#Geographical Considerations

[kc22invesmentsblog]

The United States: A Cash-Friendly Nation with Over 400,000 ATMs

Written by Delvin In an increasingly digital era, where cashless transactions dominate the financial landscape, it may come as a surprise that the United States still maintains a vast network of Automated Teller Machines (ATMs). With over 400,000 machines scattered across the country, the U.S. remains the global leader in ATM accessibility. In this blog post, we will explore the reasons behind…

[pathologicalreid]

the build up | s.r.

in which you and Spencer spend an entire day just waiting to make it to the hotel room

margotober masterlist

who? spencer reid x fem!reader category: smut (18+ mdni) content warnings: reader is fine she's probably just ovulating, fingering, protected p in v sex, spencer does the post-coital pick up clean up, heavy petting (in the beginning), jealousy, kind of one bed trope?, spencer does math so he doesn't come too fast, not very edited, some case details and the case mentions drug use, hotch is a cockblock, spencer's tie is a cockblock word count: 4.23k a/n: okay we are so back thank you for letting me take a day

It starts first thing in the morning.

You and Spencer didn’t need to find your way to the hotel lobby until eight, so once you were both ready to go, the fact that it was only six-thirty took you by surprise. The two of you had been the first to make your way back to the hotel last night, immediately falling asleep once your heads hit the pillows.

As far as hotels went, this one wasn’t so bad. The hot water lasted long enough to get the both of you through the shower, and the promise of a continental breakfast always gave you something to look forward to. It was by pure luck that the hotel just barely had enough rooms for the team—contingent on one pair sharing a king bed.

Hotch had begrudgingly handed you the key cards, letting you know that HR could never find out that he allowed this.

Though, with the home Spencer’s hands had found on your waist, you couldn’t care less what HR had to say about it.

Very slowly, you grind your hips into Spencer’s, sparing a moment to smile against his lips. He had pulled you onto the bed while you were in the middle of getting dressed, electing to take advantage of your room assignment while you still could.

“Spence,” you whisper, your voice gentle in the dim light of dawn.

His hands were firmly set on your waist, you felt the callus on his finger that had been left by his gun, the coarseness of his hand in direct juxtaposition with the soft skin on your torso. Carefully, his thumb sweeps over the band of your bra, wanting to undo your half-adorned outfit.

With your knees on either side of him, you settle onto him, the chiffon of your blouse fluttering onto his bare chest.

Your phone going off is the most unwelcome sound, the LED screen flashing as the phone call comes through. Remaining at your perch, you reach over to the nightstand, unplug your phone, and answer the call, “Hey, Hotch.”

Recognition and a little disappointment dawn on Spencer’s face, his hands dropping to your hips.

“Are you able to be ready in fifteen minutes? There was another killing overnight, and I’d like to get a look at the crime scene while it’s still fresh,” your unit chief asks over the phone, and you find yourself thankful that he hadn’t knocked on your door.

Pressing your lips together, you nod even though he can’t see you, “Yeah,” you sigh, “We’ll be right out.”

The third body makes this the third dumpsite, the magic number that gives Spencer all of the starting points he needs to make headway on a geographic profile. He’ll be directed to the police precinct while you go to the crime scene with other team members.

Groaning, you melodramatically fall sideways onto the mattress, letting your hair fan out on the starchy white sheets of the hotel bed. “We have to go,” you announce mournfully, recognizing just how wrong it is to bury your sexual frustrations while you mentally prepare to spend your day hunting a serial killer.

In your defense, it has been a while.

Spencer gets up before you do, carefully doing up each button of his dress shirt, the plastic buttons sliding through eyelets as he does so. Against your better judgment, you pull yourself to a sitting position in bed, doing up the buttons of your own shirt with considerably less poise before standing and adjusting your pants.

Begrudgingly fully clothed, you step up to Spencer, pulling him closer to you by the fabric of his silk tie. Taking the bottom tail of his tie and pushing the double Windsor knot closer to the hollow of his throat, ignoring your impure thoughts as he hooks his fingers in the belt loops of your dress pants.

Tenderly, Spencer drops a soft kiss on your hairline, “Do you have everything?”

You nod, stepping up on your tiptoes to kiss him, “Yeah, let’s go.”

You’re about ready to sing Emily’s praises when she lifts up two cups of coffee in the air for the two of you to take, you gleefully accept one and take a sip while Spencer takes the other one. Preparing for the burnt sludge you can usually find at a hotel; you cringe when what you find in the cup is almost painfully sweet.

Reaching out your hand for the cup in Spencer’s hand, you shake your head at him, “No way, trade,” you prompt, swapping paper cups with him while he looks at you curiously, “You won’t like that one.”

He lets you trade out the cups without a debate, carefully maneuvering the cups so that you don’t get burnt by the hot coffee. Now you have your proper sludge, bitter to the tongue is better than the sugar rush you would have gotten. Part of you thinks you might be totally desensitized to the taste of burnt coffee, as that’s what you usually find in police precincts, but when you take the first sip of your coffee, you’re immediately proven wrong. Next to you, Spencer chuckles at the distaste that’s sure to be written all over your face.

Trying to ignore the way Spencer is one-handedly adjusting his satchel in front of his crotch, you stare straight ahead to where JJ and Morgan are emerging from the other hallway, “So, what do we know?”

“Similar victimology, about two miles from the last dumpsite,” Prentiss responds, taking a swig of her own coffee, “Hotch and Rossi are bringing the cars around.” She frowns at you slightly, eyeing your appearance as if she knows something you don’t.

Before you can ask, she leans in closely to you, her dark hair brushing your shoulder as she whispers, “The buttons on your shirt are done up wrong.”

Your face warms, eyes widening as she pulls away from you, “I just… got ready in a hurry this morning.”

“I’m sure you did,” she jests, raising her eyebrows as she looks out the door.

Handing your coffee off to Spencer, you reach down to undo the last few buttons of your shirt, grateful that the hotel lobby was empty while you fixed yourself up. “Thanks,” you breathe, taking your coffee back from Spencer before looking down at the redone buttons, just making sure they’re properly done now.

At least you had an easy fix, a quick glance at Spencer’s bag placement tells you he’s having a much harder time hiding the evidence of this morning from your teammates.

Being separated from Spencer allows you to focus all of your energy on the case at hand instead of drifting away to your morning, but as soon as you see him in the conference room, your resolve falters.

While he’s leaning over the table in the precinct, your eyes catch on the way he’s shed his jacket, pushing his sleeves up over his forearms in a way that makes your cheeks heat up. You take a quick detour to the kitchenette and get a glass of water from the jug, hoping to cool yourself off from the inside out.

“Hey,” a familiar voice calls from behind you, his voice is low as he gently sweeps a hand over your back. The movement is soft enough not to raise any local eyebrows about the ethics of your relationship, but it’s enough to send a wave of goosebumps across your body.

Staring at your cup of water like it’s the fountain of youth, you hum in response, “Hi,” you breathe, checking the time on your watch before you close your eyes. “How’s it going?” You ask, nodding your head in the direction of the chaotic whiteboard in the conference room. Whiteboard markers of varying colors and widths are scattered around the table.

“We have a two-mile radius near the neighborhood of Summit Cove, but I’d like to narrow it down. There’s a lot of tree coverage in that area and if the UnSub keeps accelerating his timeline, we won’t be able to cover that much ground before he strikes again.” He explains, either not noticing or not caring about the way one of the local officers is making googly eyes at him.

You keep your eyes on her, but continue your conversation with Spencer, “There’s a reservoir out there too, right? Do you think there could be a connection with the UnSub and the water?”

Thinking about it for a moment, Spencer shakes his head, “It’s not likely. There hasn’t been any indication that water is important to the UnSub so far.”

The two of you share a look, a silent acknowledgment that you couldn’t rule anything out—not in your line of work.

“Are you busy? Maybe a pair of fresh eyes could help narrow down the geo-profile,” he offers, leaning against the laminate counter of the kitchenette.

You hum, “I’m waiting on the toxicology report from our last victim.” Holding out your glass of water to him, you tilt your head to the side, “Will you bring this to the conference room? I’m gonna run to the restroom and I’ll meet you there.”

Spencer nods, taking the cup from your hands, “Are you alright?”

Already making your way to the bathroom, you give a thumbs up behind your back before nearly throwing yourself in the women’s restroom. Pacing around the small space, you take a deep breath, begging to pull yourself together. “You just have to get through this case,” you mutter to yourself, running a hand through your hair.

This morning was the third consecutive time you and Spencer had been interrupted. Every time either one of you initiates sex, something else comes up. The first time, his mother called, which you weren’t entirely sure you’d ever fully recover from. The second time, the fire alarm had gone off in your building, which was the first instance of that happening in the years you’ve lived there. Then, this morning, Hotch had called.

The universe was being a prude, and you were becoming embarrassingly frustrated.

Biting down a yelp, you jump in surprise when the door swings open. With wide eyes, you watch as Spencer shuts the door and locks it, bringing your attention to the fact that you had forgotten to lock it yourself. “What are you doing?” You ask, hoping no one spared him any mind when he went into the bathroom just moments after you.

“What’s wrong?” He ignores your question, cupping your cheeks with a gentleness that makes you want to turn into a puddle. “You’re warm,” he observes, “Are you feeling okay?”

Your head bobs, nervously trying to assure him that for all intents and purposes, you’re okay. “I’m fine,” you whisper, looking into his concerned brown eyes.

His eyebrows lift, and you can tell that he doesn’t believe you. “Well, you’re pacing and talking to yourself in the bathroom of a police precinct, so, deductively, something is going on that you’re not telling me about.”

Groaning, you tilt your head back in an attempt to avoid his gaze, sometimes being a profiler and dating a profiler was a brutal combination. “Shouldn’t you be working on the geo-profile?”

“I’m waiting for the ink to dry on the map,” he expertly maneuvers through your deflection—he’s had years of practice doing it with you. “What’s going on?”

You huff, bringing your head back down and meeting his eyes, “Spencer, I’m horny. I’m like fourteen-year-old boy who’s just seen his first pair of boobs horny. I came in here to talk myself off of a sex ledge and you are not helping to deplete my need to jump your bones.”

One look at him tells you he’s trying his best not to laugh, which would just make you feel more ridiculous. “Angel,” he says seriously, “What is a sex ledge?”

“I don’t know!” You reel yourself in, not wanting to draw attention to the bathroom, “It felt like the right thing to say at the time.”

Spencer chuckles softly, reaching a hand up to tuck your hair behind your ears before gently placing a kiss on your lips. Then another on your cheek before doing the same on the other side of your face.

Contently, you hum at your current predicament, “What-“ he kisses your lips again. “What are you doing?”

He doesn’t answer right away, choosing instead to lock your lips together. Moving them against yours in a way that resembled this morning—it made your heart soar.

Hesitating slightly, you reach your arms up and loop them over his shoulders, kissing him back as you’d been longing to all day.  

“I’m kissing you,” he whispers, kissing your lips again. “Trying to tide you over until the case is over and we get to be alone. Until then, do you want to help me narrow the geographic profile?”

In awe of Spencer’s ability to make you feel normal when you feel absurd, you shrug meekly, “Maybe one more kiss?”

“I’m shocked it was the third victim’s mother,” JJ says from the back of the group, talking about the case. The arrest was made about an hour ago, and the local precinct will be able to build the rest of the case on its own.

You raise your eyebrows, “I’m not. Thinking about the stony expression she had when she went to claim the body, I’m not surprised at all.” You met the UnSub earlier that morning, as it turned out, and the lack of surprise when you told her about the drugs in her daughter’s system made sense to you now.

Hotch checks the time on his watch, “Everyone head inside. We’ll take off with the sunrise tomorrow.”

The team nods in unison, filtering in through the lobby as everyone takes their designated hallways to their rooms, you and Spencer being at the very end of one of those hallways. You were grateful to Hotch for making the executive decision not to leave Colorado tonight, with the three-hour flight taken into account, you wouldn’t make it back to Quantico until nearly midnight.

Spencer swipes his key card in the door, letting you in before walking in behind you. He takes a moment once he’s inside to lock the door and latch the deadbolt, leaving you to walk into the bathroom to use the clean towels that housekeeping had left to wipe your face.

“Hey,” he murmurs, dropping a kiss on your clothed shoulder. He wraps his arms around your waist, holding you from behind and burying his face in your neck.

