#my beautiful messiah.

[everythingsinred]

what follows is a long, rambly, and possibly sappy thank you note to the best fandom ive ever involved myself in. if you have ever sent me an ask, commented on my fics, or replied to a post i made (or even liked it tbh)--then this post is for you. (and this is most certainly not a good-bye or even close; i just occasionally get into sappy moods)

i want to start working on a career that i like, and my mom’s recommendation was to start a writing blog (she insisted i dont call it that though--to call it a “website” so it sounds more professional when i apply for writing gigs). its not the first time shes given me that advice but i have for some reason always resisted that idea before. “nobody would read it” was always the bottom line. that whole “it has to be perfect to make up for the fact that it’s me” has always been my outlook on anything i produce. its why i feel so poorly whenever i post a new chapter of a fic or any art ever. its why im taking so long on the next batch of ga essays. its why ive never formally submitted any writing ever for publishing. why would anyone read anything i have to write, especially with no dead fandom to prompt them? who would choose me out of all the aspiring writers out there?

for ga it was a bit easier after a bit of breaking through the initial anxiety of sharing bits of myself. its a small fandom. not much content going around. theyd take anything right? even if it was from me! 

but something really weird happened these past few years in the ga fandom. i started writing essays and became more vocal, posting my thoughts, writing a long, dark, fucked up fanfic. i got feedback from people who wanted more from me. theyd ask me my thoughts on things, when id never considered myself an authority on anything or even very interesting to talk to (a lifetime of being the substitute friend will do that to you). ppl sent me asks about questions. they replied to my posts to further discuss things. me! what on earth?

then it got weirder. i posted my weird messed up little fic and now every once in a while ill get a comment from a person that says that my fic is their favorite, not just in the fandom, but ever. EVER. what? a couple of people have told me that they’d read anything i wrote, even if it had nothing to do with gakuen alice.

that they’d read something just because it was me.

this isnt a rant or a vent. something has changed in my self esteem in the past few years because today, when my mom told me i should start a “writing website” and post weekly writing, it actually sounded like a decent idea. no part of her advice was different than it had ever been, but i was. i could for the first time imagine starting a blog (website) and picture someone actually liking what they found there. and that’s bc of the ga fandom and bc of the writing ive done it for it and SPECIFICALLY the writing ive actually had the guts to share. 

none of it has been perfect. im lazy when it comes to self-editing and when i finish writing a chapter im eager to just throw it out there instead of rereading it once, let alone twice. a lot of it has been imperfect, but you guys still read it. you enjoyed it, even. “it has to be perfect to make up for the fact that it’s me” has never been a problem for you. for whatever reason, quite a few of you like me, like my writing, like my ideas and thoughts. a couple of years ago i wouldnt have been able to fathom that, not even in my wildest dreams. 

im proud of myself for taking those first steps a couple years back, for posting those first couple posts and letting myself get involved in the fandom for a manga ive loved for half my life. im proud because if i hadnt done that, then maybe my self esteem wouldnt have developed like this. maybe i wouldnt have been able to picture a career in publishing as clearly as i can now. i obviously still have issues as far as my self esteem is concerned. i second-guess myself. i talk down to myself. i put off rereading bc i dont want to hate what i create. but you guys have helped me like my writing and helped me see that other people can like it too.

i am beyond grateful for that. i dont get a lot of traction or feedback like i would if i were in a larger fandom, but i dont mind. the feedback that i do get is of such good quality and has meant so much to me that it has potentially changed my life. i just needed you all to know that. that the people who have sent me asks, both on and off anon, requesting my thoughts on any topic; the people who leave comments on ffn and ao3, giving support ranging from long paragraphs to a brief sentence; the people who dm me or message me to share their thoughts on my work; the people who commented on my natsumikan essays telling me that ive helped them see something from a different perspective--you all have helped me see that there’s value in the things i create. 

