#i know saying 'i work full time and dont live on this game like other people do' isnt enough to warrant stopping the fomo shit

[wp100]

i feel like blizzard not releasing any information about minor patches is doing more harm than good

the fact that they said that 10.2.6 is limited time (they confirmed this today) has squandered any interest i had in the patch... and i wasn't even that interested in the first place because we know literally nothing about this patch. we have no idea what's going to be in it. no public test realm, no nothing. it's not even released yet, im not expecting much at ALL, and yet, I'm STILL disappointed.

meh. it doesn't matter what blizzard does, they're damned if they do, and damned if they don't. they're damned regardless of what they do lol. they give us free shit and people still complain ����‍♀️ even im complaining.

maybe it's because i have played this game for like 17 years. just sick of the limited time fomo shit at this point

[blackpilljesus]

I saw this from the female separatism subreddit & the responses are some of the biggest reasons for separatism et al (or extinction if I'm being candid here). Moids cant be reformed they are fully aware of the hell they force women to live in. MaIe achievement & happiness is rooted in female exploitation & life. Their glory days are based on our horrific days. No amount of love, kindness or facts will change maIes and we cannot happily or even neutrally coexist with them.

Main points across answers:

Many want to experiment but not permanently be women

They dont want to be in constant danger or lose their autonomy at the hands of maIes for merely existing

They dont want to deal with childbirth (& periods)

They dont want to have to share spaces with species much stronger than them with ulterior motives

It makes me go crazy seeing people give moids benefit of doubt for their evil like "maIes just dont understand", "we need to teach maIes", or claiming that maIe violence is a result of maIes struggling with (expressing) their feelings. I get that women love maIes and it can be hard to imagine that people can intentionally be so evil but it is what it is. MaIes have no problems expressing themselves, abusing women is what maIes choose to do because they enjoy & benefit from it - that is their expression.

MaIes see the same news of women being abused, raped, and killed like we do except rather than be disheartened or alarmed they're either apathetic or satisfied. It isn't aliens that's committing GBV it's maIes & maIes have no problem reminding women of this when women anger them (such as rape threats & threatening women they'll end up on the news/true crime). The victim blaming, denial, and derailment of misogyny is part of the game to keep the system alive, they know the events occured & are a systemic occurence they just dont care. Hell not only do they not care, they rejoice in it or get off on it.

MaIes set up environments that work in their favour which simultaneously ensures that women will lose. They know women are set up to live in damn near impossible conditions for us. It's normalised for women to defenselessly share personal & private spaces with beings much more stronger than them with ulterior motives for us, it's trap. It's interesting how these moids aren't saying that they'll just cover up and *poof* harrassment gone, or they'll just pick a nice guy & they'll be okay. MaIes know the net negative they are towards women.

MaIes know that childbirth is a painful process & what do they do? Demand it happens and make it even MORE painful for women. MaIes that impregnate women do not love or care for them. Pregnancy itself is dangerous & sometimes lethal, often comes with a range of health issues, to cause someone to be in that condition especially in a environment where abortions are illegal is reckless & unloving. Now imagine how sinister & full of hatred one has to be to impregnate someone and abuse them on top of that. Many women risk their health & lives to reproduce with a Y and they get abused by said Y instead of being taken care of. Deranged.

Realising that maIes are aware of the evil they inflict is one of the things that radicalised me. It isn't a miscommunication or ignorance issue, their violence is intended. They want control. The cruelty is the point. Instead of wasting time & energy trying to change maIes or hope that they "understand" one day, focus on yourself & other women (who prioritise women). Moids aren't oblivious to female pain they enjoy it. A lot of women treat maIe evil like it's a mistake on maIes part but it's calculated terrorism. I know that this will go over many womens heads as they refuse to hold strong negative sentiments about moids as a collective so if you're not a woman like that, take this post as a sanity check. You aren't crazy, it isn't all in your head.

[kiwriteswords]

Hotch and Reader are both in love with each other and have been for years but are both too professional and care too mcuh about work and ruining things so they dont get together but they end up getting together finally. its angsty and delicious!! with a happy ending ofc! (bonus if smut is added at all!?!?!)

I love you in a place where there's no space or time

Masterlist || Ao3

AN: So sorry this one took so long to share, anon! I hope it's all you hoped for! xx

Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x Female Reader

Word Count: 13.6k

Tags/Warnings: Canon-typical violence, canon-typical themes, hurt/comfort, jealousy, fluff, angst, feelings un-acknowledged, canon-typical injuries, language, fade-to-black smut, sexual themes, friends with benefits, friends with benefits turned relationship, slow burn, family dynamics, intimacy with feelings, proposal, talk of marriage.

Sypnosis: Aaron Hotchner has always been a man of order and control, carefully compartmentalizing the demands of his work and personal life. But when a long-standing partnership with a member of his team—you—begins to blur the lines between professional and personal, he’s forced to confront feelings he’s buried for years.

Aaron Hotchner had always been good at compartmentalizing. It was a skill he'd honed over years of leading the BAU, of balancing the chaos of his work and the fragile peace of his home life—or what passed for home these days. And you? You were a complication he never anticipated but somehow couldn’t imagine his life without.

You’d been with the team for years, carving your place with sharp wit, unwavering competence, and a sense of humor that could soften even the darkest days. Somewhere along the way, your partnership had morphed into something more. Late nights at the office became late nights at his apartment, pouring over files as Jack played in the living room. Work dinners turned into shared takeout meals, laughter filling his kitchen. And the tension—the chemistry between you both—it became a thread stretched taut, always on the brink of snapping.

But neither of you ever said a word.

Hotch couldn’t pinpoint when it had started, exactly. Maybe it was the time you showed up with a Batman figurine for Jack, just because he’d mentioned liking the character once. Or the way you sat with him on the couch after Haley’s death, saying nothing, just being there when he needed it most. Or the way you touched his shoulder during a case, grounding him when his anger threatened to boil over.

It didn’t matter. What mattered was that now, you were a constant in his life, and he had no idea how he’d let you become that. Friends with benefits, the team might have called it if they weren’t too polite to say it out loud. But it wasn’t just the sex—though that was undeniable. It was the quiet moments. The way you fit seamlessly into his life, into Jack’s life. Like you belonged.

Like you were family.

Hotch watched you now, sitting cross-legged on his living room floor, a game controller in hand, as Jack giggled beside you. You feigned frustration as Jack’s character beat yours on the screen, throwing your hands up dramatically.

“You’re cheating,” you teased, pointing an accusatory finger at Jack, who grinned up at you.

“I am not!” Jack protested, his voice full of glee. “You’re just bad at this.”

“Bad at this?” you gasped, clutching your chest as if he’d mortally wounded you. “I’ll have you know I used to be the reigning champion at this game.”

Jack tilted his head, squinting at you skeptically. “When? Like, a hundred years ago?”

Hotch couldn’t hold back a laugh from the couch, shaking his head as he sipped his coffee. “Careful, Jack. She might just ground you for that one.”

You spun around, pointing the controller at Hotch like a weapon. “Oh, don’t you start with me. You’re supposed to be on my side.”

“I’m on Jack’s side,” he said smoothly, the rare smile tugging at his lips, softening the tease. “He’s clearly the underdog here.”

Jack beamed, puffing out his chest. “See? Dad gets it.”

“Traitors,” you muttered, shaking your head dramatically before turning back to the game. “Fine. But if I win the next round, you both owe me ice cream.”

Jack laughed harder, leaning against you as if you’d always been there. “You’re not winning,” he declared. “And even if you do, I pick the flavor. No weird ones.”

“No weird ones? Jack, I have excellent taste. Mint chocolate chip is a classic.”

“Mint chocolate chip is gross,” Jack said, sticking out his tongue.

You gasped in mock outrage. “Okay, now you’ve gone too far.”

Hotch set his mug down, leaning back into the couch as he watched the scene unfold. This was his favorite view: you and Jack, a picture of domesticity he didn’t dare name.

The ache in his chest was familiar by now. Warm, heavy, and terrifying all at once.

Later, after Jack had gone to bed, Hotch found you in the kitchen, drying the dishes. It was a quiet ritual you’d fallen into over time, one neither of you had ever acknowledged aloud. The hum of the dishwasher and the soft clinking of plates filled the space between you, but it was far from silent. The weight of everything unspoken lingered, just like it always did.

Your shoulder brushed his as you reached for a glass, the simple contact sending ripples of awareness through him. It was ridiculous, he thought, how something so small could affect him so much. But that was how it had always been with you.

“You don’t have to stay,” he said softly, though he already knew the answer.

You glanced at him, a hint of amusement in your expression. “You know I don’t mind.”

Of course, you didn’t. You never minded. Whether it was a case of collapsing into bed together after a high-stakes day or nights like these—quiet, uneventful, and free of tension—you always stayed. It wasn’t just about the times the chemistry boiled over; it was about all the moments in between. The ones that felt effortless.

Hotch set the last plate on the drying rack and turned toward you, wiping his hands on a towel. “Jack really likes having you here,” he said, his tone conversational but deliberate. “He talks about you all the time.”

“And you?” you asked lightly, with a teasing lilt that tried to downplay the weight of your question. “Do you like having me here?”

His brow lifted, a rare smirk playing at the corners of his mouth. “Why wouldn’t I? You help with chores and keep Jack entertained. I’m getting the better end of the deal.”

You rolled your eyes, shaking your head as you bumped your shoulder lightly against his. “Deflect all you want, Hotchner. I know you’d be lost without me.”

He allowed himself a small chuckle, one that softened the sharp edges of his usual demeanor. “I wouldn’t go that far,” he replied, though his voice held more warmth than his words. “But I like having you here. More than I probably should.”

That caught you off guard for just a moment, but you recovered quickly, the teasing smile returning to your lips. “Good,” you said simply, returning to dry the last dish.

By the time the house had settled into silence, Hotch found himself in the bedroom, sitting on the edge of the bed as he unwound from the day. He heard your soft footsteps before you appeared in the doorway, your presence familiar and steady. You didn’t pause or hesitate, instead crossing the room to climb into the bed—his bed, though it had long since stopped feeling like just his.

You always stayed, and it had become a routine neither of you commented on. The guest room was just there for show, untouched and unnecessary. Some nights, the pull of tension between you snapped, leaving no room for words or space. Both of you would end up breathless and wanting in bed. Other nights, like this one, were quieter. Still, you stayed.

“Are you just going to sit there all night?” you asked, your voice low and tinged with humor. You were already lying on your side, propped up on one elbow, as you watched him with a curious gaze.

Hotch smirked faintly, shaking his head as he joined you, slipping under the covers. “I thought you might enjoy the peace and quiet,” he replied, his tone dry.

“I don’t think you’d know what peace and quiet were if it hit you in the face,” you shot back, though your words held no bite.

He settled beside you, his arm coming around you instinctively as you shifted closer. It was a gesture that felt as natural as breathing now, one neither of you ever acknowledged, but both seemed to rely on.

“You know,” you murmured, your voice soft against the stillness of the room, “it’s kind of funny how we never talk about this.”

“This?” he echoed, though his hand lightly tracing circles on your back betrayed the calmness of his tone.

“This,” you said, gesturing vaguely to the two of you. “Me staying. Us… whatever this is.”

Hotch was quiet for a moment, his brow furrowing slightly as he considered his response. “Talking about it might ruin it,” he said finally, his voice barely above a whisper.

You smiled at that, the kind of smile he couldn’t see in the dark but could feel in the way your body relaxed against his. “Maybe.”

The silence that followed wasn’t uncomfortable. It was full of the things neither of you dared to say aloud. And as you shifted closer, resting your head on his chest, Hotch allowed himself the brief indulgence of pretending that this—your warmth, your presence—was something permanent. Even though he knew it wasn’t.

Your company was appreciated and needed more than Hotch knew, even at work. The case was brutal. A family annihilator who preyed on vulnerabilities, using twisted logic to justify his violence. Hotch could feel the weight pressing down on him, but he didn’t have to carry it alone. You were there, as you always were, your presence steadying him.

When the unsub was in custody, and the team returned to the precinct, you lingered in the corner, watching him. He could feel your gaze like a physical touch as if you were daring him to break the silence that stretched between you.

“You okay?” you asked finally, your voice soft. Never prying. 

He nodded, but the truth hung in the air, unspoken. He wasn’t okay. Neither were you. But that was the deal, wasn’t it? To keep moving forward without acknowledging the things that could break you.

That night, back at the hotel, the weight of the day lingered on Hotch’s shoulders, pressing harder with every passing moment. Cases involving families always hit him differently, carving into the parts of himself he worked so hard to protect. But tonight, something else tugged at him—a sharper, deeper ache he couldn’t shake. It was you. It was always you.

He’d known you’d come. You always did on nights like this, when the line between partner and something more blurred into nothingness. The knock on his door was soft but unmistakable, and when he opened it, there you were, leaning casually against the doorframe as if this wasn’t an unspoken ritual.

“You weren’t going to sleep anyway,” you said, your voice low, tinged with exhaustion but still carrying that edge of teasing familiarity.

“Neither were you,” he replied, stepping aside to let you in.

The door closed softly behind you, but the tension in the room was anything but quiet. It filled the space between you like a storm waiting to break. You shrugged off your jacket, tossing it onto the chair in the corner, and Hotch couldn’t stop his eyes from lingering on you—the curve of your shoulders, the set of your jaw, the flicker of vulnerability in your expression you probably thought he wouldn’t notice.

“Rough day,” you said, breaking the silence as you turned to face him.

He nodded, his jaw tightening. “They always are.”

You crossed the room, your steps slow and deliberate, until you were standing just in front of him. “But this one was worse,” you said softly, your voice lacking the teasing edge it usually carried. “For both of us.”

Hotch didn’t answer, because he couldn’t. The words caught in his throat, the weight of everything unsaid pressing harder than ever. But you didn’t seem to need his response. You looked at him for a long moment, your gaze steady, searching, and then you moved closer.

It happened all at once and yet not at all suddenly, as though it had been building for hours. His hands found your waist, gripping you tightly as his lips crashed against yours. The kiss was fierce, almost desperate as if he was afraid you might vanish. And you let him, meeting his intensity with your own, your fingers threading into his hair, holding him as tightly as he held you.

It wasn’t just adrenaline from the case or the pull of attraction that neither of you could deny. It was the unspoken understanding that this—whatever it was—was the only way either of you knew how to deal with the weight of the lives you led. It was raw, honest, and utterly consuming.

You tugged at his tie, loosening it with practiced ease, your movements steady but charged with purpose. His breath hitched as your hands brushed against his chest, unbuttoning his shirt with a deliberate slowness that had his pulse racing. His own hands mirrored your urgency, sliding under the fabric of your blouse, feeling the heat of your skin against his palms.

"Are you sure?" he asked, his voice rough but soft, his forehead pressing against yours as he paused just long enough to look into your eyes. The question wasn’t about this moment—it was about everything. About stepping closer to the line, you both swore you wouldn’t cross but had already blurred so many times.

You didn’t answer with words; instead, you pulled him back into a kiss, which was softer this time but no less consuming. Your lips moved against his in a way that spoke of trust, of understanding, of a desire too strong to deny. His hands cupped your face, his thumbs brushing your cheekbones as he deepened the kiss, pouring everything he couldn’t say aloud into the way he held you.

