. You’re all a bunch of pathetic, power-hungry lowlifes.”

(Y/n) stood up now, neither of us paying any attention to the raving woman while I tried to help her up. “Please, I want to leave.” She pleaded, grabbing my hand so tightly that it trembled.

“Are you a murderer, too?”

“What are you talking about?!” I snapped, my arms wrapping possessively around (y/n) like I could shield her from everything that was happening. But I couldn’t, and I heard her soft sobs while she pulled on my shirt, now wet with her tears.

“That stupid, selfish little bitch knows exactly what she did, and she knows that she’s not allowed anywhere near here!” Her face was red, her arms waving and tears sprouting in her eyes while she ran out of breath. Then, deathly quiet, she pursed her lips and tried to bite her tongue. But she couldn’t, the words bursting through when she saw the way I held (y/n).

“If you really are a law enforcement agent, then get her the fuck out of here! She’s not allowed on this property!”

“She hasn’t done anything!”

It was the wrong thing to say, and she let me know swiftly and with full force.

“She’s the reason my son is dead!” She shrieked, stepping towards me with an accusing finger in my face. “It was her friends, her drugs, her horrible decisions and now my baby is gone!”

I hated this part. Because as much as I loved (y/n), it was impossible not to hear the absolute devastation in this woman’s voice. And the longer she talked, the more I understood what was happening. Not enough to argue back, but enough to feel sympathy for them both.

More than anything, I wanted to protect (y/n), but I didn’t know how. I held her tighter, trying to show her that she was safe. I’m afraid it had the opposite effect, and she started to fight my embrace.

“It should have been her! She should follow in her father’s footsteps and do the world a favor and...” She cut herself off, knowing the weight of her words and contemplating them a moment longer before making her decision. “And just fucking disappear!”

The shock of it all caused my arms to loosen – just barely. It was enough, though, and before I knew it (y/n) had burst from my arms, taking off at full speed through the headstones.

“(Y/n)!” I choked, going to run after her, but I was stopped one final time.

“Yeah, get the hell out of here.” The woman behind me softly sobbed, trembling as the fight left her. “Go protect her like you always do. They always do.”

I couldn’t stay on the thought; I’d have to come back to it later, because there were more pressing concerns for me than a stranger who’d just hurt the woman I loved. So I turned around and booked it after her just as she slipped through the gate and disappeared into the cover of the woods around the cemetery.

Naturally, she couldn’t stay on the level, manicured grass. My heart was pounding not just at the energy exerted to follow her, but from all the different things that could go wrong. She could fall, she could run into something, she could get lost.

But luckily, even the adrenaline couldn’t stop the pain in her stomach, and she’d barely gotten anywhere before I caught up to her. I loosely caught her wrist, pulling her gently back to me before she nearly collapsed in my arms.

“(Y/n), where do you think you’re going? You can’t be running like this! Especially not here; it’s way too dangerous!” I said through my labored breaths. Then we stopped, and she protested at my touch.

“Hey, are you okay?” I asked calmer now, lifting her back onto her feet. “Did she hurt you?” When I went to lift her shirt to inspect her wound, she brought her hand down in a hard slap.

“Stop, Spencer! Just fucking stop! Don’t touch me! Get away from me!”

The venom dripped from her tongue and burned my skin, my hands jumping back away from her as I took a step back. All the negative emotions that I’d just watched her go through were growing and morphing into a painful anger, and it was all aimed at me.

I deserved it.

“Why the fuck are you even here?! I told you I wanted to be alone today, a-and now you’re what, y-you’re following me?!”

I wished I could just shut up, but the words flowed out of me like I had any right to be angry with her over a promise that didn’t even seem to matter anymore. “And it’s a good thing I did. That woman could have seriously hurt you!”

“Who cares!”

“I do!” My voice strained at the volume I used to match hers. Our angry shouting disrupted the wildlife and broke through the sounds of cars traveling on the highway on the other side of the trees. “You might not care about what happens to you, (y/n), but it matters to me!”

“Why the fuck are you yelling at me?!” And then the sniffles turned to outright sobs, her whole body shaking, her hands cradling her face while she struggled under the weight of everything that had happened so quickly.

I shouldn’t have come here, but I was glad I had. I wished none of this had happened. I just wanted to hold her, but she stepped away when I got closer, defensively covering her head. My heart shattered at the thought of her being scared of me.

“You’re right. I’m sorry.” I said genuinely, my voice still breaking, but now at an acceptable volume. “I’m so sorry. I shouldn’t be yelling, I-I just… I got scared. I thought you were going to get hurt again and I—“

“Sometimes I’m going to get hurt, Spencer. I can’t put my life on hold for your comfort. I’m only twenty years old. I’m not ready to be a housewife waiting at home for you!” She was quick, stumbling over her words and waving her arms between us in the hopes it would force me to keep my distance.

