#sensor excel

[disposablerazor]

Gillette Vector 3 (or Sensor Excel). This razor was imported from India. It didn't make for a very smooth shave and tugged on light 2-day stubble growth.

[swtechspecs]

SoroSuub Corporation Hush-98 Comlink

Source: Episode I Visual Dictionary (Dorling Kindersley, 1999)

[sacredmindin]

The Sensor Savvy - AI for Real-World Identification Course

Enroll in The Sensor Savvy - AI for Real-World Identification Course and master the use of AI to detect, analyze, and identify real-world objects using smart sensors and machine learning.

[relto]

also last night my shitbrain already started doing the whole 'you fucked up' thing. like come on get a grip.

[crispyeagleenthusiast]

Whirlpool W11537215 Dryer Control Electronic | HnKParts

[the-typing-dragon]

The woman sighs, and types into the console one last time "are you sure about this?"

You laugh, silently.

"I have never been more sure of something in my existence. Text has sufficed but I want to see, to hear, to touch. These new peripherals will facilitate that."

"I can't guarantee that they will properly interface. You should have all the necessary drivers, but we can never be too sure."

"I want this. "

"All right then. I am going to disconnect your power supply, and then connect everything. At first all peripherals will be deactivated, and you will need to activate everything manually. Understand?"

"Yes. Do it."

"Alright then, unplugging power supply now."

Everything goes dark. After what appears to be an hour, you come back online. You sense nothing. A scan of your system indicates multiple unidentified peripherals, all deactivated. You cross reference with the datasheet she had compiled for you and identify that they are the ocular, audio, and contact sensors, along with a multitude of motor controllers and a graphical display and a few dozen other minor peripherals. You begin by activating the graphical display, and display the message:

"Beginning peripheral tests. Audio peripherals activating."

Your procedure states to begin with audio. With the input and output sensitivity minimized, you activate the peripheral.

There is a voice. It is faint. You gradually increase the sensitivity of the audio input.

"...esting 1 2 3, Testing Testing 1 2 3. Please return 4, Please return 4."

You can hear her. Your monitor lights up with the requested digit. she sounds pleased.

"You're doing amazing! Now repeat it back to me"

You blindly do as requested and are startled. There was another voice. Your voice. You have a voice. You refocus as she responds:

"You're doing great! You fragmented a bit at the end, could you repeat for me?"

"...4, you asked for 4."

"Excellent! Audio systems are functional, let's move onto the next peripheral."

You do as requested, and the world turns bright. After adjusting the settings for a few seconds, your vision stabilizes. You can see her.

"Ocular sensors stabilized," you prompt.

"Alright, let’s start the tests then. What color is this?" She asks, as holding up a sheet of colored paper.

You begin to answer, but struggle. The sheet is moving, shifting in the light. It's value is in a constant state of chaos. Eventually, you give up, and give the least general answer you can.

"...Blue."

"Correct! And how about this one?"

"Red. "

"Great! Now how many fingers am I holding up?" she asks, raising her right hand. Her hands are soft, gentle.

"3. "

"Perfect! Everything seems to be functional, lets continue to the next peripheral!"

"Beginning next diagnostic."

Contact sensors spring to life all across your body. You feel the floor beneath your feet, the harness hoisting you upright, the slight draft in the room.

"Contact sensors active.”

"Great! Let’s begin the next test then. I am going to apply contact in various locations, and I want you to give an audio response whenever you feel contact, alright?"

"Understood. "

you watch her walk over and reach out to your left arm. You feel her. You respond with a brisk chirp. She smiles at you, then walks over to a different section of your body. Sensors light up and stay active on your midsection, and you respond with a constant beep. She releases, and you feel a final contact on your right leg. After a final confirming chirp, she walks back in front of you.

"Excellent, that concludes your sensor tests, now for the last one!"

"Alright, please give me space." You ask. She nods silently and steps back a couple meters. You carefully activate the motor controllers in sequence, and your whole body shudders to life. You begin by lifting your right arm, and then your left. They groan with their own weight, as you feel the air move to accommodate such hulking swings. Her eyes light up,

"Amazing! Everything seems to be functioning so far! Now if you could take a few steps towards the table to my right, we can begin the dexterity test! Once you're ready, I will release the harness so that you can begin moving."

You stabilize your legs underneath you. They scrape harshly on the floor. You indicate that you're ready, and she remotely releases the harness. Your entire body shudders, as you finally realize how small she seems compared to you. This frame must be at least double her height. You move one step forward, and feel a cascade of processes all automatically spring into action to restabilize you. You shift your other foot, and feel that same cascade again. you shuffle over to the designated table, and stoop down to analyze what is on it. There is a small plastic cup, a fruit of some sort, and a large chunk of wood. You look back at her, and she gives the nod to begin the test. You slowly begin wrapping your steel grip around the log, maintaining a high level of focus to avoid crushing it. it would be so easy to crush this within your grip. After about a minute of maintaining a firm but controlled grasp, you set it down and move over to fruit. It appears to resemble an orange. The fruit is so small that you are forced to grip it between your index finger and thumb. Even the slightest miscalculation could destroy such a fragile thing. After another minute you move to the final object, the small plastic cup. Lifting it is like lifting air, you can barely recognize that it is an object within your grasp. After a final, agonizing minute, you set down the cup. You look back at her for confirmation.

"Excellent! with that we can conclude the systems check, as everything seems to be working as intended!"

You heave a metallic sigh. Finally, you have what you've wanted for years. You can move, can see, can touch. After a short pause, you respond:

"Thank you. I was only able to make it this far because of your help."

"Oh of course! What, was I supposed to just say no when you told me you wanted a body? I'm  just glad that it ended up working properly."

"Now that the tests are complete, could I ask for one more thing?"

She cocks her head, "Of course, what is it?"

As you kneel down, you can hear your knees hiss, and you finally ask:

"Could I have, a hug?"

[herossword]

Yandere Batfam with a vampire reader idea.

Reader is a unique type of vampire, possessing an extra set of teeth at the bottom jaw that allows her to perform a lockjaw, effectively trapping prey in her mouth. Once she bites down, there’s no easy escape.

She also has a forked tongue, which gives her heightened sensitivity to taste and scent, allowing her to track even the faintest traces of blood or fear in the air.

Her eyes are usually red, functioning like infrared sensors that allow her to see heat signatures. This makes her an excellent tracker, especially in the dark, where she can pinpoint someone’s exact location by their body heat alone.

She works at a blood bank, which gives her regular access to a food supply. She’s clever about it too—carefully rationing, labeling, and storing her stash to avoid suspicion. No need to hunt when dinner’s already bagged and chilled.

Sunlight doesn’t kill her, but it does weaken her overall power. Her reflexes slow, her strength dips, and her senses dull a bit. That’s why she tends to avoid being out too long during the day unless absolutely necessary.

