#agent routing system

[literaryvein-reblogs]

Writing Notes: Poison

References (Forms, Actions & Examples of Poison; Route of Administration; Some Symptoms; What to do if a Poisoning Happens)

400 years back, Paracelsus stated that, “All substances are poisons; there is none which is not a poison.”

If the right dose is taken, it could become a remedy, otherwise poisonous.

Poison - a substance which when administered, inhaled or swallowed by living organism causes ill effects on the body. It is defined also as a medicine in a toxic dose. Toxic substance may be solid, liquid, gas or any environmental agent.

Forms of Poison

Physical form: Gaseous/volatile/vaporous forms of poisons act faster than liquid poisons as they are quickly absorbed. Similarly, liquid poisons act faster than solid poisons. Gaseous or volatile > liquid > solid. For solid poisons, powdered poisons act quickly than the lumps. For example, there are certain seeds that escape the gastrointestinal tract as they are solid, but when crushed, they can be fatal. For solids: powdered > lumps

Chemical form: Few substances like mercury or arsenic are not poisonous as they are insoluble and cannot be absorbed when they are in combination with other substances like mercuric chloride, arsenic oxide, etc. In other cases, the action is vice versa. For example, there are some substances that become inert in combination with silver nitrate and hydrochloric acid and are deadly and poisonous when present in pure forms.

Mechanical combination: The effect of poisons is significantly altered when they are combined with inert substances.

Action of Poisons

Local action: Direct action on the affected site of the body. Examples include irritation and inflammation in strong mineral acids and alkalis, congestion and inflammation by irritants, the effect on motor and sensory nerves, etc.

Remote action: Affects the person due to absorption of that poison into the system of that person. For example, alcohol is absorbed in the system and then it affects the person.

Local and remote actions: Some poisons can affect both local and remote organs. Thus, they not only affect the area with contact to the poison but also cause toxic effect after absorption into the system.

General action: The absorbed poison affects more than one system of the body, for example, mercury, arsenic, etc.

Route of Administration

The route of administration is the path through which a drug, toxin, or poison is taken or administered into the body of a person which is distinguished by the location where any drug is applied. It is mostly classified on the basis of its target:

Topical—has a local effect

Enteral—has a wide effect, i.e., affect the whole system

Parental—follows a systemic action

Poisons are given or taken so that death can occur at once by shock due to stoppage of body’s vital systems.

Route of administration plays a very important role in determination of death by poison as time in which death occurs are fastest in inhaled poisons, relatively slow in injected and lastly when ingested orally.

Some Symptoms

Sore throat

Trouble breathing

Drowsiness, irritability, or jumpiness

Nausea, vomiting, or stomach pain without fever

Lip or mouth burns or blisters

Unusual drooling

Strange odors on breath

Unusual stains on clothing

Seizures or unconsciousness

Examples

Poisons Based on Mode of Action

1. Corrosive poisons

Strong Acid - sulfuric acid, nitric acid, hydrochloric acid

Strong Base - sodium hydroxide, potassium hydroxide, ammoniumhydroxide

2. Irritant poisons

(a) Inorganic:

Metallic - lead, arsenic, mercury, antimony, copper, zinc

Non-metallic - chlorine, bromine, iodine

(b) Organic:

Vegetable - croton oil, castor oil

Animal - snake venom, scorpion venom, spider venom

(c) Mechanical: powder glass, diamond dust

3. Neurotic poisons

Cerebral - alcohol, opium, barbiturates, benzodiazepines

Spinal - strychnine

Peripheral - curare

4. Cardiac poisons

5. Asphyxiants - CO2, CO

Poisons Based on Medicolegal Classification

Homicidal poisons - aconite, abrus precatorius, strychnos nux vomica

Suicidal poisons - opium, barbiturate, organophosphorous, organochloro compounds

Accidental poisons - snake bite, CO, dhatura's seeds as it resembles capsicum seeds

Abortifacient poisons - quinine, calotropis

Stupefying agents - dhatura, chloral hydrate

Agents used to cause body injury - corrosive acids

Cattle poison - abrus precatorius, calotropis

Used for malingering - semicarpus anacardium

Poisons Based on Toxico-analytical Classification

1. Gaseous poisons: methanol, ethanol, benzene, toluene, acetone

2. Volatile substances: ethane, butane

3. Organic Non-volatile substances:

Drugs - opiates and synthetic narcotics, sedatives and hypnotics, stimulants, depressants

Pesticides - insecticides, fungicides, herbicides, rodenticides, nematocides

4. Metallic poisons: arsenic, lead, mercury, antimony, zinc, copper

5. Anion poisons: bromide, cyanide, fluoride, hypochlorite, nitrate, phosphate, sulfide, sulfate

Poisons Based on Physical State

1. Solid: lead, arsenic, mercury

2. Liquid:

Organic - ethanol, methanol, chloroform, acetone

Inorganic - liquid ammonia, liquid sulfur dioxide

3. Gaseous: carbon dioxide, carbon monoxide

Poisonous Fumes or Gases

In the home, poisonous fumes can be emitted from the following sources:

A car running in a closed garage

Leaky gas vents

Wood, coal, or kerosene stoves that are not working properly

Mixing bleach and ammonia together while cleaning, which makes chloramine gas

Strong fumes from other cleaners and solvents

Common Household Products

Oily hydrocarbon products are thin and slippery and can easily suffocate if the substances are drawn into the lungs when ingested. The products can cause chemical pneumonia by coating the inside of the lungs. Products that are required to have a safety lid include:

Baby oils

Sunscreens

Nail enamel dryers

Hair oils

Bath, body, and massage oils

Makeup removers

Some automotive chemicals (gasoline additives, fuel injection cleaners, and carburetor cleaners)

Cleaning solvents (wood oil cleaners, metal cleaners, spot removers, and adhesive removers)

Some water repellents containing mineral spirits used for decks, shoes, and sports equipment

General-use household oil

Gun-cleaning solvents containing kerosene

Oil products that are thicker and more "syrupy" are not as problematic, since they are not as easily inhaled into the lungs.

What to do if a poisoning happens

Swallowed poisons

Stay calm, act quickly, and follow these guidelines:

Get the poison away

If the substance is still in the mouth, make them spit it out or remove it with your fingers (keep this along with any other evidence of what was swallowed)

Do not make them vomit

Do not follow instructions on packaging regarding poisoning because these are often outdated. Instead, call Poison Help to get connected to a local poison center.

Take or send the poison container with you to help the healthcare provider find out what was swallowed.

Poisons on the skin

If someone spills a chemical on his or her body, remove his or her clothes and rinse the skin with lukewarm—not hot—water.

If the area shows signs of being burned, continue rinsing for at least 15 minutes, no matter how much they may protest.

Then call the poison control center for further advice.

Do not use ointments or grease.

Poison in the eye

Flush the eye by holding the eyelid open and pouring a steady stream of lukewarm—not hot—water into the inner corner of the eye.

If this is a child, you may need help from another adult to hold the child while you rinse the eye.

Continue flushing the eye for 15 minutes, and call the poison control center for further instructions.

Do not use an eyecup, eyedrops, or ointment unless the poison center tells you to do so.

Poisonous fumes or gases

If someone breathes in fumes or gases, get him or her into fresh air right away.

If they are breathing without a problem, call the poison center for further instructions.

If they are having difficulty breathing, call 911 or your local emergency service (EMS).

If they have stopped breathing, start CPR and do not stop until they breathe on their own or someone else can take over.

If you can, have someone call 911 right away.

If you are alone, perform CPR for 2 minutes and then call 911.

Be prepared for a poisoning emergency by posting the poison center telephone number by every telephone in your home.

Sources: 1 2 3 ⚜ Writing Notes & References

Writing Notes: Fictional Poisons

[astral-herald]

arcane's depiction vs. endorsement and why it flopped

~ i think i'm finally ready to complain ~

My general opinion of season 2 is potential squandered. My recent post about Viktor's storyline as an intentional tragedy lets ya'll know that I did, for the most part, enjoy his arc (hot take, I know, and I know lots of people disagree with me, and I fully understand). If he'd gotten the screen time necessary to pull it off, it would have been legendary in my book. But the lack of screen time, even in the case of the season's eventual BBEG, speaks to my greatest issue with Arcane: no commitment.

(Critical) Discussion of Jinx, Ekko, Sevika, Vi, and Viktor below!

Arcane, as a tragedy (I've said this word too many times to count smh), asks the plot, "what is the worst thing that could possibly happen to this character?" and answers in kind. This is why we get Viktor's lost agency until the very end (and like I've said in the past, I completely understand and hold space for those who dislike this route).

If we ask this same question of the following characters, the scope of loss and despair innate to Arcane's final narrative is made very clear:

Sevika: a revolutionary forever devoted to the cause, not the individual, is nominated as an individual to represent the masses in a governmental body that has no interest in her class-conscious ideal.

Ekko: the people's hero in every sense of the word who never sees the fruits of his labor/sacrifice and who goes without the acknowledgement he deserves (more than any other Arcane character).

Vi: the ultimate victim of Piltover police brutality coerced, through grief, trauma, and loss, into working for the system that oppressed her. Even Caitlyn, for all her good intentions, seems incapable of ever understanding this.

Viktor: a genius hellbent on ending the same suffering he endured at the hands of Piltover's oppression has his agency revoked, driving him to inflict the same choicelessness he endured on Zaunite innocents.

On paper, these arcs are devastatingly sensical. And we don't always need happy endings in our stories (I'd sure like them, more often than not, of course). We can and should witness the harsh realities of class oppression if we don't experience them ourselves. The writing team painstakingly crafted and foreshadowed these worst-case scenarios throughout season 1. For example, in 1x07, Ekko being immediately shot at by Marcus at the bridge confirms our suspicions that Piltover Enforcers are a lost cause, not just full of bad apples but internally broken beyond repair. It felt that, despite all the hope, this struggle was doomed, and we were careening toward something dark - "In the pursuit of great, we failed to do good."

Had these arcs been successful, audiences would be confronted with the systemic issues we see today that implicate the physical and mental health of downtrodden individuals on account of lazy, prejudiced leadership. This actively happens. It is actively happening, sans the fantasy of it all. This is where Arcane should have shined: they depict the tragedy of these characters, but DO NOT endorse it.

But Arcane chickens out and the entire thing fails. Here are the Flop Era Spark Notes:

Maddie is the egregious bad apple stereotype that absolves all other agents of the regime. She clearly is not a stand-in for Enforcers at large because, all of a sudden, they're capable of coordinated artillery strikes that are necessary to the defense of Piltover, which the viewer must suddenly and abundantly care about. So glad she died. Also, Arcane, you cannot introduce abject warfare in the last 30 minutes of your show successfully.

Jinx's "revolutionary" plot was a red herring, and Sevika humbly vying for the spot was never delivered upon. They pay lip service to the Undercity organizing, but the scene is interrupted for larger (messier) plot concerns almost immediately. No commitment. No depiction to even refrain from endorsing.

Ekko and the Firelight Tree. Clearly this was set up as a means of showing how Piltover's mistakes were physically seeping into the only sanctuary left in Zaun. Yet this is just...never resolved? If someone has some insights into this, please let me know. No depiction. No discussion about endorsement.

What could Vi specifically gain by aligning with the Enforcers/Piltover? Human connection with Cait, sure, but why return to them in 2x06? Vi's character begged all season for development, but she kept returning to her nonsensical error of her ways (looking backwards) until the very end, and this is basically what "kills" Jinx. This is a nod to her lonesomeness post 1x03, sure, but to what end? Again, why the Enforcers?!? Oh, because now that Cait has been redeemed and Sevika is in Piltover to save the day, there are no systemic issues left to fix? Sure, Riot.

WHY DEVELOP VIKTOR'S ENTIRE HEXCORE ARC OFF SCREEN?I'M ADMITTEDLY BIASED ABOUT THIS, BUT THE AMOUNT OF DISCUSSIONS I'VE HAD WITH VIKTOR NATION ABOUT THE DEGREE TO WHICH HE WAS INFLUENCED/MANIPULATED BY THE HEXCORE (now that we know Sky was a manifestation of his humanity, not her Actual Self) IS DESPICABLE. HIS COMPROMISED AGENCY NEEDS TO BE FRONT AND CENTER AND OBVIOUS, OR ELSE IT SURE SEEMS LIKE RIOT IS ENDORSING THE LACK OF AGENCY IN VIKTOR'S STORY. I shouldn't have to make 1k word posts to explain this. I'll do it because I love him with my whole heart, but still.

I begged and pleaded for months for BBEG Viktor (I'm really proud of my predictions from October), but by introducing a villain/conflict beyond the Piltover/Zaun dichotomy, Riot severed all threads of class conflict that were so rife and exciting in season 1. The proletariat and the bourgeoise will never coalesce like they did by the end of 2x09 without systemic revolution. Sevika is just one individual. Ekko's people need him. Jinx and Viktor are gone. Vi is downtrodden, and we have SO LITTLE to show for it.

In summary, we just didn't get enough explicit explanation of any character development to make Arcane-As-Tragedy successful. They did not stick the landing. The finale leaves us all with various bad tastes in our mouth. Instead of lamenting the harsh reality of oppression, I'm confused about what Riot prioritizes and agrees with, what they aim to criticize, and what they condemn.

I'll die on the hill that revoking Viktor's agency has the potential to be one of the greatest tragic hero storylines I've ever seen, but it's a lonely hill because I'm fighting against the writing team's consistent flops. At least Balayage Viktor was so gorgeous.

shameless self plug for my earlier discussion about the innate political clashes in season 1 that were abandoned for flashy fantasy fights in season 2:

[spectral-phases]

The Night Blüdhaven Exploded

I don't see enough people talking about what the Chemo attack on Blüdhaven must have done, as just everything was going wrong for Bruce and his boys that night.

For starters, Bruce is already fighting his dead/ressurected son who came back as a crime-lord villain who has been blowing up so, so many goons/criminals in Gotham for a while.

Then he sees Blüdhaven explode in front of his very eyes, and Jason then taunts Bruce, saying that Dick must be dead and insists on forcing Bruce to choose between killing Jason and killing the Joker not 2 minutes later. Bruce, as we all know, refuses to allow either, and stops Jason with a Batarang to the neck/shoulder, depending on your angst factor (or possibly aiming for Joker, but Joker moves and gets it to hit Jason on purpose/by accident ymmv).

(Batman 1940 #650)

And then, after all of that, the Joker sets off some explosives, surely killing Jason/the Joker (This makes the second explosion the Joker is going to no-clip his way out of, and Jason's learned that skill this time as well)

(Batman 1940 #650)

But wait! There's more! I know in the Batman comic they only mention Bruce being concerned for Dick, but Tim was living in Blüdhaven at the time too! Tim was fresh off of his father/girlfriend dying and didn't want to be adopted by Bruce, so he invented a fake Uncle Eddie (hiring an actor to play the role) and moved to Blüdhaven, where his comatose step-mother was being treated. Tim is only out of the city at the time of the explosion because the Titans came and said something was wrong with Conner, so they needed to leave to help save him. On their way out of the city in their jet, they only get far enough to avoid the blast, but not far enough that they avoid the resulting shockwaves as it renders their navigational systems offline, and likely their comms too. So not far enough that Bruce, who has been chasing Jason and Black Mask all night, could reasonably be aware of this fact.

(Robin 1993 #147)

So Dick and Tim very well could have been in that explosion and then Jason gets exploded! Amazing! That's 3 for 3 remaining Robins possibly killed in an explosion in one single hour.

We have no idea where Jason gets to, but we'll assume that he is unable to find the body because of the new no-clipping into the backrooms skill Jason must have (Jason was meant to die here, again. In another explosion set off by the Joker, so Bruce will have to assume Jason is dead even if he turns up alive later. How? Who the fuck knows).

Speaking of ol' Richard "Dick" Grayson, aka Nightwing, how is old boy wonder doing? Well, he's been having a rough go of it the past six months, between Blockbuster targeting him and destroying everything he cares about, Tarantula killing Blockbuster after successfully convincing him to just let her kill Blockbuster (while he walks away and has a panic attack...and...other things happen...TW: SA if you look it up), and then basically playing "suicide by cop" through the job following that and being a double agent of the group that just nuked Blüdhaven, uh...he is straight-up not having a good time by the time Chemo blows up Blüdhaven, and he's only getting worse. He tries to go to the center of the explosion, and Superman, fortunately, arrives on the scene to save Nightwing and put him up on the shelf to avoid dying (I love how Superman keeps trying to save Nightwing from himself in this era and Nightwing is just...no, thank you).

(Nightwing 1996 #116)

Unfortunately, this is the "Flying Grayson" himself, so no shelf is high enough to prevent Dick from going in there, and his mental state is so bad that certain death while saving others is probably more tempting to him at the moment than a deterrent. He "Duly Noted"s his way back into Blüdhaven, helps get the police to control the panicking crowds of survivors towards an escape route, saves the few remaining friends Blockbuster didn't kill recently, and goes directly into the most radioactive area of Blüdhaven to try and save some rouge who might have been there. We see Superman fighting Chemo's core in the background throughout his rescue attempts, so Dick's close the entire time to this heavy radiation. Dick notes that this is the first time he's able to breathe easy in months, saving people from the ruins. He's eventually taken out as a door explodes with the Chemo green gasses while trying to locate the rogue while reflecting on his recent failures.

(Nightwing 1996 #116)

I do think the appearance of Batman as Dick passes out isn't real, Bruce was in Gotham, either reeling from the explosion or looking for Jason or something. There's no way he got to Blüdhaven already, and the legs of Batman are hazy, blending into the smoke.

I also think after Chemo is stopped that Bruce probably still hasn't heard anything about Nightwing, because I don't imagine he took the time and resources to call the Veteran in a communications blackout (who has been historically trying to poach Batman's Robins, and nearly got Tim killed trying to convince Tim to leave Batman and join up his forces. Batman and the Veteran are not on good terms, is what I'm saying) just for Tim's step-mother and fake uncle.

(Robin 1993 #147)

By this time, he is talking about Tim as if he's alive, so he's probably gotten something from the Titans base confirming that Tim's alright, so he's gotta be taking the time and effort to call the Veteran for Dick.

Bruce, being Bruce, gets into a fight with Dick as soon as Dick is brought back to the Batcave and wakes up, while Dick is being treated for severe radiation poisoning/burns. I am willing to forgive this because he's had a time of it, even if he's being hostile and pissy and unsupportive. Definitely not winning the Father of the Year award for this, I'm afraid (Worst Father of the Year award is going to Deathstroke, for embedding a known radioactive carcingenic material into his daughter's eye, but Bruce is in the running for this and Jason).

(Nightwing 1996 #117)

I am awarding this to Bruce for trying to reassure Dick.

But. Anyway. Yeah.

Rough night for everyone involved. Absolutely everything going wrong all at once.