i just want to say thank you. it has meant so much to me so far to be able to feel so confident in my writing. i really didnt even notice the change until today. how bizarre is it that something so important can change without you even noticing? i look forward to sharing more with you, from more fics to the mikan essay (which still has to be perfect, just maybe not as perfect as it wouldve had to be a few years ago lol). 

don’t be nervous that this a good-bye. it is not. it’s strange because whenever i’ve said anything like this (sent a message of adoration to a person i love, for example), people think it’s a bad sign. that i’m saying good-bye, or that it’s somehow a sign of something unsaid. i understand. this kind of nonsense sappiness (like all that stuff i wrote up there ^) is usually saved for the ffn bio when someone is leaving the site, for the good-bye post when someone decides to leave a fandom. “you’ve all meant so much to me and i’m leaving now.” that’s because usually people save all the important things for the end. you only say how you’ve felt when you say farewell. i don’t think life should be that way. i’m not saying good-bye, i’m saying i love you. i think people should say that more. i want people to feel good about themselves for what they’ve done, however small, to make my life--and undoubtedly the lives of others--a little brighter. and you have. you should know and i don’t intend to keep it to myself until i say good-bye (whenever or even if that happens). 

tldr; i love you gakuen alice fandom <3 youre not dead because dead things cant give life the way you have.

[crowleyaj]

watching messiah on netflix. the description says it's about a man people call the messiah and follow out of damascus into the desert which catches the attention of the cia, and I was like, hmm, let's try it. but no it turns out the story is that he's actually jesus and he's returned to palestine and now there's another intifada!! it's very very interesting and I can't believe no one is talking about this show

[theromanticrationalist]

Walking with God: The Sacred Journey of Villeneuve’s Dune | The Heretical Sayyadina

"This is Paul’s path, this is Paul’s story, of what it means to walk with the Divine. Many are tempted to view this story as a curse, something that destroys not only the person walking the path, but the entire world around him. We may even be tempted to think that we are watching not a story of a man, but of a terrible and wretched god who will fall from grace — falling short of everyone’s expectations and self-made projections of him, a messiah made in a broken image who will not lead them into a better world, but a nightmarish one filled with the stench of violence and death. Only this is not Villeneuve’s Dune. We aren’t watching a fall from grace, but a fall towards grace. For we seem to be taking Paul’s godhood for granted, as something that can be torn down and defiled, yet we must remember that it is a part of him, something that is woven into his very genes. You can’t remove the man from the Divine, and you can’t remove the Divine from the man. And although it is true that the man will not be able to live up to the Divine, this is not to his shame, but to his glory. For it is a beautiful thing that a man is not God. When he realizes this, he becomes truly free. Not because he is free from God, but because he is freed to God. So, this isn’t about a collapse of Divinity within a man, but it is about a man collapsing into Divinity — because sometimes the path to heaven leads into the desert. When you walk with the Divine, wrestling with Him along the way, you are going to be made lame, but you will be given a new name. This is Paul’s story." | 💧 Continue Reading on my Substack.

[moonlit-knightz]

am i the only one who loves tragic endings???

[sunset-bridge]

this time i'll grapple that god of fear and throw him into hell's fire

[marsmad]

This is War! ❤️‍🔥❤️‍🔥❤️‍🔥❤️‍🔥❤️‍🔥❤️‍🔥❤️‍🔥❤️‍🔥❤️‍🔥❤️‍🔥

30stmclips on TikTok

[faylighting]

just binged Castlevania: Nocture.

god, i love being bi.

[rollinsland]

Cry and repeat 🥺

[mesaprotector]

this has been a summer of being in love with myself and feeling sad that nobody else worships me like i do

[i-dreamed-i-had-a-son]

So fun fact the word for "carpenter" is more properly translated "craftsman," which since Galilee/Nazareth are very rocky and trees are sparse means that Jesus likely worked mostly with stone (although he may have worked with some wood).

