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honeypiehotchner · 3 years

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Version of You (Hotch x Fem!Reader) — one shot

Call 1-800-799-7233 if you think you are in danger/a victim of domestic violence, or visit this website for resources, live chat, and more (for the USA). This is a link to the wikipedia page that has international resources.

(I wanted to put that first because this fic deals with an abusive relationship and some scenes show the abuse. If you relate to any this, please seek help via the resources above. I want desperately to say my DMs are open, but for my own mental wellbeing, I have to let you know that the resources that I give above are about all I can do to help. You’re welcome to DM me if needed, but please know that it might take me a minute to reply, and I still will point you in the direction of resources that can better help you. I love and support and am with every single one of you, but I can only do so much through a screen xx.)

This is 100% a comfort fic, but I am safe and okay, I promise 💛 (Truthfully, this was really therapeutic to write.)

Small note: mental and verbal abuse is depicted here, not physical (though it does come close), but I wanted to remind you that just because abuse isn’t physical doesn’t mean it’s not harmful or real. Mental and verbal abuse is still abuse.

Summary: Hotch helps you find the courage within you to end your abusive relationship for good.

Warnings: depiction of an abusive relationship, verbal/mental abuse, violence (domestic and otherwise), angst, happy ending

Hotch Masterlist

Aaron is stunned and disappointed to find you’re still at your desk when he walks out of his office at the grand hour of 8 p.m.

You don’t even hear his office door open or close, but you do hear his footsteps on the stairs. By the time he reaches your desk to say goodnight, you’re already attempting to cover up any traces of emotion on your cheeks.

But Aaron is a profiler. On top of that, though, he’s one of your best friends. He’s known you for six years now, and given how much time the BAU members spend together on cases, he’d argue he knows every single person here better than they know themselves.

You’d agree. You hardly know who you are anymore. But somehow, Aaron knows. Aaron can see.

“What’s wrong?” He asks, already setting his bag down, already pulling a chair over, already sitting next to you.

You’re ready to tell him it’s nothing, to tell him to get home to Jack, that it isn’t important — but it is.

You’ve been with your current partner for almost eight years. Anyone would hear that and ask if marriage is on the horizon, or children, or something of the sort. But not Aaron. Because Aaron can see the pain in your eyes.

Truthfully, he’s seen that pain in your eyes for the past two years. Maybe more.

But recently, it’s gotten worse. A lot worse.

You’re on a “break” with your partner. Whatever a “break” even means, because you still receive phone calls and texts from them all day. You send the calls to voicemail unless you absolutely aren’t doing anything, and the texts you reply to with one word.

Going home is fine because your partner is gone — for now. Work called them away, so you’re home alone for at least another three days, but you expect they’ll want you to pick them up from the airport.

You’ve never longed for a case the way you’re longing for one right now.

This “break” has been easiest because your partner has been gone. You know if they were here, it wouldn’t have been a break at all.

“It’s made me realize that I...I want a break. A real break.”

“You want to break up,” Aaron says it for you, knowing you’re too afraid.

Your hesitant nod confirms this for him. “I do. I think I really do.”

Aaron has known the relationship hasn’t been the healthiest. You don’t open up about your personal life that much at work — you never have — but it has always been telling that you never go out for drinks with the team. And when you did, you’d have to answer texts every ten minutes. Your partner never accepted an invite to join the team for drinks or dinner, but would often get angry at you for being out, as if you hadn’t tried to invite them.

Raised voices, broken glass. Not a single hand was ever laid on you. No, instead, it was a wine glass your mom gifted to you when you graduated college when your partner was angry that you had gone out for drinks with the team after a difficult case. A coffee mug you gifted your partner for their birthday faced the brunt of their anger when you didn’t reply to a text message fast enough — because you were parking your car in the garage. Plates, picture frames. A coffee table once, three years ago. It had been a house warming present.

But they’ve never hurt me, you always argue — only with yourself. No one knows the truth, that you clean up after their outbursts, that you’re grateful to have some knowledge of first aid so you can tend to your cuts from the broken glass, or so that you could stitch up your partner’s hand with ease, because hospitals are expensive and the excuses you’d have to fabricate even more so.

They always apologize. Which is true. Apologies are frequent in your house. Sometimes verbal, sometimes in the form of flowers either on your desk at the BAU (that only Hotch seems to notice with a sad smile) or left on the counter at home. Sometimes, rarely, a fancy dinner and some gift, usually a necklace.

“If you need any help at all,” Aaron says, looking you in your eyes, carefully, intently. “I’m here. For anything.”

“Thanks,” you murmur. Your stomach rumbles loudly in the silence, making you chuckle awkwardly.

“Hungry?” He jokes, but is half serious. “I was planning to get something on the way home, if you’d like to join.”

You think it over for a moment. Your mind immediately jumps to say no because you think your partner is home...but they aren’t.

“Sure,” you say. “Why not. What’s on the menu?”

You gather your things and Hotch waits patiently, rattling off some ideas for food to eat until one grabs your attention.

Your phone buzzes with a text. Where are you?

Aaron notices your change in posture with a sigh. “Is that them?”

You nod slowly. “Asking where I am.” You quickly type back, Still at the BAU.

The reply is almost immediate, as always. Just checking. Love you.

Relief washes over you as you type back, Love you too.

Aaron doesn’t like what he sees. The panic that surges through you just from a text message, making you stand up straight, hold your breath, clench your jaw. Then the relief that relinquishes you when a reply comes and it isn’t negative for once. The sudden changes, the way your emotions are yanked back and forth. He hates it.

But he doesn’t mention it. Instead, he says, “Ready?” And waits for you to smile.

+++

Hotch really doesn’t mean for dinner with you to turn into somewhat of a routine. But it does.

It’s brought more smiles to your face than Hotch thinks he has ever seen in the past six years. And for that, he doesn’t regret the dinners.

Neither do you, until the worst thing that could possibly happen ends up happening one night, three weeks since the first dinner.

Your partner is going out with friends, so you think you’re in the clear to get dinner with Aaron. And when your partner asks where you are again, you say you’re still at the BAU. You were, but you and Aaron were in the elevator to leave when you sent that message.

The two of you grab dinner at one of your favorite spots, at a table outside because the weather is perfect, the sky is clear, and stars are beginning to show. It’s magical. Until it’s a nightmare.

“Well, well, well.”

The voice sends shivers down your spine. They’re supposed to be out with friends.

Aaron automatically stands, shoulders squared and face set. He’s wearing his gun, and you are, too, but you’d never use it on your partner. You can’t say the same about Hotch, though, and that terrifies you.

“Babe,” you say with a smile, and Hotch tenses, hearing the pet name fall so easily form your lips. “What are you doing here? I thought you were going out with your friends?”

Your partner crosses their arms over their chest. “And I thought you were still at work.”

“We are,” Hotch speaks up, startling you. “We’re discussing a case.”

Your partner looks around, raising their eyebrows. “I don’t see any papers.”

“Because we went digital five years ago,” Hotch replies coolly. “But aside from that, a federal investigation is none of your business.”

You swallow thickly, waiting for your partner’s reply.

But to your surprise, they only nod. “I understand, sir. I was only checking.”

Hotch holds back a scoff, but instead returns the nod. “If you’ll excuse us.”

Your partner holds their hands up in surrender. “Of course.”

“I’ll see you at home,” you say quickly. “Love you.”

“See you at home,” they reply, making you frown as they turn and walk away.

When you look back at Hotch, you nearly scream. It takes everything in you not to make the hugest scene right there, outside this nice restaurant, underneath these stars.

Your phone buzzes. One hour. Do not be late.

“Y/N—”

“Don’t,” you say quietly. “Just. Don’t, Hotch.”

+++

The next day, you knock on Hotch’s office door, twenty dollar bill in hand to pay him back for your dinner last night. You left in a hurry and didn’t get to pay. Thankfully, at least, arriving home with forty minutes to spare saved you from an even worse reaction from your partner.

“For dinner last night,” you mumble, sliding the twenty across Hotch’s desk. “Thank you.”

As you turn on your heel to leave, Hotch calls out to you. “I’m sorry.”

You sigh. “It’s okay.”

“It’s not,” Aaron says, making you turn back around. “I hope you’re...alright.”

You’re so very far from being “alright” that you almost laugh. Instead, you shrug. “It’s been worse.”

“Did they hit you?”

You’re too shocked to move. “What? No! Why the hell would you even say that?”

