#panel beating near me

[fortanuvasyama]

I was REALLY REALLY curious about some of the logistics of the whole adrenaline-fear-thing Bruce stuck in Jason, so I went down a rabbit hole of googling! From what I was seeing of other people's posts, it seems like general consensus is that there's a chip in Jason's head that's making the

disclaimer: I'm not a medical professional. I googled this and looked at articles and research papers but I definitely could have misunderstood things! talk to a doctor for better info!

As I listed in another post, adrenaline gets triggered in the body for multiple reasons, one of the most obvious being fear. Keep that in mind.

So, first off, when adrenaline hits your system, it does a ton of things: your sensitivity to pain decreases, your pupils get bigger, your vision gets better, your heart starts racing, your blood pressure increases, your hearing improves, your digestion slows down, the air passages in your lungs expand, your blood gets redistributed to your muscles, and your blood glucose levels increase.

(Your adrenal glands, of which the average person has two, are on the top of each kidney, btw. That's where they link up with the endocrine system.)

Short-term, these things can help you escape a situation your brain decides is dangerous. But if they go on for a long time, well... I think you can guess.

Generally, anxiety/fear -> panic attack -> hyperventilation, and if the hyperventilation goes on for too long it can increase the levels of oxygen in your blood to dangerous amounts. Most people would pass out before this got to the point that it could cause death, and because they're unconscious, the body has a chance to get breathing back to normal levels (though of course you'd most likely have negative side-effects after this).

Most importantly: Adrenaline is straight-up toxic in huge quantities. As in, it will kill you if there's a massive amount for a long time. I can't get a reliable source on how long this takes or exactly how much it takes to kill you, but there are cases of people dying during surgery when accidentally given massive amounts of epinephrine (adrenaline). And there are definitely reports of people straight up dying of fright (of note is that most of those people had varying conditions that weakened their hearts already). Basically, adrenaline ends up opening the heart to calcium, and if too much calcium builds up it impedes the heart's ability to work, thus damaging it, and eventually the whole system collapses. I couldn't find any real time estimates on how long the calcium build-up takes 🤷‍���️

So you can imagine, if you decided to, say, make a little computer chip that forced your brain into feeling fear every time it sensed adrenaline hitting the system, then the obvious result you're going to get is... more adrenaline entering the system. Which then kicks off the next wave of fear! Is it worse than the first? Possibly! That fear kicks more adrenaline into overdrive, which means more fear which means more adrenaline, which means more fear which means more adrenaline which means more fear which means more adrenaline which means more fear which means more adrenaline which means more fear which means more adrenaline which means more fear which means more adrenaline which means more fear which means more adrenaline and so on and so forth!

And that is to say nothing of the fact that - if we work under the assumption that Bruce put a chip in Jason's brain to cause the fear response to adrenaline being released - it means HE PUT A CHIP IN JASON'S BRAIN. HE PERFORMED BRAIN SURGERY!!! THE MAN WHO DITCHED MEDICAL SCHOOL PERFORMED A BRAIN OPERATION!!! TO PUT SOMETHING INTO SOMEONE'S BRAIN!!!!

conclusion: realistically, jason would be dead by the end of the day. if we go by dc logic, he'll probably turn into a speedster (kidding! I'm kidding. though you could make a case of adrenaline = hysterical strength which means tons of adrenaline = superman strength. probably not going to happen.)

Thank you for listening to my tedtalk on why bruce wayne is a fucking moron (and dc writers don't give a shit about biology 🫣)

[erinaeris]

Laios Touden and the Responsibility of Power

First off, let me gush just a bit about how fucking STRONK this man is. Olympic weightlifters are dying of sheer envy and lust over this man. He is a FUCKING POWERHOUSE.

My favorite panels ever, and judging by the cropping of the second photo, Tumblr agrees.

AHEM, where was I?

Ah yes. He's not just strong and incredibly hot, my man is literally an invasive species in this dungeon. He knows every single weak spot of every monster Thistle tried to throw at him and when he finds it he just fucking RAMS HIMSELF AT THEM AND TAKES THEM DOWN.

And when he's a dwarf HE LITERALLY BENDS STEEL.

"Beat Namari at arm wrestling"? My boy, she wouldn't let you anywhere near because you'd FUCKING BREAK HER HER HAND ALONG WITH THE TABLE. (It's such a fucking shame we didn't see Senshi at least raising an (perfectly plucked except it just grows that way naturally) eyebrow in the background when he sees this. Alas, he was too distracted by his hair.)

But I mentioned responsibility, didn't I? Strength is power in the dungeon, and we all knows what comes with great power. And Laios is, in fact, very responsible with that power!

(Futther examples under the cut, wee bit spoilers for anime watchers)

This scene lives rent-free in my head forever, because of two things: Thistle suddenly realizing just what the hell he's up against,

And Laios breaking Thistle's arm.

Now, I think Laios didn't mean to actually break his arm here, he's just half-blind and dizzy and knows he has to restrain Thistle or it will all go to shit. So that's what he does. The move you see above is a restraining hold. The point is that the person pinned down can't struggle much because the position of the arm presses the suprascapular nerve, so it hurts a lot, but unless they're held that way for too long they'll be fine.

But Thistle is TINY and elves are generally fine-boned. I think Laios really did just underestimate his strength.

And the moment the dragons aren't an IMMEDIATE THREAT anymore?

Laios heals him. Thistle's a better mage than him by miles, he could have done it himself. But no. Laios does it. He was too rough, too careless with his strength, and he immediately backtracked, fixed what he broke, and continued with more mindfullness.

And these are just the examples that stuck in my mind the most. And it happens often enough that the team isn't even fucking surprised! Laios' strength would 100% scare people who only saw him in a barfight and didn't know anything else about him. Hell, the other adventurers they meet fucking quiver before this guy who just took down a monster they had nightmares about in one blow, up until he opens his mouth and they relax. You put more malevolent software in that sort of hardware and he'd be the next Shadow Governor.

But Laios is Laios. He's a gentle soul at heart (a Great Pyrenese, specifically, the gentlest souls ever unless you're out for their flock) and he is VERY CAREFUL with his strength, ESPECIALLY around his team. Chilchuck, who is literally half his size and underfed to boot, can smack Laios as much as he wants with ZERO fear because Laios is aware he can hurt Chilchuck by literally tripping over him, so he just stays still and lets Chilchuck smack at him. I'd be surprised if he ever managed to leave a bruise. Chilchuck has to aim at Laios' weak spot (back of the knee here) just to get Laios to notice him!

But because I have some experience with marital arts and close combat, I think the fight with Shuro exemplifies my point so fucking well! Laios is HURT here, he's living every autistic person's worst nightmare.

And he HOLDS BACK. His restraint is fucking IMMACULATE.

Shuro is fucking lucky Laios still liked him when he started talking shit, because he would have broken his spine otherwise. Laios doesn't even take the fight seriously! He starts with a fucking SLAP.

Shuro retaliates with an actual punch (that does nothing but piss him off)

Laios wobbles. Shuro HITS THE DIRT.

And this is the part where he realizes just how outside his weight category he is. Shuro definitely has technique on his side, but that means jackshit when you need ten blows to to even bruise your opponent, but one hit from them will leave you drinking through a straw for a week. For a second there, Shuro thought he was in ACTUAL DANGER.

But instead of finishing the job, Laios tries to talk him down, which just sets him off again. Man was at his fucking LIMIT, and it snapped. Self-preservation who?

And the best part is? Shuro is throwing all his strength behind his punches and Laios just takes them, but Laios? He mostly pushed Shuro around!

They're mostly grappling here, precisely because Laios is very conscious his friend is pretty fragile right now.

And when he does have enough?

Shuro is flat on the ground again, and Laios has a black eye and a bloody nose. He sits down and five minutes later he's ready to go! Like yes, Shuro was at a low point here, but he's been mowing through monsters at only a bit slower pace than Laios' party. He's no weakling regardless. And Laios had to HOLD BACK SO HE WOULDN'T HURT HIM. And it's so obvious that Maizuru takes one look at the two of them and leaves them to their toussling.

When I saw her reaction I had to scroll back and take another look, because I was sure she would intervene! But she doesn't! She is aware of Laios' strength, she has to be, and she doesn't lift a finger to help her precious charge. She knows the big dog he's wrestling with knows to watch his strength.

And that's my whole point: my boi is STRONK AF! And he is very aware of his strength, and how he could hurt the people around him is he wasn't careful, so he is ALWAYS CAREFUL. He has deeply internalized the fact that to have strength is to be careful with it, to use it in service of people rather than to hurt them (possibly from his dad). He is going to SUCH a good king! He's not going to like the job but by GOD he will do it really well.

And I will give my right arm to see a fic about the first corrupt lord/governor/courtier who attempts to misuse their authority for their own gain. Kabru's gonna have to talk Laios out of an execution.

[generalpandabasement]

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[xobunni0]

𝐟𝐮𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐢𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐜 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐫

𝐒𝐡𝐚𝐝𝐨𝐰 𝐱 𝐟!𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

౨ৎ 𝐈𝐧 𝐰𝐡𝐢𝐜𝐡.. what started innocently. over time grew more deeper, more personal, and attraction was undeniable.

- E.T is HIS song, a man that yearns is a man THAT EARNS!!, giggling while writing this, once again he’s a sweetheart, 𝐰𝐜- 1526

𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐲𝐨𝐮, 𝐈'𝐥𝐥 𝐫𝐢𝐬𝐤 𝐢𝐭 𝐚𝐥𝐥…

the halls of the facility were silent, with the hum of fluorescent lights and the occasional distant beep of monitors. you moved carefully clutching the stolen clearance card in one hand. the night shift was low tonight, but if anyone caught you.. there’d be no way to explain what you were doing

finally, you reached the heavy steel door that led to where he was being kept. with a swipe of the card and with a soft beep the lock opened. you exhaled a breath you hadn’t realized you were holding in and slipped inside

the dim lighting of the containment room made you feel even more uneasy. seated in the far corner of his glass enclosure was Shadow. he sat with one leg stretched out, and the other bent, his back resting against the wall. his eyes were closed but the moment you entered his ears twitched ever so slightly, and his gaze moved to you.

“risking a lot just to see me again” he said, his voice low and smooth but with the faintest hint of teasing

“yes.” you smiled, stepping closer to the glass barrier

his expression softened in a way that only you ever seemed to see. it made your heart skip a beat every time. he stood and approached the glass, stopping mere inches from where you stood on the other side

“are they suspicious?” he asked, his tone now more serious

you shook your head. “not yet. but I can’t stay long. If they catch me-”

“they won’t.” his voice was firm. his hand hovered near the glass and instinctively you mirrored the action, your fingertips meeting the cold glass that separated you

“I hate this” you whispered, “I wish I could do more. I hate sneaking around like this.”

Shadow’s gaze never left yours.

His smirk returned, faint but there. “You do plenty. more than anyone else would dare.”

the warmth in his voice sent a flutter through your chest, and for a moment.. the severity of what you were doing did not matter. in this moment it was just the two of you.

“time’s running out” you said hesitantly, glancing down at your watch

shadow’s faint smirk faded, “Then go. Don’t get caught.”

you hesitated, your eyes locking with his.

you stepped back from the glass slowly, your hand lingering against it for just a moment longer. “I’ll be back” you promised

“I know” he replied, his voice softer now

your hand was on the door when Shadow’s voice stopped you.

“Wait.”

you turned back. heart pounding, his crimson eyes glowing faintly in the dim light. he stepped closer to the glass his movements slow

“I want to feel you” he said, his voice low

you knew what he meant. “Shadow…” you whispered, your voice trembling.

“I trust you” he said, the tone in his voice cutting through your fear. “If anyone can do it.. it’s you.”

you hesitated for only a moment before nodding. you had been on the edge of risk for weeks, but this… this was crossing the line. and yet you couldn’t deny him. not when he looked at you like that

quickly, you turned to the control panel beside the glass. your fingers flew over the keys, entering codes you weren’t supposed to know. you had spent countless nights memorizing the system just in case a moment like this ever came

the hiss of the containment seal breaking startled you both. the glass slid aside, revealing Shadow standing there. his presence overwhelming now that the barrier was gone

for a moment, neither of you moved. then slowly he stepped forward. his crimson eyes searched yours, as though waiting for confirmation that this was real

you reached out first, your fingers trembling as they brushed against the soft fur of his chest. the contact sent a jolt through you both and Shadow let out a breathy sigh

“Warm” he murmured, as if surprised

Shadow’s other hand came up hesitantly. his gloved fingers brushing against your cheek. his touch was gentle

you let your fingers trace along his arm, his fur soft under your touch

you leaned against the cold metal wall, your heart hammering. Shadow moved closer his crimson eyes scanning every inch of your face , taking you in completely.

“You’re trembling” he said softly, his voice carrying none of its usual sharpness

you hadn’t realized it until now, but your hands were shaking. the adrenaline of what you’d just done was coursing through you and the risk you’d taken started weighing heavy.

“I’m fine” you lied, your voice uneven

Shadow stepped even closer, his towering presence blocking out the harsh glow of the lights overhead. he reached out his gloved hand brushing against your cheek softly

“Don’t lie to me” he murmured

the concern in his eyes broke you completely.