Anyway what if what really reminded Him of home was the inside of the tomb

why is religious Christmas imagery all so joyful and pleasant? where is the inherent horror of the birth of Christ? A mother is handed her newborn child, wailing and innocent. Her hands come away sticky. Red. Simply by giving her son life she has already killed him. He is doomed from the beginning. Her love will not save him from suffering. Because the thing cradled in her arms is not a baby, it is a sacrifice: born amongst the other bleating animals whose blood will one day be spilled in the name of what demands it. the night is silent with anticipation. Mary, did you know? That your womb was also a grave?

[mreiyouscience]

　芸術にはある種の神話が含まれているように思います。それは音楽にも当てはまるのではないかと感じています。ではVoodooの神話とは何でしょうか？それはアメリカでアフリカ系アメリカ人として生きることのつらさだと思います。そんなVoodooを制作したディアンジェロは典型的なアフリカ系アメリカ人だと思います。アフリカ系アメリカ人であるがゆえに差別され、しかしながら、ギャングになってぐれることもできないごく普通のアフリカ系アメリカ人だと思います。そんなディアンジェロの悪ぶった音楽性に思春期の頃僕は惹かれましたし、癒されもしました。その後、いろいろなネオソウルを漁りましたが、ディアンジェロを超える逸材には出会えませんでした。例えば、ポスト・ディアンジェロと目されていたホセ・ジェイムズにハマったこともありましたが、ディアンジェロほどの衝撃ではありませんでした。しかし、最近になってようやくすごいR&Bに出会うことができました。それはジョン・バティステです。特に彼のWE AREはディアンジェロが生み出したネオソウルの系譜にあるだけでなく、BLMを反映しているためか、アフリカ系アメリカ人としての誇りを感じます。「時代が変わったんだな・・・」とも思います。

José James - Closer

Jon Batiste - I NEED YOU

[ramshacklefey]

It's amazing to me just how good the Mormon church has been at hiding just how bad they really are from public view. Even the shit that gets spread around is the relatively harmless bullshit. They had a crazy prophet with magic glasses. They believe in god-mandated polygyny. They think everyone who is good enough will get their very own planet after the world ends. They wear magic underpants. Mormon men are all paladins.

Here's one of the ones you hear less often:

See, like many other Christian sects, the Mormons really do believe that the existence of Christ obviates the existence of Judaism. Judaism was just a placeholder until the "real" church could be established by Jesus.

And the Mormons in particular believe, dead ass, that the entire inheritance of Israel has been given to them, because the Jews failed to recognize the Messiah when he was on Earth. They really do. They have this whole system where people are given a "divine revelation" about which of the Tribes of Israel they're a member of (don't worry, they decided that most people belong to the two tribes that are willing to "adopt" people. Only the most specialest boys and girls are members of the original ten).

Let's sum up so far. The Mormons believe that they are the people of Israel, chosen and protected by God. If Jews want to get back in on that party, they can always repent and convert to Mormonism, the one true church to which God gave all the rights and blessings that were originally bestowed on Abraham's house.

But it doesn't stop there!

The Mormons also believe, in all seriousness, that all Indigenous peoples of the Americas are descended from a small group of Jewish people who left just before the fall of Jerusalem (~600 bc iirc). Their entire weird-ass extra bible is a chronicle of those people's history in [unspecific part of America]. At the very beginning of the book, two brothers in the original family turn away from god, so they and all their descendants are cursed with dark skin, so that the good Nephites (who remain "white and delightsome") will always be able to tell themselves apart from the wicked Lamanites.

So, you've got supposedly Jewish people running around the Americas. And the "good" ones are white, and the "bad" ones are brown. Then, ofc, Jesus comes to visit them (I guess supposedly that's part of what he was doing during his dirt nap? Or possibly after he left again, it's not clear), and they all convert to Christianity, which they think is clearly the natural evolution of Judaism. Well, at the end of the book, all of them become wicked, in a kind of weird pseudo-apocalyptic series of events. They are all cursed with dark skin, until such time as they repent for their ancestors sins and return to the gospel.