“Because I’ve been worried about you.”

“They have never laid a hand on me,” you snap. “Ever.”

“But they’ve come close,” Aaron says gently. “You know they have.”

You only scoff. You feel hurt. Insulted, even, that he would assume something like that. Your relationship with your partner is rocky, of course, but never physical abuse rocky. Never that bad.

But has it come close?

Sure, maybe you’ve felt the wind off a beer bottle when it grazed by your head on its way to the wall. Maybe you have had to duck to avoid getting glass to the face. Maybe.

Maybe they have come close. Closer than you want to admit.

But they’ve also loved you. Held you while you cried. Rewarded you after you cleaned up the broken glass. Left you flowers and jewelry and love notes.

They love you. Don’t they?

“It’s fine,” you whisper, blinking back the stubborn tears that have jumped to the front of your eyes. “They love me.”

“Love isn’t violent,” Aaron replies gently. “Love shouldn’t make you as terrified as I saw you when you left last night.”

“I know,” you choke out. “But I don’t know what to do.”

Hotch is rounding his desk and gathering you in his arms before the first tear slips down your cheeks. He holds you while you cry, letting you get it all out.

“We’ll figure it out,” he whispers, resting his chin on top of your head. “Don’t worry.”

+++

It all comes to a head a few nights later when your partner springs a question on you. The question.

There, standing in the bathroom, you’re too stunned to speak.

“What d’you say, baby? Let’s get married, you and me.”

You don’t reply. You toss the makeup wipe in your trash can, flick the light in the bathroom off, and walk out into the bedroom.

“Baby?” They ask.

You’re facing the dresser, halfway to setting out a pair of pants for work tomorrow. “I...I can’t.”

“What?” Their reply is immediate and angry. “What are you talking about?”

“I can’t,” you repeat, refusing to change your answer. “No.”

By the time you turn around, they’re standing up from the bed, arms crossed over their chest. “What did you just say to me?”

“I said no,” you say firmly. “I’m not marrying you.”

“And why not?”

“I—”

“Are you seeing someone else?”

“What?”

“Your boss? Are you fuckin’ him?”

“No!”

“Then why won’t you marry me?”

“Because I don’t want to!”

You’ve never raised your voice back at your partner. They’ve always been the one to raise their voice, and you stayed silent, tried to talk them down, be the quiet voice of reason.

But not anymore. You’ve had enough.

“You don’t want to?” They scream. “It’s been eight years and now you don’t want to. You’re fucking him, aren’t you?”

“I’m not,” you say through gritted teeth. “But I don’t want to be with you anymore.”

“Baby…” They sigh, stepping closer, lowering their arms. “Why not?”

“Because,” you reply slowly, backing up. “Just because.”

“That’s not a good enough reason and you know it.”

“It’s good enough for me,” you say. You step to the side and keep backing out into the hallway, getting ready to run if need be.

“Where are you going?” They all but growl. “What’s wrong with you?”

You’re scaring me, you want to scream, but you don’t. “I’m fine.”

“You’re fine? Well I’m for damn sure not fine, I’m heartbroken,” they seethe. You see the tell-tale signs that they’re about to get angry — angry enough to start throwing things. You realize in a moment of horror that a paperweight is within their reach.

And they reach for it.

“Don’t,” you murmur, freezing when their fingers wrap around the glass. “Put it down.”

“Why?” They ask, calm as ever. “Don’t you want to see what you’ve just done to my heart?”

You shake your head slowly. “No. I’m sorry. I’m sorry, no!” Your reflexes have gotten better since being at the FBI, and you duck right in time. The paperweight crashes against the wall behind you, shattering, denting the wall, and covering the couch in fine pieces of broken glass.

“See what you’ve done!” Your partner screams. “This could’ve been easy! You could’ve said yes!”

You spot your car keys on the counter next to you, and when they turn their back to you to grip at their hair, you slide the keys off and into your pocket.

I have to get out of here. It’s a thought that you never have. Normally by now you’d be vacuuming up the glass on the couch, apologizing every five seconds, pouring them a glass of whiskey or a beer or something. But not now. Not anymore.

You’re a few steps from the door when your partner notices. “Where the fuck are you going?”

“Nowhere,” you freeze. “Go take a shower. Cool off. I’ll clean up this mess and then we can talk about this again, okay?”

They almost don’t accept your offer, but after a second, they nod. “There better be a beer waiting on me when I get out.”

“Of course,” you smile.

Your smile makes them suspicious, but they turn and head into the bedroom without another word.

Shaking, you turn to the closet to grab the vacuum, turning it on and beginning to suck up the glass off the couch.

But when you hear the shower curtain pull closed, you escape, leaving the vacuum running.

+++

It’s pouring down rain, you aren’t wearing any shoes, and you’re knocking on your boss’s front door. Can your life get any more pathetic?

When Aaron opens the door, he’s practically hauling you inside and out of the rain.

“What’s wrong?” Aaron asks, already leading you down the hall toward the bathroom. “You’re shivering, we need to get you out of these clothes — you aren’t wearing shoes, fuck, Y/N, what happened?”

“They asked me to marry them,” you choke out. You aren’t even crying. You haven’t cried yet at all. “I said no. They almost hit me.”

Aaron feels a dangerous surge of anger course through his body. “Did they hit you?”

You shake your head, and it turns into a full-body shiver.

“Okay,” Aaron says, taking a deep breath to ground himself. “Okay, let me get some clothes for you. Do you want to take a shower?”

You shake your head again.

“Okay, that’s okay. I’ll be right back.”

You sit, shivering, on your boss’s toilet for a few minutes before he returns with clothes. A t-shirt and pair of sweatpants of his. Old ones, he says, they don’t fit him anymore. You smile slightly when you realize the shirt is from his college, the sweatpants from his law school. No wonder they don’t fit him anymore.

“I’m sorry I didn’t call,” you say. “I—I think I left my phone there.”

“It’s okay,” Aaron shakes his head. “Don’t worry about that. Just get changed and get warm. Do you want some tea? Anything?”

“Just some water, please,” you murmur. “Thank you.”

“No problem,” he smiles.

After he leaves, you change out of your wet clothes and into his shirt and sweatpants. You carefully hang your wet shirt and shorts over the edge of the bathtub, hoping that’s okay.

You venture out of the bathroom and follow the noise into the kitchen where you find Aaron putting up dishes.

“Hey,” he murmurs, straightening up. “Do you want ice with your water?”

“Um, sure.”

The sound of ice clinking into the glass makes you flinch, and you’re grateful Aaron’s back is turned away from you.

“There you go,” he hands you the glass.

“Thank you.”

You sip it quietly while he goes back to putting up the rest of the clean dishes in the dishwasher. Once he finishes, your heart is still racing, now with guilt from coming here unannounced. What if he was on a date? What if Jack was here?

“The guest room is all yours,” Aaron says softly. “If you want to talk about it, I’m here.”

You nod slowly. “I don’t know what to do.” You pause, rubbing your thumb over the condensation on the glass. “But I told them I’m not marrying them. But I...I didn’t tell them I was leaving. Or where I was going.”

“Good, that’s good.”

“No,” you shake your head. “It’s not. They’re gonna be mad. I can’t— Oh my god, I can’t go back. Not alone, they’ll—”

“Hey,” Aaron shushes you, walking around the counter to get to you. “Don’t worry about it right now. We’ll figure it out. I’ll go with you. You won’t be alone.”

“Thank you.”

+++

The next morning, you and Aaron head into the office early so you have time to grab your go-bag and change into your work clothes that you left in there.

Thank God for having a job like this where it’s normal to have a few changes of clothes, a toothbrush, deodorant, and anything else you need in a duffle bag under your desk.

You and Aaron are the first people in the BAU, so you’re able to grab your bag and head to the bathroom to change without any questions. Once you return, you stuff the bag back under your desk and sit down, ready to bury yourself in reports for the day.

But before you can, Hotch calls you into his office.

“What’s up?” You ask when you step into the doorway.

“We didn’t eat breakfast,” he says, and that’s when you notice the two coffees and muffins sitting on his desk.

“Oh,” you chuckle. “I completely forgot.”

“Me too,” he smiles. “Here, sit.”

The two of you eat the breakfast in silence, but somehow you don’t mind it. You’re not in much of a talking mood, anyway.

