#We need better air filtration

[thatonebirdwrites]

Trust me, you do not want LongCovid. I have it. A friend of mine has it. Her young niece has it. If you claim you don't know anyone who has it, it's either: 1. they don't feel safe enough to tell you, 2. people may not understand they actually have it because most doctors are NOT trained on recognizing the symptoms so people just think they're "tired" all the time and make jokes about brain fog or their sense of smell being funky.

To avoid it:

Vaccinate.

Wear an N95, KN94, p100 mask or better. This also will not only protect you from Covid and other airborne viruses, but it will also protect you from wildfire smoke, air pollutants, folks using too much Axe spray, and allergens.

Better air filtration.

Join or start up a mask bloc to help share info and supplies with your community.

That's our new normal. Grieve the world that was. Stop trying to go back to it. WE CANNOT. So please exit the denial stage of grief, okay? Being virus vectors is disabling and killing people. We don't have to get covid over and over and over. We have tools we can use. Those are bi-yearly vaccines, N95 or better respirators, air filtration devices. Normalize these. This is how you care for yourself and your loved ones. By doing the right thing and normalizing masking, vaccinating, and better air filtration. Thanks.

I just want to remind people that it’s 2024 and we didn’t “go thru a pandemic” we are “going thru a pandemic” present tense. It is still happening. People are still get sick, still becoming disabled, and still dying. Covid hasn’t gone away and I beg people to not normalize getting sick with it.

[chronicbitchsyndrome]

so... i'm seeing a lot of activism (like, actual activism, not just tumblr posts--letters & scripts to us senators, for example, copy written for press, etc) focusing on improving ventilation & filtration as primarily an access issue for immunocompromised people. basically, presenting the argument as "this is in service of this demographic, who is blocked from public access currently."

this is like. true. of course. it is the main reason i want clean air and i think it is the most pressing reason overall for it. but i think it's the wrong tack for building a clean air movement and getting legislation passed.

like, unfortunately, the vast majority of people in power--and of americans in general, tbh--are not immunocompromised and do not have immunocompromised roommates or family members. should you have to have this experience to understand that public access is a big fucking deal for, like, staying alive? no! you shouldn't! but most people straight up will not understand whatsoever unless they have personal experience with immune compromisation.

trying to change hearts and minds to have cognitive sympathy for disabled people takes a long time, decades' worth of work to just change a handful of people; meanwhile, getting legislation passed is 1) imminently important, 2) while still a lengthy process, takes significantly less time if it doesn't hinge on first converting the majority of the population to have sympathy for a marginalized demographic they have no contact with (and yes, they have no contact with us because we are barred from public access to begin with, again, i am aware of how fucked up this is).

here's some arguments for passing clean air legislation that are designed to appeal to a normative, conservative-leaning crowd:

air filtration is a public health and sanitation baseline just like running water. we provide clean water to drink and wash our hands in as a baseline for public life; we should also be providing clean air to breathe similarly.

improved ventilation and filtration in schools results in less sick days for students, meaning better attendance and less time off work for parents.

improved ventilation and filtration in the workplace results in workers taking less sick days. it also makes it less troublesome when a coworker comes in sick; it's less likely you will have to take sick leave as a result.

improved ventilation and filtration in hospitals, doctors' offices, etc, helps combat the health care worker shortage by reducing the amount of sick leave health care workers need. it additionally makes hospitals safer overall; for example, it makes it safer for cancer patients to be in the same building with patients with highly infectious airborne illnesses such as chickenpox.

improved ventilation and filtration in public buildings at large could improve the economy, as less workers stay home, more people enter the workforce, more people begin attending public businesses like bars and venues, etc.

if government programs to upgrade ventilation and filtration are created, this could create jobs for blue-collar workers, further improving the economy.

the last note i have is that, as much as this sucks shit, don't mention covid as much as you can avoid it. covid has become a massive culture war thing in the usa and as soon as you bring it up, the entire discussion becomes about virtue-signaling and showing in-group affinity--it doesn't matter what you're saying about covid, anyone who thinks "covid is over" will immediately shut down and become incapable of listening to anything else you have to say. and unfortunately, a majority of the population does, in fact, think covid is an irrelevant concern even for immunocompromised people in 2024.

importantly, all general air sanitation improvements will improve the covid situation significantly. in this context, you do not have to talk about covid in order to make real, material changes limiting the spread of covid. system-level changes that limit the spread of things like the flu and chickenpox are equally effective in limiting the spread of covid. take advantage of that!

[alex51324]

Now, more than ever, we need to be careful about spreading misinformation and rumors

I can guarantee that over the next few months, we'll be hearing about a lot of alarming things going on here in the US. Some of those things will be true, and some won't. (And some will have both true and false or exaggerated elements.)

It's going to be absolutely vital that important information is not drowned out by misinformation, rumors, and ragebait.

That means, when you see something that would be important if true, before sharing, you check whether it's actually true.

In library world, we use the acronym SIFT:

STOP: Don't spread the information, or get caught up in your emotional reaction to it, before you've checked it out. INVESTIGATE: Who is saying it? How do they know? If there are links or sources in the post, do they actually say what the person is saying they do? FIND other coverage: Do an internet search for key details: quotes, people's names, specific locations. If something major is happening, there will normally be a lot of coverage. TRACE claims, quotes, and media back to their original context.

Usually you don't need to do all four things: just STOP and then pick what makes sense from the other three. If you decide to share the information, you can also say what you did--"This is a firsthand account from XYZ protest; it lines up with what the local TV station is saying, but has a lot more details about what the cops did," or whatever.

The more urgent the information seems, the more important it is to make sure it's reliable.

If we're hearing every other day that this or that vulnerable group is in immediate, life-threatening danger--but 49 times out of 50 it turns out to mean Trump rambled somewhere about something which, if actually implemented, could end up having the described consequences at some point down the line--then people aren't going to know the difference the one time in 50 when the danger really is immediate.

Think, here, things like immigration crackdowns, CPS investigations into parents who affirm a trans child's gender, or demands that health care providers report miscarriages to law enforcement. We all know that these are things Trump World talks about a lot and would like to be able to do, in some form. For the sake of the people affected by these topics, we need different ways of talking about, "Here they are, back on their bullshit," versus, "This is a policy proposal for a real thing that could happen," versus, "Holy shit, grab the kids and run."

We cannot go to "Holy shit, grab the kids and run" every time Trump, or someone in his inner circle, decides to bloviate about something that could disastrously affect people lives. The people who are most in danger can't stay at DefCon 5 every day of their lives, and when they do really have to grab the kids and run, we need that alarm to be heard over the constant background hum of dread.

The same goes for action items--whether protests, ways to help, or little things people can do to stay safe/sane. There's going to be plenty going on, and nobody is going to be able to do everything, so do your part by passing along those things that you can vouch are true and important, and skipping the things you aren't sure about.

I'll leave you with an example. Remember how a few years ago, we were all-in about hand hygiene and disinfecting surfaces? And then it turned out that those were not actually very important in terms of preventing the transmission of COVID-19, and what we really need is better air filtration in public spaces--but, at my work at least, we still have canisters of surface-disinfecting wipes sitting around, and tattered old signs up about hand hygiene, and no air filters.

At the time, early in the pandemic, we were sharing the best information we knew about how to stay safe, but people got a little too fixated on that initial advice--remember how people would wipe down their groceries? And those little sticks for pressing elevator buttons?--and then when the advice changed, they didn't want to hear about it.

Distrust, fatigue, superstitious attachment to the old grocery-wiping ways--there were a lot of reasons, but the key thing to take away is that attention, energy, and goodwill are all finite resources. Try to avoid wasting it with grocery-wiping--or worse, shilling for the guy selling little sticks to press elevator buttons with.

[tiyawnyana]

Kinktober: Day 16

Toys

A/N: I just about screamed while writing this

Pairing: Lo'ak x (fem) Human character

Warnings: teasing, toys, vibrating egg usage, nipple play, finger sucking, clit stimulation, jerking off, mutual masterbating (in a way?), cumming on chest

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The halls to the old compound are messy. Chairs strewn about. Boxes torn open for supplies. But it still echoes as you toss things aside.

"Damn, the air in here is stale," Lo'ak complains behind you. He huffs, but is thankful that for once he doesn't have to crouch as he walks.

"Right? Terrible, I wish they'd at least fix the air filtration systems, we come here all the time to grab supplies," you grumble in annoyance, before stumbling over a stray chair around the corner,"Fuck!"

Lo'ak thankfully grabs you, big hand wrapped around your midsection as he snorts, settling you back on your feet.

"Ever the graceful one, huh?"

"Can you shut up, I just saw you trip over a branch yesterday, Spider monkey," you stick your tongue out, thankfully without your mask in the way. It lays strapped on your hip. You look up before sighing in relief,"We're at the bunks, thank fuck."

Lo'ak nods after chuckling to himself, then follows you through the doors.

"Norm said I'd have better luck going to the far left section to find some old clothes, you're welcome to just look around, I dunno," you shrug, turning to the left to search.

He whoops silently, then walks off to check some stuff out.

"Don't touch the control panels- Lo'ak! Listen-"

"Yeah, yes, don't touch panels, I gotcha!" He yells back, snickering.

You fondly roll your eyes before heading down the hall. You check a few old rooms, browsing the old photos some of the women had strewn up, or books they had kept to the side. You're able to finally find some useful things, sighing again in relief and packing it away in your big bag.

You check out a few more rooms, stuffing clothes into the bag. You enter the last room in that hallway and put the bag down before heading to the dresser, finding a fresh pack of socks and muttering 'Score!' under your breath, before shuffling through.

You're surprised to find an unopened package, a box, so you put it to the side and quickly scour through the rest of the dresser and shoving the clothes into the bag. You look back to that box, then shrug, moving back over to open it with your knife. You're greeted with plastic packaging, a device that has what seems to be Spanish words explaining it. It looks to be a little remote, with two wires connected to two little egg looking things. You tilt your head in confusion before cutting open the container, moving to press the on button but nothing. You look back at the packaging and read that it needs batteries, and you grin in relief at finding batteries in the original box. You pop them in, seal the top, then turn it on and jump as the little eggs vibrate in your palm.

You gasp loudly, realizing what they were.

You would find yourself occasionally tapping into some of the old downloaded videos, obviously by the horny military guys, but still. Videos of girls on girls, guys with girls, too many to count quite frankly but they'd sometimes use devices like this to help their partner cum. Or just to tease them.

Your face grows warm just as a dull arousal begins to pool between your legs. You think for a moment of how you can use this for your own fun.. alone..

"What's that?"

You yelp, tossing the toy to the side. It clatters on the ground and those eggs vibrate loudly against the floor.

"Lo'ak! What the hell!" You gasp, clutching over your heart as it races,"Gonna put a damn bell on you, I swear."

You huff, moving to grab the toy in hopes to silence it and drop the subject so as to not embarrass yourself in front of your friend, but he beats you to it.

The toy looks tiny in his big palm, vibrating a small tickle. He snorts, quirking an eyebrow at you in a questioning look.

"What is this?" He smirks down at you.

You have to think quick. Come up with an excuse, play it off, who cares! Just don't tell him what they are!

"I'm not sure, actually," you play it cool, rolling your eyes,"I was trying to figure out what it was with the packaging, but it's in another language."

You grab said packaging, eyeing it. He peaks at it as well before snickering.

"Aren't those images evidence enough?"

"Huh? What ima-" you cough, eyes widening as your cheeks darken with blush.

Of course the packaging was going to have a universal language of boob imagery, specifically nipple action.

Lo'ak cackles out a laugh, covering his face as you sputter out jumbled words.

"Lo'ak! Shut up!"

Your face is red in mortifying embarrassment. You try to reach up and snatch the toy out of his grip but he lifts his hand, continuing to snicker.

"Lo'ak, c'mon man," you smack his arm, wanting this to end,"Just- put it down and we can go-"

He suddenly stops to grin down at you, that shit eating grin embarrassing you even further.

"I want to see how they work, though."

"You obviously know how they work now, seriously?"

"I want you to show me."

You inhale sharply. A beat of silence passes and you grow more and more flustered.

"What do you m-"

"Show me."

And he lifts one of those little vibrating eggs and trails it from your collar bone, down your chest and over your covered breasts. Even through the thin fabric of your cropped tank top and sports bra, you can feel those vibrations over your nipple, which now firms up.

You gasp quietly, backing up into the dresser, clinging to the drawer behind you.

"Lo'ak- mmph, wait-" you plead, voice already breathless and whiney.

He swallows thickly, crouching before you and grinning in satisfaction.

"C'mon, tahni, it's not like you have any reason to be embarrassed," he coos, head tilting and ears flicking,"I just want to be taught of earthly pleasure from my dear human friend."

His voice has you clenching your thighs, hot arousal coiling between them. He presses that stupid little, amazing, egg against your other boob, somehow pinpointing where your nipple is.

"Bullshit-" you grumble, panting heatedly,"You ass, you just like teasing me-"

"Oh, I love to tease you, for sure," he leans closer, eyeing you closely. He takes note of your scent changing, arousal clear from your thighs,"But this is a golden opportunity for both of us to learn. So show me, c'mon baby."

Your blush is inescapable, as is his stare. He eyes you up and down; from the averting of your gaze to the clenching of your thighs, covered by the shorts he hates so much.

You huff outwardly, grumbling low to yourself,"Fine, learning time," and your tugging your tanktop over yourself, soon followed by your sports bra. Your chest heaves, nipples hardening up in the cool, stale air.

Lo'ak then oggles your tits. Bigger, rounder, softer than the navi women he flirts with. He gulps, wanting to cup them in his big hands and give them a good, sweet squeeze. He so badly wanted to suck those perfect little nipples into his mouth. But he stifles it, despite his cock hardening up out of his sheath.

The bulge is obvious, and you see it out of your peripheral before snatching the toy from his hand. He only watches as you fiddle with the settings and reset the vibrations to a dull buzz, building up only to dull again. You didn't want this extremely hot moment, with the Sully boy that you'd been pining over since forever, to end too quickly.

You breathe hard as you take one of the eggs, trailing around your areola, teasing yourself.

"Humans tend to build up with these, from the videos I've seen." Your voice is soft, breathy.

"I thought you didn't know what it was," he teases softly, eyes not straying from your tits.

"Of course I knew- just didn't want to deal with the embarrassment," you grumble, before gasping softly as you trail it over your right nipple. Your body jerks, not used to the sensation at all but you sigh in pleasure, eyes fluttering shut as you hold it over the bud for a moment.

"Put it-" Lo'ak swallows, clearing his strained throat,"Put it over the other one."

You grin lightly, listening as you again, tease yourself by trailing it lightly around, then pressing it over your left nipple lightly, then adding pressure as you circle around.

"Mmph," you bite your lower lip to stifle your noise, but Lo'ak cups your jaw surprisingly and presses down on your chin to have you release your lip.

"We're alone," he gazes up at you with unfiltered lust,"Let me hear you, how good it feels."

