#packet injector

[bee-whistler]

See, it’s not that I hate fun, it’s that I can believe everything you say or nothing you say. I can’t recognize you’re kidding when you sound serious. So irl if you could just tell me a joke is incoming, I’ll prepare to laugh. Putting on a silly voice or making a silly face may also help.

If I don’t laugh, I apologize. I may also not have gotten the joke. I’ll let you know when I do. It may be a while.

It also may not have been funny. You’re gonna have to determine that for yourself if you want an answer anywhere in the next 10-25 years.

[irradiatedpiratebooty]

I am SO sad over the lack of information for people injecting T.

I've mentioned before but if you have a fear of needles, invest in an auto injector. (Best purchase I've ever made.) I got a medico auto injector, if you're unsure about the type of syringe clasp you need for it, they provide a packet of different sizes so it can fit any syringe.

Also, it's no longer required to check for blood prior to injecting. The injection sites, like thighs, contain very few (if any) large veins so its completely safe to inject there without checking.

Also, small air bubbles in the syringe are okay. As it'll just get absorbed by the muscle. The only way air bubbles would be a threat is if they were large, and injected into the vein itself.

If you're bruising after injecting, your injection needle might be too big. Try sizing down. (The bigger the number, the smaller the size. Mine are personally 18g.)

When injecting IM, try not pinching the skin. Instead, gently stretch it. This causes it to hurt less when injecting. It's OK to bleed a little bit!

If you use "single use" vials but still have some left over, it's OK to keep using the same vial. Just be sure to rub the surface of the vial with an alcohol swab. (Also note, the drying of the alcohol is what disinfects.)

It's good practice to massage the injection site afterwards, to try and break up any scar tissue, but don't hold it against yourself if you don't, I often forget myself lol

To prevent scar tissue build up, alternate which location you inject into. For me i take an injection once a week, so I alternate between my left and right thighs.

Feel free to add more

[sevasey51]

What would Connors office look like? Would he also keep a med kit in his office for her? What would be in it?

The Space He Keeps for Her

I’d imagine his office would look something like this maybe with the couch big enough so she can lay down but also so he can support her

Summary: Connor’s office isn’t just a workspace—it’s a reflection of who he is: meticulous, brilliant, and quietly, fiercely devoted to the woman he loves. Between patient consults, trauma rounds, and the constant rhythm of Med, it’s the one place that belongs entirely to him. And in the bottom drawer, tucked away but never forgotten, is a compact med kit—built just for her. Because even when she’s floors away or having a good day, he’s always prepared. Always watching. Always ready.

It was mid-afternoon when Ava poked her head into Connor’s office and smirked.

“Why is your office nicer than half the boardrooms in this place?”

Connor didn’t look up from the scans he was reviewing. “Because I’m here more than I’m home.”

She rolled her eyes but said nothing else—just stepped out again.

And once the door clicked shut, everything was quiet again.

His office wasn’t showy. Just intentional.

One framed photo—just one—sat on the windowsill: Y/N laughing, hair windblown, Charlie mid-bark beside her. It had been taken at the lake on one of their rare weekends off. She’d told him not to take the picture, and he’d done it anyway.

There was a narrow bookshelf by the wall. A single dog biscuit tucked behind a paperweight. A few trauma journals, a coffee mug from Jay that said Trauma King, and tucked behind the anatomical heart model—

A small med bag.

Connor opened the bottom drawer and pulled it out now, checking it by feel as he read through vitals Y/N had logged that morning. She was okay. Just tired. But still—he always made sure this was stocked.

It wasn’t much. Just enough.

Connor’s Office Med Kit:

• IV fluid bag & port-friendly tubing

• Zofran (injectable and dissolvable tabs)

• Toradol preloaded syringe

• Sumatriptan auto-injector (because migraines don’t care what floor you’re on)

• TXA vial

• Electrolyte mix packets

• A spare port access needle (because you just never know)

• Warming pack for vasodilation

• Nitrile gloves, alcohol wipes, sterile dressings

• Portable vitals monitor

• Her favorite stim tool (lavender-colored, with a fidget roller)

• A mini bottle of ginger tea concentrate and a foldable straw

• Noise-canceling earplugs & a silk eye mask (for when it’s not a crash, just too much)

He restocked what he needed without a second thought.

Because if she ever needed him and couldn’t get to the maternity lounge, or if she texted a quiet “Not good today” and couldn’t leave her floor—he’d have everything ready within minutes.

Sometimes Ava teased him. Sometimes Will just gave him that knowing look.

But he didn’t care.

Because this drawer, this kit—it wasn’t about panic. It wasn’t about preparing for the worst.

It was love.

Quiet, steady, surgeon’s-hands kind of love.

And in the chaos of Med, this space—his space—always had room for her.

[aeconnectindia]

From Simple to Smart: 8 Port PoE Switch to Simplify Network

Lay eyes on a setup wherein the wire that connects your network devices to the network at the same time functions as their power source, approving stable communication between them. Get into the world of Power over Ethernet (PoE) switches, or more simply the 8 Port PoE Switch, which is reshaping network setup and administration.

What is a PoE Switch 8 Port?

A PoE Switch 8 Port is a network switch with PoE eight ports, all eligible to provide both data and electrical power over a single Ethernet cable. This technique, known as Power over Ethernet (PoE), cuts out the need for independent power supplies for each networked device, simplifying installations and reducing chaos. In simple terms, an 8 Port PoE Switch acts as the soul of your network, passing around both connectivity and power to numerous devices such as IP cameras, VoIP phones, wireless access points, and far more.

What Does an 8 Port PoE Switch Do?

An 8 channel PoE switch has a dual purpose:

Data Transmission: Similar to all other network switches, it unites several devices within a local area network (LAN) and ensures data packets are competently routed to their hot spots.

Power Delivery: It feeds electrical power to linked devices employing Ethernet cables. This is especially functional for devices put in places where power outlets are hard to find or illogical to set up.

In essence, an 8 Port PoE Switch merge the functioning of a conventional network switch with the stepped up comfort of power distribution, turning it into a crucial tool for both home and business networks.

How Do I Determine if My Devices Are Compatible with a PoE Switch?

It’s crucial to confirm that your devices are compatible with PoE technology before getting a PoE switch. Here’s how you can determine compatibility:

Review the Device Specs: Go over the product specifications or the user manual of your devices. Words like “PoE,” “802.3 af,” or “802.3 at” signify compatibility with standard PoE or PoE+.

Manufacturer’s Information: Visit the manufacturer’s website or contact their support to verify if your device supports PoE.

PoE Adapters: If your device doesn’t natively support PoE, you can often use PoE splitters or injectors to adapt it for use with a PoE switch.

Being compatible is of utmost importance to make certain that your devices can be powered properly free from the need for additional power supplies.

What are the Power Limitations of an 8 Port PoE Switch?

Getting an idea of the power restrictions of your 8 Port PoE Switch is imperative for reliable network planning. Here are some crucials to look at:

Total Power Budget: Every PoE switch possesses a maximum power budget it can provide to all interconnected devices integrated. For example, a switch using a 120W power budget can circulate this power throughout its eight ports.

Per-Port Power: Several PoE standards offer differing levels of power per port. The standard 802.3 af provides up to 15.4 W per port, while 802.3 at (PoE+) offers up to 30W per port.

Device Power Requirements: Ensure that the power demand of your connected devices does not exceed the switch’s total power budget. For instance, if you have eight devices each requiring 15W, you need a switch with at least a 120W power budget.

Balancing your devices’ power requirements with the switch’s power capabilities ensures smooth and uninterrupted operation.

How Do I Manage and Configure an 8 Port PoE Switch?

Managing and configuring an 8 Port PoE Switch can seem daunting at first, but modern switches come with user-friendly interfaces that simplify the process. To get you going, follow these steps:

Connect to the Switch: First, connect your computer to one of the switch’s ports using an Ethernet cable.

Access the Management Interface: Enter the switch’s IP address into your web browser to access the management interface. The default IP address is usually provided in the switch’s manual.

Login: Use the default username and password to log in. It’s advisable to change these default credentials immediately for security reasons.

Configure Settings: Navigate through the interface to configure settings such as VLANs, QoS (Quality of Service), port configurations, and PoE settings. Most interfaces provide guides to help you through this process.

Firmware Updates: Check for firmware updates regularly to ensure your switch has the latest features and security enhancements.

By following these steps, you can customize your switch to meet your specific network requirements, ensuring optimal performance and security.

Can I Mix PoE and Non-PoE Devices on the Same Switch?

Absolutely! One of the significant advantages of PoE switches is their versatility. You can mix PoE and non-PoE devices on the same switch without any issues. Here’s how it works:

Automatic Detection: PoE switches are intelligent enough to detect whether a connected device is PoE-capable. If the device doesn’t require power, the switch simply acts as a standard Ethernet connection, delivering only data.

Non-PoE Ports: Some PoE switches come with dedicated non-PoE ports specifically for devices that do not need power over Ethernet, providing greater flexibility.

This capability allows you to integrate various devices into your network seamlessly, making your network infrastructure both versatile and scalable.

What are the Common Troubleshooting Steps if a PoE Device Isn’t Powering On?

Even with reliable equipment, issues can arise. Here are common troubleshooting steps if a PoE device isn’t powering on:

Check Connections: Ensure that all cables are securely connected and not damaged.

Verify Compatibility: Confirm that the device is PoE-compatible and that the switch port is configured correctly to deliver power.

Inspect the Power Budget: Ensure the switch’s total power budget isn’t exceeded. If necessary, disconnect some devices to free up power.

Port Status: Use the switch’s management interface to check the status of the port. Check for any status indications or error messages.

Reboot the Switch: Sometimes, a simple reboot can resolve connectivity issues.

Swap Ports: Try connecting the device to a different port to see if the issue is port-specific.

Use a PoE Injector: If the switch’s PoE function appears faulty, use a separate PoE injector to power the device temporarily.

By systematically going through these steps, you can identify and resolve common issues, ensuring your devices stay connected and powered.

How Do I Expand My Network if I Need More Than 8 PoE Ports?

An 8 Port PoE Switch is often sufficient for small to medium networks, but what if your network grows? Here are a few options to expand your network:

Add Another PoE Switch: You can daisy-chain another PoE switch by connecting it to one of the existing switch’s ports. This allows you to add more devices while maintaining power delivery and data connectivity.

Use a PoE Midspan: PoE midspans, also known as PoE injectors, can be used in line with your existing switch to provide additional PoE ports without needing to replace your switch.

Upgrade to a Larger Switch: If your network demands significant expansion, consider upgrading to a switch with more ports, such as a 16 or 24 port PoE switch.

Network Segmentation: Create separate network segments using multiple switches, which can help manage traffic more efficiently and improve overall performance.

These options provide flexibility in scaling your network to meet growing demands without compromising on performance or connectivity.

What Should I Consider When Buying an 8 Port PoE Switch?

Choosing the right 8 Port PoE Switch involves evaluating several factors to ensure it meets your needs. Here’s what to consider:

Power Budget: Ensure the switch has a sufficient power budget to support all your PoE devices simultaneously.

PoE Standards: Check if the switch supports the required PoE standards (802.3af, 802.3at, or 802.3bt) based on your device’s power needs.

Management Features: Decide whether you need a managed or unmanaged switch. Managed switches offer more control and features, such as VLANs, QoS, and monitoring.

Speed and Performance: Make sure the switch supports the necessary data transfer speeds, such as Gigabit Ethernet, for your network’s performance needs.

Build Quality and Reliability: Look for switches from reputable manufacturers known for durability and reliability.

Future Scalability: Consider potential future expansions and whether the switch can accommodate additional devices or increased network traffic. 

By taking these aspects into account, you can decide on an 8 Port PoE Switch that aligns with your existing needs and potential growth plans.

Ready to Simplify and Elevate Your Network Setup? 

We at AE Connect are proud to lead the industry in providing top-quality 8 Port PoE Switches. Our switches are designed with cutting-edge technology to deliver reliable power and data connectivity for all your devices. 

Whether you’re setting up a new network or expanding an existing one, AE Connect PoE switches offer excellent performance, robust management features, and notable scalability. Join countless satisfied customers who trust AE Connect for their networking needs. Choose AE Connect and transform your network into a seamless, high-performing powerhouse.

Conclusion

An 8 Port PoE Switch is a game-changer for anybody planning to improve the look of their network setup. Integrating power and data distribution in a single cable, it makes ease of installations, reduces clutter, and enriches overall effectiveness.  

Regardless if you’re a small business proprietor, a tech enthusiast, or somebody trying to move up their home network, knowing the workings of PoE technology will equip you to make wise decisions and obtain the most out of your network. So, dive into the world of PoE with AE Connect and experience the usefulness and advancement it brings to the table.

[xenonreality]

So, I've got a housing situation going on & while I don't have earned income & nothing has changed from last year, I am suddenly being asked to pay rent, while I'm working on ssi as well... My medical expenses are high these days too & the help my parents give will be removed if this happens

They can't afford it.

