#liver location

[netgharblog]

यकृत या लिवर या Liver या जिगर या कलेजा क्या होता है , इसके मुख्य कार्य ,जाँच ,लिवर की बीमारी , लिवर रोग के कारण ,लक्षण ,परहेज तथा लिवर के किसी भी रोग को ठीक करने की रामबाण होम्योपैथिक दवाएं ( Homeopaithic Medicines )

यकृत या लिवर या Liver या जिगर या कलेजा क्या होता है , इसके मुख्य कार्य ,जाँच ,लिवर की बीमारी , लिवर रोग के कारण ,लक्षण ,परहेज तथा लिवर के किसी भी रोग को ठीक करने की रामबाण होम्योपैथिक दवाएं ( Homeopaithic Medicines )

यकृत या लिवर या Liver हमारे शारीर का बहुत हीं महत्वपूर्ण अंग है जो पेट के दाहिने तरफ ऊपर पसलियों के अन्दर होता है और यह हमारे शारीर की सबसे बड़ी ग्रंथि (Gland ) तथा त्वचा के बाद दूसरा सबसे बड़ा अंग है तथा  इसका रंग Dark Maroon या हल्का भूरा (Brownish) होता है | लिवर का BP साधारणतः 5 मिलीमीटर होता है | लिवर के बिना कोई भी इन्सान बिल्कुल जीवित नहीं रह सकता है | लिवर हमारे शारीर का इकलौता ऐसा अंग है…

[canisalbus]

Was in the mountains of Abruzzo, IT recently and found this dog who looked like Vasco

Hah, a wild Vasco sighting! And an extremely close match at that.

[hotchscoffeecup]

“Power Struggle”

Pairing: Aaron Hotchner/Reader

Rating: M

Category: Angst, Hurt/Comfort

Word Count: 7.2k

Summary: For months, you and SSA Aaron Hotchner have been toeing the boundary between romance and your careers. When the unsub that's been killing women in Michigan by way of replicating Zeus' punishments from Greek mythology takes you as his next victim, it's up to Hotch and the rest of the BAU team to find you before it's too late. Hurt/comfort and angst with happy ending.

Tags: graphic depictions of violence, reader kidnapped by unsub, blood, implied SA, nudity, electrocution, scarring, hospitals

“You’re telling me someone is out here killing people to recreate, what? Greek legends?” Sheriff McCullen’s brow pinches as he shakes his head.

“Legends are stories often loosely based on a real person or event to teach us a lesson. Mythology is based on supernatural or sacred lore and explains why things came to be. It’s a common mistake.” Reid speaks quickly and methodically, as if reciting from a textbook. “It’s straight out of the mythos,” he explains, his voice tinged with something akin to excitement as he approaches the whiteboard where photos of the victims had been pinned up for review. Using a ballpoint pen as a pointer, he taps the first image of the first victim. “Regina Manford, she was found tied to a boulder in Craig Lake State Park with her liver removed. Animal predation showed birds had pecked at her while she was still alive. In Greek mythology, Zeus did this to Prometheus to exact revenge on him after he stole fire to give to man.”

Reid moves on to the next victim, bouncing on the balls of his feet as he did so. “Sarah Walters was found bound to an old water wheel that had been set on fire. Greek Mythology suggests this is a copy of Zeus’ punishment for Ixion.”

“And what did he do to deserve that?” asks the sheriff.

Reid’s lips form a tight line. “He was invited into Zeus’ home on Olympus. After attempting to seduce his wife, Hera, Zeus punished him by binding him to a wheel of fire cursed to spin forever toward the underworld. She might’ve smiled or even looked at him, and in his delusion believed she was a seductress deserving of punishment.”

“So, what? This guy sees himself as some sort of god?”

“We believe that is his delusion, yes,” answers Emily. “Each victim also bore signs of sexual trauma, this is something Zeus is also renowned for in the mythology. Our unsub thinks he’s infallible and that these women’s lives and deciding when and how these women live and die is his divine right.”

“Do we know if there will be more victims?” asks one of the detectives.

You step forward from your place between Morgan and Hotchner. “Given the number of victims Zeus punished within the mythology, we can assume he is not finished. These kills are two weeks apart. It’s been twelve days since the last body was found. We can only assume he’s currently hunting for his next victim. And when he finds one, he convinces her to go to a second location. It's once they leave the primary location that he attacks. In each case, the victim suffered a blow to the head, leaving a uniquely shaped gash in her forehead. This suggests that he strikes them with a distinct blunt object or even a ring that’s on his hand.”

“We need every man out on the streets,” Hotch states, his eyes hard as he scans the group of law enforcement gathered to receive the profile. “He stalks his victims in the city, often on the weekends when night life is busiest. He’s charming. He has no problem approaching women because he views himself as a deity and carries himself with the arrogance and confidence of one. He’s white, in his early to mid 30s, good looking, charming, and likely has a career that would’ve provided him with medical training.”

A female detective with short blonde hair sticks her pencil in the air. “How do we know that?”

“The incisions made on Regina’s body were clean, precise, and showed no signs of hesitation,” explains Rossi. “The M.E. also informed us that the hepatic artery was clamped off, meaning,” Rossi hesitates before continuing on, “meaning Regina Mansford was alive as her liver was being cut from her body.”

An uncomfortable murmuring breaks out. Hotch raises a hand, silencing them. Your mouth goes dry and you swallow, hoping your team doesn’t notice the way your eyes dilate when you look at him and the silent way in which he can command a room.

“This is why we need every available officer on the streets. Increase units in the downtown area. Have plain clothes officers on the streets. That’s where we’ll be. Thank you.” Hotch tucks his head and sweeps out of the bullpen, the rest of the team trailing after him into the conference room.

“Where do you want us?” asks Morgan as you shut the door to the conference room.

“Reid, I want you here working the geographical profile. See if there’s anything we missed that could bring us closer to a precise location where he’s kidnapping his victims. Rossi and JJ, I want you to go back to Sarah’s apartment and see if we missed anything that tells us where she was exactly on the night she was kidnapped. Derek and Emily take the north side of downtown.” He inclines his head toward you. “You and I will take the south side.”

His eyes linger on yours a moment longer than they ought to have. You dip your head and swiftly exit the room, jacket in hand as you prepare to brave not only the frigid Michigan cold but working one one-on-one with Hotch. This had been going on for months; subtle looks, brief touches where his fingers would slide over yours while passing off a case file…yet a part of you still wasn’t sure if it would ever go any further than that. You spend so much of your time with the team, it would be so easy to mistake one gesture for something that it wasn’t. Yet you knew that wasn’t true. You know behavior. You’re trained to recognize the subtlest of shifts in demeanor and body language and you know exactly what is going on.

You jump as someone pushes through the front door of the precinct. Emily’s gentle laugh disrupts your rumination. “Sorry,” she says, “I didn’t mean to scare you.”

She moves to stand closer to you as she zips her jacket. “The guys went to grab the cars.”

You nod and shove your hands in your pockets.

Emily arches a perfectly manicured brow. “What’s up?”

You school your expression and feign nonchalance. “Nothing, I just want to catch this guy before he hurts anyone else.”

Emily’s brow furrows and then straightens, a glimmer of knowing in her eye. “Something tells me there’s a different guy on your mind.”

Your heart skips a beat and you nearly choke on the crisp winter air. “What? I don’t—“ Your words falter as Derek and Hotch arrive, the SUVs humming to a gentle stop at the curb.

Emily eyes you, a sly smile curving one side of her red lips. “We’ll talk later.” She winks and steps forward to open the passenger side door, sliding inside and disappearing into the dark interior.

As you turn to move toward the SUV, Hotch is there, opening the door for you. The gesture surprises you, but it shouldn’t. He’d been doing little things like this for weeks now. You nod your head in thanks and as you turn your body to slide past him, his hand catches your hip. Your breath hitches in your throat as his fingers glide against the small of your back, guiding your movement into the vehicle.

His hard eyes meet yours as he shuts the door and you’re grateful for the shadows inside the car as you feel your face flush bright red. Hotch slides into the driver’s seat with ease. He shifts the car into gear and pulls onto the road, heading in the direction of downtown.

After a few minutes, you open your mouth to disrupt the silence, but his cell rings. Hotch answers and places it on speaker as JJ’s voice floats through the receiver, “Hotch, we think we’ve got something at Sarah Walters apartment.”

“What’s that?” you ask.

“There’s a sticky note in her trash can,” a garbled sound echoes through the speaker as she shifts the phone. The sound of paper crinkles as she reads, “Tony’s at 9, does that mean anything? Has Garcia come across a Tony in any of her research into the victims’ lives? Maybe an Anthony?”

An image of a neon sign flashes across your mind’s eye. “It’s a bar,” you say matter-of-factly.

“A bar?”

“I remember seeing the sign on our drive-in. It’s a bar on the south side of downtown. That could be where he’s meeting these women.”

“We’re only a few blocks away, we’ll head there now. Thank you, JJ.” He hangs up and slips the phone into his jacket pocket.

“How do you want to play this?” you ask.

“We go in, make observations, see if we can identify anyone that matches the profile.”

You smirk and a small laugh escapes your lips.

“Something funny?” Hotch asks, his voice low in his throat.

You purse your lips, pausing before you proceed. “If we go in looking like feds, we’ll scare this guy away.” You tilt your head, considering. “Well, one of us anyway.”

A slight twitch in his brow is the only indication your words have just barely gotten under his skin. “Touched a nerve, sir?”

As the traffic light ahead blinks red, he eases the car to a stop. He breathes out slowly, the amber glow of the stoplight reflecting in his eyes. In less than two heartbeats, he thrusts the car into park and with both hands clasps your face, drawing you in to kiss you with such fervor white spots dot your vision. It takes a moment to process the heat of his mouth on yours and the way his tongue slides between your lips, and before you can truly reciprocate the light turns green and he pulls back, his breathing ragged against your mouth as his forehead touches yours. “Be careful when and how you choose to call me sir.”

Before you can exhale, his eyes are on the road again and you’re driving deeper into downtown.

“Understood,” and then you add, almost imperceptibly, “sir.”

A small smile quirks at the corner of his lips, but he says nothing more as you approach your destination.

It's nearing 9:30pm when you pull up on the street parallel to Tony’s. People trickle in and out of the bar in groups of twos and threes; most are young, in their mid to late twenties.

“Right,” you say as you unbuckle your seatbelt and turn to exit the vehicle. “Stay here.”

“Excuse me?” Hotch asks, reaching over your lap and grabbing your wrist to stay your hand from popping the door open. Your breathing stills and he just barely turns his face toward yours. “Since when do you give me orders?”

Unsure where the confidence to challenge him comes from, you lean in near his ear. You swallow once before speaking. “I think you like taking them.” Feeling incredibly brazen, you nip at his ear once and as the unexpected gesture disarms him; flick your wrist out of his grasp and pop the door open. You slide out of the car and are immediately greeted by the frigid January air eliciting goosebumps up and down your arms. Extending an arm overhead to hang on to the frame of the SUV; you lean down into the cab of the vehicle. “I’ve got you right here,” you say as you tap the hidden earpiece. “Let me know if you see anyone from the outside that fits the profile.”

Hotch eyes you and there’s a fierceness in his gaze. You wonder if he’s thinking of how he’ll ultimately retaliate for your little role reversal now that he’s gone and upped the ante in this little game of cat and mouse. “See you soon,” you wink and slam the door shut.

As you approach the bar, you make sure your coat is buttoned in a way that hides your sidearm and credentials from sight. The bouncer doesn’t even pretend to ask for an ID as you approach and move through the front door with ease. As you cross through the threshold, your senses are assaulted by the smell of beer on tap, the sharp tang of liquor, grease, and an amalgamation of perfumes and colognes.

