#where they are geographically and also. emotionally

[fivie]

Sometimes I miss the old days of UMW when I really only had to worry about what Enjolras and Grantaire were up to. Jehan popped up for one hunt then went back home. Combeferre existed but wasn't doing a whole lot. A simpler time :')

Progress on chapter 25 is pretty good, honestly, but oh my god there are so many characters and moving parts now 😂 I'd always intended that, by the time I got to this stage in the story, we'd finally have the whole Amis gang assembled and I'd be like 'yay everyone's here!!' and that's very fun but sometimes it does feel a bit like 'oh god everyone's here 🫠🫠' Joly and Bossuet are by far the most neglected because there is just no space for them to also be doing things. I'm so sorry lads, I'll let you do plot stuff in my next fic 🩷

Obviously we only see so much from Grantaire's perspective, but I have to know what everyone is doing at all times and it's got me like. Damn those halcyon days when it was just two idiots and whatever monster they were hunting that day :')

[hotchnersgirll]

let me love you — a. hotchner

summary: it takes you almost kissing someone else for him to realise just how much he cares

pairing: aaron hotchner x bau!reader

warnings: angst, tension, angry kisses, jealous!hotch, he's so hot, did i mention tension? bcs there's so much tension tension tension, a few swears, her bag sort of disappears.. oops

word count: 5.2k (oops x2)

Aaron doesn’t even look at you anymore.

Okay, that’s not true — he does. When he has to. When there’s a case file in his hands and you’re just another member of the team he needs to brief — another agent he’s in charge of. When there’s a question about geographical profiling or victimology and you’re the one who can answer it. When he’s assigning roles and has to say your name.

But everything outside of that? Nothing. Cold silence. Controlled distance.

And it killed you.

You wouldn’t even know you kissed him. More than once. Wouldn’t know how his hands felt in your hair, or how he’d said your name like it physically hurt him. Wouldn’t know that there was a moment — no, a string of moments — where he looked at you like you were the only thing grounding him to earth.

Because now? Now he’s pretending none of it ever happened.

And the worst part?

You know he still wants you.

Not in the arrogant way. Not in the I’m-so-irresistible kind of way. No — you know it because you see it. In the way his eyes flicker to you when he thinks you’re not paying attention. In the way his jaw ticks when Morgan jokes too casually with you. In the way he goes quiet when your laugh cuts across the room — his lips pressing into a thin line while his body tenses, almost like he’s trying to stop himself from laughing along.

He wants you. And he’s made that clear before.

But he’s also your boss. Older. Emotionally constipated. A man who shuts people out just before they get too close.

So of course, he made the decision for both of you. Of course, he pulled away, said it wasn’t appropriate, said you needed to keep it professional. Of course, he slammed that wall up between you and iced you out like he didn’t miss you the moment he left.

And now? Now you’re in Florida. The local PD is stretched thin, there’s a suspected spree killer hitting tourist-heavy areas along the I-4 corridor, and you’re operating out of some small, humid precinct where the AC rattles and no one knows how to use a case board.

Hotch pairs you with Officer Pretty Smile — an actual cop, around your age, golden tan, charming, full of casual grins and easy compliments. You don’t even hear most of what Hotch says when he assigns you; you’re too busy fuming at the fact that he’s done it again.

Just like the last two cases, he pairs you with some random officer, keeps you away from the scene, away from the precinct, away from anywhere he might be — in a way, he’s not letting you do your job.

Distanced from the rest of the team, you’re not much help.

How is that professional?

You know the game he’s playing. Avoidance. Distance. Control.

You’re sick of it.

But Officer Pretty Smile — his name’s Ryan — doesn’t seem to mind the stormcloud hanging over your head. He makes it easy to forget, just a little. He’s perceptive, actually listens when you talk, knows when to make you laugh and when to stay quiet. It’s a relief.

He flirts — lightly, respectfully — and you flirt back. Why shouldn’t you?

Aaron’s the one who put this wall up. He’s the one not speaking to you.

You don’t owe him your loyalty if he won’t even look at you outside of a damn case briefing.

The case wraps up after a few days of gruelling profiling, false leads and one late-night stakeout that finally caught your UnSub at a rest stop. You’re debriefing the locals, coordinating transport and starting to pack things up when Ryan walks you out to the parking lot.

He offers you his number, and you take it, pocketing it with a smile that widens when he leans in to press a soft kiss to your cheek. It’s innocent, really. Careful and sweet, but when he pulls back, he doesn’t go far. His face stays close, breath brushing against your skin as his eyes lock onto yours.

Then his gaze drops — not just to your lips, but the space between you — like he’s weighing the distance and what to do about it. It takes a breath or two before he meets your eyes again.

He leans in, slower this time, and his lips just barely graze yours. A featherlight touch that barely classifies as a kiss. It’s more of a hesitation. A silent question — do you want this too?

Yes, you do.

You answer by lifting a hand and placing it gently on his jaw, your touch light but certain.

He exhales softly, and his hands move to your waist, holding you like he’s been wanting to all day.

Your lips are so close, a breath away, and just as you’re about to close the gap—

“Agent!”

Aaron’s voice cuts through the humid Florida air like a gunshot, sharp enough to turn heads. It’s not just a call — it’s a warning. A demand. His tone carries weight, and everyone nearby instinctively pauses, glancing over to where he stands near the SUV, his jaw tight, posture coiled like he’s seconds away from snapping.

You freeze.

Where the fuck did he spawn from?

Ryan pulls back, but not completely. His hands stay on your waist, holding you close, as his eyes look over your shoulder.

You, however, don’t turn around — stubbornly refusing to give Hotch the satisfaction of ruining this moment.

He can wait.

He can watch.

You keep your gaze locked on Ryan. On his lips that are a bit further away than before, parted in confusion as he stares at your boss.

Your fingers shift slightly against his jaw — a gentle nudge meant to draw his attention back to you. And it works. His eyes flicker away from whatever intensity Hotch is radiating behind you and settle back on yours.

You lean in, slow and deliberate, and the moment you do, he seems to forget everything else as he leans in too.

And, just like before, just as your lips graze—

“Agent!”

Somehow, his voice is harsher than before — each syllable laced with barely contained fury.

Your hands fall from Ryan’s face and drop to your sides as you sigh, letting your head dip forward slightly.

“What’s his problem?” Ryan murmurs, his frustration mirroring yours as he shoots Aaron a brief, irritated glance before turning his attention back to you.

You lift your head, just enough to meet his eyes again, and mutter, “I don’t know. He’s just—” You wave a hand vaguely behind you. “A hardass.” You pause. “Or an ass. A normal ass. Whichever floats your boat.”

Ryan snorts, nodding as he looks back at Aaron. “Yeah. That tracks.”

You smile, wide and genuine. “Well then,” you say, looking up at him, “duty calls.”

He nods, looking a bit reluctant as he returns your smile and asks, “Will I see you again before you go?”

You hesitate, just for a second, before finally glancing over your shoulder.

Hotch stands by the entrance of the Jacksonville Sheriff’s Office — arms crossed, back stiff, jaw tight. His eyes are locked on you like he’s trying to dissect every inch of the moment he just interrupted. He looks furious. Controlled, as always, but furious nonetheless.

You look back at Ryan. “Probably not.”

There’s a brief pause — just a breath of silence — before he nods. He doesn’t push, doesn’t ask for anything more. Instead, he steps in and kisses your cheek again, soft and quick, like a quiet goodbye. When he pulls back, he lets his hand brush down your arm before stepping away.

You turn without another word, lowering your head as you approach Aaron. With each step, the feeling of his stare on you burns hotter, sharper.

You stop in front of him, standing there for a moment before you glance up.

His blazer is off, his blue button-up clinging slightly to his skin. His sunglasses perched on his nose and his jaw is tight.

You hate yourself for thinking that he looks hot.

You cross your arms, exhaling sharply before saying, “You called?”

He doesn’t waste a second. “Get the scene logs from the officers inside. I want them scanned and uploaded before we leave for the jet.”

His tone is dry, detached. The words hang in the air like a weight that doesn’t match the way he’s looking at you. His expression is stone-cold, all business, and it only fuels the frustration coursing through you.

You blink, your chest tightening. That’s it? That’s the urgent reason he called you out of a kiss like the sky was falling?

It’s a bullshit task. You both know it.

But he’s your Unit Chief. And right now, he’s pulling rank — not for the case. The case is over. Solved.

He’s doing it for himself, and it makes you want to scream.

You bite back the thousand things you want to say, give a tight nod, and walk past him without a glance.

—

On the jet, the tension is unbearable.

Aaron is sitting near the front, a stack of case files spread in front of him that he hasn’t touched since takeoff. He just stares at them, unmoving, like he’s willing them to make him forget.

You’re in the back, headphones on, glaring out the window as your forehead rests against the glass of it.

The others feel it — the tightrope tension stretching across the cabin. No one says a word.

After a while, you can’t help but glance his way, your eyes rolling when you see how he’s glaring at the files in front of him.

He’s clearly seething. The image of you, about to kiss someone else, seemed to be carved into his memory.

If he’d been closer, he might’ve punched the guy. Hell, if he wasn’t so goddamn professional, he might’ve dragged you away himself.

But he didn’t. He waited. He watched.

He hates that he waited.

And now he’s stewing in it.

When the jet lands, everyone moves quickly — eager to escape the static pressure in the air. You stand, grabbing your go-bag before heading for the stairs.

And then — low, sharp, right in front of you:

“Stay.”

He’s still seated, leaning forward slightly, elbow propped on the table. His hand is pressed to his face, fingers buried in his hair while his palm digs into his temple like he’s desperately trying to hold his thoughts together.

His eyes are closed — not from sleep, but something heavier — and despite the jet landing, his papers are still out, strewn in front of him. Clearly, he’d given up trying to read them — or pretending to read them.

His face is taut, shadowed — caught in a quiet storm of exhaustion or thought. Maybe both.

He looks really hot.

Swallowing, you will that thought away.

‘Stay.’ He had said, in a tone that made you freeze — one that left no room for argument.

You hesitate, your grip on your bag tightening a bit as you stare before deciding.

No.

With your lips set in a frown, you start walking again.

Just as you’re about to move past him, though, his hand reaches out to wrap around your wrist.

You tense, his touch making you feel warm and a bit breathless despite your anger.

“I said stay.” His voice cuts through the quiet — steady with an edge that sends a jolt through you.

Shit.

You look down at him, jaw set. “Let go.”

He doesn’t move at first — just lifts his eyes to meet yours, something unreadable flickering behind them. Then he exhales before rising to his feet in a fluid motion. His grip on your wrist doesn’t loosen as he stands over you, shoulders squared.

You falter, thrown by the sudden nearness. “Hotch—”

“Aaron.” He interrupts you, his eyes narrowing as he stares down at you. His tone is sharp, stern like hearing his last name offended him.

“Hotch.” You repeat it, just to piss him off.

If distance is what he wants, distance is what he’ll get.

He stares at you for a second before exhaling, a tired look in his eyes as he says, “We need to talk.”

“Oh, now you want to talk?” Your voice rises a bit and you barely manage to hold back a laugh. “You ignore me for weeks, send me off like I’m a problem you can delegate, and now — suddenly — you want to talk?”

His jaw clenches. “You don’t understand—”

“No. You don’t get to—“

Before you can finish what you’re saying, he uses his grip on your wrist to pull you into him. Fuelled by everything he hasn’t said, it’s not a gentle gesture.