You nod dumbly, and much to your surprise, Lo'ak takes things a step further as he prods at your lower lip before pressing his thumb into your mouth with a low command of 'Suck,' and boy do you, like your life depended on it. You think you almost envision it were his cock instead; which, gazing down between his crouched thighs, looks to be thick and heavy. God, you'd never wanted something down your throat more than you did now.

Your tongue wraps around his thumb, coating it in your saliva until he presses down on your appendage, holding it there with that look in his eyes. That look that makes you whine lightly around him.

He takes his thumb out of your mouth, touching your lower lip soft, almost sweet, before bringing that hand down to your chest where he cups your right boob, groaning low in his throat. He swipes his spit covered thumb over your nipple, the coolness of it making you jerk forward in surprise before he grabs at the other dangling egg and brings it up; teasing lightly then over your now cold nipple.

You moan in surprise, gazing down at him in shock and he smirks knowingly. He decides then, that he's completely involved in this 'experiment' especially when he yanks your other hand away from your left tit, then sucks your left nipple into his mouth.

"Ghk- fuck! Lo'ak, shit, wait, ah!" You're surprised, hand trying to find balance only to grip onto his braids. The growl and groan he releases around the nipple he sucks hard over almost feels like a temporary vibration.

Your pussy is pulsing by now, needy and you can't help the occasional buck of your hips.

Lo'ak pulls back, a thin string of saliva connecting your nipple to his mouth snaps and Jesus, that was almost pornographic. He grabs the other vibrating egg from your hand and presses it onto that nipple, hard, and you yelp, whining breathlessly.

You almost shriek out a moan when he figures out the settings and changes the vibration to be quicker, pulsing for longer durations.

You cling to his braids, panting and whining for what feels like an eternity, but all too soon he yanks them back, grips your midsection and tosses you onto the bed behind him. He smirks down at you, then leans over to tower above you.

"Wonder if these can be used elsewhere," is all he says before he yanks your shorts down your legs, thankfully your panties are soon after as well.

He spreads you open and gazes down at your glistening cunt like you were his last meal.

You pant, groaning with little patience before huffing,"C'mon, Lo'ak," you whine out.

He pinches your thigh lightly and chuckles at your yelp,"Patience, tahni."

You huff again.

But thankfully, he picks up those eggs and teasingly trails them down, over your ribs and across your belly. Unfortunately enough, he decides he's going to be an asshole.

He trails them around the skin of your pussy, not actually touching anything and you growl in frustration.

"Lo'ak, I swear-"

"Patience," he coos, a shit eating grin on his lips.

"Just- do it already! Please!"

He playfully rolls his eyes, mouthing 'Fine' before crouching even closer,

One empty hand reaches up, spreading your folds and with a grin, peaks at your clit, and he very quickly nestles that little heavenly toy right up against that bud and you nearly shriek yet again.

God, those vibrations are perfect. Just beyond your fingers or even, embarrassingly enough, your pillow.

And Lo'aks fingers are big, you can't escape them especially when he roughly gropes your tits, pinching at your nipples to harden them up again.

"Oh, god- Lo'ak, dontstopdontstop," you plead, back arching and neck craning back and you jerk in pleasure. He rolls it over your clit, even fiddling with the settings again to change the pattern.

BZZZ, BZZZ, BZZZ, bzzzbzzzbzzz

It's rough then soft, building you up gradually and thankfully he teases your nipples again, rolling it over before leaning up to suck a nipple into his mouth, flicking his tongue over it then disconnecting to roll the egg over the spit slick nub. He repeats the action to the other, whilst still holding the other egg down hard on your clit.

You can feel it building up quick, too quick, you didn't want this to end but at the same time, if this was the only time something like this would happen, you needed to see his dick.

"Mmph, wait, Lo'ak," you shove at his hands, petting back his braids as you heave for breath. He gently takes the eggs off of you, surprisingly concerned.

"You alright, tahni?"

You grin lightly at the name, nodding quickly but clear your throat,"take off your tewng."

He looks surprised, evident enough in the way his ears perk up, but he listens and his tewng is tossed to the side quickly. You grab at him, poorly dragging him up to crouch on the bed but he gets what you're trying to do.

His cock is massive, and he grips the base, slapping it down over your pubic bone. You groan, gazing down at it with pure want.

Maybe you wouldn't be able to take it down your throat, but you're sure with some fingering and a lot of lube, you could ride him into next week.

But for now you put those thoughts on hold, a wild grin on your lips as you grip one of the vibrating eggs, grasp his cock in your palm, then press it against the tip.

He barks out a rough moan, body jolting against yours and you move up the bed with the force of it.

"Shit, shit, oh fuck," he moans, face pulled back in a pleasured grimace.

His hips roll against your body, cock rubbing across your belly as beads of precum drip down, leaving a mess over your skin. You can't help but moan at the sight.

He suddenly jerks back but thankfully still within grasp, grabs the other vibrating egg and nestles it right up between your folds to pulse hot against your clit again.

You moan loudly, bowing upwards before collapsing. You release his cock and he huffs, taking hold of your hand and bringing it back to his cock to hold that egg against the tip.

"Lo'ak," you drawl out in a whiney voice, blinking blearily at him.

He takes to lifting your thighs to wrap around his waist, hand going back down to press that toy harder against you.

You can't believe how unbelievably hot this is, breathing hard and moan at every single vibration at your clit.

Suddenly your thighs clench around his waist, your whole body tenses up as you grab at the blankets and shriek out a long moan. You cum hard, even somehow managing to squirt, coating Lo'aks thighs.

You breathe hard, vision blacking out as you slowly come back down.

He moans, whining lowly and your cunt throbs around nothing at that sound.

You whine, trying to reach down to move that toy away from your swollen clit, but he lightly smacks your hands away, muttering a 'Not yet'.

You blink quickly, gazing back down at his cock and finally wrapping your hand firmer around him to jerk him off sloppily and using your other hand to trail the egg around the tip, dipping into the slit.

"Shit- tahni, oh, fuck!" He jolts, hips bucking against yours roughly as he finally cums and it shoots up your chest. His release spews out over your tits, pooling into the valley in between, and even reaches up to cover your throat.

He whines as you hold that egg to his tip before jerking back, out of hold but still hovering above you, and thankfully grabs the egg away from your swollen clit.

He heaves for breath, eyes clenched shut. You sit there and breath for a while, basking in the glow of the best fucking orgasm you've had. You know now that you'll never be able to use your fingers again.

Lo'ak finally huffs out a breath, gazing down at you through lidded eyes with a dopey grin on his lips.

You almost think the moment is tender, until he opens his mouth and you snort.

"I'd say that was a successful experiment on human pleasure."

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A/N: I want him

Taglist:

@akoyaxs

(Lmk if you want to be added!)

[skylarsblue]

✦Meeting & Flirting W/ The C.o.D Men✦

(Five scenes were gn!reader meets, flirts, and eventually gets with the C.o.D guys. You can thank Gaz & a Doja Cat song for this)

✧Gaz, Price, Soap, & Ghost. The others will come later✧ ✦Flirting, light sexual tension here and there, basically just fluff, some mild descriptions of wounds/war, no specified appearance but I do hint that you're shorter than the guys here and there in a subtle manner. Sporadic use of Y/N that I apologize for. Random callsigns I made up on the spot.✦

✧Kyle "Gaz" Garrick✧

Laswell walked beside Price whilst leading the team out onto some tarmac. "I know you all are very competent, but this is a rather big mission, and so I wanted to give you backup I think you can depend on." She said calmly, coming to a stop, turning to the four men. Ghost crossed his arms and bit back a scoff. Kyle smiled for a split second because of it, though shrouded in mystery, it was no secret that Ghost hated working with others. A black jeep rolled up from a slight distance. Gaz wasn't too interested, he'd been tired all day and meeting new people sounded like a bit of a pain. He adjusted the hat on his head and kept his gaze on the ground, even when some footsteps approached. He glanced up at least, not paying any particular attention to the five individuals in front of him. Though he did give his full attention to Laswell when she began speaking. "Team 141, this is Team Sonar. They'll be working with you this upcoming mission, which we still need to go over." The woman explained. Their captain shook hands with price, an older man with dark hair and a broad white streak in the front. Two younger men stood to the side, Soap greeted them. One was blond and the other, a light brunette, they looked like twins. The fourth one was fairly androgynous, tall, eyes cast at the ground. Gaz was just about to look back at Laswell when his eyes fell on the last member. Dressed in black military gear, holding a rifle aimed at the ground, vest decorated in patches and a filtration-gas mask over the lower half of their face. They looked up and locked with his gaze, a spark let off in the air as soon as they did. Gaz rolled back his shoulders, pinching the inside of his cheek between his teeth. He watched their eyes scan him up, down, then slowly back up. By the way their eyes scrunched slightly, he could assume they were smiling, giving him one more quick once over. It was hard not to smile as well, especially when their eyes stuck to him whilst turning to face their captains. "Careful sergeant." Ghost's deep voice made Gaz jump. "Ahem, right." He mumbled, shifting his hat down a bit. Though he did risk stealing one more glance, feeling an ego boost when he caught them doing the same.

"You ever take that hat off?" They asked, leaning on the common room's table as he sat down, arms crossed. "I do, I just don't feel like it." Gaz shrugged, adjusting the ratty baseball cap on his head. "The flag is literally fallin' off, mate." They teased with a smile, reaching to nudge the brim, making it push down. Gaz snorted and took it off for a split second to fix it. He gasped when it was snatched from his hand, smiling when he saw their face covered in a cheeky grin, holding the hat away. "Alright, c'mon. Give it back." He insisted, holding out his hand. They hummed, tapping their chin whilst looking at the ceiling. "Nnnoo, no I don't think so." They replied with their tongue stuck out. Gaz tucked his tongue into his cheek and glared at them playfully. He laughed when they jerked back as he lunged for it, smiling more when they hid it behind their back. "Oh, playing dirty now?" Gaz asked, moving to snatch it once more, only to be dodged. "I think you look better without it, actually. I'm doing you a favor." They insisted, backing up more and more. He naturally followed. They reached up to put it on, chin tilted at an endearing angle. "Should just lemme have it." Gaz shook his head, although he did enjoy the sight of them wearing it. "Over my dead body, give it!" He laughed. They blocked his arm when he went to grab it one last time, reaching into the back pocket of their camo pants. Good thing about military pants? Big pockets. Gaz blinked in surprise when he felt a pressure on his skull, raising a hand to feel a different hat. He quickly took it off and looked at it. A baseball cap with a British flag and an embroidered "K.G.G" on the brim, in a dark green color. He gazed at it with some awe, feeling a quick wave of sentimental joy enter his system. "I think green is more your color." They said, prompting him to look at. He blinked when they booped him on the nose and then turned to walk away. "Hey, what about my original hat?!" Gaz called. They turned, walking backwards. "It's mine now! No take-backsies!!" They giggled, rotating on their heel. The man ran his tongue over his teeth as he chuckled in disbelief. He glanced once more at the hat before putting it on, shaking his head fondly.

(nsfw implication in this one; cause Y/N a bold bitch) Gaz hummed to the tune of his music as he sat on one of the chairs in the common room, waiting for time to pass until their next briefing. Listening to Y/N make themselves tea, occasionally passing conversation between them both. The topic now? Why he never used his actual name. "I guess I just don't really get it. It's not like it's a bad name." They said, pouring hot water into a mug. Gaz shrugged whilst scrolling through a playlist. "I used to like it, now I don't. A lot of people don't like their name." He answered, glancing over at them. They placed a teabag into the water and turned to look at him, hip leaned on the counter. "Yeah, I guess. But usually there's a reason if you specifically dislike it, ya know?" They retorted. Gaz nodded and adjusted in his seat. "I guess...I dunno, anytime I hear that name, it usually means somethings going wrong? Either someone's needing something from me or I'm like, in trouble? So, I prefer the nickname." He explained, looking back down at his phone whilst they threw away the tea bag. "Then it's not the name, it's what you associate hearing the name with! You just need to put a different context to it." They said, though their voice was a bit muffled by his earbuds now. He snorted. "Oh yeah? Well, lemme know if you got any ideas." He said sarcastically, not hearing them walk closer. "Let's try this then." Gaz jumped a bit when the earbud was pulled from his ear, replaced with the feeling of warm breath. Hot blood rose to Gaz's cheeks and neck as the cupped their hand around his ear. "Oh Kyle...~" His breath stopped at the sound of a very convincing moan, heart stuttering as they laughed quietly, gently putting the earbud back in his ear. They made it a point to lightly drag their fingers across his shoulders when walking around him. Gaz watched them walk away with wide eyes until they were out of sight. He then sunk in his seat, hand covering the lower half of his burning face. He forced in a deep breath. "Fuckin' hell..." He mumbled while replaying the sound in his brain. They at least had a point. Hearing his name like that was pretty enjoyable.

"Gaz, Spark, how copy?" Gaz's radio crackled, Ghost's voice cutting in and out. "Copy sir, we're in a safe house. Hell of a storm outside, we'll need to wait it out." He said. Y/N was checking the pipes and looking around for firewood as Ghost gave choppy orders. The man huffed and took off his vest when he saw the fire being lit, grabbing a rickety wooden chair to pull up next to it. "Fuckin' snow." He grumbled as he heard the wind bare down on the house. "Not a winter guy?" They asked, making him look over his shoulder as they walked in with two cups. "Found coffee. I know you're more of a tea type, but warm is warm." They responded softly. He thanked them and took the cup, though he cringed at the bitter taste, swallowing so he could answer their question. "Nah, always liked Summer more." They nodded before setting their mug on the floor. "So, we're alone for god knows how many hours." They said, looking at a tactical watch on their wrist. Gaz rose an eyebrow while taking another sip of his coffee. "Yeah? What of it?" He asked. "You gonna finally make a move or should I keep pretending there's no tension here?" Their blunt words made him choke and began coughing. They laughed and lightly smacked his back, snickering when he cleared his throat. "I uh, wow, okay. Bit blunt to put it that way, innit?" He said with a breathless laugh, putting the cup down. "Bit rude to eye fuck me all the time and do nothin' about it, innit?" They mocked with a grin, making him blush, though thankfully the melanin in his skin left it unnoticeable. "Okay, I do not...alright, maybe a little, but listen." He laughed bashfully. He watched them roll their eyes with a heavy sigh, looking down at him with a smile. "What? Do I have to do everything?" He rose his hands up and sank in the seat slightly as they placed their hands on his knees, leaning in slowly. "Didn't take you for such a scaredy cat, sergeant.~" Gaz cleared his throat and couldn't stop himself from laughing nervously again. "I'm not a scaredy cat. I'm just...patient." "Patient?" "Yes, indeed." They hummed and clicked their tongue. "Well, I'm not." Gaz felt his lungs constrict and the air expel from his body once their weight rested on his lap, hands on the back of the chair, which creaked under their combined weight. He watched them take his hat off and rest it on their head. "So, sergeant major Gaz. You gonna make a move, or should I?" They asked quietly. He let out a slow exhaled before shaking his head. "You...are gonna get me in so much trouble." He said fondly, though he did invite them leaning in dangerously close. "Guess that's a risk you gotta take." They whispered back. He hummed in thought, stalling for the sake of mischievousness now. "Eh, only live once." He shrugged, grinning as they laughed, unable to stop smiling when the held his face to kiss him. Trouble or not, it was inevitable.