I didn’t want to hurt her, I never wanted that. And right now, it was very obvious that’s exactly what I was doing. “Of course. I want you to have a life, but you…”

Her hand was back on her stomach, and the action caused a sudden panic that overwhelmed the logic and sense. “You were shot!” I cried, “You almost died in my arms! I thought I was going to lose you, forever.”

She couldn’t reply yet, her lungs too busy trying to take in hungry breaths without irritating the hardly healed skin.

I clenched my eyes shut, unable to look at it any longer. “It’s been barely a month, (y/n). A-And you’re already sneaking around behind my back and putting yourself in danger and I don’t know how I’m supposed to just turn a blind eye to that.”

“I don’t want to talk to you right now.” She panted; the words hardly audible. Her skin was damp with sweat from the pain that was obviously written all over her.

This time, when I stepped closer, she couldn’t move away. I didn’t hold her yet, opting instead to place one hand on her hip and the other on the side of her face. She sighed, resting her head against my hand. She said she didn’t want to talk to me, but the way she closed her eyes and her heartrate immediately calmed down with the simplest touch told me that she wanted nothing more than for me to pick her up and take her home.

“I know you’re trying to distract me from whatever the hell just happened out there, but you don’t have to do that.” I whispered, gently wiping away her tears with my thumb. “If you don’t want to talk about it, we don’t have to.”

“Oh, you’re just going to let it go?” I couldn’t decide what was more simultaneously heartbreaking and adorable, her pauses to sniffle, or the way she pouted as she spoke. “You aren’t going to ask me every night until you get an answer?”

“If that’s what it takes for you to trust me again, then yes. I’ll let it go.” I reassured her. She took the answer with an immense amount of relief, leaning forward to rest all of her body weight against me. I tried to stop her from falling too far or too hard, hoping to ease the pain that was already wrecking her.

But she didn’t even seem to notice, rubbing her face against my shirt and further soaking it with tears. I just wanted her to be okay, and I wished I could do it faster. For now, all I could do was pet the back of her head, rocking just a bit to the side in a soothing manner.

We stayed like that for a long time, and I occasionally pressed a kiss to her forehead, whispering soft apologies to her and telling her that I loved her, no matter what. Eventually, she responded, her voice filled with guilt and shame again.

“I was going to tell you eventually.”

“I believe you.” I immediately responded, pulling her back to look at me to know that I was telling her the truth. “I love you. You know that, right?”

She gave the tiniest, saddest nod back.

“I would never try to hurt you.” I promised, earning a slanted smile. I mirrored it back to her, which made her laugh.

The sounds of the highway paired with the rustling of the leaves, and the two of us shared a quiet moment of understanding. Because I knew I shouldn’t have come, but I was glad I was there, and she felt very much the same.

“I’d like to go home, please.”

“Okay.” I agreed, taking her hand and maneuvering the woods that didn’t seem nearly as dangerous when her hand was in mine. “Let’s go home.”

—————————————————

“Hotch, I need to ask you for a favor.”

The man didn’t even look up from his desk, and I could tell from his posture that he wasn’t in the mood for the conversation he expected to follow. I couldn’t blame him; I hadn’t been the easiest employee to have for the past couple of weeks.

“Reid, we’ve talked about this. You either have to come back completely or—“

“No, sorry, this… isn’t about that.” I corrected, trying to ease the tension before it got any worse. Unfortunately, he still seemed combative, although there was now a guilt mixed in the frustration.

“I need to talk to you about (y/n)’s father.” I clarified, my voice breaking mid-sentence. I cleared my throat, trying to make eye contact despite the nerves gnawing at the little self-esteem I had.

But after a brief moment of thought, Hotch waved me forward, gesturing to the seat in front of him. He shoved the papers to the side and I wondered what it was he was working so hard on. I had a feeling it had to do with her, but I wasn’t going to ask.

“Does she know you’re asking me about this?”

It was the first question, and although I fully expected him to ask it, I still choked on an answer. He sighed deeply, his hands folding on his desk. He wasn’t able to look at me, either.

“Reid…”

“I-I’m really worried about her.” I needed him to hear the desperation in my voice, to feel just how scared I really was. I didn’t want to come running to him for every little thing involving her — he’d already done so much for her just fending off the prosecutors.

I knew we were both tired, but I could see it in his eyes and hear it in his tone when he talked about her that she meant something to him, too. Even if it wasn’t nearly as much, he’d known her when she was a kid.

Well, I guess to Hotch, she still was. I hated to exploit that knowledge, but I needed answers now. Before something else went horribly wrong. So I broke into a rant, my hands running through my hair and down my legs as I tried to prevent them from turning to fists at the memory.

“The other day she did something and she got into a physical altercation with another woman a-and she told (y/n) that she should follow her father’s footsteps and…” The word caught in my throat. He narrowed his eyes, and I suspected he already knew what I was about to say.

“Disappear.”

