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slyandthefamilybook · 1 month

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Who is the antisemite?

I've made many a post about the nature of antisemitism, and I don't expect I'll ever stop. But I've made relatively few posts about antisemites, who they are, and why they are. I don't mean to make a list of every antisemite in the world; I wouldn't be able to finish it before I died at my keyboard. Instead I want to explore a bit into the nature of antisemitic belief and what draws people to it, in the hopes of helping people recognize their own behaviors. This won't be a thorough taxonomy, but will focus on something I believe is at–or close to–the heart of the issue.

When I tell people antisemitism can have a racial component the response I usually get is, "but Jewish isn't a race so you can't be racist against Jews!" Now it's true that "Jewish" is not (currently) one of the accepted racial categories (up until some time in the 1950s you could list your race on U.S. censi as "Hebrew"), but that's not exactly what I mean. What I mean is that there's a pattern of thought that's part-and-parcel of racism and racist ideas, even if it's not always deployed against what we would consider a race. That pattern is bio-essentialism–the belief that there are certain inherent and largely invariant differences between discrete groups of people. This, for example, explains the significant overlap between racism and transphobia, if not always in practice than in thought. If you believe these differences exist along racial lines, it's simple enough to map them onto sex as well. Bio-essentialism is not the only driving force behind racism, but it is a significant one, and one that can be reasonably used as a predictor of racist thought. In this sense, focusing on phenotypes common among Jews (prominent noses, dark curly hair, olive skin) can have a racial component, and can result in behaviors and attitudes that behave like racism, even if Jews aren't a "race".

So we have racial antisemitism, and from here we can sit around and postulate on other alchemical combinations; the intersection of antisemitism and sexism, for example, resulting in stereotypes about nagging Jewish wives, overbearing Jewish mothers, and the Jewish American Princess. The intersection of antisemitism and patriarchy, creating anxieties about weak or effeminate Jewish men. Antisemitism and classism; antisemitism and homophobia; antisemitism and anti-theism; and on and on. But what about anti-Jewish antisemitism? What do we find that makes people hate Jews for being Jews?

I'm going to lean fairly heavily on Anti-Judaism: The Western Tradition by intellectual historian David Nirenberg. It's a fantastic albeit excruciating read, and I highly recommend everyone–Jewish and not–pick it up from their local library.

Much like the habits of bio-essentialism characterize much of racism, obsession with blame is (I believe) the core driver of anti-Jewish antisemitism. Specifically blame of the other, although that's generally merely step two in the process. Jews occupy a fairly unique position in the world in that in the vast majority of places where we live we don't really belong. We're treated as guests, reliant on the grace and magnanimity of our hosts to ensure our protection and survival. Part of this is our own doing; throughout the Diaspora our struggle to cohere to our identity has set us apart from everyone else. We don't like to assimilate any more than we have to. But it would be wrong to place the blame for our status entirely on our shoulders, so I will not do so. For the purposes of this post let us take it prima facie that Jews maintain a role of perpetual outsiders–among the nations of the world but not of them.

Throughout history this status has allowed our hosts to define themselves in opposition to us. Jews, who never really belonged, became emblematic of whatever ill the current society, religion, or philosophy decided was most pressing. We gave people opportunity to externalize their own faults, to shift blame from themselves and their comrades to nefarious interlopers. To recontextualize their responsibility to themselves into a Manichaean (I use the word deliberately) struggle between darkness and light. If the anxieties of the day centered around hypocrisy, Jewish Rabbis were the hypocrites you should strive to be unlike. If it was infidelity, it was the Jewess temptresses who were to blame. If it was greed, it was certainly the Jewish bankers who were at fault.

Perhaps my use of past-tense verbs is misleading; this is still the nature of antisemitism today. But this is certainly also how it began. The urge to excise culpability is a fairly common one. It crosses cultural boundaries and expresses itself in toddlers the world around. And so whither the Jews went, childish vindictiveness followed.

When we understand how antisemitism is used as a tool, we can begin to understand the work it does for those who use it. Antisemitism is the antidote to critical thought, to skepticism and self-reflection. It creates a "them", not in reality but in the mind. It explains failure not through any self-conscious rumination, but in the creation of vagrants, infiltrators, and saboteurs.

It now becomes clear why nearly every conspiracy theory is antisemitic, or rapidly hurtling in that direction. One of the cornerstones of conspiratorial thought (as expounded by Michael Barkun in A Culture of Conspiracy: Apocalyptic Visions in Contemporary America) is the belief that the conspiracies are composed out outside forces. When neo-Nazis compose their "Every Aspect of _____ is Jewish" flyers, they can hardly focus on the fact that the vast majority of the people they blame are American. Americans are the in-group and as such cannot be at fault. Jews are an easily accessible out-group, in part because Jewishness is so "sneaky" (you can be Jewish and not even know it! Even Wikipedia can't seem to decide when someone is Jewish or not!). When people believe that the CIA was responsible for assassinating John F. Kennedy, it's never in their capacity as red-blooded patriotic Americans; it's always the result of insiders from Russia, China, and ultimately, Jews. Even conspiracy theories that don't explicitly name Jews are engaged in antisemitic thought, so long as they seek to pin events on the actions of "them". There's a reason "they" has become memetic in neo-Nazi circles; those who are "them" are most assuredly not "us".

It also becomes clear how and why antisemitism traverses political boundaries, and infects discourse left, right, and center. The extremes–the far-right and far-left (for all the usefulness of the political spectrum, which is not much)–are more prone to antisemitic thought precisely because they are so far from the norm. The more you see wrong with society the more you seek those who are responsible. (Again it's important to note that "antisemitic thought" in this context refers to the habit of looking for outsiders to blame, and does not always map perfectly onto open bigotry toward "real Jews".) When England is close to being a perfect country, it is only through the actions of the Jews that it is prevented from becoming so. When Sovyet communism begins to collapse in on itself, it is certainly the Jews who are accused. It is never "us" or "we"; it is always "they" and "them". And in a fit of cruel irony, when antisemitism becomes un-fashionable, the "no-true-scotsman" fallacy is often deployed, assigning the use of conspiratorial bigotry to impersonators and pretenders.

So what can we do? What can we learn, and how can we change? We can start by resolving to think critically, to not take the easy answers. We can look inward, not outward, and find things to improve in ourselves, rather than assuming that our faults are not our fault. We can be skeptical of conspiracy theories, of people who want to direct our anger in ways that serve their own goals. As always, we can protect and uplift Jews and Jewish communities worldwide. We can orient ourselves toward finding solutions, instead of finding reasons for why we can't. We can unlearn the thought patterns, cliches, and habits of antisemitic thought, or that lead to antisemitic thought. We can stop trying to look for the bad people, and start trying to be the good people.

#atlas entry #and with that I have to go to bed #I got shit to do like tomorrow and it's past my bedtime #jew #jewish #judaism #jumblr #antisemitism #anti-judaism #there are other things I could tag this as but I'm not going to bc it would be too haughty

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andreafmn · 2 months

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Running in Circles | Chapter 11

Word Count: 3.5K Warnings: mentions of death and illness

Summary: (Y/N) Rossi is following in her father’s footsteps by joining the BAU team as a profiler. The girl genius knew almost everything but she could have never predicted falling for Aaron Hotchner, her boss, and her father’s friend. in their world mutual feelings are not enough to push them together. Will all the adversities and obstacles they face pull them together or push them apart forever?

A/N: slowly but surely rolling this story out... i refuse to DNF a WIP

<- Previous

David Rossi’s house had always been grand. At least for the better part of his life. But for (Y/N), it had always been massive. Even once she had grown up and moved out, she saw it as too big. She never had the feeling that she had imagined it bigger as a child. It had always been gigantic, and it would always be.

“You know, I made some fresh tagliatelle for today,” David smiled as he opened the car door for his daughter. “And I think it’s the best batch I’ve done in a long time.”

“It better be,” she teased jokingly. “Mom wouldn’t have accepted any less.”

“You’ve got that right,” he laughed. “She’d turn over in her grave if I ever made her pasta wrong.”

The Hotchner duo were already waiting by the front door when the Rossis arrived. Jack was the first to run into the house, claiming he was starving and needed to be fed. But as soon as the TV was on, it was like his hunger had vanished.

While the boy was entertained by some cartoon on the television, David ushered the other two outside. He took his cooking seriously and did not like much interruption when it was possible. So, with two glasses of red wine and a lit fireplace, (Y/N) and Hotchner sat on the back porch to talk.

“Morgan, Reid, and Prentiss are coming by later,” (Y/N) muttered out, trying to fill the silence. “JJ had a family thing, and Garcia is out of town.”

“I know,” he chuckled softly. “Dave told me when I was on my way to the cemetery.”

“God, I never want to think about today again.” Warmth crept up (Y/N)’s neck as embarrassment filled her veins. “I can’t believe I threw a tantrum like that at my age. I am absolutely mortified.”

“You don’t have to be, (Y/N). Grief isn’t always a pretty thing,” Hotchner said, taking her aback. “You’re allowed to feel what you feel, and sometimes it comes out in an ugly way. But it’s perfectly reasonable to have a break like you did. I mean, if it took this long, it was bound to happen sooner or later. And it was, in all honesty, not as bad as you think.”

“I yelled at my dad for simply being religious,” she sighed. “It was completely uncalled for. And I even did it in front of Jack. I can’t believe I did that.”

“I don’t think he’ll even remember after today,” he chuckled as he took a sip from his glass. “Seriously, (Y/N), it’s not something you even need to apologize for. I’ve seen and been worse than that.”

“I seriously doubt that,” the young woman snorted. “At least not the way I exploded today.”

“I’ve had my moments, (Y/N). We’re only human, at the end of the day,” the man shrugged as he absentmindedly slipped his hand over hers. “But you don’t have to feel bad for feeling strongly, and I know your dad definitely doesn’t hold it against you. All he cares is that you’re okay, and so do I.”

“I’m okay now,” she smiled softly, trying her best to conceal the red that was creeping up her neck. Thankfully, it was cold enough that she could blame the weather for her sudden change in complexion. “And I wanna thank you for coming today. I wasn’t sure you would.”

“Oh, Jack wouldn’t have let me live it down if we hadn’t gone,” he chuckled. His fingers interlaced with hers, squeezing softly and making her wonder. “He said we couldn’t leave you alone today. I mean, he was up long before I was.”

“God, I love that kid.”

“Yeah, he loves you too.”

There was a moment when their eyes met, and they couldn’t drop each other’s gaze. (Y/N) tried to find meaning behind the brown of his irises. Because he always left her wondering. Whether his lingering touches meant something more than comfort. Whether he showed his carefree side to her because he felt a different connection to her than the rest of the team. Whether stares like that one meant he was thinking the same way.

But the sound of David’s voice scattered the thoughts away, making the pair jump away from each other, their hands returning to their respective laps. “I brought some blankets to keep you guys warm,” he said as he placed the blankets on the arm of the couch and a tray on the edge of the fireplace. “I also brought you some cheese and crackers while we wait for the rest of the team to get here. They shouldn’t be long.”

“Thanks, dad,” (Y/N) smiled. “Did you have something to eat yet?”

“Oh no. I can’t spoil my appetite for later,” he chuckled. “I wanna make sure I savor tonight’s dish. I’ve been braising a chuck roast since this morning, and I can’t wait to sink my teeth into it.”

“Well, if there’s not much to do inside, why don’t you join us, Dave?” Hotch offered, much to (Y/N)’s dismay. “No point in you being by yourself.”

“As intriguing as that sounds, I’m not interested in spending my evening out in the cold,” the older man said before the sound of the door squeaked behind him. “But I think someone else might join you.”

“Hey, Jack. What’s up, buddy?”

00“I’m bored, dad,” the kid whined, draping himself between (Y/N) and his father. “And I’m hungry. I wanna go to (Y/N)’s house. She has toys there.”

“I’ll leave you to it,” David chuckled as he cheersed the man before disappearing back into the house.

“We can’t go to (Y/N)’s house right now, Jack. I told you we were gonna have dinner with David tonight.”

“But he doesn’t have any toys,” the boy complained. “His house is really boring.”

“Tell you what, little man,” (Y/N) interjected. “My dad may not have toys here, but he has a lot of stories about my mom, and today is about her, right?” The kid nodded eagerly. “Well then, let’s go invade his personal space.”

Jack grabbed (Y/N)’s extended hand, walking into the house with Hotch trailing behind with the platter that had just been set before them. They rushed through the kitchen and past the living room, looking for the one person who could talk about Iris’ past.

They had made it almost all the way to the man’s study before they found him in the hall, staring at a painting. Without turning his head, David started talking. “This is one of the first paintings Iris made in her garden,” he said. Before him hung a realistic painting of a small girl, a bird in her cupped hands, and an array of colorful flowers on the background. “I think it might just be my favorite.”

“Who’s the girl?”

“That’s me,” (Y/N) smiled at the boy. “When I was really, really little.”

“And your momma painted that?” Jack questioned excitedly. “It’s really pretty.”

“She did,” David responded with a sad smile. “She painted almost all the art in this house. She was a very talented woman, my Iris.”

“What happened to her?”

“Jack,” Hotch reprimanded his son. “I’m sorry, he…”

“It’s alright,” the man smiled. “She got very sick while she was pregnant with our little (Y/N). But the doctors didn’t catch it until it was too late because of that. After she gave birth, we started her on the most aggressive treatment we could, but it had spread too much, too fast. A little after (Y/N) turned three, she passed away.” “She was getting weak at the end, and a single painting would take her weeks,” he said. “You can see that they get smaller here by the end of the hall. But even if she couldn’t hold the brush for too long, she would…”

David’s voice drowned out as he continued walking with Jack, not noticing that his daughter stood frozen in her spot while he went on. There were things she knew about her mother’s past, but there were others he had kept hidden. Much like that one sentence, he had muttered absentmindedly to tell the tale of her mother’s demise.

Tears welled in (Y/N)’s eyes once more, this time sprouting from a deep well of emotion that she had trapped inside herself a long time ago. There was a part of her that always knew, that always felt as though she had been the reason her mother had died. But there had never been any confirmation, not a single word spoken to confirm what she had thought. All up until that day. Without even meaning to, her father had opened one of the deepest wounds she thought had healed.

She felt Hotch’s hands on her arms before she heard his voice, her mind hazing over as the thoughts flooded her head, making it close to impossible to focus on reality. “Hey, (Y/N),” he whispered as he cradled her face, bringing her back to the moment. “What’s wrong? What happened?”

“It’s my fault,” she whimpered, her eyes meeting his through a watery gaze. “My mom’s dead because of me.”

“Of course not,” he stated. “She was sick, (Y/N). The cancer got to her, and there was nothing anyone could do. That’s all that happened.”

“They would have found it sooner if she hadn’t been pregnant with me,” she cried. “She could have treated it earlier if it wasn’t because of me!”

Hotchner wrapped his arms around her before she could crumble to the ground, watching as her emotions overtook her. With an already overwhelming day, learning more about her mother’s death had tipped her over. It was then that he could see just how young she still was. As mature and intelligent as she was, she was still starting off in life—not even thirty yet.

“What happened to your mom is not your fault,” he said, his chin resting on her head. “Having you was the choice she wanted to make, and most definitely the right one. From what I can tell, she loved you very much, (Y/N).”

“You were her greatest treasure,” David added, startling the pair apart. “She wanted nothing more than to have you, mia bella. Iris would have given up everything so you were born, and I would have as well.”

“I’ll leave you two to talk,” Hotch whispered to (Y/N), motioning to Jack to get closer. “Let’s go see what’s on TV, okay?”

Once the Hotchner boys were gone, the young woman fell into her father’s open arms, resting her head on his shoulder and allowing him to comfort her in the way she so desperately needed.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” she whimpered quietly. “You always said she got sick after I was born, not while she was still pregnant. Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I didn’t mean for you to find out this way, little bird,” he sighed, drawing comforting circles on her arm. “I never wanted you to feel guilty for your mother’s death. All I ever wanted was to protect you, sweetheart.”

“She would have probably been alive had she not been pregnant, right?” (Y/N) said. “You’d still have her if it wasn’t for me.”

“I carry a part of her with me every day of my life,” he smiled. “And neither I nor Iris would have it any other way. I couldn’t imagine my life without you, little bird. You are my entire life, just like you were hers.”

David gently led her to the other room as the doorbell rang, kissing her head softly before going to open the door.

Soon enough, the house was filled with more familiar faces sporting flower bouquets and wine bottles, saying hello because there were no other words on a day such as that. All they could offer was their presence and their love, and whatever else they could need.

And at that moment, what they needed was a warm meal and lighthearted conversation. Being with the team was enough to calm (Y/N)’s sadness. At least for the time they were there, she could pretend she was okay.