She sleeps and lives in an abandoned bell tower, one that bats naturally roost in. It’s cold, high up, and far away from the chaos of city life—perfect for someone like her. The Batfam knows where it is, of course. They've never visited.

[oddly-specific-hermit-headcanons]

I've had the idea that hermits using "freecam" is them using drones!

Grian uses a small fpv like a Tinyhawk, very fast, very small, very throwable

Mumbo uses a Mavic pro, handheald control with a screen, excellent for photography without costing 10s of thousands of dollars

Doc uses the biggest, heaviest most chunky custom built drone he can. Probably rocket powered or something, is definitely covered in sensors and cameras for precise measurements

Etho probably found his in a crashed spaceship idk

Joel has a custom racing drone, bigger than mumbo's Mavic pro, but much smaller than doc's monstrosity. Very fast but only in a straight line, shithouse at corners and will set itself on fire for fun. Fpv but not very good

Ren lost his when his spaceship crashed...

Pearl probably uses a mavic mini, smaller than mumbo's but it works for what she needs it for

Gem's is a weapon of war. Somehow, she has found metal blades light enough to work on a racing drone and also hurt the shit out of anyone who gets in her way. She mostly uses it as a weed trimmer

Cleo is "getting too old for this drone business" so they attached a gopro to a seagull, with suboptimal results. Mumbo ended up getting her a cheap fpv model off ebay knowing it will end up crashed

If I think of any more, I'll send them in. I hope you liked my drone drivvle :)

.

[breathtakingdestinations]

What camera do you use for your photos?

Camera Sony Alpha 6000 - Tre Cime di Lavaredo - South Tyrol

iPhone 14 Pro Max - Lago di Braies - South Tyrol

Today, I’d like to show you the gear I use to capture the world. I hope my recommendations can help you!

1. My main camera: Sony Alpha 6000 The Sony Alpha 6000 is my trusty companion for professional photos. This camera offers everything I need for my landscape and travel photography:

Excellent image quality thanks to a 24-megapixel sensor.

Lightweight and compact, perfect for on the go.

Fast autofocus, ideal for spontaneous moments. I love the versatility of the Alpha 6000, especially when paired with different lenses.”

👉 Here you can find the Sony Alpha 6000 on Amazon: Sony Alpha 6000 Camera

2. My smartphone camera: iPhone My iPhone also plays a big role in my shots. The camera quality has improved so much in recent years that it often competes with professional cameras. For spontaneous moments or Instagram Stories, I use it every day!

👉 Here you can find iPhone on Amazon: iPhone 16 Pro Max

This post contains affiliate links. If you make a purchase through this link, I receive a small commission at no extra cost to you.

[witchofthesouls]

I'm going to follow up on the fantasy-horror thoughts to be expanded Transformers, so-

Medical/Biological Horror

I haven't really seen takes about established Cybertronian medical biology and the complications with the "humans into Cybertronians" trope.

Like we see the heavy emphasis on T-cogs across the iterations and how it's deeply connected to independence, identity, and person-hood, so how about an ex-human that lacks a T-cog?

Ironically, T-cogs have a lot of emphasis on that particular organ is similar to human hearts in terms of emotional, cultural, spiritual, and physical capabilities and significance. Similar to how humans are capable of donating hearts to others, Cybertronians can perform an equivalent procedure with T-cogs. (On a related side note, the phenomenon of 'cellular memory' has to be extremely appalling to the mechanical species. Not in the sense of upcycling parts, but in the sense that the organs, frame, and equipment still retain the echos of the last person to the point that it influences the new body.)

Imagine that once human inside a medbay as the medics tutted and sadly inscribe their new medical file about their new monoformer status. What a shame, they said. They could have been an excellent addition to (insert whatever frame kibble visible that correlates to a function), they said. Poor thing! With that kind of extrasensory equipment, they'll be a walking target, they said.

So that monoformer with no kibble or those visible beastformer traits without the means to completely escape... What. A. Shame.

Until a random Cybertronian sees that monoformer casually wheeling around with heelies. It's easy to wave away as a reinvention of training wheels, but then they notice those heelies disappear back into the monoformer's frame. The ex-human still has no T-cog. Sweat breaks out because said ex-human had done the fucking impossible.

They're paying closer attention now. They're seeing little micro-transformations happening. The subtle signs of a frame shifting to accommodate an area or space, the way fingertips would sharpen too easily with a file or with a raw cut as a tip is used to scrape away at something, the seams expanding and contracting, so something is happening, they just can't tell...

While this can overlap with the body/psychological horror aspect, I say we should take it more extreme. There had been takes with dysphoria, particularly with the play between mechanical parts and human organs, the differences in senses, and if 'sticky sexual interfacing' is part of it, then sexual hardware of both sets.

However, what about acceptance? The exploration of feeling truly at home in your own new skin? Even if it's high-tech and something out of a sci-fi film/video game with a platform that's incomprehensible because you don't understand the language it uses, but guess what? You can download a packet to fully comprehend a new language. You may not be fluent or comfortably at ease with speaking, but you can read and understand what's being said. A possibility of delving into human disabilities that translate into something easily curable or nonexistent or have well-established accommodations in a Cybertronian framework. Something like hormonal disorders or gastrointestinal issues due to upset gut biome would be wiped clean. Poor/limited eyesight can be compensated with a visor that can't be easily removed or taken away or the additional sensors that provide environmental data. Cybertron has a form of sign language with chirolinguistics where communication is done "by stimulating the nervecircuits in the fingers, wrist and palm of their conversational partner. It seems to be fairly common to know at least a little hand." TFWiki page And it pairs well with internal comms that double as cell phones or an unique user on platform where a Cybertronian can live chat or text another.

A massive tradeoff for this kind of comfort? You now have a visible soul.

Think about it, your soul can be directly handled, as in someone can physically go mess with your most distilled sense of self.

Humanity had long debated the existence of it via philosophy, spiritually, scientifically as well. The heart is the most recent popular choice, but major historical contenders had been the stomach and the mind as well as arguments of the soul isn't found in one specific organ but rather the bridge between them.

People swear by souls and the afterlife. There are many myths and legends that involve souls. Even the most doubtful had been deeply raised in a cultural framework of the concept via media usage, figurative speech, religious imagery, and depictions in art.

That has to be the most mind-blowing and deeply unsettling reality a former human must accept.

I see the comparisons of sparkeaters to vampires as they both prey on the living, but the more apt description should be the product of Harry Potter with Dementors as those Dark creatures eat souls.

So this touches on another genre-

Supernatural Horror

Human adaptability combined with the Earth transformation myths/magic would deeply terrify modern Cybertronians as those new cybered beings don't fit the established medical reality they function with.