“I’m just… scared” you admitted, your voice breaking slightly

Shadow’s hand moved to cradle your face, his touch warm despite the coolness of his gloves. “You don’t have to be.”

his words were simple, but enough to melt your fear. his had been building between you for weeks, months…

without thinking you leaned into his touch, your eyes closing shut. his gloved fingers moved gently along your jawline his touch so soft and tender. when you opened your eyes again his gaze was locked on yours.

“Shadow…” you whispered, your voice trembling for an entirely different reason now

he leaned closer, his other hand coming to rest against the wall beside your head caging you in. “Do you trust me?”

“Yes” you said without hesitation, the word falling from your lips too quickly

“Then let me show you what freedom feels like.”

the space between you was no longer there as he leaned in, his lips brushing against yours. the kiss was cautious at first, as if testing the boundaries. but when you tilted your head to deepen it his hesitation melted away.

his big gloved hands moved to the small of your back pulling you closer, and you wrapped your arms around his broad shoulders, clinging to him like you would lose him if you let go.

no alarms, no guards, no glass keeping you apart. it was just the two of you, pressed together in the dim corridor. sharing something that puts everything on the line… but was so good.

when the kiss finally broke, you were both breathless. Shadow rested his forehead against yours his eyes half-lidded.

“I’ve wanted to do that for a long time” he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper

you smiled, your fingers tracing the edge of his quills. “me too.”

Shadow’s crimson eyes lingered on yours, his hands rested lightly on your waist, his touch something you didn’t know you needed so bad. for a moment, neither of you spoke.

“You don’t understand what you’ve done for me” he said softly, his voice rough. “For so long… all I had was the glass. All I could do was watch you… memorize every detail of you from a distance. Your voice, the way your eyes light up when you talk about something you liked. I lived for those moments.”

your breath hitched at his words, your chest tightening. Shadow’s thumb traced a soft circle against your side

“You were my only connection to the outside” he continued, “Every time you came to see me even if it was just for a moment. but.. it was never enough. I couldn’t reach you. Couldn’t feel you.”

“Shadow…” you whispered

he reached up brushing his fingers along your cheek, his touch slow. “But now, you’re here. You’re real. I can touch you, hold you, feel your warmth.”

you placed your hand over his pressing his palm to your cheek.

his hand slipped from your cheek to cradle the back of your neck, pulling you closer. “You’re more than I deserve” he murmured. “You’ve risked everything for me.. and I don’t even know how to begin to tell you what that means. your brave, kind…”

he paused, his voice faltering for the first time. “and so beautiful.”

before you could respond he leaned in, capturing your lips in another kiss. this one was deeper, more intense, soaking in every minute of it now that the barriers between you were gone

when he broke the kiss, his forehead rested against yours, his breath warm against your skin. “I don’t know what I did to deserve you” he said softly.

for the first time... a small genuine smile curved his lips, softening his sharp features. he held you closer, his big arms wrapping around you as if he was afraid you might slip away

“You’ve given me something I thought I’d never have” he whispered

you buried your face in his soft chest, your arms tightening around him.

𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞𝐬, 𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐬 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐫𝐞𝐛𝐥𝐨𝐠𝐬 𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐚𝐩𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐜𝐢𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐝 ⏦ﾟᢉ𐭩 - 𓊆ྀི𝐝𝐨𝐥𝐥𝐢𝐞𓊇ྀི [𝐒𝐡𝐚𝐝𝐨𝐰] 𝐌.𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓

[shahrwrites]

Call me delulu for this one, but the parallel occurred to me whilst studying for an upcoming test and now it’s all I can think about so of course I had to post it.

The two times Dick went berserk over what had been done to Jason and I’m all here for it.

The panel on the left is when Joker kidnapped Tim and made the mistake of mentioning Jason’s name. That famous moment that Dick *killed* Joker.

The panel on the right is Gotham War when Dick finds out Bruce kidnapped Jason and psychologically manipulated him.

Funny thing is, both times Tim stopped him, and the one he was a little late for. Makes me wonder how far Dick would have gone if Tim hadn’t been there to stop him beating Bruce.

[Im gonna put a little headcanon in the following, so beware.]

The parallel kinda occurred to me because I was imagining a scenario actually. Post Gotham war where Dick’s taking Jason away from Gotham and all it’s crazyness. So they’re in the car and Dick’s driving, looking out at the roadside and the sun’s beating down on lush green grass and he’s reminiscing about a forgotten memory buried deep in the treasure trove of his most cherished memories of a time long bygone. A memory of himself and Jason picnicking out near the manor grounds one day with Alfred and Bruce. And they were playing some game of chase or another that ended up in a bit of rough housing and lighthearted bickering and hearty laughter and—It turned out to be such a good day. A rare memory.

And what if they stopped on the way to picnic on the roadside, for old time’s sake? Because they’ve got a blanket in the back and they’ve already packed food for the road and basically they’ve got everything they’d need, and wouldn’t it be such a shame if they let that opportunity to go to waste?

So here they were now, stomachs full and lying on their backs, staring at a partly cloudy sky, playing a childish game of pointing out the shapes of passing clouds to each other. It’s a little stupid, and because it’s stupid they start arguing over pointless stupid details. A harmless argument that—ironically enough—develops into a round of rough housing, again. And maybe for just a moment they’d both allowed themselves to forget what they’re running away from. But a frown flashes over Jason’s expression for the barest of seconds and Dick just—stops.

They’ve ended up with Jason on his back and Dick over and above him, and Dick can’t help but caress his hair, touch the side of his face, checking his expression and body responses to make sure that Jason’s alright.

And Jason’s fine—Dick stop fussing, it was just a moment!

So Dick’s hand just drops and he’s moving away, not looking at Jason, not able to meet his eyes.

He’s holding himself in that way he does when his thoughts are chipping away at his soul, a sight that’s become recognizable to Jason over the years. “What happened?”

Nothing but the usual, he wants to say. Once again something terrible happened to you and I wasn’t there to stop it. To protect you. But I made sure to take out the simmering rage running through my vains out on the man responsible with my fists. Because that’s what I can do. Twice you needed me, and twice I wasn’t there. But I made sure they paid for it, right? I made sure of it.

[plumipal]

Omg who is she?

She’s so pretty.

She has twice the wings Eden has. Idk what that means but it probably means something.

Also her name being Lilith… guys I’m sensing pattern here. Are you keeping another one named Adam locked in the basement?

Is she maybe his sister? I mean you can’t just drop a new bit of lore and run away. Explain yourself. Please? Pretty please with a cherry and cream on top? It would be much appreciated and desperately looked forward to.

Little side note who hurt my boy Eden in the second picture? Was it Lilith? If so her likability just dropped of dramatically.

Chat, meet Edens... Sister.

HER NAME IS LILITH!!!

So to even start this off, they are NOT human (I know, shocker). They're children of the stars, serving to protect and help the stars shine as bright as they do. Becasue of defects on both of them (the extra parts near their star core, making them unstable), they were cast out of the colony, cursed to wander the endless galaxies.

I know no one has wondered why Eden has a huge scar on his back or why he even got into the twst universe in the beginning, BUT LET ME TELL YOU ALL! It's her fault.

After a childish spat where it ended with Eden reaching for his weapon to strike her, she instead grabbed for hers and beat the ever living shir our of him, sending him flying to hopefully kill him. This resulted in him reaching the atmosphere of the twst world, crashing down (like a fallen star) into ramshackle around a week before the prefect arrived.

He was passed out for a week, motionless untill y/n, grim and crowley discover him in a vacant room in ramshackle, waking him up and tending to his wound.

So yeah this blond little bitch is the reason we have Eden in the twstverse mmm...

A look at the weapons, they both serve to be protection incase the star they serve gets attacked. The little vacant spot on the spear is for the core to be put in, aka their little star in their chest, the source of their power.

They can take it out, the spear acting as a magicpen sorta to help with their "magic" and being able to direction it. Don't take the core too far away from them tho, it serves as someone cutting off oxygen or blood flow ro us, easy kill on them.

Lilith has a few more wings on hers than a normal one does, just like her defect. This was becasue of a power imbalance, leading to her absorbing way too much power compared to the others during her creation, leading to her being very dangerous (basically a ticking timebomb).

Also a look again on Edens scar that Lilith caused. She foes not feel sorry for that, nor does she feel sorry for burning half of edens face off (first panel whre he is badly damaged, don't worry he will regenerate quickly).

You may also notice her wings being lighter, and that is becasue of their "purity" of other magical influences. Edens darkened quickly during his first week in twst, the blot around him forcing its way into the pigment. This also depends on how easily they adapt with other living beings, with Eden easily being able to copy and show humane emotions.

The love and devotion he feels for you is something he felt similar to his creator while he served the star, that love however turning more dark and twisted because of him copying the environment around him (aka the other twst men into you lol). He is also very heavily inspired by a raven, whish is why he has this "copying easily" ability.

Meanwhile Lilith is meant to resemble more of a dove, elegant and beautiful. Will she be romanceable? We will see...

One thing to make clear,

EDEN FUCKING HATES HER GUTS!! DO NOT PUT THEM IN THE SAME ROOM ONE OF THEM WILL DIE-

Thank you for coming to my Eden Ted talk I will be here all week.

[discowingneckline]

“tim drake is rightfully annoyed and mean to damian because damian tried to kill him several times”

tim can be upset about it and not want to be nice or near him, yes, but have you considered tim ALSO wouldn’t want to be around jason?? noo because you changed tim’s favorite robin to being jason to fit your little world, and they got along in newer comics and stuff. well homie, have you actually LOOKED at the comics where damian and jason try killing tim?? because i’m telling you right now, jason’s attack was FAR MORE SEVERE than damian’s. and personally, if i were a vigilante, and i were almost murdered by these two, i’d be more wary of jason, who beat the living shit out of me, over damian.

like honest to gods, it’s like can you please read comics just a bit or look at some panels or something??? 😭😭 PLEASE

[hotchscoffeecup]

for her, i’d endure

pairing: emily prentiss x reader

rating: t

word count: 7.6k

genre: angst, hurt/comfort

warnings: torture, descriptions of blood/injuries, drugs

summary: When you and Emily are kidnapped by The Chameleon, an elusive unsub that team had been tracking for years, you’re forced to watch her endure torture at his hands. In the hospital, you reel from your own injuries and the guilt of not being able to stop anything from happening to her. Angst and hurt/comfort with a happy end.

It’s hard to keep them open from the pain it causes you to try. You can’t help the slow drowsy blinking that follows. If they’re closed it doesn’t hurt as bad. Maybe this is a dream. Yeah, a dream. Just close your eyes and go to sleep, you tell yourself. You’ll feel fine in the morning.

Someone harshly whispers your name. You stir, but ignore it. Closing your eyes, you murmur something that isn’t quite a response, and try to welcome the darkness to take over. You just want to sleep whatever this is off…you try to at least. The harsh rasping whisper returns. There’s your name two, three times.

“Huh?” is all you can muster as you crack your eyes open once more. There’s a fluorescent light somewhere to your left, casting strange shadows over your field of vision. Your eyes burn. You want to close them again.

“Yes, that’s it!” cries the whisperer, “stay with me!” There’s an urgency in their voice, and as you take a few measured breaths, you gain more and more control over your senses. “Are you hurt?”

Emily. That’s Emily’s voice.

“My head,” you complain about the throbbing in your temples. “I think I hit my head.” You move to touch the side of your skull to assess the damage when your wrists don’t follow through with the command from your brain.

“What the—” There’s a sudden clarity that takes over as you hear the clatter of metal against metal. Your wrists are bound behind your back. You kick your legs out, or at least you try to. They’re bound too with zip ties to the legs of a metal chair that’s bolted to the floor.

“Don’t panic.”

“Emily?”

Fingers brush against yours from behind your back and you cling to them, though it’s awkward as you try to reach them. You’d know the feel of her hands anywhere. He’s got you and her back to back.

“I’m here,” she says soothingly, despite the edge in her voice.

“What happened?” you ask as your field of vision begins to clear and the picture of where you’re being held begins to form. It's dark save the fluorescent light you noticed earlier. There’s a few panels in the ceiling still flickering to life, though most are dark. Wires and cables hang haphazardly from the ceiling and water drips from a cracked pipe that stretches over the width of the room. The floor beneath your feet is concrete. You can’t see a door and the only windows are two small rectangles high near the ceiling. You’re underground. “Where are we?”

“The Chameleon,” Emily says after a short while.

Your heart skips a beat and you have to take a few measured breaths to keep the panic from creeping in. “You’re sure?”