Rossi arrives next and stops by Hotch’s office, not at all surprised to find the two of you eating together, though he does join with his coffee a few minutes later. The silence vanishes with Rossi, leaving laughter in its wake as he tells old stories about Hotch.

When the rest of the team arrives, they follow the noise to Hotch’s office, and soon you’re surrounded by your family. Your real family.

Once eight-thirty rolls around, you all begin to disperse, back to your respective spaces to start working for the day, and everything feels normal.

And then, in a matter of seconds, it isn’t.

The second your eyes land on your partner standing down in the bullpen, you fall to your knees, scaring the shit out of Hotch.

“What happened?” He blurts, kneeling down to you. “Are you okay?”

“No,” you shake your head. “No, no, no...No, Hotch, they’re out there.”

Hotch doesn’t need their name. The fear on your face is enough.

About this time, you hear Derek’s voice growing in volume. The most you can make out is, “Put...down…!” And that’s when your blood runs ice cold.

You pat your right hip, hoping, praying, your weapon is magically there, even though you know it’s not. You put it in the safe when you got home last night. You didn’t have time to grab it before you ran out and drove to Hotch’s place. You left it there, in the safe, because you never think twice about it since it’s locked away.

But now…

“Don’t do this, man,” Derek yells. “Put. It. Down.”

“Where is she?” Your partner yells. “Tell me where she is!”

“I’m not telling you shit until you put the gun down,” Derek says, firmly. You’re frozen in place, on the floor next to Hotch’s desk as you listen.

“They have my gun,” you whisper to Hotch. “I didn’t think they— I don’t know how they knew the code, I change it every week, I thought—”

“Hey, hey, don’t worry,” Hotch shushes you. “You stay here. Do not move. Try to get under my desk if you can.” He pauses. “There’s an extra pistol underneath. I want you to grab it just in case.”

You nod, but then a memory of last night grips you. “No! You can’t go out there!” You hiss, gripping Hotch’s arm.

Outside, you hear Emily’s voice adding to Derek’s, trying to talk your partner down. It’s a scene out of a horror movie. Straight from your worst nightmare.

“They already feel threatened by you, they’ll just shoot you the second they see you.”

“Not when they already have five guns on them.”

“Let me come with you,” you offer.

“No. Absolutely not.”

“Aaron, I have eight years of experience talking them down. I know what I’m doing.”

Hotch doesn’t like that you’re right.

“Are you sure?” He asks.

You nod. You’re shaking all over, but you still nod.

“Okay. Crawl over and grab the pistol from my desk. Tuck it in your waistband, on your back. Go now.”

You stay low as you crawl over, finding the pistol strapped underneath his desk on the right side. Once it’s tucked in your waistband, you stand, facing the window. Hotch stands too, with his back to the blinds, and thank God they’re closed.

“Is she in there?” You hear your partner scream. “Is she with him?”

“Shit,” you mutter. “Shit, shit, shit, they’re gonna fucking kill me.” You hate that the possibility is very real. They have your gun. They could shoot you the second they see you. You’re not wearing any protective gear.

“No,” Hotch replies. “I’m not letting that happen.”

“Come out here, you lying bitch!”

Hotch looks ready to kill your partner himself.

“Babe?” You call out, putting on a false tone, the same one you always use when talking them down. “Babe, what are you doing here?”

You step into the doorway, feeling another frozen chill of fear shoot straight down your spine. They look crazed. Insane, even. Worse than you’ve ever seen, worse than last night, worse than the last eight years.

“Don’t babe me,” your partner seethes, but the gun is still trained on Derek.

You know it makes no sense, but you want them to turn the gun on you. Not Derek. Derek can’t be hurt because of you, not like this.

“Put the gun down,” you say, trying to stay calm and sweet, the way you usually have to be at home.

“I’m not listening to a damn thing you say,” your partner yells, and then the gun turns on you. “There he is.” The gun isn’t aimed at you. It’s on Aaron.

“Put it down,” Aaron’s level voice floats through the terror roaring in your ears. “I won’t ask again.” He shifts and you realize then that he has his own weapon trained on your partner.

“You won’t need to. Come out from behind my fiancé you coward.”

“She’s not your fiancé,” Hotch says. “And you won’t shoot her.”

“Want to bet on it?” Your partner lowers the gun slightly, now pointing it straight at your chest. Strangely, you don’t feel any panic surge through you. It’s telling. That even now, your head is telling you, they won’t hurt me, they never hurt me before.

“Don’t do it,” Derek yells. “I will shoot you, man. Don’t do it. You have six guns pointed at you right now. Do you really want to do this?”

The metal of Aaron’s pistol bites into your lower back when you shift on your heels. Your arms are frozen by your side, too afraid to reach for the gun.

“Put it down,” Rossi yells.

“You’ve got five seconds,” Derek adds. “Don’t make me get to one. Five. Four.”

Your partner’s fingers twitch on the trigger. Aaron catches the movement. Nods once when Derek says three. And on two, Derek pulls the trigger before your partner can do it first.

A broken scream rips from your chest when the bullet lodges itself in your partner’s side, your gun clattering to the ground. Derek steps forward and kicks the gun further away, out of reach.

Hotch lifts you around your waist and pulls you back into his office, kicking the door closed with his foot.

You’re numb to everything as he sits you down on the couch, wrapping his arms around you as you finally sob, letting out every scream that you’ve been holding in.

+++

Your partner is taken to the hospital to be treated for the gunshot wound.

Hotch tells you they won’t stand a chance at being acquitted, too many charges looming over their head already without the addition of domestic violence. You hardly hear his words, but you nod like you do.

He takes care of you while the commotion outside struggles to calm down. A blanket is wrapped around your shoulders, you hug a pillow to your chest, sniffling every few minutes as fresh tears cascade down your cheeks. Spencer brings you a mug of steaming tea that you barely manage to thank him for. Hotch thanks him properly for you before softly shutting his office door.

For months, you’ve been thinking about leaving them. For so long, you’ve wondered what life might be like without them. Now, you don’t know a thing.

You don’t know what to do. Where to go. Will you have to testify in court? If you do, will you have to talk about the...abuse? The abuse that you can barely bring yourself to label blatantly as abuse even though Aaron, your brain, everyone screams at you that that’s what it is — abusive behavior.

When you were a teenager, and even in your early twenties, learning about signs of abusive, unhealthy relationships, you never thought you’d end up in one. You thought surely you’d recognize the first signs and get out of there.

But instead, you did exactly what they said most people do. You brushed them off. You thought, oh, they just love me deeply, that’s all. They want what’s best for me, that’s all. They want me to be safe and protected, that’s all.

And that’s lovely, but there’s a difference. Between caring and controlling.

You never thought the difference would be so hard to see.

“Come on,” Aaron’s soft voice pierces through your thoughts. “Let’s get you out of here.”

You blink. “Where?”

“Wherever you want to go,” he replies gently. “Your apartment?”

Immediately, you shake your head. But then you pause. Because aside from your apartment and the BAU, you have nowhere else to go.

“Would you be comfortable going back to my apartment?” He asks. “I understand if it’s uncomfortable. I’m sure Garcia or Prentiss would be happy to let you stay with them, and I’ll gladly send them home with you.”

As much as you love Garcia and Prentiss, you strangely feel more comfortable with Aaron. After all, Pen and Emily don’t— or didn’t know about your partner’s behavior. Only Hotch knew.

“If you don’t mind, I’m...I’m okay with your place.”

“I don’t mind at all,” he smiles. “The guest room is yours for as long as you need.”

That makes you smile, though the expression feels foreign on your lips. “Don’t you have to stay?”

“It can be dealt with tomorrow,” he replies. “The paperwork will still exist tomorrow at eight a.m.”

“Okay,” you accept defeat. “Can I take this blanket?” You don’t like the idea of this weight leaving your shoulders.

“Of course,” he says.

You fall asleep in the car.

You didn’t mean to, but you were exhausted. And by the time you woke, Aaron had already carried you into his apartment. Startled, you gripped his arm a little too tight, but he shushed you carefully, letting you know you’re safe, he just didn’t want to wake you because you were sleeping so soundly.

He set you down on the guest bed where you tried and failed to get some rest last night, but now, you sleep like a baby.

+++

Months after the incident, the guest room at Aaron’s apartment has become your temporary home.

You still haven’t been back to the apartment you owned with your partner — even though their name is on the lease, not yours. You went once with Aaron to pick up your clothes and anything else important, but it was a quick trip. You were desperate to get out of there.

