#Non-standard Elevator

[leydaelevator]

High Quality Fermator Automatic Doors For Lift

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[realasslesbian]

It's just wild to me how That Study about lesbian domestic violence literally just said that lesbians are more likely to be victims of it & somehow everyone took that to mean lesbians are the main perpetrators of it🤔

[cera-chem]

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[cypionate60mg]

I know you’ve already gotten some questions about this but why do you call your posts porn If they’re really more artistic? /gen

People are used to denouncing the rhetoric of the porn we consume, as a sort of disclaimer. (I get off on it but I don't believe in it, so you can trust me.) While also implying that the art and literature we enjoy is representative of our values. (I believe in it but I don't get off on it, so you can trust me.)

We assume that porn is just fantasy, and art conveys some deeper truth. But porn is art and literature. And I don’t say that to elevate it, if anything, I say it to call into question why the mere association with pornography automatically makes something lowbrow. It’s just like any other medium, and it deserves to be held to the same standards.

Sometimes, in the notes on some of my posts, I find people powerfully relating to the message, realizing it’s from a weird kink blog, and then backpedaling enough to cloak it in irony. All in the span of a few tags or reblogs. The evidence is usually deleted. I’m always curious to know what these people think of me. If I’m a degenerate who, for a split second, looked like an artist. Does the ambiguity make me more untrustworthy?

We could also take it one step further, blurring the lines between art and sex and porn: If sex is deserving of effort, experimentation, and non-erotic elements, then why not porn? After you realize that one way to stop consuming porn like a commodity is to instead treat it like sex, both become a lot more fun.

[inbabylontheywept]

The Fridges. Oh My God, The Fridges.

This is a continuation of the last piece I wrote on the weird shit that happens in classified facilities. The building I work in has somewhere around 30-35 people in it. It also has around 20 fridges. There's kind of a saga that goes into this, so I'll start with the first part: The Hoarding.

The building has an insane overabundance of space. They just keep adding new rooms every time an old room needs an update, so it just sprawls on forever. There's also an extremely limited ability to get anyone who does not work full time in the building, into the building. This means that while we work on missiles, we also clean our own desks and vacuum the floors and mop and all of those other tasks that most places would consider "non-engineer work." This is fine if it's something anyone with a body can do, but this causes problems when you're looking at the physical limits of engineers. Namely, we are not very muscular people.

Thus, if something needs to get manhandled into a space, it gets manhandled by whatever group of nerds you can bribe, threaten, or guilt into joining you. When a fridge dies, it is a motherfucker to remove it from the building, so they often just...didn't. What they did instead was get the fridges onto dolleys, which isn't too bad, wheel those dolleys to the elevator, and then park them in a relatively empty part of the basement that we shall call The Graveyard of Fridges. This wasn't originally meant to be a permanent solution, but when you have space but lack muscles, it can become permanent really fast. Eventually, someone realized that you can padlock the fronts of the fridges and use them as document storage, which has the added perk of meaning that the people on site don't have to assemble more filing cabinets. Everyone here hates assembling filing cabinets. It's fucking terrible. (It is worth noting that in this era, you would occasionally get directions to a secret file that looked like "1970's model, lime green, left crisper.")

We will call this the peak of the Hoarding Era. It is followed by the Mechanical Engineering Era.

Around 2015, it was realized that the group needed engineers familiar with industrial machinery, and not just standard electronics, so mechanical engineers (MEs) began to get hired. The new ME's made it a sort of rite of passage for proceeding new hires to repair an old fridge. So the site went from having 4 functioning fridges and 15ish being used for document storage to around 15 functioning fridges and 4 used for file storage.

Every time a fridge got fixed, people just put them back on the dolley, wheeled them back in the elevator, and got them wedged in their personal office spaces. If you were a bigwig, you might be able to get dibs on your own personal fridge, and if you were a new guy confined to the cubicle jungle you might have to share one with four or five other guys. But it was still a ludicrous amount of fridge space.

And that is how a base with 35 people on it wound up with 15 fridges.

[reasonsforhope]

Interior Department Announces New Guidance to Honor and Elevate Hawaiian Language

"In commemoration of Mahina ʻŌlelo Hawaiʻi, or Hawaiian Language Month, and in recognition of its unique relationship with the Native Hawaiian Community, the Department of the Interior today announced new guidance on the use of the Hawaiian language.  

A comprehensive new Departmental Manual chapter underscores the Department’s commitment to further integrating Indigenous Knowledge and cultural practices into conservation stewardship.  

“Prioritizing the preservation of the Hawaiian language and culture and elevating Indigenous Knowledge is central to the Biden-Harris administration's work to meet the unique needs of the Native Hawaiian Community,” said Secretary Deb Haaland. “As we deploy historic resources to Hawaiʻi from President Biden’s Investing in America agenda, the Interior Department is committed to ensuring our internal policies and communications use accurate language and data."  

Department bureaus and offices that engage in communication with the Native Hawaiian Community or produce documentation addressing places, resources, actions or interests in Hawaiʻi will use the new guidance on ‘ōlelo Hawaiʻi (Hawaiian language) for various identifications and references, including flora and fauna, cultural sites, geographic place names, and government units within the state.  The guidance recognizes the evolving nature of ‘ōlelo Hawaiʻi and acknowledges the absence of a single authoritative source. While the Hawaiian Dictionary (Pukui & Elbert 2003) is designated as the baseline standard for non-geographic words and place names, Department bureaus and offices are encouraged to consult other standard works, as well as the Board on Geographic Names database.  

Developed collaboratively and informed by ʻōlelo Hawaiʻi practitioners, instructors and advocates, the new guidance emerged from virtual consultation sessions and public comment in 2023 with the Native Hawaiian Community. 

The new guidance aligns with the Biden-Harris administration’s commitment to strengthening relationships with the Native Hawaiian Community through efforts such as the Kapapahuliau Climate Resilience Program and Hawaiian Forest Bird Keystone Initiative. During her trip to Hawaiʻi in June, Secretary Haaland emphasized recognizing and including Indigenous Knowledge, promoting co-stewardship, protecting sacred sites, and recommitting to meaningful and robust consultation with the Native Hawaiian Community."

-via US Department of the Interior press release, February 1, 2024

--

Note: I'm an editor so I have no idea whether this comes off like as big a deal as it potentially is. But it is potentially going to establish and massively accelerate the adoption of correctly written Native Hawaiian language, as determined by Native Hawaiians.

Basically US government communications, documentations, and "style guides" (sets of rules to follow about how to write/format/publish something, etc.) can be incredibly influential, especially for topics where there isn't much other official guidance. This rule means that all government documents that mention Hawai'i, places in Hawai'i, Hawaiian plants and animals, etc. will have to be written the way Native Hawaiians say it should be written, and the correct way of writing Hawaiian conveys a lot more information about how the words are pronounced, too, which could spread correct pronunciations more widely.

It also means that, as far as the US government is concerned, this is The Correct Way to Write the Hawaiian Language. Which, as an editor who just read the guidance document, is super important. That's because you need the 'okina (' in words) and kahakō in order to tell apart sizeable sets of different words, because Hawaiian uses so many fewer consonants, they need more of other types of different sounds.

And the US government official policy on how to write Hawaiian is exactly what editors, publishers, newspapers, and magazines are going to look at, sooner or later, because it's what style guides are looking at. Style guides are the official various sets of rules that books/publications follow; they're also incredibly detailed - the one used for almost all book publishing, for example, the Chicago Manual of Style (CMoS), is over a thousand pages long.

One of the things that CMoS does is tell you the basic rules of and what specialist further sources they think you should use for writing different languages. They have a whole chapter dedicated to this. It's not that impressive on non-European languages yet, but we're due for a new edition (the 18th) of CMoS in the next oh two to four years, probably? Actually numbering wise they'd be due for one this year, except presumably they would've announced it by now if that was the case.

I'm expecting one of the biggest revisions to the 18th edition to add much more comprehensive guidance on non-Western languages. Considering how far we've come since 2017, when the last one was released, I'll be judging the shit out of them if they do otherwise. (And CMoS actually keep with the times decently enough.)

Which means, as long as there's at least a year or two for these new rules/spellings/orthographies to establish themselves before the next edition comes out, it's likely that just about every (legit) publisher will start using the new rules/spellings/orthographies.

And of course, it would expand much further from there.

[yelenasdiary]

Darktober BuckyNat :)

They're an established couple and are best friends with Reader, but they're both actually behind all the stalking incidents (phone calls from untraceable numbers with distorted voices, flowers being sent seemingly whenever she's having a bad day, threats sent to anyone that flirts with her, her favorite take-out orders showing up for her when she works late and forgets to eat, handwritten notes left on her car windshield,

Reader of course goes to the police, but they tell her the usual, nothing can be done yet as no laws have been broken, though they are looking into the threats. She of course confides in the couple and they try to cheer her up (though internally they're excited, they feel like they're wearing her down making you at your most vulnerable for them to finally strike)

But one night when someone that was stupid enough to ignore their threats (could be another character or a nameless person, I'll leave it to you) and actually asks you out on a date, they know its time to move. They deal with the idiot first, then come for Reader. It's time to make her theirs.

For smut I'm thinking (if you're comfortable): non-con, choking, spanking, degradation mixed with some praises, lots of biting and scratching and hickies, both fuck R multiple times (but the how and position I leave in your hands), I like to think that as the night goes on R fights back less as BuckyNat are just that good at manipulation coupled with R finds herself shamefully liking their attention.

Thanks in advance if you chose to write this 🥰

A Burning Desire

Pairing: WinterWidow x Fem! Reader

Summary: After the police turned you away, you seek comfort from two of your closest friends who have been patiently waiting for you. 

Dark Angst

Warnings: R is Bisexual, Stalking, Stockholm Syndrome?, Hints at Murder, Kidnapping, Drinking Spiked | 2.8K

AC: Thank you for sending this! I hope you enjoy! x 

October Masterlist 2024

As you walked down the hall from the elevator to your apartment, your feet ached to be off the ground. Another long day at work greet guests and checking them in an out of their room at one of the hotels a few blocks away from your cozy apartment. You didn’t hate your job but sometimes the long hours can be draining. Today you worked 3pm to 11pm, a shift you were never truly a fan of. As you approached your apartment door, a bouquet of flowers lay peacefully on the floor. 

“Every time you look at these flowers know that someone far away is thinking of you” 

The small card reads. The words printed in black made your heart drop to your stomach. At first, the flowers were delivered to your place of work then they were left taped to your mailbox in the lobby, but this was the first time they had been left at your door. 

You naturally looked around at your surroundings while you fiddled your keys into the lock before opening your door. You made sure to instantly lock the door behind you before throwing the flowers in the trash can. 

Your answering machine flashed with the number 1 in red, your heart sunk even more as you felt nothing but fear as you wandered over to the machine and pressed play. 

“You have 1 missed called from number: unknown”

The standard voice of your machine said, adding to your fear. 

“Saw you grabbing a coffee this afternoon, you looked so beautiful, you should smile more” The distorted voice that had been giving you nightmares for weeks now, filled your apartment. You felt sick as you quickly disconnected the landline and double checking that all your windows were locked, and the blinds were down. 

After you had a shower, you heard a knock on the door. Hesitantly, you wrapped yourself in your purple robe before wandering to the door and looking through the peep hole before answering it. You saw nobody in sight but could smell the goodness of your favorite take-out. Carefully, you opened the door only to see two bags of your favorite take out on the floor. This was the final straw for you, you grabbed the food and threw it in the trash along with the unwanted flowers. 

You hurried to get changed into some comfortable clothes, your best friend, Natasha, on the other line of your phone while you sobbed in fear to her. 

“We’re coming to get you” your friend informed you, “it’ll be okay” she added in hopes to assure you of your worries. 

“We’ll keep you safe!” You heard Bucky, her partner, in the background. You hated that you had just interrupted their night, especially this late but you couldn’t bear to spend another moment in your apartment alone.