Across from the desk, he tensed, bowing his head to look at the files lining the surface in front of him. Every single one of them contained a plethora of information about someone’s family. Someone’s everything.

“What did she mean, Hotch?”

“Reid, the information in that file is not only classified, it’s extremely personal. I’m sure she doesn’t know all the details herself. I think it’s best for you to hear it from her.” He explained it so robotically, I could tell he didn’t want to be saying it. The way his jaw clenched told me that there was a lot he wished he could discuss about whatever the hell happened.

It must be a lonely way to live, I thought. And then I thought of her, carrying the weight of uncertainty on top of whatever Hotch held. She was strong, but she was young. She had been even younger then, and she wouldn’t have had the one man who’d taught her to survive to teach her how to handle what came next.

I wrung my hands together. I didn’t mean to be manipulative, but tears stung at my eyes. They were real, and they were persuasive.

“I just need to know that she’s safe.” I begged. “But your reaction isn’t telling me that at all. In fact, it’s telling me the exact opposite.”

Now that I’d started, the words wouldn’t stop.

“If my girlfriend is in danger, I need to know. It’s not like I care about the mission or whatever her father was wrapped up in — I-I just want to know what happened to him. This woman knew, so apparently it’s not that classified!”

My voice grew in volume, and I couldn’t do anything about it. I could feel his face morph into a scowl even as I clenched my eyes tightly shut. There was so much I hated about this, but nothing more than knowing that despite everything I’ve done, I still couldn’t reach out to her and help her when she needed me.

I was still failing her, and I didn’t know how to fix it.

“Reid, stop.”

Hotch must have been able to read my mind, because something inside of him also snapped, the tension releasing from his shoulders and his jaw. I wondered if it was because he trusted me not to give it away, or if it was because he trusted her.

Either way, he spoke, his voice low and hushed.

“I need you to understand that what I’m about to tell you has never been confirmed, and should not be shared outside of this room. Even with her.”

Sitting up with a straight back and a heavy swallow, I nodded.

“I understand.”

—————————————————

| Part 17 |

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Neon Genesis Evangelion analysis chapter 22: Katsuragi Misato Part 1 The cross in her hand

Kaji's final gift

The three characters representing the "Second impact generation" are Kaji, Masato, and Ritsuko. They are respectively entwined with Asuka, Shinji, and Rei throughout the characters' developments. Both Kaji and Misato self-reflect on their own pain and suffering while observing Shinji's growth and passes on their "Will" to Shinji. This "Will," shared by Kaji and Misato, refers to the desire to understand the "Truth" and the motivation to overcome any adversities standing in the way. Misato climbed up the ranks to become a high-ranked official of Nerv. Kaji became a spy acting for multiple agencies and organizations.

Due to having chosen the more dangerous route, Kaji lost his life much earlier than Misato. Knowing his impending death, Kaji passed on the pieces of information to his unanswered questions to Misato through 'Physical intimacy.' In this chapter and next, we shall discuss Misato as a character and as a person who Kaji trusted solely and lovingly.

"Until the very end, Service, Service."

Katsuragi Misato

29 years old

Blood type: AB

Height: 163cm

Weight: 47Kg

Three Size: 33-23-32

Considering her diet and drinking habits, it is a wonder how she manages to maintain such weight and proportions. As the Nerv operations bureau's leader, she was a Captain at the start of the series and was later promoted to a Major. From her rank insignia and the information from Evangelion development documents, we can see that she is from the "Japanese self-defense force." As a young girl, she was caught in the Second Impact, and this incident left a large scar under her right breast; she seems to associate the scar with painful memories. She is the daughter of Dr. Katsuragi, who lost his life in the same second impact while saving her life. This act of sacrifice indirectly provided the reason for Misato's eventual employment at Nerv; the need to find the "Truth" and revenge against those that caused her father's death.

She moved into the third Tokyo city shortly before Sakiel's advance against the city. She became the Ikari Shinji's guardian after the battle. To her, it could have been a fulfillment of a desire to build an ideal family life, one she never had as a child. For the same reason, she takes in Asuka and, along with Penpen, forms a happy cohabitating unit of 3 human 1 bird family.

The house that she lives in was provided for her by Nerv and is large enough for three people to live together without much contestation for space. To touch on Penpen for a moment, he is an animal mascot sketched out by Sadamoto following Anno's request for an animal character to brighten up the show's atmosphere. The concept of a "Hot spring Penguin" is fictional. He eats human foods and drinks beer. Inferring from his human-like diet and ability to view TV or read the newspaper, we can guess that he was born from a mutation or a lab experiment. The backpack he wears on his bag is theorized by some to be a miniaturized fridge to keep him cooled. Due to security reason, he is sent off to live with Hikari (Shinji and Asuka's classmate) and makes his final appearance in the "Omedeto" Scene,

Katsuragi Misato in the development phase.