The Chameleon, nicknamed such by the local media, is a serial killer that you and the team had been chasing across the East Coast for the last two years.You and the team didn’t care much for these nicknames as they often sensationalize the killer and detract from the victims, but it the name was fitting due to his nature to blend in to every environment he’s been a part of. This is largely due to how he is able to gain his victims' trust. Some of his known ruses include posing as law enforcement, a member of the clergy, other first responders, caretaker for a “lost” elderly patient, and more. He’d feign a scenario that caused the victims to unlock their doors, stop their cars, or otherwise pull their focus under the guise of safety. Once their guard was down, that was all he needed to ensnare them in his trap. Victims were initially blitz attacked, as evident by the bruising to their heads and faces, but as he evolved he began to dose them with heavy sedatives before taking them to a secondary location where he’d hold them for twenty four hours. During this time, he tortured his victims indiscriminately; sometimes cutting, sometimes burning, sometimes removing pieces of them or utilizing a combination of all three before ultimately succumbing to his need to kill. He favored a knife, often slitting the throats of his victims once he’d grown tired of playing with them. Despite his ability to blend in and kidnap his victims undetected, everything else originally pointed to someone just starting out, unsure of their preferences. However, this unsub evolved quickly. Victimology stopped differing and he’d settled on a pattern for women in their thirties, dark features, and often in roles that provided some sort of power. Though methods of torture varied, the rotation or combination of torture implicated states similar enough to create a pattern. He stuck to the routine, though. One woman every three months for the last two years. That was until recently. Now, a woman had been going missing weekly, suggesting a major deviation. Something had changed for this unsub, increasing his need to kill quicker and more often. Emily fits the victimology, but taking you too? It didn’t make sense? He’d never taken in pairs before.

“Fuck,” you mutter. You pull at the cuffs around your wrists, but they’re clamped too tightly. They don’t budge. “How long was I out?” you ask.

“Hours,” Emily responds. She sounds tired. “I don’t know how many.”

You blindly reach for her fingers again, this time with your other hand. When you brush against them, they’re slick with something.

“Emily?” you ask, concern edging into your voice. “What’s he done to you?”

“Cutting,” Emily answers clinically. “Left arm, chest, and right leg. They’re superficial.”

Red clouds your vision knowing he’d hurt the woman you love, and that you’d not been conscious enough to at least try to do anything about it. When you get your hands around this bastard’s neck…you yank hard against your restraints and hiss when all it does is cause the metal to dig deeper into your wrists.

“Baby, stop,” Emily whispers, keeping her voice low in case The Chameleon can hear. “We’ve been closing in on this guy. We just have to hope the team recognizes we’re gone before…” her voice trails off as a door opens.

Your heart stops and then starts, it’s usually steady beat now pumping erratically against your chest. You remind yourself to breathe, to take measured breaths to slow your heart and fight off the instinct to panic. The body’s natural inclination for self-preservation is astounding, but you couldn’t just think about yourself right now. You needed to be alert and look for anyway to wriggle into this guy’s psyche, anything to keep him from hurting Emily any further.

There’s a metallic clank as whatever door that’s out of your eye line slams shut. Heavy footsteps echo in the space and you count. Twenty four. There’s twenty four steps. You can’t fight the way your body tenses as a silhouette begins to emerge from the shadows. As the figure comes into focus, your eyes widen in surprise.

“Surprised to see me?” the man says, a twisted smile curving on his

“You know him?” Emily asks as she attempts to crane her neck to look at him.

You take in the man before you: white, mid-30s, average build, dark curly hair, and blue eyes wild with evil intent. You don’t know his name, but you've seen him before. You all had. Your mind flashes to each body dump where the team had investigated and gathered initial evidence to further flesh out the profile. You close your eyes and let your mind’s eye expand your field of vision to include the gathering crowd of onlookers. As you mentally guide yourself through each crime scene, you can clearly see him.

“You were there the whole time,” you say with a surprisingly level of calm as you open your eyes and meet his gaze directly.

He extends his arms to either side, a look-at-all-i-have-accomplished gesture, though there’s no audience save the two of you to take in his performance. “What can I say?” he says. “The media named me for my ability to blend in anywhere I go. I like the nickname, I do.” He points his finger at you as he begins to circle around you and Emily like you’re an injured seal in shark infested waters. “Though you profilers don’t like when these major news outlets do that. It sensationalizes the killer while taking away from victims.” He stops in front of you and bends at the waist to look you in the eye. You muster as much contempt into your gaze as possible.

“Good,” he snarls. “Those sluts aren’t worth remembering anyway. Any thoughts on that, agent?”

You nod. “Yeah, actually, I think I’m pretty tired of listening to you whine about your mommy issues.” A fire ignites in his eyes as you say this. You smirk. “Ooo, that did something. Did that strike a nerve?”

His lip curls as he takes a shuddering breath.

“I think I did, didn’t I?”

His knuckles collide with your face and there’s an explosion of stars behind your eyes as you feel your lip split in two. Emily calls your name and curses the unsub’s. There’s a buzzing in your ears as you blink the fog away. You sit up as best as you can and spit blood onto the floor. If his attention is on you, it’s not on Emily.

“Is that the best you can do?” you say, leveling your gaze back on The Chameleon. “You had to hit me from behind the first time. Are you scared to face a woman head on? Too much of a coward to face them? Or are you just too weak?” You incline your head toward your lap. “After all, you’ve got us tied up. Untie me and we’ll see just how well you do one on one.”

The Chameleon seethes, nostrils flaring as his rage blossoms. “You know nothing!” he bites.

“We know, everything.” You answer. He may not have been on the team’s radar, but you’ve seen this type before; a man that’s been forced into a submissive role and emasculated his entire life finally snaps and turns the tables on innocent women to make up for the lack of care he missed out on from a mother figure his entire life. He blames them because he can’t take his anger out on the person he wants to most. Mommy.

“Do you?” he sneers and you don’t flinch away from his hot breath on your neck.

“You’re easier to read than a children’s nursery rhyme,” you taunt.

The Chameleon snarls and this time his knuckles collide with the center of your face and there’s a sickening crunch. Blood pours from your broken nose onto the front of your shirt.

“Enough!” Emily shouts. “She’s not the one you want.”

You blink through the haze and blaring pain. Emily’s name is garbled as you try to say it, but there’s too much blood in your mouth. Just like the flickering gaze of a reptile, his eyes shift instantly to her. The desire that alights his face makes you want to throw up. She’s the one that fits the victimology. She’s the surrogate, the object of desire in his twisted fantasy.

“I think,” he says slowly, and you’re surprised you don’t see a serpentine tongue flicker between his lips. “That this next part will be more fun with an audience.”

Your vision shifts in and out of focus as you follow his movements. He shuffles just out of view of your peripheral vision and trying to force your eyes to see farther than they can exacerbates the splitting pain in your skull and face. Everything throbs. You can hardly see straight.

He returns with a syringe in hand. He holds it up for you to see. “Maybe I am weak,” he says bitterly. “But I’m the one in control and there’s nothing you can do about it.” He pushes the syringe into your arm and a slow, metallic heat creeps through your veins. Your limbs quickly grow heavy and your senses begin to dull.

Behind you, Emily pulls at her restraints. “Hey! What are you giving her? Leave her alone. You don’t want her, you want me.”

A choked laugh escapes the unsub as he cuts the zip ties at your ankles. You want to kick out at him and knock that smug look off of his face but the signals from your brain are cut off. Your body won’t follow the command your mind is ordering due to the drugs scrambling your system. Your eyelids are heavy. You want to close them. The unsub recognizes this and slaps at your face. “No, no. You can’t close your eyes, now. You’ve got a show to watch.” His lips twist into a sickeningly delighted smile. He slips a key from his pocket and undoes both sets of cuffs keeping you bound to the chair. You slump forward against him and he catches your weight easily. He wraps his arms around your waist and grunts as he hoists you over his shoulder. There’s static coursing through your limbs and despite every wish and desire to lift even a finger, your limbs don’t cooperate.

You slide off of him like rain down a windowpane, though instead of coming to a gentle stop you hit the ground like a stone thrown into a pond; all of your weight crashing down. Your head rattles against the wall and stars explode across your vision once more.

Emily calls your name and you try to focus on that. You blink and her form comes into focus. She’s bound in the same manner that you were in a chair exactly like yours. There’s blood staining her clothes, her blouse cut to ribbons and her pant leg tattered from where he slit it open with a knife; the same knife he used to cut into skin. Blood drips onto the floor.

She smiles at you and her gaze is so tender as her eyes meet yours. “Whatever he does to me, it is not your fault.” She’s soothing you. She’s about to endure more torture and she’s trying to comfort you.

You want to speak, to tell her you’re sorry, that you love her. You want to stand, to untie her and take her to safety. Most of all you want to put that unsub in the ground. A single tear leaks from your eye as The Chameleon wheels a tray table near Emily. The soft eyes she reserved for you steel upon seeing him.

He picks up a scalpel, his fingers gentle as he curls them around it; a stark contrast to the violence he inflicts with it. “Let’s get started, shall we?”

Emily licks her lips and raises her chin to look him in the eye, defiant in the face of danger. “I’ve already come back from the dead once before. At least if you’re successful, I know whose ass I’m haunting first.” She narrows her brown eyes to slits. “Come on, lizard boy. Let’s dance.”

•

Tears leak down your cheeks as you’re forced to watch what he does to her. She continues to taunt him, but her voice has grown weak. She’s losing too much blood.

“I wonder,” Emily says, her breathing labored. She lifts her gaze to meet the unsub’s. “You love that knife.” She inclines her chin toward the blade in his hand and his fingers twitch. “Tell me, is it because you can’t get up? Are our mommy issues too severe?”

A wild scream tears from his throat as he backhands her. A sharp grunt of pain leaves her lips but no scream. She sheds no tears for him. She’ll show no fear to him and allow him to feed off of her emotions like he did with his other victims, but he knows she must be feeling the weight of the torture, of the exhaustion settling in.

Her voice is tired, but her words are dagger tipped. “You’re not a man,” she spits blood on the ground, her teeth stained with it as she bares them at him. “You’re just a coward, a little boy missing mommy’s hand to guide him through your pathetic, wayward life.” Each word is sharp and articulated, a needle digging a little deeper and deeper into his flesh with each cutting syllable.

“Enough!” he bellows, spittle flying from his mouth as he lifts his arm. In one swift downward motion, he plunges the scalpel into her thigh.

She screams, her voice ragged and raw. A panicked sound bubbles in your throat, but the drugs overpower your ability to call out to her. Your fingers twitch as you try to summon any amount of strength to them, but to no avail. You can’t move them anymore that. You try to wiggle your toes and only feel a tinge of movement from them. Tears leak down your cheeks and drip off of your chin. The tear stains left behind are cold overtop of the dried blood smeared across your face from your broken nose, still throbbing with pain.

Emily sits hunched over, her shoulders heave with shuddering breaths. She’s breathing. She’s alive. She’s alive. She’s alive. The thought plays on repeat in your mind. If she dies, there is no place this slimy, spineless creature can hide where you wouldn’t be able to find him.

A strangled moan rumbles from behind your lips as The Chameleon approaches Emily. There’s a smirk on his lips as he brushes his fingers along her jawline. Just as quickly as the smirk appears, it dissipates as he shoves her face away from him, disgust twisting his features.

“I think I’ve had enough of you,” he grits through clenched teeth. “You’re all the same. There is no place for women like you. I’m doing the world a favor by getting rid of you.” He picks up another knife off the tray table and moves to stand behind Emily, knife poised beneath her throat. His shifting eyes fall on you and his smile returns. “I hope you’ve enjoyed the show.”

You feel your brow pinch as a wash of emotion floods through you. Your hand twitches and you manage to ball it into a fist, but you can’t force much more than that.

“Emi—” your tongue lolls inside your mouth and you can’t get her name out but it’s enough to get her attention. Her wavering brown eyes fall on yours and you hope she can feel your full apology and profession of love in your eyes as you await the inevitable.

“I love you,” she mouths and a sob shudders free from your own.

A single gunshot cracks through the air like a whip.

As the unsub slumps to the ground, Derek’s hulking frame comes into view. “He’s down!” He calls as he holsters his weapon and rushes to Emily. His hand moves to the knife in her leg.

“Don’t!” Emily warns. “Let the medics handle it. The keys to the cuffs are in his pocket.”

As Derek squats beside the unsub Hotch and Spencer clamber down the stairs, spilling into the room.

“We need medics,” Derek says to them, eyes filled with concern. “We need them now.”

“Copy that,” Spencer states as he presses against his earpiece and relays the information.

Hotch holsters his gun and rushes to your side. Crouching down, his hands smooth your hair back from your face to inspect the damage.

“Can you hear me?” he says. You blink heavily as his face comes in and out of focus. He repeats the question and says your name. He’s asking you to talk to him, but you can’t.

“He injected her with something,” Emily says weakly as Derek works to uncuff her. “A sedative or a paralytic, I don’t know. She can’t move. She can’t, she can’t—” Emily’s eyes flutter and roll back in her head. Your eyes widen as she slumps forward. Derek catches her before she can face plant the concrete and risk dislodging the scalpel sticking out of her thigh before the medics can do their job to ensure she’s not at risk of bleeding out, if she wasn’t already.

Your hand twitches, fingers jerking against your palm as a sound of desperation eeks past your still lips. Hotch presses his hand into yours and squeezes. His hard eyes meet yours and there’s pain and understanding in them. He’s born witness to seeing the love of his life killed by an unsub. It was something he wouldn’t wish on his worst enemy. He had to hope that Emily would survive what she’d endured here tonight. He squeezes all of that hope into your palm as the medics crash down the steps, backboards and kits at the ready.