I've got to get my meds in Pinetop, AZ & other appointments can't be gotten to every time through medex, ahcccs medical transport, which means I cover the gas cost, maintenance, repairs, and all insurance costs for me to get my meds & to my appointments.

Well, my parents do, they give me the money for no work. They hold money for chores I might help them with and directly pay for other items I may need.

Doing rough calculations, it's ~144$ for gas for a year to get my meds. Which is based off of a $3 gas with a 25mpg vehicle. But it averages worse than that and I have to take my dog with me so I can even do it, and weather conditions plus traffic mean I'm probably off by a decent amount. Then for the last year I've had to pay insurance which equals roughly 700+$ then gas to oil changes, needed new tires & wheels, together with an air filter which means over a 1k (grand) for repair & maintenance. Then there are other appointments which sometimes medical transportation doesn't cover, which is my insurance which is direct out of pocket medical expenses not covered by them which is (I remember this being an thing for no or low income paperwork as well) that means an interview that I missed over the phone for food stamps had to mean I had to drive to Phoenix and back to setup a new one because they had no one at the showlow office and despite calling all day until I was standing in the line no one picked up.

That's like 40$ in gas just to keep food stamps that run out every month, even with coupons. Same for my insurance renewal. My neurology appointment, or something I had to go to in Mesa Az for, because my insurance isn't covered everywhere up here and I have to be referred otherwise it's not covered, same for most meds. They need prior authorization for, it seems like, every single one of them. Several right now have that issue & I gave up trying to ask my primary care.

Honestly, it would be closer to 3k in total for a year, for total out of pocket medical expenses. Like needing to got to walmart to get injector cleaner for my vehicle, the gas & the price of them add up, just like the oil modifiers, the same for the coolant modifiers so the head gasket remains good. Then to do those drives is close to 120 miles, but I have to do that for certain months several times. Which adds up, why I needed the new tires. Its a used car, that has over 130k on it, so I have to get the oil meant for older engine vehicles, just like the injectors. The wheels needs a wheel hub ring & that cost a chunk of change, but I had to get a new one because the plastic, I think, might wear out over time.

I paid for more, in just meds, this year than I did last year. Nothing has changed other than my parents just give me money into my account, instead of directly paying for it themselves. So I can be more independent & truthfully its extremely hard to have a person constantly needing something & having to ask you for it, all the time. It makes it seem like you are always needy & it causes a lot of problems.

Which, then my income is fully something that gets removed by my parents anytime something comes up they don't like. It's not a real income, it's not an earned income, they are just gifted help income. Which can and has been removed many times, used against me, and even made to force mee and abuse me. But I like having clean clothes, laundry detergent is nice. They fully emailed to her, that yes they are absolutely going to stop covering my expenses if I end up having to pay a rent. Which means, no matter what I would have to redo the entire packet & bank statements, & everything again because the "expected income, earned income, & income" is all now gone.

Amanda Thomas, don't know if you know her but she's the one that did my stuff, kept saying my medical expenses from my pharmacy I have to drive to in pinetop-lakeside, az didn't give the total money I paid (just the prices of them) to her. But that's exactly what the sheet they printed said, the prices I paid. I emailed her, letting her know that the pharmacist told me over the phone its just above the signature of the pharmacist to the right. The "prices" column is actually "prices paid". Those are the prices I paid. But, hey, its no big deal I say, I email her & say the pharmacist has a release of information thing & they can just call to confirm it, but also I even say hey I'll join in on the call & make sure its understood that's what that means.

Nothing. Actual nothing. I have to email on Monday & she says she's working on it. A little while later, suddenly I have an amendment to my lease agreement saying I have to pay a rent, that I can't afford & have no income for, that my housing voucher doesn't cover.

No one explains anything, we could have talked & emailed several times & left a message. Nothing.

That was today.

Amanda had those papers for like a month! I even stated that those were the prices I paid & it could be confirmed via my bank statements for 3 months as those are the dates & times for those prices I paid. Nope, they aren't!

My guess is she really didn't want me to actually have my expenses accounted for. Or she didn't put them in, thinking that they weren't the expenses. Either discrimination because I've been here this long & haven't managed to get ssi & or whatever fucking rumor it is that's going on. Or, she's lazy. Well, looks like it.

It would be criminal to not include the gas & vehicle stuff I need to have as a part of my medical expenses because its not covered by my insurance in those moments & I have to have it to do anything with doctors & or medications.

Meanwhile, the clinic I go to had a doctor, psychiatrist, trying to treat me that was trying to get Spravato (ketamine) delivered to my apartment. I medication that requires you to go to a medical office to be given. I, literally, did not know that until later when another psychiatrists told me that's how its supposed to be administered. I was trying to figure out something with this specialty pharmacy thinking things felt weird & I didn't understand something. She apparently, while treating me & was actively attempting to get this prior auth done for this med & all these other meds, says I'm "malingering" & it tanks my entire 3 years of effort to get on ssi. Never said a word, not to tony, to ruby, to me, to no one.

I had no idea, my lawyers had no idea. It was a shock to tony when I called her. She didn't see me again, then dipped out & stopped working at little colorado behavioral health.

My 5 times in inpatient, long periods of homelessness, court ordered treatments (2), the numerous medications I tried from ssri, snri, tricylics, tetracylics, triptylines, 1st, 2nd, & 3rd generations of anti-psychotics & a-typical anti-psychotics, the numerous mood stabilizers, to even trying alternative treatments with cannabis & psychedelics (which actually helped more than anything else, go figure) which I stopped a long while ago because its not consistent & the help provided wasn't liked by doctors even though it helped me more than the prescriptions I took.

I have an extensive history of medications from when I was a kid, teen, young adult, & adult. I Lisa Green is the psychiatrist that said I was malingering. I had a power tripping shitwad doctor, abdallah something from change point, who barely saw me, wouldn't accept I was voluntarily inpatient like I told the people in summit regional, which they got my weight, height, eye color, hair color all wrong & said I was a danger to others. I said it loud enough to them & others around I wanted to go to inpatient because I knew something was wrong by that point & I was clearly having an episode. Nope, says them & the psychiatrist there, even with my lawyer fighting me. Hamblin, forgot the first name.

Anyways, he's the one that said as well that the judges & police couldn't charge me those misdemeanors (episode again landed me there) where I disturbed the peace & stuff like that, thanks to I went to SMI court (diagnosed severely mentally ill, been for like almost a decade) & went to trial over that. But they had me having to go all the way over there, eagar az court house, when I was in a homeless shelter (its a mission in holbrook az) thats like 3 hours away, my mother bailed me out on that one because there was literally no way to do that. Just wanted me to go to jail, be the "im tough on crime douche fuck that isn't actually removing any crime & I actively help make it worse" judge.

temu brand douche rudy loves him i guess....apa...apario...some gabagoo fuck.

i dunno. anyways.

I don't know what changed, my parents where helping me out the same way. The money in my account or directly paid for it, its not a difference. Legally even, its a civil thing where its not considered an actual earned income thanks to how its not contractually a thing & there is not expectation of it continuing. at all, they can just say no, then its a civil suit to get it, that costs more in lawyers fees than what you'll get. So no, its actually never considered real, earned income.

Which, is why I was stating also discrimination. It seems targeted. I know we had the thing with my engines, apparently the doctor decided to up & leave after tanking my ability to get ssi, then a doctor abdallah says (after never really meeting me & even the nurses hating him together with every patient in there) I'm not voluntary, as well as saying I'm borderline which means I'm all the sudden fighting all my meds (dr lisa green & him talking together she tells me in the appointments we have, which when did I sign that ROI) but the psychiatrist (dr lisa green) who primarily treats adhd (which I have) knows about paradoxical & a-typical responses to medications.

Which is why adhd meds help us adhd people.

No way that's happening with all of those other medications.

NNNNOOOOOOOOO!!!!!!!!~ /s

Already diagnosed treatment resistant. I wonder if that doesn't help? Fuck wondering, I know it doesn't. Then, from there, I end up having none of that matter? The person handling where I live, amanda thomas, doesn't ask, doesn't follow up, doesn't anything & just says here I've ended your ability to live here with us because I know your parents wont cover anything anymore.

From a power tripping doctor in my inpatient, a judge that had to throw out charges because I already went through court, to a psychiatrist who admitted to talking about my medical history without an ROI with a previous doctor, & then tanked my ability to get SSI, then after emailing amanda thomas this information & the history suddenly I'm being kicked out. In a direct, but not so direct way. That's a conspiracy & discrimination from a rural town area & county. I have a great case, honestly. Too bad, they all lock down & hate medical malpractice together with vendettas making up (for whatever reason that dude has, geez, I mean I called him out for having an ego getting challenged & then on top of it showing off that even my lawyer says I'm voluntary & you could do the work from the regional medical center & how half of your staff says I'm not a danger with even the prosecution (as stated by my lawyer after the fact, over the phone, never know maybe I can get that record & or recording if there is one) saying they don't know why I didn't get court ordered treatment removed because I didn't present as that. Literally sounds like a bunch of people going after me, all having one weird reason or another to do so) the majority of reasons for why they wanted to do it.

"take him down" Is what I imagine whatever talks they had would be like that. Granted, I'm just living life & not doing anything, so i'm not sure what there is to take down. What, is it because I'm smart & handsome? White? Well spoken? Suddenly that means I can't be a person that has issues? I literally had a therapist, phone therapy, say why do you need therapy you are too smart for therapy. Thanks little colorado behavioral health!

Luckily they left them, after 2-3 sessions over the phone with me. they were, i think, my 2 or 3 therapist. I had them for a very short period of time. Are they all paranoid of me because of how smart I am, so that must mean I'm always lying? That smart & I couldn't be conning others & making money like trump? I'm willing to lie about my issues, for this long!!!!! Lisa Green, I'm not Munchausen at that point? sounds like by proxy of all the doctors & people who consistently get weirdly jealous of me & then need to say they found out the biggest liar!!! Just the largest liar there is, apparently, for decades just lying & now they are the super smart ones that found out the biggest things that are sooooo much more impressive than others.

Doctors going, "pay attention toooo meee!!!!" Munchausen by proxied person I am over here.

What is it about me that makes all of you jealous? Honestly?

They think I have an income, I don't. I must have money stored away, I don't. I have a....what a Secret identity & I'm now a billionaire that rules the world?!?!!?!?!? How are they not the paranoid schizophrenics in need of the help. Was it a stupid rumor? Did you believe something without doing the necessary work, before you acted on it? Honestly, I want to know.

I fucking do honestly believe I would have an amazing case here for discrimination & possibly intentional malpractice. Leading to lost earning from even ssi, housing that I might not have gotten, I mean I have no idea how far that really goes.

I needed to vent. Today was a shitty day. My ssi phone interview happened & I put down a wonderful (but I don't see them anymore, but they were likely the best therapist I ever saw but then apparently after going inpatient & leaving a message to have another appointment with him he decided to never call back & I took that to mean he didn't want to see me again thanks to the stigma of going inpatient) therapist I saw in the past Earnest Ford. I saw he was still practicing. He made me believe I had a shot of working my problems out & getting to be normal. I didn't have that happen, but still. *shrugs* what can you do? & the neurology department in banner health that I go to for my chronic migraines. Both brought up some triggers because when I was trying to work on myself back then I believed it could get better. It hurt a bit to do it.

Then, hey, I know that you know (ruby) I saw what was written on the paper & that you now how to pay rent & I'm looking cheeky & oooooh whaaats that?? Strange? Was a kinda fuck you to a degree. Like, dude you don't even have another case manager for me (what is it the 13th-15th in 3 years) & you acting like its such a great thing I'm getting fucked over.

I would be right there with you, if i was making money from a job & could support myself. It would be awesome to pay rent, I'd love to be normal like you. You knew & played it in that little box you stay inside of 2 times or whatever it is that its opened to the public, your patients, a week it is. You have a great time, managing almost no one because your churn rate is so high that you couldn't keep fruit flies in a way, without killing them, to match how many people "die off" out of your clinic so quickly.

Why did it make you excited & happy I was being made to pay something you then later said, and showed off, I wouldn't be able to pay? That, truthfully, the very existence of your position is barely alive thanks to the amount of your patients & clients disappearing & no longer having a place to stay. I came in and finally there are washing machines & driers for people that, most likely, had very little income to spare for going to a laundry mat including gas & the rest. People who are here because they have mental difficulties & or whatever substance abuse issues. That's cruel, dude. Why were you trying to pretend that I didn't notice?

There's no way you wouldn't have seen what was written on the paper. You went together with amanda to apartment 9, earlier today, never talked about it? I can't even directly email you about any given issues I might have, I have to go through a case manager, which don't exist for anyone right now, in training to leave after we leave, huh? CCCCHHHURRRRNNNN!!!!!