You gasp as you stumble forward, crashing into his chest. Your cheek brushes the soft fabric of his shirt and your hand splayed instinctively against him for balance. When your eyes finally meet his, he’s already looking down at you — jaw tense, eyes dark, your faces now inches apart.

“You were going to kiss him.” His voice is quiet, but the words hit harder than if he’d shouted them.

His grip on your wrist tightens slightly, and for a moment, he closes his eyes. The sight of you both leaning in replays in his mind — the tension in his jaw is visible as his lips press into a line. His expression looks as if the image physically hurt him.

When he opens them again, his eyes lock onto yours, searching, checking to see if you understand the severity of it.

Your lips are parted as you stare at him.

You’re not surprised that he brought it up. You knew it was coming, but the way he says it — the weight in his voice — wasn’t something you were expecting.

His words carried an undertone of pain that make you falter. It’s not just about the kiss, you realise. It’s about everything he’s been holding in.

“You were about to kiss him.” He repeats, slower than before, his eyes still boring into yours.

Hearing the word ‘kiss’ a second time, along with the sudden proximity, had your gaze falling to his lips.

You couldn’t help it.

You looked back up quickly to find his eyes still on you.

A flicker of guilt creeps into your chest — something small, unwanted. Maybe it’s the way his voice quietened when he said it. Maybe it’s the look in his eyes, like he wasn’t prepared for how much it hurt him — you almost kissing someone else.

For a split second, you start to feel bad.

But it doesn’t last.

Not when you remember the last few weeks — how he’s iced you out, kept his distance like you didn’t matter, like the moments you shared never happened.

Your jaw tightens and your brows furrow in the way they always do when you’re annoyed.

“Stop.” You say, the word sharper than you intended. Shaking your head, your voice comes out quieter the second time. “Just… stop.”

He doesn’t move, doesn’t speak, just watches you — eyes flicking across your face like he’s trying to read you.

Like he’s trying to profile you.

What happened to never profiling each other? Probably the same thing that happened to being ‘professional’.

“You’re being unfair, Aaron.”

You avert your gaze, unable to hold his anymore. It drops to his chest — the fabric of his shirt stretched a bit beneath your hands that are still resting there. You can feel the steady rise and fall of his breathing, slightly faster than it should be.

He has no right to be upset, you think, and it takes everything in you not to say it out loud first. But when you look back up at him, your anger catches fire again, sharp and unforgiving.

“You’re the one who pushed me away.” You bite out, voice low. “You iced me out. For weeks, Aaron.”

Your words land heavy in the space between you, but you don’t stop.

“You told me we couldn’t—” You falter slightly, pain catching in your throat, “—that we had to keep things professional. And then you avoided me. You acted like I didn’t matter.”

His jaw flexes again, but he says nothing.

“And now what?” you continue. “Now you’re upset because I almost kissed someone else? You don’t get to pull me in two different directions like this. You can’t tell me to stay away, and then look at me like that when someone else gets close.”

His hand is still on your waist, his grip on your wrist still firm. He hasn’t let go, hasn’t backed off, and that makes it worse — the contradiction of it. The ache of being wanted but not claimed.

“It’s confusing. You’re confusing.” My voice goes back to being quiet as I lower my gaze again, missing the way his expression softens a bit.

It softens because he knows you’re right.

He can’t argue with you, not really. Not when you’re looking at him like that. Or rather, not looking at him at all. Your eyes are fixed on his chest now, lips pressed together in that tight little frown that always means you’re trying not to show how hurt you are.

He can’t argue with you because you’re right.

He’s being unfair, and the guilt of that realization hits him instantly, swallowing him whole. The weight of his own selfishness also sinks in, making him feel stupid for not realizing how much he’s hurt you.

When the silence stretches for too long, you look up, and your frown deepens when you see how he’s watching you.

“Stop profiling me.” Your voice shakes a bit as you try to yank yourself free of his grip. But Aaron doesn’t let go. His hands stay firm on your waist, like letting go would mean losing something he’s not ready to give up.

It only makes you angrier.

You shove at his chest, hard, but he barely budges. “Let go.” you snap, glaring up at him, but his expression doesn’t shift. He just watches you, jaw tight, eyes unreadable behind the shield of his silence.

That silence cuts deeper than anything.

“You ignored me for weeks!” you shout, your voice rising, cracking with something raw. “You didn’t even look at me. You shut me out like I meant nothing!”

You try again to pull away, like his touch burns. Like the heat of his hands is searing through your skin, cracking you open.

And it hurts him — more than he thought it would. Watching you try to escape him like he’s done something unforgivable — which he has — makes something twist in his chest. He wants to fix it, but he doesn’t know how. Every word you throw at him lands like a blow, and still, he doesn’t move. Doesn’t let go.

He just hurts.

“Let go!” you yell, louder now, fists balled as you push at him again. “I said fuck off, Aaron!”

You look up at him then — eyes blazing, cheeks flushed with anger, your frown etched deep into your face. The fury in your expression is undeniable, and it hits him like a punch.

And before he even realizes what he’s doing — he kisses you.

It comes out of nowhere. Like something snaps inside him, like instinct. It’s not gentle. It’s not soft. It’s angry and desperate and messy—like he’s trying to shut you up and apologize all at once. Like everything he’s been holding back has just erupted, too big to contain.

You freeze at first, tensing against it, breath caught in your throat.

But then you break.

Your hands fist in the lapels of his blazer, gripping hard like you need something to hold you upright. Your lips move against his with the same kind of fury you’d just thrown at him — like this is a fight, too. But somewhere in that chaos, your shoulders slump, and so do his.

Like you’re both exhaling for the first time in weeks.

Like this is the first breath either of you has taken since everything fell apart.

His hands move — one, then both — rising to cradle your face, fingers splayed across your cheeks like he’s terrified you’ll disappear if he lets go.

You pull back first, breaking the kiss with a gasp, your breath catching somewhere between his mouth and your own. His grip loosens, and for a second, something like a whine escapes him — soft and involuntary — like he can’t believe you’re already pulling away.

You’re breathless. Lips swollen. Heart racing.

“You’re such an asshole.” you hiss, voice low, hoarse, but still furious.

His eyes darken. “You were gonna kiss him.”

“Stop repeating that!” you snap, but there’s no bite behind it now — just exhaustion and heat and emotion so tangled you can’t separate any of it.

You don’t even think about it — you just lean in again, drawn like a magnet. And this time, he meets you halfway. Your lips part just before they touch, and when they do, it feels like the ground shifts beneath you. Like the jet could be spinning or crashing and you wouldn’t even notice.

It’s slower, deeper — but just as intense. His hands are still on your face, and yours are clinging to him like you don’t trust gravity anymore.

But then he pulls away.

His forehead drops to yours — close, so close — and for a moment you almost let him stay there. But something in you twists, and you turn your head just slightly, breaking the contact. You keep your eyes shut, breathing shallow, your face turned toward the wall of the jet like if you don’t look at him, you can hold onto the last piece of your anger.

His heart sinks.

“I’m sorry.” he says, his voice quieter now. Cracked open. “I’m sorry for all of it.”

You don’t move. Don’t look.

“I— I thought it was the right thing.” he says, and now it’s all unraveling, everything he’s shoved down clawing its way out. “I didn’t know how to handle what I felt for you. I didn’t know if I should. So I convinced myself the best thing — the most responsible thing — was to shut it down. To shut you out.”

He lets out a breath, sharp and rough. “I told myself you’d be better off. That you didn’t need someone like me — someone older, someone who barely knows how to process his own shit, let alone drag you into it. My hours are a nightmare, I’m exhausted all the time, and I have nothing to give you except… this mess.”

His voice softens but doesn’t steady. “And if Strauss found out, she wouldn’t hesitate to pull you off the team. To punish you for something that was always my fault.”

You still don’t speak. Your eyes remain closed.

“I thought I was doing the right thing,” he says again, quieter now, like it physically hurts to say. “But it felt like cutting off my own oxygen. Seeing you every day, hearing your voice, pretending you were just another agent — it fucking destroyed me. Every moment I stayed away, I felt like I was unraveling. But I thought… if I could just hold the line a little longer, maybe I could let you go.”

His voice cracks then, barely above a whisper. “But I couldn’t. I can’t.”

You don’t say anything, and the silence eats at him. He shifts slightly, eyes scanning your face like he’s trying to read anything — any flicker of emotion, of softness, of something.

“Please say something.” he murmurs.

There’s no anger in him anymore. Just regret. Just longing.

“I haven’t slept,” he says, after a second. “Not really. Not since I let you go. You’ve been in my head every day. Every night. You walk into the room and I can’t think straight. I hear your voice down the hall and I forget what I’m doing. It’s pathetic.”

Then gently — cautiously — he reaches out, fingers brushing against your chin. He turns your face to him, coaxing your eyes to his.

And when you look at him, he looks wrecked.

There’s exhaustion in his features, shadows beneath his eyes, but it’s the look in them that breaks you: raw, sincere, desperate. Like you’re the only thing anchoring him to earth right now.

“I’m sorry.” he says again, like it’s the only thing he has left to give. Like he means it with everything he’s got.

And he does.

It’s silent for a second.

His eyes search yours, unsure and a little frantic, like he’s trying to profile you again — trying to get an understanding of whatever’s going on in your mind.

He gives up quickly, wanting to find out whatever it is your thinking from you yourself. But just as he’s about to ask, you kiss him.

When you pull back, your hands stay on him, sliding down to his chest where you can feel the rapid, uneven rhythm of his heart.

“I don’t expect you to be perfect, Aaron.” you murmur, voice soft but steady. “I’m not. I barely have my own shit together half the time. And I’m not looking for some ideal version of you — just you. The version that cares too much and thinks too hard and carries everything on his back like it’s his job to keep the world spinning.”

You pause, your eyes searching his, and he doesn’t look away.

“I don’t want anyone else.” you say, more firmly now. “I can’t want anyone else. My heart’s already decided. It’s you. It’s always been you. These past few weeks without you—feeling you pull away, watching you pretend like nothing mattered—that was hell. And if you think I just brushed it off and moved on, you really don’t know me at all.”

You don’t stop there, because you can see it — how he’s still doubting, still not sure what you see in him. So you tell him.

“You don’t even realize how much I see you.” you whisper. “How good you are. You’re strong, yeah, but you’re also… unbelievably kind. You’re the one who makes me feel stable when everything else is a mess. You make me feel safe without trying to control me. You make me feel… things I didn’t even know I was capable of feeling.”

His brow creases like he doesn’t know what to do with that, like it’s too much, too pure.

“And I don’t give a damn about your age. If anything, it makes you hotter.” you add with a breath of a laugh. “It means you’ve lived, you’ve learned, and you listen. You make me feel taken care of in a way no one ever has.”

He’s blinking at you like his brain short-circuited somewhere along the way.

“As for Strauss…” You shrug a little. “She’s not a profiler. We barely even see her. If we keep things professional at work, we’ll be fine. We’re good at this — at keeping calm under pressure. This isn’t gonna change that.”

Then you take one of his hands and hold it tightly, pressing your fingers to his palm.

“All I want,” you say, voice low, “is for you to let me love you.”

Something in him breaks. Or maybe it mends. You can’t quite tell.

His eyes widen just a little, and for a second he just stares at you — like his brain is still catching up. Like the word punched the breath right out of him.

“What?” he asks, the word so soft it’s barely audible.

