#Thankfully my standards are. Not very high.

[youngster-monster]

it is literally the most nonsense working title ever but i thought it was so so funny and well personally im quite weak to the concept of humor so even if maybe future me wants to rip me apart with their bare hands then thats a price im willing to pay!!!! all vibes no story here

i am batting the pumpkin around and screaming at the top of my lungs. i am Enriched

being a hater is so good for me. thats not to say i dont read fics i hate (especially in smaller fandoms i kind of just get to make eyes at the author from a distance while still religiously consuming all i can get.. I Wont Look A Gift Horse In The Mouth, But I Won't Be Happy About The Horse Being In My House In The First Place) but if the fic numbers go up and i dont have to read them ? well. i just wont <3

toxic trait perhaps but its a GOOD trait to me. it is the funniest thing imaginable. guy who absolutely hates the way you characterize them but has literally no choice but to read your kaellidan fics because theres frankly not a whole lot to go round here

i dont know how to tell you this but the minecraft lava pit part is so close to whats there that im actually in shambles. you will never believe the method of rp that was used for the one he comes from and you will never believe what i did to his house

(pro gamer kabedon is still a wip BUT i would be willing to perhaps divulge a little information about it :) as a treat)

(you shall hear from me soon, with no anon, and you WILL hear about him because it is my favorite hobby to make people hear about him. he sucks. i hate him. hes the oc i remember the most about by far. his backstory has changed at least 8 times because we would start new settings with the same ocs but instead of it being an au sort of thing it was like This Is Canon Now, and he is the WORST. you will hear so very much about him)

it's good to have reading standards. But sometimes fic is fic okay!! He wouldn't fucking say that but at least he's got a speaking role!!

Kicking my feet and giggling the few times I get an even remotely rude comment like what were YOU doing at the devil's sacrament, commenter? I don't WANT anyone to hate my writing but. It is a funny thought. Cope and seethe ( < said to no one because the fandom has been very polite)

Minecraft RP oc real. Local oc just the entire multiverse of himself including Roblox version. I love the concept so far ngl

'you shall hear from me soon' sounds like the concerning post scriptum you'd get on a letter from a spy you sent into enemy to territory. When will anons identity come back from the war...

[commonwealthoccurences]

im aro (who just has a weakness for your fics which is peculiar for me bc reader inserts don't normally interest me but yours oof hits just the right spot) and i have an intense discomfort for valentine's day so i have almost every varient of it blacklisted. unfortunately, that means tumblr hides your nick valentine fics which i find both funny and annoying lmaoo however it does somewhat help me bc when i actually catch the 'post hidden bc blacklist' im like !!!!! oh shit!!! time to catch up and i binge read including going back to some of my faves ahahah

anyways this ask was just to say hi keep being amazing i love your work and i hope that life treats you as kindly as you treat your readers!!!!! 💛

Ohhhh this is so lovely!! I'm glad that you enjoy my writing and I'll definitely make a note to put out more platonic stuff in the future for all of my aro followers (: It's too bad about the tag thing I didn't even think of that! Unfortunately, I'm not sure there's any way for me to work around it otherwise I definitely would. But I'm glad you find your way back here when you can and enjoy what I write (which, I will fully admit other than BTE, is few and far between nowadays). This blog and anons like you have been invaluable as writing for fo4 and getting feedback on my writing has helped me build my writing skills for my original works and I hold my original project very close to my heart. In a roundabout way, y'all have helped me out with it, and I try to give as much love back to everyone who reads my fanfic in return (: I hope you have a lovely rest of your day!! (And don't worry about your other ask, no offense was taken and I definitely agree on the way that games like fo4 can function as character or player inserts (: )

[pathologicalreid]

first snow | s.r.

in which you and Spencer experience the first snow in your new apartment together

who? spencer reid x fem!reader category: fluff. the kind that rots your teeth. content warnings: snow? ❄️ ❄️ ❄️ ❄️ word count: 954 a/n: so! not margovember! but i've been saving this one for a special occasion (my first snow came!!!!!) and i hope you enjoy it!!!!

“Why are we doing this now?” You asked, cocking your head at your boyfriend after you finished hauling a stack of books off of the shelves.

He was sitting on the floor, dozens of stacks of books surrounding him, so each step you took was precarious. Spencer’s self-appointed job was to sort through the books, but you weren’t getting rid of any of them. No. He’d decided to reorganize them, influenced by an influx of new language books, according to the Dewey decimal system—a phrase you hadn’t heard since grade school.

You hoisted another stack of books from the shelves, thankfully built into the walls, and set them on the ground. “We can never move out of this apartment,” you told him, flipping through an early edition Proust, likely from his mom’s collection.

That got his attention, “Why not?” His legs were crisscrossed beneath him, his hair freshly washed, and glasses perched on his face. Spencer’s flannel pajama pants were likely warmer than your cotton ones, but you felt as though your hoodie had an advantage over his crewneck.

Gesturing your hands out to the piles of books, you raised your eyebrows, “We’d have to move all of the books again.” The two of you had moved into the apartment near the beginning of the summer, right before Spencer started his training at the Academy, and the heat had ended up being more than you bargained for.

Spencer smiled fondly at you, “I like this apartment,” he reminded you, turning his attention back to his philosophy books, “It suits us.”

Looking around, you had also fallen in love with the apartment rather quickly, and you didn’t have much room to complain, knowing that Spencer had sacrificed having a short commute so you could be close to work. The two of you moved in together after you finished school in Pasadena, and he wrapped up classes at MIT, closing the distance and starting the rest of your lives together.

The two of you repainted together, abandoning the miserable taupe that had been on the walls in favor of a dark green; you worked together to make it home, even if you were here more often than him.

Stepping over a teetering pile of novels, you held your arms out for balance as you tried to get to the kitchen, yelping when your foot caught on a book, sending you falling to the ground. You groaned as the corner of a book dug into your side; the blow softened by the cotton of your sweatshirt as you rolled off of the collapsed stack.

“Are you alright?” Spencer asked as you rolled over to a safe area. His hand settled on your side, stopping you from rolling onto your back.

Propping yourself up on your elbows, you nodded, “Yeah.” You frowned at the books that were left in your wake, “Oh, Spence. Your books,” you sighed, sticking out your bottom lip sadly.

He shook his head, “They’re just books, lovely.” Despite his reassurance, you caught his brown eyes flickering over the fallen novels. At a glance, it didn’t seem like any damage was incurred, but Spencer held his books to a very high standard. You knew he’d be checking them over as soon as you turned your head.

Sitting all the way up, you giggled softly at the way his concern split between you and the books; you thought about pressing your lips to his, but something moving outside the window caught your eye instead.

You squinted out the window, trying to ascertain what was going on, when your mouth gaped in surprise, “Spencer!” You scrambled to your feet, trying to drag your boyfriend to his, “Come on!”

His brows pinched in confusion. He looked around the living room, trying to find what had gotten you so excited, but you were already shoving your fuzzy sock-covered feet into your sneakers. Spencer had no choice but to follow.

Not even minding that you’d folded over the heels of your shoes, you were shuffling down the stairs and making your way to the street. Spencer lagged behind you, and you had already thrown your arms out in excitement by the time he made it outside. “It’s snowing,” You said giddily, bouncing on the balls of your feet and spinning on the pavement.

Spencer grabbed one of your hands, stopping you from moving while he draped your jacket over your shoulders, having been too driven to get to the snowflakes to think about staying warm. His eyes were filled with love, leaving no room for judgment.

Sticking your tongue in an attempt to catch a snowflake, you didn’t even care that you were acting like a child. You’d never lived anywhere that got real snow like this before, “Oh, I love snow.”

“Your scarf is in tatters,” Spencer observed, holding the threadbare fabric at arm’s length.

You shrugged, breathing in and letting the cold air nip at your nose, “I haven’t had any use for it. It’s been in storage for ages,” you reminded him, closing your eyes and basking in the snow.

Instead of placing the hole-ridden scarf around your neck, Spencer loops his purple one over your shoulders. “I’ll have to knit you a new one. They’re predicting above-average snowfall this winter.”

Beaming at Spencer, you held out your hand for him to take, and he pulled you closer to him so your back was flush with his chest, the two of you watching the flurries as the lamplight refracted off the tiny ice crystals. “Happy first snow, Spencer Reid,” you told him, leaning your head back on his shoulder so the two of you could share a kiss.

He hummed affectionately, “Happy first snow, my love.”

[ozzgin]

Yandere School Q&A

I've gotten some related asks and thought I'd put them in a cleaner format, so I don't spawn another round of screenshots from my inbox.

Ohhh how would yan school react if y/n got hurt somehow?? Also quick question is her parents also platonic yans for them? Thanks!! - Anonymous

It only makes sense that the staff of the school is yandere material, too. The students may rush to help and insist they've got it under control, but the school nurse will be quick to act. It's the chance of a lifetime, having you to himself, and for longer than the usual standard checkup. The curtains are pulled, and the "do not disturb" sign is flipped. Your injuries are not to be taken lightly. You'll need to spend all day under his supervision.

The parents and all relatives are indeed platonic yanderes! I thought it'd be a nice touch since I've never approached the trope before.

YAYAYAYYAYYAYAYAYAYAYAYAA MORE YANDERE SCHOOLLLLLL You’re amazing!!!!! (I had to ask to make sure I used the right your/you’re) also is the darling yandere gonna keep sabotaging y/n? - @femboybasil

The tying up incident was actually an exception to what I originally planned, haha. For most of the competitions, darling yandere will guide (Y/N) and aid them for a flawless win. That's the comedy of it: he's indirectly doing the yandere part while trying to be discreet enough as to not alert the other yanderes. Additionally, (Y/N) helps him with the darling tasks. Though that part is very much expected by everyone from school. The Daring Academy teachers are probably observing the activities, baffled. "Who the hell is that student? What skill...what obliviousness. They should've applied to us."

