#ventilator modes

[two-wizards-in-a-trench-coat]

why is the morning tram always so fucking stinky rrraaarrrgh

[nudibutch]

i am so attractive rn (laying in bed sweaty as hell after hand scrubbing shit linoleum bathroom floor and all other bathroom surfaces by hand)

[void-tiger]

My friend: ooooh~ I’d love it if you did [fandoms] on a pixel grid that I could crotchet and we could sell as patterns

Me: I’m…not sure where the Fair Use and How to Get Licensing is.

Friend: [looks it up] …yeah it’d prolly be less complicated to just do original patterns and maybe then figure out fandom patterns we can do without getting into trouble, later.

Me: yeah. We can still do them for ourselves, but should prolly stick to original stuff.

-

Also me: [fights with tablet. Gets it installed. Art software programs are…a massive learning curve.]

Friend: sooo how’s it going? I was thinking you could make a bunch of traditional crotchet “stamps” people could mix&match.

Me: …sPACE. ✨ [translation: if I’m gonna get myself to push through the art software learning curve + patience required for Neat Pixel Art and File Formatting n shit…I need to do frikkin Tapestry Pictures vs Stamps for a bit to stay engaged and motivated.]

[pleaktale]

Bleaky!! I'm just a girl asking for a request for our man Ekko where in episode 3 of s2 he brought you with heimerdinger and he's trying to protect you from the hexcore 'exploding' please and thank you!! 🥺👉👈 Muah 😘 take your time!!

-katy ❤️

it took a life of it's own but after I figured out the plot it went smoooooth 🤭 I'm sorry for the long wait though! I hope it's worth it Word count: 2k Warnings: death mention, swearing, time travel (?) Tags: Ekko x firelight!Reader, mention of Y/N, no description of Reader other than hair, CW alternate universes, CW death, gender neutral Reader, CW time travel (kinda), hurt/comfort Enjoy!

Maybe coming along wasn’t the best idea.

It’s what you think about when Jayce guides the group towards the hexgate core, a big room with glass floors and lights shining everywhere, a giant ball with runes and lights and intricate patterns standing in the middle of the room. It felt like you should be afraid of it, but you put on your brave mask.

Ekko insisted you should come along, saying you were his ‘right-hand’ and ‘his engineer partner’, Heimerdinger didn’t have much of a choice and brought you with them to the lab of Piltover.

At least it was a fun adventure to get there, with Heimer thinking you guys were in a secret spy mission of sorts, doing hand signs created on the spot and rolling over ducts. You and Ekko couldn’t help but chuckle at the scenes unfolding.

Once in the lab, and with Heimerdinger making the presentations, you remember to hold in a laugh at Ekko trying to appear taller when talking to Jayce, even though he was a good amount shorter than him. Nonetheless, he was still your short king. He just wouldn’t know.

Now in front of this… thing, both you and Ekko exchange glances, you could see the worry in his eyes that quickly were replaced with determination as he tugged you by the sleeve of your shirt to tag along. Closer, in preference.

“I thought this was underground,” Ekko noticed, looking around before landing eyes on Jayce. His tone started to grow stern.

“The mesh is, this is just a fell safe as we were not sure what would happen if the gates overloaded,” he explained, making you scoff at this brilliant idea.

“So it would explode on us?” You ask back, eyebrows furrowed together as, once again, Piltover proves to not care about Zaun’s safety. At all. “Pretty wise for a scholar genius.”

“These are far from the city, it wouldn’t explode on anyone,” Jayce is immediately on defensive mode, even though, deep down, he knows this wasn’t made thinking about the others. Ekko walked closer, also getting defensive at his tone at you.

“These are our utility ducts! The ones that carry our water and guide our ventilation,” this time, Ekko was the one to confront him, taking a few steps closer.

Ekko continued with his arguments, but a shift in light caught your attention, turning around to see Heimerdinger looking at something on the ground, you also took a step closer to see what he was doing.

“Heimer? What is that?” you asked, and as the professor touched it again, something clicked.

Everything turned white, there were no floors nor walls, just a completely blank space of nothing. Well, nothing except for a massive sphere of something you couldn’t quite pinpoint. But it had the same patterns as the leaves of the tree.

“A… wild rune?” you ask, walking a little closer in awe, just to be held back by Ekko, his gloved hand keeping you from going further close.

Meanwhile, Jayce was right in front of it, almost completely mesmerized by it. Everyone in the room was, in a way, even Heimerdinger who also got close, but Ekko didn’t keep him from walking.

“Ekko…” you called, taking him out of some kind of trance as he shook his head lightly, looking back at you, his eyes wide and with slight confusion. “It’s alright,” he reassured you, or tried to, staring back at Jayce who seemed to be approaching even more the sphere.

“Jayce!” Ekko shouted, trying to get him to stop going further into touching that warping thing of organic patterns and fluid geometries, but his voice sounded like it was below water. He heard himself like some twisted and warped sound.

You feel a tingle in your spine, taking a few steps back as the sphere started to lash parts of itself as Jayce got closer, your hand reached for Ekko, but it felt like you were a ghost, touching on nothing and lacking any physical parts on you.

Panic starts to settle, and you’re frozen in place, Ekko watches as Jayce grabs ahold of his hammer, aiming it for the sphere who twisted and warped and angrily reacted to the environment, tendril-like shapes lashing and gushing out of the sphere.

You heard a faint sound that was twisted and too dense for your ears to fully comprehend, but you made out as Ekko trying to stop him.

Then the hammer went full force on it.

Jayce’s skin warped and twisted, creating shapes and geometries around him, something weirdly two dimensional, like a thin piece of paper that follows your eyes. You look back, a line of copies of you, endlessly repeating, constantly copying your every action. Like time ripples out of place and creates thousands and thousands of versions of the same moment in splashes of color and shapes.

A mismatched sound fills your ears, something familiar yet strange, you look back ahead, Ekko is staring at you with desperation in his eyes. You see Heimerdinger exploding in a kaleidoscope of colors and shapes, something akin to oil amidst water, his eyes multiplying, following the lines.

You feel out of breath, screaming for Ekko but your voice comes out like some reversed echo, warped in the chaos that’s happening in that room. You can make out a repeated “run” screamed from Ekko, who is also trying to run away from it.

He jumps in your direction, copies of him flashing around your eyes, he’s close yet far, you can’t make out the distance in this weird time space you’re locked in. You try to reach for him too, your hand doubling into a thousand others, pops of color lashing out of your skin.

Ekko makes it to you, his arms enveloping your form tightly, the first time you’ve felt weight like you’re supposed to, something unearthly heavier than it should. You both fall into some form of flooring, but it still was just a blank space, you try to make the fall easier but your head finds one of the screws in what would be the real world.

And things go from blank to black.

-

Time wraps itself around, twisting and tugging and moving in an all time high, like being tossed into some sort of infinite blender that you’ll never reach the blades. Ekko feels it on his body for a mere second, but it feels like forever.

But then it stills.

“And I…” he stops, hands holding yours, or was it you? You had a different hair, your smile seemed brighter, but still he felt unfamiliarity. He continues without even knowing he was talking.

“I think I love you,” Ekko smiles, eyes squinting from how big it is, his heart feels full, but something on the back of his mind itches. You’re almost tearing up, or was you? With a short nod, you whisper a soft ‘me too’ that almost doesn't reach his ears, your arms circling around him.

He feels full. And then it stills.

“… that day was fun, y’know?” Ekko says, eyes staring down at some flowers in a vase, above a grave. Your grave, your name beautifully displayed with carvings of fireflies and your favorite flower around it. Something’s amiss, but he can’t quite scratch that itch in the back of his mind.

“I miss you,” he whispers, feeling his eyes tear up. It felt weird, he thought he was past it on his grief. Guess not. Feeling his lungs with fresh air, Ekko leaves a shaky breath, smiling to himself despite the pain in his heart.

He feels empty. And then it stills.

“Y/N, do you accept Ekko as your spouse?” Scar says, keeping a small smile after looking towards you. Ekko swears he’d never seen you so beautiful before. Or were you? Is it you?

“I do,” you answer, smiling almost ear to ear, hands clasped together. You feel his hands get a little clammy after your reply.

“Ekko, do you accept Y/N as your spouse?” Scar continues, now looking back at Ekko, who smiles with eyes shiny from the unshed tears. You squint your eyes, waiting for his reply, your heart almost beating out of your chest despite knowing the answer.

“I do,” he replies, “absolutely do,” and then adds. He feels full seeing your smile, the way you’re also almost tearing up, despite the itch on the back of his mind. Ekko just takes you in.

He feels complete. And then it stills.

Over and over and over and over.

“Y/N! Come out! We’ll miss the opening!” Ekko calls, he feels younger, he is younger, he’s still a kid. You’re a kid too. You’re running to him, hair bouncing as you halt almost atop of him. Your hands on his arm, shaking him.

“C’mon! We can’t miss it!” You sound so happy, so full of life. Or were you?

“Stop shaking me and let’s go!” Ekko holds your wrist, running the two of you towards the bridge to watch the opening of the shops. Benzo tried to call you two to wait, but he was a bit late. Benzo. Another itch he can’t scratch.

Time stills once again.

“Hey, don’t run on the stairs!”

Your voice echoes through the tree house, watching closely on your kid. His kid too. Our kid. Ekko smiles to himself, taking his cup of coffee from the pot. “It’s the nerves, firefly, first day of school,” he says to you, sipping on his mug.

“I know! But safety-”

“-always comes first.” He continues your phrase, making you smile in amusement and annoyance. He feels his chest warm up with a chuckle.

“C’mon, loosen up a little, will you?” His arm circles your waist, pulling you closer while his mug with hot coffee is kept far from your body.

The way you roll your eyes and lean on him makes it all worth it. But that damn itch. This weird feeling.

Time doesn’t stop this time, though.

BOOM!

A groan of pain escapes his lips, his arms tightly holding onto you. His body hit something physical for once, the weird feeling was gone, the memories still there.

Despite himself, Ekko just lays there for a moment, half scared of what he’d encounter by opening his eyes. When the courage comes, he slowly shifts, feeling you first, leaning onto his elbows to get himself up. His eyes are greeted by your knocked out form, but you’re still breathing peacefully. Almost like you’re asleep.

“Hey,” he calls quietly, gently shaking you, your eyes fluttering up brings relief to his heart.

You’re still drowsy, a stinging pain on the back of your head. Sitting up, Ekko is still checking up on you, his hand gently touching your elbow. “What happened?” you ask, feeling like you’ve slept for way too long.

“I.. I’m not sure,” he replies, looking around and seeing Heimendinger on the floor and no trace of Jayce. The hexcore was dimmed, with no power coming from it. He turns back at you, seeing you scratch the back of your head.

“Are you okay?” he asks, voice gentle and low. Unlikely so.