When you pulled away just enough to whisper against his lips, your voice was low and steady. “I’m here, Aaron. Always.”

His name on your lips sent a shiver down his spine, and something inside him gave way. He guided you toward the bed with a gentle but unwavering urgency, his hands never leaving you. The soft glow of the room’s lamp cast warm shadows across your features as you looked up at him, your expression a mix of vulnerability and certainty that made his chest tighten.

The rest of the world disappeared as you both surrendered to the moment. Every touch, every kiss, every whispered breath was a testament to the connection you shared—a connection that went beyond words, beyond labels, beyond anything either of you could easily explain.

When you reached up to touch his face, brushing your fingers against the faint stubble along his jaw, he leaned into your touch instinctively. “Aaron,” you said again, his name a quiet anchor pulling him further into you.

He tilted his head down, his forehead resting lightly against yours. “You don’t know what you do to me,” he murmured, his voice low and raw, the words escaping before he could stop them.

“I think I do,” you replied softly, your hands moving to rest on his chest, feeling the steady thrum of his heartbeat beneath your palms. “Because it’s the same thing you do to me.”

The admission hung between you like a fragile truth, one neither of you had dared voice before. But instead of shattering the moment, it only seemed to deepen the connection that pulsed in the quiet space between your bodies.

Hotch’s hands found the hem of your blouse, his movements deliberate as he slid it up and over your head. His fingertips brushed your skin, the contact sending sparks of warmth that spread through you. You reached for the buttons of his shirt, your touch steady despite the tremor of anticipation that hummed in the air.

When you finally settled on the bed, his weight pressing into the mattress beside you, the world outside the walls of the hotel room ceased to exist. The past, with all its heartache and shadows, faded away, leaving only the present—this moment, this connection, this intimacy you both shared.

Hotch leaned over you, one hand bracing himself beside your head, the other trailing along the curve of your side. The way he touched you was reverent like he was committing every inch of you to memory. His lips found yours again, the kiss softer this time, more deliberate, as if savoring the quiet intensity of the moment.

But there was something else beneath that tenderness—a tension he could no longer hold back. His lips pressed harder against yours, the kiss deepening with a newfound urgency. His hand slid from your side to your thigh, gripping it firmly as he pulled you closer as if closing the space between you would somehow quiet the storm raging inside him.

When you gasped softly against his mouth, he pulled back just enough to meet your gaze. His dark eyes, usually so controlled, were filled with something raw, something unguarded. "Tell me if it’s too much," he said, his voice rough, the words both a request and a warning.

Your answer came not in words but in the way you hooked your leg around his waist, pulling him closer, your hands gripping his shoulders as if daring him to let go. “It’s never too much,” you whispered, your voice steady despite the flush of heat in your cheeks.

That was all the permission he needed. His hand slid up your thigh, his grip firm but not harsh, leaving a trail of heat in its wake. His lips found yours again, but this time, the kiss wasn’t soft—it was demanding, consuming, as though he was pouring everything he couldn’t say into the way his mouth moved against yours.

Hotch’s other hand tangled in your hair, tilting your head back to give him better access as he trailed kisses down your jaw and neck. He paused at the hollow of your throat, his breath warm against your skin. When his teeth grazed just enough to make you shiver, he chuckled softly, the sound low and rich. “Still okay?” he murmured, though the way his hands gripped your waist betrayed his struggle to hold back.

“Yes,” you breathed, your voice barely audible as you arched into him. “Don’t stop.”

He didn’t. The restraint that usually defined him seemed to unravel as his kisses grew rougher, his hands exploring with a certainty that left no room for hesitation. He shifted, guiding you further back onto the bed, his body pressing into yours, solid and unyielding. The way he moved, the way he touched you—it was as if he was trying to claim you, to prove that this moment, this connection, belonged to both of you and no one else.

As his lips returned to yours, his hands found yours, pinning them gently above your head. His weight and the intensity of his gaze sent a shiver of anticipation through you. "You’re mine tonight," he said, the words rough but filled with a quiet reverence that made your breath hitch.

“And what about tomorrow?” you teased softly, though your voice trembled with the weight of the moment.

Hotch’s grip on your hands tightened just slightly, his expression darkening with something that looked dangerously close to vulnerability. “Let me have tonight first,” he murmured, his lips brushing against yours, and at that moment, nothing else mattered but the way he made you feel—seen, wanted, and completely his.

The rest of the world disappeared as you both surrendered to the moment. Every touch, every kiss, every whispered breath was a testament to the connection you shared—a connection that went beyond words, beyond labels, beyond anything either of you could easily explain. Times like this, when cases were especially bad, it was a little rougher than tender, but neither of you seemed to mind.

The silence in the room was heavy but not uncomfortable. It was the kind of quiet that came after something unspoken had been shouted without words. Hotch’s chest rose and fell steadily beneath your head, your fingers idly tracing patterns on his skin, grounding both of you in a moment that felt suspended in time. The storm of the night had calmed, leaving in its wake a raw, unfiltered intimacy that neither of you could explain—or acknowledge.

But then you shifted.

The movement was subtle at first, just a slight pull away from his side, but it was enough to snap him out of his haze. He felt your warmth leave him as you turned, sitting up on the edge of the bed. He watched as you reached for your clothes, your movements slow but deliberate, your back to him.

“You’re leaving?” The words came out gruffer than he intended, his voice low and edged with something he couldn’t quite define—something dangerously close to vulnerability.

You hesitated, your fingers pausing on the fabric in your hands. “I should,” you said quietly, though your tone lacked conviction. “We both need sleep. It’s been a long day.”

Hotch sat up then, the sheet pooling around his waist as he leaned forward. “You usually stay,” he said, his voice softer now, but still carrying the weight of a question he wasn’t sure he wanted the answer to.

You glanced over your shoulder at him, your expression guarded, but your eyes betrayed you. They always did. “It’s different tonight,” you said, your voice barely above a whisper.

He frowned, his brows drawing together. “Different how?”

You stood, pulling on your shirt as if the action might shield you from the conversation you were both teetering on the edge of having. “I don’t know,” you said finally, shaking your head. “It just… it feels too close. Like if I stay, it’ll mean something.”

Hotch swung his legs over the side of the bed, planting his feet firmly on the floor. He reached for your wrist, his grip gentle but firm enough to stop you. “It already means something,” he said, his voice steady despite the turmoil swirling in his chest.

Your breath hitched, but you didn’t turn to face him. “We don’t talk about this, Aaron. That’s the deal.”

“I know,” he admitted, his grip loosening just enough to let you pull away if you wanted. “But tonight—” He paused, the words catching in his throat. “Tonight, I don’t want you to go.”

That stopped you. You turned slowly, your eyes meeting his, and for a moment, the weight of everything you both refused to say hung between you. You looked at him like you were trying to decipher some unspoken truth, but he didn’t flinch under your gaze. He couldn’t. He needed you to understand.

“I don’t know if I can,” you said finally, your voice wavering.

“Yes, you can,” he said, standing now, closing the space between you. His hands found your shoulders, grounding you just as yours had grounded him earlier. “Just for tonight. Stay.”

Your walls were up; he could see it in the way your jaw tightened, and your shoulders tensed. But he could also see the crack in your resolve, the way your lips pressed together as if to keep from saying something you might regret. You nodded slowly, and his hands dropped from your shoulders, relief washing over him in a way he didn’t entirely understand.

“Okay,” you whispered, your voice barely audible.

Hotch stepped back, giving you space even though every fiber of his being wanted to pull you closer. You climbed back into the bed, your movements slower this time, less certain. When you finally settled beside him, he wrapped an arm around you, his hand resting lightly on your back.

Neither of you spoke again, but the silence was heavy with understanding. He didn’t know what tomorrow would bring, and he didn’t know if either of you could keep pretending this wasn’t something more. But for now, it didn’t matter.

You were here, and that was enough.

The room was quiet again, save for the rhythmic hum of the hotel’s air conditioning and the faint sounds of life beyond the walls. You were back beside him, though the space between your bodies felt heavier than before, as if the rawness of what had just happened was an invisible barrier neither of you wanted to cross.

Hotch’s arm rested lightly on your back, his hand brushing the curve of your shoulder in slow, deliberate motions. He could feel the tension in your body, the way your breathing was steady but shallow, as though you were trying to keep your emotions at bay. He didn’t push; he never did. But tonight, the weight of everything unspoken was almost suffocating.

“You don’t have to stay if you don’t want to,” he said finally, his voice quieter, less firm than it had been when he asked you to stay.

You shifted slightly, turning your head to look at him, your expression unreadable in the dim light. “Do you want me to go?” you asked, and there it was—your defense, sharp and ready, a shield to deflect the vulnerability threatening to surface.

“No.” The word came out before he could stop it, his tone firmer this time, leaving no room for ambiguity.

Your eyes softened just slightly, but you quickly masked it, shifting to lie flat on your back, staring at the ceiling. “This feels… different,” you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper. “It’s not like the other times.”

Hotch turned to face you, propping himself up on one elbow. “It is different,” he said, his gaze steady on you. “But I think it’s always been different. We just don’t say it.”

You let out a breathy, humorless laugh, turning your head to meet his eyes. “We’re not exactly great at saying things, are we?”

His lips twitched into a faint smile, though there was little humor in it. “No, we’re not.” He reached out, brushing a strand of hair from your face, his fingertips lingering for a moment longer than necessary. “But that doesn’t mean it’s not there.”

You closed your eyes briefly, as if trying to absorb his words without letting them take hold. When you opened them again, there was something softer in your gaze, something that looked a lot like surrender. “You scare me sometimes,” you admitted quietly. “Not in the way you think. Just… the way you make me feel.”

Hotch’s chest tightened at your words, his hand moving to rest against your cheek. “You think I don’t feel the same?” he asked, his voice low but steady. “Because I do.”

The air between you shifted then, the tension softening into something quieter, more vulnerable. For a moment, neither of you moved, your gazes locked as though daring each other to break the silence. Then, slowly, you reached for him, your hand finding his and lacing your fingers together.

“I’ll stay,” you said softly, almost as if reassuring yourself as much as him. “But just for tonight.”

It was always more than just tonight. 

Hotch nodded, his lips pressing into a thin line as he leaned down to kiss your forehead—a gesture so tender it felt almost out of place between the two of you. “Just for tonight,” he echoed, though the way his hand tightened around yours betrayed the truth.

You shifted closer to him, your head resting against his shoulder, and for a while, you both lay there in silence, the unspoken words still hanging in the air but no longer suffocating. Whatever this was between you—messy, undefined, and terrifying—it was enough for now. It had to be.

Aaron Hotchner prided himself on control. In his work, in his demeanor, in the way he navigated the chaos of the BAU—it was a skill he had honed to perfection. And yet, when it came to you, control felt like a slippery thing, something he grasped at but never fully held.

The days following that night settled back into the rhythm you and Hotch always maintained—something hovering between routine and denial. At work, you were as efficient and professional as ever, the picture of a seamless partnership. You exchanged clipped updates about cases, worked in sync during briefings, and traded subtle glances across the room that said more than words ever could.

Outside of work, the lines blurred more than ever. You still joined Hotch and Jack for movie nights, helped Jack with his homework, and shared quiet dinners that felt far too domestic for two colleagues who claimed not to be anything more. You fell back into bed together on those nights when the tension boiled over (and many nights when you both were just too tired not to just be), and yet neither of you ever spoke about what it meant. That was the unspoken agreement: not to name it because naming it would make it real.

It worked. Until Beth.

She had been kind, warm, and direct in a way that took him by surprise. Meeting her at the park had been pleasant enough—a chance encounter during one of his runs training for the triathlon. She’d struck up a conversation easily, and before he realized what was happening, she was smiling at him in that way, the kind of way that left no question about her intentions.

“I-I could use some tips--if you’re not busy?” she’d asked, her tone light but confident.

For a moment, Hotch froze. His first thought, inexplicably, was of you—how you’d look at him if you knew, the slight quirk of your brow, the teasing edge in your voice. And yet, beneath that, there was something else. Something heavier.

“I—” He hesitated, shifting uncomfortably. “I just don’t know my schedule. I’ll think about it.”

Later that night, as you sat on the couch in his apartment, flipping through a case file while Jack played nearby out of hearing, Hotch broke the silence.

“Someone asked me out today,” he said, his voice calm, almost too casual. 

You didn’t look up immediately, your focus still on the file, but he caught the way your hand stilled on the page. “Oh?” you said lightly, though the tightness in your tone betrayed you. “Anyone I know?”

He shook his head, leaning forward to rest his elbows on his knees. “A woman I met at the park. Beth.”

“Beth,” you repeated, setting the file down. You finally looked at him, your expression unreadable. “And what did you say?”

“I said I’d think about it.” He paused, studying your reaction closely. “It felt… strange.”

You tilted your head, your lips curving into a wry smile. “Strange how? Like you haven’t been asked out in a while? Or…?”

Hotch sighed, his gaze dropping to the floor. “Like it would be wrong. Like I’d be… cheating.”

The word hung in the air between you, and for a moment, neither of you spoke. Then you laughed, though the sound was hollow. “Cheating? Aaron, we’re not—” You stopped yourself, the words catching in your throat.

“I know,” he said quickly, his jaw tightening. “But it still felt that way.”

You leaned back against the couch, your arms crossed over your chest. “How would you feel,” you asked after a long pause, “if someone asked me out?”

The question was quiet but sharp, cutting through the space between you. Hotch’s eyes snapped up to meet yours, and for a moment, he didn’t speak. His first instinct was to deflect, to downplay it, but the truth was already clawing its way to the surface. His eyes darkened at the thought. 

“I’d hate it,” he admitted finally, his voice low. “I’d hate it, and I’d probably want to throw a punch.”

Your eyes widened slightly, his uncharacteristic bluntness catching you off guard. But instead of teasing him, you leaned forward, your elbows resting on your knees as you mirrored his posture. “Really?” you asked, your voice soft but steady.

“Really,” he replied, and then, after a pause, he sighed and ran a hand over his face. “There was a time… that officer in Seattle, the one who wouldn’t stop hitting on you.”

You blinked, clearly startled by the shift in the conversation. “The one who called me ‘darlin’’ every five minutes?”

Hotch nodded, his jaw clenching at the memory. “I had all I could do not to step in. Every time he touched your arm or found some excuse to be near you, I—” He stopped, shaking his head as if trying to will away the irritation that still simmered beneath the surface. “It wasn’t professional.”

A slow smile tugged at the corners of your mouth, and you leaned back against the couch, crossing your arms. “You were jeal-ous.”

“I wasn’t—” he started to protest, but the sharp look you gave him cut him off.

“You were totally jealous,” you said, your smile widening. “You hated that someone else even thought about getting near me.”

Hotch shifted in his seat, his expression stern but not quite able to hide the faint flush of his cheeks. “I didn’t say that.”

“You didn’t have to.” You tilted your head, your gaze playful but laced with something warmer, deeper. “You know, it’s kind of hot.”

“Stop,” he muttered, his voice tinged with exasperation, though the way he avoided your eyes betrayed him.

You laughed softly, the sound lightening the tension between you. “Fine. But admit it—you wouldn’t like it if someone else was interested in me.”