Aaron didn’t like what he saw. The broken glass, the dents in the walls. The way your body language changed immediately. Your unwillingness to return there is fine by him.

It’s a slow, uphill battle as you begin to heal. Your partner still sits in jail, awaiting their trial date. You know you might have to testify, but you know your team might have to be there as well, so that makes you feel better.

Aaron has been incredibly respectful of your space. You were the one who brought up the idea of carpooling to work, one of you driving every other day, to save on gas for the both of you. He had assumed you wanted to drive on your own and always have your car — which is true, but you didn’t mind riding with him.

He’s the only one your terrified brain doesn’t seem to be scared of.

And you’re not complaining. You’re grateful to feel a small ounce of safety after feeling every sense of unsafe for the past eight years.

+++

Your ex-partner’s trial comes and goes in the following three months. You did testify, along with the rest of your team, the verdict is guilty. Life in prison.

You wept on the steps of the courthouse from the sheer relief of it all.

“They’ll never hurt you again,” Aaron had told you and you didn’t believe him for one second.

Still now, as you know for a fact they are sitting in a prison cell, you have a small fear. But you think you always will.

You continue “rooming” with Aaron — that’s the best way you can think to put it — and you’ve come to really enjoy the weekends when Jack comes over. At the start, Aaron would try to take Jack out to the park to give you time alone, or you’d go spend some time with Penelope, but after a while, you started staying. And after a little while longer, Jack started warming up to you, and expecting your presence.

One weekend, you hear Jack and Aaron playing in the living room while you’re in Aaron’s office, trying to get some work done. And halfway through signing your name on a piece of paperwork, you hear Jack “whispering” to Aaron about you.

“Do you like her?” Jack whispers, but it definitely comes across as more of a soft shout.

Aaron’s eyes widen, and he presses his index finger to his lips. “A lot,” he says, but you don’t hear him — though you were straining pretty hard.

“Me too,” Jack giggles. “Is she your girlfriend?” He teases, poking his dad with his Lego sculpture.

Aaron pokes his son back with his own design. “No, buddy, she isn’t.” Again, you can’t hear him, but Jack’s question made your heart hammer in your chest.

You know you’ve had some feelings begin to develop because truthfully, they were blooming months ago, back when you began having dinner with Aaron. But then everything happened, and you still loved your ex, and things got too complicated.

Now, though, seven months out from the start of it all, the feelings are still there.

Aaron hasn’t made any moves, so you’ve kept silent. You don’t know how much of his good deeds are simply out of his own kindness. And you certainly don’t want to mistake it for something it’s not.

But kids pick up on things adults try hardest to hide.

You continue with your paperwork, listening to them continue to play.

It’s not until after Jack goes home to Hailey that his question is brought up, and it’s only because Aaron asked what was bothering you.

“It’s alright if you don’t want to talk about it,” he says. “But I’m here if you do.”

He’s always here. That’s what made you have a crush on him in the first place, years ago. He’s always there for anyone who needs him.

“I heard you and Jack earlier,” you start. “When he asked if I’m your girlfriend.”

Aaron sighs. “I’m sorry. I think it’s just confusing for him because to him, living together equals relationship since all he’s known is me and Hailey—”

“I’d like to be,” you interrupt his nervous rambling. “If that’s something you’d like, too.”

He blinks a few times, then smiles. “You…” He pauses. “Are you sure?”

“Aaron, I’ve liked you for so long and never said anything—”

“I’ve liked you for so long and never said anything,” he counters. “You’re serious?”

“Very,” you whisper.

When he kisses you, it’s what you’ve longed for all this time. It’s exactly what you’ve been yearning for. It’s exactly the kind of love you know now that you deserve.

Recovery has been messy, and will continue to be messy for some time, but you’ll have Aaron next to you every step of the way. Always.

#aaron hotchner #aaron hotchner x fem!reader #aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner x you #aaron hotchner one shot #aaron hotchner angst #aaron hotchner fluff #tw domestic violence #tw abuse #criminal minds #version of you song fic #criminal minds songfic #aaron hotchner songfic #version of you #hotch x fem!reader #hotch x reader #hotch x you

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blacktofade · 3 years

Note

pls oh god of fics pls grant thee touch starved Shane and oblivious Ryan in shyan ship *bows down* (i sent one before and donno if u actually got it cuz it showed error so im sending in another try)

I didn’t get your other ask unfortunately, but this is an idea I’ve been wanting to write like 10k for, but I know I’ll never have the energy. So it’s a little ficlet instead.

CW: Includes post-kidnapping, malnutrition, and an embarrassing lack of touching for a touch-starved prompt.

Shane disappears on September 17th. Ryan only remembers because they’d been scheduled to shoot an episode of Weird and/or Wonderful World and he’d had to eventually make the uncomfortable call to the Los Angeles County Arboretum and Botanic Garden to cancel their tour and interview.

It had been funny at first with Shane’s habitual lateness. They’d all assumed he’d slept late, forgot what day it was, and completely blanked on the filming schedule.

It’s less funny a week later when a missing person’s report is filed and Shane’s parents fly out to stay with Scott while they wait for any kind of news.

Detective Flores finds him two states over, a month and a half later. There are six hostages in total, as part of some elaborate heist that’s foiled before it comes to fruition. Shane’s kept in hospital for almost a full week, treated for malnutrition and a few general injuries, the news passed to Ryan through Scott via a DM on Instagram.

For the first time since Shane’s disappearance, Ryan sleeps through the whole night.

On the Saturday following Shane’s return, Ryan wakes to a phone call at eight in the morning.

“Hello?” he answers, voice rough from sleep, brain barely online.

“I’m sorry,” Shane apologizes, but his voice alone is enough to wake up Ryan the rest of the way. It’s the first he’s heard from him. He’d been trying to give the family space and knew Shane would find him once he was ready. Apparently, now is that time. “Can you come pick me up?”

“Sure,” Ryan agrees instantly, shoving back the covers and getting out of bed. “Where are you?”

“My apartment,” Shane admits and Ryan pauses from where he’s trying to dig out a pair of clean pants. “I just need a break.”

“Sure,” Ryan repeats. “I’ll be there in twenty.”

It’s quiet on the other end of the line before, quietly, Shane says, “Thanks, Ryan.”

Shane’s waiting at the curb when Ryan pulls up.

Ryan unlocks the door and watches Shane fold himself into his seat, waiting a moment for Shane to settle before reaching over to set a hand on his knee, squeezing gently.

“Hey man,” he says gently. “Long time no see.”

Shane startles at the touch, but glances over, offering a small smile in return.

He looks different. His face is thinner, his cheekbones a little more prominent, and there’s a new scar on the right side of his forehead that disappears into his hairline.

“Hey,” Shane replies, buckling his seatbelt and giving Ryan a view of his right hand, which has two fingers splinted together. “Thanks for coming.”

“Everything okay?”

“Yeah, why wouldn’t it be?”

Ryan stares at him incredulously and eventually Shane looks away, out the passenger side window.

“It’s just hard being surrounded by everyone right now,” he says, clearly talking about his family. “I need a break.”

Ryan checks over his shoulder and pulls back onto the road.

“Is my apartment okay? Or did you want to go somewhere else?”

“Your place is fine,” Shane tells him, and from the corner of his eye, Ryan sees him turn his head, staring as though Ryan won’t notice.

At the next red light, Ryan glances over. “How are you doing?”

Shane looks away, clearly caught. “Getting tired of people asking me that. It’s all anyone asks these days.”

“Guess they just want to know you’re okay.”

Shane glances back towards him. “Could be better,” he says bluntly and Ryan can’t help but let out a quiet huff of laughter.

“Yeah, no shit. But the hospital cleared you?”

“Yeah,” Shane sighs. “Apart from a few broken fingers and some weight loss, I’m okay.”

“I missed you,” Ryan admits. “It’s probably the longest I’ve gone without seeing you since we started at BuzzFeed.”

Shane frowns like he’s thinking and then the frown deepens. “Jesus, you might be right.”

Ryan laughs again. “Horrifying thought, huh?”

“Puts things in perspective.”

“Didn’t you miss me?” Ryan asks jokingly, but Shane doesn’t answer, just laughs quietly.

“It’s weird,” Shane says. “I was never alone, but it feels like I have to relearn how to be around people now.”

Ryan had read the news after Shane’s rescue. There had been five others saved alongside Shane, so he suspects they might be the reason Shane wasn’t alone.