If you’re comfortable with this concept, (since it’s a school-based series I don’t know if the reader and yanderes are minors are not, if they are then you don’t have to write this.) but obviously the students of the Yandere Academy are going to need to learn how to tie up their darlings once they’ve been captured. Would you mind writing a little blurb about it since Reader is the unofficially assigned darling stand-in for their classes? - Anonymous

This is the ask I used for the tying up idea in Part 3! To answer your worries, all of my stories involve 18+ characters! Just wanted to clear it up for anyone in doubt. The school/academy setup is more of a college/university kind of institution. I do love a good high school setup, but not for self insert romance.

I’d imagine that there’s a drama class at the yandere school to help the students learn how to act and seem innocent. What if they put on a musical or something like Phantom of the Opera (because of course it would be that) and reader got the role of Christine or the equivalent. Imagine all the yanderes fighting for the role of their love interests to get the excuse to kiss them, and other yanderes trying to sabotage them as tactfully as possible to keep the show going, but replace the leads to be alongside reader. Think that may be something cool to add/write about? No pressure of course! - Anonymous

You know the whole thing is going to turn into a ninja survival shitshow. They had hoped to never cast (Y/N) in any role, for everyone's safety. And for the most part, (Y/N) thankfully never showed any interest in the drama club.

The supervising teacher held (Y/N)'s application form with trembling hands. It seems their little club had finally run out of luck.

Worst part: the school can't even rely on the teachers. They're just as desperate to see their cute little (Y/N) perform on stage. "Maybe this job is too overwhelming for one person, sensei..." they'll smugly tell the original supervisor. "We could divide some tasks. Someone else could train (Y/N), for example..."

ok here me out, what if there is like a field trip or sports festival kind of thing where the Yandere and Darling academy meet up. Basically where a Yandere and a darling are made to pair up to go through the numerous activities (maybe ones that test their yandere/darling skills) so reader decides to pair up with clumsy Yandere ( who is in Darling academy) much to the displeasure of Yandere classmate. Maybe like a battle of the the Yanderes? - Anonymous

This was a little trippy to read, because it came right after part 3, haha. Which I feel is basically the same plot. Though it would be interesting to see how it'd play out if the stranger was Reader's best friend instead.

Reader excitedly approaches Clumsy!Yandere and asks him to work together, to the dismay of all other students. They're enraged. You can see it plainly: their hands tremble, their jaws are clenched, their eyes have a psychotic glint. Poor Clumsy!Yandere is in constant shivers, unaware of the death stares. You're cheerfully guiding him around, his hand in yours, happy to see your friend again.

[marzipanandminutiae]

Trying to shop for clothing in women's standardized sizes for the first time in years. Very much a "damn bitch you live like this?" Experience

I know my weight and my measurements and you'd think think that would be enough, given sizing charts. But I know their game. I know their sick demented game. No one is the same hateful number in any two stores 

(thankfully I'm just re-buying a coat that I've had since high school and that has finally gotten past the point of reasonable repair, so I have the tag to go by. Women who have to figure out their number in a given shop from scratch, so to speak, are braver than any US Marine)

[elodieunderglass]

You put that info dump about jockeys in the tags of the info dump post, but oh my stars do I need you to write an actual post about it if you have the time! Or if you've already done that, point me in the direction of where I can find it, because dude, am I invested now!!!!

Oh I can go on about jockeys forever. Let’s do a crash (ha) course while dressing my jockey OC, Killie. Killie is an Irish-British racing jockey over the flat AND jumps, operating in the UK.

NOTE TW below the cut for injuries, weight talk and references to disordered eating, because, regrettably: professional horse jockeys. Infuriating people.

We start with Killie’s fairly battered and frankly very tiny body. At 4’10” Killie is comfortably at the bottom range of jockeys, who usually range from 4’10 to 5’7”. There’s no height limit; there is a weight limit. A naturally small man at about 118 lbs of fairly fit racing weight, Killie is in condition to race on the flat in the UK without too much starvation, dehydration, and substance abuse those are just his hobbies. Jockeys and their gear are weighed before and after each race. Weight limits for jockeys include their body, personal gear, riding gear and safety equipment.

Flat jockeys - who race horses on a plain circular track, like the Kentucky Derby - must be lighter and smaller than jump jockeys. In the USA, flat jockeys tend to be about 118 lbs, the weight of a potential Kentucky Derby competitor. In the UK, flat jockeys and their gear can now go up to 142 lbs, thanks to increased welfare standards; this includes the 3lb allowance for the body protector that UK jockeys must wear as of 2018, and, as of 2013, Flat jockeys in the UK can now have an additional 1 lb of allowance for warm clothing in winter.

Jump jockeys, who race in steeplechases (USA) like the Grand National (UK) aka races with jumps - are allowed to be slightly heavier, and often taller with it, as their sport requires even more strength and stamina.

Jockeys have to be able to maintain ~118 lbs of very fit, fighting-quality muscle, every day of the week. Thus, most jockeys are short, averaging 5’2” in a sport dominated by men, because that’s the cost of packing on enough muscle for the required strength/stamina. add in excellent horsemanship, high pain tolerance, lack of natural fear/truly bonkers physical courage, the ability to go for days without food and other pleasures of life, an ongoing commitment to fitness, excellent mental arithmetic/timekeeping skills, and the ability to tolerate abysmal working conditions, to understand why most short people aren’t immediately natural jockeys. Taller jockeys are becoming ever more common, as the conditions that shaped the historically legendary small jockeys (enslavement/slaver starvation, concentration camps/Nazi starvation, birth complication/premature birth, bad nutrition) are thankfully becoming far less common. This is in turn driving pushes towards higher weight limits, which can only be a good thing.

Why aren’t jockeys all little people? Because it isn’t just about being small - it’s more important to be light and strong. Jockeys generally don’t have medical conditions underpinning their size, and are not generally considered part of the little people community, although their size may overlap with little people. It’s important to repeat that the working conditions of jockeys are still bad; they're a loose collection of freelancers who very rarely become contractors, they don’t bargain collectively, have nominal professional associations, and have 500 years of absurdly feudal working conditions to battle. Little people who are motivated to handle horses could have a comparable time - and genuine union protection! and fans! and visibility! and benefits! and safety coordinators! and less substance abuse! And clothing! - by working as stunt actors. Jockeys just have a shitty job, so when we ask why marginalised people don’t dominate the field, we have to look at working conditions.

Why don’t more women (who tend to be a bit smaller statistically) go into racing? Some of it is historical sexism, but again, the working conditions. Female jockeys have raced throughout history, and are active today. Men and women compete equally in horse racing without any gender segregation or handicap (or even different clothing) and with no statistical difference in performance. Of course, male and female horses also compete alongside each other, for what it’s worth! equestrian sports are generally refreshingly free of TERF nonsense about Masculinity Being An Advantage (it isn’t, in human or horse.) but again, it isn’t a choice career for people with better options, so to improve diversity/inclusivity the working conditions should be addressed first, not the other way around.

Also note: horse racing is declining in popularity. With its preferred audiences traditionally being "stupidly posh aristocrats who wear alarming fascinators" and "conservative working-class old men who shout at TVs in sports bars," with a side order of "sketchy gambling-addicted weirdos," the sport doesn't really appeal to, for example, Tumblr users. Millennial-and-younger generations basically just ignore the whole industry. Most people can't name a single racing jockey; people could maybe name Secretariat, one of the most famous named animals in history, who had a film about him.

At any rate, Killie comes by his frame honestly - he is just generationally tiny and lanky, from a family of jockeys.

Killie starts his outfit in “jockey” briefs and a very lightweight high-neck top. Remember that the carry weight of his gear comes out of his weight allowance, which also includes his own body and riding equipment, so he’s wearing a lightweight mesh skivvy, even in cold weather.

The terminology of jockey briefs and the Jockey underwear brand come from horse racing. "Jockey" comes from the British/Scottish word "jock," for a young boy; jockey being a diminutive of this. The phrase "jock" as in "sportsman, opposite of nerd" in the USA comes from "jockstrap", which is apparently a completely separate underwear-related sporting etymology.

Men and women wear the same clothes, which are sold to everyone equally; there aren’t “girl versions” for racing gear, just heavy or lightweight gear. Women usually add a sports bra, and men have personal preferences for briefs to keep things contained. However, anecdotally, some women race in 'men’s' underwear - and some male jockeys wear 'women’s' underwear to keep gear weight down - so whatever. Pantyhose can be worn to prevent chafing, add a vague layer of warmth, fight the see-through effect of racing breeches, and are a compromise for socks, which would add unnecessary weight.

If there was a reason to leave off his base layer, Killie could cheat by wearing a neck wrap - basically a high collar with a bib that would make it LOOK like he was wearing something under his silks.

Today, in the UK and Australia, jockeys wear body protectors! These are fairly new to the sport and aren’t even remotely universal in the USA. Body protectors can shield the spine, lungs and heart from falls, kicks, and crush injuries.

Killie has also added his high-waisted racing breeches. These are basically-see-through polyester breeches of unbelievable thinness and lightness. Unlike normal riding breeches/jodhpurs, they don’t offer much at all in the way of comfort/grip/protection.

Pull-ups are a kind of tight compression tube that bridge the breeches/boots gap, preventing chafing and making sure that breeches taper into the boot.

Time for silks!

Silks, or racing colours, are colourful high-necked thin jackets that are buttoned over the body protector and tucked into the breeches. Silks represent the owner of the racehorse, for example the Queen of England or Godolphin Stables. Jockeys don’t own racehorses or own/choose silks.

Killie is a licensed jockey under contract to a stable - a highly desirable position. this means that he has HIS OWN PERSONAL SILKS, which actually fit him on purpose. He also knows the horses he rides. This is a very rare and comfortable post - the gold standard for champion jockeys, and what everyone in the profession is desperately hoping for.