His body was warm against yours, a pleasant change from the cool temperatures outside. Leaving the towel on the bar, you turn around in Spencer’s arms, taking small steps so the two of you don’t get tangled up. Leaning your head back, you smile at him knowingly, “Hi,” you whisper, thrilled to finally be alone with him.

Carefully, the two of you move out of the bathroom, and you find yourself fiddling with the knot of Spencer’s tie, grumbling about how tight it is while trying to wedge your nail between the silk. “You’re the one who tightened it,” Spencer reminds you, making better progress with your blouse.

You roll your eyes instinctively, “I really am my own worst enemy.” You drop your arms, letting Spencer take care of his tie as you unbutton the cuffs of your sleeves and tug the chiffon off.

Taking the tie off, Spencer watches as you kick off your shoes, carefully leaving them at the end of the bed before losing your footing and toppling onto the bed in a heap. He looks over at you, a bright, loving look in his eyes, “Are you alright?”

At this point, he’s asked you that so many times that you’ve lost count, leaving you to reach our hand out and pull him onto the bed with you. You bite down a laugh when he scrambles to catch himself. “You were brilliant today,” you tell him, studying the everchanging glisten of gold in his eyes.

“You were brilliant today,” he responds, shifting so that he’s hovering over you. “You’re brilliant every day,” he reassures you.

Your eyes widen playfully, “Well if we’re getting particular—you are also brilliant every day.” You reach your hand up and thread your fingers in his hair, feeling the silky strands between your fingers, “Are we going to have sex now?”

Spencer chuckles in response, craning his head down to leave a soft kiss on your lips, “Yes, silly girl. If you still want to.”

You nod enthusiastically, “Yes,” you answer, continuing to admire the feeling of his hair between your fingers, the sensation of the heat emanating from his body warms you from above as you take a minute to breathe. “I love you,” you whisper, barely audible.

“I love you too,” he murmurs, matching your volume level.

You consider yourself lucky to be able to work with Spencer every day. There were times when one of you had to call a time-out, and you never had to worry about asking for space. “You’re wearing too many clothes,” you let him know, raising your eyebrows expectantly.

He hums in response, dragging himself up from his place above you and standing up, giving you the freedom to move further up the bed, flopping your head on the pillows and watching him take his undershirt off. Unbuckling your own belt, you wriggle yourself out of your work pants, successfully leaving yourself in a bra and panties.

“C’mere,” you beckon to Spencer, stretching your arm out to him. He takes your hand, that all too familiar callus on his hand touching the one that’s mirrored on your own.

Spencer stops about halfway up your body, resting his hand on your hip and using his thumb to rub small circles on your hipbone, you sigh contentedly at the sensation of finally being touched the way you need.

The butterflies in your stomach don’t come out of hiding until he starts to shuffle your underwear down your legs, pulling them past your knees until you’re able to kick them off on your own. “Thank you for not making me feel bad about what happened in the bathroom,” you murmur down to him, propping yourself up on your elbows to get a better look at him.

He knits his eyebrows together when he looks at you, “Why would I make you feel bad? We haven’t had sex in two weeks. I’d be lying to you if I told you it hasn’t been on my mind. You just happened to bring it up first.”

A soft giggle escapes your lips, “It’s a good thing you carry around that bag everywhere, or else we could’ve been in big trouble.” Not necessarily trouble with work, but relentless teasing was always an option.

Thankfully Emily let you off the hook, or else you’d be more concerned with being harassed on the jet tomorrow morning. “Speaking of,” he says, pulling himself back up and heading to his bag, rifling through his belongings before producing a small lavender packet. He sets the condom on the nightstand before finding his place again, “Where were we?”

You take your bottom lip between your teeth, peering down at him in awe as his hand slowly makes its way closer and closer to your core. “Just about here,” you breathe, leaning your head back while his index finger breaches your entrance, slowly sliding into you with a tentativeness to reflect how long it really has been.

The wet sounds reverberate through the room, making your cheeks burn even though you’re the only two in the room, “Let me know if it gets to be too much,” Spencer tells you, hoisting himself further up on the mattress. He changes the angle of his finger as he slowly finds a rhythm.

With him right above you, you tilt your head down, hoping he’ll take the hint and come kiss your lips. He does, his head ducking down until your lips touch, he carefully adds a second finger, eliciting a small gasp from your lips, but Spencer just takes the opportunity to deepen the kiss.

Cloaked in a sensual silence, the two of you are finally free to enjoy the company of one another, you extend one arm down, slipping your fingertips in between his stomach and the waistband of his briefs so that you can palm his cock. He moans into your open mouth as you sweep your thumb over the tip of his length, gathering his precum on your fingertip and spreading it over the head.

“Spence,” you gasp, so preoccupied with touching him that you had lost sight of your own pleasure, the way his hand was angled, the heel of his palm barely grazing your clit with every thrust. “Wait, I wanna-“ you take a breath, “I wanna go together.”

He nods in understanding, chuckling as you help him make quick work of his underwear, “Eager,” he observes, reaching around your torso to unclasp your bra.

“Yes,” you affirm, letting the underwire fall from your body, your nipples standing at attention, matching his cock perfectly as he reaches to the nightstand for the condom, tearing the purple packet and pinching the reservoir tip before rolling it over his length with ease.

You let your legs fall open as he finds a place between you, kneeling between your legs before he props himself up above you, your head still spinning as his hand moves between your bodies, positioning his covered cock at your pussy before he eases himself in. He takes it bit by bit, giving both of you time to adjust before he fully sheathes himself inside of you. “Fuck,” he groans in your ear, the curse falling from his mouth in exactly the same way you were thinking it.

One of your hands drops next to your head, and Spencer takes the chance to intertwine your fingers together, your hands interlocked on the bed as he takes a deep breath. Hesitantly, you ask, “What are you doing?”

“Thinking about what we have to get done when we get home tomorrow,” he tells you, dropping his head into the crook of your check.

You laugh breathily, “Right now?”

He drops a soft kiss to your collarbone, “Better than lasting thirty seconds. I haven’t done that in years.”

You hum thoughtfully, “What about last month when— ah.” He expertly cuts you off by withdrawing himself from you, almost leaving you entirely empty before easing himself back in. Apparently, he didn’t want you to bring up the time you caught him trying to hold off an orgasm by doing math.

Poking your head up, you guide Spencer’s head up, his lust-hooded eyes meeting yours when you set your lips on his, soft whines escaping from your mouth as you lock your ankles behind his back, “You’re so perfect,” he murmurs against your lips, seemingly spurred on by your need to keep him close.

In an act of desperation, you move your hand from his jawline to your clit, rubbing the sensitive spot in time with his thrusts, “Baby,” you breathe, your voice a word of warning as you feel your impending orgasm twist through your abdomen.

“Me too,” he answers, dropping his head back into the crook of your neck, continuing his movements, though they grow messy as he gets closer. “Let go,” he encourages, “Come around me.”

With a whine, you do just that, your toes curling as you reach your peak, your walls pulse around Spencer’s cock as you come, the sensation just hurtling him closer to the same euphoria. “That’s so good,” you say, your ankles coming uncrossed with the movement as Spencer works you through your orgasm.

A choked sound comes from him as his hips stutter, his movements halted by his own orgasm, spilling his cum into the condom as you run your newly free hand down his spine, skimming your fingertips over the ridges as the both of you catch your breath.

Lifting his head, Spencer flips his hair from his eyes, sweat-dampened curls falling in front of his forehead, “Woah,” you breathe, flopping your head back on the pillows, whimpering when he pulls out of you.

“Shh, it’s okay,” he whispers, carefully taking the filled condom off before speaking again, “I’ll be right back, honey.”

You nod absentmindedly, pulling yourself to a sitting position on the bed, a small puddle of slick beneath you almost made you wish you had a second bed in the hotel room. “Thank you,” you say when Spencer returns with a dampened washcloth.

He shakes his head when you reach your hand out for the cloth, taking it upon himself to clean you up. His gentleness as he takes care of you makes your chest tighten, he catches the way you’re looking at him when he moves to set the washcloth down, “What’s wrong?”

Shaking your head, “Nothing, just… can we cuddle for a little bit?”

Spencer nods immediately, leaving the washcloth on the dirty side of the bed before laying down next to you. You settle your head on his chest, letting your body melt into his.

You know you’re eventually going to have to get up, but right now, you’re just grateful that the world decided to slow down for you two tonight.

[reiderwriter]

Can I request a Spencer babying the reader BAU and everyone on the team is so done with it but reader is confused and oblivious...?

A/N: Thank you for your request! I've been very much feeling post-Prison/ later seasons Spencer recently, so I hope you enjoy this fic!

Warnings: mostly fluff, implied age-gap, slight mentor/mentee dynamic.

Your first year in the BAU would've been tough had it not been for Doctor Spencer Reid.

It was tough still, but without him, you don't think you'd have been able to handle much of it. He'd been your mentor through each case, taking you under his wing when he wasn't on academic leave, teaching his criminology courses at the FBI Academy.

Those weeks were the hardest, and you found yourself moping about in the office, texting him once or twice a trip for advice.

On one particularly hard case, he'd come back into the office after you'd text. Not to consult on the case, but just to drop you off a chamomile tea and a pastry to brighten your day that little bit.

When he was back, your days were great. He knew so much, and you learnt so much from him so quickly, eagerly consuming his every word. You were so eager to please him that you often forgot others around the two of you.

“Spencer, if you're done fawning after Y/N we have a case to work on,” Emily gently chastised the man as he pulled out your chair for you, ready to sit down to hear the details of your next crime.

“Oh, Emily, thank you, but it's okay. Doctor Reid was just being considerate, I'm sure he'd have done it for anyone.” The shared glances around the room were filled with glib secrecy, but no-one commented further, leaving you slightly baffled.

Those shared looks between the other members of your team had become more common as of late, with each one more worrisome than the next. There was something unsettling about being the only one out of the loop, and as the newest member of the team, and the youngest, it often felt disheartening.

“Y/N, don't worry. Being the youngest member of any team is tough, but you're smart and you're holding your own.” With a pat to your head he walked away, lifting the weight off your shoulders slightly but not fully. You needed to get to the bottom of the BAU's non-verbal communications, and you needed answers.

Your first technique was interrogation. Surely one of them would break and tell you if you laid out your thoughts and feelings clearly.

Surely not, you found, as each member casually and softly blew you off.

“Y/N, you just need to think carefully about how certain members of the team act towards you. How familiar they are. How overly familiar they are.” Tara had at least told you that much, bit it had left you just as confused as the radio silence from the others.

“Everyone has behaved very professionally with me. You've all been very welcoming up to this point, which I appreciate greatly.”

“I wouldn't count gifting you flowers for your first successful case as the most professional act, Y/N,” she said as she sipped her coffee. “But I suppose that is just up to interpretation.

Doctor Reid had sent you flowers after you finished your first case. But there had been extenuating circumstances in that case. You'd both worked on the geographical profile on that case, and together had figured out the species of flower the unsub was using was only cultivated on one local flower orchard. It had cracked the case open and you'd found your unsub hours later.

So the flowers were an extension of that small joint success. That was all.

Your second attempt at figuring out what was going on was observation.

Partially taking Tara’s advice, you tried your best to track the moments when each of the weary looks would come your way.

Overwhelmingly, they seemed to be directed towards Doctor Reid whenever the two of you interacted.

You had to gently inform him of this, before it interrupted both of your abilities to work.

“Doctor Reid, do you know why Emily and Rossi are both currently watching us from between the blinds in their offices?” You whispered to the man, leaning in close to his ear. You were quite sure he didn't know, but a question seemed as good a way as any to broach the topic.

“I do, yes. It's best if you ignore them.”

His nonchalance in the matter shocked you, so sure you were that this would be news to him. You waited for him to elaborate, but he didn't.

“Why are they staring at us?” You finally managed to force the words out in a small squeak, forcing his eyes back to yours.

“Don't worry about it for now, I'll handle it.” He smiled down as you, and the bright gesture washed away more of the tension you'd been feeling in the office. You smiled back at him as he rose from his desk chair and carried himself to the stairs. You giggled when he winked down at you, just as you noticed Emily frantically hurrying away from her office window as Spencer knocked on her door.

As much as he told you to not worry about it all though, you really couldn't help yourself. You found yourself growing more clumsy under the watchful eyes of your entire team, galling more times than you'd care to admit into Doctor Reid's arms. He always caught you, though, and you were thankful you never did yourself serious injury.