“She’ll be okay,” Hotch promises, though there’s a hint of doubt on the edge of his words. “You’ll be okay.”

As the medics make way and his hand slips free from yours, you can only hope and pray that what he says is true.

•

A gentle beeping is the first thing you hear as your senses slowly creep back to life. The sound is soft, but each punctuated tone sends a pulse of pain to the space behind your eyes.

Your eyes crack open and you squeeze them shut again as the bright white of the fluorescent lighting blinds you.

“Shit,” you hiss. Your voice is hoarse.

“Hey, you!” greets a female voice. Penelope’s voice.

“Too bright,” you grumble.

“Oh! Hold on!” Her heels click against the tile of the hospital floor, a switch flicks, and the light behind your eyelids darkens. You feel the relief immediately though the bruising around your eyes and throbbing pain reverberating through your nose and cheeks starts to overwhelm your senses as you become more alert.

You crack one eye and Penelope’s bright face comes into view. Her pink cat eared headband matches her glasses frames and lipstick. Her smile reaches her eyes and that only just eases some of the anxiety that floods your system, the only other thing you’re able to feel besides the pain. If Emily was dead, Penelope wouldn’t be able to look you in the eye right now.

“I need to see her,” you say, sitting up and immediately regretting it. The room spins and your hand flies to your head, fingers pressed against your temple in a poor attempt to stop the whirling sensation.

“Sweetie, oh my God, don’t—” she stands up and crosses the room, but you’re already pushing the sheets back.

You curse as you rip the IV from your arm, the tape holding it in place ripping out the hairs on your arm. Garcia tries to take hold of your hands, but you bury them inside the folds of the hospital gown as your fingers feel for the numerous electrodes tacked to your chest. Hooking the tips of your fingers around the wire once you find a place to bunch them together, one swift tug is all it takes to dislodge them. The machine beside the bed flat lines as it no longer receives your heart rate.

“Honey please don’t make me—” Her face scrunches as you move to stand. She sticks her arms out to block you from doing so “Oh, you’re going to make me, ok— Derek! Hotch!”

Her shouts are like a drill through your skull. You blink and black spots your vision as it blurs. The pain in your face is so intense, but you have to push through it. If Emily could endure what she did, you can push through this to get to wherever the hell they were keeping her in this goddamn hospital.

Hotch and Derek burst into the room, eyes frantic and scanning the scene. Morgan swiftly cuts through the space, swerving in front of Penelope and taking you by the arms. Garcia may have hesitated to stop you in your tracks but Derek has no reservations whatsoever.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” he asks sternly.

Two nurses rush into the room and Hotch placates them with a gesture implying things are under control . He says something to them in a low voice and they glance your way once before nodding and leaving the space.

“I need to see her,” you say as you push against Derek, but in your current state you may as well be trying to push the Leaning Tower of Pisa upright.

His grip around your wrists is firm, but gentle; his hands placed just above the bandages from where the cuffs had bitten into your skin.

“She’s not awake yet,” Derek says. His features soften as he looks into your panic filled eyes. “She’s stable. She’ll be okay, and I promise you that the minute she wakes up I will take you to see her.”

“But Derek—”

He clicks his tongue. “No buts. You’re no use to her if you’re not well. You nearly overdosed on the drugs that man gave you. He broke your nose so badly, they had to re-break it to set it correctly. You have a concussion. Are you hearing me? You need to get your ass back in that bed.”

“Honey, listen to him.” Garcia adds, her voice equal parts soothing and concerned. “You can barely stand.”

You squeeze your eyes shut as hot tears well in your eyes. They slip down your cheeks and seep into the medical tape plastered to your face and nose. You draw in a shuddering breath as Derek guides you back into the bed. He presses a warm hand to your shoulder before stepping back and putting an arm around Garcia.

“Come on, mama, let’s go get a coffee while the nurses get her hooked back in.”

Penelope’s mouth drops into an o-shape as if she’s about to protest.

“I’ll stay with her,” Hotch assures her. “Go. I’ll call if anything changes.” That comforts her enough to let Derek steer her out of the room and into the hallway.

As the sound of their footsteps fade away, Hotch exhales a heavy sigh. The heels of his loafers click against the tile as he crosses the room and takes the chair Penelope had been occupying at your bedside.

“How are you feeling?” he asks as he reaches over and presses the call button to summon the nurses.

“Like someone cracked me in the face with a sledgehammer.”

A hint of a smile passes over your supervisor’s lips and a ghost of a laugh passes your own. You wince as the motion sends a new wave of pain rippling throughout your face.

“How bad is it?” you ask.

“The doctors say it should heal fine. They’re baffled that the break didn’t do any damage to your septum. The bruising will take time but you won’t need surgery so—”

You lift your eyes to meet his. “Not me, Hotch.”

His lips press into a firm line. “She lost a lot of blood,” he says after a moment. “In total, he cut her about fifteen times before stabbing her. She was right to tell Morgan not to pull the scalpel out. It was dangerously close to her femoral artery. The unsub was either incredibly calculated in avoiding it or it was dumb luck that saved her.”

Your brow pinches as his words sink in. “What was his name?”

Hotch’s chin dips in response to your question. “Carson Peters. He was a Vet Tech on the perimeter of the geographic profile. We never even interviewed him.”

“The whole time we never knew his name,” you breathe.

“If I know Emily, I’m sure she came up with a few,” Hotch remarks, trying to lighten the mood.

Your lips twitch, but a smile doesn’t take shape. There is an entire slew of names you’d wanted to hurl at the unsub, to say anything that would have taken his attention off of Emily for even a second but you couldn’t because of the drugs he’d pumped into you. You squeeze your eyes shut as an image of him cutting Emily flashes through your mind.

Hotch says your name. You hear the deep tenor of his voice, but it’s as though you’re underwater. Emily’s cries of anguish echo in your ears.

“I’m sorry,” you whisper as a tear leaks from the corner of your eyes. “Emily, I’m sorry.”

A firm hand slips into yours and you gasp, flinching from the contact. The image distorts and vanishes. You open your eyes and take a deep breath, dropping your gaze onto the hand in yours. You lift your eyes to meet Hotch’s hard stare. His fingers squeeze around yours and he nods.

“You’re safe,” he assures you. “Carson Peters is dead. He can’t hurt you, Emily, or anyone else ever again.”

Your fingers twitch around his as you blink back the onslaught of tears that want to pour out of you. “I couldn’t do anything.”

Hotch’s features soften. “I know.”

“I couldn’t stop him.”

“There’s nothing you could’ve done.”

You swallow the growing lump in your throat. Hotch squeezes your hand again, intentionally doing so to keep your mind from wandering. He’s keeping you grounded.

Your voice cracks when you speak. “I felt so helpless.”

“I know,” Hotch states as he levels his gaze on hours. His brown eyes waver as he speaks. “Witnessing a loved one’s abuse and not being able to do anything about it is a torture all its own. In our positions we have the authority to do something about it and in most cases, we can. When we can’t,” he pauses and takes a deep breath. “It’s natural to play it over and over again, to wonder where you went wrong, to think that somewhere along the line you could’ve done something, anything, to change the outcome.” His brow lifts toward his hairline. “We will kill ourselves ruminating on the what ifs and what could have beens.”

We. He’s not just talking about you anymore. He’s talking about his past when the unsub George Foyet killed his wife, Haley. You’d joined the team several years after her murder, but you’d been briefed fully on the case. It was well known to everyone in the BAU.

It’s your turn to squeeze his hand and you realize how out of the ordinary this exchange is. You’re as close to Hotch as anyone else on the team, but he’s not usually the touchy-feely type; the occasional half hug or handshake sure, but this level of vulnerability is uncommon.

A nurse walks into the room and Hotch stands to greet her. He shakes her hand and introduces himself formally; name, rank, and title. Establishing credibility for what, you wonder. He speaks in low tones and after a moment the nurse looks at you before looking back at him. She nods her head and he thanks her before she exits the room.

“What was that about?” you ask.

“A favor,” he answers as the nurse guides a wheelchair into the room.

“Five minutes,” the nurse says, aiming a pointed look at Hotch.

“Understood.”

The nurse leaves and Hotch pushes the chair up to the edge of the bed. He slips a hand behind your back to help stabilize you as he extends his other hand for you to grab hold of.

“Where are we going?” you ask as you take the proffered hand. You groan as you sit up and your head spins. You swear you can feel every bone in your face throbbing as pain threatens to split you in two.

“To see Emily.”

Your heart swells. You look at Hotch, eyes widening. “I thought—”

“I told the nurse you’d stay put and allow them to do their jobs and help you if you were allowed to see her. Hence, the five minutes.”

“Five minutes,” you repeat, nodding your head.

Hotch smiles reassuringly. “Five minutes.”

Slowly, Hotch assists with the transition from bed to chair. The shift exhausts you and it sinks in just how weak you are. However, the prospect of seeing Emily keeps you alert enough to push through.

The trip to Emily’s hospital room is short. She’s two right turns and one long hallway away from yours. The door to her room is cracked when you arrive and JJ opens it as Hotch reaches for the door.

“Sweetie!” JJ smiles brightly at you, though her eyes are tired. She leans down to pull you in a gentle hug, minding your face as she does so.

Her eyes flit between you and Hotch. “She’s in and out of consciousness. They’ve got her on some pretty strong painkillers, but she’s going to be alright.”

“Are you ready?” Hotch asks.

Your heart hammers in your ears, but you nod your head and whisper, “Yes.”

JJ steps out of the way so Hotch can wheel you inside the room. You raise your chin to peer over the threshold and whimper upon seeing Emily, hand moving to cover your trembling lips. She lies still beneath the sheets, which are pulled up over her lap. Her arms sit atop the sheet, her left arm bandaged from above the elbow to her wrist. Bandages peek out from beneath her hospital gown. An oxygen cannula is fitted under her nose and butterfly bandages hold close the split in her eyebrow. Hotch puts the brake in place after wheeling you right up to her bedside. He places a gentle hand on your shoulder. “JJ and I will be right outside. Five minutes,” he says.

Your eyes don’t leave Emily. “I understand.”

When the door clicks shut you let the floodgates open. You take Emily’s hand in yours, minding the IV jutting out from it, and cradle it to your cheek. “I’m so sorry,” you sob. “I’m so sorry I couldn’t do anything to stop what he was doing to you.”

You blink away the stars that dot your vision as each sob sends an intense wave of pain through the break in your nose and bruising under your eyes.

Emily’s thumb sweeps slowly across your cheek. You take a shuddering breath and swallow your tears as you turn your attention to her. Her eyes crack open and a small smile ghosts her lips.

You gasp and choke back a sob. The smile that splits your face sends a burst of pain through your bones, but you don’t care. It doesn’t matter. You’d feel this pain and all that she endured to see her warm, brown eyes on yours like they are now. Her smile, despite the pain meds dulling her senses, reaches her eyes and they’re so bright. As you look into them, for a moment you’re no longer in the hospital. You’re on a bench overlooking the Potomac and the sun is setting; its golden rays falling over Emily’s face and her eyes changed from brown to liquid gold. It was then you knew you’d never love looking into someone’s eyes as much as you loved looking into hers, that you’d never love anyone as much as you loved her.

You blink once and you’re back in the hospital. “I’m so sorry,” you blubber and clutch her hand to your chest. “Baby, I’m so sorry.”

Her voice is hoarse when she speaks, but the way she says your name is as soothing as ever. She shushes you and presses her fingers into your skin as she grips your hand. “Shh, baby, honey, look at me.”

You swallow and try your best to still your quivering lip as you raise your eyes to hers. Hers are focused as she looks at you. Her perfectly manicured eyebrows arch toward her hairline as she inclines her head toward you. “There is nothing that you could’ve done that would’ve prevented this, and that is okay.”

You squeeze your eyes shut and shake your head in refusal.

“Hey,” Emily says, pulling you back in. “Look at me.”

You sniff and take a deep breath as you open your eyes. “If anything,” she adds. “Your being there saved my life. He drew out the torture because he had an audience. If you hadn’t been there, there’s a chance he would’ve killed me before the team got to him. Do you understand?”

Your gut response tells you that she’s right, and you have to fight the part of your brain that’s telling you otherwise.

Her hand slips out of yours and reaches to cup your face, keeping her palm along your jawline to avoid your injuries.

She smiles and gestures to herself with her other hand. “Most of this is superficial anyway. The knife he jammed into my thigh will scar and take a while to heal, but that’s the worst that was done to me. I was,” she presses her lips together as tears glisten in her eyes. “I was so worried about you.”

Something between a laugh and a sob escapes your lips. “We make quite a pair, don’t we?”

Emily laughs in turn, the sound enough to make your heart swell three times over. “At least we’ll be able to spend our recovery together,” she says hopefully.

You smirk and tilt your head, considering. “My place or yours?”