Immediately you begin scanning the room. You note the layout of the bar: three exits for patrons, the one you just came in through, one near the bathrooms for cigarette smokers, and an emergency exit on the far right wall near to the kitchen. There are three pool tables all of which are occupied as well as three dart boards along the far wall. Groups of friends engage one another and dates carry on without a hitch. You approach the bar, which is centered along the far wall. Stools line the high countertop and behind the bar, two women work to fulfill the never-ending drink orders. You approach the bar and slide into one of the empty seats, relaxing your shoulders as you do so, and order a rum and coke that you don’t plan on drinking.

After a moment the bartender drops a cocktail napkin in front of you and places the drink on top. You thank her and stir the contents of the drink with the swizzle stick popped inside.

“Is this seat taken?” an unfamiliar voice causes the hair on the back of your neck to prickle and you know immediately that it’s him.

Painting on a saccharine sweet smile, you turn toward the voice. A white man, standing at about 6’2”, is smiling down at you. The neon lights behind the bar reflect in his blue-gray eyes and his honey blonde hair falls in soft waves to his shoulders. “Please,” you say demurely and gesture toward the seat. You tell him your name and continue smiling.

“Ronan Carlson,” he introduces himself as he slides in beside you and adjusts the lapels on his leather jacket, a fake Rolex peeking out from his sleeve. He’s preening, you think to yourself. The bartender approaches from behind the bar and he smiles, the curve of his lips the opening act of his charming performance. “I’ll have what she’s having, thank you.” He pulls a roll of cash from the inner pocket of his jacket, flips through several bills, and pulls a $100 bill free before sliding it across the counter to her.

The bartender’s eyes widen in surprise and he winks at her. She nods her thanks and turns to make his drink.

“That was very kind of you,” I say, stirring my drink for the thirteenth time.

He shrugs and tips the baseball cap he’s wearing down over his eyes and you know it’s to obstruct the view the cameras have of him. “It’s only money, and I think I may have made her night.” He inclines his head toward the bartender whose head is bent close to the other woman’s. She’s smiling wide and shows her the $100 bill.

Internally, you roll your eyes hard, but externally you smile and look at him from beneath your lashes. “You must have a great job, what do you do for work?”

His hand flexes as he sets his drink down on the counter and you note the two chunky platinum rings he wears on his right hand. There are symbols etched into them offset by different colored stones, but you don’t want him to catch you staring as he answers, “I’m in business for myself these days,” he says with no further explanation. “Though I used to be in the military.”

You feign surprise, though you were hopeful he’d continue to divulge information. “The military, wow. Let me guess,” you pause and allow your eyes to slowly scan him from head to toe. You remember the profile. “Army…medic.”

“Reign it in,” you hear Hotchner’s voice through the earpiece. “Be mindful of how much you reveal to him. Don’t let him know you know more about him than he’s letting on.”

You watch him assess you and your read into him. One blonde brow creeps up toward his hairline and that wicked smile curves his lips again. “Excellent guess, how do you figure?”

Leaning on to your forearms, you push your drink aside and slide your hand over his and you don’t miss the way his fingers tense at your touch.

“It’s the hands,” you say coyly. “You look like you know how to handle yourself.” He relaxes under your touch and a heat ignites in his eyes that makes your stomach churn, but you don’t let it show on your face. “You look like you know how to handle a lot of things.”

He licks his lips and turns the ring on his finger. “Tell you what,” he says as he picks up his drink. He places the glass to his lips and downs its contents. “Why don’t we get out of here?” He looks down at you from beneath dark lashes. “And I’ll show you just how much I can handle.”

You stand up and flash him a grin. “Let me quickly freshen up and I’ll meet you out front.”

His lips quirk into a smirk, “I’ll meet you in the parking lot.”

You smile as you slip away toward the bathroom. As you push through the crowd you inform Hotch that the unsub is on his way out.

“There’s a line growing out the door,” he answers over the earpiece. “Does the description match the profile?”

“To a T,” you answer as you push past a couple with their tongues in each other's mouths. The amount of patrons has increased dramatically over the last hour. The volume of the music makes it hard to hear through the earpiece. You push your way into the restroom and are surprised to find it empty. Fortunately, the outside noise is muffled. You begin to describe Ronan’s appearance and note the jacket and hat he’s wearing. “He’s wearing two oddly shaped rings,” you add. “I think it’s what’s caused the unusual injury to the victims’ faces.”

“I’ve got him. He’s cutting through the line toward the parking lot.” You hear the car door open and slam.

“Got it, I’ll be right there.”

“Good work,” Hotch says over the open line.

You smile to yourself as you unbutton your jacket, glad to be on the receiving end of his praise. For a split second you wonder what else you could be on the receiving end of if you continue to play this game with him. After the case, you remind yourself. Priorities. Priority number one is getting this sick bastard off the street, and he’s right here within your grasp. You shoulder the door as you reach for your gun, positioning your thumb over the rotating hood to dislodge your weapon from its holster.

Over the speakers, an employee is calling to celebrate someone’s birthday. The crowd is distracted and pushing toward the source of celebration. The bar erupts into an off key rendition of Happy Birthday but you don’t hear it as 30,000 volts of electricity course through your veins. Your muscles spasm and lock up as you fall forward. Pain radiates from your abdomen in waves that crash over you again and again. You try to tell your body what to do as strong arms catch you and pull you into a chest that smells like cigarette smoke, but your limbs don’t cooperate. You feel his nose root into your hair as his lips find your ear. “How’s that for capable?”

As he shoulders your weight and steers you out through the emergency exit you hear Hotch’s voice in your ear. “It’s not him!” There’s an edge of panic in his voice as he says your name. “Do you copy? It’s not him. He gave another man $500 to wear his hat and jacket into the parking lot. It’s not him. Do you have eyes on him?”

Dark spots the edges of your vision as he drags your dead body weight. You try to focus all of your ability on getting out any words that can signal to Hotchner what’s happening, any at all but your mouth feels like it’s filled with cotton.”

You hear the tinkling of keys and a door slide open. Pain rattles through your skull as he throws you into the back of whatever vehicle he’s operating. Pain slices through your wrists as zip ties slice through the skin there. Through tunnel vision you see him leering at you. He’s backlit by the streetlights.

As his fist flies toward you, you finally manage one word.

“Aaron.”

•

When you come to, the first thing you feel before the splitting pain in your head threatens to cleave your mind in two, is cold.

Your mouth is dry, but as you move to lick your lips you realize you can’t because there’s a gag in your mouth. You try to move your hands, but they’re bound too. Zip ties cut into each wrist, securing them at your sides on the legs of a wooden chair. When you try to shift the chair, you learn that it’s bolted to the floor and your legs are spread open; zip ties at your knees and ankles keep them apart. Except for your bra and underwear, you’re naked. He undressed you. You feel the wound from the stun gun before you glance down at your stomach and see the two bloody pinpricks in your abdomen. You feel your heart rate increase as panic begins to set in. Do not panic , you tell yourself as you take a steadying breath. The minute you start to panic, you’re dead. You close your eyes and piece together the last dredges of your memory.

Tony’s. Sitting at the bar. The unsub. Ronan. Hotch was in pursuit. And then there was just pain.

Hotch.

The pain in your skull is overwhelming and you’re not sure if you can feel the earpiece anymore.

“Hotch,” you attempt to say through the gag. “Hotch, do you read me?”

You close your eyes as hot tears brim along your lash line when there’s no response. The signal is out of range or the unsub found the earpiece and removed it.

A door creaks open on squeaky hinges and your eyes dart toward the source of the sound. Ronan walks through the door with a sick smile on his face. As he saunters toward you, he rolls the sleeves of his flannel up to his elbows. Without looking away from you, his arm drops to his side and he scoops a folding metal chair with one hand, carrying it with him as he edges closer to you.

You flinch as he cracks the chair down in front of you, forcing it open. He chuckles as he takes a seat. His eyes skirt the length of your body and you wish any limb were free to deliver a blow to his smug face.

He reaches into his back pocket and withdraws your badge. He flips it open and holds it up to your face, the way his eyes flit between you and your credentials makes your lip curl.

“An FBI agent,” he says slowly. He slaps your credentials shut against his denim-clad thighs. “Hot damn!” he shouts and whoops. He throws your badge to the wayside and it clatters against the cement floor. “I’m going to take my time with you.”

It could’ve been hours. It could’ve been minutes. The torture is unrelenting and the pain is unending. Your chest heaves as you brace yourself for the next surge of electricity. Ronan, if that’s even his real name, twists the knob on the amplifier and taps the jumper cable clamps in his hands together. He smiles when he hears the buzz of electricity between them. As he presses them into your thighs, you cry out in pain as the shockwaves paralyze your body and mind and the pain overwhelms you.

“YES!” he roars as he pulls them away from you. He’d taken his flannel off, but now he peels off his t-shirt, balls it up, and uses it to wipe the sweat off of his face.

With the voltage no longer coursing through your veins, you slump forward, chest heaving as your scrambled brain fights to stay alert.

He drops the cables and clasps your face in his hand, forcing your chin up to meet his wild eyes. “You just don’t quit, do you? You're special.” He strokes your cheeks with his thumbs as if he cherishes what he’s doing to you. “You are worthy of a god.”

When you come to Ronan is watching you. He’s leaning forward, elbows on his knees, chin resting on his clasped hands.

“She wakes,” he muses.

You glare at him and his brow pinches. He purses his lips together like he’s been stung, but his eyes are alight with amusement.

“You,” he says, gesturing up and down your body, “look beautiful.”

You don’t need to look down to know the number of bloodied burn wounds spanning the lengths of your legs. If you couldn’t keep track of any other thought, the count was all that kept you grounded. There were ten. Five on each leg. Your wrists and ankles bled from the way you’d pulled against them with every shock he delivered.

He reaches forward and this time you don’t flinch. He hooks two fingers into the gag and pulls it down over your chin, his fingers trailing your lips as he does so.

“Here,” he says, bringing a bottle of water to your lips. “Drink.”

You clamp your lips shut and turn your face away. He laughs and shakes his head. “Come on now, don’t refuse me. That’s not how you show gratitude when a god shows you mercy.”

You muster as much hatred into your stare as you focus your attention back on him. “Mercy?” you hiss, and your voice is hoarse from screaming against the gag. It hurts to speak. You pull against your restraints. “This is what you call mercy?”

“I’m only testing you to see if you’re worthy,” he says by way of explanation. "You've lasted longer than the others."

“Worthy of what?” you ask, but you already know the answer.

“To be my Hera.”

“How is what you’re doing to me, what you did to those other women, going to help you find her?”

“They weren’t worthy,” he answered. “They couldn’t take my power like you could, my lightning. They were false. They needed to be punished.”

He leans in, his lips close enough to yours that you can feel his smoky breath on your skin. “But you, you deserve to be rewarded.” Your skin bristles at his words. His lips find your jawline and you grimace as he drags them up the side of your face. When he pulls away, dried blood flakes onto his skin.

“Don’t be afraid,” he soothes as he smoothes your sweat-drenched hair away from your face. “You’ll enjoy it.”

Unable to suffer any more of his poisonous bullshit, you rear your head back and slam it forward. Pain explodes behind your forehead, but it’s worth it to hear the satisfying crunch of his nose breaking. He roars in pain and clutches his bleeding nose. White light blinds you as he backhands you and curses your name. His ring splits the skin of your cheek open. The force of the blow causes you to bite your lip and you feel your teeth cut into the chapped skin there. You spit blood at him, angering him further.

“You are false!” he screams, spittle flying from his mouth as he shoves the gag back into your mouth. “You are not her!” He moves to pick up the jumper cables, twisting the knob of the amplifier all the way up causing the bulbs overhead to flicker. You know this is it. If he touches you with those, it will kill you.

Bracing yourself for the killing blow, you go to the grave knowing you did not give in to this bastard.

It never lands.