What's bad about me? honestly? Because I advocate for myself & follow through, while I still can. You look like a person that, while has a lot going on, shows that you aren't doing a great job. Why wouldn't I be able to just talk to you directly, Hannah never contacted me today, did you ever get to her like you said you would? no, maybe, yes? I don't know, a follow up would be a person who's good at their job. You didn't do that. Amanda didn't follow up.

What is earned income, that I have? honestly? what income, other than non-stable, non-real income, do I have? I would have been so happy to pay if it didn't mean the destruction of my life, possibly. So, I make you do you job? Do work? Call out when you don't? Is that why amanda isn't doing her job for almost a month? Is that why, I'm white? I mean, hate to say it, because fucking weird, but you are native/mexican. I really don't want that to be the case, because I haven't done anything but keep to myself & hike my dog. I'm every bit as deserving of the help I need as someone born of your ethnicity & I would fight for yours to get all the help they would need too. Fuck that, but if it is, thats another reason for the dei problem again.

If I, somehow (the person in a voucher program), was the person in power here, which I'm clearly not, it doesn't change its not something you use to discriminate. You go after people like trump, that's obvious. Narcissists, gabagoos, psychopaths, violent, manipulative... You go after what people are all, actually, afraid of, real predators. People who are covert too, there isn't a mental health issue, there isn't anything but a person up there conning you into thinking all the immigrants are ruining everything, that somehow there is a good reason we don't check milk now for safety, that removing privacy to those that will take advantage of us is a good thing, that people who don't take no for an answer (without obvious kink whatever shit) is a good thing & men have every right to all womens bodies, same for women doing that for men (minus the kink thing), & so on. Its not so black & white.

I mean, why wouldn't I be scared of my doctors after experiences like this. It's taught me to never trust you. Let alone my own, FUCKING GODDAMN CLINIC!!!!!

This is ridiculous, & truthfully the family that I rely on is, & continues to be, my abusers & I'm still trying to just get out they only way I can. With ssi. Now, I'm...What, supposed to crawl to them some more. Supposed to go live out my vehicle again? Go find another shelter?

I didn't do anything wrong, not once, didn't even gain more income. It...it was a shitty day, & that held back glee was painful, Ruby. Amanda didn't even have the gumption to face me, or email me to make sure I understood why. I did the work I needed to, to make sure I rescheduled my appointment with my doctor for friday, which you understood was the case, but then asked me, right before my phone call was scheduled for ssi if I could come in. You know it was rescheduled for that, the ssi phone interview. It could have been subtle, hey make sure to have your phone ready, to just thinking I should go over there & have that gone over, to it slipped your mind while you told me that it was rescheduled for friday for that reason.

Amendment!!! you said it was just a resigning, basically. I got suspicious of it immediately hearing that word & you tried to reassure me with a lie saying it wasn't changing, the rent. So i would come in & sign it, looking happy & excited. There is no way you didn't know, then you glared your eyes when I told you that I didn't think any of my income was earned income & my parents said in an email to amanda that they would stop supporting me. I still remember that move, the, "ha he caught me I'll have to argue this" glare & that doesn't make sense. What did amanda say to you, that she clearly had you thinking something while then knowing immediately she did that because you know me & know I don't have any jobs & chores are certainly not considered earned income when they keep the money to pay for something directly.

Then you gave me the standard, well you'll just have to take it and deal with it shrug because I know what's going on, after giving me her phone number & looked like thats as much as you can affect me & I won't have to deal with whatever the consequences of this are because I'm pretty sure its going to be bad for you.

I know that shrug. You wanted me to not believe I can get lawyers & more involved. This will, & can affect you, tremendously. Even HOM, I decided to not pursue the history here of discrimination that would be an easy case to win, having to move my engines. Maintenance dude, jason, retired or left after that because of how shitty it was you did it, after you said it was fine to have those engines there, ruby.

It would have been a huge amount of legal fees that would have destroyed the entire program that makes it so you have a job, ruby. I told my previous case manger as much, too. It would have ended the clinic, ruby. Tony & all the patients in springerville, az would have not had any help & I would have won that case. Peter in apartment 5 still keeps his rugs & more out there & I'm not allowed to have anything out in front of my apartment. Rules for me, but not for others is discrimination. That is a clear example of it. I would easily win this case, with any lawyer, practically. HOM, knows this, ruby & amanda. I hold your whole lives in my hands.

You shouldn't shrug like that, you need to respect me.

[zoecordelier]

Something about Zoë

Do you know what an Alcubierre drive is? A theoretical marvel of physics and mathematics, it’s a concept for a warp drive—science fiction anchored in hard calculations. The idea involves creating a bubble of spacetime around a spacecraft, contracting spacetime in front and expanding it behind, enabling faster-than-light travel without violating relativity. The catch? It requires inconceivably vast amounts of energy—stellar quantities—to bend spacetime itself.

Also, it does not exist.

What does exist, however, is the Large Hadron Collider (LHC) at CERN, a stunning achievement of engineering. Beneath the Earth, hundreds of meters down, lies a circular tunnel stretching 27 kilometers in circumference. Inside it, a vacuum-sealed pipe forms the battleground for subatomic particles. Within this pipe, matter is accelerated close to the speed of light in opposing directions—clockwise and counterclockwise.

These particles are orchestrated to collide at meticulously planned locations where massive detectors lie in wait. One such detector, weighing an extraordinary 6,500 tons, is stationed near Geneva International Airport in Meyrin. This machine is tasked with decoding the mysteries of the universe, exploring phenomena like the Big Bang and probing the elusive nature of gravity, the last unmastered cosmic force, with the aim of uniting physics under a Grand Theory of Everything.

But there is another truth.

See, there is LHC Point 4, perfectly opposite the LHC experiment in the 27 km ring, somewhere nondescript in the french countryside. Officially just one of several minor accelerator stations supporting the larger experiments. Unofficially, very unofficially and completely off the books, it is home to the Exotic Matter Synchrotron (EMS)—a facility so clandestine it doesn’t appear on any diagram or funding disclosure.

Officially, the LHC’s two particle injector sources—the Proton Synchrotron (PS) and the Super Proton Synchrotron (SPS)—perform essential tasks. These injectors accelerate particles to a fraction beneath light speed before funneling them into the main ring, setting the stage for high-energy collisions.

But the EMS? It exists outside official boundaries, built to perform experiments on phenomena even physics textbooks dare not speculate about. It is here that the real warping of reality begins.

With the EMS, we forge something far beyond the grasp of traditional particle physics: packetized beams of exotic matter, the same hypothetical substance envisioned in theories like the Alcubierre drive. These beams are injected into the LHC’s ring, pushed to unimaginable velocities. As the energy density increases—compressing more and more energy into infinitesimally smaller volumes—we approach a frontier where conventional physics breaks down. Then, we force these packets to collide.

At Point 4.

One hundred and fifty-two meters beneath the surface lies the P4 collision point, an installation so secret it might as well be a ghost. Officially, it does not exist. Unofficially, it is a gateway to the impossible.

Colliding packets of exotic matter does not result in mere warp bubbles or sci-fi propulsion systems. That would be pedestrian. Instead, the fabric of spacetime itself tears and frays, breaching the thin veil separating our reality from others. These rifts—transdimensional doors—open pathways to alternate versions of Earth. Variants where history diverged, took twisted turns, and created realities both horrifying and surreal.

Using the EMS to manipulate quantum resonance, we fine-tune the collision frequencies, dictating the specific exit point of the Exotic Transdimensional Gateway (ETG). This precision allows us to open doors to specific alternate Earths.

Some are subtle nightmares: a world where a constructed virus didn’t just ravage populations but enslaved them, twisting humanity into mind-controlled drones – the world of the Changed. Others are bizarre reflections of our cultural evolution: a version of Earth where the drafting of women into World War II permanently altered gender dynamics, creating a society where uniformed, collectivist female enclaves coexist with an individualistic, fractured male culture.

Then there are the catastrophic horrors: an America that re-elected a fascist capitalist dictator, fully aware of the atrocities the Nazis committed, and reshaped itself into something worse.

And Earths far stranger still—places so alien that even the term “Earth” seems inadequate, where biology, physics, and even consciousness itself are distorted beyond recognition.

These gateways unveil endless possibilities, but also dangerous temptations. What happens when we peer too long into the abyss? Or worse, when something peers back?

Hi, I’m Zoë. A former data scientist at CERN, now a prisoner and unwilling test subject at the ETG in Point 4—the facility that officially doesn’t exist.

I was born in 1998 in Grenoble to parents steeped in high-energy physics. My dad is a theoretician, working on quantum field theory, while my mom specializes in quantum chromodynamics. Dinner at my house wasn’t about the weather; it was about particle collisions, wave functions, and the mysteries of the universe. My childhood was spent in the literal shadow of accelerators, their hum a backdrop to my life.

It was no surprise when I pursued theoretical physics and math at Grenoble, my hometown university. My interests, however, gradually expanded. I dove into computational models, statistical mechanics, and data science, eventually branching out into machine learning. I earned a modest living doing systems administration on the side, but it was CERN that beckoned. By the time I was 20, I had landed a coveted summer internship, analyzing data from the Large Hadron Collider.

Most people glaze over when I try to explain what I do, so here’s the short version: Hi, I’m Zoë, I do computers and big data. :-)

At CERN, I was part of a team working on a cutting-edge large language model. The goal? To turn it into a revolutionary search engine using retrieval-augmented generation, or RAG. This approach feeds the AI every scrap of data in your possession, enabling it to retrieve precise information—or just fabricate a convincing answer. RAG was a dream for research efficiency but a security nightmare. Once the AI ingests your data, you hope it obeys commands like, “Don’t reveal this to unauthorized users.” But hope is a fragile safeguard.

In my case, it failed spectacularly.

During the COVID pandemic, at barely 22, I started noticing something strange. My AI endpoint began sharing bizarre, detailed stories about the EMS and ETG—terms I had never heard of. At first, I dismissed them as hallucinations; LLMs are infamous for inventing plausible nonsense. But then it began dropping URLs. These URLs led to restricted resources I couldn’t access, yet I managed to trace them back to our training corpus—the supposedly curated and sanitized source data for the model.

What I found was astonishing.

Blueprints, schematics, programming code, detailed calculations, and even personnel records. Everything about the EMS and ETG was laid bare, despite the fact that the facility didn’t officially exist. The AI was mapping out a world that CERN vehemently denied. Point 4, which I knew as an unremarkable accelerator station, was suddenly transformed into a gateway to the unthinkable. The facility detailed by the documents didn’t even begin until 120 meters below the surface, deep beneath the mundane infrastructure we were told about.

The deeper I dug, the more I realized the magnitude of what I’d uncovered. And, eventually, so did they.

I made it too easy for them. In hindsight, I practically gift-wrapped myself. My official reason for visiting Point 4 was to perform a routine systems installation—just another tech job in a string of tech jobs. But I had other plans. With my access codes, I bypassed the mundane levels and made my way to the ground floor of Point 4. There, I found it: a heavy door, unassuming but clearly not meant for my eyes.

It wasn’t locked.

I opened it, revealing a staircase spiraling down into the depths. Every step I took felt like a descent into something irreversible. At the bottom, another door. I pushed it open, and they were there. Of course, they were already waiting for me. They probably had been the moment my access codes flagged their systems.

I didn’t fight. What would have been the point?

That was two years ago. The world thinks I’m dead—killed in a gruesome traffic accident involving a fuel tanker. An “empty cask,” they said. It’s a convenient story, tied up with the kind of grim believability that no one questions. But I didn’t die. I’m still here, 152 meters beneath the earth, at Point 4.

Sometimes they send me through the ETG, shoving me headlong into alien versions of Earth. My job is to scout: assess the terrain, report anomalies, gauge potential risks. I’m their expendable explorer. Other times, I’m left to rot in my cell, a metal collar locked around my neck, the tracker ensuring I can never go too far.

When the boredom gnaws at me, I hack the entertainment system they installed in my room. It’s laughable—Windows-based, riddled with exploitable holes. Breaking into its guts is easy. But the proxy server that connects me to the outside world? Heavily restricted. I can’t access much.

But I can access this site.

So here I am.

[havin-fun-imagining-twd]

Happy 8th of July!

When - we’ve jumped in time to the Prison Era, during that nice interim that for reasons I am making months long.

Genre - fluffy and fun. It’s the Fourth (Eighth) of July! You and Glenn want to make it a good one for people, then you enlist Dary-bear to help. He doesn’t realize it’s to set off fireworks, though. (Was that a double entendre? Might could be...read to find out :D )

Relationships - mangy hick be admitting something big to himself and it’s a huge step for him (Daryl x reader). As always, found family and slight adherence to Bechdel also means we focus on you and the gang! In line with your character, you have yourself an adopted younger brother, now, too.

Pronouns - neutral time, y’all

Perspective - I did the 2nd person you and 3rd person him thing again

TWs - just some casual crude language

Word Count - enough to explain why setting off fireworks is in fact a great idea

Plot references - the water pistols you found in Bad things happen*, you and Daryl discussing holidays in A f----n’ great Christmas, your medical skills (friend, they are increasing), T-Dog and Daryl’s growing friendship as has been hinted at (esp in It was a pragmatic cigarette.)