Just then the door creaks open and Hotch steps inside. He smiles. “Sorry to cut the reunion short, but if I don’t get you back, I think the charge nurse will have my gun and badge.”

You all share a laugh. As he fixes the brake on the wheelchair, Emily tugs your hand toward her mouth and places a soft kiss to the backs of your knuckles. “I’ll see you soon, okay?”

You smile and nod as the tight feeling in your chest from before ebbs away. “Okay.”

As Hotch exits the room with you in tow, JJ hands you two cups of coffee. “For you and your watchdog,” she says with a nod towards Hotch.

You thank her and as Hotch pushes you back towards your room, you finally feel like things will be okay.

•

Two weeks later, you’re still on medical leave, but you feel as though you're getting back to normal. You’d been released from the hospital first and a few days later, Emily. Her apartment was bigger, so you’d gone to yours and with help from Penelope packed a bag. It was easier for you two to be in the same place knowing how often the team would be checking in.

Garcia had stayed over with you, helping you keep track of the medications the doctors had prescribed. She helped take care of Sergio too. The little guy had been all too happy to see you, weaving in between your legs and rubbing his furry head against your calves. When Emily returned home a few days later he couldn’t stop meowing. When she rested, he’d fall asleep beside her or curled up in her lap.

Just as expected, members of the team had been through in pairs, on their own, or as a whole. Penelope stopped in daily with coffees and pastries from the shop next to Emily’s building. Derek came by every other day, occasionally with Savannah when her work schedule allowed. She’d checked Emily’s wounds a few times from your insisting as you were worried about infection. Savannah assured you each time that Emily was and would continue to be fine so long as she kept up with changing her bandages and taking the antibiotics she’d been prescribed. Hotch had only visited once, which was unnecessary but still so kind of him. You knew he often stayed late working to ensure everyone else could go home on time. He did this all while balancing his responsibility as a father and the fact that he sacrificed a little bit more of his personal time just to check in on you two meant so much. Rossi had sent homemade Italian with Penelope or Derek. This week you’d been given enough carbonara to feed an army.

You’re fixing two bowls now for you and Emily, a late dinner as you’d both fallen asleep around 3pm and napped until 7pm no thanks to the pain medicines that kept you two on relatively similar sleep schedules. You shred some parmesan and sprinkle it over the top before sticking a fork into each.

“I’ve got dinner!” you call as you make your way back to the bedroom.

“Thank god, I’m starving.” You push open the door with your hip and place the bowls on Emily’s bedside table.

You lean down and kiss her, wincing slightly. The bruising around your eyes and cheekbones has gone down dramatically, but your nose was still bound and held in place by a splint and medical tape. The doctors say in about a week or so, it should be healed completely but to still exercise caution with day to day activities.

Emily rests on top of the covers. Her hair is up and out of her face in a loose ponytail, pieces of which had fallen out while sleeping and now stick to and around her face in various places. You try your best to smooth them down before cupping her chin in your hand. You smile and stroke your fingers along the smooth skin of her jaw before dropping your hands to pull the throw blanket down off of her waist, exposing her legs, bare except for the plaid pajama shorts she wears and bandages wrapped around her thigh.

She shivers in response to the air against her legs. “Sheesh, give a girl some warning!” she protests and you throw her a cheeky grin.

You open the bedside drawer and retrieve the supplies to clean and dress her wound. “We should finish the rest of that movie,” you suggest as you climb onto the bed to kneel beside her. Using a small pair of scissors, you carefully snip away the bandages to reveal the square gauze pad covering the wound. “I want to know how it ends and we keep falling asleep.”

Emily snorts. “That’ll happen when we both take narcotics before bed thinking we’ll make it to the end.”

“Yeah, but,” you remove the gauze and inspect the incision, searching for any signs of infection around the twelve carefully placed stitches. As you squeeze a bit of the antibacterial ointment onto your finger and gently rub it over the spiky black threads of the sutures, you can’t help but think of how much it resembles the caterpillars that used to invade the trees in your backyard as a kid, a story Emily did not care for your retelling when you first did this. “It shouldn’t be so hard to make it through a two hour movie.”

“I still can’t believe you’ve never seen The Parent Trap,” Emily says, bristling as your fingers rub over a particularly sensitive area.

You apologize as you lay a fresh gauze pad over the wound. Your fingers move quickly as you unroll and wind a new roll of bandages to keep the gauze in place. When you finish, you wipe your hands off and gently massage the skin around her thigh knowing it helps to stimulate blood flow to the area.

Emily moans in response to the treatment. Her head lolls to the side and she peeks at you from behind long lashes. “I can’t wait to show you how grateful I am for your incredible nursing skills.”

You arch a brow at her as a smile quirks at the corner of your mouth. “Down girl,” you tease playfully.

Emily bends her opposite leg, raising her heel to curve around your body. She pokes her toes up under your tee shirt and your back stiffens as they touch your skin. You reach behind your back and grab her by the ankle, chastising her as you laugh and place it back on the mattress. “Emily!”

“What??” she asks, laughter tumbling from her full lips.

“We’ve not been cleared yet for that!”

She pouts in response and you clamber over her, carefully, so as not to disturb the injuries of her leg. You straddle her waist and lean down to place a soft kiss along the curve of her jaw. “Trust me, I want to get back to that as much as you do.” Your eyes drop to the swell of her breasts, her nipples poking through the thin fabric of her camisole. “But you and I both know neither one of us are capable of having gentle sex, and I don’t think our doctors would be happy if we did anything to make this take any longer than it already is.”

Emily groans in frustration. “Stupid doctors and their stupid orders.”

You laugh as you lean down to grab your dinners off her nightstand. Carefully, you lift your leg and roll over her body to your side of the bed; passing Emily her bowl as you do so. You reach down and pull the throw blanket up over both of you as you snuggle into the uninjured half of her body. She turns and places a kiss on your temple as she grabs the remote and clicks on the tv.

As she twirls pasta around on her fork, she turns to you and smiles. “I’m glad you’re here with me,” she says, eyes twinkling.

You smile in turn. “I can’t think of anywhere else I’d rather be than with you here, right now, at this moment in time.”

“I love you,” she says.

“Not as much as I love you,” you answer.

“Impossible,” Emily promises.

[venusrising91]

Cam-Boy

Pairing: Wonho x Male reader

Genre: Smut 18+ (sprinkle of plot)

Summary: Bunny_hunk_lee is the top OF performer in your state—he’s also the hottest man you’ve ever laid eyes on. You’ve been subscribed to his channel for months, and when a rare opportunity to breathe the same air as him presents itself, you leap at it.

Word count: 1,960 (about 2 pgs)

T/W: Forced urination, para-social relationship and power imbalance

“Bi_sexiboi93! Thanks for that generous donation. Much appreciated babe.”

You couldn’t help the smile that stretched across your face at the sound of your username leaving Bunny_hunk_lee’s lips. You never missed a stream and tonight’s was spectacular. You shared an orgasm—through the screen of course.

Bunny_hunk_lee toweled the cum off his abs with a smirk and the sight alone was enough to push you over the edge once more. But you controlled yourself, and instead sent him another donation—double the amount of the last one. “Whoa, thanks again Bi_sexiboi93. You really love me don’t you baby?”

He spoke like this to all of his subscribers—it was nothing special, you knew well. But that didn’t stop the heat from spreading through you at the mention—at the acknowledgement.

After flexing his triceps and giving his cum-slick cock a few more pulls, Bunny_hunk_lee ended the stream. You sighed and cleaned yourself up, then slipped in bed, pulling out your phone for one last doom scroll before resting.

A new post from Bunny_hunk_lee appeared on your feed. He was wearing the same clothes he had on during the stream, except it was daytime. He must have snapped it beforehand. It was a shot of him face down on his bed, in a hoodie and shorts—plump muscular ass taking up most of the frame. You commented: wish i was under you👅

Already drowsy from the orgasm, sleep came as easily as breathing, and you drifted.

The next morning, you woke twenty minutes after your alarm had gone off, and that meant that you had to rush through your shower and breakfast to avoid being late for work. Thankfully you made it there in time for the weekly meeting. When it was done, you caught up on some emails and before long, your lunch hour rolled around. You took it at your desk and whipped out your phone while you ate.

You nearly choked as the notifications filled your screen. Bunny_hunk_lee replied to your comment: oh yeah? What state you live in babe?

He had liked all six of the photos on your profile grid. Most were selfies you’d taken at the gym and a few blurry food pics. Your heart began pumping faster when you saw the icon indicating two unread messages from him in your inbox.

ur hot.

wanna bottom for me on OF?

You stared at the words with your mouth hanging open. You typed out four replies, deleting each one. Your initial reactions were too cringey to send. As you tried for a fifth time, a green dot appeared next to his profile pic. Then:

typing…

Fuck. Why was your heart beating so fast? Before you could steel yourself, another message popped up.

forgot to add, it’s for pre-recorded content, not a stream so can blur ur face

Anonymity and a chance to be with him? Who could ask for anything more? You took a deep breath and wrote:

I’m down. When and where?

Your hands were shaking as you exchanged messages back and forth, arranging the time and place for the shoot. He sent you his health details and a clean STD panel. You did the same, luckily having just gotten your results back from your last physical a few days ago. The timing was perfect. And you even lived near his address. All this time, he was just a twenty minute drive from your apartment. 

The rest of the day was a blur. Hell, the rest of the week. You were riding on a high—one you didn’t want to come down from. The man you’ve been jacking off to every night not only thinks you’re hot, but he wants to fuck you too. You could hardly believe it. 

Later, he went live and you tried watching the stream but found that it made you jitter with nerves and so for the first time in two years, you skipped it.

When the day of the scheduled hook-up finally arrived, you could hardly take steady breaths. You wished the drive up to his place took longer so you could gather yourself. But you were there in a flash.

Once you showed up, he stood on the other side of the door, smiling down at you. He was taller than you by more than just a few inches. You hadn’t expected that. In person his muscles were more defined—his complexion even richer. 

“Don’t look so nervous—I won’t bite until you ask me to, come on in.”

He opened the door wide and you slipped past him with a shy chuckle, catching a whiff of his cologne. Tom Ford, expensive stuff.

“Nice place,” you said, taking inventory of his spacious, luxury condo.

“Thanks. Bedroom’s just through there. Need anything before we get going. Water? Bathroom?”

You shook your head and made for the room. It was three times the size of yours. A camera was pointed at the bed. He came in and stood behind it, fiddling with the settings before peeling off his shirt.

“Should I take mine off too?” you asked.

“Whatever makes you comfortable, baby. Speaking of comfort, got any boundaries? Anything off limits?”

“You can do whatever you want to me,” you blurted out in excitement before thinking. He chuckled.

“I was hoping you’d say that.”

He stepped from behind the camera and began palming your cock over your jeans, breathing minty breath over you all the while. He had you out of your clothes in seconds. 

“You gonna be a good bottom and stay hard for me the whole time?” he whispered as he gripped you, sliding his hand from base to tip and back again. You nodded, unable to find the words to form a reply. A small, helpless whimper escaped you as he tipped your head to the side and kissed the length of your neck. He made his way to your mouth. His tongue swirled around yours, warm and soft between your lips. The embrace was so intense that you had to pull away to catch your breath. As you panted, he put a hand on your shoulder, urging you onto your knees. He reached inside his pants and his thick cock sprang free. Quickly he took hold of it, slapping it against your face.

“Open your mouth for me,” he cooed, bottom lip caught between his teeth while he stared down at you. His head fell back as you swallowed him. “Just like that,” he added, groaning and fisting your hair. He let you give him head for as long as you wanted, praising you the whole time. The taste of his clean skin had you leaking onto the hardwood floors. He noticed the growing micro pool of it as he pulled you to your feet. “Crawl on the bed, all fours, ass to the camera. Gonna spread that hole and get you dripping even more.”

Once you assumed the position he’d asked of you, he struck an open palm across both of your ass cheeks. You gasped at the sting, then moaned long and hard as his tongue circled your entrance. He ate you for what felt like ages, teasing you here and there with tugs and strokes. You almost came as he pumped your rock hard cock from behind. Suddenly you jerked with the beginning of what would have been the most intense release of your life, but he abruptly drew back, sensing your orgasm and robbing you of it.

“Not yet, baby. Haven’t even given you my pipe. You want it don’t you?” You nodded, then he chuckled and slapped your ass cheeks again, driving away the sensation of your building orgasm and somehow, making you even harder than you had been. 

He took a break from spanking you to adjust the camera angle, leaving you feeling bare and exposed without the warmth of his body near yours. When he returned, you looked over your shoulder at him and caught a glimpse of his sculpted body. He was like an Adonis carving as he hovered over you. He winked before depositing a generous stream of lube onto your hole, spreading it around with his finger. He pushed one inside and you arched as it slid in.

“You’re tighter than I’m used to. I’ll take it slow,” he said.

He was true to his word, and took his time entering you. The stretch was like nothing you’d ever felt before. He had you fisting the sheets, tears spilling from the corners of your eyes as he gave you deep strokes. 