You finally got the answers you'd craved out on a case about a month into your struggles.

There was something slightly unsettling about the way the female Sheriff was paying attention to Doctor Reid, and it made you uncomfortable. Your mouth ran dry when she touched his arm, but a small part of you warmed up again when he shrugged her off. Until, at least, you heard him explain why.

“I'm sorry, I'm a germophobe, so I'd really prefer you not touch me.” His voice was calm and steady; it really didn't seem like he was lying.

“You're not pulling my leg? I'm sorry if I came on too strong, but-”

“Why would I pull your leg, I said I don't like physical touch?”

“Well, there was that young girl earlier, Y/N was it? You had your hand on her back as you walked in, so I didn't think…”

The woman had made a good point, and you crept closer to the edge of the door to hear Doctor Reid - Spencer's response.

“Sheriff, if we're done here, do you think I could get back to my job?” You were almost disappointed in the change of topic, but you weren't all that sad to see the Sheriff remove herself from the room. Slipping in behind her you decided to test the new theory that had slipped into your mind in the last minutes.

You called out to him to grab his attention as you walked into the room but before he had the chance to turn and greet you, you threw your arms around his shoulders and pressed your body down against his, enveloping him in a back hug.

It was quite possibly the most familiar position you'd been in with him, but really it wasn't all that different from your usual proximity.

Unlike when the Sheriff casually brushed against him, he didn't stiffen, didn't pull away, but instead melted into your touch, looking up at you with a large grin.

You stood shocked for a minute before grinning back.

“Spencer, I think I know why everyone has been watching us for the last few weeks.” You said, causing his eyes to panic slightly as he acknowledged your words.

“The, uh, the Sheriff was just in here talking about a development either some of the DNA test results-” He desperately tried to change the subject, but you were locked in now, spinning his chair around to face you more as you came eye-to-eye with him.

“I know why the Sheriff was in here, Spencer, I heard it all.”

“It's not what you think,” you paused for a moment as your brow furrowed, trying to figure out if you'd somehow caught the wrong end of the stick.

“So our coworkers haven't been waiting for you to ask me out, having noticed large changes in your body language and attitude around me?”

“It's….exactly as you think.” His face was flushed with pink and your heart skipped a beat at the man in front of you. But you still had some questions.

“And you knew, but you didn't say anything to me despite the fact that I bought it up multiple times?”

“I'm…I'm not good with words," he frowned

“Are you good with dates?”

“Excuse me?”

“You're going to take me on a date when we get back to Quantico. After giving it some thought, Doctor Reid, it seems I've become quite enamoured of you.” You dropped into his lap then, sitting there like a cat pleased to take up residence on its owners legs. He stuttered for a few seconds but then found his voice again, face lighting up.

“Spencer. Please, Y/N, call me Spencer.”

[becausegoodheroesdeservekidneys]

Hi. My wife referred me to you for your knowledge and enthusiasm for ecology. If I wanted my fictional fantasy world to have a saltwater river (my world is weird), how could I explain or justify that? Is it even possible, ecologically speaking? Anyway, love your posts and thank you!

I have been considering this with my colleague who is a physical geographer with a passion for riverine geomorphology and she wants to sit down with me and discuss the possibilities more fully. So I may yet update this post with more options.

But, the short answer is yes, there are options to make it possible.

The one we've best fleshed out so far basically comes down to groundwater contamination. Groundwater is contaminated with massive salt input (this would likely need to be anthropogenic - up to you whether that looks like Evil Factory Output, massive magical damage post-war, or any other consideration.) One or more of the river's main tributaries is fed primarily by this groundwater store, so it cannot flush through. Once it meets the sea, it would be brackish around the estuary anyway, but this would mean halophilic species - those tolerant of salt - would be able to spread backwards back up the river channel. Depending on what you want, for plants this could mean cordgrasses (saltmarsh formers), seagrasses along the riverbed in slower areas, or potentially long, linear stands of mangrove forest; in all of those cases, it's much more likely on a slower river than a faster one.

Now, a salt river will be far more erosional than a fresh one, so the river banks and bed would be eroding more. This means higher quantities of suspended sediment in the water, so the water colour would be murkier and browner than if it were fresh. However, if its a river with slow meanders, you might get little patches of saltmarshes establishing, where the erosion turns into deposition instead, so although the water would have a colour difference it would be extreme; on faster bits, though, it would.

There would be, either from the groundwater at the top of the catchment or along the river channel, a certain amount of salt incursion into land. This would basically make arable agriculture in those areas nigh-on impossible, but you could maybe try farming something like samphire along the banks. The exception would be areas that were away from the contaminated aquifer, that also got plenty of rainfall OR freshwater groundwater imputs from another part of the catchment. Even then, though, it couldn't go too close to the river.

Floodplains need considering, too! Floodplains only flood during wet weather events that cause the river to overtop the banks; the rest of the year, they're dry. In this case, that means you might have areas that are freshwater marshes, or maybe even normal grasslands/scrub for most of the year, which then suddenly get inundated with salt. That'll kill all those organisms quite rapidly. You wouldn't have any trees in those areas, and they'd look like mudbaths for the majority of the time, I'd imagine. Very ugly wastelands. These would then provide even more lost soil into the river, for even more browning of the water.

That much sediment would therefore mean the estuary would be a depositional one - new land forms at it. It would probably have a delta. This means lots of mudflats with lots of marine worms and other invertebrates, and consequently insane levels of wading bird diversity to feed on them (plus foodstuffs - oysters, cockles, octopus, smaller fishes, etc). Loot up Korean getbol for an idea of how impressive these things can get. Saltmarshes and/or mangrove forests, too! Depending on climate. Mangroves are a tropical species.

HOWEVER, this is just one idea we've explored so far, so I shall update you if we think of others

[buttclench-ryugazaki]

i think the english localization making phoenix american actually really works, ie breaks the narrative less when taking ryunosuke into consideration. as we know, phoenix was written as Just Some Fucking Guy who becomes a renowned lawyer, but then retroactively making his great grandpa a legal legend who toppled the british judiciary somewhat lessens phoenix's charm as a complete rando. it can inadvertently support the vague idea that lawyering is in the naruhodo clan's blood, y'know what i mean? because ancestor veneration is valued in east asia, it's likely that ryuichi's parents would have put emphasis on ryunosuke being an admirable and aspirational figure. the naruhodos would have their in-house altar and be able to visit his grave and read about his exploits in whatever japanese public archives, on top of recounting their own personal memories of ryunosuke. retroactively, this makes it peculiar that ryuichi or any other lawyer never acknowledges his pioneer great grandfather

but the east asian diaspora tends to have a different relationship to its ancestors because our parents had no choice but to leave everything behind. we don't have access to those things anymore. some of us can't even speak the language, which is obviously a huge barrier. phoenix as a descendant of japanese immigrants would be far enough removed (temporally, geographically, and culturally) from ryunosuke and his legacy that i find it totally plausible that phoenix would never mention him. it would make sense if phoenix were mostly ignorant about who his ancestor even is because that's just realistic to the second-onward generation immigrant experience

[drdemonprince]

ENM/Poly circles explicitly discourage real talk around jealousy, and practical considerations around nonmonog in ways that routinely exclude and excise POC and disabled people.

ENM/Poly expects everyone involved to act as though “love” is the reason for every relationship choice. Cliche #1: love isn’t finite. Which… sure. Maybe love isn’t finite, but attention and time sure are— and those are at a premium.

Cliche #2: Love is all you need/love is what makes a family. I am familiar with criticism of this from a family abolition, anticapitalist standpoint, but I have seen this be uncritically repeated by ENM/Poly people. It’s not true that love is what makes a relationship work or not work. It’s also about dumb shit, like geographical proximity and practicality. Good luck being ENM if you can’t regularly host because you have roommates or live at home. Good luck being the gold standard of ENM (out to everyone, including family and maybe even the workplace!) if you are any kind of marginalized. Love is simply not enough. There’s real world shit to consider.

Most ENM/Poly people are white gen x’ers and older millenials for a reason. It’s a framework that works awesome if you have abundant spare space, disposable income to blow, and free time. Plus most ENM/Poly people are heavily in therapy, and just have a fuckton of time to deal with their various baggages… or at least like to posture as though they are doing those things.

Non monog can be liberatory— disabled polycules caring for one another. QPRs! Multiparent households! But ENM/Poly is very lodged in a liberal, hyper-independent Super Good Boundaries Thank You Very Much world of its own, and so most of the “resources” like More Than 2 or Polysecure have hella flaws in that respect.

COME OFF ANON SO I CAN FOLLOW YOU! Because you just said a whole word.

I find "ethical nonmonogamy" and polyamory circles to be viscerally unpleasant and alienating to be in as a crazy, chaotic antipsych person who does not always make choices for carefully therapized, restrained reasons -- and who doesn't believe that most other people do either, no matter how much they claim to.

I don't fuck multiple people to serve some higher purpose; I do it because I'm horny, impulsive, and have a variety of niche fetishes that are really difficult to satisfy.

I didn't choose to be openly nonmonogamous because I nurtured my soul and found that it was abundant with love that I just had to give -- all my relationships already were nonmonogamous at one point or another, either because I cheated or the other person did or both, and I eventually decided to move with my feelings rather than against them, and to stop denying all that is inside me -- all of the hunger and darkness as well as the light.

And I can't say that my nonmonogamy is inherently "ethical" either -- just like my monogamy sure wasn't! I'm a human being, and a crazy one at that, I get jealous, I have emotional blowups, I lash out and fuck other people to make myself feel better or to affirm that I am desired, I make big demands of the people I date, I fail to show up for people consistently, I get hurt, and I hurt others, and I will continually have more to learn. I will also continually have wild animal emotions and triggers, and I won't always deal with them in the way my partner(s) might want me to. I try to avoid hurting other people needlessly, of course, but sometimes your own needs are incompatible with another person's, and hurt is inevitable.

When there is only so much time and attention available in our lives, it's true that somebody's often going to come up short. And ultimately the person that I choose above all others is me. And so, no, I can't say I'm always doing nonmonogamy in some caring yet dispassionate way, or that love is the solution to all problems -- I am driven by passion and need, and sometimes being alive in those ways means getting hurt, or hurting in turn.

I would echo essentially all that you've said. We need time and resources and spaces to enjoy privacy with other people, and if you're not some rich work-from-homer, that shit's all in short supply. I hate the sheen of calm positivity that "ENM" and polyamory folks tend to place on everything -- as if no choices they make are fueled ever by bitterness, dislike, resentment, or hell, fucking white hot irrational DESIRE. With how fair and measured so many of them make their polyamory sound, I don't even see what's fun about any of it.

Sometimes you want to upend your whole life because you're so down bad for a person. Sometimes you hate the shit out of your partner's partners and you say and do little manipulative shitty things to convey those feelings, or to try and blow the relationship up. Sometimes the hours just don't add up and somebody gets shafted. Sometimes you make a promise and then you can't follow through, or just don't WANT to anymore because you have changed.

These are real human realities whether we like it or not, and I find it terribly unrealistic AND unsexy to refuse to acknowledge all the darkness and frustration that comes out in any relationship. I think a lot of the ENM/poly crowd that is white and middle class and heavily therapized is so averse to naming anything edgy or prickly in themselves that they make their spaces actively hostile to anybody who openly expresses negative feelings. That means Black & brown people get tone-policed a ton, "mad" people like me get no-true-scotsmanned out of "ethical" nonmonogamy for ever doing anything messily, and all the romance and sexiness of relationships gets sanded down into a Canva-graphic beige blandness of weekly polycule meetings and processing sessions.

In this world of self-optimization, even fucking and loving other people has to be cast as therapuetic -- our desires must justify themselves by somehow making us better, more capable, more controlled people, But fuck that. Sometimes sex or love is worth exploding your whole life over. The ENM/poly crowd says their way of loving makes them more even-keeled but it seems like a kind of death to me.