Most everyday jobbing jockeys are paid £100 per ride, plus a cut of the purse if they win (but most jockeys in a race necessarily don’t win.) jobbing jockeys are chosen by racehorse owners like itinerant labourers or puppies from a box. Jockeys compete desperately to be offered the best mounts. The owners’ silks are kept in a changing room and when a jockey is chosen by an owner to ride a particular horse, they are handed the owner’s silks to put on over their base layer. These silks are unisex and one-size-fits-all, so jockeys tuck them into breeches to hide when they’re too large, and small jockeys use hair elastics to roll back and secure the sleeves.

People have a vague idea from heartwarming movies that the racehorse, owner, trainer and jockey are familiar with each other - perhaps they have a beautiful relationship. It’s important to remember the real pecking order here: the owner is usually a billionaire or royalty. The racehorse is usually a valuable, highly-bred animal with a proper dollar value on it, which the billionaire loves as an extension of their own wealth and power and beauty and influence. And the jockey is a sort of disposable starving dog that talks, which you graciously choose from the pack, based on their stats, like someone picking a Mario Kart, and assign to make your horsey win. Sometimes “just before the race” is the first time the jockey even touches the horse they’re about to ride! At any rate, the patterned jacket is chucked at the jockey to button on over their clothes(unless they’re Killie and have their own.) They also stretch a thin flexible matching cover over their helmet.

The design of the silks is ancient in intention; everyone can intuit that it’s resonant with medieval alliances and heraldry and tournaments, and the wearing of colours facilitates your ability pick out “your” mounted knight from a scrum of other screaming horses and bodies. Today they help commentators and the audience to see their horses. All silks must be unique, with colour/design/pattern being registered in databases. You can play with the British Horseracing Authority's silks database to see whether your design of silks would be available!

Killie is wearing his racing boots. They're flexible, made of very leather, with practically no sole, and weigh less than half a pound.

Killie wears racing gloves - these are optional, and often fingerless since jockeys like to feel the reins. He also has goggles. Jockeys usually take multiple pairs, perched on their helmet and pulled down in turn. You can have tinted ones for sun/rain, but they’re most important for keeping mud and stones out of your eyes at 40mph. They’re very lightweight, and when they become too dirty to see through, you pull them down to hang around your neck and then pull down the next pair over your eyes. here's jockey Gary Stevens after a muddy race with several pairs of goggles pulled down.

Killie's got his helmet, so now he's dressed. He needs to add his gear. Again, the jockey's body and their gear are part of the same weight allowance; a lighter jockey can have heavier gear. Here is UK jockey Hollie Doyle showing hers:

Interestingly, the weight of the saddle (plus stirrups, girth, and lead cloth) belongs in the jockey's weight allowance. (The racehorse brings its own bridle and saddlecloth.) Hollie is shown here with multiple saddles - for various riding conditions, weights, etc. Racing saddles only weigh about 1-2 pounds - contrasted with the 20lb of a normal English riding saddle - and are basically a strap that the stirrups hang from, since jockeys mostly stand up to ride.

This concludes "Getting Cillian Dressed, the Awkward Little Sod That He Is." Thank you so much for joining me and prompting this.

Appendix:

I depict Killie as a lightly bruised skeleton wrapped in a thin layer of mental problems, with the temperament of an unloved stray dog. This is not a nice state for a fellow to live in, so if I were to give him a happy ending, I would like Killie to age into a sort of healthy, roguish Franny Norton type (Franny, below, is the older jockey in white base layer. He raced for over 30 years and retired in 2024.) So if Killie were to be developed as a character, he would be poised for having some kind of fictional redemption arc that aligns with the overall improvement of working conditions for jockeys in 2025 and the potential redemption arc of his whole profession. it is possible, and increasingly less rare, for jockeys to be More Normal than Killie - as they very much should be!! the take-home message here should be that the profession has the potential to improve and may even do so. Emphasis on jockey and racehorse welfare would only help.

[g1rld1ary]

well kept secret 2 - spencer reid x hotch's daughter!reader

prev

wc: 1479

cw: none!

me: i love writing dialogue!!!!!!!!! also i did get a request for a diff hotchs daughter fic but id already written half of this so anon i have seen it!! also also i just finished my first week back at uni and i already have so many more readings than last yr so my writing may become a bit slower for the foreseeable sorry!!

════ ⋆★⋆ ════

You hadn’t seen your father for weeks. Both of you had been slammed with work and Hotch had been on a few particularly long cases that had kept him out of Quantico.

However, you weren’t one to waste time. You’d only learnt Hotch was your father as you went into college, your mother’s well-kept college fling exposed as you grew into adulthood. It was you who took the risk in reaching out, genetically curious. Thankfully Hotch was open to the relationship, and the two of you had been making a concerted effort to make up for all your lost time.

That brought you to the FBI offices after Hotch had messaged you that his case had wrapped up at an appropriate time of day, for once.

“Hi, Sweetheart. I just have to fill out this paperwork but I’ll be quick. You can sit in my office if you like or go get yourself a coffee from the break room.” Hotch gave you a quick side-hug, a big show of affection for him, and you nodded easily.

“It’s all good, I’m gonna go annoy your inferiors,” You laughed, skipping out of Hotch’s office and down to the bullpen.

“Hey, little Hotch, you’re back!” Morgan grinned as he saw you, shaking your hand with probably unearned familiarity.

“Are you hanging around for long? Gotta wait for my Dad to finish work before we can have dinner,” You exaggerated your rolling eyes to emphasise the humour in your tone and Derek responded accordingly.

“Good dads, am I right? Sorry, little Hotch, but I’ve got a woman to make dinner up to, I can’t stick around tonight.” You pretended to be annoyed as you made your rounds to the rest of the agents that you’d met, but everyone was lost in their own little world, rushing to get home to their loved ones.

Not that you could blame them, you were sure if you had to be away risking your life so often you’d behave exactly the same. Fortunately or unfortunately, you weren’t in that position and were getting bored. That was, until your eyes locked on the only agent still sitting behind a desk.

“Doctor Reid, right?” You confirmed as you approached him, not not enjoying the way he seemed to become flustered under your gaze.

“Yeah,” He stuttered, “But you can call me Spencer. If you want. Or not, of course.”

“Alright, Spencer.” You grinned, “So why are you so eager to sit behind the desk? Everyone else basically hit the ground running.”

“Oh, I don’t know,” Spencer trained his eyes on the file ahead of him, spinning a pen rapidly between his nimble fingers, “Nowhere to rush to, I guess.”

“So you’re single?” You raised an eyebrow with a sly smile, “No girl waiting for you at home?” Spencer almost jumped out of his skin at the word, but managed to shake his head in a way that was almost calm.

“So, um, what do you do?” He changed the subject hastily but you were ready for him.

“You tell me, you’re the profiler, aren’t you?” You were teasing him, challenging him even, but Spencer was good with challenges.

“Clearly you’re in office work of some sort. I assume not necessarily very high up since you said Hotch bought your high-end heels but nothing else you’re wearing is nearly as expensive. Your nails are brightly coloured and have those… charms on them, which tells me you work in something creative, where professionalism has different standards. You’re well spoken and were confident even when faced with the group of us last time, so you probably have to public speak or do client relations. My guess is marketing?”

You stood for a second, amazed by the acute observations Spencer had made within your first conversation.

“I guess they don’t call you Boy Genius for nothing, then. I’m in graphic design, usually marketing campaigns.” Spencer brightened at the praise and confirmation of his brilliance.

“It’s just my job. Any of us would have told you all the same things.”

“Genius and humble? No wonder the FBI is so fond of you,” You teased, leaning against the edge of Spencer’s desk. He laughed shyly, clearly unsure of what to do with himself.

“That and the fact I have an IQ of 187 and an eidetic memory.” Your eyebrows raised as he hit you with what you interpreted as a joke. Cute, smart and funny, what more could a guy offer?

“Wow, you really are the secret weapon around here, huh? Don’t worry, I won’t tell the bad guys.” You winked with a smile, enjoying the way a rosy blush developed over Spencer’s cheeks. “And all of that by what? Thirty?”

“Twenty seven,” He shot back quickly, “I don’t look that old, do I?”

“Not at all,” You grinned, “I think older men are hot.”

“I don’t think twenty-four and twenty-seven is much of an age gap,” Spencer mused as you blinked owlishly at him, completely missing the implications of his statement.

“How’d you know that? You’re not a genius and a mind-reader, are you?”

“I did some digging,” Penelope admitted sheepishly as she crossed the bullpen with her handbag, clearly on the way out. You glanced at Spencer with an expression you hoped was saying ‘who is this woman and how can she do that?’ to find he was already looking at you, amused smile on his own face.

“If you keep hanging around here you’ll get used to her eventually, we all did.”

“I love her. She’s like if my twelve year old self had adult money.” Spencer laughed at that, loud and bright in the otherwise silent bullpen. You smiled at the sound, silence falling between you both. It was somewhere in the middle of nice and slightly weird. You’d only just met but you knew Spencer was someone you wanted to get to know, he fascinated you in every way. And he was fun to talk to, especially as he got comfortable around you. You assumed it was the genius intellect that helped with his quick wit.

“So, is my Dad a good boss?” You broke the silence with a cheeky grin, testing the boundaries.

“Stop tormenting my agent, honey.” Hotch’s rich timbre popped up behind you and your shoulders tensed in surprise. You’d been caught. You turned to face your father with a coy smile, giggle barely contained.

“It was just a question! Don’t quash a young girl’s curiosity,” You played innocent, knowing good and well that Hotch was too smart for the ploy.

“Maybe save your questions for when Reid isn’t wanting to get home for his weekend?” He raised one thick eyebrow, but you could see the amusement behind his typically serious expression.

“I’m very sorry, Doctor Reid, thank you for taking the time to babysit your boss’ daughter.”