[renx01]

Too Sweet

Prompt: Inspired by the Hozier song Pairing: Harry Hart x (Kingsman!)Reader Fandom: Kingsman Tags/Warnings: age gap, mutual pining, angst Word count: 6495

Masterlist

You’d joined Kingsman only five years ago, and over time you’ve become a well-respected agent, code-named Tristan. Merlin, who is your uncle, was the one who had proposed you as a candidate and helped you prepare for the role while you were still in your early twenties. The other candidates had been good, but you were nearly flawless, only taking calculated risks and never letting your emotions rule your decision making. Control over your emotions was something you always excelled in, and it tremendously helped you make strides as an agent during the initial few months and first year. This caused you to rise in rank quite quickly, making you go on more solo missions or accompanying Galahad or Percival whenever they needed assistance. Today, you’re helping your uncle instead, hacking into some cameras and security networks so he’ll be able to tell Lancelot and Galahad where to go next and what they should be looking out for. It’s something you do from time to time, mostly upon Merlin’s request when he finds the mission too complicated to oversee on his own.

‘The main control room should be south from where they are now.’ You pull up the map on the big screen which hangs in front of you and Merlin, pointing out where Galahad and Lancelot should be going next. As he’s relaying the information to the other men, you hack into the mainframe the criminal organisation and start going through the different files. ‘Any updates about the nuclear files?’ Galahad’s voice comes through the speakers and Merlin looks at you. ‘Working on it. Just focus on getting to that room.’ The screen in front of you shows Lancelot’s feed. He’s following Galahad through the many hallways and twists and turns they take, taking down guards whenever they come across them. Their moves are deliberate, quick and efficient. You turn back to your screen and after a few minutes you’re finally able to access the file Galahad had asked for. ‘I’m sending you the file now, Galahad.’ ‘Thanks Tristan.’ He replies. They have finally reached the door to the control room. Lancelot holds his watch against it and it opens. Silently, the two men enter the room. ‘Lancelot, I need you to connect us to the controls.’ Merlin states and the other man follows the order. Your screens fill with the necessary information and you start working on fully disarming and disabling  the system. ‘Galahad, please flip the green switch on your right.’ You request. Before he can really do so, a loud bang interrupts him, followed by the sound of shots. ‘Lancelot, you take those men while Galahad follows Tristan’s orders.’ Merlin’s Scottish accent seems thicker momentarily. You’ve noticed it only really happened when he was in more stressful situations; one time when you almost got kidnapped, it was so thick you could barely understand him despite having a mostly Scottish family. Calmly, you instruct Galahad what buttons to press and switches to flip. After a few minutes of him following your lead as you type away at your computer, you’re done. ‘Galahad. Lancelot. The system has fully been disabled and disarmed. Get back to the jet.’ They start running through the building and Merlin glances at you, giving you a small smile before going back to helping them follow the quickest route out of the building. 

‘You did well, Tristan.’ Merlin ruffles your hair and you smile at him. ‘Thanks. You didn’t do too badly yourself, old man.’ He laughs and lightly punches your arm. ‘I’m not that old, your mother is 10 years older than I am.’ You snort and teasingly say, ‘And you Merlin, are 12 years older than I am.’ After that comment, a comfortable silence settles between you. There were a few more tasks you had to complete before tomorrow, so you decided you would spend the evening and night at the mansion.  About an hour after the mission finished, Merlin leaves, leaving you alone in front of the large screen filled with documents. Quietly, you continue working for a few more hours before you call it a night. You’d finished your side of the report, only needing Galahad and Lancelot for the final few details. You’ll probably ask them about those during the debrief tomorrow afternoon. 

Once you’ve locked your computer and turned off all the lights, you silently walk to the kitchen, where you start making a pot of tea. The room is dark, as you only turned on the light above the stove. A sound from behind you catches your attention. Looking back, you see that your two colleagues have just returned from their mission. ‘Evening gentlemen.’ You greet them. ‘Tristan, good evening.’ Galahad walks up and stands next to you, just as the water starts boiling. ‘Would you like a cup?’ Your hands continue moving, putting in the tea egg to let the leaves steep. He hums in response as he grabs two more cups. ‘Chamomile?’ Galahad quietly asks and you nod. A comfortable silence settles between the two of you while Lancelot leaves the room momentarily to put some of their things away. Once the tea has sufficiently gained colour and flavour, you pour some into the three cups. Grabbing your own, you sit down next to the chair you’d draped your suit jacket over. Harry sits down across from you and puts down Lancelot’s cup next to him. You both quietly drink your tea, your eyes scanning that day’s paper. When you look up, you notice his eyes are trained on you, making you a bit nervous. Before you can say anything, though, Lancelot walks back in and starts talking about their flight back to England and the newest Royal scandal of the week. The other man’s attention shifts to his colleague who is talking excitedly. Your eyes scan Galahad’s features. He is handsome, smart, quick-witted, and a gentleman. A combination which has led you to, over time, develop a bit of a crush on your colleague. 

‘Tristan, what do you think?’

You turn your head to face the other man. ‘I think the situation escalated unnecessarily, had the royal family handled it properly, this would’ve never become public.’ He smiles and Galahad interjects. ‘I agree with Tristan, this situation could have easily been avoided.’ The two men continue talking and you sip your tea.  ‘Gentlemen, I’m heading off to bed. I’ll see you tomorrow morning at the debrief.’ You stand up and put your cup into the dishwasher. It was already 11 o’clock. ‘Tristan,’ Galahad stands up, ‘if you’ll allow me, I’ll walk you back to your room.’ Smiling, you nod. ‘Of course Galahad; thank you.’ He leaves the room with you and as you walk, he leans sideways in your direction and whispers. ‘Thanks Tristan. I was a bit tired of Lancelot talking. He’s been going without pause from the moment we got on the jet.’ It didn’t surprise you in the least. ‘Of course Galahad. Lancelot tends to talk quite a lot; I suspect his favourite sound may be his own voice.’ He snorts. ‘I suspect you might be correct.’ The hallways are silent except for your quiet footsteps and conversation. The distance between the two of you seems to become smaller as you continue walking and talking; until you stop in front of your door. ‘Galahad, thank you for accompanying me.’ You turn to face him and smile. ‘Of course Tristan, it was my pleasure.’ His voice was quiet. The silence between you is tense and Harry seems to slowly be leaning closer as he holds your eye contact. Moments, which feel like hours pass, but he doesn’t make a move. Your noses almost touch when he seems to snap out of a sort of trance and clears his throat, pulling back quickly. ‘Ah Tristan, I should get going. Now if you’ll excuse me, I’ll see you tomorrow.’ As he walks away, you stand frozen in your doorway.

The following morning you watch the sunrise outside, a hot cup of coffee in your hand. It seems no one else is up yet. You’ve left your suit jacket in your room and have your sleeves rolled up, the crisp air touching your form. Behind you, you hear your dog walking and sniffing around. ‘Ares.’ The Doberman walks to your side. ‘Want to go for a walk?’ He barks and you pet him behind his ears. ‘Let’s go.’ You smile and he runs into the field in front of you, with you following calmly. Upon your return, you’re greeted by Merlin, who looks to have woken up not too long ago. ‘Morning Tristan.’ Ares excitedly runs up to the Scot. ‘Morning to you too Ares.’ He puts down his coffee and pets the dog with both his hands. ‘You’ve got an awful lot of energy today, haven’t you?’ ‘He really does, he’s been running around for over an hour already.’ You laugh. ‘I’ll bring Albion to play with him later today.’ He takes a sip of his coffee. ‘I’ll be back momentarily, can you watch Ares for a second?’ He nods. ‘Thanks.’ you say and smile at him. You walk into the kitchen through the open doors. Putting down your cup, you start brewing another cup of coffee. The kitchen is still quiet, but you know that more of the agents that have stayed the night will probably start walking in soon, though it probably won’t be many. Lancelot and Galahad you knew for sure, others you weren’t too certain about. ‘Morning Lancelot.’ You say as you hear the man walk in. ‘Agent Tristan.’ He greets. ‘Want some coffee?’ ‘Yes please.’ The smell of another fresh coffee fills the air. You smile as you hand him a cup. ‘You feeling alright?’ ‘I will once I finish this.’He groans before the two of you clink your cups. ‘See you at the briefing in an hour.’ 

You spent that hour with Merlin and Ares, mostly in silence. The Doberman is as happy as can be, with the Scot and you taking turns throwing a ball into the field and having the dog return it. It was nice spending time with your uncle like this. Usually you have to be  quite serious around him, as you mostly speak to him here, at Kingsman. Now, you can, even if it’s just for a moment, relax and have the relationship you used to have when you were younger and neither of you were a part of the secret service. ‘Uncle Hamish, we should probably get ready for the briefing.’ You say as Ares runs into the distance. He has his eyes closed, enjoying the warmth of the morning sun. ‘Just five more minutes; Galahad will be late anyway, he seemed a bit off yesterday evening when I saw him.’ That last comment piques your interest, but you decide not to pry. The meeting room was still empty when you walked into it with your uncle. A few minutes pass before, you are joined by Lancelot, who is, once again, talking excitedly. While you don’t necessarily have the energy for him, you stay professional and listen with intent. He is still talking your ears off when Galahad finally arrives, about five minutes late. Despite Merlin having made a comment, it is still quite unusual for him to be late. 

‘Glad you could join us, Agent Galahad.’ Merlin calls out from the far end of the room as the other man enters. ‘Terribly sorry for my tardiness.’ Harry excuses himself. ‘Morning Galahad.’ Lancelot greets him, instead you just wave at the agent. Everyone sits in their usual spots, with Galahad across from you and Merlin to your left, though he almost immediately stands up, walking in front of the screen which shows the most vital information related to the mission. Most of the information isn’t new to you, as you’d helped your uncle prepare. Whenever Galahad or Lancelot give additional information, which you hadn’t been able to gain before the meeting, you write it down into the report. Your attention is fully focussed on what everyone is saying, that is until you notice that Galahad’s eyes seem to linger on you a bit longer than usual whenever you make a comment. Eventually, his eyes meet yours. He quickly looks away and focuses on Merlin, who is saying something about the risks which may occur in the future. Yesterday’s mission has likely only slowed down the organisation, meaning that you’d still have to find its core and try to eliminate it. Still, all the new information which has been gained is quite useful. Your gaze reverts back to your laptop screen as you continue typing away. 

‘Agent Tristan, could you please explain to these gentlemen what you did to fully disarm and disable the system?’ Merlin’s sudden attention to you surprises you, but you stand up confidently and walk to his side. Galahad’s eyes seem to burn into the back of your head as you do so. ‘So how we did it is -’ Everything goes smoothly as you explain the process thoroughly to the other agents. Hopefully, you’ll be able to join them in the field next time, rather than having to sit and watch from the sidelines to assist them from a distance. You aren’t sure that’ll actually happen however, as it really depends on what kind of mission it’ll be and what is needed of you.  After a few minutes, you’re able to sit back down. Neither Lancelot, nor Galahad had any questions, which you assume is probably a good sign. There are only a few more things you need to discuss, with most of them only requiring only a little of your input from time to time, so you silently drink some tea as Lancelot and Merlin talk. Galahad is remarkably silent, only asking a few questions or making comments when he deems it necessary. Usually, he’s more talkative and tends to lead the conversation, but today he seems to have chosen to leave that to Lancelot. As your uncle is saying something about the implications of such an organisation having access to nuclear weapons, you feel another foot hit yours. At first, you ignore it; but when it happens again, you look around. It couldn’t be Merlin or Lancelot, leaving Galahad as the only suspect. You quickly look at his face but he acts as if he’s innocent. When you feel a third tap, you let your eyes meet his. The lines around his eyes crinkle mischievously, while the rest of his face doesn’t seem to change. You tap him back, your oxfords hitting the side of his silently. This time, his eyes do not divert to Merlin or Lancelot, and it almost feels as if you’re the only person in this room with him. The feeling is short lived however, with his gaze shifting away when his name is mentioned by one of the other men. Still, his foot remains in place, connecting the two of you. Despite the intimate gesture, his feelings for you remain unclear.

The meeting comes to an end, you and Galahad act as if nothing happened when you stand up. Everyone leaves the room and as he passes you, he slips a small folded note into your hand. You do not get a chance to read it though, as Merlin immediately starts up a conversation with you as you walk the wing of the mansion where the individual kingsman offices are located. ‘Tristan, could you send me the report after lunch?’ You nod. ‘As long as we’re going on a walk with Ares and Albion after, you know he’s missed you lately, and this morning wasn’t enough to make up for that.’ He laughs. ‘Of course.’ Together, you walk into Merlin’s office, where you quickly discuss the last few details before you leave for your own. There, you work on the report for a bit longer, adding the finishing touches before sending it to Merlin. Ares lays in the corner of your office, playing with one of his toys quietly. The folded piece of paper sits next to your keyboard, still not read. Once you’ve finally finished the report, you grab and slowly unfold it. Galahad’s handwriting is neat, but not delicate.

Tristan,

Meet me in the library at 21:00 tonight. 

Yours faithfully,

H

‘I suppose I’ll go read in the library tonight, Ares.’ You whisper before you put the note into your drawer and motion your dog to follow you to the kitchens to have lunch. He walks at your side when you enter, and calmly waits as you brew tea and make lunch. Once it’s ready, you decide to eat it outside, as the weather is quite nice today and Ares will be able to run around before you go for the walk with Merlin.  Half an hour passes before you’re joined by your uncle, who has his dog, Albion, with him. She’s a border collie who is usually quite serious and focused, but gets very excited when she gets to play with Ares. The two of them are best friends, so you and Merlin try to have them meet up and go on a long walk at least once a week. This doesn’t always happen though, as duty calls whenever it does, resulting in having to cancel quite frequently, which happened the past few weeks. Today isn't such a day though, and once you both finish your lunch, the four of you start walking your usual round around the grounds. You and Merlin chat away about anything and everything while Ares and Albion run around together and fetch a tennis ball from time to time. It’s calm and you’re enjoying yourself. It’s always quite nice to spend your time like this. All nice things must come to an end though, and after forty-five minutes of walking, you have to return to work.  ‘See you later Tristan.’ Merlin says before walking to his office, taking Albion with him. ‘Later.’ You wave before walking in the opposite direction. Galahad hadn’t been there when you returned from your walk, so you assume he’s at the shop to get a few things in order. It’s probably for the better, as you aren’t sure what you would do if you were to cross him in the hallway right now. He’s constantly giving you mixed signals. Yesterday, he seemed to lean in to kiss you before pulling away suddenly. Today, he almost continuously avoided your gaze, yet wanted to stay connected in some way that wasn’t visible to others, and he wrote you a note telling you to meet him later.

‘Fuck.’

You whisper to yourself. You’re falling for him, hard. You have been for a long time. You always told yourself it was merely a crush, but you’re unable to deny it any longer. This revelation isn’t your biggest problem though. Your biggest problem is whether he would even be interested, as he’s constantly giving those mixed signals. Tonight you’d decide whether you’ll ever act upon your feelings or not. You’d never particularly cared for the kingsman code which prohibits any relationships, though it hasn’t been necessary for you to break it either, as you hadn’t been interested in any relationships in the first place. Kingsman always comes first in your life. This means that you’ve never actually taken the time to think of finding a partner or date around. What you are worried about, is that Galahad is someone that always follows the rules and doesn’t even think about bending, let alone breaking, them. This may be an explanation for him being so hot and cold with you. Still, it’s confusing and worries you. ‘Good afternoon agent Tristan, is everything alright?’ Arthur greeting you pulls you out of your thoughts and you realise you’re standing in front of the door which leads into your office, your hand on the doorknob. You have probably been standing there for a couple of minutes now. Quickly you turn the knob and start walking in.  ‘Ah yes Arthur, I was just lost in thought. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have some paperwork to attend to.’  You smile at him before swiftly closing the door once Ares has entered the room as well. 

The evening couldn’t come soon enough. Thinking of whatever Galahad could possibly tell you continued racing through your mind the entire afternoon, meaning that you were quite distracted for the most part. Merlin visited you shortly before dinner to discuss the report and what he altered before sending it off to Arthur. While he clearly noticed that you were distracted, he decided against saying anything about it and left. Shortly thereafter, you decided it’d be a good idea to go for another walk with Ares, as it’s a good way of distancing yourself from the setting in which you usually see Galahad. This time, though, the walk lasts for several hours, with the sun starting to set once you start heading back to HQ.  When you arrive back at HQ, it’s nearly nine, so you decide to bring the Doberman to your office before heading to the library. Galahad, or Harry which you rarely ever refer to him as, is already there, waiting for you. He turns to face you and smiles when you enter before greeting you. ‘I’m glad you could make it agent Tristan.’ You nod nervously but try to sound casual. ‘Of course, any time, Galahad.’ His eyes look over your form and you do the same. The tension between the two of you is palpable but you try to ignore it as best as you can. For a moment, nothing happens. The both of you stay still, frozen in place.  Suddenly Galahad moves again and walks up to you. In a moment of passion, he grabs your face and kisses you deeply. It’s so intense it feels as if he’s bruising your lips. When you don’t move, he starts pulling back. Quickly, you pull him to you once more and kiss back, one of your hands in his hair and the other pulling his tie. The two of you fight for dominance and he pushes you against one of the bookshelves, his left hand now resting on your hip.  Eventually, he pulls away and rests his forehead against yours, his eyes still closed. For minutes, the two of you stand like this, silently enjoying each other's presence and closeness. ‘Tristan.’ He whispers. ‘Yes Galahad?’ The man sighs and slowly leaves your embrace. ‘Shit.’ You hear him mutter under his breath. ‘Shit shit shit.’ He backs away, as if he’s only just realised what happened. ‘Galahad, what’s going on?’ ‘I cannot do this Tristan.’ His voice sounds almost desperate. ‘Galahad, what do you mean you cannot do this?’ He doesn’t reply and walks away, leaving you alone in the library.

You didn’t see Galahad the rest of that week and you threw yourself into work, only leaving your office to go out with Ares. If you hadn’t had him, you probably wouldn’t have left your office in the first place. That Friday morning, Merlin comes in unannounced and finds you sleeping with your head on your desk. He wakes you and you slowly sit up straight. Your suit jacket is discarded somewhere in a corner and you look a bit of a mess with your hair all dishevelled.  ‘Are you sure you’re feeling alright Tristan? You really shouldn’t be overworking yourself.’ Your uncle asks you, he sounds quite worried. ‘I’m fine Merlin, I promise.’ He sighs. ‘You do not look or act as if you’re fine. What’s going on?’ You just shake your head. ‘It’s nothing really, I’ve just had to catch up on some work. Please don’t fret it.’  ‘We both know that’s a lie, Tristan. You’re always ahead of everyone when it comes to paperwork.’ He stops for a moment. ‘Look, both you and Galahad have been acting off all week and we can’t have that. I don’t know if there’s anything going on between the two of you, but I want you to fix it, especially if it’s affecting you like this.’ His voice is stern. ‘You should go talk to Galahad then, I’m not the guilty one here.’ You stand up for the first time in what feels like years, your knees and back hurting with every move. ‘I don’t have the energy for all this, go talk to him if you want to know more.’ Silently, you usher him out of your office and shut the door behind him. While you love your uncle, you really couldn’t deal with this right now.

