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Call Me Yours

Aaron Hotcher/Female Reader (9.4k words) Also available on AO3

Summary:

You blamed it on the alcohol.

The combination of a glass of wine with dinner, after-dinner drinks, a couple of shots, and the overall joviality of the night was surely the reason why you felt it was a brilliant idea to confess aloud your teeny tiny minuscule barely even there crush on one Aaron Hotchner to your friend Penelope.

OR

Five times you regretted telling Penelope your secret crush and the one time you didn’t.

You blamed it on the alcohol.

The combination of a glass of wine with dinner, after-dinner drinks, a couple of shots, and the overall joviality of the night was surely the reason why you felt it was a brilliant idea to confess aloud your teeny tiny minuscule barely even there crush on one Aaron Hotchner to your friend Penelope.

Thankfully, it had only been the two of you in her apartment when you blurted out your long-held thoughts on the BAU’s unit chief. 

Penelope, of course, had been delighted to hear that you were smitten with the boss-man and wasted no time in plotting and planning your confession to him.

To which you had laughed heartily and patted her hand conciliatorily—and perhaps a bit patronizingly at such a silly idea—because there was no way in this great big beautiful world of ours that you would ever say those words to Agent Hotchner’s face.

Because then he would hear them and then he would know and then what would you do?

You supposed it wouldn’t be too hard to pack up and move to someplace like Timbuktu, or Wales, or New Zealand, never to speak with anyone ever again. You’re sure you could find a way to make a living wherever you ended up.

Because you knew that confessing to him could only lead to one thing and you weren’t up for that level of rejection, no matter how gently he tried to deliver it—and you knew he would be as kind as possible. That was an interaction you could live without, thank you very much.

You had planned to keep your burgeoning feelings tucked safely away in a hidden corner of your heart, only to be brought out on special occasions and holidays like fine china. Or, if you were being honest, after every interaction you had with the man and sometimes late at night when the loneliness was at its peak.

But you had never planned on telling anyone, let alone your co-worker turned friend who was notoriously bad at keeping secrets and a world-class meddler.

Thus began a war of wills between you and your friend; Penelope, determined to help you find love and happiness with a man she was convinced was just as smitten with you as you were with him, and you, ready to thwart her at every turn because there was no way a man like him would ever be interested in you. 

***

The first skirmish happened a few days after your drunken divulgence.

You were standing in Penelope’s lair, taking notes on the tasks she needed your help with.

Like her, you were a technical analyst, though you worked in another department. You were nowhere near the caliber of Penelope—few were—but you were capable at your job. That was how you met her, in fact. You had been called in to help with some background checks and surface-level research while Penelope had been tasked with a deep dive that needed her full attention. 

That was also how you met Agent Hotchner. 

You had been hurrying out of the elevator and down the hall to the office your supervisor directed you to, focusing on finding the correct door—both nervous and excited to be assigned to help the prestigious BAU—when you accidentally bumped into a tall man exiting said office. Though bumped into was a gentle way of saying that you rammed your face straight into his chest at full speed.

You heard a low oof as the head-on collision caused you to bounce backward on your heels and you could feel yourself teetering before a large, warm hand steadied you.

You looked up—and up, he really was impressively tall compared to you—into dark eyes set in a rather stern face. The imposing man stared down intently at you with a furrowed brow and for one panic-fueled moment, you felt as though those eyes could see into your very soul.

But then rationality returned and you realized you were standing incredibly close to a stranger that you had literally just run into. 

You had backed up immediately causing his hand to drop from your arm and your traitorous brain had quickly noted multiple things simultaneously; namely that his chest was appealingly firm, that he smelled amazing, and that his hand had felt comfortingly warm. 

Any one of those thoughts would have been enough to make you blush, but the combination created an almost overwhelming heat that quickly flooded your cheeks.

“I am so sorry,” you blurted as you straightened, regaining your balance. “I wasn’t looking where I was going and didn’t see you and I didn’t mean to nearly bowl you over. Are you okay? I really am sorry—”

“Yes, I’m fine,” a low, gruff voice interrupted. “Are you? You hit pretty hard.”

Your face was positively flaming now. 

“I am so sorry.” You shook your head. “I’m okay. No pain beyond excruciating embarrassment. I promise I am usually much more aware of my surroundings.”

The hint of a smile softened his features. “No harm done. Was there something I could help you with?”

You smiled, relieved that he wasn’t upset with you and more than happy to change the topic. “I’m looking for a Miss Garcia? My supervisor Agent O’Neill sent me.”

“Ah, yes. I was expecting you. I’m SSA Aaron Hotchner, I asked Sam to send me her best.”

The blush that had finally started to recede reared back to life as you grinned sheepishly. “Rest assured, my computer skills are much better than my coordination.”

And that’s when your life as you knew it was changed forever because Aaron Hotchner had the audacity to smile at you. Dimples and all. 

Then he chuckled. Lowly and gruffly and insanely attractively. 

And you were instantly smitten, with no hope of reversing the damage that had been done by the proverbial Cupid’s arrow that he’d just launched at you.

With no regard for your sudden life-altering moment, Agent Hotchner had unceremoniously guided you into Miss Garcia’s office, performed a quick introduction, and then sauntered off without a second glance, unknowingly carrying away a tiny piece of your heart in his hands.

It had taken you a few moments to focus on the task at hand, but Penelope had been patient with you, and once you were able to shake off the effects of meeting Agent Hotchner, the two of you got down to business.

You and Penelope had worked well together that day and you had since been asked back multiple times. Hence your summons to her domain today.

The two of you were wrapping up when a knock sounded at the door and Agent Hotchner entered.

“Garcia, I—Oh, good she’s here. I was just going to suggest you call in some reinforcements if you needed any help but seems you beat me to it.” He smiled at Penelope and acknowledged you with a nod. “Nice to see you again.”

It took you a second to realize he was speaking to you—as focused as you were on his incredibly distracting smile—causing you to rush out your response in a moment of embarrassment. “Oh, yes sir. Nice to see you too, Agent Hotchner.”

His eyes did a cursory scan of you, something you noticed he did every time you saw him, though you guessed that was something ingrained in him at this point after all his years as a profiler. “You can call me Hotch, if you’d like. Everyone else does.”

You prayed your face was not glowing as pink as you thought it was. “Oh, I… Thank you, but I…” 

You sighed, frustrated with how you were stumbling over your words.

Thankfully, his phone rang before things became even more awkward and he excused himself. You could hear his curt “Hotchner” as the door closed behind him.

You kept your back to Penelope, but you could practically feel the elation radiating from her.

“Saved by the cell, huh?” Her teasing tone was only a tiny bit irritating. You couldn’t really blame her. You’d be teasing her if the situation were reversed.

You pressed your hands to your burning cheeks and turned to look at her. “Okay. On a scale of one to ten, how bad was that really?”

“Oh, a solid five.”

You groaned.

“But there is a silver lining.”

“How? I completely forgot the entirety of the English language and I’m sure I could heat the room with my face.”

Penelope chuckled and leaned forward. “Don’t think I didn’t notice him taking a good look at you. Those eyes lingered on their way back up, too.” She smiled smugly. “I told you that skirt was fire.”

“No, I seriously doubt that’s what he was noticing. He was probably just reading my incredibly awkward body language.”

“Oh, I’m sure he’d love to study your body in every language.”

“Penelope!”

***

It was two weeks later, and thankfully you hadn’t had another awkward encounter with Agent Hotcher.

Though, you knew it was likely you were living on borrowed time. 

You were arriving to work with Penelope, having met at her favorite cafe to grab breakfast together before heading in. You each had decided to surprise your respective teams with their own treats as well, so you both were juggling your drinks and a large box of delicious-smelling pastries.

As you approached the entrance, one of the guards spotted you and kindly held a door open for you to enter. Not wanting him to wait, you hurried up the steps only to trip on the last one, nearly dropping everything as you stumbled about, trying to regain your balance. You managed to save the pastries, but your half-full coffee tumbled to the ground, the lid popping open and spraying you with the contents. 

Penelope turned back to check on you. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah, just tripped.” You looked down to see your new heels completely soaked. 

Bending down, you quickly dabbed at the coffee staining your shoes with the napkins you’d grabbed at the cafe, hoping the liquid would just wipe off. It did not.

You huffed as you stood. “Well, fuck. I just bought these.” 

Good thing you kept an extra pair of shoes in your office.

Penelope blinked. “Did you just cuss?”

You blinked back at her. “Yes?”

She gasped dramatically. “I’ve never heard you cuss before!”

You resisted rolling your eyes as you continued past her into the lobby, thanking the guard who was still gallantly holding the door. You spoke over your shoulder to Penelope. “Oh, come on. It’s just a word.”

“I know but I can’t believe my little Cinnamon Roll just used an expletive!”

“Your Cinnamon Roll? I thought that was Morgan.”

“Nope. He’s my Chocolate Thunder. Or Hot Stuff. Or Angel Face. You are my Cinnamon Roll.”

You snorted as you walked through the metal detectors, gathering your items again on the other side. “How am I the cinnamon roll when you’re here?”

“Because that’s what you are, sugar.” She blew you a kiss as she grabbed her things.

You eyed her suspiciously. “This is going to be what you call me from now on, isn’t it?”

She smiled gleefully. “Yep!” 

“Well, if I’m going to be Cinnamon Roll, then I’m calling you Cupcake.”

“Cupcake?”

“Yeah, because cupcakes are all bright and colorful, fun and sweet. Like you.”

Penelope grinned. “Aw, thanks.”

You wrinkled your nose at her. “You’re welcome.” 

You balanced the pastry box in one hand as you pressed the elevator call button. “And I guess I’ll accept being your Cinnamon Roll. Makes a bit of sense, actually. They may not always be the best looking things but they are sweet and a little spicy. Maybe a bit dry sometimes but always enjoyable.”

“What’s dry but enjoyable?”

You startled at the deep voice coming from behind you, turning to see Agent Hotchner looking between the two of you. Beside you, Penelope was grinning mischievously. 

“Cinnamon rolls.” She chirped, looking much too pleased at the turn of events. 

You could feel the blush coming as you heard the ding signaling the arriving elevator.

Being the gentleman that he was, Agent Hotchner reached forward to hold the doors, gesturing for the two of you to enter. He followed you in and hit the buttons for both of your floors.

Penelope glanced at you with a smirk. “You like cinnamon rolls, don’t you sir?”