But of course, Mormons being the good and kind people they are, they want everyone to receive the blessings of God and be brought into the houses of Israel etc etc. And it isn't the fault of those poor little Indigenous children that their distant ancestors turned away from God and became wicked.

So what's the natural answer? Well, Mormons are real big on missionary work, as we all know. But apparently that wasn't enough in this case.

Because the Mormon church has been one of the big players in abducting as many Indigenous children as possible, in order to indoctrinate them into being good Mormons, so that they can turn white again and be blessed. My mother remembers hearing talks about this in the 70s and 80s. The church literally had a "Lamanite Adoption Program," where families in the church were encouraged to get as many Indigenous children as possible away from their families and not let them be reunited until they were fully assimilated and ready to go back and proselytize about how wonderful the church is.

The church leadership literally talked about how wonderful it was to see these children becoming whiter. Actually whiter. Like, saying that when they finally saw them with their families again, it was beautiful how much paler they were.

I'm pretty sure this program has been officially ended, but it doesn't take a genius to speculate about who might be behind the curtains on the movement in the western US to gut the ICWA....

So yeah. Next time someone tries to tell you that the Mormons are just harmless weirdos, please remember that they're an antisemitic cult that advocates for the forced assimilation of Indigenous children to help them escape the cursed brown skin of their ancestors.

[dadsbongos]

Crying after the act 2 and what happens to Viktor. But the way he looks???????? We're doing it doggystyle, sideways, frontwards, backwards, upside down, 360 degrees, no condoms, skin on skin, in the living room, in the bedroom, on the fridge, in the closet, under the ceiling, on the walls, the couch, the floor, the balcony, the outside, the astral plane, the backrooms, Pripyat, the outer space etc etc

Genuinely the most beautiful male character in my eyes and basically both in season 1 and 2.

viktor i want your messiah puss

like. just take a walk with me...

being the newest member of the commune and being so grateful to viktor that you offer him your body. for relief and pleasure. not really expecting him to accept, but then he does

in private and public, he grabs without much thought. there's no shame in him about it- maybe before becoming the man he is now he would've been too embarrassed. but now he's comfortably groping your thigh at dinner, and he reaches between your thighs without any forewarning to be quiet.

he'll turn you around into walls in the middle of the day. he'll beckon you to his chambers in the deep night.

once you introduce him to this restless sex, he's insatiable

[jonsnowunemploymentera]

We don’t appreciate enough how GRRM made House Targaryen the poster children for his de/reconstruction of the fantasy chosen family trope, and we don’t appreciate how Jon and Dany are the main lens through which he does that. House Targaryen is fantasy on steroids—magic swords, magic look, magic lineage, perhaps the most magic pet one could have in the genre, and a magic destiny that’s specific to them and only them. There’s a foretold magical conflict and its main hero (as many would think), “the prince that was promised”, specifically has to be a Targaryen. This House’s history is so rich, but from a genre perspective, it is Aerys II’s reign and Robert’s Rebellion that’s the most interesting to analyze. Aerys isn’t special himself, but he is to sire the future savior of the world. Then Rhaegar is born and tragic as they are, all the signs point to him being the promised messiah. And Rhaegar becomes THE fantasy hero on steroids. He’s the perfect heir to House Targaryen’s legacy because not only is he to be the best of them, and many think he would have been had he lived, but he is the most perfect manifestation of House Targaryen as the personification of fantasy. There’s absolutely a point to him living and dying as the heir, the inheritor, the eternal symbol of what could have been of the Targaryen’s old glory.

Part of Rhaegar’s legacy extends to his son Aegon. Aegon had everything Rhaegar didn’t. A comet was seen at his conception—and this is an most important herald for the chosen one. So he is given a song, “the song of ice and fire”, and a king’s name to match his status as the new messiah. He didn’t live long but he inherited Rhaegar’s look in his youth too; the fantasy protagonist look. But Aegon died before he could be the hero.