The scotch in the corner of your office had been a little too appealing. That combined with the very limited amount of food you’d had over the past few days, made it very easy for you to become drunk. You sit in your chair feeling very sorry for yourself, as you do in such situations. ‘You know Ares, I’ll go talk to that asshole. He kisses me like that and then he avoids me all week. I suppose that’s not very gentlemanly of him.’ Standing up, you feel dizzy and you have to grab a hold of your desk to keep standing. The world seems to be turning and Ares looks to have multiple heads. ‘Fuck.’ You hadn’t realised how badly the scotch had affected you. Still, that didn’t stop you, and you stumble through your office door. The hallway is empty when you enter it, as is usual at this time of night in HQ. Galahad’s office is only a few doors down and you try to walk there as normally as you can. Taking a deep breath, you knock multiple times. When there’s no immediate answer, you knock again, but more loudly. ‘Galahad, I know you’re in there.’ Your voice is loud enough for him to hear on the other side of the door, but not loud enough to wake any of the other kingsmen. Though they probably wouldn’t wake up unless you screamed loudly enough for it to reach the other side of the estate. Moments pass, but the door is eventually opened by the agent. ‘Tristan.’ He greets you solemnly. ‘I need to talk to you, you pretentious asshole.’ The words fall out of your mouth and there is no stopping them. ‘You are no gentleman. You invite someone to talk to them alone after MONTHS, LITERAL MONTHS, of looking at each other longingly and flirting, then kiss them in the way you did and JUST WALK AWAY LIKE THAT?????’ He finally looks up at you and realises the state that you’re in. ‘WHAT IN THE HELLS IS WRONG WITH YOU INCOMPETENT PRICK????’ You jab your finger into his chest. ‘Tristan, you are in no state to discuss this, please go to bed.’ He grabs your hand. ‘YES I AM, I AM A GROWN ADULT THAT CAN MAKE THEIR OWN DECISIONS. YOU ARE NOT MY MOTHER.’ ‘Yes you are, but you’re currently incapable of making any good decisions. So, please quiet down before you wake up Mr. Pickle.’ Before you’re able to respond, he grabs you and surprisingly easily throws you over his shoulder. ‘Now, I’ll be escorting you to bed, as you don’t seem to be capable of doing that yourself.’ He completely ignores your protests, which continue for about five minutes before you realise there’s nothing you can do about this situation. He only puts you down when you’re in front of your bedroom door, as he needs you to open it. ‘I’m going to put you down, but please stay quiet. I don’t want you to wake everyone up.’ You nod and mutter to yourself as he puts you down. ‘Still an asshole though.’ He laughs to himself. When you finally have both your feet on the ground again, you’re stable momentarily before you start falling over again. Galahad notices and steadies you by grabbing your shoulders. ‘Careful now, sweetness.’ His lips touch the shell of your ear and you slowly feel yourself going red. You ignore it though, steadying yourself with his help before walking to your door and unlocking it. When you try to open it you almost fall into your own room and so Harry catches you, before the world around you slowly goes dark.

The following morning you wake up in your own bed, not remembering how you got there in the first place. Ares sits next to your bed, looking up at you as you wake. ‘Morning, my boy.’ Your voice sounds more like a groan than anything else. He nudges your arm and softly barks when you eventually sit up. The light hurts your eyes as you look around, so you close your eyes and lay back down. Once you finally open them again, you notice that there’s a glass of water and a pack of paracetamol next to your bed. ‘Who put that there?’ You look at Ares and pet him before taking one of the pills followed by a gulp of water. The headache you have is slowly driving you insane, so hopefully this’ll help. Still, it remains unclear who actually put it there after probably finding you in quite the state. Usually, you could easily hold your liquor, but apparently your body had other plans yesterday. You do realise that you’re still in your clothes from the day before. So, you decide to get out of them and put on something more comfortable before calling Merlin. ‘Morning Merlin.’ Your voice is quite hoarse. ‘Ah Tristan, I was wondering when you’d call.’ He sounds quite amused for some unknown reason. ‘What do you mean?’ The Scot laughs. ‘Well, I got a notification earlier this morning that you’d be out of the office today because you’re ill. Thing is, agent Galahad is the one who notified me, which is a bit odd to be honest.’ You groan. ‘Well he’s right about me not feeling well.’ Slowly, you lay back in your bed.  Merlin didn’t talk to you for much longer after that and he remained quite vague about what Galahad had told him about the night before. Despite you desperately wanting to know what had happened the night before, you decided that would be a problem for tomorrow before heading back to sleep.

That night, a knock wakes you from your slumber. You almost jump out of your bed at the sound, scaring Ares a bit. ‘One moment please.’ You shout at the person behind the door before calming your dog. ‘I should take you out for a walk in a few, shouldn’t I? I’m so sorry Ares.’ After whispering that, you stand up and walk to your door. Opening it slowly, you reveal Merlin’s form. ‘Good evening Tristan.’ He smiles. ‘Thought I’d bring you some dinner.’ The tray he’s holding has a plate with a baked potato, some carrots and broccoli, and some beef, accompanied by a large glass of water and a cup of your favourite tea. He walks in once you’ve further opened your door, putting the tray on the small table that stands in the corner of your room. ‘Do sit down.’ His voice is soft. You do so silently, Ares laying down next to you. ‘Thank you.’ Your voice is soft and you start eating your first meal of the day. Merlin sits down across from you. ‘I do hope this was a one time thing, Tristan.’ He sighs and takes off his glasses, pinching the bridge of his nose with his other hand. ‘It won’t happen again, sir.’ Your voice can barely be heard from across the table. ‘Look, you’ve been doing flawlessly so far, so getting drunk and insulting go Galahad isn’t something that’ll affect you or your career in any way. It can, however, have an effect on how well you’re able to work with him in the foreseeable future.’ Your eyes don’t meet his. ‘Now that I’ve scolded you for getting drunk and acting in the way you did, I would like to know why. Harry hasn’t wanted to tell me anything and I’m against just checking your glasses if I can ask you.’ Your plate is only half finished but you’re already full and you put down your cutlery. ‘I’m not sure you want to know.’ Leaning back, you make yourself more comfortable in your chair. ‘Galahad has really said nothing?’ He shakes his head. ‘Well then, I suppose I’ll tell you what’s going on; under the condition that this will strictly stay between the two of us. Not even Galahad can know.’  ‘Why are you being so secretive about this?’ He enquires. ‘You’ll understand once you hear the full story. Now do you promise?’ You hold out your hand with your pinky ready for him to intertwine with. And he does. ‘I promise.’ A smile creeps onto  your face. This is something you’d always done with him when it comes to promises, starting when you were just a little kid. ‘So, as you may have noticed the past few weeks, there’s been some tension between me and Galahad, or Harry.’  You start. ‘But this has been an underlying issue for years now -‘ 

That night Merlin listened as you talked about how the situation between you and Galahad had unfolded over the past few years and more in detail about the past week or two. Understandably, it was quite a bit for him to take in, and at first he wasn’t certain how to feel or respond. If you hadn’t been who you are to him, he would’ve been fine with it. But with the familial ties you have, and the fact that he and Galahad are best friends, made him hesitate. Yet, he promises to keep quiet and have you and the other man resolve it by yourselves. He would, however, urge his friend to do so if the issue isn’t resolved within a week, meaning that you’ll have to hurry up when it comes to talking things out. He did make clear that he isn’t against you having a relationship with the older man, his tone may have even been slightly supportive, which was somewhat unexpected.

The next time you finally see Harry it’s Sunday. Exactly three days since you’d last seen him and had had the drunken encounter. There you stood, in front of his apartment, your heart pounding in your throat. He’d been at the shop the past few days while you were at the mansion. Merlin was quite convinced that Galahad was, in fact, avoiding you, so he’d suggested you go visit him that evening. Well, suggested was quite a loose term in this case. It was more that Merlin just dropped you off here and told you to ‘Go ahead and talk it out’. Obviously, this was his way of forcing you to do so, as he is quite sick of having the two of you avoiding each other.

Finally, you ring the doorbell and you stand there waiting nervously for Galahad to answer. He does after a few minutes and the confusion is quite evident on his face. When he doesn’t say anything, you start talking. ‘Sorry to bother you Galahad, but Merlin’s dropped me off so we can talk things out.’ You smile sheepishly and he sighs before letting you in.  You have never been inside his home before, so you look around curiously as he leads you into his kitchen. He was wearing his usual attire, save for the glasses. Apparently, he had been cooking dinner when you rang his doorbell. As you look around the room, not moving, he clears his throat. ‘Would you like to join me for dinner Tristan?’ The question is logical, yet you aren’t certain whether he actually wants you to join or if he’s asking it out of obligation. You’re hoping it’s the former rather than the latter. ‘If you don’t mind. Otherwise we can talk and then I’ll leave, I don’t wish to intrude Galahad.’ He motions you to sit down. ‘I would love for you to join me, I’m almost finished cooking dinner anyway, so do feel free to have a seat.’ When you do so, he turns around to face the stove once again before finishing dinner. It is a simple yet delicious meal, and you appreciate the gesture of him inviting you to join him. It is mostly spent in silence, save for a few comments appreciating his skill, or talking about the goings on at the shop and HQ. 

After dinner, Harry offers you a cup of tea before pouring one for himself and sitting down across from you. It is silent for a few minutes before he finally speaks again. ‘I would like to apologise.’ His voice is soft. ‘I should’ve handled this situation differently and not have run away in the way I did.’ As he says this, his eyes divert. ‘It is just that I was, and still am, quite uncertain of how to go about this. I do not wish to hurt you, but in my attempt to do so I did the opposite of what I had intended. I thought you were too pure, too kind. You’re too sweet, too sweet for a bitter man like me. Yet here I am, madly in love with you and confessing my feelings.’ When he finishes talking he looks you in the eye once more. There’s emotion in them, seemingly a mix of sadness and regret. ‘Galahad, I don’t know what to say.’ You pause. ‘I understand why you may have hesitated to approach me in the way you did, however, I am quite confused as to why you ran away so suddenly. You are the one that made the initial move and I never approached you because you were likely to have reservations about breaking kingsman code, yet you gave me hope by inviting me to the library to talk. And for a moment, when you kissed me, I thought we could be together, even if it was just for a moment.’ Slowly, you stand up from your chair. Putting down your cup of tea in the process. ‘Then you went ahead and ripped my heart out by walking away like that. As if I mean nothing to you, as if you weren’t the one that made the first move.’ You raise your voice a bit, but try to stay calm. Following your example, he stands up as well and starts walking towards you. ‘I truly am sorry but it is up to you whether or not you forgive me.’ He looks down into your eyes. ‘What will happen if I forgive you, Harry?’ The two of you are almost touching each other, only a few centimetres between your faces. ‘I shall take you on a date and be your partner. That is, if you’ll have me.’ Rather than answering him with words, you pull his tie and kiss him passionately.

[opal-owl-flight]

Welp cue Neo 3 getting themselves in so much danger that 3 has to save their dumb a*s.

HAPPY BIGGEST RUN!! Guess it kicks off the high action segment of the Neo3 arc :)

(this ask has been sitting in my inbox awhile.)

Neo3 refers to working with Agent 7 and going undercover in Grizzco during the biggest run.

more notes on what transpires in the biggest run below!! Id draw more of this out but Im v tired wdkefk

Before the comic above, there is the matter of pre-biggest run preparations.

"|We'll have to protect right on our home base.|" signs the captain, their eyes steely and cold. "|We have to evacuate everyone.|"

"Aye aye. But I beg to ask -- how are we supposed to protect our identities?"

3 clacks their beak.

"|Dont wear the uniforms. Let us appear like a legendary team taking initiative.|"

"I-if I must suggest, Captain."

They turn to face the newly recruited Agent 7, whos shaking as he spoke. "...I-I can loan us all some Grizzco gear. Itd hide our identities really well."

"Ah, so we play into their game." Says Neo3, anger barely hidden in her half-snarling voice. "Id rather die than wear that."

"Then you can help Three find the root cause of that song theyre hearing." Says 4, "Since you can hear the dirge as much as the hordes can."

3 is so proud of their agents being so capable...

They nod their head. "|Sounds like a plan. Four, join Agent 7 in evacuating the citizens.|"

4 rolls her eyes, grabbing 7s arm. "I wont let you down. And Ill make sure Agent 7 here doesnt, either."

"Hey! Ow! Thats uncalled for! Raaain!!!"

--------

The comic takes place after the source(s) of the so called "Death Dirge"s locations are found (so its 3s next set of commands after the blurb above).

For context, Inkadia and the Splatlands had built infrastructure on migration routes for economical reasons or whatever and thought the salmonids a nuisance. Think of dams being built on irl salmon routes. Or cities being built on dangerous areas (volcanoes, fault lines, etc) and adapting to the danger. The mindset for big runs is "we'll deal with them when it happens." Instead of. Making room for them.

This biggest run is the biggest migration that uses a route thats been hasnt been used for several hundreds of years.

In the middle of the CITY.

Not only that, The Death Dirge is actually Grizzco using devices emmitting magnetic fields to attract BIG numbers and to make them all gather as close to the city as possible (like, attracting even the ones using the other migration routes/the other turf stages).

3 and Neo3 had found these sources and 3 set about dismantling them (alone for the first two, with Neo3 in the last since her task was accomplished). The last one however involved a mechanical defense system that includes a mech (which 3 had to use a well-placed special on to destroy, and as a consequence is very worn out after) and a harpoon trap system thats meant to catch whatever is messing with the devices without the permission to (Grizzco expected that some clever salmonid might get ideas). Thats why 3 gets GOT there...

Theres also 3 mentioning Neo3 getting caught. Grizzco has been interested in Neo3 awhile because of her salmonid-like adaptations.... but thats all I can say for now :)

As for Agent 8, shes in the Memverse by the time the biggest run happens. Having her own anguish abt the platoon being resolved separately before she returns in the middle of the chaos to help out. And also say what she needs to say to 3 and 4...

[mirrorofliterature]

whenever I see posts that are like 'the jedi were kind to the clones!' I'm like: yes and?

that's the bare fucking minimum

we treated these clones we don't know the actual origin of like the humans they clearly are, but they were ordered under our name, and we refused to admit this lack of knowledge to the senate because it would emasculate us, but if we don't become their generals the war will be lost, nevermind that it was probably more harmful, particularly at the start, to have inexperienced jedi generals leading the battle trained clones, both the jedi and the clones - I mean look at the battle of geonisis in aotc, for goodness sake

the jedi should have acted like the red cross in the clone wars: as neutral humanitarian agents, not soldiers of the republic. becoming generals in an arguably pointless but bloody war against people who, whilst led by people with questionable morals (although that is arguably true of the republic, hello corruption), had legitimate qualms (and padme is spot on aotc with her politics, honestly, starting an intergalactic war was so fucking stupid and beget so much needless violence), but no, that would have made the jedi look.... bad, apparently, because they ordered the clones, if only really in the eyes of the senate - it tanked their reputation with the general public and tbh the senate too

back to my original point: should we throw a fucking party for the jedi treating the clones with basic respect and dignity? that proposition is flawed in itself, given jedi like pong krell, whose high casualty rates were never fucking remarked on. great caring for the clones, jedi. really outdone yourself there.

maybe try next time to use your considerable political power to throw your weight behind clone rights or developing/supporting a systemic escape route?

what I want from the Jedi: more than apathy, indifference, saving face at the expense of the galaxy, being too prideful to admit when they fuck up, and oh... idk... MORE THAN THE BARE FUCKING MINIMUM FOR THE CLONES ON A SYSTEMIC LEVEL

[drdemonprince]

Genuine question regarding the way turning your creativity into a career has broken your brain: do you think getting a job not reliant on creative output would solve the problem, or do you think this has long term damaged your relationship with creativity?

I see so many friends who tried to "make it" as artists never pick back up with their art in the same way they did before after they reach your point, even after they get jobs outside that field.

Do you think there are things that can be done to mitigate this and repair that relationship? I wish I could help them.

oh, I uh. Also have a full time job that is not reliant upon creative output. and so that has not worked great. because i've had like double the things to do, in my mind. (tho admittedly my job is really easy and i get away with fucking off a lot). For years it was the perfect scenario because i was not relying upon my creative output for income, and so i could just do time theft from my main job and write on the clock for fun!!! but then. the shit i did for fun became a whole like Business and so now i've basically had to maintain both adequate productivity at the main job WHILE succeeding in the creative job. and i die

It's so kind of you to ask how to help your friends revive their inner creative spark and enjoy making things again. i'm not sure what the answer is. i know that i still feel moved to create. i would never stop doing it. i think what i need, personally, is to stop being a Business -- to not have an agent and editor and PR person and Marketing team and a whole host of other people needing me to do what i do and sending me new obligations all the time. my plan is to not conventionally publish anything else after this upcoming book, at least not for a long time. or to only go the small press route moving forward. i think something like that is what it takes for a lot of people in this position -- to get back into making because it is enjoyable again, and to do silly frivilous creative projects that are social, without any sense of obligation. im trying good lord im trying but ive got to retrain my nervous system to not see creative work as this scary thing i could fail at doing at any time.

[someone-will-remember-us]

Elton John and David Furnish have done it, and so have Paris Hilton, Kim Kardashian and Kanye West.

There’s a bloke from Essex who recently joined the club via an undisclosed overseas location and a 72-year-old Scotsman has just been recognised as the legitimate owner of an American one he bought back in 2020.

What we are talking about here is surrogacy: the incubation and effective purchase of babies after the careful selection of their component parts.

The global market – already worth almost $18 billion (£14 billion) – is projected to rise to $129bn by 2032, according to the research firm Global Market Insights, with anywhere between 5,000 and 20,000 babies incubated to order annually.

This covers the whole caboodle in which you can DIY things with a friend at one extreme, or go for the full Lamborghini treatment where, in some countries, an agent will help you shop around the globe for the finest sperm, eggs and wombs money can buy.

For those opting for the international pick and mix route, there are BOGOF deals (two implants for the price of one), the option of sex selection and a pay-as-you-go plan.

And that’s because you, the customer, are always right. As one agency, New Life Conceptual Limited, based in Lagos, Nigeria puts it: “…it takes four ingredients to make a baby: an egg, a sperm, a womb to grow in, and a family to go home to. You have the last ingredient, but you need a place for your baby to grow, and that’s why you’re here.”

Some companies even offer legal guarantees around defective foetuses that have to be aborted.

If you think I’m making this up, think again.

