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greetings-inferiors · 10 months

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You want to know what the scariest thing about the universe is? It’s not blackholes, as the nearest black hole is too far away to ever have any impact on you. It’s not the sun exploding, because that’s only going to affect a very small area. It’s the expansion of the universe. The universe is expanding, and it’s expanding quicker. Every second the expansion of the universe gets faster.

But what is the expansion?

It’s not like spilling a cup of water on a table, where the water is rushing out and filling the space. The expansion of the universe is the space between everything increasing. The universe isn’t expanding into anything, the space between it is just getting larger. What this means is that the space between every atom, every nucleon, every quark in your body is increasing. But luckily the forces are strong enough to hold you together. You have nothing to worry about. But the expansion is accelerating. Eventually the expansion will be so fast that the omly things that can keep together are solar systems, everything else is too far away, the gravity is too weak. Eventually the expansion will be so fast that the light from the galaxies and solar systems won’t reach us. The night sky will be pitch black save for only the moon. But the expansion won’t stop there. Eventually even the sun and moon will hurtle away from us. Eventually even the earth will fly away from you. The space inbetween your particles will increase so quickly that you are ripped apart from the inside. Every particle in your body being ripped at light speed away from each other. Eventually every particle will be its own universe. Surrounded by nothing. Essentially, it is the only thing that exists. Maybe that’s how our universe started. Our universe may be a small remnant of someone, ripped apart by space itself. Maybe every single quark in you will go on to become its own universe, only to share the cruel fate of being ripped apart, atom by atom.

Supernovae are nothing. Black holes are meaningless. But the cold expansion of space is unfeeling, and it will tear apart everything. The most dangerous thing is reality itself.

#text post #randyposting #long post #science #physics #Astronomy #universe #the universe #terrifying #cosmic horror #but literally #space

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slutforsilverfoxes · 9 months

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What Happens In New York... The Remix

In which Aaron & Sean’s bff meeting for the first time gets ✨reimagined✨ (essentially an AU with a different meet cute)

“Yo, Hotch!” The blonde popped his head around the corner to peek into the break room where you were perched on a stool and hunched over the table, tongue peeking out between your lips while you concentrated on the project laid out before you. “Come take a look at this.” You flipped your design around with a flourish and a quiet, “Ta da!,” revealing the name of the bar where you worked, The Edinburgh, in sprawling cursive writing with a shamrock dotting the “i”.

“Kid.” Sean clicked his teeth with a shake of his head before declaring, “Your talents are wasted here. This looks amazing!”

“We’re not that old,” you laughed. “Art school is still in the cards for me, don’t you worry your pretty head.”

“She thinks I’m pretty,” he cooed to no one in particular, then chucked your chin affectionately while you fought to grab a hold of his wrist before biting down on his hand.

“And you taste good, too,” you hummed. “Spill some Jameson on yourself?”

“Shut up and go man the bar, Y/L/N.” You shied away from Sean’s pinching fingers, then slung a towel over your shoulder and followed the din of patrons in the bar to your section. It was a relatively slow Wednesday night for a New York summer, but you weren’t bothered by the unhurried pace. In between serving craft beers and specialty mixed drinks, you busied yourself polishing the wood paneling along the cabinetry and ensuring all bottle labels were facing outward for ease of customer selection. With that task completed, you resigned yourself to peeling a lemon into artful shapes while you waited for another patron to approach your end of the bar.

“Penny for your thoughts?” A honeyed voice carried confidently over the steady drone of bar chats, and you looked up with a smile. Everything about the man before you screamed professional, from the dark locks swept off his forehead to his sharp suit and tie to the placement of his clasped hands on the bar with a thick silver watch adorning his left wrist. There was a certain stoicism about him that was undeniably intriguing, and you could sense a sadness behind the warmth in his chocolate brown eyes. A shot of adrenaline coursed through you as you held his gaze, and you wanted nothing more than for him to open up to you.

“He loves me not,” you joked, tossing the lemon rind that you were forming into a rose aside. Leaning on your elbows on the bar top, you tilted your head back and forth while studying him. “Scotch on the rocks?”

He breathed out a laugh and conceded, “I wasn’t planning on it, but that actually sounds great.”

“Got it in one,” you sang playfully, back turned while you poured the beverage. You could feel his intense gaze roving over your form, and you suppressed the shiver threatening to run down your spine. You placed a napkin down before him with a flourish, then presented his drink. “Now, how about a penny for your thoughts?”

He clicked his teeth and shook his head in a suspiciously familiar way before asserting, “Nobody wants to take a peek in here,” with a tap to his temple.