You see Jon and Dany as chosen ones only works so well because of their House’s history, especially as (anti)parallels to Rhaegar and Aegon. They are the unexpected inheritors and challengers to their house’s legacy but in different ways.

Dany is the most immediate and obvious heir. There’s a beauty to her being the last of them and thus, the one bearing the entire house’s legacy. Dany is THE Targaryen. And in being that, she becomes THE hero. She’s got the hero’s look, the hero’s magic and destiny, and better yet, she got the hero’s sword and pet all in one. And, she’s legitimate! She is House Targaryen. But there’s a problem….shes a girl. And we all know House Targaryen’s history with girls.

Maester Aemon’s “no one ever looked for a girl” is quickly becoming my favorite Dany-related quote because it pretty much encapsulates her entire arc, especially as an inheritor to her house’s legacy. The hero they died knowing and expecting was the boy: first Rhaegar, then Aegon. But father and son are dead. Yet Daenerys lives. She inherits everything else they did and more! The Targaryens tried and failed to bring dragons back, but it was Dany who ultimately did it.

Now, Jon is Dany but flipped. From a meta point of view, he’s more fantasy protagonist than she is. He’s a boy, he’s got a big magic sword that he can swing about, and he’s perhaps fantasy’s most prolific trope in action—the magical hidden prince. But within this story, GRRM flips these two characters. Jon’s fantasy protag-ness doesn’t go away, it just morphs into something else. Unlike Dany, he may be a boy and he may have a sword, but he lacks literally everything else. He doesn’t have the look, his magic powers are from his other family, so is his magic pet, and his magic destiny has thus far developed outside his immediate association with House Targaryen. Dany is “what if Rhaegar was a girl?”, but we can’t even begin to ask these types of questions with Jon because there’s so much that precludes him from the fantasy hero role in story. He’s Rhaegar’s heir…but he doesn’t look like him…and he’s not even legitimate. So what do we do now?

GRRM destroyed his fantasy protag house and decided to build up again from the ground up, but did so by challenging the two most critical points—primogeniture and exceptionalism. With Dany, he makes a girl the Targaryen’s outward successor. This works really well because the Targaryens have a history of denying their female heirs. But now what’s left of them is a girl, and she is literally everything they could have hoped for. And she is a a reflection of her house, but her arc has at many times seen her be the antithesis of her ancestors. And I can’t help but think of the oncoming meta-textual showdown between her and Young Griff. On the surface Young Griff, a boy, is the preferred heir. But Dany is, in truth, the one.

Jon is interesting because, in my view, he challenges the Targaryen idea of exceptionalism. He’s easily the fantasy protagonist from the outside looking in. But he doesn’t have the Targaryen name, nor does he have the look. He has the blood, but what makes him special is that it is mixed with the other major fantasy protagonist house’s blood—he’s special in that he’s a hybrid. And this is interesting because if Aegon conquered the seven kingdoms because of a prophecy regarding him or one of his princely descendants, it’s quite the twist to have this messiah not even be a Targaryen prince (not in name anyway). That’s why all the hand wringing around “is Jon legitimate?” or “no one cares because he doesn’t look like Rhaegar” really isn’t the point. The point is for Jon to be the manifestation of the hero—the king—outside of that narrow framework. And if he succeeds, then GRRM would absolutely still be subverting prophecy and genre conventions.

There’s something to Jon and Dany being born as or after House Targaryen falls. House Targaryen has no crown, no throne, and their prophetic mandate has been usurped. But GRRM is so attached to them, and he certainly wants to rebuild them and hold fantasy to account. But to do so, everything we know about the Targaryens, everything the Targaryens knew about themselves, has to be challenged and put to the test by the personifications of all that a Targaryen hero couldn’t be: a girl, and a bastard.

[multifandom-exe]

Angels in Kevlar - A. Hotchner x Reader

Word Count: 1.8k  Request: Hiii I just saw your request were open for Aaron and I was wondering if you would like to do Aaron hotchner x victorias secret Angel! Reader ?  A/N: More hotch fics, the crowd screams. okay i did this as Aaron meeting VS!reader so i could leave it open to maybe part two with a date and of the team finding out hes dating a VS angel. this was my first story without a prev template from my old writing so.