“Yeah, I think I just hit my head when that thing.. exploded, I guess.” Sighing, you stop for a moment, sitting up on the floor with him. “Are you?”

Your question pulls him from the memories he’s still drowning himself into. He couldn’t quite tell what that was; alternate universes? Another kind of dream? Whole different dimensions? Daydream? Had he hit his head too? But it felt too real, your touch was too real, the smells were too real, the warmth of the sun on his skin were too real. But that itch on the back of his mind was also too real.

One thing he knew was that you were the constant on his equation. Despite the changes, you were his equivalent.

Taking your hand in his, fingers intertwining. A sigh leaves his lips, eyes briefly closing before looking back up to your own. A smile of relief on his face.

“I am.”

Ekko feels full. And time is back to the right place, with you.

THANK YOU FOR READINGGG <33 ngl I kinda went crazy with this one, writing the wraps of time was fun!!! ALSO THANK YOUUU @the-kr8tor for all the yap sessions about this <3

© pleaktale

[rottenpumpkin13]

all the soldiers plus cloud get stuck on the soldier floor because the elevator breaks how does everyone react

Sephiroth: Calm, cool, collected, the picture of professional composure. Can he do anything about the situation? No. Will freaking out solve anything? Also no. He's sitting cross-legged on the floor, meditating, reaching a state of transcendent peace, all is well. The chaos around him might as well be happening in another dimension.

Sephiroth, after discovering that Professor Hojo is also on the 49th floor: Attempting to use the window as an escape route while Lazard and Angeal hold him back, calculating the probability of surviving a 49-story fall versus spending one more minute in the same vicinity as Hojo.

Angeal: Not worried at all. The 49th level has showers, a kitchen, a fully stocked fridge in the break room and enough rations to survive a small apocalypse. He's treating this literal hostage situation like it's a luxury camping retreat. Has apparently been preparing for this exact scenario his entire career, with his office resembling a doomsday prepper's paradise. There's medical kits, pillows, blankets, emergency flares, three different types of water filtration systems, and what appears to be a small herb garden. Has produced his guitar and is insisting everyone share their feelings around his makeshift "campfire" (a desk lamp turned sideways).

Zack: Full blown freakout. He's mildly claustrophobic and the idea of being stuck anywhere sends him into crisis mode. He's banging on the elevator doors screaming "LET ME OUT!" while trying to pry them open. He's holding up posters to the windows with "S.O.S." written in various sizes and colors. Attempting to flag down pigeons as potential messengers. Keeps trying to send morse code with the office lights to passing helicopters, despite it being broad daylight. Had to be physically restrained from attempting to punch through the elevator doors with his "face first" strategy. He's drafting his will and doing stress-induced squats in the corner, and Angeal has to physically hold him down while another SOLDIER assists him with paper bag breathing. Has already gone through the office's entire supply of paper bags.

Genesis: Freaking out like Zack but with 300% more determination. He is a free man, a SOLDIER of destiny, and no mechanical malfunction shall imprison his spirit. He has maps of the ventilation system complete with annotations and escape routes. He's rounded up a group of Seconds who are either brave or just really bad at saying no. He's going to prison break this bitch with style. Last anyone sees Genesis, he's disappearing into the vents like a determined raccoon in a red leather coat.

Genesis, after falling through a weakened section of the ventilation system and crashing through the ceiling panel: Breaks his wrist.

Cloud: He's not even there anymore. He managed to pry open the door to the stairwell an hour ago and is currently in his bunk in the barracks, chilling.

[icu-fetish]

Sara barely opened her eyes. Her body felt alien, heavy, and unresponsive. The bright light of the hospital room cut into her gaze. An oxygen mask was tightly pressed against her face. Her chest rose and fell with visible effort. Fear gripped her more and more. She tried to remember what happened, but her thoughts were muddled. She felt helpless and alone.

Sara's gaze stopped on two female figures in white coats. They leaned over her, whispering soothing words. Sara tried to make out their faces through her half-conscious state but saw only blurry outlines. Sara noticed the gleam of metal instruments in their hands. These were two doctors... not nurses. "Intubation," she heard muffled.

The doctors, having put on sterile gloves, leaned over Sara. Their faces were serious. "Sara, we need to act quickly. Your lips have turned grey, and your breathing has become erratic. Even the oxygen mask isn't helping anymore, and we have to move to more invasive methods."

The other doctor continued... "Soon you won't be able to breathe on your own. So, we only have one option. After the injection, you'll be in a coma. Then we'll perform the intubation. You'll be completely connected to an artificial apparatus. Of course, you won't be able to eat or drink – we'll insert a nasogastric tube. Also, necessary catheters will be attached to your body."

Sara was in panic. She understood that without the artificial apparatus, her condition would deteriorate rapidly and could lead to a fatal outcome. Every minute counted. The doctors exchanged glances. "Everything's ready," one quietly said. The other took a syringe with a clear liquid and brought it to Sara's vein.

One of the doctors took Sara's hand and gently stroked it. The other prepared the intubation instruments. Sara's heart began to pound in her throat. She nodded, but her eyes were filled with anxiety. She felt the needle pierce her skin, and warmth spread through her veins, bringing a slight numbness. Her eyelids grew heavy, her thoughts jumbled, and everything around began to blur into a haze...

The doctor carefully opened Sara's mouth and introduced the laryngoscope, illuminating the path with bright light reflecting off the mucous membrane. The other doctor took the endotracheal tube, checked its integrity, and quickly, but with utmost caution, inserted it through the open vocal cords into the trachea. Then she secured it with a cuff, which she carefully inflated to ensure a tight seal and prevent air leakage.

A plastic holder, made from soft material that fit snugly against Sara's face without causing discomfort, was placed to stabilize the tube. The doctors checked the correct placement of the tube by listening to the lungs with a stethoscope.

Ventilation parameters were set on the monitor, showing all necessary indicators: breathing rate, air volume, oxygen level. The doctors adjusted the ventilation mode according to Sara's condition, entering the data into the system. The machine started its work, rhythmically supplying air to the patient's lungs, accompanied by a soft noise that now became part of the room's background sound.

The monitor showed that blood oxygen saturation began to stabilize, and the heart rate returned to normal, indicating the procedure's success.

The doctors spoke to each other, their voices quiet. "The nurses will insert the nasogastric tube," said one, looking at the monitor readings. "Sara will be intubated for quite some time. However, we'll probably have to perform a tracheostomy on her," added the other, with a note of concern in her voice. Before leaving the room, the doctors checked Sara's condition once more, ensuring all parameters were stable and the equipment was working correctly. Then they left for the next patient.

After the intubation, nurses entered the room. They inserted the nasogastric tube for feeding and a catheter for the bladder. They also connected a peripheral venous catheter for administering medications. All actions were performed quickly and professionally, leaving Sara under full medical supervision.

Every day, doctors visited her, checking vital signs, adjusting the machines, changing medications through the peripheral catheter, and ensuring care for all the connected tubes. However, after several days, the doctors decided to remove the nasogastric tube because Sara needed another surgery - they were to install a GJ tube. This feeding tube allows food to be delivered to the stomach. The doctors understood that only a tracheostomy would provide more stable and long-term respiratory support.

The operation went successfully, but Sara did not wake up. In the room where Sara lay, there was silence, only interrupted by the hum of the machines sustaining her life. The doctors decided to keep her on life support, performing all procedures until some sign of improvement appeared or until another decision was made.

Maybe today she will open her eyes...

[diazsdimples]

To absolutely no ones surprise, I am sending Doctor AU emojis ⚕️⚕️⚕️⚕️⚕️⚕️

18 doctory sentences! And my apologies in advance 😬

“I’ve called blood bank and initiated the massive hemorrhage protocol, but they had a problem cross matching her blood so there’s going to be a delay. I don’t think –” “I know, Bobby,” Eddie snaps. The tension in the room is thick enough to bite, and Eddie knows they’re all in crisis mode. The insistent plink plink plink of blood falling to the floor sets Eddie’s teeth on edge as he rushes to push the retractor towards Jessica’s bladder, holding it out of the way so he can properly get to the uterus. “Hold that,” he instructs, pushing the retractor towards the junior doctor on the other side of the table. “Keep it taut, I don’t want to risk giving her a bladder injury on top of everything else.” Although, internally, Eddie knows a bladder injury will be the least of her worries, if she makes it out of the OR. He works methodically, clamping blood vessels and isolating ligaments and nerve bundles. The junior doctor holds each retractor as instructed, but Eddie can see the way her hands shake, the metal instruments clinking together as she stands as still as she can. The room is silent, save for the sound of the ventilator and the dripping. It’s slowed down since Eddie managed to clamp the bisected artery, but he knows there’s still little to no hope from here. Without fresh blood to replace what she’s lost, Jessica’s heart won’t be able to pump effectively, and eventually it’ll give up entirely. But he can’t stop. He won’t stop, not until… “Eddie.” He begins the first cut, eyes focused solely on the operating field, filled with less blood now but still complete carnage. “Eddie,” Bobby’s voice, insistent and strained, jolts him. “She’s gone into asystole. Commencing resuscitation.”

[squidthesquidd]

*scratches at window cutely* any lore of pre-war Cybertron pls :3 💫💫

teehee :3 well… every since watching tfone my ideas have changed a bit, but most of my pre-war lore is a bunch of my favorite bits and pieces from other continuities! (also all bots have t-cogs)

as for characters, the ones I have the most ideas for pre-war are Optimus, Elita, Megatron, and ratchet! Optimus, elita, and megs were of course: Orion pax, Ariel, and D-16 (ratchet was always ratchet lol)

Orions job was to transport energon from the mines to the refineries, so he wasn’t actually in the mines himself, and instead worked around them. he did essentially live with the miners though. I think ive mentioned this before, but his cooling and ventilation systems have never worked properly, so despite his job being very easy for most, it put a lot of strain on him because of how easily he overheated.