In the UK, where commercial surrogacy is banned but international imports are not, there are now between 400 and 500 new surrogate-incubated babies registered each year, while globally the business is more than doubling in value every two years.

Some call it a “miracle” and point to the invisible hand of the market creating a profitable multi-billion dollar industry in which everyone wins; a benign system of supply and demand the libertarian economist Leonard Read might have called I, Baby.

And while there is no suggestion that the multi-millionaire celebrities who have used surrogacy, like Elton John and the Kardashians, have exploited the surrogate mothers who bore their children, for others – including feminists like myself – the global surrogacy trade reeks of false entitlement.

It has been sanitised by the liberal “rights” agenda and the same self-serving logic that brands prostitutes “sex workers”. If it brings to mind a book or essay, it is Brave New World, Aldous Huxley’s dystopian novel about social engineering and evil hiding in plain sight.

To what extent, for example, is the lack of regulation around surrogacy driving impoverished women into unsafe and unconsented arrangements, as it once did so extensively with domestic and international adoption?

And what do we really know of all those hundreds of Brits now shopping for children around the world.

Can it really be right that you can effectively buy a baby overseas but raise it in Britain where commercial surrogacy is supposed to be banned?

Just as in the 1950s, ‘60s and ‘70s, when we thought of adoption as a favour to unsuitable mums whether they be “wayward” teens or impoverished Mexicans, surrogacy is being sanitised.

Delve into the subject on the Internet and you will find that almost everywhere you look, it’s celebrated. These babies, magicked into welcoming arms, are seemingly a modern miracle for childless couples of every stripe. TikTok is full of it.

Here in Blighty, we have only “ethical surrogacy”, says Surrogacy UK, a leading non-profit “providing a safe, supportive environment for surrogates, intended parents and families”.

Such organisations emphasise the benefits to infertile couples, and the “great gift” bestowed by women (aged 16 or older) who are happy to “altruistically” lend their womb to another for nine months.

Whilst such arrangements do work for some, there is no reliable data on what is really going on in the UK. This is because the sector is governed by a bizarre mish-mash of statute and common law, and because regulation, where it exists at all, is opaque.

Echoing the words of a Tarantino script, surrogacy is legal in the UK but not a hundred per cent legal.

It’s legal to enter into an agreement with a surrogate, it’s legal to pay her “reasonable expenses”, and, if you’re the owner of a womb, it’s legal to grow a child (made with your eggs or someone else’s) and give it away once it’s born.

But it’s illegal to advertise you are looking for a surrogate in the UK or solicit for business if you want to become a surrogate. It’s also an offence to arrange or negotiate a surrogacy arrangement as a “commercial enterprise”, but that doesn’t really matter because, get this: “reasonable expenses” can stretch beyond the average annual wage.

If money is still an obstacle, you can always rent a womb from a woman in a country like California, Cyprus or Greece where for-profit surrogacy is legal, before bringing the child back home to the UK.

Another oddity of the UK system is that, while it is a criminal offence to advertise surrogacy services, there are “some exemptions for not-for-profit organisations”. It is not clear how these agencies are selected but they are organisations that officials at the Department of Health and Social Care deem trustworthy. It is how agencies like Surrogacy UK and Brilliant Beginnings are able to proactively recruit and advertise a willing pool of surrogates in Britain.

“All our surrogates benefit from being a part of our thriving community and can enjoy a range of events and gifts along the way,” says the Brilliant Beginnings website. “Surrogate retreats” and “milestone gifts” such as chocolates, flowers and even bellybuds - speakers that allow mothers to play music to babies in the womb - are all part of the service.

Brilliant Beginnings says “expenses” payments to surrogate mothers in the UK typically range between £12,000 to £35,000. It is not known how well off the typical UK surrogate is in relation to the intended parents check, but there is potentially a stark economic divide.

“For surrogates who receive means-tested state benefits, it is important to be clear about whether benefits might be affected by any expenses received,” says the Best Beginnings website. “We would always recommend surrogates are upfront with their benefits office”.

Evidence for the benefits and harms of surrogacy in the UK are almost entirely anecdotal.

Disputes do occur but no one really knows their frequency or what they entail because they are heard in the secretive Family Court, which sits mainly in private and from which detailed reporting is banned.

An obvious problem in the UK, is that the flash point for disputes typically arises after the fact - that is, after a child has been born. This is the point at which the intended parents (or parent) must apply to the Court for a “transfer of legal parenthood” and, in most cases, will be the first time the state even becomes cognisant of the surrogacy arrangement.

An application for such a transfer can only be made with the surrogate’s consent but the decision hinges on what the Court considers to be in the best interests of the child, not the surrogate mother.

“The parental order process takes place after birth and involves the family court, and a court-appointed social worker,” says the DHSC website. “This provides a valuable safeguard for the best interests of the child”.

There is a growing recognition that the regulation of surrogacy in the UK is inadequate but the agencies who run it want legislative reforms that favour the would-be parents rather than the surrogate mothers.

They are especially exercised about the fact that written agreements between surrogates and intended parents are ultimately unenforceable in the UK courts.

Others, including myself, want the practice banned – as it is in many countries across the world. Miriam Cates, the former Conservative MP for Penistone and Stocksbridge, caused a storm in January when she said surrogacy was “just ethically not acceptable”.

“Of course adults have a strong desire to be parents, both men or women. Of course it’s a sadness if that’s unfulfilled for whatever reason – they can’t conceive, don’t have a partner, whatever it is.

“But to deliberately bring a child into the world in order to separate it from its mother at birth I think is just ethically not acceptable,” she said.

Alan White, chairman of Surrogacy UK, told a webinar hosted by the Royal College of Midwives in February that those of us who see the practice as unethical and exploitative were limiting choice and free will because we failed to properly understand the motivations of surrogate mothers.

“Surrogates don’t see themselves as mothers, they see themselves as extreme baby-sitters,” he said. “[They are] doing that wonderful thing of doing the part of having children women or gay men can’t do for themselves”.

To survive the psychological impact of giving away a child, there is little doubt that this sort of thinking helps.

As Helen Gibson, the founder of Surrogacy Concern points out, surrogates are encouraged to see themselves as a bystander – just the “the oven” or “the microwave”, as some describe themselves.

But this sort of psychological dissociation doesn’t always work, and perhaps seldom does.

I spoke to one UK woman who feels deep regret at her decision to enter into a surrogacy arrangement. Sandra, whose name I’ve changed, was 32 with two children of her own. She had escaped a violent husband, and was struggling to make ends meet.

A friend suggested she could make money by carrying a baby for an infertile couple. And, after approaching a UK agency she found via Facebook, she was told that in return for having the baby, she could enjoy “unlimited expenses, within reason”.

She was introduced to a gay male couple who wanted her to carry an implanted embryo, engineered with selected eggs to give them the best chance of a “tall, blonde child”. Sandra, by contrast, is short and dark.

The embryo transfer failed three times, and the IVF process made Sandra extremely sick. Eventually, the couple decided to go to California, but not before admonishing her for wasting “their time, and a lot of money.”

“I felt like a broodmare,” she told me.

If the UK surrogacy market is a classic British muddle, the global market is the wild west.  

And because no UK Court or Home Office official can possibly check the provenance of all the elements that go to make up a child (the sperm, the eggs, the IVF, or, crucially, the free agency of the surrogate mother), anything goes for the unscrupulous.

Although most countries around the world still ban the practice, there are more than enough who don’t.

In Greece and various US states including California, Washington DC and Arkansas, commercial surrogacy is fully legal. In many other countries it is either unregulated or very lightly regulated, enabling the trade to flourish. Countries in this bracket include Brazil, Mexico, Colombia, the Czech Republic, Argentina, Guatemala, Iran, Kenya, Nigeria, the Philippines, Russia and Ukraine.

WFI Surrogacy, one of America’s biggest providers, offers its customers what it calls a “live birth guarantee” – the promise that a birth will occur once the process is underway.

“The high quality of our egg donors and surrogate mothers enables us to make this type of guarantee”, says WFI. “Our live birth guarantee programs are available for either: singleton or twins [or] one specimen source or two specimen sources”.

“All our surrogate mothers are medically and psychologically screened,” it adds.

This is Big Fertility, whose business model relies on the commodification of every aspect of pregnancy.

A healthy overall budget for a Brit using the US surrogacy route sits between £250,000 to £320,000, according to the UK agency Brilliant Beginnings.

Often freelance agents or “fixers” will shop around the world for their clients to increase choice and reduce costs. A surrogate mum in Los Angeles, California costs a whole lot more than one from rural Mexico, for example.

Denmark has long been prized for its sperm, its tall blond donors making the most of their viking heritage.

For eggs, there are also options galore – and all pushed with a good dose of fairy tale genetics.

Egg Donor number “241222_01” on the World Center of Baby website (motto: every person deserves to be a parent) conforms precisely to the modern notion of female beauty as defined by Instagram.

Weighing in at just 66kg, she’s also “an artistic soul with a flair for creativity”. If you would prefer a sporty one, just go for donor number 241222_02 – “an athletic enthusiast, deeply engaged in fitness and sports”.

Embryos can be made up from the customers chosen eggs and sperm in any number of IVF labs around the world. They are then frozen and shipped to wherever the chosen surrogate may be. Fixers facilitate the entire process, including the negotiation of complex legal agreements and the careful arbitrage of international and domestic laws and regulations.

The wording of commercial surrogacy contracts is telling, the text reflecting the economic disparity between carrier and client.

“If Gestational Carrier suffers a loss of her uterus as a result of the performance of her obligations under this Agreement, she shall receive $5,000.00 from Intended Parents”, stipulates one contract.

It continues: “If Intended Parents jointly request Gestational Carrier to terminate the pregnancy because of the Child’s medical condition(s), she will do so promptly. If Gestational Carrier refuses to terminate, Gestational Carrier will have materially breached this Agreement and Intended Parents’ obligations under this Agreement shall cease immediately”.

Natalia Gamble, a director at Brilliant Beginnings, says the agency made an active decision “to only facilitate people going to places that we felt were ethical, secure, and safe”.

Although Ms Gamble is adamant that her approach is ethical, she helps clients go to Nigeria, Cyprus, and Ukraine, where commercial surrogacy flourishes.

“We made the active decision at Brilliant Beginnings to only facilitate people going to places that we felt were ethical, secure, and safe – we have very much focused on the US, but through our law firm (NGA Law) we have helped people go into places like Nigeria, Cyprus, and Ukraine because our role is much more not to help them do it in the first place but to help them bring their children home and resolve all the legalities afterwards,” she said.

Northern Cyprus even allows sex selection, with several clinics there advertising the service on their websites.

“The cases that are happening in Nigeria or Cyprus where it’s very unregulated and there’s no legal framework are a very, very small percentage of the overall international surrogacy landscape,” she said.

“We do need to be very alert to the risks of exploitation and those risks are greatest in places where there is no legal framework regulating how surrogacy is run [...] but, it’s about not overinflating those risks when the majority of people are going to what you might call ‘good surrogacy destinations’.”

Ms Gamble is pushing for a change to UK law that would grant commissioning parent(s) legal rights to the child (embryo) at the point of conception.

“It’s in the best interest of the child,” she says. “If you speak to any surrogate mother they will say ‘Look, I am not the mother of this child, I’m always very clear that it’s someone else’s child that I’m carrying’ – no one wants the surrogate mother on the birth certificate, including her.”

But is that really true – are surrogate mothers really so detached?

I spoke to Liane, who said her own experience of surrogacy caused “a huge amount of grief and hurt”.

She described the market as being infected with a sort of “toxic positivity”.

She added: “It’s painted as a wonderful thing to do, a beautiful selfless act which can only bring joy when for me, I felt used, manipulated, and devastated”.

Ms Gibson of Surrogacy Concern says cases involving “coercion and regret” are not uncommon, even within the UK’s surrogacy model.

“Surrogacy prioritises the wants of the adults ahead of the needs of the child, and creates a societal sense of entitlement towards women’s bodies,” she said.

The practices of single men buying children abroad, white couples using black surrogate mothers, and the growing trend towards using cut price surrogacy destinations such as Mexico, Colombia, Kenya and Ghana are all on Surrogacy Concern’s radar.

Physical harms to surrogate mothers are real. Carrying a baby always involves serious risk but, for surrogates, those risks are often greatly magnified.

Linda Khan, an epidemiologist based in the departments of Paediatrics and Population Health at NYU, says surrogates run an “increased risks of all kinds of pregnancy complications, which lead to adverse outcomes for women and children”.

One factor, she says, is that the embryo is not biologically related to the woman and implanted via IVF. Another is that “many women are carrying multiples because it’s so expensive. They want two for the price of one”.

“Twinning is not safe, even when it occurs naturally. It is a huge burden on women’s bodies, it gets all the risks of complications sky-rocketing.”

Whilst it would be difficult (though not impossible) to ban or abolish surrogacy entirely – changing laws to ban the ‘womb traffickers’ as many campaigners refer to the brokers, should be a priority.

The marketing of surrogacy should also be made subject to tougher regulation, say some experts, although many others favour a blanket ban.

“Surrogacy is a trade that makes commodities of children, of embryos and of eggs, and reduces women to being seen as machines,” said Ms Gibson. “It should not masquerade as a progressive solution to the problem of infertility.”

Further, any legal protections introduced in the UK should be for the benefit of the surrogate mothers giving birth and the babies, rather than for the commissioning parents or agents, adds Ms Gibson. A commissioning parent should never have a legal right to remove a baby if a woman has changed her mind.

In March last year, experts from 75 countries signed the Casablanca Declaration, which calls for a global ban on all forms of surrogacy. And in April this year, an international conference was held in Rome with an aim to provide all States with a legal instrument banning the practice of surrogate motherhood.

Implicit within it is a rejection of the fanciful and dangerous notion that anyone, anywhere has an inalienable right to a child.

“The regulations of each country are not enough to stop human trafficking globally,” said Bernard Garcia Larrain, the Executive Director of the Casablanca Declaration for the Universal Abolition of Surrogacy.

“We need an international treaty to prohibit surrogacy because this is a global market that moves a lot of money and knows no borders,” he added.

[wordsarelife]

—hey stephen

pairing: peter parker x fem!stark!reader

summary: you and peter have to fix a little mistake one of the avengers made. luckily you're a great team

warnings: flirting, theft lol

note: i realized too late i hadn't put it in the queqe lol!

the night sky loomed above you, a soft haze of stars disappearing into the city’s light pollution. a high-rise office building stretched into the clouds, and at its base, peter was already halfway up, scaling the glass like it was nothing. your fingers tapped the device your dad had insisted you bring, ensuring your escape route was intact—just in case.

"the probability of falling to your death is one in three," you called out, voice laced with dry amusement as you watched peter's slow climb from the ground.

from above, peter’s voice crackled through your earpiece, laced with sarcasm. "what do the statistics say about people with spider-powers?" he paused to look down at you, clearly rolling his eyes beneath the mask.

with a smirk, you tapped the small stark tech device on your wrist, instantly teleporting yourself from the ground to the roof he was climbing toward. when you appeared, you peeked over the ledge to see him still climbing, almost there. "they say, that they're kind of slow."

peter stopped climbing and turned his head in your direction, scowling up at you. "ha ha" he muttered, clearly unimpressed. still, you could see a grin forming under the mask as he climbed up the last few feet. "and what do they say about people with teleporting powers and stark-level egos?"

you quirked a brow, amusement dancing on your lips. "that we don’t have time to climb up buildings for fun," you shot back.

"whatever" he replied playfully, as he walked around you, to look through the glass of the roof and into the room beneath it. "do we have any information about the security system?"

"vision has already gotten rid of any alarms or anything else, but we still have a problem"

peter and you stared through the glass next to each other, as larry, the security guard, walked through the hallway. he was one of the kind who took their jobs a tad bit too seriously.

the museum was a place that had never been robbed before, solemnly because of larry.

you loved when your dad would pick you out to go on a mission, the higher the stakes, the better, but he had not disclosed what kind he was sending you on this time, before you had agreed.

normally this was far beyond the mission any of the avengers would take on, but thor had accidently packed on of your dads and bruce's invitation into a box you had planned to gift to the museum.

you had asked him if there was no way to just invent it again, to which tony had rolled his eyes and exclaimed with theatrical dramaticness that there was no way in hell anyone in new york, let alone america would survive, if the little device got into the wrong hands.

both you and peter had advised him not to build life-threatening devices ever again.

but now you were here and there was no way back.

"whatever" peter replied playfully, walking around you to peer through the glass on the roof, his eyes scanning the room below. "do we have any information about the security system?"

"vision’s already taken care of the alarms and cameras," you answered, eyes still locked on the space beneath. "but we’ve got a problem."

you and peter stood shoulder to shoulder, staring down through the reinforced glass at the one obstacle neither of you had expected: larry, the security guard. he was patrolling the museum’s halls with an intensity that would put some SHIELD agents to shame. larry was infamous for taking his job way too seriously, a fact that had somehow kept this museum entirely free of robbery attempts.

peter let out a low whistle, shaking his head. "that’s larry, isn’t it? guy’s basically the captain america of museum security.”

"yup," you sighed, arms crossed as you watched larry methodically sweep each room like he was guarding the crown jewels. "this mission is supposed to be high-stakes, not high-annoyance."

your father had pulled you into this last-minute mission, and you couldn’t help but smirk at the memory of his over-the-top explanation for why this was necessary. thor had accidentally packed one of tony's and bruce’s experimental devices in a gift box meant for this museum, and now that same device was on display, tucked away in some artifact. to tony, this was practically a world-ending catastrophe.

"couldn't you just, you know... build another one?" you had asked at the time, exasperation dripping from your voice.

tony had responded by rolling his eyes dramatically, as if you’d just suggested throwing away the mona lisa. "do you want the wrong hands getting this tech? because that’s how we all end up in serious, world-ending trouble."

that, of course, had been enough to get you and Peter on board. especially after the last world-ending trouble, your father had been involved in, had led to robots invading sokovia and ripping it out of the ground.

but now, staring at larry pacing the hallway like he was auditioning for an action movie, you were starting to regret that decision.

"we’ve got to get him out of there" peter whispered. "or this is going to get messy fast"

you nodded. "and vision can’t mess with his comms or knock him out—he’s just a regular guy, after all. we can’t exactly web him up and call it a day"

"yeah" peter agreed. "but we can’t just waltz in either. larry’s about three steps away from spotting us and sounding the alarm. and there goes our quiet heist"

peter shifted beside you, fidgeting like he always did when he was thinking up a plan. you could practically see the gears turning in his head. he turned to you, his face half-hidden under the mask, but you could feel the grin even if you couldn’t see it. "how good are you at distractions?"

you raised an eyebrow. "depends on the distraction. what are you thinking?"

peter leaned down, pointing at the far end of the hallway where a ventilation shaft led into the room larry was patrolling. "you teleport down there, maybe drop something—make some noise. when larry goes to investigate, i’ll slip in and get the device"

you glanced at the vent, calculating the distance between it and larry’s patrol route. it could work. you could make just enough noise to pull him out of the main exhibit area without alerting him too much.