Misato is one of the rare characters whose design has not changed from the planning phase of the series, and on a side note, Anno was a big fan of the sailor moon series. Rei's name was inspired by Hino Rei (Sailor Mars). The design of Misato was based on the image Anno had of Usagi (Sailor Moon) as an adult. Adding to this point is the employment of the same voice actress (Mitsuishi Kotono) and Sadamoto designing their hairstyles to be identical. Furthermore, according to Sadamoto, Misato is a car enthusiast, and her room is full of related magazines and newsletters.

Returning to the topic, just like Shinji, Misato is a character who was designed with careful detail. According to Anno's production declaration (What is it that we are trying to make?) Similar in vain to Shinji being the child at the center of the Third impact, Misato was conceptualized to be the adult who was once at the center of the Second impact. Furthermore, both are inept at creating meaningful social bonds and are afraid of being hurt by the other. Lastly, they are both not used to communicating their needs to the people in their lives.

The difference between the two is that while Shinji feared interaction and ran away from the other, Misato made surface-level interaction with the largest number of people while hiding her true self under a mask. While Shinji's actions are understandable as he is only fourteen and made to shoulder an adult's responsibility, Misato is presented as a juxtaposition. Misato is presented as a child putting up an adult's veneer, showing her immaturity even as she is nearing her thirties. Asuka, who was acquainted with Misato during her service in Germany, described her lifestyle as 'Hypocritical.'

As we have discussed in the previous chapter, Kaji wore an irresponsible adult's mask to hide his serious side in pursuit of the Truth. In contrast, Misato wears a serious and bright adult mask to hide her cowardice and weakness. This would have worked against those that interacted with her on a surface level. However, it would have had to come off eventually, making it impossible to hide from people she lived with. This gave Shinji the perception of Misato as a 'hypocrite,' making it easy for him to reject her kindness and run away from her house.

Furthermore, when she lost Kaji and lost all willpower to put up that front, she could not care for the children physically nor care for their mental wellbeing. Concerning this, Asuka began closing herself up from Misato due to her jealousy for Kaji. Asuka also loved Kaji to the point she attempted sex appeal but was rejected for being "too young."

In episode 15, Asuka learns of Kaji's true feelings and begins feeling defeated, resulting in her bearing fangs against Misato. When her synchronization levels dipped below Shinji's in the following episode, her confidence in herself began to bottom, and Misato was in no position to offer help.

When Kaji began a more intimate relationship with Misato, whom Asuka perceived as mentally immature, Asuka was lost and began to distance her feelings from Kaji. Asuka's heart was broken, and there was no adult she could rely on. This point about Asuka will be covered more in later chapters.

Dr. Katsuragi

Before diving deeper into the character analysis of Misato, we need to understand her father, Dr. Katsuragi, more. He was a member of the Gehrin and the first person to theorize the working of the fruit of life; the S2 engine. The 'Super Solenoid theory (S2 theory)' first theorized in 1999 attempts to explain the mysterious energy source: the 'infinite spiral energy.' This being a fictitious theory, we can not go in-depth here. Still, for the sake of explanation, it is explained as a potential source of infinite energy that Dr. Katsuragi desired to use for humanity's good. Ironically and unfortunately, it was this theory that resulted in the tragedy of the second impact.

In the year 2000, the Doctor receives Seele's funding to form the Katsuragi expedition team. He leaves for Antarctica to prove his theory and perform the 'contact experiment' with Adam. While his theory was proven to be accurate, he losses his life from the 'eventual second impact. Our dear old Keel described the Doctor demeaningly, to quote, "The type of man who was blinded by his passion and unable to see reality," this statement is accurate, according to Misato. This makes him a figure similar in character to Gendou, someone whose work always came before all else, even his family. Causing Misato's mother to always cry tears of loneliness.

Misato understood the impact her father's absence had on the household. This resulting in the pressure to be a good child to please her mother. This leads her to refute others' descriptions of him as 'Kind and sensitive,' calling him 'weak and childish'; as someone who was irresponsible to his family and ran away from responsibilities. Misato's mother eventually divorces him, and she welcomed this separation. It seems that Dr. Katsuragi was shocked by this incident; Misato described it as getting his 'just desert.'

The cross: Dr Katsuragi’s memento

But of course, we have to answer one question regarding Dr. Katsuragi's affection towards his daughter; why did he bring Misato along to Antarctica in 2000? Since there is no mention of her mother in the series, we can infer that he gained custody of Misato after the divorce, thus being her only guardian. Yet to bring a young child to Antarctica was nothing more than putting her in danger. While he did not know of his impending death, bringing his daughter to such a place was downright irresponsible. While there is not enough detail about this, bringing Misato for the expedition might have been his way of showing affection. An imperfect way to express his love for her.

Here, we can draw a parallel with Ikari Yui's actions during her contact experiment. Perhaps the reason why the Doctor wanted to show Misato the contact experiment was the same as the answer Yui gave to Fuyutsuki; "To show this child the possibility for a bright future." And like the Ikaris, Katsuragis also separated in a tragedy. A tragedy for everyone involved.