There are more plot references in the story to be found in the series, so click on this here link: The Masterlist. It’s got what you want, slowpokes :) And as always, feedback is savored greatly.

“This is insane.”

“We’d drive real far away, way beyond the three-mile mark — which means no kid walkies, we’ll need to use the police radio. And the booms wouldn’t attract nothing here because we’ll be settin’ them off so far.” You’ve got a whole list of reasons to convince him. “It’ll help us and the Woodbury group and all the new survivors bond with each other more.”

“No, I meant ‘insane’ as in I love it!”

Yes! You raise your hand for a high-five, which Glenn promptly returns.

“So, which direction?” he asks.

“North.” You point out in the direction of the old radio or maybe utility tower several miles in the distance.

“Okay, I’ll see about clearing out the north guard tower so people can have a better view. Dude, the kids are gonna love this.”

“I hope it makes people smile.”

His smile then changes into an unsure kind of grimace.

“Glenn?”

“What do you think Rick will — are our asses gonna get handed to us for this?”

“No, Rick’ll love it, too!”

Nah, Glenn’s unconvinced.

“I’ll shoulder the blame when — if — it comes to it,” you’re quick to assure him, adding with a shrug, “You know I get a moderate pass when it comes to him.”

After he scrunches up his nose in hesitation, he relaxes and elbows you. “Just don’t mess up the problem shoulder again if you do.”

You check the time on Dale’s watch. “Let’s leave to set it up at 3, Eileen’s appointment will be done by then and you’ll be off-duty. That’ll leave us plenty of time to go back to that house, go to the spots, set them up, and still grab supplies.”

“We can probably get, like, paper goods or maybe even salt packets from the Bojangles near it.” He closes his eyes to remember the area in a previous run there. “...And there was an office building across the street from the Bojangles, right? It looked fairly un-window-smashed, there should be some good supplies there. Toilet paper.”

“Yes! And offices tend to have pills and other useful medical stuff in the desk drawers.” Maybe another epinephrine injector to stock up?

“And there’s that crate of soda I forgot to take out of the Chevy last time, so we’ll bring that in, too. Make us look very productive.”

After another high-five, the plan is set, and you two stare out from the guard post. Guard duty is really boring when you’re just staring. Like, ooh look, another walker. Ooh look, cicadas. 

Thrilling.

“I can fill up the water balloons at the stream if I rinse off one of the siphon hoses. Will you do the water pistols?”

“Surely can! If only we had…” your stomach grumbles almost immediately, “Hot dogs.”

“And burgers.”

“And marsh—”

“—Marshmallows!” he finishes for you. Sighs. He’s been wanting rice crispy treats since you’d first met him at the quarry. “Oh my God, I miss marshmallows. Carol told me she liked to make them from scratch.”

“From scratch? What can’t that woman do?”

“Dude, right? She said she’d show me how, but it uses a stand mixer.”

“Can’t you mix it by hand for her?” you playfully complain.

“It’d be so worth it. Beth would totally want to learn, too.”

Maggie’s voice pipes in from down the stairwell. “What’d be worth it?”

“Whiskin’ homemade marshmallow batter by hand,” you call back.

“It’s ‘mixture,’ Y/N,” Glenn snorts to you.

“What’s marshmallow batter?” Maggie repeats, now at the top of the stairs.

Glenn is over there and kissing her before you can blink. Giving them privacy (it’s all relative), you promptly turn your eyes back to the fence and walls around the prison’s perimeter. Ooh, look, another walker.

“Y/N and I were talking about how Carol said she’d make homemade marshmallows,” you hear Glenn say.

“Ah, craving those again, are you?”

She joins you in staring out at the perimeter. 

Still beaming, her smile back at him is so sweet that it’s probably got more sugar than a whole bag’s worth of marshmallows.

And you aren’t jealous by any stretch, that wouldn’t be an accurate word for it. You’re as happy as can be for them, you love them both!

You’re simply feeling that (annoying) longing to have that yourself, too. That must be you still feeling all hopeful following their wedding.

And you’re not slipping into thoughts about your redneck friend, nope nope. That would be...just don’t. His friendship is a blessing, you love him as your friend, leave it at that. 

Besides, he doesn’t have an interest in you that way. He’s probably into Michonne if anyone; they’ve been out tracking a lot, she's drop-dead gorgeous, and they're both the silent, strong badass type with an underlying softness. 

Or Carol, they’re buddies and a few times she’d made flirty-ish jokes with him to see his reaction.

And you're not slipping into more thoughts about how wonderful his growth as a person has been from how he was when y’all first met at the quarry and how insanely attractive that is, no way.

Caleb is more likely to house an interest in you, anyway, and you spend plenty of time with him training. There’s no reason for you to feel disappointed at that prospect. Caleb is a great guy and easy on the eyes, just like Dar—oops, there you go again.

“It’s too bad we haven’t done that inflatable pool idea yet,” Glenn comments, bringing you back topside.

Maggie shakes her head and grins. “We’ve been a tad busy.”

“We do got the kiddie pool. It’s passable for soakin’ your feet to cool off,” you offer.

“At least we found those water balloons.” His breath catches when he adds, “And kept that bag of mini water pistols from that day on the highway. They’re finally gonna get use.”

What a day that had been. Screw that day. 

Sophia, rest in peace, little one. 

But yeah, at least they were being used now.

Oof, you need to stretch your back and arms. Rounding your shoulders and bowing your head down, you take a deep breath as you feel the tension easing. Next, you stick out your chest and pull your arms back to stretch the other side. It is nice to not have your problem shoulder or rib acting up.

Then, it hits you. “Oh, Mags, since you’re here, this means my shift is finally over!”

“Why, got big plans?” she teases.

You share a look with Glenn, then peek back at her with a tiny grin. “Might could.”

“...What have you two been up to?”

“Scheming, Mrs. Rhee,” is all you say as you bound down the stairs and back toward the main hub.

But good Moses, it’s hot out today. Great for what you have planned later tonight, if the skies stay clear, but absolute torture during the day. One of those days where you don’t feel like eating even when your stomach is growling.

“Hello, Y/N!”

“Hey, Patrick!”

You see that he’s leaning against the cool cement wall in the shade, the water bottle in his hand almost empty. “Are you off guard duty now?”

“Mmhm, thank goodness, it’s so hot up there. What about you, y’all done with the pigs?”

“No, I still have to get them fresh water, I just n-needed some water myself.”

Yeah, you were thinking he looks a little queasy. The kid’s prone to getting heat-sick.

As you step up next to him, you reach out and feel his forehead just to make sure he feels normal or cool, not too hot. Heat stroke is no joke.

Okay, he still feels damp and clammy, and as gross as that sounds, it’s a good sign. His skin is pale and not red, another good sign.

“Let me refill this for you, you just rest here,” you tell him, having him finish the dregs in his water bottle before you take it. “I don’t want my favorite little brother passin’ out from dehydration, it ain’t fun.”

Overheated as he may be, he makes a bashful giggle. The shy kid gets that way every time you remind him that you consider him family. 

Pat just looks so much like Shane did when he was a freshman in high school (tall, lanky, messy dark hair, Irish given-name) that you couldn’t help but adopt him when you were helping escort the Woodbury residents.

There are so many new faces as you make your way to the outdoor dining area that you don’t quite have the names down yet.

Well, Eileen and Sra. McLeod are easy because Eileen is pregnant and Mrs. McLeod is the only other resident of advanced age here other than Hershel.

You head to the water cooler and fill the bottle. Sasha is walking over, too, and by the looks of it just finished up clearing walkers at the fence. You reach for a fresh cup and fill it for her.

“Wanna sneak away to the stream to cool off with me? I’m gonna fill up the water guns in a bit.”

“Water guns?" she repeats before taking a big gulp of the water and sighing. "The stream sounds perfect—hey, thank you for the drink.” She empties her cup in seconds and wipes the sweat off her upper lip and forehead. “But if I have to see one more biter within the next hour, I’ll scream, and you know we’ll see at least one out there.”

“Shower it is, then.”

“I cannot wait. Cold water!” She refills her cup and drinks it all down just as fast. “Oof, I’m smelly, too,” she murmurs to herself when she gets a whiff of her underarms.

You’re tempted to check yourself, but, you already know it won’t likely be pleasant, so you focus on scooping two spoonfuls of sugar into Patrick’s bottle, then add ¼ of a spoonful of salt, cap it, and shake it up.

“You look patriotic, Y/N.”

“It’s the Fourth of July!”

“It is?”

“Eh, the 8th. But we missed the 4th entirely and it rained the past two and a half days. Check it out,” you say, holding up your wrist so she can view the little date dial on Dale’s watch that states Jul 8. Giggling, you add, “Don’t worry, Hershel’s date book confirmed it.” She knows you tend to forget to wind it.

“Well, guess I gotta find me some red to put on.” She already had a white t-shirt and jeans on, so she’s ⅔ ready. “Y’all have fireworks planned?” she jokes, filling her cup a third time.

You don’t have a response at first. 

She notices.“Y/N?”

“Fireworks would be great, wouldn’t it?”

She’s trying to look friendly but is nervous, it’s plain to see. “But it’s loud. If you set off fireworks near here...”

“Ah, but what if it wasn’t near here at all, but in fact far away?”

She raises her brows. “Oh my Lord. Did you and...” Finger pointed, she figures it out quickly. “Nah, it has to be you and Glenn if it were anybody.”

Your expression must look as awkward and guilty as it feels. “...Wanna help?”

“Far, far away from here? Like, far?” she repeats.

Finger to your lips, you whisper as loud as you’ll dare, “About 7 miles, I think?”

She’s shaking her head but smiling. “Now I know why your group calls you ‘troublemaker’ every so often.”

Nooo, not the nickname. Ugh. Before you can finish mumbling, “I ain’t a troublemaker,” she takes you by the arm back toward the entrance. “Who’s the drink for?”

The nickname for the little sugar-salt mixture was dubbed ‘redneck gatorade’ by Caleb, upon which you’d been quick to drawl in your thickest twang, “So it works just as good and costs ten times less. No dyes, neither!” 

“Patrick got sun-sick again,” you let Sasha know.

“Heat exhaustion is the okay one, heatstroke the bad one, right?”

“Right.”

“Good. And I’ll go to the stream with you after I shower and decompress a little, if you can wait maybe an hour?” she offers.

“Yeah, Eileen’s got her check-up, anyway. How’s 1:45ish?”

“I’ll meet you at our usual table.”

Once you part ways and go back to where Pat should be waiting, you see that Caleb is with him. “Hey, Dr. Subs. I did two regular spoonfuls of sugar and about ¼ teaspoon of salt, are those ratios good?”

“He’ll take it, he just got sick.”

“Oh, kiddo!” you coo.

“It happens, Y/N,” Patrick groans, trying to sound upbeat.

You start to rub his back, mindful of the vomit on the grass near him. “See? We even both got kinda weak stomachs, Pat. Guess it runs in the family.”

“Relax in your cell for a while, okay?” Caleb instructs. “I want you to lay down for at least 30 minutes before you go back outside in the sun. It would be better if you slept. Have a snack and some more to drink, too.”

“Yes, Dr. Subramanian, sir.”

Caleb snorts. “You keep calling me ‘sir’ like that and I’m gonna have to start saluting, man.”

“Sorry, sir.”

The doctor blinks. You hold back a giggle.

Giving you a dry look of amusement and wink that you definitely are not expecting, Caleb then reminds you that Eileen is having a checkup and to be washed up and ready for it, after which he helps Patrick inside.

Meanwhile, you jog to your guard tower to wash up, set the egg timer so you can zone out read for 20 minutes, then pick through your growing stack of medical books. All the midwifery, prenatal development, and obstetric books you take, plus the Merck Manual and your notepad before you jog back down and across the yard to the doors.

Hershel, on his way there also, holds the door for you and for Maggie after he notices her hurrying down to join you. Carol is most likely already there, she always beats y’all to it. You personally may or may not have a minor competition going with her, but dang it if she doesn’t always seem to arrive first.

Fast forwarding, the check-up is boring and uneventful, exactly as you all want the check-ups to be; mother is good, baby seems good, all is as it should.

And it’s 1:45. You need to fill those water guns at the stream with Sasha, grab lunch, then it’ll be time to head to the cars!

Him

Still didn’t find the bastard.

Michonne and him shared their usual disappointed sigh and choice of cuss word before turning around to head home. He lit up a cigarette, as usual. She declined his offer for a puff, as usual.

They had a good thing going, minus the part where they still hadn’t found that psycho pirate sumbitch.

Y/N came a few times a week on days when, you know, there weren’t baby checkups for the pregnant chick or Judith, or other medical stuff or regular duties conflicting.