She sat between Morgan and Hotchner with a gorgeous plate of pasta and roast before her and no appetite. She had spent so much energy already crying that she had nothing left to eat.

“Everything okay, pretty girl?” Derek whispered to her as he noticed her demeanor. “You not gonna eat?”

“I’m not really hungry,” she sighed. “Can’t really stomach anything right now.”

“You wanna get some air?”

“Maybe after. I don’t wanna interrupt everyone’s dinner.”

“If you’re sure,” he said, squeezing her hand comfortingly. “But you let me know if you need to step away at any point.”

“Thanks, Der,” she smiled. “I appreciate it.”

What neither of them noticed was the piercing stare Hotchner kept on their joined hands. He wasn’t sure where the feeling had come from, but he could feel it bubbling deep inside his gut. Without even thinking, he slipped his arm behind her chair, his fingers softly drawing circles on her shoulder.

“You doing okay?” he found himself whispering to her, his heart quickening as her eyes met his. “It’s been a hell of a day.”

“Yeah, I’m okay,” she smiled. “Just not very hungry.”

“Do you want something lighter? I can get you some crackers and cheese instead.”

“No, I’m fine, really,” she said. “I’ll probably just take this and eat it later tonight.”

“If you’re sure,” he conceded. “Just let me know, and I’ll get it.”

“Thanks, Hotch.”

“Don’t mention it.”

It didn’t go over anyone’s head that the unit chief had kept his arm behind (Y/N)’s chair while they finished dinner. But to them, it was simply a way to keep the grieving woman at bay. No one thought that he was staking a claim on her after that green emotion settled in his chest at Derek’s comfort. Not even he did.

Even after they had all finished eating and had gravitated to the backyard for the last glass of wine, Jack dead asleep on (Y/N)’s lap, Aaron remained close to her. Back on the couch they had been hours before, he kept a protective arm around her back. It didn’t mean anything, he told himself. He simply wanted to make sure she was okay.

Still, his eyes memorized the way the light of the fire danced on her skin, painting her with a warm hue that made her look heavenly. He felt it then, as he watched her take a sip from her wine glass, a smile on her face and his son asleep against her, that flutter in his chest he thought had died with Haley.

At that moment, he blamed it on the alcohol. Aaron couldn’t be feeling what he thought he was for (Y/N). Not only was she his subordinate, but she was the daughter of one of his oldest colleagues and friend—not to mention she was almost half his age. No, he had simply drunk too much, he told himself. His quickening heart rate and the flush that warmed his skin were because he couldn’t tolerate booze like he used to. Nothing more, nothing less.

Suddenly, David tapped on his glass with his ring, calling everyone’s attention and breaking Aaron out of thought. “Well, I want to take a moment to thank all of you for coming over tonight and celebrating Iris’ life with (Y/N) and me,” he said. “I know none of you got to meet her, but I can say with great certainty that she would have loved each and every one of you. Iris was an extraordinary and beautiful woman, and I am glad her legacy lives on in the form of (Y/N). “She was, in a way, the second greatest love of my life. And I say second because she gave me my first,” he said, smiling warmly at his daughter. “I am grateful for the time I had with her and I am immensely blessed to be able to have a piece of her with me for the rest of my life. But I will say, my biggest regret in life will always be not getting the chance to show her just how much I loved her in life and asking her to marry me. If I had to do anything over again, I would have married her the day I met her. I had already bought a ring by the next week, but somehow, I never got the courage to ask her. So, tonight, I wanna raise a glass to Iris Cassidy on the 25th anniversary of her passing. I loved you then and I love you still, mia fiore. Until we meet again, my darling Iris. Salut.”

Everyone raised their glasses, echoing the cheer before taking a sip of their wine. As they did, David pulled out his phone, and a minute later, colorful fireworks adorned the night sky. One after another, they illuminated the darkness in various shapes and colors, marking a true celebration of life.

It was at that moment that Aaron noticed the fresh tears falling from (Y/N)’s eyes. The lights of the fireworks reflected on the streaks of her cheeks, glimmering in an array of colors as she stared at the sky. But it was the first time in the day that her tears were accompanied by a bright smile. And when she found him staring, he couldn’t help but smile back as he hugged her closer to him. Completely ignoring the pitter-patter of his heart as he felt her warmness seep into his body.

The scene was almost like out of a movie. As the fireworks lit up the sky, gentle music played through the backyard speakers. The group talked amongst themselves quietly, engrossed in whatever conversation was important at that moment. It was almost as though the world had stopped. There was no evil lurking behind their doors waiting to be caught. There was only them and that moment in time—frozen, preserved.

But it wasn’t the team that caught the unit chief’s attention. No. It was the young woman next to him who had seemed to drift off to sleep just like his son. Jack had wrapped his arms around (Y/N), resting his head in the crook of her neck while she rested hers on his shoulder. Her eyelids fluttered as she slept, finally comfortable enough to rest—or too tired to stay awake. Still, she looked calm, at peace. And she looked beautiful.

They were thoughts that shouldn’t have been running through Aaron’s head. Not about (Y/N), at least. And definitely not while her father was only a few feet away.

“Guess the day finally caught up to her,” David whispered as he sat next to them. “When she’s like that, all I can see is the little girl that always asked me to read her to sleep. Granted, those days didn’t last long. She learned how to read on her own, and Good Night, Moon, and Oh, The Places You’ll Go didn’t cut it anymore. Treasure those moments, Aaron. They go quicker than you can imagine.”

“Thankfully, Jack has yet to grow out of his kid’s books,” he chuckled softly, highly aware that any move he made could wake (Y/N). “But one thing’s for sure, once they’re down, they’re down, huh.”

“That’s true,” he laughed. “I want to thank you, Aaron, for being here today. She needed someone, and it wasn’t me. (Y/N) always seems so strong, but she carries her heart on her sleeve and so much hurt on the inside. She needs someone she can rely on.”

“Today was the least I could do after all she’s done for Jack and me,” Aaron smiled, looking down at the sleeping woman. “I owe her a lot.”

“What she does, she doesn’t do it for anything in return,” David said. “She got that from her mother. She’d give the clothes off her own back for anyone that needed it.”

“She really would.”

“I just wished she found someone who could see just how amazing she was. I know this job makes it hard to meet people, but she deserves someone who treats her as special as she is.”

The words made the man tense up, causing (Y/N) to wriggle in her sleep. If he hadn’t known any better, he would think David had read his mind. But coincidences, rare as they may seem, were real.

“You do too, by the way,” the man teased as Aaron thought of a good enough answer to give him. “It’s about time you start dating, too, you know.”

“Here we go again,” he chuckled softly. “I don’t need to date.” Which wasn’t entirely a lie. Especially since the one he was most interested in was not an option. “I’m just focusing on work and Jack. That’s enough.”

“For now,” the older man grinned. “But I guess you’re young enough to still take your time. Just not too much.”

“I’ll take it into consideration.”

“Good,” David said before taking a beat. “But you better leave (Y/N) at home. Looking at you two right now, anyone would think you’re a couple.”

“Yeah,” he chuckled awkwardly. “Wouldn’t want anyone to make that mistake.”

But oh, how he yearned for it to be his reality.

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emptymasks · 11 months

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so there's an interview with david jenkins up on gizmodo about izzy's death and i have feelings. again.

the interviewer is a big fan of izzy. and jenkins is upset that they are upset about izzy's death. i know he probably doesn't want to make people really upset with izzy's death. but how could he not have known how beloved izzy was. perhaps he didn't realise how many more people would come to love him over this season.

trying to console the interviewer by saying "ghosts exist in this world" since when? buttons turning into a bird might not even be canon, it's left as this maybe, so don't make up and give false hope that he could come back as a ghost. that feels cruel. i know he's trying to make the interviewer feel better but man. don't make promises you can't keep.

of course he took it hard.

izzy didn't get much time to belong though. i love that speech he gave. but for him to get punished for it. to kill of the character with the most growth because it doesn't matter because he's not as important as ed. izzy deserved better than to a plot device for ed to grow.

'to see their friend go' uh.. i don't think we got to the point where stede and izzy were friends yet. sadly. because he died too soon for that to happen. i think being buried near them, and without his ring that they took of his corpse, is selfish on ed's part.

i don't know how this is kind. i don't know how you can describe this as kind.

i... am almost laughing since i feel so delirious reading that. you wanted to avoid killing your gays by.. killing one of your gays. right. an.. upbeat note.. i.. how.. did you really think no one liked izzy that much? maybe he didn't expect so many new izzy hands during season 2 but...

again the interviewer gets upset about izzy's death. jenkins tries to console and comfort them but couldn't. i can't believe he didn't see this coming. i'm sorry he's sad too. though surely he wanted people to be sad? to feel sad about izzy's death? maybe he didn't think anyone would take it this hard. but i'm sure con could have told them different given the stories i know people have told him about how much izzy means to them. i think it's wrong to call the show homophobic, i think the show is still a great piece of lgbt+ representation. and i also think the ending was rushed and izzy's death wasn't fair (and not enough people accept that ed abused him and was his abuser and no one should have to give their abuser closure) but i think if he had to die it could have been defending the crew, and not being stupid enough to let ricky have a gun, because that didn't feel very in character. i just. i'm with the interviewer. i'm not mad at jenkins i'm just disappointed and upset. and i know he didn't mean any of this maliciously, and yes i know it's all fictional, but people are still allowed to complain and be hurt. no matter how stupid you think that might seem. there's no need to get angry at people who are upset about izzy's death. these are just my thoughts and feelings and there's no ill will too anyone who disagrees with me.

i'm sad at you.

#lets kill of the suicidal character im sure that'll look good and people wont be upset at all #our flag means death #our flag means death spoilers #izzy hands #my rambles #mine

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mothiir · 1 month

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sorry to be that rehash that droid de suggondeez plotline (I REFUSE TO CORRECTLY SPELL FRENCH) with big e stealing a wife but could we pretttty ppLEAAAASE get some more mothiir? i am obsessed with the eldritch inhuman but human behaviour you write him with. it makes me want to chew on him while simultaneously wanting to beat him with a brick out of hatred. i have so many ideas. but ill take anything you offer up fr ill live off the scraps like a feral dog, its just that the the whole david and goliath vibe is TASTYYYY. please dignify my complete insanity for just an intsy winsy second because all i can imagine is how utterly FUCKED the stolenwife!reader's pov is. you try fight back a little too much? oh haha, ur so cute, but keep biting or scratching him and he'll sicc one of the custodes (or a few) to really try you out. let you be so overstimulated youre begging for something in you, and oh boy big e'll sooo do that dont worry. or maybe humble you by keeping you basically half bare like yeah not so cocky now LMFAO IM SO SORRY I NEVER GIVE PROMPTS SO BRAZENLY LIKE THIS BC IM A COWARD FULL OF SHAMEEE UR SO MUCH BRAVER THAN MEEE (thank you sm if you do or dont run with anything i spat out just then)

first of all, never apologise for requesting stuff and also i totally respect your disrespect of the French language. as an englishwoman i am contractually obligated to hate those frog-eating bastards (disclaimer: this is satire pls don’t cancel me). secondly i absolutely love your description of my interpretation of big e because it is also exactly how i feel about him. beat him with brick, pat hair, back to brick. I know i have moved away from that content but I still wave my emperor fucker flag and am always taking requests for him

i promise there will be actual coherent fic soon, but for now here is a bullet pointed list of the sort of things that guilliwife experiences (if there is one in particular you want a full fix of let me know):

the Emperor steals you, and does not think to tell Guilliman — why would he? He fucks you, enjoys it tremendously, then has to go and do some important Master of Mankind warp fuckery that means you spend about a fortnight in some random rooms with no one to talk to but the Custodes. And they barely talk! You never work out if they are bodyguards or prison guards, since you can’t imagine that you are important enough to warrant guarding, but you also don’t think that there is much effort needed to stop you escaping. Where would you even go?

It would be so much easier if he was always a selfish monster in bed — but he isn’t. Worse: he eats pussy exactly how you think a man with millennia of practice would. He likes bringing you to the very edge of orgasm and just stopping, pillowing his cheek on your stomach and watching as you whine and cry, partly with guilt and partly with sheer frustration. You end up begging him to fuck you, stumbling out every title you can think of — lord, emperor, sire, master — but his patience is limitless, and he can keep going for hours, until you’re completely insensible, promising every depraved thing if he will just stop teasing and put it in you

You belong to him. No one else is allowed to touch you — apart from valdor, one of his oldest friends and dearest allies. And captain Kytan. And a few other custodes. Sometimes at the same time. They’re extensions of his most absolutely not divine will — they can partake in the same luxuries he allows himself, otherwise what kind of a leader would he be? He likes seeing his best soldiers happy, especially when it’s because valdor is balls deep in your arse, while he enjoys the sweet warm stretch of your throat. You jostle and whimper between them, so full that you can barely breathe, and afterwards the emperor watches as valdor thumbs open your cheeks, just to watch your holes struggle to close up around the shape of his cock. Still, valdor can’t linger too long - there is already a line

He will cum inside you so much you swear your stomach bulges a little from it all. You have nightmares about popping like a balloon

eventually word reaches the Emperor that Guilliman is looking to speak to him as a matter of urgency — he is currently buried deep in your throat, enjoying the cute little gluck-gluck-gluck noises your gag reflex makes as you try to fit him all the way into your tight gullet. He does not ask you to stop this before answering the vox from a distraught Roboute, who is blathering about his fiancée going missing? The Emperor chuckles a little to himself, patting your hair — ah, having a woman to be wed and a woman in his bed, Roboute is far more like his father than first thought — wait. Ah. Singular woman. Singular. Shit.

#emperor/reader #headcanons #my writing #ask me

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prototypesteve · 8 months

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1994. A little story about my asexuality being misinterpreted (by a professional) as a disorder, and how that led to years of trouble.

Animation Description: An aromatic-asexual sense pride flag, onto which someone writes "So the thing is… I don't think I've ever had what my friends say would qualify as a real crush, and even after four years of college I still haven't started dating, but maybe the weirdest part is that I've never wanted to." Then, abruptly and violently black paint is spattered across the message and in white text someone superimposes the dismissive message "It's just low self esteem! – Expert opinion"

In 1994, I went to see a counsellor.

What happened was some friends and I were just talking about life. We were all in our early 20s, and so of course sex came up, and I confided that no, I hadn’t had it yet. In fact, I hadn’t even been on anything that would qualify as a date, yet.

I’ve always had good luck with friends. Instead of teasing me about it, one of them gave me the name of a counselling clinic, because they thought it might be worth checking that everything was okay, and there wasn’t something getting in the way. (It was the 1990s, and Generation X didn’t have taboos about getting help.) So I made an appointment.

I described what we’d now call textbook aromantic asexuality. I explained that I was 22, and hadn’t yet been in a relationship. I hadn’t even had anything like a crush. I hadn’t experimented; no kisses on a dare. I had pretty good friendships with guys and girls, but nothing closer than friendship. I felt “behind schedule,” especially because my friends all found it odd that I was still inexperienced.

The counsellor gently asked if I felt it was because I wasn’t allowed to be “experienced”. They noted that I referred to everything euphemistically. Experienced. Relationship. Spark. Feelings. Dating. I never said love, sex, aroused, boyfriend, or girlfriend. I never said romance. Was it because my parents had some strict taboos around seeing girls while I was just fresh out of college, when I should be focused on my career? (I’m half Japanese so that was plausible.) Was it because I felt I wasn’t allowed to love the people I felt attracted to, because I might have been gay or bisexual and hiding that? (Also a fair question, because, sadly, the 90s still weren’t a safe or fair time for my gay and lesbian friends—I didn’t know that I knew any bi or trans people at the time, although I’m sure I did.)

I thought about it. The honest answers were no. My family didn’t make me feel like dating was inappropriate or wasteful, and I just didn’t feel anything “special” for any of my guy friends (and I had guy friends who were comfortable telling me they were gay).

I went on. I explained that I felt happy. I didn’t see any obvious signs of depression or illness or anything. All I felt was a little embarrassed about being so far behind all my friends. Not dating, not “feeling the spark”, not having a “type,” and not having any thoughts on a future family all made me feel immature, and like maybe I had some kind of developmental thing going on. I knew what all those things were. I wasn’t some sheltered or repressed prude. I just wasn’t doing any of that stuff. Not even the perfectly innocent stuff like having a crush, or even really having a “type.”

But it was 1994 and counsellors didn’t have asexual or aromantic on their list of things it might be. So the best the counsellor could guess was that I just didn’t feel good about myself. It must have been low self esteem. (The early 90s still reeked of the yuppie success-or-die greedhead era.) Their guess was that I might have felt my sexuality was something I didn’t feel I had earned the right to access yet, evidenced by my using euphemisms to describe love, romance, and sexuality.