Over and over again, he buried his length inside you. Sounds of him pounding you echoed throughout the space. It went on for long, glorious moments. Soon, he slowed his pace, and the tip of his cock curved against your prostate as his balls hit your ass. He lingered there, grinding. The motion made your eyes roll back while he pressed himself deeper, rubbing his engorged head against your spot and making you leak all over his clean sheets. It took you a moment to realize he was getting close. He emptied a hot burst of cum inside you the next instant, prompting your release. It swept over you like a storm—you weathered it beneath him, ass stuffed full of his cock. 

The ropes came one after another, followed by sharp cries. You shuddered there under all his weight, until he wrapped his arms around your waist and chest, then lifted you off the bed. You hadn’t realized how much stronger he was than you. It was like you weighed nothing to him, despite being pretty stocky and muscular yourself.

“What are you doing?” you asked through heavy breaths as he lowered you onto his lap, both of you were at the edge of the bed now, facing the camera.

“Buying time,” he whispered into your ear, “No one’s ever made me cum that fast.”

Before you could beg him to give you a minute or two to recover from your high, his hand was around your softening, sensitive cock. He pumped hard. You shrieked, bucking and jerking against his firm body. He stilled you with even harder strokes and you stopped fighting as a strange sensation overtook you. 

Before long something began building up—a sharp pressure, not unlike the feeling of almost pissing your pants.

“Please s-stop,” you begged between shivers and breaths. “Feels like I’m gonna—gonna—”

“Piss all over yourself and my floor?” he asked, pumping you even harder, “I know—that’s what I’m betting on. It'll look great on camera.”

Your eyes rolled back for the second time in one night as he pinned you tighter against him, one hand stroking you, the other cupping your balls—which were empty. It was your bladder that wasn’t.

“B-but—”

“Shhhh, it’ll feel good. Even better than the orgasm I just gave you, and you'll probably cum a little more beforehand too. I Promise. Just relax, let it happen. You’ll see, there’s nothing like it.”

You were too overstimulated to protest—to speak—to do anything outside of let your body be led by his influence. He guided you along the path of your second high. You didn’t think it was possible to feel anything as intense as the orgasm you just had. You were wrong. You came again somehow, just like he said you would.

Then, without warning, he slipped a finger inside you. You clenched around it uncontrollably and braced yourself against him as the contents of your bladder came gushing out, hard and fast like a fountain. He milked you for every drop as you squealed and writhed in his lap with your back against his chest, panting and on the verge of collapse.

“That’s it sexy. Let it all out for me like a good bottom.”

More tight-fisted strokes sent you arching and spraying. You had never felt anything like this. The floor beneath you was soaked. Both of you were drenched now. He didn’t seem to mind, and pressed kisses into your neck. The wetter you made the place, the more he praised you. You poured like a water hose for a full thirty seconds (you watched the recording once it was posted and timed it).

When at last he drained you of everything, you lay sprawled on the bed, limp and tender as a noodle. He helped you clean yourself, then lay beside you.

“Fuck that was good,” he said, tucking both hands behind his head. “You down for another round. Maybe later this week?”

You rolled onto your side and rested your head on his chest. He stroked your back. 

“Yeah,” you said, “I’d love that.”

[scarletskiesinthepaths]

Levi’s Childhood: “Bad Boy”, The Underground, Kuchel, and Kenny—What Are the Implications?

Content Warning: Discussion of rape, sexual abuse, and sex trafficking

“Bad Boy” makes it even more explicitly clear that the Underground was no place for a child. From the “Bad Boy” panels alone, it is evident that Levi likely had constant people preying on him at all times—especially before he awakened his Ackerman powers. All these men Levi encounters here had no issue beating a child to (near) death or selling him into sexual slavery. Similar to the way it is portrayed in the “A Choice with No Regrets” storyline, the Underground is also described by Levi as “hopelessly dirty” with “rotten air”. 

It is significant to note here that Levi was well-known for being a prostitute’s son; all of those men were aware of Levi’s relation to Kuchel, even before Levi himself made it clear. They wanted to traffic him for that reason. In terms of speculation, it is very believable and even highly probable that Levi experienced sexual assault and rape before he awakened. Having grown up in a brothel with his mom, and now further seeing how common sex trafficking in the Underground was and also Levi’s infamy for being a prostitute’s son—there is no doubt that Levi was exposed to extreme levels of sexual violence regularly, whether it be him being witness to it, him experiencing the direct threat of it such as in “Bad Boy,” or him experiencing the actual act. The trauma of this is impossible to overstate. It seems the most likely, however, that Levi has had direct personal experience with the act itself, as men would have likely continued visiting “Olympia” after she died (and before Kenny appeared), and upon discovering she was no longer a viable option to have sex with, some of those men would have set their sights on Levi, who was a helpless child in the process of starving to death. 

The men in “Bad Boy” spoke about Levi as if he was born strictly to live a life of sexual slavery, referring to him as a “whore’s child” and discussing how they’d be able to profit from making him do the same job as his mother, saying he may have “inherited her talents”. Levi had probably heard this sort of language used in his presence before. As such, it would not be surprising if Levi had learned to expect this sort of treatment, as if he was placed in the world solely to suffer. Levi would have sought out a reason for this—why must he constantly be subjected to suffering? Is it because there is something wrong with him? If that’s the case, what specifically is wrong with him? It is important to consider as well that Levi’s entire sense of identity at this point was wrapped up in being the son of a prostitute and being raised by a serial killer, who may or may not have been his father. 

The violence Levi was subjected to in “Bad Boy,” such as having his head repeatedly smashed against the ground with a fist, would have most certainly resulted in his death, or at the very least, permanent brain damage, had Levi’s powers not awakened in that moment. However, what’s notable to me during all of this is the absence of Kenny’s presence. This indicates that Kenny would leave Levi alone in the Underground for significant enough periods of time that Levi still had the opportunity to find himself in situations of extreme danger, situations such that would have resulted in his death. Given what we know about Levi’s childhood from Kenny’s recollection of it in the main series, Kenny would subject Levi to fights against fully grown men in order to develop Levi’s combat skills and likely prompt his awakening. It is also clear in these “Bad Boy” panels that Levi already knew how to fight, given the way he initially tried to protect himself from being beaten by all those men. He was, however, helpless in protecting himself, given the deep disadvantage he had from being a child, as well as being faced against multiple opponents. Levi’s combat skills after his awakening also demonstrated he already had significant training. The responsible thing for an adult in Kenny’s position would have been to, not teach Levi how to fight, but remove him from the environment that necessitated that knowledge in the first place.

Needless to say, this practice was cruel and immensely abusive. The amount of psychological damage and self-worth issues this would undoubtedly cause Levi are immeasurable. It was Kenny’s responsibility to protect Levi’s childhood innocence, but it is because of Kenny’s actions (and inactions) that Levi was placed in a position of having to kill multiple men as a young child. Kenny may have saved Levi from the imminent death of starvation, but his abuse and abandonment ultimately caused Levi more harm than good in the long-run; he taught and exposed Levi to a life of violence. Indeed, Kenny wanted Levi to be a force for violence. That is all he ever modeled for Levi and desired from him, even though he had the capability of sparing Levi from such experiences. However, it speaks to Levi’s innate goodness that he still loved Kenny after all he was made to suffer by him and even forgave Kenny by the end.

The awakening of Levi’s powers demonstrated to Levi the idea that he was an agent of destruction and a monster. Recall back to the moment during the “Uprising” arc when a man accuses Levi of being such and Levi simply responds, “Maybe I am”. Levi’s awakening was described by Levi as a form of dissociation, as if he was not fully aware of what he was doing. Consider his words here: “I didn’t think it was strange that something had happened to me at the time. The pain in my head disappeared and I felt calm, as if my head was submerged in water. And the idea of what to do came to mind. But I just followed the instinct and acted accordingly.” And yet, Levi likely blames himself for the brutality of which he killed his attackers, despite acting in self-defense and having no other recourse. It was an answer to his question: what is wrong with him? He must be a monster. Being forced into such a situation as a child would instill this view in Levi that he was born into his life only to bring suffering to others. That is why he suffers in turn.

This perception of an inner monstrosity in Levi is furthered by what the man in the glasses tells him directly after this: “Stop doing things that will make your mother in heaven sad!” Levi’s impression of Kuchel, his mother, was the one thing that brought him comfort in his life. He remembered her “elegant” posture. With these man’s words, even that one comfort was lost to Levi. Now the thought of his mother would instead be associated with the idea that she would view him as bad—that she would have seen his “murderous” actions and would cast judgment on him. This is completely incorrect, of course. The only reason Levi even awakened his strength was because he was protecting his mom’s image from the cruel words the men were speaking against her. Levi was severely beaten to near death, all because he loved his mom essentially. Think of the tragedy of that; Levi was directly punished for loving someone. This further demonstrates that innate goodness in Levi—how he continues to love and care about others, despite the immense suffering it’s brought him over and over. To further the tragedy of all this, it is evident that Levi still views his mother with fondness, in spite of the belief that she would hate him. Levi purposely seeks out the brothel in which he grew up with her, undoubtedly filled with countless awful and traumatic memories, in order to feel closer to her presence.

After Levi’s awakening, Levi soon after finds himself in yet another fight, and it is this moment that Levi watches as Kenny walks away and abandons him forever. Levi thought Kenny wanted him to become strong. He thought his strength would earn him Kenny’s acceptance, but instead, he was met with his rejection. If Kenny still didn’t love him even after becoming strong, that once again proved to Levi that there was something deeply wrong with him. Similar to the way Levi would come to associate his strength as the thing responsible for making him a “killer” and ruining his mother’s perception of him, Levi would likely form the association that his physical strength led directly to Kenny abandoning him. Moreover, what was the purpose of his strength? Levi did not want to use it to bring suffering to others. 

Levi discovered on his own that his strength could be used to help others—to protect. This is incredibly significant because Levi was literally taught the opposite his whole life: that it made him a monster, that its only purpose was for saving himself and bringing death and destruction—he was taught even that that’s something he should desire. Somehow, despite all that, Levi still found a way to use his strength for the benefit of others. Although, this highlights a further tragedy in Levi. As demonstrated earlier, Levi was taught that it was the normal state of the world, the status quo, for him to be abused; he learned that this treatment of him was, not only happening because it was something he was somehow meant for, but also happening because he was some abnormal monster. Levi desiring to use his strength for others does not negate Levi’s own negative perception of himself. All of the events in Levi’s childhood taught Levi that he had no worth, and that is indeed the way we see Levi treat himself throughout the entire series. 

Levi never once defends himself against people’s cruel words against him. Think back to the way Mikasa said it was Levi’s fault that they had lost Eren in the “Female Titan” arc directly after Levi had lost his entire squad; think of the way Levi accepts Dieter’s words against him and Erwin about being “devoid of humanity” in the aftermath of the Female Titan’s attack; think of how Levi accepts the negative way the people of Trost and the merchants were speaking against him; and as mentioned earlier, think of the way Levi accepts being called a monster during “Uprising”. Levi directly refers to himself as “abnormal” as well during that same arc. There are countless more examples of this. Levi fights during the Battle of Heaven and Earth, despite being grievously injured already. It is because of this that he ultimately ends up in a wheelchair. Levi fights for other people to the complete detriment of himself. That is pure selflessness. Levi treats himself as completely devoid of worth, despite seeing so much worth in others. As such, Levi dedicates everything he has, even if it would result in severe damage to himself; he views himself as expendable. It is clear too that Levi views himself as unclean from all the blood he has on his hands and all the filth he was surrounded by growing up. It was his “dirty” hands after all that killed all those men and led to his mom’s teacup breaking at the end of "Bad Boy"; a sign of his inner badness. 

[mamawasatesttube]

Regarding Tim's parents, what are your opinions on how they're usually written and what would you want to see more or change?

MAN... okay. let's see.

so the way people tend to write them in fanworks - like total caricatures of horribly abusive parents, so one-dimensionally evil it's laughable - is boring. it's just extremely boring to me and i don't engage with it or care for it at all whatsoever. there's no nuance, there's no actual understanding of tim's relationships with them, no... anything. it's like people heard a whisper that jack drake is an abusive parent and went "well, it's not REAL abuse unless he's locking tim in a cabinet and starving him and beating him and whatever else". (also i think people often combine this with making tim east asian and janet a tiger mom, which is... yikes.)

so THAT whole incredibly empty mess aside: let's start with jack. jack drake is an emotionally immature and authoritarian parent. he loves tim. he is emotionally abusive to tim. these two statements coexist. tim loves him. tim is endlessly frustrated and trapped in their relationship in ways because jack doesn't see him, not until near the end. it's a source of constant tension. it's fascinating. the love is there but so is the abuse. narratively i understand that once he couldn't provide the tension of "tim has to hide from him" anymore, his story utility was limited, so of course he got killed off, but i think there was still some room to squeeze out interesting stories from him before writing him out. also i think retroactively, tim having to deal with him while bisexual and closeted is interesting and has some real story potential for sure.

janet, on the other hand? well, she appears like four times ever, so there isn't actually a ton to work with. we know tim loved her, too, and the panel of him sitting on the bed going "i know. it's her funeral. my mommy's funeral..." destroys me every time i see it. but because we have a lot of empty space about her, it is our city now. and i personally like to think about her being part of the chinese diaspora in the greater nyc area (which... probably includes gotham in universe, i would think). because i love to give tim racial identity issues and mixed-race issues because he's just so good at identity issues already. ough...

overall i just would love to see more actually nuanced takes on them instead of just "they were HORRIBLE ABUSERS" or "they were PERFECT PARENTS" as the only two ends of the spectrum. and i'd love to see more actual focus on tim's relationship with either of them vs just... hashtag batfam using them as a backdrop, you know?