✧John Price✧

John sighed and messed with his dog tags as he waited of Laswell to come back into the room. She’d said she had something important to tell him. She finally poked her head into his office with a calm smile, giving him a nod. “A few weeks ago, you asked for a sniper. I found one I think is suitable.” She said, opening the door a bit further to reveal them. Stood in a compression shirt and camp pants, arms behind their back. John straightened his back as he took their figure in, acknowledging slightly nervous body language. They seemed young, but not by much compared to the rest of the team. “Alright. Lemme talk to’em.” John mumbled, motioning with his hand for the soldier to step inside. Laswell patted their shoulder as they entered, crossing the office to sit in the chair across from Price. Laswell left with the door closed. “You’re nervous, soldier.” He said. They swallowed and nodded, patting their leg. “A little sir, yes. Trying not to be.” They answered honestly with a little chuckle. “You afraid your skills aren’t up to snuff?” He questioned, voice gruff, trying to poke for insecurities. Not that he was cruel, but he needed soldiers made of steel on the field. “Oh, no. I’m 100% confident in my skills. It’s uh, just hard to not feel anxious when you’re sat in front of a captain with such an impressive resume. I’m uh, well, I’m worried about my impression is all.” They admitted bashfully, clenching their hands in their lap. John rose an eyebrow and let out an amused huff at their praise. “You’re certain you’ll keep up?” He asked. “Yes sir.” They answered immediately. John nodded, he motioned for them to stand as he did the same. They listened without hesitation. He rounded his desk and stood in front of them, watching them force back nerves in order to meet his gaze. He held out his hand. “I‘ll look forward to seeing you work, soldier.” He said. His smile grew when they shook his hand, a spark growing in their eyes. “You won’t be disappointed, sir.”

John huffed and rubbed his temple, soreness radiating through his skull as a result of persistent annoyance. He'd been put in charge of some new recruits, a batch of youngsters, all of which seemed to enjoy testing his patience. They all liked to slack off, lose focus, occasionally take a little jab at him. John was a patient man and did his best to keep his cool, usually only losing it in dire circumstances. But, he was a human, and humans had their limits, and the captain was at the end of his rope as he watched the recruits joke around. All right after he specifically told them to run laps, a standard training exercise. His frustration must've been obvious on his face, hence why Mist approached him. "You alright, captain? You look ready to blow a gasket." They asked, voice soft, showing sympathy. The brunet huffed and rested his hand on his hip, feeling a bit soothed by the gentle pat on his bicep. "These damn kids won't take me seriously, and I've bout had it." He explained, motioning to the group. The soldier's eyes widened and looked at him like he'd grown a second head. Unable to fathom it. They weren't much older than the newbies, and they'd already shown a genuine and powerful admiration for John. For various reasons. John watched them frown and shake their head. "Try again." They motioned, giving an encouraging nod. John was a bit confused but he cleared his throat and shouted to get their attention. "I said to run laps, not stand chit-chatting! Move it!" He demanded, voice rough and commanding, but not as intense was it was in the heat of battle. Y/N's blood boiled at the blatantly disrespectful laugh one recruit let out. "Whatever, old man!" A young man replied. John felt his jaw tighten and he took in a breath to yell again, on his last nerve, before a voice beside him beat him to it. "WATCH YOUR FUCKIN' MOUTH!" Mist exclaimed, voice echoing in the air like flying daggers. They'd been rather soft, quiet, and gentle the whole time they were with 141. Excluding battle. To see them so angry, so intense, it was enough to make John even jolt in surprise. "When your commanding officer gives you an order, you execute it on the first fucking demand! He said run, you sprint damnit! If you think you can dick around at the sake of the training that will save your life and the lives of your comrades, FUCK OFF BACK HOME!" They hissed, baring teeth like a raging dog. "Now, move it! Forty fucking laps at least and if I hear more disrespect at my captain, I'll have your fuckin' heads!" The recruits had already began on the track, wincing when the threat landed in their ears. John watched Mist compose themself with a look of shock interlaced with endearment. They gave him a bashful glance and cleared their throat. "Uhm...there ya go." They smiled. John let out a quiet chuckle and patted their back. "Remind me to stay on your good side." He said playfully.

(Brief description of bullet wound & war) The sounds of gunfire were sharp on the ear drums. Air permeated with the scent of rubble dust & metallic blood. Mist jumped over an enemy corpse as they dodged around a building, clicking the button on their radio in order to answer their captain. "This is Mist! Ran off about six yards east, where are you, cap?" They asked, chest heaving. "Three yards to your right! Haul ass before these cunts reload!" It was probably a terrible time to think it, but they couldn't help but worry about his throat, all those cigars surely made his voice rougher than it was naturally. That thought was pushed back by the need of survival, although their worry was barely focused on themselves, more on the safety of their captain. They found him settled behind some large stacked crates, littered with bullet holes. Taking no time to slide up beside him, huffing and puffing, face smeared with paint & dirt. "Are you steady, Cap?" They asked breathlessly. John nodded, adjusting his bucket cap. "For now. We gotta move out toward the evac, Soap's got this place set to blow and I wanna be out before it happens." He explained whilst loading a rifle. "Understood, I'll cover you." They replied. Whilst sprinting away from the enemy, ducking when the gunfire got heavy, their barriers were thinning. John huffed and pushed through, scanning for the next thing they could duck behind. As he did, he was left open. The young soldier's eyes locked in on a sniper overhead, gun angled directly at the man beside them. The world moved slow and frightfully quick all at once as they shoved John off to the side whilst shouting for him to take cover. The bullet spun through the air and made itself home in Mist's leg. John was quick to act, able to aim his rifle up at the roof, landing a rather lucky headshot in retaliation. "Damnit, soldier, what the hell were you thinkin'?!" He exclaimed, using his arm to help them stand. They didn't respond, teeth gritted in pain as the two of them continued to move. Making it to the evac wasn't easy, but it happened. The team left like a bat out of hell, holding up with shotty attempts at first-aid until they could get to a medic. John put Y/N on priority for one since the bullet was lodged in their thigh, risking a problem with an artery or bone. Thankfully though, it was just a muscle issue. They'd need recovery time and rest, but overall, they'd be fine. Likely to only sport a scar by the end of it. They sat on a medical bed as John heard the verdict, eventually waving off the doctor so he could speak with them alone. "What the hell were you thinking?" John whispered harshly. Though Mist was the more sensitive type, they didn't flinch, not a single waver as they met his gaze. "Thinking about saving your life." They answered. "And you got shot cause of it." John replied, making them snort. "I can handle a shot to the leg. Far less damage than losing you. In terms of pros & cons? I think I weighed'em pretty well." John felt his chest constrict as they gave him a satisfied smile, as if they weren't still covered in the signs of war. He opened his mouth and no words came out, he gave up and sighed, dragging a hand down his face. He stared at them for a moment. Eventually, his hand fell limp at his side, chuckling quietly. "You'll be the death of me, soldier." He said. They laughed and shrugged. "Nah, I think I'll keep you alive for awhile longer. That's my plan anyway." Their retort played like music in the strings of his neurons, sending waves of serotonin & oxytocin in his system. "I'll hold you to that." He sighed.

(NPC death mentions) The sound of paper rustlings and the scratch of a pen was monotonous and soul sucking. John had always been a diligent worker, but, he'd never enjoyed paper work. It was something he found particularly boring even as he got older, and there was always an air of somberness when he was filling out reports on men who'd died. Lost their lives under his command. In the late hours of the night where silence was suffocating and the loneliness began to grow more obvious in his bones, continuously marking his signature down on dotted lines until his wrists were sore. His throat was dry and his eyes stung. There was a bottle of whiskey on a side table calling his name, but he didn't have the energy to move, and he knew it wouldn't satisfy any actual thirst. The sigh he let out was full of exhaustion. Then, he flinched, silence broken by a knock at the door. The brunet's brows furrowed in confusion & suspicion, given lights out was at least two hours ago. "Who is it?" He called after clearing his throat. "It's me." The voice was unmistakable, and though he hated to admit it, his shoulders relaxed slightly. "Enter." He instructed, finding it worrisome how it felt easier to breathe when their figure poked through the door, entering slowly. A cup of steaming tea rested in their hands. "You should be asleep, soldier." John said, leaning back in his seat. They gave a soft laugh and a nod, walking up to his desk. "Couldn't. Kept thinkin' bout you, knowing you were overworking yourself. Finally gave in and made you a cup of tea. With all due respect, sir, you should also be in bed." They answered, setting the cup on the desk. Like a godsend, able to sense his unspoken needs from across the base. He was a providing type, protective too, he'd been called a "dad" type as well, always caring for others. Although being cared for was foreign, he couldn't help but have his heart melt in a way he hadn't really felt in a very long time. The man sighed, grabbing the cup, blowing on it before he took a sip. He could feel his soul grow warm as he realized it was a perfect replica of how he'd make it, ideal to his preferences. It was impossible not to smile. "You're a real saint, you know that?" He asked. The room felt brighter as they laughed again. "I'm not sure about that, but thank you." They replied. "I mean it. You stick out your neck to make things easier for me, even when I don't ask. I notice it, even if I'd prefer you keep a bullet out of your leg." He scolded lightly, making them nervously shift their gaze to the side, recalling the shot they'd taken for him. "Eh, I don't really regret it." They said, moving around his desk in order to sit on the same side as him, remaining on the corner of the wooden table, careful to avoid sitting on any of the papers. John shook his head. "I'd probably take another eighty bullets for you." They answered honestly, ignoring the stutter in their heartbeat as he stood, chair scraping on the rug below. "Now why would you do that?" He questioned cynically. The response he got struck every chord in his heart. "Because I care about you too much to see you get hurt." They whispered. "You're such a good person, and you do so much for everyone else, even when you're at the end of your rope. There really aren't people like that in the world, and I don't think I could really handle losing something so rare." John inhaled and stepped in front of them. He was intently in their personal space, but they didn't feel the need to lean away, even if their nerves were alight with a specific type of anxiety as he tilted their chin with his hand. He didn't say anything for a long while, only gazing, adoringly and intensely full of passion. Finally, he smiled with an amused breath. "I think I hit the nail on the head..." He heard their breath catch when he leaned close enough for his facial hair to lightly prick at their skin. "You're nothin' short of a saint, sweetheart."

✧Johnny "Soap" MacTavish✧

The bar was crowded and rowdy, dimly lit and teeming with energy. 141 settled in a booth. The bar was popular with veterans and active soldiers, so there wasn't a corner of the building that didn't have some camo print in it. Johnny chuckled at a joke Gaz made at the expense of a recently defeated enemy before taking a swing of beer. He scanned the bar lazily. At the same time as others, cerulean eyes settled on a small scene in the crowd. Kyle leaned around Soap to get a better visual. "Yeesh, can't a man take a hint?" The man mumbled as they watched a tipsy soldier flirt with, what seemed like, a civilian. Dressed up for a night of fun but clearly not having a good time with a slurring and pushy man not being able to take a no. "Think we should step in?" Soap questioned, to which Ghost rose his hand, a signal to stay seated. "Look at their friends, they look like they're waiting for somethin'. Maybe they've got it covered already." He mumbled past the fabric of his balaclava. Johnny cringed, scrunching his nose at the scene, biting his tongue, literally. "They're a civilian against a trained soldier. Drunk or not, they probably need some help." Kyle commented. It was immediately after he finished his sentence that the "civilian" set their drink down, face showing annoyance. They turned to the drunkard and in quick, trained movements, took him out. Or in less intense terms, knocked him out cold with a swift elbow to the chest and a well formed punch to the jaw. The bar went quiet after a collective "oooohhh" in response to it all. The "civilian huffed and rested their hands on their hips, shaking their head. Soap's jaw was lax as he watched them walk over to the bar, pay, and leave. Left in utter awe intermingled with disappointment that he hadn't had a chance to talk to them. Up until a week later when a higher up declared he'd be gifting a lieutenant with an impressive track record to aid the task force in a mission. A huge help, since apparently they had specialized information. The four men waited for the mystery person right outside of base. When they walked up, they had a mask on, but a collective string of shock hit the men when they came closer. Gaz let out a little laugh and nudged Soap with his elbow. "Looks like you get to talk to them after all." He teased, watching Johnny fight to keep his jaw closed. They stopped in front of him with their arms crossed and face stern. "You lot must be 141. Lieutenant Fern." They said. Price stepped up calmly to introduce the team. Johnny cut him off, practically leaping forward with his hand extended to greet them. "Sergeant Soap, pleasure to meet'cha Lieutenant." He said with a boyish grin. They tilted their head with a raised eyebrow. "You always this excitable, sergeant?" They asked. Johnny's eyes glimmered with childlike fascination and liveliness. "Only with beauties like ya'self." He said boldly. They scoffed with some amusement, shaking his hand as they glanced at an embarrassed Price. "Bold, this one." They praised.

Soap grunted and slammed his hand on the floor twice, letting out a strained word. He took a deep breath when the pressure let off his neck, hearing a few tongue clicks. "That's the third take down, Soap. You gotta stop leaving yourself open." Fern sighed, giving him a hand up. He rubbed his neck and coughed, frustrated at himself for letting his performance slip. It was showing on his face and in his shoulders, weighing down by the sense of failure. "Oi, suds, quit that." They ordered, making him look up with confusion. They made a vague motion to his person, referring to his posture, before resting their hands on their hips. "The self-doubt and anger at yourself. It ain't gonna help ya. You're not bad at what you do, you're learning still. That's normal." They explained. Though their tone sounded blunt and rough, as usual, Johnny had been around them enough now to hear the hint of softness that lingered in their words. Something he had yet to hear before. He huffed and dropped his hand at his side. "I shouldn't be havin' these fuck ups, L.T. I been doin' this for too many years for fuck ups." Johnny let out a yelp and a whine as he received a flick to the bridge of his nose. "'nough of that, sergeant. What'd I just say?" Fern demanded with their gaze sharpened. They poked his chest to keep his attention. "You listen here, and you listen good because I won't be repeating myself. You're smart, and you're good at what you do. Fuck ups happen no matter how long you've been doin' something. You ain't perfect and I ain't expecting you to be. I expect you to be observant and open minded." They stated. Johnny's face softened and so did their tone. Fern sighed and shook his head. "Don't beat yourself up over shit that's fixable or that you can't control. Doing that won't help you, it'll just make you feel like shit. Enough of that will turn you into a stick in the mud." Their hand smacked on his shoulder, giving a reassuring squeeze. Soap felt his heart squeeze when they gave him a rare and small smile. "And I like you as the puppy dog you are, alright, soldier?" Johnny blinked before he snorted and nodded, taking their words to heart. "Good man. Now, c'mon. Let's go again. I'll go slower and correct your form and we'll get those slip ups worked out. On your mark." They ordered, gentler this time. Soap got into position with a grin and determination lit aflame once more. "On it, Lieutenant. Hit me." He challenged, burning with joy when they gave a fond chuckle.