They suggested I read “Feeling Good, the New Mood Therapy” by David Burns, and not worry, because some people are just late bloomers.

And I left there, redirected away from a truth that neither of us knew about. And it would be nearly thirty years before I “reopened the case”, and asked the same questions and got a better answer: Some people experience little to no sexual or romantic attraction. They aren’t necessarily repulsed by sex, or driven away by trauma. They might even have perfectly natural responses to sexual stimuli either alone or with others, but they just don’t feel “I want that, and I want it with this specific person, or this specific sort of person”. They call those people aromantic and/or asexual, based on a presumption that romantic and sexual attraction can sometimes be experienced independently.

I learned that in 2022.

I needed to know that in 1994.

I know I’ll gradually get over that. But yeah. I feel a lot of things about it. Some of them are bad things. But what I’m going to choose to feel about it is grateful that the person who needed answers in 1994 made it to my answers in 2022, and didn’t fall apart in 2022 when I found those answers.

I didn’t let that lost time break me. I didn’t let the mistakes I made crush me. I didn’t find anyone to blame. (That counsellor in 1994 wasn’t hiding anything from me. The world just didn’t talk about people off the Kinsey Scale.) I didn’t let it derail my faith. Asexuality isn’t a curse, and our confusion and fear about the gift of being different like this isn’t the Gift-Giver’s fault.

I’m just going to keep moving. With answers. I’m looking forward to seeing what happens next.

#aroace #asexual #aromantic #questioning #aromantic asexual #aspec #asexuality

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cyanogoth · 2 years

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A nonexistent human being. Or is he? (character analysis of Johan Liebert)

A few months ago I’ve read a book which was recommended by one of the Monster’s fans, - “The Divided Self” by Ronald David Laing. He suggested Laing’s work to everyone who’s confused about Johan’s mindset and motivations, just as I’m sure a lot of us were… It was a GREAT recommendation, so insightful that I wanted to share my thoughts and the interpretation I developed.

Any blockquote in this post is from “The Divided Self”, there will be too many to sign each of them, so just keep that in mind :)

It’s going to be a painfully long read, but hopefully a rewarding one too.

PART 1: DEFINITION OF ONTOLOGICAL INSECURITY, TRUE AND FALSE SELF

Firstly we need to get familiar with a few concepts from Laing’s work which will be important for understanding the rest of the essay. His book describes schizoids and schizophrenics, exploring the mechanisms behind their illness. But it is important to understand that he, although a psychiatrist, acknowledged mental illness primarily as an existential/philosophical problem rather than a purely medical one. He saw more value in understanding the patient's experience of the world rather than endlessly examining and manipulating their body.

The first term we will need is ontological insecurity. Let's compare how Laing describes someone who is confident in his own reality - and someone who is not.

The individual, then, may experience his own being as real, alive, whole; as differentiated from the rest of the world in ordinary circumstances so clearly that his identity and autonomy are never in question; as a continuum in time; as having an inner consistency, substantiality, genuineness, and worth; as spatially coextensive with the body; and, usually, as having begun in or around birth and liable to extinction with death. He thus has a firm core of ontological security.

<...>

The individual in the ordinary circumstances of living may feel more unreal than real; in a literal sense, more dead than alive; precariously differentiated from the rest of the world, so that his identity and autonomy are always in question. <… > He may feel more insubstantial than substantial, and unable to assume that the stuff he is made of is genuine, good, valuable. And he may feel his self as partially divorced from his body.

If a position of primary ontological security has been reached, the ordinary circumstances of life do not afford a perpetual threat to one's own existence. If such a basis for living has not been reached, the ordinary circumstances of everyday life constitute a continual and deadly threat.

For an individual who’s unsure of his own existence, life becomes a constant struggle to preserve his self. All efforts are made to avoid engulfment, implosion, petrification. Fear of being absorbed is essentially fear of being understood, caught up, seen, loved, "grasped".

To be understood correctly is to be engulfed, to be enclosed, swallowed up, drowned, eaten up, smothered, stifled in or by another person's supposed all-embracing comprehension. It is lonely and painful to be always misunderstood, but there is at least from this point of view a measure of safety in isolation.

The way to deal with this fear is to take one’s true self out of the real world, completely out of reach of other people. A true self withdraws into the depths of the inner world, its connection with an individual’s body is interrupted. That which interacts with the "outside" world and controls actions, movements, words, facial expressions is the false self. A carefully falsified image designed to deflect the gaze of others.

…[he] never allows himself to 'be himself in the presence of anyone else. He avoids social anxiety by never really being with others. He never quite says what he means or means what he says. The part he plays is always not quite himself. He takes care to laugh when he thinks a joke is not funny, and look bored when he is amused. <…> No one, therefore, really knows him, or understands him. He can be himself in safety only in isolation, albeit with a sense of emptiness and unreality. With others, he plays an elaborate game of pretense and equivocation. His social self is felt to be false and futile. - Laing describing his patient

However, another fear, of petrification, or objectification, clashes with the previous one. Fear of being absorbed makes one flee from the gaze of others, but by hiding from it, an individual ceases to be perceived by anyone, which once again puts their substantiality into question. An individual is very much afraid of being perceived by others as an object, as something inanimate, as a machine, as an “it” without subjectivity. It’s as if any potential observer is Medusa, who can instantly turn an individual to stone with a mere gaze. This fear pushes a person to "existential suicide" - he pretends to be "dead", giving up his own autonomy before someone else can deaden him and treat him as an inanimate object. Also, as a way of protecting himself, an individual might turn everyone around him into stone too - because a phantom, hallucination, or an object couldn’t harm him, only real human beings are capable of such.

Fear of implosion is the same as fear of absorbing the real experience of life. An individual is empty, he is a vacuum - but this vacuum he begins to think of as himself. Any substantial relationship with the world and people threatens to "tear" him, so he avoids it, too.

Now let’s clarify what is false self, how it relates to the true one and the world.

If the individual delegates all transactions between himself and the other to a system within his being which is not 'him', then the world is experienced as unreal, and all that belongs to this system is felt to be false, futile, and meaningless.

Here’s an illustration from “The Divided Self” to better visualize what is meant here.

The reality of the world and of the self are mutually potentiated by the direct relationship between self and other. In Figure 2, there is a vicious circle.

the person who does not act in reality and only acts in phantasy becomes himself unreal.

The true self resides in an imaginary, devoid world of phantoms. It becomes unembodied, not represented in the real world. The real world, in return, loses its vitality in the eyes of a schizoid, viewed now as filled with objects.

The false self is a mask, a performance, an imaginary identity with little or nothing to do with the true self of the individual. Laing describes cases in which the false self starts to emerge in childhood and such children are described by their parents as remarkably obedient, compliant, undemanding. They conform perfectly to the expectations of the family and the environment. They begin to mockingly imitate what is desired of them. This is not necessarily an absurdly "good" image; it can also be absurdly evil, if that is what the world wishes the individual to be.

The point of having a false self is to not let any part of the true one slip to the real world, where an individual has no power over what will be done to it. To give something about him away is to rely on others mercy, and it’s a risk a schizoid can't afford.

in reality, in 'the objective element', nothing of 'him' shall exist, and no footprints or fingerprints of the 'self shall have been left.

Now to the interesting part - how all of that correlates to Johan.

PART 2: ROOTS OF JOHAN’S ONTOLOGICAL INSECURITY

Firstly, of course, dressing up as a sister. He probably could sense already that it’s done for a reason, not for the fun of it. The family led “a quiet life”, which is probably difficult to do with two kids. So, my suggestion: the twins grew up with the feeling that they have to hide from some sort of danger and avoid attention. But, Anna didn’t have to hide her real appearance, unlike Johan, for whom pretending to be someone else became an important part of remaining safe.

Did he conceal as someone else, or was he only an imposter for the real human that for sure is present in the world?

Because everyone, besides mother and sister, only knew the sister, the girl, the daughter. She was definitely real. Was he really ever there?

Even the mother couldn’t tell them apart. He became an illusory twin.

The moment their mother hesitated could only solidify Johan’s intrusive thoughts. She had someone in mind, could it be that she hesitated because at that exact moment couldn’t tell where the kid she’d given up?

Did he only stand a chance to live, physically and existentially, only if he concealed as someone else? Because if people could see him for what he truly was, he would not be saved.

My guess is that Johan's perception of himself was so distorted that he no longer thought of himself as the real thing; that the true self worth protecting wasn’t inside of him, it was his sister, and he was fake in his entirety. He was a mere pretender who had to ward off danger from the true self. Johan's saying "I am you, and you are me" and referring to Anna as "my other self" indirectly confirms my assumption - he began to see himself and his sister as an integrated system, where he is nothing more than a facade and his sister is the living, real, substantial, human one.

The mother's hesitance in choosing between the two children added fuel to Johan's already flimsy sense of his own substantiality. What if she was not choosing between the twins, but simply could not at that moment figure out which one was which? Keeping a particular child in mind, she just couldn't tell who was really the kid she was thinking of and who was posing as such? Where is the real child and where is the false one?

The feeling of insecurity, the loneliness, the pain of their mother's abandonment, the sympathy for this sister, and the enormous guilt that the real one of them two had fallen into clutches of monsters. The twins' whole life consisted of constant attempts of intruders to destroy their lives and identities.

The days after Anna’s return prior to being found on Czech-German border mark Johan’s existential death.

Something in him collapsed in that interval of time. When his mother was choosing between them, he was still a normal child (or, at least, nothing described in manga showed us his abnormality) - afraid of being abandoned by his mother, of being handed over to be torn apart by sinister strangers whose intentions were unknown, but from whom he’d been running for as long as he could remember. All these feelings died in him. When and how exactly, we don't know, but a completely different Johan crosses the Czech-German border - detached, horrifyingly tranquil, indifferent to death. In a sense, he no longer has anything to fear, the short chain of events has been so devastating that he unknowingly committed existential suicide. Even if it’s death that’s awaiting them, no one will be able to put their hands on them, no one will be able to twist their souls and minds.

Laing’s patients often described their inner world as a wasteland, devoid of any sign of life. There are quotes from his book in which Laing talks about his patient and cites his words:

The self becomes desiccated and dead. In his dream world James experienced himself as even more alone in a desolate world than in his waking existence, for example:

“.. . I was standing in the middle of a barren landscape. It was absolutely flat. There was no life in sight. The grass was hardly growing. My feet were stuck in mud… ”

“. .. . I was in a lonely place of rocks and sand. I had fled there from something; now I was trying to get back to somewhere but didn't know which way to go… “

Reminds us of something, doesn’t it?

And it’s a precise reflection of Johan's world, the real Johan, where his self ended up imprisoned. However, he was a little luckier than the other schizoids - there was room for one more person in his world.

Mentally, Johan never made it out of that wasteland, only his body was saved. He calls this landscape a scenery of the Doomsday, not only because his body was close to death in that very space, but because it so strongly resembled Johan's inner landscape. It was the last place his soul has seen.

PART 3: KINDERHEIM 511 AND THE LIEBERTS

One’s true self, residing in a world of phantoms, ceases to engage with the real world through the individual's body. What is this body occupied with meanwhile?

Instead of being the core of his true self, the body is felt as the core of a false self, which a detached, disembodied, 'inner', 'true' self looks on at with tenderness, amusement, or hatred as the case may be. <…> The unembodied self, as onlooker at all the body does, engages in nothing directly.

This offers an answer as to why Kinderheim didn’t have the same destructive impact on Johan as it had on other children. His true self was already out of reach, it couldn’t be obtained no matter what they did to him externally.

They could get nothing from him. "They could only beat me up but they could not do me any real harm." That is, any damage to his body could not really hurt him.

In a sad way, the experiments on Johan's psyche were not successful, for he himself, quite unknowingly, subjected himself to all the horrors to which the Kinderheim warders were about to subject him.

You cannot kill what is dead, drain what’s empty, objectify what’s inanimate. That's why they didn't make it.

But Johan, of course, is the result they strived for but couldn’t achieve: a human so terrified and defenseless that is pushed to abandon his sensitivity in order to survive.

Thus, to forgo one's autonomy becomes the means of secretly safeguarding it; to play possum, to feign death, becomes a means of preserving one's aliveness. To turn oneself into a stone becomes a way of not being turned into a stone by someone else.

It seems to me that Johan was ready to settle down and stop running after escaping Kinderheim 511. But he left the orphanage with a critically dangerous revelation - sometimes it’s either you, or everyone else; his actions clearly show that he won’t hesitate to obliterate everything and everyone if it ensures safety. I just don’t think he expected to find himself in a similar position so soon, when he was adopted by Lieberts.

The thing about him is that he played along, he became what the world wanted him to become, yet it wasn’t enough to finally be left alone. The man they ran away from showed up at their doorstep and Johan lost his temper. Nothing helped the twins to escape monsters - living under different names, with different caregivers, in different places, together, separated- NOTHING was ever enough.

Maybe it was around the time his plan to be the last one standing was formed. Wiping out every sparkle of life from the world was the last attempt to gain safety.

Johan doesn’t care much about dying because his existential death has already happened, he already feels a lot more dead and frozen than alive. He already convinced himself that there’s nothing true about him, and out of two of them his sister is the true self. It doesn’t matter if he dies, he was never there from the start. But even after the gunshot he hopes to live through his sister.

Everything that comes after that wretched rainy night is an attempt to secure himself and his sister from the world that was on their tail for as long as they lived. He is ready to be separated from her and let her live under a different name if that’s how the monster finally loses track of her; he’s ready to enter the underworld, to take control of the German economy, to kill people.

It seems to me, because of the confinement of his true self in the realm of insubstantiality, he became unable to perceive people from the real world as alive and autonomous, that’s the sad reason why he could kill so easily. What he saw around were ghosts, objects that were mimicking human beings, not actual humans.

But there were exceptions.

Only Anna and Tenma are shown together with Johan in the wasteland of his inner world, where his true self dwells - them being there with him is a way of telling us, readers, that only these two truly know Johan. And therefore, only they can be spared.

I just want to emphasize: for Johan, “destroying the world” and “be the last one standing” wasn’t something he did for fun, or just because he could. It’s the last endeavor of a tortured child convinced in hostility of all living things to find peace.

PART 4: THE TALE OF THE NAMELESS MONSTER

The self is, however, charged with hatred in its envy of the rich, vivid, abundant life which is always elsewhere; always there, never here. The self, as we said, is empty and dry. One might call it an oral self in so far as it is empty and longs to be and dreads being filled up. But its orality is such that it can never be satiated by any amount of drinking, feeding, eating, chewing, swallowing. It is unable to incorporate anything. It remains a bottomless pit; a gaping maw that can never be filled up.

In the tale of the nameless monster, Johan can be both the monster and the boy who has been possessed by a foreign entity. That depends on how you interpret it.

This tale could be an allegory for what is happening to the twins, which are represented as nameless monsters. Johan could not remain himself, all the time hiding under different "faces'', changing names and identities. However, he couldn’t stay in any of them for long. His nature was bursting out, destroying these masks and whatever and whoever was around in the process. Nina on the other hand, even knowing her past, accepted the truth. Accepted her mother's choice and hardships she had to endure. She no longer tries to appear to be someone else, having chosen to move on with her life.

A second interpretation: Johan-the-Prince and our Johan are both weakened boys on a brink of death. For each of them, letting the Monster in, something scary, unnatural to humans, was a way to survive. So our Johan suppressed his sensitivity and susceptibility by pretending to be a not-quite-human, until traces and even references to his humanity have all but disappeared.

I don't think the fairytale manipulated Johan as a child, messing up his consciousness. What’s truly sinister about this picture book is that it foretold his fate.

As an adult, he picks up this book and sees himself in both the monster, who could not bear the present self and took on another's form, and the boy, who in an attempt to survive has ceased to be human, has destroyed everything around him. All that remains is solitude.

Imageries of the prince and the monster merge into one, and in one thing they are similar - in a fear of losing their lives, they lied primarily to themselves, and that lie destroyed the being of each of them. Neither monster nor prince really saved what they were protecting so desperately.

In addition, the book itself was an object from Johan's distant childhood, now almost forgotten, and served also as a reminder of the times when he was an ordinary, normal child.

Johan was wearing masks all the time, but the greatest of all his deceptions was not to live under the names “Johan Liebert”, “Franz Heinau”, “Erich Springer”, or any other for that matter. The most atrocious lie was to wear a mask of the nameless monster, even convincing himrself that this is who he is, that the emptiness and void is all there is to him. Wearing the guise of the nameless monster for years he had almost lost every memory of being human, and the book in his hands was a painful, violent reminder of his cowardly self-deception, his abandoned humanity, his forgotten self.