Ariel wasn’t a miner herself, she was a mining dump truck, so she just carried away all the unneeded material that was dug up. also!! she used to be yellow instead of pink (tfa elita reference lol) She always followed the rules and did what she was told.. except when it came to orion. her superiors often gave orion a hard time, so she would get in the middle of it, and since she’s huge and great at her job, they could never get rid of her for insubordination. (she was also the only dump truck at the mine she was stationed at so she definitely wasnt expendable)

D-16 worked in the mines just as your typical run of the mill miner. he was great at what he did, buuuuuut he did have a bit of an issue with authority figures. and this pissed off his superiors a lot, so after one particularly heated argument where D and ariel were trying to convince their boss to please let Orion go to a medic cus smoke is literally pouring out of him, D was shipped off to the gladiator ring. His frame was practically remade to twice its original size, and he was dropped off in the fighters barracks. he hated fighting but was unfortunately very good at it, and his fans nicknamed him “megatronus” which he later shortened to Megatron

aaaaaand last but not least, Ratchet! He was created a medic, loved being a medic, and was amazing at what he did. After an incident at the mine where our big three worked at, Ratchet was sent there to treat any wounded he could find.. whhiiich is where he found Orion! Orion wasn’t injured in the incident, but he was severely overheated at the time, and Ratchet saw this chronically ill little guy and immediately decided he just had to help him. Ratchet got permission to bring Orion back with him to run some tests, aaand it turned out that if orions temperature increased anymore he was literally going to explode and die! but ratchet was able to stabilize him 👍 yaaaay. after that, Ratchet would often be at the mines where orion stayed so he could do daily checkups on him and to keep him from going offline. and of course they became besties lol

as for society and governemntttt,,, the functionist system was very much in play (if you were created with a certain alt-mode, that dictates your entire life) i think the aligned continuity is closest to what im going for with.

tbh i dont have it super fleshed but i’ll be working on it 👍👍💥

[covid-safer-hotties]

What would an adequate COVID response look like? - Sept 05, 2024

By: Julia Doubleday

Ok, COVID is a problem. What can we do about it anyway?

The problem is stark: we have unmitigated transmission of a deadly and disabling virus, in all public spaces, with zero plan to bring it under control.

We’re seeing millions of infections in each wave, and multiple waves a year; an unsustainable health burden on an already strained healthcare system.

We’ve got a student absence crisis, record worker sick days, rapidly rising disability, and the expulsion of high-risk people from public spaces.

And unfortunately, we have a public that is largely uneducated about and unaware of the problem, thanks to the tireless efforts of our political leaders and corporate media outlets who pushed for a “new normal” of forever COVID reinfections.

The first hurdle is making people aware of the problem. But beyond that, a second hurdle; often, once the risks of recurrent COVID infections are conveyed, the next objection is: but what can we do about it anyway? Surely you don’t want a permanent forever lockdown?

Well, I don’t. So what, in my wildest dreams, would competent public health bodies be doing to mitigate transmission of COVID, even years into a botched response with millions of people negatively polarized against collective measures?

Start from the top: acknowledge that COVID is airborne. Loudly.

Educate the public about airborne mitigation measures and model them.

On April 30, 2021, the WHO officially acknowledged that SARS-COV-2 is a fully airborne virus. They did so quietly, without fanfare, on their website, without a well-publicized apology for the year they spent loudly claiming otherwise.

The embarrassment of this early mistake- costly and deadly as it was- has doubtless played a role in the subsequent inadequacy of communications around SARS-COV-2’s actual mode of transmission.

Droplet measures like surgical masks and social distancing were inadequate to prevent the transmission of COVID; both can reduce, but not eliminate, risk. Has the public been made aware of this? Have medical practitioners?

Official communications from representatives of the WHO and CDC tend to avoid mention of high-quality respirator masks entirely, if masks are mentioned at all. The importance of ventilation and filtration have never been properly explained to the public, certainly not by our politicians who continue to do nothing but repeat their treasured talking point, “COVID no longer controls our lives” while a thousand Americans lose those very lives to the virus each week.

In public, operatives from public health bodies do not mask, nor speak about airborne disease mitigation. Politicians certainly do not mask, even elected officials who quite clearly fall into high-risk categories, belying their claim that people are simply adopting the libertarian “personal risk assessment” approach to COVID. This refusal to mask, no matter the case numbers, no matter the risk factors, is a political choice designed to encourage the public to accept a lack of airborne disease mitigation. It pushes people to believe the virus is harmless, even as scientific research fails to support this claim, and while the CDC puts out conflicting guidance that large swathes of the public are high-risk.

Refusal to directly communicate 1) how COVID spreads 2) that it can be avoided 3) how it can be avoided while modeling mitigation, makes pandemic communications much more difficult for vulnerable people, activists and marginalized groups attempting to reduce disease burden in their communities. We should not be swimming against the current of public health officials’ poor pandemic hygiene.

Mandate airborne infection control in all healthcare settings

Of course, COVID is an international problem, and it’s critical that measures like indoor clean air and airborne infection control in healthcare are implemented globally. WHO has no legal authority to issue such a mandate; it can do little more than make recommendations. However, those recommendations have power, and as of now, it has failed to make them. Recommendations from WHO often form the basis of directives from regulatory bodies like the CDC.

The decision to claim that SARS-COV-2 was not airborne was politically motivated. There was no data to support this claim, only decades of bad physics in medicine and very strong financial and legal incentives to assume that COVID was not spreading through the air. It all comes down to the cost of rethinking medical care entirely, with an eye to airborne infection control.

I already wrote about the WHO’s recent attempt to both acknowledge COVID’s airborne nature while walking back their early-pandemic claims that, were COVID airborne, of course they would recommend proper airborne infection control measures.

Specifically, WHO Health Operations, Infection Prevention and Control Technical Team wrote in an April 2020 email to a group advocating for airborne precautions:

"Would there be evidence of significant spread of SARS-CoV-2 as an airborne pathogen outside of the context of AGPs [aerosol generating procedures], WHO would immediately revise its guidance and extend the recommendation of airborne precautions accordingly"

Well, COVID is airborne, and they have not immediately revised their guidance.

This continues to cost the lives of hospitalized vulnerable people every day.

It also contributes to public confusion about how COVID transmits, including among healthcare workers. Doctors and nurses are well aware that there is no airborne infection control in medical settings; their personal justifications tend to be either “because COVID must be mild” or “because COVID can’t spread that way.”

This is an understandable psychological response to watching their employers- hospitals and medical facilities- fail to implement measures to control the spread of airborne disease in a hospital. Either COVID must not be spreading that way, or COVID must be no big deal.

Education and mitigation practices coming from the top will speed the process of normalizing disease control and bringing down cases at an institutional level.

Like seeing public health officials masked, seeing doctors and nurses masked in hospitals with well-fitting respirators will also help educate the public about how SARS-COV-2 spreads, and confirm that indeed, COVID is still with us.

While there is no previous legal framework for patients to rely on, what medical institutions are doing is highly immoral if not explicitly illegal. They are failing to even attempt to provide proper infection control in hospitals.

Public health bodies should properly educate medical professionals about airborne infection control and mandate upgrades to hospital infrastructure that accommodate the existence of SARS-COV-2. Set the expectation that healthcare settings will be held responsible for healthcare acquired infections.

Legal and financial consequences for healthcare acquired infections

Currently in the US, many HAIs have to be reported to the CDC; that COVID does not, is a choice based on the reality that they are allowing it to spread freely.

From the CDC website on Healthcare Acquired Infections and the 2022 HAI Progress Report:

"The Centers for Disease Control and Prevention (CDC) is committed to protecting patients and healthcare personnel from adverse healthcare events and promoting safety, quality, and value in healthcare delivery. Preventing healthcare-associated infections (HAIs) is a top priority for CDC and its partners in public health and healthcare….The 2022 National and State HAI Progress Report provides data on central line-associated bloodstream infections (CLABSIs), catheter-associated urinary tract infections (CAUTIs), ventilator-associated events (VAEs), surgical site infections (SSIs), methicillin-resistant Staphylococcus aureus (MRSA) bloodstream events, and Clostridioides difficile (C. difficile) events."

The CDC itself states that preventing HAIs is a top priority, and it collects reems of data around other, more easily controlled infections. HICPAC, the CDC advisory body that recommends infection control measures has repeatedly come under fire from activists over the past several years as they attempt to shove through a new set of recommendations that incorrectly equates N-95 respirator protection with surgical masks and otherwise ignores airborne transmission of viruses.

HICPAC’s strategy for dealing with the entirely new paradigm uncovered by engineers and aerosol experts in 2021- because, bear in mind, the work of scientists like Linsey Marr showed that no viruses are spreading via “droplet” alone, the way scientists formerly conceptualized their transmission- is utter denial.

It would be too disruptive to decades of infection control norms to acknowledge that SARS-COV-2 came in like a wrecking ball to previous guidance; thus, HICPAC members are pretending they’ve never even heard of COVID. Watching their public facing meetings is bizarre; hours of academic debates where the pandemic isn’t mentioned, followed by 45 minutes of activists explaining that they are unable to access medical care, or that their loved ones caught COVID in the hospital and died. HICPAC members remain utterly stone-faced throughout these sessions and fail to acknowledge the comments at their next session.

Currently, Medicare has a program that reduces funding to hospitals with higher rates of acquired infections; COVID is not one of those targeted. Change this and watch how quickly hospital management goes from not understanding, to indeed understanding, airborne infection control. This is all a matter of financial incentives to hospital management, and those incentives must change.

Since 2020, incentives have stubbornly pushed healthcare institutions to ignore COVID to save the money it would cost to dramatically reimagine healthcare with top-to-bottom airborne infection control. How do you properly segregate COVID+ patients? When do you test them? How often do you test staff? Do you send COVID+ staff home? (Yes, you should, but currently the hospital saves money by not doing this).

We need to pivot from the early pandemic model of mandating individual behaviors (masks, distancing) to mandating outcomes (lack of viral spread in public spaces). That doesn’t mean a public space can never mandate masks, it means that masks must be part of a coherent strategy to prevent infections; this should also eliminate irrational mask rules (mask only before you sit down) and incentivize mask hygiene, education, and distribution. If a hospital loses money because of hospital acquired COVID, it is not merely incentivized to mandate masks. It is incentivized to mandate proper respirator masks, educate staff as to proper mask wearing, fit test masks, properly ventilate and filtrate, ensure that masks aren’t being worn on chins, test staff and patients, send sick staff home, ensure that meals can be eaten in a COVID-free, low-CO2 area, etc.

Legal and financial consequences for infections acquired in congregate settings, prisons, workplaces and schools

Continuing this theme; there is nothing particularly radical about the idea of legal repercussions for infectious disease via negligence in a workplace, school or congregate setting.

You can sue your workplace for infecting you with a foodborne illness if it was not following proper public health regulations. You can sue a school that doesn’t get your kid his epi pen in a timely manner. You could sue a retirement home with cholera in the water.

Therefore, world governments need to set indoor clear air standards, as well as assign culpability for the containment of outbreaks to employers, schools, prisons, etc., with government money available for infrastructure upgrades and a timeline for their achievement. If disease transmission occurs because indoor CO2 is high, because air filters weren’t turned on, because sick people were forced to work, that should be legally actionable the way dirty water and poorly handled food is.

All institutions- schools, workplaces, retirement homes, prisons- must have not only baseline protections like clean air, but outbreak plans. What happens in the event of a positive case? How is that handled, how is spread prevented? Government money, guidance and resources must be available to ease the development of this process.