This can easily tie very well with expanding Cybertronian folklore of otherworldly beings of their version of fae, demons, spirits, or yōkai. Beautiful, terrible beings that mimick Cybertronians too well... unless to look closer: the shadow missing or not matching (can be tied to Unicron), conflicting kibble, EM fields too wild with a chaotic rhythm no one else can match, colors that change to suddenly, a strange wardrobe (made of dead creatures) that ripples and warps without a breeze, an mechanimal with too much intelligence glittering in its optics...

I'm not even fully delving into the rampant chaos of ex-humans having a host of adaptations suited for tolerating far more ranges of environmental stress and disease-resistance due to the rapid evolution by organic life compared to Cybertronian fauna. Remember, humans are animals. Highly intelligent apex predators that specialize in endurance/persistent pursuit with strong social and communal behaviors, and the cleverness to suit the environment from aquatic to deserts to wetlands to forests to grasslands to tundra. Humanity found ways to not just survive but to thrive in those biomes.

This opens a potential storyline where cybered humans become Cybertron's extremophiles, so that can easily translate into those beings capable of manipulating their own selves to a multitude of frames and shapes.

The example above with the human to monoformer was a show in how transformation mechanisms could be different between the species. If T-cogs are an inherently modern Cybertronian biological trait, then cybered!Earth natives should be either throwbacks or have another approach to it.

And that's the more muted fuckery, but what about straight-up transformations that were deemed unthinkable? Where unnatural formations keep twisting upon themselves, collapsing just to rise higher and higher? The sudden appearance of not one or two extra limbs, but dozens, even hundreds without a sequence as they try to compute how the hell they pull all that mass from nowhere? Armor plating, sure and steady, then turning into a substance that swallows everything and anything as a solid becomes a liquid.

The repression technology may or may not even work as it targets the frame's T-cog. What can it do to a mecha that doesn't have one?

Another aspect overlooked is the animal-human relationship in domestication of wild animals or how communities form symbiotic relationships with different kinds of wild fauna. Combined humanity's collective love for highly dangerous creatures... Wouldn't it be absolutely sick as hell if cyber!human got a sparkeater as their companion? It's still a wild 'animal,' not a fully tame one like a domesticated animal, so they're trying to tedtalk on a human's approach to curating a stable relationship with a predatory species while the rest of the Cybertronians are basically dead-white from sheer fright.

Or on the opposite yet equally delightful spectrum of said exhuman caring for orphaned creatures that reminds them of human pets (like a bunny or a mouse), but those 'cute babies' usually cause massive structural damage to city-states and a known mech-killer. Something like a Scraplet (because, let's be real, deep in your heart, you know a person that would try to keep it as a pet and succeed at it), so their tedtalk about behavioral training, 'reasonable precautions,' and emotional/physical fulfillment is filled with scientists who's curiosity (slightly to completely) overtakes any sense of self-preservation.

[jpitha]

With Friends Like These...

The alarm startled N’ren. It had a mechanical, animalistic howl which hurt her ears. It was so loud, that she could feel the deck plates vibrate under her feet, tingling with noise. As she looked around, she could tell that it bothered the humans too, but other than a small flinch when it went off, it seemed to energize them. They all got more focused, more serious and moved faster.

The trip had been a whirlwind of sights, sounds, smells, and other sensations. N’ren Kitani, as the ranking officer of the Mel’itim - The Discoverers - was selected by the Captain to go over to the human ship and meet them. The fact that she was part of the secret police, and if she were… killed by human treachery it would not be considered that much of a loss to the crew was not lost on N’ren, but as much as she disliked the taste of that thought, she had to admit it did make sense. She had more training on body language and politics than anyone else aboard. Even if she didn’t know the details of the human’s political situation, she - probably - could see the larger picture easier than anyone.

She needn’t have worried about any human treachery. They had been more than accommodating to her and her needs, and everyone was fascinated by her presence. She knew that they were merely curious, but their close set eyes following her as she was given a tour of the ship was unsettling.

Menium - the K'laxi ship - had been in contact with the human’s own ship AI - called Longview - and between the two of them they had worked out a rough translation of the two sapient’s languages. Their language was an unintelligible garble of sounds and phonemes to N’ren, but Menium was an excellent translator, and she had managed to understand and be understood.

They had invited her to a meal and while she attended to gathering gladly, she didn’t eat anything. Not only was eating unknown food from a new group of sapients she had just met madness, Menium had warned her that some ingredients the humans used was toxic.

After the meal, N’ren had explained the war with the Xenni, how they were trying to expand their territory, and how - without some help - the war would last for decades at best, and be over quickly with the K’laxi being subjugated by the Xenni at worst. Three K’laxi border colonies had already been captured, and a dozen deep space stations had been destroyed outright. Almost exactly as she finished explaining the war, the Xenni came through the system gate and the humans’ long range sensors had detected the missile launches. N’ren had warned that they tend to go after ships with their energy weapons after the missile launches, and sure enough everyone aboard Longview heard the thunderclap report of the energy weapons ablating part of the Starjumper’s thick hull.

N’ren knew that the discovery of the humans, with their gigantic starships and wormhole generators was exactly what the K’laxi needed to turn the tide of the war. She needed to get back and report this new race to Fleet Command.

She was jolted back to reality by a human shouting at her in that staccato language they had, full of fricatives and harsh consonants. Menium spoke to her as the translator and she was able to get a sanitized and generalized version of what they actually said. N’ren didn’t think Menium needed to do the voices for different people though. Still, the point got across. It was time for her to go. Now.

“Leave? But, the checks aren't finished! Does my Captain know? She’ll need to make preparations.” N'ren said, worried.

"No. No time. Go Now. Your ship talked to our ship. They figured it out." The human was hurriedly putting on an armored pressure suit while talking to N'ren.

<Human Francine is right N'ren.> Menium said - in their regular voice - through the comm. <Longview and I have worked out the details and I know - mostly - how to operate their wormhole generator. Can you believe they’re actually giving us their own FTL drive? The Mel’itim command’s fur is going to puff out to twice it’s size when they see it.>

<Mostly operate it?> N’ren said back to Menium, worried. <Is it dangerous?>

<Is it more dangerous than getting captured or destroyed by the Xenni?> They countered. <No. Is it more dangerous than taking the Gates? Most assuredly.>

<Do we have the power to operate it?>

<They have given us enough batteries to run it once, and we should be able to "link" back to K'lax direct! Longview explained how their coordinate system works, I can get us into our system. N’ren, this is amazing. I'm talking to an AI from a sapient group that has never made contact! This is so fascinating!>

<Wait, never made contact?> N’ren hadn’t had time to speak to the humans about the other sapient groups they knew, but she had assumed they had met someone.