Spencer looked like a deer in headlights. What was the procedure? Hotch was standing right there, yet he was pretty sure (and it took a lot for him to even suggest the notion) that you were flirting with him. How was he supposed to handle that?

“I, it was no trouble at all, really. Happy with babysitting duties, sir,” Reid stammered out, the twisting of his features making clear he knew he was making a fool of himself. Hotch, always having had a soft spot for the doctor, let it slide.

“Make sure you don’t stay here all night, Reid.” Hotch started for the elevators and you hopped along at his heels happily.

“Hope I’ll see you soon, Doctor Reid.” You turned back to face him with a grin, delighting in the way he jumped slightly, only able to offer the single most awkward thumbs up and wave combination you’d ever seen.

As the glass doors closed behind you, you could have sworn you heard a squeaky, “It’s Spencer!”

You stood next to Hotch in the descending elevator, giddy smile playing on your lips. If Hotch noticed he didn’t say anything, not that you thought he would. He was definitely not the type of dad to start gossiping about boys.

You were in his passenger seat on the drive to your dinner plans when he finally turned the subject back to his coworkers.

“Just don’t start coming into my work because you like my coworkers more than me, okay? I’d never hear the end of it, especially from Morgan.”

“Who, me? I would never,” You teased, changing the radio station to something more pop-y, “Besides, it wouldn’t be Morgan I’d be visiting.”

next

[niqhtlord01]

Humans are weird: S.A.S to the rescue.

( Please come see me on my new patreon and support me for early access to stories and personal story requests :D https://www.patreon.com/NiqhtLord Every bit helps)

“Would you care to explain your actions?”

“I would think my actions obvious enough that they not need explanation.”

Galdun looked at the human officer standing before him and felt his anger rising by the second. Were they under his command he would have simply beheaded the soldier for their actions and disrespect, but as they were human and an ally of the war he was forbidden from carrying out such standard reprisals.

They stood in front of his desk as their still wet and muddy uniform created an ever growing mess on what had once been a priceless rug. Though torn in some places Galdun could still make out the ranking patch on the should the human officers used identifying them as a “Major”, which only further added to Galdun’s problems.

“Were you one of my soldiers I would have you flogged for such disobedience.”

The human smiled at this and rubbed the mud off his upper lip.

“Than it is a fine thing that I am not one of your soldiers and I can talk to you however I damned well please.”

An intimidating shade of red slowly began forming across Galdun’s face as his rage boiled over. He rose to his feet, sending the chair he sat upon clattering to the floor, and strode around the desk to stand in front of the human. He had to tilt his head down to look at their face.

“Your actions may have very well just cost us the war.” Galdun spoke through clenched teeth. “And yet you still stand here with such brazen indifference.”

The human’s face dropped the childish expression and turned serious at the accusation.

“I fail to see how one bridge could have changed the war, unless your own incompetence placed such a high value on the thing.” they replied dryly.

Turning back to his desk, Galdun swiped away the obstructions on it to reveal a map of the local area. To the unfamiliar person the various lines and numbers scribbled on it would have made little sense, but to the human and Galdun they knew it to be enemy positions, patrols, store houses, and other military matters gleamed through intelligence operations. The point of interest lay not with the enemy locations however, but in the surrounding terrain; particularly with the fact that there was a two kilometer river separating the enemy and their own positions with a single bridge spanning the length of the river.

Galdun’s finger jabbed directly at the location of the bridge. “Tomorrow morning my soldiers were to storm across the bridge you so callously destroyed and push through their defense line to reach their supply depot some three kilometers away.”

He ran his finger from the bridge due east on the map to a red circle indicating the enemy depot.

“Without the supplies from this base and the routes their logistics intersects with we could have crippled them in this theater and forced them to retreat.”

“Yet thanks to your blunder you have destroyed that plan as well as you have destroyed my bridge!”

Galdun looked up from the map to see the human now viewing him with open disdain and disgust.

“You will find there was nothing blundered or half-arsed in our operation.” The human retorted. “What we did was nothing less than surgical precision bringing down a massive fucking bridge from right under yours and our enemy’s nose.”

“But why?”

It was a question Galdun would not let go unanswered so long as he had the human before him. “Why would your command order you to destroy the bridge?”

A smirk flashed across the human’s face before vanishing beneath mild indifference once more.

“You have been misinformed if you believe we were ordered to destroy the bridge at all.” The human answered.

Galdun was beyond confusion at hearing this. It was as if he had just been thrown into a pit of madness. Thankfully the human continued their explanation before he became so crazed he strangled them there and then.

“Our orders, like yours, were to destroy the depot by any means necessary.”

“But-“ Galdun began before the human interrupted him.

“It was my determination that by destroying the bridge the enemy would therefore no longer see this as a viable point of approach and redeploy their forces; thus allowing my men and I to proceed through their lines to the depot itself and destroy it.”

“Proceed through.” Galdun mocked. “Did you forget that there was a massive river separating you still? How in the seven hells did you think you’d cross that without the bridge? Are your men fish now!?! Can you breathe in water!!?!”

The human stepped around Galdun and looked at the map before launching a wad of spit on it.

“My men and I have swum the channel back on my homeworld, and this thing is a fucking stream compared to that.”

“You would swim through it?” Galdun asked startled by the audacity of the response.

“Of course not you idiot,” the human chuckled, “we’d use dinghy’s and paddle first, and if that failed then we’d swim across.”

The alien commander ran his hands across his face and tried to massage away the tension that had been building every moment he had been forced to endure with this human.

“So both of our goals were to cross the river and then destroy the depot; yet you destroyed the easiest way across.”

“Well it’s not like you shared your plan with us either.” The human countered.

“It should have been obvious!” Galdun roared. “Why not take the easiest path across the river first! Why wasn’t that your first intention from the beginning?!”

For the first time the human laughed in front of Galdun and pointed to a patch on his uniform.

“See this?” they asked Galdun. “This means we’re S.A.S; and we aren’t paid to take the easiest path.” --------------------

It was another two hours before Major Oskar King was finally done with listening to the twaddle of his supposed ally and left their command center.

As he made his way through their war camp he saw the aliens standing down and returning to their barracks blocks while vehicles were slowly taken off the line to be returned to waiting maintenance bays.

At the front entrance was his driver and second in-command waiting with a jeep. The engine was thankfully running so he just hopped in and the pair sped off without further discussion with the alien guards watching over them.

“How’d things go?” Captain Morris asked as he started weaving their way back to the S.A.S staging ground.

Oskar pulled out a cigarette from his pocket and tried to light it, before giving up under the bleeding wind snuffing out his lighter and throwing it away.

“Like having two forks stuffed in your ears and your brain would up like spaghetti.”

The Captain laughed but kept his eyes on the road. “I told you they’d be upset about the loss of their bridge.”

“A loss that costs them less than if they advanced across the damned thing.” Oskar grunted.

“How do you figure, sir?”

In response the Major waved a hand back at their ally’s camp. “Half their machines are being held together by scraps of fucking duct tape and their men by prayer and copious amounts of pain killers.”

“Not surprising after all the fighting they’ve been in to get here.” The Captain countered, but this just made Oskar disappointed.

“Their CO’s only see the forest for the trees. They’d be dead before they made it halfway across the bridge, and the poor sods that did make it across by the grace of whatever gods they have wouldn’t make it any further when our enemy’s launch a full counter assault to pick the buggers out.”

“So blowing the bridge was a mercy for them?” the Captain asked almost laughing. “I’ve never known you to be of the noble sort.”

“I’m not.”

The Captain turned to see Oskar was grinning again.

“They may have been spared a trip but we’re still be needing to get across that little river. Hope you brought your bathers, cause we don’t have any dinghy’s.”

“Another day in the S.A.S I suppose.” The Captain sighed as he surrendered to the inevitable.

[rynchoso]

Gojo Satoru x Confident!Plus Size!Reader

Warnings : she/her reader, fatphobia, mention of food but it’s not related to reader’s weight, use of the word ‘fat’ but positively. I don’t know if it could be considered slight angst if reader isn’t affected by the fatphobia.

Words: 733

Robin’s comment: We need more fics with a fat reader who doesn't feel bad about being fat and doesn't doubt being hot even when confronted with fatphobia. It’s pretty short. I don’t have the attention span to write a long and coherent thing, so I hope it’ll be enough. Keep in mind that I don’t actually write that much, and that english isn’t my first language and I don't have a beta reader. If the use of the word 'fat', even in a positive way, is triggering for you i'd advise you to not read this.

Like every day, you decided to visit your boyfriend during his break. He wasn’t on a mission, thankfully, which meant you could steal more time with him. You walked through the streets of Tokyo, your black skirt fluttering in the wind as you walked. You thanked your past self for thinking about wearing shorts, you didn’t want all of Tokyo to see your backside, this was a privilege for your boyfriend after all. Your handbag was filled with all kinds of sweets for him — how else would you thank him for being the best partner you’ve ever had ?

You were passing a café near Jujutsu High when you heard people laughing. You didn’t pay attention to it, initially, but when you heard the words ‘whale’ and other very funny — sarcasm — comparisons. It was true, you were fat. Yes, fat, not chubby or plus sized. No, fat, and not in the ‘norm fitting’ way that would make you an acceptable type of fat in the eyes of skinny people and the beauty norms, no you were… just you. Fat. You always said it wasn’t a bad word, people said skinny with no negative connotation after all, so why not fat ? And you weren’t ashamed of it, you loved your body, you loved how your clothes looked on you, you loved your fat and your rolls and even your stretch marks and everything that came with being bigger than average. Really. But that pride didn’t stop stupid and ignorant people from commenting on your physical appearance as if it was the funniest shit ever.

You turned your gaze to a table in front of the café and, surely, a group of people was sitting there. Boys and girls alike were laughing, some looking not very subtly in your direction. You walked towards them and they all fell silent.