Looking at the second impact scene, we can observe the Doctor covered in more injuries than Misato. This is likely due to him shielding her from harm using his own body.

With all of his remaining strength, he hoists Misato into an evacuation capsule. His face is covered in blood, and tears roll down his cheeks as he put his cross necklace around her neck. He draws his last breath. This necklace symbolizes the Doctor's love. The love for his family. And the love for humanity. He instills it in the cross and passes on all that he held dear to Misato. She now has to protect herself. But with the cross, the Doctor's desire to protect humanity also gets passed onto her. A burden too big for a little girl to bear.

Even though she claims to dislike her father, Misato is to be confused about what to feel about him; he risked his life to protect her after all. The biggest reason she is at Nerv and fighting the angels is likely to remember him and continue his legacy. Thus, the necklace is a protection charm and emotional support for Misato. We can see this when she desperately grasps the cross as Zeruel is about to shoot its laser.

The cross in her hand

To Misato, the reason for her battle against the angels has less to do with the desire to protect humanity. She fights, as Ritsuko points out in episode 12, as a form of revenge. She admits to this fact in episode 15 during her conversation with Kaji. This is the reason why she takes on near-improbable strategies based on her 'gut feelings.' Especially in episode 12's battle against Sahaquel, the likelihood of success was 0.00001%. The subtitle for this episode is 'Don't make others suffer for your personal hatred.' This perhaps was something Ritsuko (or even Misato herself) was thinking deep down.

Yet to chalk all of this up to a simple desire for revenge is reductionistic at best. The cross in her hand was concurrently the unfulfilled love Dr. Katsuragi had for his family and also the hope for a brighter future for mankind. It was also a Cross, the symbol of the weight of responsibility, and it was what she stood for.

Various iconographies of crosses in Evangelion

The beginning of the universe?

Touching on the cross as we conclude this chapter, we are bombarded with its iconographies across the series. The most notable being the flash of light produced when the angels die. Seeing that this is observable during the third impact, it perhaps symbolizes the soul exiting the body. Another memorable cross is the one we see flashing during the opening sequence.

In the production commentary, the blue dot at the very start of the opening, which expends out in a circle and into a "red gas," is revealed to represent the big bang and the start of the universe. This is followed by the crosses that make up the transition into the title screen, the same kind of visual directions used for the in-episode eye-catch.

Beyond the surface-level representations listed, there are many more hidden references to this iconography. In episode 21, after Yui's absorption into Unit – 01's core, Gendou's shadow carries a gigantic cross. The object casting this shadow is not shown as it is only a symbolic representation. It represents the responsibility that he will carry, One that Yui used to carry and Gendou perverts. The responsibility to forgive humankind's original sin. In episode 4, when Shinji runs away from NERV, he walks down a long path shaped like a cross. This symbolizes the heavy responsibility that he is Fated to carry. That he is destined to be burdened with.

As Anno has put it, Evangelion is like a puzzle to be pieced together. There are many more such scenes, but I will leave it as it is for your enjoyment of discovery.

TBC Chapter 23 Katsuragi Misato Part 2 Dear Shinji, this is my Truth.

#Neon genesis evangelion #Evangelion #Eva #End of Evangelion #Nge #Nagisa Kaworu #Lilith #Sci-fi #Ikari Shinji #Soryu Asuka Langley #Asuka #Ayanami Rei #rei #Anno Hideaki #Katsuragi Misato #Kaji Ryoji #Anime #Analysis #Review

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flickeringart · 3 years

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Thinking and Feeling - What keeps you civilized?

In order to be able to live in a civilized manner, a person has to align with certain values and standards that enable behavior that doesn’t threaten, disturb or cause disruption in social interactions. The air signs in astrology represents the thinking function, the ability to formulate ideals and communicate with the environment. The air element is the function of deductive reasoning and it allows for a certain detachment from the emotional-physical reality. The thinking function allows us to interact with the world on an intangible level, through sublimating actual experience to conceptual reality. “Communication” is only possible when there’s separation present – where there’s a subject and an object present.

The air element is often referred to as the basis for “civilization”. It is uniquely human; it is what sets us apart from the animals. Without thinking, there are no ideas, no conceptual ideal to strive for. This is not to say that thinking on its own is productive – there needs to be a physical- emotional reality in order for thinking to have something to conceptualize of in the first place. As humans, we are only partly thinking creatures, and we can hardly be said be defined solely by our thoughts. Even though air dominant types might be more justified in basing their identity on their capacity to think and navigating conceptual reality, there is so much going on at a denser, subtler level, a feeling level that might or might not fit into pre-conceived conceptual framework, that might not be understood through concepts.