[whateversawesome]

Chapter 94: Detective Twilight

This was a fun chapter! Detective Conan fans are probably happy with it, right? And we still learned a few things along the way.

Well, we know the kind of dad Twilight is (the kind who yields as soon as he sees his kid cry 😆)...

And we also know what kind of mom is Yor: A mama bear! Honestly, Anya couldn't be in safer hands.

By the way, let me say that Twilight and Yor looked gorgeous throughout the whole chapter, especially in this panel 💕

We got the classic fanfiction "there's only one room left at the hotel" trope 😀

For a second, I thought we were getting the "there's only one bed" trope! But then this happened...

Even though they didn't end up sharing the bed, this was still my favorite panel in the chapter. Why?

First of all, it's very obvious now that Yor has feelings for her husband. She didn't say something like: "I've never shared a room with a man." She was very specific and got all flustered about sharing a room with Loid.

However, what I liked the most about that panel was Twilight's attitude. Look at his face. It's basically this one 😏 But the point of this panel is that it's only the two of them and his words and facial expression say one thing: "I know you."

That's the kind of stuff that makes him a good husband. He pays attention to his wife, what she likes and the things that make her uncomfortable. In that panel, he lightly teases her, but he's also being considerate of her without making a big deal out of it.

Also, I know everyone wants Twilight and Yor to share a bed (me too!!) but I think when it finally happens the waiting will pay off.

Hear me out:

It will probably happen right after they both realize they have feelings for each other but before they confess (for maximum tension😆). Can you imagine the amount of longing? Knowing that the person they're in love with is right there within reach, next to them, sharing a bed, side by side trying not to touch but wanting to touch so badly and both Twilight and Yor dying to kiss (and do other stuff) Come on, you can't beat that!

My advice: patience. It's going to happen at the perfect time in the relationship and in the story. Plus, it has to be a very forced situation AND there has to be no other way (no couch either!).

In the meantime, let's see how Twilight not only blindly trusted Yor, even though, as a spy, he should trust no one and he had reasons to suspect her (because she wasn't in the room AND she's an actual assassin). Even Yor wasn't sure it wasn't her 😂(Probably?)

On top of everything he was incredibly protective of his wife. He didn't even let that man come near her, let alone touch her. YES! That's what we like to see, Twilight 😊

Bonus: Did you notice that as soon as they found the first victim, Twilight's first thought was to protect his daughter? Nice dad instinct, Mr. Spy-dad 😏

[generalpandabasement]

Is your home in need of a makeover? Start with stripping the paint!

Are you looking to give your home a makeover? You don’t need to break the bank to get started! Stripping away old paint and varnish from weatherboards, table tops, and doors can be a great first step. It can be a time-consuming process, but with the right tools and techniques, you can achieve the results you’re after. In this blog post, we’ll explore the basics of stripping paint and varnish, as well as provide some helpful tips and tricks to make the job a bit easier.

Why you should strip the paint

Stripping paint and varnish from weatherboards, table tops, doors, and other furniture can be a laborious and time-consuming job, but it is necessary if you want to give your home a fresh look. Stripping paint can also help to preserve the longevity of your furniture and ensure that it is properly sealed and protected from weather and wear. By removing old layers of paint and varnish, you can also get a better look at the wood grain, which can enhance the look of your furniture and provide a more pleasing aesthetic. Stripping paint also helps to prevent rot and insect infestation, which can be damaging to the furniture. In addition, stripping paint will help to maintain the structural integrity of the furniture, as well as help to prevent any future paint from chipping or cracking. Lastly, stripping paint can help you save money in the long run by ensuring that you won't have to repaint or refinish your furniture as often. If you’re looking for an efficient way to strip paint without much hassle, consider using an aerosol auto paint stripper. This product is designed specifically for stripping paint off metal surfaces such as car frames, so it’s perfect for furniture like door frames and outdoor railings. It works quickly and effectively on multiple coatings of various types of paints. Aerosol auto paint stripper is easy to use because it doesn’t require sanding or wire brushing, saving you both time and energy. Plus, you don’t have to worry about accidentally staining wood surfaces since it won’t damage them in the process. If you're looking for an effective way to strip off stubborn paint layers, an aerosol auto paint stripper is definitely worth investing in.

What you need to know before you start

Stripping paint and varnish from weatherboards, table tops, doors and other surfaces can be a daunting task. Before starting this project, there are a few things to keep in mind.

First, make sure you’re working in a well-ventilated area. This will help to prevent the fumes from any harsh chemical strippers from becoming overwhelming. Also, if you’re working indoors, make sure to cover any furniture or carpets that could be damaged by paint or varnish remover.

Second, consider the type of surface you’ll be working on. Different surfaces require different types of stripping products and methods. For instance, softwood requires an alkaline stripper, while hardwood requires an acidic one. It’s also important to make sure that the product you’re using is compatible with the material you’re stripping.

Third, make sure to read and follow all safety instructions on the product label. You’ll want to make sure you have protective equipment like goggles and gloves handy before you start.

Finally, always start with a small test area before tackling the entire project. This will help to ensure that you’re using the right product and technique for the job.

Taking these simple steps will help to ensure that your paint and varnish stripping project goes smoothly. Good luck!

The best way to strip paint

Stripping paint is a necessary step if you want to give your home a makeover. It can be a labor-intensive process, but with the right supplies and techniques, you can have beautifully restored wood in no time.

To start, gather the necessary supplies for stripping paint including safety goggles, protective clothing, a respirator, chemical stripper, brush, and putty knife. Then follow these steps to effectively remove old paint from your surfaces.

First, apply a layer of chemical stripper to the surface using a brush. Make sure to cover all areas and allow the stripper to sit for 10-15 minutes before attempting to scrape off the paint. The chemical will help soften the old paint, making it easier to remove.

Once the chemical has had enough time to work, use a putty knife or scraper to remove the softened paint. Work carefully to avoid gouging the wood. If you find any areas that are still difficult to remove, reapply more stripper and wait a few more minutes before scraping again.

When the paint has been completely stripped, use a damp cloth to wipe down the surface and remove any remaining residue. Allow the area to dry completely before applying primer and paint.

Stripping paint may seem like a daunting task, but with the right supplies and a bit of patience, you can restore your home’s surfaces with ease. Have fun creating a new look for your home! After all the hard work of stripping away layers of paint, why not take your restoration project up a notch by adding some automotive body fillers? Automotive body fillers are perfect for filling in cracks and holes on surfaces made out of wood, metal, plastic, fiberglass, and more. They come in many different colors, allowing you to customize your design according to your individual style. Plus, they’re easy to sand and shape, so you can achieve a smooth, professional finish without much effort. With automotive body fillers, your weatherboards, table tops, and doors will look as good as new!

After you finish

Once you have finished stripping the paint and varnish, it's time to start the fun part of giving your home a makeover. Now you can start painting or staining to give your project a new look. When applying the paint or stain, it is important to use a brush or roller specifically made for that type of finish. For example, a synthetic brush should be used for latex paints and a natural bristle brush should be used for oil-based stains. Additionally, you will want to choose the right kind of applicator for the job such as a foam roller for flat surfaces or a sprayer for more intricate work.

Finally, don't forget to clean up your workspace afterwards. You will want to dispose of any leftover stripper and other hazardous materials in accordance with local regulations. You may also want to use a sealer or primer on the surface before painting. Doing so can help to ensure the paint adheres properly and lasts longer.

By taking the time to properly strip paint and varnish from weatherboards, table tops, and doors, you can create a beautiful, new look for your home. Whether you decide to paint or stain, you can make sure your home looks great and stands the test of time.

[4ddi3addie2005]

HI HELLO IT'S ME AGAIN- I completely underestimated how long a SINGLE comic page takes to make and because of some lil frustrating parts (I'm looking at you perspective) I kinda pushed it to a corner for a while so I've only got 3 done out 12. AND CH4 IS NEAR sooo.... I've only got this to offer in the rising excitement:

My fav panel :D (out of THREE. I hateeverything/j). It's just supposed to be how I imagined my fav "kicking my feet back and forth" scene from ch3.

I SWEARTHAT I WILL FIND THE MOTIVATION TO FINISH THE 12 PAGES❗❗ I just need to get over that damm PERSPECTIVE and how I can't make the reader just a oval like 'nito-

AAAAAA CEO of In Pixel Haze spotted!! 📸📸📸 (it’s you)

Dude this is sooo good so easy on the eyes!! The way you imagined this scene is so cozyyy I love the colors. Looks warm. (The way it happened in my head was that the two goobers were in the void looking at this big ahh screen like “COMPUTER… fetch me axolotl.jpg” type beat lmaooo but I love to let The People decide what’s going on!! It is a self-insert after all!! That’s also why I didn’t write his reaction to your “sure okay” reply… lowkey was kinda dancing the line between platonic/romantic I didn’t wanna get too cute 🥲 Promise I’m not sacrificing anything 4 that tho aha.)

Okay back to this page… the meat… that axolotl is stunning! She looks the goopiest! Blown away by the detail work 😭😭😭 your shading is incredibleee. And Reader looks MISERABLE /POS /POS <3 Loving how expressive and mobile Kinito is too! Just him swinging his leg up like that the has the whole vibe more energetic and interesting you really know how to draw the Nito!! Like this straight-up looks like professional work.

It is so sweet how you imprinted on this scene!! Also TWELVE PAGES?? Do you realize I’m scratching at my enclosure rn? It’s the same as you told me… no rush at all dude take your time,, you’re gonna KILL that perspective!! It already looks great!!

Tysm your work is always hype and I end up writing sooo much so fast when I see it in my inbox (wrote a huge chunk last night when I saw this we’re at 5000 words ahehe) You BET I’m looking back at it for motivation all tha time!!

All that to say 💕🫡💕🫡💕🫡💕

[oneshotnewbie]

Hello! I hope you're well :)

Would you so kindly be able to do an Emily Prentiss x victim child!reader where reader is kind of young, maybe like between 6-10 and they've been held captive by the UnSub for weeks now and when the team finally finds the location, reader has gone mute and very cautious/scared of everyone and only allows (to an extent) Emily near them? Since she's the one who first finds them? Emily is very patient and comforts reader even if they don't speak and such. But reader eventually becomes comfortable enough to speak again, using short sentences and few words with Emily (maybe even some other team members, too).

Emily could possibly take them in but that part can be up to you!

I can't wait to see more of your work btw, you're so good!! Thx! Xoxo 💘

⚠️Trigger Warning⚠️ This one-shot includes the topics of abuse, trauma, child neglecting, punishments and the plots are presented. If this triggers you too easily or you just can´t handle the subject, I urge you NOT to read this work. I am NOT embellishing this topic under any circumstance. Read at your own risk.

Authors note: I have tried my best to accommodate this request. I have to say that I changed the request a little because I didn't want to write a 6 year old child being kidnapped by a stranger, so I just had to do it with the father who has a criminal record. I also had to shorten it and basically skip a period of time in order to fulfill the second part of the request. I hope it is still okay. Also had to split it into two parts, Tumblr wouldn't let me post it all at once ♥

ᕚ---ᕘ

Walls. Excessive tightness.

You did not know how long you had been in that closet, and you did not want to know either. Far too exhausted from all the panic attacks and the walls threatening to crush you. Your stomach was growling like it had been ever since your father decided to punish you for everything you did.

Your hands were shaking, your eyes were glassy, but you were long past crying. That only made things worse. Your father knew no mercy, and certainly not for his scared and crying little daughter.

Sometimes you imagined what it would be like if you actually suffocated in that closet. Better to suffocate from the reducing air than to be suffocated by your own father. You would not grow old, you would not reach the age of 10. You were sure of that. You were convinced that something would happen to you before your next birthday. But so far you had gotten older every year and every birthday you were sure that it would be your last.

Your father would not let you sleep in your bed anymore, but at least today it was in the closet and not in the gazebo that you had to sleep in. It was late autumn and in the arbor, the roof of which had tiny holes, there was a risk of hypothermia and finally freezing to death. Your hand, which was squeezed between the closet door and your thigh, had now fallen asleep and despite your constant shaking, you felt immensely hot. You noticed your face starting to glow again- you had a fever from the cold that blew through the room at night. You carefully pulled your hand out from under your leg, hitting your head on one of the wooden insert panels of the shelves, causing a dull thud as it came loose and fell onto your body.

Your heart skipped a beat before stopping briefly, you squinted for a moment, hoping that the noise had gone unnoticed and that your father had disappeared from his guarding position in front of the closet and was downstairs in front of the TV. But then you heard footsteps, quiet and muffled through the ajar door and the wood that surrounded you. It sounded nothing like your father and his firm, jagged steps and you begged that you had not misheard and were now in for a lot of trouble.