Music and commotion filled the air with noise, adding a backdrop to a conversation that flooded in and out. Soap threw back some whiskey and cringed as it hit his taste buds. He coughed and set the cup down, shaking his head whilst the person across from him chuckled. "Not a whiskey type, suds?" They teased. He shook his head and slid the cup over, letting them take it and refill it. "I'll stick to my beer, thanks." Johnny replied with a huff. He pushed down the warmth in his face he got from watching them drink out of the same glass, mouth placed over where he'd just pressed his lips. Unintentional, most likely. He felt ridiculous being flustered over such a school-yard level of intimacy, and indirect kiss from sharing a glass was juvenile. He looked over their face, eyes settling on the signs of exhaustion in their expression. The Scotsman frowned and tapped the table a few times before he gave into his thoughts. "You ain't been sleeping, 'ave ya?" He asked. They looked up from following the patters of paint in the wall beside the two of them. Their silence was answer enough but the fact they shook their head sealed the deal. "Mind if I pry?" Soap asked, leaning in a bit more on his elbows. Fern shrugged and sank in their seat a bit, sighing. They rubbed their eye before regaining eye contact. "Different reasons. Old demons, mostly." They muttered. Johnny's brows dipped in sympathy. "You got a way of dealin' wit' that? Therapist?" He asked, sadness bubbling in his chest as they gave a humorless laugh and headshake. "Nah, I ain't gonna put my shit in someone else's hands. It's my problems, I should be able to deal with'em-" "Now that's a loada shit, L.T." Soap's voice cutting them off caught them by surprise. Johnny was a bold man, a loud man too, but he knew respect and knew when he needed to bite his tongue. He'd never really given an outburst at them. "Ain't you the one always tellin' me an' the team to speak up when we're in trouble?" He asked. They opened their mouth and shut it, unable to formulate a response. Their eyes softened when he reached over and rested his hand on top of their own. "Don't hesitate to ask for help. When you're out your depth, holdin' you pride too tight will get'cha killed. That's what you said." Fern blinked before a sad smile crossed their face. "Yeah...I did say that." They nodded, heart clenching as Johnny gave their hand a squeeze. "Then take your own advice, Y/N. Don't'cha owe yourself that?" He asked in a hushed tone. They bit the inside of their cheek and took his words to heart, nodding slowly with a slow exhale. "You're right. I'll keep that in mind...thank you, Johnny." They replied. He gave that sunshine filled grin in reply. "Ain't gotta thank me for that, L.T. But, you can buy me a drink if you wanna show your gratitude." He joked, feeling proud when it got them to laugh. "How's a tequila sound?" They asked. "After my 'eart, you are! I'll take three." Johnny responded with a grin.

(Implied wound) Soap grunted and leaned against a wall whilst holding his side. Pain shot through his nervous system with every movement. He huffed and thumped his head against the brick. His skin was growing clammy and moving his head too fast lead to his vision blurring, the dizziness was something that always got him the worst. He'd never been good with the sensation. It always felt him nauseous. The brunet groaned past gritted teeth as he tried to force himself to focus, will his brain to work despite the myriad of overloaded senses. His radio crackled with sound and a voice that was choppy thanks to the slightly cracked speaker. He let out a huff and rose his arm to click the button whilst trying to focus on the words, spoken by a familiar voice. "Soap? Soap, do you copy? C'mon mate, don't leave me hanging here." Fern asked with a hint of worry. The man grunted and that alone let the lieutenant take a sigh of relief. "You broken, serge?" They asked. Johnny swallowed in order to clear his throat. "Cracked, L.T. Took a hit to the side. Not sure of the damage but I ain't doin' so hot." He wheezed. Speaking brought on a coughing fit. He barely heard the order to stay put as his ears rung from the pain coughing caused. His vision was going spotty by the time he heard footsteps rapidly approaching. In his half focused state, he weakly tried to reach for his gun, only for a gloved hand to stop his arm. "It's me, Johnny." Fern's voice brought him a sense of relief. He leaned his head back to look at them, giving a weak smile. "'ey there, beautiful." He said, coughing again, which was followed by what could only be described as a whimper. Fern frowned as they checked his wound, using one hand to keep him steady. "Shit, Johnny. We need to get you to the evac right now. Can you stand?" They asked. He shook his head, slumping on their shoulder. He sighed, soothed by their body heat. "Just go on...I had a pretty good r-FUCKIN' CHRIST!" He screeched as they applied pressure to his wound. His face was grabbed sternly, forcing him to look them in the eye. Shock flooded his system as he saw saltwater building along their lower lid. "You listen here, you bloody fuckin' moron. You ain't allowed to die on me. Not until I fuckin' say so." They hissed. Soap blinked and opened his mouth to speak, letting out a noise of surprise when their lips collided with his. He let out a shaky breath whilst leaned into them, hand clutching a strap on their vest. Left tingling and energized by the action as they pulled away. "You pull all that fightin' spirit back in your fuckin' body and fight for me. Then, we get you out of here, we get you fixed up, and you owe me a fuckin' date. You got me, loverboy?" They demanded. The Scotsman heaved some breaths before he nodded. "I got'cha." He replied. Fern gave a single nod and stood up, pulling up the weakened soldier, getting under his arm to keep him steady. "Atta boy. Keep your head up, Johnny. I need you to keep your word." They said as they began helping him move. He gave a weak chuckled and a wheeze. "Roger that, L.T. Roger that."

✧Simon "Ghost" Riley✧

(Brief description of an NPC gettin' knifed in the face) The stairs creaked under Ghost's weight as he moved up behind Price. The man made a hand motion to move up more, which Ghost followed. "Stay steady, boys. Remember, not everyone in this place is a hostile." Price whispered gruffly, getting some affirmative responses. Ghost motioned for Soap to help him scan one side of the second floor, moving slowly through the rooms. Three hostiles were down in the span of two minutes. "Floor clear?" Gaz asked. "Affirmative." Soap replied, looking around. Just as Ghost was about to move out of the room, his eyes fell on a door he hadn't seen at first, with noise from behind it. "Negative. Unchecked room to the south." He motioned. The men rose their guns as Ghost moved toward it, carefully turning the door knob. He listened closely before swinging the door open quickly, locking in on a target almost instantly. They rose their hands with a yelp, an unidentified box in their hand. Ghost's finger twitched on the trigger before they spoke. "Friendly, don't shoot! Unarmed!" They declared, which made Price motion for the team to hold fire. "Name!" Ghost demanded. "Y/N L/N, call sign Blister. I'm a medic with S.A.S, and currently a hostage!" They said, voice sounding out of breath from the rush of adrenaline. Price clicked into the radio for Laswell for an identification as Ghost's eyes looked back at the box they held. Now he could see it was white with a red cross on it, as well as some faded stickers. He lowered his gun as Price confirmed they were telling the truth. Ghost motioned to the box and opened his mouth to demand they hand it over before they tensed, eyes locked on something right past him. "COVER!" They exclaimed. Shots ran past him, Gaz & Soap ducked. An enemy had snuck up behind them. About to reload before a white box flew and clocked them in the face, quickly followed by a throwing knife. As the body dropped limp, the men of 141 looked over with widened eyes as the medic let out a huff. "You said you were unarmed." Ghost replied gruffly, pushing past his feelings of shock. "One knife compared to four AK-12's is pretty much unarmed, big guy." Blister retorted. Ghost scoffed a small amused huff with a nod. "Fair point and good aim." He praised, watching them smile slightly. Price snapped his fingers to get their attention. "Need a gun?" He asked, to which Blister nodded. Ghost took his pistol out and handed it over, though he jerked it from their grasp at the last second with a warning look. "I better not regret givin' you this." He threatened, slowly holding it out again. They took it from his palm slowly, fingertips brushing against his gloves. "Relax, big guy. Only grief I plan to give is to the enemy." They said, checking the ammo clip before putting the gun in their pocket. Price motioned for them to move, stay low. Ghost was sure to trail the medic closely from behind. Unaware that it'd be soon that a higher up would decide that 141 needed a medic, and who better than one with perfect aim?

"Bit late to be up, ain't it?" The voice from behind him made him tense and nearly choke on the smoke in his mouth. Ghost looked over his shoulder as he exhaled the vaporized tabaco, pulling his mask back down once it was expelled completely. He watched Blister meander up to him, highlighted by the color of the moon. "Could ask you the same thing, medic." He replied. They snorted as they came to stand beside him. "Fair point, Lieutenant, fair point." They nodded, tilting their head to look up at the sky. The air was cold and the roof was quiet, below their feet were sleeping soldiers, unaware of the bright moon and twinkling stars. Blister tilted their head as their shoulders fell lax, something Ghost noticed. They never seemed tense and he couldn't fathom it when he couldn't ever relax, even when he was alone his muscles were tight, ready for fight-or-flight at all times. "You're staring, sir." They whispered, looking at him in their peripheral. Ghost scoffed and looked at the sky. "Was not." He denied, hearing them snicker. Silence passed between them before the medic noted Ghost's posture, just like he'd done to them. "You ever gonna let your shoulders relax? Your muscles' are gonna snap under that hypertension, sir." The blond clicked his tongue and shook his head. "These are as relaxed as they're gonna get, medic." He answered. "Because you're burning off constant anxiety?" Their response hit him a bit hard and he snapped his head to look at them. They stood with all their weight shifted to one leg, head tilted. "You don't hide it real well, ya know. All that unease. I know it ain't my place to pry, but I want you to know I can see it." Y/N said softly. Ghost let out an exhale from his nose. "And so what if you do? You're on thin ice, Blister." He warned, getting a headshake in reply. "I'm saying I see it so you know you're not invisible to me." He scoffed, crossing his arms after tossing the put out cigarette off the edge of the roof. The moonlight bounced off his irises, providing superficial light to replace the one that'd been missing since he was young. "Hard to miss me. I'm a "big guy in a Halloween mask", aren't I?" He said, using air quotes. They clicked their tongue. Ghost tensed and looked at them once more as their hand rested on his arm. "What I meant is; I see when you're struggling. And I'm here for you when it gets a bit too heavy. Whether you like it or not. I'm stick to ya, like a superglued plaster, sir." They patted his bicep and gave a kind smile. "Come see me sometime, you don't have to be injured to talk to me. My door's always open." Their words hung in the air as they walked away, and Simon couldn't help but pivot to watch them leave. When they disappeared off the roof, he cursed under his breath, feeling his chest clench and a pressure in the back of his throat. He looked up at the stars with weakness in the circles of his pupils. "...fuckin' help me ma, I'm screwed." He whispered into the night air, watching a star blink back at him.

(Ghostie gets a panic attack but it's still fluffy) Ghost let out a shaky sigh as pins and needles made themselves at home in his extremities. His veins buzzed with anxious energy and his hands had begun to shake slightly. His breathing wasn't erratic yet, but he knew it wasn't long before it would be. He bounced his leg and weighed his options before he stood up, chair squeaking along the floor at the speed of which he did. His footsteps were quick and heavier than usual as he rushed down the halls and toward med-bay. It never made sense to him, why he'd be perfectly fine and then suddenly be hit with sense of panic. Like there was a guillotine hanging over his neck that he couldn't see, but he knew the blade would drop at any second. The med-bay was empty of anyone, except for one person, organizing a new shipment of bandages. Blister heard the door click shut and the ragged breathing. They looked over their shoulder, surprised at first to see Ghost. They went to greet him before noticing all the signs of something they'd seen a million times. Twitchy, anxious, unable to breathe clearly, trembling hands. Without him saying a word, they pulled out a chair and motioned to it. "Sit." They demanded. Simon wasn't one for listening to other's orders if he didn't have to, but he did it, bouncing his leg. Y/N walked over to the water cooler and then a mini fridge, pulling out an ice pack. They walked over with it in hand, along with a tiny cup of water. Y/N placed it on his chest and motioned for him to hold it there. "Simon, look at me." They instructed in a soft voice. "I need you to try and take a deep breath. I know that's not easy, but try your best." He felt them lift his balaclava just far enough to rest over his nose, making it easier to breathe. "Can't you just shoot me up wit' somethin'?" He gasped. "I'd rather not if I can help it. Do you know what's happening right now?" They asked as he took the cup, tossing back the cold water. He shook his head. "This is a panic attack, Si. I'm gonna walk you through it, you just gotta do your best to breathe and focus on me." He didn't have much choice. They took his free hand and sat in front of him, looking him in the eye. "Follow with me. Give me five things you see." Simon swallowed and scanned. "Uh...peeling paint, cracked window, fire hydrant, ugly tile, broken light." He answered. They nodded and squeezed his hand soothingly. "Four things you feel." He took a deep breath. "Your hand, the seam of my jeans, ice pack, my itchy ass stubble." That got a little amused huff out of the medic. "Very good, you're doing great. Now, three things you can hear." Their praise was more comforting than he liked to admit. "My heartbeat, the clock on the wall...your voice." He whispered. They gave him a gentle smile and another squeeze to his hand. "Two things you smell." Simon took a deep breath through his nose and noted what came with it. "Sanitizer and somethin' fruity." He mumbled. "That'd be me. Now, last one. Take a deep breath and then tell me something you taste." They asked. Simon did as he was told, it felt easier now, less like his lungs were collapsing. "Mmph, tea. Bad tea, let the bag sit for too long." He complained. Blister chuckled and stood up, taking the ice pack from him and putting it on the table. They rested their hands on his shoulders, lightly pressing into them as they told him to take some more deep breaths. Once his breathing was steady again, he sighed and blinked slowly. "You alright?" They asked. Simon nodded, though he felt tired now. "You're...a real good medic." He muttered, feeling warm as they snorted cutely. "Thanks, big guy. I do my best."