PART 5: I AM NOT YOU, AND YOU ARE NOT ME

From the moment the book falls into his hands, Johan probably realizes that his worldview is very much distorted. One of his fundamental beliefs about himself has been undermined, so debunking the rest of his illusions becomes a priority.

He remembers orchestrating the massacre at Kinderheim, but his belief that he was always capable of such things is shaken. He suspects that in his lost memories he will find the answer to the question he didn’t even think of asking. If he wasn’t born a monster, how did he become one?

We are not allowed to listen to the entire contents of the tape from Kinderheim 511. Only his attachment to Anna becomes apparent from it; but maybe he proceeds to talk about the Red Rose Mansion next. During interrogation he could recall his sister's words, which he heard again and again after her return. Her story was told in the first person POV: “I saw <....> I heard <…> I was <...> I ran <...>”. On recording he could repeat verbatim the words of his sister, and then, as an adult listening to it, misunderstand the meaning of those words. After all, he heard himself saying “I was taken <...>, I saw people die <...> , I ran away…” And only on the basis of this would he latch on to the story about the Red Rose Mansion as an explanation for what he had become.

Johan then decides to destroy the place. Although he clearly doesn’t recognize it, it doesn’t ring the bell yet.

Johan at that moment still considers himself a single set of personalities with his sister, and believes that in his mother's eyes they looked the same.

I can only assume that he told Čapek that Nina would kill him because he mistakenly thought that Nina held the same opinion about their connection as he did. If he's willing to kill for her, she'll do the same. Of course, he was wrong: he saw himself as an extension, a shadow of his sister, taking her joy and pain as his own; Nina, as much as she loved her brother, did not see herself and him as one, and clearly drew boundaries between her being and Johan's.

The capacity to experience oneself as autonomous means that one has really come to realize that one is a separate person from everyone else. No matter how deeply I am committed in joy or suffering to someone else, he is not me, and I am not him.

The assumption of being taken away by Bonaparta and being cast aside by his mother was one of the last crutches guarding him from the horrifying truth - he was the one who turned himself into a monster.

He cries when he hears Nina's story. Realizing that they’re not one, and she has never perceived Johan in this way. She is not his true self, and he is not his sister's false self. He sees more and more clearly the outlines of the true self within him, and he does not like the picture emerging before him at all.

All the “saving” he was doing turned out to be a sham that didn’t bring any of the twins the expected result. He experienced the guilt of denying himself existence and grew so enraged that he decided to kill himself. He now saw his true self - destructive, without a good reason. And realized it had to be eradicated, along with the man, the Monster, who made him that way - Franz Bonaparta.

PART 6: RUHENHEIM

The final stage of Johan's collapse, the massacre at Ruhenheim.

When he gets to Bonaparta's old house and finds numerous sketches of him and his sister as children he understands that Bonaparta was not “a monster outside of him”.

He refers to him as such when meeting Čapek, implying that Franz is to blame for him becoming a murderer. Upon seeing these sketches he recognized that Bonaparta's intentions had changed greatly over the years, and both Anna and himself were able to escape their fate because of his suddenly awakened sympathy. Not that this excuses Bonaparta, he was the one who designed the experiment after all. But these sketches were a confirmation of his kind intentions towards the twins, whatever they may have been at the outset.

It turns out that when Bonaparta came to visit the Lieberts, he was no longer a threat to Johan and Anna. Johan now knew that the night he shot the Lieberts had indeed stumbled and made a fatal mistake which tore him apart from Anna and plunged him deeper into the abyss of despair.

The event that finally convinced him of the animosity of the world and the lack of a safe corner anywhere in it was a figment of his mind which was led by fear.

This discovery was the final straw for Johan. Any image he had of himself collapsed for good.

The ending of "Monster" is Johan's realization of the fact that he undoubtedly Is. He exists, he is real, and he is him. And he was among the people who denied him the right to live; he was incapable of standing up for himself and recognizing his right to life, as his sister managed to do. He was so eager to erase any traces of himself from the world that didn’t notice the huge trail of blood dragging behind him, that was solid evidence of his existence, the only thing he had left.

He didn’t need to do horrible things that only left him and Nina traumatised. That left him all alone, miserable, separated from her.

He tried so hard to evade the evil people that he killed his Self before anyone had a chance to lay a hand on it.

When he set out to be nothing, his guilt was not only that he had no right to do all the things that an ordinary person can do, but that he had not the courage to do these things over and against and despite his conscience which sought to tell him that everything he did or could do in this life among other people was wrong. His guilt was in endorsing by his own decision this feeling that he had no right to life, and in denying himself access to the possibilities of this life.

After everything he learned about his past, Johan can’t forgive himself. For throwing himself into oblivion, for locking himself in the darkness. For making himself a monster that he was not born to be, that he had a chance not to become.

He was just as capable and deserving of normal life and real, deep connection with others as any other human being. He just convinced himself that he wasn’t one, and nobody dared to contradict him.

There is a desire in him to preserve not only himself from being consumed, but also those he cares about from himself. He thinks of his love as disastrous - because of it, Anna lost her brother and adoptive parents. Tenma, who saved him, was forced to be on the run for several years after becoming a murder suspect.

If there is anything the schizoid individual is likely to believe in, it is his own destructiveness. He is unable to believe that he can fill his own emptiness without reducing what is there to nothing. He regards his own love and that of others as being as destructive as hatred. To be loved threatens his self; but his love is equally dangerous to anyone else. His isolation is not entirely for his own self's sake. It is also out of concern for others. <…>

…what the schizoid individual feels daily. He says, 'It would not be fair to anyone I might love, to love him.' <…> He descends into a vortex of non-being in order to avoid being, but also to preserve being from himself.

He wishes to die now more than ever - a real death, this time. Not just existential, but total. The true end, as he called it.

Appearing in front of Bonaparta and Tenma, he doesn't aim at Franz, because he no longer blames Bonaparta for what he has become.

Johan said the only thing everyone is equal in is death, and what was behind his words: he says to Tenma that not everyone is worthy of saving, of being loved and forgiven, and Tenma should've finally realized this after meeting him and really knowing him. Because he's a monster, and being cheerful, having hope and light in their life is something that others can have, but he can’t; he's completely out of this human world and the only thing he has in common with everyone else is that they are mortal and so is he.

But even in his death he is mistaken. Once again believing he has no right to exist, he hopes to laugh at the world one last time, and die at the hands of the man who once saved him. After all, he certainly wouldn't have done it, knowing what Johan would grow up to be.

Isn’t that right, Dr. Tenma?…

Nina forgave him and the man who saved his life long time ago doesn’t regret his choice anymore and commits to it. The only people dear to him have recognized his right to live, whatever he may be.

Alas, how this affected him, we don’t know, and all we’re left with is speculation.

As a sentimental person, I want to believe that it meant something to Johan.

But what I really don't doubt is that Johan by the end is a completely different character to the one he used to be. Broken, disarmed, miserable. But it’s finally truly him.

"I think I must have figured out how the show ended. The Magnificent Steiner, he probably, became human again."

PART 7: THE FINAL ESCAPE

A mother plays a huge role in the development of her children's ontological insecurity - sometimes by being outright dismissive, sometimes by simply enjoying the child's undemanding and calm nature.

Here's what you can read about the mother’s impact in “The Divided Self”, those are Laing's reflections and descriptions of several of his patients.

... we suggest that a necessary component in the development of the self is the experience of oneself as a person under the loving eye of the mother.

His own feeling about his birth was that neither his father nor his mother had wanted him and, indeed, that they had never forgiven him for being born. <…> He was treated as though he wasn't there.' For his part, not only did he feel awkward and obvious, he felt guilty simply at 'being in the world in the first place'. His mother had, it seems, eyes only for herself. She was blind to him. He was not seen.

She had a great deal to say about her mother. She was smothering her, she would not let her live, and she had never wanted her.

Johan’s mother's choice was the first one in the long list of his miseries, it also triggered his ontological insecurity. And how could it not arise when the mother herself abandoned one of her children?

However, Johan was unaware that his mother had thought up names for the two of them, even before he and Nina were born. It turns out that the arrival of the second child was not an unpleasant surprise to her, she was looking forward to having them both.

She had always acknowledged the existence of both her children, and in her eyes they certainly weren’t a one big entity divided by chance into two bodies, one of which was never meant to be there.

But Johan looks truly disturbed after listening to Tenma. And this new revelation could also be another beginning to despair.

There is a door that must not be opened. What lays behind it: a paradise, or another monster?

Tenma, by telling him that the mother had given names to both of them, might have brought Johan down to a new hell. Where the mother recognised the reality of both her children and yet seriously chose which of them to keep.

This sort of thing doesn’t happen in real life, but since it’s fiction we’re talking about, I think we should pay attention to the fact that Johan wakes up only after hearing Tenma’s words. There is a symbolic meaning of him being stuck between life and death for so long.

It’s like he was resisting to be alive again, refusing to stay awake, choosing to be in a coma rather than walk this Earth again. But yet he didn’t die - a part of Johan was holding onto life despite all the horrors it brought to him.

In his last waking moments, he was miserable after discovering all the truth about himself. He really wanted to die, he thought it was the only thing he was deserving of; but Tenma didn’t shot him, his sister forgave him - and it wasn’t the outcome he expected at all. It started an inner conflict he didn’t have the time to resolve.

Johan as well could see the memory of mother’s choice in a different light. By opening up to Tenma he admitted it as a serious enough cause for him to abandon his humanity, as he really was living in a world full of threats. Hiding and pretending came natural to a child that didn’t know any better. And his mother, however hurtful her choice was and how wrong was the very fact of it, loved both of her children, Johan knows that for sure now. Maybe, he could finally forgive himself for becoming a monster. There was no one left to blame for the way he had turned out, no one to take revenge on - even himself.

(I know it can be confusing, so I’ll clarify, just in case - by “forgiving himself” i don't mean he simply dismissed the damage he did to others. He could only forgive the one he, with his own hands, inflicted upon himself, finally realizing, he had no other choice in his circumstances.)

He had a chance to accept that he had the right to exist all along, from the very beginning.

Finally, I want to get into the last excerpt from Laing's book. These are his patient's words from their conversation.

I could only be good if you saw it in me. It was only when I looked at myself through your eyes that I could see anything good. Otherwise, I only saw myself as a starving, annoying brat whom everyone hated and I hated myself for being that way. I wanted to tear out my stomach for being so hungry.

<…> Everyone should be able to look back in their memory and be sure he had a mother who loved him, all of him; even his piss and shit. He should be sure his mother loved him just for being himself; not for what he could do. Otherwise he feels he has no right to exist. He feels he should never have been born. No matter what happens to this person in life, no matter how much he gets hurt, he can always look back to this and feel that he is lovable. He can love himself and he cannot be broken. If he can't fall back on this, he can be broken. You can only be broken if you're already in pieces. As long as my baby-self has never been loved then I was in pieces. By loving me as a baby, you made me whole.

<…> It was terribly hard for me to stop being a schizophrenic. I knew I didn't want to be a Smith (patient’s family name), because then I was nothing but old Professor Smith's granddaughter. I couldn't be sure that I could feel as though I were your child, and I wasn't sure of myself. The only thing I was sure of was being a 'catatonic, paranoid and schizophrenic'. I had seen that written on my chart. That at least had substance and gave me an identity and personality. [What led you to change?] When I was sure that you would let me feel like your child and that you would care for me lovingly. If you could like the real me, then I could too. I could allow myself just to be me and didn't need a title.

I walked back to see the hospital recently, and for a moment I could lose myself in the feeling of the past. In there I could be left alone. The world was going by outside, but I had a whole world inside me. Nobody could get at it and disturb it. For a moment I felt a tremendous longing to be back. It has been so safe and quiet. But then I realized that I can have love and fun in the real world and I started to hate the hospital. I hated the four walls and the feeling of being locked in. I hated the memory of never being really satisfied by my fantasies.

The above passage resembles Johan in many ways: the hunger he felt for real life, the doubt of being loved by mother, the bond which he developed with Tenma…. The last has to be special for Johan: the doctor didn’t simply let him off the hook in the end, he actively chose to save his life.

And just as Laing's patient laments how difficult it was for her to give up the label of "crazy, schizophrenic” because it was the only description she felt could be applied to her, Johan couldn’t part with the mask of the nameless monster for the longest time. It was, after all, the only constant in his life. And now he knows that "nameless" part isn’t really true. Or maybe it doesn't matter anymore. He is just him.

It’s up for a debate whether Johan chose life or death in the end. There’s evidence for both and this ambiguity is sure intentional on the author’s part.

I just want to believe it was a newfound hope that got Johan out of the hospital bed.

#johan liebert #monster anime #naoki urasawa's monster #anime analysis #monster anime analysis #nina fortner #kenzo tenma #naoki urusawa #monster meta

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matan4il · 6 months

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Daily update post:

Another one that I start with news of a terrorist attack. -_- This morning, a terrorist started shooting at several vehicles driving down the Jordan Valley, one of which was a school bus. The driver of this bus confirmed that the terrorist was wearing what looked like an IDF uniform. According to Magen David Adom (Red Star of David) there are at least 3 people injured, one is a 13 years old kid, another is in serious condition. The terrorist has not yet been neutralized.

After Amit Soussana's testimony about being raped by Hamas, we also have a Palestinian Islamic Jihad (PIJ) terrorist admitting during an interrogation that he had raped a woman in her home in an Israeli kibbutz. It's not the first such testimony, but these are important enough that when they're published, they ALL must be heard.

The prosecution against the terrorists responsible for the massacre of October 7 has been expanded to include clauses which could end with the death penalty (I found a link to a journalistic source online, then I accidentally closed that tab, and can't find it again, but it's been reported on TV. The following tweet recounts the indictments, though the headline is misleading. A death sentence has not been approved, it's just now approved that it's a possible outcome of the trials, once they take place).

For those unfamiliar with the Eurovision Song Contest, it's an event that has been run since 1956, with the intent to help heal a post-war Europe, by allowing countries to have a friendly competition (instead of a bloody conflict), and also have a chance to get to know each other better through music. It's meant to be a unifying, and therefore also a-political fun music fest. This contest has since been expanded to include all countries that are members of the European Broadcasting Union, which means Israel also gets to compete since 1973, and has even won 4 times. I wrote this post about our entry this year, if anyone's curious. In recent years, the ESC has been used for annual anti-Israel propaganda, way before the war in Gaza. This year, a senior official in Israel's National Security Office had to issue a warning for any Israelis going to the competition in Sweden, to be careful and hide their identity as much as possible. I am passing along the warning, because wherever Israelis are in danger, so are Jews in general.

After Canada, Sweden, Australia and Finland, now France is also declaring that it will fund UNRWA again, proving that no amount of complicity in anti-Jewish terrorism will stop some European countries from passing along money to those who have raped, maimed, tortured and murdered us. But no worries! France promises it will ensure that their money won't go to terrorism. I will just remind everyone that France brokered a "deal" to pass along medications to Israeli hostages with chronic illnesses in Gaza, in exchange for an additional 1,000 packages of meds for Gazans. It then said they got reassurance that the meds got to those hostages (meaning, France quoted Qatar, which quoted Hamas, so this is the international diplomacy version of, "Trust me, bro. I'm a highly reliable antisemitic terrorist"). When Israeli soldiers got to a hospital in Gaza, they found some of the med packages for the Israeli hostages in its pharmacy, unopened and clearly not delivered to the rightful address. So... IDK about you, but I'm pretty sure even the French know their assurances about the UNRWA funding are just empty words.

This is 40 years old Mohammad Alatrash.

He's an Israeli Bedouin Muslim Arab, and father of 13, including a one month old baby. He was kidnapped on Oct 7, and has been held captive in Gaza since. Mohammad's uncle said the whole family's life has not been normal since he was taken hostage. Despite that, today several families of hostages had a tour of the attacked communities in the south, with Israel's and Belgium's Foreign Ministers, his brother Salem said that they're okay with Mohammad being released later, as long as Hamas frees the female hostages. "It's hell what they're made to go through there." Just a reminder that Mohammad is one of the Israeli Muslim hostages that Hamas could have and chose not to release even during the month holy to all muslims, Ramadan.

(for all of my updates and ask replies regarding Israel, click here)

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clownery-and-fuckery · 7 months

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Alright buckle up here's my actual genuine reaction....

First episode:

First of all, I regret asking for more Hemlock, this was fantastically awful, I will not be recovering.

Second of all, that shaved clone has done things to me. Horrible, horrid things that made me actually pause it and look away. It made me physically ill, it was the worst. Great, but the worst.

The passage of time really did fucking get to me BUT HER LITTLE PONYTAIL UGH

crosshair..... I need a moment

EMERIE !!!! CANT STAND HER !!!!!!!!!!! SNITCH ASS BITCH

I literally don't care that she was allowed to keep the doll, btw. I dont give a shit. I hope Emerie dies in a fire.

nala se.... ew............

