BERLERMO NATION, BEHOLD! THE ONLY (KNOWN) PHYSICAL COPY OF THE TIME TRAVELER'S SOULMATE!

Can’t believe we never got the backstory on whatever the hell Hotch’s thing with fire was.

Like it was clearly a thing for him, fire was one of the few things that made him lose composure more than once yet we never find out?

I love Hotch so fucking much. That man can verbally flay you without raising his voice in the slightest. He walks into a room and you know he's the leader but at the same time he tries so hard not to go over somebody's head unless it's his last option. He says, "No, he flew hundreds of miles to be himself," about a closeted gay man that he didn't even know. He excused himself to pass out from blood loss. He loves his team and would absolutely die if it saved one of them. He's such a self-sacrificing idiot and I love him for it.

I love it when I'm reading a book and there's a character description that contains two completely different and unrelated smells like "He smelled like coffee and dandelions". I'm always like sweetheart he did nOt but I'm rooting for you

On being an older fangirl

I was probably 10 years old when I first conceived of what was, looking back, fanfiction. Me and my best friend would lie in bed together on sleepovers and I'd make up stories about what happened after the end of our favorite book, "The Westing Game." She'd ask me for more stories, and I'd tell her more, inventing them as I went along. "Then what?" she'd say.

I was 14 when I went to my first convention. I had discovered Star Trek: The Next Generation. It was 1987, and my youth pastor was a huge Trekkie. He took me to a one-day crappy Creation con, but it was amazing to me. I met Nichelle Nichols. My dad showed me the Trek movies. He and I watched TNG together.

When I went to college in 1991, my dad used to videotape TNG episodes onto VHS tapes and mail them to me, so I could keep watching (I didn't have TV in my dorm room).

By the time I was a senior, we had Trek watching parties in the dorm lounge, where the TV had cable. Star Trek: Voyager had started up, and I wrote a column about it for the college newspaper. I joined a mailing list about it, with people in it that I still know today.

I got my first computer that could go online in 1995. I was on newsgroups. I discovered Doctor Who. I went to Trek conventions where we still passed around fanzines containing fic and art and smutty K/S fan creations.

Then it was Harry Potter. Then there were websites. Then there was Geocities, where we could all make our own little spots. We organized them into webrings. We talked on newsgroups and mailing lists. There were fanfic archives. Then there was fanfiction.net.

Then...there was LiveJournal. And we could interact in entirely new ways. We could form communities, and debate things, and fight over canon, and get into ship wars. On LiveJournal, I met my best friend of 22 years. I was in her wedding. She's my sister of the heart (which is what she calls me).

Then there was Tumblr. And Twitter. And now there's Discord. But it's all the same.

I am the same.

I am still that little girl who made up fanfiction in her head to entertain her best friend. I am still the one who was amazed to find communities on the internet - which was so new, so raw, so uncommodified - where others like me could meet. I found there people to meet in real life.

I am still that twentysomething going to her first major convention, being told that someone loved my fic, being asked about my writing process.

I am still that thirtysomething watching something I wrote blow up. Seeing friends from other fandoms find me in new ones, finding them there, too. Forgetting which fandom I know someone from, because I've known them for twenty years.

I still know some of the people who created those early websites, those mailing lists, those archives. I still meet people in new fandoms who say "Oh, I read your fic in [fandom] fifteen years ago!" There's no feeling quite like having someone remember something you wrote for that long. Or meeting someone whose fic meant a lot to YOU, or who you talked with on rec.arts.drwho.creative in 1997.

Aging in fandom is a gift. Being middle-aged in fandom is a joy. Having people who still read what I write and ask "Then what?" is a blessing.

It breaks my heart that so many people see it as something to be ashamed of, when it is one of my life's greatest gifts.

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you're welcome

"romantic" "platonic" no whatever those two have going on is way more sinister than all that

you gotta write for your dick not the stats

hotch waiting until the absolute last moment to tell someone that something is wrong while also being super casual about it.

hotch: *shakily sits down into one of the SUVs*

emily: you good?

hotch: *revealing a heavily bleeding bullet wound* yea i just dont wanna hit my head when i pass out

emily: omg how long have you had that??!

—

hotch: * in the calmest voice not even looking away from the road* you have to pull over i’m going to throw up

morgan: *trying not to crash the car* what!!?

—

penelope: hey hotch do you want another jelly?

hotch: no thanks garcia i’m actually allergic to strawberry

penelope: omg!! why didn’t you just not take it??

-

rossi: how’s everything with you aaron?

hotch: great, i’ve gotten a bunch of paper work done, jess is coming over for dinner, im having a panic attack, ive been thinking about buying some new shoes

rossi: wait what did you say?

hotch: i’ve been thinking about buying new shoes?

rossi: no before that?

hotch: i’m having a panic attack?

rossi: omg aaron can’t you ask for help like a regular person??