As you waited for your friends to come pick you up, you sunk into your sofa in fear. Your mind reminding you of all the recent events that had been happening in your life, even after going to the police to report that you had a stalker, there wasn’t much they could do. They could look into the distorted voice messages but unless your life was in danger, they couldn’t act on the behavior of your secret admire. 

----

Once in the safety of your friends home, a hot drink in your hand and a throw blanket over your legs while you sat comfortably on their sofa, you finally broke down and told them everything that had been going on for the last few months. 

“Do you have any idea on who this could be?” Bucky asked, his jaw clenching at the thought of you being hurt. You slowly shook your head, “nobody that stands out” you replied. 

“Nobody new that’s moved into the building? No new starters at work or even the gym?” Natasha questioned. Her questions got you thinking, you had noticed one or two new members at the gym and one new worker started as a janitor at the hotel you work at but you haven’t had any interaction with them besides a kind smile or a soft greeting in passing. 

“We had a new janitor start a few weeks ago” you replied. 

“When did all this start?” Bucky asked, needing a refresher on some of the details. 

“A few months ago, I can’t exactly remember when it first started” you said, unsure.

“You should stay with us for a few days. We’ll keep an eye on your apartment, okay?” Natasha suggested. Usually you would fit the idea, not wanting to be a burden but you knew deep down it would be useless to fight them about your own safety.

“Only for a few days, I really don’t want to burden you both”

“Don’t be silly!” Natasha said, “your safety comes first. You can stay with us as long as you need. Bucky can go back to your apartment and get you some things if you’d like” she added. 

“Yeah, just write me a list of things you need, and we’ll go get em” Bucky smiled softly. 

“Thank you, I really appreciate this” you replied, giving them both a soft smile. 

----

Later in the week, work was going smoothly, the weather wasn’t too cold nor too warm but just enough for the sun to keep you from needing a coat whenever you took the small walk from work to the café around the corner. 

“Getting that afternoon coffee fix?” a familiar voice said from behind you while you waited patiently for your order. You turned around and smiled softly, “Seth! When did you get back?” You asked, embracing your co-worker with a hug. 

“Last week, first day back today” he smiled. 

“Welcome back how was it?” You asked. 

“Oh, you know, same old” he chuckled, “it was great, didn’t have to worry about work or anything and the food is always better on vacation” he added.

“Tell me about it! It’s good to have you back!” 

Seth smiled once more, “uh, I wanted to actually ask this before I left but I got a bit nervous” he admitted. 

“Ask what?” You question just before the barista calls your name. You took your coffee order with care, feeling the heat of the warm drink in your hands. 

“Do you want to get dinner, with me on Friday night?” Seth asked nervously, his deep brown eyes slightly dropping in fear of rejection. Still unsure on the identity of your stalker, you were hesitant to answer the poor guy but you didn’t want the fear of your stalker to hold you back from living your life. 

“Sure, I’d like that” you replied with a warm smile. His eyes lit up, “g-great, uhm, shall I pick you at 6?” He asked. 

“6 is perfect, I’ll see you back at the office” you gave him one last smile before making your way back to work. 

After work, you returned to your friends home, excited to give Natasha the news of your date in two days to come. “Are you sure this is safe?” The red head asked, “I don’t mean to be a downer on this, I just mean, are you sure this isn’t your stalker?” She added. 

“Seth? Oh please, he couldn’t even look me in the eyes when he asked me” you chuckled, “it was kind of sweet actually. Besides, I really don’t want this creep to control what I do with my life…I don’t want to be scared anymore” you replied.

Bucky, sitting on the sofa listening from a far couldn’t help the anger that built up in him. His mind racing with ways to get rid of this Seth guy from taking you away from him and Natasha. He listened as Natasha went along with your excitement, offering to go with you back to your apartment to pick out an outfit all while his fist almost crushed the television remote in his hand.

He made a mental note that you mentioned Seth would pick you up at your apartment at 6pm, giving his mind a chance to think of the perfect way to get rid of this fool before he even made it to your front door and he waited until you excused yourself for a shower before he spoke to Natasha. 

“Why don’t you look happy” Natasha commented, sarcastically. 

“She’s not going on that date” Bucky sternly replied. Nat wandered over to Bucky and gently cupped his face, “relax darling, this is the perfect time for us to do what we need. You take care of Seth, and I’ll make sure she never makes it to the apartment, problem solved. Now, cheer up, you’re going to make her think something is wrong” she spoke softly before kissing him deeply, “you’re always ten steps ahead, aren’t you” he asked. 

“Always, baby” Natasha playfully winked, “now, dinner, Chinese?” She asked. 

----

As Friday approached, Nat learnt that you weren’t rostered to work a shift, perfect for her plan to have you distracted from the date you had planned that night. She had planned a whole day out shopping, catching a movie and ending the night in with an unopened bottle of red wine. Bucky on the other had was off on his own mission, keeping tabs on Seth while Nat kept you busy. 

“Nat, that Alien movie doesn’t finish before 6” you looked up at her from your phone.

“Don’t stress, it’ll be fine! Plus, it never hurts to be a little late” she replied, throwing you a playful wink. You weren’t all that excited for the movie but you were sure that Nat wouldn’t purposely make you late. “Can’t we see an earlier session?” You asked, looking back down at your phone and seeing a session that would definitely finish in time to get home and ready for your date. 

“How about we just go with the flow? I gotta do some shopping for new clothes and Buck needs some new shirts, I’m tired of him wearing the same old colors. We can even shop for an outfit for your little date tonight” she said, throwing her hair up into a messy pony tail. 

“I guess a new outfit wouldn’t hurt” you said in thought. 

“Good, get dress darling, we have a lot to do today” Natasha smiled.

You and Natasha strolled through the mall, sipping on smoothies while window shopping at some of the clothes on mankins before entering stores. With every dress you tried on, Natasha couldn’t help the smirk dancing on her lips as you showed it off to her, it didn’t matter what you tried on, she loved everything and made sure to compliment you on each outfit. 

“That’s the one!” Natasha’s smile beamed at you through the mirror, a deep ocean blue silk dress that hugged your figure perfectly in every way possible. 

“A-are you sure? I think it’s a but much” 

“Am I sure? He is going to love you in this!” Nat replied, “if you don’t buy that, I am going to buy it for you!” She added as her eyes traced every inch of your body. Her comment made you blush, “well if you say so”. 

After what felt like hours of shopping, you and Nat finally ended up at the cinema. You were still unsure about the timing, but you also didn’t wanna let Natasha down, she had mentioned it had been a while since she was able to enjoy some girl time without Bucky. 

“I promise if the movie isn’t finished by 5, we’ll leave” she assured you. 

----

6pm. You were at your apartment in your new dress patiently waiting for Seth to come pick you up. Stubbornly, Natasha wasn’t leaving you alone by yourself, she made herself comfortable on your sofa with the days shopping bags at her feet. Bucky had texted her a little under an hour ago that Seth was no longer an issue and that he would now just be waiting for Natasha’s call.

You couldn’t help but keep checking the time on your watch as 10 minutes passed, then 20, then eventually, an hour passed and still no sign of Seth. You called but were sent to voice mail, leaving you devastated at the idea of being stood up. 

“He didn’t deserve your time anyways” Natasha said in hopes to comfort you as she popped open the bottle of red wine. 

“It doesn’t hurt to call or text!” You mumbled, kicking your heels off as Natasha poured two glasses of wine. “Now I’m glad I kept the tag on this dress, I can take it back tomorrow” you added. 

Natasha turned carefully on her heels, handing you a glass of red before sitting down beside you, “don’t return that dress over some stupid guy. He’s the stupid one for standing you up, anybody would be lucky to have you” 

“You’re just saying that because you’re my friend and you don’t have to worry about being stood up… you have Bucky” you said, taking a generous mouthful of wine. 

“If I was just saying that I wouldn’t be a very good friend. I mean it, you deserve somebody who will look after you, make time for you and be there for you. Not some guy who can’t even be bothered to let you know he’s a no-show” Natasha explained before sipping her wine, but she could see the disappointment in your eyes. “Let’s just order some take out and have a girl’s night, we can bitch about all things male because, let’s face it, they’re useless” she added with a soft smile.  

“Only if you let me pay for dinner, you paid for the movie” you replied. 

“Deal” Natasha smiled. 

As the night progressed Natasha whisked you away from the thoughts of your stalker and your no-show date. You both reminiscing about shared stories and laughter as the bottle of red was shared to the last drop. You felt a warmth that you hadn’t anticipated, but as fatigue settled in, you drifted into a peaceful sleep with your head resting peacefully in Natasha’s lap. 

----

Your eyes fluttered open slowly as you stirred, the room was dimly lit and entirely foreign. You sat up slowly, your heart racing as you looked around the room trying to workout where you were. “Natasha?” You called out, placing your feet on the ground, “Nat?” You called out once more, this time louder.

The door burst open, faces bright with concern as they rushed to your side, “you scared us” Natasha said, gently brushing a lock of hair behind your ear. 

“Wh-where am I?” You asked, “my head, it’s pounding” you added in pain. 

“I’ll get you something for the headache” Bucky replied, “other than that, are you okay?” He asked. 

You looked up at him, your eyes shifting between your two friends. “I d-don’t know what happened” you replied. 

“Honey, you called us in a panic. You said Seth admitted to being your stalker, you don’t remember that?” Natasha said as you shook your head at her words. “I just remember waiting for him” you replied.

Bucky lent forward, letting you rest your head on his shoulder, “We think he slipped you something in your drink, we found in some really fucked up place. We had to keep your safe doll, so while you were sleeping off whatever he slipped you, we made a choice for your safety” he explained softly, wrapping an arm around you.

“What do you mean?” 

“Darling, until we know Seth is gone for good, we’re not going home. You’ll stay here with us, at our safe house. You’re safe here” Natasha chipped in, placing a soft kiss on your cheek. Her gesture quickly gave you a sense of safety but the almost proud grin that tugged at Bucky’s lips gave you a hunch that there was more to the story. 

“Can’t we report him to the police? Tell them it was him?” You asked. 

Bucky shook his head, “doll, they will want evidence that he admitted it to you and since he drugged you, it’s his word against yours” 

“But surely they would believe me now, I mean, he drugged me?” You replied with a light frown. 

“How about we get some rest, and we’ll talk more about it later? You look exhausted” Natasha suggested, sitting down on the other side of you. She was right, you were exhausted, but your mind wouldn’t turn off. Your eyes were heavy, begging for more sleep but all you could think about was all the possible things that could’ve happened to you while blacked out. 

“I…I can’t” you replied in a stutter. 

“Shh, it’s okay, we’re here now. Nothing can hurt you detka” Natasha whispered softly, watching as you struggled to keep your eyes open. “You’re ours now” you faintly heard her voice as you started to drift back into a slumber.

“All ours” Bucky added.

If you want to be on the taglist for my work, please click HERE.

[homelanderbutbig]

I Love You Too (G/T Homelander x Reader)

2248 words. Pure fluff. Homelander is 8 feet tall. Reader is non-descriptive. Beginnings of a relationship.

When you and Homelander officially became a couple.

Homelander has had this event burned into his brain, how exactly he wanted it to go. It would be like a scene straight out of the movies. You would be whisked away to a secluded beach by a horse-drawn carriage, where a private band would be playing your favourite song. You would walk along the rose petal covered sand to his waiting arms, where he would confess his love for you. You would return his feelings, and ask him to be your boyfriend. Of course he would graciously say yes, as if this wasn't all a part of his master plan. Lastly, you would kiss him as doves fly above your heads, and the starry sky is filled with fireworks.

He's been plotting like a madman all week, doing his damndest to set this up. A fairytale beginning to a relationship with you, as is befitting of a man of his impeccable standards.

And yet, just like everything else in his life, nothing ever goes as he plans. The people he's placed his faith in to get this together for him are not living up to his expectations. He's spending more and more time trying to fix their mistakes, to the point where it's consuming his every waking thought. Every failure keeps eating away at his resolution, to the point where he doesn't know if he should even go through with it anymore. If it isn't perfect, would you even accept his passionate admissions?