“A whale, huh?” You said. You almost wanted to laugh at their dumbfounded expressions.

“We… uh… We weren’t talking about you.” One of the boy managed to say awkwardly. He kept looking everywhere but you.

“Oh but you were. What did you say?” You asked, looking at the girl sitting right next to him. “What was it? There’s gonna be an earthquake if I keep walking?”

She shrunk in her seat. You could be very intimidating when you wanted to.

“That’s funny.” You commented, not looking amused in the slightest. “Now let me tell you. All of you. You’re lucky I’m not ashamed of being fat. As a matter of fact, I’d say I’m pretty hot. So your comments don’t do shit to me. However, there are people out there who aren’t as confident as I am. Do you have any idea of the impact these kinds of comments can have on someone? Do you think people can choose to be fat ot not? Do you think we don’t know we’re fat? Do you think saying this will change our life and create a miracle maybe? It’s our life, our bodies, right? If you’re disgusted by fat people, you’re the problem. Go see a fucking therapist and work on your inner insecurities, because this is pathetic.”

Silence.

“It’s easy to talk when you think we can’t hear you, but you fall silent when I’m confronting you?”

You scoffed.

“That’s what I thought. Anyway. Next time you see someone who doesn’t fit your beauty standards, maybe keep if for yourself because nobody cares. And try not to insult them, I doubt you’d appreciate if I commented on your very obvious physical flaws.”

They all looked pretty uncomfortable, you simply threw them another condescending glance before walking away. What a group of stupid idiots.

“Now that was pretty hot.”

You could recognize that voice anywhere.

“Satoru!” You exclaimed, beaming.

You turned around and, surely, he was here in all his glory.

“You were a bit late so I went outside to wait for you.” He grinned, taking you in his arms. “I’m glad to see my beautiful girlfriend is still as fiery as ever.”

You practically melted in his embrace, pressing a kiss on his lips.

“I couldn’t let them think they could get away with this.”

“And you did a good job, sweetheart, I’m proud of you. I'd say no one can mess with my girlfriend, but at this point you don't even need me to defend you.”

You smiled, leaning away just enough to take the sweets out of your bag.

“Here, for being the best boyfriend ever.”

“Are you trying to make me fall in love even more?” He said lightheartedly. “Thanks, wanna share them?”

“Gladly.”

[rainbowsky]

More Safety Issues 😥

My sister is a (truly insufferable 😅) Hua Chenyu superfan, and she was telling me that Huahua's fans were really pissed off about Hunan TV's safety standards as well.

For one of his performances* at the Hunan New Year's Eve event he was hoisted very high on a small platform about the diameter of a mini trampoline. The safety belt was never working properly during two days of rehearsals, yet even with two full days to correct the problem, it was never fixed.

*Actually he was hoisted on that platform again later in the program as well.

During the live show, the artist was hastily strapped in by staff and then abandoned and forced to try to tighten the belt himself (while holding a microphone in one hand), which he was never able to properly do. You can clearly see how uncomfortable he is, and how unsafe the conditions look.

Like a lot of Yibo's fans I have a certain soft spot for Hunan TV - or at least for some of the chosen family he built up during his time there - but the safety practices for this event are completely unacceptable.

I have heard a lot of horror stories about the safety standards in a lot of workplaces in China, and I have seen both GG and DD suffer injuries during their work in the past. Thankfully nothing really serious as far as I can tell (although I'm sure a lot happens that we never hear about, and chronic injuries are not going to be announced to the public either, so we can't really be sure of the severity of even the ones we do know about), but the terrible attitude toward the safety of performers at an event like this is shocking even in light of everything I've heard in the past about labor conditions in China.

I'm cynical about stuff like this, and it's hard to imagine that anything major or systemic is going to change, but at the very least I hope that GG and DD and their teams take this seriously and take a more proactive role in ensuring their safety during performances (and really, any of their work projects).

If you're finding posts about this annoying and you don't want to hear about it anymore let me know and I will start tagging these posts uniquely so they can be filtered (no judgment at all - no one is obligated to follow something they find stressful or that they don't want to focus on).

[marimayscarlett]

Rammstein in German media

I occasionally mention on here how challenging it can be to be a Rammstein fan in Germany, not least because of the media, which often treats the band poorly and dismissively. Today, I have a small example to illustrate this 📰

Alex Markusch, a guitar maker, gave an interview about his general work and cooperation with Richard a while ago - @franwikema thankfully posted this here. 🎸

In this interview, he said the following:

And Richard is someone who is very driven in the technical field. He's detail-obsessed. Collaboration isn't easy because the standards are incredibly high, and the technology is very complex. It's not Richard who makes it complicated, but rather the demands themselves. The challenge lies in having a lot of intricate technology that must be functional in the rough environment of live performances. When you look at a Rammstein stage show or even their open-air festivals, the equipment simply has to work. [...] It's definitely a challenge, but of course, it's also a lot of fun. Sometimes you're racking your brain, trying to find a solution, and then the guitarist says, "There has to be a way to make this work." And you're sitting there thinking, "Yes, but how? That's not even my job." My job is to make sure everything functions in the end. And it's always rewarding when Richard comes back and says, "Yeah, that was great!" Or when the guitar tech, Lutz, points out, "That wasn't quite right, we need to take another look at it today."

The Berliner Zeitung published the following headline following the article:

"Rammstein guitar maker from Friedrichshain: ‘It’s not an easy collaboration.’"

Since the article itself is behind a paywall (here is an accessible link), the content isn’t open for people who don't pay for this newspaper. This means the average reader who stumbles across the headline will likely think: 'Oh, Rammstein is causing trouble again, as always. Didn't expect anything else.'

The text, however, clarifies that the collaboration is not difficult because of Richard himself, and the article is actually quite short. It’s obvious that a single sentence from the interview was intentionally cherry-picked and phrased in a way that could easily be misunderstood. Then, the article is hidden behind a paywall, and voilà – another piece of media content that casts Rammstein in a negative light.

This is most likely not interesting for everyone, but serves as a little example for anyone wondering how the band is portrayed in the media here.

[mostlysignssomeportents]

A year in illustration, 2023 edition (part one)

(This is part one; part two is here.)

I am objectively very bad at visual art. I am bad at vision, period – I'm astigmatic, shortsighted, color blind, and often miss visual details others see. I can't even draw a stick-figure. To top things off, I have cataracts in both eyes and my book publishing/touring schedule is so intense that I keep having to reschedule the surgeries. But despite my vast visual deficits, I thoroughly enjoy making collages for this blog.

For many years now – decades – I've been illustrating my blog posts by mixing public domain and Creative Commons art with work that I can make a good fair use case for. As bad as art as I may be, all this practice has paid off. Call it unseemly, but I think I'm turning out some terrific illustrations – not all the time, but often enough.

Last year, I rounded up my best art of the year:

https://pluralistic.net/2022/12/25/a-year-in-illustration/

And I liked reflecting on the year's art so much, I decided I'd do it again. Be sure to scroll to the bottom for some downloadables – freely usable images that I painstakingly cut up with the lasso tool in The Gimp.

The original AD&D hardcover cover art is seared into my psyche. For several years, there were few images I looked at so closely as these. When Hasbro pulled some world-beatingly sleazy stuff with the Open Gaming License, I knew just how to mod Dave Trampier's 'Eve Of Moloch' from the cover of the Players' Handbook. Thankfully, bigger nerds than me have identified all the fonts in the image, making the remix a doddle.

https://pluralistic.net/2023/01/12/beg-forgiveness-ask-permission/#whats-a-copyright-exception

Even though I don't keep logs or collect any analytics, I can say with confidence that "Tiktok's Enshittification" was the most popular thing I published on Pluralistic this year. I mixed some public domain Brother's Grimm art, mixed with a classic caricature of Boss Tweed, and some very cheesy royalty-free/open access influencer graphics. One gingerbread cottage social media trap, coming up:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/01/21/potemkin-ai/#hey-guys

To illustrate the idea of overcoming walking-the-plank fear (as a metaphor for writing when it feels like you suck) I mixed public domain stock of a plank, a high building and legs, along with a procedurally generated Matrix "code waterfall" and a vertiginous spiral ganked from a Heinz Bunse photo of a German office lobby.

https://pluralistic.net/2023/01/22/walking-the-plank/

Finding a tasteful way to illustrate a story about Johnson & Johnson losing a court case after it spent a generation tricking women into dusting their vulvas with asbestos-tainted talcum was a challenge. The tulip (featured in many public domain images) was a natural starting point. I mixed it with Jesse Wagstaff's image of a Burning Man dust-storm and Mike Mozart's shelf-shot of a J&J talcum bottle.

https://pluralistic.net/2023/02/01/j-and-j-jk/#risible-gambit

"Google's Chatbot Panic" is about Google's long history of being stampeded into doing stupid things because its competitors are doing them. Once it was Yahoo, now it's Bing. Tenniel's Tweedle Dee and Dum were a good starting point. I mixed in one of several Humpty Dumpty editorial cartoon images from 19th century political coverage that I painstakingly cut out with the lasso tool on a long plane-ride. This is one of my favorite Humpties, I just love the little 19th C businessmen trying to keep him from falling! I finished it off with HAL 9000's glowing red eye, my standard 'this is about AI' image, which I got from Cryteria's CC-licensed SVG.

https://pluralistic.net/2023/02/16/tweedledumber/#easily-spooked

Though I started writing about Luddites in my January, 2022 Locus column, 2023 was the Year of the Luddite, thanks to Brian Merchant's outstanding Blood In the Machine:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/09/26/enochs-hammer/#thats-fronkonsteen

When it came time to illustrate "Gig Work Is the Opposite of Steampunk," I found a public domain weaver's loft, and put one of Cryteria's HAL9000 eyes in the window. Magpie Killjoy's Steampunk Magazine poster, 'Love the Machine, Hate the Factory,' completed the look.