Before Biden was elected, he promised to implement a new OSHA standard to protect workers from COVID infections. On January 21, 2021, the day after his Inauguration, he issued an Executive Order asking OSHA for revised guidance to protect workers from COVID-19. What resulted was both grossly inadequate and temporary. In June of 2021, OSHA issued an ETS - Emergency Temporary Standard- for healthcare workers only. It included guidance about social distancing, AGPs, solid barriers, and surface disinfection, though it was issued over a month after the WHO updated its website to affirm that COVID was not droplet spread.

It did, however, contain good guidance including screening for healthcare workers, sending positive workers home, reference to respirator masks, reference to HVAC and MERV-13 filters, but it has since expired. In the years since, OSHA has dragged its feet as workers’ groups like the National Nurses Union (NNU) lobbies for protections and industry groups like the American Hospital Association (AHA) lobby against them. If “COVID is here to stay” and “we have to learn to live with COVID”, why would worker protections from infection be temporary?

On the whole, workers were forced back into COVID-riddled workplaces with no new protections. A new OSHA standard should acknowledge the threat of airborne disease, make use of the many technological solutions for mitigating airborne disease, and outline the responsibilities of employers to both utilize available technologies, promote mitigation, and send sick workers home.

Comprehensive indoor clean air laws with specifications for upgraded ventilation, filtration, and other tools like Far UVC

I’ve already written about this in detail. The CDC has decent guidance, updated in May of 2023, about ventilation and filtration, here. However, none of this is enforceable without new legislation, nor does our current infrastructure meet these standards.

Ventilation norms and requirements must be overhauled. Currently, hotels and schools often have windows sealed shut; this is inappropriate for disease control and leads to dangerous levels of CO2 accumulation. All public buildings must be able to guarantee air changes per hour (ACH) deemed appropriate by aerosol experts, keeping CO2 as low as possible. Only MERV-13 or higher (HEPA filtration) effectively filters airborne virus from the air, so these must be standard.

I have only the basic knowledge of a layman; to learn more, you can check out this roadmap for national IAQ standards written by dozens of experts and published in Science.

Far UVC is another promising tool, and engineers should be consulted as to the appropriateness of implementing it in public spaces, particularly in schools, airports, hospitals, and crowded venues.

Work from home should be encouraged, conferences should be virtual where possible, flights should be tested.

Unwinding WFH in the midst of wave after wave of COVID was anti-science and self-defeating. Increasing the severity of waves and worsening spread in the community creates less productivity and more worker absence. Additionally, lessening the environmental impact of commuting and converting commercial real estate to residential should be priorities.

Governments, instead of pushing people back into the office, should be pushing in the opposite direction, for a sustainable approach to long-term remote work. This lessens community spread, environmental pollution, and local traffic, while creating more accessible jobs. Conferences should always have virtual options if they can’t be fully virtual. The carbon footprint of professional conferences is something I do think about a lot, but I digress.

Relatedly, yes, I believe people should have a negative PCR to fly. You do not have the right to get in a tube with a bunch of other people while positive for COVID, period. People need paperwork to fly. They need an ID to fly. They need a passport to fly internationally. It is expensive to fly. There should be on site, cheap, fast PCR or PCR-accurate testing at the airport, and you should need the negative to fly, like you need your ID and ticket. PlusLife tests are 5 Euros.

I had to PCR test to board flights to Mexico, Chile, Brazil, and Argentina in 2022 and nobody died. As a disabled person, it was the last time I was able to fly internationally, because I wasn’t forced to risk exposure. Testing has the added benefit of encouraging pro-social mitigation behaviors when people know they will have to test before flying.

Free masks, free tests, free vaccines, free Paxlovid, universal paid sick leave, and negative tests to exit quarantine

Expense should never be a barrier to practicing disease control. As usual, our governments continue to be penny-wise and pound-foolish, depriving people of the tools to keep themselves safe and incurring much, much higher expenses to the economy in terms of long-term health loss of workers.

As of now, volunteer-led radical mask blocs are attempting to fill in the gaps by offering free masks and tests to locals in need, but there is only so much that small groups of (often disabled and multiply marginalized) citizens can do.

We need free distribution of proper KN95 and N95 respirator masks, as well as tests; ideally tests that work well. Currently, the government sends out the odd packet of 2-4 rapid tests; RAT tests are 28% accurate on day 1 of symptoms. We need to get more tests and more accurate tests into the hands of the public, for free. Then we need to allow people to stay home until they test negative.

The CDC has unscientifically reduced the COVID quarantine several times until it has become functionally non-existent; this was done not to effectively control disease, but to appease employers. People with COVID-19 should leave quarantine when they have tested negative on two tests, 24 hours apart. Period. Not before. A positive test = viral load = contagion.

OSHA standards that penalize employers for spread between employees would incentivize the provision of proper sick leave. I do understand that the government, after failing to control COVID for so long, cannot shift the burden of disease control overnight to individual business owners. There needs to be a long period of infrastructure upgrade, education, resource distribution, perhaps even tax incentives for proper pandemic management and airborne infection control. But overall, incentives must align to push individual institutions toward infection control and away from infection maximization. The government must continue to provide support, resources, and education, while building a framework for regulation and financial disincentive as well.

Vaccines must be free. Paxlovid must be free. And in an ideal world, in a world that truly wants to end this pandemic, and all pandemics, healthcare must be free.

Education

Education can take many forms; even the implementation of proper airborne infection control in hospitals is a form of education. It educates the public “here is how you halt the spread of COVID” and “yes COVID is still here” and “yes we take it seriously because it can kill”. Currently, hospitals and medical professionals, at the behest of the WHO and CDC, are communicating the opposite.

But in addition to the education provided by modeling airborne infection control, wearing masks, instituting infection control, implementing legal consequences for infections, setting a new OSHA standard for workers, etc., the public needs direct, honest communication about the health risks of COVID.

This means talking about the risk of Long COVID that accompanies each infection without purposely undercutting that messaging by then loudly reassuring people “but it probably won’t happen to you.” It means explaining COVID is a multi-systemic disease, not just a respiratory virus. It means explaining that COVID carries long-term health risks that outlast the acute infection. It means explaining that COVID variants are excellent at evading immunity, meaning they learn to outsmart our body’s protection via vaccine or previous infection; that’s why you must get boosted and layer your precautions.

Of course, the above is only an overview of prevention. We need another coordinated, funded, communications and research campaign to handle the Long COVID crisis.

In the fantasy world where tomorrow, we can build an ideal pandemic response from the ground up, I see several major switches that would need to flip.

The first is that the culture of silence and denial among leadership would have to change to one of education and communication. Right now, state representatives are deliberately avoiding mention of COVID, while propagandizing the safety of infection and/or the end of the pandemic by refusing to mask. It is hard to imagine how successful a pandemic response might be if public officials were actually trying to end the pandemic. We quite literally have public health and political and media figures working to hide three pieces of critical information: public knowledge of the virus, public knowledge of mitigation measures that would reduce viral spread, and public knowledge of the severity of the virus (which would motivate desire to reduce viral spread).

On the one hand, that is a terrible and depressing place to be. On the other hand, it tells us that we might better control COVID through public behavior alone, if the public were given information and tools instead of purposely obstructed from accessing either. We have a lot of room to grow.

The second would be the construction of physical infrastructure to deal with the existence of very contagious, very common, highly disabling airborne virus that is currently circulating in all public spaces. If we have to “learn to live with” COVID, let’s learn to live with an airborne virus by cleaning the air.

The third would be building the legal infrastructure to enforce and hold accountable a failure to implement said physical infrastructure, along with other disease control measures. Patients should not be infected in hospitals. Workers should not be forcibly infected at work. Prisoners should not be forcibly infected in prisons. Kids should not be forcibly infected in schools. Let’s drill down and prevent transmission in congregate settings, with accountability.

COVID control essentially came to an utter halt because our system was not designed to control airborne disease. Our governments did not want to pay to do it. Our governments did not want to explain that they did not want to pay to do it. But this is 2024. We have technology we haven’t even begun to deploy in the fight against COVID, all because we’re too proud to admit we’re still fighting. We have not even scratched the surface of what would a pandemic response that acknowledges the airborne nature of COVID could achieve.

The introduction of the vaccines in early 2021 appeared to our governments like a “get out of jail free” card. They thought they could grab onto it, induce broad herd immunity, and get back to normal without ever acknowledging or paying for clean air. But that isn’t what happened, and now, our lack of mitigations continues to rapidly produce new variants that harm the efficacy of our vaccines.

It would’ve been nice if the vaccines were all that were needed to end the SARS-COV-2 crisis. Since it isn’t, we need our leaders to stop doubling down on their failed strategy, accept reality, and start building a long-term approach to ending this airborne pandemic, as well as avoiding future ones.

The problem underlying all the current failures is that, quite simply, our government is not trying to end this pandemic. It is trying to hide this pandemic. And you’re not going to solve a problem you won’t acknowledge.

[vegance]

I do agree that as vegans we need to be compassionate in our activism, that aggression and rudeness rarely work in convincing people to change a deeply ingrained cultural habit. People deserve kindness, we are all complex creatures. And I mostly abide by that. But sometimes I really wish that vegan friendly Omnis would extend that same compassion to us vegans and just try to imagine what it is like for a second.

Vegan activism does not only take place in specific contexts, in specific planned situations. You always have to be „on“. Every time you have a meal with someone new, everytime someone asks why you don’t want a hot dog, why you won’t join your colleagues on the zoo trip.

Every time someone asks you why you are vegan, you have to jump to activism mode. Be kind. Be factual. Don’t push, but don’t be a pushover. And I manage that, mostly! But when Omnis compliment vegans for being so kind and calm, I do wonder if they know that those vegans only manage because they have pushed their emotions into a box and nailed it shut. These emotions still exist!! I am actively pushing them down to be a functioning member of society and an effective advocate for the animals.

But sometimes they do come to the surface. I think most vegans had the experience of learning about a specific aspect of animal exploitation that surprised them. For me, it was the deliberate cruelty that takes place on farms and slaughter houses every day. Not cruelty for the sake of profit. Or cruelty out of indifference. Cruelty for the sake of being cruel to animals.

There is a specific video that I saw and I cannot forget. It’s not even that graphic. Some calves were being herded into another pen. But a few of them didn’t understand what was happening, where confused and frightened. This frustrated the man who was doing the job. Finally, he got the last calf to go through the gate. But this was not enough for him, because he was angry and frustrated. So he pulled that calf back into the gate, and slammed his body against the door a few times, crushing the calf in the gate.

I don’t think he even severely injured the calf. But I just can’t stop imagining what that must be like. To be a baby animal, confused and frightened. And this large creature pulls you back and hurts you. You don’t understand why this is happening. How terrifying it must be. How painful. To be so utterly under that persons dominion. The thought of someone doing that to their pet would turn most people’s stomachs.

And then I am talking to some kind, left wing person. Who donates to charity. And voted against sexiest politicians. And they say they will never be vegan, because they don’t want to.

