they think everything in the floor is their's

No place like home

Hi I love your account! could you please do a Hotch x reader where the reader is Hotch’s daughter and she runaways as she doesn’t know what to do with her life and Hotch struggles to find her and a few years later whilst on a case she is taken in as a suspect but she looks a lot different as the team didn’t recognize her new look and when Hotch sees her they hug and he helps her to have a normal life and supports her and it turns out that she is not the suspect. 💕

Title : No place like home

Pairing : Hotch and daughter!reader

A/n : When I say para I mean each break if that make sense, 1st para goes till one year later, and the next section goes till 1000 dollars and well you get it.

Pov : 1st para - Reader’s ; 2nd para - 2nd person ; 3rd para - 3 rd person (This was not intentional I swear)

Word Count : 1228

Beta reader friend human who is incredibly sweet @lostdreamsanddeadroses


Mama was always the anchor, the driving force that kept us all together. Mama was always there, hovering over me while I did homework or checking on how me and Jack were doing. She was this omnipresent force of positivity and happiness. When a ship loses its anchor one of two things can happen. It either stays near the dock untethered or it drifts away. In our case both happened.

Keep reading

5 tips for new Tumblr RPers!

I actually see a lot of new RPers recently, in this community and others, and I love all of you. Still, sometimes, I see a lot of y’all making the same mistakes I did. And since I’ve been at this shit for an embarrassingly long time (15 years and counting), I thought it might be helpful to throw together a few tips I learned over the years.

A shortened version of this rather long post can be found at the bottom, as well.

Keep reading

Miles wasn’t even sure why he was here. He had spent the entire night at the open bar, trying to forget about Leighton. He hadn’t danced, and instead just insisted on watching everything with a scowl. How could they celebrate when the most innocent of them was probably gone? What the hell were they thinking? It was mainly his fault, but in the end, if Leighton made the top of the list, it would be all of theirs. And yet, here they were, acting as if nothing were wrong.

Miles scoffed a little, shaking his head as he took a sip of his beer. He wasn’t entirely sure where Parker was, which kind of scared him. He’d been searching the floor in between his damp-toweling, hoping to spot people he knew and check that they were okay. He still hadn’t seen Leighton or CC, though it was kind of hard with everyone in masks. He let out a frustrated sigh, turning around to fix himself another drink and startling when he saw someone standing right next to him. “Christ. You can’t just sneak up on people like that.” 

Bakery Boy

A Park Jimin oneshot

Genre: Do I write anything but fluff? No. It’s fluff. 

Summary: The boy from the bakery is cute. And so is your neighbor. 

Word Count:  2.1k

Warnings: implied sex

Originally posted by cloudjimin

My feet are tired and heavy, but I still manage to make my way into the bakery near my house. My roommate, Lauren, loves the cupcakes there, and she recently did me a favor, so I decided to pick up some cupcakes as a thank you. It also helps that the guy at the counter is really good looking. After studying at the library for four hours straight, my back and neck hurt like I’ve been stabbed about fifty times. I feel like what I imagine Julius Cesar felt like.

The storm clouds overhead are ominous, but I just hope I can get back to the apartment before it starts raining to put another damper on my day. I push open the door of the bakery, immediately greeted by the soft tingle of bells and the smell of freshly baked bread. I could stay in the bakery for an eternity, but the owners would probably frown upon that.

Eyeing the display case, I don’t notice the cute boy behind the counter until he’s talking to me directly, giving me a smile that reaches all the way up to his eyes.

Keep reading

I just had a conversation with my mom

It went like this. My mom chose not to teach class in her private university today because she joined the 24 hour university strike organized by Fapuv and she was in one of the manifestations (luckily, not the one that got intercepted by the National Guard)

“Going to buy food after the manifestation. But…”

“Motherland, Motherland, well-loved Motherland!”

This is a line of people waiting to enter a supermarket in a mall in El Paraíso, Caracas, to buy basic products like milk, sugar and corn flour. Yeah, the lines are so long and everything is so scarce that people cannot enter the supermarket at once because there’s no space inside. People are lining up in the ramp that circles three floor levels, waiting for hours just to buy food for theirs families.

Do you think that the Venezuelan government is helping the lower classes in any way? Because let me tell you, these people are the lower classes. My mom, being “comfortably” (lol, as if there was such a thing in Venezuela) middle class and having to sustain only herself and another person, can afford to see this line and come back another day, because she does’t have to feed a large number of people relying on minimum wage. If she wants, she can buy a tiny box of artificial sweeter, or she can skip the chicken and eat tuna for the day. The thing is, my mother is not the majority of people. The majority, “el pueblo,” is out there, waiting for hours to get their hands in two packages of harina pan. 

Meanwhile, the government says that we’re happy and that food is scarce because we eat so much. Cool.

Fuck you all who support this regime from abroad, especially those in the so-called First World. Screw you all you leftists, socialists and such who try to school us on how amazing the government is for helping the poor. Go to hell, those who are okay with travelling to Cuba and places were the government blatantly represses its citizens, because a vacation or your idealized morals are more important than the actual human being who suffer.