(Reference to Ghost's poor self image & a singular mention of a wound) Ghost sat in an unmarked van with his back against one of the doors, watching Blister rummage around in hopes of finding medical supplies. His eyes drifted down to his leg, a broken pipe ran through his thigh. It hurt like hell and based on the annoyed growl the medic let out whilst throwing away another useless box, there wasn't anything they could do to help at the moment. Their radios overlapped with the sound of Price's words, informing them about the evac on the way, and how they'd ensure to send the help needed to get Ghost out of there safely. Said man shook his head as Y/N replied to their captain. "Just go. I'll slow ya down, it ain't worth it." He grumbled, wincing as he attempted to move his leg again. "Shut your fucking mouth, lieutenant." Blister hissed back. The man blinked in surprise at their response. They rarely snapped, not unless they were in the midst of battle. "Damnit, medic, don't be stubborn right now. Just fucking go, leave me here. That's an order-" "God damnit, Simon, shut your fucking mouth!" Ghost flinched at their shouting, now even more caught off guard. He watched them stand, walking a few steps to sit between his thighs. They gripped his vest roughly, eyes sharp like daggers and their nose scrunched in anger, teeth clenched tightly. They pointed a finger in his face while breathing heavily. "Now you listen and you listen good, I am not fucking leaving you hear. I am not leaving you anywhere, you understand? We are gonna get you in that fucking evac." They insisted. Ghost rolled his eyes at their declaration. "I am a liability, Blister!" They jostled him roughly. "You are fucking important to me, Simon! Your survival fucking matters to me, and until you stop breathing I am going to ensure I do everything in my power to keep you alive. And not just because it's my fucking job, but because I give a shit!" They shouted. Simon's chest felt tight again. His hands trembled so he curled them into tight fists to hide it. He felt like a kid again, weak and vulnerable. Something he despised. "Why?" He whispered past clenched teeth. He watched their gaze soften and their grip on him loosened, leaving their hand resting on his chest. "Because I care about you, but I know you don't care about yourself. But whether you like it or not, I give a shit whether you live or die. And one day, even if it takes my entire god damn life, I will get you to the day you can look in the mirror and love what you see. In and out. In order to do that, I need you alive. I need you alive to see the great man I see every day, o you're gonna get in that fucking evac, we're gonna get you patched up, and you're gonna live." Their voice shook and he watched their bottom lip shake slightly. Simon shuddered under the weight of their words. "Do you copy?" They asked. He stared at them, unable to find any hints of deception. They meant every word. Simon bit his lower lip and inhaled slowly. "...yeah, I copy."

[genderoutlaws]

do you have any advice for someone feeling hopeful and hopeless and not sure where to start? people are talking about organizing and i don't want to sound dumb but i don't know what that entails really.

hey, not dumb at all. hang on to that hopefulness. i think in terms of organizing the most essential thing you or anyone can focus on right now is

joining a socialist organization near you. do your research and live your values but i know the largest membership currently resides in DSA and i believe they're doing the work to create a mass socialist party. i've crossed paths and been supported by them a lot as a union organizer and am just now officially joining after a longtime friend/comrade has been urging me to for awhile.

unionizing your workplace. please feel free to message me for more specifics, i obviously can only speak with the experience within my own coffee shop as a 24 year old and being repped by WU, but building class consciousness and building union power among the working class is vital. tenants unions are also great though i do not have personal experience with them.

wearing a mask, staying up to date on covid and h5n1 studies and educating your peers, joining a mask bloc, advocating for better air filtration in your community spaces,, if we want to organize the working class we need all of us, disabled people included. and a lot more people are disabled now from repeat sars-cov-2 infections than realize or care to admit.

look out for your unhoused neighbors. get involved with food distribution, harm reduction, mutual aid services,, Food Not Bombs is awesome and is likely to have a chapter near you. this also kinda folds into the joining an org cuz i know my DSA friends are also heavily involved in organizing against encampment sweeps and advocating for affordable housing.

this is what comes to mind immediately for me and again feel free to message me about any point if you want more direction or clarity or to just talk it out, i'm still finding my footing and always trying to be better. also this all obvs can depend on what area you're in. but generally, any organizing outside of the electoral process once every 4 years is a great starting point lol

[covid-safer-hotties]

COVID is still a problem, and we need to do more to stop it - Published Nov 1, 2024

By Kevin Kavanagh

Prevention of COVID-19 is of utmost importance. For several years, many in our society largely based their COVID recommendations on a one infection and done strategy. We now know that many are coming down with multiple bouts of the disease. We were told that severe outcomes were hospitalization and death, otherwise you had a mild disease. Now we are faced with crippling long COVID which has ravaged many in our society. In the United Kingdom, long COVID affects as many as 33.6% of healthcare workers. At the same time, we were assured our children are safe, they will almost never get severely sick from the virus. However, we started seeing long-term effects from COVID-19 in some of the children we know, and hoped they were outliers. Some of us even believed that children could not spread the infection.

These beliefs, many of which were perpetuated by some of our leaders, have placed our children in peril. It is almost impossible to find a vaccine for very young children due to lack of demand and far too few settings frequented by our children have instituted COVID mitigation strategies, such as clean air.

The gravity of this situation has been driven home by a recent NIH study which found that “20% of kids (ages 6-11) and 14% of teens met (the) researchers’ threshold for long COVID.” And our children keep becoming reinfected which increases their risk of severe damage. Damage which can affect the brain, cause heart/lung disease, diabetes and lower one’s ability to fight infections. Viral persistence, as can be seen in mononucleosis, herpes and AIDS. Evidence is emerging that this may be taking place in 43% of adult patients who have long COVID with heart, lung, musculoskeletal, or neurological symptoms.

Children less than 6 months of age are at a particularly high risk for severe COVID-19, but can be protected by maternal vaccination, allowing transplacental transfer of antibodies.

Similar to other respiratory spread diseases, children are germ magnets. In Sweden, 70% of non-healthcare COVID-19 outbreaks were associated with elementary, grammar, or nursery schools. A study from Boston’s Children’s hospital also found that 70% of household COVID transmissions started with a child.

Childhood vaccinations can help. COVID vaccinations have been observed to cut childhood COVID-19 hospitalizations in half. And research has found that vaccinations can decrease the chances of a child developing long COVID by 35 to 42%. And yes, vaccinations are not free of complications, but they are a much better plan than getting the disease.

Clean air in school buildings supplemented with HEPA filtration and UV-C germicidal lighting is a first step. Keeping children home when sick is also important as is being up to date with childhood vaccinations, including COVID-19. Other steps may involve changing the school year, so breaks are scheduled during the peaks of respiratory diseases. And to be tolerant of masking. Masks have been shown to decrease the spread of diseases in schools in multiple studies, and their banning, as proposed this fall in the city of Louisville, places all at risk.

[drdemonprince]

Hi Devon,

this might not be a question you can answer, or maybe it is! idk. this is about covid & alike

for context on myself, i’m a white gendrfucky trans guy who’s also autistic & an immigrant (so some cultural context is probably lacking)

as we know, we’re in a 2nd highest surge & the pandemic never stopped and it increasingly dangerous and disabling to so many

i wear my kn95 everywhere i go now, and while i tried last semester, it was a lot easier to abandon masking because of

1. others’ around me negligence

2. some classrooms being IMPOSSIBLY hot and close to unbearable with a respirator on

3. attending crowded events where people needed to hear me

i’ve reevaluated and am rebuilding my practices now, but what i’m finding really difficult is to get people i have in my life to wear a mask again

i feel so lost. i share the informational posts, i talk to my people, i offer masks- what else is there to do?? i know the exhaustion i feel is absolutely incomparable to what disabled and immunocompromised people feel, especially when they’ve done the work for years!

i just don’t understand how i’m supposed to keep moving through life. i mean ofc i’ll keep doing what i’m already doing but it’s so incredibly isolating to be the only person masked in a meeting of 20,30,50 people.

i don’t know how to make people care. i don’t know how to have conversations with my friends in a way that will let our relationship evolve with this new understanding of care. i don’t know how to not polarize people into defensiveness when i talk about the powers wreaking atrocities in falasteen being the same ones shortening an isolation period to 1 day.

i don’t know how to be eloquent enough to be listened to and firm enough where people take what i say seriously. i don’t know how to not start screaming WEAR A MASK anytime it’s a crowded (or even not crowded) meeting indoors with no air filtration.

idk how people don’t realize the “cold” they’ve had for 3 weeks is either covid or direct aftermath of it. idk how they stand for seemingly the right things and then come to work sick & unmasked.

i don’t know how to engage with most people in a meaningful way & find connections because the delusion, the “it won’t happen to me”, the “i don’t care if i catch it and die”, the “this is just the way it is” seems to be a wall made of unbreakable cement and i don’t know what will melt it.

i feel insane for having compassion towards the world and seeing how it can be better. i feel insane for being angry people don’t mask & downplay this issue. i feel insane for even trying to talk sense into people.

i’ve recently been called a lying phony by an account that talks about masking bc a lot of my recent pictures show my face without a mask. i archived the posts since, apologized and reflected. but a lot of pictures i take are in my own room so i am unmasked. idk

i feel like the gap between me and most people i know is growing wider by the minute and with every reading i do about interdependent revolutionary practices, etc.

i know that when one understands something, it is their responsibility to make an impact on their bubble of the world and transform it with their knowledge. but i doubt i’m the only one doing the reading and knowing what’s going on, i just seem to be the only one masking.

i don’t know. i’m sorry it’s such a long ask & i’m sure you have your own stuff you’re dealing with. i just don’t know who else to ask that might understand. i’m sure there are people around me who might but so many are in survival mode and i currently don’t know anyone with the capacity to hold space for this.

i guess it’s bold to assume you do.

anyway, i hope your day goes alright today<3

You are placing wayyy too much responsibility upon yourself as one compassionate and informed individual here, and expecting far too much perfection of yourself in ways that do not help you and do not help the cause. You've done a lot to unpack the terrible individualism that has led to anti-mask sentiment being so rampant, but you are in a way still applying that logic to yourself and your situation by imagining that if you, one humble person with limited power were able to be adequately persuasive, you'd somehow change the actions of thousands. That is not how behavior change works.

Persuasion almost never happens logically or instantly, almost never through one person's remarks. Behavior is shaped by a vast array of economic, sociological, emotional, and ideological factors.

It's also not helpful in my opinion to worry about the opinion of someone who would shame you for not wearing a mask at home alone in your bedroom, either. Obsessing over the optics of our actions and wanting all people to morally approve of us at all times is yet another consequence of individualism and Puritanism. as you well know as someone who masks in a crowd of maskless people, sometimes we gotta do what we know is right and disregard others' opinions.

What you can do, in my opinion, is this: keep masking. Your behavior reminds people of the need for masks and models socially responsible behavior. Bring spare masks with you. Offer them to your family and friends and the people standing near you in public. If they refuse, and you have a good relationship with the person where they have shown they respect you and listen to you, then you can tell them why masking around you is important to you. You cannot change the opinion of someone who has never shown you any respect so don't expect that to ever work.

Even if you do have a good relationship with someone, persuasion is a long, hard process. Do not expect yourself to change their mind. If you can get some people to mask at least around you, that is a victory. Perfection is an unrealistic goal here to expect of yourself, and for public health in general. Any improvement you can inspire is a victory. Even if it's just making one or two friends mask more often when they are with you. That still lessens risk. That still sends a visible signal to everyone around you. You have no idea of the impact you truly have on other people in the long term. It is both more modest and far larger and longer-reaching than you as an individual will ever know.

Please be easy on yourself. You are just a person. An average person with very limited power. So is everyone else for the most part. When you stop burdening yourself with the unrealistic responsibility of changing thousands of people's behavior, you will feel less resentful toward others as well. When we resent other people it always means we are doing too much.

And when you feel less overwhelmed and overburdened, you will be more effective in the conversations you do have with people about COVID too. People do not respond well to (what they perceive to be) guilt or intensity or someone presuming to know better than them. What people do respond to well is to be asked genuine questions, listened to, validated in their feelings, given help where they are facing barriers to action, and being treated with compassionate gentleness.

But to do that you have to work on believing that people who are flawed in their response to COVID have reasons for doing so that make sense to them, and that they aren't all foolish and lacking in compassion. As my friend @kim-from-kansas says, people do not do things that do not make sense. If a person's actions do not make sense to you, it is because you are missing a piece of their context. The sad fact is people have many reasons to think that masking doesn't work or is hopeless. People have been very heavily propagandized and trauma also makes many people value life less.

Convincing people to take COVID more seriously is a tall, tall order, but if you wish to do so, you will need to be more than correct. You will have to put real work into not making people feel judged, and you will have to make peace with not always (or even usually) succeeding. It sucks but that's how it is. Best of luck!!

[aprocessionofthoughts]

To succeed is to fail

whumptober2023 day 9- mistaken identity fandom- Danny phantom x Batman TW- nothing summary- The Amity Parkers have the opportunity (they didn't want) to explore Gotham. It's just too bad that Danny looks a lot like adoption bait.

First of all, I’d like to state that I know this is whumptober. But the story disagreed. So now we have whumpcracktober.

ao3 masterlist part 1 of APVG

They were not supposed to be here. They didn't want to be here. They hadn’t even tried to be here. Yet luck had never been on the Amity Parker’s side before, and they should have realized this would be no different.

It was their senior year and things around Amity had calmed down. Or at least everyone was used to Amity’s special brand of crazy.

He had told his parents about Phantom and they had helped hunt down the GIW. Most of Amity was discovered to be liminal and most of the young people had developed some basic abilities. 

And then Mrs. Abernagaby decided that their science final would be a group project. This wasn’t anything new. Every year Casper participated in the Helping Intelligent Minds Be Outstanding competition–better known as the HIMBO competition.

And usually the smartest seniors would be picked to work on a group project to submit. Casper High had never won. So, this year Mrs. Abrnagaby decided that all the seniors could work on it together. Because more heads were better than one!

Obviously she didn’t remember what being part of a group project felt like. And she obviously didn't account for the fact that no one would care.

They weren’t even told what the award was since it varied year to year and was meant to be a surprise.

All they were told was that they had to design a new air filtration system.

So, being seniors who had survived ghost attacks, invasions, their town being pulled into another dimension, dealing with the GIW, and making it through adjusting to Amity shifting to the stranger side as everyone's liminality began to show, they did not try.

Which was how they ended up with this masterpiece.

The challenge was to design a new air filtrator. Which if they had wanted to, would have been easy since air filters that would reduce the amount of ectoplasm in the air had been designed before the residents realized it was too late to do any good, and so they had never been made.

They didn’t even submit a design; it was a paper mache volcano covered in everyone’s failed tests. The accompanying research paper they were supposed to submit had Dash’s and Paulina’s self-insert fanfics with– you guessed it– phantom as the love interest. Danny had tried to make them remove it since it was awkward now that they knew who he was, but they had claimed they wrote it before they knew. Danny knew this was a lie because they were lying liars who lied. 

The paper also included one of Sam’s activist papers, Wes’s conspiracies about Bruce Wayne being Batman’s sugar daddy (now that everyone knew Danny was Phantom Wes didn’t feel the need to include that research (he also believed that Batman was Bruce Wayne but didn’t want to antagonize the furry who could ruin his life)). 

Tucker had included evidence of a Pentagon hack he had done a few years ago, Mikey had drawn some incredible fanart about Green Lantern (he said this would have the greatest effect on Gothamites and Wes agreed saying Batman didn’t like Green Lantern. How he knew this, no one asked.).

And lastly, they attached a file of them doing the Harlem Shake.

Mrs. Abernagaby hadn’t even looked at it before sending it off.

And then of course they had won. And what a grand prize it was! They won a trip to Gotham to explore the various big businesses, as well as a chance to apply at those locations for internships. Yeah… Sam had found out all the other schools had dropped out after finding out the prize. No one wanted to go to Gotham. But the school said it was a learning opportunity! To see what it was like outside Amity! To see what normal was supposed to be like!