[i9chicago]

imagine noticing spencer's hair since he started growing it out. you didn't notice the signs at first of how it was falling down to his cheekbones or when it was long enough to have a hair tie on his wrist, and you were so blind to the blindingly obvious signs that sometimes you didn't even think he was actually doing it till he was up to something. like when he was slightly hunched over at the police headquarters in a rather hot spot where the temperature was so high that the windows opened to let in the slightest wisp of wind, but everyone was so sticky and sweaty that the feeling was oppressive, the fabrics of clothing sticking to the skin, but, then, while you used a scrap of paper as a blower, you saw how he pulled his hair back into a little tail and it took you about ten seconds to formulate a cohesive thought.

with a few strands of hair matted to his forehead and his cheeks flushed from the heat, his skin shining with drops of sweat and his hair wrapped in a messy way behind his head. you continued to fan your face as your other hand held a folder, you put it down on the table as you stood in front of him. at first, he looked at you confused, you'd spent hours helping him with the geographical profiling and declined to do anything purely outside of work. to avoid inconvenience and stuff. so you tried not to get too close.

but there was something in the way he frowned at the board, in the blush on his cheeks thanks to the stifling heat, in his hair falling everywhere that you simply had to do it or else you'd explode. you put a hand on his face, he shivered a bit at the contact and smiled shyly at your touch, not without first glancing away to check that no one was watching you, but you couldn't care less. pulled his face close to yours and gave him a gentle kiss, so quick that he had to lean his head forward waiting for more. your hand moved around the strands of hair, soft, fluffy, still smelling a hint of that rosemary shampoo you found on the internet and loved to use because its scent permeated you, as if you had him with you, put the tresses behind his ears to avoid obfuscating his view, yet his hand reached for your hip, pressing gently against the skin.

"what was that for?" he asked, unable to hide the surprise and fun in his tone of voice. "it's not a gripe."

you shrugged your shoulders, still caressing his hair and his head tilted at your touch, lost in your eyes and in the brightness that inhabited them when you looked at him.

"i just think i'm actually starting to like you with your hair like this." you whispered, now gently pressing his chin with your fingers. "can you keep it forever? i could braid it. i'm sure you'll look good."

he laughed, kissing your finger. "i'd look stupid with a braid."

"you'll be like a viking but without the terrifying part. more like really smart viking with extraordinary massage skills." you nodded, noticing how he tried to breathe through his nose as your touch deliberately passed over the back of his neck. "please?"

"well technically the vikings wore the braids to protect their energy during battles as much as to have unity and strength with their people. it's not a really esthetic thing and..."

you gave him another kiss, this time considerably longer than the last. he hummed against your mouth at the interruption and hugged you as his lips danced in time with yours. your hands held his face and you pressed yourself to him, just enough to brush against his chest. you loved that he hugged you when you kissed him as if he was afraid for an instinctive moment that you would vanish into his arms without knowing it, especially when his hold was sweet, tentative and gentle.

when you pulled away, he smiled at you, completely mesmerized. "you know what? forget it. i'll let you braid my hair if you do that again."

you laughed, giving him a gentle push to take the file again. "here? they'll catch us."

the offended look he gave you made you grin, his brow furrowed and his lips tainted by your lip gloss. "i don't think that's fair."

"sorry, baby. i don't make the rules." you mumble, slipping your fingers around the extra black hair tie you had on your wrist. you took spencer's hand and slid it through. though, he reached around you, pressing your hand affectionately. "there it is. it's boring, but it's mine. just remember to keep it with you later because you're going to be my testing doll."

he didn't take off the hair tie until you said it that night, lying on your lap and drowsy from the feel of your fingers sliding nimbly over his hair, because, if he was honest, he was beginning to like having something of you on him. as he belonged to you.

and he was more than delighted with the idea.

[reidmotif]

Coffee and Consequences

Summary: Reader joins the BAU, and Spencer seems insistent on being a problem for her.

Request: pls i am such a sucker for angst/smut, can you do one where spencer is closed off and cold to a new recruit, and it upsets her, so she tries to get him to like her, which leads to an argument and confession, with soft smut?

Couple: Spencer Reid/Fem!Reader

Category: Smut/Light Angst (Happy Ending)

Content Warning: Reader POV, little shit Spencer, oral sex (f recieveing), gunshot wound/typical canon violence, unprotected sex

Word Count: 6.1k

Upon starting at the BAU, I believed there was no question about me, especially when it came to my skills and ability to perform my job. From stellar recommendations from my superiors at the Academy, to general demeanor and tact, there was no question about whether or not my success was imminent. Most of the team were more than elated to welcome me to the small family they’d built over the years, despite my younger age than most of them, which I was eternally grateful for. 

Most, being the keyword in that sentence. Since I’d begun, there’d been one thorn in my roses, the bane of my existence, you might say. Spencer fucking Reid. I’m aware of the fact that not everyone could like me, that was a given. I'm an FBI agent, for god’s sake. To expect warmth and friendship from everyone would be naive and lead to disappointment in any given scenario. 

But Jesus Christ, this was getting absolutely ridiculous. 

I consistently replayed the events of our first meeting. In an attempt to make a good first impression, (which seems stupid, in hindsight) I brought coffee to each of my new co-workers, hoping to establish myself as a friendly, non-threatening presence in their lives. I’d covertly asked Emily for help, as within the interviews and background checks required to even be considered for a position in the BAU, there was a certain camaraderie and friendship forged through the continued exposure to each other. 

Emily advised me carefully, understanding the intentions behind the act, and being more than happy to help.  “JJ likes vanilla lattes, nothing too fancy. Rossi is a little simpler, a Caffe Americano.” I spoke, and continued to go through my team’s regular orders, until there was hesitation on a somewhat infamous name, one that I myself was already intrigued by. “Spencer’s an easy order to remember, but you have to make sure you get it right.” 

I found myself nodding, the seriousness of Emily’s words striking me- momentarily finding myself forgetting that they were speaking about something as mundane as coffee. "Emily spoke slowly, as if I was advising a child. 'Reid likes black coffee, but you have to make sure to add extra sugar.'" I nodded quickly, "Alright, black coffee with extra sugar, got it-" Emily interrupted me abruptly. "No, no. You're not hearing me, extra sugar. I mean a lot, okay? Otherwise, he quite literally won't drink it."

I found myself chuckling a little bit, thinking about the image of Spencer Reid I’d built up in my head before I’d even met him. I knew he had been framed and had endured a considerable time in prison. I was also aware of his intelligence, a natural by-product of all the papers he’d written, and how many of his own techniques in geographic profiling were referenced during my time in the Academy. Working with him seemed like a dream come true. The idea of a grown man needing as much sugar in his coffee as Emily made it seem added just a bit of charm to the already positive perception I’d had of him. 

In the coffee shop, I carefully recited the orders of my new teammates, taking extra caution in advising the barista that the black coffee needed extra sugar. I could tell the patrons behind me were definitely annoyed, but it didn’t matter. First impressions matter more. Even after my incessant requests about sugar, I took the time to open the lid of the steaming black coffee to add in 3 extra packets of brown sugar provided at the customization station in the back of the coffee shop. I could tell the barista was boring holes into the back of my head, and I honestly wasn’t surprised or could blame her. At this point, the sugar had to be more than the coffee itself. I gave a satisfied grin to myself, knowing I’d followed Emily’s directions and the possibility of friendship with someone I’d already come to admire wasn’t something far-off to wish for. 

God, was I wrong. 

I approached the bullpen cautiously, being greeted by an assortment of new faces. I quickly matched names to descriptors that had been given to me from Emily. I then noticed one face that hadn’t greeted me yet, sat alone in the back with his nose in a book. I couldn’t discern the title, which I quickly figured was due to the fact that the book appeared to be some European language I’d most likely never even heard of. The man had a mess of brown hair on his head, and even from across the room I could tell it was curling softly near the nape of his neck. He was handsome. More handsome than I had pegged him for. I knew almost immediately that this had to have been the infamous Spencer Reid, and I cautiously approached him, flashing a small smile. 

He heard me a mile away, looking up quickly and putting away his book. His eyes seemed to size me up, and he didn’t seem to return my smile. I knew better than to shake hands with him, being predisposed to his germaphobe nature and instead held out the coffee, almost as if it was a peace offering. 

“Hi, uh. I’m the new recruit, I believe Emily warned you all about me and I just wanted to introduce myself. (Y/N). That’s my name. It’s nice to meet you.” I said, a little dumbly, still holding the coffee out. I quickly realized I hadn’t explained the reasoning behind the coffee cup and quickly added, “Coffee. I asked Emily about how you liked it. And brought it. So, yeah.” I said. I was aware of how awkward this conversation was becoming, considering I was still holding out the cup, like an idiot, and he hadn’t said a word to me yet. He nodded, taking the coffee cup from me and placing it on his desk. “Dr Reid. Welcome.” His greeting was short, but I tried not to let it bother me. Perhaps he wasn’t as forthcoming to strangers, nevermind that. The coffee was enough. I smiled, again, hoping to make my intentions clear. “Nice to meet you, Dr Reid.” 

I turned back, feeling satisfied. I’d done what I’d come there to do. Except a sound from behind me alerted me that maybe I was a bit early to assume that, because when I’d turned around, an incredibly displeased Dr Reid was throwing away his coffee- the coffee I had brought! That I’d waited for in a morning rush for, that I’d taken the time to add even more sugar to- that coffee! In the trash! His eyes met mine as he dropped it into the trashcan near his desk, shuddering a bit as he did so. He didn’t even look apologetic. 

I approached him, a bit upset and sad, but there was caution in my tone, not wanting to offend him before he even had a chance to know me. “Dr Reid, I’m sorry was the coffee-” Dr Reid quickly interrupted me. “Did Emily not tell you my order?” He asked, a little bit of sharpness to his tone. 

Okay, so this guy took his coffee seriously. Emily was not kidding around. 

“Um, yes-” He interrupted again. “Yes? Are you sure?” He said, a bit of condescension in his tone. Okay, holy shit. All this over coffee? “Very sure.” I responded, confidently. “Black, with extra sugar- I even put extra at the counter.” I added this, trying to convey that while I was sorry it wasn’t to his liking, it’s not like I didn’t try. That had to count for something, right? 

Wrong. Spencer Reid did not seem like the type of man who cared about trying. He retorted with, “Well, it wasn’t enough.” And with that, he shuffled to the breakroom, seemingly to make his own coffee. 

It seemed like from there, things only got worse. In one of my first cases, I quickly made a quip about the statistics on suburban murders, hoping to add some valuable information to the conversation. I tried hard not to overpower anyone and stay in my lane as the resident newbie, but Spencer seemed to take personal offense to it, going out of his way to argue that it meant nothing. I fired back, hoping to affront my point but Reid quickly cut me off.

 “You’re new, alright? And young. It’s granted that you should be clueless when it comes to some of these things.” His words, although somewhat true, were accompanied by a harsh tone and a coldness in his voice. What could’ve been well-meaning advice from a senior agent on the team was clearly not that at all. All signs pointed to one thing: He absolutely hated me. 

For all I tried, it seemed like he only disliked me more. It wasn’t unnoticed by my teammates, how he’d dismiss me. I was aware of my newness, of my inexperience, how this team had had years to grow around each other before I was ever even considered for this position, but it seemed with the more time I spent at the BAU, Spencer’s disdain only increased. He seemed to go out of his way to not sit by me on the jet, or how he seemed absolutely uninterested in anything involving me. I understood that not everyone would like me, but a bit of respect would be nice. I didn’t need friendship, just his tolerance, and even that seemed out of reach for Dr Spencer Reid. 

Eventually, this led to the dynamic  we harbored now. A year into the BAU, and instead of a friendship, or even acquaintanceship, it was constant bickering. It’s not like I wanted to argue- he just made it impossible for me to find footing within the BAU. I obviously stood up for myself, but was met with resistance from the doctor, and so the cycle continued. 

Still, despite the obvious dislike Reid harbored for me, it wasn’t like that magically made him dumb, or any less attractive to me. His intelligence was as impressive as I’d expected it to be, if not even moreso. I watched in real-time as the cogs in his mind turned, his slender fingers finding a point on the side of his mouth to tap, before stopping and sharing what he’d just thought of. He was brilliant, and no one could take that away from him

 However, in this particular case we were currently dealing with, it seemed that brilliance simply didn’t matter, because how could someone like him be so absolutely stupid? 

The hostage situation we were dealing with was tricky, to say the least. Multiple civilians, and a trigger happy unsub. Any experienced agent would be at a loss when handling something like this, but Spencer seemed confident. He’d been pushing to storm the building, citing that more people would get hurt the longer they allowed the unsub to continue making demands. I found myself  wholeheartedly disagreeing, attempting to put my foot down and be heard. I found that perhaps, through negotiations, we could not only save the civilians, but walk away with zero people hurt. Naturally, this caused commotion between the senior agent and myself. 