https://pluralistic.net/2023/03/12/gig-work-is-the-opposite-of-steampunk/

For the "small, non-profit school" that got used as an excuse to bail out Silicon Valley Bank, I brought back Humpty Dumpty, mixing him with a Hogwartsian castle, a brick wall texture, and an ornate, gilded frame. I love how this one came out. This Humpty was made for the SVB bailout.

https://pluralistic.net/2023/03/23/small-nonprofit-school/#north-country-school

The RESTRICT Act would have federally banned Tiktok – a proposal that was both technically unworkable and unconstitutional. I found an early 20th century editorial cartoon depicting Uncle Sam behind a fortress wall that was keeping a downtrodden refugee family out of America. I got rid of most of the family, giving the dad a Tiktok logo head, and I put Cryteria's HAL9000 eyes over each cannonmouth. Three Boss Tweed moneybag-head caricatures, adorned with Big Tech logos, rounded it out.

https://pluralistic.net/2023/03/30/tik-tok-tow/#good-politics-for-electoral-victories

When Flickr took decisive action to purge the copyleft trolls who'd been abusing its platform, I knew I wanted to illustrate this with Lucifer being cast out of heaven, and the very best one of those comes from John Milton, who is conveniently well in the public domain. The Flickr logo suggested a bicolored streaming-light-of-heaven motif that just made it.

https://pluralistic.net/2023/04/01/pixsynnussija/#pilkunnussija

Old mainframe ads are a great source of stock for a "Computer Says No" image. And Congress being a public building, there are lots of federal (and hence public domain) images of its facade.

https://pluralistic.net/2023/04/04/cbo-says-no/#wealth-tax

When I wrote about the Clarence Thomas/Harlan Crow bribery scandal, it was easy to find Mr. Kjetil Ree's great image of the Supreme Court building. Thomas being a federal judge, it was easy to find a government photo of his head, but it's impossible to find an image of him in robes at a decent resolution. Luckily, there are tons of other federal judges who've been photographed in their robes! Boss Tweed with the dollar-sign head was a great stand-in for Harlan Crow (no one knows what he looks like anyway). Gilding Thomas's robes was a simple matter of superimposing a gold texture and twiddling with the layers.

https://pluralistic.net/2023/04/06/clarence-thomas/#harlan-crow

"Gig apps trap reverse centaurs in wage-stealing Skinner boxes" is one of my best titles. This is the post where I introduce the idea of "twiddling" as part of the theory of enshittification, and explain how it relates to "reverse centaurs" – people who assist machines, rather than the other way around. Finding a CC licensed modular synth was much harder than I thought, but I found Stephen Drake's image and stitched it into a mandala. Cutting out the horse's head for the reverse centaur was a lot of work (manes are a huuuuge pain in the ass), but I love how his head sits on the public domain high-viz-wearing warehouse worker's body I cut up (thanks, OSHA!). Seeing as this is an horrors-of-automation story, Cryteria's HAL9000 eyes make an appearance.

https://pluralistic.net/2023/04/12/algorithmic-wage-discrimination/#fishers-of-men

Rockefeller's greatest contribution to our culture was inspiring many excellent unflattering caricatures. The IWW's many-fists-turning-into-one-fist image made it easy to have the collective might of workers toppling the original robber-baron.

https://pluralistic.net/2023/04/14/aiming-at-dollars/#not-men

I link to this post explaining how to make good Mastodon threads at least once a week, so it's a good thing the graphic turned out so well. Close-cropping the threads from a public domain yarn tangle worked out great. Eugen Rochko's Mastodon logo was and is the only Affero-licensed image ever to appear on Pluralistic.

https://pluralistic.net/2023/04/16/how-to-make-the-least-worst-mastodon-threads/

I spent hours on the sofa one night painstakingly cutting up and reassembling the cover art from a science fiction pulp. I have a folder full of color-corrected, high-rez scans from an 18th century anatomy textbook, and the cross-section head-and-brain is the best of the lot.

https://pluralistic.net/2023/05/04/analytical-democratic-theory/#epistocratic-delusions

Those old French anatomical drawings are an endless source of delight to me. Take one cross-sectioned noggin, mix in an old PC mainboard, and a vector art illo of a virtuous cycle with some of Cryteria's HAL9000 eyes and you've got a great illustration of Google's brain-worms.

https://pluralistic.net/2023/05/14/googles-ai-hype-circle/

Ireland's privacy regulator is but a plaything in Big Tech's hand, but it's goddamned hard to find an open-access Garda car. I manually dressed some public domain car art in Garda livery, painstakingly tracing it over the panels. The (public domain) baby's knit cap really hides the seams from replacing the baby's head with HAL9000's eye.

https://pluralistic.net/2023/05/15/finnegans-snooze/#dirty-old-town

Naked-guy-in-a-barrel bankruptcy images feel like something you can find in an old Collier's or Punch, but I came up snake-eyes and ended up frankensteining a naked body into a barrel for the George Washington crest on the Washington State flag. It came out well, but harvesting the body parts from old muscle-beach photos left George with some really big guns. I tried five different pairs of suspenders here before just drawing in black polyhedrons with little grey dots for rivets.

https://pluralistic.net/2023/06/03/when-the-tide-goes-out/#passive-income

Illustrating Amazon's dominance over the EU coulda been easy – just stick Amazon 'A's in place of the yellow stars that form a ring on the EU flag. So I decided to riff on Plutarch's Alexander, out of lands to conquer. Rama's statue legs were nice and high-rez. I had my choice of public domain ruin images, though it was harder thank expected to find a good Amazon box as a plinth for those broken-off legs.

https://pluralistic.net/2023/06/14/flywheel-shyster-and-flywheel/#unfulfilled-by-amazon

God help me, I could not stop playing with this image of a demon-haunted IoT car. All those reflections! The knife sticking out of the steering wheel, the multiple Munsch 'Scream'ers, etc etc. The more I patchked with it, the better it got, though. This one's a banger.

https://pluralistic.net/2023/07/24/rent-to-pwn/#kitt-is-a-demon

To depict a "data-driven dictatorship," I ganked elements of heavily beribboned Russian military dress uniforms, replacing the head with HAL9000's eye. I turned the foreground into the crowds from the Nuremberg rallies and filled the sky with Matrix code waterfall.

https://pluralistic.net/2023/07/26/dictators-dilemma/#garbage-in-garbage-out-garbage-back-in

The best thing about analogizing DRM to demonic possession is the wealth of medieval artwork to choose from . This one comes from the 11th century 'Compendium rarissimum totius Artis Magicae sistematisatae per celeberrimos Artis hujus Magistros.' I mixed in the shiny red Tesla (working those reflections!), and a Tesla charger to make my point.

https://pluralistic.net/2023/07/28/edison-not-tesla/#demon-haunted-world

Yet more dividends from those old French anatomical plates: a flayed skull, a detached jaw, a quack electronic gadget, a Wachowski code waterfall and some HAL 9000 eyes and you've got a truly unsettling image of machine-compelled speech.

https://pluralistic.net/2023/08/02/self-incrimination/#wei-bai-bai

I had no idea this would work out so well, but daaaamn, crossfading between a Wachowski code waterfall and a motherboard behind a roiling thundercloud is dank af.

https://pluralistic.net/2023/08/03/there-is-no-cloud/#only-other-peoples-computers

Of all the turkeys-voting-for-Christmas self-owns conservative culture warriors fall for, few can rival the "banning junk fees is woke" hustle. Slap a US-flag Punisher logo on and old-time card imprinter, add a GOP logo to a red credit-card blank, and then throw in a rustic barn countertop and you've got a junk-fee extracter fit for the Cracker Barrel.

https://pluralistic.net/2023/08/04/owning-the-libs/#swiper-no-swiping

Putting the Verizon logo on the Hinderberg was an obvious gambit (even if I did have to mess with the flames a lot), but the cutout of Paul Marcarelli as the 'can you hear me now?' guy, desaturated and contrast-matched, made it sing.

https://pluralistic.net/2023/08/10/smartest-guys-in-the-room/#can-you-hear-me-now

Note to self: Tux the Penguin is really easy to source in free/open formats! He looks great with HAL9000 eyes.

https://pluralistic.net/2023/08/18/openwashing/#you-keep-using-that-word-i-do-not-think-it-means-what-you-think-it-means

Rockwell's self-portrait image is a classic; that made it a natural for a HAL9000-style remix about AI art. I put a bunch of time into chopping and remixing Rockwell's signature to give it that AI look, and added as many fingers as would fit on each hand.

https://pluralistic.net/2023/08/20/everything-made-by-an-ai-is-in-the-public-domain/

(Images: Heinz Bunse, West Midlands Police, Christopher Sessums, CC BY-SA 2.0; Mike Mozart, Jesse Wagstaff, Stephen Drake, Steve Jurvetson, syvwlch, Doc Searls, https://www.flickr.com/photos/mosaic36/14231376315, Chatham House, CC BY 2.0; Cryteria, CC BY 3.0; Mr. Kjetil Ree, Trevor Parscal, Rama, “Soldiers of Russia” Cultural Center, Russian Airborne Troops Press Service, CC BY-SA 3.0; Raimond Spekking, CC BY 4.0; Drahtlos, CC BY-SA 4.0; Eugen Rochko, Affero; modified)

[girl-dot-tzt]

Alright results are in, I'm not allowed to finish for 36 days 🙃

Im going to update this as a lil diary to keep me honest💃

Day 1: I'm feeling pretty good, I notice I get really horny when I take my prog the ✨️fun way✨️ so I'm going to use that method to increase the challenge this month. I'm thinking of meeting a friend tomorrow so I'm excited!

Day 2: more of the same, pretty standard, had a great time with said friend. Getting a teeny but pent up but nothing crazy yet.