“No,” he said simply, his voice quiet but firm. “I wouldn’t. Because…” He sighed, fidgeting, running a hand through his hair. “Because it would mean someone else has something I want but won’t let myself have.”

The confession hung between you, raw and unfiltered. You looked at him for a long moment, your expression softening, though there was still a hint of sadness in your eyes. “Aaron…”

“I know we don’t talk about this,” he interrupted, his tone firm but not harsh. “But you asked, and that’s the truth.”

You leaned back again, your arms wrapping around yourself as if for protection. “I don’t think I’d like it much either,” you admitted quietly, scrunching your nose at the thought. “If someone else had what I already think of as mine.”

Hotch’s breath caught at your words, and for a moment, the weight of what you’d both said seemed too much to bear. But then you looked at him, and something in your expression shifted—a quiet resolve that mirrored his own.

“We’re really bad at this, huh?” you said, a faint, self-deprecating smile tugging at your lips.

“Terrible,” he agreed, the corners of his mouth lifting slightly despite himself.

The silence that followed wasn’t uncomfortable. It was heavy, yes, but it was also full of understanding. Neither of you had the answers, and maybe you never would. But for now, the truth was out there, raw and unspoken, just like everything else between you. And somehow, that was enough. For now.

Life fell back into its strange, unspoken rhythm. You and Hotch continued your routines, the moments that felt too much like a relationship carefully tucked away, ignored but ever-present.

Hotch had made his decision about Beth without much thought, declining her offer politely but firmly. He told himself it was because his life didn’t allow for complications like dating, but he knew the real reason. 

He didn’t bring it up again, and neither did you. But sometimes, when you caught his eye across the bullpen or during a quiet moment at his apartment, there was a weight in your gaze that mirrored his own. It was easier not to talk about it.

The unsub had been cornered, a desperate man with nothing left to lose. Hotch could see the wild look in his eyes, the way his hand twitched around the gun. You stood a few feet away, crouched behind a car door, your gun trained on the suspect.

“Put it down,” Hotch commanded, his voice steady, calm, despite the adrenaline coursing through him.

The unsub didn’t move, his eyes flickering between you and Hotch like a cornered animal. Then, in an instant, he shifted his aim—toward you.

It happened so fast that Hotch didn’t think, didn’t hesitate. He moved before the shot rang out, his body blocking the line of fire as he tackled you to the ground. Pain flared in his shoulder, sharp and searing, but he didn’t let it stop him. He rolled to shield you as Morgan and the local PD took the unsub down, disarming him within seconds.

“Aaron!” Your voice was sharp, filled with anger and panic as you shoved him off you, your hands immediately moving to his shoulder. “Are you—damn it, you’re bleeding!”

“I’m fine,” he said gruffly, though the pain in his voice betrayed him.

“No, you’re not fine!” You glared at him, your hands pressing against the wound to stem the bleeding as the medics approached. “What the hell were you thinking?”

“I was thinking I wasn’t going to let you get shot,” he snapped, his tone sharper than he intended. Your jaw tightened, but you didn’t argue as the medics came to his side. 

Hotch sat in the back of the ambulance, his jacket discarded and his shirt pulled down over his good shoulder to expose the wound. The paramedic worked efficiently, stitching up the graze with practiced precision. He barely winced, his focus not on the pain but on you.

You were pacing a few feet away, your arms crossed tightly over your chest as you muttered to yourself. He could tell by the sharpness of your movements and the tension in your jaw that you were furious. He also knew it wasn’t just anger; it was fear, worry, and something else neither of you would admit.

“Does she know you’re okay?” Rossi’s voice broke through his thoughts. Hotch turned to see Rossi and Morgan standing at the back of the ambulance, their expressions a mix of amusement and exasperation.

“She knows,” Hotch replied curtly, his tone dismissive.

“She doesn’t look like she knows,” Morgan said, nodding toward you. “She looks like she’s about to tear you a new one.”

Hotch sighed, his hand clenching briefly at his side. “She’ll get over it. She’ll be fine.”

“Will she?” Rossi asked, his tone pointed. “Because from where I’m standing, this whole act the two of you have going is starting to wear thin.”

“What act?” Hotch asked, though he already knew the answer.

Morgan raised an eyebrow. “The one where you two pretend you don’t have feelings for each other. It’s getting old, Hotch. And frankly, it’s not doing anyone any good.”

Rossi crossed his arms, his gaze steady on Hotch. “You put yourself in the line of fire for her, Aaron. We all would have done it, but you didn’t think twice. That’s not just leadership. That’s something else.”

Hotch’s jaw tightened, his eyes flickering briefly to you before he looked back at them. “It’s not that simple.”

“Of course, it’s not,” Rossi said, his voice gentler now. “But ignoring it doesn’t make it go away. You’re not protecting her by pretending it doesn’t exist. You’re just making it harder—for both of you.”

Hotch didn’t respond, his gaze dropping to the floor of the ambulance. The paramedic finished the stitches and stepped back, leaving him alone with his thoughts and the weight of Rossi and Morgan’s words.

When he finally looked up again, you were still pacing, your anger radiating off you in waves. And for the first time, he wondered if maybe, just maybe, Rossi was right.

The atmosphere back at the BAU was tense, the usual hum of activity muted by the weight of the recent case. Hotch moved through the bullpen with his usual efficiency, though the stiffness in his shoulder and the dull ache radiating from the stitches served as a constant reminder of how the day had started.

You were another reminder.

Since the moment he got out of that ambulance and was cleared to finish the case, you’d been snapping at him—sharp comments about his paperwork, curt responses to his questions, even a pointed remark about his “reckless heroics” during the case. It was all thinly veiled anger, but it wasn’t lost on anyone. Rossi shot him a knowing glance as he passed; Morgan smirked but wisely stayed out of it, and even JJ looked like she was holding back a comment. He’s pretty sure he even heard a scoffing laugh out of Emily at one of your brattier comments. 

“Hotch,” you said sharply, interrupting his conversation with Reid about a case update. “If you want those reports done before midnight, you might want to clarify what you actually need. Or is guessing part of the job now?”

Reid froze mid-sentence, his wide eyes darting between you and Hotch. The tension in the room was palpable, and Hotch’s patience, already worn thin by the soreness in his shoulder and the mental fatigue of the case, snapped.

“Y/N,” he said, his tone firm but controlled. “My office. Now.”

You opened your mouth to retort, but before you could get a word out, he reached for your elbow and guided you firmly toward his office. The rest of the team watched with varying degrees of curiosity and amusement as you allowed yourself to be led, though the fury in your eyes was unmistakable.

Once inside his office, Hotch closed the door behind you, the sound louder than it needed to be. He released your arm, his hand lingering for only a second before he stepped back, his dark eyes locking onto yours.

“What the hell was that?” you demanded, crossing your arms over your chest. “You just dragged me in here like I’m fucking child.”

“You’ve been snapping at me all day,” he shot back, his voice low but sharp. “What do you expect me to do? Let you keep undermining me in front of the team?”

“Oh, so now I’m undermining you?” you said, your voice rising. “God forbid anyone have a reaction to you throwing yourself in front of a bullet.”

“I did what I had to do,” he said, his tone clipped. “It’s my job to protect the team.”

“You’re not invincible, Aaron!” you snapped, your voice breaking slightly on his name. “You can’t just—do that, and then act like everything’s fine. Like we’re all fine.”

The room fell silent, the weight of your words hanging heavy in the air. Hotch pinched the bridge of his nose, letting out a slow breath as he tried to keep his frustration in check. He was tired. Tired from the case. Tired from the injury. Tired of the running.

“I wasn’t going to stand there and let you get hurt,” he said finally, his voice quieter but no less firm.

“And what about you getting hurt?” you fired back. “Do you think any of us would be okay with that? Do you think I would?”

Hotch froze, the intensity in your voice cutting through his fatigue and frustration. For a moment, he didn’t know what to say. The raw emotion in your eyes, the way your shoulders shook slightly as you tried to keep yourself composed—it was almost too much.

“This isn’t about the case, is it?” he asked, his voice softer now, though there was an edge of steel to it. “You’re not just angry about what happened.”

You opened your mouth to argue, but no words came out. Instead, you turned away, your arms tightening around yourself as if to create some kind of barrier.

Hotch took a step closer, his tone steady but tinged with something softer, something almost pleading. “Talk to me.”

You turned back to him, your eyes blazing with anger, but beneath it, he could see something else—fear, worry, hurt. “Why should I? We never talk about anything. Not really.”

The words hit him like a blow, the truth in them undeniable. And for the first time, he didn’t have an answer.

Hotch stood still, every muscle in his body taut as he let your words settle in the air. The frustration and fire in your voice cut through him, but it was the vulnerability underneath that made him pause. He had always prided himself on reading people, on staying composed no matter the situation, but you had a way of stripping him bare, of making him feel exposed in ways he wasn’t prepared to handle.

“You think I don’t feel it too?” you demanded, stepping closer, your voice trembling with restrained emotion. “Every time you step in front of danger, every time you put yourself in harm’s way for me—it eats at me. And then you have the nerve to act like it’s just another day at the office, like it doesn’t mean anything.”

“I don’t act like it doesn’t mean anything,” he said, his voice sharp, cutting through your words. “But we can’t afford for it to mean what you think it does.”

“And why is that?” you snapped, crossing your arms tighter over your chest. “Because it might make you feel something real? Because it might mean admitting that this—whatever this is—actually matters?”

Hotch’s jaw tightened, the words catching in his throat. He wanted to argue, to say that you didn’t understand, but the truth was, you understood better than anyone. “Because if something happens to you,” he said finally, his voice low but cracking at the edges, “it would destroy me.”

Your breath hitched, but you didn’t back down. “And you think it’s any different for me? You think watching you throw yourself in front of a bullet didn’t tear me apart? God, Aaron, don’t you get it? You don’t get to make that choice for me.”

He turned away, running a hand through his hair, his composure fraying with every word you spoke. “I’m trying to protect you.”

“From what?” you demanded. “From being hurt? From feeling? Because if that’s your plan, it’s not working. I’m already hurt. I’ve been hurt for years because we refuse to deal with this.”

“You think it’s that simple?” he asked, spinning back to face you, his voice rising. “That we can just talk about it and everything will magically be fine?”

“No,” you shot back, your voice rising to match his. “But pretending it’s not there isn’t fine either. Ignoring it doesn’t make it go away—it just makes it worse.”

The room was suffocating now, the air thick with all the words neither of you had said for years. Hotch’s mind raced, every argument, every excuse colliding with the raw truth you had thrown at him.

“This job…” he started, but his voice faltered. He took a steadying breath and tried again. “This job demands everything. It doesn’t leave room for mistakes, for weakness.”

“And you think this is weakness?” you asked, your voice trembling now, the anger giving way to something quieter but no less intense. “Do you really think what we feel—what we’ve built—is a liability?”

Hotch’s shoulders slumped slightly, the fight draining out of him as the weight of your words pressed down on him. He opened his mouth to respond but found himself struggling to find the right words.

“I don’t know,” he admitted finally, his voice raw. “I don’t know how to do this, how to balance it. I don’t know how to protect you and still let myself have you.”

You stared at him, the raw honesty in his voice cutting through your defenses. But it wasn’t enough—not yet.

“You can’t have it both ways, Aaron,” you said, your voice soft but firm. “You can’t keep me close enough to feel everything and then pretend it doesn’t exist when it gets too hard.”

“I know,” he said, his voice cracking under the weight of his admission. “I know I can’t. But I don’t know how to do this without risking everything.”

“Neither do I,” you said, taking a step closer, your voice trembling. “But the risk of losing this, of losing us—aren’t we worth figuring it out?”

Hotch closed his eyes, the tension in his shoulders finally breaking as your words sank in. He couldn’t argue with you, not when everything you said mirrored the storm that had been raging inside him for years. He opened his eyes and looked at you, really looked at you, and for the first time, he let himself feel the full weight of what you meant to him.

The silence between you stretched, heavy and electric, the air in the room thick with everything you’d both left unsaid for far too long. Hotch’s gaze flickered to yours, searching for something he couldn’t name but desperately needed. His own words had fallen short, his admission incomplete, and he could feel the weight of it pressing down on him.

But then you spoke, and it hit him like a tidal wave.

“I can’t keep doing this, Aaron,” you said, your voice trembling but strong, each word deliberate and cutting through the fog of tension. “I can’t keep being someone you make love to, someone you fuck when it gets to be too much. Someone you play house with when we’re with Jack. You can’t look me in the eyes and expect me to pretend I’m not already part of your family.”

He flinched, the raw honesty in your voice slicing through the walls he’d spent years building. “You are part of my family,” he said, the words spilling out before he could stop them.

“Then why do we keep acting like I’m not?” you fired back, your tone sharper now, anger laced with pain. “Why do you let me stay, let me take care of Jack, let me sleep in your bed—let me love you—but we act like it doesn’t mean anything?”

Hotch’s breath caught, his chest tightening as your words hit their mark. He opened his mouth to respond, but you weren’t done.

“You jumped in front of a bullet for me, Aaron,” you continued, your voice breaking slightly. “And you expect me to believe you’d do that for anyone else? That I’m just another member of the team? I’m not stupid. I know what this is—what we are. But I can’t keep pretending it’s nothing.”

He stepped closer, his hand twitching at his side, but he didn’t reach for you. “You think I don’t know that?” he asked, his voice low and rough. “You think I don’t feel it every time I look at you, every time I hear Jack ask about you when you’re not there? You think I don’t know how much it means to me that you’re part of my life?”

“Then we have to stop running from it!” you exclaimed, your voice cracking as your arms fell to your sides. “Stop pretending it’s safer to ignore it, because it’s not. It’s killing me, Aaron. I’m so in love with you, it hurts. And it’s killing me to keep living like this, to keep pretending we don’t already know the truth.”

The words hung in the air, raw and unfiltered, leaving him breathless. He felt like the ground had been ripped out from under him, like the armor he’d spent years perfecting had finally crumbled to dust. He didn’t know what to say, didn’t know how to make sense of the storm inside him.

You shook your head, stepping back slightly, though your eyes never left his. “I need you to decide,” you said softly, but the steel in your voice was unmistakable. “Because I can’t keep doing this—loving you like this—if you’re not willing to let yourself love me back.”

Hotch’s throat felt tight, the weight of your ultimatum pressing down on him like a physical force. But as he looked at you, at the pain and determination in your eyes, something inside him shifted. He couldn’t lose you. Not like this.

He stepped closer, his hand reaching for yours, his grip firm but gentle. “You’re right,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper but filled with conviction. “I’ve been running. I’ve been terrified. But I can’t lose you—not like this. Not ever.”

Your breath hitched, your eyes searching his, and for a moment, the room was silent, the tension between you finally giving way to something else. Something undeniable.

“I love you,” he said, the words raw and unpolished, but no less true. “I don’t know how to do this, but I want to try. With you.”

Tears welled in your eyes, but you didn’t look away. “Then stop pretending I’m anything less than yours.”

“I won’t,” he promised, his voice steady now. “Not anymore.”

The air between you shifted, the weight of everything unsaid finally lifting as you stepped into him, your arms wrapping around him as his enveloped you. It wasn’t a resolution, not entirely, but it was a beginning. A chance to stop running, to stop pretending, and to finally face the truth you’d both been avoiding for far too long.