He's been avoiding you all day. It's a reality that's pretty hard to miss, considering he's the tallest man you've ever known. As the face of Vought's superhero team, the absence of his presence is odd. Or at least, it's odd that he seems to solely be eluding you. You happened to ask some of your co-workers who confirmed that Homelander was in fact in the Tower today, only furthering your suspicions. At least something serious didn't happen to him, but it doesn't make you worry any less that something's wrong.

When your shift ends in the evening, you do as you normally would and take the elevator up to his penthouse. You weren't certain that he would be there, but you're relieved to see him sitting on his couch in the living room. Regardless, he isn't his normal cheery self. He is a bundle of nerves taken the form of a man; his body language is so tense it's almost as if he hopes you'll leave by ignoring you. But you aren't that easy to deter.

"Hey Homelander, I didn't see you today. I was worried," you remark while you hop up onto the couch, taking your seat on the cushion next to him. He still won't acknowledge you, instead looking down at his fidgeting thumbs. His eyes are red and puffy; evidently he's been crying alone, only furthering your concern that there's something significant bothering him.

"You look like you have something on your mind," you say, tilting your head up at him. You place a hand on his thigh, as is customary when you need to coax the worries out of him. "It must be pretty important if you didn't want to talk to me about it. You know you can tell me anything, I won't judge you."

"I-I…" he starts, but quickly cuts himself off. His breathing stutters as he attempts to steady his composure. This was not how he wanted this moment to happen, with him grovelling at your feet and you holding the power over him. He is the world's strongest supe; he is the one who should be in control, not you, a measly human.

"I'm here for you, take your time," you reassure him, grasping his index and middle finger with your hand. Those two big fingers are all that will fit in your palm, but you still squeeze with all your might, making sure that he feels your encouragement.

Glancing down at you, Homelander feels a small spark setting his heart aflame. Your eyes, shining so brightly, remind him of why he's even in this current position. Why he's been fretting in secret all week. That boost of confidence has returned, as it initially did when he first wanted to even plan all this.

This is his only chance.

"I… I-I… I l-love you…" he finally blurts out, immediately shutting his eyes tight as the weight of his words hits him like a ton of bricks. The regret is instantaneous, his self-consciousness wasting no time at eating away his bravado. He can't believe he actually said it. He's just exposed the only weakness an invincible supe like him has, his desire for your acceptance.

The silence in the penthouse is deafening. And to make matters worse, you haven't said 'I love you' back. You aren't saying anything. Why aren't you saying anything? All he wants right now is to get up and fly away, far far away, but he can't. He can't do anything but sit and let his anxiety overtake his body, freezing him solid.

This was not the problem you were expecting was plaguing Homelander's mind. He got himself this worked up… over you? But then you start to really think about it. How close you've gotten to him over these last few weeks, and how your friendship has blossomed into something much more. He makes you happy by just grinning down at you when you visit him. It brightens up your day talking to him, seeing his canines poke out when he smiles, and hearing his heartfelt laughs as he listens to your every word. You can't help but think about him even when he's gone. The way that, despite your immense height difference, you've never felt more in sync with anyone like you do with him. It's as if he completes you, and makes you whole. He fills a part of you that's always felt empty.

You know you feel the same way he does. You know what you have to do.

Carefully, you maneuver yourself to kneel on top of his lap so your face is directly in front of his, completely catching him off-guard. He wasn't expecting this sudden seizure of control from you, but he raises his large hands to your back to keep you from falling off. At least now he's mentally back down to earth, focusing on your every move.

You are so close that you can see the worry etched into every nook and cranny of his face. His blue eyes are wide and twitching subtly, his eyebrows are pinched together stiffly, and his lips are quivering from what he's hoping will happen next.

"I… I love you too", you state matter-of-factly, unable to hide your smile at how his childlike innocence is peering straight back at you. At how nonchalantly you've shaken him straight to his core with four simple words.

And with your final devious chess move, you lean forward to kiss him.

You expected this to be a short and sweet smooch to affirm the beginning of your relationship. However, the second Homelander feels your lips he cannot help but push for more, so desperate for your affection. He's nearly moaning from the flood of intense emotions churning inside him, the bubble irrevocably bursting from the moment that he's been waiting for all night. You love him too, how can he not react so strongly? His kiss is forceful, almost like he's trying to smother you with his love, just so there's nothing else you'll ever think about but him.

You struggle to articulate even a basic sentence against his mouth, desperately swatting at his chest to get his attention. You lack the strength to hurt him, but luckily he still notices your light thumps against his suit and reluctantly pulls back.

Your face is flushed and breathing haggard, having been left flustered from how you were unable to fight against him proving his devotion. Not only are his lips twice the size of yours, but you also couldn't back away with his immovable hands keeping you in place. Just another little reminder of the disparity between Homelander and the rest of humanity; you truly are utterly powerless compared to the eight foot tall indestructible superhero you're currently seated on.

His jaw becomes rigid as he stares at your expression, until he looks away when he can no longer take in the fear he perceives. Tears are once again welling up in his eyes, his ears are ringing loudly, and his heart is freefalling down into the pit of his stomach. He's fucked up. He's ruined the moment. He's shown you the monster that lurks within himself, the one that can never be satiated.

But despite it all, despite his inner turmoil, despite the voices in his head telling him your relationship is over before it even got started… he feels you place a hand on his cheek.

Your demeanour is the opposite of Homelander's. What you see in front of you is a man fighting to keep the tears from falling, so broken from a deficiency of love. A man who could never stop those he cherished from abandoning him when he gave them his heart on a silver platter. What he sees in front of him is the only person in the world who cares enough to stay.

"It's okay, I'm not going anywhere. That kiss was… was just a bit too much for me," you explain sympathetically, using your fingers to wipe away the tears that dare stain his beautiful face. You can sense the tension ease ever so slightly with each touch to his cheeks as he revels in the feeling of your soft skin. He can't say he's felt someone touch him so sweetly like that in a long time.

"Do you wanna kiss me again?" you ask, repositioning both of your hands to stroke along his jawline. Always chasing after your affections, he leans closer towards you and gives a very hesitant nod, apprehensively swallowing hard from the thought of what he should be anticipating.

"Let's do it more like this," you whisper as you move forward to kiss him. This time you take the lead, purposefully going slow and delicate. He follows your pace instantly, eyes fluttering closed while he sinks into your lips like you hold all the power in the universe.

Homelander's never been kissed like this before, without a proverbial carrot being dangled in his front of his face. Whenever there's a scrap of romance on the line he always must face a thousand trials, go through a series of tests that he must pass without any errors lest it be withheld from him. But not now. Your kiss provides him with the love and care he's fought his whole life for, the tenderness he's always dreamed of experiencing. And you are reciprocating his wants, his needs right back.

Lifting your hands up to his hair you start combing through his undercut, giving him the little scratches that you know make him feel good. A whimper builds from deep in his throat as you run your nails along his scalp, and it doesn't take long for his whines to evolve into flat-out purring.

Eventually, he breaks the kiss to bury his head into the crook of your neck, savouring the way you scratch his hair. His deep voice rumbles through your body as he nuzzles himself further into you, emitting content hums while he melts into your warmth. If there's a heaven, Homelander thinks he's found it.

He wraps his arms around your back, spreading his fingers along your shoulders as he pulls you closer. He embraces you firmly, but not enough that you feel immobile. He's learned his lesson not to make you feel like you can't escape from his grasp, he wants you to be comfortable with him.

"You know, you don't need to do some grand display to show me that you love me," you comment softly. "You do it every day, just by being yourself. And that's enough. You will always be enough."

Your words are like honey to his ears, almost enough to make him start crying again. When he's with you, he feels a level of trust that he can't put into words. You understand him better than anyone else ever could. He's safe with you, as you are with him.

"I-I… love… you," he mumbles quietly, still having a bit of trouble getting that sentence out. It's been such a long time since he's said that, and truly meant it.

"I love you too," you chuckle, kissing the top of his head.

"I… love you," he replies, feeling confidence build up within himself once more. This phrase is starting to not be so hard to say, each time you say it back.

"I love you too," you respond, beaming when you sense a shy grin forming on your shoulder.

The two of you repeat this back and forth for a while, until your words blend together into one, and you fall asleep in each other's arms. This might not have been the way Homelander wanted this evening to go, but somehow… it feels right. In its own special way, it turned out better than he could have ever imagined. Because despite the tears and anxiety, from this moment on, he no longer has to cast his love out to an neverending abyss of hate. Now, he has someone to answer his call.

He has you.

[a-dinosaur-a-day]

Mammal bias is esp rampant in the pet community. I've had pet reptiles and spiders/tarantulas since I was about 10 and being told right to me face that the animals I cared for and cherished were gross and weird and some even "jokingly" staid they would gladly stomp on.

Nothing against dogs and cats but if you wouldn't say that about someone's dog or cat why would you say that to anyone who loves their pets?

Yup yup yup. Honestly, I've always known mammal bias was a thing, and when I majored in biology it was shoved down my throat, but I kind of figured its scope was limited or not really that damaging until I got my pet birds.

Apartments list themselves as pet friendly, but they only ever mean cats and dogs (and good luck trying to find ones that have other pets listed as okay online - same for temporary lodging)

Vets are usually only trained in cats and dogs, and it is impossible to find vets for other species close by - sometimes, at all - fish literally are done a major disservice alone

Homes and group living areas like townhouses, apartment buildings, etc. are not built with the safety of non-catdog pets in mind. How many have linked ventilation systems, which would endanger birds to emissions from other homes?

Service animals can only be dogs. Because dogs were literally bred to be our obedient servants. Never mind that other animals are more intelligent, and can also be trained. Just dogs.

Heck, cats and dogs even form a binary! Are you a cat lover or a dog lover? If you say neither, you get weird looks, and are accused of hating animals! Even though that's only two animals out of the billions!

And of course there's the death threats. Whether its someone threatening to kill someone's pet tarantula, to stomp on their snake, or eat their chicken, that just comes up again and again.

Cats and Dogs are elevated to essentially human status, because they are companion animals in our society and seen as part of the family. But no one can fathom that other pets are seen as family, too, that we'd like the same level of care and respect given to them.

like take this example: many people suggest eating non-cat/dog pets on the internet, and they're hardly ever called out or criticized. "It's just a joke!" and all that. Never mind these pets are beloved animals, and not actually a threat to anyone. Meanwhile, outdoor cats are actively causing ecological collapse. But if you suggest any form of aggressive population control - not of people's pets, of feral cats - you get called a monster. These aren't even beloved animals, just the *concept* of a cat is enough to make people lose their heads. this is a blatant double standard. an actively damaging double standard.

anyways if you want a non cat/dog pet remember to research vets and housing rules for your area before you accidentally screw yourself.

I would be remiss if I didn't add an afterthought that while small mammal pets and other mammals other than cats and dogs do have better vet treatment and some other benefits thanks to mammal bias, they often face similar struggles, and this hierarchy for pets really has cats and dogs on a pedestal lording over everyone else - including rabbits, hamsters, and especially mice and rats, and all other mammal pets as well as pets in other groups.

I hate cat-dog supremacy so much it sends me into a blind rage. Like, there isn't a 24-hr emergency vet for birds within three hours of me. I either have to drive that long or wait till my (hour away!) daytime vet opens up if I have an emergency. Birds can bleed out fast. This is just negligence. And there are so many animals, not only birds, that have been bred for captivity and rely on us. It is irresponsible and cruel that we designate them second-class pet...izens.

oof, you probably didn't expect this long of a ramble, I'll leave it off there.

[leydaelevator]

Elevator Parts Geared type Tractionb Machine For Elevators

Contacts：Allen Li WhatsApp and Call：+86 13771753782 E-mail：leydaelevator@gmail.com Company website: http://leydaelevator.com

[dresshistorynerd]

European history is not white

Someone commented this to a post I reblogged, which message is basically "we shouldn't venerate the Dead White Man HistoryTM and we should elevate other history too, but we still need to learn Dead White Man HistoryTM to understand the world today". It's basically a response to the attitude you sometimes come across in the internet that sees learning about those Dead White MenTM as not worth our time. And this person, who seems to be following this blog because they responded to my reblog, takes it as a personal attack against all white Europeans. For some reason. Well I take these comments as a personal attack against historical understanding.