Instead, three shots ring out and he’s falling to the floor dead at your feet. As the unsub’s body falls, Hotchner’s frame comes into view and a choked sob escapes your lips. He holsters his weapon and runs to you. Emily and Morgan are right behind him. Morgan passes Hotch a Swiss Army knife from his pocket and he makes quick work of the zip ties binding you to the chair. From the corner of your eye, you see Emily turn off the amplifier and check Ronan’s pulse.

Unable to hold yourself up, you fall forward into his ready arms, letting yours fall over his shoulders. Hotch drops to his knee to support your weight. “You’re okay,” he says as he pulls the gag free from your mouth and you sob into his chest. He smooths your hair back from your face, his eyes assessing the damage done to you. Blood stains his shirt, your blood.

“Morgan, your jacket.” Hotch orders.

Without hesitation, Morgan unfastens his bulletproof vest and unzips his jacket. He passes it to Hotch who drapes it around your shoulders in an attempt to preserve some of your modesty.

“I need a medic!” he shouts before directing his attention back to you.

Your eyes waver as you try to keep them open. You lock in on the depths of his warm brown eyes. “You’re going to be fine,” he says but his voice sounds far away.

“He wanted someone to be his Hera,” you say weakly.

“Don’t worry about that right now,” Hotch soothes.

You swallow and it hurts your throat to do so. Your lips crack open, “You found me.”

Hotch cradles your head against his chest. “Of course I did.”

You wince as the sound of a gurney crashes into the room, the metal wheels squealing as it draws near. Your head swims as you’re swept into the air and laid out on its cushiony bed. A light shines in your eyes and voices are overlapping. Blindly, you use what strength you have left to drop your hand off the side. Unable to focus your attention on where he is, you know he’ll hear you. “Don’t leave me.”

And as you lose consciousness, you feel his hand slip into yours.

“I’m not going anywhere.”

•

A steady beeping fills your ears as you slowly come to. Your eyes feel bruised and you don’t think you have it in you to open them, but you feel something around your wrists and bolt upright. Pain crashes over you in a wave. It was a dream. You’re still bound in that basement. The beeping increases, growing louder and faster. Someone says your name and you feel hands on your shoulders. You try to swing your fist and are surprised when your arm follows through and makes contact with flesh. Did you break through the zip ties? You hear your name again, clearer this time. A man. He’s asking you to stop, to relax.

“It’s me,” he repeats and says your name again. “You’re safe. You’re in the hospital.” He says your name again. “It’s me, it’s Aaron.”

You stop fighting and blink hard. Hotchner’s stern face comes into view, except there’s concern wavering in the depths of his brown eyes. His brow softens as you relax. A small smile turns the corners of his lips. “Hey there,” he says. A nurse rushes into the room and he raises a hand, “We’re fine, here. Thank you.”

The nurse looks at you and you nod. She looks unsure about leaving but ultimately relents. “I’ll let the doctor know you’re awake.”

Aaron cups the back of your head in one of his hands and gently begins to lower you back down onto the pillows behind you. You allow him to guide you and feel the tension ease from your muscles as your back sinks into the surprisingly plush hospital pillow.

As the adrenaline wears off, you’re finally able to take stock of your injuries as the pain quickly makes itself known. You feel your pulse beating in your skull, pounding at your temples, eyebrow, and cheekbone. With shaky fingers, you touch the places where you remember the unsub striking you. You feel a thick bandage taped over your right eyebrow and steri-strips over your cheek. Your lip is swollen from where you bit it.

Bandages encircle your wrists and there’s an IV stuck in your hand. You’ve been dressed in a hospital gown and the sheets are drawn up to your waist covering the burn wounds. You don't have to see them to know how bad they look. The pain is telling enough.

“Is he dead?” you ask, lowering your hand back down to the bed.

Hotch’s lips form a tight line. “Yes.”

You blink back tears as that information sinks in. “Good,” you whisper in a choked voice. You blink and allow your head to loll to the side. A colorful bouquet of roses and carnations dotted with plastic ladybugs and butterflies sits in a clear vase on the side table.

You smile, “Garcia?”

Hotch smiles in turn. “It was tough to convince her to go home and get some sleep, but I promised her I wouldn’t leave you alone. Even then, it was still a hard-fought battle.”

You chuckle and wince as the movement irritates your injuries.

Hotch telegraphs his next move, and you know it’s to avoid startling you. He cups his hand over your uninjured cheek and strokes the skin there with his thumb.

“I’m sorry I wasn’t there,” he says, and his voice sounds tired and pained. “I should’ve gone inside with you.”

“Hotch, don’t.” You reach up and wrap your fingers around his wrist. “Don’t do that to yourself. He didn’t know I was with the FBI until after he took me. If you’d been there, he might’ve pegged us as law enforcement and taken off. He might still be out there and we’d be finding another dead woman in a matter of days. You know I’m right.”

Hotch closes his eyes and heaves a heavy sigh. “I could hear you.”

“What?” you whisper. You try to sit up and wince as the movement stings the wounds in your legs and abdomen. Hotch stands and helps adjust the pillows behind your back before sitting back down in the chair at your bedside.

“Not for very long. He drove out of range, but I heard him speaking to you. I heard the blows land. I heard your head smack against the floor when he threw you in the van.” He stops and shakes his head. “I felt so helpless. I was afraid. I couldn’t get to you, just like,” his voice catches in his throat. “just like I couldn’t get to Haley.”

Your heart breaks for him as he speaks. You reach for his hand and take it, squeezing it. “Aaron, you did get to me. You saved my life.”

He clears his throat and swallows. “Yes, but we were almost too late.”

“But you weren’t,” you state, your tone firm. “Aaron, look at me.”

He hesitates and inhales deeply before lifting his gaze to yours. The corners of his eyes soften as he meets yours and you smile. You gently tug his hand, “Come here.”

Hotch glances toward the door and then back at you, “The doctor—“

“Isn’t going to do shit,” you finish. “I’m the one that endured hours of torture. Pretty sure I’m allowed some close comfort.”

He lets out a shallow laugh. “Yes, I suppose you’re right.” Standing, he shrugs out of his suit jacket and drapes it over the back of the chair. With one hand he loosens his tie until he’s able to pull it up and over his head. He tosses it onto the chair and circumnavigates the bed, assessing the best way to join you on the small mattress.

You groan as you slide over. Hotch reaches out to stop you but you silence him with a pointed look. “Mind the IV,” you say as you pat the space beside you.

Hotch acquiesces, using the tips of his fingers to raise the IV drip enough for him to slide into bed beside you. He slips an arm around you and drops the feed. It falls across his torso. The feel of his arm around you is comforting, like a security blanket, like safety. You relax into him, and rest your head on his chest. His lips brush against your bandaged brow.

“Not quite how I imagined we’d first be sharing a bed,” you joke softly as you nuzzle in deeper against the wide plane of his chest.

You feel him smile against your hair. “Only you could joke at a time like this.”

“If I can’t laugh at what’s happened, I’ll never be able to close my eyes at night.”

“Well, if that’s the case.” He rubs the bare skin of your arm in small circles. “I’ll be there until you can.”

You turn your head to look at him then, your heart full. This is happening. His eyes are on yours and you push yourself toward him ever so slightly. He closes the small gap between you and presses his lips to yours. It wasn’t hungry and primal like the kiss in the car. There would be plenty of time for that later. This kiss was light, tender…healing.

“Sir, I’m sorry. I tried to go home, I really did but as soon as I got there I—” Garcia’s voice abruptly cuts off. You look up and her initial look of surprise turns to one of abject joy.

You feel your cheeks flush as Emily and Morgan appear in the doorway behind her. Morgan’s eyes widen and Emily’s brow arches as a smile curves her lips.

“I, uh, brought backup.” Penelope giggles. She remembers she’s holding something. “And cookies! I couldn’t sleep, so I baked. I figured I could bribe you into going home and getting some sleep.” Her words leave her mouth at a mile a minute. “I thought you’d fight me on it, so I brought some muscle.” She gestures with a tilt of her head. “They’re the muscle.”

Morgan exhales and points a finger at you and Hotch. “Can someone explain to me what’s going on here?”

Emily elbows him and he drops his arm. She takes the tray from Garcia and walks it over to the side table where she places it next to the flowers. She winks at you as she turns back to Garcia and Morgan. “It’s about time,” she says.

Penelope laughs as she hooks her arm in Emily’s. “What's it been? Two, three months?”

Morgan guffaws. “Months?”

Penelope pats his face with a ring-adorned hand. “My sweet oblivious profiler. Come on, hot stuff.” She takes him by the hand and leads him from the room. Emily shakes her head and laughs. “Men.”

“Safe to say the team knows.”

Hotch releases a breathy laugh and kisses your forehead again. “I know what will be the first thing on the agenda at tomorrow’s debriefing.”

•

6 weeks. It had been 6 weeks since you’d pressed the elevator button that would bring you back to the office. The weight of your gun feels right where it sits upon your hip, your gait more familiar to you now than when it wasn’t holstered to your side. You nervously adjust the grip on your go bag. You’d packed and repacked it the night before.

This morning as you were getting out of the shower, you stared at yourself in the mirror. Your cheek had healed nicely though the skin on your brow that had been split by the unsub’s ring had scarred, severing the tail end of your eyebrow from the rest of it. The ligature marks around your wrists and ankles had healed and the skin was smooth once more. The stun gun had scarred your abdomen, but all that remained were two purple pinpricks of scar tissue no bigger than the size of an infant’s thumbnail.

Your legs are a different story. The front of your thighs are an array of mottled scar tissue. One burn had gone so deep that they’d needed to graft skin from your calf to salvage it. The wounds no longer hurt physically, but you’d woken up from nightmares on more than one occasion.

You were never alone though. Garcia worked remotely on secure laptops with VPNs as often as she was able. Rossi brought you home-cooked Italian at least twice a week and talked with you over numerous glasses of red wine. Reid brought black-and-white foreign existentialist films that you didn’t understand, but his enthusiasm as he watched made you happy all the same. Emily and Morgan brought coffee and donuts as often as they could and Hotch…if he wasn’t at the office or visiting Jack, he was with you. On several occasions, he brought Jack. Jack would sit on the bed beside you, playing with his toys, narrating the adventures of his action figures as Aaron stood in the doorway, smiling. At night, when you had woken in a cold sweat, Aaron was there with a washcloth to wipe it away. When the bandages had stuck to your burn wounds and it felt like your skin was being peeled apart, he got your pain medicine and helped change the dressings, holding you until the pain had passed.

You blink as the elevator dings, signaling you’ve reached your destination. You take a deep breath and smooth down the front of your blouse as the door opens wide. Everything looks the same, yet everything feels like it's changed as you approach the desk you occupy perpendicular to Emily’s. A smile crosses your lips as you see the Welcome Bac k card on your desk. Two vases of flowers sit behind the card. One is almost exactly like the one from the hospital so you know it’s from Garcia. The other, a bouquet of purple tulips, has a note attached to it. You open the note and read it.

Glad to have you back. Things haven’t been the same around here without you. -AH

Hotch. You should’ve known. You smile and tuck the note into your purse.

“Hey, hey, look who’s finally decided to get her ass back to work.” Morgan’s charming laugh is followed by Emily chastising him.

“Ignore him,” she says as she places a steaming mug of coffee on your desk.

“You’re a godsend,” you say by way of thanks and take a long drink. Two sugars, no milk, just the way you like. “Wow, Emily, that’s perfect. I needed this.”

“How come you don’t remember how I take my coffee?” Morgan asks pointedly.

She shrugs, “Chicks before dicks, Derek.”

You sputter and choke on your coffee.

“Look,” he says as he pats you on the back. “Her first day back and you’re gonna kill her.”

At that moment JJ passes by with a file in hand. She raises it in the air and gestures to the conference room. “We got a case.” She smiles at you warmly. “It’s good to have you back.”