Thinking is undoubtedly powerful. In a “civilized” society the pen is mightier than the sword, if used skillfully. A lot can be done with a sharp intellect and a quick mind. However, thinking is not responsive, it is a conscious construction. Powerful emotion or overwhelming instinctual reactions are more organic and dynamic. People can hold values and ideals that are perfectly in line with civilized society, but it doesn’t mean that the instinct is ever “tamed” because it can’t be constructed. Thinking can’t hold emotion back and the thinking function can’t ever perfectly define or describe what is felt simply because emotion is subjective and not objective. No person can completely act and behave in accordance with ideas and ideals. Emotions prevent this from happening – they are immediate responses that are personal – not impersonal. This is why, on an intellectual level one can say, “it’s wrong to kill”, but it won’t prevent the person from affectively responding to a situation in a way that results in a killing. Reversely, on an intellectual level one can say, “I have to kill”, but it won’t prevent the emotions from moving in a different direction.

Does thinking really keep us civilized in a real sense then? It seems not; it only creates a façade of civilization, a light façade of connectivity and communion, a light façade of love that stems from detachment from actuality and idealization of potential. The intellectual ideal is impersonal, seemingly more pure than the ambiguous and powerfully primitive emotional response, but in a sense, also inhuman (superhuman?) and inorganic. The thinking function is indispensable, but it is shallow in its own way, less potent and less alive than emotion. Words only have true power in connection to emotion; on their own they are simply tools, empty and dead. Perhaps it is accurate to say that civilization cannot manifest without alignment of the soul and the mind. Thinking can’t control feeling and feeling can’t control thinking, inevitably one is operating separately from the other but they can align. Thinking and feeling are unable to reduce each other to nothing. Thinking doesn’t cancel out feeling and vice versa. Strong emotion might call for intellectual justification socially, yet, since thinking didn’t cause feeling in the first place (at least not consciously), one can only speculate as to what the emotion is or was in response to – why it was so intense and if it was reasonable and so on… In a sense, trying to conceptualize of emotion is like trying to conceptualize of life and it’s never productive because it won’t make the feeling nature be different than it is or prevent it from expressing itself.

Generally speaking, emotions don’t “fit in” socially and societally because they are strictly personal and untamed – often impossible to fit into a conceptual framework that everyone can understand and make sense of. There is no logic behind emotions because they are immediately experienced and are not part of some pre-conceived conceptual construct. In fact, many people find it insulting when others try to make sense of their reactions and responses, to make them fit into a neat intellectual-conceptual “box”. Emotions demands acceptance no matter what – they essentially reflects organic truth rather than conceptual truth. The feeling function is often devalued and deemed “less evolved”, but without it, we would lack deeper “personal truth”.

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On a separate note, albeit connected to the text above,

Some claim that thought creates reality and emotional experience is a direct result of subconscious thought patterns and programming. I believe this is true in the sense that there’s a universal blueprint that is set up for us, however, I don’t think that thought creates reality in our own personal lives in the sense that we can separate ourselves from our personal blueprint (reflected by our birth chart) by “working on ourselves”. It is true that one can become more conscious of components and facets of the psyche, but it’s too presumptuous to believe that one could “change” the self for the better to fit a preferred mold. Some people seem to work well with the “law of attraction”, they are able to positively focus and manifest the personal reality they want. This ability is undoubtedly reflected in the birth chart of these people – optimism, a propensity to believe and receive effortlessly. Not everyone is set up that way, which is quite evident considering the struggles and hardships that people face, despite the effort to look on the bright side of life. Some charts are set up in order for the individual to experience pain and crises in order to discover something of value through the death and rebirth process. This is a valid path, although it might not seem blissful or peaceful in the least. For these types it is not realistic or rewarding to soar on the surface of life.

Take Esther Hicks for example, a famous channel, author and public speaker. She helps people to close the gap between their desires and the manifestation of them. She is channeling a “collective thought stream” (called Abraham) in her talks that is concerned with seeing humanity actualize its desires and dreams. Her chart, as shown below (from astrotheme.com) has a grand fire trine with Jupiter, Venus and Mars. This trine blesses her with a certain fundamental and natural faith in her own ability to receive what she wants from life. Her chart is not void of friction and trouble, but this grand trine has her back when the going gets tough. She would have a natural propensity for generosity and an “abundance mindset” as they call it.