Firstly, the post clearly didn't say you shouldn't venerate any European history, because not all European history is Dead White Man HistoryTM. Obviously this person thinks European history is white, which is not true, but surely, surely, they know it's not all men? Secondly, what is "west culture"? When did it start? There is not one western culture, not one European culture. The first concept of some shared Europeanness was the Christendom in Middle Ages, but it was not exactly the same as we think of Europe today, because it did not include the pagan areas, but it included a lot of Levant and parts of Central Asia, where there were large Christian areas. And Europe was not "very white" nor was the Christendom. The more modern concept of West was cooked in tandem with race and whiteness during colonial era and Enlightenment, around 17th to 18th centuries. And Europe was certainly not very white then. The western world also includes a lot of colonized areas, so that's obviously not white history. Thirdly, implying that asking white people to apologize for European history (which no one did ask) is as ridiculous as asking black people for African history is... a choice. Black people do exist in a lot of other places than Africa, which white people should be the ones apologizing for, and really white people also have a lot to answer for about African history. Lastly, if you think the quote "anyone who thinks those dead white guys are aspirational is a white supremacist" means you as an European are demanded to apologize for your existence, maybe - as we say in Finland - that dog yelps, which the stick clanks. (I'm sorry I think I'm the funniest person in the world when I poorly translate Finnish sayings into English.)

The thing is, there is no point in European history, when Europe was white, for three reasons. 1) Whiteness was invented in 17th century and is an arbitrary concept that has changed it's meaning through time. 2) Whichever standard you use, historical or current, Europe still has never been all or overwhelmingly white, because whiteness is defined as the in-group of colonialists, and there has always been the internal Other too. In fact the racial hierarchy requires an internal Other. 3) People have always moved around a lot. The Eurasian steppe and the Mediterranean Sea have always been very important routes of migration and trade. I've been meaning to make a post proving exactly that to people like this, since as I've gathered my collection of primary images of clothing, I've also gathered quite a lot of European primary images showing non-white people, so I will use this opportunity to write that post.

So let's start from the beginning. Were the original inhabitants of Europe white? Of course not. The original humans had dark skin so obviously first Europeans had dark skin. Whenever new DNA evidence of dark skinned early Europeans come out (like this study), the inevitable right-wing backlash that follows is so interesting to me. Like what did you think? Do you still believe the racist 17th century theories that white people and people of colour are literally different species? I'm sure these people will implode when they learn that studies (e.g. this) suggest in fact only 10 000 years ago Europeans had dark skin, and even just 5 000 years ago, when Egypt (an many others) was already doing it's civilization thing, Europeans had brown skin (another source). According to the widely accepted theory, around that time 5 000 years ago the Proto-Indo-European language developed in the Pontic-Caspian steppe, which extends from Eastern Europe to Central Asia. These Proto-Indo-Europeans first migrated to Anatolia and then to Europe and Asia. Were they white? Well, they were probably not light skinned (probably had brown skin like the other people living in Europe around that time), the Asian branch of Indo-European peoples (Persians, most Afghans, Bengalis, most Indians, etc.) are certainly not considered white today and a lot of the people today living in that area are Turkic and Mongolic people, who are also not considered white. I think this highlights how nonsensical the concept of race is, but I don't think Proto-Indo-Europeans would have been considered white with any standard.

Around Bronze Age light skin became common among the people in Europe, while in East Asia it had become wide spread earlier. This does not however mark the point when "Europe became white". During the Bronze Age there was a lot of migration back and forth in the Eurasian steppe, and the early civilizations around Mediterranean did a lot of trade between Europe, Africa and Asia, which always means also people settling in different places to establish trading posts and intermarrying. There were several imperial powers that also stretched to multiple continents, like the briefly lived Macedonian Empire that stretched from Greece to Himalayas and Phoenicians from Levant, who didn't built an empire but settled in North Africa, Sicily and Iberia. In Iron Age the Carthaginian Empire, descendants of Phoenician settlers in current Tunisia, build an Empire that spanned most of the western Mediterranean coast. Their army occupying that area included among others Italic people, Gauls, Britons, Greeks and Amazigh people.

Iron Age also of course saw the rise of the Roman Republic, and later empire, but it was preceded by Etruscans, who populated Tuscan, and possibly preceded the Indo-European presence. However, weather through trade and migration with other Mediterraneans or the continuing presence of darker skin tones of the early Europeans, their art quite often depicts darker skin tones too, like seen below in first two images. Roman Empire at it's height spanned from Babylonia to the British Isles. They recruited soldiers from all provinces and intentionally used stationed them in different areas so they wouldn't be too sympathetic to possible rebels or neighboring enemies. Historical sources mention black Nubian soldiers in British Isles for example. They also built a lot of infrastructure around the empire to ensure protection and easy transportation through trade routes inside the empire. During this time Jewish groups also migrated from Levant to both North-Africa and Europe. Rome even had non-European emperors, like Septimius Severus who originated from Levant and was Punic (descendants of Phoenicians) from his father's side, and who was depicted with darker skin (third picture below). Various ethnicities with differing skin tones are represented all over Roman art, like in the fourth picture below from hunting lodge in Sicily.

Eurasian steppe continued to be important source of migration and trade between Europe and Asia. Scythians, Iranic nomadic people, were important for facilitating the trade between East Asia and Europe through the silk road during the Iron Age. They controlled large parts of Eastern Europe ruling over Slavic people and later assimilating to the various Slavic groups after loosing their political standing. Other Iranic steppe nomads, connected to Scythian culture also populated the Eurasian steppe during and after Scythia. During the Migration Period, which happened around and after the time of Western Rome, even more different groups migrated to Europe through the steppe. Huns arrived from east to the Volga region by mid-4th century, and they likely came from the eastern parts of the steppe from Mongolian area. Their origins are unclear and they were either Mongolic, Turkic or Iranic origin, possibly some mix of them. Primary descriptions of them suggests facial features common in East Asia. They were possibly the nomadic steppe people known as Xiongnu in China, which was significant in East and Central Asia from 3rd century BCE to 2nd century CE until they moved towards west. Between 4th and 6th centuries they dominated Eastern and Central Europe and raided Roman Empire contributing to the fall of Western Rome.

After disintegration of the Hun Empire, the Huns assimilated likely to the Turkic arrivals of the second wave of the Migration Period. Turkic people originate likely in southern Siberia and in later Migration period they controlled much of the Eurasian steppe and migrated to Eastern Europe too. A Turkic Avar Khagenate (nation led by a khan) controlled much of Eastern Europe from 6th to 8th century until they were assimilated to the conquering Franks and Bulgars (another Turkic people). The Bulgars established the Bulgarian Empire, which lasted from 7th to 11th in the Balkans. The Bulgars eventually adopted the language and culture of the local Southern Slavic people. The second wave of Migration Period also saw the Moor conquest of Iberia and Sicily. Moors were not a single ethnic group but Arab and various Amazigh Muslims. Their presence in the Iberian peninsula lasted from 8th to 15th century and they controlled Sicily from 9th to 11th century until the Norman conquest. During the Norman rule though, the various religious and ethnic groups (which also included Greeks and Italic people) continued to live in relative harmony and the North-African Muslim presence continued till 13th century. Let's be clear that the Northern Europe was also not white. Vikings also got their hands into the second wave migration action and traveled widely to east and west. Viking crews were not exclusively Scandinavians, but recruited along their travels various other people, as DNA evidence proves. They also traded with Byzantium (when they weren't raiding it) and Turkic people, intermarried and bought slaves, some of which were not white or European. A Muslim traveler even wrote one of the most important accounts of Vikings when encountering them in Volga.

By this point it should already be clear that Medieval Europe was neither white, but there's more. Romani people, who originate from India and speak Indo-Aryan language, arrived around 12th century to Balkans. They continued to migrate through Europe, by 14th century they were in Italy, by 15th century in Germany and by 16h century in Britain and Sweden. Another wave of Romani migration from Persia through North-Africa, arrived in Europe around 15th century. Then there's the Mongol Empire. In 13th century they ruled very briefly a massive portion of the whole Eurasian continent, including the Eastern Europe. After reaching it's largest extent, it quickly disintegrated. The Eurasian Steppe became the Golden Horde, but lost most of the Eastern-Europe, except Pontic-Caspian Steppe. They ruled over Slavs, Circissians, Turkic groups and Finno-Ugric groups till early 15th century. The Mongolian rulers assimilated to the Turkic people, who had been the previous rulers in most of the steppe. These Turkic people of the Golden Horde came to be known as Tatars. Golden Horde eventually split into several Tatar khagenates in 15th century, when the khagenates, except the Crimean Khagenate, were conquered by the Tsardom of Moscovy. Crimean Khagenate was annexed by the Russian Empire in 1783. Crusades were a movement from Europe to Levant, but they also meant intermarriage in the the Crusader kingdoms especially between the European and Levant Christians, and some movement back and froth between these kingdoms and Europe, trade and a lot of movement back after the Crusader kingdoms were defeated in 13th century. Generally too trade across the Mediterranean sea was extensive and led to migration and intermarriage.

And here's some example of people of colour in Medieval European art, shown as part of the majority white European societies. First is from a 15th century French manuscript depicting Burgundy court with dark skin courtier and lady in waiting. Second one is from a Flemish manuscript from 15th century of courtiers, including a black courtier, going for a hunt. Third is a 15th century Venetian gondolier with dark skin.

In Renaissance Era Europe was only increasing it's trade and therefore had even more connections outside Europe. The first picture below is Lisbon, which had strong trade relationship with Africa, depicted in late 16th century. People with darker skin tones were part all classes. Second image is an Italian portrait of probably a seamstress from 16th century. Third one is a portrait of one of the personal guards of the Holy Roman Emperor. Fourth image is a portrait of Alessandro de' Medici, duke of Florence, who was noted for his brown complexion, and the modern scholarly theory is that his mother was a (likely brown) Italian peasant woman.

Colonialism begun in the Renaissance Era, but the wide spread colonial extraction and slavery really got going in the 17th century. Racial hierarchy was developed initially to justify the trans-Atlantic slave trade specifically. That's why the early racial essentialism was mostly focused on establishing differences between white Europeans and black Africans. Whiteness was the default, many theories believed humans were originally white and non-whites "degenerated" either through their lives (some believed dark skin was basically a tan or a desease and that everyone was born white) or through history. Originally white people included West-Asians, some Central-Asians, some North-Africans and even sometimes Indigenous Americans in addition to Europeans. The category of white inevitably shrank as more justifications for atrocities of the ever expanding colonial exploitation were required. The colonial exploitation facilitated development of capitalism and the industrial revolution, which led to extreme class inequality and worsening poverty in the European colonial powers. This eventually became an issue for the beneficiaries of colonialism as worker movements and socialism were suddenly very appealing to the working class.

So what did the ruling classes do? Shrink whiteness and give white working classes and middle classes justifications to oppress others. Jews and Roma people had long been common scapegoats and targets of oppression. Their oppression was updated to the modern era and racial categories were built for that purpose. The colonial powers had practiced in their own neighborhoods before starting their colonial projects in earnest and many of those European proto-colonies were developed to the modern colonial model and justified the same way. In 19th century, when racial pseudoscience was reaching it's peak, Slavs, others in Balkan, the Irish (more broadly Celts), Sámi (who had lost their white card very early), Finns, Southern Italians, the Spanish, the Southern French and Greeks all were considered at least not fully white. The Southern Europeans and many Slavs were not even colonized (at least in the modern sense, though with some cases like Greeks it's more complicated than that), but they looked too much and were culturally too similar to other non-white Mediterraneans, and they were generally quite poor. In many of these cases, like Italians, the French and Slavs, it was primarily others belonging in the same group, who were making them into second class citizens. All this is to highlight how very malleable the concept of race is and that it's not at all easy to define the race of historical people.