The embrace lingered, grounding them both in a moment of quiet resolution. Hotch could feel your heartbeat against his chest, the tension in your body slowly melting away as his arms tightened around you. For once, the silence between you wasn’t filled with unsaid words or guarded emotions. It was calm. Real.

But the calm couldn’t last forever.

As you stepped back slightly, your hands still resting on his chest, Hotch caught the faintest hint of a smirk on your lips. It was subtle, but he recognized it immediately—the way your mouth twitched just before you said something that would almost certainly drive him up a wall.

“You know we just gave the entire team front-row seats to our meltdown, right?” you said, tilting your head as you looked up at him. “They’re probably out there placing bets on how long it’ll take us to come out of this office.”

Hotch sighed, the corner of his mouth twitching as he fought the urge to smile. “I’d imagine Rossi’s leading the pool.”

“Of course he is,” you replied, stepping back fully now, though the warmth in your voice remained. “He’s been waiting for this for years. Probably thinks he’s some kind of love oracle.”

Hotch allowed himself a quiet chuckle, shaking his head as he rubbed the back of his neck. “We’ll have to face them eventually,” he admitted, his tone resigned but not without a trace of humor. “It’s not like they’ll forget about it by morning.”

You raised an eyebrow, crossing your arms as you leaned back against the edge of his desk. “Oh, they won’t. They’ve been watching us like hawks for years. I wouldn’t be surprised if Morgan starts calling us ‘Mom and Dad’ the second we walk out of here.”

Hotch froze for a moment, his brow furrowing slightly. “What do you mean, ‘Mom and Dad’?”

Your grin widened, and you shrugged nonchalantly. “You didn’t know? The team’s been referring to us as Mom and Dad behind our backs for ages.”

He blinked, his lips parting slightly as he tried to process your words. “They… what?”

“Oh, come on, Aaron,” you said, your tone teasing now. “You’ve seen how they act around us. Morgan and Reid bicker like siblings, and JJ’s always trying to keep the peace. They’ve practically assigned us roles in their little BAU family.”

Hotch sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose as he shook his head. “That’s ridiculous.”

“Is it?” you asked, your voice laced with amusement. “Because it makes a lot of sense when you think about it. I mean, you are kind of a dad to everyone, and I—” You stopped abruptly, the teasing edge in your voice faltering for just a moment before you continued. “Well, I guess I’m just always around.”

Hotch looked at you then, his gaze softening. “You’re not just always around,” he said quietly, his voice steady. “You’re part of this team. You’re part of my life. And, apparently, the team’s ‘mom,’ whether we like it or not.”

The warmth in his voice made you smile, and for a moment, the tension from earlier felt like a distant memory. “Well,” you said, pushing off the desk and straightening your posture, “if we’re going to face them, we might as well lean into it.”

Hotch raised an eyebrow. “Lean into it?”

“Sure,” you replied, a mischievous glint in your eye. “Let them think they’ve been right all along. It’ll make their day.”

He sighed again, though the faint smile tugging at his lips betrayed his amusement. “You’re enjoying this far too much.”

“Maybe,” you said, moving toward the door. “But it’s not every day we give them this much to gossip about. Might as well embrace it.”

As you reached for the door handle, you turned back to him, your expression softening slightly. “You ready?”

Hotch straightened, his shoulders squaring as he stepped forward. “Not even a little.”

Your laugh was soft but genuine, and as you opened the door, he couldn’t help but feel a sense of relief. Whatever was waiting for the two of you on the other side, you’d face it together. And that, at least, was something he could hold onto.

The weeks that followed were, on the surface, remarkably unchanged. You and Hotch still worked side by side at the BAU, the same unspoken rhythm of partnership guiding your every move. Your routines remained intact—late nights at his apartment, dinners with Jack, quiet moments stolen away from the chaos of your jobs. But now, there was something new woven into the fabric of it all. Something quiet and steady: the acknowledgement of what you were to each other.

It started small. He would brush his fingers against yours when no one was looking, or you’d linger in his office just a little longer than necessary, your smiles softer, your words laced with warmth. And the words “I love you” slipped into your conversations as naturally as if they’d always been there.

One night, after a particularly grueling case, you both returned to his apartment, the comforting routine of shedding your workday as familiar as ever. Jack was already in bed, the soft glow of the living room lamp casting a warm light as you both settled in.

Hotch disappeared into his home office for a moment, returning with a folder in his hand. He handed it to you without a word, his expression unreadable.

You took it, raising an eyebrow as you opened it. “What’s this?” you asked, flipping through the pages.

“Employee relationship disclosure paperwork,” he said simply, his tone neutral but his lips twitching with the faintest hint of amusement.

Your head snapped up, your eyes narrowing as a slow smile tugged at the corners of your mouth. “Employee relationship paperwork?” you echoed, setting the folder on the coffee table. “What exactly are we calling this, Aaron?”

Hotch paused, clearly caught off guard by your question. “What do you mean?” he asked carefully.

You leaned back, crossing your arms as you looked at him with mock seriousness. “I mean, if we’re filling out forms, that means we’re officially labeling this, right? So, what are we? Is this… a relationship?”

His brow furrowed slightly, as though the question confused him. “Of course it’s a relationship,” he said, his voice steady. “It has been for a long time.”

You tilted your head, your lips quirking into a teasing smile. “Oh, really? Because last I checked, we’ve been playing house without acknowledging anything for years. So what’s the label, Hotchner? Are we ‘dating’? Am I your ‘girlfriend’?” You said the words with a playful lilt, but there was a genuine curiosity beneath your teasing tone.

Hotch hesitated, his jaw tightening as he considered your question. “I don’t think ‘girlfriend’ really fits,” he said finally, his tone thoughtful. “It feels… juvenile.”

You couldn’t stop the laugh that bubbled out of you. “Juvenile? Aaron, you sound like you’re 100 years old. What would you prefer? ‘Lady friend’? ‘Companion’?”

He shot you a pointed look, though the warmth in his eyes undercut his irritation. “I’m serious.”

“So am I,” you replied, still smiling. “If ‘girlfriend’ doesn’t fit, what does? You could’ve at least asked me to go steady or something.”

That earned you a quiet laugh, and Hotch shook his head as he sat beside you on the couch. “You’re impossible.”

“And you’re old-fashioned,” you shot back, nudging his shoulder with yours. “But seriously, what is this? What are we calling it?”

Hotch turned to face you fully, his expression softening. “We don’t need a label,” he said after a moment. “But if you want one… yes, you’re my girlfriend. My partner. Whatever word you want to use.”

Your smile widened, your teasing demeanor giving way to something warmer. “Your girlfriend, huh? Never thought I’d hear you say that.”

He smirked, leaning back against the couch. “You make me say a lot of things I never thought I’d say.”

You reached for his hand, lacing your fingers through his. “I like the sound of it,” you said softly. “But you know, if this is going to be official, you’re going to have to deal with the team making fun of us.”

“I’ve dealt with worse,” he replied, his voice steady but tinged with amusement.

Hotch felt the faintest tug of a smile on his lips as your fingers threaded through his. The warmth of your touch steadied him in a way few things ever could. He tilted his head slightly, his gaze resting on you with that quiet intensity he so often wore, but this time there was a softness beneath it.

“You’re going to have to deal with it too,” he added, his voice quieter now, almost teasing. “You think Morgan’s not going to have a field day the second he hears about this?”

You chuckled, leaning back against the couch and letting your head rest on his shoulder. “Morgan’s going to call me ‘Mom’ for the rest of my career,” you said with a grin. “And don’t even get me started on Rossi. He’s probably already planning the toast for our wedding.”

Hotch groaned softly, though there was no real frustration in the sound. “Rossi thinks he knows everything,” he muttered.

“Well,” you teased, “he was right about this.”

He didn’t respond right away, his gaze drifting down to your intertwined hands. He knew the rest of the team would have plenty to say, but for once, he didn’t feel the usual tension that accompanied such thoughts. Instead, there was a quiet acceptance, a sense of inevitability that, despite his usual resistance to change, felt strangely comforting.

Your voice broke through his thoughts. “You know, I don’t think I’ve ever actually said it out loud.”

“Said what?” he asked, tilting his head slightly to look at you.

“That you’re my boyfriend,” you said, the word tumbling out casually, but the way your lips curled into a playful smile told him you were testing it, savoring the way it sounded.

Hotch blinked, his brows lifting slightly. “Your boyfriend,” he repeated, the word feeling foreign but oddly fitting on his tongue.

“Yes,” you said, your tone mockingly serious now. “You know, boyfriend. Partner. Significant other. Lover—”

“Stop,” he interrupted, though the faintest hint of color crept into his cheeks as he shook his head. “I get it.”

You grinned up at him, clearly pleased with his reaction. “I think it suits you.”

“I feel ridiculous,” he admitted, though there was no heat in his words.

“Ridiculously lucky,” you corrected with a smirk.

Hotch sighed, though his lips twitched upward in a reluctant smile. “You’re insufferable.”

“And you love it,” you shot back, your tone light but laced with something deeper, something unspoken that now didn’t need to be.

He leaned back against the couch, letting out a quiet hum of agreement. “Maybe I do.”

“See? You’re getting the hang of this already, boyfriend,” you said, your grin widening.

He shook his head, chuckling softly as he pressed a kiss to the top of your head. “You’re going to drive me crazy.”

“Good,” you replied, settling into his side. “That’s half the fun.”

Hotch’s lips twitched as he let your words settle, your playful tone doing little to mask the deeper warmth behind them. He tilted his head, watching the way you fit so effortlessly into his side, your teasing smile lighting up a part of him he rarely let anyone see.

“‘Boyfriend,’” he repeated softly, tasting the word again like it was foreign but not unwelcome. “I think I still prefer something more… permanent.”

You lifted your head slightly, your brow arching in curiosity. “Oh?” you asked, your tone laced with amusement. “What would that be? Partner? Spouse? Or—” You grinned, the mischief returning to your expression. “Are you saying you’re more interested in ‘husband’?”

Hotch didn’t flinch, though the faintest flicker of color touched his cheeks. He met your gaze, his expression steady, though his lips quirked in a faint smirk. “If we’re being honest,” he said, his voice calm and deliberate, “that does sound like it fits better.”

Your jaw dropped slightly, your mock surprise more playful than genuine. “Aaron Hotchner, did you just casually suggest skipping the whole dating phase and jumping right into wedded bliss?”

He shrugged, leaning back against the couch with an air of calm that was entirely deliberate. “Considering we’ve been acting like we’re married for years already, it doesn’t seem like that big of a leap.”

You laughed, the sound bright and genuine as you swatted his chest lightly. “You are ridiculous. You’re not even my fiancé, and you’re already talking about being my husband.”

“Like I said,” he replied, his voice soft but steady, “I prefer more permanent labels.”

Your grin softened, your eyes searching his as the teasing edge in your tone gave way to something quieter, more reflective. “You’re serious, aren’t you?” you asked, the question almost tentative.

Hotch nodded slightly, his gaze unwavering. “I don’t take things lightly,” he said simply. “Not with you. I never have.”

For a moment, the air between you was heavy again, but not with tension. It was filled with the weight of everything you’d both been building for years, every unspoken truth and every quiet moment of connection that had brought you here.

You smiled, leaning into him again, your voice soft but teasing as you murmured, “Well, if that’s the case, boyfriend, you’re going to have to start calling me ‘your wife’ in front of the team.”

He chuckled, pressing a kiss to the top of your head. “One step at a time,” he said, though the warmth in his tone left little doubt about where his mind had already wandered.

Life fell back into its natural rhythm after you and Hotch filed the paperwork. The team made their comments, as expected—Morgan’s teasing was relentless, and Rossi’s smug satisfaction was borderline insufferable. But beyond the ribbing, nothing really changed in the day-to-day. You and Hotch continued your routines, slipping seamlessly between work and home as if the acknowledgment of your relationship had always been there.

Except now, there was an ease to it. A clarity.

The shift became apparent not in how you treated each other, but in how the rest of the world seemed to see you. It started small—another parent at Jack’s school, someone Hotch didn’t recognize but who greeted you both warmly at pickup one afternoon.

“Oh, you must be Jack’s mom,” she said, smiling at you before turning to Hotch. “He’s such a sweet boy. It’s clear he gets it from you two.”

You both had opened his mouth to correct her out of habit, but then he stopped you. What was the point? It felt right. Natural. So he’d smiled politely and said, “Thank you.”

Later, as you walked back to the car with Jack skipping ahead, you nudged him lightly. “Jack’s mom, huh?” you teased, raising an eyebrow.

“You didn’t correct her either,” he countered, his lips twitching with amusement.

You shrugged, your smile soft. “Didn’t feel like I needed to.”

It was one of those rare sunny Saturday mornings when Hotch found himself not at the office but at the local community park with you and Jack. The three of you had fallen into an easy rhythm—Jack running ahead to the swings while you and Hotch strolled behind, coffee cups in hand.

As usual, you and Jack had dragged him into this outing, insisting he needed a break. He wouldn’t admit it aloud, but watching Jack’s laughter echo through the park and seeing the soft smile on your face made him realize how much he needed mornings like this.

While Jack climbed the jungle gym, you leaned against the railing near the benches, brushing a stray hair from your face as the breeze picked up. Hotch stood beside you, close enough that your arm brushed his when you reached for your coffee.

A voice interrupted the moment. “Aaron Hotchner, is that you?”

Hotch turned to see a woman he vaguely recognized approaching, her face lighting up as she drew closer. It took him a moment to place her—one of Haley’s old acquaintances from a distant social circle.

“It is you,” she said warmly, stopping in front of you both. “Wow, it’s been years. How are you?”

“I’m doing well,” Hotch said politely, offering a small smile. “It’s good to see you, Claire.”

Her eyes flicked to you, curiosity plain on her face. “And this must be…?”

“My wife,” Hotch said without hesitation, the words slipping out so naturally that he didn’t even think to correct himself.

You blinked, your lips twitching with amusement as you extended a hand to her. “Hi,” you said, your tone friendly but neutral. “It’s nice to meet you.”

Claire’s smile widened as she shook your hand. “It’s so nice to meet you too. And Jack! Oh, he’s grown so much,” she added, waving at him as he climbed the monkey bars.

Hotch nodded, his gaze following Jack for a moment before settling back on Claire. They exchanged a few pleasantries—updates about mutual acquaintances and polite questions about work—before she finally excused herself, leaving you and Hotch alone again.

“You told a lie,” you said after a moment, your tone casual but laced with quiet amusement.

Hotch turned to you, his brow furrowing slightly. “About?”

You raised an eyebrow, your lips curving into a faint smirk. “About me being your wife.”

He paused, the realization settling over him, and then shrugged, his expression unbothered. “Didn’t feel like I needed to call you anything different.”

“Really?” you asked, your smile widening. “Is this what we’re calling it now?”

Hotch glanced at you, his dark eyes steady but soft. “It’s what it feels like,” he said simply. “It’s what we are.”

Your breath hitched slightly, and for a moment, you said nothing, your gaze searching his. Then you let out a soft laugh, shaking your head. “Well, I guess I should get used to it, huh?”

“You’re not opposed, are you?” he asked, his voice low but tinged with amusement.

“Not in the slightest,” you replied, taking a sip of your coffee before looking up at him with a grin. “But if you keep calling me your wife in public, you’re going to have to follow through at some point.”