Ryan shrugs gently. “Adjusting is hard, and I’m sure it’s even harder with your family refusing to let you out of their sights.”

Shane shakes his head. “You have no idea. I was in the shower for twenty minutes this morning and they started knocking on the door to see if I was still alive.”

“Rough,” Ryan laments. “Well, you’re welcome to chill at my place for as long as you need.”

“Can I move in?” Shane jokes, but Ryan just shrugs.

“If that’s what you want.”

It’s silent for a moment before Shane says, “Thanks, I appreciate it.”

Ryan offers him a smile. “Of course, dude. It’s what I’m here for.”

It’s quiet for the rest of the drive until Ryan pulls into his usual parking spot and glances over. “You good?

Shane nods and carefully unbuckles his seatbelt. “Yeah, I’ve got it.”

Ryan’s chest tightens watching Shane limp his way towards the front door, but he knows the last thing Shane needs is more helicoptering.

“Can I get you anything?” Ryan asks as he shuts the door behind them, watching Shane glance around as though he expects Ryan to have redecorated during his disappearance, but ultimately Shane shakes his head. “Okay, well, make yourself at home. You know the drill. I’m gonna go grab a drink.”

He knows Shane can find his own way to the living room, so he moves around him, heading in the direction of the kitchen instead.

“Ryan?” Shane questions and Ryan pauses, turning back.

“Yeah?”

Shane hesitates like he doesn’t know how to get the words out, but after a moment, he takes two steps closer and draws Ryan into a hug instead.

Ryan isn’t entirely expecting it. Shane’s not a touchy-feely guy, which means Ryan can probably count on one hand the amount of times they’ve hugged. But Shane folds around him so tightly that it startles the breath right out of him.

“I did miss you,” Shane mutters and Ryan lifts his hands to reciprocate, holding Shane as hard as he dares when everything feels so fragile.

“I was really worried,” Ryan admits. “I thought you’d been killed.”

He finds himself rubbing one hand along Shane’s spine, trying to soothe him as Shane tucks his face against his shoulder.

“You were gone for a long time,” Ryan continues.

He can feel the warmth of Shane’s breath through his shirt as he exhales shakily. “They broke my fingers when I tried to escape.”

Ryan holds him tighter, needing them both to understand that Shane’s safe again. Having the weight of Shane leaning against him is grounding in a way he never knew it could be. About a month into Shane’s disappearance, Ryan had gone through a mourning period, assuming he’d never see Shane again. He finds tears prickling his eyes as the relief hits him solidly in the chest.

“God, Shane,” he murmurs and he’s not sure who’s comforting who.

The warmth of Shane spreads through him, all the way down to his toes, like a cup of hot soup on a cold day. Except that Ryan never realized he was too cold until this moment. He feels alive and whole again, and he knows he can’t even begin to understand what Shane experienced. The fact that he can feel every ridge of Shane’s spine as his hand passes along it says enough.

When he finally starts feeling like Shane’s probably ready to let go, he loosens his arms and shifts, one foot lifting to take a step backwards.

“Just a little longer,” Shane requests and Ryan’s more than happy to comply, a noise of agreement escaping as he nods.

“I’ll stay here as long as you need,” Ryan tells him. “It’s just good to have you back.”

“It’s good to be back,” Shane replies and tightens his grip again like he might never let go.

To be honest, Ryan’s okay with that. He holds on just as tightly and settles against Shane, finally feeling happy again for the first time in months.

#thing wot i wrote #fic #shyan #prompts 2021 #benaya-trash #benaya trash

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mistyeyedpea · 3 years

Text

Me losing sleep over this entire post on fb but i had removed it cause i know it would cause issues-

its really crazy that i have my family on here and literally none of them check in on me (other than my mom and dad occasionally checking in)

My grandparents in pr yell at me for never contacting them, but im the one calling their phones and being sent to voicemail. Im the one checking in on my cousins and aunts and grandma. Phones do work both ways ... The last time i saw my aunts was when i had surgery in 2019. I was happy to sew them, but i knew they were just stopping by. I dont get invited to barbeques. My mom never tells me about any family events, but i am never personally invited to begin with by anyone. When i was younger i had a "better" relationship with my family. (We basically actually did things together) But i dont know what has happened. My cousin gives me a ride one time and tried to charge me 10$ for it. For a funeral mind you. I only rode w him cause i missed him.

Same cousin talks abt being woke but still uses terms like "my fav cousin" and says passive aggressive things like "i know who my real family is" when i am just trying to talk to him and see him. This is the treatment i get.

My other cousin that i used to be close to, acts like i dont exist.

I was never able to establish a relationship with my niece bc of this. She doesnt even know who i am.

My youngest cousin whom i love to pieces, i havent seen him in years.

I am currently feeling extra upset because i dont care about the strangers on here, but mainly my family is on here, and they never show to me that they care. Life is short and i just want to say im tired of being made to feel like i dont matter by the people who are supposed to care i spent too much of my life hoping MY FAMILY could understand me. But instead i am cast as the black sheep as i was in my youth when my cousins got away with bullying me. I was seen as the problem, and i know why.. i just wont say it cause it will get me in trouble (even at 26 i stilk have ptsd from speaking the truth) And me being young, neurodivergent and lacking boundries i fled to any arms that would accept me, since i was so "broken"

I dont think its me thats broken, after all these years i realize that perhaps im better off without them and this weird limbo they always kept me in.

As a person who has physical limitations, mental health issues, chronic pain etc it should not be me going above and beyond just to have a chance at a reply... or hoping maybe ill get invited this year. No.

If you dont care, i dont care. Tired of watering dead plants.

This is why i cannot wait to move away.

I cant help but think the reason i get treated this way is because i am neurodivergent and any issue anyone else had with me immediately blamed on me being "mentally ill" (ive heard this line too many times) as if they didnt directly do something to trigger me... right.

Anyways im done ranting. If you were mentioned, sorry but you suck and i am in a place where im not sure if i want a relationship with anyone anymore, so you can continue to ignore this like you usually do or apologize to me via dms where i will most likely not reply.

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andtheyweredeskmates · 4 years

Text

Of Lattes and Lingerie- Adrienette Coffee Shop AU Chapter 3

A few quick notes about this, if you’re interested in being added to the taglist please let me know via replies or dm me. Its really encouraging when people tell you they actually want to keep up with your stories.

If you haven’t already, you should read the first two parts

1. and 2.

Also, if you’re on desktop, you should check out blog’s home page because I updated the theme (not my code but there’s a link that gives credit to the creator) and it looks dope as shit. I added links to all my original work (art and fics alike) so if you’re interested in that kind of thing, check it out.

I am gonna add a few end notes to this as well regarding the actual content so I’m not giving spoilers at the beginning. Please forgive me because it took a lot of effort to write this. I hate setting up plots (part oft he reason I’ve never really attempted to publish a fic) but I’m really excited to get into the nitty gritty which should start in the next chapter.

TAGLIST

@catsssmeow

Marinette thought she was going to fall over and die. Her face was blazing, her eyes were wide and when she opened her mouth, all she could manage was a squeak.

“WHAT?!”

She was back at the office again with Audrey and she had never been more thankful to be sitting down in a chair.

“Marinette, the fact of the matter is we don’t have enough models booked for the event and you’re the perfect size. We just need one and quite frankly I’m tired of the agency we’ve been using. So the obvious solution is to use you.”

“But I’m not a model! Audrey you know how clumsy I am! And I can’t wear lingerie! In Public! I’ll die!” Audrey rolled her eyes.

“Don’t be a prude Marinette. You designed them; you can wear them. Besides. I’m not asking. You owe me for the fiasco that was yesterday. Don’t think I didn’t notice that your assistant is still here. Even you can handle walking down a catwalk for 2 minutes without falling over. We’ll practice.”

Marinette was now positive she would fall over and die.

…

The ringing of Adrien’s phone never surprised him. It was common for his phone to ring regularly throughout the day, whether it be work, or Chloe or Nino, there always seemed to be someone that urgently needed to talk to him about something that was never really urgent. No, the ringing was unsurprising. What was surprising however was the Caller ID when Adrien picked up the phone. Adrien nearly dropped it when he looked.

GABRIEL AGRESTE

Adrien paced anxiously around his bedroom, thumb hovering over the red button. He didn’t know if he was ready to confront his father. About anything. He had almost been relieved lately that his father had decided to just ignore him. It had let his anxiety just kind of creep around in the background where Adrien could pretend it wasn’t there. But Adrien knew that he had to speak to his father eventually and it had already been weeks. So with a sigh, he squeezed his eyes shut and hit the answer button.