However, even if we would go with the racial categories of today, Europe was still far from being all white in this period. You had Roma, who certainly are not included in whiteness today, and European Jews, whose whiteness is very conditional, descendants of Moors in Southern Europe and Tatars and Turks in Eastern Europe and Turkey, which today is often not thought of as part of Europe, but historically certainly was. And then colonialism brought even more people into Europe forcibly, in search of work because their home was destroyed or for diplomatic and business reasons. There were then even more people of colour, but they were more segregated from the white society. Black slaves and servants are very much represented in European art from 17th century onward, but these were not the only roles non-white people in Europe were in, which I will use these examples to show. First is a Flemish portrait of Congo's Emissary, Dom Miguel de Castro, 1643. Second is a 1650 portrait of a Moorish Spanish man Juan de Pareja, who was enslaved by the artist as artisanal assistant, but was freed and became a successful artist himself. Third is a 1768 portrait of Ignatius Sancho, a British-African writer and abolitionist, who had escaped slavery as a 20-year-old. Fourth painting is from 1778 of Dido Elizabeth Belle, a British gentlewoman born to a slave mother who was recognized as a legitimate daughter by her father, and her cousin. The fifth portrait is of an unknown woman by (probably) a Swiss painter from late 18th century. Sixth is a 1760s Italian portrait of a young black man.

In late 18th century England abolished slavery in British Isles first, then in early 19th century in the whole British Empire, thanks to the continuous campaign of free Black people and some white allies, notably Quakers. Around the same time slavery was abolished in France (briefly till Napoleon got to power) after the French revolution. This meant there were a lot more free black people in Europe after that. In 18th century the Europeans, British especially, were colonizing Asia as much they could, which meant that in 19th century there started to also be a lot more Asian, especially Indian people in Europe. First picture below is of Thomas Alexander Dumas, who was son of a black slave woman and a white noble French man and became a general in the French revolutionary army. His son was one of the most well-known French authors, Alexander Dumas, who wrote The Count of Monte Cristo and The Three Musketeers. Second portrait is of Jean-Baptiste Belley, a Senegalese former slave, who became French revolutionary politician. Third portrait is from 1810 of Dean Mahomed, an Indian-British entrepreneur, who established the first Indian restaurant in London. Forth is Arab-Javanese Romantic painter Saleh Syarif Bustaman, who spend years in Europe. Fifth is a 1862 photo of Sara Forbes Bonnetta, originally named Aina, princess of Edbago clan of Yoruba, who was captured into slavery as a child, but later freed and made Queen Victoria's ward and goddaughter. She married a Nigerian businessman, naval officer and statesman, James Pinson Labulo Davies (sixth picture).

So any guesses on at what point was that "very white Europe" when the "west culture" begun? It kinda seems to me that it never actually existed.

[mandoriana]

HEADCANON OF ARTHUR PENDRAGON

Okay, so maybe I'm designing a little bit, but I really think Arthur has autism and Merlin ADHD, so I brought some headcanon on Arthur and then I'll bring a post with Merlin headcanon.

Arthur definitely feels he needs to earn everything in his life, like affection, respect, or any form of good things happening to him.

He saves lives, or so he says, but it's more like he's saving to try to make up for the ones he took and to earn the right to be alive, which is an absurd thing to believe, but he believes it.

Arthur used to stim by waving his hands or humming a tune, but his father saw this as impertinence and disobedience, so he started punishing Arthur whenever he did it.

Gaius identified signs of "mental illness" in Arthur at the age of 8, and when he told Uther, he was ordered never to tell anyone.

Arthur feels ashamed of himself, so he would rather die than tell anyone about his "illness."

This often leads to people misunderstanding him, but part of him feels that this is what he deserves. Like, he thinks he would hate being judged for his mental illness because he doesn't like the idea of his actions being retroactively justified or excused, not being self-aware enough to realize that this horribly elevated sense of hyper-responsibility over simply screwing up everything in his life is, in itself, a response to trauma. Also, he is the biggest hypocrite, wanting to save lives but never trying to save himself, always putting himself in danger without caring about his own life.

Arthur has some insane standards that he forces himself to meet. He works non-stop as a prince and knight, always doing something, unable to stay still or even sleep until everything is done. He skips meals, neglects his well-being, puts everything at risk, and expects himself to do this every day, every hour, without fail, every time.

The main reason Arthur never had a personal servant for too long is that no one could understand the prince's needs; they brought the wrong breakfast, at the wrong time, and in the wrong way; they tried to touch him without permission or approached too quickly, which unnerved the prince; they also cleaned his room and left everything with strong smells that Arthur hated.

His comfort food is fig pudding, but his father forbade him from eating it to not ruin his diet and good looks. Merlin steals some pies for Arthur when he feels his prince is down.

Arthur doesn't like rough fabrics or tight clothes.

Physical contact is not accepted unless Arthur initiates it himself.

He can't stand strong smells, so he abhors being near some court ladies who overdo it with perfume.

His hyperfocus is on war strategies and Greek tragedies.

Arthur loves wearing armor; the weight of the armor and his cape brings him comfort.

When overwhelmed, Arthur crouches, wraps himself in his cape, and covers his ears.

He feels really hurt when someone speaks ill of him because he doesn't know when they are being sincere or not, the only exception being Merlin, whom Arthur knows is just joking.

Merlin is his emotional support person.

The first time Arthur had a sensory overload in front of Merlin, he expected to be punished for it, but Merlin just started questioning what Arthur needed and began taking care of him.

Arthur's comfort person is Merlin.

Arthur gets anxious in crowded places, but if Merlin is in sight, he can calm down.

When he becomes king and needs to give speeches, Merlin stands behind him, discreetly holding his hand so Arthur doesn't feel nervous.

To the knights, Arthur is the serious and quiet part of the duo, but when he is alone with Merlin, he talks a lot.

He likes to give gifts to Merlin, especially clothes that he finds comfortable and in beautiful colors.

Merlin has an almost inexhaustible energy, always moving and doing something. This can be irritating to some, but Arthur finds comfort in Merlin's constant and active presence.

When Arthur has a sensory overload, Merlin knows exactly what to do to calm him down. He creates a calm and safe environment, using his magic to block excessive stimuli.

Arthur has a very rigid daily routine that he follows religiously. Any interruption or unexpected change can make him extremely anxious. Merlin is the biggest advocate for his prince's routine and never lets anything interrupt Arthur.

Besides war strategies and Greek tragedies, Arthur has a deep interest in heraldry and genealogy. He can spend hours studying coats of arms and family trees.

Arthur prefers direct and clear communication. He can get frustrated with indirectness or sarcasm, except when it comes from Merlin, whom he understands better.

Arthur is sensitive to bright lights and prefers environments with soft lighting. He avoids large halls lit by many chandeliers.

Arthur has a collection of small objects that he finds comforting, like smooth stones or old medallions. He likes to hold these objects when he is stressed.

Arthur prefers to focus on one task at a time. He feels overwhelmed when he has to deal with multiple responsibilities simultaneously.

Arthur feels safer in small, confined spaces, like inside a closet or under the bed, rather than in large halls or open areas.

Arthur has an exceptional memory for details, especially related to battles and strategies. He can precisely remember troop movements in past battles.

Before each battle or important event, Arthur follows a specific preparation ritual that helps him focus and calm down.

Arthur sometimes has difficulty reading other people's emotions, which can lead to misunderstandings. He relies on Merlin to help him interpret the intentions of those around him.

[mangalho]

I made this dude to relax bc i read the info on drows on the dnd wiki (i dont know shit abt dnd and im not joking) and thought ‘whoever made these guys is a pervert’ i respect that, but i closed my eyes at the stupider bits of the lore…

i just dont think their society is like. Livable HAHAAH also its stupid asf to have ‘inherently evil species’… apparently they’re steering away from that shit which is great.

He was a man from a non-noble house chosen by a matron of a high house and they were surprisingly happy together for drow standards. Malaggar comes from like a mining/trading settlement, but his ventures took him to Menzoberranzan and thats how he met her. She was smitten by his general honesto demeanor and cute "provincial" accent (okay big City bitch..!)

please note that drows are kind of insane in general but apparently its worse in highly populated noble ridden cities with the strictest social rules so like. To you this was just some guy but to that woman he was so different so quirky ajahjahah

They had a good run, but eventually another matron from another high house came and said ‘i want him’ and since drow women compete like wild animals she killed his OG wife.. demolished her really

He became her bitch AND was miserable. She was happy bc he was like a pretty young thing but soon started getting violent with the guy because he was grieving his first wife whom he actually liked. He was in a rough spot bc he was getting his ass beat on the daily fr.. However his new wife was also a high drow so. He was basically elevating his family just bc he was there taking the domestic abuse (read: normal spider-worshipping drow behaviour)

The new matron was very unkind in every possible way you can imagine, but she didn’t do anything to him that would scar his body, greatest asset and all that. One day he snapped and killed his matron by way of knife and ran away to the surface world. Then he started his life of crime. Went from a little abused noble boy to some cartel mercenary dude who kills ppl and has tattoos. I think they look both really dumb but also sick as fuck, and he probably got them as a way to rebel against his upbringing in a way. But he’s edgy so i bet he thinks he looks sick like no nations no borders no self awareness being embarrassing unites all peoples

he is traumatized by women and is deeply afraid of them! I want his story to develop around becoming more normal and overcoming his grief.. hes from a long lived species so its taking him a while. Also its harder to make real friends if all your coworkers are insane criminals

[wordsmithic]

Winter Harvest - Review (non-spoilery)

It's not often that I write book critiques directly to Tumblr but this book called for an exception. This story of Demeter (and Persephone) comes to us from a Greek writer and it's a fresh gem in the industry.

You can truly see the Greek eye in the text with all its nuances and cultural understanding. The book had intriguing and creative concepts about the gods and divinity that didn't feel out of place or disrespectful to Greek culture. The concept of divinity and how it operates in Papadopoulou's imagination was particularly interesting and the strongest element in the book for me.

The imbalance between gods, when it came to power and gender, was informed by Greek history and tradition of seeing gender dynamics. In other words, it wasn't the anglophone "ancient males bad, ancient females awesome and always oppressed and sad" voyeuristic trend, and this (actual!) realism truly felt very refreshing to me as a Greek.

The prose is simple but its impact grows the more the book advances. I came to love the way Papadopoulou used language in her own way to showcase the concept of divinity. The story also shined through the faithfulness to the myths and through presenting the gods as something different than humans, a concept that most Western authors of this genre fail to grasp about ancient religions and gods.

The author respected the myths, not trying to "subvert" (the new word Western publishers are obsessed about) or whitewash the original material for native Anglophone audiences but to build on it and show another perspective. Books like this demonstrate that the original material doesn't have to be "subverted" or "deconstructed" to show its timeless value. The story gets ugly and unpleasant at times but it was the first time that I felt I saw good Greek Myth Realism.

Demeter's thoughts and behavior were fascinating to read about. Inner monologues and speculative paragraphs are not my preferred read but in this case, I felt magnetized by Demeter's pov. The transformation she and the other gods go through is related to their hurdles and pain, resulting in very interesting evolutions.

Demeter's actions were informed by her divinity and power within the ancient Greek context and not by modern human standards, which is a very low bar but, as we established, most books in this category don't achieve this at all. For gods, there is little fuss about Human things and Human things are often minutia. For the first time in many years, I felt like I was in the mind of a God and this was a success by the author which elevated the book more for me.

The only negative thing is the simple writing and phrasing which, at times, could read as a bit juvenile but in no way it undermined the ideas of this book and the whole concept. Considering this is the author's debut, some things can be overlooked, more so when they affected the book so little in my reading. Some could say it was a bit slow at times but I adored the perspective and the flow so much that I didn't mind at all.

