As a final project for philosophy in highschool I had to write a 35 page DISSERTATION. The ones who tried to use chatgpt had their laptops on the verge of dying. It was also the funniest assignment I've ever done and I wish to reach that level of quality in everything I write now. Chatgpt is killing the joy of being proud of your work
im still losing it over the "how did high schoolers write 600 word essays before chatgpt" post. 600 words. that is nothing. that is so few words what do you mean you can't write 600 words. 600 words. this post right here is 45 words.
omg jade i heard you asking for hotch reqs and i RAN to your inbox
what about hotch taking care of r after they have a lil baby?? i think if i saw that man hold a new baby id die!!!! he could hole their whole head in the palm of his hand 😭😭😭
Every time you move, your hips and more intimate regions hurt like a hot poker. You probably won’t cry, but you require some tylenol and some sympathy to carry on. “Hotch?” you ask.
Silence. You tip your head back over the armrest to find him. Even upside down, he looks handsome, sitting in the two seater with your little bundle of agony in his arms. Or, arm. The baby rests neatly in the curve of his forearm, his free hand dedicated to the baby’s small back.
“Hotch?”
“Who is she talking to?” Hotch asks your baby gently. You know what he’s doing immediately.
“You get so hung up on the Hotch thing, if you didn’t want to be called Hotch, you shouldn’t have introduced yourself as Hotch.”
You’ve been calling him Hotch for years, you aren’t going to suddenly kick the habit now.
“She was my subordinate,” Hotch tells the baby. “She couldn’t have special treatment, even if she is the prettiest subordinate I ever had. It wouldn’t have been fair.”
“I wouldn’t mind some more tylenol.”
He raises his gaze. You twist into a painful but better suited position to watch him move the baby closer to his collar, his hand covering the entirety of the baby’s small head. Hotch said Jack was a little baby too, but you’d been terrified regardless, and no matter the size, it was too big for you to come out of the ordeal unscathed. Tylenol isn’t so much wanted as required.
“I’ll get it for you,” he promises.
“Thank you, Aaron.”
“Oh, you’re welcome, honey.”
He stands and shifts your tiny baby further into his chest, little snores pressed to his collar. “You okay to take him? I’ll make you some lunch at the same time.”
“I can’t eat.”
“Just chips and a sandwich, honey. You can manage that.”
You open your arms, letting Hotch lower your baby down into your arms and the surrounding nest of blankets. “You need to go see where Jack is,” you say.
“I know,” Hotch says, kissing your cheek quickly. “I’m gonna make his lunch too. I’ll be right back.”
You cuddle your baby to your chest and lean back. Your baby Hotchner is, as previously stated, so tiny, but he’s a nice weight against you, and he sleeps like a champ. You thought easy babies were a myth until now. So far he’s done nothing but sleep and stare at you whenever you talk. You think it’s love, or the surprise of seeing the voices that talked to him nonstop while he was in your belly now out in the open. He does the same to Hotch whenever he’s awake.
You haven’t named him yet. You asked Jack for help, but he’d recommended you name your new baby Mister Awesome, so you’re at a loss for now. It doesn’t matter, though. He’ll have a name eventually. Until then, he’s the baby. And he’s very well loved.
You wish he hadn’t hurt so badly to bring into the world, is all.
Somewhere deeper in the house, Jack tumbles down the stairs, to Hotch's audible horror. “Are you alright? What are you doing, buddy?”
“I’m being quick!”
“Please be careful!” There’s the sound of a kiss. “You sure you’re okay? Yeah? Gonna go and keep Y/N company?”
“Yeah, dad.”
“Okay, thank you. I’m gonna make your lunch now, any requests?”
“Peanut butter. And chips. And pretzels. And orange slices? And–”
“How about I bring you lots of everything, bud?”
“Yes. Please. Hug?”
They must hug, though you can’t see or hear it, as Jack walks into the living room with wildly tousled hair and a smile. He climbs over the back of the couch even though he shouldn’t, dropping onto your feet, a tangle of arms and legs. “Hi, Y/N.”
“Hi baby. You hungry?”
“Dad’s gonna make me a sandwich.”
You reach over to collect his hand in yours, squeezing his fingers gently. You’d thought for sure that having a baby in the house would upset him, if only because his usual routine was disrupted —he’d had to make room for you first, and now suddenly there’s a new baby taking all the attention? it’s not what only kids usually want— but Jack’s an easy kid too. He squeezes your hand back, shimmying up the couch to lean on your leg. It aches, every touch to your lower half a reminder of the pain further inward, but he’s not rough. He climbs further onto your leg and rests his cheek on your shoulder.