So, they were forced to go, but at least they got Mr. Lancer as their supervisor and they wouldn’t even have to take a long bus ride because Amity was friends with Gotham. Apparently there weren’t very many Living Cities and the two liked to talk. They also thought it would be hilarious if the Amity Parkers went to Gotham. So, Amity had temporarily turned the road that left the city into a portal that led to Gotham’s border, and at the end of the week Gotham would return them.

And that was how he had ended up here. In the back of a smelly van with a smelly bag over his head surrounded by smelly men probably heading to a smelly, sketchy location. All because these men were stupid and thought he was some Wayne kid.

Sure, he could have gotten out. But this was honestly more interesting than touring another boring building and having to almost get mugged again.

..........

AN-I plan to continue this but it probably won’t be until after October because I want to focus on completing the challenges I'm participating in.

[liminalweirdo]

over 20,000 people in the United States died of Covid-19 since the beginning of 2024. Millions who avoided death are nonetheless still living with Long Covid, and this number grows each month. We are still in crisis.

Most importantly, though, implementing accessibility measures during an active pandemic is the right thing to do, as it makes events safer for everyone. Black communities, people of color, the disability community at large, members of the LGBTQIA+ community, and low-income communities continue to be especially hard-hit by the pandemic and the abandonment of Covid-19 precautions. The pandemic reproduces the very forms of ableism, classism, and racism that existed before 2020. There are millions of already systemically marginalized people who are being further pushed out of public life. This is unjust, and we must do better. 

[However,] a blueprint for radical inclusion and living a full, safer life within the context of Covid-19 exists.

source

Install HEPA filters in your space. Installing a plug-in air purifier in your space is a great place to begin. Because almost all public spaces currently fall short of the ventilation needed for Covid-19 safety, it’s safe to assume that your space would also benefit from this efficient first step. Make sure it’s appropriately sized for your space and continuously running. If funds allow, upgrade your HVAC system to include HEPA filtration.

Practice mask requirements. Consider requiring and providing high-quality masks for everyone who will be in your space and attending your events. Contrary to popular belief, mask requirements do not deter guests in any meaningful numbers. Clean Air Club has been hosting Covid-safer events in Chicago for over a year, and a majority of the mask-required events sell out every time. If obtaining masks for your event is cost-prohibitive, check in with your local mask bloc for assistance.

Collect and share data on the safety of your space and region. Collect data on the ventilation in your space using a carbon dioxide (CO2) monitor. The higher the number, the more attention you need to pay to improving the ventilation and air purification in the space. Open windows and doors, crank up the HVAC, and plug in another purifier. You’ll know you’ve succeeded when the CO2 levels in your space are close to the levels expected outdoors in fresh air (around 400 ppm). As a bonus, this improved ventilation and purification will remediate poor air quality due to climate-change induced wildfires, improve concentration, and aid in accommodating disabling conditions such as asthma and allergies. Data collection should also include monitoring wastewater data, now our most accurate picture of the true prevalence of Covid-19 and other wastewater-monitored viruses in our population at any given time. We can use this data to increase the number of mitigation strategies adopted when wastewater levels are high. Consider creating an internal chart at your organization that lists protocols associated with different wastewater levels, reducing the burden of communication and oversight during higher periods.

Consider additional mitigation layers. Some of the other layers of protection from the swiss cheese model include: pre-event testing, far-UVC lights, providing options for virtual participation, and asking guests to stay home if they’re showing any symptoms of contagious or novel illness. Consider promoting individualized mitigation approaches within your organizations, such as the usage of nasal spray and CPC mouthwash. The key is to remain creative, flexible, and open to adding layers of protection in response to changing risk levels in the environment.

Open up lines of communication. As you implement mitigation layers, communicate them to your community. Ask them how they’ve been impacted by Covid-19 and give people space to share their access needs and ideas. This will provide a crucial why behind your actions and investments. Using the accessibility principle of designing for the highest possible need, your virus safety plan should accommodate the most vulnerable and impacted community members rather than those who have high risk thresholds or behave as though the pandemic is over. Part of effective pandemic communication includes providing accessibility and virus safety information in an Access Note or in an Accessibility Guide. This information should be repeated often in marketing and outreach materials.

Resources

[mariacallous]

This story originally appeared on High Country News and is part of the Climate Desk collaboration.

The more researchers learn about wildfire smoke, the more worrisome the picture gets. Smoke contains microscopic particles known as PM 2.5 because the PM (particulate matter) measures 2.5 microns or less—small enough to easily wiggle its way into our lungs and then into our bloodstreams. Researchers have already connected the particulate matter in wildfire smoke to a higher risk of strokes, heart disease, respiratory disease, lung cancer, and other serious conditions.

And the harmful effects don’t stop there. 2024 was a banner year for research on wildfire smoke and its impact on health, from brain functioning to fertility. While there’s still a lot more to learn, wildfire smoke is thought to be especially insidious compared to other sources of air pollution; its smaller particle size, intermittent spikes, and higher concentration of inflammatory compounds make it more dangerous.

This year’s new findings are disturbing. But the more we learn about smoke, the better we can protect ourselves from it, whether we live hundreds of miles away from a fire or confront it directly the way wildland firefighters do. Research underscores the need for some changes, including better indoor air filtration systems in our homes, hospitals, schools, and nursing homes, and clean air centers for people with nowhere else to breathe healthy air. Meanwhile, respirators for wildland firefighters are currently being tested by the federal government. We also need to reduce smoke pollution at the source by taking measures to reduce wildfire risk and intensity, like prescribed burns.

Here are some of the biggest advancements in scientists’ understanding of wildfire smoke in 2024:

New Estimates Predict 125 Million Americans Will Face Unhealthy Air from Wildfires by 2054

Wildfire smoke has erased improvements in air quality in recent years, a trend that is expected to continue. Millions more people will be exposed to unhealthy air in the coming years, according to models released by the First Street Foundation in February. It’s estimated that by 2054, over 125 million Americans each year will be exposed to “red” air quality, considered an unhealthy level by the Environmental Protection Agency—a 50 percent increase from 2024. California’s Central Valley will see the worst of it, with Fresno and Tulare County likely facing three months a year of unhealthy air, according to the study.

Smoke Can Hamper Fertility Treatments

The fires that started over Labor Day weekend in 2020 blanketed Oregon with some of the worst air quality in the world at the time. Those 10 or so days of smoky air affected everyone, especially patients undergoing in vitro fertilization treatments, or IVF. Researchers at Oregon Health & Science University studied 69 patients who received ovarian stimulation and IVF treatment in the six weeks following the wildfires. Their study, published in the journal Fertility and Sterility in May, found that patients exposed to wildfire smoke produced fewer blastocysts—clusters of cells that can develop into embryos—than those who weren’t exposed. Most of the patients still got pregnant, but the study’s lead author said she is worried about how smoke may affect fertility treatments. She told the Idaho Capital Sun that, as an extra precaution, fertility providers may want to delay IVF or embryo transfer for higher-risk patients during times of poor air quality.

Wildfire Smoke Is Prematurely Killing People

Thousands more have died due to wildfire smoke than previously realized, according to a study from the University of California, Los Angeles. New research published in the journal Science Advances in June found that the fine particulate matter in smoke resulted in from 52,500 to 55,700 premature deaths from 2008 to 2018 in California. According to its authors, this is the first long-term study to assess deaths caused by years of increasing exposure to wildfire smoke in a state that, like other Western states, is seeing more frequent and more severe wildfires.

Smoke Exposure Is Bad for Adolescent Mental Health

Researchers at the University of Colorado Boulder found that wildfire smoke increases the risk of mental health challenges in adolescents. The study, published in the journal Environmental Health Perspectives in September, analyzed data from 10,000 preteens who participated in the largest long-term study of brain development and child health in the United States, according to the university. Each additional day that the children were exposed to “unsafe” air quality readings in 2016 boosted the likelihood that they would experience symptoms of depression and anxiety—even up to one year later.

Years of Firefighting Could Lead to Neurodegenerative Diseases

Lab rats aren’t people, of course. But in a controlled setting, they can offer useful insight into human health consequences. Researchers who exposed mice to an amount of smoke equivalent to what a wildland firefighter would breathe over a 15- to 30-year career found that they were more likely to develop brain disease than mice that weren’t exposed. The profiles of the animals’ genes fit a pattern that suggests long-term damage akin to the effects of Alzheimer’s, Parkinson’s, Huntington’s, and other neurodegenerative diseases. While researchers can’t prove that smoke is the direct cause of the heightened disease risk, lead author Adam Schuller told Boise State Public Radio that wildland firefighters need to be aware of the impact a long career in firefighting can have on the human brain.

Wildfire Smoke Is Linked to Dementia

Breathing in the particulate matter in air pollution has already been linked to an increased risk of dementia. Now, researchers say, wildfire smoke may pose an even greater risk than other pollution sources. Analysis of more than 1.2 million people in Southern California found that exposure to wildfire smoke over a long period—three years, in this study—was associated with a higher risk of a dementia diagnosis. According to the study, published in the journal JAMA Neurology, the odds of a dementia diagnosis rose by 18 percent for every microgram per cubic meter increase in wildfire pollution over three years, a relatively small amount. For comparison, the average PM 2.5 exposure for a census tract near the 2018 Camp Fire in California was 1.2 micrograms per cubic meter between 2006 and 2020, spiking to an exposure of 310 micrograms per cubic meter during the actual fire.

[sirfrogsworth]

I'm happy that vitamins and supplements are getting more attention for being mostly a scam. If you are deficient in something, a vitamin might be beneficial. But just loading up with vitamins isn't going to do much besides give you another thing to pee out.

The next thing I would like to get attention are air purifiers.

This came up a bit during COVID (it's weird we act like it isn't still around, but whatever) but then we sort of forgot about them as a society. There are absolutely great air filtration devices that can improve indoor air quality. But they are probably not going to fit neatly into the corner of your room. Nor are they going to have a "silent" mode.

It's almost as quiet as falling leaves!

And about as effective as holding your shirt over your face.

And to the people flooding their living areas with ozone... just no.

Don't do that.

Like, the smell alone just feels wrong. Ozone is good if something dies in your car and you need to nuke that odor from orbit. But you do not want to live in a space being actively ozone'd.

I'm afraid most proper air filters are large and loud and expensive. They can be integrated with your HVAC system or there are some reasonably sized room versions. But moving a lot of air quickly is usually going to be loud. I know everything has a HEPA filter now and that is used as marketing. But a tiny filter with a tiny fan isn't going to do much.

The bigger the filter the better. And you usually want at least a two filter system. A filter for big particulates and another for microscopic ones.

I know companies like Dyson make bold claims about 0.3 microns and whatnot, but I would not trust this tiny thing to filter a normal sized room.

Perhaps it can lessen odors. And I'm sure it does trap very small particles. But there is just no way it can move enough air and replace it fast enough. It maxes out at 100 cubic feet of air moved per minute (CFM) for most irritants. And you have to do a separate search to even find that number. It is not in the product description which is usually a red flag for air filtration.

If you just want the air to smell fresher and remove animal odors, I'm sure the Dyson is okay for what it is.

If your goal is to not get sick or to reduce harmful indoor pollution, you're gonna need a bigger boat.

For a single room, it's probably going to have to be something like this. And you'll probably need it on a loud setting most of the time.

These can do 300-400 cfm. And they have much bigger filters so that flow rate is more efficient.

There is no such thing as an air purifier. I do not like that term. It is air filtration. I'm not entirely sure what pure air would be. Air is always going to have stuff in it. I guess pure air would be no harmful stuff? But even that is impossible. You're always going to have some part per million of something bad.

But that is just semantics.

In any case, if you need to keep your air from making you sick, it's best to invest in something with multiple filters that moves a lot of air quickly and not something from an overpriced vacuum salesman.

[thewertsearch]

fedoraFreak: jury rigged makeshift urine filtration system utilizing serveral gorgeous silk socks, stretched like drum over open mailbox. fedoraFreak: filters adequately, remains yellow, unpalatable. fedoraFreak: storing unimbibed urine in rumpled, unsightly fedora. fedoraFreak: p.s. - they are all rumpled and unsightly, unfortunately.

Fedorafreak remains the best character in Homestuck.

Anyway, we evidently missed something pretty critical. The last time we saw John, he was about to prototype the kernel - and now he's napping. Either Vriska is interfering, or something is going down on Skaia.

TT: Why were you sleeping?

Not quite in the loop on everything, are you, Seer?

I feel like that should be a red flag for you - a sign that you should be catching up with your friends a little more. If you were, you'd have learned about Vriska's sleep-sniping habits from John or Kanaya, and you wouldn't be so surprised.

EB: i couldn't have been out for that long, because my dream was really short. TT: You weren't. TT: Ten minutes, I'd say.

It's over.

Something critical has happened here - and I'd bet a Grist Hoard that it happened because John slept through it. Someone was 8iding their time, waiting for the right moment to influence events in their favor.

I told you to be careful around that girl, John.

EB: can you see me somehow? TT: Yes. TT: I have a crystal ball. [...] EB: can it show you the future? [...] TT: No, it can only show me various locations in the present moment, as far as I can tell.

A versatile tool for a Seer, just like Dave's timetables are for him.

Perhaps every Player makes a 'classpect tool' to aid them with their specialty. You could even argue that John's is his jetpack, which allows him to acquaint himself with the air.

...that said, the trolls had rocket gear, too. His classpect tool, if it exists, will probably be more specifically tied to his Heir-of-Breathness.

TT: My perception of the future has been informed by other sources. [...] TT: Whispering gods, memories sifted from dreams, cryptic readings from unearthed talismans, conclusions drawn from riddles deciphered - every gambit you'd expect a quest to extend to an emerging seer. TT: Just as I presume an heir would be supplied with what's needed for his maturation, assuming he's looking for it.

So if you're willing to embrace your Title, the game will sort of... meet you halfway?

Well, that's easy for a Seer to say. The game provides plenty of obvious ways for you to learn more about the world around you. What's an Heir supposed to do? Who can he inherit from?

Maybe John's ultimate goal as an Heir has something to do with the Royal Families. If so, he'd better get a move on - one of them is already extinct.

TT: Sometimes trolls blither tidbits about the future, and I can't help but take note of it. TT: Just as they do with you. TT: You also have access to the oracle clouds in Skaia, whereas I do not.

You could take a peek at them with your crystal ball, couldn't you?

Actually, maybe not. The clouds are probably 'hard-coded' as a Prospit perk. The same way Jade found the Furthest Ring unpleasant and overwhelming, Rose would probably find nothing of value in those clouds.

TT: Knowing the future is no remarkable feat here. TT: It appears to be a fact of life. TT: I'm not all that special, John.

Knowing the future isn't that special - but you're sidestepping the fact that that's not currently your specialty. What makes you unusual, I believe, is the out-of-bounds information you have about the game, and the big picture surrounding it and the Green Sun.