Together, you, Morgan, and Emily enter the conference room where Reid, Hotch, and Rossi have already gathered. Once you’re all sat, JJ begins presenting the case. You review current victims and why the Sacramento Police Department has invited you onto the case

“Sacramento PD is expecting us this afternoon. We’ve got a long flight ahead of us. Wheels up in thirty, understood?”

A chorus of ‘yes sirs’ echo throughout the room. As the team gathers their belongings and moves to leave, you wait for Hotch to catch your eye. You wink at him before mouthing, “Yes, sir.”

[define-uninhabitable]

belly aches is such a universal experience i hate it

[todays-xkcd]

IMO the thymus is one of the coolest organs and we should really use it in metaphors more.

Organ Meanings [Explained]

Transcript Under the Cut

[A graph is shown with X and Y-axis without arrow or ticks. To the left of the Y-axis and below the X-axis there are labels with an arrow pointing up from the top of the Y-axis label and an arrow pointing right above the X-axis label, just beneath the x-axis.] Y-axis: How well I understand what it means when used in metaphors X-axis: How well I understand its actual biological function

[On the graph is a scatter plot with 13 labels. Each label is written inside a line that goes just around the words. There are most in the top right corner, but they are spread all over the graph. Here in approximate reading order from top left with indicating of where on the graph the words are located:] [Top left:] Appendix [Top middle:] Nerves Spine [Top right:] Heart Bones Stomach [Center left:] Liver Spleen [Center right:] Lungs [Bottom left:] Thymus Pineal gland [Bottom middle:] Kidneys [Bottom right:] Tongue

[moonastrogirl]

Signs and Body parts related to them + attributes

Aries = head (brain, hair, face, eyes), adrenals, blood pressure

Taurus = neck, shoulders, throat (and voice), ears

Gemini = arms, fingers, heads, hands, lungs

Cancer = chest wall, breasts, some body fluids (uterus)

Leo = heart (blood, veins), spine, upper back, spleen.

Virgo = abdomen, intestines, gallbladder, pancreas, liver, digestive system (stomach)

Libra = lower back (butt/nyash), hips, kidneys, endocrines

Scorpio = reproductive organs (vagina, penis), pelvis, urinary bladder, rectum

Sagittarius = thighs, legs

Capricorn = knees, bones, skin

Aquarius = calves, ankles (Archiles heel), blood vessels

Pisces = feet, some body fluids (lymphatic system)

If you have any health issues look at where they are located in your body then start healing yourself by using the energy of the sign related to it. Exercise also that part of the body to strengthen it and make it heal naturally.

Work also on what the sign means to heal the sign.

Aries = Authenticity (True self)

Taurus = Self support

Gemini = Self thinking

Cancer = Self feeling

Leo = Self love (Courage)

Virgo = Self analysis

Libra = Balance of self (Confidence)

Scorpio = Self desire (Sexual energy)

Sagittarius = Vision of self (Self protection)

Capricorn = Usage of self

Aquarius = Knowledge of self

Pisces = Self belief

[reasonsforhope]

"The Environmental Protection Agency (EPA) finalized a rule Tuesday [April 9, 2024] that will require 218 chemical plants to reduce toxic and carcinogenic airborne pollutants, aiming to reduce the number of people with elevated cancer risk by 96% nationwide.

The rulings principally address chloroprene: used to make rubber products, and ethylene oxide, used primarily for sterilizing medical supplies. Long-term exposure to these chemicals and their manufacturing have been identified as possible carcinogens, or cancer-causing agents.

According to a report in the Washington Post, this can include lymphoma, leukemia, breast cancer, and liver cancer.

Across a strip of Louisiana and Texas where half of the 218 chemical manufacturing facilities set to be affected by the new regulations are located, cancer rates of these kinds are substantially higher than national averages, leading it to be colloquially called “Cancer Alley.”

EPA Administrator Michael Regan visited Cancer Alley during the open-comment period of the proposed ruling, and said that across the 85 miles dotted with communities, he failed to meet a single person who didn’t know a loved one or friend who had either developed cancer, died of it, or knew someone who had.

Once implemented, the ruling will reduce more than 6,200 tons of toxic air pollution each year, according to the Post."

-via Good News Network, April 15, 2024

[cybermanoloart]

The last video of the plant month serie! Exactly one week late but oh well 😅

We're two sisters collaborating on this video serie

@cybermanolol is in charge of the art and the editing 🎨 📽️ and @_chalulu_ is the one doing all the plant research and she's also the voice 📝🗣️

@_chalulu_ my sources are:

- Le régal végétal by François Couplan

- Cueillette buissonnière dans le bocage, usage populaire des plantes sauvages en Thiérache - Pays de Chimay. Edition 2020.

@cybermanoloart I've seen lots of paintings of dandelions, so I searched for a way to make one that was truly mine and original. @_chalulu_ is a little disappointed that it doesn't feature the plant more predominantly, but I wanted to showcase the dandelion's ability to grow into the most hostile of environments. What do you think about it? Agree with my sister, or do you like this Idea?

Choose your harvesting location well:

Do not enter private property and never harvest in a protected area. Also avoid roadsides or polluted sites.

Be sure to correctly identify everything you pick so as not to damage a rare species or poison yourself.

When in doubt, abstain or call someone with the relevant competence.

Harvest plants sparingly, only where they are abundant and never collect too much.

Take only as needed and do not pull out the entire crops.

Wash before eating.

Carefully sort and wash the crop. Be careful, only cooking can prevent certain diseases or parasites such as echinococcosis or liver fluke.

[himegureisu]

family ties pt.i

Summary: your father is your boyfriend's boss' boss' boss.

---------------------🔍---------------------

“Where are you?”

His deep voice reverberated through the speakers of your phone. Your sleep-addled mind couldn’t comprehend the urgency that accompanied those three little words as you waited for the espresso machine to finish.

“What, no hello, how are you?” you murmured, a soft chuckle followed by a heavy sigh forced your precaffeinated brain to start up its’ processes, “What am I chopped liver?”

“I’m at the BAU’s pantry in Quantico,”

“That’s good,” he sighed in relief, as the agents scattered around his office secured the building, “I need you to stay there for the day, okay?”

“Okay,” you conceded.

There was a tinge of fear in his voice that only you could detect after years of being his only child. These weren’t situations you’d dare question especially when he is who he is and you are who you are.

“Are you okay?” you asked.

With your coffee at hand, you walk in the bullpen to your boyfriend’s office, one ear on the phone and the other listening to the BAU’s greetings as they come in for the day.

“I’ll be okay when my agents confirm you’re there and staying there, baby girl,” your attention briefly diverted as Aaron stepped in accompanied by Penelope in his office where you’d set up a remote working station for the day, “I love you, stay safe for me, okay?”

“Okay, I love you too,” you said. Their notice was garnered by those words as you followed up. “Update me when the situation deescalates, okay?”

“I’ll come see you after,” he informed me and ended the call, as Penelope and Aaron ended their conversation. “Thank you, Garcia,”

That’s when the panic kicks in. They didn’t know who he was, even Aaron didn’t know yet. You would rather they didn’t know, but that day is inevitable, and it seems that the time is almost nigh.

“Is it okay if I spend the day here?” you asked. His immediate response came to be, “Yes, of course,”

His work and yours made you very busy bees and kept you often apart than together. That’s why he jumped at every opportunity he can get to spend time with you. However, that didn’t mean your sudden request didn’t warrant any concern.

“Is there anything wrong at work?”

“No, that was Dad,” you exhaled. His eyes widened at the words because you don’t speak of him very much but when you do there is affection and regard, “Do you remember my stories about him?”

“Yes, you often spoke about how it was you and him against the world,” he reminisced your animated stories in the car rides on the way back home when you’d pick him up from cases, “You don’t see each other as much as you’d like because of his job,”

“There’s a significant threat assessment against him,” you elaborated, as he placed the papers on his table, “I need to stay at a secure location. Is it a case day?”

“No, we’re doing paperwork today,” he answered.

His forehead wrinkled in deep thought, the facts he knew about you, the vague stories, and the profile he tried so hard not to build when you met came. The pieces to the puzzle that was your family slowly came together when agents appeared by the elevator on standby no doubt for further instructions.

“Your father is Deputy Director Walker,” he breathed in, as the gravity of the fact settled in, and reclined, “That’s why there’s a car constantly on your tail. Your personal security detail,”

“Those agents downstairs were the ones in the car,” you pointed out as if that would decrease the weight of the secret you revealed. “There’s only two. I managed to convince him from four.”

“Aaron?”

His face pensive and for once you were afraid of what he would say. This was the only secret you kept from him after almost a year together. This wouldn’t tear you both apart. Would it?

“I understand why you kept that from me,” he sighed, as you waited for the other shoe to drop, and closed the blinds on the windows that faced outside, “However, I wish you told me earlier and not because your hand was forced,”

“I didn’t know when to,” you shrugged, as he joined you on the floor in front of your laptop, and tried to smile, “I can’t just insert into conversation hey my dad is your boss’ boss’ boss’.”

“That’s why I don’t fault you for holding out so long,” he smiled, as you leaned on his shoulder, and wrapped an arm around your waist, “Are there any other things I should know about?”

“No, I can’t think of anything else,” you answered, as he kissed your cheek when you remembered, “Oh! He’ll drop by later,”

“We’ll manage,”

[b1asho]

Species number two: Rossetians!!

Rossetians are a mid-sized species that evolved in an area roughly the size of Europe, and have less extreme regional differences than other species, usually only having some vatiation in skin pattern, color, and snout shape.

They aren’t exactly adapted to live in water, but there were enough water obstacles around that they developed some useful traits like nostrils in the top of their head and semi-webbed hooves.

Their skin is thick, dry and rough, closer to scales. This bars moisture from coming in and leaving. The only place they have hairlike structures is in/around the pouch/genitals for oil secretion and for neonates to pull on to drag themselves into the pouch after birth (meaning they see hair as private and even lewd).

they use their heat-sensitive nose pits and sensitive pronged tongue to navigate low visibility places like tunnels and dense vegetation, and also to locate food and other resources that are hidden in crevices.

Their tongue in particular replaces their sense of smell, and is able to detect minute chemical changes in the air. It’s pretty long, and slides back into a hole a bit in their mouth/throat when closed.

They also use their four wide set eyes to scan more open areas, and while they have good close and far vision, they cant see in the dark and have poor color vision.

Rossetians share our iron based blood, using a large molecule that is contained in cells. It retains oxygen for much longer and in higher quantities (closer to erythrocruorin in size and effectiveness.) it is a very dark red when not oxygenated and turns a much brighter red shade than human blood when exposed to oxygen.

It is very very stable, can operate at a wide range of temperatures, and helps them manage in oxygen scarce environments between the pockets of oxygen in their tunnels (however, they can’t tolerate low oxygen for long, and need warm temperatures and abundant oxygen function well).

The high quantities of oxygen their blood can carry helped fuel them when fleeing predators, but at other times the large size of the molecule means that it takes a lot of energy to pump it around fast, and it already brings a lot of oxygen per molecule, so normally they have a slow heartbeat and metabolism. It also has anti-inflammatory properties, all of these things potentially leading to their longer natural lifespans.

This iron based blood developed because their environment was very heavy in metals, particularly iron. There were also a lot of other toxins just hanging around in the air, water, and soil. They have a very strong liver and other specialized glands and processes to help them metabolize and expel metals that they take in, it they can tolerate a lot more metals in their body than a human could (they’re very hard to kill via poison, toxin exposure, or drugs) . they actually incorporated it into more of their body (namely their horns and teeth, and for coloration of skin). Like limpets, they have metal in their teeth, making them extremely hard and strong (used for scraping off algae, moss, and lichens from rocks and crushing nuts and tubers) this also partially accounts for the color of the teeth, though some still have white teeth due to less pigmentation. Their colors vary less due to sun exposure and more due to the content of elements around them.