Agent Hotchner hummed in agreement. “I do. They’re my favorite breakfast treat, actually.”

“Your favorite, huh?” Penelope waggled her eyebrows at you and you thanked everything that was good that Agent Hotcher was standing in front of her and didn’t look around to see her display or the ever-persistent blush on your face his mere presence caused.

“Good thing I grabbed some to share this morning then.” Penelope winked at you.

Agent Hotchner looked over his shoulder at her, his eyes darting to you briefly. “I wouldn’t say no to a cinnamon roll.”

He faced forward again while you tried your hardest not to die on the spot.

Penelope nudged you with her elbow, her face more gleeful than you’d ever seen it.

The elevator slowed to a stop and the doors slid open to your floor, saving you from more of Penelope’s not-at-all subtle teasing.

Agent Hotcher stepped to the side, allowing you to exit, which you did with a nod, forcing yourself to look anywhere but him. “Have a good day, Pen. Agent Hotchner.”

“You, too.” 

You closed your eyes at the sound. Did he have to say it all low and raspy like that? Didn’t he know he should be careful how he wielded that voice of his? It was dangerous, to both your heart and your knickers.

You rushed down the hall without a second glance.

An hour later, you received a text from Penelope, and you couldn’t help but laugh. She’d sent a photo of the team enjoying their pastries, with a heart drawn around Agent Hotcher as he took a large bite from one of the cinnamon rolls. See, her accompanying text said, he looooves cinnamon rolls.

***

A few days later, you were in the BAU bullpen chatting with Penelope and Morgan before heading home for the day. 

You were chuckling at the back-and-forth banter between the two when a bright voice cried, “Miss Penelope!”

The three of you turned to see an excited Jack Hotchner rushing towards you, his beleaguered aunt not far behind.

You had met Jack a few times and always enjoyed seeing the cheerful boy, who was now giving Penelope a fierce hug.

“Hey, mini Hotch! How’s it going?”

Jack beamed up at Penelope. “I did it! I got an A on that presentation you helped me with. The teacher liked the design and everything! She said it was very creative.”

“That’s awesome!” Penelope cheered.

“Way to go, little man!” Morgan gave Jack a high-five while you and his aunt Jessica shared a grin.

“I was going to take him home like usual,’ Jessica said. “But he insisted he had to tell Miss Penelope immediately.”

“What was the presentation on, Jack?” You asked.

He turned with a grin. “Darth Vader: From Hero to Villian to Heroic Anti-Villian.”

Your lips curled into a matching grin. “That sounds amazing actually.”

“The teacher even let me do part of the presentation in my mask!”

“You have a Darth Vader mask?”

He nodded. “It’s a full mask that lights up and everything.”

“That’s so cool. Does it augment your voice and do the—“ You mimicked Darth Vader’s breathing as best you could. It was a poor imitation, but it made Jack giggle, so you counted it as a win anyway.

“It does! My dad got me the full costume for Halloween.”

“That sounds like the best costume ever. I’m sad I missed seeing it.”

“Oh, Aunt Jessica videoed it. I can show you, if you want.”

“Yeah, I’d love that.” 

You looked to Jessica with a smile as Jack blurted out. “Okay!” 

And with that, he spun and dashed towards his dad’s office.

“Wait, Jack! Don’t… Aaand he’s gone.” You looked towards Jessica, Penelope, and Morgan, who all just shrugged.

Moments later Jack returned, pulling a confused Agent Hotchner behind him. He stopped beside you and looked up at his dad. “I need your phone please.”

Agent Hotchner blinked. “What do you need it for?”

Jack pointed at you. “So I can show her that video of my Vader costume,” he said in a tone that implied he thought the reason was obvious.

“The video that your aunt, who’s standing right beside her, also has on her phone?”

“Yeah.” Jack replied.

“Then why did you need my phone?”

Jack shrugged. “I dunno. You always let me use it when I ask.”

With the long-suffering sigh of a father used to his son’s antics, Agent Hotchner pulled out his phone to pull up the video, then handed it to Jack. “Here.”

“Thanks, Dad!” Jack smiled sweetly at him. 

You could feel your biological clock screaming at you as you witnessed Agent Hotchner completely soften and smile down at his son fondly, all the irritation from a moment ago forgotten.

Holy moly, but fatherhood was a good look on him. You’d never really been interested in the concepts of DILFs, but you certainly were now.

With your ogling, you nearly missed the start of the video when Jack held it a bit too closely to your face in his eagerness to share it with you. You steadied it with your hand and lowered it so you could watch it together.

You grinned as you watched Jack having the time of his life, fully decked out in the coolest Darth Vader costume you had ever seen, as he wielded his lightsaber and used the Force to ‘open’ a set of elevator doors.

You listened as he explained all the features of the costume and lightsaber, and how he still liked to put it on sometimes at home. 

“Dad said the next free weekend we have, we can watch all of the movies together.”

“That sounds like a lot of fun. I used to watch them with my mom and we’d stock up on candy and popcorn. Of course, there were only three movies back then.”

“Really? Which is your favorite movie?”

“Return of the Jedi.”

Jack gasped. “That’s Dad’s favorite, too!”

You glanced at Agent Hotchner, shooting him a quick smile, before Jack drew your attention again by asking another question. “Who is your favorite character? I like Darth Vader but Luke is cool too.”

“Princess Leia.”

“Oh,” Jack said sounding a little disappointed. “But she didn’t have a lightsaber or use the Force or anything.”

“No, but she is a princess with a blaster, and she’s just as tough as the guys. She took down Jabba with a chain. And she’s really clever.”

Jack tilted his head and squinted his eyes in thought before nodding. “Yeah, you’re right. She’s actually pretty cool for a princess.”

“And her second favorite character is Han Solo.” Penelope chimed in. She turned to you with a much too innocent smile. “Isn’t he the one who inspired your admiration of tall, dark, and handsome men?”

If death by glare were possible, Penelope would become its latest statistic.

Jack spoke excitedly beside you while you kept your lethal glare focused on your friend and pointedly did not look at anyone else. Especially the tall, dark, and handsome man standing nearby. “Dad! She likes Han Solo, too!”

Agent Hotchner chuckled. “Yeah, I heard buddy.”

“She likes your favorite movie and your favorite character!”

“She must have good taste, then.”

“Oh, she does,” Penelope agreed. “Impeccable taste. In fact, you might be pleasantly surprised by the things she loves.”

You couldn’t bear to look at Agent Hotchner’s reaction to that, so you dropped your eyes to your hands, fiddling with the phone you were still holding.

His phone.  

You squeezed your eyes shut before looking back up at him, only to find him already looking at you. 

“Oh,” you breathed and quickly offered the phone back to him. “I’m sorry Agent Hotchner. I forgot I was still holding on to this. Thank you for letting us borrow your phone.”

“You’re welcome.” He smiled as he took the phone, his hand brushing against yours and it was just as warm as you remembered. “And it’s Hotch, remember?”

You fought against the urge to drop your head again to hide from his piercing eyes and forced yourself to nod nonchalantly, though your words came out more breathy than you liked. “Yes, sir.”

His eyes seemed to darken at that and you found yourself torn between losing yourself in his gaze and fleeing before he caught on to your desire to do just that.

Luckily, you were saved from having to decide by Jessica’s phone ringing loudly and drawing your attention. She gave an apologetic smile before giving a quick goodbye kiss to Jack and a fond pat on Agent Hotchner’s arm. “Sorry, I have to run. I’ll see you both tomorrow.”

Seizing the opportunity, you quickly followed suit. “I need to head out, too. I’ll walk with you.” 

You gave everyone a short wave and spun to follow her, not looking back until you were at the elevators. A subtle peek provided you one last view of Agent Hotchner smiling down at his son, prompting your own soft smile. 

You had only meant to steal a glimpse, but you could never resist it when he smiled. Before you could tear your eyes away, he glanced up and caught you watching, his warm smile now directed at you.

You jerked your head forward, embarrassed at being caught and hoping Jessica hadn’t noticed your crimson cheeks.

If the grin on her face was anything to go by, she had. Thankfully, she was kind enough not to tease you about it.

Even when you darted into the elevator before the doors were fully open and wedged yourself in the corner out of view with an unflattering squeak as you pressed your hands to your flaming cheeks.

***

You were making your way to the cafeteria to grab a quick lunch when you heard the rapid staccato of high heels behind you.

“Hey, Cinnamon Roll!” Penelope scurried to catch up with you. “Fancy seeing you here.”

You chuckled. “You mean here at the cafeteria where I almost always grab lunch around this time? What are the odds?”

She swatted at you with a tsk as she linked her arm with yours. “Don’t be cheeky.”

“Please. You love me being cheeky.”

“Yeah, but not when it’s directed at me.”

“Whatever you say, Cupcake.”

You made your way into the queue, peeking to see what was on offer for the day. The food was generally good, but sometimes the options were limited. You ended up settling for a sandwich while Penelope went with a salad.

You chatted while you ate, your lunch break going by much more enjoyably with your friend there. 

You were discussing the recent episode of a show you both watched when Penelope looked up. “Huh. What’s he doing here?”

You followed her gaze to find Agent Hotchner in the queue. “Well, using my astute powers of deduction, I’d say he’s getting some food, just like everyone else here.”

She huffed. “You’re at full capacity cheek today. I meant, that he doesn’t usually come to the cafeteria.”

You shrugged. “He did today.”

Penelope hummed and then that mischievous grin you had learned to be weary of crept across her face. 

Your eyes widened because you knew she was about to do something meddlesome.

And you were right.

Before you could stop her, she waved wildly and called out, “Hotch!”

His head swiveled in your direction and you could have sworn his face actually lit up just the tiniest bit when he saw you. He quickly paid and made his way over to your table.

“Hey, you two. Enjoying lunch?”

“We are,” Penelope replied with that puckish grin. “Would you care to join us?”

“Oh,” Agent Hotchner’s brows creased slightly. “I have a meeting soon so I have to run. Sorry.”

Was it just your endless hopefulness regarding him, or did he sound disappointed?

“That’s alright, Agent Hotchner. Don’t let us keep you. We were almost done, anyway.”

His eyes did his now routine scan of you before the corner of his mouth quirked up in a small smile that almost seemed wistful. “How many times do I have to tell you to just call me Hotch?”

That ever-constant blush warmed your cheeks yet again. You never knew what to do with yourself whenever he looked at you. This man always made you flustered beyond reason. 

You could see he was waiting for you to respond so you blurted out the first thing that came to mind.  “At least once more, Agent Hotchner. As always.”