“fine” you muttered, already prepping yourself. “but you owe me.”

peter chuckled, tapping the side of his mask. "i’ll pay you back in kisses. how’s that?"

"disgusting, actually" rolling your eyes, you disappeared in a flash, teleporting down into the vent, making sure to land as quietly as possible. the cold metal of the air duct pressed against your knees as you crawled toward the room below, spotting larry a few feet away, completely oblivious.

reaching for your utility belt, you pulled out a small stark gadget—a harmless little device designed to make a loud noise when activated. with a quick flick of your wrist, you dropped it through the slats in the vent, watching as it clattered to the floor.

larry’s head snapped toward the sound immediately. His footsteps echoed through the room as he headed toward the noise, flashlight in hand. you teleported yourself back to the roof in time to see Peter lower himself through the glass on a webline, slipping into the room like a shadow.

“good?” you whispered into your comm.

peter’s voice came back soft but smug. "good. I'm heading to the artifact now."

you watched from above as Peter made his way through the room, quiet as ever. he moved between the display cases with ease, his eyes trained on the object in question—a small, unassuming vase, inside of which was the deadly device your dad had carelessly gifted to the museum.

"you think they’d put the dangerous stuff in a more secure spot," peter whispered, now crouched by the display.

"it’s a vase," you whispered back. "nobody thinks vases are dangerous."

peter snorted. "clearly, they’ve never been on a mission with you.”

“clearly, my dad is just as smart, considering he gave a kid a multi-million dollar suit” you teased.

"oh, shut up!" peter shook his head, but you could hear in his voice that he wasn't actually angry or offended at the joke. he carefully removed the vase from its display, switching it out with an identical replica tony had provided. “got it,” he said, holding the real one up to the light.

but just as he turned to leave, larry came back into view. peter froze mid-step, his eyes darting to the closest hiding spot—a decorative column far too narrow to be much help.

“uh, y/n?” peter’s voice was tense. “i think larry’s about to spot me”

“how close are you to the exit?” you asked, already preparing to teleport in if things got messy.

“close enough... but not without being seen” peter muttered. he shifted, trying to move around the column without larry noticing.

you sighed, rolling your eyes. "fine. hold tight."

in an instant, you teleported into the hallway just a few feet behind larry, making just enough noise to catch his attention. he spun around, his flashlight sweeping the area where you had appeared.

peter took the opportunity to slip past, barely making a sound as he darted for the exit.

larry's flashlight landed on you for just a second before you teleported again, this time to the roof, heart racing as you reappeared beside peter.

"that was close," you breathed, watching as larry scratched his head below, completely unaware of what had just happened and probably blaming the hint of your figure on his sleep deprivation.

he let out a soft laugh, shaking his head. “you realize this was extremely stupid, right?”

you raised an eyebrow, not missing a beat. “what, you worried about me?”

peter shrugged, not quite meeting your eyes. “i mean, if you got caught, who else would pull me out of this mess?”

you gave him a playful shove. "please. i’d just teleport out, and you’d be stuck explaining to larry why you’re playing spider-man in a museum."

he grinned behind his mask, shaking his head. “you’re impossible, you know that?”

“yeah, well, you’re the one who drags me into these missions,” you shot back, crossing your arms. “besides, i saved your butt down there.”

peter held up the vase, the light glinting off it's surface. "i think we're even now. how about we call it a tie?"

you smirked. "tie? not a chance, parker. you owe me big time for this"

peter's eyes crinkled at the edges, the grin behind his mask unmistakable. “all right, all right. i’ll buy you dinner.”

“dinner?” you arched an eyebrow. “is that how you plan to repay me?”

he shrugged, but the mischievous spark in his eyes was impossible to miss. “seems fair, right?”

before you could reply, vision's voice chimed in over your comm. "y/n, peter, congratulations on a successful retrieval. the quinjet is ready for extraction."

peter gave a mock salute. "see? mission accomplished. we’re golden."

you couldn’t help but smile as you rolled your eyes. "fine, but next time, you get to deal with larry."

peter paused for a moment, tilting his head slightly. “you sure? i think larry kind of likes you. he was definitely staring a bit when you teleported in behind him.”

you scoffed, shaking your head as you turned to head for the extraction point. "do you ever stop staring at me?"

peter’s voice was soft but completely sincere as he jogged to catch up beside you. “no, not really.”

you shot him a sideways glance, trying not to let the warmth in his voice get to you. "smooth, parker."

he grinned again, slipping the vase into the protective case tony had provided. “hey, can’t help it. you’re kind of hard to ignore.”

"right," you muttered, suppressing a smile. "let’s just focus on not getting caught next time, yeah?”

“deal,” peter agreed, but his voice held that familiar teasing edge. "but maybe we should stick to flirting only after we’re out of danger.”

you rolled your eyes. “maybe you should stop flirting in near-death situations.”

peter shrugged, a playful glint still in his eye. “what can i say? it keeps things interesting.”

[weebsinstash]

(bnha/mha spoilers) i've still got attachments to the characters and still think of certain concepts and stuff for them and all that but like, are any of you feeling like BNHA is just going the exact same route as Naruto did where they spent the entire series talking about how cool heroes/ninjas are, then started discussing "but wait, not everything is as it seems! There's evil afoot, and not just any evil, SOCIALLY SYSTEMIC evil!" and then just completely shelved those discussions so the Hero could punch the Bad Guy in the face and then the series ends with everything being fundamentally exactly the same if not in some ways objectively worse

Like im sorry but looking at things thematically, if you told me Endeavor got off completely scott-free and his family still talks to him and he never even went to prison and still gets to keep his job as hero, but Shigaraki who was failed by society and literally poached and groomed as a child to become a villain while still forming bonds with his found family of other abused people and minorities is just KILLED AND DIES SMILING, I would say something like "oh is Horikoshi trying to make satirical commentary on how the broken corrupt system will fight like hell to uphold itself and this is actually metaphorical?" but nah it's just legitimately presented as a good thing and a good outcome

Genuinely? The way the series is ending is making me agree with Overhaul. If you think of Heroes and Quirks as a service or product, then tools can be invented to serve those same purposes. The way that Quirks developed in the universe of MHA is that they became used almost exclusively for combat based purposes, and to even use your quirk, which is also a part of your body or identity, you need special permissions and a license which I bet you costs money to apply for, so now you have the government regulating integral parts of people's identities, and also Quirks that change people's appearances are discriminated against and there aren't really any laws protecting against that

In a way, Overhaul was and still is entirely justified for thinking Quirks should be disposed of because the series is literally ending showing that Quirks are just being used to uphold government and corporate interests rather than actually do what's right? Quirks are literally increasing the severity with which humans can harm each other to the point it completely overshadows the good? Oh yeah I'm really glad we have a hero with super speed to help stop robberies, meanwhile the government has like a secret agent who is creating like nuke strikes on foreign countries, like... the good that Heroes can do? Can be easily done by humanity with tools

Like the way BNHA is ending is in my opinion, extremely dark? Deku was kind of just a clueless foot soldier upholding the dark government of his country and now All Might has no powers, Deku is gonna be Quirkless again, and everything is exactly the same? You could argue the only "win" that's coming out of the ending is that AFO is dead, but like.... someone with AFOs exact same powers could just be born again? Except maybe this time he can be, like, a government employee or a cop or something to really fit in with the core themes of the series :)

[theresattrpgforthat]

me and my frend has tried to hack KoB to make a dating sim ttrpg (becouse flirtig with our frends is why we do this) but its hard and I dont know if I will be abel to finish it.

I cant find a good game that woud work that isnt extremly explicit, do you have any tips.

THEME: Dating Sims

First of all, I did get both of your asks, and I'm going to be addressing them separately, even though they're connected. So never fear, I got both questions!

Hacking Kids on Bikes as a dating sim is a really interesting notion to me - it’s certainly not the first system I would choose for a game all about romance, but that doesn’t mean it’s not worth giving it a shot! From what I understand about the game, it’s kind of meant to encourage the characters to play to their strengths, since your chances of success are rather swingy, and you’d rather be rolling your d20 skill to succeed over your d4 skill most of the time.

If you want to make the goal of the game to be finding a successful partner, I’m guessing that your characters would have to be playing to their strengths when it comes to looking for love - which means that every stat would have to be possible to use when you’re flirting. If I had a brawny character in this hack, I’d want to be able to woo by lifting things to impress them, while if I was an witty character, then I’d want to approach the situation by striking up a conversation about something that I’m an expert about.

If you want to make finding a date the end-goal of your game, then it might be an interesting endeavour to check out some games that focus on romance, and work your way back to Kids on Bikes with substantial additions, or perhaps using some core conceits but re-structuring how the game is run.

Hearts & Espionage, by samanthag168.

"Hearts & Espionage" is a tabletop RPG competitive multiplayer dating simulator set in a futuristic world where high-stakes espionage and technology collide, YOU are an elite agent navigating dangerous missions while attempting to secure a date for your final mission, the prestigious Grand Ball—an event shrouded in mystery and intrigue.

Academic rivals, enemies to lovers, fake dating, and more cliche tropes that you can use to describe your relationship with your love interest! Compete with other agents for love interests or compete to see who wins over their love interest. Sabotage your fellow agents to gain the upper hand and win more romance points! 

Hearts & Espionage feels like a cheesy spy drama or a romantic comedy in terms of tone, granting players romance points when they succeed on dates and/or missions. This is a one-page game, but if you wanted to flesh it out, you might be able to combine this with another game system - for example, if you’re running Kids on Bikes, maybe you have the goal of the players is to get a date by Prom night, and re-structuring each date/mission as a date/mystery instead. You can run each mystery as a standard Kids on Bikes game, but involve the characters’ romantic interests as central NPCs and wrap up each session with rolls to see which characters were the most successful at impressing their prospective dates. If you want a secret Russian spy agency as a threat for the kids to face, you can probably still make it work!

Routes of Love, by Flowergal34

Routes of Love is a TTRPG centered on the idea of playing through a visual novel from the perspective of the romantic routes.

The GM plays the Love Interest and narrator of a visual novel game, while the player characters play the “Routes” - the Love Interest’s potential soulmates, pining for the Love Interest’s affection. Players aim to gather Affection Points through having pleasant interactions with the Love Interest, and sharing special Moments with their prospective romance partner.

Routes of Love is inspired by anime tropes, so it probably fits best in a school setting. That being said, if you’re all playing teenagers in a romance situation, then you could likely modify the character features in order to make sense for a different genre; perhaps you want to re-style the tropes to fit a typical American high school, or perhaps you want to use horror tropes instead. As a group, you’ll collaboratively create three different locations that the Love Interest could potentially visit, and you’ll roll randomly to determine the kinds of meet-cutes that could lead to a future date. What is really interesting about this game is that the GM could be considered the typical “player” character, while everyone else is directing a piece of the game.

If you’re hacking this game with Kids on Bikes, then perhaps the goal is instead to become a beau that the central character wants to woo. Kids on Bikes has mechanics for making a powered character that the entire table has control over, with various aspects that each player will have control over. You could try doing the same thing with a central love interest, and have the players taking turns to embody those aspects when other characters are trying to have a romantic moment with them.

Monster Mash, by BoxDeer.

You and your friends are monsters seeking love and marriage before the end of the Monster Mash. But unfortunately, there are not enough eligible bachelors and bachelorettes to go around. So, in order to secure a matrimony with (hopefully) your soulmate, you must court, scheme, and scare better than your competitors.

There was a trend for a while where regency novels were re-written for film in the context of teenage drama in a high school. As a regency game, Monster Mash could likely be hacked to replace the regency flavours with high-school traits, and your social standing could be replaced with your reputation - considering everyone in a small town knows everyone, and dirty laundry is hard to hide. Each character in this game has to write down a dark secret that might be revealed throughout the course of play, and the game itself has the potential to be rather cutthroat, since the players will be competing with to find a suitable partner.

Making a dating game incorporate your reputation might re-structure it into something more akin to a survival game. Lose too much reputation, and you’re knocked out of the game - which makes sense for short-term games, or if you make the setback temporary. Either way, the route of play will feel a bit more hostile, with you fighting for a place in the ranking that makes you an eligible partner, just in time for a big dance or something similarly high-stakes. If you want a game where dating is the weapon by which you win or lose, you might want to check out Monster Mash.

Step Into My Coffin Babe, by Super Sardine Burial.

With a cohort of your immortal siblings, you have rented the Vlad mansion for a night. A night of debauchery, of elegance, of freely flowing blood… And perhaps more? You have until sunrise to overcome a formidable challenge: making an undead heart beat again. For you.

Generate a number of vampire crushes using card draws from a deck of cards, and move through 12 hours of dates in an attempt to find a vampire lover. If you play this as a multiplayer game, you can compete for a specific Crush’s affections, and you’ll have to come up with new date ideas of you want to increase your Crush’s Feelings.

This is a game that requires a bit of bookkeeping, as you’ll have to track the Vices and Feelings of each of the Crush characters as you play. This is also a game specifically tied to vampires dating, so you’d have to do a lot of hacking to make it about teenagers or other kinds of people dating each-other. That being said, there’s a lot of typical vampire tropes in here, so you’ll find a lot of gothic horror moments inside this game.

The series of dates and feelings trackers feel very reminiscent of a dating sim ttrpg, and if you wanted to incorporate elements of this kind of game into a system like Kids on Bikes, I’d consider the central core of the game experience being the slow discovery of your crush’s likes, fears, secrets, and vices. It would be a mystery game where the mystery is how your crush truly feels about you, and incorporating your discoveries into the dates that you ask them on. Step Into My Coffin makes your characters kind of awful, but maybe that makes sense if you’re tracking them down and watching them to figure out what they like.

[thebucketpail]

Of course the one time I actually fill a prompt I forget to save it and end up losing it to the tumblr void.

Alas, if I find it I'll link it but until then, have this.

Tw: light gore, mentions of vivisection

____________

This wasn't the team's first lab break in and it definitely wouldn't be their last. That is to say, they've seen alot of shit. Alot of mad scientists and what resulted from their insanity, their cruelty. But they had never expected to find something like this on what was supposed to be a low stakes mission.

Robin had been the first to find the dingy little cell, not far from the main lab, and stood stunned in abject horror as the others came in behind him.

"Oh god," he heard Arrowette whisper, followed by a litany of strangled gasps and the sound of Superboy's knuckles cracking.

It was terrible, but Robin couldn't manage to tear his eyes away from the curled up teen tied to the wall.

The boy was unconscious, his stark white hair, matted with grime and some green substance, covered the top of his face, a muzzle covered the bottom. What was left visible was littered with cuts and angry purple bruises. Whatever clothes he had been wearing were tattered and torn, displaying yet more injuries.

What was probably the worst, as far as Robin could tell, was the dirty gauze haphazardly taped to his neck. The dressings were soaked through with more of that green liquid, which Robin relised with a hobble sink to his gut was probably the kid's blood.

Robin swallowed the bile threatening to rise to his throat and turned back toward his team. He took a deep breath.

"Okay, new plan," he said, doing his best to keep his leader voice, "Superboy, you get those chains off him. Team, this is no longer an Intel mission, this is search and rescue. Impulse, Secret, Arrowette, fan out. Check the rest of the building for any other prisoners. If you find anyone then report immediately. WG, you call back to Red. I'll see what I can pull out of their database. Remember to keep your heads."

A round of nods was all he got in return before everyone set out on their tasks.

Robin had just wormed his way to into the system when Superboy walked in, the unconscious kid in his arms, and a seriously pissed expression on his face.

"I never thought Cadmus could go this far," he growled, brows furrowing.

Robin grunted on acknowledgement, then made a light sound of surprise as the archaic system finally loaded.

"Well then it's a good thing we aren't at Cadmus then," he mumbled disbelieving as he dove further and further into the newly available files. Quickly, he pulled an empty USB from his utility belt and set to work downloading what looked important, facility locations, blueprints, documents, research, etc.

"Where are we then?" Superboy asked, setting the kid down to peer over Robin's shoulder.

"Some place called the GIW, ghost investigation ward," Robin murmered, "according to these files, they're some kind of government org, designed to hunt and study ghosts. Our guy over there," he jutted his chin toward the kid, "is apparently really powerful. They have alot of files on him and something called the ghost zone."

Suddenly they were interrupted by a serious of loud crashes followed by shouting and Impulse zipping into the room.

"Heyguyswegottago," he sped out before taking in a huge lung full of air and continuing at a slightly slower pace. Slightly. "Reinforcements just arrived and they don't look like they're happy to see us. We couldn't find anyone else other then some asshole scientists. Cissie kicked their butts."

Robin nodded and pulled the USB from the port. "Tell the other to meet back at the super cycle, it's time to go." Impulse nodded and sped back off.

--------

It wasn't their best escape, but it certainly wasn't their worst. Those GIW agents were persistant bastards but it wasn't anything the supercycle couldn't handle.

They were en route back the cave when Superboy called out, "Hey Rob, you might wanna see this." He and WG had been tasked with administering first aid (to the best of their abilities) to their rescue, so that wasn't exactly something Ribin was thrilled to hear.

He let Supercycle switch to auto pilot before climbing to the back seat to see what had his team so freaked out. And yeah. That would do it.

If he thought the neck wound was bad, that was nothing. What was left of the kids torn shirt was removed to reveal a massive Y-shaped incision across his chest. The scars were red and inflamed, mottled with angry bruises and so, so many tiny holes, giving the impression that the wound had been stitched uo and reopened on numerous occasions. The implications of the wound was clear.

Robin set his jaw as he met Superboy's eyes. The confusion was prominent. he didnt know what to do.

"Just do you're best to clean it for now," he said, "we'll have Red look at him when we get back to base."