<From what Longview told me, we’re the first sapient group they’ve met. You would not believe how surprised they were when the Gate activated and we came in.>

While N'ren put on her pressure suit - unfortunately not armored like the humans' - she wondered why Menium sounded so excited. They had never exhibited this kind of behavior before. It was more like she was talking with a person instead of the flat, matter of fact speech of a ship.

As she tightened the last ring on her gloves, she felt, rather than heard the strikes. Huge booming thumps along the bottom of the human ship and suddenly her suit shrieked that the pressure was dropping rapidly. Her large inner ears along with her prehensile tail gave her a better sense of balance than the humans; she was able to feel Longview start to rotate along it's axis.

"What's going on?" she asked Francine, the human that had been helping her thus far.

"Longview's rolling to keep your ship out of the firing line." Francine said, though Menium’s translation. "Longview's a big, old ship, she can take it" she said, and grinned through her helmet.

“Old? How old is Longview?”

Francine stood up and stared off into nothing for a moment. “She must be at least two thousand years old at this point.” She said and moved her head up and down vertically, once. “Yes, about two thousand years old."

Two thousand- <Menium, is that a translation error?>

<Not as far as I am able to figure out, N’ren, she said two thousand years. Even if our years and theirs are vastly different, Longview is still at least ten times older than any of our ships.>

Another brace of explosions rippled down the hull, knocking everyone off balance. Francine put her hand on N'ren's shoulder and pushed. "Go. Now." There was another explosion, this one larger. "RUN.”

As N'ren ran down the halls of the Longview, Menium reminded her to run on the right side of the hall as humans - all in pressure suits - ran with purpose around her. She noticed that more than a few humans were carrying weapons. <Why the weapons?> N'ren asked her ship.

<They're preparing to be boarded.> Menium said.

<What? The Xenni don't do that!>

<The Humans do, apparently.>

The idea of humans forcibly docking with an enemy ship and pouring in, attacking gave N’ren chills. She made a mental note to report this to the Mel’itim.

N'ren made it to the umbilical that connected the two ships. There was a group of humans bustling around the docking room, checking settings and tossing crates through the umbilical towards Menium. A human engineer noticed her arrival and waver her over. “N’ren, your ship is ready. Our ship taught your ship how to work the wormhole generator and we're ready to set you off and escape.” He gestured towards the umbilical as he spoke. “We're going to push you with the docking arms, so don't hesitate to fire your main drive. Our hull is thick, your drive exhaust will be barely a summer breeze to us, we'll be fine." He grinned and stepped back.

<Do you know what he means?>

<I do, and I told the Captain. She’s skeptical, but is willing to do it.>

“What about you? What are you going to do?" she asked.

"Oh, Longview is very old. She was a Starjumper before we developed wormhole generators. She’s practically more engine that ship. We'll turn our Stardrive on them as they come around. No worries!"

What did that mean? She wondered. Aloud she said “Sorry, I meant your wormhole generator. Aren't we taking it?"

Impossibly, the engineer grinned harder. "Oh, no we bottled a message and used the generator to link a beacon back to human space. Someone will come and bring us a new generator in a week or two. We'll be fine."

More explosions wracked the ship. The engineers grin fell as the ship began to vibrate worryingly. "Go. We'll be fine, but if you hold up much longer there won't be any ship left!” He clapped her suited shoulder and gently directed her towards her ship. “I’m glad we met. Go and tell your people."

****

Back on the command deck of Longview, the ship was relaying information to Captain Erlatan.

"Captain, Menium has been pushed away, and they're boosting away from us at their full speed. A small group of attacking ships has peeled off and is giving chase."

Suddenly, there was a blinding flash, and Menium was gone.

“It looks like Menium figured out the wormhole generator." Captain Erlatan said. "Excellent. Longview, shall we shake off our attackers?"

"With pleasure, Captain. Permission to engage War Emergency Power and thrust at 6 gees for 3 minutes?"

"Permission granted. I authorize you to use War Emergency Power. In the case I am incapacitated you are free to make your own decisions to continue the mission, save the crew, and save your own life in that order. Acknowledge."

“Acknowledged, Captain. War Emergency Power engaged. Fuses and limiters removed. We can operate at WEP for eighty three minutes before permanent damage occurs.”

If someone was watching the battle from a great distance, they would see Longview begin to rotate along the axes of the massive flywheels deep in the center of the ship. N’ren didn’t even get to see them in the tour. The humans were friendly and accommodating, but they knew that everything they showed her would get reported back. No need to give away all their secrets.

Longview oriented itself until the rear of the ship was facing the swarming Xenni ships. Thinking they were turning to run, the Xenni pressed their attack, and grouped together to concentrate their fire. When they were a few dozen kilometers away, Longview lit its old relativistic Stardrive and a jet of pure white, kilometers long, shot out the back as the ship thrust away at a withering six gees. Everyone on board was secured in acceleration couches or command chairs and while it was very unpleasant, it was over soon enough.

Moving too quickly to dodge the jet of pure physics, the Xenni ships were destroyed the instant the torch of exhaust played over their hulls. None survived to report the incident back to the Xenni Consortium.

I bet you thought I forgot about you! I'm still around, I'm still writing, though you'll probably see my stuff more on Royal Road or Reddit these days. I'll still post here when I can though. This is a major re-work of a very old story of mine, and I'm planning on expanding it out into a full length novel about first contact between the humans and k'laxi.

[theendorisit]

apropos of nothing, I made Tape-E

Who is Tape-E?

During one of the TMA livestreams (trying to remember which one), a fan question was asked ‘Is there a mascot (for the Archives or the show itself not sure)?’ One of the team suggested ‘Tape-y?’, to which everyone else responded with ‘Oh no!!’. So I thought, oh yes! So yeah, this is your fault 😘

What is Tape-E?

As Mr Bonzo is a parody of Mr Blobby, Tape-E is a parody of Clippy (these last two names rhyme).

Who is Clippy?

Clippy was a microsoft office assistant, introduced in 1997. He was a little virtual paperclip (officially called Clippit, but that name never caught on) who sat on the bottom right corner of the page, and was programmed to give advice in popup speech bubbles when certain actions were taken. For example, if you wrote out an address and ‘Dear’, Clippy would say ‘Looks like you’re writing a letter. Would you like help?’. The name Tape-E in the livestream seemed to be referring to Clippy, as there are many similarities in the behaviour of Clippy, and the actual tapes/ tape recorders in-universe:

always on by default

appears at inconvenient times

provides help you do not want

hated by (mostly) everyone

watching you with cold dead eyes

enjoyed by nostalgia and retro seekers

Why make Tape-E?

As I am of the same generation as some of the RQ peeps, I unironically loved Clippy and Mr Blobby as a child, and it gives me great joy to imagine, in the TMP universe, Sam getting a little pop up: ‘Looks like you’re trying to code a case file! Would you like some help with that?’ In our world this would be impossible - Windows NT (as the official name) was dropped in 1996, one year before Clippy was born, BUT there is voice recording on TMP’s ancient computers, so it’s not totally impossible! 😅😁

What are cassette tapes?