“I just want to love you, Aaron.” you repeat, quieter this time, like it’s a promise.

His breath shudders out of him, and he leans forward again — not kissing you yet, just resting his forehead against yours, like he needs the grounding.

“I love you.” he says, the words raw and unfiltered. “And I’m sorry. I’ll talk to you next time — really talk. I won’t shut you out again. I won’t let myself forget what this feels like.”

“You better not.” you murmur.

And then he kisses you again.

It’s steadier now. Certain. Like he’s finally, finally giving in to the truth he’s been denying. Like he knows what he wants — and it’s you.

As your lips move together, the world outside the jet fades into the background. His hand moves slowly, purposefully, down your side, and then it shifts, lowering until he reaches into your pocket.

You pull away a little, eyebrows furrowed in confusion. Before you can fully process it, he pulls out the small piece of paper — the one with Ryan’s number scrawled on it.

Your heart skips a beat. He saw that?

The thought stings for a second — had he seen everything? You’d assumed he’d stepped outside for some reason and had just happened to catch a glimpse of you two — coincidentally, when you were about to kiss.

But Aaron’s mind works in a different way. He had seen you leave with Ryan, noticed the way you two were talking, the smiles on your faces. And something in him tensed. He didn’t like it. The way you were walking so close, how easy it seemed between you. So he followed, curiosity gnawing at him. He hadn’t meant to — but it felt like he had to know.

You break the silence with a quiet question, still trying to make sense of it all. “You saw that?”

Aaron’s jaw tightens, his face flickering with a flash of frustration, then quickly hardening as he remembers it.

“I saw all of it.” he says, his voice colder than you expected. A wince pulls at his expression as he scrunches the paper up in his hand, turning to toss it in the small bin beside the exit of the jet, the movement sharp and final.

You can’t help but let out a small, amused laugh despite the tension. His reaction, his possessiveness — it’s almost too much to ignore. But then, before he can get too far in his thoughts, you soften and murmur an apology. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to—”

He cuts you off with a question of his own, his gaze still intense as he watches you, his tone now a little guarded. “Were you actually going to kiss him?”

You blink, surprised by the bluntness, but you can’t help the smirk that slips onto your face. “Hey, you’re the one who paired me with him.”

Aaron rolls his eyes, the hint of frustration fading a little, but you can still see the sharp edge to his expression. “From now on, you’re with me for every case.”

You laugh at the thought, shaking your head, but the joke settles in as you reply, “I don’t think that’d help with keeping Strauss off our trail.”

Aaron chuckles, his eyes softening just a fraction, but he doesn’t back down. “I’ll risk it. It’s fine.”

Your laughter fills the space between you, and it warms Aaron’s heart more than he’d care to admit. He’s missed hearing it, hearing you so carefree, even when things feel a little chaotic.

He pulls you a little closer then, wrapping an arm around your waist as if he can’t let you go now that he’s got you. He starts guiding you off the jet with that same quiet confidence he always carries, but there’s something different now — a sense of peace between you both, even if the world outside still feels a little unsettled.

“You’re coming to my place.” he says, his voice low and steady. “I’m making you dinner.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

[reiding-writing]

What about a cold!reader where Spencer gets jealous this time?

Like they meet another police team and they also have a "Spencer" who's dorky and they don't really listen to his rambling so she's kind to him (in her own cold!reader way) Spencer is like "???? The fuck is this exactly?"

SILENT TREATMENT. /spencer reid/

spencer’s not sure if you made the right decision by choosing him. you know that you did.

s10!cold!reader 3.1k flangst series masterlist. main masterlist.

a/n | i fear i missed the ‘police team’ part of the first request and made spencer 2.0 a pathologist instead, oops-

The air in the precinct is heavy with stale coffee and tension. You stand at the whiteboard, arms crossed, eyes scanning the photographs pinned to it—victims, maps, timelines.

The others are seated around the table, all mid-discussion, but you’re quiet. Not checked out. Just… precise. Listening without indulging the noise.

You speak when necessary.

“Victim three deviates from the geographical pattern. If it was opportunistic, the UnSub’s comfort zone is widening. If it wasn’t—he’s accelerating.”

Rossi nods, pen tapping against the table. “Could be staging, too. Make it look random.”

“Could be.” You don’t elaborate. You don’t fill silences. You let them speak if they have something worth adding.

No one pushes for more. They know how you operate. They know you don’t soften things. Not for comfort, not for camaraderie. You’re professional, respected—and emotionally distant, even now, even years into working with them.

The only exception to that is sitting three feet away from you, pretending to read a file he’s already memorised twice.

Spencer is quiet. Quieter than usual. His gaze flicks to you every so often, like he’s trying to time something—his words, maybe. Your reactions. Your temperature. Whatever it is, he’s trying to gauge where you’re at without having to ask.

���Spencer,” you say without looking at him, “page twelve. The blood spatter analysis.”

He’s already on it, of course. He lifts his eyes quickly. “Right—uh, yeah. The cast-off patterns indicate repeated strikes from a blunt object, likely with some torque. There's arterial spray on the west wall, so the blow that killed her came from the left side.”

You give a small nod. “Thanks.”

That’s it. No warmth. No smile. But Spencer straightens a little like it meant something. Like he’s grateful for being asked.

Emily side-eyes the two of you, not subtle in the least. “Is it just me, or has Boy Wonder been extra clingy lately?”

Morgan grins over his coffee. “You noticed that too, huh? He’s been on her like a puppy. Following her around the crime scenes, sitting next to her at lunch, hanging on her every word…”

JJ chimes in, amused. “It’s kind of cute. He’s like one of those Victorian ghosts—you know, all sad eyes and emotional repression,”

“Hey,” Spencer protests, not quite looking at any of them. “I don’t—cling,”

You don’t react. You never do when they tease him. And Spencer doesn’t look to you for help either, but you can feel the tension in his shoulders beside you.

Still, they’re not wrong.

He’s been… off lately. Not in a way most people would notice, but you’re not most people. He’s always been close to you, but recently, he’s orbiting you in smaller, tighter circles. Sitting closer. Waiting longer when you speak, like he's hoping you'll say something more.

The team has picked up on it. Of course they have. But they don’t know. Not really. They just think he’s crushing harder than usual. No one suspects what’s actually going on—because you’ve made sure of that.

You and Spencer aren’t the kind of couple who touch hands under the table or exchange soft smiles across briefing rooms. You’re not a couple that does anything in front of people, really. You’re together, but that truth stays tucked away between you and him, guarded in the quiet moments that happen off the clock.

Moments no one else sees.

“You doing okay?” you ask him quietly as the others begin packing up for the next site visit.

Spencer looks startled. “Me?”

You don’t repeat yourself.

He nods, quickly. “Yeah. Just… yeah,”

You hold his gaze for a second longer than necessary. A flicker of something passes between you. Reassurance, maybe. Or a silent understanding.

Morgan watches the exchange from the other side of the room, eyebrows lifting. “Okay, seriously, what is that?”

You ignore him. You grab your coat.

Hotch glances at his watch, then at you. “You and Reid head to the ME’s office. JJ, Emily, and Morgan—head to the victim’s apartment.”

Spencer immediately moves to follow, a bit too fast, a bit too eager.

Emily catches your arm on the way out, voice low. “You’d tell me, right?”

You pause. “Tell you what?”

She gives you a long look. “Never mind,”

—

The mortuary is colder than usual, the sterile, humming kind of cold that seeps through your coat and settles deep in your bones. You don’t shiver. You just pull on a pair of latex gloves and nod at the technician who leads you and Spencer toward the back.

The morgue table is already prepped, and the body is covered with a clean white sheet. It’s clinical. Organised. Efficient.

Spencer walks beside you in silence, his hands folded in front of him, shoulders set in that way that means he’s wound a little too tight. You don’t ask why. You already know. He’s been tense since yesterday—since you listened to the young tech at the crime scene rattle off chemical compositions and possible causes of decomp with the kind of enthusiasm Spencer usually reserves for classical literature and obscure physics.

Now, you’re both here again, about to meet another new person excited to talk about death.

The doors swing open, and in walks a man who can’t be older than twenty-eight. Blonde hair slightly ruffled, round glasses sliding down his nose, blue gloves snapped on too tight. He’s grinning before he even says hello.

“You must be the agents! I’m Tyler, the newest forensic pathologist on-site.” He says it like he’s giving a TED Talk. “Technically I’m still finishing my fellowship, but I’ve done two post-grads already, and I’ve been shadowing Dr. Karlsen for the last three months—”

Behind him, a woman in her sixties, presumably Dr. Karlsen, sighs audibly. “Tyler,”

“Right, right,” Tyler says, waving her off. “Back on track. Let’s begin,”

He peels back the sheet with a reverent kind of gentleness, like he’s revealing a masterpiece, not a victim of a homicide. You don’t react, not outwardly. You observe the bruising around the throat, the defensive wounds along the forearms, the way one wrist seems just slightly dislocated from the rest of the body’s alignment.

Spencer shifts beside you, already piecing things together.

Tyler claps once, low but excited. “So, cause of death was asphyxiation due to manual strangulation, but what’s really interesting is the laryngeal cartilage—you see here?” He gestures with tweezers, careful not to touch. “This fracture on the right side of the thyroid cartilage? It’s called a hyoid crush. Super rare, but it suggests a significant amount of pressure, possibly done from behind. Also—if you look just under here—”

Spencer speaks up, voice dry. “That damage could also occur post-mortem if the body was handled roughly during movement. Depending on the timeline, it’s not definitive,”

Tyler blinks. “Yes—true! Great point. But in this case, time of death aligns pretty tightly with the estimated bruising pattern, which I can show you in just a moment. And did you know—” He turns toward you now, eyes bright behind his glasses. “—that the thyroid cartilage, especially in females, doesn’t always ossify the way it does in males? That’s why injuries here can be harder to spot unless you’re really looking,”

You nod once. “Interesting.”

He beams, clearly encouraged. “Oh! And even cooler—well, not for the victim, obviously—but cool from a physiological standpoint—is that the arterial pressure around the carotid sinus can trigger something called a vagal response. It can actually kill a person instantly. That’s why sometimes you see victims with minimal signs of struggle. Their heart just… stops,”

You don’t interrupt. You just let him go on, standing still, arms crossed loosely over your chest. Your face is unreadable, but you’re listening. Not because you’re overly impressed—his information is nothing Spencer couldn’t rattle off half-asleep—but because it’s rare to see someone talk about this stuff with that kind of earnest joy. It’s not affection, not interest. It’s more like watching a dog with a brand-new toy. Mildly amusing. Harmless.

Spencer doesn’t see it that way.

He’s standing rigid beside you now, arms crossed, jaw set tight. You can practically feel the radiating jealousy off him like static. Tyler’s voice is all you can hear in the room, but Spencer’s silence is louder.

Dr. Karlsen cuts in after a minute, clearing her throat.

“Tyler. You’re wandering,”

“Right, right, sorry,” he mutters sheepishly. “Okay. So, other injuries: mild contusions to the upper back, inconsistent with the ligature pattern on the neck—suggests those came before the primary attack. Or from an external for e,”

Spencer murmurs, almost too low to be heard, “Or the UnSub simply pressed her down with a knee to control movement,”

You glance at him. His eyes aren’t on you—they’re locked on the mortician, unblinking.