To your dismay, his eyes seemed to dim as the quirk of his lips dropped a fraction.

“Right,” He breathed out.

He studied you for a moment longer before glancing at his watch and giving a quick wince. “I have to go. Enjoy the rest of your meal.”

He pivoted on his heel and was halfway to the exit before either of you could reply.

You watched him leave, barely aware of the open longing on your face. Once he was out of sight, you turned back to Penelope to see her biting her lip to hide a smile and her eyebrows well above her frames.

You tilted your head. “What?”

Her eyes shined merrily as she asked, “Did you just quote the first Pirates of the Caribbean movie at him?”

You didn’t know what to say as you felt heat flood your entire face.

“OMG, you did!” Penelope cackled.

“I panicked, okay? I’m fluent in movie quotes and it just slipped out!” You buried your burning face in your hands.

That only made Penelope laugh even harder. “This is why I love you so much, Cinnamon Roll.”

“I can’t help it! I get so nervous around him.”

“Is that why you refuse to call him Hotch?”

“I don’t refuse to. I just… I don’t know. It feels safer to just call him by his title. Less chance of me slipping and saying something we’d both regret.”

Penelope looked at you thoughtfully. “I’ve known Hotch for a long time and I’m positive he wouldn’t regret hearing that. In fact, I’d bet my favorite fluffy pink pen that he’d welcome it. Be overjoyed by it, even. He might even smile.”

You sighed. “Not this again, Pen. I love how supportive and encouraging you are about everything, but on this, you’re wrong. He does not see me that way and probably never will.”

“Well, you’ll never know if you don’t try. You should start by calling him Hotch next time you see him and watch his little frown turn upside down.”

“Not gonna happen,” you declared with a petulant shake of your head.

“So you’re just going to call him Agent Hotchner for the rest of your life?”

You crossed your arms defiantly. “Yes. Yes, I am.”

She smirked. “Are you gonna call him Agent in bed? Not my kink, but I can see the appeal.”

You gaped at her. “‘Penelope!”

 She cackled again.

***

Your workday was finally over and not a moment too soon.

You slid into your jacket with a huff and snatched up your things, taking yet another deep breath when yet another ping came from your phone as yet another text was received.

They had been increasing in frequency for the last hour.

You stomped down the hall, jabbed the elevator call button, tapped your foot impatiently until it arrived, and darted in the moment the doors opened. Thankfully, it was empty so no one had to bear witness to your increasing frustration at the slowness of the elevator.

When it finally reached your desired floor, you stalked down the hall to your destination. 

Your eyes dropped to the phone in your hand when another text came through as you burst into Penelope’s lair without knocking, already mid-rant. “Penelope Middle Name Garcia! Why have you been spamming me with DILF memes all afternoo—”

You looked up from your phone expecting to see a grinning Penelope, only to find Agent Hotchner there looking at you with a raised brow and bemused smile.

You jerked to a halt, torn between wanting the floor to swallow you whole in your embarrassment or plotting out the imminent demise of your meddlesome friend.

Both seemed like great options at the moment.

Then Penelope leaned out from behind her boss, wearing the most impish smirk you had ever seen.

You narrowed your eyes at her and she batted hers right back. 

Problem solved, then. Plotting her imminent demise it was.

But, unfortunately, that would have to wait until after you’d recovered from your latest display of awkwardness in front of Agent Hotchner. 

Who was still watching you and looked to be enjoying the moment nearly as much as Penelope.

Mortified, you scrambled to say something, anything, to redeem yourself. 

“I’m so sorry, Agent Hotchner!” You squeaked—a sound that was high and breathy and not at all attractive.

Now you were rethinking your choice. 

Yes, having the floor open beneath you and saving you from this sounded like the better outcome now.

Why, oh why couldn't you ever act like a normal human being around this man?

Determined to get out of this as unscathed as possible, you cleared your throat and tried again. “I apologize, sir. I didn’t mean to interrupt your meeting with Penelope. Please excuse me.”

You began to turn when he took a step towards you, his hand partly raised towards you. “No, no,” he said in a rush.

His hand clenched and he stuffed it into his pocket. “You didn’t interrupt anything. We were already done.”

“Oh, that’s good. I’m still sorry for bursting in unannounced.”

He chuckled and your heart raced in delight. “Well, it sounds like you had justified cause.” He looked at Penelope over his shoulder. “Maybe refrain from spamming memes during work hours, okay Garcia?”

Penelope smiled and saluted. “Aye aye, sir.”

Agent Hotchner shook his head and turned back to you with a grin you couldn’t help but return. His eyes locked with yours and for a moment, you lost yourself in their depths. You would have been content to remain like that but the moment broke when he cleared his throat. “Well. I’ll leave you ladies to it. I have a bit more work before I can head home.”

He nodded to Penelope and made to leave, pausing at the door. He looked back at you with a sly smile. “Oh, and it’s Grace.”

You tilted your head. “Pardon?”

“Garcia’s middle name. For the next time you want to yell at her for sending you DILF memes.” 

Then he did something that you were in no way prepared for and would never forget in your lifetime. 

Your eyes widened almost painfully as your face flushed.

He winked.

At you.

Agent Hotchner winked at you and was out the door before your brain caught up.

You stood frozen for a long moment before exhaling a shaky breath. You dazedly shuffled to the chair Penelope had acquired for the times you needed to work alongside her and plopped down, your eyes still trained on the door.

“Did…” You slowly turned your head towards an enthusiastically grinning Penelope. “Did Agent Hotchner just wink at me?”

Penelope was nearly bouncing in her seat as she clapped her hands excitedly. “Yes! He most assuredly did! And he teased you! Oh, this is the best day ever. I never thought I’d live to see the day Hotch teased a woman about DILF memes. And he winked! I didn’t know he could do that.”

You continued to stare in her direction, but all you could see was a replay of him winking at you. With as flustered as it made you, that wink should be labeled a deadly weapon. You would never be the same. There would be the you before the wink, and the you after.

Scratch that.

There very well may be no you after. Because you’re pretty sure you died. That was it. You were dead and your tombstone would read death by wink and tales would be long told of your tragic demise. 

Because there was no way you were going to survive knowing that Agent Hotchner teased you and then winked, after saying the word DILF, of which he was the prime example.

You knew exactly why Penelope had been sending you increasingly inappropriate memes about DILFs. And it was because of the man that just left you as a puddle on the floor whom you were absolutely besotted with.

But then a horrifying thought struck you.

“Pen?”

“Yeah?”

“How likely is it that he knows those memes were about him?”

Penelope hummed in thought. “Honestly, maybe 20 percent?”

You looked at her skeptically.

“Look, Hotch is a brilliant profiler. One of the best I’ve seen, but when it comes to things like this, he can be completely oblivious.”

You shook your head. “I doubt that.”

“Trust me. He’s often the first to notice when a person is crushing on someone, but never if he’s that someone. He never sees it. Maybe he just doesn’t want to but I think he just can’t imagine anyone finding him attractive.”

“Seriously? Does the man not own a mirror?”

“I know. It’s crazy but he never picks up on it whenever he gets hit on. It’s like he has blinders up just for that.”

“Oh.”

“But,” she grabbed your hand and squeezed gently. “I’ve never seen him act the way he does around you. I’ve told you before but hopefully, you’ll believe me this time. I think he’s interested in you. I think if you were very clear with him, told him straight out that you’re attracted to him and interested in getting to know him, asked him on a date, he’d say yes in a heartbeat.”

You worried your bottom lip, anxiety rushing through your veins at the mere idea of confessing to him. “I don’t know, Pen. I’m not… I’ve never done that.” You sighed. “I’ve never been any good at this and the thought of telling him how I feel terrifies me.”

She smiled kindly. “I know. But don’t you think he’s worth it?”

Of course, he is, was your immediate thought. Who could ever think otherwise?

He was handsome, of course, but that wasn’t what truly attracted you to him. 

It was all the little parts of him that caught your attention and drew you in.

It was his kindness, bravery, and strength. It was seeing glimpses of his humor and light-hearted moments. It was witnessing him being a good leader, a better friend, and the best dad.

It was all the things you knew about him and all the things you still wanted to learn.

It was the fact that he was a decent man, an admirable man, a good man.

Yes, you thought. He is absolutely worth it.

***

You sat at the bar, your chin resting in your hand. You glanced at your phone, checking the time again. Penelope had stopped by your office earlier that day, demanding that you meet her for dinner and drinks that night. As you had no plans, you readily agreed.

However, she was late so you were restlessly waiting in the lounge of the restaurant, sipping on a fruity cocktail.

A few minutes passed and you looked towards the entrance again, hoping to see your brightly dressed friend.

She wasn’t there, but someone else you recognized was.

Agent Hotchner was standing there, scanning the room like he was looking for someone.

Even in the low lights of the lounge, he caught your eye. He stood a head above the other mingling patrons, his dark hair softer than he normally kept it at work. He was dressed casually, for him, in a black button shirt and dark jeans. His sleeves were partially rolled, drawing your eyes down his arms to see his fingers tapping on his leg.

You looked up in time to see him notice you. He tilted his head with a smile and made his way through the crowd to you.

”Hello,” you breathed out when he was close enough to hear.

”Hello.” His eyes ran over you in that familiar pattern, lingering for just a moment where your legs crossed as you sat on the stool. “You look lovely.”

Your cheeks flushed, as was their habit when he was near, and you thanked your earlier self for taking the time to dress up a little for the evening. “Thank you. You look nice, too.”

He grinned as he shuffled closer to you in order to let someone pass. “Thanks. It’s nice to be out of the suit for the weekend.”

You had to agree. While he was distractingly attractive in his suits, he was devastatingly handsome dressed like this.

You’d have to remember to thank Penelope later for picking this restaurant. You were very much enjoying the view.

“It’s a pleasant surprise, running into you here.” He looked at the empty stools beside you. “Are you meeting someone?”

“Ah, yes. I’m meeting up with Pen, but I guess she’s running late. You?”

He nodded. “Same. Meeting a friend. Looks like he’s not here yet, either.”

You felt a flash of relief. He’s not on a date then. That’s good.

You smiled, looking up into his eyes as he stood beside you. So far, this had been the best interaction you’d had with him. No awkwardness on your part and no meddling friends nearby.

It was nice, being here with him. You wanted the moment to last.

Gathering all your courage, you decided to take a chance. “I was just having a drink until our table was ready. You’re welcome to join me while you wait.”