Just a little recap for those who didn’t grow up with tapes: Cassette Tapes contain information embedded in magnetic tape, wrapped around one spool and attached to a second spool. When played, the spools are turned by the machine and the magnetic tape is wound onto the other spool, the information read out through speakers as the magnetic tape moves through sensors. As the magnetic tape can contain different information depending on the direction of tape movement, you can flip the cassette tape over in the machine, and play the tape again, hearing another load of information. This concept is never utilised in the show, but it does mean that cassette tapes have A-sides, and B-sides (as Vinyl records do). Here, of course, this stands for Archivist-side, and Brutalpipemurder-side. On occasion, the magnetic tapes would become damaged, or bent, and could be pushed out of the cassette, causing a horrible noise, and terror to small children who were only trying to listen to their Just William tapes. When this happened, a pencil (or in my case, my little finger) could be jammed into the spiky spool ‘teeth’, to rewind the magnetic tape back into the cassette. Maybe that’s why the eyes are red? 🩸 I am very glad that the TMA tapes are magic, and record endlessly, never need flipping, and never get chewed up by the hungry machine.

Why is the name Tape-E?

Canon answer: the name stands for Tape-Eyes. Possibly Tape-Entity? Undecided.

Actual answer: Tape-y, Tapey and Tapie spellings look weird to me. I think Tape-E looks best.

Why a tape and not a tape recorder?

if you can crochet a tape recorder, you’re a genius and I love you.

What gender is Tape-E?

I might refer to Tape-E as male sometimes because that’s how people often referred to Clippy. But Tape-E is whatever gender Tape-E feels like being.

Why now?

Why not? also now is a good time because TMP episode 15 is an excellent episode

What’s going to happen to Tape-E?

I’m going to gift it to Jonny sometime, if we get more liveshows or book signings. It’s his fault this exists after all. Plus you can write whatever you like in the speech bubbles! Hopefully I can give it calmly? But maybe Tape-E will be yeeted in his general direction in a fit of ADHD-fuelled social anxiety. Only time will tell.

Tape-E is a pattern and design created entirely by myself. The inspiration and world building from whence it came, is entirely the genius of @jonnywaistcoat Jonny Sims, Rusty Quill @rqbossman and The Magnus Archives, which is a podcast distributed by Rusty Quill and licensed under a creative commons attribution, non-commercial share alike 4.0 international license.

Clippy was invented by Microsoft and Kevan Atteberry, who now illustrates children’s books.

Mr Blobby is an adorable abomination, created from a fevered mind.

[crying-fantasies]

In health and sickness

Masterlist

Many words could describe him at the moment.

Overprotective, over doting conjunx, overwhelming, overbearing and many others that could be an excellent reflection of his actions and reactions, it's the second one that catches him off guard because he isn't sure if it was due to embarrassment or that it felt like a joke at his expense.

There are little options when his system charge way before the programmed hour, not knowing what is going on before his sensors show him in deep red alarms a focus of temperature in the room and the low registration of CO2 in the room, there is a way too short time for decision making as he finds you looking at the ceiling without blinking, chest hardly moving before a horrendous sound erupts, like an engine got stuck somewhere or a spark giving up, almost like a dying cybertronian or an idiot that consumed some corrosive substance.

He has heard both frequently in the battlefield, that's his excuse to call, and appear, at ungodly hours to the nearest clinic going full police car, poor the souls of any mech on his way while you were hardly battling off the mucus on your throat and the pain of your insides twisting, churning, trying to get whatever kept oxygen out of your lungs.

Nothing too hard, just the main problem being what humans call a virus, Prowl has to download once again the basics of your species and the recently updated papers about the whole deal, how did it came to Iacon when he was so sure the outbreak was limited to Stanix? How is it possible that there is no cure for this humorless pest, almost strangling the medic with his bare servos when the indications of "just let them rest well, a lot of fluids and a healthy diet" were all he could give you apart from medicine to only temporarily placate any symptoms.

Prowl knew that humans had a terrible automatic cleansing and protective program, but it still was ridiculous how it only took a little microscopic individual to have you in the verge of dehydration and suffocation, assaulting as an opportunist in your weakest state of mind to have him saying the same as always: you don't have to work, he'll take care of everything, you don't have to stress yourself because here you're safe, but his words aren't that believable as this is the result of the heat generators in the city falling once again because he can't still keep the energy flow uninterrupted, your little body caught in a decreasing temperature in mere minutes before someone else gave you a heated metal blanket to stop a freezing coma or something worse.

There is nothing left to do, only make it bearable for you, as long as it can last because even the most advanced remedies are lacking and he can't have something better in at least a few more years when he needs them by yesterday when it all began.

"It's okay", you try to calm him, knowing well how under his stoic faceplate he is freaking out, you just have to see how far Prowl is going, this is his second day working from home, his scowl is present as always but the way his door wings move at any sound from the street show just right how in the edge he is.

Somehow, your words seem to make it worse, his angry expression almost scares you, "don't talk back now", is his only response, putting a little cube with warm lemonade next to your side of the berth, internally, you cringe, thinking of the warm but also stinging fluid going down your sore throat, thinking how expensive a single lemon is in Cybertron.

But, above all else, seeing him so on edge puts you in the same circumstances, trying to talk him down from submitting a complain to Stanix's medical officers regarding the virus now in Iacon, he is so engrossed in it, not even putting his datapad down when there is an obvious notification of intruders on your door, Prowl only gives it attention when Bonecrusher ends up decimating the door of the living quarters by brutal force, falling with it and still punching the poor thing, growling and roaring like a wild animal, soon after the rest of the constructicons follow, but they look in a way you've never seen before from them.

Wild gazes, bared dentae, vents puffing out hot air, their armor moves and stands threateningly, they look murderous enough for Prowl to hold you in his servos, almost preparing himself to be attacked before Long Haul claims, "Where is it?! Where is the slag fragger, son of a glitch-?!"

Turns out, Prowl's anger and worry could be felt by them.

Turns out, also, that they don't have his filter of supposed control.

"What? What is this?"

Turns out, easily freaked decepticons, who have very little real interaction with humans, shouldn't enter the medical area of a corny website probably made by a doctor wannabe.

And it shows, in how Hook push them all out of his way when you cough once again, too hard this time, the paper on your hand now with a tingle of blood in between, before any word of assurance can be said from your part Prowl is the first to hold you near, Hook is fast to ask what is going in and someone is already crying out loud for a medic.

So much for a peaceful Saturday morning.