Reading Winter Harvest was overall a great experience, and I cannot recommend it enough. If you are used to reading Greek myth books only by authors in the Anglosphere I strongly recommend you check it out for its cultural perspective which is - unfortunately - fresh for the western popular publishing industry.

4/5 stars ⭐️⭐⭐⭐

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[1arkspur-aconitum]

HOW VERY UN-GREEK (s.r.)

IN WHICH: Spencer Reid meets Juniper Bishop, the new team member, on her first day at the BAU and finds it hard to focus.

PAIRING: Season 3 Spencer Reid/Fem!BAU!OC

CATEGORY: fluff

CONTENT: IQ slashed to 60, Derek being an idiot, equally genius character, teasing, 3rd person, and a good introduction to who Juniper Bishop is.

WORD COUNT: 5.7k

PUBLISHED: 29/09/24

DR. SPENCER REID ARRIVED EARLY to work that morning and went through his usual routine. He’d cleaned his desk, poured himself a hot coffee with four teaspoons of sugar for added energy, and prepared himself as best he could for whatever the day had to throw at him. Murderers, arsonists, or just straight up creeps were standard for the BAU, and that was part of the reason why he loved the job so much. Nothing was consistent, but the methodology–the construction of the profile, the analytical processes–were always the same.

But, as he sat there at his desk, the only one in the middle of the bullpen, he wasn’t sure what today would provide. There had been no recent string of deaths in the news, no strange threats sent to local police departments, no rumours of wayward prisoners. The day looked as if it was set to be normal. Or, as normal as a day in the BAU.

Crossword spread out in front of him, Spencer Reid savoured his coffee as the early morning light spread across his desk. The bullpen was deserted, his only glimpse of other life the occasional figures flickering past the glass doors. Usually an empty bullpen was a blessing for him. No one would interrupt his thinking with stupid questions (Derek), pestering about his non-existent love life (Emily), or try to convince him to another BAU pasta evening (Dave). Typically, he liked the silence. Just him and his thoughts.

Today, though, something was different. He couldn’t concentrate. The building was too still. As if it was holding its breath. The anticipatory feeling soured the taste of his coffee, blurred the edges of his mind. Spencer didn’t like it one bit.

He looked up on instinct when the elevator dinged open. Spencer took pride in knowing his surroundings–in fact, Spencer took pride in knowing everything. He had seen a lot in his time, and could remember every single painstaking detail. He could remember the exact shade of green the taxi driver was wearing this morning, to the precise number of pancakes he ate on his first day in the BAU. He’d always thought of his memory as a benefit, the thing that makes him him.

It was only when she waltzed out of the lift did he decide he wasn’t sure about that anymore.

The first glimpse he got of her was all leather. Dark brown, it hugged her from ankle to throat. It covered her long legs, stretched tight over her ample thighs, and left very little to the imagination. Even from this distance, he could see that it wasn’t a single piece, but rather two���a long sleeve, high necked jacket, reinforced at the elbows and shoulders, paired with a slightly looser set of leather trousers, padded at the knees and thighs. It moved with her like a second skin, slightly scuffed and obviously well loved. Painstakingly maintained.

The second glimpse he got was gold. Not the gold of a dollar, but of copper. Red hair, cut to her collar, so fine that it caught the sunlight like thin strands of metal. As she strode from the maw of the lift, it drifted around her face as if she was walking through water. Spencer found himself wondering how soft it would feel between his fingers before he caught himself. No. She wore big, noise-cancelling headphones, the dark green a stark contrast to the copper of her hair.

Her skin was pale, spattered with freckles, face flushed as if she’d just run a marathon. She was all soft angles, wide eyes, full lips currently pursed. There was nothing harsh about her. Everything was smooth. Gentle. Sloped.

Spencer’s mouth dried as she shouldered the door to his bullpen open and stepped through. A cold breeze washed over him and brought with it the subtle scent of petrol. The strange woman hadn’t noticed him yet, too busy rummaging around in a large duffle bag hanging from her shoulder.

She struggled to pull a thick, manilla file from the confines of her bag, gloved fingers slipping over the material. The woman grumbled in annoyance and yanked one of the gloves off using her teeth, dropping it carelessly into her open bag. With a bare hand, she successfully extricated a sheet of paper–she still hadn’t noticed him. Part of him wondered if he should say something, announce his presence before he freaked her out, but another part of him was frozen to the spot. Like a deer that has just spotted a lion.

Then, as if sensing his gaze, she looked up. Her eyes, a startling shade of emerald green, locked onto his. She jumped.

‘Fuckin’ hell–’ She swore, clapping the bare hand to her chest and taking a shuddering breath. With her free hand, she slipped her headphones off and dropped them around her neck. ‘I didn’t see you there.’

She spoke with an accent he couldn’t quite place, but she definitely wasn’t from Virginia. No, it was clipped. Darker sounding. Spencer could only watch as she picked her way through the bullpen towards him–should he stand up? Should he say something? But, then what should he say?

‘I wasn’t expecting someone else to be here so early,’ she explained, coming to a stop next to his desk and offering him a smile that seemed to light up her whole face. ‘I was kinda hoping I could sneak in, get the lay of the land, before anyone else.’

‘Uh–’ Spencer Reid, the man with a vocabulary that could rival several dictionaries, some of them not even in English, was momentarily speechless. He cleared his throat and gestured lamely to his desk. ‘I’m Dr. Spencer Reid–I work here.’

‘I should hope so,’ she said, a flicker of amusement dancing behind her eyes. She lent back against the empty desk perpendicular to his, crossing her legs at the ankles. ‘If you didn’t, I’d have to call for security. And then question why the FBI has such lax security on its buildings in the first place.’

‘I…uh…’ God, he was being an idiot. All he had to do was string a couple of words together to make a sentence. That’s it. It was as simple as that, and it’s something he’d been doing his entire life. Why, then, when faced with this strange woman, did he find it practically impossible? His cheeks heated.

‘It’s alright, I won’t tell.’ She saved him from his misery by dumping the bag onto the empty desk. ‘I’m June. Juniper Bishop–they moved me up from Crisis Negotiation. I’m gonna be working with you guys for the foreseeable future.’

Juniperus communis–a coniferous tree or shrub, evergreen, that can grow up to 32 feet in height, and has been known to live for over 200 years. A hardy plant that thrives in chalkland, mostly found in Europe or the northern hemispheres–in traditional folklore, the juniper tree was used as a deterrent for witches or the Devil.

She was still looking at him. Expecting a reply.

‘What?’ The word came out strangled, forced, and he turned his head down to look at the crossword before him. He hadn’t heard anything about a new team-member. Spencer is 99% sure that Hotch would have told him if he was endorsing someone new to come join, especially so close to Gideon leaving. Though, Hotch and Morgan had been acting strangely these past few days.

‘Yeah, I’m kind of excited, actually. I’ve always found the BAU interesting.’ Juniper’s voice was light, airy, and Spencer found himself relaxing–just a little. He risked a glance up at her and was met with a megawatt smile. It was almost blinding. ‘I’ve heard a lot about you guys. I’m looking forward to working with you.’

‘Uh…sorry, no one told me anything about it.’ Spencer said, hating how weak the words sound. When he looked at her, though, all he saw was her utmost attention. It scared him a little, like he was a mouse under a car’s headlight. ‘I wasn’t expecting a new team member so soon after…’

‘Gideon requested me.’ She said, and those three words jarred through Spencer like a nail. Juniper stood up from the desk and began to shrug herself out of the leather. He had to look away. Not just to process the fact that Gideon–his Gideon–had requested someone be transferred without mentioning it to him, but also to avoid looking at her as she effectively stripped. ‘I worked with him on a couple of CNU cases, kind of told him how much I was interested in Behavioural Analysis. He introduced me to Hotch a couple weeks ago.’

‘Oh…’

‘I’m sorry.’ She said, and sounded genuine. There was a rustle, and Spencer looked over just in time to see her yanking her trousers off–thankfully, she was wearing dark green suit trousers underneath. She’d paired it with a pale pink long sleeve top that clung to her curves very distractingly. ‘I assumed everyone knew.’

‘It’s not your fault.’ Spencer said, averting his gaze yet again and staring down at his crossword. He could still feel her eyes on him and it made his skin prickle. ‘Uh, welcome to the team.’

‘Thank you.’ She smiled, voice still light despite the sincerity behind it. She moved from behind the desk, and Spencer watched her approach from the corner of his eye. Juniper was still graceful despite the heavy boots, and he found himself mesmerised by the way she moved. It was like she was dancing, even when she was simply walking towards him. ‘So, what brings you here so early, Reid?’

‘Uh…’ he looked up to find her leaning on his desk, peering down at the crossword before him. ‘Nothing exciting. I just like to have the morning’s to myself.’

‘My apologies for interrupting, then.’

‘No–no, I mean…that’s…I just like to relax before everything gets crazy, you know?’

‘Ah, I understand. And you relax by doing crosswords?’

‘Well…yeah. How do you relax?’ He replied, a little harshly. It sounded as if she was teasing him and he didn’t like that. There was nothing weird about doing a crossword, was there? He’d never considered it something worthy of teasing before.

‘No, no, I respect it.’ She must’ve picked up on the discord behind his words as she shows him the palms of her hands. Juniper laughed, the sound a breath through windchimes. Spencer found himself smiling despite his momentary irritation. ‘I ride.’

‘Ride?’ Spencer echoed, frowning. ‘Ride what? Horses?’

‘Hah, I wish. I don’t know where I’d keep a horse in my flat, is the only problem.’ Flat. She called it a flat. British, then. It made sense, really–now that he’d sussed it out, it was nearly impossible to miss. Southern, probably, the picture of stereotypical received pronunciation. ‘I ride a motorbike, Reid. You know, two wheels, engine, leather and chrome?’

‘Oh.’ Spencer frowned. It should have been obvious, really, what with all the protective gear, but it still sat weirdly on him. ‘Did you know that the chance of fatality in a motorcycle crash is approximately 30 times higher than that of a car? And that if you were to get into an accident, you’d have about an 80% injury or death rate?’

‘Yes, but 34% of fatal accidents are because of speeding, and 27% involve alcohol of some kind.’ She retorted back instantly, but there was a bemused smile on her lips. ‘And whilst, yes, motorbike accidents are more dangerous, there are statistically fewer of them than car crashes per annum. On top of that, if the person is wearing a helmet that meets the governmental standards, their risk of death is reduced by 42%, and the risk of head injury by 69%.’

Spencer couldn’t do anything other than stare at her. His mouth was slack, slightly agape, as she rattled off a variety of statistics. The words fell from her lips like they’d always been there, and she spoke with an ease that hinted at an intelligence he hadn’t expected. She knew the numbers. She understood the numbers. She didn’t just spit them out–she knew what they meant, too.

‘So,’ Juniper said, pushing herself off of his desk to stand. ‘If I ride carefully, wear the correct gear, and don’t drink before I get on Maple, my risk of death is significantly reduced.’

‘But…but it’s not eliminated.’

‘You could say the same thing about a car. Or a plane. Or lifts.’ She said, angling her head as she looked down at him. Spencer wasn’t sure if he liked the fact that she was standing over him, but he definitely liked the broad smile she sent his way. ‘Plus, a little bit of danger is fun.’

‘Fun is subjective.’ Spencer pointed out, but he couldn’t stop the slight upturn of his lips. She was infectious in a way he wasn’t used to—confident, with an easy smile that she wasn’t afraid to send his way. ‘I think I’ll stick to my crosswords, thank you.’

‘Each to their own.’ She said with a shrug, moving back to her desk where she’d dumped her bag. Juniper began to rifle through it again, and it was only when she started to drop things into the drawers that Spencer realised this was her desk. Right next to him. She would be perpetually in his peripheral vision. Oh, God. ‘So…what do I call you? Dr. Reid? Agent? Spencer?’

‘Uh, Spencer is fine.’ He cleared his throat, tapping the tip of his pencil against the half-finished crossword.