His smile grew, his dimples coming out to play. “I’d like that. Thank you.”

He sat on the stool beside you, his long leg nearly brushing yours as he adjusted.

You took a sip of your drink, peeking at Agent Hotchner as he flagged down the bartender. You couldn't keep your eyes from running up the length of his arm, watching his muscles flex and move.

You nearly startled when your phone pinged, buzzing against the bartop and drawing his attention. You shot him an apologetic smile as you reached for your phone, meeting his eye when his own phone buzzed. 

You shared a grin at the coincidence, before you both checked your phones.

Sorry Cinnamon Roll, the text from Penelope read. I’m not going to be able to make it.

Is everything alright? You asked her.

Yes, everything’s fine. A thing came up. Sorry, sugar. You should stay and enjoy yourself though.

You held in a sigh as you began to type your response, stopping when another arrived from Penelope.  Maybe you can find someone else to enjoy the evening with. A certain tall dark and broody someone, perhaps?

Suspicion flared within you and your lips flattened into a thin line. You already know he’s here, don’t you?

Hotch is there? WOW, what a crazy random happenstance!

You glared at your phone, hoping she could feel your wrath on the other end. Penelope Cupcake Garcia! Did you set this up?

You know my middle name’s Grace.

Your lips pressed together even tighter. PEN!

You waited impatiently until her replies came in rapid succession.

I plead the fifth. 

Take a chance. He’s worth it, right?

Just don’t do anything I wouldn’t do!

But definitely do everything I would. 😏

It was moments like these that made you both love and hate Penelope Garcia

You chanced a peek at Agent Hotcher. He was bent over his phone, rapidly typing away. Maybe it was the lighting, but you could have sworn he had the beginnings of a blush on his cheeks.

He huffed and glanced at you. “Sorry about that.”

“That’s okay. My night with Pen has been canceled. She can’t make it.”

He hummed. “Dave just canceled on me, too. Somehow, I’m not surprised.”

“Does he do that often?”

“Rarely, in fact.”

“Oh.”

“I think our friends may have set us up.”

You buried your face in your hands. “Oh, no. This is all my fault. I’m so sorry, Agent Hotchner. Pen probably planned this whole thing and roped poor Rossi into it and…”

“You call him Rossi but still won’t call me Hotch?”

“I… I don’t… I’m sorry, Agent Hotch—” The look on his face stopped the words in your throat. His head tilted in a way that seemed stern, his eyebrows raised expectantly, but the quirk of his lips looked playful. Impish, even.

Was he teasing you?

“You’re getting closer,” He smirked. “Just drop the Agent and you’ll be there.”

Yep. He was teasing you.

And now you were blushing so hard you were sure he could feel the heat from there.

You pressed your lips together in a small pout. You weren’t sure what to do with a playful Agent Hotchner, but you couldn’t deny you liked it. Still, being teased by the object of your affection was not something you felt equipped to handle at the moment.

You took a fortifying drink of your cocktail, thinking back on Penelope’s encouraging words. You could do this. He was worth it.

“H-Hotch.” 

“There you go. Wasn’t so hard after all.”

You huffed a laugh. “Actually, it was harder than you’d think.”

He ran contemplative eyes over you. “And why’s that?”

You finished off the last of your drink and turned to face him, leaning against the bar. It was your turn to study him. “Surely you know how flustered you make me.”

The corner of his lips turned down. “I had noticed, yes. I know I can be intimidating, but I never wanted to make you uncomfortable.”

“I never said I was uncomfortable.”

His eyes brightened. “Just flustered?”

You hummed. “I know you try not to profile your coworkers, but I’m betting it’s hard to just turn that off. So, what have you noticed about how I act around you versus everyone else?”

He straightened in his seat, bringing his glass to his lips as his eyes stayed focused on you. He took a slow sip before speaking. “You display signs of discomfort and hesitation with me, while you are more open with others, especially Garcia. You only make direct eye contact with me enough to let me know you are acknowledging me, but you often look down or to the side when we speak. You fidget and sometimes stumble over your words. I don’t see you do that with anyone else.”

“And why do you think that is?”

“I assumed it was due to my role as unit chief and the perception that I’m a hardass who never smiles.”

You grinned at that. “Now, we both know that’s not true. I’ve seen you smile countless times.”

His cheeks pinkened and your grin grew. “Yes, well. That doesn’t change the fact that others think I’m incapable of it.”

“It’s their loss then. I happen to like seeing you smile.”

His eyes dropped almost shyly and that was definitely a blush spreading across his face. “I… Thank you.”

You watched in awe as he shifted in his seat, exhibiting all the signs you knew you normally did when he was around. Could it be that he was the one flustered now?

You felt a well of confidence spring up inside you. You felt powerful in a way you never had before. You had somehow managed to affect this stoic man enough to fluster him.

You smirked. “You’re wrong, by the way.”

He blinked. “Wrong?”

”That’s not why I acted that way around you.”

”Oh.”

”Can you guess why?”

“Normally, I would think that you didn’t like me. That I had done something to upset or offend you, but if that were the case, I don’t think you’d still be here talking with me.”

”Correct. I definitely don’t dislike you.” At the tilt of his head, you could tell he still didn’t understand. “If you had seen me act that way towards someone else, what conclusion would your observations lead you to?”

He swallowed. “Normally, such behavior would signify attraction or some depth of feeling towards the other person.”

”Did it really not occur to you that was the case here?”

”Honestly, I didn’t want to get my hopes up. Didn’t want to assume you felt the same way.”

”The same way?”

The corner of his lip quirked up. “Attraction and some depth of feeling.”

You couldn’t keep the pleased smile from brightening your face. “Oh.”

You shyly tucked some hair behind your ear, his eyes following the motion. “Is… is that really how you feel about me?”

He stayed silent for a long moment, his focus firmly on you as if he were contemplating your features like one would fine art. ”Do you know why I kept asking you to call me Hotch?”

The abrupt change of topic threw you and it took a few seconds for you to respond. ”I thought you were just being nice.”

He shook his head with a soft smile. “It was because I hoped you’d feel comfortable enough to call me by my name someday. If I could get you to call me Hotch, then eventually, I might be able to convince you to call me Aaron.”

Your breath caught when he leaned in, his eyes never leaving yours as he quietly spoke words meant only for you. “But what I’d really like, is if someday you’d call me yours.” 

You were pretty sure you had stopped breathing and that all the blood in your body was rushing to your face. Surely you didn’t hear that correctly. “W-what?”

He pulled back, his cheeks attractively flushed. “I apologize if I overstepped. I’m a bit rusty at it, but Dave suggested I try flirting. I’ll admit I got a bit nervous and that just came out.”

“Flirting? With me?”

He must have read something in your face because he smirked. “Yes, flirting with you.” 

He leaned closer again. “Is it working?” 

You’re sure your face is red enough to stop traffic. “Yes,” you managed to squeak out. 

“Good.” He ran his hand down your arm, wrapping his fingers around yours and bringing them up to his lips, pressing a barely there kiss to your knuckles. “Would you like to have dinner with me tonight?” 

“Yes,” you breathed out. 

He smiled down at you, dimples on full display and you couldn’t help but smile back. 

“Not here, though.” He glanced around the bar. “I wouldn’t put it past Garcia to hack into their network to watch us.”

You chuckled and nodded knowingly. That was exactly what she would do.

He turned to wave down the bartender. “Please put both our drinks on the tab for David Rossi.” 

You gaped at him and he shrugged with a grin. “He comes here all the time and he would have paid if he had been here. Besides, it’s the least he can do for plotting with Garcia.”

With a giggle, you conceded. “That’s true.”

He stood from his stool, offering you his hand to help you from yours. “Come on. I know a great Italian place nearby.”

He laced his fingers with yours once you were on your feet and led you out of the restaurant.

“It’s only a few blocks away. Since it’s a nice evening, would you like to walk?”

You nodded and allowed him to guide you down the sidewalk, noting that he took care to walk between you and the street.

You walked in companionable silence for a while before he spoke, his eyes trained ahead. “You know, I’ve been wanting to do this for a long time.”

“Really?”

“Since the moment we met.”

You looked at him skeptically. “You mean when I barreled into you and almost knocked you off your feet?”

He grinned down at you. “No almost about it.”

You gasped playfully. “I didn’t make you fall.”

“Sure you did. And all it took was your smile.”

You ducked your head down. “You’re teasing me again.”

“I’m not.” You shot him a leveled look. “Okay, yes, maybe a little. But I’m pretty sure I fell for you the moment you smiled up at me after you finished rambling and were more concerned about me than yourself even though you faceplanted pretty hard. I was worried you might’ve broken something.”

“Hey! I didn’t hit that hard.”

He chuckled, giving your hand a squeeze. “Sorry sweetheart, but you did. I’m surprised there wasn’t an imprint of a button on your face afterward.”

The endearment surprised you but in the most pleasant way. You weren’t sure if it was just a slip of the tongue or a calculated move, but either way, you hoped you’d get to hear it again.

Despite that, you wanted to bury your face—preferably in his chest again, but in a much gentler manner than the last time—to hide your discomfiture. “I’m always so awkward around you. It’s embarrassing.”

“It’s endearing.”

“Oh, stop teasing me. There’s no way you find that even the least bit attractive.”

He stopped and you paused alongside him, looking up at him. His expression was serious but his eyes were soft. “I do. I find everything about you attractive. I think you’re beautiful, especially when you smile. Even more so when you’re blushing. You’re kind and sweet and funny. You might be the most charming woman I’ve ever met.”

You could feel your blush creeping down your neck to your chest. At this rate, you would soon be red from head to toe. “Pretty sure it’s you who’s the charming one.”

His lips lifted in a soft smile as his eyes took in the spreading warmth he always caused. “I’m glad you think so. Makes this easier to ask. I know I should wait until the end of the night but…”

He gently cradled your face in one of his hands, warm even against your flushed cheek. “May I kiss you?”

“Please.”

The hushed word was barely passed your lips before his were there, stealing the last of it for himself.

The kiss was achingly gentle, a soft press of lips that left no doubt as to his burgeoning feelings for you. It was a slow wooing, a tender plea, a solemn promise. A declaration that this was only the beginning of his intentions towards you. 

It was a kiss full of hope.

Hope that this was only the first kiss of many, that this was the beginning of something wonderful, that you would accept what he was only too happy to offer. Himself.

You slowly broke apart, both breathing heavily.