Rossetians were originally prey animals, with their horn and extremely thick skin/fat layer being their main protection from predators. (through selection over the years, their horns have become a bit more ornamental, though they’re still plenty sharp). They developed sapience due to their overkill sensory prowess, letting them spend less time scanning and more time thinking. Eventually, this combined with their cooperative herd structure/domestication of food sources to advance their intelligence to modern day.

As herbivores, they eat predominantly plant matter, though some also consume dairy due to a similar “lactose tolerance” mutation as humans for the taste and nutrients. They eat small and frequent meals for steadier energy to make up for their slow metabolism.

They are endotherms, though mainly due to their thick fat and skin layer helping them to trap heat. Without this, they aren't nearly as good as humans at regulating their own temperature, though they can still shiver and pant to try and regulate (they cant sweat).

They have a total of 6 teeth, two in the front and four molars in the back.

Their food tends to be boiled or otherwise processed in some way to make it easier to get energy and nutrients faster with their otherwise slow metabolism (so they can stay on the go for busy city life)

They are viviparous and can reproduce any time of the year like humans, but they lack a true placenta. infants instead develop in a pouch of skin on the mother where they drink milk.

Their pouch opens like an American opossum, and their children will stay in and out of it for a while even a little after they’ve been weaned (eventually, they get too big.) They stay in there for the first year or so, and will then start exploring outside in their ‘toddler’ stage before eventually being able to walk on their own.

They have a centaur-esque body plan that allowed them to free up a front set of arms and support brain development while also being able to lower themselves to the height needed to navigate the volcanic tunnels they lived in and move quickly. The only important thing in their front "torso" region is a small cluster of nerves that helps handle some of their sensory information.

4 of their 6 limbs are for walking while the front 2 specialized for object manipulation, with the two digits on the sides slightly turned inwards and able to be used almost like thumbs. None of them are very good for gripping since climbing wasn’t part of their evolutionary history (though all of them are also slightly webbed, especially the back ones, since swimming was helpful to them in their environment)

Their soft lips and similarly shaped mouth make it very easy for them to replicate human language, though their tongue and teeth sometimes get in the way (and makes it harder for humans to speak their language, since some noises require the use of two or four prongs of the tongue at once).

They can see a color spectrum similar to horses or deer on earth, which is why their clothing is often dull or monochrome besides the stitched patterns. However, since it was useful for them to be able to see some color variation to tell if a plant was poisonous or not, they can see reds/greens a bit better than Prectikar, who have a similar colorblindess range.

While they can't see red, they still incorporate it into their clothing since to them it registers as a nice green to accent the blue and yellow. To us, it looks red.

They have very homogeneous cultural traits because for much of their history, they have valued unity and have been joined together under one Empire or another (most recently, the same guys who got to the Prectikar). However, similar to cultures across, say the British isle, they still have unique quirks from their regional heritage.

Males have a horn with a unicorn-like front spike and a considerably longer tail, while females lack the horn projection and also have a pouch. Unlike other species, they actually have similar sex and gender roles as human men and women, though a bit more pronounced than current humans due to their society’s particular emphasis on family units in politics and economics.

They also have stricter nudity and propriety standards year round, with traditional conservatives barely showing anything more than their face out in public.

They show marriage through pierced ears. They typically have one partner for life.

Most of their clothing is heavily layered with lots of dresses and cloaks to give them a feeling of security when in public, like a weighted blanket or something to cover their shape so they feel less exposed. Many also cover their sensitive ears when in crowded spaces.

Most of their brain is in their head, but they have 2 smaller clusters to help deal with other sensory information and leave more room for thinking in the main brain. The clusters are located between their front arms (protected by the larger vertebrae and collarbone/shoulder blade their arms connect to up there) and their pelvic girdle.

When interacting with other species, they are known to be very timid and insular among themselves. Unfortunately, xenophobia has a very literal meaning to them since most other species have traits that they instinctively find unsettling as former prey animals, like sharp teeth and claws (similar to what happens when you see a snake or spider, even if you know it won’t or can’t hurt you most people still feel fear). Without proper socialization for both parties, things can get awkward very fast.

[therealcocoshady]

Hi coco , I don’t know if your still doing requests if not juts by past this .

Fem reader x Marshall

Reader is some sort of celebrity and her and Marshall’s sex tape gets leaked

SECRETS OUT - ONE SHOT

Eminem x Celebrity Reader

Author’s note : Thank you so much for your request. I Hope you like it ❤️. I thoroughly enjoyed writing one shots and HCs so if you have requests, feel free to send them to me in my Ask.

Synopsis : You’re a prominent influencer, having a secret relationship with Em for years. None of you intend on making it public… until your sextape gets leaked.

When you started dating Marshall, the two of you had a serious talk about how important it was to him that your relationship remained private. He knew that you shared a lot of your life online - hell, it was kind of your job as an influencer - and respected it, but he was adamant about not being featured on your social media accounts and YouTube channel. You respected his wish. To be honest, you were a little relieved : your last relationship had ended because of public scrutiny and you didn’t want history to repeat itself. Especially since the person you were dating was a megastar. No offense to your ex, who was still a very successful influencer, but next to Marshall Mathers, he was chopped liver. If publicly dating someone with ten million YouTube followers was hard, you couldn’t imagine how it would be if everyone knew you were dating Eminem.

You actually did a good job at keeping your followers and his fans in the dark about your relationship. To everyone, the both of you were single and, even though they were rumours about the two of you dating other public figures, you had never been linked together. No one expected you, a twenty-something fashion and beauty influencer to date Eminem. From the looks of it, you didn’t have much in common and didn’t run in the same circles.

So your relationship flew under the radar for years and you even managed to get married without the public knowing. You had the most beautiful wedding, held in a secluded location with only your closest friends, with a lot of logistics and NDAs involved. Everyone joked that you had to be the only influencer who didn’t share the most important day of their life on social media. Especially when the wedding was so insta-worthy. A few years ago, you would have been a little bummed about it, but being with Marshall kept you grounded and reminded you that not everything was meant to be shared online. If anything, the secrecy of your wedding and the « no phones or camera allowed » rule allowed everyone to enjoy the moment instead of focusing on filming it or snapping pictures of their plates or outfit. That didn’t mean there were no pictures taken though. The only person who immortalised the wedding was the photographer and, though guests were sent the pictures, they were asked not to share, and everyone respected your wishes.

Just because the two of you didn’t share pictures online didn’t mean you didn’t take plenty. In fact, your phones were full of cute selfies of the two of you. At the beginning of your relationship, he often made fun of your habit to try and immortalise moments, but he ended up getting into it. When the two of you met, he was still using an old BlackBerry and took the crappiest selfies, but you managed to turn him into the perfect Instagram husband. In fact, he was the one who helped you do your daily outfit posts and he was more than decent at telling you how you should pose. And if he was a bit judgy of influencers at first, he had come to understand your line of work and your love of fashion. He was extremely supportive of every thing you did and his eyes were gleaming with adoration when he was watching you film your videos, though he still liked to tease you.

One evening, during your honeymoon, you found him filming himself in the mirror as you walked out of the bathroom in your finest, sluttiest lingerie.

- What are you doing ? You giggled.

- Immortalising the outfit. So, it’s simple, the boxers are Givenchy, fall collection… care to share yours ? He chuckled as he pointed the phone to you.

- So tonight, I’m wearing a gorgeous Dita Von Teese set, you said as you posed and played along. We have this gorgeous corset, and the panties are amazing, too…

- Turn around and show the back, babe, he instructed. You’re gorgeous.

This became a little game that you played during the whole honeymoon. Each night, Marshall filmed you in your lingerie, under the pretense that he wanted to remember your honeymoon as vividly as possible. This made you laugh and you let him. It started as « innocent » « outfit of the night » videos but, on occasion, you both felt frisky and ended up filming a literal sex tape, or rather a series of them. Nothing especially elaborate, just one of you holding the phone while doing the deed, just for laughs. You didn’t even watch them after or think about it. It was really just the two of you clowning around, making fun of your own IG account and enjoying your honeymoon. Once you got back home, you didn’t keep it going and eventually came to forget there were videos of you and Marshall having sex on his phone. Until the videos were leaked, that is.

You had been married for about six months and enjoyed your weekly brunch with Marshall’s daughters when they suddenly went silent, after Stevie showed her sisters something on her phone.

- Oh my God, I’m going to puke, Stevie said.

- Girls, no phone at the table, Marshall groaned.

- Have you guys… seen the news ? Hailie asked.

- What news ? You asked back, a tad confused.

- The Pistons headline, Alaina said.

- What’s wrong with the team ? Marshall asked with a raised eyebrow.

The girls frowned and stayed silent for a second before handing the phone to the two of you. There was an article about you and Marshall, soberly titled : « Detroit’s ultimate Piston : Eminem sextape leaked (featuring influencer Y/N ». The headline was enough to make you want to die. The article wasn’t much better. It commented on the videos and showed a few screenshots of tweets reacting to the leak such as « Bro can’t take a decent selfie but you can trust him to point the camera at his dick correctly 👀 » or « Damn. He’s 51 but Y/N’s the one who’s gonna need hip replacement surgery with these trusts 💀». You and Marshall stared at each other while the girls were looking at you. You felt humiliated. Not only were the videos leaked online, you were confronted by your step-daughters - though they were old enough to be your sisters - about it. You looked down, absolutely mortified.

- Don’t watch these, Marshall told his daughters.

- Like we’d want to see that, Stevie pointed out.

- Really, guys, a sextape ? Alaina asked. Dad, you’re 51 !

- I’m going to be sick, you said as you left the table and headed to your room.

You heard Marshall calling your name but there was absolutely no way you could face anyone right now. Once you were alone, you anxiously checked your phone. Of course, everyone was in a frenzy. Your manager was texting you and your social media accounts were flooded. Both in the comments and your DMs, people were going crazy and talking about the videos. You already had a huge following, but it was something else entirely. You immediately called your manager, who was beyond pissed. Apparently, some brands you collaborated threatened to sever their ties with you. Of course, you getting rammed on video didn’t really fit in with your usual good girl image and it wouldn’t be a good look for them. Now, not only were you ashamed but you were also terrified. You had worked too hard for your career to crumble that easily.

- What should I do ? You anxiously asked.

- For now, nothing, she said. I’m going to consult with a few people to see what we can do for damage control. Though if I were you I’d get ready to film an apology video.

- I didn’t do anything wrong, you pointed out. These videos were not meant to be shared.

- You know how it is, Y/N. I’ll get back to you ASAP.

- Thanks, you said sheepishly. Talk to you soon.

When you hung up, you couldn’t resist the temptation to go and check other articles. Obviously, news traveled fast and you were now a trending subject. Marshall being the more famous of the two of you, his name was on every headline but, from the looks of it, you were the one whose reputation was suffering the most. While everybody seemed to praise his performance - and impressive physique - you were deemed a slut by the Internet. Even worse, some people were already making memes with your face and some rappers beefing with Marshall were reposting them. You had always been a « glass half-full » type of person but you literally wanted to die. In a flash, it seemed like you could kiss your career and reputation goodbye.

After about an hour, Marshall joined you in the bedroom and took you in his arms while you were sobbing.

- Hey, he said sheepishly.

- I-I’m sorry, you said. But I can’t go and face your daughters. I just can’t. I can’t face anyone right now, I-I…

- It’s fine, he replied before kissing your forehead. I sent them home.

- Im sorry, you said. I know how much family brunch means to you…

- As it turns out, having your kids lecture you about your leaked sextape isn’t as fun as people make it out to be, he said sarcastically.

You couldn’t help but chortle. Even in this type of dramatic situations, you could always count on Marshall’s dry humor. He placed another kiss on your forehead and wiped your tears with his thumbs.

- We’ll be fine, he said reassuringly. Don’t worry, babe.

- Why aren’t you freaking out ? You asked. You should be freaking out.

- Oh, I’m freaking out, he said. I mean, I’m livid. But on a practical level, I know people will forget about it eventually, you know.