A barrage of camera flashes and echos of desperate photographers reverberated across the floor, along with the rhythmic click of the Angels heels on the marble runway. Aaron Hotchner was stood to the side of the stage, observing. Sure, there were definitely worse things to observe whilst at work, but Aaron tried not to let his personal thoughts cloud any case, especially this one. Such a high-profile case required focus, any small mistake would be highlighted and strung out to hell by the media. 

He watched the women walk and walk, clad in tiny outfits and wings bigger than themselves. He watched for anything out of the ordinary. Not that he would know what was ordinary for a place like this. Women walked, purposefully, with confidence that could intimidate some of the strongest men. And then he watched you.  

You stepped out onto the stage, pink wings laden on your back, your body shimmering under the lights of the studio. A less focused person would be mesmerized by your walk, every curve of your figure, your makeup, your hair, your eyes. Even in a sea of the most beautiful women in the world, you still stood out. He could see something behind your fake smile and perfect posture. Something he was dying to figure out. He had to refocus his attention. He couldn't even imagine sending Morgan or Rossi in here, they would have a field day. He pulled his thoughts back in, and started to observe your body language, and the crowd around you. 

And then he saw it. In the most professional way you could, your head jolted to your left, scanning the crowd. You had that creeping feeling someone was watching you. Not like someone was watching the show. Like someone was watching, intentionally, with a crass look in their eye. As you turned around to finish your walk, you desperately tried to make eye contact with one of the agents stationed around the stage. He’s here. 

Youd heard of this case, of course. A man killing the angels, your friends, thinking he was God. The local police had briefed all the girls before their latest show and let them know they’d have some guests. The Bau, they said. Although you weren't entirely sure what they did, they looked a lot more competent than the local police. 

After your walk was finished, you let down your wings carefully and put on your robe, desperate to find someone to alert that the man they were looking for is here. You dipped out of the dressing room, letting some of the girls know you had to find someone. The last thing you wanted was to worry them in such a big moment.  

Perceptive. Thats what your teacher had told you at such a young age. She never mentioned how difficult a cross it was to bear. But it left you open to noticing things the other girls here couldn't, like when they were in danger. 

You teetered around the edge of the stage, just behind the curtain, hoping to come across one of the agents. You peaked around to see if you could still identify the man who had sent shivers down your spine earlier, hoping he was still mulling around the crowd, in his ever so creepy way.  

Your breath hitched as you felt a presence behind you. You closed your eyes and breathed deeply, praying to every messiah there was that this wasn't the creep you were just looking for. You spun on your heels quickly with an arm up defensively. But to your Surprise, your wrist was caught in a soft grasp and your head lifted to meet with his dark eyes boring into you. It seemed so easy to keep staring. To get lost in them. 

He wasn't security, you hadn't seen him before. You're sure you wouldn't have forgotten a face like that. You put a hand on his chest to steady yourself. Not really, you just wanted to, but you pretend you need to steady yourself. 

You cleared your throat, as he gently let go of your wrist. “Can i help you?” 

“Your perceptive.” There was that word again. Although you have to admit it sounded much better coming from his lips than anybody Elses. “I saw you up there, you felt something, can you point him out?” 

It was weird to have someone figure you out so quickly. It was something that sent a tingle down your spine, and made you ultimately trust him a little. 

Being a model, it was weird. Any trait you had, other than being astoundingly beautiful, got tossed out the window. You weren't a smart, eager, perceptive girl anymore. Simply a figure piece that people plastered on their wall. Maybe that's why you made every excuse to stay in Hotch's office. To talk and talk all night to a man who actually saw past your picture-perfect smile, within 2 seconds of seeing you.  

Maybe you were deluding yourself. This was his job. He was supposed to figure people out. But damn, if it wasn't attractive. 