Tyler continues without noticing. “I’ll upload full reports to the BAU’s system. But if you’d like to stay, I’ve got the next autopsy scheduled in twenty minutes. It’s unrelated, but the skull fracture’s really unusual—he fell into an industrial lathe, if you can believe that—”

“Thank you,” you interrupt, voice calm. “But we’ve got another scene to process.”

Tyler deflates a little but still smiles. “Of course. Good luck with the case,”

Spencer doesn’t say goodbye.

—

Back at the precinct, the team regroups. Photos scatter across the table, evidence logs updated, and reports uploaded. It’s a flurry of movement, conversation, caffeine.

Spencer stays quiet.

Even when Garcia calls in with a list of potential suspect matches, even when JJ reads off new victimology data—he’s present, but distant. Contributing, but subdued.

The turning point comes when you’re scanning Tyler’s preliminary report again, eyes catching on something he’d mentioned in passing—about the bruising pattern not matching the ligature marks.

You frown. “This doesn’t make sense.”

Hotch looks up. “What is it?”

You pull a photo closer. “The bruising on the victim’s upper back was dismissed as unrelated, but if the UnSub had control of her neck from behind, these could be from bracing his knee. Except the angles are wrong, which means she was restrained by someone else beforehand. Or there were multiple offenders.”

A beat.

Morgan leans in. “Multiple Unsubs? Are you sure?”

Reid is already flipping through crime scene notes, pulling up maps, rearranging the timeline.

But you know the shift started with something Tyler said. A stray, almost off-hand detail—one Spencer had dismissed. And now, it’s cracked the case wide open.

You glance over at him again.

His expression is neutral, but you know him. Know the set of his jaw, the small twitch of his fingers against the folder, the way he suddenly won’t meet your eyes.

He’s not okay.

And the silence keeps going.

And going.

Spencer doesn’t sit next to you at the precinct. He doesn’t offer up extra information unless someone asks directly. He doesn’t bring you your usual coffee without saying anything, doesn’t lean over your shoulder to glance at your notes, doesn’t linger when you leave the room.

At first, you don’t even notice. Not really. You’re used to space. You need space. Silence doesn’t alarm you—it comforts you. If he wants room, you’ll give it. That’s part of being with someone, right? Letting them breathe.

But then it starts to feel like something else.

Something heavier.

His eyes avoid yours. His steps fall behind the team, not beside you. His voice, when he speaks, sounds smaller. Not quieter. Smaller.

And the team—well, they notice.

They notice fast.

“What do you think happened?” JJ whispers, leaning toward Morgan at the conference table.

Morgan lifts a brow. “Between Doctor Genius and Miss Ice Bath?”

JJ nods. “They haven’t said more than five words to each other in two days,”

“Maybe they had a fight,”

“About what? Reid would agree the sky was red if she suggested it,”

“Exactly,” Morgan mutters, “maybe that’s the problem,”

JJ laughs under her breath. “Or maybe Spence is just tired,”

Morgan chuckles. “Either way, something is weird,”

—

You keep your head down. You do your work. And when Spencer doesn't sit beside you, you let him be.

Because you figure if he needed you, he'd say something.

He doesn’t.

Not until four nights into the case, in a borrowed office space at the local PD. It's late. The rest of the team has gone back to the hotel to get some sleep, but you stayed behind to finish typing up victimology reports. Spencer stayed too—though he hasn’t said more than three words to you all day.

You assumed he was just buried in research.

He isn’t.

He’s pacing now, just behind you, his arms crossed tight like he’s trying to hold himself together.

You finally look up.

“What’s wrong with you?”

He stops pacing, stares at the wall for a moment, then turns to you, blurting out in a rush:

“Do you want to be with me, or would you rather be with someone else who’s… easier to deal with?”

You blink, slow. “Excuse me?”

He exhales, harsh and shaky. “I—I’ve just been thinking about it, okay? Since the morgue. Since that guy.”

You’re still. Watching him carefully.

He keeps going, words unraveling fast.

“He was like me. He talks like me. He got excited about the same things I do, and you—you listened to him. You didn’t tune him out, you didn’t tell him to focus, or cut him off, or roll your eyes. You actually looked like you didn’t mind. Like you liked hearing him talk.”

“Okay—”

“And that’s fine, that’s—I get it, he’s younger, he’s less complicated, and I’m not trying to make this into something dramatic, I just—” He cuts himself off, swallows. “You could have someone like him. Someone who doesn’t have… all of the— baggage, that I come with,”

He gestures at himself. Like he is the problem. Like all the things that make him him are some burden you’ve quietly been carrying.

You stare at him for a long moment.

Then you speak, slowly.

“I have no idea what you’re on about.”

Spencer looks confused. “What?”

“I’m going to assume you’re talking about the ME, and tell you that you’re being ridiculous,” You stand, stepping closer to him. “I was focused on the case. On the victim. Not on whether the guy liked explaining arteries.”

“But you let him—”

“Because I let you talk like that,” you say. “So why would I shut someone else down for doing the same?”

He doesn’t say anything.

Your voice softens a fraction—not warm, but honest. Quiet. Careful.

“You’re who I’m with.”

His brows draw together. “That’s it?”

You nod. “Yes.”

He’s still not sure how to process that. “But I’m—difficult.”

“I know.”

“And you’re okay with that?”

You sigh, stepping just close enough that your knees brush his. “Yes*.*”

You pause.

Then, carefully, you lift your hand and rest it on his knee. Not possessive. Not performative.

Just steady.

It’s one of the few times you initiate touch. He notices. His eyes flicker down, then back up again, and something in his posture shifts—like the weight on his shoulders finally loses a fraction of its heaviness.

He’s still spiralling a little, you can tell, but you add, gently, “You spiral. You overthink. You get jealous. You shut down.”

A pause.

“And I don’t care.”

His throat bobs.

You reach up, fingers brushing lightly against the edge of his hairline, tucking it back behind his ear. He leans into it instinctively, even though he’s still blinking like he can’t believe what just happened.

You look at him flatly.

“If I didn’t want to be with you,” you say. “then I wouldn’t be here,”

He exhales like he’s been holding his breath for a week.

Then, finally, he nods.

And for the first time in days, his fingers curl around yours.

—

The next morning, everything is back to normal.

Or, at least, it seems like it.

Spencer sits beside you again at the precinct. He hands you your coffee, shoulder brushing yours. He leans over your notepad to make a quiet joke about the new crime scene tech who mislabeled three evidence bags, and you give a low, dry chuckle that makes Morgan do a double-take.

Emily stares. JJ narrows her eyes.

Something’s changed.

But it’s subtle. Maddeningly subtle.

There’s no hand-holding. No long, longing stares. Just… a shift in air pressure.

“You feel that?” JJ murmurs to Morgan as you and Spencer walk out of the room together, shoulders aligned.

Morgan sips his coffee. “Pretty boy’s silent treatment didn’t last long,”

“No,” JJ says slowly, “apparently not,”

They both fall silent, watching you disappear down the hall with Spencer beside you.

“You think they’re—?” Morgan starts.

JJ shakes her head. “No idea.”

But they’ll keep guessing.

They always do.

And you?

You’ll keep things exactly the way you like them.

Quiet. Private.

Yours.

[dollishmehrayan]

# “SUDDENLY I SEE, THIS IS WHAT I WANNA BE” ── .✦ ( batboys w a zoologist/someone who’s very passionate about animals!reader ⋆౨ৎ )

dollish note ⋆౨ৎ: okay so this was a request by anon (here) and alsoo I’ve been like kinda gone as like much as I said I’d be back in march I thought that my days like have this gap in them where I can write for you guys so I thought why not entertain + carry my life yk? Anywayss enjoy ! <3 tags: (batboys x fem!reader)

© dollishmehrayan — ( all rights reserved to me. These works cannot be reposted, translated, or modified. Thank you for understanding dollies! )

DICK GRAYSON ── .✦

The Supportive Golden Retriever Boyfriend™

Dick absolutely adores how passionate you are about animals. He finds it so endearing that you can go on a 20-minute tangent about why capybaras are the ultimate chill kings of the animal world literally (we love a supportive king 💪)

He’ll sit there, chin propped in his hand, watching you with literal heart eyes as you explain fun animal facts. "Did you know that sea otters hold hands while they sleep so they don’t drift apart??”, he just responds with: "Babe, that’s literally us."

When you take him to the zoo, he’s your number-one cheerleader. He’s the guy hyping you up when you go full National Geographic mode. "Damn, look at my girl go! Bet the zookeepers are taking notes."

But also… chaos. You tell him about a random animal, and the next day, you get a text:

Dick: Babe, can we get a capybara?

You: No???

Dick: I already named him Carl. (Bad at name giving)

100% buys you animal plushies. You say you love red pandas? Boom. He’s bringing you a giant red panda plush the size of a toddler.

If he catches you watching animal documentaries at 2 AM, he will absolutely join in. You both end up getting emotionally attached to some random meerkat family.

JASON TODD ── .✦

The “Pretends Not To Care But Absolutely Does” Boyfriend

At first, he acts like it’s no big deal. You start talking about octopus intelligence, and he’s like, “Yeah, cool.” But then he’s actually listening.

You’ll randomly hear him drop animal facts he learned from you in casual conversation. "Did you know crows can recognize human faces?" And then he just walks away like he didn’t just absorb your entire personality.

You try to take him to the zoo. He acts reluctant. "Babe, I’m too old for this." But the second he sees the wolves? Yeah, he’s standing there for 20 minutes, fully invested.

Secretly loves big cats. If a tiger so much as looks at him, he’s like, “Yeah, that’s my guy, he fw me.”

Jason will 100% fake annoyance when you go on animal rants, but he’d never actually tell you to stop. He’ll just shake his head, smirking. "Babe, you’re literally an unpaid Discovery Channel host."

But if anyone ELSE tries to make fun of your animal obsession? Oh, he’s fighting them. "What, you don’t think learning about the mating habits of penguins isn’t interesting? You go right out the door before I drag you to it.”

TIM DRAKE ── .✦

The “Actually, This Is Fascinating” Nerd Boyfriend

Tim is so invested in your knowledge. He treats every animal fact you tell him like it’s groundbreaking news.

"Wait, wait, explain how ants communicate again?" You blink. "Tim, I’ve told you this three times." "Yeah, but I need to visualize it properly."

Will absolutely go down research rabbit holes just so he can talk to you about animals on your level. You wake up to a text at 3 AM:

Tim: So technically, a shrimp can punch as fast as a bullet?

You think he’s tired when you take him to the zoo? Nope. He’s taking notes. He will challenge the tour guide with additional facts.

If you’re working on any zoology projects, he’s your biggest supporter. Need funding for animal conservation? He’s pulling Wayne Enterprises money and some drake money too.

One time, you found him watching bird videos for fun. When you called him out, he just said, "They're cool, okay?"

DAMIAN WAYNE ── .✦

The “Of Course, My Beloved” Boyfriend

Listen. This is his dream relationship. Animals? Passion for them? You’re his soulmate LOCKEDDD INNNNN.

Will literally test you. "What do you know about Tibetan mastiffs?" If you pass? Immediate respect. If you don’t? "Tt. I will educate you."

You and him are unstoppable in animal debates. No one dares question your combined knowledge. Someone tries to say "cats don’t have feelings"? You and Damian tag-team destroy them.

You 100% have “who loves animals more” competitions. "I saved a hawk yesterday." "Tt. I rehabilitated a stray cat." "I named a baby goat after you." "...Beloved."

Dates? Animal sanctuaries. Zoos. Wildlife reserves. This man is taking you on the most eco-friendly, animal-filled dates ever.