“Hello? Father?” Adrien winced at the frantic sound of his voice.

“Adrien. It’s Natalie. Your father would like for you to come home to discuss a few matters with you.” Adrien rolled his eyes.

“I don’t suppose he could’ve called me himself to tell me that.”

“Your father is very busy. He has a very important show coming up.”

“Yeah, yeah, when does he want me to come?”

“Tonight. 5:30. He’d like to have dinner with you.”

“I guess there’s a first for everything. Tell him I’ll be there.” The phone clicked. She had hung up. Natalie never had been one for pleasantries. Adrien groaned as he flopped backward onto his bed. Just like that, his anxiety had leapt to the foreground and bitch slapped Adrien, as if to say Don’t forget about me fucker.

While realistically, Adrien knew there was nothing his father could hold over his head, he still felt like his freedom was about to be yanked from his fingers as quickly as he’d grasped it.

…

“Alya, what the hell am I gonna do?” It had been four hours since Marinette had gotten the news and she was still frantic. Alya on the other hand was thoroughly amused.

“Think of this as an opportunity. You can show the world that you can do it all.” It took everything Alya had not to laugh into the phone.

“But I can’t do it all! I can’t just walk across a stage in underwear! I can’t even walk across a stage with clothes on!” Marinette was speaking in hushed tones. She had walked into Dunn’s and she was sure she didn’t want anyone to overhear her predicament. She knew all too well how easy (and fun) it was to eavesdrop in a small coffee shop.

“With a little practice, I’m sure you can pull it off. You just have to be in the right mindset! You’re the most stubborn person I know Marinette, if you tell yourself you’re gonna do it, then you’ll figure out a way to do it.” Marinette put her free hand over her face and groaned as she walked to the coffee line.

“This is a disaster.”

“I guess it’s a triple shot of espresso kind of day huh?” Marinette’s head immediately snapped up to see Tim staring at her expectantly from behind the counter. Marinette flushed as she approached, pulling her wallet out of her purse.

“I’m gonna let you go Alya, talk to you later.”

“Bye girl!” Marinette hung up the phone and looked back at Tim.

“It’s a little embarrassing how well you know me,” she grumbled, throwing a wad of cash onto the counter.

“You learn a lot about a person from their coffee habits,” Tim teased. He counted her cash and handed her the change.

“I’ll bring it out when its ready.”

“Thanks,” Marinette said unenthusiastically. As she walked back to her usual spot, she glanced around. She was disappointed to see that there was no cute blond boy in sight. Nothing to distract her from her thoughts. Not even a project. God, she’d give anything for a project right now. She was spiraling. Contemplating if she really needed a job. Maybe she could just be homeless. Live under a bridge. Beg people for money and then impulsively spend it on coffee. Maybe she could move back home and work in the bakery, forever a failure. That sounded nice.

When Tim handed her the coffee, she took it in her hands and leaned back in her seat with a long deep sigh. She had no idea what the hell she was gonna do.

…

Adrien subconsciously chewed on his lip as he stared at the gate in front of his father’s house. He was definitely not ready for this. He prayed to every god he could think of that at the very least, the night wouldn’t end with death. On second thought, maybe that was too much to ask for.

“Come in Adrien.” Natalie’s robotic voice emanating from the comm system brought Adrien out of his thoughts. He approached hesitantly as the gates opened. He paused at the front door, thinking for just a moment about running away. Locking himself in his apartment with Plagg and never leaving again. Living off Camembert and tap water. Becoming the reclusive cat lady of floor three. That sounded nice.

The front door opened, and Adrien sighed as he walked in.

“Hello Adrien.”

“Hi Natalie. Is my father here?” Natalie gave a curt nod.

“He should be downstairs shortly. He’s finishing up a conference call. He asks that you wait for him at the dinner table.” Adrien nodded and walked back to the dining room. He suddenly felt massively uncomfortable. He took a seat in his old spot at the table and glanced around with uncertainty. This wasn’t his house anymore. So sitting alone in a room, of a house he didn’t live in (or feel welcome in for that matter), made Adrien feel out of place.

“I apologize, I was taking care of some business.” Adrien looked up to see his father entering the room. He sat at the opposite end of the table.

“Oh, uh its alright father,” Adrien stuttered. This was so awkward. He had no idea what to say.

“Um, what did you want to talk to me about?” He finally said.

“I have a proposal.” Adrien stiffened a little. He did not like where this was going at all.

“Okay,” he said cautiously. Gabriel cleared his throat.

“I understand why you want to move out. You were right when you said you were an adult and you are able to make your own decisions.” Adrien was holding his breath. He had no idea where this was going but he was grateful at the very least that there was no yelling. That seemed like it should be a good sign.

“However, you still have a responsibility to your family.”

“What the hell does that even mean,” Adrien thought to himself.

“What exactly are you suggesting father?”

“I want you to publicly support the Gabriel Brand. You would appear at my events and conduct yourself in a way that upholds our public image. Understand that this means you’d still have to behave in any public setting, not just professional events. I will not hear of my son acting like a rebellious teenager. In return, I will respect the professional decisions and leave you to do as you please, within reason, without complaint. Put simply, respect my career and I’ll respect yours.”

“How do my actions affect your public image?” Adrien asked sourly. He crossed his arms.

“Because you are my son and whether you like it or not, everything you do reflects on me. And in my industry every reflection of me matters, whether it be my work or the actions of my son.”

Adrien sat in silence for a long time, contemplating. On the one hand, his father wasn’t really in a position to make demands. The only thing Gabriel really had to offer Adrien at all was his approval. On the other hand, Gabriel was still his father and as much as Adrien hated it, his fathers’ approval was still very important to him. It occurred to Adrien that if he wanted any kind of positive relationship with his father, this was really the best-case scenario.

As dinner was being served, Adrien began to weigh the pros and cons of “supporting” the Gabriel brand. For instance, since he was no longer modeling, he’d actually be able to enjoy the food at his father’s events, which meant that he might be able to actually enjoy the even itself. He wouldn’t really be working as much as socializing and honestly, Adrien could really use socialization. But Adrien didn’t like the way his father threw in the part about “public image.” He hated saving face for the sake of the media and one of the best parts about quitting the whole modeling thing was that he didn’t have to think constantly about every public decision he made and how the media would portray it. There was a little less pressure in this new scenario but not by much.

Gabriel ate quietly, glancing at Adrien every so often, trying to decipher his thoughts. Adrien had always worn his heart on his sleeve but the conflict in his face made it clear to Gabriel that Adrien was wrestling with his decision. After nearly ten minutes of silence, Gabriel spoke up.

“You don’t have to answer me today.” Adrien glanced up from his meal.

“Okay father.”

“But I’d like an answer soon,” Gabriel said. Adrien winced.

“How soon?”

“I have a very important show next month and I’d like to know whether to reserve you a seat by next week.” Adrien nodded.

“I understand.”

Next Chapter

I fuckin suck at ending chapters I’m sorry, I’m working on it.

Can you see where I’m going with the fashion show? Foreshadowing brings me great joy. Even if its not subtle.

I’m not sure if you guys picked up on it but I’ve decided to write Adrien as very anxious because I feel like thats what comes with having a dad thats super over protective in the way that Gabriel is. If anyone feels like I’ve written Adrien in such a way where I need to put trigger warnings please let me know. I don’t know if I’m going to go in a direction thats so dark that its necessary, but I also like characters with actual dimension so I guess we’ll see how it goes.

Anywhoo thanks for reading!