Day 3: getting more pent up but it's still manageable, made the mistake of reading a ton of horny posts and getting myself really horny. Thankfully I calmed down and now I'm good to go

Day 4: went to work, did some bike wrenching, now im boutta sleep. pretty uneventful but I'm meeting a good friend of mine tomorrow so I plan on making up for the lack of horny twofold. I need to get some Oregonian mutuals bc I'd like to bite someone :3

Day 5: got my tits fondled for like 3 hours while I watched anime and got insanely high, I need like 4 people to hold me down and grope/tease/fuck me... preferably all at once. I've got 31 more daysssssss, does it count if it's hands free? 🧍‍♀️🧍‍♀️

Day 6: got no sleep, very horny, idk what direction Is up, and I need an answer to the question from yesterday 😫

Day 7: got sleep but not railed because if I get railed too well I'll could possibly finish and idk if that's OK yet :3. I'm going to mountain bike today! I'm super excited bc I need something to take the edge off, if I'm really unlucky I'll get too horny from the idea of getting fucked in the woods and make an update here.

Day 8: we're evening out a little, this may not be impossible, tbf I haven't had time to do much lately so when I finally get the time to ride my toys that might change. I'm planning on doing that tomorrow :3

Day 8 update: I accidentally took two progesterone pills because I boof mine, but I accidentally muscle memory-ed taking my prog orally. Got so horny during work that I nearly cried.

Day 9: I broke some spokes while mountain biking and now I'm sad, but horny and frustrated too. I can only think about being bred, but also being sad that my bike broke, damn fucking stupid sticks getting inbetween my fucking spokes. I need railed bad, etcetera etcetera

Day 10:

Girl abs, that is all

Day 11: I'm going to fuck myself on the biggest toy I own until I'm crying or edging with my Pspot🧍‍♀️ I will return

Day 12: I'm pretty sure I ended up getting edged. Pretty sure because I've never actually finished hands free before and my vibrator died right before I was about to finish. One of you witchy mother fuckers knew I was about to cheat or something, no other explanations, couldn't possibly be that I forgot to charge toys like a dumbass. Laugh it up, I got edged hard by my ADHD.

Days 13: I had a threesome and it was awesome! I explained my agreement to them and got teased a bunch as me and my friend dommed the fuck out of a gorgeous girl. We groped and kissed and sucked all over her body as she got more and more worked up, until eventually I was fucking her with my big purple vibrator and she came hands free for the first time! We made sure to shower her with all kinds of praise and congratulations 💃💃

Days 14-16: started a new job, I'm getting so horny these days that rather than feeling butterflies it's like an almost painful NEED. Like I just desperately need to get tied up and ground into dust, getting edged with my vibrator did a number on me because I'm a mess rn😆

Days 17-20: if I may be honest i embarked on this endeavor to try to finish hands free, I've never done it before but I desperately want to. I think I'll be able to do it by the end of these 36 days or sooner. Idk it's just a hunch🧍‍♀️

Day 21-29: 10 hr shifts in a lab will drive you nuts when there's nothing to think about but getting railed and ice cream percentages. On the plus side I am not only paid but required to eat ice cream every hour at my job. On the downside, I got so horny I cried last night🧍‍♀️😵‍💫😵‍💫

[jupiterswasphouse]

WASP REVIEW - VESPIQUEN LINE (POKÉMON)

[Image ID: An official render of Vespiquen from Pokémon /End IDs.]

Buzz buzz buzz, hey howdy everyone and a very merry Wasp Wednesday to those who celebrate! This time around, we return to the old Pokémon well with one from back in Generation 4. A fascinating design, truly, with multiple possible origins, but how does it compare to the real thing?

Starting out, as usual, with its appearance; We can see that Vespiquen has the correct number of wings, keeping up the wing count streak from Beedrill! Unfortunately it only has one pair of legs, and I don't see any of the requisite 3 ocelli on its head. Interestingly, in place of these ocelli is what appears to be a jewel? This is a part of a structure on its head that either is or heavily resembles a piece of old high-class headwear (with Bulbapedia specifically comparing it to an escoffion). Whether or not they are wearing this or if it is part of their body is unclear, as tends to be the case in the Pokémon franchise given their wishiwashi- err- Excuse me. Their wishy-washy history, or lack-thereof, of explaining Pokémon pseudo-clothing.

The eyes that are there are way too small if we assume a Vespid or Apid inspiration, and they honestly appear more vertebrate-like in structure, although I can't honestly tell whether the white part is supposed to be a reflection or a pupil. Furthermore, we can see that Vespiquen has no antennae, which is quite strange for an insect; Perhaps it has another, similar adaptation? The antennae could've even morphed into the horn-like shape of the "crown" during the evolutionary process. The mouthparts, meanwhile, equally appear to fall into this particular trap, as it seems to have no mouth at all, but its headgear has a structure that sort of resembles the missing mandibles.

[Image Source: Texas A&M AgriLife Extension, Salvador Vitanza | Image ID: A photo of the head of a yellowjacket species, Vespula pensylvanica, a social Vespid /End IDs.]

Moving onto the body, and the whole deal of pseudo-clothing comes back again, although, this time its connection to the body is more clear. Vespiquen is seen with an umbrella-shaped nest, looking like a dress or gown, wrapped around a more standard Hymenopteran body shape, with the Pokédex entry in Pokémon Diamond stating: "Its abdomen is a honeycomb for grubs". Now, the connection to honey bees is clear, however, I would much sooner compare her main body shape to that of Polybia paper wasps or Sphex thread-waisted wasps, and the shape of her built in nest to that of Polistes paper wasps.

[Image Sources: iNaturalist, limarrudandre; iNaturalist, Larry Clarfeld; Wikimedia Commons, Bob Peterson | Image IDs: Three photos, one of an individual of the species Polybia sericea visiting a green plant, another of a Great Black Digger Wasp, Sphex pensylvanicus, visiting some yellow flowers, and another of the nest of a colony of Horse Paper Wasps, Polistes major major, showing its umbrella-like shape /End IDs.]

Thankfully, this design has a clearly three-segmented body, with its head, mesosoma (functional thorax; thorax and propodeum), and metasoma (functional abdomen; petiole and gaster) all seeming fairly distinct from each other. Proportionally, the head is a bit small in comparison to the body, and the same, in my opinion, is true for the wings. The legs, as few as they are, are an alright size, but aren't properly segmented.

[Image Source: bugguide.net | Image ID: An illustrated diagram showing the legs of three Hymenopterans, the first two being of other wasps, while the last one is of a bee, with each segment labeled. Coxa, trochanter, femur, tibia, and tarsus, with metatarsus on the bee. /End IDs.]

Back to its "dress" before I move on; I'm very curious as to what sort of texture it has and what material structure it's made out of. In the Pokémon universe, the answer could really be anything, but the real world equivalents of Vespiquen would either have nests made of wax (honey bees) or nests made of paper (the aforementioned paper wasps, as well as members of Vespinae, such as yellowjackets and hornets). Perhaps it could be one of these materials, or maybe it's a thin layer of chitin, as a more direct part of its exoskeleton?

But if Vespiquen is both the queen and the nest itself, then what about the colony? Well, this Pokémon evolves directly from Combee, specifically a female Combee exclusively!

[Image ID: An official render of a female Combee /End IDs.]

I won't spend too much time on this particular design, but, from what I've already said, you can likely tell this is much less accurate. In exchange, the design is that much more fantastical in nature. Here we see three individuals connected to each other by combs made of either wax or, again, chitin; Each of the upper two bees has a singular antenna and wing, though they don't seem to have a full body. The one on the bottom, however, has a body, but the segmentation is unclear and it still does not have any legs. If it's female, this one also has a red patch on its forehead, while the males do not have this at all. Finally, all of them have two, far too small eyes, and strangely mammalian mouths.

Well? What of the behavior of this colony then? Well, as we already know, Vespiquen is the queen of the hive, as well as being the hive itself. However, the system of their sociality is quite unique from that of honey bees or even of Vespid wasps. Each colony might contain hundreds of Combee, however, these Combee aren't necessarily the offspring of the Vespiquen, as its Pokédex entry from Pokémon Shield states: "Vespiquen that give off more pheromones have larger swarms of Combee attendants". This implies that some Combee might be summoned into the colony, rather than being born into it.

Furthermore, the Pokédex entries from Diamond, Pearl, and Platinum read as follows: "Its abdomen is a honeycomb for grubs. It raises its grubs on honey collected by Combee"; "When endangered, grubs from its six-cell honeycomb strike back. There is only one in a colony"; "It releases various pheromones to make the grubs in its body do its bidding while fighting foes". These entries confirm that, for one, the Combee will collect/produce honey, thus also providing the ecosystem service of pollinating, while also confirming Vespiquen also produces at least some of the offspring of the colony. However, the fact that they specifically state that the grubs "strike back" or "do its bidding" is highly confusing. In the real world, larvae of social wasps such as paper wasps, yellowjackets, hornets, and honey bees (among multiple other examples) are wingless, stingless, and barely move.

[Image Source: Wikimedia Commons, Waugsberg | Image ID: A photo showing eight bee larvae arranged in order of age as they mature and harden into their pupae /End IDs.]

It implies that their young have some form of defensive abilities. But not only that, it implies that these Pokémon should have an additional life stage, possibly even two additional life stages, as the larvae reasonably should hatch from eggs (as Pokémon are known to do), live as larvae for a while, and then form pupae, before developing into adults. This part is made even more strange by the fact that fully formed, adult Combee can be hatched from an egg—Which brings me to my next point of discussion, that being, both male and female Combee are fertile, and do not need a Vespiquen, nor even another Combee for that matter, to produce offspring. This is strange, seeing as drone bees (as in; Male bees), as is true for male wasps in general, are fertile, while worker caste female bees are not fertile, with the males requiring a queen in order to mate.