The conjunction of Pluto-Saturn-Mars (all in retrograde which makes the energy experienced internally) in Leo points to a charged desire nature, a concentrated and powerful drive that is, for lack of a better word, ruthless and almost painful. As Mars is the fighter of the personality, this kind of configuration makes me think of an insatiable, prideful yet painfully contained fighter who can’t admit to any personal passions without feeling weakened, but at the same time can’t let go and has to have at all. It makes sense, that a person who helps people to get what they want through mental-emotional alignment would understand the pain and dissatisfaction caused by not being able to control life. The conjunction opposes Mercury, which is interesting since she writes and speaks for a living, or rather speaks for an autonomous “entity” of sorts. She lends her communicative ability to something other than herself. When she channels, she’s not in her Pluto-Saturn-Mars mode. Venus and Jupiter, the two benefics, and Uranus nicely support Mercury. She can convey ideas that are revolutionary and speak of happiness and abundance. It strikes me that when she speaks, she speaks to people with frustrated desires (Mercury opposite Pluto-Saturn-Mars) – it is as if she projects this cluster of energy and experiences it through her audience. I’m sure she avoids identifying with it and meets it through others that she encounters. The Pluto-Saturn-Mars conjunction is highly uncomfortable and the person would likely attempt to work around it in any way possible if the chart allows for it. In Esther’s case, she has a lot to lean on in order to avoid its harshness - the trine certainly helps and the Mercury opposition allows detachment. Nonetheless she meets it in her life because it’s part of her blueprint.

My point with all of this is to illustrate that certain “philosophies” and belief systems come easier to others because of the personal astrological setup and it being backed by experience in accordance with the planets. It always makes sense why a person thinks and feels a certain way from looking at the natal chart. Nobody’s wrong and nobody’s right, there’s only the chart and what it allows for and doesn’t allow for. I do believe that no one can act outside of his or her chart. All paths are ultimately valid from a universal perspective. Work with your own blueprint because that is the only way to live anyway.

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genshinfanboy · 3 years

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Memories

[ Request: Could I please request a oneshot with Childe x GN Reader who were enemies but Reader got injured in a fight and gained amnesia, and now has a completely different relationship with him? (sorry if this is oddly specific)]

| Hello everyone I am back with another Childe one-shot. I hope that I'm able to provide what you had in mind. No need to apologize the more specific something is the easier it is for me to conceptualize. I've also been unable to get the idea of Childe with freckles out of my head since the last request. I may end up drawing him and Xiao with freckles. As per usual please feel free to change the pronouns to fit your own. Please enjoy.

Childe x GN! Reader

Warning: violence.

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(Y/N) couldn't trust Childe one bit. They didn't want to be alone with him. He seemed to feel the same way. They didn't want anything to do with the Fatui. They couldn't forgive then for what they did to Venti. They were upset at Childe for threatening Liyue. They were doing some commissions around Liyue harbor. It was a bit cloudy today so they decided with Paimon to go into a nearby cave just in case. Neither of them wanted to run at the moment. Childe had admire how strong (Y/N) was but he still disliked them. They were a threat to the Fatui. He knew that much. One day while he was sent out to deal with a few matters for the bank he noticed it started to pour. There wasn't much he could do in the rain so he decided to wait it out in a nearby cave. He heard two people talking. He brought out his bow just in case. He walked quietly and saw the two he definitely not wanting to stay in this cave anymore. He'd rather deal with getting soaked. There was a crashing sound and the exit he came in from got closed off. Lightning just had to hit this cave. He heard some running and clicked his tongue. His misfortune will make it seem as if he was the one trying to seal (Y/N) in here. He wondered if he had time to hide and just wait it out. "What are you doing here Childe?" (Y/N) asked with their sword drawn. They glared at him with their (E/C) eyes. Then they noticed the entrance of the cave sealed by rocks. "You came to trap us here." Their clenched their sword tighter. If they didn't have a past filled with bad will then the two of them may have gotten along. Childe didn't want to start a fight now. It could mean some issues for both of them. "Now now let's not rush things. I was trying to get out of the rain. I heard voices and went to investigate. When I saw you two I was ready to take my chances with the rain. It got sealed because of lightning. Why would I want to be suck in here with my enemy." Childe stated. He returned their glare. They didn't seem to believe him and charged. He got a smirk and formed his Hydro blades. "Guess we are solving this with violence. Fine by me." He said countering their attacks. During their battle with the Fatui member they were about to use their wind blade before they both lost balance for a moment because of some shaking. They heard a loud crashing sound. The cave made some rumbling sounds. There was a few small rocks that started falling down. (Y/N) reacted without a second thought when they saw a rather large rock about to hit Childe. They pushed him out of the way and got hit in the head. Everything around them went dark. "(Y/N)!" Paimon shouted rushing over them. Childe's eyes widened. Did that really just happened!?!? He rushed over as well to check their injury. As he looked the injury over he noticed their hands covering the weak points on their head. He looked at the rock it was a decent size. He didn't see that one falling which mean he wouldn't have time to react. It would've killed him if they didn't push him out if the way. It was bleeding a bit but wasn't fatal.