I think the whole episode was just pure horror, it was so fucking disgusting to watch, idk about you guys but watching the clone who had probably faced the true horror of SCI-FI warfare crying alone in his cell genuinely had me pausing the episode. Really great work there, Jennifer, I will be billing you for my therapy

Crosshair and Omega bonding !!! The little "What's your mission objective" was definitely a tactic he used on his brothers to have them pay attention, I refuse to acknowledge that he's the youngest, he just isn't. That's big brother keeping his little brother(s) on task behaviour.

Everything about Hemlock gave me chills. I love him. I hate him. I hope his guts cover the screen. I am fascinated by him.

I had a sneaking suspicion Emerie was taken under Hemlock's wing, and her undoing will be her endless loyalty to him... they did not have to say it as obviously as that, though. Glad they did.

Crosshair is sick. There is no way you show us all these sick, dying clones then Crosshair and expect us not to figure that out. He's going to die. His shaking is just the first symptom. I am not ready.

I definitely have more smaller notes I will make once I am not sobbing hysterically about it !!!!

Episode two!!:

This is the one that made me cry, actually.

Watching Wrecker and Hunter march in, quiet and covered in countless injuries, made me so sad. I couldnt recognise them. Those aren't my lads.

Wrecker begging hunter not to go because people didn't make it back.... hunter I get you're desperate, but you will NOT survive another brother being killed. I can't bear to watch him tear himself apart and neither can Wrecker.

WEEPED LIKE AN ACTUAL BABY WHEN I SAW THOSE CLONE BABIES.... THEYRE TOO YOUNG.

"99ers???" THERES FUCKING MORE ??????? I want to know the lore behind this line particularly.

Theyre so cute..... they're so CUTE ugh sedate me immediately

THE WAY HUNTER WAS LOST AT THE START BTW WITH THE TECH AND HE WAS GETTING FRUSTRATED AND HE IMMEDIATELY LOOKED TO OMEGAS STUFF AND LET HIS GRIP LOOSEN ON THE DATAPAD HE WSS THINKING OF HIS YOUNGEST TWO SIBLINGS I WILL NEVER FUCKING RECOVER DAVID AND JENNIFER LET THEM BE HAPPY !!!!!!!!!!!!!

anyways that little fucker who was good with tech..... I see you. I love you.

They were so used to letting Tech do his thing.... they immediately moved to cover fire....... for a second they forgot it wasnt him, I'm weak

THE CRATE FROM S1 YOU HORRIBLE BASTARDS WHEN WILL YOU LET ME DIE

wrecker playing with the kids..... laughing with them....... ohh i will not cope when he dies.

Hes going to die, btw. In case you didn't know. I know. I am aware. I am unprepared. I dont want to discuss it.

PABU..... THEYRE GOING TO PABU WHEN I TELL YOU I SOBBED. MY MOTHER HAD TO HOLD ME. I WAS INCONSOLABLE FOR FIFTEEN WHOLE MINUTES!!!!!!

i cannot express my feelings for this episode.

Episode three!!!!!!:

I want that man. Yes, i do mean that masked man we saw for two seconds, I want him.

The Emperor had me actually screaming. I was so hyped. He scares me so bad.

Hemlock!!!!!! Evil !!!!!!!! CUNT !!!!!!!!!!!!

nala se was so obvious about her "Get tf out" speech..... why don't you say it louder, the whole fucking room couldn't hear you

The fucking timer. Chills. CHILLS.

Crosshair and Omega !!!! He was so unserious I love that

....sorry to all the lovers tho, have to say i DIED laughing at his "gUaRdS"

And the SCREAM he scrumpt when the door opened, who allowed that 😭😭 it was so fucking funny whbeisbwiba

They were so messy this entire ep, they're everything to me......

"Of course he did" DO YOU WANT ME TO FUCKING DIE ?!?!?!? WHO FUCKING GAVE YOU THE RIGHT CAUSE IT WASNT FUCKING ME

Crosshairs trigger finger shaking so bad he gave his position away....... that's a major fucking problem, isn't it? That's gonna bite him in the ass.

I want more of Hemlock having a damn tantrum, that was fantastic. Him this season has me in a chokehold. I can't wait to write more of him.

This entire season so far is amazing. I can't wait to watch more, there are so many more points I wanna make, I'm freaked. I'm so happy, I'm still crying, I can't wait I can't wait I can't wait !!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Making more coherent thoughts about them soon <3

#the bad batch #tbb crosshair #tbb wrecker #tbb hunter #tbb omega #tbb hemlock #the bad batch spoilers #sw tbb spoilers

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plagueddead · 2 months

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Technoverse - A guide for interaction roleplay and insert wise.

This was EXTREMELY requested

This blog exceeds to help newcomers to my AU environment. This blog will be updated over time if I see fit to change how this works interacts with itself. This blogs images will be updated over time if I find more suitable matches.

Photos have been found through Pinterest and art station. I will try and credit the source if I can.

This is an AU inspired by Rise of the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles. This is a free to join au. Major canon characters are prohibited from being claimed. Villains are up to discussion.

This is a isn't the backstory post of the turtles but the world they live in.

THIS AU CONTAINS TOPICS OF RACISM, ILLEGAL SUBSTANCES AND ACTIONS, AND VIOLENCE. Though I've done my best to try and make it as friendly as possible. This AU is a 16+ story due to these warnings.

Current AU time

25 years after the ROTTMNT movie.

AU Theme

Cyberpunk dystopia

Fantasy

Dark fantasy

Major city settings within AU

New York, Hong Kong, Tokyo, Seoul, London

City Summary

After the integration of Yokai as independent civilians and free citizens world wide, and with the collaboration of their technology as well as krang salvage, a new system of buildings and interlinks have been created to accommodate citizens. Buildings stacked overhead that pierce the clouds, the old world was left to turn into slums and poor living areas on ground zero. Due to permanent clouds caused by pollution and overhead cities, these major empires are in a permanent state of darkness. Neon signs often light these cities to create a spectacular aroura of lights and designs. Though with a permanent overcast comes with a cost, as rain clouds mix with polluted smog to create a toxic like rain that causes many illnesses. It's common among every citizen to keep an oxygen mask at all times in case of rain.

City main inspiration and reference: Altered Carbon

Major cities as listed above are unique as floating SSC (Solar System Cosmopolis) Cities cover most of the dense populated area. These floating cities serve as purpose as secured homing for politicians, celebrities, and mostly the rich. Though they are also engineered mega labs founded by Barron Draxum and Donatello Hamato. They serve to bring back and study extinct species, cultivate cures for major diseases, and help improve on already futuristic technology. They spin very slowly and resemble that of a solar system. Hense the nickname.

These cities are held afloat by a self sustainable gravity generator that uses the gravity of a man made miniature star; created by Donatello Hamato (age 20).

Main inspiration from CMD Studios recent project!!!

Hidden cities

These main cities are focused world points for another reason. They rest above other hidden cities in which they have their own theme and setting.

New Yorks hidden city belongs to Big Mama, a spider Yokai who deals in illegal gambling and the distribution of illegal mystic items. NY Hidden city remains as a hub for traveling species of Yokai from all around the world.

Hong Kongs hidden city belongs to [REDACTED TBA]- A Dragon Yokai who deals in illegal sales of mystic items and krang salvage from the old battle.

This hidden city is less developed than the others, as most accomodation plans have been denied to preserve its pristine buildings and history. This hidden city resembles deep mountain caverns with buildings built into the sides. Common mystical creatures from Chinese mythology live within this city and rarely travel. Humans are not allowed.

Main inspiration by David Noren!

London's hidden city belongs to [REDACTED TBA] A plant like fairy Yokai who often helps with creating forged ID's to help Yokai find a better place to live. She also is known to sell potions that aren't approved by the hidden cities overlords and FDA.

This hidden city has developed slowly over time, but due to quick overgrowth of plants and trees. Most buildings have been built into large glowing trees that hang over the city in beautiful rainbow colors. The ground is a great hub for growing fruits and herbs for medicines. The Yokai in this hidden city are spirits from English folklore. They have spread over different cities over time.

Main inspiration found on Thin blue line on Pinterest!

Seouls hidden city belongs to [REDACTED] a Polar Bear Yokai who deals in illegal weapon distribution and species trafficking.

This hidden city is up to date and mostly in an indoor environment due to this hidden city being within a freezing temperature climate. More artic themed Yokai live within, but this hidden city is popular as a summar retreat by humans and other Yokai looking to stay cool for the summer. But this hidden city isn't as welcoming to humans as the others.

Main inspiration by Annabale Siconolfi!

Tokyos hidden city belongs to Yeosobai. A jellyfish Yokai who deals with handles most black markets and distribution of illegal substances.

This hidden city is completely underwater. Surrounded on a deep voided ocean under Japan, pod cities have been added to accommodate air breathing citizens, though most buildings were air tight even before. This hidden city is also a large hub for tourists due to its underwater appeal. This city distributes most seafood around the county. Known for its large amount of attractions and adult clubs, it's also a very crime ridden city.

This is also where Current Donatello resides.

Main inspiration creator unknown

Human and Yokai stances

With the sudden booming population of mutants and Yokai integrating into human society, of course tensions and protests by humans were bound to happen. A world they were so used to was building into something unknown before their very eyes after all. And so, tensions between species rose.

Humans with a deep dislike towards other species either hide their hate, or become extremists. Often getting tag as cultists as over years hate crimes toward Yokai and mutants became a world wide situation. Yokai were often kidnapped from their homes to be found barley recognizable by their attackers. Yokai would retaliate, and after much tension, civil wars broke out. Protests for safer living for both species were in demand, and so most governments integrated an artificial intelligence police force that contained mostly droids to prevent race picking. Most countries have adapted this form of law enforcement.

Cultists are still a major problem though their numbers have thinned.

The term Mutant has become a word to target Yokai and mutants in a hateful way, and this word soon became outdated. All non humans are now under the identification of Yokai. This includes mixed races between the two.

It's common for Yokai and humans relationships! Often by now the first generations of Yokai and humans hybrid children are born!

There are even schools for these rare breeds as they are still being studied as a new species.

It is illegal for most countries to have discrimination between species. No Yokai only or human only living spaces, restaurants, or shops.

Though within most slums there is a secret rule to separate the species as mostly disgrunted humans and Yokai live here.

And now we're here!

I want my character to join the au, but I don't know what's allowed!

This part of the blog aims to help you adapt your character into this new universe.

What should my character wear?!

It's really up to you! Most humans and Yokai wear mostly cyberpunk themed clothing! Often I find Pinterest as a source of inspiration. I think your character would fit better if it comes from a certain part of the world. Armor and glowing clothes are welcome and encouraged! Get creative!

I want my character to have cool robotic limbs and mods in their body! Is this allowed?

Yep! And encouraged! This is a futuristic setting! So modifications to the body aren't uncommon!

Can my characters have cool unique weapons?

Of course! And I'd love to see them!! 🔥🔥🔥

Do I have to ask before joining this AU?

Nope! But I'd love to see/read your creation! Or see that you're inspired to join!

Does my character have to be human?

Nope! Any species welcome!

Can my character already know personally main characters?

That's up for discussion. Current time Donatello isn't open to being known nor talkative to strangers. I'd like it if you didnt. He's playing dead unlike the rest of his brothers. Leo's up for discussion but with Mikey and Raph, they are more social and I can see them having multiple friends. Leo's treated more as a police officer and doesn't have a lot of friends due to his work.

Can my character work for the main boss Yokai of the hidden city.

Yes! I'd like you to stay close to what they do in terms of how they run things!

Can I claim ships with these characters?

NO.

Claiming ships with only your characters and main cast is prohibited. That's why Y/N is created as a medium for all 18+ participants that want to ship their characters with main cast. Ships are fun and welcome! But you cannot claim it as a you only ship.

Thank you for reading what I have for now! More to be added!

#rottmnt #technoverse

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secret-fungi · 2 months

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Anger Management

Book: Astrea's Broken Heart

Paring: Cassiel/Audrey

Word count: 2224

Rating: T

Warning: swords, sexual flirting, violence as a means to vent anger, (only trees and training dummies were hurt) mentions of physical harm, mentions of blood

It was a rather slow day, and when he found her she was sitting on the small stone bench with her head in her hands. Her hair looked as if in a moment of frustration she had punished it by balling it up on the top of her head. He noticed she did that, whenever she was frustrated she would reach to get her hair out of her face. She looked like she would rather be left alone, and if she came here she must’ve, but with a snapping of a twig she wiped her eyes. “What is with you fucking people and spying?” She asked, turning to face him. “I didn’t mean to…” “I know your spot.” she said, waving her hand in a motion that seemed to wave away a pest. “Get used to sharing.” she muttered

He watched her for a moment, everything in her seemed as if she was maybe one ill-placed comment away from stabbing someone, her posture, her expression, the tone of her voice all of it he had come to know that this meant someone’s death.

“Do you need to be alone?” he asked, “Sit.” she said shortly.

Somehow, he felt like he was being scolded but he couldn’t remember what he did, but still he came and sat beside the woman. She stayed quiet, not looking towards him or attempting to make conversation and for some unknowable reason he missed it. Three assignments and she had already gone quiet, her brows furrowed and her lips pressed into a displeased line as she glared at a tree in front of them, and for a moment he took in the crime scene before them; a stick on the ground next to it and a decent chunk of bark missing from it, the scuffs on her palms and her foul mood.

And he smiled, faintly, unnoticed by the woman beside him. “What happened?” he asked. She looked at him as if he was the stupidest person known to man, and her next victim. “Nothing.” she said. For a moment he was silent, only raising a brow at her in question and in return she raised her own, a response not worth repeating.

“Did David do something?” he asked. She let out an annoyed huff and it was clear to him that she wouldn’t talk to him. Everyone that came here came with troubles they rather not remember, troubles they cut into short sentences devoid of any emotion because if you allowed even one word to betray the facade you would fall into a despair you couldn’t return from, as if you made it so by admitting your feelings on it. Everyone here did that, and everyone here only gave the facade of openness, but even with all her efforts It didn’t take much to guess that she didn’t want to be here, no matter what she said it was clear that when given the chance she would leave, and so with all this in mind it was easy to guess that whatever trouble that lead her here it had gotten worse.

He watched as she let out a breath and for whatever reason he didn’t want her to be so overcome by her troubles that she became like them. “Do you want to use a sword?” he asked and at this she looked at him for the first time, her brows raised high and her eyes wide in surprise. “It helps blow off steam when I'm angry.” he explained, and as he did a slow smile crept across her lips before she nodded. “You trust me not to stab myself?” she asked “I’ll be there, I can show you a few things.” “I would love to.” she said.

He rose to his feet without another word and started on without checking to see if she followed, but he slowed his pace when he heard her stop footsteps behind him so that she could catch up.

They didn’t say a word as he led her to the training grounds, but he noticed she took care to notice the scenery and how to get here, and when they reached the clearing he looked at the rack the back to her and handed her a fairly light, short sword.

For a moment she held it in her hand, getting used to the weight before she took a few practice swings. “Aren’t you going to correct my stance?” she asked, wordlessly, he walked towards her and pushed her legs apart with his foot, then he moved her hands apart at the hilt before he grabbed his own sword and started to show her the movements.

And for a moment she watched him so intensely he could feel the heat against his back but then he heard her strike the dummy, and once she started she didn’t stop, she kept attacking it with all her force. “I can see why you do this.” she said breathlessly. He gave a small smile. “You keep this up and you might be able to get that unfortunate tree that pissed you off.” he teased. “You think?” she asked with a soft smile that felt like spring's first breath. With each swing of her sword he watched her mood brighten, with each strike she seemed lighter, until she had returned to herself again, and so then they had the pattern once again for her to wait and watch him before repeating his movements.

And maybe he struck his target with a touch more flair than usual, and when he turned back she wasn’t bothering so much to pretend that she was looking at him just to copy him, a small, greedy little smirk on her lips as she watched him.

“Are you paying attention?” he asked, “Definitely.” she replied. “Do you have any other thoughts?” he grumbled.

she waited till he turned to reply “Not when i'm with you.” she said with a grin. He rolled his eyes and grumbled “Unreal.” “You’re showing off again and now you’re complaining I’m enjoying the show.” she said “I’m not showing off, it’s not my fault you suck.” he replied “Who uses a sword anymore?” she dismissed as if he was the strange one, and to her he was.

“Stop being lazy and do it.” he instructed. “How am I even supposed to do that?” she asked. With an exasperated look he started to walk her through the movements, only for her to jump up and grab hold of him, she had gone pale and her eyes had grown wide and the last time she looked like that she had fainted. “What?” he asked, grabbing hold of her arms to keep her steady.