[pandemic-info]

Re: Ask:

Your blog is one of the reasons I came back to Tumblr. Thanks for maintaining it! Would you mind posting reliable sources that you find on H5N1 , please? Don’t want to panic yet, but now that they found human-to-human transmission, should we?

Hey, thanks!

I just post as I organically see info, or seek it out as-needed, or what I learn in the course of my work — while trying not to be more focused on this than necessary. I'm glad it's useful for others, though there may be temporal and knowledge gaps. Like this one: I don't know as much about H5N1.

The latest I've seen are the articles about this case: US confirms first case of bird flu with no known animal exposure (bbc.com)

Yale News generally has solid info: H5N1 Bird Flu: What You Need to Know > News > Yale Medicine

If you already take layered precautions, you should be OK.

One question I personally had was whether H5N1 viruses (80-120 nm in diameter) are too small to be caught by N95 masks (which have a filtration efficiency of at least 95% for NaCl particles 100–300 nm in size.) USA Today actually has a nice Fact Check article about how masks work — in regards to COVID, but more broadly applicable and interesting:

TL;DR: yes N95s are also effective against viruses smaller than 300 nm.

Excerpts + more:

The size-based argument against N95 laid out in this claim assumes mask filtering works something like water flowing through a net — particles in the water smaller than the net opening pass through, while larger items don’t. But the physics involved don’t work like that at all. The COVID-19 particle is indeed around 0.1 microns in size, but it is always bonded to something larger. “There is never a naked virus floating in the air or released by people,” said Linsey Marr, a professor of civil and environmental engineering at Virginia Tech who specializes in airborne transmission of viruses. The virus attaches to water droplets or aerosols (i.e. really small droplets) that are generated by breathing, talking, coughing, etc. These consist of water, mucus protein and other biological material and are all larger than 1 micron. “Breathing and talking generate particles around 1 micron in size, which will be collected by N95 respirator filters with very high efficiency,” said Lisa Brosseau, a retired professor of environmental and occupational health sciences who spent her career researching respiratory protection. ... The N95 filter indeed is physically around the 0.3 micron size. But that doesn’t mean it can only stop particles larger than that. The masks are actually best for particles either larger or smaller than that 0.3 micron threshold. “N95 have the worst filtration efficiency for particles around 0.3,” Marr said. “If you’re smaller than that those are actually collected even better. It’s counterintuitive because masks do not work like sieving out larger particles. It’s not like pasta in a colander, and small ones don’t get through.” N95 masks actually have that name because they are 95% efficient at stopping particles in their least efficient particle size range — in this case those around 0.3 microns. Why do they work better for smaller ones? There are a number of factors at play, but here are two main ones noted by experts: The first is something called “Brownian motion,” the name given to a physical phenomenon in which particles smaller than 0.3 microns move in an erratic, zig-zagging kind of motion. This motion greatly increases the chance they will be snared by the mask fibers. Secondly, the N95 mask itself uses electrostatic absorption, meaning particles are drawn to the fiber and trapped, instead of just passing through.

Only one qualm about that article: it's from 2020 and at the time, based on faulty older science, it was thought that droplets were the big concern and that "there’s not a lot of evidence for aerosol spread" — we've now known for years that this is false: "SARS-CoV-2 primarily spreads through airborne transmission, which is mainly characterized by droplets and aerosols."

It's interesting that they quoted Linsey Marr in that Fact Check because: The 60-Year-Old Scientific Screwup That Helped Covid Kill | WIRED

And H5N1? I'm honestly uncertain, but found this: Aerosolized Exposure to H5N1 Influenza Virus Causes Less Severe Disease Than Infection via Combined Intrabronchial, Oral, and Nasal Inoculation in Cynomolgus Macaques - PMC (nih.gov)

[laurellynnleake]

🚨 COVID19 WEATHER REPORT: HOLIDAY SPIKE RAGES ACROSS USA 🚨

1/1/2024: Okay! Things are bad! We're JUST beginning to see how many people caught COVID-19 during the holidays. Right now it's moving through the USA causing AT LEAST 2 million infections per day (and that's the under-counted government numbers alone).

During this surge, ~100 million people total (~1 in 3 people in the US) will likely get COVID. Different areas will peak at different times, so keep an eye on your local numbers.

Reminder: All our viral data (recorded infections, deaths, wastewater viral count, etc) works on a 2 week delay - the length of COVID-19's initial acute phase where people are contagious and shedding viruses.

We want to slow the current spike down as much as we can by using respiratory masks like N95s, air filtration, and isolating and testing for COVID-19 multiple times after exposure. Hopefully we'll hit the peak soon (and not get hit as hard as Omicron in 2022).

DON'T GIVE UP HOPE! RESPIRATOR MASKS STILL PROTECT US

Respirator masks like N95s and KN95s use electrostatic filters that block at least 95% of dangerous virus-carrying respiratory aerosols, and can be adjusted to fit snugly around your nose and mouth. The few viruses get in, the less "sick" you'll get during the acute phase, and the less long-term damage they'll cause to your vascular and immune system (aka Long COVID).

If you are sick, please stay home and REST for as long as you can - the goal is 14 DAYS even if the surface symptoms seem "mild". People physically need rest to prevent worse damage to our organs. We need immediate emergency aid from our local and federal government to keep people staying HOME and fed and with medicine like Paxlovid.

If you are forced to work while sick, please wear a well-fitted N95/KN95 respirator mask to prevent further outbreak (but surgical/cloth masks are better than none). Avoid CROWDED PLACES, COVERED SPACES, and CLOSE CONVERSATIONS. Stay hydrated and eat easy, bland food, keep cleansing your sinuses and throat with nasal sprays/CPC mouthwash, and take ibuprofen/aspirin instead of tylenol for pain. If you keep struggling to breathe and you can't get enough oxygen, you need emergency hospitalization (look for blue/purple/grey tips to fingers, tongue, lips).

Please take care of yourself and each other! We will get through this.

[chaotic-super]

Joining The Superfriends - 26

Read it on AO3 here!

Lena isn’t sure if she’s relieved or not when her feet touch the sturdy metal of the ship. On the one hand, she’s not flying anymore and flying is terrifying no matter how much she trusts Kara not to drop her from several miles up. On the other hand, she’s still very high up in the air and while she’s standing on her own two feet, she’s standing on top of her brother’s death ship.

She leans over, her hands braced on her knees and she breathes heavily as she tries her best to regulate her breathing. “Damn, I miss the Tower already.”

Kara’s soft laughter has her raising back up. “I bet you weren’t expecting this when you came to interview for a job.”

“I would have had to be a clairvoyant to have expected this.” Lena huffs. “That or delusional.”

“Well…”

“Shut up, Supergirl.” Lena shoves by her, a hand pushing on Kara’s arm. Kara makes a show of falling to the side and acting wounded, making Lena roll her eyes at her.

Lena then begins to teeter across the roof of the ship, setting off on her stroll across the metallic surface, thankful for the heavy body armour that is helping to weigh her down so she doesn’t get knocked off course by the strong winds that come with being so high up, an unexpected yet very helpful use of the armour.

Kara follows her, racing so she’s beside her and then strolling alongside her with ease, her strong legs making the walk easy for her. “So, what are we looking at here?” Kara asks, her eyes darting between all of the sticky-out parts of the ship, large machine things she isn’t able to identify from this angle.

Lena points towards the two areas she needs to check in particular. “Those could both be filtration systems, that’s how we get in, we figure out which one is the real one and then once we’ve confirmed it, I get the hell out of here and you and the team go in.”

“Ok,” Kara gives her a thumbs up before pressing a finger to her comms. “Nia, are you on your way?”

Boots touch down behind them, J’onn and Nia arriving. “Who, me?”

“Oh, hey. You guys took your time.” Kara quips.

Nia shrugs, a sly smirk taking up residence on her face. “I figured you guys would do some weird flirting for a couple of minutes before realizing we’re not actually here. I was right.”

“Shut up, Nia.” Both Lena and Kara say, Kara’s coming out much whinier whereas Lena’s is just tired.

There’s one possible filtration system on the top of the ship, just ahead of them, and the other one is on the side of the ship so to take a look at that one, Kara will have to hover them beside it. Lena’s praying that the first one will be the right one. She really dislikes flying.

Lena keeps walking slowly but surely towards what looks to be a giant vent. Kara offers her arm to her and she uses it to keep her balance a little better. Behind them, J’onn is meandering over without a struggle and Nia is using a shield of dream energy as a windbreaker to make the trip easier on herself.

When they get within reach of it, Lena’s head tilts so she can try and get a good look at it without having to touch it. She rounds the vent twice, her eyes skimming over every part of it she can to try and decipher if this is the actual vent or just a dud. The fact that there is one dud vent in the first place is very worrying because it means that the likelihood of one of them leading to something more sinister is quite likely.

“I can’t tell. For all we know, they could both look real but you try and get inside through them and then you’ll find yourself impaled on a bunch of kryptonite spikes, I don’t know.” Lena shakes her head. “Can you see anything with your X-ray vision?”

Kara takes a step closer since she moved back before to give Lena more space to take a look inside the vent. Her eyes squint as she activates her X-ray vision and attempts to take a look down into the ship. “It’s lined with lead. I can’t see anything.”

“Oh. Great. We’ll have to take a look at the other one but I’m not sure as though it will be very illuminating. We might have to go back to base and come up with another plan.” Lena lets out a sigh, one filled with barely restrained annoyance.

She gives the vent a gentle tap goodbye and goes to turn away. There’s her mistake.

Whether it was from the pressure of the soft tap or the heat from her hand, Lena’s not sure but suddenly her ears are ringing, a circle of fire created around them, one where Kara and Lena are on the inside and J’onn and Nia are trapped on the outside.

The flames come from an explosion, the sound of it so loud that all of them cover their ears. That’s not just the thing though. The blast throws them all to the floor and this time, J’onn can’t use his strength, Kara can’t use her strength and Nia can’t use her dream energy. From inconspicuous spots built into the ship, large pole-like structures have risen from the metal, all of them oddly familiar because they have seen them once before on Shelley Island.

They can’t fly away and they can’t use their powers. Kara regains her clarity first, perhaps because she still has traces of her powers, just enough for her to be able to react faster than the others but not enough for her to be able to use any of her powers. Her hands find Lena’s arm, wrapping around it and holding her tight. “Are you ok?”

Lena leans up into the pressure on her arm, her ears still ringing so loudly that she can’t really hear more than the muffled worried tone of Kara’s voice.

Her eyes find Kara’s and then they look over at J’onn and Nia, trying to see if they are alright but as they squint through the flames surrounding them, a second explosion happens, one that scorches outwards across the entire roof of the ship and sends both J’onn and Nia careering off the side of it and towards the ground below.

Thank Rao they are so high up though because Kara knows that J’onn should be able to recover enough of his powers to fly before they make impact and stop them from going splat. Only just though because these are strong power dampeners, stronger than the ones she’s encountered before.

There’s not even the chance for them to call out to their friends though because, in yet another unexpected move, the circle of roof they are trapped in opens up, dropping them down into the ship and then resealing so they can’t climb out.

They land with a thunk. A painful one at that, the metallic floor beneath them offering no cushion or support for their impromptu landing. Lena’s hands fly back to her tailbone, the part of her that has taken the brunt of her landing and the part that is throbbing from the fall. Kara, on the other hand, is clutching her left wrist, pain written across her face clear as day.

Still, they both manage to clamber to their knees as their eyes adjust to the near blackness surrounding them.

“Lena?” Kara calls out, eyes searching for any sign of movement so she can find her.

Lena hears the pinched tone, the obvious sign of pain, barely restrained. “Kara, are you hurt?”

“Just a little. Are you ok?”

“Just a couple of bruises, nothing to worry about. Where are you hurt?” Lena asks, following the direction of Kara’s voice to find her. She knows when she does because she finds Kara’s arms first and upon sliding her hands down to hold Kara’s she gets a whimper when she touches the injured wrist. “Is it bad?”

“I’m not sure but it hurts quite a freaking lot.”

Lena huffs slightly. “So when you told me you’re just a little hurt, you were lying?”

“Yes.” Kara winces as Lena gently presses onto her wrist, attempting to evaluate the damage in the dark.

Their eyes keep adjusting and within a minute, Lena can just about make out the general shape of Kara’s body.  She can’t see her wrist but from the feel of it, it’s probably just a sprain or a hairline fracture rather than a break but she can’t be completely sure.

“Come on, we have to find out what the hell just happened and get out of here.” Kara pushes Lena’s probing hands away from her, partly to get back on track but mostly because the constant pressing into her injured wrist hurts like nothing else.

“Or we could see if there’s a way deeper into the ship and take it out from the inside.” Lena finds the nearest wall by outstretching her arms and waiting until she finds metal with her fingertips. Once she does, she moves along it, following it in the hope that she will find some kind of door or something she can work with so they can move out of wherever they are to somewhere that actually has light of some sort.

Lena’s wish for light comes far too soon though because the second she makes it to the other side of the room and Kara is still on the other, the room lights up with a bright red glow. It’s bright enough that it makes it easy to the glass wall that slides down between them, separating them.

Lena immediately runs towards the glass, pulling the baton from her belt, the one Kara made her bring just in case, and hits the glass as hard as she can, fully expecting it to break from the hit. It doesn’t.

For all of the force and aggression that goes into her swing, the only thing that happens is her ending up on her butt for the third time in five minutes. It’s definitely some kind of reinforced, probably bullet-proof glass. The framework is some kind of alloy that Lena can see is remarkably strong which means that she has no chance of breaking through any part of it to get to Kara.

Kara is in a state of shock. Between the pain in her wrist, the constant sudden shifts of the ship and the sudden arrival of the red sun lamps to drain her powers completely in a way the power dampeners never could, she can’t do much more than stare through the glass at Lena, her eyes wide and every muscle tensed. Every nerve ending is standing on end, it’s like she’s being electrified.

“Kara? Are you ok? Kara?” Lena pushes herself right up to the glass as close as she can get to her, her palm pressing to the glass hard enough for the skin to turn a sickly white.

It takes a solid minute of Kara just staring at the bulbs settled in the walls shining outward, barely even blinking all the while, before she answers Lena’s incessant shouts for her attention.

“I’m...I think I’m ok. Are you?”

“Well, I’m not hurt so I guess so.” Lena deduces. “At least we have light now.”

Kara has to agree, even with the feelings that come from her skin soaking in red sun radiation rather than yellow, she has to admit that it’s better than the darkness she was subjected to before. Still, the feelings she’s got coursing through her veins and through every nook and cranny of her being, those are harder to deal with than the pain in her wrist and the fear she’s got for Lena being trapped here with her.

The sensations almost force her back to a time before she knew of Earth with such ferocity that she has to ground herself in the moment, as terrible as it is, her fists clenching and her feet rocking against the floor.