Hotch chuckled quietly, his lips twitching with a faint smile. “Noted.”

Jack’s shout from the swings broke the moment, and you both turned to watch him wave enthusiastically for your attention. Hotch gave a small wave back, his hand brushing against yours as he lowered it.

And just like that, the conversation shifted back to the simplicity of the morning, but the weight of what had been said lingered in the air. Neither of you felt the need to correct it. After all, it was the truth—whether there was paperwork to prove it or not.

The next instance came at work, during a meeting with another department. A young agent had introduced herself and, glancing between you and Hotch, asked, “So, you and your wife—do you find it hard balancing work and home life at the BAU?”

He didn’t miss the way your eyes flicked to him, your expression unreadable. But he also didn’t hesitate. “It’s a challenge,” he said smoothly, his tone professional but warm. “But we make it work.”

After the meeting, you leaned against the edge of his desk, your arms crossed as you smirked at him. “Wife, huh?”

“Again, would you prefer I said ‘girlfriend’?” he asked dryly, hating the juvenile label, though the corner of his mouth quirked upward.

“Not at all,” you said, tilting your head thoughtfully. “But you do realize you’ve been calling me that a lot lately.”

He shrugged, his gaze steady. “Feels accurate.”

Your smile softened, and you reached out to brush your fingers against his. “Feels accurate to me too.”

It wasn’t until one afternoon in the bullpen that the team finally confronted you both. Emily leaned against Morgan’s desk, her arms crossed as she watched you and Hotch exit his office together. She raised an eyebrow as the two of you exchanged a look and parted ways—Hotch heading toward the coffee station and you to speak with JJ.

“Alright,” Emily said, her tone laced with curiosity as she approached Hotch. “Are you and Y/N married? And don’t try to brush this off—I’ve heard you call her your wife at least three times this week.”

Hotch turned, his brow furrowing slightly. “No, we’re not married,” he said, his tone even.

Emily’s eyes narrowed, skeptical. “Then why do you call her your wife?”

He hesitated for only a moment before answering. “Because it feels more honest than calling her my girlfriend. That doesn’t seem to cover what we are.”

Emily blinked, clearly taken aback by the straightforwardness of his response. “Okay, fair point,” she said slowly. “But what’s stopping you from actually getting married?”

Hotch opened his mouth to respond, but the words didn’t come. What was stopping them? He knew it wasn’t fear or hesitation—it hadn’t been for a long time. And the thought of marrying you didn’t fill him with apprehension; it filled him with the same sense of certainty he felt when he called you his wife without a second thought.

“I—” he started, but before he could finish, you appeared at his side, holding a file.

“What’s this about?” you asked, glancing between them.

Emily grinned, her eyes flicking between the two of you. “Just asking your husband here why you two aren’t actually married yet.”

You raised an eyebrow, clearly amused, before turning to Hotch. “Well?” you asked, your voice teasing but your expression curious.

Hotch met your gaze, and for a moment, the world seemed to quiet around him. “That’s a good question,” he said, his voice steady. “What do you think?”

Your smile widened, your eyes softening as you leaned just slightly closer. “I don’t think either of us have a good reason not to,” you said, your tone light but meaningful.

Emily rolled her eyes but grinned. “Well, when it happens, let us know. Rossi’s already planning your wedding toast.”

As Emily walked away, you and Hotch exchanged a glance, your smiles matching. And for the first time, the idea of making it official didn’t feel like a question of if, but when.

The idea had been with him for weeks, lingering in the back of his mind as he watched you move through your life together. It wasn’t a sudden realization or a dramatic epiphany. It was quiet, steady, and inevitable, much like the way you’d become the most important person in his life. He didn’t need to overthink it because he already knew the answer. You were his partner in every way that mattered, and it was time to make that official.

But Hotch being Hotch, he planned every detail. Not something grand or ostentatious—that wasn’t either of you. Instead, he wanted it to be personal, grounded in the quiet, meaningful moments that had always defined your relationship.

It was a Friday evening, the end of a particularly grueling week at the BAU. You and Hotch had fallen into your routine, picking up Jack from soccer practice and grabbing takeout on the way home. The three of you sat around the dining table, laughing as Jack recounted a story about his coach’s dramatic attempt to demonstrate a bicycle kick. Hotch caught your eye during the meal, the warmth in your gaze settling something deep within him.

After Jack went to bed, you lingered in the living room, curled up on the couch with a blanket draped over your legs. Hotch joined you, sitting close enough that his knee brushed against yours. The room was quiet now, the only sound the faint hum of the dishwasher in the kitchen.

“You look tired,” you said softly, your hand reaching out to rest on his knee.

He smiled faintly, his hand covering yours. “Long week.”

“You don’t have to tell me that twice,” you replied, your lips curving into a small grin. “But at least we survived it.”

“We always do,” he said, his voice steady, though there was a weight to his words that caught your attention.

You tilted your head, your brows furrowing slightly. “What’s on your mind, Aaron?”

He hesitated for a moment, the weight of the moment pressing on him. But then he reached into his pocket, his movements deliberate but calm, and pulled out a small box. Your eyes widened slightly, and you sat up straighter, your hand still resting on his knee.

“I’ve been thinking about this for a while,” he began, his voice low but steady. “About us. About what we’ve built together. It’s not just a routine or a habit. It’s a life. And it’s a life I want to share with you—not just in words or assumptions, but in every way that matters.”

You stared at him, your lips parted slightly, but you didn’t interrupt. He opened the box, revealing a simple, elegant ring. It wasn’t flashy, but it was perfect, understated in the way he knew you’d appreciate.

“I’ve called you my wife more times than I can count,” he said, a faint smile tugging at his lips. “Because that’s what you are to me. It’s what you’ve been for a long time. And now, I want to make it real.”

His dark eyes met yours, and for the first time in what felt like forever, Aaron Hotchner let every wall fall away. “Will you marry me?”

The silence that followed wasn’t awkward or tense. It was full of the gravity of the moment, the quiet weight of a decision that neither of you had to think twice about.

Your lips curved into a smile, your eyes soft as they brimmed with unshed tears. “Of course I will,” you said, your voice steady but full of emotion. “Yes, Aaron. Yes.”

Relief and joy washed over him, a rare, unguarded smile breaking across his face as he slipped the ring onto your finger. You leaned forward, wrapping your arms around his neck, and he pulled you close, his own arms circling your waist.

It wasn’t flashy or elaborate. It was simple, quiet, and utterly perfect. Just like the life you’d built together.

Aaron Hotchner had never been a man who dreamed of grand gestures. His life had taught him the value of simplicity, of finding solace in the quiet moments that others often overlooked. And as he sat with you on the couch that night, your hand resting in his, the weight of the ring now on your finger, he realized that this was everything he’d ever wanted. No fanfare, no spectacle—just you, him, and the life you’d built together.

The days that followed felt much the same, yet somehow entirely different. There was a new ease between you, a sense of certainty that replaced the unspoken tension that had once lingered. At work, the teasing from the team was relentless but good-natured. 

But it was at home, in the moments away from the chaos of the BAU, that the shift was most palpable. You’d catch Hotch watching you with a quiet intensity as you helped Jack with his homework or laughed over a shared joke at dinner. And when you teased him about it, his response was always the same—a faint smile and a simple, heartfelt, “I’m just happy.”

One evening, as you sat curled up on the couch together, Jack asleep in his room, you glanced down at the ring on your finger and then back up at him. “So, husband,” you said, the word rolling off your tongue with a mix of playfulness and warmth, “how long do you think it’ll take before Rossi starts making bets on when the wedding will be?”

Hotch chuckled softly, his hand brushing against yours. “If he hasn’t already, I’d be surprised.”

You grinned, leaning into him, your head resting against his shoulder. “Do you ever think about how far we’ve come? How all of this just… fell into place?”

He turned slightly, his arm wrapping around you as he pressed a kiss to your temple. “It didn’t just fall into place,” he said quietly. “We built it—one step at a time. And I wouldn’t change a single moment of it.”

You looked up at him, your eyes soft but filled with that familiar spark of mischief. “Not even the part where the team found out and started calling us ‘Mom and Dad’?”

He smirked, his hand trailing absently along your arm. “Not even that.”

The two of you sat there in the quiet, the glow of the lamp casting a warm light over the room. It was a life neither of you had expected, but one you’d fought for in your own way. And as Hotch held you close, the future felt less like an unknown and more like a promise—a life you’d continue to build together, one quiet, meaningful moment at a time.

Tag List:

@zaddyhotch

@estragos

@todorokishoe24

@looking1016

@khxna

@rousethemouse

@averyhotchner

@reidfile

@bernelflo

@lover-of-books-and-tea

@frickin-bats

@sleepysongbirdsings

@justyourusualash

[crk-kr-to-en]

I NEED TO TELL YOU SOMETHING.

SO, your translations had gone popular on tiktok, only the Shadowvanilla translations btw. And they only know about the cake hound.

And then, because its related to shadowvanilla, there will be annoying shadowvanilla haters that thinks your translations are false. You know what? I was explaining to someone that the korean language is the original one, and every translations are based off the korean one and usually removes necessary stuff and adds unnecessary stuff in the eng translations.

and then someone tagged a VERY POPULAR purelily shipper under my comment which i explained that, they were telling the person who tagged them (a shadowvanilla shipper) that the korean language doesnt mean anything? They even said that the english translators worked hard to make it as accurate. WHAT THE ACTUAL FUCK.

I am so tired of this. they even fucking said that the cake hound doesn't mean anything?? Omg yeahhh theyre so right!!! Crk metaphors dont exist!!! like what the fuck!!! Theres so many people trying to make your translations false by saying its misinformation!!! IF THEY EVEN SEEN THE ORIGINAL ONE (your post) INSTEAD OF SEEING PEOPLE TALK ABOUT IT ONLY.

Ive seen some people that thought the text after the translated description of the cake hound was a part of the description and they even used it as an excuse; "why the fuck would devsis even say “awww its in love c:”" why the fuck does shadowvanilla haters have no absolute reading comprehension. They jump onto conclusions too much i hate it. Your comment under the desc is obviously not apart of the translated description? why are they so stupid im gonna cry

that one purelily shipper that i mentioned pmo so much what the heck. they always have their way into trash-talking shadowvanilla in their videos????

sorry i am whining i just cannot stand the media illiteracy of shadowvanilla haters;;;

God, I'm sorry that happened to you Anon. Tiktok is just so full of assholes who keep circulating hate instead of learning literally anything good in their lives and can't understand nuances and metaphors for shit.

That pure lily shipper can waste seconds of their lives spending time making those trash talk videos because that will never stop Shamil's love implications, and it also makes them look stupid because they're a pure lily shipper.

Like, these people keep insisting pure lily is canon or whatever bullshit they keep spewing, but in canon, they've literally accepted that they're taking different paths and be apart from each other. Their skin story doesn't even count. Fairy Queen Lily was literally mourning Fairy King's death, meanwhile the fairies put a love potion in Pure Vanilla's eyes so that he would be in love with Fairy Queen Lily. (For the love of Witches why)(This is another metaphor for being blinded by lies btw. I hate this game.😭😭)

The whole fucking irony about all of this is is that the game's main plot is about Truth and Lies. And then you look some of the people in the crk fandom who literally couldn't handle the truth about the Korean translations being the legit stuff instead of accepting that majority of the English translations has been butchered to no end. Shadow Milk Cookie was right all along and these people don't learn ANYTHING at all.

Anyway, I hope Devsis Korea keeps showing Shamil's love metaphors about Pyuba every single future update because ShadowVanilla wins forever. (All Beast x Ancient are technically canon soulmates forever and ever and seeing them in a platonic sense mischaracterizes their dynamics as a whole lmao.)

[brain4stew]

HIIII! (Ignore this if this if this has been already sent my last one got bugged so i dont know if it got sent or not😭😭) if its ok can I request for a 1x1x1x1 x reader where it was a valentines event and they were just walking around checking booths but suddenly both of em got dragged into a marriage booth and they both have to act getting married whether they like it or not and yes they have to kiss at the end to complete it, Thank you so much!!

Hehehehe…. We live for this embodiment of hatred, being pulled into things he doesn’t like. 😇

Anyway! I’ll see what I can do with your request anon!

(As always, I do not know the characters exact personalities and so on, so they might, if not most likely will be OOC!!)

That being said, headcanons/something under the cut!! ;

• The other killers would have to quite literally beg, plead and DRAG 1x1x1x1 to the event, and have to make sure he doesn’t go and kill Shedletsky…

• When he is there, he’s most likely closed off. I mean, he’s the embodiment of hatred, what’d you expect from him? To be happy and excited? No.

• He is however, interested in the booths, the games, the decorations and the other things, that are around the event.

• Unbeknownst to him AND you, is that… Noob and Elliot thought you two would be the perfect candidates for their little booth game.

• When you were checking their booth out, Noob has, surprisingly, managed to push 1x1x1x1 to you.

• Which… Ended up with you and him being in on the game… (So much of a fun time for you and 1x1x1x1…)

• He’s distant at first, and you have to just tell him the amount of time it is on the game, and he’ll reluctantly (with hesitation) start to open up, so he can be done with this game.

• You and him start off with doing couple related things from the event. You both do get weird looks, but no one is bold enough to say anything or ask anything, as they don’t want to be on the receiving end of 1x1x1x1’s wrath…

• Noob and Elliot however, told you and 1x1x1x1, that there’s a challenge for you both. That you have to kiss, for the game to actually work! (1x1x1x1 got reasonably mad about that, and almost tried to kill them both. John Doe had to restrain him for a while because of that…)

• But, you and him reluctantly agreed, (with hesitation of course.) and kissed each other, quickly, out of embarrassment. Not wanting to actually full on kiss each other.

• Overtime as the game you and 1x1x1x1 are participating in, you both gradually seem to become more like a… Couple, somehow? (I have no idea how you managed that, but, pop off!)

• Noob and Elliot have told you that, for the game to stop, you have to make out. Yeah, you heard them correctly.

• You both were a flustered and embarrassed mess. 1x1x1x1 however, being reasonably angry at it, just, dragged you somewhere more hidden. Out of earshot and eyesight.

• Once he made sure no one was around, he pulled you towards him, and full on, made out with you. (Unfortunately that fucker is inexperienced, so you took the lead.)

• After a bit of reluctance, after you patted his arm for air, he pulls back. With you and him breathing heavily. (Unbeknownst to you both, Noob and Elliot recorder it secretly.)

• When you both came back to Elliot and Noob’s booth, you were both handed a… Pin? Which said; “Survived an embarrassing game!” You and 1x1x1x1 had to refrain from laughing at the pin…

• When the event ends, however… 1x1x1x1 will not be friendly to you in any rounds whatsoever, especially if you tease him about the game you both had.

• God, you’re insufferable. 1x1x1x1 just wants to put your ego to rest. And under him.