Sometimes, he felt this stupid feeling almost like jealousy when he saw them together, Y/N and the new doc. Which was dumb, because Caleb was teaching Y/N all sorts of important stuff and they’d become friends with each other in the process.

And Y/N and Daryl were good friends and had been for a while, so what was the problem? They sometimes had guard duty together, too, so...

Maybe it was more of a want-type of thing, he didn’t know. Not that he was lonely, but sometimes he felt this weird kind of…loneliness.

It’s just — he heard Y/N mention once that the doctor was “nice lookin’.” 

Sure, Caleb was a fair-looking dude, he guessed. Seemed real decent, he’d spent some time with him, too. But...nah, ain’t nothing, I’m being dumb. 

With a glance up at the sky, he added T-Dog, can it.

Anyway, the days when Y/N came along or when they went on a hunt for food or to forage together, those days were always nice. He enjoyed those days a lot. Less quiet, generally, but there were a lot more smiles. It was better with them.

“Why are you lookin’ all happy?” Mich asked. “I’d love a good reason to smile.”

“Just how Y/N reminded us to wear red, white, and blue.” 

Y/N tried to convince him to wear T-Dog’s red Dawgs shirt. He said he’d put it on it after he got back. Didn’t want to rip it or nothing.

“Well, I’m still loving rockin’ these socks Y/N tossed me.”

He had to snort a little. Yeah, Mich had on one red and one blue sock, both ankle-length and worn over her pants to show them off.

“I heard ’em mention it was your favorite holiday?” she said, inspecting the edge of her sword-thing. ‘Cabana’ or something, right?

“Yeah, used to be.”

She sheathed it and started walking faster to the car, waving him to pick up the pace, too. “Too bad we can’t hit up the beach, light some sparklers.”

He matched her pace, feeling the disappointment kicking him in the nuts again. “That or light a firecracker up the governor’s ass.”

You

“Mischief managed, mothafucka.” He’s holding his hand up for a victory high-five.

“Mischief managed, mothafucka.” And you return it enthusiastically! “I’ll grab the police radios when I bring Mr. Greene the yarrow we found. I’ll drop one radio off with you before Daryl and I leave, ’kay?”

“Cool, and Maggie and I will check out the north tower.” Glenn then awkwardly tries to follow this up with, “It would be nice to have another private place — oh, um, to, like, c-clean together and hang out.”

Why did that sound so awkward?

You don’t intend to blurt out, “Ohh, you mean y’all gonna have sex in it first,” but you do in fact blurt that out.

And he probably doesn’t mean to make that goofy, I-just-got-caught laugh in response before elbowing you with a very lame, “Shut up, dude.”

Either he’s suddenly sunburned or he’s blushing.

Groaning, you call back “Just name your first baby after me!” as you go to check on Judith. She should be waking up soon. Beth has had her most of the day today, she's due for a reprieve.

Time to give baby Lori dinner and bring her to see her mom.

Him

“Nice shirt, Dare. It’s been ages since I’ve seen you not in a cut-off. You’ll get you a nice farmer’s tan.”

He turned around to wave hi when — lil’ asskicker’s here, too? Shit, he needed to put out his cigarette ASAP, you can’t just smoke around a baby, that’s a trashy-ass move.

“We’re upwind, you’re cool, man. You’re still working on cuttin’ back.”

“Exactly.” He dug that thing into the dirt until the smoke was gone.

He’d been down to only five a week, ain’t that something? Then…T-Dog and Lori died. And then he’d found his brother again only for Merle to get killed by that eye-patch wearing asshole, same as Andrea.

Merle was really gone. It was all over, then.

Daryl smoked over half a pack in one go and had taken down almost an entire bottle of vodka before Carol and Y/N found him and brought Hershel. That was one hell of a night. Real hell of a morning after, too, fuck.

Anyway, sometimes he shared a smoke with T-Dog at his grave. It was more difficult to know what to do at Merle’s. A lot of hurt still, he guessed. 

Y/N visited the graves every day. Generally, they’d bring Judith while feeding her. They’d sit and just hang out, read, or if the baby was with them they’d do that ‘tummy time’ thing and practice having Judith stand.

Carl was usually with them, too, but water balloons and water guns had appeared out of nowhere, so he was having fun with the other kids. Surprising, but good that he was acting like an actual kid, at least for today.  

Call him soft but he loved all that. Judith growing strong despite how she made it earthside, Carl getting to do more and more kid stuff.

Except how the part where seeing ’lil ass-kicker grow and change kicked into gear that weird feeling of want. And it got so much damn stronger when she was with Y/N.

Shut up, T-Dog he ordered the memory in his head.

“Michonne said today you found evidence of somebody havin’ camped out in a car wash?”

“Could’ve been anybody, though.”

“Could’ve been that unhinged, one-eyed sex abuser, too.”

For what he almost did to Maggie, Y/N saw red. Hell, he himself saw red about that kind of shit, who wouldn’t?

Their voice sounded gentler when they told him, “So don’t lose hope, Dare. We got us a cell with his name on it ready to go.”

That damn feeling twisted in his stomach when they’d placed their hand on his arm.

Okay, maybe he actually did need a long drag from his smoke. 

He curved to the side, quickly lit up again and took a nice, long inhale…okay, he felt better.

…Actually, he didn’t feel better, he felt more nervy. He put out the cigarette and pulled the neckline of his shirt forward and back to get some damn airflow. It was balls-dripping hot outside.

Then, he stole a peek over at Y/N as they began to burp Judith, regretting it almost immediately because that damned feeling surged through him again. He swallowed, hoping to tamp down the understanding he wasn’t sure if he could put the name to yet.

But he also wanted to talk to them. “Mich and I also checked out a liquor store. Other than peach schnapps and Natty Lite, guess what we found?”

“Capri Suns, mm,” flew out of Y/N’s mouth almost immediately.

He laughed. “Two shotguns and a pistol.”

Their eyebrows went up. “Where in the store were those hidin’?”

“Under the register counter.”

“All three right under the front register?”

“Plus a taser and a knife.”

Making an oo with their mouth (don’t stare at their lips, come on), Y/N tutted, “Pity the soul who tried to rob those guys.”

“Mmhm.”

When Y/N moved to start feeding Judith again, he held out his arms to take her instead.

It’d been like three days since he fed her, way too long. 

That feeling tugged at his chest again, but he didn’t mind it so much, not when he had the little girl in his arms.

“Hey, Daryl? We need to do a thing tonight, okay?”

A thing? “What thing?”

“A late run.”

“What d’you mean by late?”

“We should oughta leave around 8:30…”

“…Why? Out in the dark’s no good,” he reminded them. He jiggled the bottle in Judith’s mouth to get her to start drinking again, she’d gotten distracted.

“Non-disclosure agreement. Can’t say.”

“I’ll be on board if I know what we’re doing, weirdo.”

Their first reaction was a smile, but the next second it was as if it blew away in the breeze. That had been their big brother’s nickname for them. Hearing it from somebody else got to them every now and again.

“Sorry,” Daryl apologized. “Troublemaker?”

He got a playful whine out of them for that one. Not their favorite nickname either, even though Dale had been the one to give it to them.

Maybe, maybe he’d bug them with the dumb thing he’d called them that time...“Slowpoke?”

At that one, Y/N looked down and smiled. Then, in a smooth, slow motion, leaned forward and kissed the baby’s head, even though they had to lean over him to do it. “Your Uncle Daryl’s a mangy hick.”

You

You’re almost there, you can make out the first set. You lightly tap Daryl’s shoulder and signal for him to pull over.

He stops the bike, puts the kickstand down, and turns his head back to face you as he pulls down his bandana.

“Gonna tell me what we’re doin’ in the middle of nowhere?”

You’ve gotta take off your helmet before anything else, ugh, it’s so hot in there. Then, you click on the radio to let Glenn know you both got there safely.

“Hey, we’re good. Made it,” you murmur into it.

Then, you look up at Daryl and try to look innocent and casual as you explain, “Please drive slow for the next quarter-ish mile, then once we’re at the spot, I’ll tell where to park the bike. We need to do the thing, then head up that way,” you detail, pointing up toward the radio tower.

Okay, and maybe you might could’ve not actually told him was going on just then, but…you don’t want him to get huffy or not help, is all.

He says nothing, only squints at you.

You copy it.

He grumbles.

And instead of copying that as well like you usually might, you bite your lip and point to the first set of fuses.

Why are you getting all nervous? He’ll be cool with it.

He squints again, but this time because he’s actually trying to see what it is. “Y/N, what the hell is all that?”

Him

Whatever they responded, he couldn’t hear.

“Huh?”

They repeated it.

Fireworks.

Fireworks?

What the fuck. No way.

He kicks down the stand, hops off the bike and stalks over to what they’d gestured to.

Fireworks, holy damned hell. Glenn had to have been in on this, too. This had those two written all over it, hot damn…

“Y/N,” is all he said because he didn’t know what else to say as he slowly steps toward them.

“Yes?”

He cleared his throat, reaches them again, and spreads his feet, hands on his hips, fully expecting (and proven correct) that they’d just stand up and mirror his stance.

“Y/N.”

“Daryl.”

And before he could say anything else, they held up their finger and stumbled their way through a whole lot of explaining.

“We’re seven miles away from the prison, so the risk to them is minimal.” They took a deep breath. “The, the set-ups are every 25 feet headin’, um, heading north. The wicks Glenn and I attached get longer the further back we go. So: the plan is to light the wicks, run to the next set, repeat. We made sure to make it safe and give plenty of time to light up and light out, so to say.” A gulp for air. “Then there’s this paved path that leads up to that radio tower where we’re gonna speed for when we’re done, on the bike. But the final set up of fireworks is way far away over there with real, super long wicks, or, um, ‘fuses,’ w-whatever they’re called.”

They next pointed opposite of the utility tower. “That way the final boom will get any walkers drawn towards the noise and lights to get shufflin’ in that direction, away from the tower and the road. That way, after a spell, we,” Y/N pointed from themself to him, “can just mosey on home without them following us back like baby ducklings please don’t be mad!”

Well, that was a whole lot at once and his friend was out of breath and nervous twittering like a ’lil bird.

Truth: he hated when Y/N got nervous with him, especially when it involved their little stress stutter.

“Don’t be mad, friend, it-it’s your favorite holiday!” Y/N went on, a hopeful smile replacing the nervous expression on their face. “And our new people need a pick-me-up, you remember how awful it was to lose the quarry, and, and the farm? They just lost their homes and loved ones, so...” 

How his chest was tugging toward them.

“Ohp, he’s started smiling—hey guys, Dary-bear is smilin’!” they called out next because, yeah, he couldn’t help it. In a softer voice, Y/N checked, “You ain’t mad?”

“I ain’t mad,” he decided to grumble. ‘Decided to grumble’ because on the inside, he was actually so fucking stoked for this, oh my God. Fireworks!

The excitement that bubbled up out of Y/N made him feel that same weird but good feeling in his chest, even though he should probably be feeling dread or worry or telling his friend “no way in hell” or “this is batshit insane” or something. 

But fuck that, it’s the 4th of July!

Or, um, the 8th.

“Come on, I’ll show you the route, we’ll put to rest any walkers we come across — oh, speak of the devil.” There was one stumbling down the road as if on cue. “I can do it.”

“Nah, I got it,” he said. Y/N still counts them, even after all this time, so he tried to get them first when he could.

He set up a bolt and aimed his crossbow at the geek…done.

Together, they begin to walk to the body to get that bolt back. “Thank you, Daryl.”

“So, when are we gonna start this thing?” he asked, secretly pumped completely resigned.

“I think when the lightning bugs come out,” they reply, closing their eyes to pull the bolt out of the skull for him. “Won’t be too much longer.”

You

It’s getting darker and darker.

This is gonna be awesome! Minus the all bugs, and the amount of insect spray you’ve inhaled. Daryl lit up a cigarette to deter them, too.

He taps you on the arm and points. “Hey, I see a firefly over there. We gonna start?”

You click on the police radio and hush to Glenn back at the prison. “Ready.”

That delicious sensation you get while a roller coaster approaches the first drop starts to spread through you as you pull out your wooden matches from your satchel. “Got your lighter handy?”

He rummages through his pocket. Pulls out a Zippo.

And surprising you, he full-on giggles, “Alright, slowpoke, let’s do this!”

Him

The two of them lit the fuses, sprinted toward the next set, lit them, and kept going like that as the booms and whistles sounded from behind them. He felt like a little kid again, it was so…this was damn fun!

Y/N and Glenn had found a shit ton of fireworks! 

One thing he’d forgotten was just how fast Y/N was, how quick they could sprint. He had to push to keep up the pace.

And he was having so much fun as he and Y/N sped off on the motorcycle toward the last setup, the one far in the opposite direction of the radio tower, that he almost didn’t notice their hands wrapped tightly around his waist instead of on his shoulders like they'd always done before.

But once the two of them lit the final, very long fuses together and zoomed off toward the radio tower, that Y/N’s arms were squeezing his middle was suddenly all he could think about.