- Easy for you to say, you pointed out. The Internet is raving about the size of your dick and commenting about how in shape you are for an older dude… meanwhile, people are calling me a slut.

- You’re not a slut, he said as he rolled his eyes.

- Tell that to the thousand of people calling me a rapper groupie or whatever that is, you groaned.

- Doesn’t matter, he shrugged. We both know that’s not true. You’re not a groupie, you’re my wife.

- Well I’m about to be a stay at home wife, you said with tears in your eyes. I had my agent on the phone and sponsors are already breaking contracts… I-I’m losing everything, Marshall…

The tears started streaming down again. Mentioning the situation out loud was upsetting, it only meant it was real. You were really on the verge of losing everything. Your husband knew better than anyone how much your career meant to you, the work you put in and everything you had invested to be successful. To you, it wasn’t just a job : it was your dream. You had always tried your best to have a pristine reputation as an influencer and stay out of drama but now, people were looking down on you and calling you names. And you dreaded the perspective of doing an apology video. It was humiliating. In most recent years, you had focused your content on beauty and fashion instead of your private life but now, it was up for public consumption. Marshall held you tight as you told him about the comments you received and how sad you were about losing collaborations you were looking forward to.

- You don’t need these people’s money, he said.

- You know it’s not a matter of money, you replied curtly. It’s never only been about money. It’s more than that.

- I know, he said. But look, these videos were stolen from us. And if these brands who put that much effort into building a so-called relationship with you drop you easily, it’s not worth it. They should be sending you flowers and publicly supporting you.

- You know that’s not how it works, you sighed.

- All I’m saying is that it’s unfair, he said. And I’m sorry you’re going through this. But I know you. You’re strong and you’re resilient. And your followers love you. You’re not going to lose your career over this.

- I’ll do my best, you shrugged. My agency wants me to film an apology video.

- Are they serious ? He groaned. You don’t have to apologise for shit. These videos were fucking stolen, Y/N !!!

He was clearly mad. Funnily enough, he seemed more angry over the unfairness of the situation than the fact that everyone could see him having sex on video. But then again, it probably had something to do with his reputation being pretty intact. Sure, that would probably earn him a few lines in diss tracks people might be tempted to put out, but there wasn’t much to be ashamed of, as far as he was concerned. First of all, the videos clearly made a good job of shutting down rumours about his size, and he still came across as someone who had sex. On the other hand, you were more visible on the videos and earning a reputation of an easy and slutty influencer, hungry for fame. Typical double standard. You cursed whoever had managed to steal these videos. And deep down, you were mad that they had been so easily stolen.

- Why were they stolen in the first place ? You groaned.

- What ? He asked. You know how it is… people’s phones get hacked all the fucking time. Whoever did that was probably hoping to get their hands on new music. Joke’s on them, though. We only function with CDs to avoid this type of leaks.

- Joke’s on them ?! You almost yelled. The joke is on me !!! I couldn’t care less about your CDs. No offense but I’d rather have your album leaked than my career ruined, Marshall !!!

- Sorry, he said as he nervously scratched his beard. Poor choice of word. Of course it’s worse. What I mean is… hacks happen all the time. Every month there’s a new story about a celebrity’s phone or computer or cloud being hacked.

- And I’m usually over here, making fun about people who don’t know how to protect their data, you said as you rolled your eyes. The most basic thing to do is to at least put this type of photos in a folder that requires double authentication.

- Double what ?

He looked at you with big eyes. Of course, he had no idea what you were talking about. « That’s what you get for marrying a dummy when it comes to technology », you thought. You didn’t want to get mad at him, but you were pissed. You rolled your eyes at him and let your head fall on the pillow.

- I have to go and call Paul, he said. We’re both going to have to do damage control. But we’ll be fine, I promise you.

- Mmmmh, you groaned.

- I’ll do my best to find whoever did that and sue their ass, he assured you. And whoever shares these videos, too. When we got married, I swore I would protect you and you best believe I’m making good on that.

- Thanks, you said sheepishly.

The following couple of days were especially tough. News had obviously traveled fast and everyone in your life knew about the videos. You thought facing Hailie, Alaina and Stevie was hard, but FaceTiming with your parents was even harder. You could tell they were disappointed, and mostly worried for you. Both of your management teams were trying to find the best way to get through it. Unfortunately, crisis management wasn’t the same for a rapper as it was for an influencer. Marshall’s team advised him to stay silent while yours was almost begging you to address the elephant in the room, preferably with your husband, who was an ogre about it.

- I’m not appearing in your damn apology video, he groaned. It’s stupid enough that you have to do one of these.

- I have to do what’s best for my career, you pleaded.

- You always said these videos were disingenuous, he pointed out.

- Well, yes, but what am I going to do ? You groaned. Disappear and kiss my career goodbye ? And I’m not you, Marshall. I can’t just ignore it and go back to posting videos as if nothing happened.

He hummed and you kept talking about it, trying to come up with a solution. You weren’t thrilled about the idea of addressing the situation and he was right : you had nothing to apologise for. And he was fully against the idea of standing next to you like a First Lady while you filmed something so silly. Of course, it turned into an argument. There was only so much pressure you could take. And you knew Marshall was doing his best and keeping in touch with his lawyers, but you were mad that he wouldn’t support you publicly.

- I’m asking you to stand next to me for a damn video, that’s all, you sighed. I’m not asking for the moon, here. You don’t even have to say anything.

- Then what’s the point in me being here at all ? He shrugged. We agreed that I would be kept out of your content, Y/N. That was clear from the start.

- Because everyone thinks I’m a whore ! You yelled. I was fine with people not knowing about us, but I am not fine with people calling me a rapper whore. And I am not fine with my husband not supporting me. You said we were a team ! You promised to care for me and protect me for the rest of our lives. Or were these vows just words to you ?!?!

You knew he would be pissed off by your words. He had always made it clear that his vows were absolutely serious and solemn. And you knew for a fact that he had put a lot of heart and thought into writing them. He didn’t say anything, just sighed and left the room. Obviously, you both needed to take time off because this escalated into an argument. You groaned and stayed in the bedroom, which you had barely left since the videos had leaked.

A couple of hours later, you went downstairs and found Marshall watching some boxing match on TV.

- Hey, you said sheepishly.

- Hey, he simply said.

- Look, I’m sorry, I…, you began.

- Don’t sweat it, he shrugged as he gestured for you to come sit on his lap.

You sat on him and watched with him in silence, enjoying the sensation of his arms wrapped around your waist. When the match ended, he turned off TV and smiled at you.

- I took care of things, he said.

- You did ? You asked.

- I did, he confirmed. You don’t need to film that stupid video.

- What did you do ? You asked with a raised eyebrow.

He seemed pretty sure of himself, proud even, and you tried hard not to show it, but you were still a bit doubtful.

- Check Instagram, he simply said as he handed you your phone.

You nervously checked your account. You were tagged in thousands of new posts. Only these weren’t posts of the sex videos. Your account was flooded with pictures of your wedding, posted by your friends and reposted by tons of fan accounts. Your closest influencer friends had posted the beautiful pictures of them with you at the wedding. Marshall’s friends had done the same : 50, Dre, Porter, Royce… everyone was posting about your nuptials. The most beautiful shot was the one shared by Marshall on his account : a gorgeous black and white shot of the two of you after the reception, holding hands and staring at the fireworks, captioned : « For better & for worse. Happy 6 months anniversary. ». Everyone was going absolutely crazy in the comments, not failing to show their surprise and mentioning that he was now following one account : yours. You looked at him, almost crying and took him in your arms.

- Oh my God, you said. I can’t believe you did this.

- Called in a few favors and asked our friends to post the wedding pictures, he said with a smile. I figured the Internet would focus on these rather than the videos. So far it seems to be working…

- You didn’t have to, you said emotionally. I know you wanted to keep the wedding a secret.

- I also wanted to keep our sex life secret, he chuckled. But I care more about you and supporting you. Now, everyone knows I have your back. Until death do us part. And if anyone dares come for you, I will end them. I promise.

- I love you, you said emotionally.

- I love you too, he replied before kissing you. I’m sorry I was grumpy about the whole thing. You were right, these vows were never meant to be just words. I want to put them in action.

You kissed him passionately and you both took a minute to enjoy the posts everyone made about your wedding, reminiscing about that special day.

- I’m happy I don’t have to make that stupid apology video, you confessed.

- Me too, he chuckled. I did make an apology though.

- You did ? You asked in surprise.

He showed you his IG story. A black screen with simple text - in true influencer fashion : « I want to take a minute to apologize about the videos that have been leaked. I am sorry if anyone was confused. They were misleading and I want to state that the boxers were actually not Givenchy but Calvin Klein. Sorry for the confusion. 👀». You chortled and kissed him.

- What ? That was the only thing worth an apology, he pointed out with a smile.

- You’re such a troll, you said as you playfully rolled your eyes.

You spent the following days in bliss, showered with love from both your followers and his fans. Everyone was going crazy about your wedding and, even though there were still mentions of the sextape, most of the attention was focused on your relationship. Both of your management teams were also happy to put the incident behind them, though now they had to deal with plenty of interview requests. However, you agreed that even though your secret was out, nothing would really change. You slowly got back to business. Though nothing didn’t really change for Marshall - who was always in hermit mode in the studio - you had a lot of new followers and tons of collaboration requests. The sponsors who had been quick to drop you even came back and attempted to suck up to you, though you absolutely refused to work with them again. You were in your home office, reviewing partnership requests when you came across the biggest offer of your career : none other than Calvin Klein wanted you to be the new face of their underwear campaign, offering you a shit ton of money. It was the biggest opportunity you had ever received but you were a bit nervous when you mentioned it to your husband.

- What do you think ? You asked after you brought it up to him.

- I think we’ve established that you look good in underwear, he grinned.

- Yes but that would be banking on our sextape, our relationship… would it be ok with you ? You asked.

- I’ll cut you a deal : I’m ok with you doing that campaign if you’re ok with me using your moans as ad libs, he said with a smirk.

- You can’t be serious, you giggled as you rolled your eyes.

- What ? He chuckled. We’re partner in life, we might as well be business partners.

[hogoflight]

thinking about a choose-your-own adventure game as one of the gods trying to disguise themself as a human (in modern Greece) and depending on the decisions you make, the more you narrow yourself down from Vague God who is Everything They Are, into one of their broad functions, into one of their broad functions w political alignments (maybe also depends on location in Greece?), into 1 or 2 local epithets as your choices become less and less broad.

with a more meme-y approach: If you go into Greek Ares, half of his options are like KILL or EAT RAW MEAT or LAUNCH THEM INTO THE STRATOSPHERE or MAKE LIKE YOU’RE HUNTING EVERYONE IN A 3 MILE RADIUS FOR SPORT.

If you go down Athens Athena’s path, all the options become ridiculously convoluted and passive aggressive and only sometimes useful to the situation at hand.

Apollo’s choices at the beginning being unfairly, disgustingly different from each other like “adopt them” “eat their liver then poison the water supply” “[vaguely appropriate verbal response but kinda sleazy]” “quote a Delphic maxim and / or vague prophecy and ascend through the roof (cost: €2,000)”.

[cyanide-cafe]

Rio Crane [Urbanshade Personnel]

SHE/THEY/HE [in order of preference]

71 Y/O, 28 in physical and mental growth

TLDR: makes clones if she's cut in half, spends her time researching everything. Extremely curious, friendly, and gets along with the beasts of the blacksite. See below the cut for Way Too Much Information, and her entire document!

Codename: "Endless," was a researcher for Urbanshade whom willingly participated in the IUTEOAK [Immortal Under the Edge of a Knife] program, simply referred to as the IUK program for further reference. The IUK program was an experiment to allow immortality in certain high-hazard Urbanshade personnel, started by Crane themselves in an attempt to rid themselves of chronic and terminal illness.