That was, by far, the best kiss of your life, and you knew that they would only get better from there if Aaron Hotchner was the one kissing you.

That one kiss had conveyed so much and you needed to let him know that you got it, you understood, and you wanted the same.

“Aaron.” His name came out as a shaky sigh, but it was enough for him to freeze before dropping his forehead to rest against yours.

“Yes,” he asked just as quietly, his voice deep and husky.

“I feel the same.”

You felt him relax against you as he let out a stuttered breath.

“I never thought I’d have the courage to tell you this. You’re the brave one. But I just need you to know how I feel about you.”

You swallowed and met his eyes that were watching you intently. 

“I’ve been yours since I crashed into you. You stole a piece of my heart with your kindness that day and I’ve happily given you a little more of it each day since. You make me happy every time I see you, and even though I’m flustered and awkward around you, you make me feel safe. You’re a gentleman, you treat your team like a family, and you’re an amazing dad. And you’re handsome. Like, distractingly good-looking. It’s a problem.”

He chuckled and you were pleased to see a blush brightening his cheeks.

“I like you quite a lot, Aaron Hotchner. And I’d really like it if—if I could call you mine.”

Your answer came with his lips brushing against yours once, twice, before they were insistent in their acquisition of yours.

This kiss was deeper. The celebration of a long-awaited victory that had your toes curling. You lost yourself to it and would have continued to do so were it not for the honking from a passing car.

Aaron gave you one more soft kiss before pulling away, his lips delightfully pink and plump.

“As much as I’d love to carry on, this may not be the best place.” 

Despite his words, he pressed a kiss to your cheek and then another to your forehead. You grinned at him and for a moment, he seemed ready to lean right back in.

Instead, his eyes flicked quickly left and right, stopping on something behind you. With a squeeze of the hand that was still holding yours, he guided you to a recessed section of wall that provided a bit more privacy.

He positioned himself in front of you, his free hand coming to rest on your hip. He ducked down to kiss you once more, a tease of his lips that left you wanting more.

“Sorry, couldn’t help myself.”

“Never apologize for that. You can kiss me all you want.”

His grip tightened on your hip. “You called me a gentleman, and yet here you are tempting me to prove otherwise.”

You shrugged with a cheeky smile. “Just being honest.”

“Well, since we are being honest with each other,” he said, the words rumbling in his chest, “I feel I need to let you know that while I plan to do this right and take things slow, there is one important fact you need to know about me.” 

“What’s that?” 

He leaned in, his breath low in your ear. “When granted the liberty to do so, I’m going to show you just how much I love having cinnamon rolls for breakfast.” 

You blinked, the words sinking in. “Cin-cinnamon rolls?” 

“They are my favorite, after all.” He hummed as he pressed a kiss beneath your ear. “My little Cinnamon Roll.”

You gasped and pulled back, narrowing your eyes at him. “You heard Pen call me that, didn’t you?”

He chuckled. “Everyone’s heard you call each other Cupcake and Cinnamon Roll. Was it supposed to be a secret?”

“No, I meant that day at the elevator.”

“You mean when I told you I wouldn’t say no to one?”

“You…you did hear us!” 

He smirked unrepentantly. “I didn’t mean to overhear, but you weren’t being that quiet. So, I just used it to my advantage.”

You swatted his arm. “I was so embarrassed and you’re saying you were teasing?”

“In my defense, it was Garcia who was the one teasing you. I was flirting.”

You pouted at him. “Everyone’s wrong about you. You’re not a stoic hardass. You’re a menace. All these months pining away for you, all the times I was awkward, and now you tell me you were flirting.”

“If it makes you feel any better, sweetheart, I was pining for you too.”

“It does.” You huffed, only a little begrudgingly. 

He chuckled again and dipped down for one last lingering kiss.

You were breathless by the time he pulled back, smiling dazedly when he guided you back onto the sidewalk and resumed your walk to the restaurant.

Despite it having started because of a plot by your friends, your first date with Aaron Hotchner was everything you dreamed it could be. It was romantic, he was charming, and you were finally able to hold a conversation with the man. 

It went so well in fact, that you soon had a second date, and then a third, and then a fourth. And after the fifth date, you found out personally that Aaron Hotchner really did enjoy having cinnamon rolls for breakfast. 

In fact, he enjoyed it so much, he went back for seconds.

[hearts-entwine]

hi!! I have a uquiz to share that's actually for an assignment for my postgrad lol. it'd be so amazing if people could take it so I have some data about popular results to share in my presentation! and don't worry its just a fun personality quiz about what wine pairing goes with your aesthetic/personality so its nothing hard

I will be honest lol, this quiz is very sterotypical and very buzzfeed/2000s womens magazine quiz reminicent, because it has to appeal to a sorta mainstream audience in New Zealand but also be appropriate for 2 lecturers and my classmates to take. But the premise of the quiz is to pair your personality to a wine style and aesthetic so you can purchase a hypothetical wine and food pairing gift box (it is a business assignment, I just want to get back to actually studying wine...)

If you take this quiz thank you so much!!!! you're really helping me a lot! <3

[mortimermcmirestinks]

a complete list

so we got the following already:

AFAB = assigned female at birth

AMAB = samesies but for the bros

ACAB = fuck them pigs

AHAB = guy who wants to fuck and/or kill a sperm whale

so I'm gonna give you the other 22. ready? let's go

AAAB: the muuuscle in your miiidseeection

ABAB: 🔥🔥swedish band typo🔥🔥

ACAB: fuck them pigs

ADAB: world's most rad dance move

AEAB: assigned evil at birth

AFAB: doctor said you were a dame right when you slunk out the pusspuss

AGAB: what the doctor said you was when you slopped on outta the verjubit

AHAB: from hell's heart I tap that cetacean or whatever I never read it

AIAB: all investigators are bisexual

AJAB: a friendly poke

AKAB: all kops are bastardz

ALAB: like asexual but for science experiments instead of sexual attraction. short for "alaboratory"

AMAB: doctor said you were a bloke the second you shot out of the ol' utero cannon

ANAB: someone very sneakily trying to name their D&D character after a banana. don't let them get away with it

AOAB: desperately trying to remember the official Maori name for New Zealand but I'm so so bad at spelling

APAB: assigned pussy magnet at birth

AQAB: the guy from the new GAY version of Moby Dick. this version's called Moby Pronouns. the woke agenda has gone too far!!!!!

ARAB: an ethnic group mainly inhabiting the ARAB world in West Asia and North Africa. A significant ARAB diaspora is present in various parts of the world. Arabs have been in the Fertile Crescent for thousands of years. In the 9th century BCE, the As

ASAB: ahh!! stinkyyy!!! aww, baby

ATAB: the thing you start at a bar when you don't want to pay up right away. ALTERNATE JOKE: the thing you hit to go to the next cell in Excel

AUAB: sound a turtle makes when it's ramming ham

AVAB: only known word to be a perfect anagram of both "balaclava" AND "baklava"

AWAB: assigned weeb at boston

AXAB: amnestic XK-class anomalous being

AYAB: alla youse are bullshit

AZAB: mystery option. nobody knows what this one is. if you know what this one is, send your knowledge to the Pentagon and they will send you a shiny American penny.

glad to help out!! just playing my small role in the queer community. fuck cops also

[gsirvitor]

The Battle of Kapyong

The Battle of Kapyong is one of Canada’s greatest, yet least-known, military achievements.

For two days in April 1951, a battalion of roughly 700 Canadian troops (the 2nd Battalion of the Princess Patricia’s Canadian Light Infantry Regiment) helped defend a crucial hill in the front lines of the Korean War against a force of about 5000 Chinese soldiers.

Besieged by waves of attackers, the Canadians held their position amid the horror of close combat until the assaulting force had been halted and the Canadians could be relieved.

Their determined stand contributed significantly to the defeat of the Communist offensive in South Korea that year.

The 2nd Battalion of the Princess Patricia’s Canadian Light Infantry Regiment (2PPCLI) arrived in Korea in December 1950, under the command of Lieutenant Colonel Jim Stone, a Second World War veteran.

The battalion had initially been deployed when the war was quieting down, with North Korean forces being pushed across their border back into the North.

The Canadians were prepared for little more than carrying out garrison duty.

The war was subject, however, to wild swings in momentum.

Stone quickly had his men trained up to fight with other forces against what would become a renewed enemy offensive in the spring of 1951, after China entered the war on the Communist side.

The battalion was attached to the 27th British Commonwealth Infantry Brigade.

It was soon thrown into a series of skirmishes and battles in the winter of 1951, learning how to fight on the harsh, hilly terrain of Korea, as UN forces tried once again to remove the Chinese and North Koreans from the South.

In mid-April, the Chinese withdrew just past the 38th parallel.

This was part of a plan to lure UN forces into a position where they would be vulnerable to a major counterattack, which was unleashed on the South Korean army on 22 April 1951.

The South Koreans were dislodged by the Chinese offensive, and the following day the British brigade was ordered to protect the South Korean withdrawal through the Kapyong River valley, about 20 kilometers south of the 38th parallel in central Korea.

2PPCLI and the 3rd Battalion of the Royal Australian Regiment were assigned forward hilltop positions, the Canadians on the west side of the valley and the Australians on the east.

The Australians bore the brunt of the initial attack and after heavy combat were forced to withdraw, with 155 casualties, late on 24 April.

While the Australians fought, Stone ordered his Canadians, about 700 troops, to dig in on Hill 677 and prepare to repel a large brigade of massing Chinese forces, estimated at nearly 5000 strong.

After attacking the Australians, the Chinese turned their attention to the PPCLI, which managed, through heavy all-night fighting on 24 and 25 April, to stop the Chinese advance.

At one point in the battle, 400 Chinese soldiers descended on a single Canadian company of roughly 100 men, but the attack was repelled.

Private Wayne Mitchell, despite being wounded, charged the enemy three times with his Bren gun.

He earned the Distinguished Conduct Medal for his efforts.

The Chinese launched most of their attacks at night, in successive waves, using an intensive and aggressive approach of mortars, grenades and machine gun fire close to the Canadian front.

On the night of 24 April, the Canadian battalion headquarters was attacked, and the assault was repelled with heavy fire.

The relentless waves of Chinese soldiers almost overran the position of D Company.

With his men securely entrenched below ground, company commander Captain J. G. W. Mills, desperate and overrun, called for an artillery strike on the position of his own 10 Platoon.

He relayed the request from Lieutenant Mike Levy, who was hunkered down with his men in shallow foxholes on the hill.