[velvetvexations]

this whole "who passes easier" debacle reminded me of an experience and since the other side just wants to play the anecdote game and call it universal truths, ill throw mine on the pile

(this story shared with the full permission of my friend, who has been graciously joining me in disbelief at the discourse)

when i was in university, in one of my classes we had to work in duos, and when it came time to pick partners, this quiet dude ive never spoken to beelines over to me. we work together for the semester, it goes well, class ends. we're both busy so communication lapses

about 3-4 months later, this girl bounces up to me on the campus and i have no idea who the fuck it is. like im thinking who is this cis girl and why does she know my name. as you can probably guess, yep, my lab partner. she says she gravitated towards me in class bc i was a visibly trans guy, and working with me helped her Realize Some Things. a month after class ended she started E, and two months after that she passed so well that i, someone whod seen her 3x a week for several months, didnt recognize her

its been about 6ish years since, i still dont pass despite surgery and hrt and shes been completely stealth for years on just E, and we're still close friends

now i could extrapolate from this story that its insanely easy for all transfems to pass, but that would be absolutely insane right? shes one girl, who was, in her own words, insanely lucky. and i think if we can realize that just because my friend didnt struggle to pass, it doesnt mean all transfems dont struggle to pass. and if we really use our brains here, we can see how this may also mean that just because You(general) know transmascs who could pass easily, or hell even if you Are one, that that doesnt mean that experience can be extrapolated to all of them

and this story is really threefold bc beyond that, so much of the transmascs have it easier take is based on being stealth. maybe i dont want to be stealth? me being out and proud helped a girl find herself. i want to let my trans siblings know that we're here, that they arent alone. and i want to talk about the reality of living like that instead of being told that the struggles dont happen, and if they do, its your own fault for not being stealth and everyone else doesnt have these problems so it doesnt matter

ive got one of my closest friends in the world bc she saw a trans guy and immediately recognized me as her community, and its sad people seem so determined to convince people that our experiences are so different she shouldnt have bothered asking me to be lab partners that day

sorry for the wall of text. i have a lot of feelings and it was nice to let them out

Thank you for sharing, anon. <3

[skibidihan]

BOYFRIEND WHO ! ( myung jaehyun )

headcanons of boyfriend jaehyun. all my opinions, reblogs are greatly appreciated! requests are open! @skibidihan

content warning ! jaehyun x male, gn AND fem reader in this. very cutesy jaehyun, girl! dad jaehyun, pet! dad jaehyun, clingy jaehyun, romantic jaehyun. this is pretty long. wc. 612.

author’s note ! first bnd jaehyun work omg hii ,, jaehyun is so bf material i js had to write smth ! made for my dear, @wnyngz ! <3

boyfriend! jaehyun who always bakes you goodies whenever you don’t feel well. he would know you so well & know exactly what you would need that day.

boyfriend! jaehyun who would dress up your guys’ pets & himself ridiculous outfits & costumes just for the fun of it. ending up with a whole closet full or weird clothes and accessories.

boyfriend! jaehyun who would braid your hair before going out on a date. you would get frustrated with it not hoing the way you’re wanting it & jaehyun would step in saying “let me try.” you didn’t believe him at first but you gave him a chance—now he does your hair before every date.

boyfriend! jaehyun who would help you figure out how to do your make up, as he has gotten it done multiple times; he knows the basic way around. he would sit down with you for hours putting your makeup on and letting you test out styles on him, which you both have enjoyed.

boyfriend! jaehyun who would get shy at being called petnames.. “baby” and “sweetheart” get him the most, so you make sure to use them often. always hiding his blushing cheeks whenever you call him one.

boyfriend! jaehyun who’s confident. being in a mlm relationship, people get scared in public—not jaehyun. he holds your hand, openly calls you petnames and even introduces you as his boyfriend to his friends or anyone who asks.

boyfriend! jaehyun who games often, but never disregards you while he does so. if he sees you just watching; he’ll call you over to sit on his lap or tell his gamemates to give him a second if they’re on break before focusing on you, never leaving you lonely,

boyfriend! jaehyun who loves the thought of having a family. he desperately wants a daughter but would be excited for either a boy or a girl. he’s in love with the idea of having a mini you, a mini you to dress up in pretty dresses, to play barbies with or any toy mini you would like.

boyfriend! jaehyun who gets his wish and becomes a girl dad. he loves her like no one else, a true father’s love watches over his girl. teaches her all the things she needs to know, how to fight off mean kids and how to treat you nicely. showing her the world.

boyfriend! jaehyun who gets sleepy so often but refuses to fall asleep if you or his daughter isnt in his arms. he is so clingy and attached to his girls to the point where he wont let himself fall asleep until he sees you both in front of him—or util you both are asleep first.

boyfriend! jaehyun who gets whiny when you pay attention to others besides him. who is so needy for your attention he starts putting on weird clothes and making noise around the house until you are free.

boyfriend! jaehyun who fell in love with you the minute he laid eyes on you. who knew the minute he knew of your existence that you were the only one he was going to ever marry in his life.

boyfriend! jaehyun who kept that promise to himself and to you. who after years of dating, and falling even more in love with you, kneeled down on one knee and proposed.

husband! jaehyun who takes care of you for the rest of your lives, never letting you feel sad or disappointed in him, who makes you feel like you won the universe’s best husband, who never leaves your side in all your ups and downs, who is with you for everything, who stays by your side.

perm taglist ! @enhaas @starchasing-cryptid @academiq @lavendersloane @sol3chu if you ever wish to be added or removed, let me know.

© skibidihan. dont plagiarize, steal, or post on another platform without my permission.

[up-the-anti]

mm bros hcs because i dont wanna do my homework

donnie the typa kid to hear someone sneeze/cough in class and whip his head around to stare at them for 5 seconds before returning to his work

>> like that one "people dont even say bless you anymore they just stare at you like this" thats him.

leo never kills spiders but is terrified of them, he'll be screaming the whole time while getting a piece of paper and a cup to safely and gently relocate it outside

donnie hates flies (semi canon because according to his va it was an outtake from the movie)

mikey is the least scared of bugs out of all of them he can straight up pick up and throw a millipede out the window with his bare fingers no sweat.

leo is really good at skiing when they first try it but cannot ice skate for his life

>> speaking of winter sports leo and donnie are the skiers and raph and mikey are the snowboarders in their group i dont make the rules

mikey can recreate fonts really well with his handwriting

raph gets a job in customer service because mikey bet him $20 that he wouldn't be able to land one; then donnie bets him $20 that he wouldn't be able to hold his job for a week

>> subsequently raph develops an uncharacteristically sweet, fake, slightly dead Customer Service Voice™ and he uses it to deeply disturb his brothers

>>>> donnie gets his $20

leo writes LONG ASS yearbook messages when people ask him to sign im talking 2 full pages small handwriting long

mikey can shuffle playing cards like a god

raph is weirdly good at basic mental math, autism be damned that boy can long divide

>> "bro whats 232 x 4" "928" "how the fuck did you know that" "idk"

donnie religiously plays nyt games, he and april go head to head in wordle and strands on the daily

mikey is double jointed on everything and flaunts it to gross donnie and leo out

where raph playfully hits/punches while goofing around, donnie pinches and it hurts

mikey always has weird ass vivid dreams and donnie is always the first to hear about them. its routine because he has somehow never forgotten a single dream he has had

they are the last 4 standing in eastman's senior assassin and the whole school (even non-players) get insanely invested because who doesnt wanna find out which of the 4 NINJA who LIVE with each other come out on top

>> donnie is the first out because the safeties get too ridiculous and he doesnt gaf anymore, raph snipes him in his room from behind during a gaming twitch stream

>>>> leo gets eliminated next because mikey knew he'd hide out at aprils house the whole time

>>>>>> mikey ultimately crowned the winner because he pays casey $10 to reveal raphs location

leo was the tallest brother by far until raph had a growth spurt at around 12

raph eats straight up heads of lettuce over the sink like an apple sometimes and no one knows why

>> hes a turtle after all (?)

leo hates shit talking/gossiping because he feels bad about it but accidentally ends up doing it anyway and hes so unintentionally good at it just because of how honest he is

>> hes genuinely talking about someone else from the bottom of his heart like "omg i hope she gets the help she needs ☹️" and everyones like "LMAOOO"

based on my animation they did so many fuckass prank calls before the events of the movie while they were still confined to the sewer

>> mikey has the most creative diabolical call ideas but cracks up during execution

>>>> surprisingly, its leo that has the widest range of insane accents and control over his laughter so they always end up handing the phone to him whenever they want to pull one off successfully

they dressed up as each other for halloween once by just switching their masks, weapons, and belts

mikey is a crazy history nerd. can tell you all about how the han-xiongnu wars influenced the balance of power in the eastern hemisphere but not what he ate for dinner yesterday

leo is involved in at least ten secret santas/gift exchanges every christmas

raph shouts wrong kahoot answers in class

>> guesses but somehow always makes it in the top 5

donnie and raph can do a shit ton of pen spinning tricks because their weapons translate kinda well, heavy on raph

mikey does that one thing in jenga where you take a single block from the very bottom really fast so the whole tower shifts down but stays standing, everyone thinks it'll fall but every single game he somehow pulls through

they are all super polite to customer service workers but you will not catch them tipping

>> donnie at the register staring the cashier in the eyes as he presses no tip while saying "thank you so much"

[kaisfruit]

Hi! how's your day going?

I'd like to request the ninja from Ninjago and an older sibling reader if that alright? You know just cute fluffy days with siblings.

Ninjago Older Sibling!Reader Headcanons <3

A/N; Ahhh hi!!! my day is good ty <3 tysm for this ask this is so cute 🥺🥺 i hope u dont mind hcs, but if u do feel free to ask again and i'll gladly make smthn longer :] jus thought hcs fit the vibe

warnings; none! just fluff <3

Kai and Nya

Absolutely the most chaotic sibling trio

Nya constantly getting upset with you and Kai for playing the "i'm the older sibling" card

Nya: WHAT DO YOU MEAN YOU GUYS DIDN'T SAVE A PIECE FOR ME?

You and Kai: older siblings get cake first that's just the rule. sorry <33

But Kai gets just as upset as she does when you do it to him

You guys all love each other though so it's okay

Just the vibes of being their older sibling would be the most competitive basic sibling rivalry type stuff yk

Lloyd

Constantly doting over him

You might as well be his parental figure since MISAKO AND GARMADON WERE THE WORSTTTTT

You and Kai take turns mother henning him

You and Kai are bffs btw like. I don't make the rules. Kai is just his adoptive older brother in my head, so you two bond over caring for Lloyd

Definitely his comfort person after a long day <3

You're the one Lloyd trusts the most in his life and he isn't scared to tell you his fears because, despite any assumed sibling teasing, he knows you'll take him seriously on that regard

Jay

You guys make annoying each other a full time job

Constantly fighting over who the favorite is

Y/N: At least I help out at the junkyard!!

Jay: I'm literally out saving the world everyday!!!

*aggressive slap fight ensues*

OMG no. he's definitely the younger sibling to pull the rapid fire kick tactic

His elemental abilities go out the window when y'all fight. Just straight up, falls on his back and starts kicking up at you

All fun n games until you're able to catch one of his legs

You totally embarrass him as much as you can in front of Nya too

As Jay's older sibling, you're legally obligated to be Cole's bestie since Cole is Jay's bestie. you guys lovingly torment the lightning user together <33

Cole

The most chill sibling duo to ever exist

you both didn't appreciate Lou's insistence of the singing and dancing shit so y'all just decided to be ride or dies for life

much like cole, you get along so well with the rest of the ninja

idrk what to say here

nvm i do

You guys play video games with each other and you are infinitely salty at the fact that your younger brother is better than you at most video games

like wtf? isn't it supposed to be a god given right for all older siblings to be better at video games???? the FSM screwed you!!!

but you've never let him live down the one time he lost to you at super smash bros

you have refused to play with him since

Zane

See, idk if you'd be his ACTUAL sibling yk since he's a robot? maybe more like you were supposed to be a protege to dr. julien, but decided to just be a 4 lyfer with zane after his passing

you've helped zane understand human culture so much and he's real appreciative of your existence

the ninja absolutely fucking ADORE when you're around because what's better than one zane? TWO ZANES !!!

well, obviously you're your own person but! i could see zane adopting a lot of your mannerisms so you two end up being very similar

quality time is y'alls bread and butter

working around each other perfectly as y'all both cook in the kitchen

words never need to be shared between the two of you. just hanging around the other is enough yk? like y'all are bonding just by existing near each other and it is magical

ANOTHER A/N; i tried my best to highlight reader being the older sibling but </3 idk if i did it that well. i saw "sibling fluff" and RAN!! im willing to do a pt 2 or like a one shot or anything with a prompt similar to this !! im the youngest sibling myself tho so idk if i can properly portray being an older sibling (only in a mean light. yk like greg heffley and rodrick. do NOT recommend having older siblings y'all /j)

[koremakaria]

Feud ... formerly Lament of the River Immortal (Long Post ... or is it Long Rant?) Whatever ... proceed at your own peril ... but I did warn ya

My very non-objective and extremely biased thoughts ... sort of a character analysis on this drama.

First I prefer the old title because at least I would have some context clues on the fact that the river immortal is supposed to be the one lamenting. The one who perhaps had done something shady or wronged the other protag in some ways. Because what is even feud? Like why are you two even fighting?

Second, I have to be completely honest with you that I watch this drama in clickety click mode ... which I don't do often ... what is clickety click you ask .... why it's when I just keep clicking and skipping scenes ... this is a full length drama and I'm not invested enough to spend time watching every minute of it ... like ain't nobody got time for that!!! Which means I don't have all the info but oh well ... life is full of difficult decisions.

Okay so now that we have those out in the open ... let's dive into our characters and their motivations.

Bai Jiu Si

Our ML ... I don't feel anything for him really. I mean I have no emotional attachment to this character. Personally I just don't know what im supposed to feel ... compassion? Empathy? Pity? Schadenfreude? IDK

So far all I know is that

1) He has a spital partner. Like a soul mate or a wife and he loves her deeply or so we're told

2) He wants to increase his and her powers and the fastest and most effective way to do this leveling up business is go to a mortal world and under go a 'love trial'

3) Didn't get official permission for this particular trial but oh well ... whatever ... and yeah let's keep our memories and powers and connections to the heavens/celestial realm .... and nooooo we can't use our powers to interfere with the mortals despite the fact that we both know we're not humans. Yeah ... yeah ... yeah .... we're just larping as humans. Like playing sims with all the cheat codes ... but NO ... we can't cheat!!! Like bro ... what was the logic here?

4) He won't communicate with his life partner about why he doesn't want kids during their live action role playing as humans era tour because of plot reasons

5) He can't really harm his wife because they share the same life force but for some reasons that he and the viewers still don't know ... his wife did attempt to kill him by sealing him away for centuries and she's still trying to kill him .... why? He doesn't know and dont you be looking at me! I also dont know.

Hua Ru Yue

Our FL ... clearly has a vendetta against ML but why ... IDK .... oh lord almighty .... when will the drama reveal this plotpoint? Hopefully not episode 30 but who knows.

What we know about her

1) Do you like playing games? Because my lady has been playing a very long game. The planning took centuries and she came to win .... it is win or die ... pretend to be human again with no memory of past lives together get close to the ML before offfing him

2) Plan sorta didn't work because ML sorta know ... such a poo poo bummer but whatever .... she did some damage. NOT enough obviously but yeahhhh

3) Keeps saying that ML deserves to die .... whyyyyyy.... why do you keep saying this? I don't think it means what you think it means

4) During the Live Action Role Playing as Humans Era Tour ... wants to have a child but ML said no ... mistakenly believes that he doesn't want a future with her

5) During the human era tour also saved a child's life against ML's warning and now considered his descendants as her sort of children ... proceeded to break all kind of rules to help this bloodline including offing a dragon drought god or something.