In the scarce seconds she can’t ground herself, she’s ten years old again and running beneath the light of Rao in a meadow in Argo. She’s with her friends. Her best friend Thara Ak-Var is running too, Kara is chasing her. She trips and lands on her arm, rolling down the slope of the grass with the momentum of her fall. It hurts and she screams. Her mother comes running.

Her mother isn’t here now. All she has is the four solid walls and she can’t even touch half of them because of the glass in her way. Well, that’s not all she has. She has someone, she has Lena.

“Can you see a way out that side? “Kara questions.

Lena shakes her head. She’s already let her eyes trail across every inch of the box they are in, she can’t even see any kind of door. “No.”

Kara, now more aware of herself, even with the pull of her own mind, now has enough about her to be able to look around the small space she has. There are no clues as to where anything might be in the walls, where things might open or be revealed, but that’s no surprise when they dropped down here without ever seeing that coming, there was no warning for that and there was no warning for the glass that fell between them. There are no answers here, only questions, and since they can’t get out of their own free will, they are simply going to have to wait for the answers to reveal themselves.

Kara leans against the glass with her shoulder and she slides down so she’s sitting. Lena moves to sit on the other side with a sigh. “I guess we just wait, huh?”

Lena shrugs. “I guess so. Just keep an eye out for anything we could use.”

“Like what?”

“Anything?”

“There’s only metal and us.”

“Oh, shit,” Lena says, her eyes flickering over Kara’s body. “I forgot you’re wearing the suit I made you.”

“Oh, crap,” Kara says, looking down. “Is there anything good built into this?”

Lena is immediately offended. “Is there anything good? Seriously? Who do you take me for? Of course, there is good stuff.” She points to her right forearm. “There’s a button on your wrist, press it in and it will expose a switch, press the switch and it will release a small explosive, aim it at the ceiling and get as far down as you can.”

“Right, ok,” Kara says, manoeuvring her hurt wrist to try and hit the button. She does. It’s painful, but she does.

She purposely aims for the corner away from her, right beside the glass, fires and then ducks down, covering her head.

The bang sets off a ringing in their ears that they had only just lost from the first bang. It’s a lot louder than they thought it would be and they were prepared for it to be loud.

Nothing really happens though. The blast is completely absorbed by the metalwork of the ship and there’s not so much as a scorch mark left behind. “Damn. Anything else in this suit we can try?”

Lena shrugs. “That was the strongest explosive I put in the suit.”

“Great. Any kind of tools we can use?”

“There are general tools built into the belt but I’m not getting a very good feeling that any of them will be helpful since there’s nothing visible to use them on.”

“That’s not true, there are bolts around the edge of the glass screen.”

“Oh, yeah. Find a wrench and get to it then.” Lena gives in but she knows just from looking that there’s no way she will be able to undo them with only one good hand and since she can’t help from this side of the glass, nothing is going to happen.

“Just you wait, I’ll have it done in no time and then we’ll at least be together.”

-

The wrench is back in place in Kara’s belt. It’s a cool design how Lena managed to compact a bunch of tools in there without even Kara noticing, but Lena was right, there was no way she was going to be able to undo any of the bolts herself.

Kara is sitting with her back pressed against the wall, her shoulder to the glass, while Lena is pacing up and down her side of the room with her head tilted back, sweating slightly from the stress. They could really do with a rescue right about now. They aren’t sure how the others are meant to do that since there are power dampeners around the ship and they don’t really know the best way to get inside even if they manage to get by them somehow.

A segment of the wall on Lena’s side of the wall slides open and a familiar figure strolls in, a very large gauntlet attached to his hand.

Kara goes to stand up but his disgusting voice calls out. “Don’t move, Supergirl, or I’ll blast her head off and don’t think I won’t.”

Kara holds her hands up to show that she won’t try anything because this is Lex and Lex is an unknown. A dangerous unknown that is capable of anything.

“Hello, dear sister.” Lex greets Lena with a smarmy smile. “It’s been far too long.”

Lena shakes her head. “Not long enough, Lex.”

Lex brings the hand not covered by the gauntlet up to his chest. “You wound me, Lena. I’ve been searching for you ever since you decided to abandon your family so rudely and here I find you attempting to take me down so cutely. What’s not so cute is the way I found you, arm in arm with a Kryptonian, our family’s enemy and Earth’s biggest vermin.”

“Don’t talk about her like that. She’s a better person than you’ll ever be.”

Lex snorts. “You really believe that, don’t you?”

Lena snarls at him, her lips curling in disgust as her head shakes at him subconsciously.

“No matter, Lena. I will free you from the lies you’ve been fed. With one less Kryptonian on this planet, you can come back to where you belong and be welcomed with open arms.” Lex smirks, continuing to point the gauntlet at her. He turns back to Kara. “I see my little sister has made you a new suit, one that makes you invulnerable to kryptonite. It’s such a shame you’re going to have to take it off so I can destroy it, isn’t it? Maybe I’ll keep it locked away as a trophy after you’re dead.”

“That’s not going to happen.” Kara bites.

“Then I guess I’ll just have to kill you both.” Lex shrugs. “Between you and me, she doesn’t look all too willing to come back to the good old family business anyway.”

The deafening sound of the gun clicking as it preps in the gauntlet fills the room and Kara’s adrenaline levels rise higher than they have been throughout everything that’s happened. Her senses heighten and her breathing stops momentarily as her instincts take over.

She’s on her feet, all pain from her wrist gone as it heals, and she’s barrelling towards the glass. Her suit gears up around her, reacting to her surge of adrenaline and weakened state with a cool blast of yellow sun radiation right into her body, rejuvenating her to higher levels than even she’s used to.

A fraction of a second and she’s through the glass, shards spraying everywhere. Her anger takes hold as she skids in front of Lena protecting her, the visor begins to lift, preparing for the heat vision that’s coming but something goes wrong and her visor stutters, it doesn’t open fully and the heat vision is coming in hot, literally.

It smashes through the visor, compromising her suit as she fires off a deadly beam of heat towards her enemy. Lex reacts quickly though and for that, Kara has really got to give him props because she moved in a matter of seconds.

His hand lifts up and a beam of Kryptonite shoots out of it, meeting her heat vision in an explosion of power that sends both of them flying backwards with the force of the unexpected collaboration. Lex flies through the door and Kara goes shooting back towards the wall, her fall softened by Lena’s waiting arms but they still land with a grunt.

Lena winces. Her tailbone is going to take a long time to recover from this.

They don’t have time to waste though, this is their chance to get out of this room. Lena shoves Kara up, grabbing her by her arm and dragging her towards the door. With her baton in hand, she pushes Kara through the door and out into what appears to be another large room, one big enough to hold a wedding banquet in.

Her eyes flicker to Kara. Not the time. Not the place. Not the year, in fact. One date, it’s way too early for those thoughts.

Lex is groaning on the floor and Lena takes advantage of his momentary distraction and disorientation to give him a solid whack to the top of his head with her baton, both hands putting as much aggression into the hit as she possibly can.

It’s all it takes, the anger-induced violence doing its job and knocking him out cold. She grabs his gauntlet, fidgeting with it for a moment to get it off his arm and then onto hers. “Now, let’s see what this bad boy can do.” She mutters, re-joining Kara, who is staring at her with her eyes bulging out of their sockets.

“Want to figure out how to destroy this ship from the inside with me, Supes?”

“Golly, I would love that.” Kara grins. “Have I mentioned how hot you are with a baton?”

Lena’s eyebrow flicks up. “Noted.” She licks her lips once before shaking the inappropriate thoughts away, they have a job to do.

There are a bunch of doors available to them and since they have no idea where they are, they just have to make a guess and open up a bunch of doors until they find a hallway. They find themselves running, the dark looming of time they don’t have urging them to hurry because Lex is going to wake up sooner rather than later and since this is his ship. He knows how to manipulate it against them, they have already seen some of how it can be used to trap them.

Their steps are fast but Lena’s fingers are faster as she figures out the ins and outs of the gauntlet. She finds a hologram feature in it and activates it to see a perfect diagram of the ship so she can control the doors remotely and subsequently also see a map of the entire place.

“Take a left.” She calls out to Kara, who is a step ahead of her.

She almost slips but Kara makes the corner and is faced with just a wall. “Um, Lena?”

“Hold on.” Lena fiddles for a moment and gets the wall to open up to another hallway. “Keep going. The fourth door on the right and then the second left and we’ll be in the control room.”

“Cool, cool,” Kara mutters, sliding to a stop before she makes it to the first turn because out of one of the other rooms, several Lexo-suits come striding out towards them, kryptonite engaged and ready to fire.

Before she can duck, Kara is struck by several beams of kryptonite, sending her sprawling onto the floor, the suit stuttering her progress and bringing her to a painful stop. She clings to her chest where she was shot, the pain so intense she can’t focus on anything else.

Lena slides to her knees at Kara’s side, hovering over her whilst activating the gauntlet to blast the Lexo-suits.

They barely react to the kryptonite, probably because they feed off of it since it’s their power source. Lena looks back down, going through every button she can see and pressing it on the gauntlet, praying that one of them will stop their march towards them, already powering up another kryptonite blast to aim at Kara.

Doors open and close around them with each frantic press of a new button until eventually Lena finds the controls for the Lexo-suits and manages to disengage them. Well, self-destruction counts as disengagement anyway.

Lena covers Kara’s semi-limp body with hers as cogs and wires and fragments of Kryptonite come flying through the air in every direction.

She cries out as shards of kryptonite piece into any part of her body the body armour doesn’t cover, especially the back of her shoulders. She looks down at Kara’s face and sees one of pure agony. She’s reaching down towards her legs in an attempt to rip the sharps of pure agony out of her flesh where she’s been pierced. There’s no time though because a familiar voice is ricocheting through the ship.

“Lena! Stop what you’re doing before I kill you along with the alien scum!”

Lena grabs her arms and tries to pull her up, failing miserably but getting more and more desperate by the second. Kara, to her credit, does try and help a little but the pain radiating out of her legs and up into every part of her body is so immense and overwhelming that she can do little more than barely sit up.

Kara’s veins glow a bright green as Lena moves behind her and loops her arms underneath her armpits, dragging her along the hallways and towards the control room. It’s a further distance than she would like and all the while, she’s being plagued by Lex’s deranged cries for her to stop and hand Kara over to him between bouts of maniacal laughter.

Her arms and her back ache from the added weight and Kara’s attempts to get her feet flat on the floor only serve to make the journey more difficult.

Lex is getting closer; she can hear his steps now but she just has to get around the door.  She drags Kara through the door and promptly drops her right on the floor. There’s no time for delicacy. She rams her hand into the close-door button and then grabs her baton from her belt and smashes up every bit of technology around the door in an attempt to stop Lex from being able to open it.

Kara is left groaning on the floor while Lena races to the control panels lining the room and thank Rao her mind still has some kind of capability for working under pressure because she manages to drop the power dampeners before the door slides open.

Her head whips around when she hears the sliding of the metal door clanking open to reveal Lex now standing just over Kara, who is still on the ground, unable to get up and run because of the injuries to her legs and the pain of the kryptonite poisoning her.

He might not have the gauntlet anymore but that doesn’t mean that a good old-fashioned pistol isn’t dangerous, especially as it’s pointed at Kara’s head.

“Lex, if you do that, I will kill you myself,” Lena warns, her blood running cold.

“Oh, please. You don’t have it in you, little sister. You’ve always been the weakest of the family, that’s why we kept you away from the limelight, don’t you understand? It was for your own protection because you are so easily fooled into believing that people like her, are the good guys. That couldn’t be further from the truth. They are the worst thing to ever happen to this planet.”

“That’s where you’re wrong, Lex.” Lena walks towards him slowly, the gauntlet held up in front of her, pointing directly at his face. “You’ve always underestimated me, tried to get me to see delusions instead of your selfishness. I suppose Mother and Father had a lot to do with that but you’ve never seen me for the person I am and that’s your problem. You can’t see that I’m strong. Stronger than you.”

Lex emits an undignified breathy laugh. “You? Stronger than me? Don’t make me laugh.” He steps over Kara’s writhing form and towards Lena. “I don’t care what becomes of you, I’m only here because Mother was upset to find out that you had left the sanctity of Luthor Corp.”

“I don’t believe you.”

“Oh, really? And why is that?”

“You’ve killed more people than most serial killers, Lex. You did it just because you couldn’t handle me having a life of my own that isn’t under your thumb. That shows your weakness and also kind of breaks down your narrative of being the Earth’s saviour, doesn’t it?”

Lex’s mouth presses into a thin line before he jumps to defend himself. “I let the civilians out of the city before I released my Lexo-suits.”

“Perhaps but you killed people with the bugs and the fires. You murdered innocent people because of your own ego.”

“My ego isn’t the issue. It never has been, it’s been the egos of people like your little pet Kryptonian and the other roaches you have fallen in with since leaving the care of your loving family.”

Lena just smiles at him and it does nothing but send him into a state of rage. “What do you have to smile about, Lena? I have you trapped on my ship, your little friends can’t help you and the Kryptonian will be dead within a couple of hours if I don’t get bored and end her before then.”

“You’re wrong.”

“Oh?”

“Yeah, all of that actually. Especially the part about Supergirl.”

“She’s—” Lex’s words leave him because somehow, Kara has managed to garner enough about her to push herself up to her knees, get the wrench out of her belt and whack the back of his legs, forcing him down to his knees.

Now that he’s a decent height for her to reach, she gives him another hit, this time around his head, the gun clattering to the floor from the shock of it.

Lena watches closely as blood drips down the side of his face. She picks the gun up off the floor and tests the weight in her hand before pointing it at him. “Goodbye, Lex.”

“Lena, don’t.” Kara wheezes. “We’ll take him back and put him in containment. Don’t kill him.”

“I’m sorry, Supergirl, but my morals aren’t as steadfast as yours and while he’s on this planet, his victims will never experience justice. They don’t get to live and so neither does he. If he lives, I’m certain that he will kill again. If he lives, I cannot truly live.”

“You can’t live with the knowledge you killed your brother either.” Kara has to half-crawl and half-drag herself around Lex. He’s still kneeling, completely disorientated and on the verge of unconsciousness. He’s trying to say something but his words are so slurred that neither Kara nor Lena can tell what he’s trying to say.

Lena moves her gaze to Kara. “I have to. He has to die.”

“Let me do it.”

Lena shakes her head. “It has to be me. You can’t. You’re Supergirl and Supergirl doesn’t kill.”

“No, but Supergirl isn’t going to kill him. Kara Zor-El is.” Kara’s eyes are filled with determination, even if every vein in her face is still glowing green, it doesn’t take away from it in the slightest.  “I’m the head of my family and for the crimes committed against the House of El, I sentence Lex Luthor to death.”

Kara takes the gun from Lena’s loose grip and points it at Lex. She doesn’t really want to kill him. She wants him dead but she doesn’t want to be the one to do it. She wants Lena to be the one even less though.

She stares down the barrel of the gun. It’s now or never.

She shoots.

She lets the gun slip from her hand.

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