“Don’t you feel that?” she asked “what?” He asked, “Your arm is hurt.” “Oh, yeah.” he said looking at the dark spot that had formed on his shirt sleeve.

“You did all that when you knew you were bleeding?” she asked, as if he was insane. He only shook his head, surprised at the worry that seemed to etch into her features. “You’d make trouble if i didn’t.” he said with a smirk.

“Well you could have said you needed tending to, i would’ve waited to start causing trouble until after you were all fixed up.” she replied so surely that it felt rather strange. “It’s nothing big, it just reopened,” he explained.

“Is there a kit out here?” she asked as she tied a strip of fabric around his arm. “no.” “closest ones should be?” “There's one in every room or the manor.” he said, neglecting to mention that these were all newly placed kits that were placed when he saw how accident prone the woman was.

“Can you walk?” He arched a brow at her. “What? like you’ll carry me?” he asked sarcastically, “You think i can’t?” she asked, reaching to steady him as they started their walk to the manor. “No.” he replied with a scoff. “I can, I'll carry you in like a princess, I'm very strong.” “sure.” he replied, rolling his eyes.

But still, as they made their way to the manor she kept her eyes on him, her hands hovering behind him as if ready to catch him.

With every movement he made he could feel her keen eyes following him. He was sure she wouldn’t take no for an answer when it came to seeing him fixed up, and with a sigh he silently relented before they even got to the steps.

When they did get to the manor she looked at the kit he had handed her with a surprised smile. “Okay take it off.” she said. He arched his brow but did as told, she was careful, gently taking off his bandages before she looked at his cut, her hand on his wrist and the other on his arm.

“This kit doesn’t have what you need.” she said “Just wrap it up it’ll be fine.” he said, and once again she looked at him in horror. “God no. You’ll get infected.” she said, pulling him away.

The walk to her room was short, as it seemed she had already found the shortcuts, and though he gave her a knowing glance and she offered an innocent smile in return, neither one of them said anything about it.

She hadn’t made herself at home here, everything as it was before, and without a word he sat on the chair she gestured to before going into the adjoining bathroom. Her kit was much larger than the ones around, and from it she pulled gauze and wraps and all sorts of unnecessary items.

“You think I need stitches?” he asked, watching as the woman set the box beside her. “It’s deep, won’t close on its own with you favoring it.” she replied as she wiped his arm down with an alcohol wipe. He raised his brows but she didn’t say a word.

He watched her long, graceful fingers thread the needle. “Do you need something to squeeze?” she asked, “I’m not a child.” “Well, if you need to hold something.” She handed him a teddy bear, a frown embroidered into its fuzzy face. He looked at it skeptically for a moment and after a beat she informed him with a smile you can hear: “His name is Cas.” “It is not.” he replied “it is, look at his foot.” she said

Sure enough on his foot the grumpy looking bear’s name was Cas. “I saw it when I went out and saw an uncanny resemblance.” she explained “So you took it to bed?” he asked, arching a brow at the woman, but she didn’t seem to notice his joke, her gaze trained on his arm as her fingers worked on stitching him up.

“Did they teach you this in school?” He asked, “no.” “I thought you were a doctor?” He asked with a smirk and an arch of his brow. truthfully he wished to cheer her up, she looked rather disturbed by his wound and the thought that she worried about him made him uncomfortable.

“not that kind of doctor.” “Did you ever want to be a real one?” he asked and for a moment she paused. He expected something snarky on the tip of her tongue, it was force of habit to go tit for tat with each other, but instead of that her brows pitched together as she worried her lip, trying her best not to hurt him with her gentle movements. “Why do you always want to argue? Just sit and be taken care of.” she demanded suddenly. Then after a while she must’ve felt a bit bad for her tone because after a moment she replied to his question.

“I had my heart set on the not real kinda doctor.” she teased with a slight smile upon her lips. “I didn’t mean it like that.” he said “You did.” She said with no real anger, He opened his mouth to say something but couldn’t bring himself to, instead he watched her every movement silently.

He couldn’t feel her moments, and he realized she must’ve given him something for the pain.

And the thought made him laugh just a little, and without looking up from her work she asked “did you lose that much blood that it affected your head?” “My heads fine.” “if you say so.” she replied easily.

Finally, she cut the thread and started to wrap his arm, and that’s when she met his gaze with this look on her face that just told him she was trying to figure him out, she had seen something in him and was sure it was gospel he knew it, so before she could ask whatever question she was going to ask he interrupted her. “Don’t do that.”

“Look at you?” she asked in surprise “that's not what you’re doing, You’re analyzing me.” he said at this she smiled as if very amused. “Why would I do that?” she asked calmly “to see how you can fix me.” at this she nodded as if reasoning with the unreasonable. “I won’t try and fix you if it makes you uncomfortable.” she promised with an amused little smile. “It doesn’t make me uncomfortable.” he assured “okay.” came her bemused reply as she tied the bandage, finishing it off with a little bow.

#my fic #romance club #rc abh #rc fanfic #rc cassiel #abh cassiel #rc audrey #audrey x cassiel #fics for aggie

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moodboardmix · 4 months

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Miss Françoise (17 janvier 1944 - 11 juin 2024)

Miss Françoise Hardy, whose elegance and beautifully lilting voice made her one of France’s most successful pop stars, has passed away today.

She was born in the middle of an air raid in Nazi-occupied Paris in 1944, and raised in the city, mostly by her mother. Aged 16, she received her first guitar as a present and began writing her own songs, performing them live and auditioning for record labels. In 1961, she signed with Disques Vogue.

Inspired by the French chanson style of crooned ballads as well as the emerging edgier styles of pop and rock’n’roll, Miss Hardy became a key part of the yé-yé style that dominated mid-century French music.

The self-penned ballad Tous les garçons et les filles was her breakthrough in 1962, and sold more than 2.5m copies; it topped the French charts, as did early singles Je Suis D’Accord and Le Temps de L’Amour.

Her growing European fame meant she began rerecording her repertoire in multiple languages, including English. Her 1964 song All Over the World, translated from Dans le Monde Entier, became UK Top 20 hit, her fame endured in France, Italy and Germany.

In 1968, Comment te Dire Adieu, a version of It Hurts to Say Goodbye (originally made famous by Vera Lynn) with lyrics by Serge Gainsbourg, became one of her biggest hits.

Miss Hardy’s beauty and deft aesthetic – which encompassed cleanly silhouetted tailoring alongside more casual looks, including knitwear and rock-leaning denim and leather – defined the seeming effortlessness of 20th-century French cool.

She became a muse to designers including Yves Saint Laurent and Paco Rabanne, and was also a frequent subject for fashion photography, shot by the likes of Richard Avedon, David Bailey and William Klein. Later, designer Rei Kawakubo would name her label Comme des Garçons after a line in a Hardy song.

Miss Hardy was an object of adoration to many male stars of 60s pop including the Rolling Stones and David Bowie. Bob Dylan wrote a poem about her for the liner notes of his 1964 album Another Side of Bob Dylan, beginning: “For Françoise Hardy, at the Seine’s edge, a giant shadow of Notre Dame seeks t’ grab my foot …”

She was also courted by directors, appearing in films by Jean-Luc Godard, Roger Vadim, John Frankenheimer and more.

Miss Hardy signed a three-year deal with Sonopresse in 1970. This creatively rich period saw her record with Brazilian musician Tuca on 1971’s highly acclaimed La Question, and continue her multi-lingual releases.

She spent the mid-1970s chiefly focused on raising her son Thomas with her partner, musician and actor Jacques Dutronc. Releases restarted with 1977’s Star, and Hardy embraced the sounds of funk, disco and electronic pop. A longer hiatus in the 1980s was punctuated by 1988’s Décalages, billed as her final album, though she returned in 1996 with Le Danger, switching her palette to moody contemporary rock.

She released six further albums, ending with Personne D’Autre in 2018.

Miss Hardy also developed a career as an astrologer, having written extensively on the subject from the 1970s onwards. In addition, she worked as a writer of both fiction and non-fiction books from the 2000s. Her autobiography Le désespoir des singes... et autres bagatelles was a best-seller in France.

She remains one of the best-selling singers in French history, and continues to be regarded as an iconic and influential figure in both French pop and fashion. In 2006, she was awarded the Grande médaille de la chanson française, an honorary award given by the Académie française, in recognition of her career in music.

Miss Hardy had lymphatic cancer since 2004, and had undergone years of radiotherapy and other treatments for the illness. In 2021, she had argued in favour of euthanasia, saying that France was “inhuman” for not allowing the procedure.

Rest in Power !

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ghoulie-67-baby · 1 year

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Stubborn to a fault- David Rossi.

Summary: You try to continue working when you’re ill, Davi isn’t having any of it and takes care of you.

Prompts: ‘shh, it’s okay. Get everything out.’ ‘Will you carry me?’

Warnings: Sick!reader, overworking, disregard for own health, vomit, crying, undressing.

Pairing: David Rossi x sick!reader.

Word count: 1,520.

Bella: Beautiful.

Dolcezza: Sweetness.

The number of files on my pile was slowly going down, I didn't have many left anymore. I was determined to get them all done before I left for the night. I held my hand tight around my stomach as I fought to focus on the work in front of me rather than the cramps and rolling waves of nausea.

"See you later Y/N." I smiled up at Emily, giving her a slight wave as I hid my discomfort. I was left alone in the bullpen, lights dimmed and closed off from Hotch and Rossi as they worked away in their offices. The clock seemed to slow down until minutes felt like hours, and all the while the pain worsened. My hands shook as I wrote, making it impossible to finish my report.

"You look terrible." I jumped out of my trance as David's voice came from beside me. I glared up at him halfheartedly, slightly offended despite it being the truth.

"Thank you," I deadpanned, smiling grimly. "Is it any wonder you've had three wives?"

"Ouch," his hand clutched at his chest in faux pain. "I guess I deserved that, huh?"

"Sorry, that was harsh." Rubbing my hands over my face. "I'm a little under the weather."

"Hmm, I can see that." I smiled tiredly at him as he crouched beside my desk. "Why don't we get you home?"

"No, it's okay, I've got too much to do. I'll go home when I'm finished." Turning back to my desk I grabbed my pen, only to be stopped by a warm, calloused hand covering my own. My eyes met his for a moment before I let out a heavy sigh.

"Y/N, that can wait for now. You're not well and you need rest. Your complexion enough is scaring me and paired with the stomach pains and shaking is more than enough to allow yourself time off." Pulling the pen from my grip, he set it on the desk and put my phone in my bag before slinging it over his shoulder. "Come on, ill drive you home." He caught Hotch's gaze from the office and motioned that he was taking me as I stood from the chair, holding his arm for support.

"Fine, but not because you told me." I countered. "Because I want to." Ignoring the spinning of my head, we walked to the car park, his hand holding my waist so I didn't fall. After buckling me in, David began the drive home.

"You know, you're too stubborn for your own good." He commented, eyes flickering from the road to me and back.

"I know I'm behind on my files and Strauss will rip into Aaron about it. I thought if I could get the done now then my reward would be having the weekend off ill." The sickness persisted as the motion of the car irritated my stomach.

"That's not how this works, you resting when you're ill isn't a reward it's a necessity. And if you'd spoken to Aaron then he would have given you time off without any questions asked. He would've dealt with Strauss." His voice was gentle and soothing, calming me as my anxiety rose.

"I just didn't want to put more pressure on him, he's dealing with enough with Jack." I shrugged off the conversation, brow furrowing as I watched the streets pass. "Rossi, this isn't the way to my house."

"I know," He chuckled. "Do you really think I'm going to leave you alone when you're ill? I don't think so, we're going to my place so I can take care of you." My heart melted in my chest at his words and I settled back in my seat for the rest of the ride.

"Y/N, we're here." My eyes fluttered open at his voice and it dawned on me I had dozed off. "Come on, let's get you in the warmth." He leant over me through the now open door and unbuckled me, helping me out carefully. The churning in my stomach picked up once more as we walked to the house. I stood stiller than ever as Rossi wandered around, putting our jackets away and my bag on the table. I knew how awkward I must look but I was scared of ruining something.

"David," my voice was barely a whisper as a wave of nausea and heat rocked my body. "David." I let my voice get a little louder, catching his attention as my mouth started to water and my heart pounded against my ribs. Dark, whiskey eyes met my own and widened in realisation as he took in my panicked voice and pasty face. His hands gripped my waist as he rushed us towards the bathroom, speeding up slightly when I slapped my hand over my mouth.

I spluttered around my hand as we made it to the bathroom just in time. I fell to my knees as my body hurled its contents up. Cramps wracked my body as I threw up, grimacing at the sound it made. The waves of vomiting interrupted the groans of pain and discomfort mixed with sobs.

"Shhh, it's okay. Get everything out, Dolcezza." David muttered as he rubbed my back, keeping my hair away from my face. My body slumped after a while, energy depleted as I dry retched, having nothing left the bring up.

"I'm sorry," I cried, letting him pull me back against his chest. "I'm really sorry." Guilt crept up o me; feeling awful for throwing up at his house when I was a guest.

"It's okay, Bella, you can't help being ill." He was so gentle and understanding, just holding me as I settled down. "You don't need to be sorry." Closing my eyes, I waited for the room to stop sinning, focusing on the warm hands that rubbed my arms. After a few minutes, he manoeuvred me to rest against the bathtub before grabbing a brand-new toothbrush as I struggled to keep my eyes open. "Here Dolcezza let's get you cleaned up. Brush your teeth and we can get you rested up." Grabbing the toothbrush from his hand, I sleepily did as he said, letting him wipe my face with a warm cloth afterwards.

"Now, let's get you to bed, Bella." I smiled at him tiredly, brushing my fingers over his cheek gently.

"You're too sweet to me." Exhaustion was quickly taking over, making me giddy and seem almost drunk. "Will you carry me?" His chuckle made my head feel a little lighter, despite the fever that was beginning to take over. Without hesitation, strong arms picked me up and I looped my arms around his neck, head falling on his shoulder. I let out a sigh of relief as the cold sheets met my skin but the feeling didn't last long as they warmed up under me.

"It's okay, we'll get you cooled off." Rossi's face came into focus as he sat on the edge of his bed, a glass of water in one hand and a bowl of water in the other. "Take a few sips of this, slowly, don't want you throwing up again." My head seemed fuzzy as I drank with shaking hands, grimacing at the sweat that seemed to pour off me.

"Want this off." Pulling at my jumper, huffing as my hands got stuck in the sleeves. "Need it. I can't get it," frustration built up, soon turning to tears which were common when I was ill.

"Hey, hey, it's okay," David rushed back over, placing a clean washcloth beside the bowl on the bedside table. "Calm down, Bella, let me help." The jumper was quickly removed, the air on my dampened skin feeling almost icy. "Lie down, you have to rest."

"Don't wanna make a mess of your room." Words began to slur together as exhaustion took over but he seemed to understand clearly enough. "Don't wanna ruin anything, David." I yanked off my trousers, the fabric feeling like knives against my skin, kicking off my shoes as I threw myself back against the pillows

"you don't need to worry, things can be cleaned." He soothed me, reorganising the pillows so I could lay comfortably and folding my discarded clothes before pulling a soft, light blanket over my waist. If it wasn't for the fever delirium then I would have been mortified id stripped in front of my boss but I couldn't collect any thoughts at the moment.

"M'Kay," I sprawled against the bed grateful for the breeze from the open window. I let out a moan of appreciation as a damp, cold cloth wiped over my skin, settling at the base of my neck. "You're an angel, David, my sweet angel." My voice quietened as I began to nod off. "Stay with me?" The vulnerability pushed through my sleepiness.

"Of course, Dolcezza, I'll be right here when you wake up." My lips curled into a soft smile as he kissed my head, smoothing down my hair. I threw my arm over his waist, burying my head into the gap between the pillows and his side. "Sleep well, Bella."

#criminal minds #criminal minds fanfiction #david rossi #ssa David rossi #criminal minds x reader #david rossi x reader

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mpregtales · 26 days

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Aaron & Lucas Part 1

⬤ [Part 2] [Part 3] [Part 4] [Part 5]

The house was quiet now. A stillness had settled over it, a stark contrast to the lively, bustling home it had once been. Aaron stood in the doorway of the living room, his gaze drifting over the familiar surroundings—the worn, comfortable couch where he and David had spent countless evenings together, the shelves lined with family photos chronicling decades of love and memories, the large windows that let in the soft morning light.

It had been two years since David passed. Two years since the love of his life, his partner in every sense of the word, had taken his final breath. The loss had been devastating, a deep ache that settled in Aaron's chest and never quite went away. David had been his rock, the one who had seen him through the joys and challenges of raising their children, the one who had held him close during their quiet moments together, and the one who had made him feel truly loved.