“Is this a cuddle?” you murmur.
“Pretty please.”
“No please required.” You frown to yourself, trying to juggle the baby into the opposite arm so you can wrap the one closest to Jack around his shoulders. You manage it poorly. “Dad makes this look so easy.”
“He has longer arms,” Jack says with a shrug. His nose jabs the skin just above your chest. “Don’t worry about it.”
“I won’t. Thank you, babe.”
Jack touches the baby’s back. “He’s sleeping?”
“Yeah. Must be weird getting to sleep all the time and then suddenly being born. At least he’s not crying.”
You and Jack lay with each other for a while, watching the baby snore as you whisper about what Hotch is making for lunch. You wish he’d brought you the tylenol before he started, but he’s got a lot going on. You’re glad he’s the one making lunch (though you can’t be expected to right now, considering). The idea of having to stand there and butter a sub roll sounds like a low level of torture.
“Don’t let me fall asleep holding the baby,” you tell Jack, your eyes drifting closed as Jack snuggles closer to your face.
“I can go get dad.”
“I’m here,” Hotch says swiftly. You drag your face to the side to see him in the doorway, two dinner trays balanced with ease in his hands despite their obvious weight and full glasses on either side. “Don’t fall asleep, I’m coming. Sorry about the wait.”
Hotch puts your trays on the coffee table and scoops the baby from your chest, leaving behind an awfully warm patch of skin.
“Tylenols on the tray,” he says, smiling at you lovingly. “You okay?”
“Fine. Jack’s gonna feed me.”
To his credit, your lovely stepson offers to really feed you, but you’re not so tired now there’s food in front of you. Your stomach groans in want.
Hotch stands looking down at you, baby somehow even smaller looking in his arms. “Need anything else?”
You hold half of your sandwich up to him. “Eat that.”
“I’m fine. My hands are full.”
“I’m not asking, Aaron. Take it.” You force the sandwich on him. “We both know you only need one hand.”
He’s cautious not to rain crumbs down on the baby. You make no such fuss, bread and lettuce falling down into your lap as you eat. Jack can’t stop giggling, “You’re not s’posed to eat like that!”
“Sorry!” you say, “I’m just so hungry!”
“It’s okay,” he says. “Dad will vacuum you.”
Hotch’s mouth is full to bursting, but his nod is vehement. He swallows hard. “I’ll mop you, too.”
shit man tomorrow is christmas eve i swear yesterday was June 2010
why is it always "I love you" and never "Sherlock is actually a girl's name" "Why is she like this" "You keep me right" "You look sad when you think he can't see you" "people will talk" "I'd be lost without my blogger" "because you're an idiot" "you were the best man and the most human human being" "i don't have friends, I've just got one" "yes, of course i forgive you"
— David Cronenberg, Consumed
Shredded chicken cream cheese salt olive oil pepper NUTMEG hard boiled egg lettuce
this is so real and never leaves me
so embarrassing when i forget im checking someone's blog and i start scrolling through and liking and reblogging shit as if it's just my dash. it feels like wandering into someone else's apartment and not noticing and making myself lunch
Hi there. Are you autistic? Do you currently feel like shit and don't know why? Try this checklist to see if you can Fix The Problem!
When was the last time you used the bathroom? If you answered "I don't know" or "at least 3 hours ago", go now!
Do you need a drink? Go get one if you don't have one in front of you.
When was the last time you ate? If you haven't eaten yet today, consider eating A Meal, or perhaps A Snack. Something is better than nothing, eat whatever you feel able to!
Is there something in your immediate surroundings that is bothering you? If the light is too bright, turn it off. If there is an annoying sound, make the sound stop or reduce your ability to hear it (earplugs, headphones, etc.). If your clothes are bothering you, change them.
Is your space messy? Pick one area of your room and clean it up as best you can. Clean your whole room if you have the energy!
When was the last time you did An Activity? Scrolling on social media doesn't count. Try actively doing something fun! Play a game you like, read a book, make something, or go for a walk.
When was the last time you Spoke to a Person? Consider talking to a person you like if it has been a while.
How long has it been since you did something Special Interest related? Make some time to do that today. Infodump to a friend, have a nice long research session, look at related images or gifs, make art about it, whatever works best for you!
Try stimming actively! Put on some music and dance, spin in circles, go to the park and use the swings!
If you still feel like shit after trying all of these things, you might be tired or sick. Go to bed early and get some rest. Hopefully you will feel better tomorrow!
Hope that helps :)