A battery of New Zealander guns obliged, firing 2300 rounds of shells in less than an hour, destroying the Chinese forces on that position.

Though the barrage landed just metres from Levy’s position, he and his men were unscathed.

Levy wasn’t recognized for his bravery until 2003, when Governor General Adrienne Clarkson granted him a coat of arms.

The following night, Private Kenneth Barwise recovered the lost Vickers machine gun position in D Company, grabbed the gun, and ran back to his platoon.

He had also single-handedly killed six Chinese soldiers during the attack on D Company, earning the Military Medal.

Amid the fighting, Stone refused to allow his men to withdraw, as he believed the hill was a critical strategic point on the front.

This stemmed the tide of the Chinese offensive.

While they defended the hill, the Canadians were cut off and had to be supplied via air drop.

As Canadian soldier Gerald Gowing remembered:

"We were surrounded on the hills of Kapyong and there was a lot of fire. We were pretty well out of ammunition and out of food too. We did get some air supplies dropped in, but we were actually surrounded… that was a scary moment, let me tell you."

The 2PPCLI were eventually relieved on the front line by a battalion of the 1st US Cavalry Division

The holding action of the Australians and Canadians at Kapyong allowed the UN forces to consolidate their troops for the next stage of operations.

They had fought tenaciously against a Chinese army with a force several times their size.

Stone, and other veterans of the Second World War, utilized their experiences fighting on the rugged terrain of Sicily and Italy, and applied it to the hills of Korea to good effect, but at a price.

Ten Canadian soldiers were killed and 23 wounded during the battle.

Australian losses were higher, 32 killed, 59 wounded, while the Chinese force suffered an estimated 2000 casualties.

[uboat53]

Well, it's the Olympics in the age of trans panic and I'm sure you can guess what that means. With that in mind, a few thoughts about gender and sport.

Okay, let's talk about the specific event that touched this off, Italy's Angela Carini abandoned a boxing match with Algeria's Imane Khelif after only 46 seconds, citing Khelif's strength and power. Some of the less reputable people in politics and media then began to speculate that she had some gender advantage despite having passed a gender and drug test which would have discovered something.

Look, let's get this out of the way at the start, Imane Khelif is a woman. She was born a girl and matured into a woman. She lives in and competes for a country where gender transition is illegal and there's no indication to any reasonable person that she's anything other than a woman who is very good at boxing. Perhaps she has some genetics that help her but, let's face it, every single athlete capable of competing at the Olympic level does; no one complained that Michael Phelp's low production of lactic acid was an unfair advantage! The only reason that there's any "controversy" at all is that people have this ingrained idea that women should NOT be too good at boxing.

And, ultimately, that's the biggest problem with this whole gender panic. There are three (count 'em, three) transgender athletes in the Olympics this year, Canada's Quinn (soccer), New Zealand's Laurel Hubbard (weightlifting), and the US's Chelsea Wolfe (BMX Freestyle - Reserve). Every other athlete in the Olympics was born in their assigned gender and has been tested as such in order to compete.

So why are people panicking about trans athletes? Simple, because their ideas about gender do not match the reality. Not every woman is physically smaller and weaker than every man, not every man has a hulking physique, and there is no clear dividing line between the testosterone levels of women and men. There's also racism at work, African and Middle Eastern women tend to have facial features associated with masculinity in the west while Asian men tend to have facial features associated with femininity in the west making it easy for white audiences without exposure to minorities to assume the worst.

Ultimately, though, the problem is this idea of a sharp gender binary as if men and women were two clearly different species with no overlap between them. Let's say this as clearly as possible: there is no way to define "woman" in a way that excludes all trans women and includes all cisgender women. There is simply too much overlap between men and women; biologically speaking, mammals in general have very small gender differences compared to other groups of species such as insects or certain groups of fish (look up the differences between male and female spiders or anglerfish sometime, THAT'S a gender binary).

What that means is that, no matter how you try to define "woman" or "man", you will always end up with a category that includes some people who every reasonable person would consider to be the opposite.

So here's the question I think we all need to answer before we go any further: what is the purpose of separating sports by gender? Is it so that inferior female athletes can get medals that would be denied to them by superior male athletes? Is it to reinforce our cultural gender norms? Is it another way to divide the competition for fairness like weight classes in boxing?

I suspect that different people have different answers to that question and, until we settle on a universal answer, athletes (who, by the way, are pretty much all outside of the averages for their age and gender by definition) are going to continue to be caught in the crossfire of one of the worst arguments to dominate our society.

[bluizu]

Favorite country? What are three facts about favorite country?

AJEJWJD

ASHSHAS OMG OMG okay um sorry. um. autism moment.

my favorite country is tuvalu!

fact 1: tuvalu, despite Valu meaning Four in Tuvaluan, is an island nation consisting of nine islands. Tuvalu is most likely the first nation to completely sink due to climate change, with the international community doing little to nothing. if you want to help, go to Tuvalu.tv, and the website will help you from there.

fact 2: there are ca. 13 000 people living in tuvalu, with ca. half of which living on the Funafuti atoll. most of them are English speakers, with tuvalu being a part of the former British colony of the ellice Islands (although that's kinda like calling the US the former 13 colonies), but the main language is Tuvaluan, also known as just Tuvalu.

fact 3: Tuvalu is the country with the least tourists in the world, based on 2021 data. this is likely due to how difficult it is to get there, with it being a country in the middle of the ocean, in the middle of New Zealand and Hawaii. The only planes that go to their singular airport (said airport doubles as a football field) come from Fiji, which is YET ANOTHER island nation!

Bonus fact, because i think this is the funniest shit ever. Basically, after colonization, Tuvalu was kind of low on money, but they still wanted to join the UN. but, with the rise of the internet happening at the time, every country was getting assigned a domain (.se for sweden, .fi for finland, etc). what did Tuvalu get? .tv. so, when different companies (e.g twitch) wanted .tv for their streaming services they have to pay Tuvalu. they used this money to get into the UN. it was honestly dumb luck that they got this domain, but im really happy they did.

edit: sorry, it consists of NINE islands! it's been fixed.

thank you so much for the ask! Tōfa!

[redhairedwolfwitch]

you were good for the plotline - Aitana Bonmatí x Reader - Part 3

a/n: i think this is longer than part 2 - f you for ruining barcelona for me but you can also find part 1 here - Secret Love Song. Let's see R turn that anger into motivation...

///

Winter in Australia and New Zealand. This meant a colder climate for the World Cup, compared to the heatwaves the UK had during the Euros the year prior.

The group stages had already been assigned for each country that had qualified. So now you were in a hotel room, staring in the bathroom mirror and trying to recognise the person in front of you.

You had left Barcelona over a month ago, moving your stuff to Wolfsburg with Jana, Mapi and Ingrid’s help. Mapi had tried asking about Aitana, meaning the team knew the reason you had left, your answer wasn’t helpful but it gave her something to think about.

“I couldn’t live in a city haunted with so many ghosts for a minute longer.”

You left Barcelona, the place that took a chance on you and transformed you into a player that everyone realised they wanted, they just didn't notice at first. Steadying your breathing, you hadn’t realised there were tears flowing down your face until you saw your reflection.

“Fuck this… I’m not even in the same hemisphere as Barcelona. She moved on, good for her. Now it’s my turn… I deserve better than crying on the bathroom floor the night before a world cup match over a girl who broke my heart.” Splashing water on your face, you hurriedly wiped at it with a towel as your roommate and national teammate knocked on the door.

“Ready to kick ass tomorrow?”

You nodded, a smirk on your face as you took a breath through your nose. You were ready.

That fierceness shook the scoreboard, bagging your team two goals and an assist as your fire became an eternal flame, helping send your national team to the top of the group in the group stage.

The knockouts were next, and they made you more nervous than the group stage. Keeping your phone off, you almost couldn’t believe July was gone, but it was August now. You didn’t expect the round of 16 to result in you taking a penalty. You despised penalties at Barcelona, but they wanted you to be able to take them. Your team won and were through to the quarter finals.

Your former teammates at Barcelona had been watching the games, seeing your goal celebrations and how your face would light up after each goal, each assist, each win. Every so often, one of them would glance at Aitana, trying to read what she was feeling, especially after the team found out the two of were dating, and the break-up that had driven you away from the team, and the city.

The video you reposted of your goal in the quarter finals that tipped your team into the semi finals included a song that explained your mental state. ‘Since you’ve been gone, I can breath for the first time, I’m so moving on, yeah, yeah, thanks to you, now I get what I want, since you’ve been gone…’ with the beat dropping as soon as the ball left your foot, smashing into the back of the net before the goalkeeper could get her fingertips to it.

Having your phone on flight mode after that post, and every gae, meant that you didn’t know you were in the running for the golden boot, not when all your focus was on recovery and prepping for the next game whilst having fun with your teammates.

The semi finals were next.

An arm wrapped around your shoulders as you stood in the dressing room, staring into space until the touch broke you out of it. Your eyes caught the captain’s armband first, clocking it as your captain who had pulled you into a side hug.

Your captain raised an eyebrow, wondering if you were okay but you pretended to yawn, making her roll her eyes as you chuckled, admitting you were ready to sleep for a month after the world cup was over.

Jana had sent you texts that were beginning to pile up, especially after Spain had been knocked out of the world cup. You had sent an apology for that after the match.

The semis were a blur, because your team had made it through after extra time. You had managed to bag the assist that had your teammate sending the ball into the net at the 111th minute.

You wouldn’t admit it, but you were secretly enjoying adding sassy songs over your team’s victories, with another focussing on how you had gone down momentarily in a clash against an opposing defender. ‘Baby don’t you worry i’ll be fine, you were good for the plotline’ blasting from emlyn’s ‘plotline’, reassurance to the fans, and maybe a dig at your ex, plus the defender who clashed with you. You did admit later that you had ‘plotline’ on repeat when on the plane, leaving Barcelona.

On the 20th August 2023, at the Stadium Australia in Sydney, Australia, your national team competed for the 2023 Fifa Women’s World Cup trophy.

The game went into extra time, but nobody wanted the penalties, not the fans, and not the two teams competing. Your body ached as the toll of the last month, the physical and mental stress of everything that you pushed down as you chipped the ball past the keeper. You landed on your bum somehow, pretending to fold your arms as your teammates rushed over to you to celebrate whilst hearing the crowd erupt with cheers. Your chip past the goalie had sent the ball into the net, breaking the deadlock, and you had created a new meme for the fans to use too.