“Reid, I’ve told you for the millionth time that this unsub can’t be approached like this!” I whisper-yelled, clearly fed up with Spencer by this point. He questioned every decision of mine, and it's gotten to me. 

“(Y/N), you’ve dealt with maybe 3 hostage situations in your life. This isn’t something for you to take point on. We have civilians in there, and it’s more important we save them.” He responded, in his own hiss. 

“You’re being ridiculous!” I retorted. 

“You’re naive!” He shot back. 

We’d clearly reached a head when it came to this. Spencer huffed, rolling his eyes. “I’m using my seniority here. We’re going to give the go-ahead to SWAT and make our way into the building.” 

I found myself returning the gesture. “Spencer- '' I began, only to be interrupted.

 “Dr Reid.” He corrected, venom in his voice. 

“Are you fucking kidding me?” I replied, furrowing my brows. 

“What?” He countered, seeming calm, but his eyes gave away simply how determined he was to win this. 

“This is a terrible idea.” I said, firmly. “Someone’s going to get hurt.” 

“Oh, and how do you know that?” Spencer quipped. “Is it your years of experience in the field? Or your time spent as an FBI agent?” He said, sarcastically. 

“I understand I don’t have as much experience as you, but-” I started, but I found myself cut off by him again. Bastard. He never let me finish my sentences. “Exactly.” He responded, calmly. “You don’t have as much experience. I know what I’m doing. Let’s go.” And with that, he walked, leaving me to simply follow. God, I fucking hated that guy. Forget the intelligence, none of that mattered when he was such a dick. 

As they entered the warehouse doors behind SWAT, I  knew that it was wrong. Something was off. We’d profiled this unsub as the dominant type, and an egotistical personality that wouldn’t allow for a partner. It was a part of the profile that they were sure of. It was part of the reason why Spencer was so confident of going in. 

Upon entering though, the SWAT team had a clear shot of the unsub, but in a split second, there were shots heard from an entirely different part of the warehouse. From the direction in which Spencer was directly in line of. 

It wasn’t like I thought about it, maybe if I had, I wouldn’t have done it. It was based on pure instinct. I found myself in front of Spencer Reid, the man who’d questioned my every decision since I’d begun my job, taking a bullet for him. Maybe he was right, maybe I was an idiot. 

I heard the gunshot first, then felt the cold floor pressing into my cheek where I’d been knocked down. Then a tight pressure in my arm. I finally looked down, seeing a bloom of red appear under my dress shirt where a bullet had struck, away from the vest I wore to prevent this sort of thing. I took in a sharp breath of air, eyes widening as my breathing began to quicken. I rolled onto my back, only to be met with Spencer’s concerned and frightened expression above me. I heard ins and outs of his speech into his receiver, as I faded in and out of consciousness. 

“Yes! We have an agent down. We need medic, now!” He yelled. I watched him in fascination, his face currently seeming to be the only thing I could focus on besides the overwhelming burning that I felt. I heard him speak to me, calmly. “Y/N? Stay with me, okay? You need to stay conscious. Okay?” He spoke to me calmly, but the waver in his voice was unmistakable. I found my eyelids growing heavier as I nodded. 

It wasn’t long until I came to, groggily opening my eyes to see Spencer’s concerned face looking back at me. I heard his voice, soft and distant. 

“(Y/N)..?” Spencer said, cautiously. 

“Dr Reid?” was my response. I was still a bit dizzy, and a bit confused about my whereabouts. 

“You were shot.” He replied, immediately. “In your arm.” He added, as if that wasn’t already obvious. 

I found myself chuckling, “Yeah, I can tell.” I said, my eyes meeting his. His expression was a bit unreadable, a mix between sternness and apprehension. I watched him, as his gaze shifted and he bit his lip. “You took it for me.” He said, suddenly. “The bullet, I mean.” He continued. “It would’ve hit me if you hadn’t gotten in the way.” 

“Gotten in the way?” I questioned, raising an eyebrow. 

“Gotten in the way.” He repeated back to me, his face hard. 

“Are you upset I took a bullet for you?” I said, furrowing my brows, my lips parting in shock. Was this guy serious? 

“Yes.” He said, his voice angry. “What were you thinking?” His voice wavered with anger and another emotion I couldn’t quite discern in that moment. 

“I wasn’t thinking, I just-” 

“Exactly.” He responded, harshly. “You weren’t thinking.” He said, his voice reaching a volume I’d never heard before, granted, it was still collected, but I’d never seen this side of him. 

I contemplated how to respond to this, actually not being able to believe that he could be mad at me for something like this. Yes, it was brash but- he didn’t get shot! Isn’t that a plus? His voice broke my thoughts, now a bit more shaky, softer. “Do you have any idea what that would mean? If you’d been hurt worse, what that would mean for me?” He said, looking right at my face, into my eyes with a blaze. “What you mean to me?” 

I found myself unable to respond, still not being able to grapple with what he was saying. What he was implying. “Sorry?” I asked, softly. 

“(Y/N)..” He said, softly. His own expression mirrored my confusion mixed with longing I’d never seen before on him. Especially when he looked at me. His hand brushed across my face, moving some hair that had drifted near my eye. I held my breath as he did so, watching as his tongue slipped out to wet his bottom lip, still watching intently. I felt my lips slightly part as he came closer, unsure what was going to happen in this moment, but regardless, my gaze was intently trained on his. 

In a split second though, the sounds of the rest of the BAU filtered into the hospital room. They jumped away from each other, Spencer now 4 feet away from me. Emily came up to my bedside, looking at the wound. 

The typical chastisement came, and the general choruses of appreciation that I was still alive. The diagnosis revealed that (Y/N) would be just fine, given I remembered to clean my wound liberally and change the bandages.

In about a week, I found myself discharged. I was given about 2 more weeks to rest at my apartment. I assumed the time would be enough to forget the strange moment I’d had in the hospital room. At some points, if I tried hard enough, I could convince myself it hadn’t happened at all. The tenderness in his eyes, the way his gaze drifted to my lips, so subtle it could’ve as easily been a figment of imagination. I shook my head, as if I could rid myself of all the feelings I’d harbored about that specific moment. I made my way to the kitchen, grabbing a fresh-set of bandages to apply on the recovering wound, wincing as I peeled away the layers of gauze to reveal the injury. As I began to apply the anti-septic, I began to wrap the gauze, until I heard a knock at my apartment door. 

I put down the gauze, looking through the peephole and being surprised to see the senior agent that had been haunting my thoughts for the past few weeks. I opened the door quickly, meeting his pensive gaze. 

“Can I come in?” He said, quickly, almost if he didn’t say the words fast enough, he’d bolt the other direction. I sensed the confusion about his own actions, and opened the door wider, allowing him to push past me into my apartment. He noticed the gauze, and the open wound, and raised an eyebrow. 

“I was changing the gauze, sorry.” I said, explaining the sight on my kitchen table. He immediately took a step towards the table, picking up the bandages. “Let me help.” He said, quietly, motioning for me to sit down. 

I found myself sitting, out of pure habit of obeying him, but still shook my head. 

 “Dr Reid, no, it’s fine.” He quickly shook his head, mirroring my previous actions,  already beginning to take my arm, his light touches on my bare skin shooting a shiver up my spine. This was noticeable to him, him immediately retracting his hand. 

“Sorry, did I hurt you?” He asked, softly. 

I found myself shaking my head. “No, no. Sorry. Just. Continue.” I said, trying to get the words out without looking at him. I suddenly remembered the strangeness of this situation, and forced myself to calm down as he began to carefully wrap the bandages around my injury, swallowing and looking up. 

“Dr Reid, why are you here?” I asked, carefully. I made sure that my tone was neutral, not trying to express displeasement, but still a bit confused about his intentions here. 

“You took a bullet for me.” He replied, simply, as if that explained why he was in my apartment, looming over me as he tenderly wrapped gauze over my arm, looking at me with the gentlest gaze I’d ever seen on him. I sighed, locking eyes with him. “I know, but-” He interrupted. “No, (Y/N), you don’t know.” 

Immediately, the rage returned to my eyes, the months of dismissal I’d faced from him flooding back in a moment, and those emotions came to full light in that moment. my brows furrowed, my face turning sour. “Oh, I don’t know, Spencer?” I said, sneering at him. “Am I too young, too stupid, too inexperienced for you?” I question, sarcastically. “Am I so dumb, that I wasn’t aware of what I was doing when I stepped in front of you?!” I say, my voice practically yelling at him now. 

“Yes.” He whispered, dangerously close. 

“Excuse me?” 

“Yes. You weren’t aware.” He says, repeats, softer this time. “It’s the only way any of this makes sense. That.. that you were so unaware, so blinded that you weren’t thinking when you stepped in front of me.” He said, quietly, remaining just as close as before. 

“I wasn’t.” I said, firmly, my brows still furrowed but the tension slowly left my face, being replaced with a softness. 

“Why did you do it then?” He said, dropping his gaze as he began to focus more on the bandages. “I haven’t been very forthcoming with you since you’ve begun your time at the BAU.” 

“Ah, so you’ve noticed.” I said, trying to make humor of the situation, but it came out a bit more breathless and dry. I was aware of the intimacy of the situation, and it seemed my body was catching up. I could physically feel the way my cheeks were heating up, and how they were close enough that I could see every breath that exhaled from his lips. How, despite everything, I still desperately wanted to kiss him at that moment. 

I couldn’t be crazy, when he secured the bandages and slowly trailed his eyes over my figure, sitting in front of him. I saw the same desire I felt, reflected in his eyes, and I found myself biting my lip. What the fuck was going on?

“So why’d you do it?” He repeated, still looking at me. 

“It felt natural, I..” I trailed off, trying to find the words to explain what I had felt in that split-second, but instead went with the simplest retelling my brain could manage, considering how close he was. “I didn’t want you to get hurt.” I said, looking at him. “I.. I care about you.” 

I felt stupidly vulnerable. His breath fanned over my face, and I bit my lip. I waited for him to say something, anything, staring anxiously at his face. 

“I’m a good profiler, you know.” He says, softly. 

I  chuckle a little at this, moving away so the tension can be relieved. “Trust me, I’m reminded of that every day.” I said, feeling like the distance between them was now more manageable, allowing me to talk.

But in a moment, he closed that distance to its predecessor, just as close as they were a moment ago. “You learn a lot about body language. Not just by learning to profile, but through years of experience. It just comes naturally, reading people. You can’t really turn it off. It’s like trying to forget how to breathe.” I hung onto his every word, and found my breath hitching when he directed his monologue to me. 

He gently inquires, “Do you understand?” 

I nod, looking up at him, as he inches closer. 

“So I hope you’ll understand and not take offense when I say I’ve been profiling you.” He pauses.  “Would you like to know what I’ve found out?” He says, looking right into my eyes at this point. 

My brain is screaming at me to say no, to not take the bait that he was dangling right in front of me, and to not cross that line tonight. Because, surely, that’s where this was going. I had a sneaking suspicion that the man in front of me was going to ruin me, if I let him. 

Instead, I ignore the instinct and intuition I normally rely on, and nod. “What did you find out, Dr Reid?” I responded, a bit shakier than I wanted to sound. 

“Your pupils dilate when I come near you. It’s an involuntary response, but I notice it every time. I’ve seen it in low and heavy lighting, the only commonality in both those situations being that we were in some proximity to each other.” His voice was low, and seductive, something I’d never heard from him before. 

“Your heart rate.” He murmurs, slowly picking up my wrist and pressing a thumb to the pulse point. “This isn’t exactly the best way to measure heart rate.” He explains, “My thumb. It carries its own pulse that can make it hard to distinguish between mine and yours. But right now, (Y/N)?” He mumbles. “I can tell. Because your pulse is going crazy right now. It’d be hard to miss.”  He said, with a low chuckle.

And he’s right, I can feel my heart getting faster with every second he speaks to me, in that hushed tone that seems to be driving me crazy. 

“It’s not just tonight. I’ve noticed it since the day you walked in.” He whispers, getting closer to my ear, his lips brushing against the shell of my ear. “Since you brought that terrible coffee, actually.” 

I pulled back, letting out a noise that was both composed of surprise and amusement. “Oh come on, it was not that bad.” 