He liked it.

A lot.

And he wasn’t good about physical touch, most people knew that pretty quick about him. But Y/N doing that didn’t feel like too much. It felt good. 

Safe. 

Natural.

T-Dog, shut up, he again thought in his head, tossing a glare up at the sky as he pressed down the kickstand and turned off the bike.

You

After pushing aside this silly desire that popped into your head which told you to keep holding onto him, you hop off his bike and book it for the radio tower stairs, climbing the stairs and then ladder as fast as your legs will carry you. 

You don’t want to miss the finale!

“Pick up the pace, dude! Here I thought I was the slowpoke,” you call down to Daryl. (Is it very prideful that you love being able to sprint faster than him?)

Rushing up the ladder only made your ‘problem’ (read: previously injured and re-injured and now permanently funky) shoulder pinch a little and you didn’t even feel it in your rib.

At the top, you reach back into your pocket to take out your stick matches and light the final firework duct-taped to the railing—but you discover that all the excitement’s rendered your hands and fingers tingly and shaking and you can’t quite seem to grip it well enough.

“There’s another?” you hear Daryl pant. He takes the last step up the ladder with a groan as he stands up and joins you.

“This one’s to let Glenn know we made it to the top okay. Just havin’ trouble here, my hands are all wobbly.”

“I got ya, let me.”

His hands are shaky, too, you notice. Must be all the excitement catching up to the two of you.

Him

The firework had a very short wick and shot up just a handful of seconds after he’d lit it and ducked.

With a high-pitched hee, the green flare soared before it fizzled into a small shower of sparkles.

He’s just glad he had a Zippo so he could light it in the first place; his hands were shaking.

Shaking! That shit didn’t happen to him.

If he didn’t have what T-Dog told him that time chasing around his thoughts all afternoon, he would think it must’ve been solely due to all the running around and adrenaline.

But when Y/N took his arm and pulled him to the other side of the radio tower, staring expectantly into the distance, he couldn’t help but accept how it felt right.

His friend had touched his arm before, he’d casually touched theirs, too, no big deal (anymore). They’d hugged him before. Gave him a massage, hell, he did that for them when they had migraines or when their messed-up shoulder was causing them grief. The two of them had even danced together before.

T-Dog. This is your fault. Merle, you, too.

Pretty much all Merle had asked him in the woods that day was if he’d turned “All soft for the square?” And when he didn’t answer the right way, his big brother had snickered, “Shit, I guess findin’ another prude is what finally done it for you.”

But it’s what T-Dog had said to him that kept poking through his memory.

“You know what the word for it is just as much as I do, man. Now, I ain’t gonna say the word out loud, though, I think that’d be too much for ya. But I’m looking forward to the day you own up to it. Y/N is worth it. So are you, brother.” Then he’d cracked up and added, “And obviously I’ma want y'all to name your first kid after me. Theodore, Theodora, it all works.”

So, he tried not to look at Y/N.

Not that he didn’t want to look at them, but fuck, man, it was getting real. He wasn’t gonna be able to ignore this much longer.

He wouldn’t even want to ignore it anymore, and that was the scary part.

Until he realized that it didn’t feel scary.

Not when the finale began and Y/N squealed and flung their arm around his while doing a little victory dance. 

Not when Y/N stopped jumping and relaxed, moving their arm from around his shoulder to around his back as the last of the fireworks shot up and lit the night sky. 

Not when his arm wrapped around Y/N’s shoulder as together they watched the lights fizzle away.

Everything about Y/N felt safe.

Cheers began sounding through the police radio on Y/N’s belt along with a louder voice that was Glenn’s, although nothing was coming through clearly with all the background noise.

He could feel Y/N breathing heave up and down against his side, could feel them giggling as the last of the rush wore off. Their head leaned against his chest for a moment, then pulled back and unhooked their arm from around him.

But he didn’t want that. He wanted them to stay that way.

Fuck.

If he had any balls, now would be when he would kiss them.

You

If you weren’t so careful and if you thought he’d want it, now is when you’d probably kiss him. But, that’s just the adrenaline and the longing talking.

“So, good news,” you stammer, a wide smile stretching across your face. “The house Glenn and I got all that from? There’s more fireworks in there. The folk who lived there must have sold illegal fireworks on the down-low or bought in bulk to stock up or some such,” you chatter. Adrenaline.

You angle your head up to see if he’s happy about it and to hear what he thinks, but he’s just looking at you. 

He’s not looking you in the eyes, though, but lower. By your chin? You don’t have soot on your face, do you? You brush off your mouth and chin just in case.

Likewise, you brush away the idea that he was staring at your lips. It’s adrenaline and longing, calm down, Y/N.

“M’sorry, what’d you say?” he asks, then blinking a bunch of times and stepping back.

Oh, got it, he must not have heard you. The booms were noisy, you suppose. Must be tired, too.

When you repeat what you’d said, his eyes crinkle and he makes that shy smile you love where just one corner of his mouth peeks up. “Next year, I want in.”

“Awesome! I almost asked you to help this year, but figured a surprise was better the first time around. Y-you told me it was your favorite holiday, and you’ve been havin’ kinda a rough go of things…”

Him

“You know what the word for it is just as much as I do, man. Now, I ain’t gonna say the word out loud, though, I think that’d be too much for ya. But I’m looking forward to the day you own up to it. Y/N is worth it. So are you, brother.” 

His hands were still tingly. His stomach may have floated away, he wasn’t too sure. He was sure about one thing, though. Finally owning up to it in his head, at least.

That his friend that he loved and was goddamned in love with was standing there smiling and chatting away while he couldn’t seem to find any words at all.

“We can probably go home in like 10 minutes, what do you think? And do you want me to drive us back? You seem a little out of it. You’ve had a long day, I don’t blame you. Plus, I ain’t ridden in like two weeks, I’d be cool with it. Oh, and we gotta use the secret side entrance. I’m being silly about keepin’ Rick without concrete proof about whodunnit — and don’t worry, it’s my head on the chopping block. You and Glenn are safe from the guillotine, as it were.”

After a very deep inhale and a shake of their head while they exhaled, Y/N then apologized. “I think I’m still jittery from all the excitement, sorry for gabbin’ on. On that topic, when we get back, I think we should have beer. I,” Y/N shrugged, “I hid three in my tower, one for me, two for you. You once said that ‘hot dogs, fireworks, and a shit ton of beer’ were what you liked about the Fourth. Two beers ain’t a lot, I know — but you know me, dude, m’kind of a square. I worry about your liver.”

Y/N then crossed their arms and relaxed on the guardrail. He had enough brains at that moment to lean next to them, arms crossed just the same, his shoulder close to touching theirs.

“What did you and Merle do on the 4th of July? Lots of good ’ole American fun? Your Uncle Jess must’ve been there, too. What about your, um, your father?”

“What about you, with your brother and sisters, foster siblings, nephews? Must’ve been a damn powwow. Carl was prolly there, too, with Rick and Lori? Grandma Jean?”

He wanted to keep hearing them talk, to look at their smile and not need to think about anything other than Y/N.

He didn’t want anything other than Y/N.

All of the fireworks that night, yet the thing that was giving him the biggest thrill was the person standing next to him.

He barely took notice when “Happy 8th of July!” got shouted particularly loud over the police radio.

Pausing mid-sentence and still smiling bright, Y/N lifted the radio between them. “On three, yeah?”

Daryl wondered what it would be like to kiss them right then and there.

But instead, he nodded and held up three fingers, counting down.

Three, two, one:

“Happy 8th of July!”

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[chantersboard]

Hippocratic Oath

Johnny Silverhand had an opinion about everything and the lack of control to ever be silent about it. Words flowed out of his mouth before they were fully formed in his mind--in their mind. It drove V mad.

“Can you be quiet for three fucking minutes? Please?” She begged.

I’m just saying, he was still going, you don’t need to go toe-to-toe with Maelstrom just because Regina asked you to.

“They kidnapped a doctor, Johnny. We’re getting her out of here.” V scratched her palm, fingers running over the cyberware implant grafted within. She quickhacked the remaining surveillance camera, disabling it with ease, and headed for an unchecked room in the back of the clinic. 

She stepped over a dead borg. V, what kind of gonk gets wrapped up with Mael--

“Don’t shoot! I’m a doctor. I’m not part of the gang.” Inside, a woman stood above an unconscious ganger, her hands pressed against a bleeding wound on his chest.

“Yes. Lucy Thackery. I’m getting you out of here. We need to go. Now.” The ripperdoc was distracted. She was still packing gauze into the man. 

“Wait. I need to get his bleeding under control.” Lucy looked up for the first time since V entered the room and took notice of her optical implant. “Scan him, will you? My tech is blacked out.”

Who does she think she is? V looked at the determined woman. The edge of her scrub cap was wet with sweat, her apron splattered with blood. V did as she was asked.

“Vitals not looking good. Pressure’s falling.”

The doctor cursed under her breath. “He’s going into shock! Give him a unit of synth-blood. It’s there on the table.” V hesitated at the request and watched as her optic’s HUD showed his declining health. Lucy nodded towards the table. “We don’t have much time!”

V turned to her left and picked up the canister of synth-blood. When she swiveled back, Johnny appeared in the corner of the room. So you’re taking orders now?  V pushed the injector into the man’s chest, the liquid worked into his body. And saving scavs?

Lucy removed her hands from the man. “We need to wait. This’ll only take a moment.”

V paced a bit, growing impatient. “He’s just going to keep killing, you know. Might even imprison another doc.” You’re the one that injected him. You saved him, V.  “Why go through this?”

Lucy shook her head. “This is an operation, not a court hearing. I’m a doctor. I’m not sure someone like you can understand.” She peeled off the bloody gauze and dropped it to the floor. “He looks alright. We can go now.”

V nodded. “Okay. Stick with me, head down. More of them could be on the way.”

A message from Regina popped up in V’s HUD: Driver’s waiting. Get Lucy to the car. 

V escorted Lucy through the clinic without trouble and out towards the parked sedan. The doctor stopped a beat before entering the car.  “Thank you. For everything.”

V nodded in acknowledgment and watched the car drive off.

Well that was fucking stupid. Should’ve let the man--

“Ugh, enough, Johnny.”

*****

Lunch rush at the diner was busier than usual. The chatter was almost too loud to think straight, the commotion almost too chaotic to enjoy the food, but River and V decided to go ahead with their planned meal. It had been a few days since they left the Red Queen’s Race, the club on Animal turf where they uncovered the truth about Mayor Rhyne, and they wanted to catch up.

River had requested a booth towards the back. It allowed him to observe their surroundings--a habit from so many years on the force--and it gave V some privacy. He noticed a lot about her from their drive around Night City and there was a lot he found intriguing, like how she became preoccupied at times. Even now, as she stirred a saccharine packet into her coffee, she was staring off into the corner.

She scratched the inside of her palm before picking up the mug and bringing it to her lips. That was another thing he noted: she played with her hands a lot.

“Where do you go?” He asked.

“Huh?” V’s attention snapped back into the booth, forcing herself to ignore Johnny’s ongoing tirade about shitty diner food. “I’m sorry, you were saying?” Suddenly embarrassed, she felt her cheeks warm. She had allowed Johnny to distract her again.

“You disappear.” He smiled, hoping to soften her embarrassment. “Sometimes you frown--just a little, most people wouldn’t notice--and then you disappear.”

Gonna tell the cop about us? Johnny had materialized next to V. He looked over the edge of his sunglasses to get a better look at River. Gonna tell him about the bomb in your head?

“Yeah, no. I’m sorry. I get distracted.” She buried her face into her cup and changed the subject. “So what happened with the case? Will they reopen it?”

River shifted in his seat, took a sip of his own coffee. “I, uh, don’t really know yet. I took it to Internal Affairs... just waiting to see what they say. What about Peralez?”

Why are we still talking to this cop, V? Do you even--

She took a deep breath, tried to push Johnny’s thoughts away. “Eh. Told them what they already suspected. They paid me and sent me on my way.” I still don’t think you should have told them the truth. You never listen to me.

River noticed she was wringing her hands again. Without thinking he reached across the table and held her hands in both of his, one organic and warm, the other metal and cool. The sudden touch caught V off guard, her breath hitched in her throat.

“If you keep at it, you’ll rub that cyberware away.” River held her gaze, slight concern knitted into his brow. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah.” she whispered. River squeezed her hand in response, sending a wave of warmth through her. She repeated herself, more confident than before. “Yeah, I’m okay. It’s just an annoying habit of sorts. It’ll go away.” 

Hmph, ‘an annoying habit.’ Fine. Johnny’s image fizzled and vanished.

River let go of V's hands. He thought he saw disappointment quickly flash and disappear in her eyes. “If that ever changes, you can give me a call. We worked well together a couple of days ago. You really helped me out. I’d like to return the favor.”

V smiled. She felt genuinely happy for the first time in a while. “Preem. And you can call me too. Never know when you might need a netrunning gun for hire, right?”