Your goal didn’t mean that the clock had stopped through, getting up and ready to keep going, seeing if your team had one more goal left in them, but also enough in them to stop the other team getting another equaliser.

You didn’t know that your former teammates at Barcelona were gathered in groups to watch the final, or that Aitana was watching, with Laia’s hand resting on her thigh. But it was your face staring down the camera after your goal sent chills down her spine. 

Playing in a world cup final, it was what you deserved. Winning a world cup final was what you deserved, as Aitana watched your team fly at each other, running around in celebration, and how a camera zoomed in on you crying in joy.

After the effort you put in, throwing yourself into football, determined to thrive after breaking free from being her dirty little secret, her face was blank, guilt and regret battling with pride, as your team went to get their gold medals and your captain holding the World Cup trophy as everyone celebrated.

The cherry on top however was more along the lines of a golden boot, as you were nudged to go collect the golden boot trophy by your teammates.

You had risen like a phoenix from the ashes of her walking away, breaking up with you after treating you like you weren’t a priority. Things could have been different, if she’d thought of you more, your feelings more, instead of her career. But you were flourishing in your career even more than you had when at Barcelona. She could remember the day you arrived, and she could remember the last time she saw you in person, for what she assumed was the final time, after everything that had happened.

Heading back to Germany after the World Cup, you were exhausted and ready to sleep for a month. The Frauen-Bundesliga season had been adjusted to account for the World Cup, so you had time for recovery and some much needed rest.

You had reposted a video someone had made after the final, made of every goal you had scored since the start of your final season at Barcelona, with a song attached that made you smile tiredly into your pillow. Stronger by Kelly Clarkson.

You didn’t expect, however, a knock at the door, or opening it to reveal your best friend, and one of your Wolfsburg teammates on the other side of it.

“Can I see it? I want to see your medal!” Jana asked, almost bursting into your apartment as you smiled and accepted hugs from both of them.

“Sure, it’s in a sock in my suitcase…”

“You put your gold medal in a sock?” Jill laughed, whilst Jana grimaced, asking if it was at least a clean sock.

///

It took you a little while to adjust to Wolfsburg’s style, having only played as the opposition in the past, but you were getting there, slowly getting minutes in games.

You kept in contact with a lot of your teammates, past and present, with your Barcelona ones congratulating you on winning the world cup, your national teammates who shared the hype and excitement with you about winning the world cup, and your Wolfsburg teammates, who were enjoying having you around.

None of your teammates, or yourself, expected to see a certain announcement on Twitter however.

Your name, your former club, Barcelona, and a clip of one of your goals from the world cup attached to a Ballon D’or nomination.

Another nomination caught your attention however, making your stomach twist since you’d avoided looking at her face in more than an instagram post in months now. Aitana had been nominated too.

You didn’t have time to dwell on it though, as you were tackled into hugs by your Wolfsburg teammates, grinning as you reposted an edit with Little Mix’s Power playing in the background.

Too busy enjoying the energy in the dressing room as a couple of your teammates had been nominated too, you didn’t see Jill reposting a photo from the Wolfsburg instagram of you training, specifically boxing, with Centuries by Fall Out Boy attached to the post.

“Can we just ‘accidentally’ miss the flight?” You had tried every trick in the book, uncomfortable with the idea of individual awards when there were ten other players on that pitch who deserved credit too, but nobody was having it.

“Hey. You know what Jana would say, and me, I say it too. You deserve to be nominated.” Jill nudged you to get onto the coach.

“So do you… and everyone else who is nominated, and some who aren’t but should be…” you curled up on the coach, Jill sitting opposite you at the table and humming in agreement.

“So, you know who is nominated.”

“I haven’t been in the same country as her in months. A lot has changed.” You added, messing with one of the aglets on the string of your hoodie.

“Yeah, you kicked Spain out of the world cup with a hattrick.” Jill deadpanned, but the grin on her face made your face burn with embarrassment.

“I know, I was there… I apologised to Jana after the match, even though she was back in Spain during it…” you trailed off, debating whether you could take a nap before the coach got to the airport, “you forgot that I got an assist too!”

“Have you prepared a speech? People think you might win-”

“This is why I don’t go on socials before a match or anything like this… what would I even say? Thanks to my ex admitting I deserve better and walking away on Valentine’s day, you hurt me so much that I went out there and won the world cup and golden boot?” you shrugged, noticing how Jill was grinning.

“She was good for the plotline.” 

“She ruined love, and Barcelona for me, but she didn’t ruin football. Anyway, there’s no point in a speech, I won’t win.”

“And when they call your name?” Jill rolled her eyes, but you kicked her under the table, gesturing to look out the window.

“We won’t be there… have you seen the weather? The plane might be delayed at this rate…” the heavy wind and rain put a damper on the excitement of the Ballon D’or ceremony in France, especially if some of the nominees were stuck at the airports.

“Oh shit.” Jill stated as the rain got even heavier, and the winds louder.

“You think they’ll make us watch the ceremony over video call?” you enquired, wondering what the plan was, “we don’t have to pay for shipping to get the trophy to Wolfsburg, right?”

[airandangels]

USAmericans, I was wondering something. In Gravity Falls, Mabel goes to the high school (tastefully positioned in front of a factory) hoping to book the gym for her and Dipper's birthday party.

Inside she meets Wendy and discovers that high school registration is in progress. There are lists of available classes posted on the wall, and doleful students queue in front of a table where, I suppose, they hand in a form with their choices:

It made me think first "We didn't have to do anything like that when I was at school in New Zealand," then "but I can't remember what we did do" (after thinking carefully, I think we submitted our subject choices for next year near the end of the last term, so the school had the summer holidays to work out the timetable - and that's also what happened when I was a teacher, apparently I just blotted it out for whatever reason).

So my questions are just:

Did you also have to attend a registration day near the end of summer break, or did your school handle it some other way?

If you did have this kind of registration day, how long was it between then and the actual start of term? I assume the school needed some time to sort students into class groups, assign them to teachers and then schedule everything. I know there's software that helps with that and I guess today registration might take place fully online, with the forms on the school website, but the further back in time we go the more human admin work would be involved.

[assignmenthelpnz]

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[judy1926]

Vivien Leigh and Laurence Olivier met for the first time in 1939 after a theatrical performance of The Mask of Virtue.

From the first meeting, there was an attraction between the two

After their conversation, Vivien said to one of her friends “This is the man I will marry,” ignoring the fact that she is married and he is also married

After one of Olivier's performances, Vivien visited him in his room, and after chatting a little with a rising actress before she left, she kissed Olivier on the neck shyly and left.

Vivien was attracted to Laurence because of his charm and charisma, according to a biography written about Vivien Leigh Lawrence was attracted to her in a way he had never been to any other woman

Olivier said in Lord Larry: "I couldn't help myself with Vivian, no one could."

"I hated myself for cheating on Jill, but then I had cheated before, but this was something different. This wasn't just lust. This was the love I didn't really ask for but was drawn to."

A year later, a movie brought them together Fire Over England They spent all their time together, but they succumbed to each other's attraction and their secret relationship began

After a period of time, their relationship was secret, and when Vivien played Ophelia on stage in Hamlet, she suffered a brutal bipolar attack. When Laurence Olivier entered the dressing room, Lee suddenly started shouting at him. This incident shook Olivier, as he later described how it was like a switch had been flipped. Lee started yelling at him, then immediately stopped as if nothing had happened. Unfortunately, her illness will get worse.

During their separation in order to expand their professional life, the two exchanged scandalous and romantic letters, dating back to between 1938 and 1939.

After a dispute over my role as Scarlett in the movie Gone with Profit, I was surprised by the difficulty of the work and everyone’s fear of the failure of the assigned project. She wrote to Olivier explaining how she felt. He responded to her You have to be very smart to succeed in your photo career, which is essential for your self-esteem." "…I'm afraid you might become boring. Never for me…but for yourself and because of that for others. It seemed that Olivier's letters were what kept Lee going

After much struggle, the two finally married in 1940

Vivien contracted tuberculosis in 1944 while she was on a trip to South Africa and Olivier was afraid that his wife would die.

“Please, my angel, send me word of what the doctor said, + if I may ask him to send me a report.”

“You are the only person in the world who can make me so hideously selfish love someone else more than I love myself.”

In 1947, Lee's mental state became worse and Olivier's professional life became better.

In 1948, Lee and Olivier went on a six-month tour in Australia and New Zealand to perform and raise money for the theater. Lee's health condition was poor, and severe quarrels occurred between the two due to Lee's sharp fluctuations and Olivier's lack of knowledge of how to deal with her. The strongest quarrel was when Vivien refused to go on stage with Olivier. Because she could not find her shoe, Olivier could not bear her childish behavior and slapped her in the face in front of everyone. She responded to Lee by hitting him on the back hard. However, at the end, the two of them went up on stage with smiles on their faces, but Olivier learned that he lost her in Africa.

Their professional lives were putting a lot of pressure on their relationship and there were constant comparisons, and she was taking the issue seriously and with great fear

The two still wrote letters when apart, but even that romance was beginning to fade

Lee's mental state was devastating for the two

In 1958, I was introduced to Jacques Merivale, who was aware of all his psychological and physical problems. When Olivier found out about this, he asked Jacques to take care of Vivian, and he promised him that.

The instability in their romantic relationship worsened Lee's emotional and mental condition.

By 1960, Vivien was threatening suicide. “Vivien is several thousand miles away, trembling on the brink, even when she sits quietly in her drawing room,” Olivier once said. Olivier and Lee filed for divorce in May 1960. The divorce was finalized later that year and Olivier married again.

Although they were no longer together, Olivier and Vivien continued to write to each other every now and then.

“I want to thank you for understanding all of this for me,” Olivier wrote in a letter to Lee regarding their divorce, according to The Guardian. “You did a noble, brave, beautiful thing, and I'm so sorry, so sorry, because it must have been a hell of a lot for you.”

But she once said to newspaper, “I would rather have a short life with Olivier than a long life without him.”

Her husband, Jack Merivale, left her at home while he went to perform in a play in Eaton Square. When he returned around midnight, he found Lee asleep in bed. Half an hour later, he entered to find her body on the ground. Leigh apparently tried to walk to the bathroom and collapsed due to her lungs filling with fluid, according to Vivien Leigh: A Biography of Anne Edwards.