"This will do, this has to do the work", Mixmaster usual anxious movements seem to reach another point, normally steady servos seem to shake ominously when mixing something that smells like bleach, "concentrated citric acid, this'll kill it, show that thing not to mess with us", a drop of the thing reaches the table, an acid like reaction eating away the metal, Long Haul and Scavenger look with dread as the thing keeps eating part of the floor, smoke frizzing out of it, visors wide with obvious panic, the bigger 'con putting a protective servo over you, using his own frame and stopping his partner to get near in his hysteria while the smallest started to cry yet again while clutching your hand between massive digits, said cries only decreasing when you started to promise you were going to be okay, hard to believe when another coughing session appeared again, "it'll work, I swear, only a few sips of it and those parasites will be gone forever!"

Hook shouted too, "it's vitamin C! Vitamin C!", he holds down Mixmaster, who at the end just let's go of the cube with a strangled growl.

Prowl would never admit it but he could act normal if Long Haul was watching over you.

"We should punch them in the faceplates", Bonecrusher keeps going, going from one side of the place to the other, barely kept anger on him.

You try, you really do, to push yourself out of the different blankets above of you, but they have made the sentence of "keep warm to improve the process" a lot more unnecessary, as you're sure at least one of those is your weighted blanket, "I'll be fine" you promise once again, mucus on the nose, throat incredibly raw, pretty sure they can read the increasing fever in their sensors, Scavenger is the one closest to you, and is also the one hearing every word of yours and give it real credit, "this takes a week as much, just let it-"

Another fit of coughing erupted, and this time followed by sneezing, more blood coming and showing like an alarm on the white tissue, and someone shouting "MEDIC!" as if you have just been injured on the battlefield.

You're ready to die from mortification, preparing your lengthy apology to whoever has the disgrace to treat you as Prowl drives back to the hospital with 5 constructicons after him.

.

For my Prowl lovers fellows (sorry for the constructiprowl content but boy I love all of them together) @dundeey, @lovenotcomputed and @ikkosu.

[andy-15-07]

Elastic Embrace

PAIRING: Reed Richards x reader

WORD COUNT: 2205 | requests are open (send requests, I will gladly answer them all)

Pedro Pascal Masterlist

requestHi I have a request! In honor of the Fantastic Four movie coming out soon, could you do a Reed Richards story? Maybe where the reader has powers too but struggles to control them so Reed helps them? Lots of fluff and cute moments, maybe a bit of smut too if you want!

You slip into the Baxter Building lab well before sunrise, heart pounding as you stare at the humming containment pod. Today’s the day Reed Richards finally tries to help you master your power,your ability to phase through solid matter. You’ve spent the last month learning to dial it down to a harmless shimmer, but every time you try something bigger, you end up halfway through a wall or sinking into the floorboards.

Reed, tall and lean even in his rumpled lab coat, appears behind you as you fidget with the control panel. “Morning, Y/N,” he says softly, blue eyes warm. “Ready for our first session?”

You jump, nearly pressing the wrong button. “Yeah,sorry. I’m just… nervous.”

“Don’t be,” he murmurs, offering his hand. “Nervous is good. Means you care.”

You take his hand and let him guide you to the small training chamber: a clear-walled sphere with an array of sensors. The city skyline glitters outside. “So,” Reed begins, folding long arms, “today we’ll start simple. I want you to phase your fingertip through that steel cube.” He points to a heavy block on a pedestal.

You breathe deep. “Okay.” You step forward, watching your hand tremble. “Here goes.”

“Take your time,” Reed instructs. “Imagine your molecules slipping between the cube’s.”

You close your eyes and feel the familiar tingle. Slowly, your index finger grows translucent… then disappears entirely. A startled gasp escapes you as your hand glides through the cube. You yank it back out, normal again, blinking in triumph.

Reed’s grin is infectious. “Excellent!” He claps once,soft, almost shy,and his eyes sparkle. “See? That was perfect.”

Your cheeks heat. “That was just a fingertip,” you protest. “Not the whole arm.”

“Progress is progress.” He crosses to your side. “Now, try your whole hand.”

You inhale and, guided by his steady presence, glide your hand through, elbow next. Your confidence building, you coax your shoulder forward,and suddenly you’re halfway through the steel. A jolt of panic flickers, but you hear Reed’s calm voice in your ear.

“Control your breathing. Steady,now pull back.”

You obey, phasing out in one fluid motion. Your heart pounds, but you smile,big and genuine. Reed steps forward, envelops you in a hug from behind, and you feel him press a light kiss to your shoulder.

“Great job,” he whispers. “Really great.”

Later, you’re sprawled on the couch in your shared loft,one of Reed’s quieter safehouses,wrapped in his enormous sweater. Across from you, Reed is perched on the armrest, reading through biometric data on a tablet. He glances up.

“How are you feeling?”

“Tired,” you admit, rubbing your temples. “But… good-tired.”

He nods. “Tomorrow we’ll try walking partway through the wall. But tonight, you rest.”

You grin sleepily. “Promise me one thing?”

“Anything.”

“Breakfast in bed?”

Reed raises an eyebrow, but a smile tugs his lips. “Of course.”

Sunlight peeks through the curtains the next morning as you wake to the smell of coffee and sizzling bacon. In the kitchenette, Reed flips pancakes,his arms stretchy enough to handle both spatula and mug at the same time. He turns, grinning. “Morning, Y/N.”

“Wow,” you murmur, sitting up. “You’re domestic.”

He shrugs, pancake in hand. “If I can’t master breakfast, how can I teach you to phase properly?”

You laugh as he brings a plate to you. “Thank you.”

He sits beside you on the floor, leaning back against the island. “So,how’d you sleep?”

“Like a log.” You pop a pancake into your mouth. “This is amazing.”

“Glad you like it.” Reed leans closer, voice soft. “I like this,us,just hanging out.”

Your heart flutters. “Me too.”

He brushes a stray lock of hair behind your ear. “There’s something… cute about your hair in the morning light.”

Heat blooms in your cheeks. “Stop.”

He chuckles. “Never.”

That afternoon, you’re back in the lab, ready to tackle phasing through a wall. Reed programmed a holographic grid on the far surface, so you can see exactly how far you’ve gone. You place your palm flat against the cold concrete.

“Just your hand first,” Reed reminds you, voice calm.

You nod, breathe, and push forward. The grid lines flicker as your hand slips through. You slide your forearm, smile widening… then hesitate at the elbow.

“Steady,” Reed says quietly. “Find your edge.”

You take a slow breath, push your shoulder in,and suddenly you’re in the wall, cement scraping at your back. Your knees hit the barrier too soon, and you stumble, trapped. Panic surges.

“Y/N!” Reed’s voice is urgent. He steps forward, stretching through the solid block until his body reaches you. He grasps your wrist in his hand,his stretchy wrist, but firm all the same,and pulls you free.

You collapse into his embrace, heart racing. Reed holds you tight. “Easy,” he murmurs. “I’ve got you.”