One time, you found him talking to a cow. You swear it understood him. (Batcow ofc 🙂‍↕️)

BRUCE WAYNE ── .✦

Very thoughtful husband

Secretly impressed by your knowledge. You caught him actually listening when you explained how dolphins have names for each other.

Would 100% fund a wildlife conservation project just because you’re passionate about it.

(Fuck this man fr I don’t have ideas for him🥲)

[gallusrostromegalus]

in that map you drew of the seireitei districts; is there any link between the geography of the real world and the spirit world(or worlds)?

In regards to this map, Which is specific to AEIWAM:

This is the map that's hanging up in classrooms at Shinigami Academy when Ichigo breaks into Soul Society to save Rukia, in which the Seireitei is in the middle and the districts are color-coded with #s 1-79 of each marked as "Full" districts where the Soul Society Governs and collects taxes and the Large, undefined 80th districts where the Soul Society does not govern or collects taxes but they needed to call those regions SOMETHING.

The Map changes SIGNIFICANTLY in the following 5 years as Soul Society finally starts acting like a real nation with Borders instead of acting like it's still the Tokugawa Era.

As far as this correlates to Geography in the Living World however...

Watsonian Answer:

...Only sort of.

See, the Life Machine that generates reality only one of MANY Life Machines, who are all connected but disparate, like polyps that make up a coral. If that coral were some kind of Poly-dimensional Godhead. So the Living World is the four-dimensional expression of the surface of the calcium superstructure between the individual Polyps (which is also a skeleton they all share), and the Spirit World and Hell are the interior of the individual polyps. Maintaining the balance of souls between the living and spirit worlds is really the life machine maintaining it's homeostasis with the colony.

So while a soul can wander all over the living world, once it dies, it gets sucked into the Polyp it's closest to. But not "Closest" in a prototypically geographical sense, but "Closest" in the complex geographical way a multidimensional entity defines itself. Now, these fucking 12-and-14 dimensional barriers between God-Polyps *BROADLY* correlate to our four-dimensional reality, but not totally, so the afterlife of Soul Society is Sort-of geographically connected to "About 12% of central Japan (centered on one city), part of the Black Forest in Germany and an exceptionally deserted section of the Chihuahuan Desert".

Since souls can wander extensively (Not just geographically- emotionally, spiritually, inwardly, outwardly, memetically, culturally, ethically, methodologically, climatically, and just Generally Weirdly) in the living world though, people do not necessarily go to the afterlife of the life machine they were spawned in, let alone the one they expected to go to. In fact, the barriers beteween the dominions of different life machines are so inscrutable to humans that a pair of identical twins can be born, raised in the same house, take over that house from their parents, and spend every waking moment of their lives together and end up in completely different afterlives mostly, but not entirely because one of them had an allergy to celery and the other didn't.

So, *Most* of the people who die in Karkura town go to Soul Society for their afterlife, but not all of them. The Shinigami never notice the people who don't- their souls are immune to hollowfication because they're governed by a different God machine, and they just vanish off into their different afterlife the way ghosts normally go to soul society, and with roughly half of all souls totally forgetting thier previous lives and most missing at least some, or eager to change identities, it's pretty much impossible to track souls from one world to the next unless something WEIRD happens (spoiler: weird things happen).

Hence, Soul Society's total population is approximately five million human souls, and collectively about as many Non-human souls between the Hollows, Beastfolk, and other miscellaneous spirts, which is about the population of souls in both categories in the slices of geography it governs in the living world.

In terms of scale, the circle that makes up the Soul Society (Seireitei + Rukongai) is about 700 miles in Diameter- the Soul Society's borders end where they can no longer reliably get an army of normal humans that has to travel from the Seireitei without portals in under a month (about 11 miles per day, rounded up a bit because they'll haul ass in an emergency), because collecting taxes from farther than that is a PAIN IN THE ASS.

Doylist answer:

The Soul Society is a map of Alaska turned sideways and with a few rivers added in, and it's population is the same as Colorado's because that's easy for me to imagine.

[am-i-the-asshole-official]

AITA for slowly ghosting a fwb instead of confronting him when I found out he's been stalking people again?

He (twenties, M) and I (twenties, X) knew each other from college. He's genuinely a fun guy. Also, a cis person being into you as a nonbinary person (as your gender, not despite it) in a non-fetishy way is frankly too powerful. So yeah, we started talking more some time after graduation, and it turned into a digital-only friends-with-benefits situation.

I was wary of him in college, but willing to give him a second chance. It was an open secret among our friend group that he'd stalked a couple of people he was into in college -- resulting in court ordered therapy and a restraining order and everything. I was still mentally/emotionally recovering from an abusive relationship years prior that the ex stalked me after for a few years. So you can see why it was a big deal that I gave this distant friend another chance, willing to get as close to him as I did. I guess I thought that like, the therapy had worked?

Well, fast forward to us being close after college. He doesn't know that I know about his previous two times getting nearly expelled for stalking people. I have not told him anything about my years-ago abusive relationship, but it's possible he has some awareness of it due to mutual friends. I kept firm with a boundary that he will have no more specific geographic information about me than my city, and he's certainly never learning my address. He has no way to know about my more "personal" social media like Tumblr. I am protecting myself.

But a few months into us being fwb and having fun and me repeatedly asserting my boundaries regarding irl interaction. He complains to me that someone is claiming that he's stalking them. I casually ask about the situation, assert that yeah what he's doing is shitty, he should stop, and it does sound like stalking (even though he insists it isn't). We never talk about it again.

He started showing up in my trauma nightmares, and suddenly the second chance I gave him seems like a terrible idea. So, over the next few months, I make a planned retreat. I respond less frequently, less promptly, and with less emotion. I planned out my strategy by the week to look like a natural loss of interest, or a natural "got busy with other stuff."

My logic is that he clearly has not learned to stop stalking people. I am not willing to continue exposing myself to that personal risk. But I am also not willing to say "I refuse to remain friends with an unrepentant stalker." I'm afraid that if I do that, he will get the wrong lesson: that he needs to never admit to any other friend what he's done, or else he'll lose them. The right lesson obviously would be: don't follow people to their houses after they've cut contact and don't send them letters asking whether they're living alone again yet, what the fuck. I am afraid that if I tell him why I'm ghosting, he will simply never talk about this pattern ever again, thus removing the ability of future friends like me to make informed decisions about who they're spending their time with.

We're now one year into when I fully ended contact. I did not block him. I still get two texts a week from him -- sometimes "are you okay" sometimes life updates, usually just "hey". He has made no indications that he has visited the city where I live, thank god. I have not explained to any of our mutual friends what I did. I have not talked to anyone, not my therapist not my spouse, about what I did. I am not going to speak to him again, but I am not going to block him, because I need my cutting contact to look natural.

So yeah. AITA for not making a bigger deal of his continued stalking of other people? In my mind I'm protecting myself, and reducing the likelihood he'll start hiding his nature from future friends, so this way they can be informed and protect themselves as needed. But AITA for lowkey ghosting him instead of having a serious conversation about his behavior? I know he sucks. I just don't know if I also suck.

What are these acronyms?

[mrmoldavite]

The Moon Line in Astrocartography

Navigating Emotional Depths, Intuition, and Inner Fulfilment Across the Globe

In astrocartography, the Moon Line highlights geographical locations that stir your emotions, deepen your intuition, and connect you to your inner world. While the Sun Line focuses on outward identity and public recognition, the Moon Line is inward-facing—it governs your emotional needs, subconscious patterns, and the way you seek comfort, security, and connection.

The Moon represents the cyclical nature of life, emotions, and intuition. Under your Moon Line, you are likely to feel more sensitive, reflective, and attuned to your surroundings. This is where emotional healing, nurturing relationships, and intuitive growth often flourish. However, the heightened emotional landscape can also bring moodiness, dependency, or feelings of instability if not handled with care.

Understanding the Moon’s Influence in Astrocartography

The Moon in astrology governs:

Emotions & Instincts – Your inner responses, subconscious needs, and emotional patterns.

Intuition & Sensitivity – Your gut feelings, psychic receptivity, and ability to empathise.

Home & Family – The desire for comfort, security, and belonging.

Cycles & Change – The ebb and flow of moods, habits, and life phases.

When the Moon becomes dominant along its astrocartography line, these themes rise to the surface. People often find that under their Moon Line, they feel more emotionally connected but also more vulnerable, as if their inner life is amplified.

The Four Moon Lines & Their Specific Meanings

The Moon creates four distinct lines in astrocartography, each highlighting a different emotional or intuitive pathway, depending on whether the Moon was rising, setting, culminating, or anti-culminating at your birth.

1. Moon Ascendant Line (Moon/AC) — Emotional Identity & Sensitivity

Energy: Heightened sensitivity, personal reflection, and nurturing self-expression.

Effect: Under this line, your emotional nature takes centre stage. You may feel more in touch with your intuition and emotional needs, but also more reactive to your environment. Relationships here tend to evoke strong emotional responses, both positive and challenging. This is a place where personal growth often comes through emotional awareness and self-care.

Opportunities: Self-nurturing, emotional healing, intuitive development, and deep self-reflection.

Challenges: Mood swings, hypersensitivity, or struggles with emotional boundaries.

Ideal for: Creative pursuits, emotional healing, or environments where empathy and sensitivity are valued.

2. Moon Descendant Line (Moon/DC) — Emotional Relationships & Bonds

Energy: Emotional intimacy, partnership dynamics, and deep connections.

Effect: This line draws emotional relationships into sharp focus. You may form strong bonds with others, often feeling an intense emotional pull in partnerships. It’s a place where long-term relationships can flourish, but also where emotional entanglements or codependency can arise. There’s a natural magnetism here, attracting people who reflect your emotional landscape.

Opportunities: Deepening emotional connections, forming nurturing relationships, and building strong family ties.

Challenges: Emotional dependency, over-attachment, or struggles with emotional boundaries in relationships.

Ideal for: Building close personal relationships, starting a family, or fostering community ties.

3. Moon Midheaven Line (Moon/MC) — Public Image & Emotional Expression

Energy: Emotional visibility, nurturing leadership, and career rooted in care or community.

Effect: In these regions, your public image is closely tied to your emotional nature. You may find opportunities in careers that involve caregiving, creativity, or community service. Emotional authenticity becomes key to professional success here. However, you might also feel more exposed emotionally in public roles, leading to fluctuations in how you’re perceived.

Opportunities: Careers in healing, education, art, or any field requiring empathy and emotional intelligence.

Challenges: Emotional burnout, difficulty separating personal feelings from professional roles, or public mood fluctuations.

Ideal for: Careers in counselling, art, teaching, or community-based leadership.

4. Moon Imum Coeli Line (Moon/IC) — Home, Family & Inner Emotional World

Energy: Deep emotional grounding, connection to roots, and nurturing the inner self.

Effect: This is the most personal and private of the Moon Lines. It highlights the importance of home, family, and emotional security. People often feel a pull to create a sanctuary or connect with their heritage here. It’s a space for healing old wounds, reconnecting with your emotional core, and building long-lasting foundations.

Opportunities: Building a family, deepening self-understanding, and creating a secure home environment.

Challenges: Emotional reclusiveness, difficulty stepping outside comfort zones, or resurfacing of family issues.

Ideal for: Settling down, starting a family, or deepening your connection to personal roots and traditions.