David had been in his early 70s when he passed, and Aaron, now in his mid-40s, felt the weight of those years acutely. He had aged too—his once dark hair now peppered with streaks of silver, a testament to the passage of time. His athletic build, though still strong, carried the subtle changes of age, softened slightly by the years and by the pregnancies that had shaped his body in ways he never could have anticipated.

The triplets they had together, now in college, were scattered across the country, pursuing their dreams and building lives of their own. Grace and Emily, David’s daughters from his first marriage, had grown into remarkable women, both successful in their careers and happily married. They visited often, filling the house with laughter and warmth when they did, but their visits were brief, and the house inevitably returned to its quiet state after they left.

Michael and Josh, who now lived in Chicago, were raising their twins—children Aaron had carried and brought into the world as a surrogate for his stepson and his partner. Michael and Aaron were as close as ever, their bond deepened by the years and by the unique circumstances that had shaped their relationship. The twins were now nearing college age, and Aaron found himself marveling at how quickly time had passed.

Aaron had adjusted to life without David, but it hadn’t been easy. The early days were filled with grief so profound it felt as though he might drown in it. But gradually, he found ways to carry on. He changed careers, focusing his energy on caring for David during his illness, and when that chapter closed, he sought out new ways to keep himself occupied. Financially secure, he didn’t need to work, but he found that having a job, spending time with friends, and keeping busy helped him navigate the emptiness left by David’s absence.

He was happy, in a way. Content with the life he had built, proud of the family he had raised. But there was also a sense of longing, a feeling that something was missing. He had once imagined his life at this age differently—traveling the world, experiencing new adventures, and settling down with the love of his life to start a family. Instead, he had already lived a full life, with six children and the memory of a man he had loved deeply.

As Aaron moved through the house, he found himself in the bedroom he had shared with David. It was a space filled with memories—of love, of laughter, of shared dreams. The bed was neatly made, the room kept just as it had been when David was alive. Aaron sat down on the edge of the bed, running his hand over the comforter, and allowed himself to remember.

He remembered the day they first moved in together, the joy of combining their lives and the excitement of the future that lay ahead of them. He remembered the nights spent holding each other, whispering about their hopes and fears, dreaming of the family they would one day have. He remembered the day they found out Aaron was pregnant with triplets, the mixture of shock and joy that had filled them both, and the incredible journey that followed.

He remembered David’s strength, his unwavering support, and the deep, abiding love that had carried them through every challenge they faced. He remembered the final days, too—the days when David was too weak to leave the bed, when Aaron held his hand and promised him that everything would be okay, even though his heart was breaking.

Aaron had kept that promise. He had carried on, just as David would have wanted him to. But now, as he sat in their empty home, he couldn’t help but wonder what the future held for him. He had lived a full life, but there was still time—time to find new purpose, new love, and new adventures. He wasn’t sure what that would look like, but he knew that David would want him to find happiness again.

And so, Aaron resolved to keep living, to keep searching for whatever it was that would fill the emptiness in his heart. He would honor David’s memory by embracing the life that lay ahead of him, whatever it might bring.

The seasons had changed, and with it, a subtle shift in Aaron's life. It was early autumn, the air crisp and cool, carrying with it the scent of falling leaves and the promise of new beginnings. Aaron found himself spending more time outdoors, taking long walks through the park, where the trees were ablaze with reds and oranges. It was during one of these walks that he first met him.

The encounter was unplanned, a chance meeting that would set the course for something neither of them had expected. Aaron had been sitting on a bench, lost in thought, when he noticed a man struggling to manage an overly enthusiastic dog. The dog—a large, fluffy golden retriever—had decided it was time to chase after a squirrel, nearly pulling the man off his feet in the process.

Aaron couldn’t help but chuckle at the scene. The man, noticing Aaron’s amusement, flashed him an embarrassed but good-natured smile as he finally got the dog under control.

“Sorry about that,” the man said, walking over to where Aaron was seated. “He’s got a mind of his own sometimes.”

“No need to apologize,” Aaron replied, still smiling. “He’s just full of energy. What’s his name?”

“Max,” the man said, ruffling the dog’s fur affectioLucasly. “And I’m Lucas, by the way.”

“Aaron,” he introduced himself, extending his hand. Lucas shook it, and Aaron couldn’t help but notice the warmth and firmness of his grip.

The two men fell into easy conversation, talking about everything from the changing seasons to their shared love of dogs. Aaron learned that Lucas was only a few years younger than him, in his early forties, and had recently moved to the area. He was a widower too, having lost his partner of many years to cancer. The pain of that loss was still fresh, and Aaron could see it in Lucas’s eyes—the same lingering grief that he knew all too well.

They talked for what felt like hours, the conversation flowing naturally, as if they had known each other for years. There was a quiet understanding between them, a bond forged by shared experiences and the unspoken recognition of the losses they both carried. By the time they parted ways, Aaron felt a strange sense of connection to Lucas, a feeling that lingered long after he returned home.

Over the next few weeks, Aaron and Lucas found themselves crossing paths more often. Sometimes it was in the park during one of Aaron’s walks; other times, it was at the local café where Aaron liked to read and Lucas would stop in for coffee. Each time they met, the conversation was easy, filled with laughter and stories of their lives.

Despite the growing connection, Aaron found himself hesitating. He enjoyed Lucas’s company, but the idea of opening his heart again—of letting someone new into the space that David had once filled—felt daunting. He wasn’t sure if he was ready for that, or if he ever would be.

One afternoon, after they had shared coffee together, Lucas invited Aaron to join him for dinner at his place. It was a simple invitation, offered with a smile and no expectations, but it felt like a turning point. Aaron hesitated for a moment, then agreed, his heart fluttering with a mix of excitement and apprehension.

That evening, as Aaron stood in front of Lucas’s home, he took a deep breath, trying to steady himself. The house was modest, cozy, with a warm light glowing from the windows. It was clear that Lucas had made it his own, filling it with touches of personality and warmth.

Lucas greeted him at the door, Max wagging his tail excitedly beside him. The dinner was simple but delicious, and they spent the evening talking and laughing, the conversation flowing as easily as ever. But there was something different this time—an undercurrent of something deeper, something more than just friendship.

As the night wore on, Aaron found himself opening up to Lucas in a way he hadn’t with anyone since David’s passing. He talked about his life with David, the joys and the challenges, and the pain of losing him. Lucas listened with understanding, sharing his own experiences, and the grief that still lingered from losing his partner.

They talked about Aaron’s children, their lives now, and about their families. There was a vulnerability in their words, a raw honesty that brought them closer together. By the time they finished dessert, Aaron realized that he hadn’t felt this connected to anyone in a long time.

When it was time to leave, Lucas walked Aaron to the door. There was a moment of hesitation, a pause filled with unspoken words. Aaron could feel the weight of the decision before him—the choice to let someone in, to open his heart again.

Lucas seemed to sense it too. He smiled gently, his hand lingering on Aaron’s arm. “I’m glad we met, Aaron,” he said softly.

“Me too,” Aaron replied, his voice barely above a whisper.

They stood there for a moment longer, the silence between them comfortable, charged with possibilities. Aaron felt his heart beat a little faster, the warmth of Lucas’s hand on his arm grounding him, reminding him that it was okay to feel this again—to want this again.

As he walked home that night, Aaron felt a mix of emotions—hope, fear, excitement. There was still so much he didn’t know, still so much he wasn’t sure about. But for the first time in a long while, he felt like maybe—just maybe—he could find love again.

And maybe, just maybe, that love could be with Lucas.

The days that followed their dinner together were filled with a quiet anticipation. Aaron and Lucas continued to meet, their conversations growing deeper, more intimate, as they learned more about each other. The connection between them, which had started as a shared bond over their pasts, began to evolve into something more—a tentative exploration of what the future might hold.

Aaron found himself thinking about Lucas more often. There was a warmth and kindness in Lucas that drew Aaron in, a sense of stability that made him feel safe. Yet, there was also an undeniable spark, a chemistry that had been absent from Aaron’s life for so long. It was both exhilarating and terrifying, the idea of falling in love again.

Despite his growing feelings, Aaron couldn’t help but wrestle with doubt. Was it too soon? Was he betraying David’s memory by allowing himself to feel this way? The questions gnawed at him, keeping him awake at night, even as his heart pulled him closer to Lucas.

One evening, as they walked through the park together, Lucas seemed to sense Aaron’s inner turmoil. The air was cool, the first hints of winter creeping in, and the park was quiet, with only a few others strolling along the paths.

They walked in comfortable silence for a while, their steps in sync, the leaves crunching beneath their feet. Finally, Lucas spoke, his voice gentle. “Aaron, I’ve been thinking a lot about us… about what this is, and what it could be.”

Aaron looked at him, his heart pounding. “Me too,” he admitted softly.

Lucas stopped walking and turned to face Aaron, his eyes searching his face. “I don’t want to rush you into anything you’re not ready for. I know how much David meant to you, and I would never want to disrespect that.”

Aaron felt a lump form in his throat. He took a deep breath, trying to find the right words. “David was… everything to me. Losing him was the hardest thing I’ve ever been through. And sometimes, it feels like letting myself care for someone else is… betraying him, in a way.”

Lucas nodded, understanding in his eyes. “I get that. I really do. I felt the same way after I lost James. It took me a long time to even consider the possibility of loving someone else. But I also know that James would have wanted me to be happy. He would have wanted me to live my life, not just for him, but for myself too.”

Aaron felt a tear slip down his cheek, and Lucas gently brushed it away. “I think David would want the same for you,” Lucas continued, his voice steady. “He wouldn’t want you to close yourself off to the possibility of love, to the possibility of happiness.”

Aaron nodded, his heart aching with the truth of Lucas’s words. “I know you’re right. It’s just… it’s hard.”

“I know,” Lucas said softly. “But you don’t have to do this alone. I’m here, and I want to be here, with you, if you’ll let me.”

There was a pause, the weight of Lucas’s words hanging in the air. Aaron felt a wave of emotion wash over him—fear, hope, longing. He looked into Lucas’s eyes and saw only sincerity, only love.

“I want that too,” Aaron finally said, his voice trembling slightly. “I’m scared, but I want that.”

Lucas’s face broke into a gentle smile, and he reached out, taking Aaron’s hand in his. “We’ll take it one step at a time, together.”

They stood there for a moment, the world around them fading away as they focused on each other. Aaron felt a sense of peace settle over him, the doubts and fears that had plagued him slowly ebbing away. For the first time since David’s passing, he felt like he was moving forward, like he was allowing himself to feel again.

As they continued their walk, hand in hand, Aaron felt a warmth bloom in his chest—a small, fragile hope that maybe, just maybe, he could find love again. With Lucas by his side, the future didn’t seem so daunting, and the idea of opening his heart again felt less like a betrayal and more like a tribute to the love he had once shared with David.

That night, as Aaron lay in bed, he replayed the evening’s conversation in his mind. There was still so much he didn’t know, so much that was uncertain. But he knew one thing for sure—he wasn’t alone anymore. Lucas was there, and with him came the possibility of a new chapter, a new love.

And Aaron was finally ready to take that first step.

The night air was cool and crisp as Aaron and Lucas walked back to Aaron’s house after their dinner at the lake. The conversation between them had flowed easily throughout the evening, a natural rhythm that made it feel as though they had known each other for much longer than they actually had. It was in this ease, this comfort, that Aaron found himself truly relaxing, allowing the walls he had carefully built over the years to start crumbling down.

As they reached the porch, the night sky stretched out above them, the stars twinkling softly in the darkness. Aaron turned to Lucas, his heart racing with emotions he hadn’t felt in years. There was something about Lucas’s presence—his calmness, his quiet strength—that made Aaron feel safe in a way he hadn’t expected.

“Thank you for tonight,” Aaron said softly, his voice carrying the weight of his emotions. “I didn’t realize how much I needed this.”

Lucas smiled, the warmth of it reaching his eyes. “I’m glad we could spend this time together. It means a lot to me, too.”

For a moment, they stood there in silence, the night wrapping around them like a protective blanket. Aaron could feel the pull between them, a magnetic force that drew him closer to Lucas, a force he had been resisting for so long. But now, in this moment, he felt ready—ready to open his heart, ready to embrace the possibility of love again.

Taking a deep breath, Aaron stepped closer to Lucas, his gaze locking onto his. “Lucas… I think I’m falling in love with you.”

The words hung in the air, raw and vulnerable. Lucas’s eyes softened, his expression tender as he reached out to gently cup Aaron’s face in his hands. “I love you too, Aaron. I have for a while now.”

The confession sent a surge of warmth through Aaron, a wave of emotions that was both exhilarating and terrifying. And then, without another word, Lucas leaned in, capturing Aaron’s lips in a kiss that was filled with all the emotions they had both been holding back.

The kiss deepened, their movements becoming more urgent as the intensity of their feelings took over. Aaron’s hands found their way to Lucas’s chest, feeling the steady beat of his heart beneath his fingers. The sensation was grounding, anchoring him in this moment that felt almost surreal.

As they broke apart, their breaths mingling in the cool night air, Aaron felt a new kind of freedom wash over him. For the first time since David’s passing, he allowed himself to truly let go, to surrender to the emotions that had been building inside him. The love he had for Lucas was different from what he had felt for David, but it was just as powerful, just as real.

With a gentle tug, Aaron led Lucas inside, the warmth of the house wrapping around them as they crossed the threshold. The tension between them was palpable, a shared understanding that tonight was a turning point in their relationship.

As they reached the bedroom, Aaron paused, turning to face Lucas. There was a vulnerability in his eyes, a mixture of anticipation and nervousness. “Are you sure?” he asked softly, his voice barely above a whisper.

Lucas’s response was immediate and reassuring. “I’ve never been more sure of anything.”

Aaron smiled, a mixture of relief and excitement flooding his senses. As Lucas reached out, his fingers gently brushing against Aaron's waist, Aaron felt a spark of anticipation. Slowly, Lucas reached for the hem of Aaron's shirt, lifting it with care. Aaron raised his arms, allowing the fabric to glide over his head, revealing the strong, athletic build he had worked hard to maintain over the years.

Lucas's gaze traveled over Aaron’s body, taking in the defined muscles of his chest and the ridges of his abs, each one a testament to Aaron's dedication. But there was more to Aaron's physique than just muscle—there were the subtle curves of his hips, the fullness of his glutes, a testament to the life he had carried twice before. His body told a story, one of love, loss, and resilience, with the faintest hints of stretch marks serving as reminders of the life he had once nurtured within him.

With a tender touch, Lucas let his hands trace the contours of Aaron’s biceps, feeling the strength beneath his skin. He moved to Aaron’s chest, his fingers grazing the firm pec muscles that Aaron had worked so hard to regain after his pregnancies. Each touch was filled with reverence, admiration, and a growing desire. “You’re beautiful,” Lucas murmured, his voice thick with emotion.

Aaron’s heart swelled at the words, and he felt a deep connection to Lucas, a bond that went beyond physical attraction. This was about trust, about opening himself up to love again, about letting someone in after years of guarding his heart.

Aaron, in turn, reached for Lucas’s shirt, tugging it over his head with gentle hands. As the fabric fell away, Aaron took a moment to admire the solid build of Lucas’s chest, the way his muscles moved beneath the surface. Aaron’s hands roamed over Lucas’s strong pecs, his firm abs, feeling the warmth of his skin and the power that lay beneath. There was a quiet reverence in his touch, a recognition of the strength they both possessed—not just physical, but emotional, forged through their individual journeys.

As they moved together, their bodies finding a natural rhythm, Aaron felt a sense of peace wash over him. This was where he was meant to be—here, with Lucas, in this moment of pure connection. The softness of his skin against Lucas’s, the warmth of their bodies pressed together, the way they moved as one—it was all a testament to the love that had grown between them. The subtle marks on Aaron’s body, the gentle flex of Lucas’s muscles, the way they felt each other’s strength and vulnerability—it was a beautiful reminder of the lives they had lived and the love they were now building together.

Lucas’s touch was gentle yet filled with passion, his hands exploring the curves of Aaron’s body with a reverence that made Aaron’s heart race. Lucas’s fingers traced the curve of Aaron’s glutes, appreciating the fullness that had developed over the years, a beautiful reminder of the two pregnancies Aaron had carried.

As Aaron got on all fours, he arched his back, pushing out his bubble butt that had remained with him through the years after his pregnancies. His cheeks gave a slight jiggle as he adjusted to the position, offering himself to Lucas with a sense of liberation—a freedom he hadn’t known he needed. This moment wasn’t just about physical pleasure; it was about healing, about allowing himself to be vulnerable and trusting in the love blossoming between them.