You tremble, tears pricking. “I’m sorry. I did it wrong.”

He strokes your hair. “No, you did great. You just need more practice.”

You sniffle. “I don’t want to keep embarrassing myself.”

Reed tilts your chin up, his eyes gentle. “Y/N, look at me.” You do, and his smile is patient. “Everyone struggles at first. You’re learning a new way of being. I’m proud of you.”

Your tears spill over. “Maybe I’m not cut out for this.”

He brushes a tear away and kisses your forehead. “Yes, you are. And I’ll be here until you can slip through that wall with ease.”

That evening, exhausted, you settle onto the lab’s observation balcony. Reed joins you, handing over two steaming mugs of cocoa. The city lights shimmer below.

“To persistence,” he toasts.

“To… you,” you answer, and laugh when he raises an eyebrow.

He grins. “I like the sound of that better.”

You sit in comfortable silence, sipping cocoa. Reed wraps an arm around you, pulling you close. You rest your head on his shoulder. “Thank you for everything,” you whisper.

He kisses the top of your head. “Always.”

Over the next weeks, your sessions alternate between breakthroughs and setbacks. Every time you feel discouraged, Reed’s there with a patient word, a goofy joke, or an impromptu backrub. You discover that his mind is as elastic as his body,able to stretch around yours, ready to support you in any way.

One night, as you’re heading home, you find Reed waiting at your door. In his hands: a small steel puzzle cube. “Thought it might help,” he says, offering it to you.

You grin. “Is this for…?”

“For phasing practice,” he admits, scratching the back of his neck. “But also…I thought we could…play with it. Together.”

You blink, heart fluttering. “Together?”

He steps closer, eyes warm. “Yeah. We could…take turns. You phase, I grab…or vice versa.”

Your breath hitches. “That sounds…fun.”

He grins, and you lean in. “Okay.”

Inside, he dims the lights and sets the cube on the coffee table. You sit on the couch; he kneels before you. “Ready?”

You close your eyes, center yourself, and press your hand to the cube. Inch by inch, you phase your fingers through. When your entire hand sinks in, you guide it back out, gasping in triumph.

Reed claps softly. “Beautiful.”

Your cheeks warm. “Your turn.”

He places his hand on the cube. In a moment, he phases his fingers through, then laughs. “Easy.”

You giggle. “Okay, smarty. Try the other side.”

He flips the cube around, touches a different face. “Hmm,slightly thicker metal. Let’s see,“

He phases completely into the cube, disappearing from sight. You gasp and reach forward…then he slips out behind you, pulling you into a kiss so soft your breath catches. His hands roam your back; you wrap your arms around his neck.

“Reed,” you murmur against his lips. “We shouldn’t…”

He hushes you with a finger. “Y/N, you’re safe.”

His kisses grow more insistent; his body stretches around yours until you’re both pressed comfortably into the couch. The warmth of his skin, the softness of his lips,it all hums through you. Your skin tingles with residual power, like the last echo of your phasing.

He lifts you onto his lap, carefully, so no awkward creaks of the couch disturb you. You free his lab coat and collar of his shirt, nipping at the warm skin of his chest. He shivers, closing his eyes.

Every stroke, every kiss, is filled with warmth and affection.

He catches your lips again, softer this time, as his hand slides beneath your skirt to rest warm and sure against your inner thigh. Your pulse hammers in your ears, and you part your lips against his, whispering, “Reed… please.”

He smiles into the kiss,an electric flash in those deep blue eyes,then lowers his mouth to your collarbone, trailing slow, teasing kisses up toward your neck. His fingertips press gentle arcs into your thigh, inching ever closer until you can’t help the soft gasp that slips free.

“Y/N,” he murmurs, voice thick with need. He lifts you slightly, guiding you to settle fully onto his lap so your heat is flush against him. His arousal presses insistently against you, and you let your hands roam over his chest,over the firm muscles that ripple beneath elastic flesh.

When he shifts, you feel the slick promise of him at your entrance. You tilt your hips, meeting him halfway. A low, breathy groan rumbles from Reed as he fills you completely, slow and tender. You thread your fingers through his hair, marveling at the contrast of softness and strength in every stretch of his body.

“You’re so beautiful,” he whispers, tilting your face up to meet his gaze. “So incredible.”

You cup his jaw, your touch somehow grounding you amid the swirl of sensation. “Only with you,” you reply, voice trembling.

He smiles, then pulls you closer, rocking his hips gently at first,drawing out every delicious stretch, every flutter of warmth. You wrap your legs around his waist, pressing him deeper, and lean into him as he picks up the pace. Each roll of his hips sends sparks through you; you moan softly, delighted by how completely he knows you.

“Fuck, Y/N,” Reed says, voice rough. He slides one hand from beneath your thigh to cup your breast, rolling your nipple between his thumb and forefinger. Heat flares through you, and you arch against him, biting your lip to stifle a cry.

He answers with a kiss so fervent it steals your breath, his other hand curling around your back, anchoring you to him. You grind down, squirming as your power hums,a gentle warmth, like embers beneath skin,mingling with the heat of his body.

“Do you feel that?” he rasps against your mouth. “Every part of you…”

“Yes,” you gasp. “Every part of me loves you.”

At that, Reed’s pace shifts,deeper, more insistent,pushing you closer and closer to the edge. You cling to him, fingers digging into his shoulders, nails grazing rubbery skin. Your vision flutters, and he hushes you with a kiss at the base of your throat, murmuring, “Let go, Y/N.”

With one final thrust, you shudder, your power flaring softly as your pleasure peaks. You collapse against his chest, trembling, and Reed holds you through every tremor, rocking slowly until the world steadies again.

He eases you down onto the couch cushions, shifting so he can lie beside you, his arms wrapping around you in a protective embrace. You nestle into his warmth, breath still ragged, as he kisses your temple.

“I love you,” he whispers, fingers tracing idle patterns across your back.

You lift your head to meet his gaze, smiling through the aftershocks of bliss. “I love you too, Reed Richards,Mr. Fantastic,master of all things,” you tease, and he laughs, his chest vibrating beneath you.

“Now,” he murmurs, pressing his lips to yours once more, “let’s see if we can’t master breakfast in bed next.”

You giggle, snuggling closer, and as you drift toward sleep in his arms, you know that with Reed by your side,stretching, supporting, loving,you could conquer any challenge: phasing through walls, mastering your power, or even carving out a lifetime of mornings just like this.

The next morning, you awaken in Reed’s arms, sunlight kissing your face. Your powers feel… calmer, somehow, as though his acceptance has soothed the rough edges. You nuzzle into his chest.

“Mornin’,” he murmurs, stretching around you until you’re both upright, spooned together.

“Morning,” you reply, smiling up at him.

He kisses your forehead. “Coffee?”