As Robin settled back into the driver's seat, he mentally added the GIW to his list of enemies. Anyone who had the power to do that, government or not, was going down

[zeddylux]

I was recently watching a video on misinterpreted characters in Naruto and while there were some I definitely agreed with less so with others. Take Obito for example. It's not that I think his arc is misinterpreted its just that I think it was poorly handled. I personally really dislike the trope of bringing a dead character back to life for the sake of moving the plot forward. I've very rarely seen a case in which it was done well and with intention. Usually it's because the writer is kinda lazy and sees that a character is really popular with the fan base and wants to generate buzz. Personally I think the mystery surrounding Tobi and the man behind the mask was a driving force in the story that made it really interesting. Sort of like a horror movie villian in the background. Someone in the shadows manipulating all of the events in the story. And I think having that reveal be Madara all along would have been a much better approach. Sort of a supped up version of Pain that would question Narutos ideology even further. Force him to come to terms with what happened to the Uchiha and the fact that his village perpetuated and should be held responsible for much of the pain and suffering in the story. Let Obito be this child soldier who died far too young and sort of a martyr like character that, much like Hashiramas brother, was killed perpetuating a cycle of violence that seemed never-ending. That what the villages are, and what they stand for isn't actually helping or making anything better. Maybe even bring Kakashi into the conversation and challenge the fact that he is using the power and ability of his dead friend to serve the village that got him killed in the first place. As much as I love Itachi as a character I think maybe they should have just gone the route of him being as ruthless in Shippuden as he was in the original series. But sort of put more emphasis on how young he was and how being a double double agent, and the suicide of his closest friend kind of broke his mind. And how being manipulated by the council and the third hokage led him to believe it was the only option. But he still no matter what couldn't bring himself to kill his brother. We're constantly told throughout the series how powerful he is and how he might be on par with Madara or even surpass him. I don't think it's a stretch to assume he could have carried out the massacre by himself. And then maybe have Madara being this character that decided the only way to bring about real change and stop the cycle of violence be the infinite tsukuyomi. Because the powers that be are simply not interested in change. They benefit too much from the current system.

[selfcestmovies]

Fun in the Framework Daisy Johnson x Daisy Johnson Wordcount: ~4500 Warnings: smut, virtual reality sex, selfcest, fighting then fucking, daisy is hungry, SELFCEST Read and share on Ao3!

~ * ~ * ~

Daisy Johnson stared at the Framework headset in her hands, the sleek, futuristic device reflecting the soft overhead lights. It looked like something straight out of Stark Industries, all smooth curves and sleek, matte black, with subtle blue lines tracing along its surface. The tech felt almost alien, but that’s what made it so exciting. This was S.H.I.E.L.D.’s latest innovation in training—a virtual reality system that could simulate any environment with near-perfect realism. It was like stepping into another world.

“Fitz, you really outdid yourself this time.” Daisy huffed and turned the headset over in her hands for the dozenth time.

Her orders were simple, but Coulson had made sure they were official: support the Framework development by any means necessary. Fitz had tried to meet Daisy half-way and suggested she use the tech’s new sparring simulator, since she had taken such a liking to her physical regiment lately. But she wasn’t in the gym, she was in her dorm—and Daisy was putting her trust in this new, pseudo-futuristic device to simply bring the gym to her.

Or, a “psycho-virtual simulacrum of the gym” as Fitz had explained earlier. Whatever.

Taking a deep breath, Daisy slid the headset over her eyes. The cool material settled against her skin, sending a shiver down her spine, and the world around her began to dissolve, replaced by a black void filled with faint, glowing grids. She could feel a slight hum in the air, like the device was alive and pulsing with energy.

The simulation loaded in an instant, and Daisy found herself standing in the S.H.I.E.L.D. training gym—recreated to every tiny, minute detail. The floor was lined with deep red mats that felt springy underfoot, the walls a soothing combination of dark wood and brick, with soft light flickering in the fluorescent lights above. Everything was rendered in perfect detail, right down to the faint scuffs on the mats from countless prior training sessions. The air was crisp and cool.

Daisy glanced around, catching sight of herself in a long wall mirror. Even the reflection looked flawless. “Impressive, Fitz,” she hummed. Daisy couldn’t help but admire the way she looked—her reflection showed a woman who had been putting in the work. Her body was becoming toned and powerful, the tight black tank top hugging her torso and showing off the early hints of muscle definition in her arms and shoulders. The black leggings she wore emphasized her long legs and the strength in them. She’d been on a new training regime for weeks now, and it was definitely paying off.

“Not bad, Daisy Johnson,” she murmured to herself, a small smile playing on her lips as she turned slightly to catch different angles. “You’re looking good.”

It wasn’t just the physical changes. She felt stronger, more confident, more in control of herself and her abilities as a rookie field agent. She knew she’d come a long way from the hacker-turned-recruit who stumbled her way through her early missions. 

“Alright,” she said aloud, shaking herself out of her self-admiration. “Time to see what this bad boy can really do.”

She flicked her wrist, and the Framework’s interface responded immediately, pulling up a menu of options to populate the training simulation. She could go the traditional route—programmed enemies, obstacle courses, simulated missions—but that felt a little too… easy. Predictable. Then she considered the alternative: simulating a sparring match against May, or Agent Romanoff, or Captain America? 

She winced at the thought of getting her ass kicked in virtual reality. “Maybe something simpler, but still challenging,” she mused. What Daisy really needed was an opponent that would really test her, push her to her limits in new ways. Equally matched but still a true challenge. And that’s when the idea hit her.

“What if…” she mused, her eyes narrowing as she navigated through the options, steeling a quick glance back at the wall of mirrors across the gym. “What if I could fight someone who knows me better than anyone else?”

A smirk curled her lips as she began customizing the scenario. This was going to be interesting. After a few quick adjustments, she set the Framework to create a perfect duplicate of herself. Another Daisy Johnson. She wasn’t entirely sure what to expect, but that was half the fun. Besides, how often do you get to spar against yourself?

The room shimmered for a moment, and the air in front of her seemed to ripple like a heatwave. Then, just as quickly, the distortion solidified, and there she was. Another Daisy, standing just a few feet away, with the same sharp eyes, the same confident stance, the same tight black tank top and leggings. It was like looking into a mirror, except this mirror blinked on its own. Her lips curled into a small, knowing smirk.

“Well, this is weird,” the other Daisy said, crossing her arms over her chest.

Daisy couldn’t help but chuckle. “Yeah, I wasn’t sure what I was expecting, but you’re definitely… me.”

They both stood there for a moment, sizing each other up. It was surreal, facing herself like this. She knew her own strengths and weaknesses better than anyone, so she knew this was going to be one hell of a fight. And yet, there was something thrilling about it, too. The idea of going toe-to-toe with someone who could match her move for move was exactly the challenge she needed.

Daisy watched her mirror image tighten her fists in anticipation of what was to come.

“Alright, clone-me. Enough stalling” she said, rolling her shoulders and getting into a fighting stance. “Let’s see what you’ve got.”

The double mirrored her movements perfectly, a gleam of anticipation in her eyes. “I was about to say the same thing. Think you can keep up with me?”

“Oh, honey,” Daisy replied with a grin, “I’m not the one who needs to worry about keeping up.”

They both moved at the same time, launching into a series of attacks and counters that echoed through the gym. Daisy was used to sparring with some of the best fighters S.H.I.E.L.D. had to offer, but this was something else entirely. Every punch she threw was blocked, every kick dodged with precision. It was like fighting a mirror that anticipated her every move.

But at the same time, Daisy trusted in her instincts and found herself effortlessly blocking, parrying, and sidestepping past everything the double threw at her, too. From the onset, it was a stalemate—but uncanny, and fun, as the Daisies found themselves in a mutual flowstate that felt more like a choreographed dance than a brutal beatdown.

They circled each other, trading blows that came faster and harder with each exchange. Sweat began to bead on Daisy’s forehead, her muscles burning with the effort, but she relished the challenge. The double was just as relentless, not giving an inch.

“This is actually kinda cool,” Daisy panted, ducking under a high kick and sweeping low to try and trip the double. “I mean, I always knew I was a badass, but seeing it like this? Next level.”

The double grinned, jumping back to avoid the sweep and launching into a counterattack. “Yeah, I gotta admit, I’m impressed with myself too. But don’t think I’m going easy on you just because we share a face.”

“Oh, I wouldn’t dream of it,” Daisy shot back, her voice tinged with a playful edge. She wasn’t sure when the sparring had started to feel more like a game, but she was enjoying it. There was something liberating about fighting someone who wasn’t trying to kill her, someone who could match her wit as well as her strength. Daisy had faced formidable opponents before—seasoned agents, powered individuals, and everything in between—but this was on another level. It was like trying to fight her own shadow, every strike blocked, every grapple met with an escape, every throw countered with a brutal reversal.

Daisy feinted left, then darted right, aiming a sharp elbow strike at her double’s ribs. The double anticipated it, pivoting smoothly out of the way and grabbing Daisy’s arm mid-motion, using her momentum to flip her onto the mat. The impact jolted through Daisy’s body, but she rolled with it, springing back to her feet almost instantly. “Nice try,” the double said, her voice laced with amusement. “But you’re gonna have to do better than that.”

“Don’t worry,” Daisy shot back, breathing heavily but grinning despite herself. “I’m just getting warmed up.”

They closed the distance again, this time both of them opting for a more brutal style of close-quarters brawling. It was a dance of grapples and throws, each of them trying to gain the upper hand. Daisy managed to get her double into a headlock, only for the double to twist out of it, using Daisy’s own leverage against her to slam her down to the mat again. But Daisy wasn’t down for long. She rolled onto her back, using her legs to scissor around the double’s waist, pulling her down and flipping them over so that she was on top.

Their breaths mingled as they struggled for dominance, each trying to pin the other. Daisy could feel the strength in her double’s muscles, the heat radiating from her body as they grappled. Every time one of them gained an advantage, the other would slip free.

“Damn,” Daisy grunted as she tried to force her double’s shoulders down, her muscles straining with the effort. “You’re tougher than you look.”

The double chuckled, even as she bucked her hips and twisted to throw Daisy off balance. “You’re just mad because I’m as good as you.”

Their bodies collided again, a tangle of limbs and grunts as they fought for control. Daisy managed to get a knee between them, pushing the double back just enough to land a solid punch to her gut. The double doubled over, but only for a second before retaliating with a vicious uppercut that nearly sent Daisy sprawling. But Daisy caught herself, dropping into a low stance and sweeping her leg out in a wide arc, knocking the double’s feet out from under her.

The double hit the mat hard but rolled with the fall, grabbing Daisy’s leg and yanking her down as well. They both scrambled for position, neither willing to give the other the satisfaction of a clean victory. Daisy’s heart pounded in her chest, the adrenaline surging through her veins as she fought with everything she had. This wasn’t just a fight—it was becoming a test of everything she’d become. Each time their bodies clashed, there was a split second of electric connection, and a recognition of their unspoken understanding: the way they moved in perfect synchronicity, and the uncanny rhythm that Daisy couldn’t quite break no matter how hard she tried.

In an act of desperation—or maybe it was luck, at this point, or a glitch in the Framework’s system—Daisy spun behind her double, wrapping an arm around her neck in a chokehold and finally breaking the stalemate to gain an upper hand. The double struggled, clawing at Daisy’s arm, but Daisy held firm, her breath coming in ragged gasps as she tightened her grip.

“I’ve got you,” Daisy whispered, her voice hoarse with exertion.

The double’s response was a low, breathless laugh. “Maybe… but I’m not… giving up…”

With a final burst of strength, the double twisted in Daisy’s grasp, throwing her off balance just enough to break free. Daisy stumbled back, but before she could recover, the double lunged at her, tackling her to the ground. They rolled across the mat in a tangle of limbs, each trying to gain the upper hand, until finally, Daisy found herself pinned beneath the other woman, their identical faces just inches apart.

The gym was filled with the sound of their heavy breathing, the heat of their twinned, exhausted bodies radiating between them. Daisy’s hands were pinned above her head, the double’s weight pressing her down into the mat. For a moment, neither of them moved, the world narrowing to the space between them, to the feel of the double’s body against hers, to the intensity in her double’s eyes.

Daisy’s heart raced, but it wasn’t just from the exertion. There was something else, something deeper, that she was only now beginning to understand. The realization hit her like a freight train—this wasn’t just about winning a fight. It was about something far more primal, far more intimate.

“You’re… good,” Daisy managed to say, her voice breathless and tinged with a tone in her voice that she didn’t quite recognize.

The double’s lips curled into a slow, knowing smile. “So are you.”

For a moment, they just stared at each other, the air between them thick with tension. Daisy could feel her pulse pounding in her ears, her body still humming with the adrenaline of the fight, but now there was something else too—an electric charge that seemed to radiate from every point where their bodies touched.

She tried to shift, to move her arms, but the double held her down, their faces so close that Daisy could feel the warmth of her breath on her lips. “I… I think we’re evenly matched,” Daisy finally whispered, her voice barely more than a breath.

“Maybe,” the double replied, her voice too just as low and laced with a teasing edge. “But I think we’re enjoying ourselves.”

Before Daisy could respond, the double leaned in slowly, the tip of her nose brushing against Daisy’s, and the world seemed to narrow down to that single point of contact. Daisy’s breath hitched, and she felt a shiver run down her spine as their bodies pressed together, the heat between them almost unbearable.

For a split second, the world seemed to stand still, and all Daisy could think about was the way their bodies fit together, the way the double’s breath mingled with hers, the way her heart pounded in her chest. This was her own body that she found herself drawn too, in a twisted, taboo, narcissistic and eternally fucked up attraction. She stared deeply into the eyes of her mirror image, and when her lips curled into a smile, she saw her twin to the same. 

It was an accidental, awkward grind at first, just the natural consequence of their tangled limbs and the adrenaline still pumping through their veins. But the friction, the pressure, it was unmistakable—and suddenly, it wasn’t so accidental anymore. Daisy could feel the double’s body shifting against hers, the movement slow, deliberate, as if testing the waters. There was a moment of hesitation, of uncertainty, and then something clicked into place. The awkwardness melted away, replaced by a mutual understanding, a recognition that this was just another way they were perfectly matched.

The grinding became more purposeful, the double’s hips moving in slow, deliberate circles, and Daisy’s breath caught in her throat. She hadn’t meant for this to happen—hadn’t even considered it—but now that it was, she couldn’t deny how good it felt, how right it felt.

“Hm,” Daisy breathed, her voice trembling as the realization hit her. She wasn’t just enjoying this—she was turned on. Her body responded to the friction, the heat, the way their movements synchronized so perfectly. She was losing control, and she wasn’t sure she wanted to get it back.

The double’s eyes gleamed with mischief as she noticed the change in Daisy’s expression. “What’s on your mind, Daisy?”

Daisy opened her mouth to respond, but the words caught in her throat as the double shifted the weight of her hips again, pressing harder against her. The sensation sent a jolt of pleasure through Daisy’s body, and she gasped, her hands instinctively jolting free of her double’s grasp in order to find purchase on the other Daisy’s hips. She could feel the tight muscles beneath her fingers, the way the double’s body responded to every movement, and it only made her want more.

But then, in the midst of the movement, Daisy’s hand slipped lower, brushing against the curve of the double’s ass. The touch was accidental, but the reaction was immediate. Daisy froze, her eyes widening as she realized what she’d done, but the double only grinned, a wicked gleam in her eyes.

“Hmm,” the double murmured, her voice teasing. “Seems like someone’s getting a little handsy.”

Daisy’s face flushed, but she didn’t move her hand. The warmth of the double’s skin beneath her fingers was intoxicating, and she couldn’t bring herself to pull away. “I… I didn’t mean to—”

“Sure you didn’t,” the double interrupted, her tone playful, but there was an edge of challenge in her voice. “But you know what? I think we like it.”

Daisy’s breath hitched as the double’s hips ground against hers, harder this time, more insistent. Daisy found herself guiding the movement, too, with her hand adjusting to a firmer position on the double’s ass and ensuring that her encouragement was made clear. The pleasure was intense, almost overwhelming, and Daisy could feel herself spiraling, her thoughts scattering in every direction. She could feel the heat swelling between her legs. She knew she should stop, that this was crossing a line she hadn’t even known existed, but she couldn’t. She didn’t want to.

“Go on,” the double urged, her voice low and husky, a seductive purr that sent shivers down Daisy’s spine. “You’ve already come this far. Don’t hold back now.”

Daisy’s grip tightened as she gave in to the magnetic pull between them, her fingers digging into the double’s firm flesh. “Fuck—our ass,” the thought spat from her lips without filter: the relishing in the fact that feeling up her own body from this new perspective was driving her wild at her core. She brought her second hand to join the first, splaying all ten fingers wide against her clone’s backside and gripping tight. “—Feels so perfect…”

The double didn’t just respond; she thrived on it, her body arching back into Daisy’s touch, the grinding of their hips becoming almost desperate, each movement pushing them closer to the edge. The air around them was thick with heat, their breaths mingling in quick, ragged gasps as the tension between them reached a fever pitch.

“You fucking love this, don’t you?” the double hissed, her voice low and dripping with sinful delight. “You love feeling your own body pressed against you, every fucking inch of it. I can feel you getting wet for me.”

Daisy couldn’t find the words to respond, her thoughts tangled in a haze of raw pleasure and disbelief. The double wasn’t wrong—she did love it, more than she ever thought possible. Every curve, every muscle, every shiver that ran through her own body was reflected in her double, amplifying the intensity until it was almost unbearable. The realization that she was turned on by her own form—by the sheer power and beauty of it—was electrifying.

“Fuck, you’re perfect,” Daisy finally managed to choke out, her voice rough with desire. Her hands roamed the double’s body, exploring every inch she could reach. Her fingers trailed up the double’s spine, tracing the line of muscle that flexed beneath her touch, feeling the strength there, the familiar power that she knew so well. “Every fucking part of you—of me—so fucking perfect.”

The double’s breath hitched at the praise, her eyes darkening with lust as she pressed harder against Daisy, their bodies moving in sync, the friction driving them both wild. “Yeah? You like that? You like knowing how fucking hot you are?”

Daisy nodded, too overwhelmed to speak, her mind spinning as she lost herself in the sensation. She’d never thought of herself this way, but now, with her double grinding into her, their bodies so perfectly matched, it was impossible to ignore. She was hot—fucking hot—and it felt incredible to finally acknowledge it, to revel in it. Daisy let her gaze finally break from her double’s eyes and drift down her torso and towards their chests, like mirror images pressed together, their identical tank tops clinging firm to their curves glistening with sweat and heaving up and down with each synchronous, labored breath.

The double’s grin was wicked as she leaned in closer, her breath hot against Daisy’s ear. “I’m gonna make you come so hard you’ll be begging for more,” she whispered, her voice a promise, a challenge.

Daisy’s heart pounded in her chest, the anticipation almost too much to bear. She could feel the double’s breath on her skin, could feel the heat radiating off her body, the way their sweat-slicked skin slid together. And then, without warning, the double’s tongue darted out, licking a slow, deliberate line up Daisy’s neck, tracing the curve of her jaw, and up to her cheek. The sensation was a shock to Daisy’s system—messy, wet, and impossibly hot. She gasped, her body arching into the touch, every nerve ending on fire as the double’s tongue left a trail of heat and spit in its wake. The wetness of it, the way it smeared across her skin, was filthy, primal, and it only made Daisy want more.

“Fuck,” Daisy moaned, her eyes fluttering shut as she surrendered to the sensation. “That’s so fucking hot, Daisy… do it again.”

The double didn’t need to be told twice. She leaned in again, this time slower, more deliberate, her tongue sliding up Daisy’s neck with a slow, teasing intensity that made Daisy’s knees weak. She could feel the double’s breath against her skin, could feel the heat of it mingling with her own, and it sent a shiver down her spine.