Lucas was in awe of Aaron’s body, captivated by the story it told. He was drawn to Aaron even more, his admiration deepening as he unbuttoned his jeans. The air was thick with anticipation, their eyes locking—a mix of awe and longing shining in them. As Lucas slid off his underwear, revealing the massive length and girth of his manhood, Aaron’s breath caught in his throat. It was the biggest he had ever seen, and a flicker of nervousness crossed his mind. He wondered if he could take it, but then he reminded himself that his bubble butt, which had once brought large babies into the world, was more than capable of handling the challenge. The sight of Lucas sent a surge of raw, primal desire coursing through Aaron, his heart pounding with longing.

Lucas leaned forward, pressing soft, lingering kisses along the small of Aaron’s back, savoring the feel of the smooth skin beneath his lips. His hands moved to gently caress Aaron’s hips, tracing the contours of his plump, previously childbearing cheeks with a reverent touch. Lucas’s movements were slow and deliberate, building the anticipation between them as he lifted himself up with his strong arms, positioning himself over Aaron.

With a playful smile, Lucas tapped Aaron’s right cheek, causing it to bounce slightly. The gesture sent a delicious ripple of desire through Aaron, the sensation heightening the tension and deepening the connection between them.

Taking his time, Lucas applied lubricant to his impressive length, ensuring every inch was slick and ready. With a gentle touch, he spread a cool layer of lubricant over Aaron’s entrance using his index finger, the sensation sending a shiver of anticipation through Aaron’s body. In a moment of spontaneity, Lucas slid his finger inside Aaron’s entrance, a tantalizing sensation that elicited a soft moan from Aaron, his body instinctively responding to the care and intimacy of Lucas’s touch.

Lucas then carefully positioned himself between Aaron’s cheeks, guiding the tip of his manhood to rest just at the entrance. Aaron could feel the pressure of Lucas’s broad head against the delicate folds of his skin, a sensation that made his heart race with a mix of excitement and nervous anticipation.

As Lucas began to press forward, the tip slowly breached Aaron, who instinctively flexed his glutes to accommodate the initial intrusion. With each measured push, Lucas eased himself deeper, the sensation of stretching and adjusting intense yet exhilarating for Aaron. His hands clenched the sheets beneath him, gripping them tightly as he felt Lucas fill him, inch by inch. The stretch was intense—Lucas was just so big—but Aaron relished every moment of it. Finally, Lucas’s hips met the firm, rounded muscles of Aaron’s cheeks, their bodies fully joined.

Both men let out deep, resonant moans, the pleasure they shared unlike anything Aaron had ever experienced. As Lucas leaned forward to place a tender kiss on the nape of Aaron’s neck, they both reveled in the closeness and profound intimacy of the moment. Aaron’s body was inviting, perfectly fitted to Lucas’s, as though they were made for each other.

Their movements were slow at first, careful as they adjusted to the newness of their connection. But as the intensity built, as their breaths quickened and their hearts raced, they found a rhythm that was both powerful and tender. Aaron felt himself becoming lost in the sensation—the way their bodies moved together, the way Lucas’s hands gripped his hips with a firm yet loving touch, the way he bounced against Lucas, pulling him closer, grounding him in this moment of pure connection.

The softness of Aaron’s skin, the fullness of his hips as they moved in perfect harmony, the way his body responded to Lucas’s every touch—it was all a revelation, a rediscovery of the intimacy he had once known, but in a way that felt entirely new and profound.

Lucas pressed himself forward, leaning into Aaron, his chest against Aaron’s back, feeling the warmth and strength of the man he loved. Aaron’s massive cheeks were firmly pressed against Lucas’s crotch as he pushed his manhood in deeper, filling Aaron completely. Leaning in close, Lucas whispered in Aaron’s ear, his voice husky with desire, “You’re so hot, Aaron.” He kissed Aaron’s cheek, the intimacy of the moment deepening the bond between them.

Lucas leaned back, throwing his hands behind his head, and looked down to watch as Aaron’s bubble butt bounced rhythmically against his crotch. His massive manhood slid in and out of Aaron’s wet, eager entrance, each movement eliciting moans of pleasure from both of them. As they reached the peak of their passion, Aaron felt a surge of emotion—a wave of love and gratitude that took his breath away. The sight of Aaron moving against him, the feel of his body responding so perfectly, was too much for Lucas, and he felt the intensity build within him, reaching a climax that sent shudders through his entire body.

Aaron gasped as he felt the warmth of Lucas’s release deep inside him, filling him with an overwhelming sense of connection and fulfillment. There was so much of it, and the sensation of being so completely filled left him trembling with emotion. This was more than just physical pleasure—it was a deep, soul-connecting experience that reminded him of the power of love, of the strength it took to open his heart again.

As Lucas gently pulled out, he couldn’t resist one final look at Aaron’s plump, quivering cheeks. He parted them slightly, admiring the sight of the small drip of his own essence left behind, a tangible reminder of the intimacy they had just shared. Aaron’s body shuddered once more, the aftershocks of their passion still rippling through him.

When it was over, they lay together, their bodies entwined, their breaths still coming in soft gasps. Aaron felt a deep sense of contentment settle over him, a feeling of being exactly where he was meant to be. Lucas’s arms wrapped around him, holding him close, and Aaron felt a peace he hadn’t experienced in years. This was love—a love that was different from what he had known before, but just as real, just as powerful.

As they drifted off to sleep, Aaron’s heart swelled with gratitude for the journey that had brought him to this moment. He had loved and lost, and now, in Lucas’s arms, he had found love again—a new beginning that felt both hopeful and true.

Part 2

The Aaron Trilogy: Aaron & David I ; Aaron & David II ; Aaron & Lucas

#mpreg #male pregnancy #mpreg belly #pregnantbelly #pregnant man #belly #pregnant #mpregbelly #mpregstory #mpreg birth

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alovesongtheywrote · 11 months

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kicking my feet and giggling over pt. 5 of nightmare academia pls bless us with another part

♥ Summary: i'm afraid you'll have a different response to this one :/ in this chapter of nightmare academia, the reader meets the team and the world crashes and burns. [Prof!Spencer Reid x GN-Prof!Reader]

♥ Warnings: remember those jokes kate callahan made about beating up pedophiles in her custody? yeah, we're exploring that. tws for police brutality, spencer being a dick, Angst, and a passing mention of vomit

♥ A/N: okay, it's honesty time. i don't like kate callahan. i specifically have issues with how she's written- even more specifically, i don't like a lot of her dialogue. this chapter kinda explores that? anyway, im sorry :( (big thanks to @mxcheese for the help on this one :D )

♥ Word Count: 2147

Series Masterlist

♥♥♥

You weren’t much more than a ball of nerves. Standing outside the bar, looking up at the sign, all you could feel was panic. You felt like you weren’t supposed to be there, like you never should have come at all.

So. You just stood there in the street, leaning against your car like a creeper. Spencer was already inside. They all were. All those fucking FBI agents. You bit your lip and let your nails dig into the palms of your hands.

Maybe you should leave. You could text Spencer, tell him you had come down with a sudden bout of illness. Maybe you would tell him you were projectile vomiting all over your apartment. Maybe that would kill whatever was growing between you.

You turned, grabbing the handle of the car door. Before you could open it, though, something made you stop. You could feel eyes on you. You were being watched. You looked up to see a woman staring out at you from the front seat of a black SUV. She looked a touch panicked- as if you had caught her doing something she wasn’t supposed to be doing. She reached for her door just as you let go of yours. Something about this woman made you nervous.

By the time she got out of her vehicle, you were safe behind the doors of the bar.

You didn’t hesitate once inside. The second you saw Spencer- not even Spencer, the second you saw Morgan- you made a beeline for the table. Despite the anxiety you felt, you were welcomed with open arms. Literally.

A ball of colour and flower-themed hairpins flung herself at you, “Hi! Hello! I’m Penelope, we spoke on the phone!”

“Oh fuck, hi! It’s nice to finally meet you in person!” you responded, “You’re even more fabulous than you sound.”

Penelope beamed, immediately charmed by your compliment. She wrapped an arm around you and turned to Morgan, half-whispering a, “Can we keep them?”

You let out a laugh, almost forgetting your previous discomfort. You turned to gaze at the other faces around the table. Morgan and Spencer sat next to each other- Morgan with an easy grin on his face, and Spencer with a look so anxious it made you nervous again. Beside Spencer sat an older man with the most fantastic set of eyebrows you had ever seen. Beside him sat a severe-looking man with short dark hair, and beside him sat two women- one blonde, and one brunette. Neat. Totally a normal amount of people to meet in one night.

“Ah, so this is the infamous Dr. (Y/N) (L/N).”

The sound of your name caught your attention. With all the speed you possessed, you pulled something witty out of your brain, “Last I checked, that is my identity.”

Eyebrow man cracked a grin. Morgan caught your attention, “(Y/N), this is SSA David Rossi.”

The man nodded and extended a hand for you to shake. Between him and Morgan, you realized you had faced more handshakes today than you had in the past year.

“Beside him is Aaron Hotchner,” Morgan continued. Aaron Hotchner just nodded a hello, his severe look breaking to allow a nice grin to cross his features. You smiled back, trying your best to come off as polite and sweet and not completely fucking terrified.

Garcia took over for the last two introductions. With one arm still around you, she pointed to the women beside Aaron Hotchner. “Those two lovelies are Jennifer Jareau and Kate Callahan.”

Jennifer Jareau and Kate Callahan both waved hello as Penelope spoke. You waved back. If you weren’t intimidated before, you absolutely were now.

Penelope turned to you, “And this, my fine furry friends, is the lovely and terrifying (Y/N) (L/N).”

“More commonly known as the doctor who’s had my team distracted for the past few months,” Aaron smiled at you, “It’s nice to meet you, (Y/N).”

“We haven’t been that distracted-” Garcia tried to argue.

“No, baby girl, we’ve been distracted.”

“That’s my bad,” you said, giving Penelope’s arm a pat, “I’m just naturally distracting.”

“Clearly,” Jennifer said, smirking not at you, but across the table at Spencer, “Anyone who can distract Spence from spouting off statistics has to be distracting.”

You nodded, “I’ll be honest, it takes effort. It’s nothing my distraction skills can’t handle.”

The group laughed at your attempted joke, and Garcia gestured for you to take a seat next to Morgan. You were in- and good lord did you feel like some kind of spy. The agents accepted you quickly, asking you questions about what Spencer was like as a professor, and what sort of things you did to get under his skin. You gave them the answers you thought they’d like to hear. The funny answers, the sweet answers.

You did not tell them that you were scared. You didn’t tell them that you kind of wanted to slam their doctor boy into a wall and kiss him until he couldn’t stand straight, and you didn’t tell them that it terrified you.

You gave them the good answers, and asked them about themselves, and generally, it was a good set of social interactions.

You learned that Aaron Hotchner and Jennifer Jareau both had kids. Rossi had three ex-wives. Morgan remodelled properties as a pastime. Kate enjoyed cute animal photos. Garcia was a ball of pure joy.

And Spencer was quiet. He didn’t say a word and he didn’t bother to correct you on anything- he wouldn’t even look at you. His eyes stayed on his drink, on his friends, on the other people in the bar. He looked everywhere except for you.

You tried to be okay with that. For a while, you were. Then the night crashed and burned.

Kate was regaling you with a story of how she took down a pedophile. That was fine. It was all fine. Then she said, “Yep, that one just so happened to trip over his own feet right before I brought him in.”

You froze. Discomfort seeped into your bones as the group of federal agents laughed off a joke about police brutality. As someone who volunteered extensively with former offenders, at-risk youth, and many in between, well… discomfort was putting it lightly. You understood to a degree- everyone wants to beat up pedophiles. You are no exception to that. However, the difference between everyone and federal agents is that the latter are federal agents.

You felt sick. You could feel your hands shaking slightly at your sides. The conversation carried on around you- like normal, like nothing had happened. Spencer laughed. There was a gaping hole in your chest, filled with stale bar air and anxiety. It was getting hard to breathe.

You were right. You never should have come at all.

You checked your wrist, forgetting again that you weren’t wearing a watch. When you laid eyes on the bare skin of your wrist, you pulled your phone from your pocket and checked that, instead. It was just late enough for you to slip away without raising too many questions. For that, you were thankful.

“Oh, shoot,” you faked the exclamation, “It’s getting late, and I have papers to grade tomorrow. I should get going- it was nice to meet you all, though!”

“Oh, really? Do you have to go?” Penelope asked, hitting you with massive puppy dog eyes. You panicked. She really was lovely, and until that comment, you had a good time. The parts of you that wanted to stay surrendered immediately.

The parts of you that wanted to leave were fighting off a panic attack and couldn’t come up with anything smart to say.

And that’s how you came up with, “Yeahhh, I really should go walk my… fish. I’ll see you guys around, good luck with the crime!”

You didn’t give them a chance to respond. In seconds, you had cleared the bar, pushed open the door, and slipped into the night. The street was empty. The black SUV was gone. You struggled to unlock your car, keys slipping between your fingers like a fuck mothering fish. When you heard a voice beside you, you jumped.

“Okay, what’s going on?”

It was Reid, finally talking to you after a night of silence. You wanted to be petty- but more than that, you just wanted to leave, “It’s nothing. I’ll see you next week, okay?”

“It’s not nothing. You don’t have a fish, if you did Garcia would know about it.”

“Yeah, okay, I don’t have a fish. I’m just feeling kinda sick. I’ll see you later.”

“You’re not feeling sick.”

You finally unlocked your damn car. That gave you the strength to be a bit of a bitch.

“Oh, and how would you know, Reid? It’s not like you asked me. It’s not like you’ve said a word to me since I got here.”

He had the audacity to look shocked. He paused for a second. In the silence, you pulled open the driver’s side door. He placed a hand on it, stopping you. He winced when you glared at him, but your gaze didn’t soften. He didn’t deserve that.

“Okay, I’ve been quiet tonight. I’m sorry. But something is wrong with you, too. What’s going on?”

“It’s nothing,” you slammed the car door shut, “Y’know, it’s good, actually.”

You opened the door and slammed it shut again.

“What? (Y/N), what are you talking about?”

“It’s nothing,” you opened and slammed the door, “I just remembered that we come from different worlds, Reid. Different universes. You come from a place where you go to report a crime, and the police take care of you because you’re an affluent white boy and you’re a cop. I come from a place where if something happens to me, I can’t go to the police because they’ll either treat me like I’m a criminal, or the first question out of their mouths will be, ‘What were you wearing when it happened?’”

“I- I don’t follow.”

“Yeah, you wouldn’t, you’re a cop.”

“I’m-”

He looked confused. You slammed the door shut again. You decided to elaborate for him.

“It’s about Kate, Reid. Look, I get it. She likes to beat up pedophiles. Everyone wants to beat up pedophiles. That’s why most of them get their faces bashed in in prison- but the difference between us and Kate Callahan is that she’s a Federal Agent. She has a responsibility, not only to the public, but to the victims to carry out each arrest like a professional so that she doesn’t lose any cases or cause undue bodily harm to an innocent person by mistake. And shit- look me in the eye and tell me the FBI has a perfect track record with arrests. Even if she does, the rest of you don’t.”

He paused. His eyes searched your face desperately. You weren’t sure what he wanted to find. You opened the door again. This time, he didn’t stop you, and you didn’t slam it shut. A look of resignation took over his features. Whatever he was looking for, you assumed he’d found it.

“What would you know about being a professional? What would you know about being a Federal Agent? You aren’t one, (Y/N). And you aren’t a cop. You don’t know anything about police work. You’re just an academic- and you aren’t even good at that. That’s part of why you act out. You’re insecure about your own intelligence, you’re insecure about your place in the world, and you have every reason to be.”

Reid looked at you expectantly. He wanted you to snap. Maybe he wanted you to break. Too bad for him. If he wanted to hurt you, if he wanted to win the prank war, he should have pulled some Carrie shit back in the bar. Honestly? You would rather be covered in pig’s blood.

You refused to meet his eye. You wrapped your hand around the edge of the car door until it hurt. You smiled.

“Thank you.”

“What?”

“I said, thank you. Thank you for reminding me what this is. Thank you for reminding me that despite how close it feels we’ve gotten, we are two complete strangers. You may think you know me because of your bullshit profiling and an invasive background check, but you don’t, and you never will. I’m no one but a colleague to you, Dr Reid. That’s all I’ll be for the rest of my life.”

You pushed away from the car door and left it open. You didn’t stop until you were chest to chest with Reid. He stumbled backwards into the street like a scared animal. You refused to feel bad about that. The thing growing between you was already dead.

“Now get the fuck away from my car, and stay the hell away from me.”

♥ Tags: @icarusignite, @usuallyunlikelyfox, @maraudersforlife2005, @fictionalcomforts

#spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x gn!reader #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x y/n #x reader #nightmare academia

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