And I just imagine myself saying to the little calf:“I’m sorry. You and your kind will have to keep going through that. Because Tim here just doesn’t want to give up this specific kind of burger.“ Sorry to the pigs screaming in the gas chambers. Sorry to the chickens dying agonizing deaths in ventilation shutdown. Sorry to all the marine animals dying of divers sickness as they are pulled out of the water way to fast. „You will have to keep enduring this. Because, you see, Tim cares more about having a specific type of pizza topping. So the unfathomable suffering you are all going through? That’s just too bad“.

And I know it’s not effective!! It’s not helpful!! But sometimes that little calf squeezes it’s way out of the bix in the back of my mind. And it’s really hard to put it back in.

[clean-bubbles-aka-bubbles]

CHASED

The distraction was enough to give them a five-second head start before the two security guards were able to process what happened.

"Get them!"

The gold-masked Transformer exclaimed, running after the two. Orion and (Y/Cyb/n) dashed through the corridors, weaving through the boxes and crates. The two security guards, slightly caught off guard, soon recovered quickly and gave chase. Their large servos pushed aside the obstacles in their way, creating a wake of destruction as they pursued the two.

"Halt!"

"Stop immediately!"

The two security guards shouted at Orion and (Y/Cyb/n) as they closed in. With quick thinking, Orion let go of his friend's servo and leaped to grab a ventilation shaft, pulling it open.

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*CLANK!*

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The metal swung open, hitting the two security guards in their faceplates as they fell to the floor. While they were monetarily down, (Y/Cyb/n) activated one of his Algorithms, which was the Quadirectional Keeper.

He shifted a few boxes and crates over, creating a wall and barrier before running off.

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*Screech!*

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Orion slid across the floor, hitting a shelf before getting back to his pedes and running alongside (Y/Cyb/n), who nearly tripped and stumbled. "I... I... I... We need something to fly." Orion muttered.

They were about to run further, but Orion paused when he noticed one of the security drones. "::Halt, criminals! Prepared to be detained—"

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*CLANK!*

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After they made a left turn, Orion grabbed the drone with his other servo. Passing through more crates, they were nearing a shaft that led to the outside. Behind the two, the noise of gears and metal shifting was heard. Glancing behind, they both saw the security guards turning into an aerial vehicle, increasing their speed.

"Hang on!" Orion shouted.

"[CONFUSED] Huh—"

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*CRASH!*

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As they plummeted from the upside-down building, Orion gripped the security drone tightly, his panicked shouts echoing through the chaos. Meanwhile, (Y/Cyb/n) struggled to convey his emotions without functional vocalizers, resorting to selecting an audio file to mimic a scream.

"Start, start, start!" Orion cursed as he frantically thumped the security drone. The thought of dying was unbearable to him, not now, not ever, not today.

Suddenly, there was a powerful BWOOSH as Orion activated the drone's jet boost, propelling it into the air. (Y/Cyb/n) clung to the other side of the drone as it spun through the sky. Their moment of relief was cut short when an aerial vehicle collided with them.

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*SMACK!*

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They careened in a different direction, crashing into a right-side-up building with a resounding THUD. As they tumbled down the steep, slippery slope of the building, teetering on the edge, Orion urgently warned (Y/n) to brace for impact. With a tight grip on the security drone, (Y/n) swiftly deactivated it using the Saboteur Catalyst Algorithm.

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*FWOOSH!* 

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They were launched into the air, hurtling across to the other side with a sharp CLANK as they barely managed to clutch onto the edge of another building. Orion struggled to find purchase on the smooth surface, desperately attempting to pull himself up as they dangled precariously over the edge.

(Y/Cyb/n) huffed and squirmed to pull himself up. He glanced behind and noticed the two security bots heading toward them in their alt modes.

Swiftly, (Y/Cyb/n) drew out his Laser Blade knife and stabbed it into the metal, using it as a stepping stone to pull himself up. "Come on." He offered a servo to Orion, who quickly grabbed it and pulled himself up. They both began to run to a door with an opening.

"Haha!" Orion turned back to taunt the two guards. "So long, sir-"

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*FWOOP!*

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He was cut off as they both fell through a hole instead of feeling flat ground.

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*Crash!*

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Orion landed on his back, breaking a table of a small party of Transformers. (Y/Cyb/n) landed more carefully, although it was clumsy since he tripped before falling.

"Ooh, Energon." Orion smiled, picking himself up and taking several small Energon cubes. "Evening, everyone. Pardon us." He waved as he casually left the room of confused Transformers with (Y/Cyb/n) shuffling along.

The door slid open quickly when they left. Orion ducked from a passing aerial vehicle, making him drop the armful of Energon. He again held (Y/Cyb/n)'s servo, guiding the trans-mech through the crowd. His optics soon landed on a train coming from their side.

"Hey, that's our ride!" He gestured to the moving transportation. "You ready?"

"[APPREHENSIVE NOD]" (Y/Cyb/n) nodded, nervous at the thought of jumping on the fast-moving train.

"Here we go!" Orion exclaimed, running to a railing of the central walkway of Iacon.

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*Clank!*

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*Fwoosh!*

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They stepped onto the railing and jumped over, freefalling to the moving train.

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*Thud!*

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Orion carefully landed on the train's outside due to its rounded and smooth surface. (Y/Cyb/n) landed a bit off, making him slip off the train. The blue and red Cybertronian grabbed his friend's servo, helping him to his pedes. The Transformers who heard the noise looked annoyed, recognizing the two, especially the "the most defective one" out of the defective mining bots and society. They at least didn't make a big deal about their presence.

The train carried on, moving swiftly across the train tracks. Orion and (Y/Cyb/n) found themselves on top of other passengers of the same train, although it was evident that the other passengers were giving them disapproving looks. The occasional glance and murmurs indicated they weren't pleased with their presence, especially (Y/Cyb/n). However, nobody bothered to speak directly, simply grumbling among themselves.

"What's with all the sour faces?" Orion muttered under his breath, his optics scanning the train's occupants.

"[SHRUG]" (Y/Cyb/n) spoke reflexivelyflexively.

The train continued its ride until it stopped at a station. Orion and (Y/Cyb/n) slid down the train's door when it opened upward. They took off running again to get away further.

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*SWOOSH!*

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The noise of jet engines was heard above the two as they noticed the pair of familiar aerial vehicles approaching from behind.

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*THUD!*

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Both Transformers turned into their bipedal modes, landing in front of them with a loud thud. "[NERVOUS GULP]" (Y/Cyb/n) instinctively spoke before he played an audio sound of gulping as he huddled behind Orion Pax.

"Hey, big fellas." The blue and red robot waved at the approaching security transformers as he tried to catch his breath from running. "Thanks for the headstart. Do you want to go for another run again?"

The magenta-masked transformer chuckled mockingly. "You're not getting away this time, Oeron."

He tilted slightly towards (Y/Cyb/n), who shyly peeked out from behind his friend's shoulder. "And we're not letting the walking ticking time bomb out of our sights."

Orion's optics narrowed with irritation as the security Transformers approached, their optics fixed on (Y/Cyb/n). He stepped forward to shield his friend, standing protectively before him. "Hey, watch your language. You don't even know him."

The magenta-masked guard smirked, clearly enjoying the chance to belittle (Y/Cyb/n). "Oh, we know him. Everyone knows him. He's the most defective mining bot on this whole planet."

"Okay--you might have a point right there-" Orion stuttered out. "But hey! You could probably know him better if you were just nicer to him! He doesn't bite or explode-"

The golden-masked guard let out a frustrated scoff and stepped forward. "You're dead!"

"I'll take that as a no..." Orion's sheepish smile faltered.

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*Clank!*

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The golden-masked guard was bumped by a cart being pushed by a miner bot. The two guards turned behind to see who bumped into them.

"Hey!" A dark grey and silver Cybertronian complained when his stuff fell down. "What where you're going- His complaint died out quickly as he realized the Transformers he was confronting had a bigger frame.

"What did you say, no-cog!?" The golden-masked security guard snarled menacingly, addressing his superiority.

"Sorry, sir, I didn't mean you." The Cybertronian stepped back, his servos raised in a placid gesture. "I was referring to the two bots who were behind you."

At that moment, when they turned their helms to face the two bots they were trying to chase, they were gone already, taking the distraction to flee or hide. "Where did they go!?" The golden-masked guard snarled in disbelief and annoyance, looking around with his magenta-masked brother.

"The filthy red and blue bot with his special left optic?" The miner mech inquired, placing the spilled contents back into his cart. "Yeah- the red and blue with a big mouth, squeaky joints, and a corrosive metallic stench. His buddy..."

He trailed off slightly, not wanting to offend the poor "defected" trans-mech who was unfortunate to be built the way he was. "He's a bit... buggy here and there." He didn't have a lot of bad things to say about (Y/Cyb/n).

He was a genuinely kind and placid person, although extremely monotonous and quiet to others due to his "defect" of impaired vision, a broken vocalizer, and the need to narrate his actions and emotions reflexively.

The two security guards nodded in mutual understanding, a touch of disgust crossing their faceplates.

"That's them, alright." The magenta-masked guard grumbled, optics scanning the area.

"Where are they!?" The golden-masked guard echoed his companion's words, his voice dripping with irritation.

"They went that way." The miner bot pointed a servo to his right.

The security guards looked at where the miner bot supposedly saw them before they took off, not without the golden-masked Transformer grumbling, "When I get my hands on them..."

"Ooh, I can't wait to give that little defected-freak buddy of his a nice check-up." The magenta-masked Transformer was added.

Once they were out of the way, the miner bot pushed the car into the train as the door closed.

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*Psssh!!*

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With a sharp hiss, the train began to move to its subsequent designation: The Energon Mines. While on the train, the miner acknowledged a passing bot with a nod and waited for a few moments. The miner bot then spoke to the cart, "Alright, all clear."

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*Clank!*

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Orion popped out of the cart, grabbing the drilling machine. "D-16, I may be rusty but corrosive- that is too far." He chuckled at his best friend playfully. D-16 had covered him and (Y/Cyb/n) hiding from the guards by staying in the cart D-16 was carrying.

"Let me guess," the dark grey and silver mech spoke with a knowing smirk. "You checked out of the archives?"

"Yeah," the blue and red mech nodded enthusiastically, midway in pulling himself out of the cart. "I had to jump out of a window this time. Almost died- it was wild." He summarized.

"And going through ancient data is worth dying for?" D-16 asked sarcastically.

"Yes, it is." Orion pulled himself out before he tumbled, spilling the cart's contents again.

The contents spilled again, leaving D-16 groaning in slight annoyance, concern, and exasperation. "Ugh... I need a new best friend." The dark gray and silver miner bot mumbled with sarcasm as he felt to help Orion put the items back.