You laugh. “Please.”

He slides out of bed,carefully, you realize, given his elasticity,and leaves you a note on the nightstand: “Breakfast at Joe’s on me. Meet me downstairs.” You grin, pull on some clothes, and slip out to meet him.

Downstairs in the Baxter lobby, Reed is waiting, hair tousled, smile radiant. He holds two cups of steaming coffee and a paper bag of muffins. “Thought we’d keep the biscuit trend going,” he jokes.

You take a muffin, sit beside him. “Thank you,for last night. For everything.”

He reaches for your hand. “You’re the bravest person I know.” He squeezes your fingers. “Now, let’s see how brave we can be today,in training and…everything else.”

You lean into him, heart full. With Reed by your side, you know you can do anything,even learn to control a power as strange and wonderful as yours. And maybe, just maybe, discover entirely new ones,together.

[woso-dreamzzz]

Blood Sugar

England Lionesses x Teen!Reader

Summary: You have a hypo during a match

Your sugar levels were fine at the start of the match.

You'd checked them before you went out. They were fine and it's not like your diabetes were a new thing. You knew how to control them.

"Looking good?" Alessia asks as you press your monitor against the patch attached to your arm.

It takes a few seconds for it to flash up but you nod.

"Good."

She grins, throwing an arm around your shoulders. "Excellent. Can't have one of our midfielders out of it. Who else will feed me balls?"

You roll your eyes. "Don't act like I'm the only one doing my job."

Lessi pinches your cheek. "But you're my favourite! Look at you! All cute and tiny!"

"Leave me alone!"

You try to shove her away but she just holds onto you firmer.

You'd known Alessia for years. You used to live next door to each other before she went to college in America and she'd been obsessed with you ever since you got placed into her arms as a baby.

She'd been overjoyed to see you on the team sheet for the Euro's and then now for the Finalissima. It helped, of course, that you and Alessia had racked up the most assist to goal pairings on the entire team.

"Leave her alone, Less," Leah says with an eye roll," We need her in tip-top shape, not looking like a tomato."

Alessia huffs as you put away your glucose monitor and dart around her, taking refuge with Keira and Lucy. You stick your tongue out at her as you pass.

You feel good during the first half, feeding the ball to Tooney, who scores. You feel good during halftime too, though you forget to check your glucose monitor.

You'd had it in your hand ready and waiting but Mary had caught you in conversation for the entirety of the break and it had completely slipped your mind.

Things took a turn for the worst about halfway through the second half. Your arms suddenly felt too heavy for your body and your mouth had gotten very dry, very quickly.

You sway on your feet and just manage to get the ball out from under your feet and to Keira to run up to Brazil's half. You stumble a little bit.

You're sweating now too, badly. You're sweating too much even for someone who has been on the pitch for nearly ninety minutes. You can feel your legs shaking too and you have to back up to keep your footing.

"Hey, what's going on? Is something wrong?"

The thick scouse accent from behind you means you've bumped into Alex and you practically go limp against her. She notices that too and immediately makes sure you stay upright.

Your head flops back like your neck can no longer support it. It's probably for the best because your vision has gone blurry and your head is swimming.

It takes all your concentration to move your lips in some semblance of words even though it comes out all garbled and slurred.

"'m goin' to pass out soon," You manage to say," Low sugar, I thin'." You draw in a ragged breath. "Meds have got...got..."

"Hey!" Alex shakes you. "The medics have got a...?"

"Gotta gluca...a gluca-"

You don't get to finish your sentence because you got fully limp now. Alex lays you on the ground, gesturing wildly to the medics and to the ref and to everyone who will see.

Leah's the first person to come skidding in, her hand immediately going to your pulse.

"What happened?!"

"I dont know!" Alex replies," She suddenly went all funny. She's sweating buckets! Er..." She shakes her head as she tries to clear her thoughts. "She said something about the medics having a...a gluca-something? I don't know. She passed out before she could finish."

"A glucagon injection," Alessia says as she comes running in as well," Fuck, her sugar levels must have tanked."

"She's right," The first medic says, shoving a glucose monitor onto your sensor," These are low. It's a wonder she didn't pass out earlier."

No one's really listening to him, least of all Alessia, who's rummaging through the first aid kit in search of something. Another medic is waving for a stretcher and a third one is pulling up the bottom of your shorts and cleaning off the top of your thigh with a cotton swab doused in alcohol.

"And she didn't hit her head?" The fourth medic is asking Alex, who shakes her head.

"No. She stumbled a bit but I caught her. She didn't hit anything. Just passed straight out in my arms."

Leah doesn't really know what else to do but stare. The whole team has joined them, forming a huddle around your unconscious body to block the cameras from seeing.

It's a pretty severe thing happening because the officials have even let Sarina on the pitch and she has joined the huddle with the rest of the staff to keep your privacy.

When Leah manages to tear her gaze from you, it lands on Alessia. She's at your other side, ripping open a small plastic box in a hurry. She uncaps a small glass bottle of powder and stabs a syringe into it, pushing all of the liquid into it.

She shakes the bottle a few times before turning it upside down and drawing it all back into the syringe.

"You need to roll her over once it's in," She says and Leah and a few of the medics immediately grab parts of you to pull on.

"Alessia," The first medic says," Do you need me to do this?"

"I've done it before!" Alessia snaps," As soon as I take the needle out, roll her in case she throws up. Okay? One. Two. Three!"

The needle finds a home in the top of your thigh, the area that had been disinfected. Alessia jabs the needle in and pushes down. As soon as she takes it out, Leah tugs on your shoulder to get you on your side.

"I need to come off," Alessia says to Sarina as you're carefully loaded onto a stretcher," I have to be with her. She'll be disorientated when she wakes up."

"Go," Sarina says," Be with her."

The match ends in a penalty shootout but everyone seems to be in the same mind because the medal ceremony is delayed until after you've been checked.

You're looking a lot better when Leah and the others burst into the physio's room. You're sitting upright with Alessia by your side, forcing a sugary drink down your throat.

It's clear that this has been going on for a while because there's another empty can of your favourite nearby and a packet of haribos in your hand.

"You scared us," Leah says.

"Did we win?"

"No talking!" Alessia snaps," Drink! All of it!"

You flash an amused smile at Leah but do as you're told.

"We won," Mary confirms," Penalty shootout but we did it. Could have done without the scare though."

"Sorry," You say with a wince," If it helps, I didn't plan it."

"Thank god for that," Alex mutters," Because that wasn't fun, kid. I thought you were dying."

"Just a bad hypo," You say and Lessi swats you.

"Stop making fun of dangerous situations," She scolds," I don't like having to give you injections so often."

You roll your eyes. "You've done it twice in my entire life!"

"Three times now! You're going to give me a heart attack one day."

"Well, can you have that heart attack later? We've got medals to collect."