Interestingly, regardless of level or sex, Combee cannot learn Poison Sting, which implies that even female Combee do not have a stinger until they evolve into Vespiquen. It makes sense for male Combee to be incapable of learning the move, as drones do not possess the ovipositor necessary to deliver a sting; However, if a Combee is a fully formed adult, as it appears to be, a female should be perfectly capable of performing this move. This could help explain why they join together with Vespiquen, it provides extra protection, as it can learn Poison Sting, and would be able to sting repeatedly in the real world even if it were a honey bee, as a queen is capable of delivering multiple stings due to having a stinger that is far less prone to getting caught on skin.

Well, at least that's all of the confusion somewhat settled when it comes to the social structure of these colonies, right? Right? WRONG. Because if we have Vespiquen, male and female Combee, and the as of yet unseen "grubs", then what, might I ask, are these?

[Image ID: A screenshot of a Pokémon battle, in which a swarm of non-Combee bees has surrounded the opponent due to Vespiquen using the move Attack Order /End IDs.]

"Oh, but Miss Jupiter, this is just the visual effect associated with some random Pokémon move, surely it doesn't mean anything about Vespiquen specifically!" is something you might say, and normally I would be inclined to agree with you, if not for the fact that this is one of Vespiquen's signature moves. Literally no other Pokémon in the games, barring maybe another Pokémon using something like Mirror Move or Mimic, can actually learn Attack Order—Only Vespiquen can ever learn this move naturally. The implications of this are fascinating, given that these bees CANNOT be fully formed Combee, as there's only one of them, but they also can't be the aforementioned "grubs" given the fact that said larvae shouldn't have wings or that distinctly adult body. So then, this species has four or even five distinct castes (depending on the possible sexes of these bees)? Why are these not their own Pokémon as well? Are these all Vespiquen's offspring, as they should be, or are they also attracted to its nest via pheromones? Are these just separated Combee?

This strikes me with another question too; What happens to the other two bees when a Combee evolves into a Vespiquen? Perhaps they separate and the other two become dedicated workers, part of this swarm, or maybe they outright fuse together into one, singularly thinking organism. Regardless, I'm... Confused.

In the end, I suppose that things could be worse, but it's just not very good, to be honest. It's as fascinating as it is confusing, which is to say, very. Of course, this is honestly fine, given that it's Pokémon and it's really not meant to be accurate, but it's a bit disappointing even compared to Beedrill. So, my rating would have to be...

-

Overall: 3/10

-

Leave your wasp review suggestion in the replies, tags, or askbox!

[littlehungrywarriorcats]

hi! I was wondering if you have any tips on drawing/visualising rufousing? Stuff like it's effect on non-black cats, where it's the reddest etc.

My current go-to reference is Somali cats but that's not entirely ideal considering their tickedness and amount of reliable sources for the rarer combos

Thankfully google images is full of a diverse array of black tabby pics so it's easy to find references from across the spectrum!

This is a pretty standard level of rufousing, a very normal brown tabby. You can - if you know what you're looking for - see the clear divide between more/less areas of rufousing across the body. It's more obvious when I pixelate him:

His rufousing falls on the belly, nose/muzzle, and chest. On other cats, we see the same pattern:

Belly, neck, chest, muzzle, and this one's paws are a little redder too.

Here's a very low-rufous brown cat who still has a rufoused line up the nose:

Even the grayest black tabbies have this tbh.

Here's a very rufoused brown tabby:

It's harder to see bc of how brown he already is, but we STILL see that intense (seasonally-appropriate) nose redness! Cats are rudolph I guess XD

As for non-black tabbies, they're usually reddish enough already throughout (AKA, can't get gray enough) that, while rufousing does still distribute the same way, it's much less noticeable. Here's a choc tabby w/pretty average rufousing:

Now that you know to look for it, the reddish nose IS still there...but it just looks the same color as the stripes!

Here's a more high-rufoused brown tabby, where it's a little more obvious that the nose strip is rufousing:

We can see it on the paws, too! It MIGHT be on the chest, but even with this fella's high rufousing, that red just looks like the normal agouti redness we see on the flank, so it's hard to tell!

I usually just draw rufousing in choc/cinnamon to be a straight increase/decrease in saturation for this reason tbh. Then again, I tend to do the same thing for my brown tabby designs... I find that rufousing in a way that doesn't look like weird tortie hard to draw :( Oh I can PAINT it, sure, but when it gets stylized into clean lines? Much harder.

Another important thing to keep in mind is that this white-ish spot on the muzzle here...

...is ALSO the result of banding! That's not "true" white, this cat has NO leucism. The red intensifies around the muzzle and then turns more "white" towards the center as a result of normal tabby agouti-ness :3

Here's a chocolate with the same faux-white as a result of being a tabby.

Sometimes it's just on the chin. Here's a cinnamon tabby with...some kind of rufousing! It's harder to tell w/these guys already being so red, but I'd venture to say "lower" bc of the lack of lightness on the belly/face:

When it comes to cinnamons, who are SO light, most of their visible rufousing is either just going to look like stripes or turn fully faux-white. His paws just looks darker instead of redder!

I hope this helps!!!

[sylix-royalty]

If you’re still taking prompt requests, can I ask for 23 with hotchreid? <3 🥰

Of course! I’m so happy to fill request while I write my next part for my alphabet series, gives me a little motivation! Request as much as you’d like!

Ship: Hotch/Reid, Heid

Prompt: "I'm... lightheaded..."

Type: Fluff

Warnings: Nothing really, just a headache as expected

I made Hotch the Vulnerable one, I couldn’t help it.

Enjoy under the cut!

Aaron sighed as he sat his bags down. Thankfully they’d finished the case just in time, as tended to happen with them it seemed. Due to inclement weather, they weren’t able to fly out until morning, which the team seemed fine with taking an extra night to sleep and relax. David and Derek had a room, JJ and Emily, leaving Spencer with Aaron. The men would rotate rooms occasionally, but for the most part this is how it ended up, mainly because Aaron stayed up late and Spencer was the least to complain about it (meaning he never did).

Spencer noted the exhaustion as Aaron seemed to collapse into a seated position on his bed. He was worried, but he tried not thinking about it too harshly. This case hadn’t been easy for any of them, least of all Hotch since he helf such a high standard for himself that the rest of the team never truly understood. He took such a pride in himself, but he never really reflected it to the rest of them unless he had to, to get the team kicked more into action than they already would be.

Still, it worried Spencer just how out of it his boss seemed. He couldn’t hold his tongue very long as Aaron held his temples with one hand, covering his eyes. Spencer shut off the overhead lights and decided to stick with the lamps in order to try and help.

“Are you alright?” Spencer asked, not wanting to pry, but at the same time, he wanted answers.

“I’m fine,” Aaron said, still keeping up that demeanor that everything was fine when it most certainly wasn’t.

“Hotch?” Spencer tried pressing gently. He didn’t want to go too far in fear of making Aaron angry at him, but he wasn’t going to give up that easily.

Aaron knew that.

“Yeah…” Aaron sighed, “I’m just… I’ve got a headache, is all,” He mumbled, blinking himself back and not wincing at the dim light, as he glanced at Spencer. His eyes seemed unfocused, and Spencer didn’t like it.

“Are you sure that’s everything?” Spencer asked.

“Yeah, just a headace. I’m gonna shower, the heat and steam will probably help,” Aaron mumbled, standing and grabbing one of the hotel towel’s to bring into the bathroom with him, along with his go bag.

Spencer didn’t say anything else as he watched Aaron disappear into the bathroom. Spencer didn’t tend to calculate how long someone to shower, it really depended on outside factors like cases and how someone was feeling that he didn’t spend his time doing it. However, he knew when it was too long for Aaron. Especially when the shower turned off and Aaron hadn’t emerged after a typical couple of minutes to get dressed.

It took him 9 minutes and 45 seconds to come back out to the main room, and Spencer was fully watching him now. Aaron took hold of the wall to keep steady.

“Hotch?” Spencer asked as he slowly stood.

“I’m… light-lightheaded,” Aaron whispered, and as he tried to take a step, his knees buckled beneath him. Spencer was able to catch him and keep him steady.

“Woah, I gotcha, I gotcha,” Spencer whispered, carefully carrying him to the bed and sitting him down. He pressed the back of his hand against Aaron’s forehead. It wasn’t at all accurate, since the man had just emerged from a hot shower and a steam filled room, but still Spencer didn’t like just how warm Aaron felt.

“You might be running a fever,” Spencer whispered. “I won’t be able to completely tell until you’re body has cooled from the shower.”

“I don’t… feel sick,” Aaron whispered.

“You’re lightheaded enough to lose your footing, that seems sick to me. How much have you slept?”

“This case or in general?” Aaron asked.

“Let’s go with in general,” Spencer said as he stood to grab a washcloth and grabbed the ice bucket.

“I only sleep for about 4 hours a night,” Aaron admitted.

“Not good,” Spencer mumbled. “I’m gonna go grab you some ice. Lay down if you need to.”

Aaron nodded, and Spencer left to do that. When he returned, Aaron was still sitting up, but his hand was back over his eyes, middle finger holding one side of his temple and his thumb holding the other. Spencer filled the washcloth with a bit of ice, not enough to make a huge mess when it melted, but enough to provide a little relief for a headache.

“Do you want some of my over the counter medication?” He asked, carefully placing the washcloth over his neck.

“No, I’m fine,” Aaron whispered shakily.

“We both know you’re not,” Spencer whispered.

“You don’t have to take care of me,” Aaron whispered, dropping his hand to look at Spencer. There was a weakness in his eyes that Spencer had never seen before. Not even after the murder of Haley, this was a different kind of weakness.

“Doesn’t mean I don’t want to,” Spencer whispered. “You’ve taken care of me, right? You don’t always have to be by yourself, Aaron.”

Aaron blinked, clearly exhausted enough not to argue. Spencer watched his reaction, trying to keep his face steady and warm.

“I’ve got you,” Spencer promised. “Lay down, I’ll take care of you.”