Life Experiences Under a Moon Line

I haven't lived underneath my Moon line, but as a natal 3rd house Moon in Virgo I can imagine it'd make me feel more emotionally connected to my thoughts, conversations, and daily interactions. I'd likely find comfort in staying mentally active—writing, learning, and talking things through would help me process my emotions. I'd probably feel more aware of my surroundings and closer to my local community, with relationships like siblings or neighbours becoming more meaningful. But I might also overthink or get caught up in small details, leading to restlessness or anxiety. In this place, I'd feel the need to express my emotions clearly but would have to remind myself to trust my feelings, not just my logic.

Positive Manifestations:

Emotional Healing: The Moon Line can be a catalyst for profound inner work and emotional renewal.

Heightened Intuition: Many people report stronger gut feelings and a deeper sense of spiritual connection.

Creative Expression: Artistic and imaginative energy often flows freely under the Moon’s influence.

Family & Community: This is an excellent line for nurturing close relationships, building community, or reconnecting with family.

Potential Challenges:

Emotional Volatility: Increased sensitivity can lead to mood swings, emotional overwhelm, or hypersensitivity to criticism.

Over-Attachment: Strong emotional ties can sometimes turn into dependency or difficulty letting go.

Escapism or Emotional Withdrawal: If overwhelmed, there may be a tendency to retreat into fantasy or avoid difficult emotions.

Who Thrives on a Moon Line?

Artists, healers, and spiritual seekers who value intuition and emotional depth.

Those seeking emotional healing or a stronger sense of home and belonging.

Individuals craving deeper family connections or community-based living.

However, those who prefer rational, logic-driven environments or fast-paced lifestyles might find the Moon Line too emotionally intense or unpredictable.

Tips for Navigating Your Moon Line

Honour Your Emotions: This is a time to embrace feelings fully—journaling, creative expression, or therapy can help process the emotional depth.

Set Clear Emotional Boundaries: With heightened sensitivity, it’s crucial to protect your energy from emotional overload.

Engage in Intuitive Practices: Meditation, dreamwork, and energy healing are particularly potent here.

Create a Sanctuary: Since the Moon rules home and security, cultivating a peaceful, nurturing space will help balance the emotional intensity.

Moon Line Relocation: Is It Right for You?

Relocating to a Moon Line can be profoundly transformative for those seeking emotional healing, creative inspiration, or deeper family connections. It’s a nurturing energy that fosters self-discovery, but it requires a willingness to dive into emotional complexities.

If you’re in a phase of life focused on healing, personal growth, or starting a family, the Moon Line offers supportive energy. Conversely, if you’re prioritising career ambition, logical decision-making, or detached analysis, this line may feel too emotionally demanding.

Final Thoughts

The Moon Line in astrocartography offers a gateway into your emotional world, nurturing your inner self while guiding you toward intuitive wisdom and authentic connection. Whether you seek creative inspiration, emotional healing, or a deeper sense of home and belonging, this line supports the parts of you that long to feel safe, understood, and emotionally fulfilled.

Yet, like the phases of the Moon, experiences under this line can ebb and flow—offering periods of intense emotional clarity followed by moments of deep introspection. Navigated with care, the Moon Line becomes a sanctuary for emotional renewal, spiritual connection, and profound personal growth.

[astroseeks]

What is the best astrocartography line to live a life on?

Astrocartography is a branch of astrology that involves mapping the positions of planets at the time of your birth onto a world map to gain insights into how these planetary energies may influence your life in different geographic locations. The "best" astrocartography line to live on depends on your personal goals, interests, and the planetary influences that resonate with you. It's also important to remember that astrocartography is considered by many to be a form of pseudoscience and should be taken with a grain of skepticism.

Here's a brief overview of some of the key astrocartography lines and their associated planetary energies:

Sun Line: The Sun line represents themes related to self-expression, creativity, and vitality. Living along your Sun line may enhance your self-confidence and help you shine in your chosen field.

Moon Line: The Moon line is associated with emotions, intuition, and nurturing. Living on your Moon line may make you feel more emotionally connected and in touch with your inner self.

Mercury Line: Mercury represents communication, intellect, and adaptability. Living on your Mercury line may favor careers related to writing, speaking, or intellectual pursuits.

Venus Line: Venus is linked to love, relationships, and aesthetics. Being on your Venus line could enhance your social life and possibly bring more romantic opportunities.

Mars Line: Mars is the planet of energy, action, and assertiveness. Living on your Mars line might give you a boost of physical energy and motivation.

Jupiter Line: Jupiter is associated with expansion, growth, and abundance. Being on your Jupiter line could bring opportunities for personal and professional growth.

Saturn Line: Saturn represents discipline, responsibility, and challenges. Living on your Saturn line might lead to increased responsibilities and a need for self-discipline.

Uranus Line: Uranus is linked to innovation, change, and unpredictability. Being on your Uranus line might lead to unexpected and transformative experiences.

Neptune Line: Neptune is associated with dreams, spirituality, and illusion. Living on your Neptune line may make you more attuned to your spiritual side.

Pluto Line: Pluto represents transformation, power, and intensity. Being on your Pluto line could lead to significant personal and emotional transformations.

To determine the "best" line for you, it's essential to consider your life goals, interests, and the areas where you feel most drawn. Remember that astrology and astrocartography are not scientifically proven, so it's important to approach them with an open mind and use them as one of many tools for self-discovery and personal insight. Consulting with a professional astrologer who specializes in astrocartography can provide more personalized guidance based on your birth chart.

Source: https://astrology-seek.com/astrology-tools/astrocartography-chart/

[brain-of-rain]

Thats the first time anyone has called them inspirational. Not used to such praise really. Glad to know you like what I have to share. Its fun talking with you, in the same way I have when talking to SonicAsuraZone with my aus. She's a real gem with them and fun to talk with. Not to mention she helps a lot with them too.

And your art is just stunning and so good I'm honestly surprised each time I check here. You just seem to get things right with the way you draw. Though I never had the courage to ask or even follow you until now.

I do believe that it be for the best that Daigo and Isao has started to resolve their issues when this happens, it just feels right. But still thats two dear friends lost to powerful kaijus where he was unable to do anything to save or help them. Thats gotta hit the big guy hard.

Though now that I think about it, does Daigo have a good relationship with Jugo Ogata? He and Hikari where good friends in the past from what I remember and seems to be friends with Isao too, if I remember things right. It feels a bit mean leaving the man out of this given how little we have seen of the fourth division leader, so maybe Daigo and Jugo finds each other one night sometime after the funeral and just talk. One old friend helping another.

I honestly think with the KN8 cast, Daigo would have a better support system really, specially for the more difficult stuff. Don't get me wrong, the system he has in his manage ain't bad in a way, but there felt like something was just missing sometimes. But that can be my own mind being picky with some of the charaters found in Daigo's manga.

With how Daigo is in the manga, I do believe he knows far too well how he is when he gets emotionally volatile. From what we have seen, his first time as a giant did not go so well or what happened when he managed to kill a 'kaiju' in his world. That was clearly a moment that changed things for the big guy. Won't be surprised of something similare happened here as well when he became giant in this world.

It also leads me to another question as well. Are the other giants also in here or is it just Daigo himself? Feels like some of them would fit in this world too, but part of other divisions since I doubt the third could house more the two at a time at the best. Like say when Aozora had to bunk with Daigo for a bit in chapter 3. But I'm leaving that sort of decision on you, since this is your au after all. You got the biggest say on it. Though I got to admit it be fun to see the KN8 cast interact with the other giants as well, I'll be honest with you on that.

I'm so glad you decided to share your ideas, I have fun talking about them with you too! Also, thank you for your kind words. To be honest, I forgot about Jugo entirely. I'm sorry, Jugo! I think Daigo and he would get along super well. They share a similar vibe in terms of career mentality. Both know how to keep it lighthearted while also understanding and respecting the weight of the job. I can see them talking for hours over a drink about all kinds of things. Friends who innately empathize with one another. Honesty and trust come easily between them. They can say just about anything without fearing that the other will repeat it to someone else or lie to spare their feelings.

The four of them (Daigo, Jugo, Isao, Hikari) were tightly knit in their youth. As they progressed in their careers, they gradually branched into different facets. Daigo worked from the first division base for most of his career, while Jugo climbed the ranks, eventually making it to 4th division captain. Because of their increased responsibilities and different geographical areas, they don't see each other as much, but once they get chatting, they can still easily talk for hours. I don't think Daigo could logically or responsibly drink alcohol at his size anymore, so the two of them blab over tea nowadays. The understanding they share also translates well in battle, fighting in perfect synchrony without exchanging a single word. Daigo and Jugo have no problem being serious when the time comes. I also think the juxtaposition between their silent team-ups and talkative yap sessions is a bit humorous. I agree with what you said about the support system 100%. KN8 has a lot of people who have an equal amount of experience to Daigo, who can help him both physically in battle and interpersonally, versus his own manga, where he is the most experienced person helping everyone else. The KN8 world allows Daigo to still act as a mentor, while also having people with experience and the knowledge to reliably support him. It makes sense that something traumatizing like the accidental kaiju killing in the GD manga would happen in the KN8 world as well. I'm terrified to think what that would be when the kaiju of KN8 are so similar to the Mirage kaiju, whom Daigo doesn't care for. The equivalent alternative trauma could be really angsty (aka accidentally killing humans). However, the GD manga kaiju kill wasn't an actual fatality. I think in KN8, Daigo may have seriously injured some people in the beginning during an incident, but accidentally killing them outright might be too sad for me. The angst potential is so good, but I don't want to traumatize Daigo too much, poor guy.

Although it would be cool to see him interact with other giants, in this crossover, Daigo is the only one. The giant weapon experiment had an extremely high fatality rate. 5 people were selected from the group who volunteered. Daigo was the only success before the program was terminated. Additionally, I have the idea that Daigo is being phased out of operation due to the advancement of more efficient/less brutish weapons. And like you said, if there were more giants, I would need to figure out where they'd be housed for their retirements, and they would all need to be around the same age as Daigo unless the giant weapon experiment became an ongoing program. Also, selfishly, Daigo is my fave character from his manga, and I only really care about his impact/interactions in the KN8 universe. I do like the other characters from GD... just not as much. I'm sorry, GD characters, I still love you guys!

[hcneybone]

𝐝𝐮𝐠𝐚𝐧 "𝐝𝐮𝐜𝐤𝐢𝐞" 𝐛𝐞𝐚𝐤𝐞

B A S I C S –

Name: Dugan Beake Nicknames: Duckie (most commonly known as). Birthday: May 1, 1991. Pronouns: He/him. Gender/Sex: Cisgender/male. Sexuality: Bisexual. Occupation: Part-time farm worker at High Tide, Weekend Co-Host at 99.3 The Wild

P E R S O N A L I T Y —

+ Resourceful, well-read, faithful. - Passive, cowardly, boring. While Duckie comes alive on the radio or late at night in his friends' basements, he can, more often than not, be mistaken for an armchair or a fleck of dust with just how un-outstanding he is. He's quiet and keeps to himself and prefers to avoid attention where he can, though when it comes to his successes and achievements he'll always accept compliments with a genuine smile and gratitude. Since the Departure he's taken to a life of servitude toward nature, and seems to be sniffing out the Cult of Pan, though he'd never admit to such.