And that's about all I know

The narrative choice to withhold the feuding reason is very confusing to me because I just can't feel anything for our protagonists and I really want to! I really do!

I also have so many questions like how is it a love trial in the mortal world when the two weren't mortal and have their celestial body and memory? Maybe it's because the love trial was unauthorized so like the ML and FL didn't get the correct instructions on how a mortal love trial is supposed to work and so now they really get a love trial of their own but it's the celestial version instead...so like maybe we're watching a love trial on steroids and that's why we're so confused and nothing is making sense.

Okay .... wow that was a lot. I dont think anyone made it this far but if you did ... just know that im still confused on why these two are beefing and maybe you could enlighten me .... I'll be forever grateful .... and thank you for coming to my ted talk ...umm I meant ranting session.

[nagichi-boop]

I saw a post about Movie!Maria and Game!Maria about how the tragedy of Maria in the game is that she would have died to her disease if she wasn't shot, and how the tragedy of Maria in the movie is that she could have lived a full life and didn't get the chance to.

Perhaps that's the reason for the erasure? Either that or they simply couldn't figure out how to portray it.

Okay, am finally getting around to writing this. Hopefully you dont mind me using this ask as a springboard to address some thoughts I’ve seen on the matter? It’s something I’d like to explore and I figured this would be a good opportunity for it. /lh

I will preface this by saying that although Maria’s illness being removed in the film was a bit disappointing to me, I’m not deeply offended by the choice either. I also don’t think it ruins the films by any means and I still really enjoyed it. I just want to share my thoughts as someone who is disabled and finds Maria to be a refreshing source of representation.

Spoilers for Sonic 3 (ofc)

I’ll start with the point you mentioned in your ask. (I haven’t seen the post you referred to, but hopefully I’ve understood what the perspective is.)

“Movie!Maria’s death is more tragic because she isn’t terminally ill and so had her whole life ahead of her”

I can definitely see this perspective, though I’d argue it’s not entirely true. Dark Beginnings gave a bit more information on Maria’s condition. For one, her symptoms were in remission because of the low gravity on the ARK. That means, to my understanding, that she had more time to live, even if a cure wasn’t found. The other thing is that Gerald was still working on a cure, so she still had the hope of being cured one day. Whether a cure would’ve been found we don’t know because her life was tragically cut short and the research stopped. The tragedy in her death was that she had hope of a cure to finally go to earth, but her death wasn’t even caused by her illness in the end.

Movie!Maria arguably had a better chance of a more fulfilling life given she was able bodied and lived on earth. But as far as I can remember, we don’t really know why she was living at the GUN research facility. I guess it was to be with Gerald? I suppose you could argue that she never had the chance to figure out who she wanted to be, but her backstory isn’t super developed in the films. I understand given they had the rest of the story to tell, but ultimately we don’t really know much about how her life would’ve been.

I think either way her death was tragic. Neither one to me feels more or less tragic than the other.

“They didn't have time to write her as being sick”

That assumes that they had to make a big deal of her being sick. There are a few easy tweaks that could’ve been made to hint at her being disabled without making it a huge spectacle. Maybe when she first shows up, they comment how she is there because Gerald wants to monitor her condition. Maybe there’s a scene where she is using a mobility aid. Maybe in the scene where Shadow is having tests done on him, Maria is too. It would also be a way to show that being disabled isn’t her entire identity, it’s just a part of her life.

Shadow’s backstory also wouldn’t really need to be changed in my opinion. Maybe his presence has nothing to do with providing a cure for Maria. Or maybe in the midst of testing his DNA, they find there may be a way to cure her. His backstory of being from a comet wouldn’t need to change at all.

“It’s too sad for a kid’s movie”

I don’t really get this one if I’m being entirely honest. Maybe they didn’t want to show a disabled girl being killed, but they still ultimately killed a child on screen which is tragic in itself. They also killed multiple other characters throughout the films, so they’re not shy to it at least. I don’t know that her being disabled makes killing a child more tragic? As I said in my previous point, they didn't even have to heavily depict her disability. I don’t have much to say about this point and I’m not sure how to properly articulate my thinking on it, but I don’t think a disabled character dying would be much sadder than her being able bodied and dying. She is still a young girl being killed.

One argument I saw was that they might have removed her sickness because of the COVID still being a fairly recent event. But I really hope that wasn’t the thinking. I get that it was - and still is - something that causes distress, but erasing a character’s sickness because of it feels a bit silly to me. Also a love of people, including teenagers, were disabled by COVID. It would almost be like saying “hey so we don’t want to think about that, so we are gonna just make this more palatable for the people watching.” I highly doubt this was the thinking, but tiptoeing around the idea of disability because of COVID kinda feels like the opposite of what should be happening.

“Killing a disabled character is cheap”

Eh, I’d argue erasing a character’s disability is worse. At the end of the day, they’re still killing a child, which in itself could be argued as being ‘cheap.’

“The writers didn’t know about her in-game lore/the information from Gerald’s Journal wasn’t available at the time of writing”

This one I can kinda understand. I can’t verify it, but I did hear that the whole NIDS thing was apparently only mentioned in guide books or something released a while after the games were? I can’t remember the specifics of what I was told. If that is the case, the writers not knowing about her being sick makes enough sense to me. I’d argue that if they were about to implement references from Sonic 06 and even include Sanic that they could read the wiki page on Maria and quickly see she was at the very least chronically ill, but I don’t know their process.

I feel like I had other points I wanted to discuss, but I can’t think of them right now. Hopefully this at least expresses my viewpoint on things. Again, I am not deeply enraged or offended that they changed her backstory. There are a lot of things I actually like about her depiction in the films. I do really like the playful and friendly dynamic they have in the movie. They’re friendly in the games, but we only ever really see Maria as being an emotional support to Shadow. In the movie, that comes after we see the silly interactions they share.

I think I’m more disappointed than anything. I was really happy at the disability representation in Dark Beginning’s and Generations/Gerald’s Journal, especially with regards to invisible and dynamic disabilities. I suppose at the end of the day, the movies are a separate canon from the games, so if they can change the backstories for other characters like Sonic and Shadow, they can change Maria’s. I suppose I was just looking forward to seeing a chronically ill character on the big screen.

Thanks for the ask! I’m glad to have hopefully been able to explain my thoughts on the matter, even if you don’t agree with them.

(I really do hope this makes sense. It’s pretty late as I’m writing this and I haven’t really proofread it.)

[nishitanis-left-nut]

finished LaD. I think Ichiban fixed something in me.

but first of all- took em long enough to give us a majima crotch shot in this game (what hes saying with no context makes this funnier. you gotta go 100 times WHAT)

positives first (im gonna make a separate post with all the more stinky complaining and nitpicking-)

(stinky complaining)

"Once you're at rock bottom, the only way forward is up."

i feel like this is one of those phrases that gets so overused in media that whenever i see it it just automatically reads as insincere and a lazy way of trying to say something profound, and maybe im biased since i was in a place where i needed to hear it, but this time around it didnt feel like that. might have made me cry even. whos to say. the story is pretty self contained and simple (by yakuza standards) and ichiban is a nice man so it doesnt come across as it talking down to you?? the scene feels very encouraging and the lack of mean spiritedness in how ichiban talks and carries himself is nice??? i still feel like they set some things up and then subsequently did nothing with them but eh. i think most of my complaints about this game actually kinda boil down to how they spent the entirety of it teetering in between making it feel like a "yakuza game" and dealing with the new game mechanics and direction and not really knowing how to do both at the same time. eh.

do NOT separate them

this entire last scene gutted me actually. i noticed it back when saeko cries at the club but damn the crying in this game feels so visceral and real like- theyre full on ugly crying on screen. i tried looking back at other crying scenes in past games and the only ones that look and feel like this are kiryus reaction to rikiya getting shot and the nishiki forest scene in y0 (i know the animation is a product of its time too but also specifically with women, comparing sayama crying over ryuji and saeko crying over the soapland owner its like night and day. sayama looked pretty and her tears were barely there, not a grimace or wrinkle in SIGHT, saeko at least was allowed to look "ugly" when she cried) i dont think this scene wouldve hit me as hard as it did if they hadnt made ichi look as distraught as he does (also the vocal performance cuz holly shit? holy shit.)

i knew i was gonna like ichiban, look at him how can you NOT like him? but even while playing the game i didnt think he'd end up leaving that big of an impression on me. but here we are. we really do need more media that revolve around "Adulthood" and how different people cope with and adapt to it, i wish LaD had spent more time on those aspects of the story honestly since with each game it feels like the crime drama parts of it keep trying to get pushed to the backburner, but they still suffocate everything else- no, positives, positives-

im not someone who plays a lot of games so before i picked up any yakuza game id been feeling like Something Was Missing and that something was a piece of media. and then i played yakuza 0 and it was like oh. i guess i live here now. i really do need to start playing more videogames because i feel like its one of the phew mediums where we still constantly get adult protagonists dealing with Adult Things aside from romantic relationships or work without it also just being a parody or a comedy? and it taking itself seriously??

i keep thinking about yakuza 3 and how the game had you be with kiryu as he lived a normal life for a while, it felt like a resting point in his life because, well, it was. and how in yakuza 5 we got to go to work with him and i feel like stuff like that was missing from this game. every domestic and "normal" thing ichiban goes through in this game happens off screen, and for a game thats got friendship and the power of community at its center that feels kind of weird?

not sure how the rest of the fandom feels about y5 and the whole taxi substory and the parts of it you had to do for the main story but i really liked being able to see kiryu get somewhat comfortable in his new environment and do "normal" things. and, as flawed as it is, theres no debating the importance the quiet parts of yakuza 3 had on him and the games that came after it. if y3 hadnt had kiryu interact with the kids as much as it did, if it hadnt had us see how HAPPY he is living with them in okinawa, y5 and y6 wouldnt have hit as hard as their supposed to

in y5 you can even send money to the kids through atm's for christmas presents, and every time you do kiryu sends money thinking of a specific kid and he goes on a small tangent thinking about the things they like and how old they are and sending money according to what he thinks theyll want/need and its like- these are HIS KIDS. he knows their interests he knows their birthdays and even though hes not supposed to exist to them anymore he still wants them to have a good christmas because thats what children deserve thats what HIS children deserve-

i went- kiryu tangent. but back to ichiban, my point was that even in those games where they have the crime drama at the center and are extremely action packed, they still took the time to have kiryu do normal things so when he gets ripped from that you feel it. ichiban didnt get any of that, the crime drama isnt really as all-encompassing as it is in the other games and the "normal" bits of it you gotta hunt down around the map or be TOLD they happened

this was uh, this was supposed to be the Positive Thoughts post so ill get back to that rq. despite all of my barely disguised animosity towards how they didnt balanced the action and the character progressions i really did enjoy the game. i think. i adore ichiban so that counts right? im still real confused about why they established how he can get blinded with rage really easily but then didnt. do anything with that? in fact they kind of go back on it and just have him POSITIVE THOUGHTS POST GRAAAFKASFMPJJO

live laugh love ichiban, i wish the writers loved you as much as i do. i kept calling him a shonen protagonist in other posts because thats kind of the impression i got from him at the start and ive seen other people describe him like that too, but thats not exactly accurate to how he is as a character. hes a really nice person, a stubborn man thats got an idealistic view of the world and wants to make it better so his life and the people in it can be better. i love you kasuga ichiban and i hope whatever happens to you in infinite wealth isnt that bad cuz itll make me sad

who the FUCK are you nick and who do you work for

[sleepyhouse2art]

so one of my fav people on here commented on my last post about how i dont believe sex work is work asking my opinion on decrim. im just going to copy paste it here because i want to clarify/explain my position/say how i feel. it is unedited so please forgive me if im repeating myself or saying shit dumb or whatever:

it was very bad!! idk, i only started being able to think all the stuff that happened during that time wasnt all my fault like a few months ago. therapy bro. i do i do -- so, i like the nordic model/equality model/survivor-led model, because its three tenets are this: 1. decriminalize sex work! 2. criminalize sex buying! 3. provide support services for those wishing to exit prostitution, such as safe and affordable housing, education/training, childcare, healthcare (physical and mental), and emotional support from peers and other people. i like it because it safeguards prostitutes from prosecution while prosecuting sex buyers/pimps and offers people ways out if they want to get out, which in my experience everyone ive ever known wants out. nobody at the street level likes it. what i dont like about full decrim (which is decrimming SEX BUYING in addition to prostitution) is that it tacitly normalizes exploitation and abuse (most prostitutes are in the game due to financial coercion of many kinds, including but not limited to poverty, addiction, homelessness, etc, and i believe any paid sex act by coerced people is rape), absolves pimps and sex buyers of their direct responsibility for that exploitation and abuse, and does not decrease rates of trafficking/violence/stds/etc the way that the nordic/equality/survivor-led model does. (gonna continue this in next comment cause i dont think tumblr comments let you do paras and this is probably long)

i do believe that people should have the freedom to do what they want! i do not think entering into prostitution or other forms of paid sexual acts is a good idea for anyone, but hey, other people are not me. i am sure there are people who dont experience the exploitation and abuse and vast, vast unhappiness that me and the majority of other prostitution survivors (i say this because me and many others have been in very real danger of losing our lives while selling sex) did and do, and thats good! i do not want people to go through what i went through! BUT i think touting the 'sex work is work' slogan and these tales of these 'happy hookers' comes at the expense of the most vulnerable and marginalized. we hear about people selling pics/videos or selling sex for beaucoup bucks as escorts or working as dominatrixes or whatever, but you know who they dont show us? people who are selling sex to survive. people who are selling sex to fund their addictions. people who are unhappy and exploited and sick and miserable and unprotected by anyone in the world, because nobody gives a fuck. i havent seen anyone engaged in street-level prostitution who was happy doing what they did. when i was in the life i engaged in a lot of self-deception and posturing to deal with it. i had to think i was a wild and cool and adventurous person who didnt give a fuck about anything. i was often homeless and i was addicted to heroin. i kept up with that posturing until i just...couldnt. until things got too desolate, and too many bad things had happened to me, and i barely felt like a person at all. i just felt like a body. when my husband (then friend) let me come to live with him, i was so fucked i couldnt eat or talk to people anymore. i didnt really realize how fucked i even was. i started reading about other peoples experiences and i found they had suffered the same catastrophic damage that me and the other prostitutes i used to know did.

so gradually through reading these experiences and thinking about my own and my old friends and doing therapy (im not clear on my therapists position - weve never talked about it and dont really need to, she just listens to me freak out) i came to have the opinions that i do. i mean i have seen some shit, man. i watched my roommate, who was a wonderful, clever, hilarious, sheisty, brave fucking woman i loved, sicken horribly after the hiv shed contracted from prostitution progressed to aids. we used to lay on the couch and just hold each other. she was so tiny. we did karaoke and went looking for arrowheads. one day she caught a case and had to leave the state and packed up her car with her abusive piece of shit boyfriend and i never got to see her again. i saw my best friend -- this was after i got out -- become addicted to heroin with her boyfriend and go from camming and selling panties to letting her boyfriend pimp her out, and how it emptied out her face and made her so fucking sad. we used to eat bon bons and watch married in the family together in her attic in lingerie and talk about fucked up manga. i miss her so much. her boyfriend, who was one of our friends too, overdosed in his parents bathroom and i think she got clean. i hope she did. she stopped talking to everyone. she was the coolest girl i ever met. i loved her. these are just two stories and i know so many and i wish i didnt. there is mine too. maybe one day i will talk more about it on here. i dont know. but knowing what i do know and seeing what ive seen, i really bristle at the suggestion that 'sex work is work'. its not work. its not a job. its not normal. its not ok. for all the people who are happy doing that, thats cool, i have no problem with them at all. but i do think theyre comfortable and removed from the reality that so many of us face/faced, and that they dont think about us and they definitely, definitely dont know what its like to be us. so thats my piece, i guess.