‘Spencer, then.’ Juniper said, and he didn’t miss the way her lips curved around his name. It sounded different coming from her. There was a strange intimacy in the way she vocalised it, dark and alluring. ‘You can call me June, by the way. Or Bishop. Or Hops, if you like. Juniper sounds way too formal. It’s also what my mum calls me when she’s mad at me.’

‘Alright.’ He replied, turning in his swivel chair to face her. ‘June it is.’

She smiled in return, sparing him a brief glance as she continued to unpack her belongings. A small framed photograph of what Spencer assumed was her family was propped up by the computer. A couple of knicknacks–a small statue of the Moirai was placed next to a bust of David, the top of his head removed and filled with pens and pencils. A battered notebook covered in stickers. A partially solved Rubik’s cube. Another frame, this time holding a print of a bird he couldn’t see enough of to identify.

‘So,’ she finally spoke again, filling the silence. ‘When do the rest of the team arrive? I’m supposed to meet Agent Hotchner to sign some paperwork and stuff.’

‘Any moment now, actually.’ Spencer glanced at his watch and saw that it was nearly nine. ‘They usually arrive around this time.’

‘Good.’ She said, and even though he wasn’t looking at her, he could hear the smile in her voice. ‘I’m looking forward to meeting the rest of the infamous BAU.’

As if on cue, the elevator doors slid open and a few more members of the BAU spilled out and into the bullpen. Spencer watched as June straightened in her seat, a professional mask sliding over her face. Only the hands pulling at her fingers in her lap betrayed any sense of anxiety. Gone was the easy smile, the relaxed posture–instead, she was a picture of military precision. Spencer couldn’t help but wonder if this is the June he would have met if he hadn’t accidentally scared her into ease. He frowned.

Derek was the first one to spot her. He stopped dead in his tracks, nearly to the point where Emily crashed into him. Luckily the brunette dodged aside. A coffee cup was forgotten halfway up to his lips. Spencer watched as his eyes raked over June, taking in the red hair, the tight top. He was practically drooling.

‘Well, hello, there.’ Derek said, voice smooth as silk as he approached. He deposited his coffee cup on his own desk opposite June’s and walked around to greet her. June rose too. ‘You must be Agent Bishop. Welcome to the team.’

‘Thank you–Derek Morgan, I presume?’ June said, taking Derek’s offered hand and giving it a quick shake. Was Spencer the only one not told about the new team member? ‘Do call me June, though, my last name seems a bit formal for a first meeting, don’t you think?’

‘June.’ Derek repeated, as if savouring the words. Spencer fixed his attention back to his crossword, but he found it nearly impossible to focus. Not when Derek was so obviously checking out the new team member. ‘Hope you’re ready for a wild ride.’

‘Those are the only kind of rides I go on.’ June countered quickly, but Spencer had the distinct feeling that she wasn’t Derek’s number one fan. Maybe it was all the ogling. ‘I’ve heard a lot about all of you.’

‘Good things, I hope.’ Emily said, having spotted what has attracted Derek’s attention. She offered June a friendly smile, and Spencer was pleased to see it returned. ‘It’s nice to have some new eyes.’

‘Thank you–Emily Prentiss?’

‘Please, just call me Emily.’

‘Only if you call me June.’ The two women shook hands, a silent agreement passing between them.

‘So, June.’ Derek perched himself on the edge of Juniper’s desk, still inspecting her with that undeniably profiler-y look. It was as if he was stripping her down to her base elements, and Spencer would not have liked to have been on the receiving end. ‘I see you’ve made yourself at home already.’

‘Was that not correct?’ June sat down in her seat and pushed herself away from the desk, putting a little bit of space between her and Derek. Spencer tried not to be too pleased that she was now closer to him. ‘I figured it would be easier to do it before you all arrived. Unfortunately for me, Dr. Reid was already here.’

‘He does that.’ Emily grinned, not unkindly at Spencer. He felt his cheeks flush, and busied himself staring down at the grid of white and black squares. ‘I can almost guarantee you that Reid will be here before any of us–are you sure you don’t sleep here, Spencer?’

‘I have an apartment.’ Spencer mumbled, not daring to look up. He could feel all three pairs of eyes watching him and he didn’t like it in the slightest. He knew he was blushing. It was a stupid question, and one he had been asked several times before, but it still embarrassed him. Especially in front of Juniper.

‘Doesn’t mean you don’t sleep here.’ Derek said, laughing. Spencer risked a look up to glare at him. He hated it when people made those kinds of assumptions about him. Just because he liked his job didn’t mean he didn’t have a life outside of it. He just hoped no one asked him for examples…

‘So, June, how did you end up being stuck with us?’ Emily said, thankfully changing the subject before Spencer could snap at Derek. She leant back on the divider separating hers and Spencer’s desk.

‘I was with Crisis Negotiation for a while,’ June replied, twisting idly in her chair. To anyone else, it looked like a casual gesture, but Spencer could tell what it was. A nervous tick, something to help calm her down. He knew it because he did it too. ‘I worked on a lot of cases with Agent Gideon. He and I talked about the BAU and I told him how much I respected the work and would be interested in giving it a go. He recommended me to Hotch, and now here I am.’

‘You’re Hotch’s new pet project, then.’ Derek said, and there was something in his voice that Spencer couldn’t quite identify. Spencer narrowed his eyes at his colleague over his coffee mug. Was it jealousy? Annoyance? Spencer didn’t have much time to dwell on it because June was laughing again, and the thoughts slipped out of his mind.

‘I wouldn’t say that.’ She said, shaking copper strands around her face. ‘But Agent Hotchner did seem very keen to have me on board. I suppose I have Agent Gideon to thank for that.’

‘It’s just Hotch you have to worry about now–don’t worry–’

‘Where’s your accent from?’ Derek interrupted before Emily could continue speaking, head angled to the side.

‘Where do you think?’ June replied, fixing Derek with a firm expression.

‘Southern England.’ Spencer answered for her, surprising himself a little. He hadn’t intended to speak, but once the words started he couldn’t stem the flow of them. ‘Clipped vowels, elongated and darker ‘a’ sounds–it’s received pronunciation, or the Queen’s English, so I’d say further south than London, maybe Chichester?’

June spun her chair towards him and fixed him with a curious gaze. It wasn’t intense, but she was definitely scrutinising him. She pulled her lips into her mouth and cocked her head.

‘Close. Very close.’ She said, sounding–and looking–impressed. She offered him a genuine smile and Spencer felt his chest warm. ‘Brighton, actually. Or, I suppose, Alfriston, seeing as you appear to be well versed in English geography.’

‘Brighton, huh? Like the rock?’ Derek said, leaning forward. Spencer wasn’t sure if he’d actually looked once away from Juniper since he’d first laid eyes on her. When he spoke next, he winked. ‘Perhaps you could show me around sometime?’

Spencer had to physically restrain himself from rolling his eyes.

‘Hah, I’m sure the internet has plenty of information,’ June replied cooly, crossing her legs and raising an eyebrow. ‘Besides, I doubt we could get enough time off from the FBI to hop back across the pond.’

‘She’s got you there, Derek.’ Emily chuckled, patting her colleague on his shoulder as he looked wounded.

‘Well, not with Hotch around.’ Derek grumbled, but he had the decency to look a little sheepish. June’s lips twitched. Spencer had the distinct feeling that she was enjoying this. He wasn’t sure if that was a good thing or a bad thing.

‘Speaking of, here comes our fearless leader.’ Emily said, nodding towards the glass doors. Spencer followed her gesture and saw Hotch striding purposefully across the bullpen, trailed by a bemused Agent Rossi. Hotch didn’t look best pleased. ‘Someone’s in trouble.’

‘Let me guess, you forgot to fill out a form or something?’ June asked, turning to Spencer with a raised eyebrow.

‘Oh, no,’ Emily spoke for Spencer, leaning in conspiratorially. ‘Spencer doesn’t forget anything. It’s kind of his thing.’

June laughed and turned to Spencer. She had that same expression on as before, the one that seemed as if she was taking in every aspect of him and weighing it against…against what? A perceived idea of him? Suddenly Spencer became very aware of the fact that his tie was crooked and he’s pretty sure he spilt some toothpaste on it this morning. God, he wished someone had given him some warning that there would be a new team member starting today.

‘Good morning, everyone.’ Hotch said, pulling himself to a stop in the middle of their little congregation. He looked at each of them in turn, lingering on June. She was now standing, hands in front of her, her jaw a tense line. She was nervous, Spencer realised. ‘Ah, Agent Bishop. I was expecting you.’

‘Yes, sir–’

‘Call me Hotch.’ He interrupted, but there was no malice behind his words. If anything, Spencer could have sworn he saw a glimmer of amusement in his eye. How rare, for their Unit Chief. ‘I trust you’ve been settling in well.’

‘Yes, thank you,’ June shook Hotch’s hand firmly, before tucking it into her pocket. She turned her shoulders towards Spencer. ‘Dr. Reid here has been very accommodating.’

Spencer felt his cheeks heat up. He was suddenly very aware of how much attention she was paying him, and it was starting to get overwhelming. He didn’t like being observed, least of all by someone who looked like she did. His crossword puzzle became very interesting again.

‘Good.’ Hotch replied, punctuating the word with a decisive nod. When he spoke next, it was to the entire group. ‘Now, there are some forms I need you to sign, but unfortunately we have been called for a case, so we shall have to do that later. The briefing starts in ten minutes–get your coffee, breakfast, whatever, and gather in the conference room.’

With that, Hotch turned on his heel and walked away. He headed up the flight of stairs towards his office, and Spencer could see the telltale head of hair that marked Rossi as already being inside.

‘Well, that was fun.’ Derek said, pushing himself to stand and sighing. Spencer watched June turn to look at him, her eyes scrutinising his every movement. Something inside Spencer twanged like a string. Jealousy? No, that couldn’t be it. ‘Don’t worry, Agent Hot-Stuff, you’ll get used to it.’

‘It’s Doctor, actually.’

‘What?’ Derek said, and Spencer was inclined to agree.

‘Doctor. Not Agent. Agent seems a little…mundane, no?’ June grinned cheekily, starting to collect a couple of her things together before pushing them into the big duffle bag she’d abandoned by her feet.

‘Medical?’ Spencer found himself asking. He looked at her with a newfound respect–not that a doctorate forces him to respect someone, but it definitely gave him a little bit more confidence interacting with her. Some common ground for them to meet in the middle on. It pleased him more than he was willing to admit.

‘No, PhD.’ June replied, meandering over to peer down at his crossword. She glanced up to see Derek’s surprised face. ‘Besides, Doctor sounds cooler, don’t you think? I don’t fancy getting confused with every other Agent in this building.’

‘What’s it in?’ Derek asked, folding his arms across his chest. It was a defensive manoeuvre, but Spencer knew that it was also a move to highlight the curve of Derek’s biceps. He’d seen Derek do it plenty of times to women at the club with varying degrees of success.

‘Classical History with an emphasis on Ancient Texts.’ June said offhandedly, like it was something everyone does. Spencer was already thinking of different questions to ask her; Classical History was fascinating to him, let alone someone who specialised in the literature of the time–maybe he could ask her about the formation of the languages? The more he thought about it, the more he realised he didn’t actually comprehend what it was that degree entailed.

‘Well, Doctor Bishop,’ Derek said, grinning. Spencer didn’t like the way he practically purred her title. ‘Perhaps you could teach me a thing or two.’

‘I’m sure you know plenty, Agent Morgan,’ June replied, and Spencer tensed as her hand curled around the top of his chair. He wasn’t sure if she had noticed that her knuckles brushed his shoulder, but he leant forwards just the same. ‘Besides, I repeat my former statement–the internet is a magical place.’

‘Garcia is gonna love you.’ Emily cackled, grabbing Derek’s arm and pulling him away from June before he could say whatever it was that was balanced on the tip of his tongue. Emily spoke the next words over her shoulder. ‘Come on, Derek, let’s get ourselves a coffee–do you want one, June?’