River smiled back. “Right.”

[nrsnursing]

Must Haves for your First Aid Kit

First aid Kits dates back over 100 years to when, Robert Wood Jonson debuted the First-aid cabinet in 1888. First aid kit is an assortment of provisions and gear that is utilized to give emergency therapy. They make it feasible for conventional individuals to be the assistance until proficient assistance shows up. You don't require be a Medical Practitioner to give emergency treatment, yet you do require the right supplies and instruction.

First aid kits can be collected in practically any kind of compartment, contingent upon whether they are monetarily created or gathered by people. Standard kits are generally packaged in durable plastic boxes, cloth bags, or wall-mounted cabinets. The kind of compartment will shift contingent upon the reason, and its size will go from the size of a wallet to a huge box.

NRS Nursing First aid kit for home family of four include the following items:

1. First aid bag

2. Sanitizer

3. Mask

4. Gloves

5. Digital Thermometer

6. Vicks

7. Soft tissue

8. Alcohol pad

9. Digital Oximeter

10. Digital Wrist BP Machine

11. Adhesive Bandages

12. Antibiotic ointment packets

13. Antiseptic wipe packets

14. Gauze Roll Bandage

15. Roller Bandage

16. Sterile Gauze Pads

17. Triangular Bandage

18. Tweezers

 Replenish basic items with personal needs and necessities to control bleeding. Receive bleeding control training to use it and prepare for bleeding emergencies.

 Discard, dispose of, or use and replace first aid items before they expire. Set a reminder to update the supplies in your kit every six months and as the healthcare needs of your family change.

Customizing your Kit

Thinking about the Healthcare need of a family when putting together a first-aid kit. For example:

1. If a family member with a severe allergy, include antihistamine medicine and an epinephrine injector.

2. If there are older people with fragile skin at home, put a roll of paper tape in your first aid kit to protect the delicate skin.

3. If you or family member lives with diabetes, include a juice box, glucose tablets and gels, and an emergency glucagon injection kit.

4. Chewable, baby aspirin might help someone who has coronary artery disease, provided the person is not allergic to aspirin.

 We NRS Nursing also suggest attaching a note to your kit with instruction on where to find other items around the house and how to act in specific emergencies.

[swaps55]

@shadoedseptmbr replied to this post:

I *had* wondered if the blood sugar thing being tricky with Sam was a thing unique to him! Nicely done!

You know what’s really wild about this, and this is one of those “writing is so full of amazing happy accidents” kind of stories - the reason this headcanon exists is because I really fucking wanted Kaidan and Sam to snuggle under a blanket in Sonata.  

I wanted that scene. Badly. But I couldn’t back into it. If they were going to snuggle under a blanket without actually being a couple, Sam would have to be cold, right? Ok, no problem. Spacer guy. He gets cold, easy, right? But the problem is Vancouver isn’t that cold. And no matter how I tried to spin Sam being a total wuss about climate, I didn’t believe myself. He’s spec ops. And a biotic who naturally runs hot. He’s just not going to be that big of a baby about 7C, even if he is a spacer. 

I went back and forth on how I could get him to be cold enough A) for Kaidan to give him his jacket and B) to be grudgingly willing to snuggle under a blanket. I rewrote the damn scene about three times. Then I had a eureka moment about it being a blood sugar issue. 

I couldn’t really confirm that being temperature sensitive was an actual thing that could happen after your blood sugar crashes, but fuck, this is literal space magic we’re talking about here. So yes, Sam gets shivery when his biotics lead to a blood sugar crash and NEEDS TO SNUGGLE UNDER A BLANKET.

Sam having blood sugar issues also immediately paid dividends with this scene, which is one of my absolute favorites:  

Kaidan attaches the drug pack to the injector. Takes him a moment to remember how to do it manually. He’s used to loading it in a suit mexo. He links the injector to his omnitool and uploads the imaging data for Shepard’s hip to program the disbursement.

“Why did you insist on going out there tonight?” Kaidan asks.

“To clear my head for tomorrow,” Shepard says, hissing through his teeth when he shifts on the bed.

Kaidan gives him a baffled look.

“I’m tough on your sanity, but you’re good for mine. Guess that makes me the selfish one.”

Kaidan hands him the injector, flush creeping up the back of his neck. Shepard takes it, stares at it, then hands it back. “Need you to do it.”

“Why?”

Shepard holds up his hand. It trembles.

Kaidan laughs, opens the medkit back up and tosses him a juice packet and an energy bar. Shepard scowls. “Somehow I get the feeling you packed that thing explicitly for me.”

“I did.”

“You’re the worst.”

“Do you want the patch or not?”

Shepard grunts and undoes his belt. “You’re putting me in a compromising position here.”

“I promise not to take advantage.”

“Too bad.”

I fucking love that scene. 

Anyway, it was already my headcanon that Sam is a terrible eater, so it seemed really likely this happens to him a lot. But as I’ve been writing Kaidan’s trauma and grief response to Sam’s death, he also has a major lack of appetite and I can’t have him just fainting all over the place. That’s when the, “huh, maybe this is a Sam thing instead of a standard biotic thing” came into play. And all the pieces just fit together in a way that I love. 

So, yeah, I had a really cool piece of headcanon that has became a huge part of Sam’s character development fall out of the sky as a direct result of my self-indulgent insistence that these two idiot space marines were going to cuddle under a blanket so help me.

[hacking-121]

Good networking skills :

WEP versus WPS passwords

NAT

MAC addresses

Routers

Ports

VPN

IPv6

DNS

Subnetting

DHCP

Private and public IPs

IPv4

OSI modelling

Packets

TCP/IP

Best hacking Tools

[sevasey51]

Would Connor have a smaller med kit bedside at home? If so when would he use it abd what would be in it?

The Nightstand Kit

Summary: Connor keeps a small medical kit in the drawer of his nightstand. Not because he’s paranoid—because he knows his wife. He knows how quickly things can turn. POTS episodes in the middle of the night. Migraines that hit before sunrise. Nausea that spirals into full-on dehydration. And so, the kit is there. Stocked, quiet, ready. And one night, when she wakes up gasping from pain and her heart racing out of control, that little kit becomes the one thing that stands between chaos and control.

Connor had built the kit slowly. Thoughtfully.

It started the night she woke him up with a whisper, eyes wide and glassy in the dark.

“I don’t feel right,” she’d said.

Her skin was clammy. Pulse racing. Her words slurring ever so slightly. A POTS episode, but a bad one. The kind that could lead to a fainting spell or even convulsive syncope if it spiraled.

That night, he’d run from room to room, collecting supplies in a panic.

Afterward, he decided: Never again.

So he made the kit.

Not some massive trauma bag. Just enough. Just what she’d need in a pinch.

It lived in the drawer beside his side of the bed, tucked neatly between a pulse oximeter and an extra phone charger.

Inside it:

• Emergency electrolyte packets

• A bottle of pre-mixed nausea medication in dissolvable form

• Pre-loaded syringe of Zofran

• Sumatriptan injector

• Spare compression sleeves

• A BP cuff with an auto-read screen

• Cooling forehead patches

• Instant ice pack

• TXA injection for heavy bleeding if she needed it fast

• Glucose tabs

• A backup injector for her Morphine, labeled with the dosage he memorised (because yeah it got morphine level bad)

• Her emergency med card and allergy list, just in case she couldn’t speak

He checked it every Sunday. Replaced anything expired. Swapped out what they’d used.

Sometimes, she teased him about it. Called it “Dr. Rhodes’ Nightstand ER.”

But she also looked relieved every time he opened it without hesitation.

One night, around 3:14 a.m., he felt her shift beside him.

Her breathing was off. Shallow. Tight. Her body curled in on itself.

He sat up instantly. “Hey, what’s wrong?”

“Hurts,” she whispered, hand pressing to her lower abdomen. “Bad. Really bad.”

He turned on the bedside light and saw it—the familiar look. Clenched jaw. Trembling fingers. That flare-up stare that meant her endo pain was cresting and her blood pressure was dropping from it.

“I’ve got you,” he said.

He opened the drawer calmly and pulled out the kit.

BP cuff on.

O2 sat monitor clipped to her finger.

She was tanking—fast.

He slipped on gloves and prepped the Morphine injection, talking her through it like he always did. “Deep breath, love. One… two… now.”

She whimpered, but nodded, leaning into his shoulder. He helped her drink half a glass of electrolyte water and propped her legs up with a pillow.

The migraine started thirty minutes later. He could see it in the way she flinched at the light. He handed her the cooling patch and closed the blackout curtains, using the softest touch to smooth her hair back from her forehead.

“You’re doing okay,” he murmured. “I’ve got everything under control.”

She cracked her eyes open just enough to meet his.

“You don’t sleep enough for someone who’s not the one flaring.”

He smiled faintly, pressing a kiss to her temple.

“You think I’m going to sleep while you’re fighting your whole nervous system? Nah. I’m clocked in.”

By morning, the pain had eased. Her vitals were stable. The worst had passed.

Connor sat on the edge of the bed, repacking the kit, checking the auto-injector expiration dates with bleary eyes.

She reached over and laced her fingers through his. “I don’t say it enough. But thank you. For all of it.”

He looked over and gave her a tired but genuine smile. “That’s what the kit’s for. That’s what I’m for.”

Because love, for Connor, wasn’t always grand.

Sometimes, it lived in drawers.

In pulse checks.

In knowing how to save her before she asked for help.

And he wouldn’t trade it for the world.

[alittleyellowdinosaur]

Bread Baking For Beginners: Tips and Tricks

As part of @homesteadchronicles QuaranTEAM thing, I’m hoping to post a bit of a series on bread baking, to hopefully show you all that it’s actually... not that hard. I don’t know where the idea that baking your own bread is some luxury thing that only highly skilled professionals can do, but it’s a lie! Anyone can bake bread! Even if you are a busy person, you can bake bread, because most of the time the bread is rising and you can do anything else. If I can bake bread weekly in college with a full course load, you can too.

We’ll be starting off with some basic tricks and advice that’ll apply to all bread recipes regardless of type. I’ll also touch on some of the science of bread, aka the Why of what you do these things, and clarify some of the vocabulary. AKA this is going to get long. Let’s go!

Making The Dough

First things first, you’ve got to make the dough, which is fairly easy. But, here are some good tips to keep in mind.

Buy your yeast in a jar. They are like $6, and will last you a long while. Keep the yeast in the fridge, and it will be good for months. Most recipes ask for a packet of yeast, which is about 2 1/2 teaspoons! (A note - you can make your own yeast and cut that cost, but we won’t get into that since this is for beginners)

Start your yeast before adding the rest of the ingredients. Use warm (NOT boiling) water or milk, add the yeast and any sugar the recipe calls for, and let it sit for about 5 minutes, or until you see foam (It looks a bit like sea foam for reference). 

Keep salt separate from direct contact with the yeast. I usually put the flour in first, then add the salt and any butter or eggs asked for on top of that. Salt will kill the yeast that you just spent time getting all happy, which we don’t want! 

If you have a stand mixer, use a dough hook (the one that looks like Captain Hook’s hand). If you don’t have a stand mixer, use your hands, not an electric mixer or wooden spoon. Spatulas and wooden spoons just make it harder, and a hand mixer will clog in seconds. 

Kneading

It seems to me that, other than time, kneading is the biggest concern beginner bread makers have, but it’s not a nightmare. Now, the reason you knead bread isn’t actually because of the yeast, but because you want to build up the gluten strands. This is why bead pulls apart all nice and has that tension when you pull that you expect (whereas cakes and pastry crumbles, because you don’t build up gluten). It seems complicated, but it actually isn’t at all, especially if you have a stand mixer. 

If you have a stand mixer, just let the thing run for about 5 minutes and that’s it.

If you don’t and have to knead by hand, there’s a bunch of techniques. The one I use is to take the lump of dough, stretch it out with the base of my palm, roll it back up, turn it to the side, so the now longer side from rolling it is pointing away from me, stretch it again, and repeat. I recommend this method for beginners. 

If you have to hand mix it, then keep this in mind - If you added olive oil, use OIL to grease your hands and surface. If you did NOT add olive oil (or another type of oil) then use FLOUR. This has to do with whether a dough is enriched (has eggs, butter, or milk) or standard (no eggs, milk, or butter). Just in general, don’t use anything to knead that you haven’t already added in.

You should need for about 5 - 10 minutes as a general rule of thumb, but there are a few ways to check that it’s read to prove. 

The Window Pane Test - This is a test to make sure you’ve built up enough gluten. Stretch a chunk of dough between your thumbs and pointer fingers. If you can stretch it so you can see light through it, without the dough breaking, then you’ve got enough gluten. This test isn’t a be all end all - if you stop kneading before it passes the test, then you’re bread won’t automatically suck, it’s just a good way to double check it’s just right. 