[loonyoz]

cant make any promises that I'll manage to finish it, but I started writing a fic about Theresa. Thought I'd write a short list of ideas then it turned into this nightmare of a ramble:

I just think she's a cool character, and as much as Im enjoying playing KCD1 rn I feel kinda sad abt how alot of the female characters are kind of cast to the side in the story. Sure there's quests for them and it's a medieval setting so its difficult for them to be given major roles but... idk man.

I just think a game from Theresa's perspective could be hella cool (I know there's a DLC but thats not the same imo).

Waiting to die in Skalitz, and being jolted back into the moment by the imminent danger she finds Henry in. Through this she finds a new purpose to live, in the satisfaction and strength she feels by protecting and caring for others.

She goes to live with her Uncle in Rattay where she picks up various odd jobs from him to earn her keep (she might be family but Peshek is a penny pinching bastard).

She usually solves her problems by being stealthy or charismatic, but as her combat skills grow, she becomes bolder and more able to take the direct approach. When she decides to solve her problems fighting, she usually disguises herself as a man due to both the social and legal norms of the time. With full armor and helmet she looks the same as any other soldier. If she needs her disguise without the easy concealment of plate armor, she passes herself as a young man, wears a thick gambeson, keeps her hair pulled back in a men’s style, and wears hoods and scarfs to obscure her face. She uses the name of one of her deceased brothers. So when questioned as to who she is, and why she is there she can say she's Samuel/Stibor of Skalitz, a refuge looking for work. With the Skalitz refuges being scattered and preoccupied in new cities, no speculation or gossip as to the validity of this claim holds weight without the small town know-how of everyone's business.

When it comes to romance, I think I would start by saying that I think she loved Bianca as more than a friend. But I think it takes her awhile to realize it fully, perhaps only after Bianca dies does she realize.

I saw a post about Henry's approach to relationships and him being influenced by trauma bonding and I thought that was an interesting take. I like it because I think he and Theresa form a real bond between them but just dont have strong romantic chemistry imo. They might pursue a romantic relationship with each other, as they are good friends who trust each other, and they are both lonely and scared of being lonely. But I think they both realize it doesnt work for them and they return to just being friends.

I think overtime she forms an unlikely bond with Lady Stephanie. Similar to Henry, she feels she can open up to her and tell her about what happened in Skalitz. And she admires Stephanies determination and devotion when she tells her own tale. But it saddens and aggravates Theresa in equal measure just how stuck and unable to speak up for herself Stephanie is. Stephanie is lonely too, wishing she had people in her life she could talk to, and feeling like life has already passed her by. (These thoughts are inspired by this post). She and Theresa could fall into the same situation as Theresa and Henry do, but it doesnt turn out that way. Rather than Stephanie seeking solace in the idea of a man she knows little of, she forms a friendship with Theresa that can grow better without the expectations of a knightly courtship.

When Stephanies head gets caught in the clouds Theresa helps gently bring her back to earth. When Stephanie lets herself fade into the wallpaper, Theresa is there to hold her hand and make space in the room for her. When Theresa is so weighed down by loss she cant get up and face the world, Stephanie sits with her and reminds her that there is still good in the world.

I like the thought that while Theresa and Stephanie are having their sad forbidden love affair, Henry and Hans are off fucking around in the woods, having dates stabbing each other in the combat arena, and having gay bath time. Then KCD2 happens (which I know little abt) and Theresa's like lol welcome to the club Henry, nothing like being a gay simp in medieval times.

Im curious what other people’s thoughts are on these ideas. And I’m always open to respectful and constructive feedback😊

[dionysusdecent]

I'm just gonna make this a full post because why not. As some of you may know, Project Moon has found itself in more drama. And surprise, it involves misinformation because people dont know how to read. Currently PM is in a legal battle against Monggeu, Mimi and the Game Consumer Association because Monggeu and Mimi are filing copyright on their respective works (Leviathan for Monggeu and Wonder Lab for Mimi).

I'm just gonna start with the GCS. If you've been a fan since before 4.5, you might remember the incredibly stupid Vellmori drama, where a bunch of incels hot mad at the CG artist because the ID artist drew Ishmael in a skin tight wet suit rather than a bikini. I bring this up because the GC went by a different name then, the PMUA, or the Project Moon User Association, a group with no official ties to Project Moon and who slandered the company relentlessly and wanted to bleed every penny from the company because....really just because they could. They are a group who will do anything to see Project Moon burn to the ground, and so in another brilliant idea, are backing Monggeu and Mimi in the lawsuit....except they arent because they themselves have stated that they do not have the money to do so and are asking for donations.

Getting to the copyright stuff, Monggeu and Mimi are filing copyright claims for Leviathan and Wonder Lab respectively, two comics/mangas that are set in the Project Moon universe. However they have an issue, they do not own anything within those comics. Nothing in either of them are by right theirs and are instead owned by PM in their entirety. The best they could hope for is owning the names. PM has already show proof that they worked with Monggeu when it came to Leviathan which completely destroys any claims they could make to owning Leviathan, as PM was working on it as well. Mimi......Mimi is in a weird case as her work would also technically not be hers as Wonder Lab is still set in the PM universe. But PM did take it down when she asked and also made Wonder Lab non-canon....but that just brings up the question of why even do this then? Her work is non-canon and can no longer be viewed officially so why would she even try and fight for the copyright? I dont have an awnser, I'm just asking the question.

This last segment will be used as a PSA for everyone. Please for the love of everything wait till both sides get their side of the story out and actually read what both sides say before making judgments. Regardless of your feelings and KJH (Kim Ji Hoon), that does not give you any right to not only go against everything PM says simply because you dont like the guy, and by every god, does not under any circumstances mean you get to spread misinformation. I have already seen a post showing the GCS/PMUA post about this and in that very post is misinformation. Specifically from GCS/PMUA, but since someone spread it here and others have reblogged it, they are also spreading misinformation. Vellmori WAS NOT FIRED. She left OF HER OWN ACCORD AND PM WAS FINE WITH IT. Not liking KJH because is isnt the sharpest tool in the shed does not mean you are allowed to spread any misinformation, and if you spread it unknowingly, then atleast they to correct it. And for the last gods damned time. VELLMORI LEFT OF HER OWN ACCORD, IT WAS HER OWN DECISION, PROJECT MOON DID NOT FIRE HER.

tldr: Project Moon is fully within their right to fight this false claim as these claims are coming from an outside source that does not own any of the IP and were simply contract work. And these false copyright claimers are also being backed by an organization who hates Project Moon and will do anything to see the company burn, and use misinformation to do it. Dont spread misinformation and if you do it accidentally, try to correct yourself. Misinformation is how innocent people get canceled, lose their jobs or possibly lose their lives. Dont. Spread. It.

I do wanna add something on here (so this is an edit fyi), but Project Moon isnt a perfect company. Perfect is an impossibility. Perfect cannot exist. PM has made mistakes and will keep making them, we all will. Does that mean they should be excused? Absolutely not, that's not how this works. PM isnt perfect, KJH isnt perfect, none of us are perfect, and no one can be perfect. PM has done some stupid things in the past, but they dont deserve this. They do not deserve to be continuously slandered against by a group who is out for their own gain when that same group said they were here to help people. PM is not perfect, but PMUA/GCS is far less perfect than PM could ever be. They are greedy and selfish and will continue to spread misinformation to make PM look bad. You do not need to support or even like PM, but please understand that the other side is far worse and do not care for anyone other than themselves. (This is not talking about Monggeu or Mimi, as far as I'm concerned, they are good people and nothing I'm adding here is against them. Just the PMUA/GC)

2nd edit: it has been confirmed with the official english translation that Mimi and Monggeu were both not just contract work, but effectively temporary PM employees during their contract. These means they were paid as much as any other employee. I did not mention this as I wasnt sure if this was accurate from the translations available. Along with this, according to PM, while Monggeu said it was PM's decision to cancel the manga for Leviathan, it was in fact Monggeu's choice and PM respected and accepted this. I would also like to mention that the letter from the PMUA/GCS stated that because PM didnt directly contribute to Leviathan or Wonder Lab, that PM owned nothing and only Monggeu and Mimi owned everything. One, this is false as PM has already said they worked with both during the creation of Wonder Lab and Leviathan (Wonder Lab had more freedom) and two, personally, that is incredibly insane. Just because I make a new comic in the DC or Marvel universe with some new characters does not mean I own everything in the comic.

link for anyone wishing to read PM's statement in English: https://x.com/LimbusCompany_B/status/1816630063154233644

[lovelyrotter]

okay but i actually kinda wanna know ur take on stridercest being canon compliant O_O <- autism stare

oh hey i am also hitting you with the autism stare. ill try to get my thoughts down in a way that makes sense to more than just me hahaha

bear in mind that im an epilogue lover and i think Meat/Candy are really valuable pieces that further all of the characters and are also hard canon in the sense that we're looking at just 2 post-game universe outcomes out of an uncountable number (the book in the picnic basket representing post-canon fanfic). i think the characters actions in the epilogues make sense and are satisfying to me. yes even jane (i love alpha jane and i will not do her the disservice of 'cleaning her up' w/o showing her work for it. thats not how you depict a character who grew up with fascist programming). i could totally go on a whole tangent about this specifically but thats another post lol we'd be here forever and its also not stridercest

but okay. canon stridercest. under the cut cause it got kinda long

basically it has to do with the cherubs and how their relationships and mating rituals are pretty obviously incestuous leaning even though cherubs dont have the human concept of Siblings or blood family. the cherub who predominates will search across paradox space to mate with another cherub who closely resembles the cherub they predominated which is like textbook Freudian sexuality. theres a lot of Freud and Jungian stuff in HS imo even if im kinda [wobbly hand gesture] at the validity of these theories applied to real life and real people. but theyre super fun tools and lenses to use in fiction and i mean. gestures at all of dave

so the incest aliens cherubs. the whole reason why im talkin about them is bc Caliborn is so incredibly interested and invested in the Striders in particular. caliborn as both Lord English and Lil Cal shapes earth NOT OVERTLY but more so embeds himself in earth society, but again, the Striders lives in particular. dave is full of incest jokes. hes even apparently got a list of his friends arranged in order of how likely theyd incest-elope with each other (thank you epilogues for this amazing factoid). he seems to think about it often enough to, yknow, Do That. have a good solid think about that and construct an organized list about it. bearing in mind dave makes jokes about stuff thats a) bothering him, or b) generally camping out in his brain. hes not even really aware of it most of the time (as we see in one of the openbounds where hes all 'why am i thinking about puppets???' after seeing dirk for the first time in that dream bubble. he is thinking nonstop about dirk at that point and going off his only frame of reference for ANY dirk, which is his bro. his bro who was most likely deeply warped by Lil Cal)

sorry for the long blocky paragraph lol. but now onto the next thing

Caliborn as Lil Cal is the centerpiece in the beta strider apartment. dave cant escape him and beta dirk grew up with him. what the fuck do you do when youre childhood comfort item is also the most evil creature across all of paradox space? if youre a dirk you try to fight it. but how long can you keep fighting something like that. its safe to say that bro was affected by Caliborns particular brand of perversion and sfw kink. i dont think i have to say how insidious abusive and toxic he is about those things. and looking at the truth of beta bro (16yo alpha dirk) you can start to see just how warped beta bro became. beta bro is a false dirk (still a very Real dirk but not the Truth of dirk. beta bro has been toxified and made infinitely worse by an absolute evil influence over decades of life. in 80s fuckin texas. presumably in the system. anyone would be fucked up after that)

so for this analysis/theory im stating beta bro as a false persona. using jungian terms he is apha dirk's shadow

both dave and dirk live with a fake, carefully manicured version of their bros. they live with personas (or shadows of their guardians on the walls. hello platos allegory of the cave). they dont actually know e/o and they dont until the striunion

alpha dirk especially grows up embedded in the Public Persona Of Dave Strider 400 years post mortem and completely alone with unlimited internet access. hes a self admitted expert on his bro and we dont get to see a lot if any of his early childhood but i can hazard a guess at how much he clung to that persona of his bro. he fuckin idolizes dave. he LOVES dave. right off the bat he is in some kind of love with dave and i think if you try to argue against that then thats you slippin. i think youre a fool and have to reread homestuck because i wholeheartedly believe the striders loving eachother is part of the win state

once again this is speculation cause we get barely anything about alpha dave, but from what we already know about him im guessing this bro-persona is

achingly effortlessly cool

oozing masculinity (toxic or not, not really interested in categorizing that although toxic coolboy masculinity IS something the striders contend with & is an important facet in their lives)

a skilled fighter

a dedicated moviegoer (hes a director need i say more. this one is probably the only genuine thing about his on-screen persona)

and now lets look at jake. someone whos grown up on pretty much nothing but movies, whos doubtlessly been influenced by hollywood and its idea of gritty 'main character' masculinity through that, and who also clings to more old-school ideas of manliness (think victorian/edwardian era gentlemanly-but-loves-a-good-scrum kinda manly. moustache twirly with a monocle kinda manly. basically everything that grandpa harley is)

but okay lets look at what jake wants to be. lets take a look at his teenager persona

achingly effortlessly cool (his own 'hollywood star' kind of cool also def influenced by his favourite characters like lara croft who is indeed achingly cool. you see him succeed in inhabiting this hollywood star persona on earth c)

oozing masculinity (the old school manly mans-man kind)

a skilled fighter (two pistoles always. harder to aim cause you cant use a free hand to make up for kickback. that takes skill)

a dedicated moviegoer (again one of the only genuine parts about his persona. his questionable-to-wretched tastes aside. but bearing in mind that the SBaHJ movies are intentionally bad which is what makes them loop around to good. such is the nature of intentionally 'bad' art. jake fuckin lives in this perpetual bad-good art loop. okay enough with the art tangent keep focused man cmon)

because dirk has obviously way more contact with jake i dont doubt he sees through jakes own (admittedly way more flimsy) coolboy persona but the point still stands i think. different flavours but the same kinda guy. dirk has a type and i dont think its a stretch to say that hes looking for aspects of the bro-persona he grew up looking at in other boys, much like the winning cherub looking for the one they lost in the cherub theyll mate with

also wtf is with dirks obvious boner for dave chasing him across paradox space to decapitate him huh?? the last few sentences in Meat are about that very thing. he wants to fuc fight dave sooo bad. haha remember how the cherubic mating ritual is one of the most violent and long running spectacles in paradox space? i sure do