“You like that?” the double murmured wet against her ear, her voice low and full of dark satisfaction. “We taste so sweet, Daisy.”

“Yeah,” Daisy gasped, her voice hollow, barely more than a breath. “Fuck, Daisy…” The words came out choked, whispered. Speaking her own name in the throes of passion still felt almost perverse and alien, but she had come to embrace it. “Daisy,” again, she breathed the word and locked eyes again with her twin. 

Their bodies moved together, the grinding becoming more frantic, more desperate, as they neared the edge. The heat between them was unbearable, every touch, every movement sending shockwaves of pleasure through Daisy’s body. She could feel the double’s muscles tensing on top of her, could feel the way their bodies fit together so perfectly, every curve and line and angle aligned in a way that felt almost too good to be true.

“Come on, Daisy,” the double urged, her voice hoarse with need. “Let go. I know you want to. I can feel how close you are—how fucking good this feels.”

Daisy was right there, teetering on the edge of oblivion, her body trembling with the intensity of it all. She could feel the double’s breath on her skin, could feel the way their bodies ground together, her legs locking even tighter into Daisy’s lap. The friction was almost too much to bear. And then, with a final, desperate pulse, the world exploded around her.

“Fuck!” Daisy cried out, her voice raw as the orgasm ripped through her, every muscle in her body tensing as she came hard, her hips bucking against the double’s in a frenzy of motion. The double followed right behind her, their bodies shaking, quaking, as they climaxed together, the pleasure so intense it was almost painful.

They stayed like that for a moment, their bodies locked together in the aftermath, panting heavily as they tried to catch their breath. The double’s weight was comforting against Daisy’s, her body warm and solid and so fucking perfect, and Daisy couldn’t help but smile, a lazy, satisfied grin that spread across her face as she lay there, basking in the afterglow.

“Fuck,” Daisy finally managed to say, her voice breathless and full of awe. “That was… holy shit.”

The double chuckled, the sound low and full of satisfaction, as she rolled off Daisy, collapsing beside her on the mat. “Yeah… it was.”

They lay there in silence for a while, just breathing, their bodies still tingling from the intensity of their shared climax. Daisy’s mind was still spinning, trying to process everything that had just happened, but all she could focus on was the warmth of the double beside her, the way their bodies had fit together so perfectly, the way they had moved in sync, as if they were two halves of the same whole.

“That was… unexpected,” the other Daisy said after a while, her voice quiet and thoughtful.

Daisy couldn’t argue with that. It had been perfect in its own twisted way. “Yeah,” Daisy agreed, her voice soft, almost reverent. “Yeah, it was.”

They stayed like that for a while longer, just lying there, their bodies spent, their minds still buzzing with the aftermath. Daisy couldn’t help but think that maybe—just maybe—this was exactly what she had needed all along.

- - - - -

Daisy Johnson slid the headset off, blinking as the cool air of the lab replaced the heated atmosphere of the Framework’s simulated gym. Her heart was still pounding, the memory of what had just happened lingering in her mind. It had felt so absolutely, undeniably real to her. She took a deep breath, trying to steady herself, before leaving her dorm and making the slow trek back to Fitz’s lab. 

She avoided all semblance of eye-contact as she neared Fitz’s desk with a casual ease that belied the storm of emotions swirling inside her. With a gentle thud, she placed the Framework prototype back on his workbench.

Fitz looked up, a curious eyebrow raised. “So, how was it? Any glitches? Unexpected bugs?”

Daisy gave him a sly grin, leaning against the desk with a relaxed confidence. “Let’s just say your Framework is… very realistic. No bugs that I could find, but it definitely pushed all the right buttons.”

Fitz’s brow furrowed slightly, clearly puzzled by her cryptic answer. “Pushed the right buttons? What does that mean?”

“It means I approve, Fitz,” she said flatly. “This tech is going to make training a whole lot more… interesting.”

Fitz chuckled, though he still looked a bit bewildered. “I’ll take that as a good sign, then.”

“Trust me,” Daisy said, patting the headset affectionately before turning to leave the lab. “You’ve outdone yourself with this one.”

As she walked away, she could feel Fitz’s eyes on her, still trying to figure out what exactly she meant. But Daisy just smiled to herself, the memory of her time in the Framework still fresh, knowing full well that this was one secret she’d keep to herself. For now.

[rosesofenvy]

I was very inspired by @sha-biest goldenfuture au so I wrote a drabble for some of her most recent posts that I’m linking below! (they're also linked in the fic)

The arm incident

Leoichi

Kendratello

Check out the goldenfutureau tag if you’re confused!

================================================

I'll Be the Sweetest Thing To Ever Scare You (5350 words) by rosesofenvy Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: Rise of the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles (Cartoon 2018), Samurai Rabbit: The Usagi Chronicles (Cartoon) Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence Relationships: Leonardo (TMNT)/Yuichi Usagi, Donatello/Kendra (TMNT) Characters: Leonardo (TMNT), Donatello (TMNT), Yuichi Usagi, Kendra (TMNT), Michelangelo (TMNT), Raphael (TMNT), April O'Neil (TMNT), Cassandra Jones | Foot Recruit, Agent John Bishop (TMNT) Additional Tags: goldenfutureau, shabiest golden future, Post Movie, Violence, Loss of Limbs, bishop is a dick, kidnapped donnie, saving donnie from bishop, both leo and donnie lose an arm, Confessions, Hurt/Comfort, Lots of Hurt, lots of comfort, Nightmares, Injury Recovery, lowkey donnie whump, but kendra makes him laugh so it's all ok

Summary: Leo doesn't regret his choices to safe Donnie from Bishop, it just means a longer recovery for everyone involved.

Enjoy :)

Leo doesn’t regret his decision. 

Donnie had been missing for a week, a week of no contact, a week of frantic searches, and a week of desperate calls to every friend and enemy they had ever encountered. They spared no expense in their efforts to find him, but it was almost a slap in the face to find that Donnie had been so close to them all along - he hadn’t even been taken out of New York. The sudden burst of Donnie’s mystic energy, coordinates and maps tracing to his exact location had been a source of relief and frustration as they mobilized and moved out. 

Leo doesn’t regret moving when he did. 

Raph and Mikey were holding down the lower levels of the base, guaranteeing their escape route since their abilities were dampened by whatever that mad scientist Bishop had cooked up. Leo was in charge of the extraction of their brother since he was by far the fastest and they were relying on the element of surprise here. Someone who’d been able to take down Donnie without their knowledge wasn’t someone they were taking lightly. Whatever Bishop had installed in the building had disabled most of their mystic powers, he can’t even risk using his portals if he didn’t want to lose a limb. 

That doesn’t matter, he didn’t need mystic powers. He would tear this building apart with his bare hands if that meant he’d get his brother back safe. Faceless scientists run screaming past him, those who attempt to stop his progression are swiftly taken care of. Whether or not those rebuffs are nonlethal doesn’t matter, what does matter is that he’s reached the main lab. Kendra had shown him the blueprints, this entire floor was a blackout but he could assume it followed the general path that the previous labs had. As he bounds up the stairwell - and enters the open floor plan, every sense screams to high alert. 

Even though Kendra was controlling every electrical aspect to the lab, this floor only had emergency lights. Even with the low glow of bulbs placed too far apart Leo’s senses are overwhelmed. There’s too much. Wires sparking from where they’d been torn from the wall blood on the floor static from a radio system now defunct thanks to Kendra’s interference blood on the wall his brother's blood everywhere. It reeks of iron and metal and sickness and despite the nausea curling in his gut Leo doesn’t hesitate to sprint forward because there’s his fucking brother. 

Leo doesn’t regret throwing himself directly into the path of danger despite every time he’s been told to stop being such a self sacrificial idiot. 

Donnie is crumpled near some sort of shadowed metal robot. Leo can’t quite make out the details with the intermittent flicker from the emergency lights, but it doesn’t matter as he darts across the length of the lab. He couldn’t see any humans in this room, something that made his scales itch with paranoia as he searched the dark corners of the lab for movement but he can’t afford to waste his attention on the absence of a being when what he came for is right in front of him. As he’s almost to Donnie, the robot his brother is kneeled in front of activates with a flash of red and a creaking of metal. 

Leo regrets not moving faster. 

There’s a blankness in Donnie’s gaze that makes Leo’s heart clench as the softshell staggers to his feet, clearly exhausted and with blood dripping from a number of wounds. Despite standing, he sways and Leo can see that Donnie doesn’t or maybe can’t register the danger directly to his right. Leo can’t tell if Donnie even recognizes him.

“Donnie! Move! ” Leo screams, finally getting in range of his brother, but it’s still not enough. There’s a red light shining over the both of them, a warning burst of heat just as Leo wraps his left arm around Donnie’s shell and uses his momentum to shove them both out of the way. The blaze that wraps around Leo’s shell and scorches his arm clean off is so sudden that he doesn’t register what had happened until Donnie is on the floor beneath him. Pain radiates from the remains of his arm and he gasps through clenched teeth as he takes in Donnie’s uncomprehending stare and the blood slowly seeping from the partially cauterized remains of the softshell's left arm. Leo slams his panic button as he takes in the physical wounds Donnie had suffered over the past week. 

“You gotta keep your eyes open for me, we gotta wait for Raph, no passin' out yet.” Leo pants desperately, trying to follow his own order as he practically collapses over Donnie, "Is anyone still here?” 

Donnie’s eyes flicker open, and Leo follows the path of his gaze up to where he recognizes an observational balcony. Leo didn't see it before in his desperation to grab Donnie, but there’s an outline of a man holding some sort of control panel. Bishop. Leo’s grip on Donnie’s shoulder tightens, but the human makes no move towards and instead sinks into the shadows where Leo couldn’t follow. The building shakes and Leo tries to lift Donnie, but it’s useless with the weakness that has filled his limbs. Pounding footsteps reach his ears and Leo turns to see Raph emerge from the same stairwell he had run up just moments earlier. 

“Leo, Donnie!” Raph’s voice is frantic as he runs into the room. Leo feels his muscles going limp despite his best efforts to remain conscious as their older brother scoops them both up, then punches the machine to destroy the glass embedded in the robot that had nearly killed them both. The floor splinters beneath their feet and Raph wastes no time making their escape. 

Leo regrets not being able to stay conscious during the destruction of the lab. He would’ve liked to revel in the downfall of one of Bishop’s pride and joys. 

Waking up in the med bay was unfortunately a familiar experience for Leo. The steady beep of a heart monitor - although it was doubled for some reason, the scent of antiseptic, and the herculean effort it took to pry open his eyelids. 

The light was nearly blinding as he tilted his head to the side, registering the flow of drugs from the IV drip making his limbs feel heavy and grimacing at the dryness of his mouth. Mikey was sitting in a chair at his bedside, and at his movement the box turtle leaps up and grips the bars to the bed. 

“Leo! Are you awake?” 

Leo can’t do much more than click in response, already wanting to go back to sleep but the stress in Mikey’s expression keeps him conscious. How long had he been out for Mikey to look so concerned? What had even happened this time? What were they all doing before…

“Here, I’ve got some water for ya,” Mikey says quickly, grabbing a cup and urging Leo to drink, “Do you want-” 

“Donnie?!” Leo interrupts, voice rough as the memory of his brother, bloody and bruised, surfaces. He realizes through the sludge of the painkillers that he’d managed to grab Mikey’s hand before he could help him with the water and his grip was trembling as he searched Mikey’s face for answers. “Is he here? Is he ok?” 

“Donnie’s fine,” Mikey reassures, pointing over Leo’s shoulder, “look he’s right there.” At Mikey’s gesture Leo lets his head fall to the other side and can see Donnie laying flat on his plastron still passed out. That nausea swirls again at the sight of all the bandages and wires that seemed to mirror what was hooked up to Leo so he tilts back towards Mikey with a small sigh of relief. 

“Does Yuichi know?” He asks after he takes a few sips of blessedly cool water and can talk without it feeling like his throat is being carved to pieces. 

“Can you worry about yourself for two seconds Leo?” Mikey murmurs miserably as he fidgets with Leo's blankets, “What do you remember? Raph didn’t see what happened and Kendra couldn’t pull cameras since Bishop had everything disabled on that floor.” 

“I had to get Donnie out of the way,” Leo replies with a frown, “If I didn’t then…” It all hits him at once. The scene in the lab, the blood, the pain of a part of him being rendered from existence. He rolls his gaze down to his right arm, feeling an odd choking feeling overtake him as he realizes that his arm ends at the bicep, wrapped tightly in stark white bandages. 

“Bishop had built something, I couldn’t see all of it since the power had been cut to most of the lab, but Donnie had just been left there. When I was trying to get to him, it lit up and I realized…” He trails off, swallowing hard as he recalls the sharp angles and the alien features of the robot, a shape that had often haunted nightmares, “If I didn’t get him out of the way, then he would’ve-” his words are cut off by his own choked sob. He’d been so close to losing his brother. Donnie was so close to being gone because of some stupid fucking scientist. 

“Ok ok I got it,” Mikey quickly says, trying to calm the rising heart rate of his older brother and prevent those pained noises from escalating.  

“You gotta tell Yuichi, Mikey you gotta call him, it’s been a week he’s probably worried sick, ” Leo gasps, tightening his grip on Mikey’s arm. The guilt of unintentionally keeping Yuichi in the dark was eating at every ounce of air in his chest. 

“I will, I’ll get Raph to do it right now ok?” promises replies, holding onto Leo’s hand with both of his until he can feel Leo’s grip loosening and can see his eyelids fluttering. 

“Okay,” Leo mumbles, the burst of energy leaving him as quickly as it had arrived. “Mikey imma sleep now ‘kay?” 

“That’s fine Leo, rest up,” Mikey whispers, patting Leo’s hand as the slider relaxes and almost instantly falls back asleep. Mikey breathes a sigh of relief once he’s sure Leo’s under then sends a text to Raph. 

-------

Yuichi knew that it wasn’t necessarily uncommon for Leo to go radio silent on missions, it came with the territory of keeping the world safe. However, it’d been a week at this point and with the abruptness of Leo’s departure, he was anxiously pacing the length of his room and overthinking everything that could’ve gone wrong. It had become his habit within the week, spending his downtime in this way but the routine is interrupted when his phone begins buzzing. 

He leaps at where it had been set on his bedside table, dropping it on the floor once before he manages to hold onto it, seeing Leo’s caller ID and nearly crying with relief. 

“Leo! It’s been a week, are you ok? What happened to Donnie?” He rattles off once he answers, clutching his phone up to his ear and holding his breath for the response. 

There’s a beat of silence before Raph replies. 

“Hey Usagi, I don’t want you freaking out ok?” Raph greets gently, “I’m gonna tell you what happened and then Mikey’s gonna bring you over here.” 

“What went wrong? Is Leo hurt?” Usagi questions anxiously, feeling his phone beginning to creak with how tightly he was holding it. All of the worst case scenarios he’d been considering claw their way to the forefront of his mind. 

“Leo and Donnie were both seriously injured in the escape from the lab that Donnie was being held in, but they’re both alive and recovering,” Raph reports, “Leo’s been in and out of consciousness for the past day and he just woke up for longer than just a few minutes. He’s been asking for you. Are you ok to come over?” 

“Yes yes of course,” Usagi replies quickly, darting around to grab his katana and tug on his shoes, “Get me over there.” 

A golden portal opens in front of him as he’s pocketing his phone and Usagi doesn’t hesitate to step through. Once the spots clear from his vision he sees that Mikey had pulled him into the atrium of their lair, both Mikey and Raph waiting for him. He can see the exhaustion in their expressions and it makes the anxiety that had been simmering begin to boil over. 

“Where is he?” Usagi demands, dropping his katana onto the nearest empty surface and flicking his ears to see if he can catch any sound of the slider. He can hear the slightly raised heartbeats of the brothers in front of him before he catches the steady electrical beeps further into the lair.

“I’ll take you to him,” Mikey says, raising his hands in a placating gesture, “He’s still kind of out of it from the painkillers, but he’s been asking about you since he woke up.” 

Usagi knows that’s supposed to reassure him but it just makes his heart beat harder as he follows Mikey to the medical bay. He’s seen Leo hurt before, but it was very rare that he or any of the brothers had to be completely hospitalized. Their healing factors often kicked in before it was needed, so the thought of both of them being injured badly enough to need serious painkillers was nerve wracking. Since Donnie was on the far side of the room, Usagi’s gaze catches on the softshell before he fully enters and turns to see Leo. 

He’s not sure what to look at first, eyes flickering from the bruises under Leo’s eyes to the bandages wrapping around his upper chest and his right arm - his right arm that was gone from the elbow down. He can’t help his gasp, moving quickly to Leo’s bedside. Leo opens his eyes at the vocalization, gaze taking a moment to focus before he smiles gently. 

“Yuichi,” He says, voice soft but clearly rough from disuse as Usagi scans the lines of IV’s and wires before leaning over and cradling Leo’s head. He wraps his arms as gently as he could, tucking Leo’s head against his own as he whispers his name. He waits until he can hear the steadiness of Leo’s heartbeat before he takes a shuddered breath and shifts to hide his face against Leo.  

“‘Chi?” Leo inquires, drawing back a bit as he can feel the heat of Yuichi’s tears against the side of his neck. 

Yuichi moves back just enough to meet Leo’s eyes as he bites back the angry choking thing that wants to scream about unfairness and instead presses his cheek against Leo’s, seeing the tears budding in the slider’s eyes. 

“Don’t you dare do this again,” He whispers fiercely, “Next time you leave, I’m coming with you.” He can feel Leo’s tears mingling with his own, and it takes only a tilt of his head to connect the two of them in a kiss. Usagi would normally worry about the fact that Leo’s brothers were likely still nearby, and would be concerned if Leo was in any pain with the proximity, but all he can think about is how he nearly lost the slider and he would’ve only known when his brothers had been able to contact him. He curls the fingers he has cradling the back of Leo’s neck, feeling the slider sigh into his mouth before he pulls back and searches out Yuichi’s hand with his remaining one. Once their fingers are intertwined, Leo visibly relaxes. 

“I won’t Yuichi, promise.” 

“Damn straight,” Yuichi says firmly, “And if you think I’m leaving anytime in the near future you’d be sorely mistaken.” 

“Well the angle you’re standing at doesn’t look comfortable,” Leo offers quietly, “Care to join me?” 

Yuichi frowns at the number of wires that Leo was connected to before carefully arranging himself on the bed beside Leo. He can feel the tension fade as he carefully tangles their legs and props his head against the side of Leo’s. The slider melts into his side, sighing in comfort and it brings Usagi back to many of their sleepovers. If there wasn’t the scent of antiseptic and the sounds of heart rate monitors, he’d be able to pretend that it was just another night after coming back from a mission. The sleepless nights spent worrying over Leo’s condition catch up to him, and he allows himself to rest with Leo tucked into his arms. 