Childe brought out some bandages he always kept in his bag. They weren't for his own injuries but his younger siblings in case they ever got harmed. He quickly wrapped their head. He was getting annoyed at the flying companion's shouting to not hurt them. "Paimon be quiet! I'm not going to hurt them. They just saved me." He said looking at her irritated. Which seemed to shock her. She had became quiet. "See if you can find an exit so we can get out of here. I'll watch them." Childe said running a hand through his hair. He saw Paimon nod and went to look around the cave. After about 20 minutes she had came back. "Paimon found an exit but the storm has gotten worse. I don't think it's safe to go out." Paimon said. She looked at them. Childe started thinking. He saw some wood and ore. He looked around and noticed this wasn't a cave. It was an abandoned mine. He started forming a plan. He carefully picked (Y/N) up. He was careful to keep their head still. "Paimon lead us closer to the exit. I'm going to prop their head up and start a fire to keep them warm. There should be some flint and steel here still. This place was a mine." Childe explained. He wanted to repay them for saving him. They went closer to the exit. Childe set them down. He took off his scarf to use as a pillow. "Watch them. If they wake up don't let them move too much and keep them awake." He said before walking back to get some things. Since he grew up in a cold country he knew how to make a fire. He came back to the two and started a fire. "Paimon never knew you had a soft side Childe." Paimon said as they looked after (Y/N). Eventually they woke up. They blinked a couple of times looking around. They saw two strange people. They moved about to jump up and protect themself. The moment they sat up they were push back down by the male. "Don't move you might hurt yourself." He quickly said holding them down with one of his hands. "Who are you both and where is my sibling?" They asked looking panicked. The last thing they remembered was leaving the last world they visited with their sibling. "That's a not funny joke. Paimon knows you don't like Childe but there's no way you'd forget me." She said with a pout.

(Y/N) looked more confused their head hurting. "It's not a joke. I have no clue who either of you are. Where is my sibling?" They asked. Something was wrong their mind was racing with questions. They also weren't able to feel their powers. Were these people trying to harm them? "It seems like (Y/N) has amnesia." Childe said. He wondered if this means they might be able to start things over because of this. It was his fault they got injured. They also saved him so there's no way he could leave them alone. Paimon was giving him a wary look. "Your sibling was taken by a strange god. I'm Paimon. I've been helping you look for them." She said. "Wait how were they taken? What world am I stuck in?" They asked the strange flying girl. Childe perked up in surprise when he heard what they said. He knew they were strange but that implied other worlds. Paimon looked even more worried. "You're in Teyvat. A strange god stopped you and your sibling from going to the next world. You've been searching for them with me." Paimon explained. "Oh so they never apart of Teyvat to begin with." Childe said with interest. He decided to travel with them in order to learn more about (Y/N). Somehow the two grew quite close. Childe would have never seen this outcome with how their relationship was. After learning more about them he wanted to say by their side. He could tell that Paimon didn't like his company. He didn't care too much though. He realized that both of them were quite similar when it came to caring about their siblings. Somewhere along traveling with them Childe fell in love. He was unsure if he wanted them to get their memories back because of it.

(Y/N) had grown accustomed to having Childe by their side. They felt safe around him. They noticed how wary Paimon seemed of him. They slowly regained their memories as the three of them traveled. They tried keeping it a secret that they had regained their memories. Surely Childe and them would go back to disliking one another. They didn't want that. Everything changed when they started getting to know one another. They had at first thought of him as a good friend but eventually found themself looking his way and staring. Whenever he found out and teased them it would make their face go red. They had to talk to Paimon. "Hey Childe can I speak to Paimon alone for a moment?" They asked one day as the three walked around Liyue. "Of course. Though it makes me curious on what you're going to say." Childe said with a bunch of curiosity. "It's nothing bad. Just something I'm unsure about." They said with a smile. It made Childe's heart speed up. "I'll go get some food for us then." He said with a faint blush. He patted their head before disappearing in the crowd. He snuck around so he could hear what (Y/N) was going to say. "Paimon I remember everything but I think I managed to fall for Childe." They said with a frown. Paimon looked at them with wide eyes. "Are you crazy? You were the one that told Paimon not to trust him!" Paimon shouted. Childe felt a blush sneak up on him. Even after everything he did to them. They have been keeping their memories hidden from him. Why did they do that? He decided to confront them. He walked over. "Why did you hide you regaining your memories?" Childe asked. (Y/N) looked at him with wide eyes. Of course he eavesdropped. They blushed and looked at the ground. "I thought you'd leave if I told you I remembered everything. I like having you by my side Childe. It's comforting to know you had my back. I know you were staying to pay me back for saving you." They muttered. They felt a hand lift their chin up so they were looking at his ocean blue eyes. "I was honestly worried about you remembering because I've become fond of you. It's cute how shy you have become. Perhaps I should get back at you for making me worry about you." Childe said with a teasing tone. He leaned closer and press his lips against their's. Their reaction was completely worth it. He smirked as he saw them become extremely flustered. He wrapped an arm around their waist. "I promise to always stay by your side so long as you promise to stay by mine." He gave a smirk as they gave a small shy nod. "You being shy and bashful is certainly a sight to see. Makes me want to make you more flustered." He gave a light laugh.

| Thanks for reading.

#genshin childe #childe x reader #childe #genshin impact #writing

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