A R R I V A L — ( FEBRUARY 2023 )

Originally from Texas, Duckie moved about eight months before the Departure to live with his girlfriend at the time and open a local board game shop. He still lives in the big house he bought with her, despite her disappearance, though he does rent it out with two other people now. The board game shop suffered from the Departure in an unrecoverable way; the sign where it used to be still hangs on the boarded up shop window.

E X T R A B I T S —

– Has been dumped by every girl he's been with. He has a habit of getting very complacent in his relationships and pulling away emotionally but struggles to be the one to end things first; he'd rather become a lame, silent boyfriend and get dumped than be the one to admit that things are over himself. It's a miracle his last girlfriend didn't dump him, but if she hadn't been evaporated by the Departure, she probably would've eventually. – In general, very bad at sports, but he played volleyball through high school and still enjoys a good beach game if there's one going. He also played pickleball with his family. – Has a very large LEGO collection displayed neatly in his office space and around his room. He enjoys any sort of miniature building work, and has started buying the super intricate kits wherever he can, which gets harder and harder since shipping still isn't where it used to be. – He is very nature centered/focused, and post-Departure he's really leaned into that. He spends a large portion of his day outside, even when not at work, and one of his favorite activities is getting stoned and reading a National Geographic. – Started as an intern at the radio station and sort of hated it since he didn't get to do anything creatively. When the Departure took much of the station's staff, Duckie took it upon himself to secure a weekend spot, and he likes it a whole lot better now.

C O N N E C T I O N S —

seeking: - two roommates to split his rent with - his brother, goose - friends he started to make in the first few months he was in town - any patrons who might've visited his cafe, Well Played, before it was closed

B A C K G R O U N D —

tw: parental drug use, death of an estranged parent, foursome mention? lol - duckie's parents were never cut out to be parents no matter how deeply they loved their son. and they did love him, as much as they could, until their love of partying (and, namely: heroin) overtook their lives. margaret beake, knowing she'd never be the mother her son deserved, evevntually relinquished custody to her sister when dugan was only four years old. - jacob and aimee beake took in duckie like their own. aimee had just given birth to her own son, gregory, who they nicknamed goose because the whole family thinks they're soooo funny. - duckie and goose grew up like real brothers, not knowing they weren't until late in middle school when jacob and aimee, spurred by a school project about genealogy, eventually sat down with duckie and explained everything. he was understandably hurt, and the information had a heavy impact on the relationship between him and who he knew as parents. fortunately, their relationship recovered with time, and duckie came to peace with everything. - at the end of high school, margaret beake passed away, and the chance to know his birthright mother disappeared. it was a weird phase of grief - one that he still hasn't figured out how to process, though he's stopped trying to. his father is still out there somewhere, either unable or unwilling to reach out. - duckie and goose are best friends. obviously they've gone through their fair share of shit and arguments, but time has only strengthened their bond. although technically cousins, they'll always be as close as real brothers. - college was eye-opening in a lot of ways for duckie. he discovered his bisexuality in a big splash: a night of d&d ended in a raunchy foursome that left him desperate to explore even more - duckie's only goal since high school has been to open a place that would harbor safe hang-out spots for nerds and freaks and losers. for years after college he spent his time making miniatures to sell and had a small successful business with that, but he wanted a true storefront: a true safe space. so he began collecting, and scouting, and crafting up a plan. when his long-term girlfriend pitched moving from texas to california for her job, duckie sought out a spot in redford to open his own business, and then they traveled west to start their american dream. - unfortunately, shortly after moving to town, the Departure took everything. his girlfriend popped into nothingness and his shop got smacked in the initial riots and following closures. - duckie hasn't heard from goose since the event. he's sure that he wasn't raptured, as their mother swears he visited after the event, but he's fallen off the face of the earth otherwise. he's asked his mother to move to redford and be safe with him there, but she's stubborn as ever and refuses to leave her home in case her husband un-departures and pops back into existence.

[louisliamforever]

Looked up the definition of “lilo” on a whim and now I’m emotional ❤️‍🩹

Lilo -

n. A friendship that can lie dormant for years only to pick right back up instantly, as if no time had passed since you last saw each other.

The term "Lilo" is derived from "lifelong" and "lie low," highlighting the idea of a connection that can endure through various life stages and periods of distance. It suggests a friendship that is deeply rooted and resilient, capable of surviving even when the partners are geographically or emotionally distant.

Here's a breakdown of the concept:

Dormant but instant:

The friendship can be inactive for years, but when reunited, it picks up exactly where it left off.

Lifelong and resilient:

The bond is strong and can endure through various life changes and periods of separation.

Effortless and natural:

The connection feels easy and natural, as if no time has passed.

Acceptance and understanding:

Lilo and Stitch's friendship, as depicted in the movie, demonstrates the importance of acceptance and understanding, even when friends are "different".

Loyalty and sacrifice:

The characters also show how unwavering loyalty and sacrifice can strengthen a friendship and create a sense of belonging.

Oh my god!!! Why is this literally them to a t? That's crazy 🥹

[penumbra-mayhem]

33: What words make me feel the best about myself

41: Where I want to be right now

for that ask game thingy :D

ehehehe :)

33.

if anyone used the following words to describe me, i would die of happiness:

kind/caring, loving, gentle, intelligent/clever, weird, and experimental

there’s other words i like for myself, but these are the ones that are the hardest for me to internalize, so i think they would mean the most to me

41.

oof this is a great and v difficult question

geographically, i’d like to be somwhere different. def somewhere with way more nature, prob either a beach town or a mountain town. i’d also like to move back to my home state, california (my heart yearns for it)

i think emotionally/mentally, i’d like to be in a stable, confident place. i don’t always have to be happy, but i’d like to just be healthier/more secure in myself

life-wise, i’d like to just be at a place where i know what i want to do next. the career i’ve been in for a while isn’t really fulfilling me anymore, so im feeling pretty lost

THANK U ANON FOR THE ASK <3

[ummick]

A Night In Tokyo With Mick Schumacher and A Mercedes 190E Evo II

Driving around Tokyo is daunting. With no centre or suburbs, its road network is huge, spiralling, occasionally latticed and sometimes subterranean. At times, even Mr Roboto in the satnav gives up and shrugs directions your way. Which has happened. Meaning I'm lost while leading Mick Schumacher (behind the wheel of a stunning Mercedes 190E 2.5-16 Evolution II) through Japan's neon-lined labyrinth. It's a hot, humid evening and Mercedes F1's reserve driver (and son of iconic seven-time Formula One world champion Michael Schumacher) is cutting the perfect shape of a 90s boyband member. Where I'm perspiring like a burst pipe, he palms back his blonde curls and looks effortlessly cool in his loose-fitting, oversized Tommy Hilfiger contractual clobber. Sartorially, it couldn't be more of a perfect fit for the car he's driving. Born out of German touring cars, the Evo II is a deeply lustworthy, boxy and bewinged sports saloon. With a revvy, induction-tastic 232bhp four-cylinder engine mated to a dog leg close-ratio five-speed manual, rear-wheel drive and aero appendages that get petrolheads salivating, it's a proper tip one's hat 'if you know, you know' car. Mercedes only built 502 of them (as per DTM's homologation rules) out of some 1.9 million W201 models that it's based on, so they're properly rare beasts. The fact we've got a quadruplet of Evos following Mick makes the situation we're in a bit more mind-blowing. But that's the plan. We wanted to give Mick an evening to remember, to take him away from the repetition and rigmarole of modern media junkets. We don't want to know where he keeps his ketchup, or when the last time he thought of the Roman Empire was. We want to indulge his love for cars.

"I went looking for an Evo II to buy but decided against it… for now," Mick says in his soft, geographically hard to place international accent. "It's a beautiful car and has huge sentimental value to me, the main reason being that my dad had one as a company car when he was a Mercedes junior. He spent a lot of time doing lots of laps on the Nordschleife with Heinz-Harald Frentzen. I remember within a month they had to change the brake pads and things with the engine. So it's an emotionally important car to me." Growing up in Gland, Switzerland, Mick struggles to pinpoint exactly when he got bitten by the road car bug. "Honestly, I don't really know where I got into them. Driving them around the property as a child was a big factor. The first time I had a steering wheel in my hand from a road car was maybe four or five years old, on my dad's lap. I got to drive very nice cars, very soon and very early. I guess it just grew naturally. Especially when I turned 18; then it really turned into an obsession." Raised on a healthy diet of racing, the Fast and Furious franchise and gaming, Mick picked up a penchant for JDM cars by proxy. "I just love how raw and simple they are," he says. "I enjoy playing around with them, changing stuff, tuning them and making them more fun to drive." Knowing this, we head out of Tokyo towards Chiba to meet Japan's most inconspicuous bad boy: Kazuhiko 'Smokey' Nagata. Tobacco and turbo enthusiast Smokey is one of Japan's legendary tuners. He and his company Top Secret have modified every generation of Nissan GT-R, including an R33 Skyline GT-R that managed 0–186mph in 17 seconds at Yatabe test track and 204mph in Tokyo's famous Aqualine tunnel. Like Smokey, Mick is also a GT-R fanboy, with some tucked away in a shed at home, including his R34 drift car.

"I've really got into drifting. As an F1 driver, drifting, or oversteer, is the opposite of what you want to do, but if you control it and have the feel for it, it can really help you. So I took the step of saying 'I want to try it' after the 2019 Race of Champions skill race. I was quite good, finishing second against rally drivers and everything, so I thought, 'Okay, maybe I should try this a bit more,' so I got my own car and started enjoying sideways. I love the sensation of connecting turns and being in a difficult situation, because obviously the car is upset, to then be able to control it. I think that's what's so intriguing. It's a good feeling." Mick's curiosity and JDM love resonates as he wanders around Smokey's GT-R littered shop. Not being able to speak Japanese, Mick uses international hand signals for car nuts to explain various car parts, gets out his phone to show Smokey his cars before stumbling upon Smokey's VR32 GT-R (an R32 with all the mechanics and interior of the R35 transplanted) and trying to find a way to import it into Switzerland. But we've got no time for this, as we've got the legendary Bayshore Route to hit and a car meet to get to. For someone so young, 24-year-old Mick is at a rather quiescent point in his career. Having had a triumphant run in his youth coming second in karting in the World, European and German Junior Championships, then switching to Formula 4 in 2015 and finishing second overall in both the German and Italian F4 championships, before becoming European Formula 3 Champion in 2018 and FIA Formula 2 Champion in 2020, Mick made it to the big leagues and bagged himself a seat in F1 with Haas. It wasn't easy. In 2022 Mick lost his seat after a difficult second season that saw him struggle to match teammate Kevin Magnussen for form. He recorded a best finish of sixth in Austria, one of two points finishes during the season, but it was not enough to save his seat. For 2023, Mick dropped his Ferrari junior ties and linked up with Mercedes (the last team his father raced for in F1), picking up the role of reserve driver.