-------

Kendra had seen a lot in her time. Being a teenage hacker often meant seeing things that she really wasn’t supposed to. Sometimes it was what the neighbors Tuesday afternoon drunken parties entailed, sometimes it was the ledgers of foreign governments and lists of experiments that were far from ethical. 

Helping two of the Hamato’s through their amputations? That was new. She can’t help but thank her instinct to pursue medicine (sure it was veterinary medicine but it had helped them out here hadn’t it?) as she clears away the materials she’d used for stitches.

She wasn’t sure what to think when she was first contacted about Donatello being missing. It seemed that the Hamato’s had just been going through each of Donnie’s contacts to see if they’d heard anything. She wasn’t sure if she was surprised that she was one of the first on his list since she was contacted mere hours after his disappearance, but she was not ashamed to admit that she threw herself back into her computer hacking days to provide her services. 

It was odd, returning to watching cameras and scanning security footage for any signs of the freakishly large turtle instead of attending to her much more morally correct job of a veterinarian. When Donnie’s systems finally pinged his location and the brothers had ran in yelling about his mystic energy, she remained as the “woman in the chair” despite every instinct to strap on one of Donnie’s battleshells and join the fight herself. 

She watched through security cameras while she remotely detonated the lab’s systems - reveling in the panic on the scientists faces as they realized that rooms were locked and sirens were growing louder thanks to her call to every station in the area regarding illegal experimentation and unauthorized lab usage. They wouldn’t be able to access the building until she opened the doors, but it was good to rile them up. The building would be going down regardless thanks to April and Casey’s actions to rig the foundations with Purple Dragon grade explosives. She had already evacuated nearby blocks, the only danger was to those that had chosen to imprison and experiment on Donnie and whatever other poor mutants Bishop had gotten his slimy hands on. Unfortunately the only area she wasn’t able to see, much to her and everyone else’s frustration, was the lab that Donnie was being kept in. 

This means that the only thing she sees when the battle ends is Leo and Donnie being carried out by Raph before she loses access to her systems as the cameras explode into a golden light. Whatever Raph had done to that lab had disabled what was hindering their powers then if Mikey was able to begin the detonation process. She hurries to the med bay, keeping her panic tucked away as the blood that had been trailing the trio flickers through her mind. There’s another flash of golden light just as she’s set up the beds and the brothers appear through Mikey’s portal. 

She still doesn’t allow herself to panic as she helps with the surgery, an odd mix of modern medicine and magic keeping the two brothers alive and stable until she steps back and deems it all they can do for the moment. Through numb lips she explains the aftercare and the Hamato’s set up schedules and watches. She should be surprised that she’s included in these, but she also knows that the only way she’s leaving Donnie’s side is if she’s dragged out. Well, after she scrubs their blood from her clothes anyway. She borrows some of Donnie’s while hers are being treated, drawing comfort in the too large hoodie as she sets up post beside Donnie’s bed. 

Leo wakes up first, unsurprising since he hadn’t been locked away for a week in a psychopath's care. Their healing factor has clearly kicked in as within a day Leo is taken off the heavy painkillers and requests to move back to his room. Kendra tries not to be impatient as she routinely checks on the stitches, monitoring for infection between her shifts with Donnie. The brothers regularly switched off with Kendra - barring Leo since he was bed bound - but Kendra insisted on spending as much time as possible with Donnie. He should be waking up soon after all and if she didn’t get to tell that stupid idiot her true feelings she’s going to lose it. 

It’s late on day two when she hears movement, glancing over to see Donnie’s eyes open wide and staring at her uncomprehending. She freezes, staring back and not even daring to blink as she waits for understanding to wash over Donatello’s expression. 

It doesn’t. 

Instead he snarls, lips drawing back to expose sharp teeth and she scrambles to press the call button (more of a localized panic button for the med bay) before Donatello tries to sit up, becoming off balance and falling to his side as he tries to balance with an arm he doesn’t have. “You’ll hurt yourself,” Kendra barks, hands going to help him sit up when he snaps at her arms, then hissing a warning when she doesn’t immediately draw back. She is so not qualified to deal with a hostile mutant turtle who had probably been through an excess of uncertified medical procedures over the past week if his injuries were anything to go by. Thankfully she doesn’t have to worry about her hand being bitten off as Raph and Mikey come running in. 

She backs off, only so that Donnie doesn’t feel overwhelmed and becomes more violent, but remains in eyesight in case he tries to rip out the IV’s. Mikey does disconnect the heart monitor since its high-pitched scream was doing none of them any favors and she could see how quickly Donnie relaxed at the quiet. It still clearly takes a moment for him to recognize where he was and who was around him with his brothers reassurances the only reason he’s willing to settle back onto the bed with a low whine. Kendra steps in, quickly checking fluids and changing out the painkillers since they were low. She can see the concern on both Mikey and Raph’s expressions, but completes everything clinically before returning to her spot at his bedside. 

“You can leave now, I can handle it,” She says only a bit harshly. It was true, she’s sure she can handle whatever reaction Donnie may have now that he’s aware of where he is. She knew the dangers of an unfamiliar face attempting to administer care, but now Donnie could see her and understood why he was hooked up to the various equipment. She had no concerns about her safety. 

“If you’re sure…” Raph says hesitantly, “You know how to get a hold of us.” 

“Yep, now go back to bed, you two are dead on your feet,” Kendra says, trying to be cold but it’s difficult when all she can do is trace the bandages wrapping Donatello’s shell. She hears the brothers leave and heaves a sigh of relief. From the glaze over Donnie’s eyes, she can tell the painkillers have a hold on him but she can't help but slowly reach out to grasp his left hand. 

“I know you’re probably loopy because those are high grade as shit,” She starts quietly, “But if I don’t get this off my chest before you fall asleep again I think I’ll actually lose my mind.” 

Donnie blinks slowly at her. 

“You’re an idiot,” She whispers harshly, “You scared the hell out of us you know? You scared the hell out of me.” She squeezes his hand, feeling him squeeze back before she can force herself to continue. “You know I didn’t even realize it until your brothers called me, but I care about you. I care about you, the guy who humiliated me every chance he could get, the dumb turtle who put a stop to a whole ass alien invasion, and the absolute dickhead who got kidnapped and hurt by an actually crazy scientist and leaving me behind.” 

She doesn’t know when she started crying. 

“You’re really making me say it, Donatello Hamato, but I like you, and if anything - I mean anything - happens to you again? I’m going to kill whoever did it with my bare hands.” 

She’s not sure if Donnie understands, but she can see the corner of his lips quirk slightly before his eyes slip shut and he stills. His breaths become deep with sleep but his hand still remains firmly grasped in Kendra’s. She doesn’t let go until Mikey comes in to take over. 

-------

A week goes by in silence. Not from all of the Hamato’s, Kendra doesn’t think it’d be possible for them to be quiet for more than ten seconds. No. Donatello has not said a single word, or even made a noise of discomfort since he’d first woken up. He rarely even signs, much to the disappointment and worry of his brothers. He doesn’t ask for food or water, although they’re brought to him anyway, and he remains in his room nestled under his blankets and only moves when absolutely necessary. Despondent is the word that immediately springs to Kendra’s mind and she hates it. 

They retain their rotating shifts, although Kendra takes as many of them as she can. The last thing Donnie needs is an interrogation from his family, since it’s clear that he’s still gathering his thoughts over what had happened to him and shows discomfort any time his brothers try to remain alone with him. She justifies her veterinary knowledge, but she can also see Mikey whispering to Raph whenever the older brother looks like he’s going to protest. Thank whatever pizza thing they worship for the younger brother’s empathy. Kendra sets up a cot that Donnie had in his lab and sleeps across the room when she can. 

This is how she knows Donnie’s having a nightmare almost exactly a week after he’d moved back into his room. 

He didn’t sleep very often, fiddling at all hours with some form of tech since he had to avoid screens with his head injury or pretending to sleep as he laid on top of the mattress. Kendra’s relief at his breaths finally evening out is short lived as a few hours after he slipped under she hears him begin to thrash, then cries out in pain as he aggravates the wounds on his shell. She’s out of the cot and onto his bed in seconds, cupping her hands gently onto his face and tapping gently at his cheeks. His eyes snap open and for a moment she wonders if she’s going to lose a finger or two before clarity comes to his vision. For the first time in a week she feels like he recognizes her. 

She finds herself wrapped in an embrace, a surprising development but not one she’s going to take lightly as she feels Donnie trembling against her. She squeezes, not enough to hurt but enough to ground as Donnie’s forehead falls heavy to her shoulder. The two of them sit there, Kendra gently rubbing Donnie’s shell until she feels his breath hitch. 

“He…made a control panel…like the technodrome…” His voice is raspy from disuse and Kendra almost wants to stop him so he could get a drink or something, but she also understands that this is important both for Donatello to say and for her to hear. Regardless of how sick the thought of hearing what caused these wounds makes her feel. 

“Or…tried to…’t was…nothing like her…” 

Kendra recalls the ship that had hovered over New York. She thinks of its size and the terror it struck into its citizens. She couldn’t imagine anyone willingly recreating that, this Bishop Bastard was even worse than she thought. Mikey had told them a bit about how the ship had been controlled - access directly to the nervous system as far as they could tell. One sleepless night Donnie had even described what it had felt like to control the ship, Kendra never forgot the almost melancholic expression on his face as he recalled connecting to it. 

“There was no synergy…just pain…it tried to control…it tried to take…take… take ….” The anguish in Donnie’s voice has Kendra holding him all the tighter, burying her face in his shoulder in the only way she could try to comfort. The words are spilling out of him now, faster and every word sounds worse as he explains in fractured segments what Bishop had done. 

“...I felt violated …it tried to control me even though it was supposed to be controlled. Bishop was furious…he didn’t understand why it wasn’t working…” Donnie let out a broken laugh, “took it out on me…but it was nothing compared to it…nausea got worse…every time I was hooked up to it…”

She can feel him shudder at the memory and she squeezes him the best she can, hoping that the weight of her against him was helping to keep him grounded as he continued talking. 

“He kept upgrading it…and connecting me to it…” He pauses, exhaling hard and coughing a bit as he does so, “It noticed too late when I took control...That’s how I got the signal out. You already know the rest…”

Kendra can feel that he’s done, the way he slumps against her and the ragged breathing as he attempts to reign in his thoughts. She’s never been great at comforting people in the conventional sense, but she has a feeling she can share what she was feeling about the whole situation. 

“What an absolute shithead.” 

She feels him jolt in surprise before he snorts, finally finally returning her hold and tugging her closer to him as he laughs. It’s the best sound  she’s ever heard. 

“Yeah, he really was an absolute dick! A real piece of work, shit from the sewers!” Donnie manages to choke out between chuckles and Kendra can’t help but lean into his laughter. 

“So just to make sure I wasn’t just high on painkillers…you did say you liked me right?” Donnie murmurs after they’d both calmed down enough to lay comfortably on the bed. Donnie doesn’t let Kendra go, drawing comfort in her warmth as she messes absently with his hand. She pressed her palm against his own, twining and untwining their fingers until he spoke - then she abruptly dropped his hand. 

Kendra groans, rolling over to hide her face against the mattress despite their tangled legs keeping her mostly facing Donnie, “Yes, yes unfortunately I did.” 

“What was that? Could you repeat it?” Donnie asks cheekily, laughing again when Kendra lifts her face from the mattress to scowl at him. 

“Yes! I did! Got a problem with it ?” 

Donnie’s face is priceless, shifting from teasing to blushing in a way that makes Kendra smirk victoriously as she gently rubs his arm. 

“I…suppose…I like you too,” Donnie manages to stutter out. 

“You tell anyone I got mushy like that and I’ll strangle you,” Kendra mutters. 

Donnie barks out a laugh, “Wouldn’t dream of it Kendra.” 

Kendra knows deep down that this isn’t over. Bishop was still out there, a destroyed lab surely wouldn’t keep him down for long. For the moment however, she’s going to enjoy Donnie’s warm embrace and do what she can to help him feel safe even if that means tearing down the bastard herself.

[casualsnickers]

Month of Emmet Quick Write #4

Prompt #4: Sound

Presentation, presentation, presentation. Sometimes, you just need to take a minute and unwind. Emmet has been neglecting to do so. His body lets him know in a not-so-nice gesture.

Read the whole thing below the cut.

Emmet always preferred taking the purely underground subway routes. Some may have called it an odd choice to prefer spending half a day’s shift purely underground watching the beams of the train scatter along the rails in the darkness of the tunnels. Emmet found it peaceful. Soothing, almost.

               Walking along the commuter cars was loud. Too loud. Too many boisterous conversations. Too many limbs sticking haphazardly out of the seats. Too little space to fit through. The air would sometimes reek of sweat. The concentrated light would burn into his eyes and give him throbbing headaches. The announcements of the PA system- ones switching between his and Ingo’s voice- would sound too loud in his ears, often breaking his concentration. Too many inputs. Too much of a charge. So much energy and nowhere for it to go.

               And Emmet found that remaining in the driver’s compartment negated all of that. It was always just him after all. Another depot agent- usually Cloud or Ramses- one of the quiet, no-nonsense agents- would take up checking tickets or keeping a watchful eye on the passengers, only radioing in if Emmet was absolutely needed. It let Emmet just focus on making sure that everything was running smoothly. And it also served as a nice getaway from his passengers.

               While Emmet prided himself on escorting his passengers to-and-from their destinations safely, the sheer stress of being a train conductor alongside managing his depot agents and acting as a Subway Boss sometimes wore down on him like rust on old tracks. He had days off. He had vacation time. But the Battle Subway was his hobby. He enjoyed being there. He would lament time away from the subway and would spend his days away from the station doing research on how to best throttle potential challengers. And that brought him into the head cab after recognizing the oncome of a migraine.

               He sat down heavily in his chair, using one ungloved hand to wipe the bead of sweat from his brow as he took off his hat, set it in his lap, loosened his jacket, and focused on the rails. He took a drink of water from his bottle beneath the seat, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand.

Beside him, Cloud whistled, a snarky grin appearing on his face. “Commuters getting’ to you that fast, eh boss?”

               Emmet glared, too overstimulated to form coherent words.

“Ah. Yep. You were out there for too long, huh.” Cloud then set the train’s controls to automatic, allowing Emmet ample time to slide into the control seat and switch out of the auto driving mode. “Fine. You can take over. I’ll go and check tickets once we reach Flocessy. Not due to be a lot of folks getting’ on, that’s for sure.” Cloud then grabbed his own dark green jacket off of the seat and slid open the door. “Good luck.”

               Emmet grumbled in return. The moment the door slid closed, Emmet set the system back into automatic driving mode. Flocessy Station wasn’t due to prepare for for another five minutes. Instead, Emmet leaned back in his chair and shut his eyes, reaching absently for his own personal gear stored away in the holding compartment behind the co-conductor chair. This headache is not helping. He prayed that it wouldn’t turn into a migraine. That the aura he had been having had been wrong. He had gotten a lot of migraines after Ingo’s initial disappearance- almost two per week-  and while things were getting better, having to manage all seven lines did not cut down on his stress level; neither did constantly having to deal with the press after the weeks of reintroducing Ingo back to the subway.

               He could feel the telltale symptoms. The vision in his left eye flickered, slowly likening to static, fuzzy and indiscernible and hard to concentrate on. His eyes stung, flinching every time one of the lights on his dash would flicker. His mouth felt dry. His throat began to tighten and no matter how much he let his eyes rest, the steady woozy feeling of a building migraine began to set in. Prematurely, Emmet picked up his end of the radio.

“Come in Gear Station Central. This is Boss Emmet. Radio check. Over.”

               The PA took a second to chime back in, the distorted feedback noises causing Emmet to wince and recoil away from the small microphone. “Boss Emmet, this is Gear Station Central. Read you loud and clear. Go Ahead. Over.”

“Gear Station Central, this is Boss Emmet.” His words felt heavy on his tongue, slow and dumb and bumbling. Ingo always has better diction, even when sick, Emmet simmered inwardly. “Switch-out is needed at Aspertia Station. Repeat. Switch-out is needed at Aspertia Station. Over.”

               The line was silent for a long moment. So long that Emmet was afraid he had lost Gear Station’s signal. “…Boss Emmet, this is Gear Station Central. Copy. Wilco. Will track and report a slight delay to the schedule. Please relay to Aspertia Station. Acknowledge. Over.”

“Gear Station Central, this is Boss Emmet. Copy. Wilco. Over and out.” He then switched over to Aspertia Station’s radio controllers and repeated the information, being informed that a depot agent would take his position on the way back to Nimbasa. After quickly finishing up his relays, Emmet had just enough time to take some headache medication before switching off the ATO and pulling gently into Aspertia Station.

               After a minute or two of sitting with his head buried in his hands, the door to the controller’s cabin was slid open. “Needed a switch-out?” came a stern feminine voice. “I’m here to replace you. Go on and collect your stuff. I’ll take over.”

               Emmet recognized the woman as one of his former depot agents that had switched stations due to family issues. He wordlessly nodded, grabbed his things, and fixed himself. There were still passengers in the cabins. He couldn’t appear out of sorts. Not after so vehemently watching his posture and appearance the entire time his brother had gone missing. Not after making it perfectly clear to the public that the regular trains would remain running smoothly. Not after he had promised Ingo that the extra work wasn’t taking its toll on him.

Emmet didn’t have to go far, nor did he have to disembark from the train. He simply walked into a first-class cabin- into a booth in the quiet section- set down his things, drank some water, and tried his best to ease his headache as the train began to reverse back toward Nimbasa.

               His migraine had finally reared its ugly head somewhere between Virbank and Driftveil, his Joltik- Sparky- trying its best to cheer up Emmet as it rested on the knot of his tie. The lack of peripheral vision in Emmet’s left eye had fizzled out and his entire head felt as though it were being sat on by his Boldore. Nausea roiled in his gut and though Emmet wanted to vomit, his limbs felt as heavy as though they had been casted in concrete. He flinched as the train finally rolled into Nimbasa- he could tell by the number of stops- and he shakily got to his feet, his migraine only worsening at the sheer volume that filled into the cabin the moment the doors slid open. Commuters. And their pokémon. All of them loud. Too loud. Too noisy.

               Emmet was slow to grab his things. His mind was still stuck on controlling his breathing when a sturdy hand set itself on his shoulder. A pair of gloved hands swatted his hands away from the handle of his traveling bag, instead picking up his items for him.

“…sick?” came a loud and concerned voice. “Aspertia… radioed in some time… your status.” The firm hand on his shoulder moved to hug him from the side as the passenger- as Ingo- carefully guided Emmet off of the train and across the station into their shared office. “Here… you’ll be alright…Watch your step, Emmet.”

Ingo’s voice was loud- just as Emmet remembered it being- the one missing piece that Emmet could focus on clearly. Emmet had missed it.