The door creaked and your breathing became increasingly quicker. You did not mishear. You closed your eyes tightly, trying to calm yourself and prepare yourself for what was to come. If your father saw you so upset, he might keep you here longer or deny you food for the next few days.

The key turned in the lock that locked the two doors together and you heard them slowly open, but did not dare to look outside. The fear of provoking your father when you greedily gasped for fresh air and light was too great. You felt a slight breeze on your bare shoulders and cheeks. Still, you kept your eyes closed, hoping to avoid your fate.

Instead of your father's disapproving shouts and rough hands that would normally drag you out of the closet, there was only a careful, barely noticeable touch on your shoulder. When you raised your eyes, you saw a strange woman with black hair. "Hey, sweetie. I am from the police, you are safe now," the older woman's eyes were glassy. She seemed unsettled, as if she was afraid of breaking you with one wrong move, as if you were made of delicate mass. "You can come out now, your father can not hurt you anymore."

You nodded and a few moments later she had pulled you out of the closet, carefully and slowly so as not to hurt you, and immediately drawn you into her arms. You just let it happen, completely unable to understand that this was a foreign woman you were clinging to.

Your father had forbidden you from speaking to strangers and your fear of upsetting your dad was huge. But something about her voice made you give in. "I am Emily. What is your name?" she asked and rubbed your back soothingly, your courage to speak failing you. When the rest of her team stormed into the room a moment later and looked down at you in front of the open door, you panicked and shook yourself away from her before returning to the closet where you felt safe.

A hand signal directed to Derek and Hotch, they disappeared silently from the bare room with the remaining SWAT workers and left her alone with you. It took some time for you to gain confidence and crawl out of the wooden wardrobe again. The young woman had talked her head off with various topics in order to give you a feeling of reassurance.

You followed Emily's hand movements carefully, and at the sight of the little package of gummy bears, your mouth watered and your stomach began to make itself known. "Someone is really hungry!" She whispered and smiled softly before opening the small package and holding it out to you.

You carefully sat up, occasionally glancing at the door so that you could move back into the closet as quickly as possible in case of an emergency. But nothing happened. The black-haired woman pointed uncertainly but grinning at the package. "The green ones are my favorite. And what are yours?" you rummaged through the tiny package with your fingers until you held a red gummy bear between your fingers and showed it to her. "The red ones? Uhh, they are yummy!"

You jumped away while the first bite, she had raised her hand too quickly. She shook her head, swallowing hard. Emily had not thought for a split second. “Can I feel your forehead?”she asked after a short hesitation and you nodded, afraid of upsetting her like your father, granting her permission.

She gently placed her hand on your sweat-covered forehead. You were feverish. She slowly lowered her hand carefully again and watched you as you hesitantly gnawed on a gummy bear. Your father did not like it when you just wolfed down your food and often had taken it away when fell into a deep hunger.

Emily continued to watch you, her eyes sad and exhausted. You cocked your head, wondering if you had done something wrong. When your eyes met for a moment, you hesitantly reached for her free hand and placed her favorite gummy bear in her palm.

You found a kind of care and hope in her presence. Hope that you can still lead a normal life and never be locked in the closet by your father again. Emily caught the very first smile you gave her before you stood up and carefully fell into her arms. "Are you okay? Did you hurt yourself?" she giggled softly, her heart swelling and beginning to pound wildly.

"No,"

Surprisingly, she widened her eyes while keeping her mouth wide open. After hours spent in this cold room with only forensics downstairs doing their work, she had finally managed to hear your gentle and childlike voice.

[chasingstardustandmoonbeams]

Once More (I)

A/N: This will be labor or love, truly. I'd like to thank Palm Springs and that one episode of Agents of Shield for helping with some of the science. Yes, I am making a playlist for the ambitious fic. No, I don't know how long it will be. Enjoy the ride.

Words: 1.7k

Warnings: None (unless you want to count me working on this as I go with only 10% of a plan and minimal proof reading).

Description: It was almost maddening. Repeating the same day over and over again. Waking, dying, waking, on and on again until you nearly spiraled. Or at least you would have if it wasn't for him. There was no one you could turn to outside of each other. You had only yourself, him, and the endless loop that trapped you both.

Gif taken from (x)

Soundtrack to the fic

Your heart was racing, adrenaline coursing through you as you ran. Not again. Not this time. It wouldn’t happen again - you wouldn’t let it. This had to end and it had to end now. 

You turned a corner and made your way to the turbolift. Spock stood tall - his eyes solely on you. 

“Together?” He said simply, his eyes taking in your face. 

“Together,” you repeated. You stood in front of him now, both your hands over the comm panel. Your fingers brushed against each other, Spock took a step closer towards you. 

Neither of you looked away as you both pushed down. 

----------------------------------------------------------------------------

“You can’t be serious!” 

“Oh, dead serious,” Erica smirked proudly. Her smile only grew at Uhura’s look of disbelief. 

“There is no way you won five times in a row,” Uhura slumped back in her seat. 

“I warned you not to play with her,” you added, smirking into your drink. Uhura merely huffed in response. “I lost three rounds of poker to her before I figured it out,” you laughed before Erica nudged you with her elbow.

“Learned what?” Uhura questioned, her accusing expression directed at Erica. 

“Nothing. There was nothing to learn!” Erica crossed her arms across her chest trying her best not to look guilty. 

Downing the rest of your drink, you got up from your seat. It had been a long day on the engineering deck. It had been one strange anomaly reading after the other. You weren’t sure what was causing it - every time you thought you were getting close, it disappeared. 

The enterprise was nearing uncharted territory. As far as you were concerned there had been no problems reported. But something had caused the peculiar readings. 

It wasn’t a big deal. Captain would have notified engineering if it was. Or a science officer would have reached out. Spock most likely. He never missed anything. 

“You can’t be leaving already,” Uhura stated, Erica mirroring her surprise. 

You let out a sigh, “Long day. Weird day.” You picked your data pad off of the table, holding it loosely in your left hand. 

“Weird?” Erica leaned forward in her seat. “That’s, like, almost everyday here. You gotta be more specific.”

“We had some strange readings today - I couldn’t pinpoint it,” you paused looking at both Uhura and Erica, “There wasn’t anything strange going on today on the bridge was there?”

They both shook their heads no. 

“I mean,” Erica paused thoughtfully, “There was this… storm, I guess? Nothing completely out of the ordinary. Sensors didn’t pick up anything significant.”

“I wouldn’t worry about it,” Uhura said. Leaning back in her chair. “Go rest up, take it easy,” she smiled up at you. 

You smiled warmly at them both before making your way out of the mess hall. Your mind still drifting back to the strange readings from earlier. Uhura was right, you should let it go- but you couldn’t. 

Making your way to the turbolift, you were surprised to see Spock already occupying the space. 

“Lieutenant L/N,” he stated, nodding curtly at you. 

“Lieutenant Spock,” you smiled, stepping inside. “Engineering,” you said passively, the turbolift starting up. 

There was a beat before Spock’s voice filled the turbolift. “I was not aware you changed to beta shift.” 

“I didn’t,” you glanced at him, his expression blank save the quirk of his eyebrow. “I thought I’d check on the warp core one more time. There was something odd about the readings today.” 

You shifted your weight as you chanced another glance at Spock. 

He gave you his full attention now, “I too discovered irregular readings.” He looked down at you curiously. “What did you-”

The both of you were jostled as the turbo lift immediately stopped. Spock’s hands held you steady at the waist before letting you go. 

Your hands reached out for the console when the turbolift dropped down a level. 

“What is going on?” you gritted out, your hands quickly moving over the control panel to try and figure out what was happening. It looked like the power was being diverted. You weren’t sure why. Nothing prior to this would account for the ship needing to conserve power. Maybe-

“It appears that power is being diverted to essential ship functions,” Spock stated over your shoulder. 

“I hadn’t thought of that,” you said sarcastically as you popped open the panel. 

“I am surprised that, as assistant chief engineer, you had not come to that conclusion.” 

You let out a sigh before turning to look briefly at Spock, “I had thought of it.” 

Spock titled his head to the side, “You just stated -” 

“Spock. I was being sarcastic. I just - I need to get a better look at this. I might have to get access through the roof.” 

You knew you were being a bit short with him, you couldn’t help it. The whole situation made you anxious. Something about this didn’t seem right. It was all off. The only calming presence was Spock, always logical and reassuring. 

“Lieutenant, I would not recommend attempting to exit the turbolift. If the power -” 

“I know the risks, Spock, but what else are we going to do?” You turned to look at him now. “The comms aren’t working and my data pad isn’t getting any messages out.” 

You tried your best to breathe, to calm your thoughts. Everything was going to be fine. You both were going to be fine. 

Spock gave you a long assessing look before he nodded in agreement. 

“Will you help me up?” You asked, readying yourself to be lifted. Spock wordlessly lifted you. You worked quickly to try and remove the roof paneling when the turbolift jolted once more. Despite Spock's firm on you, the quick jostling caused your bodies to be thrown. 

Your head hit the side of the turbolift with a sickening thud. Pain radiated through you - your vision getting blurry. Warmth spread down the side of your face. Unable to move your body you could only assume you were bleeding from the impact. You tried unsuccessfully to keep your eyes open, but you couldn’t. 

Spock’s hands cradled your head as your eyes closed. Faintly, you could feel him resting your head in his lap. 

“Lieutenant,” he called out to you, “L/N”, he tried once more but the pain was beginning to dull until you felt nothing at all. “Y/N, you need to stay awake. Help will come. Don’t fall asleep, you have lost too much blood.” 

If you didn’t know any better you might have heard the worried tone in his voice. 

The turbolift dropped once more, rapidly descending in a way you knew both of you wouldn’t survive. Spock leaned down, trying his best to shield your body. 

The last thing you could recall was a light so bright that it nearly blinded you despite your eyes being closed, the sickening feeling of free fall, and Spock’s warm body holding you close. 

----------------------------------------------------------------------------

You awoke with a gasp. Sweat covered your body as you sat up in your bed. You rubbed your hands over your face. The dream, if you could even call it that, had been the most intense thing you had ever experienced. 

Absentmindedly, you found your hand reaching for the back of your head. There was no pain - yet you could almost feel the phantom ache. Shaking yourself from your dream, you got up and got ready for the day. Your engineering shift would be starting soon. 

Straightening out your red shirt, you made your way to the turbolift. You couldn’t help but feel a sense of deja vu. 

“Engineering,” you stated, waiting as the turbolift took you to your destination. You found yourself anxious. You couldn't figure out why. The dream was just a dream - nothing more. 

The doors of the turbolift opened and you walked to your station. Commander Pelia gave you a warm smile as before she continued work on her data pad. 

You began your routine scans when you noticed the same anomaly - the one from your dream. You stood gaping at your scanners. 

“Everything alright, Lieutenant?” Commander Pelia asked you. 

Before you could answer, the anomaly disappeared as quickly as it came. “No- yes. Yes, everything is fine.” 

It was fine, wasn’t it?

The rest of your day went by in a blur. Conversations, scans, everything repeated itself from your dream. It wasn’t possible. There was no way, unless…unless…

In an almost daze you found yourself in the mess hall. Erica and Uhura were already seated playing cards. 

“You can’t be serious!” 

You stopped dead in your tracks. 

“Oh, dead serious,” Erica smirked proudly. 

“There is no way you won five times in a row,” Uhura slumped back in her seat. 

No. 

No. It couldn’t be possible. 

“Y/N? You okay?” Erica was giving you a concerned look. Uhura was already out of her chair making her way towards you. She took you by the elbow and led you to the empty chair at their table. 

“Y/N?”

You blinked roughly, your eyes snapping to Erica. “Was there…was there some type of storm today?”

“Uh, yeah actually. Couldn’t really figure out what it was. Scanners didn’t pick anything up.” 

“I have to go,” you said quickly, rushing out of the mess hall. You ignored their calls of concern. 

You bumped into La’an as you rounded the corner to the turbolift. You mumbled an apology, not waiting for a response. 

The turbolift opened. Spock stood in the entryway, his expression nearly unreadable. His eyes frantically looked over your face, his eyes lingering on where you hit your head in your dream. 

“It wasn’t a dream was it?” you whispered, slowly entering the turbolift. 

“No,” he replied. His eyes not leaving yours. “I believe we are experiencing the events of yesterday again.” 

“No one else remembers,” you paused, “Why do we-” 

The turbolift jolted. Your frantic eyes met Spock once more. 

“The anomaly. I believe that whatever is causing the abnormal readings is triggering-” 

Spock caught you as you jolted forward into his chest, the turbolift dropping a level. Not again, not again. 

You took a deep breath, “I still couldn’t pinpoint the readings. Every time I get close, it disappears. It-” 

The turbolift began its rapid descent. Spock held onto your arms tightly, your eyes only on each other. 

“Find me sooner,” you said as the white light engulfed you both. The warmth of Spock's hands on your arms the only sensation you focused on as you both plummeted into the abyss.