Crane's experiments were successful, resulting in symbiosis between Human, White Spotted Bamboo Shark, Flatworm, Nudibranch, and Portuguese Man ' o ' War DNA. These experiments resulted in loss of certain organs which her body no longer needed for general life, including her liver, gallbladder, pancreas, thyroid, kidneys, and lungs. It is noted that despite her Flatworm DNA, she still has a cardiovascular system, unlike modern flatworms.

The resulted immortality has a strange catch, as Crane's body rapidly deteriorates over a span of 3 years, generally dying at the end of the 3rd: however, if Crane were to cut off her head or her legs from her torso: and said half of her body or head is healthy: another instance of Crane would be able to separate from the aged body, re-starting the 3 year biological timer. It seems that Crane's immortality has a few catches like this, as if her brain is destroyed, a clone will die, reducing to an amorphous gel-like consistency that is extremely toxic within several days.

However, her experiment was deemed to be non-replicable: not because it is impossible to replicate, but the cost, dangers, and work put into making a single immortal being is too high to create several of these instances. Not only is the experiment hard to replicate, the side effects are varying in usefulness or straight up danger, and Crane herself seems to have certain anomalous features that Urbanshade has been unable to reproduce, most notably, the fact that her memories and senses are able to be transmitted between clones at will. This being said, Crane is anomalous, and should be highly monitored to prevent classified information leaking to unauthorized personnel.

It is noted that Crane has an especially high pain tolerance, as she only feels 1/5th of the pain a normal individual would: likely due to the 5 given clones of her that exist at any time: a clone in the Blacksite, a clone at another Urbanshade site, a clone in an undisclosed location, a backup clone in the Blacksite, and finally, her conscious clone. It seems that her consciousness flickers between these clones, and clones that are not inhabited are in a hibernation-like state.

Crane is capable of deadly stings with her "hair" and "tail fibers", more officially her tentacles and cnidosacs: that cause extreme allergic reactions in some individuals, and circulatory shock [and death] in others. It is noted that these stings are ONLY felt if personnel touch the tips of her hair or cnidosacs, and as such, are avoidable.

Her diet consists of animals in the Cnidaria family, certain jellyfish, and a vegetable/fish high diet. It is noted that while she does enjoy meats, she seems to prefer them on the.. fresher side.

Crane is not a dangerous encounter, rather a normally quiet, almost EXR-P-like employee. She doesn't speak much to Expendables, preferring to speak with or research the various dangerous monsters inside of the Blacksite instead. Crane's presence often indicates that a monster is nearby, however, and it should be kept in mind that if you see her, it's likely there's a much more dangerous threat arounds.

ADDENDUM: Crane was not originally a Blacksite employee, rather originating from a separate site entirely that preformed experiments on cadavers and willing individuals only. As such, it seems that Crane is disgusted with the Blacksite entirely. It is under debate whether or not Crane should be demoted or not after the Crystal [Z-1] has been recovered, as she is capable of spreading classified information throughout Urbanshade, or even to the public.

ADDENDUM 2: It seems that Crane's presence may also indicate The Saboteur [z-13] as well, and she can even be found [rarely] alongside him with his shop, asking questions he refuses to answer.

[bonkutoe]

nekoma hcs i've been dreaming up since before the movie came out:

- shibayama keeps a quote book

+ there are some absolutely foul, heinous statements in there.

+ he ends up passing it down to a first year before he graduates and has to explain uhh. quite a lot!

+ "um. why does yaku call kai babygirl" "how about we stop talking for a while!"

+ "'it tastes so good i would stick—' shibayama-san what IS this" "I'M JUST THE MESSENGER IT'S NOT MY FAULT"

- kuroo made a sliding scale diagram of every nekoma member from most to least catlike and refuses to accept any criticism

+ in order (as far as more relevant characters go) it went kenma, fukunaga, kuroo himself, tora, yaku, kai, shibayama, lev, inuoka

+ yaku in particular was deeply offended about his placement

+ "you're like if a dog could be a cat" "FUCK you how is tora higher than me" "well that's because he's like if a cat could be a dog."

- inuoka has a special handshake with everyone

+ the one with tora is the longest because they keep thinking of stuff to add and its really cool and not a distraction at all kuroo they promise

+ it's 40+ steps at this point

+ they keep having to restart because one of them forgets something

+ kuroo just wants to do serving drills and he's getting tired of asking nicely

- fukunaga can will and does fall asleep anywhere

+ like. anywhere. in a plane on a train on his desk at school on the floor in the library you name a location and i'd bet good money he's snoozed there. he fell asleep on the bench during a timeout once in the middle of a practice match. yaku found him in a cabinet one time

+ some under the counter door closed curled up shit. made it look like sleeping on a cloud too i'm sure

- speaking of fukunaga. he carries around one of those little party noisemaker things around with him so he can use it when something makes him happy

+ like those ones where you blow in them and the paper unrolls and it honks or whatever. you know the sound idk how to describe it

+ he's exploring creative methods of communication so he doesn't have to force himself to talk all the time :)

- every time kuroo sees a cat he HAS to meow at it, it isn't a question of if he will or not, he Has To. it's like a compulsion

+ it's the alternative to baby-talking them (which he also does sometimes)

+ when ppl send cat pics in the gc he types meow and hits send

+ he wants to be POLITE and say HELLO and since cats can't speak japanese, kuroo will speak cat

+ he gets down to their eye level too or at LEAST crouches. he doesn't wanna frighten them

- lev tried to keep the blood speech alive after the third years graduated

+ "ok we're blood--" "you're doing it WRONG" "WHATT WHATTTTT"

+ he tries to come up with something new but gives up bc he can't stop thinking of vital organs

+ "ok ok kenma i got it this time. so we're like the liver--" "tora i'm gonna kill this guy"

- touchiest volleyball team known to man

+ hugs, heads on shoulders or in laps, holding hands, shoulder touches, patting each other on the back or the head, arms around shoulders, cuddling at sleepovers they're doing it ALL

+ totally indiscriminate too. if you attend nekoma high school and join the boys' volleyball club you will not be touch starved i can tell you that

- you know how when you have a litter of kittens they all kind of sleep in a pile

+ this is a maneuver nekoma hits often, i think

+ it turns into a catch-all solution for like. anything

+ didn't get enough sleep? cat pile. finals are coming up? cat pile. forgot your phone at home? cat pile. it rained during the school day and you got the bottom hem of your pants wet on the way to afternoon practice? cat pile.

+ it sort of happens in the gym before/after practice just because it's the most convenient option, but it definitely happened in the bleachers after the dumpster battle too

[herohimbowhore]

2023 Special Helmets: An Analysis

Helmets are where we get to see the creativity and personality of drivers come alive. Not too long ago, I looked at and analyzed the normal helmets that all 22 drivers wore. That analysis was heavily focused on color because there isn't much room for creativity in those helmets and color is one of the main things that drivers can play around with to show their individuality and creativity.

However, with the special helmets drivers wear during the season, we see much more about the drivers and their creativity.

In the 2023 season, there were 23 events (with the 22 grand prix weekends and preseason testing) in which a special helmet could be worn, and with 20 drivers on the grid at any given event, there was potential for 460 special helmets. Obviously, every driver isn't going to have a special helmet for every single event.

However, there were 114 instances (that I was able to identify) in which drivers wore a special helmet. Or 114/460 = 0.248 = 24.8% Which is a far cry from the days were drivers were only allowed one special helmet per season.

Methodology

After combing through social media posts, news articles, images from race weekends, and different sessions, I was able to identify 114 instances in which the 22 drivers who participated in the 2023 season wore a helmet that was not their "normal" helmet. I went through this process approximately three times to ensure that I didn't miss anything, but I was doing a lot of this during the end of my thesis and finals time, so there might be some things I missed. In which case please do let me know.

All of this data was put into a spreadsheet:

The next step was to organize the data and find the meanings given by the drivers for why they wore the special helmets. This again meant more time for social media posts and news articles.

With the data gathered, there was a need for analysis. While the individual stories behind the helmets are very interesting on their own, they don't tell us much about special helmets as a whole.

The first method of analysis was the number of special helmets per driver. While it sounds straightforward, some drivers did reuse special helmets for more than one race.

The next method of analysis was the number of special helmets per event. Though in the spreadsheet, the Qatar GP and sprint are separately listed due to Pierre having two helmets that weekend, I did count it as one event because it is the only instance in which two helmets were worn in one weekend.

The last method of analysis was the reasoning for the special helmet. In this, the possible reasons for the helmet were considered. Essentially, what was the reason for having a special helmet - as it was given by the driver/team/helmet design?

For this last analysis, I created 21 different reasonings based on the data I had gathered during the research phase. Most of the helmets fit into more than one of the following reasons:

Host Tribute: The helmet heavily features a design related to the city or country they are racing in. It somehow is a tribute to the host.

Team Home Race: The helmet was worn during a race in which the team is somehow based. This could also be a main sponsor home race, i.e., Honda or Alfa Romeo.

Inaugural Race: The first time a race was held at the location.

Home Race: A race in the country that the driver was born in, races for, etc.

Sponsor Collaboration: A driver partnered with a sponsor and it is clearly visible in the design.

Vibes: There's no explanation that I could find.

Livery Match: The helmet features design elements similar to a one-off/special livery.

Team Milestone: The race is a major milestone for the team and the driver has some sort of tribute for it.

Tribute Helmet: The helmet is meant to be a tribute to someone(s) special to the driver. Could be F1-related people or people that are special in their personal livers.

Race Milestone: The race is a major milestone for the driver.

WDC: This one is just for Max Verstappen and the helmet he was gifted by Red Bull after winning the WDC in Qatar.

Artist Collaboration: The driver worked with an artist that was specifically stated.

Night Race: This was only used if I could not find any other explanation for the helmet, and it featured either glitter or chrome.

Race Beginnings Tribute: The explanation for the helmet somehow relates it back to the beginnings of their racing career. Color or design elements from first helmets.

Team Tribute: The helmet is meant to show love and appreciation for the team.

Movie Release Collaboration: The helmet corresponds to a movie that is soon to be released.

Honorary Home Race: While not the driver's home race, the country has become like home and/or taken them in as one of their own.

Investor Tribute: Helmet showcases something meaningful to a team investor.

Embodies the Samurai Spirit: Fernando Alonso's samurai tattoo and love for Samurai culture.

Comeback Race: This was only used for Daniel Ricciardo in Hungary because there was no other reason for the special honey badger on the back of his helmet and it quite clearly said "I'm Back."

Last Race: While Abu Dhabi was a night race, the helmet used during the race did not feature glitter or chrome. It was just a special design different from the normal helmet worn.

There was a caveat with the host tribute and team home race. A helmet that featured location-specific designs was either counted as a host tribute or a team home race. So a Haas driver with a special helmet In the US would be considered for a team home race, not a host tribute, whereas a Ferrari driver with a US-themed helmet would be considered a host tribute. Additionally, for the Las Vegas Grand Prix, special helmets were considered as inaugural race helmets, not host tributes. Unless it was for the Haas drivers, in which case it was a team home race and inaugural race helmet.

Analysis

How Many Special Helmets Were There Per Driver?

There were a total of 114 instances in which a special helmet was worn. However, there were not 114 different special helmets worn. In quite a few cases a special helmet design was repeated over 2 or more race weekends.

Max Verstappen wore a special helmet at 10 different race weekends, but for five of those weekends, he was wearing his WDC helmet. The WDC helmet was given to him after winning the championship during the Sprint race. It was then worn for the Qatar Grand Prix, in Austin, Mexico, Brazil, and Abu Dhabi. So while he wore a special helmet for 10 race weekends, there were only 6 different special helmet designs worn by him. Sergio Perez wore a special helmet at 5 different race weekends. Unlike his fellow Red Bull driver, he did not repeat a special helmet during the season. Each helmet had a distinct design to fit the race weekend.