“I do,” you answered genuinely. “That’s why I love this job. You can tell me whatever’s on your mind, judgment free.” As you swept a stray ice cube off the bar, you tacked on, “Unless you tell me you’re a serial killer, of course. Then I think I’m obligated to report you, at least in most states.”

He leaned in conspiratorially and you met him halfway. “You’re a little too good at this,” he confided in a whisper.

You let out a mock gasp and questioned in an equally hushed tone, “So you are a serial killer?”

He shook his head with a small smile. “I hunt them.” The simple statement accompanied by the flash of defiance in his eyes sent a bolt of heat through your body that you didn’t care to unpack at this time. Instead, you directed the conversation back to him.

“Detective?”

“Agent.”

That sense of familiarity from earlier hit you like a ton of bricks. “Don’t tell me you’re big brother Hotchner.”

He laughed at the incredulous lilt to your statement and admitted, “Guilty as charged. So you know Sean, then?”

“More intimately than I care to admit on days that end in ‘y’,” you huffed through a smile.

“Girlfriend?”

“Best friend,” you corrected him pointedly, then carried on, “Roommate. Therapist. Personal chef. The list of my many talents goes on.” You offered him your hand to shake and formally introduced yourself, receiving a polite, “Aaron,” in response with a smile that stole the very breath from your lungs. His palm was surprisingly soft in opposition to his firm grip, and you reluctantly retracted your hand after a prolonged moment. “Can I tell you a secret?”

“Of course,” he answered seriously after a mouthful of scotch. “Brother-brother’s best friend slash roommate slash therapist slash other miscellaneous job title confidentiality is sacred.” You snorted out a laugh and immediately slapped a hand over your mouth at the ridiculous sound, covering it up with a poorly faked cough. Aaron, for his part, was kind enough to studiously avoid eye contact with you while he smiled down at the bar. “So that secret?” he prodded gently.

“You’re not nearly as boring as Sean makes you out to be.”

Aaron threw his head back in a laugh that warmed you from the inside out, and you committed the ebullient sound to memory, determined to hear it again.

A pinch at your side had you squealing out an indignant, “Hotch!” You noticed Aaron’s eyebrows raising at the nickname before you directed your attention (and a swatting of your towel) to the younger Hotchner brother, then pressed a kiss to his bearded cheek.

“I see you two have met,” Sean noted in a carefully measured tone, his hand resting possessively on your hip.

“We have,” Aaron answered just as evenly, raising his glass to his lips again as the temperature in the bar dropped several degrees.

“To what do I owe the pleasure of your presence, Aaron? Got a case in town, or did you just want to remind me I’m still not living up to the Hotchner name?” The genuine nature of your best friend’s question was poorly masked by his usual sarcastic cadence.

The brunette’s visage pulled into a frown for the first time since he entered the bar, and you immediately missed his easygoing smile. “He came to see me, dummy,” you asserted with an elbow to Sean’s side, breaking the tension as the brothers released a collective breath. “And blondie, we’re gonna have to work on your descriptive skills. You did not do your big brother justice.”

“And that,” you declare in the present, swiping an experimental coat of plum-colored nail polish over your daughter’s thumbnail before shaking your head with a frown and grabbing the remover, “is how your badass mom singlehandedly saved the integrity of the Hotchner family. The power of humor!”

“Sounds like the power of flirting,” your mini-me counters with a wicked grin reminiscent of her beloved uncle while you hunt through the basket of mani/pedi essentials for a more suitable shade.

“Nah,” your husband further contests from his spot on the couch, head buried in a case file and reading glasses dangerously close to sliding off the bridge of his nose. “Your mom wasn’t a great flirt. She would just snort-laugh at my jokes until I figured out she liked me.”

“You mean this twerp inherited that from Mom?” Jack lovingly ruffles his little sister’s hair on his way back from the kitchen and she barks at him in response, unable to retaliate physically while you’re working on her hands. “You’re so fucking weird sometimes.”

“Watch your fucking language,” you admonish your seventeen-year-old. “Is this purple better?”

Aaron and your kids look up for precisely one second before answering in unison. “Too light.”

“Y’all are a pain in my ass,” you declare with a grumble, giving up on shuffling through the bottles of lacquer in favor of upturning the entire basket on the living room floor.

Your husband stands with a groan and comes over to press a kiss to your forehead, then your daughter’s, before placing Purple with a Purpose in your awaiting palm. “That’s what you get for singlehandedly saving the integrity of the Hotchner family.”

__________

[A/N: Y'all seemed to really enjoy What Happens In New York, so I thought exploring a different meeting would be fun :) I think we can all agree that CM did the Hotchner brothers dirty so I shall continue to live in my world where they amend their relationship as adults thank u very much]

AH tags 🖤 @gothwifehotchner

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