“It was, but I can tell you tried.” He said, a small smirk playing on his face. “It was cute.” He said, now taking the time to brush some hair out of my face. It all happened quickly, his gaze tender and soft, before he captured my lips in a swoon-worthy kiss, pressing himself against me. I quickly melted into the kiss, letting out a satisfied sigh as I gripped his forearm, before rising from the chair as he slowly guided me to my couch. I let out a nervous laugh as my knees hit the cushions, tumbling a bit as I fell onto the soft pillows. He immediately pulled back, breathless, looking at me worriedly. 

“I didn’t hurt you, did I?” He murmured softly, kissing me again, a bit more gentle so I could murmur a soft “no” against his lips. 

“Good.” He growled, positioning himself above me on the couch,  beginning to press hot kisses down my neck, eventually reaching my exposed sternum, and looking up at me through hooded lids for implicit consent to continue, to which I nodded, feverishly. 

“Please.” I whispered, hoarsely. 

He took no time in obliging my request, rising a bit to remove the fabric of my shirt in one, clean swoop and continuing his assault on my chest, leaving open-mouthed kissed, eventually switching to nips and playful bites, as he sucked marks into the swell of my breasts, leaving me letting out delighted sighs and soft moans, which only seemed to encourage him to go lower. I arched my back, screwing my eyes shut, until he felt him stop, and come back to my neck. 

He murmured against me, close to my ear. I could feel his lips slowly brush the sensitive skin between my ear and neck, barely giving me any real stimulation, but it was enough to drive me crazy anyway. 

“Keep your eyes open, baby.” He whispers. “I want to see every part of your pretty face when I do this.” He says, returning lower again, leaving little kisses everywhere he could possibly go with his lips. I opened my eyes on command, watching as he went lower and lower, before finding the button on my jeans, slowly undoing them with nimble fingers and moving them off  my legs. I could imagine them so vividly inside me, expertly guiding me to pleasure in a way that mine couldn’t. But right now, if I wasn’t fucked senseless by him right now, I’d just about lose my mind. 

“Spencer.” I whispered, breathlessly. “I need you.” I breathed out. “Please.” 

“You need me to do what?” He asked, smirking as he already began to undo his own belt. 

“Spencer.” I repeated, firmly, not wanting to say the words. 

“Say it.” He says, in a much more commanding tone. 

“Spencer..” I repeat, breathing out again. “Fuck. I need-” I waver on the words, biting my lip. “I need you to fuck me. Now.” 

His smirk turns into a grin of satisfaction and pride, capturing my lips in yet another passionate kiss. “Mm. Wasn’t so hard, was it?” He says, cockily. I whined against his lips, tacitly begging him to just get on with it and he chuckles, moving off of my mouth. 

“Alright. I get it.” He says, moving his lips downwards again, his lips brushing against my underwear, as he began to remove that fabric as well. He nearly moaned when he saw just how wet I really was. It was a bit embarrassing, just from a few touches and words, but it was hard to care when I felt his tongue right on my core, beginning to lap at the hot flesh, reducing me to moans as I knotted my fingers into his hair, arching my back and bucking my hips to feel more of his ministrations. He seemed to understand, hooking his strong arms under my thighs, firmly planting me to the couch we were currently on, continuing. I could feel his moans against me, sending vibrations that only heightened my arousal in that moment. As if that was even possible. 

And then it was, because I heard him murmur against me.“You taste-” he paused, using his tongue to lap up more of my arousal. “So fucking good.” He finished, beginning to now harshly flick at my clit, which caused an entirely new slew of sensations. I recognized my end was fast approaching, and I tugged on his hair, unable to form the words as the white-hot pleasure overtook me quickly, he seemed to understand this without a word, nursing me through my orgasm as my thighs shook around him and he held my hips down. Even then, he didn’t stop, continuing to flick his tongue, lapping up my arousal until I had to physically push him away with a soft groan. “Spencer.. It’s too much.” Even then, he continued, reducing me to nothing but moans, and I heard him whisper. “Come on. One more. Please.” The words unintentionally caused a flutter in my stomach, and in record time I was being pushed towards my second orgasm in a matter of 5 minutes.

His mouth was clearly so much better at this than arguing. 

I felt him lap up the last bit of my arousal, looking up at me with a glistening chin, and I’d be lying if I didn’t say it was the most erotic sight in the world at that moment. The man that had questioned me at every turn, now in between my legs. He gave a smirk, moving up and giving me a rough kiss, and I didn’t hesitate to moan in his mouth when I could taste myself on his tongue. He smiled as he broke the kiss, caressing my cheek with one of his hands. His thumb moved along the smooth expanse of my cheeks. 

“Are you okay?” He asks, gently, concern in his eyes. 

I couldn’t help but break out into a dazed smile, nodding, a thin cover of sheen over my body, where I was still breathing heavily. “Yeah. I’m good.” 

“Good.” He breathed out. “I’m not stopping.” 

“I don’t want you to stop,” was my response, his shirt coming off before I’d even finished my sentence. 

I watched in fascination as he undid his belt, the very sound of it filling me with anticipation and desire. I could feel myself getting more aroused by the second, despite my previous two orgasms. I wanted him, I wanted this so badly. 

I felt him position himself over me, and feeling the head of his arousal run through my folds. I let out a breathy groan, as I felt him push into me. He let out a moan of his own, shutting his eyes. “You feel.. So fucking good.” 

I whimpered slightly as my body adjusted to him and his size. He was so big, and I’d never felt full like this before. He noticed this and placed a gentle kiss against my lips, watching my face as it contorted in pleasure and pain. As the pain began to subside, I looked up at him nodding. 

“Move, please.” I begged, the desperation evident in my voice.

He took no time in obeying my request, beginning to slowly thrust in and out of me. I moaned, feeling his cock stretch me and fill me up in a way I had never been full before. A pleasant sensation bloomed through my lower abdomen, and I could feel him bury his head into my shoulder as he pushed into me, my walls clenching on his length with every movement he gave. He pressed wet kisses into my neck, and I moaned happily at the feeling. In an instant, I could feel him fucking me desperately, placing both of his hands on either side of my face. I could feel my jaw drop, and no sound came out. I was being hurdled towards my third orgasm of the night and it was all at the behest of the man in front of me, plowing into me like it was his job. 

I moaned loudly, my legs wrapping around his waist in an attempt to keep him buried in my deepest point, feeling my release creeping up on me. 

“Sp-Spencer..” I groaned, attempting to alert him of my impending orgasm, but he simply swooped down, kissing me roughly, which only caused me to moan into his mouth. 

“I know, baby.” He whispered, in a deliciously dark tone. “Come for me, baby. Wanna feel you make a mess all over my cock.” 

It took no more provocation from there, as I felt my hips buck up once more and my thighs shake. I came with a loud moan of his name, my free hand gripping onto him and leaving scratches I knew wouldn’t go away for a while. 

My release seemed to spur him on, the wetness allowing him to fuck into me harder. I watched the man above me lose all control, and it was beautiful. He grunted a bit, and I could feel his hips stutter, chasing after his orgasm. 

“Please, Spencer.” I begged. “Fill me up, I need to feel you come inside me.” I whispered. 

It didn’t take long after that, after a particularly hard thrust, a warmness filled me at my hilt and Spencer nearly collapsed over me. He gave me a kiss, murmuring into the skin of my neck. “So perfect, so fucking perfect for me.” 

I smiled at the praise, biting my lip. I let my hand traverse over his back, drawing figures into the warm skin. I looked at the man laying on my sternum, looking absolutely fucked out despite being the one to give me three orgasms tonight. “Perfect, you say?” I teased. 

He looked up at me, kissing my lips softly, before mumbling against them, “Mm. Perfect.” 

I had a sneaking suspicion the next time we were at work, and he’d have something to say about my work, (because he always did), it wouldn’t take long to have him whispering sweet nothings to me in an instant, just like he was now. At least I could do something right on the first try.

hi!! this is my first fanfiction i've written since i was literally in middle school. spoiler. far from middle school right now. leave a comment, reblog, like, whatever! i had fun writing this. my ask box should be open for more requests? if anyone would like. anyway! hope u enjoyed!! :3

[mylight-png]

The "Free Palestine" movement is genocidal. Straight up. It's not just a few select slogans they use or some fringe members.

The very name of the movement is genocidal.

I had a conversation with my former roommates last semester where they refused to understand why "Free Palestine" in and of itself as a statement is a problem.

To them, it's a liberation movement. But the first issue arises when we ask who or what is being liberated.

What, in modern geographical terms, is Palestine? Where is Palestine? Who is the ruling party of Palestine?

Anyone with even a bit of knowledge would realize that this is a trick question. There isn't any country actually called Palestine.

When people refer to Palestinians, they typically talk about the people either in Gaza or the West Bank, which are two separate entities with two separate governments.

So who are we supposed to be freeing? Gaza, which has its own government in the form of Hamas? Or the West Bank, which has the PA as its governing group? (By the way, the PA has this little thing called pay-for-slay I suggest you look into, but that'd be a post for another time.)

The actual term "Palestine" most commonly is used to refer to the entire area of where Israel, Gaza, and the West Bank are located.

Which brings me to my main point. When people call to "Free Palestine" they aren't calling for a two-state solution. Identically to their call for "from the river to the sea", this slogan calls for the complete destruction of Israel.

A lot of people have already spoken on the issue of why "from the river to the sea" is genocidal in nature, so I won't be going too in depth on that. My point is more so that those two phrases are equivalently malevolent in nature.

There's also the people who call themselves "pro-Palestine". If we take into consideration what "Palestine" as a term means, we're left with two interpretations.

First, they just use that instead of "Free Palestine", making their use of it still equivalent for wanting the entirety of Israel gone.

Second, they want Palestine to "win" in the war.

Now, since we've established that there isn't actually a country called Palestine right now, they're either rooting for the PA or Hamas to win.

As I recommended before, it'd be fantastic if you could just take time to read up on what pay-for-slay is. As a quick summary, that's exactly what it sounds like. The PA pays people money for killing Israelis/Jews. (That's the very vague version, since this isn't the point of the post.)

Therefore, you can probably imagine what would happen to Israelis if the PA were to take over Israel (G-d forbid).

If, G-d forbid, Hamas were to take over Israel, we'd end up with a series of atrocities akin to the horrors of Oct 7th. How do I know? Hamas leaders have repeatedly promised to repeat Oct 7th again and again and again.

Both the PA and Hamas have killed their own people for suspected collaboration with Israel, in rather cruel ways. So you can probably imagine what'd happen to Israelis in both scenarios.

I have seen very very few people who align themselves with either phrasing of the movement actually calling for two states, or for any viable solution. (And no, a ceasefire that leaves Hamas in power is not a viable solution. We had a ceasefire until the moment they attacked on Oct 7th.)

(I say "very few" as an allowance that some may exist, but in reality I haven't seen any.)

If your solution involves the dissolution of Israel and giving power to either the PA or Hamas, congratulations. You are actively backing a genocidal "solution".

And much like a previous "solution", most of the victims of this proposed genocide would be Jewish.

[bestanimal]

Round 3 - Reptilia - Gruiformes

(Sources - 1, 2, 3, 4)

Our next order of birds are the Gruiformes, a diverse order with a widespread geographical diversity. “Gruiform” means “crane-like”, even though the majority of gruiformes are rails. Gruiformes contains the families Psophiidae (“trumpeters”), Aramidae (“Limpkin”), Gruidae (“cranes”), Rallidae (“rails”, “coots”, and “crakes”), Heliornithidae (“finfoots”), and Sarothruridae (“flufftails”).

Gruiformes are terrestrial or wading birds with a considerable amount of diversity. The Trumpeters (genus Psophia) (image 1) are rotund birds with long, flexible necks and legs, downward-curving bills, soft plumage, large eyes, and a “hunched” appearance. They are weak fliers but fast runners, and can also swim across rivers. The cranes (Gruidae) (image 3 and gif below) and the Limpkin (Aramus guarauna) are long-necked, long-legged, long-beaked waders, some of which are the world’s tallest flying birds. Their plumage varies by habitat. The Rallidae (image 4) are the most diverse family of Gruiformes. Many are associated with wetland habitats, some being semi-aquatic like waterfowl (such as the coot), and some being more like wading birds or shorebirds. The finfoots (Heliornithidae) resemble rails; they have long necks, slender bodies, broad tails, and sharp, pointed bills. Their legs and feet are brightly coloured and they are capable of walking well and even moving quickly on land. The flufftails (Sarothruridae) (image 2) are small- to medium-sized ground-living birds. Due to the diversity of this order, it is difficult to summarize them further!