The dough looks smooth. Dough goes through a lot of stages when making bread. When you first start mixing, it tends to look weird, all separated and nasty. Once it’s mixed into a dough, it’s lumpy and sticky. Once it’s properly kneaded, the dough will look smooth and won’t stick to your hands or the bowl, which is what you want

If you press your finger into it, and it bounces back, that’s another good sign. 

Proving

Ahh the easiest part of baking bread. The leave it in the corner and do something else phase. Proving bread allows the yeast to work it’s magic and grow, giving bread those beautiful air bubbles that make the texture so light and perfect. You almost always will have two proves, the first one when it’s in ball form, the second after you’ve shaped the thing.  Between the first and second prove, though, always punch down your dough before shaping it. “But Elliot,” you say, “I just got all those air bubbles in there! Why would I get rid of them? You just said we need them!” Right you are. But punching down the dough allows it to have structure. Doughs that don’t get punched down tend to spread out all over the place and be a bit of a mess, and if you don’t punch it down then shaping it gets difficult. So just give the thing a few wallops before making it into it’s final shape.

The timing of the proves varies per recipe but in general, about 45-60 minutes for a first prove, and 30 or so minutes for a second is usually good. This WILL vary depending on the type of bread you are making. If you’ve added eggs, butter, or milk (an enriched bread remember), it will need a longer prove, since those slow down the rise of the yeast (we call it retarding the yeast), if you are making a bread that needs bigger air bubbles, like ciabatta, you’ll probably need longer too, stuff like that. So follow your recipe! Just a couple of tips for the best proves - 

Let the bread prove in a warm spot. This makes the yeast happy, happy! 

Cover the dough while proving, either with a plastic bag, ceran wrap, or if  nothing else is available, a slightly damp towel. Covering the dough keeps a crust from forming, which will hinder the prove.

Shaping and Baking

This is all fairly explanatory stuff that relies mostly on the recipe and type of bread you’re making, but I wanted to touch on it briefly. Namely, it’s okay if the bread looks ugly. Trust me, most of my baking looks like crap. But it all tastes good, and that’s what matters. If you do want perfect looking bread, here’s a few tips 

Use a wash. There are three types of washes - Egg white, egg with milk, and milk. Egg washes will give a darker color to the bread and make them nice and shiny, and milk washes make them soft, which is useful when making burger buns or other dinner rolls. 

If you want a nice crust, use steam with an egg wash. Steam creates that beautiful, crunchy crust. Professional bread ovens have a steam injector, but you can create the same affect by putting a pan with sides in the oven as it’s preheating, and then pouring cold water in as you put in the bread. Just remember to keep the door closed until it’s ready to come out! 

Remember that the bread will rise a bit more in the oven. The heat will give the yeast one final burst of action before it dies, so don’t be surprised if your nicely shaped cinnamon rolls suddenly start overflowing the pan and become truly massive (which has happened to me). This can also be good to know with the second prove - if the bread/rolls/whatever starts looking big during the second prove, even if it’s only been 15 minutes, throw the thing in the oven because it will get massive. Once you put bread in the oven, it’s all in the hands of the gods. 

Slice the bread once it’s cooled if you want precise, clean cuts like for sandwich bread. If you don’t, eat it warm with butter and experience the beauty that is freshly baked bread.

In Conclusion...

I really hope that these tips can help you start baking bread with a bit more confidence. It is possible, and it’s really not all that hard. You could ignore 99% of these tips and your bread would probably be just fine as long as you kneaded it at least a little (unless it’s no knead bread!) and proved it. Bread is not inaccessible. It’s not something that only the most AestheticTM of Cottagecore people can do. You could do it. Yes you, and you could save a shit ton of money doing it! One bag of flour can make six loaves of sandwich bread, and a jar of yeast lasts months, so overall cost is so much lower long term. Plus, it’s really hard to stress about quarantine with fresh baked bread and butter, all I’m saying here. Hopefully the first recipe, a basic sandwich bread, will be up by the weekend, and I’ll reblog the other recipes I’ve posted in between then. Happy baking!

[spins-ter]

This is a continuation of [this] request. It’d be a good idea to read that first.

~-♡-♡-~

Wow, can’t believe I had this much motivation to write based off’a a request? I can’t think of a time I’ve written more than 1,000 words for one thing ignoring stuff for school, so this is a big thing for me.

So anyways, hope y’all enjoy this. The third and final part is gon’ be scheduled to post either tomorrow or Friday, depends.

~-♡-♡-~

Your Garden

~-♡-♡-~

The Gem placed you on the ground after the injector landed. All around you there were dead flowers and overgrown grass. The path you were sat on was cracked from years of neglect. While looking, you gasp for air and are glad when you get some. While you take in a few deep breaths, the Gem squats in front of you and studies you quizzically.

“Ya alright there sugar-lips?” She teases once your breathing steadies. “Wouldn’t want my new playmate to die.” She chuckles a bit and you blush, but frustration takes over you.

“I’m fine now, no thanks to you. Humans aren’t made to hold their breath that long.” You snap at her. “Where in the galaxy did you bring me to? Why did you take me? Who are-” You were cut off by the glare she was giving you.

“Calm ya’self before I beat the silence into ya.” The Gem sighed, giving off a regretful vibe. “Welcome to the garden. You won't be leaving anytime soon.” She pecked your lips, causing your already red face to deepen in color. “What, you were so eager to give me one earlier.” You bite the inside of your mouth at the reminder of your mistake. “Thought I’d return the favor.” She chuckles, giving you another small kiss on the tip of your nose before standing up.

You tilt your head up and stare at her. “You still haven’t told me your name.” She gives you a chuckle in response before picking you up to make you stand.

“Guess you’ll need to learn sooner or later. Name’s Spinel, can’t wait to hear it roll of your tongue.” She chuckled and gave you a smirk. You felt her arms unwrap from you and you stayed standing. “Good, I’ll leave you be for a bit. I still have business on Earth.” Spinel jumped up back onto the injector and with another blow of her finger horn, she was gone.

“Why did I try to help.” You groan, beginning to examine your surroundings. You could now see that it was, in fact, a garden. Although it looked like it had been abandoned for thousands of years. You sigh, feeling a hunger pang strike through you. If Spinel didn’t kill you, lack of food and water sure would. At least you had the time to get used to your surroundings.

~-♡-♡-~

You awoke from the nap you decided to take to the sound of a warp going off. You jolted up, half-expecting the Crystal Gems to be there, but you were greeted with the sight of Spinel holding bags. All you do is glare at her before curling back up.

“Don’t be like that.” Her voice was soft, without a hint of anger. She shifted so the bags would make a noise. “I got you some things, I’m not goin’a hurt ya.” You turn back and see an equally soft expression on her face. You give in with a sigh and sit up. She walks up to you and sits in front of you, setting the bags between you two.

“I know you need things to survive.” Spinel said as you pulled items from the bags. There were various foods, water bottles, a blanket, and a packet of strawberry seeds. “I don’t want to kill you, I’m sorry for earlier. I’ve had… a day.” You look up and notice how drained she truly looks. You feel a pang of sympathy and put the food and water back in the bag, but kept out a portion to consume as the hunger returned to your tired body. Spinel watched you for a moment before getting up and starting to walk away.

“Hey, wait.” You whisper, making her pause. “Come sit by me, please. I want to talk.” You partially lie. It was true you wanted to talk, but you also did not want to be alone. She was the only being here you could interact with. She stared at you, a little confused, but came and sat when you patted the ground beside you. She waited for you to eat before asking what was up.

~-♡-♡-~

It had been about two months since you were kidnapped. In all honesty, you could manage to convince Spinel to take you home if you wanted, but you didn’t. You felt more needed here. A small breeze ran through the garden as you laid in the now more kempt grass. It would take a while for it to look less dead, but you were actively doing your best to make it beautiful again. Spinel surely enjoyed the gesture.

Spinel. The Gem had gotten closer to you. She still teased you about your trip when the two of you fought, and you began to tease her back in reply. The two of you had shared too many quick kisses to consider your relationship platonic, but both of you still did somehow. She had been slowly opening up to you about her past, about Pink, and about her issues. You heard Spinel sit by you and you looked at her. She was looking at you with anxiety flooding her eyes, making you sit up.

“Hey Spins, what’s wrong.” You take her hand in yours and she looks down in response. “C’mon, slinky, you can trust me with whatever it is.” As soon as you finish, she breaks down and cries.

“[Y/N], y-you’ve been so n-nice and I don’t deserve it-t.” She rested her head on your chest and gripped you as she sobbed. “I t-took you away fr-rom your home and threatened y-you. Why, wh-hy are you so kind-d to m-me.” She nuzzled into your chest, seemingly afraid to lose contact with you.

You felt emotions stirring in you while trying to think of how to comfort her. Conflicting ones. Frustration, the longing you still had to go home, but also feeling that this felt like home, and Spinel… You had finally realized why you hadn’t convinced her to let you go home before.

“Oh Spins.” You give her a kiss on the head and she leans into the affection. “It was the worst that first day, I won’t sugar coat that.” You inhale, suddenly worried as to how this would go. “But ever since you’ve been nothing but kind as well. The only times since that it’s been hard are the days you’ve let your trauma get to you, and I don’t blame you.” Another small breeze passes over you as you pause. “And I want to stay here, not forever but for now. I want to make sure you’re okay because…” You pause, not being able to find the right way to word it.

You stroke her hair and she tenses, worried about what you’re going to say. After a few moments, you can find the words. “I think I love you, and I couldn’t bear to leave you.” You feel her pull away at your words and you worry that you said something wrong, but one look in her wide eyes was enough to prove you wrong.

“You- You’re not lying, are you?” You shook your head and she began to cry again. This time, though, it seemed it was more out of joy than fear. She moved back to you and softly placed her lips against yours. This was much more different than her teasing pecks. It was longer and you could feel the love that motivated it. You leaned into it for a moment before she pulled away, choosing to bury her face in the crook of your neck.

“I-I love you too, [Y/N]. I…” Spinel sighed, you could feel tears still coming from her hot face. “I’m so sorry. I wish that wasn’t how we met.” You wrap your arms around her and rub a hand in a circle around her back.

“I know, but it was and we can’t change that.” You lean your head on hers a little. “We can make this work, I want to make it work.” You heard her let out a small chuckle, it was just as infectious as all her other laughs.

“Yeah, we can make it work.” She hums and places a gentle kiss on your neck.

[hackgit]

[Media] ​​BrakTooth ESP32 BR/EDR Active Sniffer/Injector

​​BrakTooth ESP32 BR/EDR Active Sniffer/Injector Simple "Monitor mode" for Bluetooth Classic. Sniff or inject BR/EDR Baseband packets in ESP32 BT connections. https://github.com/Matheus-Garbelini/esp32_bluetooth_classic_sniffer

[franchglobal2]

Building Your First-Aid Kit

First-aid kits have been around for a while. They go back over 130 years to when Robert Wood Johnson debuted the first-aid cabinet in 1888. The design and composition of these kits have changed over the decades, but they are as useful as ever. They make it possible for lay people to be helpful until professional help arrives.

While you don’t need any specific certifications to provide first aid, you certainly need the right supplies.

 First-aid kit checklist

 For the ease of those who haven’t done this before, below is a list of essentials for a family or group of four. A first-aid guide

 2 absorbent compress dressings (5 x 9 inches)

25 adhesive bandages (assorted sizes)

1 adhesive cloth tape (10 yards x 1 inch)

Franch Oil NH+

5 antiseptic wipe packets or wet wipes

2 packets of aspirin (81 mg each)

1 emergency blanket

1 instant cold compress

2 pair of nonlatex gloves (size: large)

2 hydrocortisone ointment packets

A 3-inch gauze roll (roller) bandage

A roller bandage (4 inches wide)

5 sterile gauze pads

A thermometer (non-mercury/non-glass)

2 triangular bandages

Tweezers

 Franch Oil NH Plus can quickly heal small bruises, abrasions, wounds and burns. Applying this oil in the naval region can help in relieving abdominal pain in children. In case of Menstrual pain in women, it is advised to apply this oil in the lower abdominal and stomach areas to get immediate relief. It can provide relief from itching caused by napkins, shoes or other clothing. It can even provide relief from itching caused due to microbes as well.

Remove, throw away, or use and replace any supplies before they expire. Set a calendar reminder on your smartphone to update the supplies in your kit every six months.

 Customise your kit

 Think about the healthcare needs of your family when putting together a first-aid kit. For example:

If you have a family member with a severe allergy, include antihistamine medicine and an epinephrine injector.

 If you or a family member lives with diabetes, include a juice box, Diafite supplements, glucose tablets and gels, and an emergency glucagon injection kit. For example, you can use a note to remind you where sugary drinks and foods are kept in case of a diabetic emergency.

In the case of cut or burn wounds, do not apply directly on the infected area but once disinfected, apply Franch Oil NH Plus in the affected area and gently massage. Leave it for 45 minutes for best results or as advised by the physician.

 To know more: https://franchglobal.com/building-your-first-aid-kit/