‘Sure. Caffeine is a lifesaver, after all.’ June laughed again and moved away from Spencer’s chair. She stopped after she’d walked a few steps. ‘Come on, Dr. Reid, your mug’s empty and you seem like the kind of guy who has a caffeine addiction.’

‘Did you know caffeine is the most commonly used psychoactive substance in the world?’ Spencer found himself saying as he scrambled to his feet, grabbing his coffee mug and nearly knocking it over in his haste. Thankfully, she didn’t comment on it.

‘Oh, that’s cool.’ She hummed, and started to keep pace with him as they headed after the now obviously whispering Derek and Emily. Juniper was taller than he’d first thought, nearly coming up to his chin, and she walked as if she had all the time in the world. Her hair caught in the light, turning it more gold than copper. ‘Oh, by the way? Your crossword? Clue nine down is Phanes.’

‘What?’ He blinked dumbly at her, pulling that mental image of his crossword before his eyes. Nine down; un-greek god of cosmic origin. ‘Phanes?’

‘Yeah. It fits, right?’ She turned to look at him slyly through the corner of her eye. It’s all Spencer can do to simply nod at her, using an arm to gesture her vaguely towards where Derek and Emily were busying helping themselves to coffee. ‘Besides, it is kind of my area of expertise, after all.’

‘Evidently...’ was all he could manage.

He watched her bob her head in a nod before speeding up and leaving him at the edge of the small kitchenette. She skirted purposefully around the small circular table Derek and Emily were surrounding. Spencer’s eyes tracked her as she opened the fridge, his feet leading him towards his colleagues without even thinking. How on Earth had she known he had been struggling with that one?

‘What’s up with you?’ Emily asked, dragging Spencer back down into the real world.

‘I think Pretty Boy has a crush.’ Derek’s voice was melodic with teasing.

Spencer glared at Derek as Emily snorted into her coffee cup. They’re being ridiculous, Spencer thought, but he tried his best to ignore that little voice in the back of his brain that reminded him it only takes one-tenth of a second to make a judgement on someone, and he’d definitely made a judgement about June. She was beautiful, that much was for certain, and way out of his league.

‘Don’t be ridiculous,’ Spencer scoffed, but he couldn’t meet Derek’s eye. ‘She just helped me with the crossword, is all.’

‘So now you love her.’ Emily wheedled, nudging Spencer with her shoulder. Spencer made a pointed effort to look anywhere but at Emily or Juniper.

‘It’s alright if you do–she’s hot, man.’ Derek sounded too much like he was giving his approval for Spencer’s liking.

‘I…I hadn’t noticed.’

Derek scoffed a laugh. ‘I don’t believe that for a second.’

‘It doesn’t really matter what you believe, does it, Derek?’ Spencer snapped. He was definitely reaching the end of his tether with his colleague at this point. Sometimes Derek doesn’t know when to stop, and this was one of those times. ‘I’m going to make myself coffee.’

‘You do that, Pretty Boy, you do that.’ Derek clapped Spencer’s shoulder as he passed.

Spencer set about making himself coffee, hyper aware of where June was preoccupied doing the same thing not too far away. She took sugar and milk in her coffee, but perhaps she didn’t have as much of a coffee-sweet tooth as he did. On the counter next to her mug sat a large blueberry muffin. His mouth watered.

‘Oh my god, you guys!’ A familiar voice yanked Spencer out of wondering whether he should ask June if she knew where he could get a muffin like that. He turned to find Penelope Garcia jogging across the bullpen with her usual exuberance, her brightly coloured clothes in stark contrast to the white of the FBI walls. ‘There’s a new hottie in the bullpen! She’s got a British accent! And she’s a doctor! And she rides a motorcycle! I think I’m in love!’

June laughed as she stepped up to greet their technical analyst, shaking her hand gently. ‘You must be Penelope–I’ve heard a lot about you.’

‘All good things, I hope!’ Penelope said, batting her eyelashes playfully. ‘You have no idea how long I have wanted another girl in the department–do you like cats? What about television, do you watch a lot of television? Oh, we should go to the movies sometime soon, there’s this thing that I have been wanting–’

‘Easy, easy, babygirl, take a breather,’ Derek laughed, wrapping an arm around Penelope’s shoulder. ‘June’s gonna be here for a while, you can ask her these questions soon.’

‘Okay, yes, alright,’ Penelope forced herself to take a few deep breaths. ‘This is just so exciting!’

‘I know, right?’ June said, matching Penelope’s hyperactive tone, and Spencer could tell that she was being genuine. She had that megawatt smile on again, and Spencer had the sneaking suspicion that she and Penelope would get on like a house on fire. ‘I’m excited to be here. We should definitely go see something at the cinema.’

‘Promise?’ Penelope said, pouting playfully.

‘Pinky promise.’ June proffered her pinky finger and Penelope squealed. She quickly wrapped her own pinky finger around June’s.

‘Spencer, why didn’t you tell me the new girl was awesome?’ Penelope turned an accusatory glare to him, and he suddenly felt scrutinised again.

‘I didn’t know myself until this morning,’ Spencer replied defensively, and the group of them began to head towards the conference room, all still deep in this conversation. ‘She kind of…well, she surprised me too.’

‘Well, I, for one, am very glad you’re here.’ Penelope said, hooking an arm through June’s and leading her ahead of the charge. Spencer was more than willing to fall in behind them, nursing his hot cup of coffee between two hands. ‘You’re a breath of fresh air in this testosterone-filled room.’

‘I’m glad to be your Febreeze, then.’ Spencer heard June say with a laugh, and it brought a small smile to his lips. As he followed behind them, he found his eye lingering on the way her hair brushed against the exposed skin at the back of her neck, the slope of her hips.

Alright, fine, maybe Derek was right. Maybe Spencer did have a little crush on her, but in his defence, it was hard not to. She was furiously smart and absolutely gorgeous. She smelt like leather, petrol, and coffee–a strange mix, but it was alluring nonetheless. Juniper Bishop was a whirlwind of a person, and unlike anyone he had ever met. He just hoped that he would be able to clear his mind of all of this confusing nonsense before the case started.

Spencer couldn’t afford to be distracted, but Juniper seemed to be tailor made to do just that.

God, this was going to be dangerous…

THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR READING! MORE SPENCER REID FICS ON THE WAY!

[roadside-oddity]

There is a Rampant and Vicious Cycle in the Online Left That Needs to Be Addressed

Every leftist needs to understand that not every proclaimed leftist is a safe person or one that is acting in good faith. Many people in this sphere --even if they are minorities themselves-- are Abusers. Let me be clear: they are Abusers REGARDLESS of --NOT because of-- them being a minority. Despite this, many of them have weaponized their standing as a minority in order to get away with their behavior and achieve what they see as some form of power and control over others. Let me be clear. I am referring to those that:

Manipulate and lie about pressing situations (especially when it's to harm another person or demographic)

Excessively use idpol to either elevate themselves to holier than thou levels ("listen to ___ people but only when it's something I agree with, which just so happens to devolve from constructive change to making others grovel and plead forgiveness endlessly before me") or belittle others (ie their skin color, gender, queerness, disability, neurodivergence, religion, age, etc.) in order to discount their point or not treat them as equal human beings; yes, even if their skin tone is white or if they are men, abuse does not have to be backed up by systemic issues in order to be abusive or at the very least harmful (sidenote: this does not apply to people talking about their experiences as a minority that is otherwise not experienced or understood by others, the issue I'm pointing out is when it's twisted to cover everything not directly tied to their identity and proclaim themselves as the only ones allowed to be the voice of reason, therefore shutting up everyone else and to avoid any constructive criticism or discussion)

Act on rage and at times even trauma to bring forth harmful ideals (ex: truly hating every person of a demographic, wishing for a genocide, making actual death or rape threats towards someone or a group, conversion, etc)(sidenote: I'm not discounting those that have trauma and even have harmful thoughts, just please seek help and understand that it is not healthy nor sustainable to paint or alter reality to be in line with what trauma makes you believe)

Actively try to get others they don't agree with to either permanently leave the internet or commit suicide and even celebrate when either happens

Excessively test others on their "purity" on unachievable standards to the detriment of everyone and Leftism as a whole (purity culture is fueled by christian culture in order to disguise doomerism, accepting defeat when change is not possible, of which is the very thing that will kill leftism)

Infight over weird made up issues (remember how divide and conquer is a war strategy? To split hairs and discount others for non-issues is to do the work of conservatives and nazis for them)

Shut down people or discussions over minor slights such as using an incorrect word/phrasing or any numerous perceived mistakes (example I've seen here: berating a person with schizophrenia (or a trans person or any other minority) for using a derogatory term for themselves when they're talking about how everyone else is speaking over them and not listening), ignoring the hypocrisy or not taking into account any number of mundane causes such as non-native english speakers, generational gaps, being in the process of learning (either recovering from harmful beliefs or simple ignorance), using those terms to prove a point (such as that example I mentioned above), neurodivergence, etc.

Not letting others talk about their experiences of oppression when those experiences don't match theirs, instead opting to call those people bigoted for contrived reasons

A rejection of nuance, intersectionalism, and even reality to better suit their goals (ex: claiming that every trans man benefits from the patriarchy and can never experience misogyny)

Misuse of therapy speak and terminology in order to water down those terms and render them near meaningless so they can weaponize them under the pretense of their original use (ex: gaslighting), or to cut off any need to connect or sympathize with other human beings and instead speak to them like a PR message (refer to this video by Zena and Poppy for reference)

They never speak on true leftist/progressive ideals or positive change, they only engage in destructive discourse or any behavior listed above

Making baseless dangerous accusations towards someone they don't like. Before you go harr harr you're doing that, I'm not calling out any specific person and am merely listing dangerous behaviors I've seen people here act out. What I am referring to are when someone casually calls someone specific a predator (or whatever else) with absolutely zero proof and expecting everyone to believe them no questions asked. This has been shown to ruin people's lives

Any other similar behaviors not included in this list (as well as classic logical fallacies), but what I've mentioned above should paint you a good picture

Every example I've pointed out were REAL EVENTS I've seen from people that proclaim themselves as leftists or even just progressive, and sometimes are even minorities themselves (some even infight against their own communities using the behaviors listed above, often out of internalized bigotry)(an example of a real event that happened here recently were when several people were making rape threats towards a trans man by the username of @a-faggot-with-opinions). To be blunt, I'm pointing out exclusionism in practically every form, asexual discourse, transandrophobia, TERFs/radfems, TEHMs, tankies, "cornbreadtube", nationalists and ethnonationalists, and all else I don't have the terminology for For many of the people that fall under that bullet list I would hesitate to even refer to them as leftist or progressive, as they never seem to actually show they act on it or even believe in it, only making an appearance in those communities for their own destructive personal gain; hell, often times they have ideals that directly go against what those communities stand for! Examples include TERFs with white supremacist beliefs, transandrophobes that are misogynistic, ethnonationalists that are antisemitic, puritans that are ableist, the list goes on forever. Once you know what to look for, you can see the hidden or overt bigotry behind their false "progressive" statements

No one is infallible No one is better than everyone else You are not immune to propaganda No one is immune from behaving abusively

These people are dangerous, whether they actually qualify as abusers --as I've been referring to them as such for brevity and impact-- or are people that are engaging in hurtful or fully abusive behavior (use this paragraph as a disclaimer, I of course can't know if someone is an abuser in real life unless there is documented evidence of such). Regardless, they are hurting the left and are letting the right win

If you see any of these behaviors either 1) take caution if you're unsure, 2) block them, or 3) if you have the fortitude, call them out. Either way, use your best judgement and think for yourself (or discuss with good faith leftists if you're uncertain). And remember, often times (albeit not always) they are actually fully aware of their disgusting behavior and are choosing to act maliciously, not ignorantly.

Stay safe, log off, do what you can to support your local community and leftism as a whole, don't let these people distract from the real issues at hand. Have empathy, if you don't have empathy then act in compassion, if you don't or refuse to do either please do not engage in politics. Misanthropy has no place in matters concerning humanity.

And remember: we have to stand together in unity so we can create a better future for all