"Ow." (Y/Cyb/n) monotonously yelped, rolling out of the cart, too, faceplanting against the floor.

D-16 chuckled, patting the top of (Y/Cyb/n)'s helm affectionately before offering a servo to pull him up. "Careful, you clumsy buddy."

Orion chuckled as he began to pick up the cart's spilled contents. The other two mechs assisted Orion in placing the contents back. "If there are clues and our recording history to help us locate the Matrix of Leadership. There in the archives." The red and blue bot tried to reason. "Trust me-"

"Sentinel Prime," D-16 spoke sternly. "The-Sentinel Prime is up on the surface," He tossed in another metal prop. "Risking his life for us in search of the Matrix."

"That's exactly what I am doing!" Orion replied enthusiastically. "I'm trying to help him."

"Yeah, yeah- okay." D-16 chuckled, leaning against the cart as he chuckled at his best friend's ambition of searching the Matrix of Leadership.

"The sooner the Energon flows, the sooner we don't have to mine for it," Orion remarked. "Don't you want to choose your own path? Do whatever you want?"

"We're miners. We mine, that's all." D-16 deadpanned.

"No." Orion Pax disagreed, leaning back against the cart. "There's got to be something more I can do. I... I can feel it."

"Oh yeah?" The dark gray and silver bot had an amused smirk at his best friend. "Like the time you had a "feeling" you could "transform" without a cog?"

"You said you were never going to mention that again." The blue-optic mech pointed a digit at D-16, not wanting to remember the embarrassing memory.

"Took me three days to pry you over." D-16 added. "Your feelings can get you in trouble."

"Mm..." (Y/Cyb/n) hummed in agreement. He popped his helm out sheepishly his shawl. He tugged the metallic fabric over his helm as if it were his only security blanket to comfort him from society looking down at him.

Orion pouted sheepishly at (Y/Cyb/n)'s agreement. "Oh, not you, too?"

D-16 chuckled in amusement at his friend's sheepish response. "I think that says something..."

The blue and red bot let out a huff, feigning a hint of annoyance, but a hint of a smile was evident on his faceplate. "You two are both traitors, you know that?" He then chuckled jokingly.

"Sure are." The dark gray and silver bot placed a servo on the (a/c) trans-mech's shoulderplates.

"Yeah, yeah..." The blue and red bot waved dismissively at his friend's comment while he picked up another piece of metal.

"Just trust Sentinel Prime." The dark gray and silver bot shrugged.

"I do trust him," Orion remarked quickly before tossing in a piece of metal into the cart.

"Hey, if we did have cogs-"

"I'd transformed into a shovel. I would still beat you." D-16 answered his friend's rhetorical question quickly, leaning against the transparent door of the train. "What about you?" He looked at the other two mechs.

"I don't like how fast you answered that." Orion huffed, leaning against the cart.

"..." (Y/Cyb/n) contemplated in his own thoughts. The left pupil of his broken optic changed from a neutral, flat white line into a vibrant, ocean-blue teardrop once more as he stared at the floor.

For cycles since the incident, he'd been told that a Codex like him (despite not knowing the meaning) shouldn't deserve to be a Transform, or he wouldn't be granted the ability to transform because of his "strange powers."

Orion glanced at (Y/Cyb/n)'s optic, its tear-drop-shaped pupil gleaming of his defected optic. His optics widened, concern etched on his faceplate.

"Hey- hey." The blue and red mech turned his gaze directly at (Y/Cyb/n), his voice dripping with worry. "Don't listen to any of that nonsense. You're not an... a..." Orion couldn't bring himself to say the word.

Instead, he cleared his throat and replaced it with something more friendly. "You're an individual like us. You're not defective. You're not."

D-16's optics softened, sharing Orion's sentiment as he glanced at the (a/c) mech beside him. "Exactly," he replied, his tone mirroring Orion's concern.

He placed a reassuring servo on (Y/Cyb/n)'s shoulder plates, giving them a gentle squeeze. "No matter what anyone says, you're as much a Cybertronian as any of us."

(Y/Cyb/n) looked up at the two mechs, his optics filled with gratitude and vulnerability. "[GRATITUDE AND SHEEPISH NOD]" He flatly spoke his action and emotion reflexively again while doing it.

Orion and D-16 nodded at (Y/Cyb/n)'s response, their expression holding a mixture of concern and reassurance. Both shared a glance, a silent understanding passing between them.

The dark grey and silver bot took the lead, breaking the momentary silence. "And don't let those guards' words get to you either." He spoke sternly. "You are not a 'defect.'"

"... And you are not a walking ticking time bomb." the blue and red mech quickly added, turning his gaze towards (Y/Cyb/n) as he spoke.

"Yeah." D-16 chimed in with a firm nod. "You're just... a bit buggy here and there, that's all."

For a few moments, the train carriage was silent, with the only sounds being the low hum of the train's engines and the occasional click of metal against metal.

Orion broke it as he glanced at D-16. "Listen, if you did beat me, I could give you this Megatronus Prime I have here, or I could give it to someone else."

"What Megatronus Prime thing?" The dark gray and silver mech inquired.

"It's nothing. You know, the unconditioned Megatronus Prime decal first edition?"

Orion smirked, taking out a Megatronous Prime sticker out of nowhere.

D-16 gasped in shock and surprise. He was a massive fan of Megatronous Prime. "What?" He spoke breathlessly.

"I mean, if you don't want it. I can just throw it away." The red and blue bot teased, twirling the sticker.

"Throw it away-" The dark gray and silver mech furrowed his optic ridges in disbelief. "That's not funny, let me see-"

"Waaait- don't grab." Orion stepped back after D-16 tried to reach for it. "You're going to crease it." He smiled, gently placing the sticker on his best friend's arm.

The yellow-optic mining Cybertronian smiled with contentment. "As Sentinel Prime says, Megatronous was-"

"-strongest Prime who ever lived." Orion crossed his arms with a knowing smirk. "I know that." He looked at the sticker on his best friend's arm. "Looks good on you." He complimented.

"Dawg, it's-" The yellow-optic mech was still in awe at the sticker he was given. "It's really cool." He glanced back at the blue-optic mech. "Thanks."

"[REALIZATION]" (Y/Cyb/n)'s optics suddenly lit up. He clicked a button on his wrist, opening up a mini-storage compartment, revealing several cubes of Energon. "Surprise." He smiled monotonously, his left pupil turning into a yellow circle.

"These were stolen when Orion and I ran away from the guards. So I thought we could fuel on some snacks before we get to work in the mines."

The two mechs were surprised at how their friend was able to obtain a handful of the and store it in his compartment. "How did you-" D-16 looked at the Energon cubes with a mixture of awe and disbelief.

"I-I thought I dropped them?" The blue and red mech was genuinely confused about how (Y/Cyb/n) was able to steal several cubes of them.

"I picked them up and stored them in the compartment. [GIGGLE]" (Y/Cyb/n) flatly remarked.

"Why thanks, (Y/Cyb/n)!" Orion reached for one of the Energon cubes while the dark silver mech just stared at it.

"This is the best surprise I've ever got, (Y/Cyb/n)!" He grinned widely at the (a/c) mech. "Thanks!" He took one of the snack cubes.

"Mhm." (Y/Cyb/n) nodded.

Orion Pax smiled at the warm-hearted camaraderie between each other. "Always got each other's back." He held out a curled servo.

"No matter what." D-16 agreed, fist-bumping Orion's servo.

"[AGREEING NOD]" The (opt/c) optic trans-mech chimed his emotion reflexively as he bumped his servo between the two best friends' own. "Cheers to friendship." He held up the Energon cube.

"To friendship." Orion Pax and D-16 spoke simultaneously before the three popped the Energon cube into their intakes.

As the trio savored the last of their Energon snacks, the train gradually decelerated upon reaching the next underground station, enveloping the surroundings in dimness.

"::Approaching sublevel station. Stand clear of doors...::" The voice echoed through the train's intercom as they delved deeper into the tunnel.

"Ah, man, looks like it's time for work," the dark grey and silver bot remarked with a sheepish chuckle before disembarking from the carriage.

Orion Pax, his shoulders drooping in resignation, muttered, "You can say that again," as he followed the dark grey and silver bot.

Feeling nervous and apprehensive, (Y/Cyb/n) clutched onto his shawl for comfort. Orion Pax offered a reassuring pat on his friend's back, saying, "You'll be alright down here, buddy. No one would judge you."

[tinydefector]

hi!! 🐈 first time asking for a request on a blog huhu so I hope I'm doing it right 😭

mind if I slip in a fluffy request with coppy prowl? him being more handsy and just overall touch-starved than usual with their human and he's embarrassed of asking for the touches so he's got this disconcerting look on his face + a hundred yard stare when their human is close

(⁠｡⁠•̀⁠ᴗ⁠-⁠)⁠✧

Klik Away pt3

Heheheh this worked a little to well for the part three and since you lot made me a simp, enjoy some simpy touch staved Prowl.

Warnings: swearing

Word count: 2k

Prowl masterlist

Chapter1,

Chapter2

Chapter4

___________________

Nearly a week later, Prowl had gotten used to the human's presence well enough, still having arguments with them here and there but most times they kept to themself or hassled Green while he worked. "Prowl, can we go out today, I'm getting sick of being locked up in here" they state softly. They look up at the enforcer with pleading eyes. One more Luna cycle that's all he would have to wait to be rid of the human.

Prowl cycled a ventilation as he registered his human's request, systems conflicted. He didn't need to be chasing them around if they got lost while out in the city, but he also could see they were getting rather agitated being locked up for so long. 

One lunar cycle remained until they would no longer be under his care. 

"Very well," he agreed at last, calculating most protected opportunities for their enrichment and safety. Rising carefully, Prowl lifts them up before carrying them to the door, once outside he transforms. 

His engine purred low as seatbelts strapped the human safely inside the cabin. "Remain still and do not interfere with vehicle functions," Prowl instructed calmly. "We will explore briefly before returning by duskfall, don't try anything"

He Guided them through less populated streets at a crawling pace, enjoying fleeting wonder lighting tiny eyes absorbing alien scenery. Yet enjoyment lingered in his system watching them as they pressed up against the window. They were ecstatic, eyes watching the scenery of the city, market in awe, it was like nothing they had ever seen before, nothing like earth and nothing like the warehouse they had been kept in.

 "Woah I didn't realise everything was so... big" they state softly.

Prowl's engine purred in quiet amusement as they vocalised awe at the sights. Cybertronian towers on vast scales inconceivable to humanity,  no wonder such vistas stunned one so young and unfamiliar with alien marvels.

"Yes, our world differs vastly from your tiny backwater planet," Prowl rumbled agreeably. 

Slowly navigating less crowded areas finding a decent spot to stop so that they could wander the markets.