Merival alerted the Vivien family and then Olivier

He attended and participated in Vivian's funeral even though he was undergoing treatment for prostate cancer

Olivier Merival helped make funeral arrangements and stayed with Lee until her body was removed.

1967 On July 8, Vivien Leigh's death was announced, and all theaters in London's West End turned off their lights for one hour in her honour. A memorial service was held at St Martin-in-the-Fields and Lee's cremated ashes were spread on the lake at her summer home, Tickerage Mill in East Sussex, England.

In a final letter to Vivien just five weeks before her death, Olivier signed, “Sincere love my dear, your Larry.”

In 1989, on July 11, Olivier died of kidney failure

Even after his marriage to Plowright, Olivier held Lee dear in his heart for the rest of his life. It is said that shortly before his death, he found Olivier watching a film starring Lee, with tears in his eyes, “This, this was love,” he said

[evelynstarshine]

Dr Cassandra Joseph led the Otago study that unexpectedly revealed that tomboyism can be associated with trauma.

‘Tomboyism’ is often fondly celebrated by society as an accepted form of gender nonconformity but is not commonly associated with trauma.

However, that is the unexpected finding from a new University of Otago, Ōtākou Whakaihu Waka study published in the Journal of Gender Studies.

When Otago PhD graduate Cassandra Joseph set out to interview tomboys from a range of cultures about their experiences growing up, neither she nor the study participants anticipated the trauma and distress they had sometimes faced would feature strongly in their conversations.

“The media often paints tomboyism to be a carefree experience, with tomboys being heralded as ‘rebels’,” she says.

“Nobody associates tomboys with trauma.”

Dr Joseph interviewed 11 assigned-female-at-birth (AFAB) tomboys aged between ages 24 – 42 of various ethnicities and a range of gender identities from Aotearoa New Zealand, Australia, Canada, the Netherlands, Singapore and the United States.

As interviews progressed, it became clear that for study participants there was often a sense of unhealed trauma that came with discussing past or present tomboyism.

Some identified as tomboys as a form of self-preservation, while others were labelled with the term and experienced bullying or ostracisation.

One participant from Singapore described how in secondary school, male students would pull her skirt and say she looked ‘like a boy’, and the bullying became so bad she took up taekwondo to feel safe.

Another participant spoke of adopting a tomboy persona because her religious upbringing had taught her that within the church, women were deemed sinful by being desirable to men.

When she was 10 years old, two men attempted to assault her. By appearing as a tomboy, she felt she would be less desirable to men and therefore safer.

A transgender study participant noted the male privilege and increased sense of personal safety he experienced when he became male-passing - a sense of ‘brute strength’ that other participants also identified helped them feel safe.

The study suggests that in such cases, tomboyism has been used as a kind of self-preservation from “the leering eyes of the patriarchy”.

“While this is not the case for all tomboys, it is rather telling that AFAB people have to navigate gender norms to embody gender traits that make them feel safe,” Dr Joseph says.

For many of the participants, once they reached puberty they felt expected to conform to feminine conventions. Many struggled to reconcile their inherent tomboy nature and the expectations of society, resulting in a feeling of ‘gender melancholia’.

“To grow up feeling a sense of freedom that aligns with one’s tomboy identity only to have that stripped away during puberty and post-puberty is a trauma that has been previously unrecognised when it comes to the tomboy narrative,” Dr Joseph says.

She hopes the study might encourage the public to think critically about gender and to realise that the socially imposed binary of masculine/ feminine is more fluid than people might think.

“We also have a responsibility of care towards anyone who challenges our preconceived notions of gender.”

While the concept of tomboyism itself originated in the 16th century and was first used to describe unruly boys, over the years the term tomboy has “shapeshifted” and is bound to do so again in future, Dr Joseph says.

“There is a growing vocabulary around gender-nonconformity, and tomboyism has historically served as a stepping stone into more contemporary discussions on gender and sexuality.

“I think the concept of tomboyism will continue to remain a starting platform in the discussion of gender nonconformity, even if the term ‘tomboy’ isn’t as actively used in some contexts.”

source article

[rainbowmancer-gwen]

Story time:- Shitting the bed (Disrespectful house guests) CONTAINS NSFW moments

I need to start using my tumblr more... My threapist said I should journal more and tell my life stories because a lot of them are just as absured as this... Okay so this is not an am I the asshole stories because I know I am not. I wrote this last night night whilst stoned. I also wanted to test a new clicky RGB keyboard that my Friend Kendra bought me (She was at this party too and can verify it's a true story...) Here goes

Okay, so... close to a decade ago, now I held a party after the Armageddon expo (Anime and Geek convention in New Zealand) one year.

The lead up was that I was working on an assignment for Uni that needed to be in before Sunday. Sunday was Armageddon, and I was hosting an after-party for cosplayers and furries at my parents' house.

It was a sleepover, and I had worked extra shifts to afford a boat load of Kai to feed everyone. My folks were away in the UK. They knew about the party and they knew about my rule.

If you stay cooked, breakfast is at 10 am because you can sleep in. After that I will give you a job cleaning the house. This had worked previously to great effect.

My folks' house can comfortably sleep 12 (in beds) + more on couches.

The whole of the local furry community was invited, and my best friends at the time had helped me plan.

I get my assignment done at 3am after much tinkering and fuckwittery with word counts as Uni had fucked up the brief and there was ambiguity about word count. Fuck it! It's 3am, it is done. I need to sleep and get ready to let off steam.

Arrive at Armageddon, meet friends, and help friend Cosplay as Totoro in a big fursuit. Meet more furries, including draw fest artists. Fuck it! Invite them. This party is going to be the ultimate nerd fest.

And that's when I meet AL... AL is a dragon furry, who is so up himself his fursona has two dicks... I didn't know this at the time. AL asks if he can come. I had only met him once previously but had interacted well enough online and he seemed cool.... Say fuck it! Come along.

Start getting messages out of the blue from a Trans friend, B, who had just gotten back into the country after a messy break up. Say Fuck it! She can come too. It'll do her some good!

Fast forward to the party. Everything is going swell. I am the perfect host. I'm nervous because my parents' house is full of people I have had next to no sleep and a full day of convention. I'm knackered, my best mate. Let's call him Phoenix. He has packed me a joint. Instantly feel better.

Start to notice something is off...

Notice AL and B are making out like it's an Olympic sport. They are all over each other, and it's squicking out my guests...

Ask them politely. Hey guys... It's not that kinda party. We got people playing fucking Yu-Gi-Oh! And drawing furries and you're... You're doing that...

It gets later, and people start to trickle out. The stayers are watching anime on a projector in the living room that Totoro friend, had brought over.

I'm like, sweet. This is my time for another joint, and I'll set up beds. I walk into the kitchen, and what do I see? B An 8 foot transwoman in heels sucking off AL...

I am beyond mortified and beyond words... AL smug face says something to me, which I forget.

Anyway I tell them that it's not appropriate quietly and again not that kinda party. No other party guests saw that, thankfully... Read the room seriously!

Move on to allocating beds. Okay, so let's put them separately...

B pipes up. "Um... I will have anxiety if I don't sleep away from other people who I don't know" sounds fake as fuck.

Okay, you can have the room my GRANDMOTHER sleeps in when she visits... and my room is ABOVE YOU... 

Everyone hears this... Everyone goes to bed. I go upstairs when they do. Spend a little more time with core friends. Break down and tell them what happened... and how mortified I am.

They ask me why you did not tell us? Because I didn't want to ruin the party...

Go sleep. Hear fucking. PISSBOILED! I am so angry! Angry cry self to sleep listening to Weezer. "I am the greatest man that ever lived" (I was masc at the time...) more on that story later...

Skip ahead to the morning. I am up first as I had not slept, nor had they. (The headphones did not hide the fucking...!)

Here I am, angry breakfast! Thankfully, due to many doors between guests and them (except for me... I AM THE ONE WHO HEARD EVERYTHING!)

It was awful... Thankfully, everyone helped clean and was grateful for breakfast. EXCEPT FOR THEM!

THEY DIDN'T GET OUT OF BED UNTIL MIDDAY!

I had shit I needed to do! Everyone did! Everyone knew this. It was on the invites! I purposefully sent the invites. Because in the digital age, respect the party rules!

And I made it very clear 3 TIMES!

☆♤♧◇♧♤♡☆

NOT

THAT

KIND

OF

PARTY!!!

☆♤♧◇♧♤♡☆

They have the AUDACITY! the AUDACITY! to ask where's BREAKFAST!

After a brief explanation... AL, to his credit, helps a little with the last of the cleaning....

B does a sneaky exit but gets caught at the door by me. She says , sheepish and fake sad sounding "Bye...." *Sad eyes look away* ME ME me me me kinda look.

Leaves... Whatever screw her! She's out of my life now...

Meanwhile, other guests start to ship out and thank me for my hospitality and grace, humility and kind hosting, and network skills, etc...

AL and core BFFs last to leave (Phoenix, and Rei) after knowing what has happened asked me if  I wanted to stay with them. Say yes please. AL hears this (he's still not left yet) and says he'll travel with us...

Que? No, me gusta!

Does not get hint. Walk to.bus stop is silent.

Get to bus. AL invites himself by stating “Am I coming to [PHOENIX and REI'S HOUSE] with you?”

Rei who has had it at this point states “I don’t know… Are you?” and glares at him.

Finally getting the hint AL gets off the bus.

Watch him leave… Continue Bus journal. All of us are gobsmacked… GAGGING!!!

Continue to my friend's house. Phone blows up. Messages from B saying how much of a shit host I was and how unwelcome she was made to feel… CALL OUT HER BULLSHIT! Phoenix is cheering me up by making me laugh about the whole thing calling it the "Kitchen BJ saga" Rei is pouring me a hair of thedog bloody mary and a cup of tea

Come home a day later. Shit stains on the bed….  I AM FUCKING LIVID THEY LITERALLY SHIT THE BED!!

End up charging both of them for the price of entirely new bed sheets… AL reluctantly pays as he has rich parents, find out later that he payed for B too.

Never hear for B again, except randomly bumping into her in the hospital (I am an RN) No words were spoken but I honestly hope she is well… AL occasionally pops up in online circles, Never let him live it down. Trues to laugh about it because “LOL It’s been close to a decade” NO! YOU SHIT THE BED! I’m never letting you or anybody else forget it!

If you read this far you are a saint. Thank you for letting me get this off my chest

Peace and love tumblr!

MAY YOU NEVER SHIT THE BED!

Gwen