"Being a reserve driver gives you tremendous insight, especially at Mercedes," Mick says. "I miss driving, I'm not going to lie, but the main thing I've learned since moving from Haas to Mercedes is how the team operates, the tools they have, how they use them and the communication. They're big learning points. It has opened my eyes in a lot of ways and has made it clear why Mercedes is as successful as it is. The worst part is sitting in the garage and seeing everybody drive out and do what you love to do." Part of Mick's remit is to join Mercedes trackside at all F1 race. That's how we're able to blat around Tokyo for a night before he heads to Suzuka to support the team. But time in Merc's state-of-the-art sim back in Brackley is also key. Mick was praised by Mercedes' technical director James Allison for a 2 am shift he did during the British GP weekend, turning the car's "woeful" one-lap pace on Friday into a competitive car and set-up for Lewis Hamilton and George Russell to compete with during quali and the race on Sunday. With every mile behind the Evo II's wheel, Mick's smile grows to match the width of its monstrous rear wing, especially when he realizes it shoots flame on the overrun after a 7,600 rpm toll booth roll out. We cross over to Yokohama and swirl down a concrete pillared plughole, arriving in an unsuspecting parking lot that doubles up as the epicentre of cool Japanese car culture in Japan: Daikoku PA. Mick, having never been to a car meet before, has his eyes widened. Even though it's a school night, the place is pumping. Mick walks around curiously, showing his girlfriend, Danish model Laila Hasanovic, Veilside-kitted Mazda RX-7s, how riveted wide arch Liberty Walk bodywork hangs from an R35 GT-R for the ultimate kerbside stance, and the extended provenance from the flood of awesome, rare Mercedes (including the original 190E Evo I, an AMG-clad W124 and a custom Cosworth 2.5 boasting Penta wheels and Brabus brakes) that are all parked honourably in their uniform herringbone bays. As Mick gets under the bonnets and kindly signs carbon airboxes for marginally hysterical owners, I wonder if he's handy with the spanners.

"I wish I was," he says, "but I don't have the time. I'm starting to bring more of my cars over to my place so that I eventually will be able to work on them myself and change things that I want to change. Currently, I am very good at taking things apart… maybe less gifted at putting them back together." But since the meteoric rise of social media and documentaries like Netflix's Drive to Survive, racing drivers' personalities have been mainlined into public consciousness. Nowadays, it appears drivers' human interests need to be put on display like the plastic dishes outside Daikoku's service station restaurant windows. Yet here, tonight, Mick seems completely at home and relaxed. "It's risky because I feel like I'm a very private person. I like my privacy. Sometimes when you get people wanting to know more, they get a bit too snoopy. I feel it should be my choice how much I share, and what I share, not people trying to figure that out for me." In this job you get to sniff out the car nuts from the blaggers, and Mick's passion is palpable. It's refreshing to see, and a welcome break from the headlines and hearsay currently surrounding him given he's caught in a gloopy limbo where F1 politics, money and raw talent are all currently fighting each other to work out where he'll race next.

As I type, Mick's currently linked with an LMDh drive with Alpine in next year's World Endurance Championship, a move Mercedes F1's big boss Toto Wolff is fine with, as Mick is "part of the family" and "will always have a home." Mick's tone becomes more forlorn when talking about the future, obviously having had a tough few years and aching to get back into an F1 car. I wonder if it takes its toll, and how he pushes through in times of uncertainty. "Having the right people around you," he says. "You need to try and be mentally in the right space and try and get the best out of the situation so that you can, whenever it's necessary, be in the position that you can jump in and be ready to go." After an evening with Mick, you can't help but wish him the best of luck. If all else fails, he could always lean into drifting and see where that takes him. Sideways Schuey. Has a good ring to it, doesn't it?

[light-effects]

Luken Lightbringer

Class: Combat architect

Age: 25 years old

Personality: Like the speed of light, Luken is constant and unwavering. He is emotionally stable to the point that he seems disinterested. Still, there are evidences that he doesn’t actually want to live like this. Despite his love of spoiling people with affection, Luken will speak his mind without the fear of hurting them. In a way, he's both the kindest and the most heartless person anyone will ever meet.

Luken is a very easygoing and serene person. He suppressed and disassociate his personal thoughts from everything so he never takes anything personally and it’s really hard to emotionally hurt him or make him get truly angry with anybody. Despite that, Luken’s mental fortitude is not invincible and he secretly wish to be treat with delicacy so he does his best to treat people with gentleness and affection he wish he received.

Despite his chill attitude, Luken is discipline and can be stern when need. He’s quite strict with his friends when it comes to manner, living space and disturbing the town. He will not hesitate to scold them if he sees fit. However, Luken tend to assumed that he’s in the right and often forget to listen to the other.

Luken likes to play and listen to emotionless music unemotionally. He loves bland, tasteless food. He also has the tendency to sleep around with lonely people. To everyone’s demise, Luken think he’s cheering people up and helping them out rather than messing around.

The letter describes Luken as "A walking statistical anomaly" and that he is a heartless executioner of the evils.

Fighting style: Luken main weapon is scythe. He mainly relies on achieving momentum, using his scythe and armor's weigh to achieve massive impact force. Despite his size, Luken's physical strength is considerable, given how he can drag and throw his opponent into the air with notable speed using his scythe. When being counter in close range, he will use his arm guard in substitute for shield to defense himself until he got into desired distance once again.

In the case of small space combat, Luken can wield sword where in this case he would hold sword on his right and the sheath on his left. Using it both as a shield and baton, he prefers to knock his opponent with his sheath then thrust them with his sword by surprise. While he does have dagger with him, he'll only use it as a last resort as he personally finds close combat to be his weakest skill.

As an architect, Luken has a habit of setting up trap and use his surrounding to his advantage whether it be structural or geographical. Luken aim is on par with Arland and Lennard, passable but not the best.

Luken’s left eye cornea was damaged and while it is healed up properly without loss of vision, Luken is very sensitive to bright light.

Although Luken write and draw with his left hand, he engages combat with his right hand as the dominant one. He aims, holds sword and dagger on his right hand. Luken mention, this allows him to defense himself without having to stop sketching IMINT note. However, he doesn't seem to have a prefer hand when it comes to his scythe.

Skills and abilities: Luken mainly specializes in creation magic which are separated into macro creation and micro creation. For macro creation, it can be separated into buildings that Luken constructed himself and building that were constructed by others.

In the case of building that were constructed by other, Luken can renovate, adjust or rebuild the building by drawing over its architectural plans. However, the process must be done with care and consideration especially with order of change as wrong part being move in a wrong time can resulted in said building collapsing. He can also do the same to town or city if he ever gets his hand on a city plan.

This also allow him to animate buildings in a way. By politely knocking them and speak his request, he can ask them to move, lock and unlock their entrance or ask them for what they see and hear behind their closed door.

In the case of constructing his own building, Luken can conjured them out of his sketch as long as there are materials. He can also swap the rooms and floors inside like a Rubik cube.

Luken can also animated statues by amputating their head, the statue will return to their static state once their head returned to their body. This results in Luken usually being surrounded by bloodied statues with their hands on their head like they are losing their mind. The animated statue will have mind of its own and can declined to help Luken out. Usually Luken can win them over with a favor or offer like sewing them pretty clothes, move them to places they want to be or destroy another statue for them.

For micro creation, Luken can create, shape and manipulate threads which can be separated into white thread and gold thread. Both types of threads are indestructible as long as Luken's magic is active.

The white thread is less deathly and can be used to bind his opponent, weave safety net, conjure trap and aid him when he climbs mountain or building. Any threads and fabrics can be conjure into white thread, but he might not be able to return them to their original form.

The gold thread though, will cut anything in its path and it is being weaponized by Luken more often than the white thread. The gold threads are special threads Luken milled and blessed by himself which he wears underneath his outer tunic in the form of fishnet fabric.

Other notes:

1. Luken tend to use his gardening scythe to fight and use his war scythe for gardening.

2. Luken‘s tunic is hand dyed using flowers he grows; he re-dye it once every week or the color will fade.

3. He own the place that the group is staying at which is a renovated abandon hospital in the forest.

[orangepeelshortbreadcookies]

So I'm seeing quite a bit of seething outrage in the tag and maybe I'm just adding fuel to the fire here but... the Netflix adaption was pretty good? It's not perfect, the modern storyline in the first two episodes are quite bad in parts (thanks a lot, Auggie 🙄). Some of the dialogue is also weird and clunky in the first two episodes. But it really, genuinely picks up the pace afterward. First and foremost, the visuals are beautiful. I like how the show expanded on the characters in modern times, adore the friendship between the Oxford Five, and I'm in delulu about Jin's and Will's ending (something something ships in the night 😭). Even Auggie has her moments in later episodes, and I find myself pretty satisfied with the end of her arc. The transition from page to screen is mostly effective, and I appreciate that they can just let the visual storytelling do the talking instead of just a lot of declarative statements for character introduction in the books, that could (at least to me) get tedious at times.

I find it to be one of the adaptions where the changes make sense. The diverse cast makes sense. The book takes place in China but it's a story about humanity. Plus you already have your all-Chinese adaptation (a few times as well). Widening the geographic scope to get a new perspective on the story is a pretty valid reason for an adaption. Plus, transnational adaptions happen All. The. Time. Taking shows and movies from other countries and putting your own national take on it is a pretty popular practice. China definitely does it.

The Netflix show has these intimate, quiet moments that are very compelling, and the besutiful music helps further highlight that. On the other hand, I can see where the white-washing argument from some of y'all came from. While I don't necessarily agree with it, I think it's a reductive and just not very accurate description for this show in particular, there are however certain scenes that I would dub Joseph Campbell-infected, which seems more fair and specific to me.

Something that's more baffling to me is the disagreement over Ye Wenjie's portrayal in the show. That she's a bitter, mental old lady in comparison to her counterpart in the book. Did we read the same book??? What did I miss? How was she not a bitter, mental old lady in the book? It's the whole point of her character. That she was a deeply lonely, traumatised woman whose repressed anger and resentment were indistinguishable with intellectualism and who mistook her cynicism for objectivity. Of course she was mental. She was in the midst of a silent breakdown, for otherwise an emotionally functional person would not have made the choice she did and DOOMED THE ENTIRE HUMANRACE TO EXTINCTION. Also her confession to Shi Qiang in the book? Where she believed that the Trisolaran would save humanity based solely on the fact that they are more technologically advanced? That was bonkers. She echoed the sentiment of many real people from her generation, people of invaded countries who look upon the historical colonialism fondly or as a desired solution, because the system in power has failed them. I know actual people like that in my life. They are my loved ones, and they enforce such beliefs on their children, us, like how Wenjie condemned her belief upon the rest of humanity. It's a complex, thorny legacy to carry, and it is insane that we have to carry it. Wenjie is a genius, she's a grieving, empathetic woman who could not access her emotions in a healthy way because she was fucked over in 100 different directions, AND she is an old, bitter, intergalactic war criminal whose mental state is definitely in jeorpady. She is all these things, and both the actresses in the Netflix show did a phenomenal job of portraying every facet of her character.

[ragnarlothcat]

I did not grow up in a sports family (outside of March Madness and college basketball) so picking a team is like a commitment seeing as one is not given to me by location or family ties, and the fact that I don't have sports friends lol. I would use location to pick my team however I am smack dab between the Red Sox and the Yankees and I refuse either of them on principal (also their mascots suck)

I've written all the teams down and have decided I will attempt to watch one game each and go from there to support me emotionally when the Rockies lose 100 games again this year the Rays having real rays tho is a selling point...

Oh yeah I don't even think the Yankees have a mascot. They also have no beards and no names (on their jerseys, this probably isn't a Spirited Away situation) so idk what they have against fun (and warm chins). Your best bet is definitely to find a cooler team even if they're inconveniently located!

I like your solution of watching one game from each team. I think I'd do something similar if I ever got into American football because I don't have a geographically relevant team. Just see where the vibes take you! And cheering for a terrible team can be kind of liberating. You know they're not going to make it to the World Series but they often have a bunch of rookies they've just called up so you can see future hall of famers when they're just babies figuring things out, full of possibilities!