Don't be a dick!" They huff while lightly slapping his steering wheel. As they climb out of his alte mode they look around in fascination, they stay close to him as he transforms and stands at full height. He bends down to lift them up before he starts walking with them.

Prowl cycled an irate ventilation at the organic's impudence, doors flicking irritation.

" Watch it, and Remain still," he instructed gently, "Do not squirm or endanger yourself through careless movements."

Striding through orderly thoroughfares, Prowl narrated landmarks in slow, simple terms ensuring his human was securely held. Others stared at the unlikely duo, many pointed and whispered as they watched them stride through the marketplace. 

 Strangers found strange peace as they navigate the market's, The two of them draw many optics as they argue softly between themselves, the human pointing at things and asking questions and Prowl reluctantly answering,  he has to on multiple times catch them from slipping off his arm. "What are those?" They call out. 

“ Energon vendors, they supply different types of energon and tops” he states, the stalls overflowing with glowing cubes, spiels of alien beverages music, their eyes dance across the many pretty coloured cubes. “Do different colours taste different?” The inquiry. Prowl gives a nod as he approaches the stall. He stops to talk to the vendor and it's the first time they really listen to him speak cybertronian, it's very different from when he speaks to them. a cube of energon with a silver liquid added into it is passed to him. "What's that, I know its energon but what is in it?" They ask, they know what it is but they are curious over the other stuff added into it.

Prowl accepted the glowing cube from the vendor with a polite nod. Sipping the fuel gradually across his glossa, he savoured the blend of it. “This is a standard mid-grade energon blended with gallium, it's how I enjoy energon," Prowl explained evenly, angling the cube for tiny eyes to perceive colours swirling within." The bright glowing Pink fluid “ “ occasionally i like having iridium and strontium to boost fuel efficiency and spark potential. every more rarely ill have high grade with crushed crystal" he watches as their eyes land on another stall. 

“ thats a Self-repair kiosks, it's where bots go to get new or spare parts,nanite, mesh patching, solvents for mending”  

“ that stall is Cultural archive filled Holobooks narrating millennials, these days they mainly recount the war to newer bots, puzzles to help enhancing logical processing” 

Prowl scolds as he looks away from said stall. “Don't like history?” They perk up in a teasing tone. “You wouldn't like it if it last millions of years either Rabbit” he grumbles before walking down another pathway. 

“ that's Upgraders, Body modifications, weaponry installations, plating polishes,” the stall is rather large gleaming under neon signs, it showcases shiny and polished gear. “So is it like a car wash or do you like remove your plating and put on new plating?” 

“you buy new plating and can trade in older models, markets don't have washes, those are reserved for housing or as you would call it a wash house” he confirmed while taking another mouthful of his energon. 

Prowl gives a slight nod to another bot who returns it to him before continuing patrol. 

“ Those are Enforcer dispatch, Fellow security forces patrolling, making sure we don't have circuitors, thieves and other dangers around.” The next stall he points to is filled with what looked like air conditioning. 

“ Climate regulators, we use these to regulate temperature, cybertronian naturally run a lot hotter than your species and are prone to melting without regulation” . It's fascinating learning for the human before their eyes meet another stall, they give a puzzled look before speaking up as they point towards it. “What's that?” 

The stall is filled with Sleek forms, ads playing that look very similar to adult shop banners. Prowl is quick to cover their eyes, hissing out before walking another direction. “Hey!” They grumble trying to look under his servo. “I am not taking you into an interface stall” he nearly snarls. They drop the subject quickly. 

 Its quiet between them for a long moment before he speaks up again “foreign collectors'' he motions towards the stall. Another cycle closer to reality hits him, did humans even know what interfacing was, had he just caused a scene over something they didn't understand.  

His processor noted their interest light upon spying stalls overflowing with alien fruits, grains and flora. Amusement tingled Prowl's circuits to witness how their eyes seemed to like up in awe.

"Those vendors trade planetary Flora harvested from the crystal gardens, or off world planets" he advised, angling a pat towards the stall. 

"They have those bugs you get for Green" they state while trying to climb onto the table, they look around at a few of what look like fruits. Prowl's scanners swept the crawling insectoids within bins, analysing nutritional values for his pet. Optics inspected wriggling broods at his mere fraction of size, some glistening and hardy, others feeble and malformed. His logs assessed ratios ensuring they were the right dietary requirements her. 

"These appear suitably Green's" Prowl concluded to himself, optics flicker to his companion who looks over the fruit's, he calls out, catching the merchant's attention. 

Once he had received the container he reaches over and grabs a few of the fruits to add to the collection. “add them to my account”. 

The human gasps as Prowl picks them back up along with the container of food for Green and a small collection of the fruits for the human. "Hey I was looking!" They grumble as he halls them closer to his chassis as he takes off walking again. Storing the newly bought stuff in his subspace storage. He finished his cube of energon, discarding it in a bin before using his servo to keep the human steady against his chassis.

Amusement tingled through Prowl's frame as his tiny passenger grumbled irritably from being moved, too quickly distracted by alien environs surpassing tiny comprehension. "Forgive the disruption, Rabbit," Prowl soothed gently. Striding through thinning crowds, Prowl gazed down at miniature eyes peering back without fear, curiously tracing armoured plating of his face. his engine thrummed a low, protective purr. 

It's a peaceful trip back, Prowl ends up walking the full trip back, Striding through emptying streets towards the hab dome His small company ended up snuggled against his body, eyes flickering occasionally. They continue softly chatting as they point out at the building asking about what they were. Arriving within the sealed complex, he prodded the giant doors aside and strode gratefully into the quiet safety of shielded walls. Spying Green curled upon a pile of fabric. playing idly, Prowl extended a digit just brushing his the Flyt's head in greeting before angling optics downward. 

His passenger remained in peaceful recharge, tiny breaths puffing relaxed against ancient plating keeping them warm.Prowl deposits his items onto the 'kitchen' bench

Prowl cradled the human closer, striding towards his berth with strange contentment curling his spark, puzzling his processor at fleeting peace, he arranged the human upon berth cushions with utmost care, ensuring to gently wrap them in their blanket, fragile limbs securely for continued recharge undisturbed. 

Retrieving datapads loaded with pending reports, Prowl settled upon the floor nearby to scan logs and organise filing through the coming off-cycles, continually monitoring tiny life signs within, he wouldn't admit it ever but some small part of him worried over them in the cold room. 

Sideswipe mocks him for his "distractions" over comm. Yet Prowl snaps at him for his words but doesn't argue or defend himself; simply he hangs up so he can continue his reports. Green chirped contentedly as she curls up against the human sleeping on the bed. 

Prowl worked through the part of night cycle, Despite steel discipline perfected over millennia on the battlefield, Prowl found himself defeated by the strange pull tugging him toward where small life forms slumbered peacefully. Heaving a ventilation, the Enforcer gathered datapads and rose, striding to his berth. 

Laying gingerly so as not to disturb rest, Prowl retrieved work and centred it upon armoured plates, their body nestled closer as his engine purred low. Strange ease washed over him, Comm lines engaged fellow officers without disrupting the human, Prowl reviewed reports scrawled across datapads balanced upon humming chestplates. At times powerful digits brushed delicately  against the form sleeping beside him. 

Prowl's engine idled into stunned silence as they nestled closer still in peaceful recharge, their face pressing into the warmth of his side, His programming stuttered, confronted by such delicate vulnerability expressed without fear against plating forged through vorns wading raging battlefields. No creature so soft and fragile should trust so completely in servos designed solely for destruction. 

Yet this small being sensed no danger, merely comfort, Trust was Prowl was attached. 

His engine finally crooned deep vibrations so long stifled, the deep purr had them clinging to him. Face pressed closer. He relished fleeting peace redefining his role however contradictory to function. Too soon, reality demanded separate paths to resume.

"Primus I don't think I can let you go now" He whispers against their skin.

Prowl's vocalizer emitted a staticky murmur. His systems ached for the soft touch they provided, the banter, they challenged him in so many ways. Yet Prowl grieved, releasing tender buds nurtured from unlikely seeds sown through fleeting chance alone. Programming struggled comprehending how a mere human had done this to him.  

Tiny breaths echoed trust against ancient cabling deafened rationality. Here, together, strange peace reigned. Yet bitter facts compelled reality. One Luna cycle was all he had to cherish this, less he convinced them to stay, but even then what was the need for humans to permanently stay on Cybertron, what loopholes would he have to exploit just to keep them by his side. 

[legobiwan]