#mlb fanfic #my fic #miraculous ladybug #coffee shop au #fanfiction #adrienette #adrinette #adrien agreste #marinette dupain cheng #mlb

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maximuswolf · 4 years

Text

Seeking Communism Mentor- Please Help via /r/communism

Seeking Communism Mentor- Please Help

Greetings comrades,

I have spent the past 2 months of my life since I got out of highschool, reading, studying, opening my eyes to the true dark nature of capitalism and Americas history across the world with its imperialism, corruption, greed and terror. I have been reading about socialist ideas, watching countless videos from a youtuber called VaushV, watching documentaries on Cubas history and revolution and Russias revolution. I feel like I have a firm grasp on what socialism advocates for, and what communism does as well. I overall have just been very angry for how the world is today, America in particular because I am from here. I realize the corruption and greed capitalism brings, and its tools on controlling the masses and youth. From buying its way into politics, to exploiting the average worker, I have seen it all. My family has worked their entire lives and barely has had enough to live a normal lifestyle, while my fathers bosses own 10 million dollar houses and never step a foot in the office, ultimately leading to the company crashing itself and my dad being out of work. I have grown tired of the constant struggle I see my family members from all sides face, and all due to the greed of the nations top percent. We have enough wealth, power, labour to have everyone living middle class comfortably, to end student debt, to provide universal healthcare and programs to help all, but due to the greed of so few we live in a country that at any moment will collapse economically, with so many people loosing their jobs to things like AI, which companies without a fragment of a second would gladly replace its entire work force. I have seen the way america has used the fear of socialism and communism to invade countries and destroy their economies while exploiting the common people, all the way back from the colonization the Native Americans experienced and massacred for all in the name of white culture, use of religion, and profit gain.

I learn more and more everyday, but wanted to know if anyone, anyone at all who has had experience in this field of study, could help me out with questions I have, and mentorship if you will. I couldnt ask for anything more than that at the moment, I would love to be able to have that university to go to where a professor could teach me all about these things one on one and have a private student to mentorship, since I believe I have ideas on how we would be able to push through this oppressive system and come out on top, at least I think. It annoys me so much how oblivious so many people are to the current state of America and the world, and how they will forever live their lives working a 9-5 never seeing anything more than their city for eternity, barely making enough to eat and live. I believe there is so much more to life then this, its absurd, I cannot continue to see a future like this. To know that I am not in the best state economically with my family currently, but I at least have a meal waiting, while someone else on the other side of the globe or a few cities away from me hasnt seen a meal in days. It sickens me, boils my blood from the greed we face today. While the population argues on Biden vs Trump and blames eachother for the problems we face today, they both go to their nice houses and immense wealth. They are all but the same wolves in a pack. Never going to change anything or anyone because doing so would mean going against those who write their checks and those who lobby in American politics to push their policies, their agenda, to push the boundaries of the globe and cross all borders oppressing the people and exploiting the people all over the world. While hundred are dying today and unemployment is skyrocketing, we are having a debate on whos worse trump or biden. It makes no sense, from the media thats owned by the same corporations that lobby in politics, to the social media and technology they push on us to keep us compliant and stupid, all of it is infuriating. I want to see a world where we can collectively take care of eachother and work towards a larger goal. Global warming and climate change will have catastrophic consequences, while Americans deny its existence because a president denies it as well, people in poorer countries are seeing the real consqeuences roll out in front of them. We could be funding and subsidzing innovation for clean energy but of course we arent for fossil fuel industries. This type of logic and pattern is seen in every single problem humanity faces today, and I dont want to see it anymore.

I know this is a lot and apologies, but I just really want to learn everything I can on this, ask questions, get a good understanding and coherent points explained to me, because in me I feel like this is my purpose. I am unsure on what I want to be going into my first year of college, I am going into computer science in programming because I have been doing it all my life , but politics is something I just cant get enough of listening to day in and day out. I have so many basic questions I feel that I sort of confuse myself with which is why I want someone to help me out. I feel like I have an idea on how we could use AI to support a socialist economy. I recently found this subreddit and have had many ideas and points explained to me greatly and I thank each and everyone of you. However like my main title says, if anyone is available or open to talk or recieve a DM, I would absolutely love to, because I feel like I have the fundamentals down but still confused and all over the place with a few topics and key components, and overall political idealogies and history. i know this is a lot to ask for from anyone but if anyone at all is open it would mean everything to me.

Thank you so much for any replies :)

Submitted August 10, 2020 at 10:07PM by flame732 via reddit https://ift.tt/2PDil6m

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specialchan · 4 years

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Seeking Communism Mentor- Please Help via /r/communism

Seeking Communism Mentor- Please Help

Greetings comrades,

Thank you so much for any replies :)

Submitted August 10, 2020 at 10:07PM by flame732 via reddit https://ift.tt/2PDil6m

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babyfacekillamusic · 5 years

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Over the course of the last month, a discord server worked to find a hidden ending to Fallout 76, by having all fissures closed simultaneously, through the use of Nukes. The idea originated from a reddit post by International_XT, which you can read here. After reading the post, a newspaper article, or a YouTube video about the post, a group of people gathered to form what is currently the Operation Tourniquet discord.Our first attempt occurred on March 6th, and was run by one person, z3rosun, also known as kokatrix. His attempt successfully closed the fissures, but occurred on a strange server. There was a group of cargobots hovering over point pleasant, to anyone not on his server he appeared offline, and he ended up the only person on his server. At some point after this, a team of 6 from France did the same, although I have been unable to contact them to ask about server stability. You can read about this here.Our next attempt occurred on March 10th, and was run by a group of people from the discord that I will list below. In it, we had a perfect server, but made a major discovery. The fissure sites reopened after a period of time, thus rendering the First and French attempts null. At the time, we believed the fissure duration to be 7 hours and 22 minutes. With that timing and perfect synchronization, we believed it was still possible.Over the course of the next two days, we tested the fissures to determine how long they stayed open. Our tests showed that the northern most fissure would reopen after 5 hours, and the one south of Pumpkin House would reopen at the previously stated 7 hours and 22 minutes. But then, on March 12th, the first part of Wild Appalachia released. Servers became so unstable, that we were unable to remain on a server longer than 5 hours. This worsened around the time Quantum Armor was discovered, and stayed the same throughout the Fasnacht Parade. We asked Data Miners if they could find the timings for us, and they replied that it was handled server side.We made another attempt on March 17th, but the server crashed after two hours. However, the patch on March 26th improved server stability considerably.On March 29th, we made what is now our final attempt. Our first nuke landed at about 2:50 PM EST, followed by two at about 3:10 EST. We nuked again at 6:16, 6:29, and 6:51. At 8:55, the first fissure site reopened, followed by the second two at 9:13. At this point we determined that during one of the patches between March 12th and March 26th, all fissure sites were set to open after six hours. I personally attempted to confirm this by waiting until 11:45, when the next one reopened. I cannot explain the half hour difference in timing, but can conclusively state that there is no way to have all fissures closed simultainously.On our final run, we discovered that the map in the Enclave Bunker shows the status of all of the fissures and silos accurately. To test the server stability, we checked the cargobot graveyard, and found several hovering there. At one point, one of the team discovered that he was appearing as on the main menu, but the same glitch never occurred to us. As I checked the final nuke, I was the only one on the server as well, but I attribute this not to glitching but to it being roughly 7 AM in Eastern Europe, where the server was.Thank you to everyone who participated, and to all the people supporting us and following our story! We will continue to scour the changelogs and test the fissures to see if it ever changes, and if mod support releases, we would like the first shot at a modded version of it!First Attempt: z3rosun/kokatrix Second Attempt: Yensen_22, SergeantPatriot/RED, Vekus, Simozzz, Dmcconnell7676, Avskum, YenSid2, Ioanalexandrugag, Achingnoodle, MilaySVK, JAXKSTER, RobertJFry Final Attempt: z3rosun/Kokatrix, coni28, Simozz, YenSid2 Support: JuiceHead, Machete83, djskidds, Eckserah, incendargaming, Zhyzhak, Triton Farms, International_XT I apologize if I forgot you, DM me and I’ll look into changing it.TL;DR- As of right now, there is no secret ending hiding in plain sight.Edit: We received a Gold award! Thanks for the continued support to our cause!Edit 2: We’ve received another! Thank you all so much!Edit 3: We made it to Platinum! This is the best community in online gaming!Edit 4: I really don’t know what to say! The positive support for our project is simply astonishing! Thank you to all of the people who continue to follow our work and donate medals. You’re the best! via /r/fo76

#IFTTT #reddit

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xt1erminator-blog · 7 years

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“Celebrity” DMs That Slay

I love Dungeons & Dragons. I love playing it, DMing it, reading about it, watching YouTube videos on subject matter relating to it (Nerdarchy, Matt Colville and Drunkens & Dragons: Play D&D Like A Badass are all great YouTube channels with quality content). Some games are even great to watch live streams of, especially observing talented “celebrity” Dungeon Masters working their magic, some of them admitting a lot of their “performance” and the content they come up with for their players is improvised and off the cuff. It takes a lot to pull that off. Most games out there however, are very difficult to watch and enjoy. There are too many distractions among groups when streaming stuff and it can be boring.