You had finally changed into something more decent than a robe, and you were perched on a chair across the table from him, studying him as his fingers ran through the file in front of him. 

“You mentioned seeing someone lingering in the crowd.” Those dark eyes had flicked to look up at you again. “Can you describe them?” 

You nodded, tapping your fingers nervously on the table. “I didn’t get a good look. They were wearing a baseball cap, and the lighting was bad, and with all the camera flashes, you know. but…” You hesitated, your gaze dropping to your hands. “They were watching us, watching me, like they didn’t belong there. It felt... off.” 

“Off how?” He leaned forward slightly, and you could smell his cologne drifting across the table. A truly intoxicating scent. 

“It’s hard to explain,” you admitted. “It wasn’t just curiosity. It was... intent. Goosebumps raised on my arms, and even in a sea of a thousand stares, i could just feel his. I don't know maybe he was just genuinely watching the show, but it just... made me shiver, i guess.” 

You hadn't realized you still been staring into his eyes. They weren't judgmental, or mean, like most people would assume. They were soft and subtle. The kind you could probably look into all day. Maybe on the couch, on a lazy Sunday. Or in your bed, with the morning sun fluttering through the window.  

“You’re not wrong to trust your instincts” he said, centering your thoughts. “They’ve probably kept you alive more times than you realize.” 

A small smile tugged at your lips. “Not something you’d expect to hear about walking a runway.” 

“Danger isn’t limited to certain professions,” he replied, his voice low. “But im sure you already know that.” 

Hotch’s phone buzzed, breaking the moment. He glanced at the screen before rising to his feet. “Excuse me. Stay here, I’ll have an agent outside the door.” 

As he left, you couldn’t help but feel a small sense of disappointment. You probably could've stayed in here and talked for hours. Away from the horrors that awaited outside this room. 

After countless interviews had been conducted that day, and suspects reviewed, the team decided to call it a night, feeling intimately no closer to the solution than when they began. You had been ushered out of the office a couple hours ago, having missed saying goodbye to Aaron before they led you out.  

You found yourself lingering in the hotel lobby, nursing a coffee. You still had your clothes on from earlier, but you couldn't will yourself to go up to your hotel room and be alone, no matter how exhausted you were. You sat at the small bar, analyzing the people around you, some of which looked far better than you did right now. 

Your scanning eyes finally looked across the room and stopped upon seeing those familiar dark ones. He excused himself from whoever he was talking to with a pat on the shoulder and started making his way towards you. 

“Long day?” he asked. 

“Exhausting.” You took a deep sip of your coffee. “But I guess that’s normal for you.” 

He smirked faintly, a rare sight. “It comes with the job.” 

There was a beat of silence. It wasn't awkward, more comfortable, and filled with energy. Finally, you spoke. “Thank you, by the way. For taking this seriously. Most people just see me as…” You gestured vaguely. “The model. The image.” 

“I see someone who’s scared but determined, and incredibly insightful” His tone was firm, but that soft look still remained in his eyes. “And I don’t underestimate people who are willing to fight back.” 

His words had your heart racing, and your lips turning up at the corners. It has been a long time since such simple words had filled you with warmth. Maybe it was because, for once, it wasnt a compliment on your appearance, or on something you had no control over. 

Hotch glanced at his watch, the corner of his mouth twitching. “Get some rest. Tomorrow’s going to be another long day. And take this.” He handed you a small card with his name and number on. “In case you feel anymore creepy stares.” He laid a hand on your arm and gave it a gentle squeeze before turning to walk away. You hoped that touch was as electrifying to him as it was to you. 

As he walked away, you stood smiling like a lunatic in the middle of the foyer. Your mind was centered. There were no thoughts of the runways, the costumes, the cameras. There was just him. And just you. A normal person. There was something about Aaron Hotchner that made you feel seen in a way you hadn’t been in years. 

Dividers by @saradika-graphics. Leave requests, lmk your thoughts.

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