Gruiformes evolved in the Paleocene, around 60 million years ago.

(source)

Propaganda under the cut:

Grey-winged Trumpeters (Psophia crepitans) are polyandrous and cooperative breeders. Up to three males mate with the dominant female of the flock, and all members of the flock contribute to raising the young.

One of the handful of non-avian dinosaurs we know the colors of is the Late Jurassic Caihong juji. Thanks to some exquisitely fossilized melanosomes (pigment cells) within the animals feathers, paleontologists were able to determine Caihong’s coloration by comparing it to those of living birds. The sheets of platelet-like melanosomes were solid and lacked air bubbles, and were thus most similar to the iridescent feathers that exist in modern Trumpeters (genus Psophia). It is thanks to trumpeters for preserving this type of melanosome, that we know the appearance of a dinosaur from the Late Jurassic!

The Limpkin (Aramus guarauna) has a beak that is slightly open near the end, giving it a tweezer-like action to remove their main prey, Apple Snails (family Ampullariidae), from their shells. In many individuals the tip of their beak curves slightly to the right, matching the Apple Snails’ shells.

Most species of cranes have been affected by human activities and are at the least classified as threatened, if not critically endangered. The plight of the Whooping Crane (Grus americana) of North America inspired some of the first US legislation to protect endangered species. After being pushed to the brink of extinction due to unregulated hunting and loss of habitat, just 21 wild (and two captive) Whooping Cranes remained by 1941. Thanks to conservation efforts, the total number of cranes in the surviving migratory population, including those in captivity, only slightly exceeds 911 birds as of 2020.

The Sanskrit epic poet Valmiki was inspired to write the first śloka couplet by the pathos of seeing a male Sarus Crane (Antigone antigone) shot while dancing with its mate.

The endangered South Island Takahē (Porphyrio hochstetteri) is a flightless swamphen indigenous to New Zealand. Takahē were hunted extensively by both early European settlers and Māori, and takahē's bones, as well as fossil remains, have been found in middens in the South Island. They were not named and described by Europeans until 1847, and then only from fossil bones. In 1850 a living bird was captured, and three more collected in the 19th century. After another bird was captured in 1898, and no more were to be found, the species was presumed extinct. Fifty years later, however, after a carefully planned search, South Island Takahē were dramatically rediscovered in November 1948 by Geoffrey Orbell in an isolated valley in the South Island's Murchison Mountains. Since then, takahē have been reintroduced to numerous locations across the country. As of 2023, the population is around 500 and is growing by 8% per year.

The Guam Rail (Hypotaenidia owstoni) came perilously close to extinction when Brown Tree Snakes (Boiga irregularis) were introduced to Guam, but some of the last remaining individuals were taken into captivity and have been breeding well. They have since been successfully introduced to the nearby Rota and Cocos islands, as the Brown Tree Snakes have yet to be eradicated in Guam. In 2019, the Guam Rail became the second bird species to be reclassified by the International Union for the Conservation of Nature from Extinct in the Wild, to Critically Endangered.

[whencyclopedia]

Treaty of Tordesillas

The 1494 Treaty of Tordesillas (Tordesilhas) was an agreement between the monarchs of Spain and Portugal to divide the world between them into two spheres of influence. The imaginary dividing line ran down the centre of the Atlantic Ocean, leaving the Americas to Spain and West Africa and anything beyond the Cape of Good Hope to Portugal.

The agreement between the two states was fully tested when the Spanish found a maritime route to Asia via the Pacific Ocean, Spain conquered the Aztecs and Incas, Portugal sailed into the Indian Ocean and beyond, and settlements were established in Portuguese Brazil. With this colonial expansion, the two kingdoms squabbled over states and peoples that had never even heard of these two small countries at the end of Europe.

The North Atlantic

The Portuguese started modestly with their empire-building, first colonizing the uninhabited North Atlantic island groups of Madeira from 1420, the Azores from 1439, and Cape Verde from 1462. When the treacherous Cape Bojador was navigated in 1434 by the explorer Gil Eannes, the Portuguese were able to access the trade and resources in West Africa without dealing with Islamic North African traders. The new king, John II of Portugal (r. 1481-1495), pushed for more and so São Tomé and Principe were colonized from 1486. However, yet another island group, the inhabited Canary Islands, were prized by both Spain and Portugal, and the colonial competition heated up considerably.

Prince Henry the Navigator (aka Infante Dom Henrique, 1394-1460) had organised the Portuguese expeditions to explore and develop the North Atlantic islands but his ambitions in the Canaries were repeatedly thwarted. Spanish forces and the indigenous Guanches repelled the Portuguese three times, but the matter remained unsettled. Spain and Portugal were at war between 1474 and 1479, and this period saw a brief occupation of Santiago in the Cape Verde group by Spanish forces. The war came to a close with the peace treaty of Alcáçovas-Toledo (1479-80), an agreement which also saw the first attempts to settle which geographical areas should belong to the Spanish and which to the Portuguese. Spain’s claim over the Canaries was recognised, as was Portugal’s over Madeira, the Azores, Cape Verde, and all trade in West Africa.

Continue reading...

[punkpandapatrixk]

Full Snow Moon in Leo ♦︎ Moon Magick Pick A Card

Full Snow Moon was in Leo on 12 February🦁This is one of the last FMs before March’s Spring Equinox, our true aenergetic new year. With this Sun/Leo/5H aenergy and the Snow Moon’s theme revolving around ‘introspection’, as part of your New Year’s Resolution or something, if you must make a clear intent, intend the year to be one of Abundance and Prosperity specifically through FUN AND PLAY!!🤩💫🎉

That’s just how it is with Leo/5H aenergy, babe. Fun in the Sun~🌞🐈All things considered, wouldn’t you agree that Humanity deserves a LYFE of FUN AND PLAY whilst remaining considerate and thoughtful? Fuck 'psychopathy-based capitalism' and bring in the era of Solarpunk!🌤Abundance for all, sensibly and in harmony with the Planet, something like that? Yeah, that should be possible provided enough of us DEMAND that Reality🥰🌬🌊

Anyway, this Leo FM, whichever House the Moon falls in your natal chart, just know that she’s inviting you to reconnect with your Inner Child🪺The pure-hearted child who—probably—saw itself with much higher Integrity before the hustle of adolescence robbed it of its Innocence🌼

So many of us—and this isn’t just a Gen MZ thing either—have unknowingly sustained so much discipline trauma caused by sociopathic authority figures who abused their power to subjugate us—whether through the ‘family system’ or education system; religious system or economic system; and whatever other kinds of System existing in Society🚂

‘They never pay the slaves enough so they can get free, just enough so they can stay alive and come back to work.’ – Charles Bukowski

One way or another, every one of us was forced to devote ourselves to things and tasks that essentially didn’t matter in the grand scheme of our Highest Intended Destiny. It’s caused so much fear and chaos bubbling deep in the psyche🫕This Full Snow Moon in Leo, use this aenergy to further release those chains and shackles of trauma and fear—and even a sense of unworthiness—so that by Spring Equinox, you’re ready as heck to embrace or embark(!) on a new chapter of Life of Liberty~🎮🗽🎇

It all starts in the mind, baby. What's your agreement? In this new paradigm, if you ain’t gon be walkin' at your own pace and makin' your own rules—sensibly and responsibly (Leo themes)—what even is the point of having survived your Life thus far~?🏍

in the feels: Child by NCT MARK

docu: The Enslavement of the Middle Class on Jake Tran

deck-bottom: Ace of Swords Rx, Red Geographer (Marco Polo) & Priestess of Integrity

[Moon PAC Masterlist] [Patreon] [Paid Readings] [buymeaboba]

☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・.

Pile 1 – Illuminate the World with Your Passion

c h i l d – Ace of Pentacles

Do you remember the small activities you enjoyed as a kid?🎲The grownups might’ve called them your ‘hobbies’, but to you they simply felt like things and endeavours that were ‘natural’ for you to engage in. Natural inclinations would fit the bill better. Some of these activities held a puzzle piece of what you’re meant to do well into adulthood🧩

The child in you was inherently attracted to them because subconsciously you were training yourself in the Art of just that very engagement⛳️For instance, say that you were unusually ‘passionate’ about jigsaw puzzle as a kid, this in itself could be your ‘hint’ at how when you’d become a grownup, that mind that loves to solve problems and figure out the bigger picture would be utilised to solve puzzles and mysteries that exist in the world🎯

So just like that, even an unusual pull towards playing jigsaw puzzles could hold a glimmering inkling that you’re meant to be a detective or a criminologist or a psychologist, or whatever resonates, really🏸OK, so this is just one example of a scenario—bottom line is: remember some activities that you used to be so unusually drawn to doing and get refamiliarized with them NOW~🌞

p l a y – 7 of Wands Rx

Why? Because the ignited passion—or reignited if you’d forgotten them for a while—could open up a path of understanding deep within your psyche, what would lead you to figuring out what you’re meant to do in this next chapter of your Life~!🔥Leo is the ruler of the 5H, there lies our hobbies and innate, even special, interests what would LINK us with others of similar views and values☃️❄️⛄️

Those other people with similar tastes and possibly even goals, can be understood by your 11H—House of Aquarius; House of our Communities. Here with the 7 of Wands in reverse, you’re being invited to redefine what ‘networking’ means for you on a deeply spiritual fashion. Who are your people, babe? Actually, what kind of person do you even want to be perceived as?🍂

You VIBE attracts your TRIBE, remember? And most importantly, with all of these natural inclinations that you are surely very apt at, what do you want to do with them and who do you want to inspire?🌻What typa collective can you uplift with your warm sunshine? Hmm, people who live passionately are indeed warm🥰

i n n o c e n c e – 2 of Cups

As you maintain your vibrations high and feel safe in your daily activities that are, hopefully, aligned with your 5H inclinations, you’ll be met with miraculous situations where the Universe puts people and events in your path what would only enhance your experience in those 5H pursuits that you resonate with🥁

In essence, with this Full Snow Moon in Leo, I’m seeing that you’ll feel much less burdened by the duties of Life that in the grand scheme of everything don’t feel that big for your Soul🪕You get that? I don’t see you becoming irresponsible, not at all; I’m only seeing you more able to prioritise what’s truly, truly essential to do at a given time🎲

And so, with that renewed mindset, or attitude, so to speak, you become less and less hard on yourself and even less do you give a fuck about what others think about the stage/phase of your Life’s development right now💖It’s very liberating, but even more importantly, you’ll see just how fast you manifest everything that’s essential to you right now by just being… lighthearted and easy-going💝

full moon self-care🔻🌒🌓🌔🌕🌖🌗🌘

Red Astrologer (William Lilly) & Priestess of Illumination

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Pile 2 – Sparkles of Courage in a Terrified World

c h i l d – Knight of Cups Rx

Wow, the appearance of the Knight of Cups in reverse here is very unique for you, Pile 2. Rather than this being you, I feel more strongly that this card is depicting your understanding of how the people around you, or the world in general, tend to be such timid creatures🐇It’s like, from quite a young age you were already deeply aware, if not disturbed, by the fact that most people were never brave enough to follow their own passions. They’re afraid of listening to their own hearts; and it has always been such a bummer for you to realise that all by yourself🐋

Generally speaking, it’s because you’re one of those very brave individuals who’d always put yourself first before anybody else’s opinions or demands. It’s because you’re quite ‘spiritual’ in the sense that you truly believe in what or where your Heart tells you to go~🐾

Funny thing is, there is simply so much medicine in this courage, reserved for only those who are also finding ways to listen more to their Hearts. But for others who’ve devoted themselves to being sheeples? You appear kinda reckless and they’re gonna have a field trip gossiping about you when you make just one tiny mistake… but so what?🌚

p l a y – Knight of Wands

All the geniuses in the world take pleasure in self-experimentation. When it comes to experiments, my gosh, errors mistakes and failures are bound to happen. It’s normal for you but not for stupid, unimaginative, unoriginal, non-innovative bitches. So you don’t have to listen to their dismissal. Keep being you and keep shining your Light—more like, keep warming the world with the Fire in your Heart. We all know the world right now could do with more of that❤️‍🔥