So. I'm revisiting a very old draft I cooked up of a Dooku-Obi-wan tale. Flitting between this and my Gravity Falls idea and my SPM concept stuff is rather dizzying on its own, not to mention I also haven't tried to write in the SW universe in quite some time. Going to try and publish some more excerpts to get back in the groove. Still getting those writing land legs (sea legs?) back. Yeesh, I'm rusty. Shake off that rust. Shake it off, shake it off.

~~~~~~~~~~~

“You’re finally starting to ask the right questions, Master Kenobi, albeit to the wrong beings.”

Obi-wan stilled. 

The comm screen faded to its grey, standby mode, casting the small room into an almost total darkness, save the weak luminescence of a handful of stars peering from the corner of a single window to his rear. Around him, a set of blocky transmitters hissed in short, labored susurrations - a system that even now was uploading his message to some server on Taris, flinging it forward to unfortunate Bandomeer and then on to far, far away Coruscant. Obi-wan ran his fingers over the small, nubby input/output indicators sprouting from the consol, which flickered in an unmetered, erratic pulse; green to red to green to red. 

“I was wondering when I would see you again, Dooku.” 

A metallic ping marked the initial reception of the message on Taris. It was fast - faster than he had expected, and Obi-wan couldn’t help but wonder about the encryption layers in the Count’s communication system. They were either so poor that his message would be hacked by every fifth-rate pirate this side of the Outer Rim, or efficient enough to meet the strict security needs of the heart of the Confederate uprising and still relay data at least a quarter-time faster than the Republic’s sclerotic, and expensive, hyperwave transmission lines.

“I’ve had other matters to attend to,” Dooku sniffed as Obi-wan’s vision settled into the darkness, the Count’s long, looming shadow beginning to creep from the tall, cylindrical ventilation system running vertically up the far wall. 

“Other matters.” Obi-wan toyed with a switch on the console, one that would set all new, outgoing communications to encrypt using an archaic verb form of Ancient Nettlese as its key. A childish impulse - and one that would result in nothing but a few lines of perturbed binary from the communications droids - but one not without its immediate appeal. “Other matters like coordinating the battle on the Dolla plains?”

Irritation rolled off the Count in spiny, sawtooth waves. “I had a hand in the strategy, but was not the decisive body in the final assault. You, of all people, should be familiar with the delegation necessary to conduct a proper war.”

Obi-wan snorted. “I suppose delegation is easier when all that is required is a few keystrokes.”

[victoriadallonfan]

Victoria and the Chocolate Factory

“Signatures detected.”

“All of them?”

“All. Alive too, but the signal is getting weaker. We don’t know if it’s due to the technology he uses or because… well, you know.”

I grit my teeth and nodded. I knew all too well. I’d read all the files, and seen what had happened in the aftermath.

The broken homes. The broken kids.

In some ways, it was worse than Cradle, because this fucker seemed intent on humiliating the kids just as much as he wanted to make them hurt. “We found him,” Dragon said in my ear piece. “His duplicates have been detected and targeted in London and Bath. Your strike team is clear to go.”

The cold air of Oxford whipped over my forcefield as I descended, feeling the chime in my ear as Dragon disconnected and my eye lit up with gold.  A quick rush of information poured into my vision and brain from Kenzie’s camera, logs of teams communicating where they didn’t feel comfortable speaking, coordinating battle plans and sharing files on the targets.

I had to ignore it all for now, blinking rapidly to swipe through vision modes, until I had the highlighted figures in view. Gold for allies and deep red for targets, the camera giving me a very basic outline of the building’s interiors and possible sources of egress.

Coming down through the clouds, I decided to leave those areas to my team; I had a means of making my own entrance.  

The gun chimed above my head, lines of circuitry along the barrel and handles alighting in gold as the charge readied itself, aimed near the largest red target. A top-hat symbol with a crescent grin beneath.

Traced by whatever power source the new gun used as a battery, the gold laser tore through the sky as I flew down, illuminating wisps of moisture from the clouds on my forcefield.  

It was smaller, tighter, and more concise than the original gun. The new gun was more like what Win had made to fight the Simurgh, more compact in use.

Size mattered not though, my eye camera noting how the beam of light tore through several floors of the building in mere moments. 

I cut off the beam as I approached, a few hundred feet away.

I flew down at an angle, collapsing my forcefield to a near skintight level and held the gun so that it trailed behind me like a straightened scorpion’s tail, just so I could lose that extra bit of air resistance.  With the angle of my flight, and my narrowed profile, I slipped into the glowing hole I made at full speed, the rings of melted steel flickering past me like a descent into hell.  

I came to a stop where the laser had hit near my target, a deep smoking crater that smelled of burning licorice and cinnamon. I turned to where the red symbol stood, both of us obscured by smoke.

“I've always wanted my factory to have that rustic, industrial look. How very avant-garde of you.” The smoke began to fade, the blood red top-hat and crescent smile flickering out of focus as my target became visible to the naked eye. “At least the new ventilation will help with the smell, young dear.”

Wonka, I thought with absolute loathing. The smile on the man’s face didn’t reach his manic eyes, casually leaning on a cane, seemingly unbothered by a lightspeed spear hitting the ground not even fifty feet away from him. 

Cloaked in a purple velvet jacket and adorned with a vibrant orange vest, he didn’t look much like a cape. Dark Society, the Ambassadors, and the Suits went with the professional look - even Limerick added splashes of messy color - but this didn’t feel like reinforcing a costume with high quality attire. 

Which made a level of sense. He had never advertised himself as a cape.

Curly brown hair jutted out from under his hat, and a golden goose-handled cane that felt more than a touch on the nose as he loomed over me on a small circular pedestal. A perfect match for the description of William Wonka.

One of the Wonkas, at least. The others had situated themselves across the United Kingdom of Gimel, portraying themselves as kind, loving, benefactors to the community. 

That had been before the missing families hit the news. Before the children were found, sans parents or guardians, dumped in alleyways or in the woods.

None of them were dead. We couldn’t even call it a mercy, with what he had done to them.

Last I had heard, Tattletale was trying to pull in favors from Semiramis to try and revert them to normal. Riley was looking over them too, asking about getting help from Chris for his parole.

A dark fucking irony, considering what his original had done.

“You going to surrender?”  I asked, even though I already knew the answer. More of the factory was coming into view now; giant candy carrots with leaves that looked glossy, almost like they were made of rubber. More alien looking plants and oddly designed pillars were strewn across the floor, looking more like a greenhouse from a TV show than anything that a professional business would have. 

The grass beneath our feet looked normal, but the smell of the burnt ground made me doubt it.

"Surrender?” His voice was soft and calm. He brushed some burned dust off his shoulder. “My dear, I'm afraid you misunderstand the nature of my work," he replied, twirling his cane with an eerie grace. "How nonsensical of a question to ask. Well, I suppose a little nonsense is relished for a reason. I must say, your entrance was quite spectacular, if a bit lacking in finesse."

I ignored his taunts, my gaze unwavering as I aimed the gun at him. He tapped his cane and a glass tube flashed up to encase him, glittering in the factory lights. The way the light was refracting off the glass gave me pause and the madman tipped his hat, “Little surprises around every corner, but nothing dangerous. To me, at least. For you? Well…” 

A flick of his wrist had a silver flute in his hand-

I fired a warning shot, the laser missing the tube on purpose, wanting to slow down whatever he was planning.

-and continued to play the instrument, a small melody, unbothered by the attack. He gave the instrument a twirl and it vanished beneath his coat.

Distorted echoes of laughter and screams seemed to linger in the air as the melody and blast of my laser died down, accompanied by music and the stomp of feet.

“Your fucked up game ends here," I declared, rising up and flying closer to the glass tube. “The heroes have you surrounded. Your duplicates are being hunted down.”

Wonka merely tilted his head. "Oh, my dear, you're not here to end anything. Can’t you hear it? The sound of dreamers and their fitful nightmares? Here they come, right… now."

As he spoke, the shadows within the factory stirred. Short men appeared, their skin orange and hair a sickening shade of green. Each one bore an expression devoid of any emotion, their eyes dead, even as they sized me up. 

Some of them were marching, while others somersaulted or vaulted from behind the candy colored jungle, adroit for their small size.

They sang, and music seemed to emanate from nowhere, reminding me of Nursery’s power.

Oompa Loompas, doopity doo,

Here's a lot of trouble, coming for you.

Oompa Loompas, doopity dee,

If you are wise, then now you must flee.

I turned and opened fire on the minions, only for them to cartwheel out of the way. Others were quick to put obstacles in the beam’s way, including the candy carrots that seemed slower to melt than solid steel. 

We’d captured a few of these Loompas in the past few days, canvassing the remnants of his artificial wilderness in the sewers of London. The ones we let our guards down were quick to duplicate as the song progressed and were surprisingly adroit. Cruel as well, considering what they did to their still-living victims. 

The Loompas that weren’t eradicated were quick to calcify, turning into what was best described as hyper-dense rock candy. Apparently, other locations would have different variations of the Loompas.

Another blast at a group of Loompas trying to aim a fire-hose sized vine my way, scorching chocolate spurting out before being vaporized.

Fast little fuckers.

And they were quickly surrounding me by the dozens.

What do you get when you mess with fate?

A clash of powers, a bitter debate.

What do you get when you challenge the stars?

A battle unfolding, bearing new scars.

You've entered our world of whimsical glee,

But beware, dear Victoria, of the chaos you'll see.

Heroes and villains, in a dance so divine,

Yet meddling too much might- “Gack!”

One of the Oompa Loompas fell to the ground, thrashing as barbed wire exploded out of his mouth. Pieces of a glass marble embedded his eyes.

“Wham! Bam! Shazam! Kablam!” Finale shouted, launching her own barrage of musical blasts, sending the small minions flying about as their empowered song was thrown off-key. 

The other Majors were arriving, Withdrawal blasting Loompas with goop that seemed alive, latching onto anything that moved. Caryatid was acting as a shield for Finale, unharmed as a trio of Loompas tried to bash her head in with a giant lollipop.

Sveta was in the rafters, tossing things at any unaware minion. Children were in her grasp.

The survivors.

“Oompa Loompa, doopity dee,” Limerick sang with the most bored teenage voice I had ever heard, putting away his slingshot. “Here's a new phrase, now listen to me. Oompa Loompa, doopity doo. You can’t do jack shit when we say fuck you.”

He tossed back a knife so casually that one almost would have thought it was reckless, had it not impaled a Loompa through the temple, causing him to fall atop a nearby squad and douse them all in a burning candy puddle from one of the laser blasts.

Loompas turned to him, and I got the distinct impression that his singing pissed them off more than the killing.

I turned to Wonka; chin raised.

“They say that looks can kill,” Wonka tutted. “But it seems being blindsided is what has done me in.” 

He smiled suddenly, “Come then. You and I have so little to do with so much time.”

I charged him, gun at the ready, Fragile One baring her teeth.

His child victims called the factory a ‘world of pure imagination’.

I would make sure to wake him up to reality.

[disasterbuck]

5 times Buck didn't break

7x10 coda

When Bobby didn't text him back that morning, Buck didn't think much of it. It had been a while since the lightning strike and he was a lot more settled in his own skin again; he didn't need quite as much reassurance from his checklist to make sure he wasn't dreaming.

And then Eddie called him, sounding panicked and stressed, and all other thoughts fled from Buck's mind as he rushed over to help his best friend.

When he got the call at Eddie's house that Bobby was in the hospital, his mind was still too full of everything Eddie had just told him to really comprehend the news. He switched over to first responder mode, gently interrupting Eddie's conversation with his parents to tell him they needed to go.

Standing in the hospital with his true family, staring at where Bobby was hooked up to a ventilator, Buck felt himself begin to crack. A ringing started up in his ears, silencing everything, and a tightness began squeezing his heart painfully. He couldn't lose Bobby. He just couldn't. He felt his fingers start to tingle and knew they were a warning sign, but he couldn't —

Then the others were talking again, and he forced himself to snap out of it so that he could listen to what was going on. He forced himself to focus on the mystery of who had set the fire, allowing it to distract him and bring his body back under control.

He held himself together the whole day. Before he knew it he was letting out a quiet sigh of relief as Bobby smiled up at him sleepily, and then he was stepping back to let Athena through, and everything was going to be okay so he didn't need to worry anymore.

When Tommy asked how he was on their date that night, he shied away from telling the whole truth. So he only told some of it, just touching the edges of his fear and his love for Bobby, and then allowed Tommy to steer the conversation onto solid ground again – flirting was much safer than admitting he'd almost had a panic attack.

And then Chris was leaving, going with his grandparents to stay in Texas for a while because he was angry at Eddie and Buck had failed to talk him round.

Buck had failed, and all he could do was put a hand on Eddie's shoulder and hold himself together so that if Eddie needed him, he could be there. He could be Eddie's rock. He needed to be Eddie's rock.

There simply wasn't time for him to think about anything else.

-

Tags & end note 👇

I hope I've used the term coda correctly! It's my first time doing anything like this.

Originally I was going to make it a "5 + 1" thing but in the end I couldn't see Buck allowing himself to break down, not with Eddie so fragile as well. So for now... he's holding himself together. I guess we'll have to wait and see what happens.

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