So, for anyone new to the D&D hobby that might be reading this blog, I just wanted to write up some stuff on three of the best publicly known Dungeon Masters out there thanks to the Internet - most of us into D&D will know who they are, and they are all are on a lot of people’s Top 3 Dungeon Masters Ever lists I’m sure. These guys put in some crazy hard work to help the online community better ourselves as Dungeon Masters. Thank you.

(And you know, I should have mentioned this in one of my first posts on this site, but I’m not a professional blogger or even a good writer. This is just my space to shoot the shit (probably mostly talking to myself no doubt) about one of my favourite past times, D&D). Warning: some of this post may seem out of logical order, sorry in advance :) I had to go back and edit it a few times. Apologies for any inaccuracies as well but I’m pretty confident it’s solid.

Chris Perkins, “Celebrity DM to the Stars”

Being a semi-regular reader of Dungeon magazine for quite some time, I didn’t really pay attention to names of the authors of the short adventure modules published within the magazine’s pages. When I reconnected with the hobby a couple of years ago after hearing a lot of good praise about 5th Edition D&D, I did more and more research about the people behind it, and naturally stumbled across reading about Chris and the Acquisitions Incorporated live games run at some of the PAX (Penny Arcade Expo) Conventions with the Penny Arcade guys (Jerry Holkins, Mike Krahulik and Scott Kurtz, as well as occasional appearances by celebrities/TV personalities like Wil Wheaton and Morgan Webb, author Patrick Rothfuss, etc.). Then I went back through old Dungeon magazines after reading that’s how Chris got his start to getting his foot in the door, and have since become a fan of his. He’s even replied to Tweets of mine once or twice. Woo.

I am very entertained by how Chris runs his live games. It’s quite easy to see why he is held in such high regard. I started to lose a little interest in his work however when his regular weekly Dice, Camera, Action web series started. They were starting to run a series based on The Curse of Strahd just before the book released. The PAX games are still great, as are the in-studio AI series episodes, however with Dice, Camera, Action things seemed to really be a struggle and it was hard to follow and really get in to. Between technical difficulties in the first few episodes, to things taking a long time to pick up due to excessive chatter which was in my opinion a waste of time (get on with the game ffs! This happened quite frequently), it was hard to keep myself entertained and motivated enough to finish watching each episode. By the 6th episode or so, I stopped watching D, CA entirely. I decided to revisit it recently and while the presentation is a bit better and they seem to have worked out the kinks in the system, I have come to the conclusion why it wasn’t a success for me: the cast picked for this series is not very good. It’s not Chris - how can it be. The guy is probably the most dedicated and passionate Dungeons & Dragons fan, Dungeon Master, works for the company who makes the game (Wizards of the Coast), and spends a shitload of time on Twitter answering questions from fans with his unique sense of humour, I love the guy (not that way). The cast though. Very weak. Generally speaking they are either too silly to take seriously or not entertaining enough in role playing their characters (hey, I’m not very good when I play and probably an even worse DM so I’m not tooting my own horn by any means), etc. but they are on camera for this and I really cannot believe so many people like this show like they say they do. The whole “Waffle Crew” thing I just don’t get I guess. The cast isn’t exceptional and I think Chris should be spending his time with a different group doing bigger and better things. Again, I am a heavily opinionated bastard as stated in the header of this blog :) “ProJared” is probably the weakest link in the D, CA group. He just doesn’t bring anything to the table and quite honestly, his attitude sucks. It is a puzzle to me how he was chosen to partake in this show with the legendary Christopher Perkins, DM. Just watch his videos on his YouTube channel, ProJared Plays I believe it’s called. I suggest watching his video entitled “Worst Player Ever”. Wait for the part where he describes how he “loses his shit” with “Steve”. But enough about him... Chris rocks.

Matt Mercer, He’s Pretty OK

One of the players in a campaign I run is a very, very big fan of Critical Role. If you don’t know what CR is, Google it. It’s one of the reasons she became interested in Dungeons & Dragons and wanted to try it out, which opened a huge floodgate for me that had been closed for several years, and caused my re-connection with the hobby a couple of years ago. The addiction resurfaced and hundreds (OK, probably thousands) of dollars later I am the proud owner of a collection of nerdy D&D stuff that has been amassed. Damn you, Liesl.

Anyhow. I was curious and tried watching some episodes of CR. At the time, I wasn’t into it. Not at all. I wouldn’t say I am now either, but I have probably watched around half of the 80+ episodes and find quite a bit of entertainment in the performance everyone in that group delivers.

So, at the time we started getting into 5e via the infamous Starter Set, featuring the introductory Lost Mine of Phandelver adventure module. Naturally, I ran it improvising mostly everything and only referencing major area and plot details when absolutely required. I admittedly do not care much for running any of the current 5e premade adventures and therefore probably won’t ever run any of them in their entirety (I will pick apart things, and throw in content from an old Dungeon magazine, even 4e source book, etc. or borrow a part from some other WotC hard cover adventure campaign book, that, like I said, will never run in its entirety). There’s good stuff in there, but it doesn’t play like modules back in the good old days. Anyhow I think it went well. The more we played, the more references were made to Critical Role and how Matt did things. So I got more and more curious and gave Matt and CR another chance. Glad I did.

It turns out what I really went back for though after thinking I didn’t like CR, was Matt Mercer (after awhile the cast of that show grew on me, but I was paying particular attention to Matt most of the time). It’s absolutely unlikely I would ever be able to pull off 1% of what he can do with voices, and describing and gesturing things when he spins his tale - but I try to absorb everything I can, and hope my poor little brain remembers just a smidgen of it and it enters my game at some point and does just a little bit to help my improvisational skills. I don’t think I’ll ever attempt performing NPC or monster voices, but who knows... like they say, you’ll never get anywhere with it if you don’t just start doing it, no matter how much of a fool you think you are making of yourself. There is a reason why Matthew Mercer is regarded as one of the best Dungeon Masters in the world, because he truly is just that damn good.

Also - FORCE GREY IS AMAZING. It’s a short run series Matt DM’d for several other celebrity players including the immortal Brian Posehn.

Matt Colville, the YouTube DM Activist

Finally, I think my personal absolute favourite "popular” Dungeon Master these days would have to be none other than Matt Colville. He claims to be a normal person just like anyone else, but he’s totally a celebrity now, to me anyhow. Ha ha. Dude, you’re on a now-quite-popular YouTube channel. You’re awesome. Thank you.

Matt is a writer by profession. He’s got a couple of fantasy novels he’s written that you can find on Amazon.com (Priest, and Thief I believe are the titles - check them out). He’s also lead writer at Turtle Rock game studio in California. Makers of games like the Mercenaries series on consoles, and more recently the party vs. big bad enemy shooter Evolve (he says he’s most proud of this title), all of which Matt did major writing on. From the game sessions I have watched that he has posted on his channel, it is evident that he is very creative and an extremely bright person more than capable of running a really great game that is well thought out and has all the bells and whistles and logistics of everything worked out just right (in my opinion). I wish I could run my games with his brain :)

The last few videos I’ve linked on my blog here are a few of my favourites of his, and they have really kickstarted my brain. So now I am thinking of better ways to run my games, and attempting to infuse a similar kind of quality material that Matt seems to ooze out of his noggin. Watch his videos, all of them. When I first discovered his channel, I was amused. However, after watching maybe a half dozen more videos, I had to stop. I think it was the rapid rate at which he discusses the topics presented, it was maybe overwhelming me. I took a break for a couple of months and avoided his channel. Then a colleague and I were discussing him, and in hindsight I realized I really totally dug his stuff. So when I went back to checking out his videos and gave some thought about what it is that he is doing with his channel, and what he is doing to help Dungeon Masters (new or old) better the quality of their games. I watched every single video (and rewatch several frequently for inspiration) and it’s now my top rated Dungeons & Dragons influenced channel.

I respect his genuine passion for the game and how he conveys his message to us, and appreciate the time he takes to create such brilliant content for the DM crowd. I highly suggest subscribing to his channel. If you can get past the fast paced talking, it’s worth the time to check his stuff out. If there ever was such thing as a “Church of D&D”, Matt Colville should be the high priest of it.

In the words of Mr. Colville:

“Peace. Out.”

And now, enjoy some whiny ProJared! (”he’s such a dumbass!”)

-runDMsteve

youtube

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