Charles Leclerc wore a special helmet at 7 different race weekends, whereas Carlos Sainz wore a special helmet at 5 different race weekends. Neither Ferrari driver repeated a special helmet design during the season.

Lewis Hamilton had 2 special helmets during the 2023 season - the second least amount of special helmets for a driver who raced for the entire season. As such, he did not repeat any special helmet designs. Meanwhile, George Russell wore a special helmet at 3 different events. However, he only had 2 distinct designs as the special helmets for testing and the Bahrain Grand Prix were the same.

Lando Norris wore a special helmet at 7 different race weekends. However, he wore the same special helmets for Monaco and Spain, which happened to correlate with the McLaren Triple Crown special livery for those weekends. Oscar Piastri wore a special helmet at 5 different race weekends. Like his teammate, he wore the same special helmets for Monaco and Spain which correlated with the Triple Crown livery.

Esteban Ocon wore a special helmet at 11 different race weekends, which was the most special helmets worn by a driver. However, while he wore the most special helmets, Esteban did wear the same helmet for 4 weekends (testing, Bahrain GP, Saudi Arabia, and Australia). The Baku helmet was the same as his regular helmet, but instead of black lines, he had white lines. So, Esteban did have the most special helmets, it was largely due to a repeat of special helmets at the beginning of the season. There were only 8 distinct special helmet designs. Pierre Gasly wore 8 special helmets during the 2023 season. Each special helmet had a distinct design, Pierre even went so far as to have 2 different special helmets for the Qatar race weekend.

Fernando Alonso wore 3 special helmets during the 2023 season and was one of the few drivers who did not have a special helmet design for his home Grand Prix. Teammate Lance Stroll had 4 special helmet designs for the 2023 season.

Valtteri Bottas had 9 special helmets for the 2023 season and no repeats at any point in the year. He had the most distinct special helmets. Notably, most of Valtteri's special helmets were designed by professional cyclist and partner, Tiffany Cromwell. While Alfa Romeo had been largely forgotten during the season, Valtteri's helmets were extremely memorable with the fun and creative designs. Zhou Guanyu had 6 special helmets for the 2023 season and there were no repeats in special helmets. However, at least one design was the same as his regular helmet but with the colors changed to fit the race weekend.

Nico Hulkenberg wore 6 special helmets during the season. However, his special helmets for Austin and Las Vegas are seemingly the same helmet, while the Abu Dhabi helmet was his normal helmet but with chrome where it used to be white. Kevin Magnussen also had 6 special helmets for the 2023 season. Each helmet was distinct in its design, however like Nico, the Abu Dhabi helmet was his regular helmet with chrome details where it had been white.

Alex Albon had 5 special helmets for the 2023 season. Alex used the same special helmet for Silverstone and Hungary, otherwise the 799th and 800th races for Williams. Logan Sargeant had the least special helmets for a driver who participated in all 22 races with just 1 for his home race of Miami.

Yuku Tsunoda had 6 special helmets for the 2023 season. However, 3 of the special helmets were his regular helmet, but with different colors to fit the race weekends. Daniel Ricciardo had 4 special helmets for the 2023 season. However, he wore the Las Vegas helmet for Abu Dhabi as well. Nyck De Vries had 1 special helmet and Liam Lawson had no special helmets.

In the end, there were a total of 101 distinct special helmet designs worn in total.

How Many Special Helmets Were There Per Race?

For this analysis, there were a total of 23 weekends that a special helmet could have been worn - testing and 22 races.

Of the 23 weekends, there was only one event that had no special helmets from any driver. Austria was the only race without at least one special helmet for the entirety of the weekend. Considering that Austria is the home race for Red Bull and the race was at the Red Bull Ring, it was somewhat surprising to see that there were no special helmets by any of the Red Bull drivers.

The race with the most special helmets was the Las Vegas Grand Prix. It was the inaugural race and 16 of the 20 drivers had a special helmet for the race weekend that either fit the Vegas vibe or was glittery/chrome for the night race. A consistent theme was that the American races had the most special helmets. In Miami, 11 drivers had special helmets, and in Austin, 9 drivers had special helmets. I believe that this could largely be due to sponsors and a push towards engaging the US markets. Additionally, it was only the second race in Miami and COTA has always been a race that drivers/teams go all out for.

Also, notably, Qatar had 3 special helmets, but only 2 drivers due to Pierre Gasly having 2 different special helmets for the weekend. He had one for the sprint and one for the Grand Prix.

How Many Special Helmets Were There Per Reason?

As I mentioned above, 21 different reasons were given for wearing a special helmet. In most cases, there were multiple reasons or explanations for why a driver chose a special helmet for a race weekend. Some reasons were much more common than others.

Most commonly, drivers chose to wear a special helmet to honor the city or country they were racing in. These helmets had some sort of design elements that paid tribute to the city or country. So think of the Monaco helmets. A lot of them featured iconic parts of the city. For example, Valtteri Bottas' helmet, while Pac-Man themed had different parts of the Monaco track like the tunnel and piscine. Kevin Magnussen's Monaco helmet also featured iconic Monaco imagery.

The next most common reason was an inaugural race special helmet with 16 of the 20 drivers having a special helmet for Las Vegas.

Home races were also a very common reason for a special helmet, whether it was for a team home race (15), a driver's home race (10), or an honorary home race (2).

There were a lot of milestones celebrated this year for teams and drivers when it came to the number of races that they'd completed. Most notably, Williams reached 800 races, Lando Norris competed in 100 races (as did George Russell, while he did not have a special helmet for the occasion, Mercedes did release vintage-style merch that coincided with George's 100th race weekend), and Charles Leclerc reached 100 race entries with Ferrari the same weekend as Lando and George. While Charles did have a special helmet for the race weekend, it was not originally for that purpose. The original meaning behind his football field special helmet was a host tribute, but when his race milestone was brought up he attributed the green of the football field to Italian pop singer Gianni Morandi's green meadow where hopes are born and connected it to Ferrari.

Concluding Remarks

Special helmets reveal so much about drivers and what they deem important or worthy of a special helmet. Each special helmet is unique in its own way.

Something I found very interesting is that of the 11 drivers who wore special helmets in Miami, only Nico Hulkenberg did not have a hint of pink on his helmet. While still very Miami, he didn't have the iconic pink color that the other 10 drivers did. And while that can mean absolutely nothing, looking at that in context to his tweet about the pink Force India, it's a little bit more than just not having pink on his helmet.

Or based on Fernando Alonso's Japan helmet, you could go into the connection he's had with Samurais and his back tattoo and nickname.

These special helmets open new avenues to understanding how drivers think and which narratives they want to highlight. There may not be extensive stories to tell with each helmet, but a good chunk of them can take you down a few different paths to understand either the drivers or the teams that they drive for.

And finally, after looking at 101 different helmet designs, here are some of my personal favorites

Share your favorite helmets or least favorite helmets - I have pictures of all the ones used for this analysis in the Google Docs link attached.

Notes for Special Helmets: https://docs.google.com/document/d/1WWx8gVzkMzy_l6zwG0u1Vx2mAzPOjK3LqOLaz8z6v3w/edit?usp=sharing (I may have been a hater during some of my notes, but in my defense, I was tipsy and I'd looked at a lot of helmets and articles)

2023 Helmets Analysis

[dathomirdumpsterfire]

For fun, I wanted to think through which organs Darth Maul is actually missing. This gives us clues as to which bodily processes he just doesn't have anymore, which ones he's using sith juju to make up for, and what Talzin or Death Watch might've done for him with the prosthetics. To be fair, humans have about 70 to 80 possible organs systems (don't ask), but who knows what zabrak have, and where they truly are located. We can only guess.

✓ Means he probably has this.

X Means he probably doesn't have this.

O Means he probably only has some.

(Checklist and conclusions below the cut.)

✓ Adrenal glands (above the kidneys)

X Anus

X Appendix

X Bladder

O Bones

O Bone marrow (spongy part of the bone)

✓ Brain

✓ Bronchi (tubes in the lungs)

✓ Diaphragm (muscle of breathing)

✓ Ears

✓ Esophagus

✓ Eyes

✓ Gallbladder

X Genitals

✓ Heart ( 2 of them!)

✓ Hypothalamus (in the brain)

O Joints

✓ Kidneys

O Large intestine

✓ Larynx (voice box)

✓ Liver

✓ Lungs

O Lymph nodes

O Mesentery (Nerves, vessel, & fat storage in gut)

✓ Mouth

✓ Nasal cavity

✓ Nose

✓ Pancreas (hormones/enzymes)

✓ Pineal gland (in the brain- hormone production)

✓ Parathyroid glands (hormones, in the neck)

✓ Pharynx (back of the throat)

✓ Pituitary gland (in the brain, hormones)

X Prostate

X Rectum

✓ Salivary glands

O Skeletal muscles

O Skin

O Small intestine

O Spinal cord

✓ Spleen (big blood filter)

✓ Stomach

✓ Teeth

✓ Thymus gland (immune training, in the chest)

✓ Thyroid (hormones, in the neck)

✓ Trachea

✓ Tongue

O Ureters (Kidney to bladder tubes)

X Urethra

O Ligaments (connect muscles to bones)

O Tendons (connect bones to bones)

✓ Blood cells

✓ Hair (Uhhh... horns? I guess he has eyelashes?)

✓ The vestibular system (of the ear)

X Testes (unless zabrak locate them internally)

✓ Nails

X Vas deferens (testes to genitals tube)

X Seminal vesicles (semen fluid production)

X Bulbourethral glands (makes preejaculate)

X Penis

X Scrotum (if zabrak keep the testes externally)

✓ Parathyroid glands (neck, hormonal)

O Thoracic ducts (Where lymph flows into veins)

O Arteries

O Veins

O Capillaries

O Lymphatic vessels

✓ Tonsils

O Nerves

O Subcutaneous tissue

O Olfactory epithelium (nose)

✓ Cerebellum

Long story short, besides just his legs and genitals, Maul lost most of his digestive and urinary systems.

He actually kept almost all of his life-critical organs, so whatever sith voodoo he was doing to stay alive on Lotho Minor was probably focused on fighting off sepsis (due to the unclean end points of his digestive system. Remember he got cauterized by a lightsaber so assume he had to make... new holes. There may have also been some self-done surgery to reconnect what remained of his large and small intestines.)

The loss of his testes, if he indeed had human typical location for them, could have proven a growing problem, considering that they make 90% of a man's testosterone, and that's needed just to have normal amounts of energy.

The digestive track is also a problem, as the gut microbiome is where a lot of neurochemicals are produced. For example, 95%~ of the body's seratonin is produced in the gut. Lacking huge chunks of his small and large intestine means that Maul had poor absorbtion of nutrients, and probably needed to eat all the time just to get a fraction of the calories and nutrients from his food.

So. He lived on the edge of starvation due to a truncated digestive track, had low energy, mood imbalances like you wouldn't believe, and constant sepsis. I'm sure the acid rain being the only source of fresh water was also just, so helpful.

I assume, by the lack of black veins on him afterward, and (sort of?) stable mood, that talzin might've regrown some of his gut and fixed the end point issues. Later on, Death Watch (being mandalorians) might've given him more robust life support systems that included testosterone replacement and cybernetic genitals. Seems like what they would do for their own people.

Possible lingering complications? I assume he has a VERY weird relationship with food. He had spider legs for twelve years, so bipedal motion probably fails him sometimes. Back pain. Phantom leg pain. Nerve junction issues. Immune system weirdness (from all that missing marrow, and a long stint with sepsis). Issues storing fat. Talzin yoloed his brain back to sane-adjacent, so mental health is... I mean. Yeah. Triggers. Teeth prone to chipping and cavities (from malnutrition and acid water). Possibly goes to the bathroom once a day and urinates like a race horse. Issues with being touched, myriad phobias, and a squirrelly libido.

Did I miss anything?