I dunno why your aenergy keeps making me think of Jennie Kim hahah But anyway, this FM in Leo wants to remind you that a person such as yourself, simply with the amount of passion that you possess, can be a significant healing presence in the lives of others. If you just focus on this aspect of yourself, you’ll soar higher faster because you’re making that conscious choice of thinking very highly of yourself🎀

It’s surely not narcissism; it’s self-love, self-respect, coz you’re obviously not stupid enough to not be able to see your effects on people🪬This year, embrace this of yourself more and more and before long… wow, I don’t even know what’s in store for you this year, but something BIG is literally just around the corner and you're attracting it fast by your positive outlook!⏳

i n n o c e n c e – 9 of Wands Rx

No more being hard on yourself just for people-pleasing this year! ‘I ain’t making myself smaller so it’s easy for you to digest me anymore. Y’all can choke,’ is your MANTRA this year—more than any other years you’ve lived thus far lmao The essence of your innocence this year is that you’re carrying yourself back to calm waters. No more wars—not the ones INSIDE of your head. You got that?🌊

If you’re gonna go to war this time around, it’s a war with the sick world where you’re EJECTING yourself from either the rat race or the brainwash of smallness. You were born big, meant to be big, and even bigger still you’re gonna prove yourself to be. You have all the power in you to inspire the world around you. But first, reconnect with the joy of being alive💐

I think it’s joie de vivre in French? ‘Exuberant enjoyment of Life’. That sounds like something you’d find in any Ghibli movie hahah Enjoy something creative. Eat what you want when you want and sleep as much or as little as it is sensible to you. You’re learning to live again, but more importantly, you’re learning to really show up AS YOURSELF, unapologetically🍍

full moon self-care🔻🌒🌓🌔🌕🌖🌗🌘

Green Historian (Herodotus) & Priestess of Inspiration

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Pile 3 – Lighten Up, You’re Only One You

c h i l d – King of Swords Rx

Do you often feel like you’re responsible for other people’s wellbeing? You could’ve felt this way since you were a kid, yeah? For some, it could’ve been that you grew up in a toxic environment where you were constantly put on the spotlight or you were made to feel like you were always the one with everything to prove. Either way, this caused you to develop a rather frantic way of dealing with duties and a sense of responsibility🤨

It could’ve felt like the burden of the whole world was on your shoulders. If you don’t take charge of a situation well enough, you fear that someone’s responses or reactions could be calamitous. In a sense, you couldn’t help but develop a ‘hero complex’ or ‘saviour complex’ in which most of the time you were just trying to save yourself from other people’s wrath😖

Babe, I’m just saying, this ain’t healthy. But of course you know that. And if you’re reading this and this is your main pile, I’d like to validate your experiences and confirm to you that you’re well on your way out of this sad programming. Baby, baby, the world is healing and so are you~💋🧠⛑

p l a y – 3 of Pentacles Rx

We’ve entered a new paradigm, right? In this new wave of consciousness, we’re no longer tolerating situations and environments where we are made to feel inadequate or hard to love. I see that you’re further separating yourself from that old wave of consciousness. If you’ve actually made the decision to ‘leave that old world’ a long time ago, I see that recently you could’ve just been dealing with some remnants of a heartbreak🪡

All things considered, your Spirit Guides are convincing you that you’re already in safe waters. But more importantly than that, the ‘waters’ in your brains—the chemicals—are returning to balance! Are you feeling this or not, babe?🤩

In a strange way of saying it, I see that you’re gradually taking back your sanity. There’s this feeling like, ‘Where have I been the last xx months/years?’ Or you could simply feel like the peace and calm and the certainty that you’re feeling now is exactly the natural state of being you 'should’ve been able' to access from a long time ago. It’s that kind of a feeling~😑

i n n o c e n c e – 4 of Wands Rx

But of course, it isn’t to say that your hardships up until now didn’t serve a purpose, right? I know all of us are sick of being told this kind of thing lmao But it’s so true for reasons that may be too convoluted. But since the Priestess of Protection is accompanying you here, I’d like to say that your hardships were not at all ‘part of your karma’ in the sense of you having done something bad in a different lifetime😷

If this has been your main message, I hope you know that without a doubt you are a Lightworker of sort. You have this ‘supernatural ability’ to transmute some negative karma in this world. I think that’s exactly why you chose to be born in tough situations and upbringing, all so that you could exercise your Lightwork on those types of situations. The ripple effect will be felt by all inhabiting Planet Earth, you know😊

That said, this FM in Leo would love to just say that the hard part of your Lightworker training is over. All that needed doing and seeing is seen and done. You’re no longer responsible for other people’s lack of common sense nor are you to blame when somebody else is lacking empathy when viewing a situation🧳All of the understanding and compassion you’ve ever poured into the 'wrong people'… all of that you give to yourself now. Be happy, child. You were only a child~😜

full moon self-care🔻🌒🌓🌔🌕🌖🌗🌘

Red Magus (Edward Kelly) & Priestess of Protection

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[useless-catalanfacts]

Just dropping by to let anyone from the world (not Spain) know that after the catastrophe in Valencia, our dipshit state has taken hundreds of volunteers in buses to clean SHOPS AND ESTABLISHMENTS and that the people have revolted against the mere idea. Only the people save the people, dude. Stupid ass capitalist society istg...

Many people got trapped because employers (Mercadona, IKEA, etc) made them go to work even when there was the alert for extreme weather. They have blood on their hands and they should face legal consequences for it.

Same for the government which had the information from the weather stations and refused to follow the alert early enough, president Mazón even went out to say not to worry because the weather would be calm in the evening (when the worse was coming), and this comes after having run the electoral campaign on deleting "waste of money" bodies like the emergency unit (the first of said bodies that they got rid of after winning the election was precisely the emergency unit), and allowing to build everywhere without geographical consideration. It's not like we didn't know, this happens every so often because of the Mediterranean weather, we have texts about it since Ancient Roman times, Medieval times, Early Modern period, 19th and 20th centuries, and we know it's getting worse with climate change. Measures could have been taken to minimize the damage, but the Mazón government only took measures to make it worse.

I've been seeing people say this: The DANA damages, the government kills. The companies should be added as well.

[manessha545]

Salto El Sapo, Venezuela: El Sapo is a waterfall located in the south of Venezuela, in the municipality of Gran Sabana, in the State of Bolívar in the region of Guayana. El Salto is geographically located in the Canaima National Park, very close to the homonymous lagoon, and on a diversion of the Carrao River. The flow of water is considerable, especially in the rainy season (May to November). Before falling down the fall, the waters of the Carrao River (the same one that goes up to reach Angel Falls) are passed through stone steps, where they form rapids. Wikipedia

[dingodad]

Grazigazi society is largely maintained by the ERGATES, or worker-class, individual members of which, called GATERS - such as the WATERGATERS who ensure the island nation's access to freshwater - carry out all the functions necessary to keep any society operational.

The island of Grazigaki's isolated locale, however, comes with unique challenges peculiar to their sea-girt circumstances, which are handled by the race's two specialised organisational classes: POLIS, the political machine, and the GAMOS, or institution of marriage.

> Examine the Gamos.

One major concern for the geographically-constrained Grazigazi is that of maintaining genetic diversity, and it is for the purpose of preventing inbreeding that the Gamos was established. Members of the Gamos class are called GAMERS, and each fills one of two primary rules; the breeding gyne, or GAMERGIRL, and the Gamergirl's mated partners, called GAMERGATERS.

Because a gyne - WITHOUT GOING INTO TOO MUCH DETAIL - is capable of gestating the offspring of multiple mates at a single time, gamergaters outnumber gamergirls by a significant margin. But with this comes the risk of a genetic bottleneck, wherein too many of the next generation are mared by a single gyne, and therefore genetically incompatible with each other.

As such it is the role of the Gamos to establish a strict programme for the proliferation of the Grazigazi race. From each generation the Gamos assembles a caucus of gamergirls who are as genetically distinct from each other as possible, and for each gamergirl a retinue of gamergaters who are HIGHLY GENETICALLY DISTINCT FROM THEIR GAMERGIRL but CLOSELY GENETICALLY SIMILAR TO EACH OTHER - usually gaters who are related, if not familially then on a clan or tribal level.

Through this process, it is assured to within an acceptable level of confidence that individuals who are related are visually similar to each other and individuals who do not share ancestors are easily distinguishable, allowing for the process to be straightforwardly repeated generation after generation.

> Examine fruit quadrants.

"The problem is that when the subject of Grazigazi romance is broached, our overly obsessive troll intellects instantly assume the most ingratiating posture of admiration imaginable. In fact, so conditioned is our own understanding of romance that we cannot help but refer to them as quadrants, when in fact they are not quadrants at all! They are referred to as drupes." -Troll Charles Darwin

Because couplings - or rather, grouplings - or rather, DROUPLINGS - between Grazigazi are established by social order rather than through interpersonal reciprocity, each individual drupe sits somewhere on a sliding scale of GAMOS-FEEL from RAW to RIPE. A drupe's Gamos-feel can be determined by a variety of interacting factors - including but not limited to GRAPHICAL ATTRACTION, GAMOS-PLAY or its intersection with the LEWDONARRATIVE - but because it has no bearing on the reproductive process and pertains only to the interpersonal aspects of each relationship, it is not considered significant to the purview of the Gamos.

In fact, a mixture of raw and ripe drupes among the drouplings is often considered evidence of the Gamos working healthily and as intended, with raw drupes keeping the caucus of gamergirls satisfied and ripe drupes demonstrating the necessary prioritisation of genetic diversity over personal interests.

> Examine branches.

The Gamos is not, however, completely without social considerations. While similarity in genetics is the Gamos' primary criterion, it is possible for a gamergater to initiate a gater from outside the genetic group into the Gamos if the two genetically-unalike gaters are considered to instead be SOULS-ALIKE.

Beyond the fact that the two Grazigazi are considered to be similar to each other in spirit, the exact nature of each souls-alike relationship varies widely from droupling to droupling. It is common, for example, for two glorygaters to discover they are souls-alike in the heat of battle - in addition to the sprinkle of genetic spice this contributes to the Gamos, the establishment of such a drouple provides an official avenue for two families or clans to formalise bonds forged unofficially in wartime.

According to Grazigazi belief, the ideal souls-alike droupling is said to be JUST LIKE DARK SOULS. But if anyone ever truly knew what 'dark souls' actually were, this knowledge has long since been lost to the sands of time.

> Examine the Polis.

Efficiency of reproduction isn't the only issue pressing to a society so densely packed into a single small landmass, though - any form of widespread civil unrest could be potentially devastating to the agrarian nation. For this reason the Polis exists to maintain social cohesion across Grazigaki, and to this end works to include where possible all of the island's tribes, clans and social groups in all of the nation's important political matters.

While the inclusion of only select genetic groups and the incidence of ripe Gamos-feel among procreational drouplings are considered harmless side-effects to the reproductive process, if left unchecked these phenomena can easily lead to larger forms of societal exclusion and disharmony. Thus it is the Polis' job, among other projects, to remedy these problems, even counter to the stated aims of their counterparts in the Gamos.

As such, Grazigazi reproduction is in reality a complex and neverending game, with political interests on one side seeking to secure harmony and unity through the encouragement of raw Gamos-feel, and on the other side gametical concerns represented by gamergaters whose primary aim is always to KEEP POLITICS OUT OF GAMOS.

[raven-at-the-writing-desk]

I remember Casual Geographic (youtube channel) touched on the topic of badgers, video was called smth like "why badgers don't fear god or lions"— theory: the nickname Leona gave Skully is because of that sentiment 💀, Skully be the kinda of person who got no fear that stops him (that we know of yet) but sure has a lot to say when in conflict— - Anon

… I didn’t expect the badger talk to go on for this long 😭 but here’s the masterlist: part 1 / part 2 / part 3 / part 4

Oh yeah, Skully definitely has some gall (or is it sheer stupidity…) even when he’s surrounded by all these highly competent and intimidating mages.

I did actually take a look at the video you cited and one thing that stood out to me was the mention of how violent and vindictive honey badgers can be, even toward larger predators. Makes me wonder if Leona also sensed that Skully (while not someone he personally thinks of as a threat) would throw a hissing, screaming tantrum in reaction to being told they weren’t going to go along with his ideas. It wouldn’t be the first time Leona sussed out someone that would later become a considerable threat or annoyance.

UGH I hate him, I hate him and his stupid big brain cells 💢